#and even better they were like- half off at target surprisingly but i had the whole amount set aside for them so i’m gonna donate the rest

[aturnoftheearth]

used the money i got from my aunt for dog sitting to buy new headphones on sale . bc i still can’t find my headphones …….. oughhhhh

[reiderwriter]

♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡

Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡

Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)

A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence. 

“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried. 

“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.” Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly. 

“But I'm not a woman.” 

“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again. 

“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.” 

“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter. 

It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.

The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down. 

Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again. 

“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter. 

“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise. 

“And your name is?” 

“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.” 

You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body. 

“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?” 

Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up. 

With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub. 

He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could  bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason. 

“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest. 

“Good observation, Spencer.” 

“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head. 

“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor. 

His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again. 

Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him. 

A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that. 

When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours. 

You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election. 

You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.” 

Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you. 

He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together. 

You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet. 

So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway. 

“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him. 

“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin. 

He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him. 

“Y/N… I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-” 

“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?” 

His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape. 

“I-I'm not a student, and-” 

“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.” 

His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist. 

His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex. 

Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you,  desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you. 

Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper. 

He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him. 

His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley. 

“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?” 

“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him. 

“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.” 

His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin. 

You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation  had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched. 

You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him. 

He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth  grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust. 

You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin. 

“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.” 

He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving. 

He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for. 

With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to. 

“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him. 

“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure. 

“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.” 

“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier. 

He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you. 

You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there. 

You weren't. 

“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?” 

You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today. 

There was always tomorrow. 

He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed. 

“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder. 

He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there. 

Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up. 

He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.

“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.” 

You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words. 

The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs. 

It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.

“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?” 

He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely. 

Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened. 

“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.

“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs. 

He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head. 

Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch. 

“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out. 

“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug. 

“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.” 

“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer. 

“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.” 

You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him. 

“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.” 

The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal. 

Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake. 

“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.” 

He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts. 

“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?” 

“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be. 

“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?” 

Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there. 

“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?” 

His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct. 

You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer. 

“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again. 

His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning. 

“You knew the entire time? Who I was?” 

“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”

“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.” 

You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest. 

“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled. 

“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.” 

He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again. 

“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his. 

“Y/N, please let's be sensible.” 

“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?” 

“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans. 

“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.” 

His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit. 

“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut. 

He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly. 

“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.” 

He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him. 

“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?” 

“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue. 

“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?” 

He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them. 

“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.” 

But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry. 

“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again. 

This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock. 

You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock. 

It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so. 

“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time. 

Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair. 

“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.” 

His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for. 

[candy-rat]

☀️ˏˋ°•*⁀➷✧Puppy Love✧

♡ Percy Jackson x Fem!Apollo Reader

♥︎ Summary: you attempt to teach the cute boy you may or may not have some feelings for how to better work a bow and arrow. || Percy blurb!

☆ Warnings: None!

(ofc i know the relations between Apollo, Zeus, And Poseidon but the readers relation w Percy and the reader is the same w him and annabeth so use that info as u must) 

★ A/N:  I’ve only ever read the first and a bit of the second book + the two movies so this is based off the new series(Walker Scobell) + plus I have the BIGGEST crush on Walker Scobell.

♪ Credits: Ty Bunny’s RPH for the divider<3

+Barely Proof read

It was another sunny day at Camp Half-Blood, kids either chasing each other around or actually putting effort to train and what nots.

Surprisingly the archery field was as empty as ever, which is why you find yourself here.

As the daughter of Apollo you tend to neglect your gift of archery rather finding yourself in simple socialization, but today you thought differently.

Your dad would be proud, wouldn’t he?

As you were in the middle of your archery session you swore you heard the sound of bushes rustling.

The sudden noise caused you to turn around, trying to identify where the noise was coming from.

You were met with the sight of a boy.

Not just any boy.

Percy Jackson.

With earlier memory you can recollect, the boy was definitely not the best with a bow and arrow, so why would he be here?

“Uh, hi” the boy spoke up.

“Oh uh, hi?” You responded in a confused yet optimistic tone.

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

You’ve seen the boy on multiple other occasions, you never really talked to him before.

To be honest with yourself, you probably had the slightest crush on the boy.

The tiniest one of course, you barely knew him.

“So, do you need something? Or?” you spoke, breaking the silence.

“Oh! Uh yeah I did, yeah.” He replied with a slight crack in his voice.

Another moment of silence.

“Uhm, what do you need, uh Percy was it?” You questioned.

You didn’t need to ask, of course you knew his name.

It’s not creepy, word just gets around you know?

“Yeah uh that- that’s my name, you’re (Name) right? Daughter of Apollo?” He asked.

“Oh yeah, that’s me.” You replied.

“You’re like really good at archery right?” He asked once more.

“You could say that, being the daughter of Apollo kinda you know comes with it, but my older siblings are definitely better.” You confirmed.

“Well I was uh wondering-“ he responded.

“Mhm?” You simply hummed in reply.

“If you could, i don’t know uh teach me how to get better at archery?” He finally let out.

You looked at your bow and back at Percy.

You wonder exactly why he asked you.

Maybe he just came here in hopes to ask the first person he sees, or maybe he was looking for you specifically.

That’s a nice thought.

“Really?! Okay, I don’t mind!”you replied.

“You don’t?!” He replied.

“Of course not! I don’t have much to do anyway.” You giggled.

Before anything you told him the basics, how to stand, how to correct your breathing, and how to aim better.

The day went on.

Percy missed the target completely most times.

But once he finally got remotely close, you had to say you were proud of the blonde.

You were happy to even spend time with him.

“There you go Percy! That was great, you’re getting better!” You chuckled, swinging you arm over his shoulder squeezing him a bit.

He froze at the sudden contact for a moment.

“Thanks! I really c-couldn’t have done it without you, you know!” He went on blushing.

“Awe don’t sweat it, it comes naturally so I never need to put much in to it, but thanks!” You thanked the boy, feeling your face heat up.

Percy handed you the bow back queuing the end of your lesson.

“You know if you ever want me to teach you again I’d be happy to, just swing by cabin 7 I’m usually there.” You mentioned.

“Yeah sure, but about that-“ he started.

“About what?”

“Well uh, seeing each other again you know? Like not during training” He blushed.

“O-oh! Yeah i wouldn’t mind at all, I enjoy your company!” You responded.

“Really?!” Percy added.

“Yeah really.” You confirmed.

“I uh- like being around you too.” Percy smiled.

The two of you got along perfectly.

Like a puzzle piece.

You definitely had a crush on him.

He might like you back.

Percy definitely is too scared to confess anytime soon.

And maybe that’s good.

Love takes time.

Especially puppy love.

A/n: innocent puppy love is deff the vibe I’ll always go for with my Percy fics so hopefully I’ll have time to do more      (Miles 42 fic in the making!!!!)<3

[boyfhee]

ㅤ ꣑୧ㅤㅤ:ㅤCANDLELITㅤㅤ𝒻t.ㅤㅤ성혼

﹙10097﹚ SYNOPSIS . . . the dating scene sucks, especially when the only person you want to be with is your roommate.

꣑୧ GENRE . . . roommate au, 'i hate them but they're hot' kind of energy

꣑୧ WARNINGS . . . profanities, drinking i mean lots of drinking we need alcohol shortage here, sunghoon smokes, mentions of one night stands, one very suggestive make out scene in the fourth section, undertones of cheating but not from sunghoon or reader, implications of sex although it's very light

꣑୧ NOTES . . . hi ( _ _; ) drowning in nervousness as i'm posting this. it's my first long fic after months ... i think the last one was in may or june 23 ... so please be nice >< don't know why but this didn't turn out how i wanted it to and it's definitely not one of my proudest works, but i hope u guys like it nonetheless huhu TT happy reading and please rb and drop feedback, it's highly appreciated ^_^

001. WHERE THERE’S HEAVEN THERE’S HELL

sunghoon is spiralling again. 

a part of it is because of the endless assignments from classes, but that’s no news. he knows it’s his fault for procrastinating and waiting till two days before the due date to even think about working on them— unlike jake who somehow attends classes probably four times a week and is seen in the football fields instead, and still manages to be the first one to submit his essays. it’s admirable, annoying at most. when he sat down to do his sports science project three days before it was due, sunghoon realised why his professor gave them two months to finish it. 

but realising your mistakes and working on them to be a better version of yourself are two different things.

for one, sunghoon believes those assignments are useless. no one cares about the impact of sports on society, maybe except heeseung and jake but again, in sunghoon’s mind, those two are never important. second, he’s too perfect to be working on himself. sunghoon is the best version of himself. he was born the day his uncle died, and his dad inherited the entire chain of restaurants his family owns across the country. he’s too amazing to be worrying about getting a degree he can buy— he thinks the university should be honoured he’s choosing to study— but that’s simply because his mother doesn’t want him to turn out like his sister. 

back to the matter at hand— as he puts the beer can on the table and sits back on the couch, his eyes travel to the door yet again. seventh time in just a minute, he’s keeping a record of how you make him wait. 

if there’s one thing he hates is being irresponsible ( coming from the great king of irresponsibility himself. ) you said you’d be back by twelve, and it’s half past one in night and not a soul knows your whereabouts. thirteen texts, seven missed calls, his phone is at forty-one percent and sunghoon is at his limit. if it wasn’t for your mom he wouldn’t give two flying fucks about where you are and how you’ve been.

sunghoon is actually surprisingly obedient and well-mannered, as opposed to the popular belief. he gave you and your mother the whole tour of the apartment the day you moved in. even made some coffee which isn’t much but your mother had loved him. he could see it in the way she looked at him with those sweet eyes, holding his hands as if he was her own son, and asking him to look after you. 

‘please take care of my daughter,’ sunghoon thought he was getting married. instead of a wedding bell there were warning sirens going off. to this day he doesn’t know why she asked him that, minutes after she saw a dead cactus in the balcony that he killed by overwatering. he couldn’t even say no to her and just nodded, looking over at you briefly and noticing how you look like you were a bit embarrassed. sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s so serious about ‘taking care’ of you. he thought it would be easy, but you had to be devil’s favourite spawn and sunghoon happens to be your target.

however, he can’t take this anymore. he has a morning class and waiting till two am while drinking beer has done more damage to sunghoon than it should. he gets up from the couch with a sigh, leaving the empty cans unattended for a night as he makes a mental note to clean tomorrow. it isn’t until a click from the door stops him in his tracks. 

“i’m back,” your voice is quiet, a yawn following immediately after your words as you look down while taking off your shoes. you’ve been drinking again, sunghoon can tell it from a mile away. 

“you’re late,” he speaks over the silence, hands on his torso as he’s giving you those squinted eyes and doubtful looks. if sunghoon didn’t know any better, he would assume you fucked someone at the club with how messy you look at the moment.

“yeah well, we had to take gigi to the hospital,” your lazy voice isn’t much louder than a whisper. you stumble towards your room, a hiccup followed soon after by the same quiet and slurred tone. “she ate something weird,”

he huffs at your words, knowing it would very well be just another excuse. “you could’ve at least texted,”

“my phone died,”

“i’m sure your friends would be happy to lend you their phone,” he pauses when he feels himself getting a bit annoyed. a soft sigh falls off his lips as he looks down at the tiled floor before looking up and speaking in a much calmer voice. “i’m just saying it’s not exactly safe to be out alone on the streets this late at night,”

“i wasn’t alone,” that piques his interest. “jay drove me back,”

and sunghoon felt his whole world stop. “jay?”

“yeah, jay, park jongseong,” your voice is surprisingly sweet when you take his name and it bothers sunghoon for some reason. his face scrunches up when you bite back a smile, hoping it’s the alcohol not because of what he thinks it is. “he’s nicer than i thought,”

sunghoon is not unfamiliar with the name park jongseong.

he hears it every day on and off the campus, more often than he likes. first things first, he’s just as popular as jake, for being american, which brings sunghoon to the question— why in the world would he leave america to study in korea when jay could have attended one of the ivy leagues with his face and money?

and the second and more important question, why in the world is park jongseong dropping you home at two in the night?

sunghoon only watches you in disbelief and astonishment as you stumble to your room, mumbling something incoherently. your words ring in his ear like sirens. ‘he is better than you’ jay is better than sunghoon. he scoffs almost offensively in your direction. that has to be the biggest lie of the twenty-first century.

he follows you to your room, reaching out to grab your arms when you almost trip but you manage to balance yourself. he opens the door and turns on the lights for you. “why were you with him to begin with?”

“oh, you don’t know?” and you turn around with eyes wide open as he shakes his head like a deer in the headlight. “he asked me out,” 

sunghoon didn’t get a single ounce of sleep last night. 

it’s your fault, clearly. had you been back earlier on the time, nothing would’ve happened. and jay— sunghoon sights at the thought of him, eyes narrowing as he grits on his pen as if he’s going to break it into two. 

“dude, are you hungry?” jake pokes sunghoon by his shoulder, dragging the latter out of his trail of thoughts. 

“what?” sunghoon shoots a blank look, one that makes his friend sigh in concern. afterall, it’s not everyday he sees sunghoon chewing on a pen. “i’m not,”

“you’ve been out of it since the morning,”

and sunghoon has been out of it since jay’s name fell from your lips. 

he’s not your friend, definitely not the first guy you’ve called by his name after sunghoon. but something doesn’t sit right. even after tossing and turning in bed for the whole night, he can’t figure out what bothers him more— the fact you said jay is better than him, or the fact that he asked you out on a date.

it’s the first one, he convinces himself. who you date is none of his business, he can’t be arsed enough to care about your love life or relationship status. ( although, he does care a little because he’s nosy. ) what bothers him more is that jay is, to put it in simple words, a player. all that face and no empathy for emotions is a waste, and to think you don’t know this— or maybe you do and yet still chose to go out with him, is beyond sunghoon’s comprehension. 

“what do you think about jay?” he asks abruptly, catching jake’s attention, looking at him a little too intently for an answer. 

“he’s a nice guy,” a casual reply before he gets back to his assignment before jake looks back at sunghoon with newly found interest. “he turned in my spanish essay last week, oh and drove me back from the bar a few days ago after you ditched me. why?”

sunghoon simply shakes his head, getting back to his books even though his focus is nowhere near studies. at this point, he doesn’t know if it’s jay distracting him or you. even your words keep playing over and over again in the back of his head. jay and nice in the same sentence doesn’t seem fit. sure, he helps his friends and drops his girl back home, but that’s only three days before there’s a new girl in his arms. 

002. RUNNING OUT OF SANITY

sunghoon doesn’t hear the door click open when you come back from your classes, too busy in the balcony while humming a tune that you recognise immediately. you take off your shoes, noticing how he taps his foot along with the melody, and it’s quiet in the apartment, apart from the sound of traffic and wind rustling through the trees around.

“i don’t like people who smoke,” smoking is not on your list of likes, but you find yourself next to sunghoon whenever he’s with a cigarette. just like now, when you return from yet another one of your dates— or meet-ups as you prefer to call it right now— with jay. it wasn’t really planned. you bumped into him after classes and he was on his way back home, so you asked him for a coffee. 

he almost jumps at your sudden voice but manages to compose himself, scowing at the distaste in your expression before scoffing, the cigarette still dancing between his lips. “good think, i’m not looking forward to be liked by you,”

he studies the frown on your face, glares as if your eyes are shooting daggers in his direction. it’s amusing to him how easy it is to get on your nerves. he leans against the metal railings, hair falling over his forehead. his eyes stay on your for a few seconds before he holds the cigarette between his index and middle finger, putting it away from his mouth and blowing out the smoke in your directions. he laughs mockingly when you step back, fanning out the smoke with your hands, cursing under your breath.

“are you crazy?!” you exclaim in annoyance, coughing slightly at his poor attempt at entertainment. your frown deepens when he mumbles a quiet apology although not meaning it, from the looks of it, and lifts the cigarette back to his lips. 

“you’re back early,” he states casually, tapping the cigarette butt and watching the ash fall down from the balcony before a taunting chortle falls off his lips. “did jay dump your ass or something?”

your nose scrunches up at his actions, although mostly at the tobacco you can still smell in your air. you look down at the road, watching a mercedes passing by. “no, he had to go somewhere so he left early,”

“i knew it! he’s good for nothing,” and he drops the cigarette to the floor, crushing it with his foot even though at the back of his mind, he knows you’re going to yell at him for cleaning that up. “what kind of guy can’t even spend time with his girlfriend?”

“we’re not dating,”

“that’s worse!” he emphasises, and a pause follows as he looks at you with a confused expression. “wait— didn’t you say he asked you out?”

“he did, but he said he wants to wait until exams are over,” there’s a hint of displeasure in your voice. his eyes travel down to your fingers, especially the ring you’re fiddling with before they’re back on your face when you speak again. “we just decided to hang out,”

he practically scoffs at your words, quite literally in disbelief. a knowing sigh comes out of his mouth as he stands straight, this time standing with his back against the railing, feeling the cold metal though his thin white t-shirt. a part of him wants to laugh at your stupidity and point at how naive you are, while another part of him wants to find jay and beat him to pulp. he doesn’t know why there’s anger pooling in his stomach at the mere thought of jay just messing around with you. 

“what a sick bastard,” he huffs with a tincture of annoyance in his tone. “how much do you want to bet he’s playing with you?”

“you’re the one who’s sick,” and even though it clicks with him that you’re referring to a few minutes earlier when he smoked all in your face, sunghoon still frowns when you call him sick. “he’s just prioritising his studies, there’s nothing wrong with that. at least he doesn’t smoke while being all up my face,”

you two just bask in silence after that.

he doesn’t have much to say— actually he does, but he doesn’t know how to put it in a decent, coherent way. of course, your reaction won’t be the most pleasant if he told you he wants to punch jay’s good for nothing handsome face. he wonders what you’re thinking when he looks over at you. you seem happy whenever you talk about your supposed ‘future boyfriend,’ yet it’s evident that you’re upset. he likes to think you’re having your doubts too. it's reassuring to him for some reason— because that’s good for you, of course. if you’re upset, you have your doubts, and if you have your doubts you might not fall victim to whatever sick game jay is playing. 

“oh, actually, he doesn’t smoke,” but then you speak in a matter-of-fact way, as if comparing him to jay before giving him a mocking smile. “he’s better than you,”

those words ring in his mind for a good while. 

you go back inside and he hears you shut the door to your room as an annoyed sigh falls off his lips. hearing that jay is nice from jake was another thing, but hearing to say he’s better than him leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. and he doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way, these little changes in how he usually is, it’s new. it’s frustrating him out. 

it isn’t until his phone vibrates that he’s dragged out of his ocean of thoughts. his brows furrow when he notices the time, having realised that he basically wasted the entire noon even though he didn’t attend classes after giving heeseung an excuse that he’s sick. his eyes squint at the sender, and then a groan escaping his lips when he opens to read it. 

noh chaeun  4:15pm hoon! my last two classes have been cancelled are you up for some coffee?

sunghoon doesn’t reply, rather leaving his classmate’s messages on seen, too bothered by his inner turmoil to spend time with her. it’s not like him to be this way, to be so bothered over something that doesn’t concern him. you’re definitely not someone so significant and jay is definitely not the first guy you’re with. in fact, he has seen you kiss that guy from one of your classes— as much as he hates to recall that incident now— and had sneaked up to tell your mother about it over the phone when she had called you.

you’ve never had a serious relationship, not after meeting him. in his head, you always came back to him and he’d be lying if he hadn’t joked about it with his friends during the initial few weeks after you had moved in. when he had mentioned to jake that you’re pretty and his friend had teased him a few days later, saying his ‘crush’ was with this other guy, sunghoon, did in fact, say he doesn’t care because you always come back to him; or rather his apartment, actually, but whatever fits the joke. 

that day, he had a good laugh out of it and the joke died back then itself, more so after he started complaining about you to his friends. your habits, your actions, the things you say that tick him off, your quirky and quick remarks— everything. perhaps, even about your habit of arriving late on weekends from parties and ruining his sleep because you forget the key most of the time, so he has to wake up and open the door for you, but not guys, never guys. 

it hurts his head to even try and figure it out, to find the reasoning behind the pang in his chest every time you mention jay. he likes to think it’s just harmless competition although for no reason, even though both of them have done plenty of things to piss each other off just for the fun of it. sunghoon thinks he can live with it and walks back inside to the living room, until he sees you walking out of your room on phone with someone, the name of he who shall be mentioned rolling off your tongue again, and he finally pulls out his phone with a frustrated sigh. 

sunghoon  4:21pm sure, i’ll pick you up in ten

“actually, my mom wants to invite your family over for dinner this weekend,” the girl in front of him speaks with a smile after muttering a quiet thank you to the waiter after he gets their order. “she’s very grateful  for the donation your dad made for our art gallery and wants to thank properly,”

“talk to my parents, then,” it’s a simple reply, too bland and forced for her liking.

sunghoon hasn’t spared her a single look in the past ten minutes that they’ve been sitting together at the table. firstly, he doesn’t know why he drove to a restaurant when she asked for a coffee. it’s not even close to dinner time, and the awkward yet sweet smile on her face didn’t make it better for him, so he ordered starters and drinks to drag their little impromptu dinner out. 

“sunghoon, to be honest,” chaeun tries to strike up a conversation again, despite the constant lack of effort from his side. “i want you—”

“hey, isn’t that jongseong?” and he cuts her off immediately, finger pointing outside the glass panes beside them as he stares in the direction behind her with brows knit together in shock. “who’s that with her?”

“jongseong?” she repeats the name before turning her head, forming an ‘o’ when she spots a familiar figure through the multitude on the streets. “ah, that’s myung jihye. she has been pursuing him for a while. i guess he finally agreed,”

“they’re dating?!” his voice is full of surprise and disbelief unlike hers, so seemed to be happy for the girl instead. he stares outside with a heavy silence as the couple disappears between the crowd before looking at the girl in front of him.

“oh, i wouldn’t say that…i don’t know but it’s possible they are.” it doesn’t miss her attention how sunghoon’s fingers tighten around the fork. “everybody in our major knows jihye has crush on him and they’re probably a thing by now,”

and he wishes you were here with him right now so that he could show you the true colours of the dear guy you’ve been going out with, the one who’s supposedly ‘better’ than him. he wants you to realise that his words weren’t false and he isn’t sick, after all, and if you’d cry, he would be down to tell you it’s not the end of the world. that there are a hundred other guys better than jay, ones who won’t even breathe in front of another woman, who’d treat you better— hell, i can treat you better if you ever give me a chance— and then a pause in his train of thoughts.

he looks at chaeun, who’s looking back at him with a perplexed look and her own set of questions. his mind replays those words yet again, and he screams internally.

what the heck?!

surprisingly enough, sunghoon has been thinking about jay for the whole evening now, obviously not in a good way. his eyes keep travelling to the knife stand on the kitchen island occasionally and every single time, he has to convince himself that murder is not the right answer to anything. 

for some reason, he can’t stop imagining your smiles while on date with jay. not that he has ever seen those— wish i could— as he slaps himself out of his state of mind yet again. not only that man is playing with you but on jihye who’s apparently his girlfriend? he lets out the ugliest scoff known to mankind, because in sunghoon’s head, jay is a sick joke made by biology.

he waits for you to return from your shopping spree for about an hour, having beer as a company. he tries to stay awake although his eyes get droopy, and then every ounce of sleep leaves his body when he hears the door unlock. 

“yn,” he practically jumps out of the couch, it almost scares you. he accidentally bumps into the living room table on the way, knocking an empty can of beer to the floor but too busy to bother picking it up. “i have to tell—” his eyes go down to the eleven shopping bags in your hands, as he counts them. “— wait, what did you shop so much for?” 

“oh, i have to attend a family wedding next month,” his chest feels warm when he sees you smiling and looking so excited, and it’s making him go crazy on the inside because he doesn’t know what is happening to him. for some reason, he starts imagining you in a gown, like the one you wore for the fresher’s party, but then he forces his mind to get back to the point. “i’m thinking of asking jay to be my date,”

and his heart drops down to his stomach.

this has to be a fucking joke, and he tells himself. for a split second, he thinks he didn’t hear you properly. maybe you said jake because, well, jake did tweet a ‘date for rent’ form five months ago when he needed money to buy tickets for a post malone concert that cost more than his gentle monster glasses ( not that he got any money but at least they got a good laugh out of it. ) 

you remove your shoes and put the shopping bags on the couch before sitting down as well, letting out a heavy sigh. “you look like you saw a ghost,”

“a ghost would’ve been better,” he catches you looking at him when he mumbles under his breath, sort of grateful you didn’t hear him before sunghoon would rather not have another argument with you over how jay is not only a bad choice, he’s the worst choice. 

he looks over at you when you pull out your phone, fingers fluttering over the screen as you text someone with a giddy smile. he considers telling you what he had seen earlier, but god, he loved to see you smile like that. the way you press your lips together to suppress a grin, looking ever so happy as if you have won a lottery. he doesn’t think you’ve ever smiled like that at him, and it aggravates him even more when he realises that you probably smile like that every time you see jay. 

jay is getting everything he isn’t deserving of, and it pisses sunghoon off down to his bones. 

but again, he can’t bring himself to tell you the truth. you look too happy for your own good, it pains him physically to even imagine your reaction when you’ll come to know the truth. and then he pulls himself together, telling himself that it is your fault in the first place to trust someone like jay and ignore the warning signs he was giving you. 

in the end, he leaves without having any further conversations with you, going to bed two hours earlier than usual even though he knows he isn’t going to get any sleep. sunghoon is convinced he’s losing his mind, faster than a day ago actually. he lets out a frustrated groan and covers himself with his blanket, hoping to catch some sleep. 

it’s going to be yet another long day tomorrow.

003. A CHANGE OF STANCE

sunghoon thinks you’re hot.

what the fuck?

“i asked something,” you remind, pulling him out of his trail of thoughts and he flinches slightly, making your brows furrow in confusion. “how do i look?”

“huh— what? oh,” he takes in your appearance again. hair down, make up done— you’re wearing your favourite lip tint? and the best dress he has seen you in so far, looking so mind blowing it actually blows his mind and short circuits his brain. 

even your favourite lip tint … sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s looking at your lips in the first place but little does he know he’s fucked. 

absolutely. completely. fucked.

nonetheless, he manages to compose himself, clearing his throat and sitting up ever so elegantly on the couch, legs crossed, the magazine still in his hands. “you look…t-terrific,” 

you can’t help but get even more confused at his words, wondering if it was a bad idea to even ask him for his opinion, even though you play along. “like in a good way or a bad way?”

“in a terrific way,” he blurts out, eyes wide open as panic settles in slowly inside his stomach, and he’s stuttering, shocked, surprised, fucked, again. “you look terrific in a terrific way…so terrifically terrific in the most terrific way possible,” 

“are you high?” 

well, he would say he is! never in the two years that he has known you did sunghoon think he’d find himself floored, figuratively, and speechless, literally, at the sight of you. and he’s not saying you look bad on other days. you look good, in fact. good as in plain and presentable, but never in a good good way and definitely not in a hot way, of course. 

“anyway, i’m going out. receive my parcel for me if it arrives,” you move to put on your shoes, taking a few seconds to pick between the two you think would suit your outfit. for a moment, you consider asking him to help you choose— as you look at him up and down peripherally, and he looks terrified. and you shrug it off, grabbing one of your loafers.

“where are you going?” he asks after a good minute of silence, sounding calmer than earlier as he gets off the couch and walks up to you. his nose scrunches up in disapproval as your hands move to one of your jimmy choos for a brief second, before you decide to go back to your initial pick.

“date,” he takes a moment to register your words, despite this happening many times.

a date. he scoffs softly, looking away, arms crossed. 

a date, again. sunghoon doesn’t give a fuck. 

“with jay,” you continue, this time with a sweet smile on your face that makes his heart flutter for some reason. maybe, he does give a fuck. 

now, sunghoon should feel bad for his fellow friend of a friend because he’s on a date with you, but instead he wants to snap his neck in two. the name is starting to give him an ick— jay this, jay that. you’re hanging out with jay, having coffee with jay, going on a date with jay, shopping with jay, next would be going to bed with jay— he pauses immediately, shaking his head. he doesn’t really like the sound of that.

“whatever,” he tells himself when you walk out of that door, looking all pretty and excited. he doesn’t know why he’s getting so worked up over a date, that too with someone who— according to sunghoon and chaeun— is dating someone else. he would pay to see you back home all miserable and he would point fingers at you and laugh, saying he told you already while you had your conscience and rationality clogged up with the possibility of getting dicked down. 

but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re on a date with jay fucking park. and you’re looking hot. 

he sighs, slouching back on the couch, looking outside at the bright blue skies and then sighs again. he needs to be lobotomized.

it’s three in the noon and sunghoon is drowning himself in misery and pity. and soju.

a glass after another and then another, along with two empty bottles already on the table. even the owners are giving him a weird look and heeseung can only let him ruin his reputation so much.

“there, there,” the senior takes the half empty bottle of soju from his hand and puts it aside, sighing pitifully at sunghoon. “that’s enough for today. you need to stop drinking,”

“heeseung,” sunghoon looks up at the guy in front of him, looking horribly pitiful, eyes a bit unfocused from the alcohol settling in his system. “do you know yn?”

and heeseung pauses for a few moments, not knowing what prompted him to ask this question. more so when you and heeseung went to the same highschool and even were in the music club. he nods slightly in doubt, raising his glass to his lips. “of course,”

“do you think he’s pretty?”

“of course,”

“do you think she’s hot?”

“of course,” it takes heeseung quite a few seconds to respond and sunghoon sort of wants to punch him in the face for agreeing because he feels a certain way when others find you hot— but he would claim it’s soju giving him heartburns. “why are you even asking this suddenly?”

“she went on a date with jay,” he responds in the most miserable and sullen voice known to mankind. his shoulders practically slouching at the mention of he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, finger tracing the rim of the glass in front of him with incoherent whines falling off his lips.

“so what?” jake interjects, beckoning the owner for yet another bottle for soju. it was necessary, as heeseung had warned earlier while arriving at the restaurant, considering sunghoon’s impromptu text about wanting to meet up. 

“jake, did you hear what i said? she’s on a date with jay. park. jong. seong,” the youngest spells out every syllable, sitting up straight as he gets defensive. “she thinks he’s madly in love with her or something but she’s wrong! the day i went out with chaeun, i saw him with jihye and guess what? chaeun said everyone knows they’re a thing but apparently, yn doesn’t know this. i’ve told her so many times that he is not worth it but she won’t understand she’s fucking dumb oh my god,”

and…silence.

absolute fucking maddening silence that made sunghoon go even more insane before jake finally decides to speak, albeit in disbelief. 

“that monologue was unnecessary,” the foreigner pours in another glass for the three of them, filling them up completely, knowing this is going in a new direction yet a one that has been anticipated by both him and heeseung. “besides, since when do you care about her?”

“she’s my roommate,”

“you like her,” heeseung exclaims, and silence follows again for a few seconds before sunghoon gasps scandalously, slamming his glass down on the table which turns a few heads in their direction as jake mutters an embarrassed apology for it.

“i don’t,” sunghoon speaks in a voice much calmer than his previous tone, even leaning in towards the table to put emphasis on his words. jake pours himself another glass, scoff at his words while shaking his head mockingly which only pisses him off more.

“i knew this would happen,” heeseung continues, stating it as a matter of fact while nudging jake to pour him a glass as well. “saw this coming from a mile away when you cried over her going on a blind date the last time you got drunk,”

he can’t point out when that must’ve happened, but he doesn’t refute his words, simply letting his eyes travel across the room for a few moments. the frown on his lips deepens when he meets jake’s knowing gaze as he gets defensive once again. “i’m telling you, i don’t like her,”

“you said that about hello kitty but she’s everywhere in your room now,” he turns his phone with the screen up when he feels jake’s eyes on it, or particularly on the hello kitty sticker on his phone cover as the boy nudges him for another glass. “go on, you’ll need it.”

and sunghoon does, drinking more than he usually does thanks to jake filling his glass again and again for the sake of his sob story. the cab drops him in front of his apartment and he stumbles his way to the elevator. the silence sobers him out for some reason as he leans against the walls of the elevator and thinks about you.

perhaps you’re still with jay, sharing smiles and stories, kisses if you’re brave enough. he likes to think you are not, that you would chicken out— it makes him feel better about himself. he imagines you holding hands with him and then shrugs that thought off his mind just as quickly, huffing at the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth as he walks out of the elevator once it reaches his floor.

sunghoon planned to take a shower and sleep, but every thought water downs to nothing when he spots you crouching next to the door with knees pressed up to your chest. he can’t see your face, but he knows you’re sad, and it makes him stop in front of you, his heart accelerating when you look up at him with glistening eyes.

you look miserable.

and sunghoon has no reaction. he’s frozen, hands on his side as he stares at you. he was supposed to laugh at you for your stupidity. but you look so utterly sad and heart broken, god, he wants to punch jay in his throat. yet again, every single thought leaves his mind when his eyes fall back on your face, his hands instinctively opening out to you as he speaks in a voice as soft as a feather.

“let’s go inside,”

004. CANDLELIT 

“he said it was a bet,” you speak over the silence, fiddling with your fingers. you look up at sunghoon— who’s sitting with legs crossed in front of you while you’re curled up in one corner of the couch. “and that he never meant to drag it out for so long but he didn’t know how to tell me,”

“a bet?” he scoffs bitterly, looking away for a fraction of a second before his eyes are back on you. “what an asshole,” 

it’s not the first time sunghoon has said that. in fact, asshole is all and the only word he uses to define jay. you still think it was a stretch, for jay isn’t that bad. sure, he lied to you and played with your feelings— which you will never accept that you had feelings for him because you don’t want to look pathetic— but he wasn’t rude. well, at least he paid for all the three dates you two went on with the locations being some high end restaurants or bakeries. 

on the other hand, sunghoon stares at you in silence. his eyes trace over your sullen face, and then to your fingers. for a second, he considers holding your hands…roommates can do that at least, right? to comfort one another, but then he catches you looking up at him and he averts his gaze to a distant corner. “don’t start crying now!”

“i’m not! i didn’t even like him that much…” and he can’t help but suppress his smile at the pout on your face as you refuse to look at him. it’s adorable, he never thought he would ever say that, but it’s true. your mannerisms are cute, you’re cute, and it’s eating his brain cells.

“is that so? you talked about him like you two were in love or something,”

“stop it!”

he stares at you quietly for a few seconds again. even though you’re being defensive out of embarrassment right now, trying to prove to him that you’re not heartbroken, sunghoon knows you’ll be crying the moment you’re behind the closed doors of your room. on other days, he wouldn’t care so much. not more than giving a few pats on a back and telling you to suck it up despite the concern in his voice. today, however, he feels differently.

you got played. it’s your heart that’s broken. you feel like a fool, and yet sunghoon is sitting in front of you, trying to find words amidst awkwardness and hesitation. his heart feels heavy for you. it’s unfathomable on his part.

he suddenly remembers the day you mentioned that jay is better than him. he almost scoffs at that, again. well, you might harbour feelings for the american guy but at least sunghoon never had you holding back your tears. and he swears it would never come to that, if you ever have feelings for him because sunghoon would be a better boyfriend— and then he comes back to his senses as soon as those words register inside his brain, cheeks heating up at the sudden thought before he clears his throat. 

“do you want ramen?” he manages to change the topic ever so swiftly, getting up from the couch and already walking to the kitchen without waiting for your response. apparently, getting away from you would ease his heartbeat, although hearing your voice has just as much effect on him as your presence or a mere thought of you.

“are you cooking?”

he lets out a breathy laugh at your words, getting two packs of ramen from the shelf. “of course, do you think i’d ask you to cook when you look like you went through a divorce and lost the custodies of all your three kids?” 

you frown at his words, although ending up laughing at them just a second later. it’s hard to not laugh at how silly he is sometimes, if you ignore his annoying tendencies. sunghoon puts the water to boil, fighting back a smile at the sound of your laughter. it’s better than seeing you all sad over a guy who doesn’t deserve you.

you get off the couch as well, making your way to the kitchen, wanting to help him since he listened to your sob story. it’s quiet, and you hear slight rumbling outside as you take a quick look at the weather outside through the windows and then within a few seconds, thunder pierces through the silence hanging in the room. 

sunghoon flinches visibly, freezing in his stance before the sound of heavy rain fills the kitchen. he turns on the electric stove and it blows out. all the lights in the apartment go out, darkness settling in and disturbed just as quickly as the room fills with bright flashes of light, illuminating your face for a short second before it’s dark again.

“wait, i’ll get my phone— oh,” you reach out for the back pocket of your trousers, quickly get your phone and turn it on for the flash light before it powers off. “out of battery,”

he takes a blind step into the darkness when it thunders again and he notices you standing with your arms around yourself when the light surges in the room for a moment again. he hopes you won’t push him away if he puts his arm around you, but then you two bump into each other. a quiet apology finds its way out of your lips, and he can tell you’re flustered. 

“where are the candles?” he asks to distract you from the fact that he’s holding your hand and pulling you aside gently, so you don’t crash into each other again. your hands feel oddly warm in this cold weather, and it only flutters his heart even more.

“second shelf from the right i think,” your voice is interrupted by thunder again and your hands instinctively tighten around his fingers. and then a loud thud follows, causing you to gasp slightly. “are you okay?”

“i can’t fucking see,” his voice is strained, oozing off pain as he lets go off your hands. you open your mouth to speak before he bumps into something again. something falls off the counter, perhaps the spoon by the sound of it and he apologises shortly after. it’s harder to navigate around his own apartment, more than he had imagined.

sunghoon manages to find the candles, setting them on the counter with pure intuition before lighting one of it up with the lighter he always carries around in his pocket. he turns around, almost bumping into you and before he could say anything, he sees you pressed up against one of the counters, face illuminated by the dim candle light. 

you’re close, too close, he’s afraid you can hear his heart going crazy at the proximity. his mind is telling him to step aside but he’s too lost looking in your eyes, ( as you are too ) with you looking so impossibly beautiful under the faint golden glow. 

“is this okay?” he whispers softly and you simply nod, not a word coming out of your mouth as you find yourself entranced by his face. sunghoon has always been aphrodite’s son, as his admirers would call him, and now that you’re seeing him so closely, you’re realising he’s something much more beautiful.

it doesn’t slip your attention how his gaze settles on your lips for a quick second, your body tensing up at the sudden movement. your breath hitches as he leans closer, dipping his head down. your heart is racing while he feels like his heart has stopped— it’s timeless, as he finds himself just a few centimetres away from your lips, not wanting to stop even though he gives you a chance to pull back, whispering softly, “can i?”

you nod. and sunghoon doesn’t waste another second, capturing your lips with his. 

it’s still at first, with your lips only pressed up together for a few seconds. it’s only a few seconds after he pulls back ever so slightly, and then tilts his head to the other side and goes in for another kiss, this time moving his lips slowly against yours. he feels you tense up for a brief while and then melting as you kiss him back, your fingers lacing around his tenderly. you flinch when it thunders again, breaking the kiss, but feeling shivers down your spine as you feel his breath on your lips. 

he takes a few seconds, fingers ghosting up your hands to rest on your waist, tugging you closer as he brushes his lips against yours. “focus on my lips,”

and he kisses you again, this time a bit more firmly, albeit it’s slow and gentle at first, his lips moving against yours in a way that's both comforting and exciting. but as the moments pass, he presses in deeper, more insistently. he lets his body press more firmly against yours, his chest touching yours as his tongue gently teases at the seam of your lips. it was working, the way his lips move against yours, it calms your nerves from the thunder but lights them up again when he nibbles gently on your lower lip, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist as he continues to kiss you so fervently. 

it takes a passing second for you to realise what you���re doing. it surprises you, however not enough to pull back, or maybe the way his tongue feels against yours stops you from doing so. you’d be lying if you say you hadn’t thought of kissing him before— as early as two days after moving in. and now that you’re actually kissing him, everything feels like a fever dream.

he tucks your chin up with his fingers, pulling you in closer to deepen the kiss. he is a good kisser, sunghoon uses that to boast about himself, he has always been good at this— kissing, bragging, making your knees weak, and all you could do was melt into him wet and sloppy kisses that he plants on your skin. 

he dips his head down to your neck, pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, pulling your blouse aside to get a better access to your collarbones and shoulders. it felt like his body has a mind of its own, and he’s only following right behind. when a soft gasp leaves your lips, he moves back to your lips again, wanting to swallow every little sound you make that makes his mind haywire. 

your breaths are heavy, hands around his neck with fingers grazing the skin of his nape. a movement that makes him moan softly in the kiss as he presses you against the counter, holding you between his arms. his hand that's resting on your hip moves up, tracing the curve of your waist and then sliding under your shirt to rest on your bare skin, lips curling up in a subtle smirk as he hears you gasp yet again. 

“sunghoon—” you pull back, getting a quick glance at his half-lidded eyes when the lightning from the thunderstorm fills the room. he can still feel your laboured breathing on his lips and it does nothing but pull him in even more. after all, sunghoon would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine doing this with you.

“we’ll stop,” he pecks your lips, then trailing his lips down your jawline and to your neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your skin. “when the candle goes out,” 

005. WHERE THE LINE FADES

when sunghoon wakes up the next morning, he’s met with cold empty sheets on the side and the memories from last night start flooding his mind. his heartbeat accelerates at the mere thought of you, especially how you were last night and every time his name fell off your lips in bliss and pleasure— he would’ve preferred waking up to you rather than emptiness. 

he lays idly for a few minutes and stares at the ceiling, looking for where it all had started. was it the day you told him jay asked you out? maybe not, he doesn’t like to think of himself as a jealous person. it must’ve been when you asked for his opinion on your outfit, he tells himself, you looked too good to be true that day. a few seconds more and he sits up with a soft groan, seemingly unable to find answers to any of his questions.

the weather seems to have improved as he notices the cosy sunlight outside. he slips on this shirt before walking down to the shared bathroom, rubbing his eyes softly and brushing his fingers through his hair with a sigh. he puts his hand on the door knob and looking up in surprise when it opens on the other side.

“oh,” the slight hint of shyness on your face doesn’t escape his gaze, just like how enchanting you look this early in the morning with hair wet from the shower. you bite slightly on your lower lip before the awkwardness in the air is disturbed by your voice. “morning,”

actually, it must’ve all started the day you moved in.

“morning,” he replies back, rubbing his nape and looking away. the weight of questions lingering around makes it hard for him to look in your eyes. “would you like to have breakfast?”

you nod and follow him into the kitchen after making a short trip to your room. 

you steal a few glances at him while eating your breakfast, feeling your palms sweat at the thought of bringing it up to him. you avoid it for a few minutes, tossing the question around in your head while trying to make small talks about the ketchup, as bad as it could get. it feels a bit suffocating until you finally decide to address the elephant in the room. “so about last night—” 

“it was a mistake,” he cuts you off immediately, a heavy pause following shortly after. he looks up in your eyes for the first time since the morning. “let’s just forget it,”

and his words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. it could’ve been just another one night stand for you had it not been with sunghoon— your roommate, the person you see everyday, the person who managed to give you butterflies the day you moved in. your fingers tighten around the spoon and you consider arguing back for a moment before you push that idea further back in your head.

it could be just another thing added to the lists of things that have been buried, like the time you and sunghoon almost kissed in the elevator last year.

“right,” you nod quietly, convincing yourself that it’s not a big deal. that he’s just another guy in your life like jay. actually, you don’t feel like wanting to compare them anymore. you don’t know where the line marking the difference fades. “of course, yeah,”

you don’t even like the sound of that.

“yeah,”

you don’t wait another minute before leaving your unfinished breakfast on the table and going to your room. his eyes follow your movements, conscience nudging him to chase after you. he contemplates it for a while, and then you walk out with your bag. “i’ll see you after classes,”

and then sunghoon doesn’t see you for the rest of the morning.

or the day, in fact. usually, you two end up bumping into each other at least once, but sunghoon doesn’t see you around for the whole day. he skips spanish, deciding to go back to his apartment earlier than usual. he turns on the tv, deciding to watch a football watch with beer on the side while waiting for you. an hour passes, then another, and another.

there’s no sign of you.

it isn’t until he rings up a few of your friends that he hears that you’re staying over at giselle’s for the night. he wouldn’t blame you, couldn’t, not after everything that went down a night ago. you needed some space and so did he, but somewhere inside he wondered if he should’ve been honest with you when you brought up that topic during breakfast instead of saying the first thing that came to his mind and dismissing it.

but, he dismisses it again, letting you be on your own for as long as you need, knowing you’d come back soon.

which you do, the very next day, much to his surprise. he had expected you to avoid him for at least a week. he notices the way you look when you return early in the morning, tired and exhausted as if you hadn’t got a single ounce of sleep. there’s silence engulfing him but you walk to your room before he could even open his mouth to speak. and then you ignore him for the rest of the day.

he starts feeling annoyed at some point, trying to come up with a reason for your actions. he tries striking up conversations with you and you give short responses, or just nod. when you walk away without answering him when he asked about your day, sunghoon wanted to grab your wrist and pull you back for a second, but he dismisses that idea just as soon as it pops up in his head. he doesn’t even realise how quickly time passes in silence, not until he returns from heeseung’s apartment after spending two nights and one day with him and jake and checks his phone, realising it’s already close to being a week till you’re gone radio silent. he notices a few texts, mostly his study group that have been planning meet-ups to study, one that he rarely attends. his eyes especially squint in confusion at the texts from your mother, saying she had been trying to get in touch with you but getting no response. 

he was on his way to his room when he heard the door unlock. a pause, the click of the doorknob strikes through the silence, followed by your footsteps. he takes a few seconds to sort out his thoughts before speaking. “your mom texted me since you weren’t picking up her phone,”

“my phone died,” you give a simple response, almost too quickly for his liking. he lets his eyes follow your movements as you take off your shoes and jacket, putting it on the couch. 

it takes him back to the day you told him about jay asking you out. 

it was exactly the same— you arrived late, your phone had died. he was asking the same questions, albeit laced with annoyance. today, it’s hesitation, maybe slight doubt. sunghoon can’t stop you from seeing jay, but the idea of you being with him bothers him more than expected. so, he follows up with yet another question. 

“where have you been?” he asks, wanting to maintain a casual demeanour even though his heart is pounding in his chest just from being near you. he isn’t expecting any response, actually, however he’s met with surprise when you actually reply. 

“with jay,” the words fall from your mouth as if you’re used to them, used to saying his name. there’s an awkward pause before you clarify. “we had dinner together. he wanted to apologise properly,”

“that’s— that’s great,” he manages to squeeze out, but sunghoon thinks jay could’ve left you alone instead of meeting you if he wanted to apologise so bad.

you definitely had feelings for jay, even though they didn’t go as deep for you to come home sobbing your eyes out the day you learnt the truth. to sunghoon, that is enough of a reason to hate him even more. just the mere thought of your heart sinking whenever you’d even think of jay made him fist his hands, nails almost digging in the palm of his hands. 

sunghoon doesn’t have much experience with girls. in fact, none at all. flings are one thing, and girlfriends another. he has had both— none too serious. the first time someone asked him out was in highschool, although he’s surprised it didn’t happen much earlier. that time, just agreed to go out with her because his friends were in relationships too and he didn’t want to fall behind. it wasn’t soon before it turned into a competition after he got into university. not his best self, it isn’t something he’s proud of now that he thinks about it. 

and sunghoon isn’t half better than jay in that aspect, although obviously not as bad as to bet on going on a date with another girl while he already has a girlfriend. however, if you had feelings for him— as he thinks while watching you walk to your room— he wouldn’t let a single tear fall from your lips. 

“about that night,” he follows you into your room, practically hearing his heartbeat echo through his ears. he gulps nervously when he notices you looking at him with a sliver of hope in your eyes. “it wasn’t a mistake,”

“oh,” and you stop in your tracks, having no idea how to respond. an awkward pause follows as you bite your lower lip habitually before speaking, feigning a casual tone. “well, we can still put it behind—”

“i don’t want to,” he blurts out, cutting you off mid sentence. you notice how his voice is quiet as always, yet there’s panic and anxiousness behind those eyes. “i mean, i tried to, but it’s difficult. you’re always on my mind,”

there’s a silver of determination behind his voice. it’s surprising and equally anticipated. sometimes, he feels like he thinks of you every minute no matter what he’s doing. it was never this bad, these days even the regular banters between you two give him butterflies. and sunghoon understand that he might be far from your type in men. perhaps, you actually prefer someone like jay, who treat you to a fancy dinner to apologise, or maybe that guy from a few months ago who can’t remember the name of. 

you and sunghoon can be polar opposites and he would still be standing here, fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of his denim jacket, looking so uncharacteristically out of place. he would choose to have this talk again, as much as he hates confronting, because it never about who your type is and always about the fact that you’re sunghoon’s type— as he realises this when you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking at him with lips pressed together. you look cute, more so when you’re awkward, and he can’t believe he’s coming to terms with this but god, he is falling for you. 

he is falling hard, and falling deep. it’s nothing like him, you make him nervous, almost as if knocking him out of air whenever your eyes meet, and he would gladly suffocate to death. it was quiet with too many questions hanging above his head, and he noticed the way you fiddle with your fingers with the cutest expression known to mankind and sunghoon knew he was screwed. 

“i’ve got it so bad for you, yn, really,” —he speaks as if he’s out of breath due to the nervousness— “really bad. i tried to keep you out of here,” he said, pointing at his chest, cheeks flushing red as the words fell off his lips. “but you won’t go, you just won’t.”

and sunghoon has never been so…out of place, for the lack of better words. it’s amusing, even to you, the way he is right now. the sunghoon from three weeks ago wouldn’t even care but he, now, is pouring out all of himself, as if stripping him naked of his emotions and letting him see what lies behind the suave smiles and prideful words. as if showing you how easily you have him going crazy, right out of his mind and how he can’t help but just stare blankly as his eyes travel down to your lips occasionally— as they do now— and it leaves you in a frenzy when you notice it. 

“i can’t stop thinking about that night— not in a weird way, just…” and you’re just standing in front of him, trying not to laugh at his antics. he’s cute, a pause, what the fuck. and then you just go along with it, knowing there’s no point denying it anymore now that you two are having this conversation.

you notice his little mannerisms, like how he can’t look in your eyes for the life in him, how he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. it’s adorable, especially the way he can have all the attention in the room with just his mere presence. that’s sunghoon for you, with a presence so heavy it’s loud even when he’s silent. it’s so loud you can practically hear his mind, of all the words you know he wants to say but can’t. there’s a hitch in his breath, his eyes meet yours for the first time in the past few minutes— i like you— they say, and the next thing sunghoon knows is that you’re kissing him. 

“i like you too,” you whisper against his lips after pulling back, your lips brushing against his. sunghoon feels like every single nerve in his body has been sparked, giving him goosebumps when you slowly intertwine your fingers with his.

of course, you know how he feels even before he could say it out loud. maybe, he just made it obvious for you to guess, otherwise sunghoon likes to think of himself as someone who can hide his feelings well. he lets go of your hands as soon as he feels you lace your fingers with his and instead, cups your cheeks ever so tenderly and leans down to capture your lips with his, smiling in the kiss. “i love you,”

˃ᗜ˂ : if you made it till here, i'm sending each one of u kisses >< thank u for reading, i hope u liked it. ps i had to put my heart aside and write jay's name ... never again will i put my man thru this huhu TT he's too good to do these things

[dmwrites]

“Do you have a clock yet?” Impulse asked.

It was a warm day, the bright sunlight sweetened by the gentle breeze off the sea. Everything was new, the next chapter in the life series, and yet, some things stayed the same.

Bdubs searched his inventory. “I don’t, actually, no!”

Tango made some joke about not being able to sleep away the night here, and under that cover of laughter and jokes, Impulse stole down to the rudimentary hole he, Tango, Skizz, and Etho were calling home. Perhaps it was a little silly, to use resources so frivolously like this, but Impulse didn’t care.

Every time Impulse made a clock, he was always surprised how easy the recipe really was. Some redstone, a bit of gold. It felt almost juvenile that such a simple thing held so much weight and history within it.

When the clock was finished, Impulse flipped open the lid and picked up a small knife someone had left around- probably Etho- and began scratching letters into the golden surface.

“Well, I better be off, I’m sure Scar and Cleo are missing me.” Impulse heard Bdubs say from above. He snapped the clock closed, panicked, and raced back up to the surface.

“Wait, Bdubs!” He thrust the clock into Bdubs’ hands. “For you. For old times sake, huh? And maybe a bit of a bribe to not target me.” Impulse laughed, and Bdubs smiled down at the clock.

“Oh, thank you, Impulse!” Bdubs replied, putting it in his off-hand. “For old time’s sake.”

——

“Listen, Bdubs, I have something for you.” Cleo said. It was, if Cleo had to guess, the last day the Clockers would be alive. They were all rushing around, gathering materials and weapons. “You don’t happen to have a clock, do you?”

“Uhh…” Bdubs dug in his pockets for a moment. “I do! Impulse gave it to me way back on the first day!”

“Of course he did.” Cleo muttered, rolling her eyes slightly. “Listen, we can give you a better one. Give it to me.”

Bdubs handed it over, and Cleo went down to their family anvil, ignoring Scar’s babbling.

It was a standard clock, she saw as she looked down at it properly, with a golden lid with a window to the top half of the clock- if you were in a rush, the top was all you needed to tell the time. Cleo took out her tools, and popped the lid, intending to carve something into the back side of the clock lid. It clicked open, revealing the simple sun and moon that told the time, and the scratchings that were already cut into the back of the lid.

For my soulmate -i

“Oh, Impulse.” Cleo murmured softly. She ran her thumb across the letters, tracing each one like she knew Impulse would have wanted someone else to do.

It was so painfully Impulse. Despite some mistakes in his past, he was sweet and kind and loving. And a bit of a bastard, but that was besides the point- weren’t they all. The clock was a given- of course it had been Impulse to give Bdubs a clock. It wasn’t hard to see how much Impulse adored him. And the inscription… Cleo sighed. There was no way that Bdubs had seen it. She brushed away the metal dust that marred the letters slightly; Impulse had probably been in a hurry and hasn’t had time to brush them off yet. Bdubs wouldn’t have let it sit in his pocket like that if he’d known… or maybe he would have. Bdubs was surprisingly unreadable sometimes.

She closed the lid gently, and flipped the clock over onto its back. There she carved out her own message for Bdubs.

mamma’s favourite boy

She buffed her carving with a cloth that looked like it had come from Scar’s shirt, until the gold shined. It wasn’t really about who loved Bdubs more- there’s more then one way to love a person, and no one was adored the way Bdubs was. He would carry two peoples love with him today. Even if he didn’t know it.

[loserboy-futterman]

Hey,hi! If possible could I request a Derek Danforth x bottom male reader (smut if it’s not a problem) story where Reader is a spy sent to gain Derek trust and obtain information about the last scandal that happened but ends up falling under Derek charm? Thanks <3

Derek Danforth x Male!Reader

A/N: thank you sm for giving me my first request on this account, there for christening it with smut. Enjoy! also this was so fun to write and i made reader like an fbi agent, i hope thats alright<3

-Wolf in Sheep's clothing-

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning!! 18+ content ahead!! Gay porn ahead!!

includes; rimming, degrading, praise, anal sex, skimpy outfits

This was already a nightmare.

You were a detective, a man of law and justice. Someone who took down the bad guys and saved the day! A man that could be trusted to keep you safe.

But today? Today you were a 'dancer' at a sleezy night club. How does that happen you may ask? All thanks to billionaire brat, Derek Danforth.

Your mission was to get close to Derek and get him vulnerable, get him to tell you his secrets and expose his company. Then, destroy him and throw him behind bars. Should be easy enough. If only.

You adjusted the entirely too small tube top you had on and tried to pull the tiny shorts down so your junk wasn't almost popping out. Huffing, you set your eyes on the night club, scanning the dark room as you tried to find Derek's famous blonde mullet. It was hard to see anything with all the people, so you began moving swiftly through the crowd, scanning tables and booths. Trying to get a glance at everyone without drawing too much attention. You make your way through most of the club until he's there. You spot Derek sitting at a booth in a far corner of the club, sprawled out to take up half the space. Surprisingly, he's more alone then you initially thought he'd be. Instead of being surrounded by beautiful men and women, he's only got his number two by his side. The two are talking in hushed whispers when you walk up to the booth and slide in, sitting right up against Derek.

"Lookin' awfully lonely over here gentlemen, care for some company?" You could vomit at how high and bubbly your voice sounded, completely foreign to how you usually talk.

Derek's assistant was the first one of the pair to look up at you, clearly uncomfortable with another person around during their sensitive conversation. "No, no- thanks." He muttered quickly, trying to wave you off as he shifted in his seat, trying not to look at your scandalous outfit.

"I wasn't really asking you." Your attention is on Derek, whom, has been looking at his phone until now. His head picks up when he starts to feel you scoot closer to him. His dark eyes trace down your form quickly, making you feel even more exposed.

Derek lean his body towards you before wrapping his arm around your hip, pulling you tight against him. "He can stay, gimme something to look at." Derek leans down to you, giving you a shark-like grin and looking deep in your eyes. He stayed there for a moment as you stiffened under his gaze. You could slap him, but instead you wrap your arms around his neck and smile. "Don't let me interrupt your conversation then."

This is working out perfectly! You knew Derek would be an easy target.

Derek gave you a lazy grin as he pulled away and hit his vape. He blew a few clouds that smelt awful before turning back to the other man, who was frankly, very upset by your presence. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he liked Derek.

"How much are we bringing in?" Derek broke the tense silence as he rolled his head to look at him. The man tensed and you focused your eyes on Derek's hair as you played with it, trying to convince them you weren't listening, only here to jump Derek's bones.

"48." He said stiffly, eyeing you suspiciously. This answer seemed to only upset Derek though as he took a harsh hit of his vape and barked at his employee.

"48 what? Thousand? Million?! Don't fuck with my money!"

Derek's aggressive behavior was a little surprising but not completely unexpected. You had read in his file he was prone to anger spouts, especially when he was high. You decided to use this to your advantage to drive Derek further into your arms.

You began by carding your fingers through his soft hair and whispering soft coos in his ear to calm him down. His chest rises and falls heavily and you seem to cut through his drug-addled mind.

"T-thousand Derek." He replied nervously, shifting uncomfortably as he watched you two.

If Derek was upset before, now he was full of rage. He clenched his jaw tight and his grip around you was almost bruising. Derek let out a deep sigh and glared at his business partner. Even you felt a little shudder run down your spine at the intimidation.

"Go." Derek growled and his partner was quick to scurry off and out of sight. You can't help but let out a laugh as he leaves but Derek's quick to turn his glare on you. "What's so funny?"

"Well, your friend is kind of pathetic." You reply simply with another laugh and it seems to actually lighten Derek up. He chuckles himself and puts on a casual mask even though you can tell he's still tense. His leg is bouncing and you're surprised his vape hasn't exploded yet from over use.

"He really is." Derek tilts his head back and you let your eyes trace down his neck. You can't deny he's handsome but you know what he does and he has no remorse. You clench your jaw and throw a bare leg over his lap. He's quick to run his calloused hand up and down your smooth calf.

"So what do you do, hm? Making millions?" You ask with fake innocence and curiosity. Derek keeps his eyes on the hand stroking your leg like he's mesmerized. Drugs, you think.

Finally he shrugs and looks at you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen them. "I run a software company." He smirks and leans in closer to you, nuzzling his nose and face close into your neck. The sudden closer contact makes you flush and you want to push him away but it's for your job. And maybe, it felt kind of nice to feel Derek's warm breath fan over your neck. "I wanna know about you. You charge?"

You simple shrug and shake your head at him. "No. I'm just here for a good time. Although, a quieter place would be nice." You need to get more information, you need to get him alone and you can snoop around his house.

Derek pulls back from your neck and eyes you for a long moment, trying to decipher your intentions. After a moment, he slowly nods and smiles. "Let's go baby boy." Derek stands (stumbles) up and you follow him up and out of the club. His driver is waiting outside and you both crawl into the back of his limo.

The quiet feels like a breath of fresh air until you remember you're now alone with Derek Danforth, your target. You're both sitting close in the limo but Derek's mind seems to be elsewhere entirely. He's chewing his nails and glaring out the window, clearly stuck in his own head.

"Are you.. okay?" You ask sweetly, causing Derek to look at you and snap back to the present. He shakes his head and grabs your hand.

"Fine sugar. Just worried about my Bitcoin stock is all." Derek grunted out, shifting closer to you, clearly needing more physical touch.

You needed to get him to open up and stop giving these vague answers, even giving plain lies. "You can tell me anything Derek. I won't tell. My trade is in secrets." You cup his cheeks and make him look deep into your eyes.

Derek seems to think about his answer for a long moment before finally the dam breaks. "My stupid company isn't making enough money, even though I trained those stupid fucks myself." He suddenly growls, clenching his fists tight.

Finally, he was cracking. "How come they're not making enough?" You tilt your head and watch him go to reply but the limo comes to a stop and it seems you've arrived at his apartment.

Derek's quick to pull you upstairs to his penthouse apartment and it's absolutely stunning. He pulls you in and makes his way towards the dry bar in the living room. You watch as he pours a shot of expensive whiskey and shoots it. He immediately makes a face and you snicker at him behind your hand.

He glares at you but it doesn't hold much malice. Derek rounds the bar and stands in front of you. He wraps his arm around your waist and leans down close. You can smell the whiskey on his breath but it's almost enticing, instead of gross like usual. "Okay Mr. Chuckles. Tell me your secrets then." He smirks down at you, making your cheeks heat up.

"Well Derek... My secret is..." You lean in closer to him, almost closing the gap but stopping an inch away. "... I think your kinda cute." You admit and it really was true.

Derek is quick to quirk his eyebrow and give you his usual sarcasm. "Just cute? Are you sure?" His voice is filled with confidence and before you know it, he closes the gap between you, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. It seemed Derek didn't know how to go slow or be gentle because he immediately kissed you hard and bit down on your bottom lip.

You know you shouldn't be making out with Derek Danforth but it was all for the mission, to get closer and get more information out of him. It definitely didn't have to do with the growing erection in your tiny shorts. Derek bruised and bit at your lips, sliding his hands down until they rested on the waistline of the small shorts.

Derek was the first to pull away but he still kept his mouth busy as he trailed kissed down your jaw and to your neck. "Jump." Its a simple command but it takes your brain a moment to register through the haze. You jumped up, wrapping your legs around Derek's hips and tangling your arms around his neck. The new position let Derek control the situation as he started to bite harder on your neck, leaving distinct marks. Not that you minded in this moment.

"So fuckin' pretty baby. Cute little outfit too, you okay if i ruin it?" Derek rasped in your ear and bit your earlobe softly. The deep rumble of his voice made you shiver and you chewed on your lip, contemplating if letting Derek fuck you was a good idea. What would you put in your official report? It was getting harder to think as Derek kept working on your neck and moved to push you against the wall, grinding his hips against yours. His green silk pants left nothing to the imagination when he got hard. You groaned softly and dropped your head back against the wall as Derek ground his hips harder. "Well baby? Wont do anything without a yes. Not that you need to say yes."

Derek was now looking at you with those big puppy dog eyes and you could tell he was being genuine. You decide you need more information and this is how to do it. You lean in and capture his lips again, bucking against his own hips and savoring the whine he lets out.

"Ruin it Derek." You mumble against his lips, making him moan loudly. He pushed you harder into the wall, supporting you with his hips and legs so his hands were free to literally rip off the thin tube top you had on. Your nipples pebbled at the cold air and you hissed softly but it trailed into a moan when Derek's warm mouth was on you. He sucked and licked at one pec, fondling the other as he moaned almost more than you were.

You tangled your fingers in his blonde hair and tugged him closer, earning you a high pitched whimper. Derek's hand trailed down your chest and to your stomach, groping it softly before sliding down to grab your cock that's straining the tiny shorts.

"Maybe if i tease you a little more, you'll break these sorry excuse for shorts." He chuckled cruelly and grabbed your cock tight making you whine and squirm in his grip.

"Derek, please." It felt so good but it wasn't enough, far from it and it was driving you insane and he knew it.

"What? What do you want baby? Want me to fuck you until you cry huh? Fuckin slut." Derek hissed the name at you but it made you shiver. You hated how he was talking to you but you fucking loved it, you hated that fact too. His words dripped with cruelty and lust.

You felt so tense and you needed him so much. "Yes!" You surprised yourself with that scream and you shifted your hips against him hard. Derek smirked and grabbed your hips tight to still your movements. He took you to his bed and dropped you on the plush mattress as he stood before you. He quickly tore off his shirt and whipped off his pants, clearly just as desperate as you.

Derek quickly crawled back over you and kissed your chest, leaving hickeys and bruises as his hands hold your hips tight against his. The new skin on skin contact makes fire run through your veins and everywhere Derek touched seemed to be more sensitive than ever.

In a flash, Derek had flipped you on to your stomach and hiked up your ass to meet his cock that was leaking through his Calvin Klein boxers. He growled low in his throat and slid his hips against yours before finally pulling your shorts off and freeing your painfully hard cock. You hissed at how sensitive it was but didn't have time to focus on that as Derek's finger tips prodded gently at your hole. He leaned over your back to whisper in your ear.

"You look so good baby... Mind if I have a taste?" His voice dripped with pure lust.

You nodded, not trusting your own voice and not exactly understanding what he meant until you felt something warm and wet against your hole. You gasped and looked back to meet Derek's dark eyes as he licked and lathered your hole.

"D-Derek!" You shuddered again as Derek winked before plunging his tongue as deep into your hole as he can, rapidly fucking you with his mouth. You cry out and your cock drips pre-cum on the bed like a fountain, showing you were close.

He grabs your ass tight in both hands, pulling away with spit covering his lips and dripping down his chin. He looked like a hungry predator as he wiped his face with his hand and stood up behind you. Derek grabs your hips tight and leans his sweaty chest against your back, pushing you further into the bed.

"You're perfect baby boy. Might just have to keep you." He mumbled into your neck, wrapping one arm around your chest as he angled his cock and began sliding into your wet hole. You panted and whined at the stretch as his head slides in. Derek's hips stop but its clear he's struggling to hold back in a failing attempt to keep teasing you.

"Fuck! I-I cant- i need to fucking ruin you now."

That's all the warning you got before Derek's hips are slamming into yours, shoving his cock all the way inside you and punching the air out of your lungs. Derek cant stop himself from rutting and bucking his hips against you already but every movement feels too good. You moan out and grab the sheets tight in your fists as Derek works his cock in and out of you faster and harder.

He wasn't kidding about ruining you as his hand on your chest wrapped softly around your throat, not applying pressure but it still made your eyes roll back. Especially as he desperately pistoned his hips inside of you, grazing your prostate every so often, making you see spots. Derek panted and moaned in your ear, a mix of praise and degrading words falling from his lips.

"That's it. Fuck yeah, so tight baby."

"Such a hungry fuckin whore f'me."

"Fuuuck, baby, yes, god fuck-!"

You felt your end approaching fast as Derek kept moving and his moans turned to high whines and whimpers, showing he was close too. His pace grew sloppy and your cock rubbed against the bed, making you finally see white and arch your back in the most toe-curling orgasm you've had in a long time.

Derek's let out the sweetest moan when you tightened around him and it was impossible for him not to spill his load inside of you. He gave a few more hard thrusts until he was collapsing against you and panting hard. You grunted under his weight but you didn't attempt to move after that.

"Stay with me?" Derek's gruff voice broke the silence as he nuzzled his nose into your neck again.

You nodded and shifted slightly under him. It seemed this mission would take longer than expected but you don't mind so much.

Derek kissed your shoulder lightly. "Sounds good... Officer."

Shit.

[lifblogs]

Better Late Than Dead

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Tech/Phee Word Count: 1268 Summary: Tech arrives on Pabu for the first time since he was rescued from Dr. Hemlock, and put his mind back together (mostly). A special someone is there waiting for him. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Disclaimer, I have PCS (Post-Concussion Syndrome) so this story could be a mess, it could be great. I don't know, but I tried, and I had fun. First story I've written since I hit my head. I am sooooo nervous about it for some reason. This fandom seems like nothing but kind, though. If you read it, thank you. READ ON AO3

Tech paused getting off the ramp. Once he stepped off onto Pabu he would no longer just be on the Marauder with his family. He would exist in a public space, with people who… might not understand, who would see him differently. He was different.

There were some stares from the crowd, but he couldn’t track all of them, faces blurring and disappearing as he watched. But maybe those eyes were still on him.

Subconsciously, he touched the back of his head, feeling the metal plate there that replaced part of his skull, felt the lines where his scalp had split, where either through injury or one of his many surgeries his brain had been exposed. His new and enhanced left eye (replacing the gouged one from Plan 99) searched the space before him frantically, but he tried to take in what the right saw first: bright, blue skies with white, puffy clouds; a calm ocean for kilometers on end; happy people in colorful clothing—survivors, every one of them. How could such a place exist when he’d been through such horrors in Hemlock’s dark labs? Now it was like this beautiful place only half-existed.

The beauty was what his right eye saw. The left one… He hadn’t had a chance to reprogram it yet. Most of what he saw through it was a dizzying array of heat signatures, structural integrities, and the best places to shoot a target. According to his eye, everyone was a target. This was all superimposed over his regular vision from his right eye. The confusing signals to his brain usually left him with the feeling as if his eyes were being scooped out (half a phantom pain and reminiscent of his real horrors), and it would throb up into his head. With the metal plate added in, he had more headaches than he could manage on most days.

Still feeling anxiety churning in his gut; cold, clammy fear gripping the back of his neck and stripping him bare, he held up his new datapad. Tech decided to do a quick check of his metabolic system, and the absorption levels of his various injected pain meds, and their half-lives. This was done through a chip implanted at the base of his skull. Unfortunately that had required an extra surgery, seeing as that hadn’t fit in the area where he’d needed his skull repaired.

His datapad beeped quietly, and a yellow bar showed up near the top. He’d need to re-inject his left hip soon.

Tech glanced up, the real galaxy around him becoming too real. Coming towards the ramp with a hesitant smile and shining eyes was Phee.

His heart suddenly seemed too big, blood somehow beating hard all across his torso, even as it crawled up his throat. Phee. He really had thought of her, even remembered one instance of Hemlock torturing him for mentioning her name. He shuddered, his mechanical left leg shifting in a way that seemed too obvious and inhuman to him.

Tech wasn’t the same.

Am I even Tech?

No, no. You’ve… you’ve been over this already. Done the work. I. Am. Tech.

And he had thought about Phee in what he had thought would be his last moments. He’d surprisingly had the time to think about a lot of people.

He’d thought about his last-minute realization, and he’d mourned what could have been. And now… there she was. Here he was. Pabu. Safety. Phee.

Tech took a deep breath, tried to swallow back his fear, and stepped down the ramp, all too aware of how he looked now. Feeling clumsy with this changed body, he struggled to put his datapad back on his belt. One last thing to put between this moment and the next, the inevitable.

Phee met him at the bottom of the ramp, letting him step off. For a moment the voices around them dimmed, but neither of them spoke.

Oh no, she’s horrified. She’s disgusted. She’s—

“You look different.”

Blunt, as always.

“Oh.”

“I think I like it.”

“You… do?” Tech asked, caught off guard as he usually was with her. (How could anyone script conversations with a flirtatious, bold pirate?)

She shrugged. Was she… crying?

Some of his vision blurred. His eye malfunctioning? No. His right one. He was crying.

Hesitantly, she touched his shoulder. Tech jumped a little, but let her warm, assuring touch stay there. He wondered what that hand felt like—strong, calloused.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Was this him? All these differences, and injuries, and modifications?

Well, he was still Tech, so he supposed that made the plate in his skull him, the chip, the cybernetic leg, and eye. Still… Tech. Just different. A new Tech.

“I suppose.” He was surprised to hear himself speak.

“Then of course I like it! But I have a bone to pick with you.”

Tech almost backed away, startled, as her finger prodded against his chest.

What bone?

What—Oh!

“Seven months?!” she went on, voice raised and rough. “I don’t see you for seven months?! And all I could get out of Mr. Face Tattoo was that you were ‘indisposed.’”

“Sorry I’m… late,” he got out, as if that somehow summed up everything that had changed his life, that had even affected hers.

That’s when a sob left Phee, and her tears spilled, and she cupped Tech’s scarred face in her hand. It was calloused, just like he’d thought it’d be. Something about her touch was reassuring and invigorating all at once.

And it was kind.

Tech hadn’t realized how much he’d needed someone outside his family to support him until that moment. It left him weak in his right knee, and he might have trembled.

Phee sobbed again, and then got out with a smile bright enough to rival the stars, “But still—better late than dead, I always say.”

Tech held her hand against his face for a second, marveling at the feeling, her words. Then he wasn’t sure who pulled who into an embrace, but suddenly she was flush against him, her heart beating fast, chest moving with her sobs, a wild scent of ocean salt, island fruit, and some kind of warm spice surrounding him. With his chin tucked against her shoulder, and her head resting against his he learned her hair was a softness he’d never felt before.

“Though of course you had to lose one brown eye on me,” she joked. He was surprised when it didn’t hurt, not from her.

“I’ll try not to lose the other one.”

“You’d better. What am I supposed to call you now? ‘Brown Eye’ doesn’t sound romantic.”

“We could… make it romantic,” he ventured, voice a soft murmur against her.

Phee laughed, and pulled back, patting his cheek. “Honey, I’m not sure you know what romance is.”

For the first time since Plan 99, months and months ago, Tech laughed—something he’d thought he would never be capable of again. And, he thought, maybe he’d like to do it again. With Phee.

“I’m smart,” he assured her, watching as she wiped away her tears, wishing he could do it for her. He went on, surprising himself, “I’m sure I can learn.”

Phee took his hand in hers, and Tech was startled by how much he enjoyed that her hand was smaller than his.

“Well, come on then,” she said, starting to drag him along, towards society as a whole new person. “You’re gonna have a lot of studying to do.”

Tech smiled, somehow, as he followed her, leaving just a little bit of that dark lab behind him.

[happydragon]

Not to Die but to Live

For the past few months, Tech has assisted Phee in her adventure of acquiring relics for the people of Pabu. Surprisingly, they've had little to no trouble. Of course that was bound to change.

Ao3

Rating: T to be safe

Word Count: 2,702

I don't see many of these kinds of fic for them, so I made one of my own. Hope y'all enjoy!!

@summer-of-bad-batch

I will need a haircut soon, Tech thought as looked at his reflection in the cockpit window of Phee’s ship. Perhaps he could enlist Phee’s assistance. Usually, one of his brothers would be the one to cut his hair as he never found it a pleasant experience, but since they were all on Pabu, with the exception of Echo, whom Tech would not trust to cut his hair, the only option left was Phee. He trusted she would do an infinitely better job than Echo would. Perhaps Tech could ask her when she returned with whatever artifact she was retrieving now. 

About two months after his return, he joined Phee in her travels across the galaxy as an additional pilot and marksman if needed. Unfortunately, he was not much use in hand-to-hand combat, thanks to his damaged legs. But both thankfully and surprisingly, they had yet to run into any unsavory company. He was sure that would change soon. 

Normally, he would go with her when retrieving an item but his legs ached more than usual today so she insisted he stay behind and rest. She refused to listen to any of his protests and if he was honest, they were mostly half-hearted ones. While he was grateful for escaping Edriu with his life, he hated that it was at the cost of his legs. Somedays, not even medicine could dull the pain. Those were the days where unless she absolutely needed to be somewhere else, Phee would stay by his side, attempting to help in any way possible. Today was more of a halfway between his regular ache and his unbearable ache. Needless to say, not ideal but not intolerable either. 

He was pulled away from his thoughts by the ship’s communications going off. Curious, he grabbed his cane, pulled himself up, and shuffled over to the beeping machine. Upon closer inspection, Tech discovered that Phee was sending her current location but the message said nothing about pick-up. Frowning, he pulled up the coordinates on his pad to reveal a bar. Thankfully it wasn’t far from his current location but he was slightly concerned as to why she sent the coordinates. She stated that originally the item she was retrieving would be at a pawn shop and this bar was nowhere near the shop. 

Concern growing with every second, he grabbed his comms and quickly headed outside, making sure to lock the ship before he ventured toward the bar. Some civilians looked at him curiously as his gait was more of a hobble than an actual run but he ignored them. He had only one focus. 

As he neared the bar, he unholstered his blaster and held it close as he slowed down, in case she was outside instead. He cautiously approached the first alleyway and peeked ever so slightly around the corner. When he didn’t see her, he hurried to the other alleyway next to the bar. He heard her before he saw her. 

“Now gentleman,” Phee said in a light tone, “Let’s be civil about this. No need for violence.”

“Sure,” a blue male twi'lek replied, “Hand over the artifact or we’ll shoot you.”

“No can do. Like I told your friends earlier, this item is spoken for.”

“Not for much longer.”

Tech heard enough and eyed his targets. Thankfully there were only two of them, which made this easier. The twi'lek was well built, with a small blaster holstered on his hip. His companion was a large falleen male, obviously the muscle between the two. Calculating for the muscle mass of the falleen, he would take longer to stun and while the twi’lek might be a quick draw, he needed to take out the falleen first if he and Phee wanted to escape. He trusted she would handle the twi’lek while he focused on the falleen. 

He took a deep breath before he rounded the corner and fired multiple shots toward the falleen. Shocked by the sudden attack, the twi’lek attempted to draw his blaster, but made the mistake of turning his back on Phee, letting her take the opportunity to kick the back of his knee. As he fell forward, she drew her blaster and fired a stun shot into his back, rendering him unconscious. 

The falleen on the other hand appeared tougher than Tech originally thought. While albeit at a slower pace, he began to charge toward Tech. He attempted to back away, but only managed to fall backward, causing his blaster to fly from his hand. With no armor to break his fall, he landed harshly on the ground. Quickly recovering, he scrambled to get his blaster before the falleen could reach him. 

“Hey ugly!” Both the falleen and Tech turned at the sound of Phee’s voice. She threw something toward the larger man and Tech recognized it as one of the smoke bombs she used for quick getaways. 

The bomb went off, giving both Tech the time he needed to reach his blaster and Phee the time to reach him. Snatching his cane, she helped him to his feet and asked if could walk. He nodded to reassure her but she pulled his arm around her shoulder regardless. They moved as quickly as possible, with Tech pushing himself more than he had before. Shouts could be heard from behind them, but thankfully they were too far behind. 

When they reached the ship, Phee deposited Tech on the nearest seat as she dashed toward the pilot’s seat. He sat for a moment, confused as to why she didn’t help him to the pilot’s seat instead. Not that she wasn’t a capable pilot, but that was his job. There wasn’t much he could do just sit. He began to lift himself, when she shouted, “Don’t you dare move from that seat Tech!”

Oh. His real name. She was serious. It would be wise to do as she said lest he incurred her wrath. Phee was rarely angry, especially towards him, but he did not wish to find out what it would be like. 

As he fiddled with his cane, the ship soon broke atmo and made the familiar jolt before jumping into hyperspace. 

He listened as she deeply sighed, stood from her seat, and walked past him toward the fresher. When she exited with a stim in one hand and something, most likely pain meds, in the other hand. She made a quick pit stop in the kitchen, grabbing a cup and filling it up with water before she finally made her way in front of him. 

“Ah,” Tech said after a moment, “Thank you, but I assure you I don’t need-”

“Your legs are hurting right?” she interrupted, an unimpressed look across her face. 

“No more than usual. I am more concerned about you. Did they hurt you?”

“Thanks to you, they didn’t land a finger on me. You on the other hand, I know for a fact ran to my location and pushed more than you should have, so don’t avoid the question .”

A part of him wanted to double down and deny it, but a small part of him knew if he didn’t take the medicine and stim now, the pain would be unbearable later, making it not only difficult to walk but perhaps also rest. He was still debating when she spoke again. 

“We’re a team right?” He nodded. “And a team looks out for each other, just like how you rescued me. Now let me take care of you.”

Well, she had him there. Telling her no, especially when it came to her caring for his well-being, was difficult. Sometimes he wondered if she felt guilty like his brothers did. He wished none of them would. None of them could have known and besides, he was well cared for. 

He took the medicine and water from her while she administered the stim in his upper arm. The stim quickly helped to relieve some of the tension in his legs. As he swallowed the medicine, Phee walked over to the ship’s communication. 

“Who are you sending a message to?”

“My contact I visited today. I know he had nothing to do with those guys but we did just make some of them angry, so I’m sending them a message that I’m going to head to Tatooine and thanks for the item.”

Tech knew for a fact that the ship was making several jumps through hyperspace for anyone trying to follow them to throw them off their tail. He also knew they were headed to Lothal next for some supplies. 

“Extra precautions. Good idea.”

“Glad you think so.” The corner of his mouth turned slightly. Her words were full of teasing he had learned to recognize from their time spent together. 

“So,” she continued as she walked back over to him, “Anything you want to do since I know you’ll be up for a few hours as the stim runs its course.”

“If you would not mind, I am beginning to be in need of a haircut. Normally one of my brothers would do it as I do not care for the experience and the few times I have done it, it turned out horrible. If you are uncomfortable with the task, I can wait till we return to Pabu.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m actually quite honored you trust me. But just so you know, I don’t have any good scissors. Just the ones from the kitchen.”

He nodded and stated that it was fine as it was quite some time before his brothers were able to acquire the proper scissors. 

Later they found themselves in the fresher, with Tech sitting on the seat installed in the sonic. The snip of the scissors echoed against the familiar hum of the ship. That coupled with Phee occasionally running her fingers through his hair was surprisingly soothing. Even with the stim keeping him awake, the sound and feeling were like a siren, tempting him into a deep sleep. 

“Not falling asleep on me are ya?” Phee teased quietly, obviously being careful not to break the bubble that had enveloped them. 

“The stim will not exit my bloodstream for several more hours.” His reply was just as quiet. Even though he knew it for a fact, his body seemed to be trying to fight it.

“I think your body is trying to prove you wrong.” her chuckle ricocheted around the fresher, making him hum and smile. 

As a comfortable silence fell between them once again, Tech could feel his resolve slowly slip further and further away. Just as he began to surrender, Phee announced she was done. 

“How does that feel?” She asked as she rounded him, gently brushing off any excess hair from his clothes. 

Tech ran his hand over his hair and responded, “Much better. Thank you, darling.”

“Of course handsome. Maybe next time, you can help me with my hair.”

Next time. That sounded lovely. He wanted a thousand ‘Next times’ if it meant her at his side. It’d only been six months since his return, three since he joined her, but the time they’ve spent has been beyond anything he could have hoped for. As he watched her exit the fresher and move about the ship, he decided he didn’t wish to be anywhere but by her side. 

He pulled himself up, walked to the fresher door, and leaned against the frame, his eyes never leaving her. 

“Phee.” She hummed, “What are your thoughts on marriage?”

She failed to register his words as she continued about the ship. 

“I don’t think I ever gave it much thought. Guess if it was with the right person, I wouldn’t mind. Why? Did Crosshair propose to Jana?”

So she did register his question, but assumed he was not asking for them, which is understandable seeing as they’ve never discussed it before. No time like the present he supposed. 

“No. I asked because I wish to.”

Finally, she stopped her movement. After another minute, she faced him, her eyes wide, and whispered “What do you mean?”

“I thought it was obvious. I wish to marry you. If you’ll have me that is.”

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish before she finally uttered, “Do you mean it?”

He tilted his head confused. Was he not clear? Perhaps she imagined a different proposal? He could attempt to get down on one knee, but he would no doubt need help standing back up. It could be worth it if she said yes. 

He had begun to lower himself when she suddenly rushed forward and stopped him, questioning what he was doing. 

“I thought perhaps you wished for a more traditional proposal since you don’t appear to be responding to my proposal.”

“Oh Brown Eyes, that’s not it. I guess I was just shocked that you asked. You don’t think we’re moving too fast do you?”

He considered her words. Most would agree with her assessment, but not everyone is like them. They have both been through much together and Tech wished to experience more by her side. 

“You and my family were my only thoughts as I recovered from my fall,” he began as he looked into her eyes, “Three months after my return I asked to join you on your expeditions thus allowing us to spend more time with each other that would have been wasted waiting. I trusted you to know what to do in our fight today, just as you trusted me to save you in the first place. We are partners out on the field and now I wish to be partners off the field. I do not wish to die for you but to live. To live by your side until our hair has turned gray and years are shown through the lines on our face.”

“Tech,” she began as her hand cupped his cheek, bringing back the memories of the night of his return. To think that was only half a year ago, amazed Tech. So much time has passed and his affection since then has doubled. He could only hope she said yes.

“I would love to marry you,” she finally answered, with a smile on her lips and tears in her eyes. 

He sighed and smiled as he grabbed the hand that wasn’t cupping his cheek and brought the knuckles to his lips.

“I believe we will need to add another item to pick up on Lothal,” he said as he let their hands drop but didn’t release hers. The hand that cupped his cheek moved to rest on the hand that held his cane. Her thumb brushed his knuckles as she smiled softly and asked, “Yeah? What’s that?”

“A betrothal item.”

She raised an eyebrow as she smirked. 

“An item? Why not a ring?”

“If that is what you wish. From my years of research on different planets and cultures, I’ve learned there are many ways one becomes betrothed to another. One such example is on one planet, you propose by tossing a local fruit to the intended. If they catch it, it means they accept.”

“And why do you know this particular set of information?” she laughed. Not in a mean, teasing sort of way, but in a pleasantly confused sort of way. 

“Wrecker was proposed to on one of our missions, but we did not realize until it was almost too late. Hunter ordered me to add betrothal customs to my research from then on.”

“Well then. Sounds like you know your stuff. Why don’t you tell me some of your favorites and maybe I’ll pick one of them. I’ll have to warn you though, I’m a little more used to rings as a sign of engagement.”

“Are there any special customs on Pabu?”

“Not really. Everyone kind of does their own thing. Didn’t stick around long on my planet of birth so I couldn't care less about their traditions.”

“Very well. I will keep that in mind.” 

Her smile turned soft once more before she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I love you” she whispered reverently into his cheek. 

“And I you,” he responded as he leaned forward to kiss her properly.

Surprise!!! I hope Tech wasn't to OOC but even if he was, I don't feel like changing it. Let me know your thoughts!!

[acim-ed-ortsac]

Time on the Oro Jackson: 1

This is in Second POV Summary: Being adopted by the Roger pirates was the last thing that came to mind. Note: This is a Mihawk Harem Series

Getting adopted was never part of your plan. Ever.

Or should you say abducted? It doesn’t matter because what happened was that you were stuck on the Oro Jackson with the infamous crew in the world. And you blame Rayleigh for this. No, Roger is the most logical target, the jolly old fool. Perhaps you ate the dinner promised ravenously after starving for a while and fell into a food coma, but you were occupied by the hunger and the excitement of Rayleigh, The Dark King himself, buying you a new sword! That’s a one-in-a-million chance of happening!

However, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave no matter how much you force yourself to. When you first realized that you were still on the ship, you had asked one of the crew members, Gabon you think, to request the captain to leave you off to the next island. But the man just ruffled your hair with a grin, saying “And leave a kid like you alone? Nah, plus I don’t think Rayleigh would let you go. Roger might back him up.”

And really, you couldn’t stand against two grown men who were more powerful than you. You know better than to fight battles you can’t win.

On the ship, there was another child besides Shanks, a blue-haired boy with an orange beanie, ocean-blue eyes, and a comically large red nose. From your memories, you remembered that this young clown will grow up to become the most pathetic captain who managed to fail his way up to the top, Buggy the Genius Jester…Best not to judge.

Still, your adjustment to the jolly crew was in process, but you could not doubt that there was no danger amongst them.

(_(

“Mihawk!”

You glanced at the redhead boy who was, surprisingly, without his blue-haired companion. Your eyes scanned the deck before finding Buggy running to Rayleigh, map in hand. Alright, so the clown is preoccupied.

You look down at the six-year-old, “What is it?” you ask, sheathing your sword.

Shanks beamed up at you with an excited smile, holding out a dagger by the hilt as he pointed it at you. “I challenge you to a duel!”

Any activity that was going on stopped at his declaration. You, on your part, stared at the kid for a minute longer before flicking his forehead. “You’re too weak for me.”

Shanks pouted at him while he held his forehead, “No I’m not!”

“Are too, get stronger first.”

You dodged a thrust of the dagger by Shanks, who let out a war cry as he did so, before hitting his head with the butt of your sword. You raised a brow when the kid dropped the dagger and clutched his head, whimpering sounds leaving his lips. You sighed through your nose in annoyance. You did not want to deal with a crying child and get scolded by the adults.

Kneeling beside Shanks, you look at him with half-lidded eyes. “Don’t cry, I didn’t even hit you that hard.” Shanks still had tears in his eyes and was pouting with a trembling lip. How did you comfort children again in your past life…you rub the place they got hurt, right?

Hesitantly, you rubbed his head in an attempt to soothe him, albeit awkwardly. That is the maximum level of comfort you can offer since, honestly, you suck at comforting children with words less you come off as rude and uncaring to them. The children at the church told you so. Still, it seemed to be working since Shanks stopped crying and looked at you with wide eyes. Deciding you did enough, and preserving your own comfort, you pulled away to stand. “If you want to fight me, get stronger first so that you have a chance.”

With that, you walked away. Mostly to find Rayleigh and ask him to buy you a knife, similar to the kogatana you have in the future. As Rayleigh trained you more, you began to notice how much power you possessed and were still amassing, so it wouldn’t be fair to those weaker than you if you fought with your sword. As the future you had said at the Baratie, ‘Don’t hunt rabbits with a cannon.’

< >

Masterlist

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

since I can't give you the world

Heist!Mark x reader | Words: 1,279 | Read on AO3

After a job that goes surprisingly smoothly, Heist!Mark has a gift for his partner in crime.

Despite operating in part within a larger network of criminals, it was rare for you and your heist partner to take on jobs from others, ultimately preferring to work independently. You knew you could trust one another, and freelance work meant the two of you could determine the stakes and carefully plot every point of your plan with space for improvisation if necessary, all without being accountable to anyone. It just suited you better.

On occasion, though, you would take up jobs from higher criminal organisations that could provide you with certain tech or aid in covering your tracks, or from rich clients looking for individuals to do their dirty work.

This heist had been one of those such occasions.

A wealthy tycoon had offered a generous deposit in exchange for the two of you infiltrating the penthouse belonging to the family of a rival business. Your client claimed that the owner of the company had taken some precious jewels from him and his own family's possession in their youth, and it remained mysteriously lost for years until they later had them fashioned into a jewellery set and supposedly tried to pass them off as a family heirloom. He wanted you to steal it back, saying you could take whatever else you wanted to throw any suspicion away from himself.

There was no way you could confirm this story, and usually you wouldn't choose to involve yourselves in something so personal and petty on someone else's behalf, but in addition to the incredible sum of money the client was offering just for accepting the job, this would be a fairly simple heist, with him making all the arrangements for you to get in posed as guests to a soirée held at the target location. The only catch was that you had to figure out your own escape, but with your experience it wasn't much of an issue.

The client had provided you with instructions on where to look for the items (he had refused to disclose the source of this intel, which was probably for the best).

You and Mark were able to get into the lavish event without any problems and even had fun enjoying the party before you made your move, easily slipping away from the hubbub; you made your way to distract the guard on standby so Mark could get past unnoticed.

‘Got it!’ Mark had exclaimed in a proud half-whisper, his voice coming through the earpiece communication device tucked away out of sight behind your hair. ‘And I took some other valuables n’ stuff so it looks like a more general robbery, rather than us being after something specific.’

You kept up your conversational diversion for a couple more minutes, giving Mark the chance to sneak out of the room undetected, before thanking the guard for escorting you thus far and heading on your way.

‘Ah! I think I know where to go from here, thank you ever so much for your help,’ you said in an overly grateful tone that felt far too sweet (but worked wonders). You heard Mark scoff at the other end of the line.

As the two of you slipped out and into the night, the triumph and excitement in the air between you was palpable.

‘Oooh, nice haul!’ you said gleefully, peeking into the bag of loot while Mark drove you both back to base. Meanwhile, the jewellery set for the client sat safely in its own case.

All-in-all, it had turned out to be one of your most successful heists.

Later, you have everything laid out to total up your prizes, still somewhat giddy, like kids counting up arcade tickets to see what they can win.

‘Oh! I almost forgot, I've got something for you,’ Mark says, reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket, which lies over the chair behind him.

Your head perks up with curiosity.

He holds out his hand to you, and in it is an ornate, blue pendant in a teardrop shape, hanging from a delicate gold chain. You can't say for sure what kind of gem or crystal it is, but the cut of the azure stone catches the light in such a way that you can't quite keep your eyes off it. The bail attaching the pendant has a spiralling design embedded in the metal. Overall, it's a beautiful piece.

‘Now, I know it wasn't what we were after but while I was searching the room, I saw it and I can't put my finger on why, but it made me think of you. And it was just sitting around collecting dust, y'know? I just figured, might as well give this to someone who'll actually appreciate it.’

You take the necklace gently from his hands, examining the craftsmanship between your fingers. And you think you might see why it reminded him of you. Well, not really, more like you feel it — a vague sense of familiarity about the design that you can't place, like something from a dream or long-forgotten memory.

‘Yeah,’ he says with a grin. ‘Oh— of course, if you'd rather pool it in with the rest of the loot and get your money's worth instead, that's totally fine. I won't mind, I just thought you deserve to have something for yourself.’

‘Mark… Did you steal this, for me?’

He says it casually, but the whole notion leaves you feeling incredibly touched.

‘Mark. If you got this especially for me I'm not gonna sell it. This is really thoughtful, I love it.’

‘Aw, no problem, buddy. It's nothing.’

‘No, it's not nothing. Thank you. Really.’

‘Well… I'm glad you like it.’ He smiles and you hold each other's gaze for a moment. ‘Oh — here, let me- ’

He takes the necklace from you and after a second you realise he intends to help you put it on.

He leans closer, unclasping the chain carefully.

‘So, what's the occasion?’ you ask, conscious of how his hands brush against your skin as he moves them to close the clasp behind your neck.

‘Do I need a reason to give my friend a gift?’

‘... I guess not.’

He lingers in your space a bit longer than necessary, hands just barely resting at the curve where your neck meets your shoulders.

And maybe it's the tenderness and unspoken intimacy of this physical act, or that you're used to taking and not so much receiving, or the fact that he thought to keep this for you at all, but for whatever reason, your heart feels incredibly full.

‘It suits you.’

After that day, you wear your new accessory all the time when you're home.

You refuse to wear it out, even if you're simply going to meet with friends or the two of you are on a standard grocery run, out of fear that it'll get lost or damaged or, ironically, stolen.

Regardless, Mark can tell how much it means to you by the way he'll notice it hanging over your collar bones when you groggily traipse over to the kitchen for breakfast every morning, or how it is still around your neck when you fall asleep slumped against him in your living room by the end of the day. And whenever anyone comes over to visit, you wear it proudly, and he feels himself swell with happiness and pride in turn when your friends compliment it and you mention how ‘Mark gave it to me’.

You truly do love your gift, but what you cherish far more is the care behind the gesture, and the fact that he looks pleased whenever you wear it.

You'll have to find some way to return the favour.

[bootleg-parable]

I Dream of the Inevitable ; A Parable Progression

User woke to the sound and the smell of rain. Each pummeling droplet shattered upon the surface of his umbrella overhead- a bright umbrella that broke up the drabness of the bus stop setting. He looked down to stare at the dark-haired individual whose head was laid in his lap. They were asleep, and looked surprisingly comfortable for somebody who was hanging awkwardly off half of a wooden bench. User blinked both of his eyes and raised his hand to the left one that used to be missing. It felt so strange to be able to see out of it again. This entire circumstance came across as bizarre to him.

Just a moment ago he could’ve sworn that he was somewhere else. He was on the couch in an office on the ninth floor of a facility with a name he never knew. And he wasn’t alone. He had a friend- an older man named Teller- who was commonly there to keep User company, should he not have been at work. This was not an office, in fact, it was outdoors, which User had yet to witness in the loop that he thought he was stuck in. But the worst part to him was that Teller was not there, not even close. And when Teller was missing, it usually alluded to the worst. But User would keep his panic tamed.

He looked down again to the person resting against him. Their hair was black, but almost looked like deep shades of blue styled into a pompadour. They were in a uniform that User could only assume belonged to the police force of a city he didn’t remember. He tried looking for a nametag to jog his memory, and without much effort, his eyes locked onto it.

Shiloh Karmello.

Shiloh…

User got hit with a flood of emotion. How could he ever forget about Shiloh? His best friend. His housemate. The person once closest to him before all of this mess. Oh…Poor Shiloh. They must have been so distressed all of this time of User being away, if User was ever away at all. Maybe he was in a coma. Even so, no situation was better than the other. Either way, he had chances of turning up dead and leaving everything behind. Awful. Just awful. But now they looked more peaceful than they could have been, and even smiled briefly when User tapped the bandage across their chin. It was a bandage kind of like his, which was no longer present. User felt at ease here, even if he didn’t understand what was going on.

Even if Teller wasn’t visibly or notably safe.

“Better, isn’t it?” Came that thing's stone-grinding voice, making User shudder once it hit his ears.

He turned and looked up to find the 8-ball-headed beast standing beside him at the bus stop, not looking toward him, but rather gazing out blankly into the land that vanished in the rain’s fog. It continued having these private conversations with User, and even though it never made a move to cause its target any direct harm, User couldn’t help but to feel threatened knowing what it was capable of and knowing that he was alone.

He held his umbrella closer to him and slid his eyes to look elsewhere. He didn’t want to acknowledge its presence beyond its voice.

It continued speaking. “You keep making these silly little mistakes without any regard for how they make anybody else feel. How often do you think about that?”

User would humour it this time. After all, backtalk has never gotten him far. “Would it surprise you if I said a lot?”

“It would, yes.” The monster chuckled, and in that very moment, it almost felt human to User. That wasn’t something that he wanted to get used to. “Because it feels so typical of you lately to only think of yourself.”

That was an insult, but he wasn’t going to pay it any mind, because somewhere in there he knew that it was partially true. He wasn’t thinking of only himself, though. He was thinking of Teller.

“But if you were thinking of Teller,” User’s head whipped around. It could read his thoughts, and now was openly replying to them. “Then you would’ve let him in on your little secret that’s putting him in harm’s way. Wouldn’t you agree?”

It still didn’t look at him, only leaving him staring up at it in his shock at its abilities. And again, it laughed.

“Much like everything else, Donnie, this ain’t real. This is a dream that I control. I’m in your head.”

That would explain the invasive mind-reading. So he was only asleep. He felt like he wasted so much of his time sleeping, but in an outwardly fictional office where he held no occupation, what more was there to do? He’s read a few books in his free time and completed just about every paper craft that he could find. This was all when he wasn’t bothering Teller, however. His entire, trapped life revolved around the older man, but he wouldn’t blame himself for this.

Even though he should.

“Don’t you think she misses you?” Now it was glaring at him with a clear interface.

She?

Its head angled toward Shiloh.

Oh.

User frowned. A sadness washed through him, and the safe warmth he once felt was now cold. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“You can go home, Donnatello. I don’t know how else to reach you with this idea. You need to go home.” Why was it being so…gentle with him?

Agh, fuck.

It was right- User knew it was right, he knew it better than anything. Why was he so attached to his imagination? So much so that he would avoid going back to the real world to restore the life that he had. Shiloh was everything to him. Shiloh is everything to him.

Then what other reason did he have to hold himself back other than the one present?

If Teller could exist in his mind, then Teller existed somewhere out there, and he was just as stuck with the monster as User was. He was a face User’d seen before. A voice he’d heard before. There was no way that this random office worker suddenly appeared in his head from thin air; that simply wasn’t how User’s mind worked. What if Teller was in a similar problem? A man dragged from real life into a fake setting that he couldn’t escape. If that were the case, he was handling it a lot better than his companion was…From what User could see, at least. Or maybe Teller has already calmed himself with the idea that this was all some lengthy dream. Teller could still have his own memories- something that User could not relate to.

User’s never asked.

Huh.

“Bright idea, ain’t it?” The beast teased. User scowled. “Shocking how you could’a never thought of that on your own.”

“I’m working on it.”

User could hear the humming of a light’s active filament from the thing standing beside him. The yellow illumination was getting stronger as the volume increased. When it’s voice trailed into his ears this time, he could tell without a moment of second-thought that it was mad, if the silence beforehand wasn’t hint enough.

“Working on it?”

He shrunk in on himself and tried to keep his hands from shaking as it got right in his face.

It went from a lethal whisper to a thunderous shouting that even the weather couldn’t beat. “You ain’t worked on SHIT.”

The rain was getting harder, and the more of it that came down, the less useful that User’s umbrella seemed. A flood was certainly underway. Puddles were expanding on the street below the curb, until the road was transformed into a river of angry water. User moved his hand to shake Shiloh and wake them, but to his horror, Shiloh was melting away right in front of him. Each attack of the rain burned right through them and sent them into wisps of smoke and black ash. If User wasn’t panicking so hard, he might’ve made a witty reference to the Wicked Witch of the West.

Shiloh would’ve laughed at it. That much he could remember.

“You know that I can see every thought and recollection you’ve ever had, right?” It was towering him. User scooted off of the bench, but that would not keep it from grappling him by the shoulders and holding him just inches away from the ground. The rising water tickled the back of his neck. “You haven’t even considered the option of gettin’ out of here until I started pestering you about it, Donnie! You wanna know why?”

He didn’t. He really didn’t. His backside was soaked now. Oh. He was starting to understand.

He’s going to drown.

“The only plan you’ve ever had is your plan to kill me!”

And now the cat was out of the bag, and User’s head was fully submerged into a stormy, turbulent flood. He thrashed himself around as hard as he could to escape. It was only a bad dream, and yet he still couldn’t breathe. But he could hear the monster’s words as clear as day.

“I don’t take lightly to threats, Donatello. Let alone indirect ones.” It pushed him further under. “You’d really ought to start playing your cards better.”

Please- User tried to reason. The only thing that left his mouth were bubbles and gurgled nonsense in the water. This was the most direct that the 8-Ball had been since taking his eye. He swung his fists wildly, but they would not make the monster relent. Could User die from this? Could he suffocate from a dream generated in a false existence? That seemed so odd to him, but felt so possible. His lungs were screaming for air. Even if he was released, he would never have enough time to swim back to the ever-rising surface.

But maybe this was okay.

User?

Dying this far along wouldn’t be so bad.

…User-?

After all, a lot of this was his own fault. If anything, he was getting what he deserved out of all of it. And now that the beast knew he was stalling only to kill it and banish it from a realm that he did not belong in, he hardly stood a chance in future encounters anyways, if more would ever come.

He was being shaken around now. His vision was spotting, and the sounds of water swirling around him were fading from his ears. But he could still hear the finishing trails of his name being called. His eyes were starting to slip shut.

This was it.

The world came rushing back to User in a sudden change of scenery, and he discovered himself able to breathe again. He gasped a few times and turned onto his side, fully convinced that he was about to throw up. He didn’t notice the hand on his shoulder until he pulled himself half of the way together.

User was awake, on the ground by the foot of the couch. He might have fallen off of it, but he wasn’t conscious to know. Teller was beside him, one hand on User’s shoulder and another over his own nose.

“Great heavens,” exclaimed the other as User finally regained his senses. “Are you alright? I was worried sick!”

User blinked, hard. He missed his other eye already. But he turned his head up to Teller and nodded a couple of times, then squinted at how his hand was held before his face. Teller caught the look.

“I didn’t move out of the way in time.”

“Huh?” User sat up and scooted Teller’s hand away. If his nose wasn’t broken before, it definitely was now. The other’s glove was stained in red.

“You punched me.”

Of course I did.

“I’m- God, I’m so sorry-.”

Teller hurriedly waved his hands in dismissal. “I’m okay, User, really! I’m more concerned about you. Are you okay?”

The eldest’s unbloodied hand cupped User’s face before shifting up to his head to check for a temperature. User couldn’t help but to lean into his touch. It was unusually comforting.

“I’m okay,” He said quietly.

The nightmare returned to his memory in clear, picture-perfect frames.One of few truths were out. Two left to go.

“It was just a bad dream.”

~~~~~~~

We must sincerely apologise for the slowness on this project's updates. We're struggling to find ways to progress the story without reaching the end of the arc so early into its development, but that is beginning to seem more and more likely to occur with our trains of thought slowing down. Our untimely disappearances don't help, either.

We appreciate your patience, and thank you to everyone who has supported The Bootleg Parable despite its many hiccups and absences. It means a lot- a lot- to us.

Have a couple of sketches.

The OPs playing with markers.

[luvinghanni]

I've been watching this anime titled the fable, and my favorite character there is Satou Akira...no one was writing for him so I was wondering if you could write something for him.. if not, it's ok

Hey Anon 💕 I've never heard of The Fable but I would love to write a fic for you! I wasn't sure what genre you wanted (smut, fluff, angst) so I wrote a super SUPER slight fluff fic- pls tell me if you'd like any changes and I hope you like it!

Please forgive if he's OOC i'm going off a few edits, personal research, and clips 😭

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Final Target- Satou Akira x Fem!Reader

Coming from a problematic background would always follow you no matter how many changes you made to your life. Even if you don't take any actions yourself, coming from a family with Yakuza ties sticks; permanently. Ever since you were a child this was a fact you had been forced to learn. Murder? Crime? Shady deals? never been appealing to you, in fact just the thought made you sick despite the thousands of hours you were forced to spend training. Many think it's "cool" or "interesting" to be a part of that life but they couldn't be more wrong, oh how you wished you could shatter their rose coloured glasses.

As soon as you became old enough you tried your hardest to loosen those connections, even going as far to change your name three times and change your entire appearance. Despite your efforts your life would never be ordinary, you would never be truly safe from all harm and you knew this- just like how you knew that one guy had been following you for well over a week now. Most people would go straight to assuming a stalker had taken a specific gross liking to them but you had been raised better than that. Persistently being followed? Conveniently in the same places at the same time? The inability to find who this man was? This wasn't just stalking, this had to be some form of a hit on your life and he seemed to get closer by the day.

You began getting paranoid, starting to sleep with your gun by your bedside every night in the event that this (assumed) hitman decided to take his chance. Nights came and went and yet you were surprisingly still living and breathing, you would think this would make you feel relieved but it only made you more conscious of your surroundings- why wasn't the hit being carried out? Maybe it was just a stalker and you overthought it?

It had been at least two weeks at this point and you'd just returned from your final shift of the week. Full body aching from the stress of being on your feet all day servicing customers you felt the burning need for a hot shower and an early night. As you switched the shower on a click sounded from the hallway, almost like a door closing..this couldn't have been a coincidence. Leaving the shower running so as to not draw attention to yourself you clutched the army knife that previously lay dormant in your jean pocket, heart sinking at the realisation that your pistol sat in your bedside drawer- at least 3 rooms away from your current location.

Every second felt agonisingly slow as your skin burned with adrenaline and your heart pounded in your chest.

The sound of footsteps reached your ears joining the insufferable sound of your pounding heart, the two creating a symphony of anxiety within you. Thinking fast you moved your body flush against the bathroom wall, your only coverage being the half closed door to your left. One step, you tried your best to slow your breathing. Two steps, your palms began to sweat as you clung to your knife. The door began to creak open as you prepared yourself to just swing and run.

The second a form began to appear around the door you swung your knife slashing whatever you could to give you time to run only getting to the kitchen before you felt the ground drop beneath you, knocking your head on the counter as you collapsed. In an attempt to get up you tried rolling onto your stomach but a heavy weight on your stomach prevented any form of movement. Your head throbbed as a migraine began forming.

In weak pulses your hands attempted to grab the now long out of reach weapon from the icy kitchen floor unfortunately only being met with a sharp knee pressed harshly against your bicep resulting in a groan being forced through gritted teeth as the cold barrel of a silencer pressed against your temple.

"What do you want from me?" you attempted to bargain "..whoever sent you what do they want? Money? Drugs??" silence was all you were met with, black eyes piercing yours as you stared up to the masked intruder, their grip increasing to keep you from escaping.

You felt all hope slowly slip from you "please just tell me..i'm begging you, before you kill me" eyes slowly beginning to close in acceptance "I'm not going to kill you." a cold tone suddenly came from behind the mask causing your eyes to flutter open at his words.

Silence fell between you.

"Then what are you here for.." confusion and concern evident in your words "I'm not going to hurt you..end of. But the other people after you might." the weights on your arm and torso began to loosen as he eased off of you allowing you to sit up against the lower kitchen cabinets. The intruder sighed rubbing his wrists, pistol still in grasp. "What does any of this have to do with me, why am i wanted?" head throbbing harder by the minute as your eyes lay still on the midnight eyes looking in your direction. "Your Father is in some shit and you're the bait- everyone wants to go after daddy's little girl." You had nothing left to say, you expected this would happen eventually you just never thought it would be today.

Thoughts flooded every last inch of your mind- where would you go? would you have to change your entire life again? who was this guy and why was he trying to help you in the first place? Two gloves fingers snapped in front of your face pulling you out of your messy head "Listen, I can help but we have to leave now. So unless you want to die get up." He rose to his feet extending an arm in expectation of your own rise, eyes just as cold and empty as they had been previously as he helped you rise to your feet.

The world spun rapidly as you got to your feet, teetering sideways before your arm was grabbed pulling u flush into the chest of the still unknown man in your kitchen, your vision doubled as you finally got a close up view of his eyes, they were deep and almost mesmerising in a sense. You stared at eachother for a few seconds with your joint breathing being the only sounds you could hear.

The throbbing in your head became unbearable as your vision started to blur and darken, the last thing you remember being the familiar? but blurry face finally revealed as the scruffy mask was ripped off and placed over your own head. "Wait..Satou..?" You were too out of it to connect the dots on what was occurring, only really stirring when he flung you up and over his shoulder carrying your now fully unconscious figure out the door, "Sleep Y/N.".

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I really hope this was to your liking anon 😭 I kind of didn't know what direction to take this especially as I have no idea what the character is like but i hope you like it all the same.

Thank you so much for your submission it helps me sm with my writing i appreciate you so much 💕☺️

-Hanni

[xxcherrycherixx]

Warning for: smut, cunnilingus, a little bit of dirty talk, hair pulling, degradation, the possibility of someone being under a love spell during sex, faybelle just being a total bitch the entire time. Oh and cum eating because honey you should know if its Cupid smut by me then theres gonna be cum eating.

Faybelle’s plan goes… weird.

Faybelle catches a glimpse of cupid’s pink nail polish and quickly loads an arrow in before letting it fly towards her target. The arrow strikes true and the dark fairy watches as cupid shakes her head confused ‘the effects must be kicking in’ faybelle thinks to herself before letting out a small cheer for herself. Cupid catches the noise and looks to faybelle, the dark fairy freezes fully expecting the demigoddess to know what she has just done but surprisingly instead Cupid bites her lip, her eyes half lidded.

“Faybelle” she purrs, the dark fairy is confused by the other girls tone of voice. Cupid saunters towards her and faybelle backs up further into the stables, cupid isn’t acting how she thought she would. She expected the girl to get all sappy and chase after the nearest boy like her hexleaders had, not whatever is happening right now. “Faybelle, remember how i told you some love could help you not feel sick anymore?”

Faybelles back hits the wall of the stables and cupid is barely a hair width away from her. She trails a neatly manicured nail down faybelle’s chest, stopping at her abdomen before sliding over to her hip where the demigoddess’s hand clamps down. Faybelle jumps at the rough touch “ well i think i have found you a perfect match to make you feel better again” faybelle wants to argue with the girl, tell her to back off and that she doesn’t need love, but before she can the demigoddess does something faybelle hadn’t expected.

The dark fairy's eyes shoot wide open as lips press against her own, she can taste cupid’s overly sweet pink lip gloss and feel the warmth of her breath. ‘What in ever after is she doing?!?’ She screams internally, the hand on her hip slides to her backside and a yelp escapes her. Cupid takes it as the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, her tongue slipping in.

Faybelle is still lost and confused but a gasp slips out of her as cupid explores her mouth. shes never kissed before, no boys ever wanted to kiss the daughter of the dark fairy while growing up and eventually faybelle decided that sort of mushy romance stuff was not worth it anyway. But this isn’t mushy, this is something different.

Cupid pulls away, her lips are now even more pink and plump than usual ‘why is everything about this girl so pink??’ Cupid’s hand still remains firmly planted on her ass and the demigoddess reminds her of it by giving a firm squeeze “ do you feel better yet? Or do you want more?” Faybelle will never resort to actually asking for more, so she puts her own hands on cupids hips and squeezes. mimicking the other girls confidence despite not knowing what shes doing at all. cupid takes the bold move as her answer and dives back in, faybelle tries to copy what cupid does as they kiss, not wanting to look like an inexperienced loser.

cupid moves her hand up under the back of faybelle's top, the feeling of soft fingers on her flesh is interesting.

Not as interesting as when those same fingers change their course to under the waistband of her leggings.

“Hmm!-“ faybelle pulls away from the kiss in a hurry. cupid blinks at her confused, as if she hadn’t just changed what they were doing from only simple kissing into something of a much different nature “ what are you doing!?” Cupid slips her hand back out of faybelle’s leggings “was that too much for you? Im sorry, we can just keep kissing if you want”

‘Was that too much for you?’ The words bounce in the dark fairy’s head, nothing is too much for her, especially if its something someone like cupid can handle. Fuelled by a need to prove herself she pulls cupid closer “i didnt stop you because it was too much. I stopped you because you’re so slow” cupid’s eyes light up at the words “ you want to go faster? We can skip to the real fun if thats what you want” she grins seductively, pressing up against faybelle’s body in a way that makes it clear what kind of fun she’s talking about.

It hits faybelle then what she’s just asked for, and she has to take a moment to ask herself if she’s really going to have sex with cupid in the back of the schools horse stables all because she doesn’t want this stupid pink cherub to think shes some sort of prudish loser who backs down the moment things get a bit spicy.

The answer of course, is yes. Shes absolutely going to have sex with cupid because there will never come a day where ‘Faybelle thorn, the daughter of the dark fairy’ backs down and admits defeat.

“Then get to it already, im getting bored.” As soon as the words leave her mouth cupid’s hands are under her top, the girl wastes no time before caressing and groping at her chest. A startled moan escape faybelle at the unexpected sensation, faybelle’s not some goody princess who has never touched her own body but touching her own breasts always resulted in her feeling nothing. she eventually just figured that playing with boobs during sex was just a stupid thing that only happens because boys are boob obsessed morons, not because it could be actually pleasurable.

Fuck, was she wrong about that. Either that or Cupid has some weird sex magic shes been hiding.

She spots cupid’s own untouched breasts, she never took notice of them before, shes not the kind of girl to look at other girls boobs- but the situation has made her finally take notice of them. They’re big and round, a total opposite to faybelle’s which are perky and NOT SMALL but instead ‘a perfect handful’, as she believes breasts should be.

‘another thing to hate about cupid, her dumb boobs that are way too big’ her hand grabs at one, its much too big to fit comfortably in her hands unlike her own. Cupid apparently takes the action as a sign to slip the straps of her dress down, casually letting her tits fall free as if they aren’t on school property where anyone can walk in and see.

‘Wait, we’re already in a shitty situation to be walked in on, what the fuck am i thinking’

Cupid bats her eyelashes at faybelle “you can keep touching them” faybelle wants to roll her eyes but she still reaches out and touches them despite it. Goddamn curiosity, she just wants to know why people like touching big boobs so much. Duh.

Cupid lets out little whines and gasps as faybelle fondles her bare chest, her own fingers finding their way all over faybelle’s body before stoping at her leggings waistband. “Faybelle” cupid calls, the dark fairy turns her attention from cupids tits to her eyes, an eyebrow raised in silent question.

“I want to taste you” faybelle makes a face at cupids words ‘what the fuck does that mean? we’ve already made out with each other why are you asking now?’ She wants to say but holds back. Thankfully she does or she would have looked like a fool as cupid drops to her knees, hands on faybelle’s thighs while looking up at her in absolute hunger. “Please let me. Fuck, i want to make you come”

Well how can she say no to someone begging so desperately to please her? “go for it” at the permission cupid slides her leggings and underwear down in one move. Faybelle cringes slightly at the fact her cunt is now out for anyone to see, now if someone walked in it wouldn’t just be cupid who looks absolutely shameless.

A small moan escapes the cherub on her knees “gods, your pussy is so pretty” faybelle raises a brow, totally not a hint of blush in her cheeks at the weird compliment ‘this chick has to be playing this up right? Theres no way shes actually this into just staring at my vagina, what kind of freak calls another girls pussy “pretty”?’

Cupid leans forward and presses a kiss above her clitoris before teasing around the area with her tongue, its a wet and cold sensation that faybelle’s not too sure on but her mind quickly changes when cupid swipes over her clit.

“fuck” a gasp escapes faybelle. shes already mentioned that shes no newbie to touching herself and getting off, but fuck the feeling of someones tongue is much more intense than just her own fingers. Cupid seems to have enjoyed hearing her as she laps at her clit again a couple more times, hoping to produce more sounds from the other girl.

After a while Cupid’s tongue no longer teases but instead works her cunt in a steady rythym, faybelle already knew this couldn’t be the cherubs first rodeo but with the way her mouth knows how to target all the right spots tells her that cupid must be secretly eating girls out on the regular.

Cupid parts faybelle’s thighs a bit more to get a better angle, faybelle feels herself start to wobble and her hand instinctively shoots out to grab something to steady herself, a moan from cupid rumbles at her cunt and she realises that her hand has fisted into the other girls pink lockes.

Feeling experimental she pulls at the hair slightly, and like before a moan follows giving even more sweet sweet pleasure against her clitoris ‘of course shes into something like this, i should have guessed’ “fuck, you’re such a freak” the words slip out from her mouth and she only realises when cupid pulls back, faybelle panics expecting the girl to be upset and planning to stop but to her surprise cupid looks up at her with even more lust “ yeah, im a dirty little freak” she practically moans out. faybelle can see one of cupids hands have travelled below herself, turns out cupid is into a lot more freaky things then just hair pulling. Faybelle bites her lip, her pussy throbs needily in the open air and cupid looks to be getting too lost in fucking herself to notice.

A girls got to do what a girls got to do.

She yanks hard at cupids hair bringing her back closer to her cunt “ you seem to be forgetting something. you still haven’t made me come, Slut” faybelle hopes that her attempt at dirty talk works and doesn’t come off as sounding stupid. she soon gets her answer when cupid goes straight back to eating her out, this time with so much enthusiasm that faybelle is literally pushed back flushed against the wall. Later she will probably be annoyed when her wings are sore on top of already currently being limp and useless but for now she doesn’t even spare a thought to them, her mind too busy focusing on every caress of that wet tongue on her sensitive little nub.

“Yeah, fuck like that” it seems her brain is also too busy to restrain her from saying embarrassing things and acting like a bitch in heat. Whoops.

Her hips start instinctively thrusting trying to get as much stimulation as possible from cupid’s mouth, shes pretty sure shes growing close and she just wants to hurry up and orgasm already. Another hand grips onto cupids hair and pulls the girls head in as much as possible, pressing cupid right against her as she practically rides the girls face. Cupid doesn’t seem to mind by the desperate moans and whines that spill from her bruised plump lips, her fingers presumably working even harder down below to make herself climax alongside faybelle.

A few more thrusts and faybelle feels her body tense as she comes on cupid’s tongue, the cherub lapping up her cum as she continues to work faybelle through her orgasm. Its not long until cupid also comes, moaning against faybelle’s oversensitive clit before collapsing back on her knees. faybelle watches as cupid slips her now wet fingers out before bringing them up to her wet pink lips and sucking with small satisfied moans. Faybelle knows she should think the action is pretty gross but in her post orgasm daze she just kind of finds it weirdly attractive… ok her brain is starting to work again, it’s no longer attractive.

She pulls her pants up, cringing at the feeling of her still wet vagina making contact with the fabric of her underwear ‘super gross’

Cupid pushes herself up, a satisfied smile on her face. She opens her mouth to speak before she notices something under her shoe “is that a part of my bow?” Sure enough it is, the rest of it sits nearby in pieces, quiver laying nearby with the arrows scattered on the floor. ‘Shit i forgot all about the bow, i must have dropped it’

Faybelle expects cupid to catch on to the fact that faybelle obviously stole her bow but the girl doesn’t, instead only making a disappointed sound “i must have left it here at some point when i last visited peggy and just didn’t see it today. Its a shame its broken, my dad is going to be a bit angry about replacing it again” faybelle takes the out that cupid’s stupidity has given her “you have to take better care of your stuff i guess.” She says casually, cupid giggles sweetly as she gathers her arrows back into the quiver “yeah, you’re right. At least if anyone got affected by one of the arrows while they were laying here then it should have worn off whenever the bow broke” cupid laughs “gods, the trouble this could have caused and i wouldn’t even know”

Faybelle stops in her tracks “wait the arrows stop working when the bow is broken?” Cupid nods as she gathers the remains of her bow in a neat pile to scoop up “yeah, its a backup just incase the user makes a big mistake thats hard to fix with mood roses.. like if the user accidentally hits themself” cupid cringes at the last bit, faybelle doesn’t respond only thinking about one thing ‘wait, was cupid under the arrows effects after all? When did the bow break?’ Faybelle decides its best not to ponder over if she accidentally coerced cupid into sex by shooting her with the arrow, thats a problem for her to worry over later in bed when shes not trying to maintain her cool dark fairy image.

The two stand awkwardly in the stables, faybelle not knowing what to do in the aftermath of actually having sex with someone, while cupid looks to be thinking something.

Eventually cupid speaks up “this wasn’t like, anything for you other than just casual sex… right?” Faybelle’s eyes go wide “fuck no” her response is pretty harsh but cupid seems happy at it “great! I started to get worried that you might have thought this was something more- i mean thats usually how things go around here right? Only couples have sex with each other” cupid rubs her neck embarrassed “ i really only just want to be friends with you, i mean you are incredibly hot and i would love to do this again- but only as friends just having some fun” faybelle really doesn’t want to be cupid’s friend at all, while the girl may be good at having sex shes still really annoying. But the idea of cupid eating her out again does sound tempting “yeah, sure” she says nonchalantly “we can do this again sometime” cupid seems happy by her response “if you ever want to then just message me on mychapter or find me around the school and we can pick a Place”

Faybelle just nods along waiting for the conversation to end “ok” cupid finally seems to notice the awkwardness and gathers all her stuff “well i guess i should be going to call my dad and get this replaced, i’ll see you later” cupid starts to scurry out of the stables before faybelle stops her “cupid, your boobs are still out.” cupid looks down at her chest “oh!” She giggles as if she didnt just almost flash anyone who was out and about “thanks faybelle! That would have been super embarrassing” she puts the top of her dress back on and continues leaving happily.

‘Writers shes so annoying’ faybelle thinks as she stands alone in the stables.

“Fuck, I forgot about the plan! What am i going to do?!”

[nixalegos]

One of Nixalegos' imps would provide him with a small, rolled scroll, secured with a piece of twine. The little demon would be more than a little shaken, muttering something about its contract and how direct interaction with an Illidari was not supposed to be part of the occupational hazards. By the first letter, it was clear who the sender was.

"NETHERMANCER-- NEW TARGET LOCATED. CLEARED OUT A MODERATE INFESTATION IN THE RUINS OF ISILIDEN, SOUTH OF ELDRE'THALAS. WRATHGUARD LEADER SEEMED TO UNDERSTAND THE TIDE HAD TURNED AND WAS ALREADY DISARMED/READY TO TALK BY THE TIME I REACHED HIM. INFORMED HIM I AM NOT OPEN FOR DISCUSSION, BUT THAT HE WOULD HEAR FROM YOU IF HE REMAINED IN THE LOCATION; ELSEWISE I WOULD SEE TO HIS DESTRUCTION IN THE IMMEDIATE. APPEARS TO BE MORE TACTICALLY-MINDED THAN MOST OF HIS ILK. PLACED SEVERAL SHACKLING RUNES AROUND OBVIOUS EXITS IN CASE YOU NEED USE OF THEM, THEY WILL ONLY BE TRIGGERED BY DEMONS (WARN YOURS).

I MUST STRESS HOW EXCEEDINGLY DIFFICULT IT WAS TO LEAVE THIS STONE IN AN UNTURNED STATE.

BEST OF LUCK WITH THE NEGOTIATIONS, MAY THEY BEAR FRUIT.

--CAEDUN"

Somewhere in Feralas

"Thank you for your complacency in this matter." The hooded man said as he stepped over the threshold of the ruins inner chamber. As the Illidari had said, this one had been of keener insight into their future prospects, they hadn't tried anything stupid, like an ambush. "I am Lord Felscythe, Nethermancer of Silvermoon, Loyal to Dreadscar." He announced plainly and with little fanfare.

What shackling runes had been set around the temple grounds were still occupied by the Wrathguards once loyal forces, caught mid act of attempting to flee, imps mostly, perhaps figuring their chances on their own were better then to be subjected. They'd be press ganged into the Au-Bound regardless. Or sundered into materials. Waste not. Want not.

"The half spawn didn't offer many options." Zal'gon of the Thirty-Six Strikes replied. The blue-gray bulk of the brute lingered with his back turned towards the entering warlock, its glaze instead focused on the banner of the Legion that hung mockingly against the center wall of what might have once been the heart of a temple to Elunian worship. The stitched together ogre flesh still leaked blood upon the wall.

"Would you have preferred oblivion?" The hooded man asked in reply as he unslung his weapon, an act that drew the demons attention away from the flag and towards the mortal subjugator. Nixalegos brought the heavy warstaffs spiked bottom onto the floor, dragging it, and letting the metal scrap and bite into the stone, carving the rock.

"I am just as capable of seeing the red glow of Argus in your night sky as anyone else." Zal'gon retorted bitterly. "Years without support in this hellhole of a jungle. Without materials. Reinforcements. My only entertainment beasts, and two headed dolts who's greatest attribute is how wet they left my blades." Clawed feet brought them away from the wall and towards the center of the room.

"Not even a month ago. My own kin, in blue and gold trimmed armor, alongside a rag tag group of mortals stole a keystone we held faithfully in this position for years. Betrayed. So they could coddle their supposed guilt, and assuage their thousands of years of fiery purpose could be rectified." The demon snarled. "You're free to take their skull alongside my belongings as a gift for my recruitment summoner." The demons contempt dripping off every word as the warlock finished the first circle around the floor, the pride of a defeated, but unbowed leader of demons radiating off them.

"That's surprisingly tactful, but I can't accept it yet." The hooded man said as he looked up from the runic circle he'd been carving. "I haven't decided if you're worth binding yet."

A beat passed between mortal and demon.

"What." The eredar blade master said in befuddlement. "Do you know to whom you address? I am Zal'gon of the Thirty-Six Strikes! I am-"

"I know who you are." The mortal cut them off and brought his staff back down onto the stone, the sound cutting Zal'gon off before they grew even more incensed at the mortals gall. The last of the three runes completed the binding circle. "I did my research the moment the Illidari informed me of your decision to be reasonable." He said, tapping the warstaff to the circle itself, empowering it with a gesture, and a sacrifice of mana.

Wrathguards could shrug off the chains of trickery with sheer will alone. Their circles needed to be plain. A declaration of sheer might, as opposed to duplicity. The glyphs minimal and true, with no deviancy. As precise as the demons own cunning was.

"What you can do is tell me a little about yourself." The warlock said as he took his staff and reslung the heaving weapon to his back. Coming to stand at the edge of the circle, a mere, and exacting inch, from crossing the line.

"Is this a joke?" Zal'gon snarled as his clawed hands came to rest upon the pommels of his two swords; Xulfahar, Blood of the Thousand Worlds, and Thulfgul-gon, The Hungering Steel. "Tell you about myself?!" It repeated with indignity.

"Yes, a little about your history, your skills. What exactly you bring to the table I can't find in another? Do you have any collaborators who can verify?" The warlock said as another Eredar entered the ruin, it's armor the same style and material, even its skin color the same shade of bruise grey, only it boasted a two handed sword on its back as opposed to Zal'gon's choice of weaponry. "Azatik." The warlock said by way of acknowledgement. " The others outside?" The mortal man inquired outloud, despite not needing to.

"Handled my Lord." The other eredar said as it looked to its erstwhile kin, Zal'gons jaw setting in frustration. "So you've made a contract with another of my kind. Is that supposed to intimidate me?" Zal'gon barked.

"You'd be the fourth in my employ." Nixalegos answered flatly, not phased by the circle bound demons growing anger. "Again, I ask, what exactly do you bring that I can use?" The emphasized on the word use not lost on either of the demons.

"I- I am a warrior without pe-" Azatik cleared its throat in rebuttal loudly enough to cut them mid sentance.

"A warrior without peer." Zal'gon repeated, suddenly realizing why the other eredar wrathguard had been brought in, to undercut the very notion of their uniqueness. "I have fought bravely, and with decoration and praise since before the birth of the Legion itself."

"Can you do anything asides fight?" The warlock continued his dry questions.

"I've led troops, and handled the logistics of occupying territory since before your mortal cities had mortar and bricks." Was the demons reply.

"So only activities regarding the art of war." Was the warlocks cutting question in return. The warlock sounded bored if anything.

"I..err. Yes." Zal'gon answered, who suddenly felt much smaller then before the circle had been dragged closed.

"Do you have nothing to declare asides your use as a tool?" The smaller mortal man said in judgement, the hooded gaze seemingly able to cut into the heart of the demon, and found it wanting.

It was, for the first time in over thirteen thousand years, Zal'gon of the Thirty-Six Strikes, The Last Scion of the Dark Crescent, Desecrator of Countless Worlds. He, who'd dueled the Slave Kings of Thuthea to the last, wondered what he'd wasted all his time doing.

"…I, no. I am in need of renewed purpose." The demon admitted.

"Very well. Submit your truename to me. You will either be summoned personally by me, or recruited to Dreadscar for processing and posted as guard until something better suited for someone of your skillset can be found." He answered.

There, a pause. The edge of the precipice. Clawed hands lingering still over the hilt of his swords.

A word that was more then any other word was passed between summon and summoner before his swords could be drawn. A nymic that cut deeper then any blade, spoken faster then he'd ever be able to swing.

"We'll reach out to you very soon." The warlock said with a too wide smile. Zal'gon could not BE summoned, without first being dismissed.

The other man'ari eredar unslung its sword.

[callsign-bunnie]

Why Can’t I Be More PT2

Rodolfo and Alejandro had been hooking up since they were 22. As such, Rodolfo was at a point where he could cope. Not... well, but he could cope. They had a dance, Rodolfo knew the steps well.

AO3 Link

--

Rodolfo and Alejandro had been hooking up since they were both 22. It had been barely a few months after Valeria that Alejandro had climbed into Rodolfo’s bed. That first night had been rough, messy. Rodolfo hadn’t been able to go near Alejandro for nearly a month.

One might expect that to have deterred Alejandro, but Rodolfo had found his bed climbed right back into barely a few weeks later when another reminder of Valeria had come up. Again, it had been another month before Rodolfo could go near him.

It wasn’t for lack of consent, Rodolfo had consented plenty. Enthusiastically, even. Alejandro wouldn’t have even touched him, had he not, Rodolfo knew that. It was more the sticky feeling that coated every inch of Rodolfo’s skin, trailing wherever Alejandro had touched.

As they both gained more experience, as Alejandro learned better how to not abuse Rodolfo’s body, and as Rodolfo learned how to take what Alejandro gave him, the time that Rodolfo had to take before he could handle Alejandro’s presence shortened more and more until Rodolfo was down to now.

He only had to take a few days, this time, to avoid Alejandro. Alejandro ended up being busy, so Rodolfo doubted he noticed. Actually, Rodolfo knew he had. He always did, but he couldn’t seek Rodolfo out, this time, and Rodolfo had just used his own neglected office to do his duties.

Rodolfo performed them with half the care he usually did, just doing his best to survive and skating through until the feeling wore off. It wasn’t that hard, since they’d been doing this for years now. He could get through it, he always did. Hell, he’d barely felt it unless he was reminded and reports, metrics, and drills did not remind him, much, thankfully.

In fact, it only ended up being four days, exactly. The worst in the recent years had only been two weeks, if Rodolfo could remember correctly. He remembered arguing a lot with Alejandro, afterwards. However, he could still do his job, and they rarely ran missions right after the other.

So, now he was sitting with Alejandro, who was in a digital meeting. They were just going over metrics, paperwork that Rodolfo had finished just that morning, so Rodolfo could find himself tuning it out as he looked over his current paperwork. As they were approaching winter, they were also approaching the end of the year, which meant a decent amount.

Technically, Alejandro’s job was filling out their tax documents and budget reports for the entire year, but Rodolfo was much faster with paperwork, so he usually filled them out. His mind was also a lot better with numbers than Alejandro’s was, so it was just easier for him to fill out the paperwork and Alejandro to talk about it.

Honestly, Rodolfo enjoyed it, too. He liked sitting down and just relaxing while he filled out forms and checkboxes. It was a lot easier than chasing targets up mountains or any of the other more physical parts of his job. It certainly beat being shot at or just plain shot.

Definitely beat being shot. Rodolfo rolled his shoulder and sighed, straightening up a little as he finished the last little bit of his current paperwork. This was the meeting Alejandro was supposed to be in a few days previous, but apparently it’d been postponed for various reasons.

Had Rodolfo been around Alejandro, he knew Alejandro would have taken the opportunity to complain about it. Which… it deserved to be complained about. They were allowed to just move meetings whenever but god forbid Alejandro need to miss one.

Whatever, there wasn’t anything they could do about it.

Rodolfo glanced around the room, finding himself surprisingly pretty bored. It seemed paperwork wasn’t enough to keep his mind busy that day. So, he took stock of the room, though he doubted there were any changes.

Save for a small mousetrap in the corner. It was one of the kinds that would snap down onto the poor animal when it took the bait. He hated kill traps, since it wasn’t the mouse's fault it’d ended up in a building. It didn’t know any better, it was just hungry or looking for shelter. He would ask Alejandro about it, once he was done, he decided.

Thankfully, Alejandro seemed to skate through the meeting without being scolded for their poor numbers due to the cartel, which Rodolfo was glad for. He didn’t like seeing Alejandro stressed about these things. It seemed everyone was just tired of this problem. Whatever, they didn’t have to live with it. They didn’t have to constantly patch a growing scab.

They weren’t constantly digging at a growing pile of dirt. Or… other metaphors. Rodolfo needed to get better at those, he still barely remembered the meanings of the ones he did use, just applying whatever phrase he thought fit best to a situation.

Consequentially because of the lack of scolding, Alejandro ended the meeting in a fairly good mood, which Rodolfo relaxed his shoulders a bit when he saw. He offered Alejandro a small smile.

Alejandro gave him one back, closing his laptop. “They’re going to move some of our recruits. They’re hoping it will lower the number we lose. They’ll take about a third of them, train them, and then send them back.”

Rodolfo didn’t quite see how that was supposed to help, but… He nodded, anyway. “That’s good,” he responded, unsure how else to respond. He then hesitated, never quite positive what would and wouldn’t case an argument between them. “There’s a trap in the corner.”

“Yeah, they put them in every room.” Alejandro shrugged as he leaned back in his seat.

“Who?” Rodolfo frowned, now confused why he hadn’t been informed of this. Well, actually, he had a few reasons in his head. He didn’t like kill traps as it was… He had been avoiding Alejandro… Likely, the other Vaqueros had picked up the tension between them.

The first time it had happened, when they were both still young, Rodolfo remembered a few of their fellow officers had scrambled to try to get them to make up. It had apparently been a scary sight, since they were both so close. But now… Rodolfo knew they had gotten used to it.

“A couple of majors. They were concerned about mice. Apparently one of them is afraid of them.” Alejandro shrugged, again, and chuckled softly. Rodolfo half heartedly laughed as well, only for the benefit of not coming across as accusatory.

He looked at the mouse trap, again, and found himself frowning, again. “I really hate kill traps…” he mumbled, turning back to Alejandro again.

“Sorry, Rudy,” Alejandro smiled, apologetically. “I’ll see about looking for some more humane traps. In the meantime, let's get something to eat, later.”

Rodolfo nodded, accepting that. “Where do you want to eat?” Alejandro was now gathering the papers on his desk into a neat pile and then he brought them around to Rodolfo, holding them out. Rodolfo debated playing dumb, asking him what he wanted done and staring blankly. But, he just took them and stood.

“I was thinking Sol Besos.” Alejandro shrugged, going back around his desk to sit down.

Rodolfo wasn’t really surprised. Sol Besos was considered a bit of a date spot in Las Almas, one of the few fine dining locations they had directly in the city. It was a little pricey, nice. Alejandro was apologizing.

“Alright,” Rodolfo answered and smiled, accepting the apology. He always would.

It was a choreographed dance that they did, perfectly performed at this point. Something would go wrong, a mission would be a bust, or Alejandro would deal with some frustrations at a meeting… Alejandro would need something to take his frustrations out on.

Rodolfo would offer his body and Alejandro always accepted. Sometimes Alejandro requested it, sometimes Rodolfo wasn’t even sure how it would happen but he’d end up pinned against a desk or shelf.

Afterwards, Rodolfo would cry himself to sleep for a few days, desperately try to get rid of the sticky used feeling, and avoid Alejandro. Alejandro would then apologize once Rodolfo could handle seeing him again with a fancy restaurant, maybe tickets to a movie… and then they would pretend to forget about it until the dance restarted.

It was exhausting, sometimes, but Rodolfo would rather push through it. Being used was awful, but he could handle it if it meant not going back to being just friends with Alejandro. He could handle being used, as long as he was being used by Alejandro.

“I’ll come by your quarters and grab you at 17:30,” Alejandro nodded, smiling.

Rodolfo nodded back. “I will see you, then.” He then left, taking the papers he needed to file to the file room, again.

-

Rodolfo had dressed semi-nice that night. A green silk shirt with black dress pants. Both of which Alejandro had bought him when Rodolfo had revealed a few years back that he didn’t own any dress clothing. Rodolfo didn’t go anywhere particularly nice if it wasn’t with Alejandro.

Even still, Alejandro wasn’t having it. He’d borderline dragged Rodolfo to a store and made him pick out some nicer clothing, which Alejandro had paid for. While Alejandro made more than Rodolfo, he was still paying off a decent sized piece of property he’d bought during a manic episode, and Rodolfo didn’t pay rent. So, all of this taken into account, they had around the same amount of wealth.

Alejandro still insisted on paying for most of the things that they did. Rodolfo theorized it was likely due to guilt over what they did together. Not everything revolved around that but… it was either that or the cartel, most times.

He pulled on a jacket, not his gray hoodie since Alejandro would likely tell him to change it. Yeah, alright, it wasn’t a nice jacket, but he liked his hoodie. It was comfortable and he’d worn it to a point that it was just a sort of part of him. It’d gotten a stain and he’d taken it to a laundry place, and for the few days he didn’t have it, several of the Vaqueros had commented on it being one.

Right at 17:30, as promised, Rodolfo heard a knock on his door. Knock, knock, knockknockknock. Alejandro had been knocking like that since they were little kids, so Rodolfo recognized it as him, immediately. He barely paused to glance himself over before he was opening the door, smiling as he saw Alejandro there.

Alejandro looked up from his phone, where Rodolfo saw a reservation menu was open, and then he chuckled softly. Rodolfo flushed as he put his phone away and reached up, smoothing his hands over Rodolfo’s hair. “You always look so frazzled.”

“That’s a new word.” Rodolfo retorted, but was grateful. He hadn’t thought to check over that. He did glance over Alejandro, though. Alejandro had his own jacket on, a black leather one, which pulled tight in the right areas, but didn’t restrict in the wrong areas. He was also wearing black pants as well as a red shirt, which Rodolfo recognized because Alejandro wore it, often. It had black flowers embroidered into the shoulders and the cuffs.

It was one of his favorites and Rodolfo had to admit, he was partial to it as well. Alejandro definitely suited red.

Alejandro led Rodolfo out to the truck, taking one of the smaller pickups. Likely, he didn’t want to stick out too badly. Which, Rodolfo didn't either.

When Alejandro went to get into the driver’s seat, Rodolfo laughed. “No.” He shook his head, holding out his hand for the keys. Alejandro didn’t even argue, just gave him the keys and went around.

Rodolfo turned the truck on when he got in. “I’d prefer to get to Sol Besos in one piece,” he teased, trying to show Alejandro that he really had forgiven him. He always would.

Alejandro did seem to relax before gently punching his arm. “You would have.”

That includes my nerves, commander,” Rodolfo reminded, sighing softly, before starting to drive.

“Just Alejandro tonight, Rudy.” Alejandro shook his head as Rodolfo glanced over.

So, Rodolfo nodded, “alright.” He then just fell silent as he drove, focusing on the road. Never the streets. They got worse and worse to look at. More guns in people’s pockets, more violence. A few times, Rodolfo had been able to make out bodies on the side of the streets, covered in sheets.

Rodolfo would worry why the police were not stepping in to do anything but… He knew why. The police had long been in the cartel’s pocket, paid off for looking the other way. This really was just their problem to solve.

They were being set up to fail.

From Alejandro’s tense stance, beside him, he was clearly thinking the same. Rodolfo could practically feel it rolling off of him.

“Don’t think about that stuff tonight,” Rodolfo murmured, “come on. It’s just us.” He shifted his hands on the wheel so he could touch Alejandro’s wrist.

Alejandro relaxed a little. “You’re right, Rudy. You’re right.” He then took a deep breath and nodded.

Rodolfo again went silent, unsure what else to say.

After a bit, Alejandro spoke up again. “Did you see they finally authorized repairs for the AC unit in the weight room?”

The weight room was a bit of a luxury at the base for the higher ups. Rodolfo spent some time there, but he preferred jogging and cardio exercises. Everyone else had to stop shortly after the AC broke, as it was a luxury, not a necessity. No one seemed to want to put themselves through suffering just for said luxury.

“No, I didn’t. I don’t really rummage through the reports when you hand them to me.” He hadn’t meant that to come out as bitter as it did. He’d been trying to tease, but instead his tone came across as harsh.

Alejandro flinched, immediately making Rodolfo feel bad. “Ah.” He sighed before Rodolfo could take it back. “Yeah, they’re sending someone next week. Don’t understand why I even had to get it approved when it’s taken from our budget. But.. they’re not to be questioned on these things.”

“I know several people who will be grateful.” Rodolfo smiled and nodded. “Lots of complaints.”

“I’ll put Alvarez in charge of overseeing the repairs while they’re here.”

Rodolfo nodded, again. “Alright.” He glanced over at Alejandro, who seemed to have relaxed a fair amount.

“So, did you ever settle on an apartment?” Alejandro asked, after a moment of silence.

Rodolfo sighed, softly, glancing at the ceiling of the truck. “No, I have not.” Alejandro had offered to let Rodolfo move into the ranch that he owned, off base. The same one he’d bought during a manic episode. But, Rodolfo had refused.

Regardless, they both would still go there when forced to take their vacation time. Rodolfo knew that this was technically a career, but it felt so much more like a lifestyle sometimes that the idea of getting paid vacation time was almost comical. Technically, they both got two days off a week as well, but there were usually things to do.

They were salaried, anyway, so as long as their work was getting done, nothing was usually said to them. Until the end of the year when their unused accrued vacation time was sent to them in a letter saying “take this now.” and they were forced to take Christmas off.

“You could probably afford to buy a house,” Alejandro pointed out. “I’ve seen your pay, you make enough.”

“Too much commitment.” Rodolfo bit his lip, focusing again on the road. He liked his quarters, he didn’t feel any need to get an apartment. Besides, he never left the base unless he was with Alejandro, anyway “I like my quarters on base.” He finally said.

“I think you’d enjoy an apartment more, Rudy.” Alejandro sighed, softly. This was an ongoing argument between them.

Rodolfo offered a small smile. “I’d never go to it. No point.”

Alejandro sighed, again, but seemed to give up. “I still think you should look.” He mumbled and Rodolfo saw him turn to look out the window. Rodolfo went quiet, finding no need to continue the conversation.

When they finally made it to the restaurant, Rodolfo found a parking spot, and then parked before getting out. He was unsurprised when Alejandro rounded the truck to him and then they both headed inside. “Why Sol Besos?” He asked as they entered, curious.

“I dunno, the food looked good.” Alejandro shrugged.

“It’s a little pricey.”

“We can afford it.” Another shrug from Alejandro.

Rodolfo hummed, looking away to the hostess’s stand. “I wasn’t arguing that. More… stating a fact.”

Alejandro spoke to the host and told them he had a reservation for “Vargas”. They were then quickly led to their table and asked their drink order before being told their waitress would be right with them.

Rodolfo sat across from Alejandro in the small booth, settling close to the wall. Rodolfo had never been to this restaurant, but he liked it. The interior had a gold aesthetic, with warm lighting. The tables were spaced out, which made it feel a lot more open. Likely to make up for the warm lighting.

Rodolfo picked up the menu and looked over it, picking something fairly quickly. He was a picky eater, so as soon as he saw something he recognized on the menu, he decided on it. Then, he set his menu down and folded his hands over it, watching Alejandro look over his. He was squinting slightly and Rodolfo tried to decide whether it was worth a potential argument to point out Alejandro should get glasses.

Instead, he just settled on a different topic. “This place is meant to be a date spot.” He pointed out.

“So?” Alejandro lifted a brow, glancing up at Rodolfo.

“So… what if someone sees us?” Rodolfo wasn’t actually that concerned about someone seeing them. Who fucking cared, at that rate. But.. he knew Alejandro always was.

“We wanted to get a nice dinner and discuss current affairs around the base. And Las Almas.” Alejandro shrugged, finally putting his menu down. “Some of the higher ups also come here when they visit and discuss business things.”

Rodolfo frowned but nodded. “Alright, if you say so.” He went back to glancing around, trying to take in all of the decor, though a few items were a bit too busy for him to really try.

“What have you been doing lately? In your off time?”

Rodolfo turned back to Alejandro, a bit surprised at the question. “Oh, I jog, mostly. I… I guess that’s all I really do.” He shrugged, furrowing his brows.

Alejandro seemed to frown and looked almost as if he was going to say something, but they were interrupted by the waitress setting down the drinks they had ordered from the host. “Oh! Colonel Vargas, it’s nice to see you again.” The waitress smiled, looking at Alejandro.

Rodolfo’s heart sank and he looked at Alejandro as well. Alejandro seemed awkward, avoiding both her and his eyes. Right. Another one of his flings. Rodolfo had just wanted one nice night. One night.

Alejandro smiled, awkwardly, and finally looked at her. “Hey… it’s Candace, right?”

“Carmen,” she corrected, seeming to wilt, almost.

Alejandro winced, his face now a dark shade of red. “Ah.”

“Can I get you any appetizers?” She didn’t even glance over at Rodolfo, her entire body turned towards Alejandro.

“No.” Rodolfo interjected, anyway, frustrated by this entire exchange.

Carmen side-eyed Rodolfo, but Alejandro spoke up to confirm that they didn’t and asked her to give them a minute to keep looking over the menu. “Rudy, I’m so-”

“Save it,” Rodolfo shook his head, “I don’t care who you hook up with.” He cared a lot, actually, because he’d really prefer it if Alejandro stopped hooking up at all. He looked down at his arm, picking at a loose thread.

“I didn’t know she worked here.” Alejandro’s tone was insistent, which Rodolfo didn’t quite get why.

So, he just shrugged. “Awkward moments, I get it.” He didn’t get it at all. It hurt a lot. He really didn’t want to watch her flirt with Alejandro and ignore him and Alejandro try to either awkwardly swat off her flirting or even flirt back. He suddenly had the desire to just go home, though he knew that wasn’t a good idea.

Alejandro didn’t seem convinced at Rodolfo’s words, but he didn’t push him, thankfully.

Rodolfo just waited for her to bring back their drinks, continuing to pick at the thread on his arm and finally pulling it out. When she did bring their drinks, he was quick to order his own food, wanting it out before her attention was lost to Alejandro.

As expected, she immediately turned to Alejandro. Rodolfo realized that as some point, she’d unbuttoned her blouse a little and her hair was now in a long ponytail, rather than the bun it had been in before. She put her hand on the table, leaning forward a little.

Rodolfo rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw and glaring at the back of her head.

Alejandro, for his part, seemed to just awkwardly ignore her chest which was practically in his face. A younger Rodolfo would have gently teased him when she was gone, but current him wanted to scream and cry.

“Of course, Colonel Vargas, anything else I can get you?” Carmen’s tone was high and sweet and Rodolfo looked up at the ceiling. He felt like throwing up, honestly.

“No thank you.” Alejandro shook his head. Finally, she left to input their order.

“Are they all this annoying?” Rodolfo asked once she was gone, looking at Alejandro again.

Alejandro winced, hard. Maybe it gave Rodolfo a bit of satisfaction to see him so awkward. “No… But then again, I usually don’t see them again…” He mumbled, using his thumb to pick at his nails. Rodolfo reached over and stopped him.

So, Alejandro put his hand under the table, likely doing the same thing just out of sight. Rodolfo decided to just drop it, not having the patience. “I guess I’ll have to start asking where they work.”

Rodolfo laughed, bitterly. “Ha.” He then shook his head. “Might as well ask where their favorite shop is, as well.” Rodolfo was starting to be bitterly reminded why he never left the base. “Maybe we’ll just order in, next time.”

“Yeah, probably.” Alejandro mumbled, ducking his head.

Rodolfo rolled his eyes and just went quiet again. When their food came, he took it and just silently ate, ignoring Carmen who was again trying to flirt with Alejandro, who was doing his best to evade her attempts.

He decided to just take another long, hot shower that night and just try his hardest to forget about this.

-

Rodolfo couldn’t sleep. The shower hadn’t helped to relax him at all. He was still thinking about the disaster that had taken place at Sol Besos and he needed to sleep because they had a warehouse bust in the morning, needing to clear out one of the many shipping locations for the cartel.

He rolled onto his back and just stared at the ceiling. He was exhausted, that was the worst part. His body wanted to sleep, but his mind just hadn’t quite gotten the memo. All he could think about was Alejandro and Carmen.

She actually looked a fair amount like Rodolfo, though not completely. Same darker skin, her hair was also on the straighter side. She had the same round, big eyes that Rodolfo had been told he had. Bigger mouth, but smaller body features.

They could have been cousins, honestly, but Rodolfo would know if he was related to someone that fucking grating.

Did Alejandro call her Corazon when they hooked up? The idea of that made him nauseous, again. He hated it. But, his brain continued to torture him with more questions. Did he stay the night at her place? God forbid if they’d went to the ranch. Rodolfo didn’t want to consider that at all.

Did he speak to her when he was done? Did he tell her how pretty she was and call her a good girl? Did he take his time with her? When it was over, did he talk to her at all or did he ignore her like he ignored Rodolfo?

Shut up. He told his brain, slamming a pillow over his face.

He knew Alejandro only came to Rodolfo because Rodolfo would do what he asked. Rodolfo was accessible and didn’t judge Alejandro. It just… didn’t feel fair that, at the very least, Alejandro wouldn’t stop having other hookups.

Rodolfo had never been with anyone else but Alejandro. He’d never wanted anyone else. Before Alejandro, he hadn’t been particularly interested in the idea of sex, and during… well, Rodolfo had no one else on his mind but Alejandro.

He knew it was too much to ask for, for Alejandro to be the same. But… It would be nice. Rodolfo desperately wanted to be special to Alejandro and the fact that he wasn’t just… hurt.

I’m clean. But no “Are you?” Because it was so fucking obvious that Rodolfo didn’t want anyone else. Rodolfo had never wanted anyone but Alejandro! He never fucking would, all he wanted was Alejandro!

A scream erupted out of his chest and he was quick to muffle it with the pillow, frustrated. The screaming swelled in his chest until he was hitting at the pillow and continuing to scream. He screamed until sound would no longer come out, and then he just continued the motion, sitting up and slamming the pillow down into his bed, over and over until his arms were sore with the motion.

Then, he collapsed back into the bed, sobbing again. “Fucking asshole…” He whimpered, yes whimpered. Like a kicked dog, because that’s what he felt like. “Fuck!” He threw the pillow across the room and then hit his hand against his forehead.

“Why am I so fucking dumb?” He asked his empty room, staring up at the ceiling as tears continued to stream down his face. “Why can’t I move on?”

He covered his face, a moment later, and went back to full on sobbing. He was so angry at himself for wanting someone he just couldn’t have. He was a plaything to Alejandro, nothing more than outlet for him to get his frustrations out on.

But… Alejandro? Alejandro was everything to Rodolfo. The fucking sun rose and set on Alejandro for Rodolfo. Every damn morning, Rodolfo thought of him. Fuck, he was laying here, unable to sleep, and the only fucking person on his mind was goddamn fucking Alejandro.

“Why can’t I be more?” He whispered to his still empty room. “Why can’t I just be more to Alejandro?”

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

I thought this would make a cute little prompt idea!

Its no big secret Peter 3 loves One's laugh! He starts to take notice that each time he tickles him in a different spot, he has a different laugh. When he tickles his stomach he has a squeaky laugh, his armpits he cackles, etc...Peter 3 decides to tickle him in different spots to hear all his different laughs!

Ticklish Discoveries

Summary: See prompt above :)

(This started out as an adorable little prompt and turned into a long fic 😅 Sorry it turned out so long, but I had so much fun with this Anon ❤️ Hope you enjoy it ❤️)

Three was on a scientific investigation.

A tickle investigation.

A scientific tickle investigation.

Over the last few days, he had been secretly cataloging each adorable sound his younger counterpart made when he was tickled. Not in a creepy, sadistic sort of way but in a loving 'I'm totally gonna exploit this' older brother way. He'd know the other two roughly a year and he didn't realize he could have so much love for two people.

Not surprisingly, the three had bonded over a love for tickling. It had been an interesting night the first time the discovery had been made, but neither he nor Two had gotten to test every tickle spot. So Three deemed it his mission to test them all.

When he stepped through the portal to One's apartment, Three found his target relaxing in the living room.

"Hi Pete! How's it . . ."

The youngest looked up and quickly scrubbed his eyes. "Hi Three."

"You okay?"

"Yeah! Why wouldn't I be?"

There may have been a smile on One's face, but it looked strained and didn't reach his eyes.

In response, Peter 3 sat beside him. "I'm not going to judge you or call you weak for shedding some tears Pete."

One scrubbed at his eyes again. "Thank you for worrying, but I told you I'm fine."

"Okay."

The youngest counterpart managed a half smile. "So, why did you want to come over?"

"I wanted to play a game but if you're having a rough day we don't have to."

After some quiet thought, One replied, "You know, a game does sound like fun."

"You sure? We don't have too."

One shook his head. "No, I want to."

Peter 3 smiled. "Okay."

"What game did you want to play? Hide and seek?"

While the question was asked in a teasing form, Three thought about it. "We can incorporate it with hide and seek if you want to."

Peter 1 gave a light chuckle. "Haven't plahayed that in a whihile."

"We can do hide and seek, but with a twist."

"How?"

"I'll be the seeker, you be the hider. But each time I catch you . . . I get to tickle you."

Peter 1's eyes widened comically and a blush appeared on his face.

"What do you say?" Peter 3 teasingly wiggled his fingers toward his counterpart. "Ready for hide and tickle?"

Peter 1 nervously nodded.

"You suuuuure."

"Y-yehes!"

"Alright, you got ten seconds." The tallest Peter covered his eyes. "One . . . two . . . "

As Three began to count, he heard the scurry of feet before silence filled the living room again. Once he reached ten, Peter 3 started his search.

One's apartment didn't offer many hiding spots so it didn't take long to find him giggling under his tiny bed.

"Gotcha!"

The youngest Peter squealed as he tried to slip away from his counterpart. He didn't get far before he was pinned to the ground.

After not tickling someone in a few years, Peter 3's skills were rusty as he dug into One's ribs. He went slowly and gently so he wouldn't hurt the youngest.

Even still, the gentle touches elicited the loudest laughter Three had heard in a while.

"Awahaw, you're soho cute! Public enemy number ohone myhy foot."

"Hehey! Ihi'm nohot thahat cuhute!"

Three paused. "The fact that you're giggling makes you even less menacing."

Peter 1 rolled his eyes and shoved at Three.

Peter 3 moved off Peter 1. "Come on, round two."

"Yohou want mehe to hide agahain?"

Three smirked. "Didn't I tell you? I'm on permanent seeking duty."

One propped himself up on his elbows. "Yohou suhure?"

"Positive! But that means you better get creative with your hiding spots."

One smirked back. "You're ohon!"

The second round went more in One's favor. Because of his smaller stature he was able to fit in smaller places that Three would not have thought of. Like the small cabinet under the bathroom sink.

"How'd yohou eheven fit in thehere!"

One shrugged. "Ihi dohon't knohow."

Three gently pulled him out. "Wehell come ohon out!"

Peter 1 squealed as he was pulled into Three's lap and those same hands dug into his armpits. Loud genuine cackles filled the tiny bathroom as One sunk down into Three's lap.

"Ah gootchie gootchie goooo little Peter!"

"NAHAHA LIHITTLEHEL!"

While Three loved the cackles, the snorts that followed were his favorite.

After the brief attack, Peter 3 ruffled One's hair. "Ihill admit, that was aha good one."

His younger counterpart grinned at the affection.

"But now I know your secret so you'll have a harder time this round," Three teased.

"Yohou're on!"

Peter 3 grinned as he recounted to ten. Surprisingly, One held true to his word. Peter 3 had a hard time finding him this round. He would have missed him completely if Peter 1 hadn't started giggling within the kitchen cabinet.

Peter 3 crept up to the door as quietly as he could before yanking it open with a growl. "C'mere!"

The youngest let out another squeal, but he surprised his older counterpart by ducking between his legs before running out of the kitchen.

Peter 3's jaw dropped. It quickly turned a grin when he glimpsed One's excited face before it disappeared into the next room. He was getting into the spirit now.

The tallest hurried after him. "Get back here you!"

A brief chase around the living room came to an end when One thudded to the floor after he jumped over the couch.

Peter 3 hurried over. "You gohood?"

A thumbs up greeted him. "Ihim gohood!"

The older variant chuckled as he knelt to the floor. "Gohood, because thahat wahas hysterical."

"Hey!"

"Yohou don't think ihit wahas?"

"Ihits nohot really funny when you lahand on your butt!"

"Would have been more humorous if it had been you're arm."

One gave him a deadpan look. "Thahat was so corny ihit huhurt worse thahan my landing."

Three placed a hand on his chest. "I aham insulted!"

"So am I by your humor."

The older counterpart tried to hold back a smile as he snagged the youngest's foot. "Ihill shohow you hohow funny Ihi can behe."

The smirk on One's face dropped as Three pulled his feet into his lap.

"Hey One?" Three held up his hand. "What did the finger say to the thumb?"

Giggles were the only response.

The older counterpart skittered his fingers across One's foot. "I'm in glove with you!"

While still giggly, the youngest did not have the biggest reaction to his foot being tickled.

The youngest grinned. "Cahant gehet mehe toho lahAAUGH!"

Three paused and looked at where his fingers had strayed. Right above the heel.

He then smirked back up at his younger counterpart. "What happens when you injure your foot?"

"Nothihing!"

"Wrong!" Three's fingers started moving again. "They heel on their own."

It was impressive how one little spot could produce so many girlish squeals and snorts. Not too mention the most adorable toe curls.

"How do feet greet each other?"

"THEHEY DOHONT!"

"Noho." Peter 3 jumped up to pinch his toes. "They say 'Nice toe meet you'!"

The girlish squeals switched to high pitched giggles. "NOHEEE!"

"Wrohong! Thahat's your toesieees." Peter 3 scritched in between them. "Do you not know basic anatomy?"

"AHH! NOHO!"

The older finally released One's foot. "Atleast you admit it."

In response, Peter 1 pouted. He genuinely poked out his bottom lip and pouted at his friend.

"Don't give me that look. We're still playing Hide and Tickle!" Three poked his sides a few times. "You shohould behe smiling!"

Peter 1 squeaked and squirmed. "Naha Ihim mahade ahat yohou!"

Three growled and reached forward to ruffle his hair again. "Come on. Next round!"

"Yes!"

This round was a bit more challenging. Peter 3 searched the almost the entire apartment before he realized what the youngest had done.

Not only had he hidden on the ceiling rather than the floor, he had strategically stayed behind Peter 3 as he walked through the apartment.

"You stinker!" Three exclaimed.

One giggled down at him. "Yohou never sahaid Ihi cohouldn't!"

The middle Peter crossed his arms. "You coming down, or do I have to come get you?"

There was a brief pause where Peter 1 seemed to consider the offer, then scurried off again.

Peter 3 laughed as he swung up to the ceiling. "Oho, ihits ohon!"

This chase was a lot more challenging. There was less furniture to bump into or trip over; however, it was hard to rotate positions with the tight corners and lighting fixtures. Peter 3 ended the chase when he snagged One's ankle. He then pushed himself off of the ceiling and down to the floor.

Now the youngest was hanging by just his fingertips.

"Cohome on." Three teasingly pulled on his leg. "Time to come down."

One shook his head. "No!"

"Aww, is somewon newvous?"

The blush on One's cheeks spread to his ears.

"Come on down Petewr." Three's fingers dragged across his heel. "The tickwe monstewr wants tow pway!"

Peter 1 started squealing again, but he refused to let go of the ceiling.

This left Three free to explore. His other hand reached up to squeeze Peter 1's knee.

The youngest shrieked.

"Oo! Sweet spot."

If One wasn't dangling from the ceiling he'd surely be driven up the walls when Three found the perfect rhythm. However, he would still not let go of the ceiling.

"Wohow! Yowve got qwite the gwip Uno."

"NAHA! NO BAHABY TAHALK!"

Three lifted One's foot up. "Buwt I have tow! Youwre aha baby aftew awl."

Peter 1 snorted. "Jerk!"

"Aww, a teeny snort!"

"Shut uhup!"

Three smirked. "Noho problemo."

"Wha-AHHH!"

Peter 3 blew a few raspberries into each foot and behind each knee before One finally removed one hand. The sounds coming from his mouth was a mix of shrieks, squeals, and snorts.

When Three saw the one hand, he stopped his playful torture. "Are you going to come down now?"

The youngest paused.

So Three decided wiggling fingers were more motivational. "Come down, or your tummy gets it."

"Dohon't chall it thahat!"

Three poked his stomach. "Why? Cause tummy mahakes youw bwush?"

"Ah! Noho!"

"You know I can still see your face from here?"

That blush started creeping down his neck.

Three held up his hands. "Unless you want me to tickle your tummy, you'd better come down."

One stayed put.

Three moved forward. "Okay."

"Wait! Waihait!" At the last moment, One dropped from the ceiling and into Three's arms. "Nohot yehet!"

"Not yehet?"

Somehow his blush got darker.

Peter 3 cooed as he instinctively wrapped the youngest in his arms. "It shohould really be illegal toho be this cuhute."

Now Peter 1 was even more flustered at the fact that he was being held by his older variant. "Th-threhee!"

"Yehes?"

"Ihim nohot a babyhy! Yohou can put mehe dohown!"

"No!"

"I'm tohoo heavy!"

"No you're not! You're light as a feather."

The youngest hid his face in his hands. "Ihim tohoo big!"

"Stohop making excuses." Three gently pulled the hand back. "You're just the right size."

This earned a tongue sticking out at him.

Three smirked. "So muhuch sass in one little package."

"I'm not little!"

Peter 3 wiggled a finger into his neck. "Itty-bitty tiny little baby spiderling."

The cutest little giggles bubbled out of the youngest's mouth.

Three felt something he hadn't years. Cuteness aggression.

He growled again. "Why you gotta be soho cuuute!"

Before the youngest could think of a response, Three tipped him back and nuzzled into his neck.

"Ahhhahaha!" The youngest snorted. "Wh-whahat ahare you dohoing!"

Those same giggles grew in number and so did Three's cuteness rage.

He squished his baby brother's face. "Stop being so cute or I'm gonna squish you."

"Whahat!"

"Ihim warning yohou!"

Peter playfully pushed at Three's hand. "Buhut Ihim not cuhute!"

"I'm serious! Stop it right nohow."

One looked up at his brother's intense stare. He tried to keep a straight face, but his upside down position mixed with the goofy statements made him squeak and bury his face in his hands.

"That's it!"

One squealed as he was pulled up and into a squeeze. Meanwhile, Three nibbled across his neck as he nuzzled in.

One's laughter turned higher pitched at the affection. While torturous, the youngest didn't try to hard to get away. Although, he did want to call foul play when Three chose to move the nuzzles and nibbles up to his ears.

"Yohoure thehe wohohorst!"

"I warned you to stop being so cute. Now youw have tow face the conseqwences!"

"EEEE!" Another snort.

Peter 3 paused his tickles and just held his younger brother in a hug. "Lohove yohou Uno."

Peter 1 giggly returned the hug. "Lohove yohou to ya ohoaf."

"Ready for one more round?"

The youngest's head shot up. "Yes!"

The tallest Peter set him down. "Alright, here we go!"

As Three covered his eyes, he listened to the patter of little feet scurrying out of the room and the giggles trailing behind.

This round, Peter 3 may have delayed finding the youngest. He could hear him giggling in the tiny bedroom closet almost immediately, but deliberately delayed the reveal by checking a few other locations.

"Are youuuu . . . here?" Three peeked under the bed.

The giggles picked up.

Peter 3 moved to the dresser and opened a drawer. "Are you iiiiiiin . . . here?"

More giggles poured out of the closet.

The tallest Peter made his way closer to the closet. "Are yohou in there?"

Everything went silent.

"Ihi think I heard yohou."

A tiny squeak came out.

Three quietly grabbed the handle and quickly threw it open. "IIIIIIII got ya!"

One squealed and curled into a ball.

Three squatted down. "After ahall ohof your previous hiding spots, this was your behest spot?"

Peter 1 hesitantly opened his arms.

Three cooed. "Did you want to get found super quick?"

One made grabby hands. "Yes!"

However, his mood shifted quickly after. He pulled his arms back with a bashful look and a soft, "If you want to."

Three melted. "Of course bud."

After another brief pause, One hesitantly opened his arms back up.

With an ever growing grin, Peter 3 reached forward and scooped his baby brother up into his arms. "I thought you were too big to be held?"

". . . Am I?"

"Never!" Three held him close. "You're the perfect cuddle sized munchkin."

Peter 1's blush returned. "Hey! Ihi'm not a muhunckihin!"

Peter 3 readjusted his so he could lift Peter 1 up in the air. "Yohou're nugget sihized."

"Ahh! Threheheee!"

The older Peter chuckled and moved Peter 1 around in the air. "Now you're an airplane."

One immediately grabbed onto his brother's wrists. "Eep! Noho ahairplahane!"

Peter 3 pulled him back. "Ihis your tummy ready fohor tickles nohow?"

The youngest's face turned bright red. A slow smile accompanied it as he slowly lifted his shirt up.

Peter 3 smirked. "Lohooks like Ihits been ready."

Three shifted one arm under the littlest's knees before carefully dropping him on the couch. One squeaked in surprise before dissolving in a puddle of giggles.

Peter 3 placed his hands on his hips. "Now where is your tummy hiding?"

"You---yohou knohow whehere."

"No I don't, you gotta show me where he is."

Peter 1's blush rivaled his spider suit as he grabbed the hem of his shirt.

"I can't tickle him if you don't show me."

One turtled into his shoulders. He was so flustered he couldn't get a grip on his shirt.

"You can lift you're shirt, or I can stick my head under."

That statement flustered Peter 1 even more. The stream of sounds coming out of his mouth resembled jumbled consonants rather than actual words.

"Ooone."

"Ihi---."

"Twoooo."

One's eyes widened. "Whehen did yohou start---."

"Three!"

At the same time Three's head shot forward, One squealed and pulled his shirt up and over his face.

"Ahahawww!"

One peeked out and pouted again.

In response, Three scooted closer to his tummy. "Ahhh."

Peter 1's eye widened as he sucked in his tummy.

Peter 3 moved even closer. "Ahhhhhhh."

"Eep!"

Three's head dropped forward.

Peter 1 spazzed. "AHH!"

However, the older Peter stopped his face mere centimeters above One's quivering stomach. He was so close in fact that his breath caused goosebumps to appear.

"Aww, youwr tummy is nerwvouws."

"Juhust doho ihit!"

"Ihif you insist."

"Wha-? Wahait!"

A raspberry was blown onto One's tummy and One squealed!

Three looked up. "Wohow, that's aha big squeal."

Peter 1 pulled his shirt back over his face.

The older Peter cooed and tugged on the shirt. "Let me see that face."

"Hohow cahan you see myhy face whihile yohou're blowing rahaspberries?"

Three cooed. "Do you want more raspberries Mister Tummy?"

Silence.

"Ihi take that ahas a yes."

The next moment, Peter 1's tummy was attacked with raspberries. This time he unintentionally shoved his shirt down over Peter 3's head.

"Oho noho! I'm trapped." Another raspberry. "Guess I'm stuck hehere now."

And he added another raspberry for good measure.

"AHH! GEHET OHOUT!"

"You put me here."

"Ihi---Ihi knoho *hic*."

Peter 3 pulled his head out. "What was that!"

"Uhum . . . A *hic*."

"Oh my word."

Peter 1 hiccuped again.

"Hickiermumps!"

"Shuhut uhu*hic*!"

"Jumping frog hickiermumps. That's soho cuhute!"

One pouted. "They only happen ihif Ihi *hic* lahaugh too much. May thought---."

Three watched as Peter 1's face crumbled.

"Hey. You okay?"

A sniff and a head shake confirmed what Peter 3 had been thinking. He moved to sit on the couch and pull One into his lap.

At first, the youngest Peter tensed at the position, but he then buried his face into Peter 3's chest.

"What's going on Uno?" Three rocked back and forth. "What's really going on?"

Peter 1 sniffed again. "Can you believe . . . It's been a y-year since we---we met?"

"I knew it was soon, but has it been a year already?"

One nodded. "A y-year ago tomorrow."

A light clicked on in Peter 3's head. "A year ago that everything changed."

". . . Yeah."

The raw emotions hit Three like a tidal wave. He remembered the one year anniversary after Uncle Ben and Gwen had passed. Every place you looked, every smell you smelled, every sound you heard, it all remind you of that person.

"Y-you know . . . She used to chase me around like y-you did when I-I was little."

Three turned back to One. "Really?"

A small smile appeared on One's face. "Because I was so little she . . . she used to pick me up and---and put me on her hip as she spun around."

The tallest Peter chuckled. "Aww, that's so cute!"

"It was cute when I was like . . . ten. Not when I was fifteen and she tried to do it to behe silly."

Peter 3 out right laughed. "Shehe trihied to pick yohou uhup when you whehere fifteen?"

One chuckled and blushed. "Tryhy is the kehey wohord. We both ended uhup on the floor whehen shehe did."

"My Unclehel Behen tried the sahame thing."

Peter 1 looked up. "Really?"

Three nodded. "Yeheah, hehe actually got me ohon toho his back befohore promptly pulling aha muscle."

The youngest Peter giggled. "Oho noho!"

"Yeheah . . . Gwen loved that story."

"Did shehe try toho pick yohou uhup?"

"Yeah, but she wahas never successful."

"My MJ did ihit ohonce."

"Wait, seriously!"

One groaned. "Shehe did it on a dare!"

"I'd lohove to hear that stohory."

"There's no real story. She, Ned, and I were hanging out. Ahaunt May told the same story I told you. Ned made a comment abohout MJ's strehength and dared her to pick me up to show hohow strong she wahas. She ahactuahally got me a couple inches off of the floor for like three seconds."

"I knehew Ihi liked heher."

"Yeheah." One's shoulders sagged. "I miss them."

Peter 3 squeezed him tight. "Me too."

Another small sniffle slipped out. "Does it---does it get any easier?"

"A little. You just have to take it day by day."

The duo fell into a comfortable silence as they each thought back on the memories of their loved ones.

Finally, One spoke back up. "Three?"

"Yeah Pete?"

"If it's okay . . . Could---could we do a few more?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Peter 3's mouth. "A few more what bud?"

"The . . . The . . . you know."

Three's fingers skittered across Peter 1's side. "I have no idea. Could you elaborate?"

Those same light giggles filled the room again.

Meanwhile, Three slowly spidered his hand up the youngest's back. "I can't give you what you want if you don't tell me whahat it is."

This time Peter 1's giggles turned higher pitched as he turtled into his shoulders the closer those fingers slowly got to his shoulder blades and neck. "Hehey!"

Three's cuteness aggression returned. "Stop being cute or I'm going to tickle yohou again."

Peter 1 hid his mouth behind his hands as he tried to lean back.

Peter 3 followed him forward repeating the same thing over and over. "Stop being so cute. Ihim warnihing you."

Once the youngest was laying on his back in Three's lap again, the older Peter pressed his forehead to One's. "If you don't stop being cute, I'm going to get your tummy again."

Peter 1 blushed and pulled his shirt up. He then placed Peter 3's hand on his stomach.

Three wanted to squeal. His little counterpart was way to adorable when asking for tickles. Instead, Three let out a growl. "Nohow you've dohone it."

One squeaked.

Peter 3 dug his hand into One's tummy. "Yohou're being way too cuhute agahain!"

As Three tickled him, the smile on his face actually reached his eyes this time. It was a bright genuine smile that Peter 3 wanted to experience everyday.

Even if he was loving the ticklish affection, it couldn't last forever. When One's laughter started to get breathy, Peter 3 finally stopped and held him in a hug. "Ihi love you so much Uno. You're the little brother Ihi nehever had."

Three felt One tense.

Three pulled back to see tears forming in One's eyes. "What's wrong? Did I go to far? Did I hurt you?"

"You." One sniffed. "You r-really see me as a . . . brother?"

"Is that okay."

"Yes." The tears started flowing down One's face

"Oh buddy." Three immediately pulled One back into a hug.

"You a-and Two . . . You're like the-the brothers I never-never had."

Three felt tears well up in his own eyes. "You're going to make me cry now."

Peter 1 pulled back and started scrubbing at his eyes. "Sorry."

With a wet chuckle, Three gently cupped his face with his hands. "It's okay to cry. You've got a lot of big emotions inside of you that just need to come out."

Peter 1 looked away.

"If you want to let them out through tears you can."

Peter 1 looked back up at his brother. "Stay?"

"I'll stay right by your side."

That was all the prompting One needed to rebury his face in Three's chest with a sob. "I love y-you!"

"I love you too." Peter 3 squeezed One tight. "So, so much."

The two stayed that way for a good twenty minutes. Once Peter 1 had let out all his tears he stayed curled in Three's hold.

Meanwhile, Three used his sleeves to wipe the tears from his baby brother's face.

Peter 1 whined. "I can---."

"How are you feeling now?"

Although he wanted to finish his retort, Peter 1 let it die on his lips. "I'm feeling drained."

"You've been through a lot buddy." Peter 3 stood with One in his arms. "Now it's time to rest."

The youngest looked up at his brother. "Can we play again later?"

Three smirked and wiggled a finger under his baby brother's chin. "Looking for more tickles?"

One scrunched and giggled. "Eep!"

Peter 3's smirk morphed into a grin. He lifted One up into the air before lowering him down to give him a kiss on the nose.

After the playful affection, Three carefully tossed One on to his twin bed. He then helped him settle under the blanket.

"By the way, you never told me the game you were trying to play."

Peter 3 sat on the bed. "Less of a game and more of an experiment."

"What kind of experiment?"

"A what kind of laughter do you make when I tickle you experiment."

Peter 1's eyes widened. "What!"

"And you have the behest sohounds." Peter 3 leaned closer so he could kiss his forehead. "Baby bro."

Peter 1 blushed. "Why are they the best!"

"Because they come from my adorable baby bro."

"That's gohoing to tahake some getting used toho."

"What? Baby bro?"

"Yeheah."

"Then I'll just keep calling you baby bro until it's normal." Three tucked the blanket under his chin. "Now come on, it's time to sleep."

The youngest Peter yawned. "Okay, okay."

"Good night . . . baby bro."

"Will you stay?"

"Do you want me to?"

One gave a sleepy nod.

The older Peter melted and wedged himself onto the small bed. "Scoot."

Once settled, the youngest hesitantly snuggled up close and wrapped his arms around his brother.

Three returned the hug. "Night baby bro. I love you."

One smiled as he relaxed. "Love you to big bro."

Peter 3 watched as the littlest's eyes slowly drifted shut. Hhad started off to conduct an experiment. Instead, he had gotten something so much better.

An adorable little brother.