#and make up some lame excuse or quit or something (but if my attempt fails im screwed)

[scarletcomet]

lil rant in tags. trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and that kind of stuff. if you feel like reading it please be aware of pretty detailed descriptions so please be careful. (also don’t worry i’m fine and not actually going to do anything. just needed to get my thoughts out)

[mushroomlupin]

Fireflies

Pairing: marauders era!james potter x f!reader

Summary: reader and james grew up spending every summer together. but what happens when the two of them realize that they've fallen for one another? (it's just a best friends to lovers trope in a nutshell)

Requested: yes or no maya if ur reading this, I LOVE U WITH ALL MY HEART BAE

Warnings: male masturbation, sexual references, grinding, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap your willy!)

Word Count: 2,502 words (I got RLLY carried away with this oops)

Masterlist & Ao3

Growing up with James Potter was something you couldn’t quite put in words. It was tradition since the age of five for the two of you to spend every summer together. This consisted of camping out in his backyard nearly every night, attempting to catch fireflies in glass jars, and promising each other you’d both stay awake all night but failing miserably. And in the mornings, you’d wake up to the smell of the morning dew painted on the grass and the sound of James’ mother calling from the patio door that she’d made pancakes.

And as the two of you grew older, nothing changed.

It was the summer before going into seventh year and the two of you were in James’ bedroom. The brutal July heat had taken a toll on the two of you, and to make matters worse, the air conditioning in James’ house was broken.

He’d stripped down to his boxer briefs and you were wearing nothing but a thin tank top and a stolen pair of his boxers. He didn’t complain when you took them out of his dresser and slipped them on. Besides, the two of you shared practically everything.

Laying on his bed with your arm slung over your eyes, you listened to him groan for what seemed like the fifth time within the past minute.

“It’s so bloody hot!”

“Fucking Christ, I know, James,” you shot back at him. “I feel like I’m swimming in my own sweat right now.”

He made a disgusted face at you. “Yuck! Get off my bed!”

You sighed, sitting up. “Can we sit in front of your refrigerator or something?”

“Don’t you care about the environment?” he joked.

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m kidding. That’s actually not a bad idea.”

The two of you trudged your way through the thick heat of the house, sitting down on the cold tile floor of the kitchen. He swung the door open, the cool air rushing to meet your skin. You moaned in sync, closing your eyes to relish in the temperature change. You lay your torso down, your back meeting the cool tile. Goosebumps covered your flesh, making you shiver. When James turned his head to look down at you, his jaw nearly dropped.

Your nipples were pebbled, straining against the thin fabric of your tank top and your bottom half sported nothing but his underwear. James had always been attracted to you, but seeing you in his clothing made him feel primal. Possessive, almost. He would never admit this to anyone though, he’d be far too embarrassed. He was almost sure that the guys would make fun of him.

Of course, you liked James, but he was your best friend and you knew he’d been in love with Lily Evans from the moment he saw her. As cheesy as it sounded, you couldn’t risk your friendship for some declaration of love and you weren’t sure if you could bear to hear him say that he didn’t return the feelings.

“I’ll be right back,” he excused himself.

He had to cover his erection with his hands as he stood up and jogged to the bathroom, quickly spitting his palm and fucking his hand to the thought of you. Finishing into a tissue, he quickly washed his hands, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. What did you just do, he thought to himself. He felt guilty, as though he’d defiled his best friend. In fact, he did defile his best friend in his head.

He walked back to the kitchen, mumbling some lame excuse about needing to take a nap, and left you laying there on the cool tile floor. He couldn’t face you after what he’d just done in the confines of his bathroom.

You closed the fridge door with your foot and ventured outside into his backyard. Luckily, there was a slight breeze disturbing the still, humid air. His mother’s voice nearly made you jump, walking outside and gently tossing something to you. You caught it, noticing that it was a peach.

“I saw them at the market and I just had to buy some,” she explained. “Reminds me of that time you and Jamesy were only seven years old and spent nearly the whole summer stealing peaches off of the neighbor’s tree. I thought she was lying when she came knocking on our door and yelling about two kids stealing from her tree until I saw the discarded peach pits all over the backyard.”

You laughed at the memory, feeling the peach’s fuzzy skin against your hand as you gripped it. It felt like yesterday when you could barely hold the fruit in your small seven year-old hands.

“Is James around?” she asked. “I bought him one as well.”

You shook your head. “He mentioned something about taking a nap.”

“The heat must be exhausting him,” she assumed. “I’ll go wake him up. There’s a nice breeze out here!”

You nodded, listening to her retreat back into the house. You looked back down at the peach, throwing it up into the air and catching it. The thump sound that it made when it landed back into your palm entertained you whilst you waited for your best friend to come outside. Finally, he opened the patio door, an identical piece of fruit sitting in his own palm. His long, slender fingers caged the fruit in. You hadn’t realized how large his hands were.

You sat in the grass, patting the spot next to you. He sat down, quieter than usual.

“Your mum was just reminding me about how we stole all of those peaches off of your neighbor’s peach tree that one summer when we were seven,” you said, breaking the silence, “and we left the evidence all over the backyard.”

A small smile etched its way onto his lips.

“I remember that.”

You looked down at the fruit in your hands. “Didn’t the peaches seem so much bigger back then?” you asked, investigating the peach. “Maybe it’s because our hands were so small.”

“Your hands are still small,” he quipped.

You rolled your eyes. “At least I don’t have giant monstrous hands.”

You would never admit to him how badly you wanted his palms on your body. On your waist, on your bum, on your breasts. Perhaps even wrapped around your throat. The thought alone made you swallow thickly.

When James took a bite out of the peach, it was possibly the most erotic sight you’d ever seen.

The juice dribbled down his forearm, the drips of yellow juice vibrant against his skin. His tongue left his mouth to lick a stripe up his forearm and wrist, collecting the peach sweetness on his tongue. He took another bite from the fruit, his lips shining with juice. Your core throbbed, aching at the scene in front of you. You had never wished so badly to be a piece of fruit.

“What’d that poor peach do to you?”

You were snapped out of the endless dirty thoughts circling your head, looking down at the squashed peach in your hand. Your fingers were covered in its sweet, sticky juices, hand fisted around the tender fruit. You weren’t sure how or when this had happened. Before you could say anything in response, you heard James’ mother from inside the house, calling for help with preparing dinner.

After awkwardly chopping vegetables and enduring an almost-silent dinner with his parents, the sun had left the sky and its place was the moon, bright and full as ever. James’ bedroom still remained uncomfortably hot, so the two of you decided to sleep outside in the tent that had somehow survived over all those summers.

James had stolen a cigarette from his parents’ bedroom and the two of you shared the stick, laying down on the sleeping bags.

You couldn’t help the question that slipped from your lips.

“Has Lily written to you?”

He paused, taking a puff from the cigarette. He blew the smoke out in a single stream, before it quickly disappeared into the air.

“Yeah.”

He passed you the cigarette. You balanced the stick between your middle and index finger, bringing your lips to it and inhaling.

“Has Sirius written to you?”

Indeed, Sirius had written to you.

He’d told you at the beginning of summer that Sirius had taken an interest in you over the course of sixth year.

“Yeah,” you parroted.

You watched the smoke leave your lips, giving the cigarette back to James. He took it silently.

You stared at the ceiling of the tent, the stars somewhat visible through the fabric. The cicadas in the distance and the gentle burning of the cigarette were the only sources of noise. The quietness, especially from your usually-noisy best friend, irked you.

“I don’t think I like Lily anymore,” he blurted.

You turned your head to him, noticing that he’d sat himself up. You watched as he flung the cigarette butt out the open flap of the tent before wrapping his arms around his knees. You sat yourself up as well, your knees mere inches apart.

“Why?” you asked.

Finally, he turned to you. The moonlight reflected off of his glasses, his green irises barely visible to you.

“Because I don’t have the same thoughts about Lily that I have about you,” he confessed.

You could have sworn your heart stopped.

“What kind of thoughts do you have about me?”

You had difficulty breathing. Time felt as though it had frozen. You could hear your pulse, the beats taunting you as you waited for him to respond.

He removed his arms from his legs, moving his body to face you. “It’d be easier to show you.” He brought his hands up to cup your face, his large gentle palms against your cheeks. “May I?”

You weren’t sure what to do nor what to say. You felt as though you were in a dream, one that you’d awaken from at this very moment. But you didn’t. Instead, you felt his lips crash against your own, lips tasting like cigarette smoke mixed with something sweet. Your hands moved to his neck, your fingers tangling themselves in his brown locks.

Your back hit the sleeping bag, his elbows planting themselves on either side of your head. You felt his tongue swipe the bottom of your lip, begging for entrance. You opened your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss and explore your mouth with his tongue. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him against you.

His lips left yours, moving to kiss and suck against your neck.

“It’s always been you and me, right?” he asked between kisses.

Your heart felt so full it could have bursted. You grabbed his face, pulling him to meet your eyes.

“It’s always been you and me,” you confirmed.

You grabbed the collar of the shirt he’d put on after dinner, desperate to kiss him again. This time, it was sloppy; teeth clashing and lips moving without any rhythm. You lifted your hips up, helplessly trying to relieve the aching in your core. He moaned against your lips, grounding his hips against you. You could feel his erection in his boxer briefs brushing against your clothed clit. He attempted to remove his lips from yours, moving them down your neck once more.

“Wanna taste you,” he whispered.

“Next time,” you pleaded. “I’ve waited too long for this.”

He nodded, grabbing at the pair of his boxer briefs you donned and slipping them off of your legs before doing the same to his own.

“You’re sure?” he asked one final time, the tip of his penis an inch away from your entrance.

Your hand went to cup his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “I’m positive, James.”

You felt him rub the head of his cock against your folds, bumping into your clit to tease you. You bucked your hips, a failed attempt to get him inside of you.

“I know, darling, I know.”

Finally, he nudged your entrance, slowly entering you. You weren’t a virgin, but his cock was larger than you were expecting. Once he bottomed out, he peppered your face with kisses, letting you get accustomed to the foreign feeling of him stretching you.

A gentle press of his thumb against your clit made you gasp, your walls fluttering around him.

“You alright?” he asked, sucking a mark into your neck.

You moaned in response, lifting your hips as a way to tell him to start moving. He caught on, gently pulling his length out of you and pressing back into you. You arched your back as he pressed his thumb more firmly against the sensitive bundle of nerves, beginning circular motions.

“More, Jamesy, more,” you begged.

You felt his hot breath fan against your shoulder, his thrusts becoming more forceful. The sound of skin against skin and ragged breaths filled the tent.

“‘M not gonna last much longer,” he warned.

He rolled his hips into yours until his tip brushed that spot inside of you with every thrust. You screamed, fisting the sleeping bag underneath you as you came, your legs spasming around his waist. His hips stuttered as your walls closed in on him, milking him dry as he shot ropes of cum inside of you.

The two of you caught your breaths, chests heaving, before he rolled off of you. He pulled you against him, capturing your lips for a soft, meaningful kiss. He gently bumped his nose into your own, making you giggle.

“Hi,” he whispered, a dreamy smile painted on his lips.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Hi.”

You could feel his cum begin to leak out of you, dripping onto your thighs. You looked down, frowning. He followed your glance, his cheeks tinting red.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up,” he said.

He pulled his boxers on, giving you his shirt to pull over your body. And as you climbed out of the tent, you noticed something.

Green, glowing dots sprinkled the backyard. Fireflies. You couldn’t wait until you and James had a house, catching fireflies on summer nights with children of your own.

It was always just you and James, indeed.

You headed inside his house to the bathroom, where he cleaned you up with a warm washcloth. The both of you grabbed two glass jars on your way out, grinning as you ran around the yard and attempted to catch the fireflies. Though, neither of you ended up catching any. And you promised each other, just like you when you were kids, that you’d both try to stay awake until the sun came up. And, like always, you both fell asleep, only curled in each other’s arms this time. And when you awoke, you could smell the morning dew painted on the grass and the sound of James’ mother calling from the patio door that she’d made pancakes.

Life would never change with James Potter, and that was something that filled your heart with the greatest joy.

[shes-a-gryffindor]

Of Apples and Psychological Lapses

A @jilytoberfest submission. Prompt #12 - One overhearing something they're not supposed to.

That day, on an otherwise uneventful morning, it started with an apple, of all things.

James Potter sat straddling the bench at the Gryffindor table, poring over what Lily supposed was a textbook, elbow on a knee with an apple in his hand.

Only half listening to Mary’s recitation of the ingredients for the Draught of Living Death that they were supposed to be brewing later that day, she chanced upon another look at him…. the muscles in his jaw jumped as he bit into his apple, and as she watched him laugh at something she couldn’t hear, Lily found herself wondering whether he’d always had that dimple in his cheek… before she’d had the chance to mentally scold herself for her apparent loss of self-control, James caught her eye; grinning roguishly, he winked at her before taking another bite…

“You’re doing it again,” said Mary,

Lily’s neck snapped so quickly away from James she thought she might have whiplash, “doing what?”

“Making love eyes at Potter” she sniggered.

“Don’t be daft,” responded Lily dismissively, “I was not giving him love eyes” she added, silently cursing the blush now creeping up her neck, “…anyway, the ingredients…for today, you were reading them…” a lame attempt at a change in subject.

Mary smirked at her for a moment before returning to her textbook; relieved that she’d been let off the hook, Lily focused intently on Mary’s recitation, despite already knowing the ingredients from memory, she was determined not to look over again at the group of boys sitting only a few feet away from them.

Thinking they’d get a head start on the swarm of students that would soon be filing out of the hall, they packed their books and downed the last of their pumpkin juice. As she stood, Lily glanced quickly over at James again, he was in animated conversation with Sirius, the apple hanging loosely from his fingers at his side… and a ridiculous idea crossed her mind.

Deliberating over it in the seconds it took them to reach the spot where he was sitting, before she’d even really decided upon it, she’d snatched the apple out from his hand, twisting her head round to wink back at him, before taking a bite of what was now her apple.

“Shut up,” she smirked at Mary, who was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

The rest of the day continued in a similar fashion; she felt his eyes burning into the back of her head during Transfiguration, then found herself loitering after class, trying to chance perhaps walking out at the same time as him… before realising she was behaving like an idiot and walking quickly out alone.

History of Magic was, in particular, a challenge. It was, as usual, rather impossible to focus on the monotony that was Professor Binns' lesson.

Serenely unaware that no one seemed the least bit interested in his thorough breakdown of wand legends through time, he droned on… “The Death Stick, The Wand of Destiny…” and by the time the lesson was over Lily and James had shared several silent exchanges across the classroom.

Potions that afternoon was perhaps, although short-lived, her only reprieve. Lily was quite comfortable in her element, happily brewing her Draught of Living Death. Having already reached the ideal halfway stage, she smiled contentedly down at the smooth, black currant-colored liquid in her cauldron.

Just as she was about to start chopping her roots, she caught James, brow furrowed, curiously observing her potion, before looking back at his own - which appeared to be eliciting a sort of blue-ish haze, not horrible but certainly not what it should have been doing by that point… better, if nothing else, than Peter’s… who was looking more distressed by the minute at the now foul smelling, brown concoction bubbling in his cauldron.

“Care to share your expertise, Evans?” Asked James, grinning over at her. With his sleeves rolled up over his elbows, his forearms were tense as he shifted his body weight onto them, leaning over the table toward her… and Lily thought quietly, that the dimple in his cheek was obviously not the only thing she’d failed to notice.

“Afraid not, Potter,” she responded, “see If I told you, I’d have to kill you… although, could be doing myself a favour there,” she added, smirking at him.

“Better not then, otherwise you might actually get some peace and quiet… can’t have that,” he said seriously.

“Merlin forbid,” she mumbled, in mock exasperation.

“Merlin forbid,” began Sirius, “all this terrible flirting makes me throw up in my cauldron.”

Mary and Peter burst into a fit of giggles, even Remus, it seemed, found it amusing, while James just grinned down at his cauldron.

“Your potion can’t get any worse than it already is Black… I say try it,” Lily mocked.

Sirius, however, had cast his attention elsewhere.

From the corner of the next table over, having apparently overheard the entire exchange, Severus was looking darkly over at them. His eyes flickered briefly between James and Lily before returning to his potion. She knew she’d been shamelessly flirting with him, for days, weeks really… what she hadn’t realised was how blatantly obvious it was becoming, to everyone even beyond their friends; blushing furiously and feeling rather sheepish, she scowled at Sirius, who was still grinning smugly over at Severus, before returning to her own potion.

As she made the last of her rounds that evening, her mind once again wandered to what was fast becoming something, or rather, someone, she thought about much too often. He’d looked a little too smug after catching her at dinner - watching, as a Hufflepuff in the year below them asked for his help with a Transfiguration essay that weekend… in addition to self-control, she was now apparently also losing her common sense… it was perfectly acceptable that he help another student with an essay, why should this bother her…? But honestly an essay over the weekend, she thought… ask the bloke out and be done with it, what a stupid excuse… Surely he knew the girl fancied him.

The sinking feeling in her stomach at the thought of them, tucked away in a quiet corner of the library poring over an essay together, was extremely disconcerting, this sudden interest in who he was spending time with… He’d made his existence impossible to ignore for the better part of six years, perhaps now that he wasn’t asking her out at every turn her mind was playing that stupid game, the one where you only want something because it’s not as easy to get anymore, not because you genuinely want it… some psychological lapse in judgement… yes that must be it; so trying to force her thoughts back into some semblance of order, Lily resolved to get a grip.

She met Remus in the dungeons and together they checked the last of the corridors before heading back up to the common room, chatting about weekend plans, their upcoming exams and whether they had anything planned for the summer holidays before their seventh year.

Lily was careful to steer the conversation in another direction anytime it got a little too close to James, so she wasn’t exactly thrilled (maybe a little bit) when they stepped through the portrait hole to find James, Sirius and Peter sitting alone in the common room. With a warm smile, Remus bid her goodnight and went to join his friends in front of the fire.

“All right, Evans?” Asked James, grinning that lone-dimpled grin as she walked past.

Shooting him a quick tight lipped smile, she trudged up the staircase to her dormitory with an infuriatingly pink face; she had just reached the top of the staircase, however, when she heard Sirius snigger -

“Reckon she might actually prefer you to the giant squid now.”

Failing in her resolve to get a grip before she’d even begun, and apparently not above eavesdropping now either, Lily stopped and stood there at the top of the staircase, dead silent, craning her neck to listen to them.

“What?” Asked James, “What makes you say that?” In his voice, Lily heard a hint of what she thought sounded like hope.

“Are you daft? Or do you just want to hear it all back?”

“A bit of both I think,” chuckled Remus.

“Did you not see Snivelly’s face in potions? Even he can tell she fancies you mate,” said Sirius, dryly.

“Looked a bit put out, didn’t he?” Chuckled James.

“A bit? Looked like he didn’t know whether to cry or hex you,” chortled Peter, “d’you reckon him and Evans… you know-”

“What? Asked James, cutting him off, “went out?”

“Nah,” answered Sirius quickly, “who’d want to go out with that? Didn’t they know each other from before school, or something?”

“Yeah… they were friends,” said James, with finality in his voice.

“‘Till he showed his true colours,” scoffed Sirius, “…bit naive of her though, don’t you think? To think that he’d be anything but the slimy git he is.”

Lily had half a mind to go down and give Sirius a piece of her mind, until…

“Nah,” said James, “I reckon she knew who he was the whole time… she just chooses to see the good in everyone, y’know? Even a slimy git like Snivellus.” When no one said anything, he added, “Personally, I don’t think she should change that about herself.”

There was silence… and then someone made a dry-retching sound like they were throwing up, followed by scuffling and a series of thuds, “gerrof!” Came Sirius’s muffled voice, over Peter and Remus’s laughter.

Deciding she’d heard enough, Lily tiptoed quietly into her dorm; and as she pulled the scarlet hangings of her four-poster around her that night, she thought perhaps her interest in James Potter wasn’t a psychological lapse in judgment at all.

[wavesmp3]

you jump; i jump

sunwoo x reader 

requested from sensory prompts #46: the waver in someone’s voice when they’re stressed genre: spy au, exes (ish) to lovers wc: 5.6k  warnings: cursing, tiny bit of gore/blood

Sunwoo used to pride himself for being able to keep his cool, in even the most unimaginable situations. He kept his exterior when Haknyeon turned out to be double crossing their agency, Creker, and secretly sending information to a rivaling one the whole time. Sunwoo didn’t crack when his entire mission in Sydney blew up right in his fucking face, never even flinched when his gear malfunctioned dumping him in a hospital for a week. But all those instances seem to fall flat now. All the times where Sunwoo stayed strong seem to disappear the moment he feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around only to come face to face with you. “What are you-“ he falters, grasping at the last bits of crumbling pride and hanging on to the dip in his voice. “What are you doing here?” 

“You forgot this,” you continue, ignoring him entirely, “forgot it in Vienna specifically.” You dangle a watch in front of his face. The same watch he lost somewhere in Austria three months ago, at the same time that he was in the middle of the most intense and longest mission the agency had ever given him, and more notably, around the same time he met you. “Don’t look so shocked.” You scoff when he fails to respond. “You told me you were gonna be here.” 

Sunwoo laughs, except it’s less of a laugh and more of an exhale of pure disbelief. “I know what I said, but you’re…” his voice trails off, some part of him unable to finish the sentence and another part of him still too disturbed to believe it. 

You tilt your head with faux confusion. “I’m what?”

Sunwoo gulps. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

VIENNA, AUSTRIA  THREE MONTHS AGO 

Sunwoo remembers, with a starling amount of clarity, all that happened three months ago. He can recall every day he spent roaming the streets of Vienna with you despite the way he’s been trying to drown out the memories and douse his lingering feelings. 

When he met you at a pub on one of his first nights there, he told himself he entertained your conversation because, well, to put it bluntly, he thought you were cute. Although the small tug in his gut doesn’t help justify why he found himself stumbling back to his hotel room with you by his side. And there’s really no good excuse for the tiny sting of disappointment Sunwoo feels when he wakes up alone the next morning. 

It’s two days after that night when Sunwoo sees you again, sitting on a bench with a book in one hand and a to-go cup of coffee in the other. It’s an odd coincidence that he should see you in Vienna again, but the small pang of doubt is quickly replaced with a more promising burst of elation. Sunwoo can’t tell if it’s exhilarating or terrifying.

“Ah,” you mutter when you notice him approaching, “Sunwoo right?” It’s a facade, Sunwoo thinks to himself, he knows you remember his name, knows you only pretend to forget. But he doesn’t mention that, instead he nods rather lamely, shoving his fists into his pockets and burying away the voice of reason in the back of his head telling him this is a mistake. “Sit.” You say, moving your things to the other side of the bench and patting the now empty spot next to you. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

And in retrospect, it’s quite obvious that Sunwoo should have found the words alarming. Really, he should have begun to put his guard up the second he spotted you in Vienna again. But at that moment in time, the only thing Sunwoo can think to ask is if he was worth the wait. 

Your tongue darts out, swiping at your bottom lip in thought for the smallest of seconds, before disappearing into your mouth again. “Yeah,” you say, lips turning up into an intrigued smile, “you were.” 

—

Sunwoo doesn’t think much of the way he comes to trust you so easily, telling you the truth about his job in the darkness of the hotel room. He doesn’t think anything of the way you hang onto his every word without ever sharing much about yourself. And when one day, you sit down at the cafe booth across from him and ask, “what’s your current mission,” Sunwoo doesn’t think twice before telling you everything about his objective to infiltrate Pegasus. He also doesn’t notice the phone call you make soon after. 

—

When the truth does come out, it comes fast, like water rushing off a cliff and crashing into Sunwoo sitting unsuspecting at the bottom. It comes in the form of a charity event that he only attends as part of the mission which sent him to Vienna to begin with. The truth arrives, like a rock in his gut, at the same second that Sunwoo sees you across the hall. You, who he last saw at the hotel, and you, who’s supposed to be on a train to Paris right now. And when your eyes finally catch his, there’s something unmistakable swimming in them. You’ve been caught, Sunwoo thinks, finally placing a name to the familiar way you swallow and dart your eyes around the room. Sunwoo recognizes the feeling, vaguely remembers the rush he felt once in Santiago and again in New York. 

“I can explain,” you hiss, quiet and breathless, finding him outside the hall after a few minutes. 

And Sunwoo knows he should be dying for an explanation of what you’re doing here or who you’re really working with. Some small part of Sunwoo knows that he should already be replaying every conversation and trying to determine how much information he’s given you to use against him. But another, larger part of him, that’s poking at his heart and prodding at his brain, chooses to stare at your lying eyes, study the face he’s come to memorize, and lamely ask, “how much of…” his voice tapers off, gesturing to the empty space in between you two, “of this was a lie?”

You don’t respond, but in the silence Sunwoo finds the answer anyways. 

All of it.

—

It’s not long after that night that a new message from the case officer shows up for him.  

You’re on thin ice. New mission: get rid of that Pegasus agent. 

PRESENT TIME  THREE MONTHS AFTER VIENNA

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here?” Sunwoo asks you again, shifting in his plastic red chair and keeping his gaze focused on the street you’re both seated beside. He hadn’t planned on hanging out after crossing paths with you earlier today. In fact, the only thing he wanted to do was put as much distance between the two of you as possible, but when you offer him a meal in exchange for a conversation, his rumbling stomach agrees before he can even consider the offer. The scene you lead him to is a busy one, filled with people rushing down the road and bustling behind each of the food stalls. It’s a mosh-posh of neon signs, kicked up dust, and the aroma of food being fried. More importantly, it’s a loud area, one where you and Sunwoo can talk freely without the worry of being heard by someone seated nearby. He takes a bite into his skewer, waiting for your response. 

“And you still haven’t told me why you didn’t follow through with the mission,” you counter, twirling your lime green straw with the tip of your finger. “The one where you were supposed to kill me.” 

You say it plainly, but something in Sunwoo’s stomach turns hard at the reminder anyways. “We’re spies,” he mutters behind clenched teeth, “not assassins.” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, taking a sip from your coke, “the job description is pretty vague.” 

The words are met with a taut silence, a snap of Sunwoo’s eyes towards yours, and a search for any implication of murder behind the sentence. 

“It’s a joke,” you choke, wiping the coke that slips from your mouth and quickly shaking your head, “I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Well anyways,” Sunwoo continues, “I tried to finish the mission. Even hired someone to find you.” And as soon as the words leave his mouth, Sunwoo realizes he’s told you too much, realizes he’s let the truth slip too easily--again. Biting his lip, he thinks this must be what people mean when they say ‘old habits die hard’. 

“He didn’t follow through.” You tell him as if to fill him in on how exactly you’re still alive and sitting across from him right here, right now, miles away from Vienna and months after Sunwoo’s hire took his money and ran. “But you knew he wouldn’t, didn’t you?”

And this you say with a taunting smile, catching his eyes like there’s a private joke concealed behind them. Sunwoo only gulps and pulls his focus back to the busy street.

“So what do you want with me?”

“I left Pegasus.” You answer, clearing your throat.

Sunwoo waits. He waits for you to take it back, for you to laugh at his widened eyes and say it’s a joke. The punchline never comes. “You’re an idiot.” He settles on.

“And I’ve got two agencies who’d prefer me to be dead right about now.” You grimace. “But despite the bounty on my head, I’m still here which means you’re probably not on great terms with Creker either.”

“Get to the point.”

“We both have people who want us dead. We both have next to nothing to lose at this point. So let’s team up.” You pause, checking Sunwoo’s reaction. He watches you intently, body pushing against the creaking plastic table in an attempt to hear you better. With an almost mischievous glint in your eyes and a satisfied quirk, you continue: “Let’s take back what we stole for them.”

There’s a long moment where Sunwoo just stares at you, deciphering what to make of the proposition. You appear genuine, Sunwoo decides leaning away from the table until his back hits the chair, but Sunwoo isn’t exactly sure how much he trusts his own judgement considering the last time he decided you were sincere you had been lying to him left and right.

Sunwoo lifts his hand to the vendor of the food stall you’re sitting by. The previous glint in your eyes is gone, overshadowed by a darker shade of doubt. “What are you doing?” you finally ask, voice lower and less excited than it had been a second ago.

With a tired sigh, he replies, “I’m gonna need more food while you explain your plan.”

Sunwoo has to swallow back the smile that nearly emerges at how happy you get.

--

It’s a simple enough idea. Clear our names, you had explained, wipe ourselves entirely from both agencies. And it’ll work too, Sunwoo realizes when you begin the second explanation on the logistics of the whole operation. The only downside to your plan is you. Because the last person Sunwoo wants to start a new mission with is the same person who broke his heart three months ago. And it’s bothersome, almost, how calm you are and how collected you appear, especially compared to how scattered Sunwoo feels just to be around you again.

“What do you think?” You ask once you’ve explained your plan completely, tapping anxiously on the table.

“I think,” Sunwoo starts, inhaling deeply, “you’ve thought about this way too much.”

“Well, yeah,” you scoff, gulping down some more coke, “three months is kind of a long time.”

And yeah, he thinks, it is. But despite the time that’s passed since you’ve last seen each other and despite the way Sunwoo thought he was over you, his stomach still flips each time you look his way. He just prays that the past three months have at least somewhat watered down how he used to feel about you.

“How do I know you won’t ditch me after we clear you?” Sunwoo asks, pushing away the thoughts of lingering heartache to a corner of his mind.

“We’ll do you first.” You state simply. “Steal your file off Creker and get the bounty off your head first. Then we’ll do me.”

“And then how do you know that I won’t ditch you?”

You falter at that, frowning for the smallest of seconds, then say, “I don’t.”

Sunwoo nods, pretending to contemplate your offer. But in all transparency, Sunwoo knew he’d agree to your plan despite the bile that turns up at your name because with the way he’s been hiding in a crappy motel and eating instant ramen every night, it’s kind of hard to refuse any proposition that gives him the slightest chance at an out from Creker. 

“Okay,” he finally utters, wiping the crumbs of his second skewer off his hands, “let’s do it.” You meet his eyes expectantly. Nodding, he says,

“Let’s team up.”

//

You and Sunwoo clash more than anything else on the first day of prepping for the mission, crammed in a corner of Sunwoo’s dingy motel with two half finished cans of red bull sitting forgotten on the table, fighting about even the smallest details.

“I know the building,” Sunwoo argues, pointing to the floor plan you have pulled up on your laptop, “and this is the entrance we should use.”

“But using this entrance,” you refute, dragging your finger across the screen to show him exactly what you mean, “will give us better access to security and admin. And trust me, I know the building better than you do.”

“How do you—” Sunwoo stills. Something seems to register in your eyes at that moment as well, a small recognition of the tiny slip up, a barely audible acknowledgement that comes in the form of a cough. And all at once, Sunwoo’s reminded of the time he spent spilling his heart to you in Vienna under more covers than he was aware of. Sunwoo’s harshly thrown against the realization that you must’ve been watching him, surveying him long before you ever found him in that Austrian pub.

“See, I knew this wouldn’t work.” He grumbles, shaking his head. “You know too much about me. No, actually, you know everything about me. And I--” there’s a dip in his tone, “I know nothing about you.”

“Fine then, ask.”

“What?”

“Whatever it is you think will even the playing field between us. Whatever it is you want to know about me,” you shut the laptop and turn your body to face him completely, an action that exudes largely frustration but more faintly, guilt, “just ask.”

--

Sunwoo learns more about you than he had intended to. He learns about the origin of the scar that runs along your spine. A fucked up operation in Shanghai, you tell him, writing over the lie you told him three months ago about it being from your childhood. He learns about your old partner Younghoon and about the shadow falling over your forehead at the sound of his name. He’s told about how you got involved with Pegasus to begin with, a similar story to Sunwoo’s beginning with Creker: an unlucky concoction of desperation and coincidence. You tell him, with reluctance, your most embarrassing story, followed by a long list of firsts and favorites. So by the time night falls, with two empty red bulls at the foot of the bed and the building’s floor plan now forgotten behind the black screen of your laptop, Sunwoo learns enough to rebuild a fraction of the trust he lost.

//

Everything goes smoother after that. You and Sunwoo seem to fall into a rhythm, meeting at a café in the morning and at the motel in the afternoon, planning out the missions with far less difficulty than before. A rather quick adjustment, from both of your ends, and an even faster allocation of responsibilities. He finds himself looking forward to sitting in front of your open laptop each day and conjuring new ways to distract you every hour. 

And it’s after meeting up with you one night, not as partners but—perhaps more cruelly—as friends, that a dangerously familiar warmth blooms in his chest and refuses to wilt away when he sees you again the next day. Sunwoo knows that he should be doing something, anything to blow out the flame, but instead he feeds the fire and prays that this time it spreads from his heart to yours.

//

“Where’d you get all of this?” Sunwoo questions one day when you show up at the motel with a suitcase full of equipment. An assortment of laptops, earpieces, weapons, and randomly picked gadgets.

“Took it from Pegasus before I left,” you smirk, pulling out an earpiece and holding it out in front of his ear. “You’re usually on the field, right? The one in action?” He nods. “Good, you can be the agent for this mission then,” you mumble, setting down the earpiece and holding up another. “I’m usually the person behind the computer anyways. Was even a handler for a mission in Seoul once.” You place the earpiece in his palm and begin to pull out the other pieces of equipment from the suitcase.

“What about Vienna?” Sunwoo says, inspecting a certain gadget from the case. “You were on the field then.” And it’s a question that would’ve been asked with malice if it had come up a couple weeks ago, but right now, there’s nothing but curiosity behind Sunwoo’s words.

“Oh,” you hesitate, a small smile appearing briefly, “I guess I do both.”

Sunwoo doesn’t ponder over your answer for long.

It’s later that day, right as you’re about to leave, that you frown at Sunwoo’s head, matter-of-factly saying, “you should change your hair before the mission.” Then, with a laugh bubbling behind your teeth, you add, “again.”

(Sunwoo changed his appearance a lot. One of the tactics that had stuck from his training days. Never really in big ways, but small changes here and there every couple of months. Sometimes it was a new piercing that he’d wear for a year and let close up in the next, and other times the change came in the form of a temporary tattoo imprinted on his neck whilst in Vancouver with Kevin. When Sunwoo met you in Vienna his hair was a light brown that he had gotten done in Tokyo and hadn’t bothered to touch up since. So when the time had come to change something again, he headed to the hair salon.

“When’d you do this?” you asked him that night, running a hand through the new red hair. 

“Just today.” He answered, hoping you wouldn’t ask for a reason. 

“I like it.” 

“More than the brown?”

“Way more.” You whispered, leaning in until he felt the breath of your words on his lips. 

And in the moment before you closed the distance, Sunwoo had made a silent vow to never change his hair again.)

Sunwoo gets his hair done the day after you suggest it, and when he returns to the motel from the salon, he finds you already there.

“Oh good, you’re back.” You mumble, arms full and an extra key card to his room that he had given you out of convenience a while back held between your teeth. “I just came to drop these off because I have to go to—" you stop, straightening yourself and eyes fixated on him. “You got your hair done.”

It’s an observation, a small, stupid thing really. A comment made in passing that should feel routine with as much time as you and Sunwoo spend together and one that should feel even more mundane considering you were the one to suggest it. But there’s something about the way you say the words that makes Sunwoo feel slightly breathless anyways. “Yeah,” he finally affirms, running a hand through his now black hair, “I did.”

You nod in acknowledgement, setting the things in your hands down, then turn to leave. 

“Wait,” he calls out. You do, pausing three paces away from the door and give a long look to the hand he’s placed on your arm to stop you before turning around to face him. And the next words seem to fall off the edge of Sunwoo’s mouth at that moment, tumbling back down his throat and landing heavily in the pit of his stomach. “Do you still…” he hesitates, attempting to smooth over the nervousness folding up in the corners of his mind. 

“What?” 

“Do you still like my hair?”

You consider it for a moment, bringing a hand up to tug at the new black fringe. And there’s something unmistakably domestic about the way you tilt your head in concentration, eyes fixed on Sunwoo’s hair as if there’s nothing more important for you to be doing in this moment. He watches you evaluate his hair closely. 

“Yeah,” you finally say, eyes meeting his and something like a double meaning swimming in them, “I still like it.”

//

The first mission goes smoothly thanks to you sitting back at the motel instructing Sunwoo which turns to take and what files to download. So with a flash drive containing all the information he needs to free himself from the agency stuffed in his pocket, he turns to leave, whispering into his earpiece, “is the exit path clear?”

“Shit.”

He stops walking. “What?”

“It’s blocked. I think I can get you out another way, but you’re not gonna like it.”

“Just tell me.”

“Okay, go one story below. Take two rights and then a left.” He does as you say, feet hitting the ground as quietly and as quickly as possible. The less time he spends in the building the better. “At the end of the hall, there’s a window.” You say once he’s near the place you directed him too. His stomach drops. “Jump from it.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He breathes, studying the drop with grimace. “I really hate heights.”

“I know.” And there’s a misplaced softness when Sunwoo hears you mutter, “I remember.” You wait a beat. “Do you trust me?” 

“Do I trust you?” He echoes, dread and disbelief coating his words. “I don’t even—”

“Just answer the question, Sunwoo. Do you?”

“I—” he studies the drop again, thinks and overthinks the newfound steadiness in your voice. Quietly, he mumbles, “yeah.”

“Then jump.” You tell him how exactly to do it as well, where to find the rope you packed and which hook is best to use. He does as you say, preparing for a jump he hasn’t decided to take yet. And once everything is prepared, the only thing that passes between you and Sunwoo on the intercom is silence. “Hey,” you mutter after a long while, something like a joke audible in your voice, “you jump; I jump, jack.”

“Except you aren’t jumping.”

“Technically, yes, that’s true but—”

“Okay, okay, okay. Shut up.” Sunwoo inhales deeply, closing his eyes and letting silence fill the intercom again. The silence, however, is interrupted the second he hears a group of voices travelling from somewhere down the hall. His eyes snap open.

“Sunwoo—”

“Fuck it.”

He jumps.

— 

“You’re bleeding.” Is the first thing Sunwoo hears when he walks through the motel room’s door, quickly followed by you rushing to him, tilting his head with a finger against his chin, and inspecting the cut above his eyebrow. 

“Yeah well your little jump stunt didn’t make for the smoothest of landings.” 

He means it as a joke. A bad one he realizes when you pull your hand away, eyes dropping from his face and guilt hanging over your head. “Sorry about that.” 

He shrugs. “It didn’t kill me.” 

“Come on,” you beckon, grabbing the first aid kit and heading to the bathroom, “I’ll help you bandage them.” 

Sunwoo sits on top of the closed toilet lid, folding up his pant leg to examine the gash running across his shin. The cut, he realizes, isn’t nearly as bad as it feels, but you make a small face at the sight of it anyways. It doesn’t take you very long to clean the cut on his leg, quickly finishing it while kneeling on the cold bathroom tile and asking him questions about the mission.

“No stitches?” He wonders when you pat a bandage in place.

You shake your head. “You should be fine. Nothing more than a gloried scrape really.” You add teasingly while rearranging the objects in the first aid kit. And when you laugh at the look he gives you for the comment, Sunwoo does his best to ignore the fluttering that appears in his gut at the sound. 

You move on from the cut on his leg, placing the first aid kid on top of the counter and poking the bruise that’s forming above his knee before getting up yourself. He smacks your hand away.

“How’d you know about my fear of heights by the way?”

“You told me one night in Vienna.” You answer, tearing open an alcohol wipe packet. “Do you not remember?”

He shakes his head.

Frowning, you let out a small, “oh.”

Neither of you say anything after that. And Sunwoo’s so focused on the frown that’s yet to leave your face that he barely registers the way you lean towards him for better access, propping your knee on top of the toilet and between his legs for balance. Although he does notice the warmth that radiates off your body. And a minute after that, he notices how much longer it takes you to clean this, smaller cut than it took to clean the one on his leg.

“Sorry.” You quickly apologize when you press against the cut too harshly. Sunwoo waves you off. “I am sorry though.” You repeat, seriously, lips still turned down in a frown and brows knit together.

“It’s really fine.” He chuckles, amused by the amount of gravity in the apology. 

“No. For Vienna.” The amusement dies in the back of his throat. “I never apologized for…” you falter there, fingers paused against his forehead, “for that. But I am sorry.”

“It was your mission.” Sunwoo gulps. “You were being a good agent.”

“And a shitty person.” You say, no hint of a joke laced in the statement. “In fact, the mission was just to observe you. Make sure you didn’t find out anything too important about Pegasus. Meeting you was mostly on accident. And everything that followed,” you bite your lip, and Sunwoo can’t tell if you’re biting back a smile or a frown, “all those other parts just sort of came naturally.”

The flame in his chest from before bursts into a bonfire, filling his lungs with a hopeful smoke. “Naturally?” He echoes.

“Yeah,” you repeat, tongue darting out in concentration while you complete the last step of smoothing out the bandage. You don’t lean away when you finish. You don’t remove your knee from between his legs. Don’t pull away the hand you have holding back his hair or the one resting against the side of his face. Nothing but your eyes move, trailing down until they find his, visibly gulping, then wandering further below. “Naturally.”

And the word is like a spell, lifting his chin and drawing him towards you until his lips are brushing against yours. It’s barely a kiss, a small hesitant press of lips that lasts no longer than a second, but one that has Sunwoo’s heart pounding wildly in a way it never did three months ago. He pauses there, lips unmoving and hovering just below yours, waiting for you.

You don’t move. Neither leaning in nor away. His gaze flickers up to your eyes, finds them half open, focused on the upper curve of his lip. He captures your lips between his again, a second attempt that is met with response when you lean into it, inhaling him in for a tiny blissful moment and exhaling him out in the next, pushing him back by the shoulders and stepping away yourself.

“I should…”

“Fuck.”

“I should go.”

And you’re gone before he can say anything else. 

// 

The kiss is ignored by both of you while prepping for the second half of the mission. A silent agreement to act like it never even happened and another one to not discuss whatever misplaced feelings led to it. It’s almost sickening how easily you and Sunwoo fall back into being just partners. Especially considering the fact that Sunwoo’s feelings haven’t faded, the bonfire in his chest still burning with the same brightness. So Sunwoo spends his days with you, attempting to put out the fire between his lungs, and he spends his nights alone, replaying the kiss you both pretend to ignore.

“Tomorrow’s the big day.” You mutter on the last night, a trail of anxiousness slipping off your tongue. “And then we’ll be done.” 

Sunwoo only nods, watching how your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek and mulling over whether you mean done with the mission or done with him.

--

The Pegasus mission doesn’t go nearly as smoothly as the Creker one, complications toppling around Sunwoo from the moment he begins. They start small first: a locked door resulting in a change of entry and a janitor straggling in a hallway that should have been clear. He makes it to his first destination eventually, quickly shuffling through the room of file cabinets until he finds your physical files, slipping them into his bag, and heading to the next room with you whispering directions into his ear. The next room is empty when Sunwoo arrives. He works quick, bypassing the security system and fingers flying across to find your information.

“Faster.” He hears you mutter over the earpiece. A hasty reminder of what you had told him earlier that week: the room never stays empty for long.

“Got it.” He exhales, finally pinpointing your files and beginning the process of downloading and deleting them.

“Sunwoo,” he hears an elevator ding from somewhere outside the room at the same time he hears you, “someone’s coming.”

He doesn’t move. Keeping one eye on the closed door and the other on the still-pending status of your files. “I’m almost done.”

“If you leave now, they won’t see you.” Voices fill the hall. “But you have to leave now.”

“I’m not done yet.”

The voices move closer, louder. “It’s not worth it. Please, just go!”

He hears them behind the door. “It’s you.”

There’s a jingle of keys. “How will you—”

“Hey,” the door unlocks with a click, “you jump; I jump, right?”

“Sunwoo—”

He pulls the earpiece out at the exact moment that the door swings open.

-- 

The rooftop is obscenely pretty at this hour, with the golden sun partly hidden by a high-rise building but still growing in the distance, scattering its light across the sky, and casting a golden shadow on everything it touches. It’s a gorgeous sight, and yet, there’s no one but Sunwoo here to appreciate it.

“You’re okay.”

He whips around only to find you standing on the rooftop with him, body trembling and hands clasped over your mouth. Behind you, the door to the roof is still falling closed. Your eyes are red, dark circles hanging under them that make it look as if you haven’t slept days. Silently, Sunwoo wonders how he’s just now noticing your sudden restlessness, and a small part of him hopes—no prays that whatever’s chasing your sleep away is the same thing chasing his.

“I got it.” He says, pulling out the flash drive he stayed to retrieve. Your eyes never flicker off his. “How’d you find me?”

“How’d you get out?”

Neither of you answer. Instead, you begin to walk towards him, asking if he’s hurt with a voice that’s too soft and too concerned for Sunwoo to make out an answer. You ask it again.

“No, I’m not hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

You stop in front of him. Close enough for Sunwoo to see the tears welled up in your eyes. “You’re okay.” You repeat, voice wavering with a sudden gust of wind.

“I am, but I—” he hesitates; you take a step towards him, “I miss you.” He succumbs to the fire in his chest; lets it fill his lungs, burn up his throat, and throw the sentence, “I just miss you so much,” out of his mouth without bothering to hide the crack in it.

He meets your eyes and finds a starling amount of clarity in them. “I missed you too.”

“Really?”

You laugh at that, nodding your head and stepping closer to him again. “I missed you before we ever met.”

He stares at you. For too long probably. Watches a smile grace your features, spreading like a fire. The flame feels familiar. And for the first time since seeing you after Vienna, Sunwoo doesn’t have to hold back the urge to ask, “Can I kiss you now?”

“Please.”

He does. Lips crashing into yours, and you meeting the motion halfway, leaning into his lips, his body, him. A fervent want present in the way you pull at his neck and grab onto the collar of his shirt that would’ve probably been surprising if it wasn’t matched completely by him. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his and deepening the kiss for a second more.

You both pull away, just barely, faces still close and bodies pressed against each other.

“Hey,” you begin, breath hot against his lips and a knowing smirk appearing briefly, “was I worth the wait?”

And suddenly Sunwoo’s in Vienna again, sitting on a bench, and asking you the same question.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, smiling, “you were.”

//

a/n: i apologize this request took me forever to get around too. and if the actual spy aspects to this fic make zero sense then my bad i was spit balling here. brownie points if u can find the scene inspired by queens gambit and the other scene inspired by the office lmao

[roanniom]

My request is probably so lame lol. But will you please tell us about Valentines Day with Flip? How does he spoil you and make it extra special for you? I’d love it if you could throw in some praise kink and size kink too please!

I love all your writing and you’re so talented! Thank you for entertaining my request! 💛

Hi my lovelies, thanks for your patience with this, seeing as it is coming over a week after Valentine’s Day. I wasn’t 100% I had another Valentine’s story in me after my Clyde and Charlie ones, but I chose to combine these prompts, got a little inspiration today and voila - a sweet and salty Flip one shot was born. Hope you’re cool with me combining and taking a bit from each of these requests! ❤️

Stupid Little Day in February

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Word Count: 3,890

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex / semi-public sex / unprotected sex, angst in the form of Flip wanting to love up his lady but having work get in the way

Flip had never intended to find himself in this position. He was a perfectionist, giving everything he had and then some in an effort to be successful in all he did – high school sports, his career at the department, his relationships. It’s why he always tries to make time for the boys, being there for Ron whenever he needs help or just someone to bitch to over a beer after work. It’s why he does his best to shower you with love and affection every chance he gets, bringing home little gifts and spending lazy Sundays doing nothing but you. And he thought that, all things considered, he’d been doing a damn good job.

That is until he overheard you on the phone with your friend the other day. You were twirling the coiled cord around your finger while you lounged on the couch laughing and chatting animatedly. He’d walked by and into the kitchen, careful not to disturb you, but as he cracked open a beer he heard something that made his stomach drop.

“Yeah I know I love Valentine’s Day, but Flip hates it so I can be cool with that.”

Flip had left his beer on the counter and moved silently to the doorway, ears straining to hear the rest of the conversation, mind racing to all the times he had, indeed, condemned the holiday of love as a sappy excuse for bad boyfriends to redeem themselves. A day to stimulate the gift industry. You’d laughed and teased him for his soap box routine and grumpy demeanor but you hadn’t argued.

“Besides, I’ve told you. The man gets me flowers like three days a week. He remembers things, like really remembers things. And he listens. I’d trade fancy dinner, red hearts, and chocolate for him any day.”

And though you’d defended him to your friend, your words had stuck with Flip. He wanted to give you the moon, he would if it wasn’t so damn high up. The least he could do was indulge you in something you enjoyed. You did that for him constantly – sitting through football games, hanging with the boys at the bar, listening to country music though you told him that deep inside it made you want to murder the jukebox. You sucked it up and took it with a smile so you could be with him. Flip kicked himself for not being able to do the same with some stupid holiday.

But at the exact moment Flip vowed to right this wrong, the universe seemed to have made a competing vow to ruin all of his efforts. It seemed that the revelation had come to late, being that it was already the night before Valentine’s Day. He was horrified the next morning to find, after a series of tense calls made at his desk hunched over and hushed so none of the other detectives could here, every restaurant in town was booked full. Which ended up being a moot point because the chief demanded he stay late, regardless of how much he gnashed his teeth.

“Everyone with a serious gal already asked for the night off, Zimmerman. It’s too late now. Guess your gal isn’t that serious,” was the only reply he received.

Head in his hands at his desk, Flip flinched when his back received a firm clap.

“Now I know we’re in the contemplating-marriage-territory here with this girl,” Ron said, pulling a seat up and fixing Flip with a concerned look. “What’s all this about not taking time off?”

Flip repeated the conversation that he’d overheard, sure to explain that he had no intention of disappointing you despite your good nature.

“You do realize that this could easily be remedied by a simple call to your woman, right?” Ron asked as Flip massaged the space between his eyes.

“I wanted to surprise her. Calling at this point feels like admitting defeat.”

“Do you hear yourself? ‘Admitting defeat?’ This isn’t some damn battle, it’s a holiday for a fat little baby with wings.”

“Hey, he does have a weapon,” Flip countered, though this time he cracked a smile. Ron laughed heartily.

“Yeah, one that’s been used to shoot you and your little lady enough to kill a small elephant. You guys are pumped so full of the love juice it’s a wonder you’re able to concentrate on anything else.” Ron turned then and flicked the large stack of files on Flip’s desk with a smirk. “Or maybe that’s your problem, Zimmerman.”

Flip shook his head.

“That might be the case for me, but – ”

“Are you seriously about to argue that she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“How the fuck would you know?” Flip asked gruffly. Ron, used to Flip’s gruffness much as you were, plowed right on through.

“Well besides all the dinner parties and barbeques and nights we all go dancing?” Ron raised an eyebrow with a laugh. “Patrice, man! You think those women get together and don’t talk about us?”

“Patrice has told you things?” Flip’s whole body tensed and Ron was quick to reassure.

“Calm the fuck down, I don’t want any of your dirty details. All I know is your woman is crazy in love with you. I don’t think some stupid little day in February is going to rock your world as much as you think it will.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Flip conceded, putting his head in his hands.

“I’m always right, you just never listen,” Ron said good-naturedly as he headed back to his desk. Over his shoulder he tossed one final piece of wisdom. “Whatever you do, just call her!”

~*~

And Flip did try to call you. Ten times as a matter of fact. It wasn’t until the sun set out the window and he hung up the phone for the tenth time that he remembered you’d had plans to hang out with your mother today. While that probably should have made him feel better – you had filled your day with plenty of things and probably wouldn’t even notice his failed attempt at romance – he couldn’t help but agonize the fact that it proved you had expected so little of him in the first place.

It’s with this on his mind that Flip buries himself in his paperwork. It’s 8pm and every member of the Colorado Springs police force that hadn’t taken the holiday off is out for a dinner break, Flip having sullenly waved them off so he could sulk in peace. He’s neck-deep in casefiles when he hears the sound of footsteps coming in from the bullpen. It was much too soft to be the tread of any of the beat cops he’d expected to see tonight and Judy, the night shift receptionist, wasn’t due in till later.

“Burning the midnight oil there, detective?”

Flip’s head snaps up at your voice to find you leaning against the doorframe to his office, arms folded casually across your chest, cheeky smile gracing your lips.

“Baby, what are you doing here?” Flip asks breathlessly as he makes to stand up. He freezes mid-motion, however, when you hold a hand up.

“Ah ah ah, no need to get up,” you tsk, closing the door with a gentle click and dropping your bag to the floor before making your way over to him. He hesitates but lowers himself back into his seat, eyes trained on your frame slinking toward him. You drop your palms to his desk and hoist yourself up onto it, prowling forward across the surface on your hands and knees toward him. “I heard my man needed some cheering up.”

“You did?” Flip asks, a smirk forming at the corners of his mouth as he leans back in his seat to enjoy what has already been and promises to be quite a show. Legs spread wide and hands gripping the arm rests he hasn’t really even heard what you said. Instead he is focusing every single brain cell on the cleavage that is visible through the red peacoat he’s never seen you wear, chest now slightly exposed as you slowly slide off the scarf you’d used to obscure it.

“Yeah. I heard you wanted to love on me but couldn’t because of work,” you say in a low voice, scooting forward so that one leg dangles off the edge of the desk on the outside of Flip’s left thigh while you place your other foot on the edge of his chair to the right of his other thigh. His gaze flits to the expanse of inner thigh that is now visible to him, your legs bare beneath the peacoat despite the freezing mid-February chill outside. His hand shoots up to smooth over your thigh, warming your skin, just as his brain catches up to your words.

“Now where exactly did you hear that, sugar?” He asks with a small frown. One of your hands reaches out to his shoulder, pulling him in his wheeled office chair closer to you and the desk. The same hand slides down his shoulder to smooth back and forth over the plane of his chest, just as your other hand threads into his hair.

“I can’t go around divulging my secrets,” you say breathily, leaning forward and arresting his lips in a sensuous kiss. You are the first to deepen it, tongue flitting over his lips to beg for entrance before plunging into the depths of his mouth. You kiss him greedily like you’re seeking the breath from his lungs to be the source of your own oxygen. Like the pressure of his lips on yours will warm the late winter cold from your bones. When you slide off the desk and into his lap, straddling his thick denim-clad thighs, Flip moans into the kiss, making you break away with a pleased hum. You relish in the look of his kiss-bruised lips, red and wet from the fervor of your contact. “Maybe cupid dropped by with a little message. Told me to come on down here and drive you wild.”

Flip’s breathing deeply at this point but the new intake of air seems to get the gears moving better in his mind. He frowns.

“And by cupid you mean Ron.”

“Bingo, baby,” you confirm with a smile before pressing a kiss to his furrowed brow. “Don’t be mad at him, though. He told me how you tried to make tonight special for me and that you’d probably bite off the heads of everyone working the night shift if I didn’t make my way down here quick.”

“I set something up. I did what I could, things just kept going wrong…”

“Shhh….” Your kisses migrate from his forehead to his cheek, pressing into his dimples till his frown smooths out and his eyes close again. Only then do you move down to mouth at the column of his throat, pressing your lips to his Adam’s apple. “So how many are there?”

“How many what?” he asks distractedly, eyes still closed.

“Dead bodies of people who had the misfortune to cross paths with my grumpy mountain man?” you ask, the smile clear in your voice though you speak the words into his skin. Flips hands tighten around your hips.

“I’m only grumpy because you deserve the fuckin’ moon and I’m stuck here behind a desk.”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed,” you say, angling in his lap so that your lower back leans against the edge of the desk behind you. “I am also behind the desk with you. So maybe it’s not all bad.”

It is at this point that you pop the few buttons at the front of our coat, allowing it to drop open and reveal the gauzy, see-through red negligee you are wearing beneath. It comes down only to the tops of your thighs, but most important of all, you are completely bare beyond the fabric. Your breasts are held in the negligee’s sheer lace cups, nipples hard, and not a scrap of panties obstructs his view of your cunt, evidently glistening from this angle, even through the garment.  

“Sugar.” He intones it soft, deep. It’s a statement. A warning as his eyes slide back up your body to lock on your own hungry stare. “You’re just looking for trouble here.”

With a devious smile you settle forward again, rolling your pelvis this time to rub your heat conspicuously over the growing bulge in his jeans.

“You can punish me later, Flip,” you whisper softly in his ear as you reach down to unbuckle his belt. “When you get home. But for now let me reward you.”

“What’s there to reward me for, darlin’?” Flip asks, helping you rid him of his belt and unfasten the buttons of his Levi’s. He’s not even sure why he’s pressing the matter. You’re here, rubbing your gorgeous body all of his in the middle of his workplace like some fucking fever dream and here he is, practically reminding you of his unworthiness. In some kind of verbal act of self-flagellation.

“Flip Zimmerman,” you chide, even as you pull his half-hard dick out of the opening you’ve made in his pants, careful to keep the rest of his clothing neat. “There’s always something to reward you for.” You begin applying a few measured strokes to his length, squeezing at the base and rolling your wrist to smooth the motion up to his tip.

“Fuck,” Flip grunts quietly, his head dropping to hit the back of the chair.

“This morning you sprinkled cinnamon on my oatmeal. Last night you handed me that lotion that smells like jasmine when I got out of the shower, the one I love so much.” You kiss his jaw as you say this and let your eye lashes flutter against his cheek in the process.

“Those are little things. Nothing,” Flip argues, still mentally kicking himself for the knee-jerk way he keeps dragging this on. Living in this guilt despite your loving ministrations which suggest you feel exactly the opposite.

“They aren’t little to me,” you say, your tone abruptly serious and your fingers digging into his jaw to keep him looking at you. “You read to me on Sunday afternoons. You take me camping whenever you get time off.”

Your tone returns to its original gentleness and you duck your head so that you can nip at Flip’s earlobe. Your hand continues its steady pace on his cock, thumb swirling around in the precum collecting on his tip.

“You fuck me. Good and hard and slow and fast and every which way I need it.” He’s painfully hard now, both from your hand and from your focused attention on him. From the words falling from your lips. He gazes back at you with blackened eyes and massages the skin of your hips and ass with his large, warm hands. You lick the shell of his ear then, marveling in the way it always turns red and hot, regardless of his confidence, regardless of his dominance. “You meet my needs, Flip, every day. And today is just any old day. So just like you do for me, I’m going to meet your needs, and you’re going to enjoy it.”

You say this as you lift yourself up with the muscles of your thighs and line him up with your entrance, sinking down on his cock just as you get to the last few words. Flip immediately mutters a string of hushed curses, fingers digging into your hips through your gauzy negligee so hard you’re already looking forward to the bruises. He breathes through his nose, his labored exhales fanning across your face as you work to adjust to him, eventually swiveling your hips a bit.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he mutters, dropping his forehead to yours. Your face is screwed up in pleasure-pain and you huff out a laugh.

“No, you’re just fucking huge.” Your statement gets a groan from him and you smirk as you begin to lift yourself up and down on Flip’s cock with his help. Your walls pulse, stroking his cock as your tongue moves on to stroking his ego. “You’re so big, Flip. Too big. I can barely take you.”

“You’re taking me just fine, sugar,” he shakes his head, eyes rolling back in their sockets as you grind into him on a down motion. “So wet. This little pussy takes me so well.”

“You fill me up, Flip. Stuff me – ohhh fuck – stuff me so full I think I might burst.” You reach one hand back to grip the edge of the desk for leverage while your other hand digs into the skin of his shoulder.

“Oh for me you do burst, baby. You burst and gush all over me like the good girl you are,” Flip whispers into your clavicle when you throw your head back, an automatic response to him beginning to aid you by thrust up into your quivering cunt himself. This sounds more like your Flip. Confident and powerful. Pressing all the right buttons to drive you wild. “My good girl.”

“I love it when you call me that,” you admit softly.

“A good girl?”

“Your good girl,” you correct.

“My good girl,” Flip repeats and your pussy clenches around him hard in response. So naturally Flip says it again. “You’re my good girl.”

Your breathing has increased rapidly, spurred on in no small part by the way one of his hands has snaked up to pluck a breast from its lacy confines. His head dips to suck your nipple into his mouth and you hum.

“Who’s good girl are you?” Flip asks into your breasts.

“I’m your good girl.”

You begin ridding him harder, faster. The slick seeping onto his cock around your swollen lips indicates that you’re farther along than he’d expect, a suspicion that you soon confirm with a whimper.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close.”

“Really?” he asks, incredulous. He’s used to marathon lovemaking. Even a quick fuck in a bathroom stall usually becomes indulgent for you two, trading speed for roughness and lewdness.

“I kind of…got ready before I – ah! – came here.” You bite your lip as you say it and Flip resists the urge to pull your lip out and claim it for himself.

“And by ‘got ready’ you mean…” he prompts, a wicked smile spreading on his face.

“I touched myself,” you admit, no shame in your words. “I touched myself while thinking about my handsome man and his handsome cock and the way it was going to fill me when I came over here.”

Flip grabs one of your hands then, zeroing in on your fingers. All the while he keeps thrusting up into you, feet flat on the floor and muscles rippling throughout his body with the effort.

“Did these fingers rub your little clit?”

“Yes,” you say, still confident. Flip licks a stripe up your index and middle finger, almost as if doing so would allow him to taste remnants of your essence.

“Did you stuff them inside your pussy. Press that little spot inside you like so much?” As he says it he thrusts up and forward, making his cock drag against your front wall in a way that’s got you buckling in on yourself.

“Oh god oh yes. Yes!” You’re trying to remain as quiet as possible but it’s getting harder by the second. The station was empty save for Flip when you’d arrive but soon other people would return. A fact that made your pussy drool all the more on Flip’s throbbing cock.

Flip watches you fall apart in his arms and speeds up the process by sucking on your fingertips, splitting them apart with his tongue and laving each equally. You swallow a moan as he brings your own wetted fingers down to the apex of your thighs.

“Show me,” he breathes, moving forward to kiss your lips. “Show me what I do to you.”

You begin rubbing your clit just as Flip assaults your senses in all other ways. He captures your mouth in a kiss while simultaneously returning to kneading at your breasts with abandon, tugging and squeezing at the pillowy flesh.

“Did you cry out my name in that empty house when you came?” he prompts. You shake your head feverishly, your thighs shaking around him as your climax nears.

“No. I didn’t cum. I saved that for you.”

In a flash of blinding pleasure, you unraveling on top of him, careful to suppress the reaction to little gasps and whimpers instead of the loud praise and guttural moans you would have preferred to let out. The suddenness of your orgasm catches Flip off guard and he is utterly unprepared for the way your walls flutter and pulse, ultimately milking his cock of his own release. You collapse in his arms with a shaky laugh, one he’s only able to reciprocate when the ringing in his ears begin to lessen and his heart stops trying to pound a route out of his chest.

You both revel in the afterglow for a few minutes after, holding each other like you aren’t in his office in the middle of the Colorado Springs Police Department. Like people aren’t about to file in after their dinner break, bellies full and completely unaware of the fact that Flip had just railed you into next February.

After a while, Flip finally pulls out and tucks himself away, once again the picture of professionalism. Or at least, as much the picture of professionalism as Flip cares to appear, what with his eternal flannel and comfortably warm in jeans, the wet patch of your arousal finally fading. He helps you clean up with some napkins he has stashed in a drawer, ultimately bundling you back up in your coat and scarf. You now look sweet and warm again, a stark contrast to the vixen who had crawled across his desk and stripped for him.

Now descent, you settle back into his lap sideways, opting not to straddle him tis time in case someone did finally walk in. You run a finger through the hair at his chin.

“You said earlier you said you’d ended up setting something up for me. What was it?”

Flip blinks at your question for a few seconds before letting out a laugh that ripples from deep in his belly.

“I sent Jimmy and his brother with a box of chocolates over to the house. They were supposed to sing you a Motown duet.”

“I would pay to hear that. When are they supposed to get there?”

“They’re supposed to arrive right now.”

With that you dissolve into a fit of laughter, falling into his chest as you heave from it. Flip’s arms wind around you and tug you tighter to him. And in that moment, he almost believes in this stupid holiday. Almost believes in the cartoon hearts and the fat little winged baby that flies around shooting people. What else could possibly explain the sharp pain radiating from his chest when he looks at you? The ache that dulls as it floods to his extremities, simmering into a warmth that fills him from head to toe? All Flip can think as he smooths his thumb over your smiling lips is that cupid better have a up-to-date permit for that bow of his.  

~*~

Tagging some lovelies <3 (please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @mrs-zimmerman @maryforyou @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @equivocalrabbit @soggywhore @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess

[fanfickittycat]

One of Us

Title: One of Us

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen (anime)

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Fic Summary: You return to Tokyo where you are reunited with the man who broke your heart a decade ago

Rating: T

A/N: my first Nanami fic!!! I love him so much. Just a simple one-shot about rekindling your love after being apart with a fluffy ending. Yes, the title is an ABBA reference, no I will not be taking any questions on it at this time. If you'd like to read this on AO3 then you can here otherwise the fic is below the cut. Let me know what you thought!!!

I’m lucky that I came back during the spring, you thought to yourself, as you meandered around campus. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and pink petals danced around your ankles with every step. Even the scent infused itself into the air, carrying a bittersweet undertone to it as you reminisced about your time here as a student. The sound of chalk on the board; the feel of the grass against your cheek as you hit the ground during training; the look on Nanami’s face when he rejected you and this world. It had been spring then too.

“You’re here!” trust Gojo to spoil a melancholy moment. You rolled your eyes playfully, accepting the hair ruffling from your upperclassman with weak jabs back at him.

“Gojo, stop” you laughed “we’re not kids anymore.”

“Says who?” he pulled away, adjusting the black blindfold over his eyes “you still look the same.” He teased, patting your head for emphasis. You still came up a whole head shorter than him and then some.

“You don’t” you retorted “you look old. What are you, like 40?”

“What?! You know I’m not” he whined. He was so easy to wind up sometimes. You half listened to him as he complained to you, citing his skin care routine and the regular comments he got about how youthful he looked before nudging him teasingly. The two of you walked back down the path towards the main building, feeling the nostalgia seep into your bones softly.

“You really haven’t changed” you said with a smirk “still vain as ever.”

“And you’re still as sharp tongued as ever.” He sighed, putting an arm around you “still. I’m glad you’re back. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to throw a party.”

“You’re a lightweight, Gojo” you said, remembering the time he had snuck in vodka during the winter of his final year. He had wanted to show off and ended up throwing up after two shots, before he passed out in the same pile of vomit. He had never snuck in alcohol again.

“You’re not, I remember you and Nanami having a drinking contest one time.”

“It wasn’t a drinking contest. We were just having wine and cheese. It was a very civilised affair.”

“You must have done a lot of that kind of thing in Europe.”

“Not really” you shrugged “it’s not really something to do when you’re alone.” You didn’t mean to sound so sad, but it wasn’t easy to hide, especially from a man with Six Eyes. You were glad he didn’t press you on it, instead opting to blabber on about how great his new first year students were, and his unmatched skill as a teacher. Gojo always seemed to walk the line between being insufferable and incredible. Nanami had often winced whenever he heard Gojo start a new tangent, and you would rub his back reassuringly. It became an unspoken gesture between the two of you. When you’d failed at mastering a new cursed technique, Nanami would be there to hand you a tissue for your bloodied nose and rub soothing circles on your back. Maybe that’s why your final moment together was so sad. You’d told him you loved him, and he told you that he wanted nothing to do with sorcery in exchange for a normal, human life. He’d left you crying, and the absence of his palm on your back made you feel colder and more alone than ever.

“…so the official party is at 7 but the real party will start after. Are you listening?”

“Official party at 7. Real party after.” You repeated “I’ll wear something that can suit both.”

You had wanted to ask Gojo if Nanami was going to be there, but you held your tongue instead. You hadn’t heard anything from him after you two had split ways, with him becoming a salary man and you going abroad to conduct research. You already knew that if you asked, you’d be met with disappointment. Still, perhaps it was better this way. You might actually be able to relax tonight and remember what social interaction felt like. You wouldn’t have to worry about what to say if you saw him there, or overthink the black dress you were planning on wearing tonight. You’d heard that even Utahime was going to be there. You owed it to everyone making an effort for you, to be present and gracious.

The nerves were still there of course. You were happy to see the small collection of former classmates and teachers there, and excited to catch up. It was strange to think of how close you all were once and then you’d left and avoided talking to anyone beyond a few words at a time. Now, the bonds between you were a little rusty but still strong. It calmed the butterflies in your stomach to know that everyone still accepted you, though Utahime scolded you for it. Your eyes kept lingering at the door, in anticipation of him entering the room with a curt apology about his lateness but then you’d catch yourself and internally reprimand your actions.

“You’ve always been too tough on yourself” Utahime said, sipping her tea knowingly.

“Sorry” you apologised lamely, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

She huffed at you “stop apologising, it’s not your fault that men are idiots.” She eyed Gojo, who was trying to impersonate Yoshinobu, and sighed deeply. It made you smile.

“Thanks” you wanted to say something more but the lack of social interaction over the many years constricted your words. You didn’t even know what to say, let alone how to physically say it. Utahime didn’t mind however and squeezed your shoulder.

“God, I can’t stand him” she said, pinching the skin between her eyebrows. You turned to see Gojo laughing obnoxiously at something.

“Still single too, I presume” you said.

“You know he could never be tied down and imagine that poor woman” she groaned “it’s best he stays single. Imagine if he procreated.” She shuddered, making you laugh.

Ieri joined the two of you, shaking her head at her co-worker’s antics “I’m glad you’re back” she said to you “being a woman in this line of work is hard enough, and then you have to deal with that.”

You smiled “I’m glad to be back, even if it’s a little hard sometimes.”

“You know” Ieri looked down at her drink that she had spiked “wounds take time to heal and it’s important to cover them, but you also have to take the bandages off at some point and let it breathe.”

“You’re wise as ever Ieri” you said.

“Hmmm I don’t think so” Utahime said, frowning “if she was so ‘wise’ then she’d quit smoking.” It prompted a whole conversation, part jokes, part argument between the two and then Gojo stepped in to see what was happening which led to him being verbally bullied by the two women as you watched on and laughed.

“You’re all being so mean to me considering I planned this party” Gojo said, mock snivelling “and the after party.”

“That’s true” you said, perking Gojo up instantly “thank you for inviting everyone.”

“We’re not done yet” he said, bringing a corner of his blindfold down to wink at you.

The after party was more chaotic than you had envisioned. Despite not drinking anything, Gojo still managed to scream-sing the lyrics to every song into the karaoke microphone, sometimes even trying to elongate certain sounds in an attempt to emulate Mariah Carey. Needless to say, Utahime was so irritated that she agreed to join Ieri outside while she smoked. You wandered over to the bar and pouring a generous amount of wine into your glass, feeling warm and happy for the first time in a long time. Of course, you knew that it was the alcohol primarily, but it had also been so long since you’d had fun. You were going to allow yourself to enjoy it.

“Didn’t you think I was soulful?” Gojo asked, his grin wide and satisfied like the Cheshire cat.

“Very” you said, watching out the corner of his eye as he poured himself a coke triumphantly “I didn’t even know some of those notes existed.”

He shrugged mock casually “sometimes it’s a curse to be so blessed.” You two continued to talk, laughing at the ridiculous things Gojo said as he sat on the bar stool next to you, leaning casually against the bar. He sat up quickly at one point, looking past you with rapt attention.

“What is it, boy?” you jokingly asked and when he didn’t answer quickly enough you turned to look behind you. There, standing cautiously at the door in a jacket and tie was Nanami.

“Finally,” you heard Gojo murmur but when you turned back to confront him, he had disappeared into thin air. You felt afraid to turn, knowing that Nanami had probably seen you. You felt your heart race in your chest. He was here. This wasn’t a dream or your imagination. The wine made your legs feel weak and shaky as you clumsily stood, pressing your hands down your dress to smooth it out. Your palms felt clammy as you did so. Downing the remainder of the wine in your glass was attractive, but you could already feel his presence near you.

“Nanami” you breathed out, swallowing nervously as you looked up at him. You had often thought about what would happen if you met again and you’d played the scenario in so many ways; one where you were cool and calm, another where you cracked a killer one liner; even one where you’d pull him in for a kiss that would ignite the flames of your relationship. Instead, you felt your nerves shoot through your body and you felt like a mess.

“Your hair” you said lamely, reaching a hand up before stopping yourself and letting your fingers curl into your palm in shame “it’s different.”

“Yes” he seemed taken aback by your sudden note on his appearance “I changed it a while ago.”

“It looks nice” you said, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at your pathetic comment “it suits you.” This wasn’t a lie. The shorter cut emphasised the sharpness of his cheekbones, which looked lethal in the dimmed lighting. He was taller too, if only by a little, and broader as well. You hadn’t anticipated that he’d look better after all this time. It made it hard to think coherently.

“Thank you” he said, “you look well too.” Disappointment already tinged in your stomach. He was just as strict with his feelings now as ever before. You both stood there awkwardly for a couple of seconds, wanting to speak and yet not at the same time.

“How’s normal life working out for you?” You asked, hoping your jovial tone would make things less tense.

“Oh. Well, it didn’t” he said, taking a seat on the barstool and pouring himself a glass of wine to join you “I tried to do it, but I couldn’t. Work is shit.”

Your surprised both you and he when you laughed “and what? This is the height of luxury?”

He smiled into his glass “no, it’s shit, as well but at least I’m better at it.” He raised his glass to you to clink “to this sorcery shit.” You smiled too, eagerly charging your glass to meet his. You watched him sip, allowing yourself to really look at him. Your eyes traced over his profile, drinking in the angles of his jawline and the elegant slope of his nose.

“I’m sure Europe was better” he said, making you snap out of your daze “at the very least, the food must have been delicious.”

“Oh, yeah” you said inattentively, thinking about evenings in foreign capitals where you fell asleep over your work with a half empty bowl of ramen next to you.

“It was interesting, and I learned a lot” you said, repeating what you had told everyone “I’m glad I’m home though.” You looked at him to gauge his reaction. His face was impassive as stone as he nodded. Dejected, you swirled the liquid around your glass, unsure of how to proceed.

“You were so adamant about leaving” you found yourself saying, the wine loosening your tongue “I’d never seen you so determined about something before.”

“I thought I knew everything back then” he sighed “I was so sure that I’d turn my back on this and work hard to maintain a normal life with a stable job, and money, and a family to provide for.”

You felt stunned “I didn’t know you wanted a wife and kids.”

He smiled without humour “well, something like that.” You watched wordlessly as he emptied the glass down his throat.

“I guess this line of work makes it hard to have those kinds of things.” You could picture Nanami in your head, in a dark suit and tie as he kissed his wife and child goodbye before going to work. He’d probably be good at it too. Firm but caring as he helped his child with their maths homework or opened a jar for his wife who would cook dinner for him every night. He’d dote on his family too, taking them to the beach and up the mountains or abroad. He’d probably keep a picture of them on his desk at work too. It pained you that he felt he couldn’t have that; let alone that you could never give him that.

He turned to look at you “well that and I knew I couldn’t tie you down like that.”

“Me?” you couldn’t have hidden your shock if you tried.

“You wanted a career” he said plainly “one that involved research into cursed objects and continuing to improve your skills and techniques. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

“You didn’t even give me a choice” your throat felt hoarse as you grappled with this new truth “you just made that decision for me.” You stood up, feeling woozy on your tipsy legs but determined all the same to get away. You needed air, and the chance to absorb everything you’d heard. All these years you’d assumed he felt nothing for you, and you’d been so embarrassed and upset that you put yourself in self-exile because of it.

“Would you have gone with me if I asked?” he said, following you up the stairs and out of the basement of the bar. The night air was cold and crisp against your hot body.

“Would you really have given up everything because of me?”

“I did give up everything because of you.” You said, turning to clutch the sleeve of his beige blazer, feeling your heart palpitate as your knuckle brushed the skin of his hand. Tears pricked your eyes and you looked down, feeling the rush of emotions you had kept chained away in the shadows rear its head into the light.

“I’m sorry I realised it all too late” he said, and before you could think he had pulled you into a tight embrace. You fought against him at first, wanting to be angry with him for assuming things on your behalf and making you suffer so miserably for so long, but you couldn’t. You gave in, letting your tears blot onto his rich blue shirt. His tie tickled your cheek as he let you press your face into his chest like you used to. His hand automatically began to take small, gentle laps on your back. He whispered his apologies over and over again, finally pressing a tender kiss on the top of your head.

“Nanami” you mumbled, pulling away so you could look up at him. His eyes were piercing as they regarded you. One of his hands remained on your back, whilst the other came up to cup your cheek fondly.

“I love you” he said quietly, pink appearing in his cheeks as he admitted it to you “and I hope it’s not too late to say it, however I’d understand if you didn’t feel the same. I was awful to you.” He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped when you pressed a finger against his soft lips.

“Kento” you said, tasting the way his name sounded for the first time “I love you too.” He took it as permission to lean down, capturing your lips against his in a kiss that you had been dreaming of since you’d met. He was still cautious as always, not wanting to push you too much, but you couldn’t help but enthusiastically pull him closer, standing on the tips of your toes to be closer to him. You shivered when he opened his mouth to take your bottom lip between his own, sucking on the plump skin as you felt a whisper of wind snake around the two of you, depositing fallen petals on your shoulders like confetti.

[remmushound]

“Class is in session!” Young April O’Neil tapped her ruler against the whiteboard.

The minute April had learned that not one of the brothers, not even Donatello, knew how to write in cursive, she had jumped on the opportunity to teach them. Even if she was physically the same age as Raphael (ten at the time), mentally she scored higher than all but Donatello, but then again nobody could score higher than Donatello. Yet here she was, in the teachers spot with Donatello as her student.

“This is lame.” Leonardo groaned, propping his feet up on his desk and leaning so far back in his chair that it almost toppled over.

“No talking in class!” April warned.

“Why?” Leonardo smirked.

“Because I said so.”

Leonardo was silent a moment, but the minute April turned around to write on the whiteboard, his voice started up again.

“What if I have a question?”

“Then you raise your hand.” April answered promptly. Her marker touched the board, then Leonardo spoke again.

“What if I break my arm?”

“Then use your other arm.”

“What if I break both?”

“Oh I’m gonna break them if you don’t stop talking.”

“Understood.” This time, Leonardo really stopped talking.

April cleared her throat. “First off: The cursive alphabet!” She wrote both big and small letters on the board for each letter, “Same as the normal alphabet, but fancy~”

“What the heck happened with G?” Mikey gawked.

“We don’t talk about G.” April said, “Leo are you paying attention?”

“Yaaaawn!” Leonardo gagged.

April huffed and clutched her ruler almost hard enough to break it.

“Um…” Donnie’s eyes were even more squinted than usual and he raised a hand.

“Yes Donnie?”

“Can you write it bigger?”

April frowned. “Raph, how’s it for you?”

Raphael was at the desk next to Donatello and sat up proudly at being addressed. “I can see it just fine, Apes!”

“Me too!” Mikey piped.

“Yaaaaawn.” Leo sighed.

Donatello looked around at his brothers with a frown as he shrunk slightly into his shell to hide his embarrassment.

“That’s okay Don.” April said with a smile, “I can make it a little bit bigger for you.” She did just that, “How’s that?”

Don gave a shy smile. “Better…”

April didn't quite believe him, but didn't want to bring it up. “Hey Mike, do you mind switching seats with Donnie?”

“Nope!”

Mikey took a place in the back row beside Raph while Don took a closer place beside the indifferent Leo.

~~~

“Names!”

April scribbled each turtle's name in their signifying color and pointed to them. “Honestly, this is the most important cursive you’ll ever earn. So you can sign your name and stuff— and no Leo I’m not excluding you from learning it just because you’re tiny mutant turtles living in the sewer!” She tapped the board, “Copy this down on your papers as many times as you can!”

There was the unanimous sounds of chairs adjusting and pens clicking and touching to the paper— three of them. April smiled as she looked out over the ‘students’ but frowned once more when she got to Donnie. The year-younger turtle was squinting at the board and near tears trying to make it out. He made an attempt to copy something down a few times, only to scribble it out seconds later. Then, finally, he got up and walked over to the board instead.

“Uh… can I…?” His nose was practically pressed to the board so he could make out his name, supporting his paper against the wall to scribble a quick draft before returning to his desk and copying the rest of his attempts off of the first attempt.

~~~

When she announced for them to turn their papers in, Mikey was of course the first one in line, bouncing excitedly as he shoved his way to the front and held out his paper to April. April smiled and accepted it, yet Mikey lingered awaiting praise.

His work was surprisingly neat for someone so hyperactive, though big and riddled with far more loops than necessary. Legible, but far from perfection. She smiled down at Mikey and gave the tiny box turtle a pat on the head.

“Great work Mike! Try writing a little smaller next time so you can fit more on the paper!” She drew a smiley face on Mikey’s paper.

Mikey gave an excited squeal and snatched the paper, hugging it tightly to his plastron and churring softly before running off. Then came Raphael. His writing was also big and bold like Michelangelo’s, but without the foundation of neatness that the youngest brother held.

“Good job, Raph! Same thing as Mikey, try to write a liiiiittle smaller. I know it might be difficult since the paper’s tiny compared to you, but you’re doing great!” She gave Raphael a flaming smiley face, and Raphael was content.

Donatello was nervous— nothing unusual. He held his paper out to April and almost winced as if expecting rebuke. April let her eyes linger on the anxious softshell a moment before going down to his paper. His cursive was just as illegible as his print always was— the shape was there and she could see some familiarities in the loops to indicate where each letter was supposed to be, but the letters blended together even more than typical for cursive.

Still, she smiled at Donnie all the same. “See? You did great, Don! I knew you would.” She gave a purple smiley, but frowned as the ink dripped and made it look like the smiley was crying.

Donnie accepted the paper without talking and sulked off. Leonardo was last in line, unusual for someone always so eager to please, with a smug smile as he held out his paper to April.

“I know, I know Keep your praise to yourself. I didn't wanna do it but I pushed through it and mine is no doubt the best. That’s why I saved it for last.”

April narrowed her eyes and saw straight through Leo’s charade of confidence. The writing was big, though not quite as big as Raphael’s or Michelangelo’s. It was clear he had finished his work fast, the paper filled and whatever space left filled with tiny scribbles. At first she smiled when saw how neat the handwork was, a welcome improvement to the flipped letters that usually riddled his print writing, but then when she looked closer at the letters themselves, she noticed something else. Though the letters weren’t flipped, they were distorted— not the kind of distortion that a lazy hand would result in, but each letter was blurred together, some of them with multiple loops where there was only one or none when there was meant to be one. April looked up at Leonardo who concerned eyes, though his look of confidence never faltered.

“Uh. Good work Leo.” She said vaguely, giving him a smiley like she had to everyone else.

~~~~

“Are you sure about this…?” Donnie asked nervously.

“Trust me!” April beamed, taping the handles of the glasses to Donnie’s face

Donnie, eyes still closed, still tried to turn to face April’s voice. “Whenever Leo says that it usually ends up failing. Painfully.”

“Well I’m not Leo, so stop moving!” She snapped Donnie’s head back forward so she could finish her work. Once she was sure that they were on securely, she backed away and grinned. “Okay! Open your eyes!”

Donnie opened his eyes. His first reaction was to squint like he always did, but when his eyes were met with detail denied all his life, they shot wide and starstruck. His mouth dropped open, he sucked in a breath, and backed up against a wall as the world spun in its new light.

“Wha…”

April beamed and gave an excited bounce, clapping her hands together. Her face looked unusually empty without her glasses, but she didn't care. She could always get new ones, but Donnie…

“Whoa…” Donnie’s dichromatic eyes flicked to everything in the room in quick succession.

“Donnie are you okay?” Mikey rocked on his toes with his arms folded behind his shell.

“I… everything’s just… it’s like seeing life in HD!” Once the shock left, a smile spread across his face and he couldn’t stop it from claiming his usually shy or disinterested features.

“Woah! I wanna see life in HD!”

Mikey jumped up and snatched the glasses from off of Donnie’s face, shoving them on his own. His eyes and nose immediately scrunched up as he looked through the lenses.

“Ehh… this doesn’t look like HD…”

April laughed and leaned down to boop Mikey’s nose while he blinked away the irritation of the focused lenses. “That’s because your eyes already work, Mikey.”

“Raph’s turn!” Raph stole the glasses from Mikey’s nose, laughing as he put them on his own face. His reaction was similar to Mikey. “Ehhh…. Not for Raph.”

“What about you Leo?” Mikey asked, appealing to the older brother, “Don’t you wanna try them on?”

“What, and look like a four-eyed nerd? No thank you.” Leo scoffed, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Excuse me?!” April put her hand on her hip and dared Leonardo to repeat himself.

“Ah—“ Leo’s realization seemed to knock him off his confidence, “Not you April—you make them look cool—“

“Just shut up and wear these.”

April shoved the glasses onto Leonardo’s face, and the slider was immediately blinded by how… not blind he was. He let his mouth hang open a moment and sucked in a gasp, looking around with the much the same awe as Donatello had, before shaking his head and taking the glasses off of his face.

“See? Told ya! I don’t need em!”

Despite his words, there was a longing hurt in his eyes as he returned the glasses to Donatello and silently reserved himself so his twin could enjoy the full experience of being able to see a whole new world.

@brightlotusmoon

[dreamiesdotcom]

perhaps, Cupid | nct dream

Summary: You lay down in your bed, watch 13 change to 14 as the clock passes 11:59. You close your eyes, sigh, and hope that the world stops at 12:00 before promptly deciding that Valentine's Day is cancelled.

word count: 2.3k

moon's note: idk why but i usually give gifts during occasions... and out of random... but since its v-day and i caNT give y'all any gifts because idk which part of the world you lovelies are at, so maybe you can please have 2322 words of my nonsense? I tried

When Lee Jeno, the infamous Na Jaemin's best friend, walked inside the room to the dance club's meeting room with all sheepish 'Hello's and eye-smiles, you underestimated just how much havoc he could bring into your life. He seemed way too soft for his own good like he had no mischief under his sleeve — the exact reason why when he poked your sides to get your attention and asked you if you'd "help the dumb kids get together", you were more thrilled than concerned.

Right now, you think you should've agreed with Renjun and said 'that's a bad idea'.

Donghyuck, Jaemin's dormmate, wasn't even there when you planned things out, but well, you blame him. Jaemin bitterly staring at Jisung as the younger gets cuddled by Chenle? Hyuck's fault. Jisung blushing incomprehensible whenever it's Jaemin's turn to dance? Hyuck's fault. It's been days and resident sweet boy absolutely makes no move to court Jisung? Hyuck's fault as well.

"This pining is painful to watch," even Renjun can't help but point out even if he didn't even agree to the plan. Jeno sends you a victorious smile. "Jaemin, he's crushing hard on you."

"Yes, but what if he doesn't like me because—" you don't even get to clearly hear his reasons. You shake your head. Jeno's smile falters.

Jaemin sulks a lot about Jisung spending more time with Renjun than he does with Chenle, and asks the other if Jisung has a crush on him. Renjun groans in loathing, asks him to just go and make a move and repeats the same speech for days. Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, and absolutely nothing happens.

Oh, well, maybe something did. Maybe along the way, you realized that Lee Jeno is one hell of an attractive man.

"Heaven's, Jeno, stop it! Stop pushing me to the side, I can't see what they're doing!"

"They're reading a book for the subject Jisung's tutoring Jaemin in."

"It's a library. Aren't you just inquisitive? That's why they're here. Now let me see!"

"Y/N!"

"Jeno!" you hiss back, still whisper-yelling turning to decently state at him only to find that he's already looking at you. You tilt away in shock, "Flippity pancakes, distance!"

You see, when you start matchmaking, the goal is to get people together — definitely not fall in love with your partner in crime.

"Just say fuck, no one would kill you," he hisses back. The same whining tone is there as he peeks on the other table, "Saying 'flippity pancakes' in a weird accent doesn't wash away your intentions, so just say it already."

"No."

"I dare you."

"No!"

"I double-dare you."

"Jeno."

"Y/N."

"No."

"Do it," he huffs,"Say 'fuck'."

The way he mouths it as if teaching a child to say their first words make you burst out laughing, and for the rest of the day, you forget the mission and get lost into playing games of your own in the library, muffled hums and all. Renjun decides that he's not gonna get any studying done at this table and waves you both goodbye, and you watch as Jeno smiles at him, an expression worthy to compare to that of a luminous star.

And oh, you're in love.

It wasn't all your fault, though. Jeno was way too pretty, too lovely to not fall for. It just so happens that like the fate of you and all things beautiful, you don't deserve him.

You don't deserve him, so he never gets to know.

###

"Be my date for Valentine's day?"

"Hell no."

Apparently, his family has this little gathering that coincidentally matched that time, and he stubbornly refuses to go alone. Why you ask? No reason. He just doesn't want to 'go alone and be forced to socialize with mean cousins' and you spent most of the time teasing about how he's probably one of the mean kids in his family. The rest of the bus ride on the way to school remains silent aside from the neverending proposals and bribings — "I'll treat you candy for one month! I'll do whatever you say for three months! I'll even do your assignments!"

It would be a lie to say it's not tempting, but oh, isn't this just the perfect opportunity to ask Jisung out? The enthusiasm in Jeno's eyes matches yours, and the answer is obvious here: Exactly.

For a whole different reason, the bus ride home is silent too. You sit side by side in pure quiet, Jaemin tugging at your sleeves every now and then to gain your attention. You brush him off, keeping your head against the glass with your eyes closed. You don't speak even after getting inside his apartment and the indifference makes Donghyuck pause halfway his concerned nagging, deciding to usher Renjun and Jeno out with such lame excuse of buying ingredients for dinner.

You go straight to their bathroom to get some supplies, and Jaemin sits on the couch, antsy. He silently curses Donghyuck for leaving, Huang Renjun and Lee Jeno too, those traitors. You sit in front of him, doing your stuff without making eye contact.

"Please talk to me—"

"Shut up."

A dejected whimper leaves his lips, and you quite possibly break. You sigh as if to calm down, and you mutter a warning: "Don't."

"But why aren't you talking to me?"

Why... why would you even ask that?

"You promised me, Jaemin. You made a promise to me." you coldly say, dainty fingers pressing cotton against the cut in his lip. "You promised me that you'll stop getting into fights."

Realization seems to flash in his eyes. He seems torn between reasoning and apologizing, but first, he chases after the hand you pulled away from him. You shrug him off harshly this time.

"I did, for the longest time, you saw that! But he called Jisung a—" he looks at you with betrayed eyes, as if a kicked puppy. He never liked that tone. He never liked how distant that felt coming from you, so tears brim his eyes. "Don't be so cold to me..."

"Jisung let him be. Isn't that enough hint that it's not worth it?" your tone remains the same. The fear in your chest remains stubborn, and no matter how many times he squeezes the hand he's holding, it doesn't bring you ease. It only urges tears that you try so hard to hold back as you croak out,

"Jaemin, this will not make him fall in love with you."

The world seems to pause.

"But I already love him." He answers quickly, honestly, and the raw sincerity in his tone is just a fine, thorough stab in the gut. "And I just want to protect him."

It's painful how you're not even regretting this as much as you should — maybe, part of the reason you keep on chasing him is because it's painful. True to your twisted self, maybe it's the sole reason after all. You don't know why you keep on doing this to yourself — you hate it. You hate how the more things hurt you, the deeper you fall. You hate how you can't seem to tear away from him as quick as possible because you know that what comes next will be even more painful, and might even destroy you.

With all these thoughts inside your mind, you let him lean his head in the crook of your neck, holding him in the way you always wanted. Selfishly, you hope that it could always be like this.

"I know, Nana..." you whisper, his locks soft as silk as you brush them with your fingers. "and for the exact same reason, I want to protect you too."

You take a deep, shaky breath. "So don't hurt yourself. Not for anyone, not for the world... no matter how much you love them."

Why is it so easy to say the things that'd keep you safe, but so hard to even attempt just following them? It's as if the Universe wants you hurt, wants to see you bleed unshed blood. It doesn't make sense.

The rules have been pretty simple; never fall in love. You're helping people get together — you come later, priorities first. Don't fall in love; not with your partner, not with your other accomplices, and especially, not with the fools you're helping.

The rule has been simple. Only that you think, it was way easier to break them than to follow, and you've failed this rule pretty early on.

Just how can you not adore Na Jaemin?

###

You laugh loudly, almost hitting your head to your headboard as you look at Jisung's post. In the picture, Jaemin smiles bubbly, and the caption's way too cheesy to read. Even though you were the one who helped them get together, it's still hard to believe that they actually did, these messes of human beings. You type out a quick 'Congrats to surviving one year together. Give credits to my brain cells, pls' and then turning the device off.

You lay down in your bed, watch 13 change to 14 as the clock passes 11:59. You close your eyes, sigh, hope the world stops at 12:00 before promptly deciding that Valentine's Day is cancelled.

Your phone vibrates in your hold, and you grumble.

From: not hyuck

Hi

It's Valentine's day

Let's use that as an excuse to get ice cream at midnight

You stir, set on ignoring his message, but you quickly shoot up once you hear the sound of something — hopefully not pebbles, God, let it not be pebbles — hitting your window. Seriously?!

To: not hyuck

Is that

Is that you throwing stones at my fucking window

STOP YOU MIGHT BREAK THE GLASS

And that's exactly how you found yourself with sticky fingers from the desert's residue, watching red lights cover the city in celebration of love. It seems ironic. Today of all days, you don't feel dear at all — it's alright, you convince yourself, it's been a year and it's hurting less now.

It's all lies, of course. It doesn't matter that it wasn't this painful all the other days; what matters is that now it hurts, and it fucking hurts like hell.

From up here, if you spread your arms and think hard enough, the wind would make it seem as though you're flying. You do just like that, the flavor of vanilla suddenly so bitter on your tongue as you realize that there's no escape. Oh, how you hate this day. It makes you chuckle.

Renjun sighs, "What's troubling you?"

"Fun. What gave me away?"

"Your eyes." He shrugs. "They sure tell more things about you than your mouth does."

"How do they look?" you ask out of curiosity, unconsciously moving up to feel your lashes. "My eyes..."

"Well, right now... they look kind of conflicted. Sad. Happy. Somewhere in between, like the person who owns them... doesn't really know. And, well, they're incredibly..." Renjun ponders for a bit; beautiful, he wanted to say. "Hard to read."

"Doesn't sound like it if you said that much."

Did it sound so rude that you were nonchalant? Probably. You're too tired to mind, though. It'd be a lie to say you didn't expect this, to feel alone once they get together, to be scared of being erased in their lives, to be afraid of being less important now. You knew none of them would be real, but that doesn't stop you from being afraid. Would it make sense to say you don't care at all, at this point? To say you don't give a damn when truly, you do. You care so much you feel indifferent.

"You liked them, didn't you?"

And then comes along the question you're most afraid of.

"You were in love with Jisung... now, you're in love with Jaemin." he muses to himself, "Yet you're the one making sure they end up together. What the hell are you?"

Since there's no place for lies in friendship...

"Do you see the way they look? They deserve to be happy, and me... well. Well, I..." you search for words you can't seem to find. After all, you don't even know where to go now — isn't this what you wanted? For Jisung and Jaemin to get together. What's this all about? You bemusedly shake your head, "Should've just fallen for you, huh."

Accelerate, heartbeat, flying — you turn to look at his direction — your eyes tell, your eyes say so much... how do you feel?

"You'd catch me, right, Renjunnie?"

"I'm not some back-up plan, excuse you." He rolls his eyes, huffing, "But, why not? Certainly. Would be my pleasure."

You stare at him in wonder, awestruck, amused and amazed. It's just a random joke you made so you wouldn't have to answer him truthfully, but goddamn, this — you feel oddly seen, chosen; as if you've never been chosen before. Maybe he's right. His heart picks up speed as more minutes pass in silence, so he looks away and smiles sheepishly.

Renjun closes his eyes briefly, "You didn't answer my question, though. To do whatever the hell you were doing... what the fuck are you?"

Both poison and sugar linger on your lips as you smile.

"Perhaps, Cupid."

Maybe, yes, right, Cupid. Makes sense. A matchmaker who creates perfect love, and quite possibly, trouble. Always setting people up but maybe not themselves. Renjun agrees, and so he whispers,

"Suits you. An angel."

You stare at him again, only this time around it's soft but startled, and for a brief moment of losing himself, Renjun whispers in his mind — hey, Cupid. Love me, will you?

Instead, in the real world, he gives you the same exact gaze — only fonder. Renjun knows. He knows that you fell in love thrice in this journey; once, with Park Jisung, another, with Lee Jeno, and lastly, with Na Jaemin. 

Maybe, just maybe, Renjun wishes that at this tale of Valentine's chapter closed, you'll fall in love with him too.

[yourmcu]

Wish You Were Here (i)

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader, Avengers x Stark!reader

Summary:

an Infinity War/Endgame AU where Tony Stark’s daughter (you) is one of half the population that vanishes in the snap, Tony finds out later on when he arrives back to Earth, devastated, then you come back like the others to help fight Thanos.

Word count: 2,030

A/n: (moved to the end of the fic!)

Warnings: angst, death, swearing, a lil soft!Nat in the beginning bc I love her, mentions of anxiety/anxiety

read on ao3!

Part 2

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

You wanted to help in whatever was happening, you weren’t quite sure still, but it had something to do with the infinity stones and how you guys needed to find them before some guy named Thanos does.

It took a lot of convincing for Steve, Natasha and Rhodey (they were the ones more protective over you) to let you come, especially with Tony not around to scold you since he was in space.

“I’m coming with you guys whether you like it or not - no, I know what you’re gonna say, I can handle myself. I’m sixteen! Did you know Peter’s in space right now with Dad? Outer freaking space. You’re not the only one who has a suit, Rhodey-”

The argument ended with, “if something happens and I-” you dragged your thumb across your neck, “then it’s on me. None of you are to blame. Can we go now?”

So they didn’t have any other choice. You went to Wakanda with them to get the mind stone out of Vision and intend to destroy it afterwards.

Things got a *bit* out of hand though, there was an army of creatures - they’re from space, you assumed, working for Thanos - trying to get the stone. You fought alongside Sam and Rhodey, sometimes even fighting with Bruce who was using the Hulkbuster. You also helped the Wakanda tribes when they got overpowered by the creatures.

Even Thor came back to fight and he brought a raccoon and a tree with him.

The battle was going really messy, until - “Everyone on my position. We got incoming.”

You fly to where Cap and the team are, and there he is coming out of what appears to be a cloudy, blue grayish portal, Thanos himself.

“Cap, that’s him.” Bruce says as he hides you behind the Hulkbuster to shield you. He slowly walks over to the purple titan before saying, “stay down, [Y/N], alright?”

Did all of them suddenly forget that you, if not more, are stubborn like your father?

Because when all of them attack, you fly behind Thanos when he's distracted and wrap both your metal covered arms around his neck in stupid attempts to strangle him. He effortlessly uses his gauntlet to throw you back to the ground, knocking you out.

He eventually got all the stones, snapped his fingers when Thor failed to kill him, and left.

“What did you do?!”

“Where did he go? Thor, where did he go?”

“What’s happening?” You get off the ground as Bucky turns to dust. You look around and saw the air filled with the same dust, just from different people.

What the hell did that snap do?

People are vanishing, disappearing, are they dying? Why are they dying? You’re pretty sure you're panicking. Your lips start to quiver and you feel your chest tighten, making it hard for you to breathe.

Natasha notices right away. She's the one who could help you with your anxiety attacks besides Tony. She comes to you and places her hands on your shoulders, looking you in the eye. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, you’re fine, just breathe with me,”

You watch Wanda, one of  your best friends, turn to dust too which did not help in the slightest. What’s worse is when Natasha holds your hands to calm you down,

They start turning into dust particles.

“No no no no no no,” you grow weak, holding onto her. “Nat, I’m scared - I don’t - I don’t know what to-”

“Y/N, just breathe like we practiced, okay?”

You try copying her breathing but it’s no use. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re still fading away. You look at her, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes, “I’m so sorry.” She has no choice but to hug you tightly until you get dusted completely.

The Avengers just lost a kid. Not just any kid, for them you were special. You always supported the team no matter what. They couldn’t even imagine what Tony’s reaction would be.

When Natasha told Pepper of course she didn’t take it well.

You were Tony’s own flesh and blood (and some one night stand chic that we won’t mention anymore starting now), but Pepper helped raised you when Tony first took you in and treated you like her own. Sometimes you even called her ‘mom’.

She was so relieved when a spaceship came by the compound to drop Tony off - he looked weak and skinny - she didn’t know how to break the awful news to him while he was in that condition.

“I lost the kid,” he meant Peter. What he doesn’t know was that he actually lost two.

“It’s been twenty-three days since Thanos came to Earth.”

Bruce and Natasha keep looking over one another as images of the people they lost in the snap took turns popping up as holograms. Rhodey feels tense and keeps tapping his foot - nervous of what his best friend’s gonna do once he sees-

Tony abruptly stands up from his wheelchair. “Stop. Stop there.” (“Tony, you need to sit down,”) “No.” He stumbles over to a particular hologram, the one with his daughter’s face.

Y/N Stark.

The room is awfully quiet. Despite you telling them that it isn’t going to be any of their faults if something happens to you, they still feel responsible for you.

“Was anyone going to tell me?” He speaks softly. Too soft and calm for all of them that they remain glued to where they're standing, avoiding eye contact. He clenches his fists and sends a look to  everyone in the room. “You better not be shitting me I already lost Parker and I - I can’t - I can’t lose her. I can’t.”

“Tony,” Natasha says. “We couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

It's like being stabbed with his own blade all over again. She tells him everything that happened, how you got dusted like Peter, and Tony just stares blankly at your photo, looking very pale.

Tony takes a deep breath and pushes his glasses further up his nose, holding in  tears. Good thing his glasses cover it up. He mutters ‘okay’ over and over as he takes a seat back in his wheelchair. Steve hesitates to continue the discussion but Tony encourages him to go on, even though he feels like he was literally dying inside.

His mood definitely went downhill from there - Tony's furious with himself. Furious with them, with Steve, that he takes it out on the super soldier. By the end of it he's on the floor, passed out.

“Dad, come in, it’s [Y/N]. Everything alright out there?”

“Oh y’know, typical day in the city - pair of aliens came to visit again.” Tony sounded breathless.

You paused briefly. “...what? W-well, do you need help? I can help, and Peter’s probably on his way there - he just made a lame excuse and hung up on me so, I figured he sensed something was wrong.”

“Yeah. Stay where you are and when things get worse, find Pepper and get to safety.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope. Deadass serious. Stay out of this one.”

Tony opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. He's transferred to a bed with the same wires poking his arm. He dreamt of his last conversation with you - before and while he was dragged to space.

“Hey, I’m still here, you know,” you cut him off while he was arguing with Strange.

“[Y/N]? How is this still connected?”

“I made the earpiece set myself - I guess it has really long range, huh?”

“You’re a nerd.” Tony cracked a small smile.

“Hi [Y/N]!” Peter shouted from a distance.

“Peter? You’re in space too? I’m so jeal-”

The line completely went out, guess the range wasn’t that long.

“Tony?” Pepper says gently. “You shouldn’t be up - it’s only been an hour since you passed out.”

He looks at her for a moment then returns his attention to the wall, eyes bloodshot. “Have I been a good father to her? ‘Cause I feel like she deserved more. Way more.”

“Of course, she loved you! Tony, [Y/N] loved you as much as you love her,” Pepper reassures, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset but you really should be getting bed rest right now.”

He sniffles and gave a small nod, “okay.”

He closes his eyes again when she left the room and sigh, mumbling “goddammit kid,” before letting the tears flow down. Tony rarely cries. Barely cries. He usually keeps those stupid emotions in but this - the fact that his little girl is gone, it's too much for him. He realized never fully showed how much you meant to him and he regrets it.

Can't help but think that it should've been me Either way, I still wish you were here.

Fast forward to five years later: Tony now lived at a lakeside cabin with Pepper and their daughter, Morgan.

Moving on was better than to be sad and depressed for the rest of his life. That’s what you wanted for him anyway, to be happy.

So that’s exactly what Tony did.

He spent time with his family, made new suits which he enjoyed to do, living his life peacefully. That doesn’t mean he forgot about you. Sure the last few years were hard, he missed you every single day, but he had to face and accept it.

Tony moved your stuff from the compound and into a vacant room in the cabin. Sometimes he’d look through your crazy inventions, your journals that were filled with ideas for future gadgets and he hung up framed photos of you and him (some with Pepper) on the walls.

He told Morgan all about you. How awesome you were, how you were energetic and enthusiastic in everything you do, and how the both of you would be best friends if you two met.

“I wanna meet her,” Morgan says, looking at pictures of you.

Tony smiles sadly and looks at the photo of you and him. It was at your school’s science fair and your invention won first place (he remembered laughing at all the science teachers’ shocked faces because of your advanced gadget, way advanced than the grade you were in). Both of you looked really happy.

If a picture is all that I have, I can picture the times that we won't get back If I picture it now it don't seem so bad Either way, I still wish you were here.

“Someday, maybe.” He replies, giving her a warm smile.

Steve, Natasha and a new guy Scott visited him one day. They basically told him bringing back everyone who died in the snap was possible, hinting time travel.

Tony was torn. He didn’t want to risk losing what he had now, but bringing everyone back... that was something. Everyone in the universe that vanished, the other Avengers, the guardians he met in space, Strange, Peter, you.

That same night he thought about you, and Peter when he stumbled upon a picture of both of them. That same night, he figured out time travel.

“Hey legacy,” he chuckles a bit, remembering how you always frowned or pouted whenever he called you that. He likes that nickname on you though. “I... uh, this is just a little video. For you. Sure you won’t see this but... I like to pretend I could still talk to you. I miss you, a lot.”

“It’s been five years, hun. Morgan, your sister... you have no idea how much she talks about you. She wants to meet you someday,” he looks at the camera. “I know I can’t tell her the real reason why you’re not here with us, not yet, but anyway, ‘couple of old pals came to visit me. They want to try to get everyone back, that includes you.”

Tony sighs, looking away. “As of now I don’t know if we’re ever gonna pull off something like this. I figured it out, just a couple minutes ago actually. Time travel. It’s dangerous, very risky...”

“But we’ll see. We’ll figure something out. I hope to see you soon, [Y/N]. I love you.”

----

so I’ve cut this lil idea into two parts - I’ll probs post part 2 soon right after this one - if everyone likes it of course :)

oh, and I listened to this song by Neck Deep while writing this, which is where I got the title too, you can listen here. (I also put in some lyrics from the song to the story, just because it fits well hehe)

[notsolong-pause]

ship requests

“Hey 👋 . Can I get a male HP ship (from both eras if possible) pls . Thank u so much ! . So I m a Gryffindor (with a bit of Slytherin ) . In my free time , I would love to read fantasy or sci-fic novels or facts maybe , listen to music , research about anything I want to , do something my parents denied me off maybe . If my friends are available , I'll also go downstairs with them and play . I m not as such interested in sport but I love to play cricket and badminton . My hobbies are dancing , horseriding , reading , researching , cyber and swordfighting (I haven't done it yet tho). I love the trope of fake relationship or enemies to lovers

Next is my personality . Well , I can be shy if I m not comfortable with the person , but if I am then I am very talkative . I don't trust ppl at the beginning until they prove themselves . I m very reliable and trustworthy but I tend to hide my emotions . I like my privacy, I don't even share that with my bestie sometimes . I come off as a rebel and I can get annoyed very easily . I love to organise a room . Everyone comes to me for advice . I also have a very good sense of humour which comes out in front of ppl I'm comfortable (they say I never used to fail to surprise them with my hidden qualities) . I m also quite modest . I m a risk-taker and I always stand up to my friends , I also have their back sometimes . I can also be a bully to my enemies or my friend's enemies but only if they start it first . Idk what is it , but ppl tell me I carry a powerful aura and many boys get attracted to me . Also , the popular ones used to attract to me a lot because I could be seen as a quiet nerdy girl . I come off as very unique at first meeting . I m practical with my decisions but as said , I hide my emotions or else the emotions would have led me. I m also a human lie detector , or that's what my family tells me . The thing that stands out in me isy dressing style . I am very curious. I m also very much mysterious . I m loyal to a fault . Now my flaws are that sometimes I don't believe my friends at all and it hurts them since they ask me to be honest and I tell them the truth . I can be blunt and cold without realising it but I don't mean to . I am an extrovert so keeping me from doing something can make me insecure . I m sensitive to criticism . I can be super suspicious, like a looott . I hate when ppl try to control me, even my parents so I end up going against them or I follow their instructions half-heartedly . I can be very very stubborn . I also get many intuitions but I ignore them . I hate when ppl are unreliable , everyone's lazy but atleast they should do their work after some rest . I also hate arrogant boastful PPL . I hate when someone disrespects me and I immediately cut them off from my life . I hate lame excuses given by the ppl whom I expect something to do and they didn't. I am very patient but once they cross their lines , they wish they hadn't . I guess this is too much ? (Lol sorry but excited ) Thank u so much for ur time dear 💗”

a/n: Hi! Thank you for so many details!! It’s lovely. You also asked for TMR ship, so I’ve decided to do a HP form one era and one for TMR. Hopefully, you are okay with that:)

p.s.: sorry for being a Draco slaughter. i’m also doing all the other requests, thank you for them!! they are going to be trade in a day or two. sending love <3

Harry Potter:

I ship you with Fred Weasley 

(so badly, you’re a perfect match)

First of all... being stubborn and taking risks is something that you probable have in common, which is going to create a perfect enemies to lovers dynamic. Maybe academic/prancing rivalry?

You constantly mocking each other, but not meaning any harm or anything, even though others might think that you hate one another

Him always helping you to break the rules if needed, but still making sure that everything is alright, and everyone is safe. And you would keep an eye on him back, supporting him when he doesn’t know what to do

He would be surprised when you started to open up, and crack jokes, but would love them so badly. And he definitely is very grateful whenever (and if) you chose to tell him something private, and wouldn’t tell anyone else even if he was tortured

You would always give amazing ideas for the shop products. And he would be like: “Where do you know that from?” “Don’t know, just thought it was interesting and decided to investigate”

You were walking in the dull lights of a corridor from the late detention in the Snape’s dungeons. You got this one for arguing with a certain Weasley. This was entirely his fault, though, but he didn’t get caught, and you could still see the stupid smirk on his stupid face when you were assigned to come down here after classes. The Slytherin do was just nearby, and you heard a couple of voices around the corner. You were hopping these were some of your friends from Slytherin, but as you listen closely you herald none other than Malfoy. “These Weaslebeeys are ignorant trash just like their father. Who’s would willingly study what muggles’ life’s are like? That’s just dumb”you didn’t know whether he was just showing off in front of his friends or if he was being serious, but you were furious at the moment.

“Malfoy!” - you energetically approached the group.

“Another gryffindor”, - he smirked. “Why don’t you spend an evening at your dorm or some other lame place?”

“Cut it. Take it back” - you face was almost stone cold. Eyes glimmering dangerously in the flickering light.

“Are you defending the Weaslebees?” - he grimaced, being so proud of himself for no reason.

“It’s not their name, and they don’t need any defense. You’re being an arrogant prick towards my friends, and I’m not going to tolerate that.” - you were stiff, your fists clenched in order to hold back the anger. How dared he speak in such diminishing manner about people 100 times better than him!

“What are you going to about it?” He replied cheekily, stepping forward.

“Well... I don’t know, how about TheLocomotor Wibbly!” - you were gripping tightly onto your wand, and Draco suddenly fell to the floor. His legs turned to jelly.

“You little...” one of his friends pointed your wand towards you, opening his mouth to jinx you back. Suddenly there was a loud bang, everything was covered with the thick smoke, and you were pulled to the corner. You instinctively pointed a wand on the person in front of you, still unable to see anything.

“Easy, lady” you recognized the voice. “Fred? What are doing here?” you were genuinely surprised, and started wondering how much has he heard. “Came to rescue you from the Snape’s claws” he smirked. “Why?” you didn’t understand a thing. “No fun being brilliant if you can’t see that and get jealous” - he cocked his eyebrows. You huffed back. “Well, thank you, I suppose.” “Oh good, I thought I’d never hear that”. You surprised a smile. “Let’s move already”.

“By the way”, he stopped you, “did I hear you calling me a friend?” You nudged his shoulder. “Don’t think too much of it, Weasley”.

The maze runner:

I ship you with Gally

He’s the one to understand you not opening up fully and immediately and keeping things to yourself for 110%. He’s mysterious himself, and he can give you every time in the world (sorry, i’m love him sm)

Again... the enemies to lovers dynamic, ESPECIALLY considering the whole thing with him killing Chuck (still hurts, though).

He can be very protective from time to time, so you can have “Because I care for you!!” arguments when you’re being reckless and decide to risk in order to save him.

He's honestly the sassy king of the show. Taking your sense of humour in account, I belive that he would really appreciate that you have it and can back him up. So you would exchange jokes back and forth

He's also absolutely giving you every freedom in the world not even attempting to control you or tell you what to do, he would only give out advices. And as far as he realises you're sensitive to crticizm, he starts to control himself in order not to hurt you.

"Please, never do that again". You and Gally were walking around the Last City, back to the shelter.

"Do what?" You asked, raising your head to the boy slightly ahead of you.

"You know what I'm talikng about". He turned his head to you, and stopped in the shaddow of the narrow street between the houses. His gaze was pretty serious, and both of you were extremely tired after yet another mission in attempt to undermine the existing regime.

"I don't think I do". You looked up at him with the confusion in your eyes.

"What you did back there was very risky, and you could have not make it. Don't risk like that ever again".

"But the cranks would've gotten you then". You protested. In your opinion, what you did was the only option.

"I appreciate the concern, but I could I handle it". He was starting to get stubborn, while you were getting angry.

"That's not true. One of them was hanging on your throat. That's not something people cal 'I handle it'". You threw your arms in the air, gesturing.

"I'm not letting them take me instead of you!" Gally was almost shouting at this point.

"Well, I'm not letting them take you either!"

"Great!"

"Great!"

You both went silent and were walking angrily towards your shelter, turning, sneaking, and hiding.

"Gally". You called in a few minutes. "It's just that I really care about you".

"I know". He told you, looking back again. "Just promise me, you're going to be careful".

"You know I really can't promise, but at least I'll try".

[agentfreckles]

So I saw this video on Instagram where this woman was pranking her partner and basically she randomly got all dolled up and claimed she was just going to the grocery store to see how they would react. Do you think UB would have any funny reactions to that prank??

This is probably not at all what you were looking for, anon, but the second I read this I was immediately hit with inspiration. Long story short, your ask allowed me to complete my first fic after over a month of intense writer’s block. So I hope you enjoy my dumb little Adam drabble because I am seriously so thankful for you rn 😭

All Dolled Up 

Rating: General

Word Count: 1,308

Pairing: Adam x Female!Detective (Ramona Gibson)

Summary: Ramona selects a highly unconventional outfit for her trip to the grocery store. Adam is not amused. 

Notes: This is my first time writing specifically for Ramona which has me feeling all kinds of happy. Her name is only used twice and there are no pronouns used, so hopefully it’s not too distracting if you want to imagine your detective instead. But I’m so excited to finally give Ramona a voice and I hope you all like her as much as I do!

"Oh, come on!" I mutter angrily, about ready to rip out this stubborn curl that has decided to flop in front of my face yet again. My reflection stares back at me through the hallway mirror as I shove the lock of hair back in place for what must be the hundredth time in the past five minutes.

I don't even know why I'm putting so much effort into some lame practical joke anyway. The fact that I'm even doing a prank at all is completely ridiculous and so unlike me. Surely Felix hasn't been that much of a bad influence on me the last several months, right? But then again, he was the one who brought this concept to my attention by showing me some video he had found a couple days prior before not-so-subtly suggesting I try out the same thing on a certain Commanding Agent next chance I get. 

And somehow despite my reservations I ended up taking Felix up on his proposition and spent the better half of one of my rare evenings off getting all dressed up for what exactly? Just to get a rise out of Adam -- something that I can do just fine without having to fight to get my hair under control or squeezing into a form-fitting dress and high heels? Sounds like a hell of a waste in retrospect when it seems like all I have to do these days is breathe in his general direction to press his buttons, given how much tension there's been brewing between us the past couple of weeks.  

Now that I think about it, maybe it's that same tension that has me feeling compelled to act out in this way. Perhaps this whole thing was bred out of some desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, seeing me all done up and glamorous will give Adam the push he needs to throw away his inhibitions and finally-

No. I won't even entertain the thought.

This is just a silly little prank amongst coworkers. No big deal.

Renewed determination quells the nerves in my chest and I give my reflection a resolute nod before squaring my shoulders and striding down the length of the hallway. With one final calming breath and a whispered "You can do this, Ramona," I give the living room door's elegant brass handle a twist and step inside.

No turning back now.

Adam is sitting on the worn leather sofa near the fireplace when I enter the living room, looking lost in thought as he stares into the crackling flames with a deep-set frown. He breaks from his pensive state and stands at the sound of my footsteps before turning to offer a greeting, but the sight of me, or rather my outfit, makes the words get caught in his throat. When he does eventually speak, it's in a voice so soft I nearly miss it. 

“Ramona...”

Heat blooms on my cheeks both at the unexpected use of my name and the way his gaze passes over every inch me with the reverence and care of a lover's caress. With the help of the dim light from the fire's glow I am able to detect a glimmer of desire in those icy green eyes, the intensity behind them making my brain fog up with so much steam that I nearly forget about the practical joke I'm supposed to be pulling entirely.

"Hi," I offer pathetically, immediately clearing my throat to dispel some of the tension in the room and restore power to my malfunctioning brain. Miraculously, it manages to do the trick as even Adam seems to break out of the trance-like state he was in. He folds his hands behind his back, adopting the familiar rigid stance I've come to associate with the Commanding Agent when he's attempting to appear guarded and aloof.

“I haven’t heard mention of any formal events in your schedule," he remarks cooly. A soft smile grazes my lips when I notice his gaze still lingers on me a few seconds longer than necessary despite his attempt to convey casual disinterest. "May I ask where you’re headed?”

I smile, everything from the expression on my face to my body language a perfect picture of innocence as I deliver the punchline. “Just to the market to grab some groceries."

I wish I had brought a camera to record the speed at which Adam's eye dart up to meet mine, immense confusion overtaking his features. Suddenly I'm not so sure which reaction I enjoyed more: the unmistakable attraction radiating off of him in waves when I  had first arrived or the perplexed, almost outraged look on his face now.

"You’re welcome to come with me if you’d like.”

“I beg your pardon?” Adam scoffs, ignoring the invitation and instead cocking a brow and folding his arms disapprovingly as he studies me with a far more judgmental eye than he had before. “I fail to see how cocktail attire is an appropriate garment choice for a supermarket.”

Oddly emboldened by the clear distaste in his words, I decide to push a little further.

“What, you don’t like it?” I reply in mock offense before turning once in a small circle, my pace deliberately slow to give Adam the best possible view of the way the fabric clings to my every curve while I try not to get too wrapped up in the feeling of his eyes hungrily drinking me in once more.

“I didn’t say that.” Adam replies once I've finished my little display, coughing lightly in an effort to hide the slight strain in his voice as he speaks. “However, my point still stands. You are far too overdressed for a simple errand run. I would highly suggest you change into something more practical that is better suited to the task you aim to complete.”

Oh, now that's a bit of a mood killer.

Really, out of all the possible outcomes I was hoping to get out of this, an impromptu lecture from Adam was not one of them. The heat that was steadily building up between us fizzles out at his commanding tone and annoyance quickly takes its place.

Must he always be such an ass?

The indignant scoff that escapes my lips this time is completely genuine. “Says the guy who wore a button up and slacks into a sewer not too long ago.”

“I-You—Those were entirely different circumstances!" Adam splutters, clearly not expecting to have that particular incident brought up again, let alone in the middle of a debate he was so certain he had won just a moment before. The disbelieving look I toss his way helps him regain his composure quickly and his expression hardens once more as he fixes me with an icy glare. “And even if they were somehow similar, my motivations for doing so were far more commendable than whatever ridiculous excuse you’ve managed to come up with for this, I'm sure.”

“Oh really?” I mimic his stance, folding my arms across my chest and raising a challenging brow. “And what were those motivations exactly?”

“I...“ My chin proudly raises in triumph as I watch Adam’s stony mask crumble, a blush now rapidly coloring the pale skin of his face and neck as he struggles to speak. I must admit his reaction comes as a bit of a surprise. I’ve never seen him quite so flustered. And clearly neither has he judging by the way his gaze darts around the room in search of something, anything to rescue him from the nightmare this conversation has turned into.

"Well?"

Just as the red tinge on his cheeks is beginning to reach tomato-like levels of intensity Adam suddenly straightens. “I have work to do.”

And with that he turns on his heel, quickly marching past me and out of the room.

[happyandticklish]

Grub Scars

Dave discovers something knew about Karkat and Karkat doesn’t entirely hate him for it. 

The roar of the TV was muffled in the ears of the two teenagers sprawled on the tiny couch, their limbs entangled in messy disarray. Karkat grunted as two hands slid up his back, pulling him in tighter against Dave. His lips murmured breathily against Dave’s neck.

“You’re missing the movie.” He gently bit at the tender skin of his throat, a tiny thrill coursing through him at the noise Dave made.

“Fuck the movie,” was the casual reply and Dave pulled back momentarily to grin at him, shades askew from the impromptu make out session. He ran his hands contemplatively over Karkat’s torso, deciding a new target for his affections. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, silently asking permission. Karkat didn’t reply, turning to face the TV though it was obvious he wasn’t taking in anything the show was saying. Dave rolled his eyes at his stubbornness and slipped his hands under his sweater anyway.

Karkat hissed sharply at cold fingers but didn’t move away. Dave traced his hands over the soft skin of his abdomen, noticing something odd as he did.

“Karkat?” he asked.

“Mmm?”

“What are these lines on your ribs?”

Karkat’s eyes opened briefly, annoyed at being interrupted. “They’re my grub scars. All trolls have them.”

Dave sat back, all thoughts of making out momentarily flung from his brain as he studied this new anomaly. “Grub scars… like from when you were a baby? Or a larvae, I guess. I always forgot you guys are part insect too. Dude, that’s so weird.”

Karkat attempted to sit up, glaring at Dave, but was stopped by a hand pushing him back down. “We are not, part insect, as you say. If anything your insects are half-troll as they came second. And grub scars are a completely normal thing. They are no different than your ‘bellybuttons’ or whatever the fuck you call them.”

Dave wasn’t listening, poking the lines experimentally. They were raised in slight bumps atop the troll’s ribs and were of a ruddy complexion. There were three on either side and Dave traced his thumb over one curiously.

He didn’t miss the way Karkat jumped, nor the faint shade of red his face had turned. “Dude, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, you useless excuse for a human being, and I would appreciate it if you would remove your filthy human appendages from my—ah!”

Karkat was cut off mid-rant as Dave curled his fingers, watching his boyfriend’s reaction. A knowing grin was forming on Dave’s face and Karkat winced in preparation for the coming attack. But instead of launching into a vicious, one-sided tickle fight, Dave continued to gently trace over the scars, his fingers ghosting the skin and sending shudders scurrying down Karkat’s spine. He watched Karkat all the while, checking for a reaction, and that was when Karkat knew he was trapped.

“You okay there, Karkat?” Dave asked, stone-faced as usual. Karkat gripped his hands tight in the cushions of the couch, trying to focus on the TV and failing miserably. “You seem kind of tense.”

“I’m f-fine,” Karkat replied snarkily, ignoring the stutter in his voice. “Now will you shut your incessant blabbering and let me enjoy the show we were originally watching before you decided it was time to board the train to make-out station.”

Dave snorted at the word usage, digging his nails in gently at the very edges of the scars and grinning as Karkat choked back a whine. “Like you weren’t enjoying yourself. And I believe it’s called make-out central.”

“I thought I told you to be quiet, so how is it I can still see your mouth moving and hear the irritating tenor of your hormonal voice cracks?”

“Point taken. I guess we’ll just continue in silence then.”

Karkat grunted.

The movie displayed two men shouting passionately at each other while another one nervously tried to console the both of them. It was inevitably leading to either homicide or filthy love making, either one disgustingly graphic in nature; it was difficult to tell with troll romance. However, neither of the two boys were paying any attention to the movie, nor had they been paying any attention since the moment the title screen rolled across the TV.

Dave was having a field day with the new discovery of grub scars, much to Karkat’s chagrin. At first it was just tracing, light and easy to deal with. After a while it almost began to feel good, and Karkat felt his eyelids fluttering sleepily and his breathing evening out into a relaxed hum of contentment.

At first.

Karkat jerked awake again as nails suddenly dug into his sides, a surprised squeak of laughter betraying him. Dave smirked triumphantly, having gotten the reaction he’s wanted.

“What the fuck Strider?” Karkat growled, his hands now clamped around Dave’s wrists in a vise-like grip. Dave’s fingers were still touching his skin, unfortunately, and they continued to wiggle gently which was succeeding at slowly driving the troll insane.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish.” He curled his fingers in a devastating claw motion and Karkat’s eyes snapped shut again, hissing anxiously. “How come I didn’t know this?”

“I’m not ticklish,” Karkat denied immediately, but stuttered giggles were slipping past his lips as he squirmed under Dave’s touch. “You’re ticklish.”

It was a moronic comeback, but Karkat couldn’t think while his body was racked with the tortuous sensations. Dave’s cheeks flushed a gentle shade of pink and he rolled his eyes. “Dude, lame. You totally are. You’re laughing right now.”

He was and he hated it. “S-Shut uhup. Just st-stohop.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Dahave, I s-swehear to gog—”

“Do the grub scars make it more ticklish or less ticklish?” Dave asked, ignoring him completely. His eyes gleamed with genuine interest while he waited for an answer.

“Y-Yehehes, you fuhuhucktard!” Karkat threw his head back as Dave’s gentle scratches turned into rough poking and prodding. “Gahaha, whahahat the fuhuhuck?”

“This is great. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh before. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before.” His fingers moved up just slightly, teasing at the barest edges of underarms, and Karkat lost it, kicking the back of the couch in frantic pleas. “I’m barely even touching you. This is kind of sad actually.”

“Fuhuhuck y-y-yohou, ehehe, nohoho, gog!” Karkat’s laughter had transformed into a storm of hiccupy giggles, an odd change from his usual gravelly grumbling. He had released Dave’s wrists and was now flailing his hands around uselessly, occasionally shoving at Dave’s arms to no avail. He jumped as the fingers found their destination in his armpits, slamming his arms down and subsequently trapping Dave’s hands there.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, nohohohoho!” Karkat curled up into the couch, trying to dislodge the hands and only getting them more stuck in the process. “Stohohohop!”

“I can’t. You’ve got to lift your arms dude.”

“I hahahate y-yohohou!”

“Careful Karkat, I might start thinking you’re feeling black for me.”

“Fuhuhuck yohohou!”

After another valiant attempt to get away without lifting his arms, Karkat decided he had no choice but to retaliate. Having no plan of action aside from getting those damn fingers off of him, he reached out blindly and clamped his hands around Dave’s sides, squeezing harshly.

Dave let out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter, jerking back immediately. Having accomplished his goal, Karkat decided revenge was due. He quickly tackled Dave, pinning his hands above his head with one hand and raising the other one in a menacing gesture over his stomach.

“So Dave…” he panted, sweat glistening on his forehead as he grinned. “Now that you’ve had your fun I think it’s time you face a taste of your own medicine.”

Dave squirmed underneath him, eyeing the hovering hand apprehensively. “Look, I’m sorry man, but think about what you’re doing.”

Karkat raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you ticklish?”

Dave flushed, an odd look to see on the normally stoic Strider. Karkat decided he liked the look. “No. I mean, a little. But so is everyone else. Look, the point is I’m sorry. Can we please just go back to making out?”

“Maybe later,” Karkat promised, lowering his hand. “But right now I think I have some well-earned revenge to dish out.”

The second his hand made contact Dave burst into laughter. His laugh was boisterous and carefree, nothing like the boy who it came from. He giggled uncontrollably as Karkat scribbled fingers all over his stomach, the sensitive skin jumping under the touch.

“Ahahaha! Fuhhuhuck, yohohour w-weird troholl nahails tickle, gohohod!” He arched up against the bed, arms tugging uselessly against Karkat’s hold, squealing when Karkat pinched his hips. “Gah! Nohoho, nohohot thehehere!”

“What’s wrong Strider? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

Karkat was ecstatic. Here was Dave, master of cool, giggling like a wriggler under him at a little tickling. He tried not to focus on the fact that just seconds ago he too had been the dumb wriggler helpless to Dave’s fingers, and decided to move up to the ribs, seeing as that had been the start of all this trouble.

Dave jerked away, tugging desperately at his trapped arms. “Duhuhude, sohoho nohohot cohohohool!”

“You know, while we’re here I think it would be a good time to learn more about your species. Tell me Dave, how many ribs does a human have?”

Dave spluttered incredulously, struggling to focus. “Whahahat? Ihihi dohohon’t knohohow! twehehenty-fohohour?”

Karkat tapped his nails against the blond boy’s sides, shaking his head. “You don’t sound too sure, Dave. I think I may have to figure out for myself.”

“Whahahat—gahaha!”

Dave snorted as Karkat dug his nails in-between his upper ribs, counting as he went. “Let’s see. One, two, three, four—quit moving, asshole. Now I have to start over.”

“Karkahahahat!” Dave whined and fell back into squeaky giggles as the process repeated.

This was surprisingly fun. Karkat had never seen Dave laugh with such abandon before. He was always so obsessed with being cool or ironic or whatever dumb concept he was into at the time, and it felt nice to break him out of his shell.

As it turned out, Dave was even more ticklish than Karkat. Every spot produced more of that squeaky, high-pitched laughter, and Dave seemed unable to control himself as he squirmed helplessly underneath him, protests and pleas spilling out amidst the laughter. Finally Karkat decided to give him a break and backed off, releasing his grip on Dave’s wrists.

Dave was a mess. His shirt was mussed up all the way to his chest and he was breathing heavily, cheeks bright red from laughing. Somewhere in the process his shades had been knocked askew and they lay haphazardly on one side of his head, held on by one ear. Karkat’s own eyes widened as he took in the other boy’s eyes.

Red, bright red from mirth and accusations as they turned a betrayed glare on Karkat.

“Rude. I did not tickle you for that long.”

“Your shades.”

Dave blinked, realizing their absence. “Fuck.” He quickly grabbed them, shoving them firmly back over his eyes. “You didn’t see anything.”

Karkat grinned, already missing their presence. “You looked adorable.”

“Shut the fuck up man.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Dave tried to get up but found that Karkat was still firmly planted on his waist. He frowned, trying again. Nothing.

“Uh, you mind moving?”

Karkat shook his head. “I’m good. I quite like where I am right now.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

“Yeah.” Karkat crossed his arms, taking in the sight of the helpless Strider before him. “I think I’ll have to have you like this more often.”

Dave snorted at the corniness of it, ignoring the flush of his cheeks. “Okay, whatever. Get down here and kiss me already.”

Karkat did, but mere minutes later his fingers found themselves tracing up the boy’s sides yet again and they found themselves emerged in a second round of ridiculousness that neither was entirely angry about. 

[wizardofrozz]

The Perfect Pair

Warnings: swearing, mention of blood, violence, angst

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: Here we go! I’m so sorry that this took me so long to start posting. I kept changing and rewriting the ending but I finally landed on one I love! ❤ Italics are the character’s thoughts. Enjoy!

_____________________________________________________________

Chapter 1: We Meet Again....And Again?

(Violet POV)

I heard light footsteps approaching behind me, almost soft enough that I didn’t catch them. I spun around, catching a knife by the blade aimed at the back of my head, blood dripping from my hand, hitting the floor at my feet.

           “Hm, that’s quite inconvenient,” I scowled at my hand, dropping the knife, looking at the figure at the end of the hall. I saw the vague outline of a tall, slender man; a cape hung around him, moving slightly as he shifted his weight. I could only make out his intense, grass-green eyes; I saw the outline of his head cocking to one side, his hair falling off his shoulder, as he looked at me in what seemed like curiosity. I felt an odd pull in my chest, fighting to propel me towards the creature in the shadows; I pushed down the aching feeling, and I grabbed the knife from the floor again, flipping it in the air.

           “Interesting,” his surprisingly deep voice hinting at his amusement, but he stayed in the shadows.

           “Do I get the pleasure of seeing the face of the man that attempted to kill me?” I mimicked the turn of his head, causing him to chuckle slightly. “Mm, my patience has run thin,” I huffed, launching the knife back at him. I was momentarily surprised when the blade slammed into his chest to the hilt before I felt magic pulsing behind me.

           “You’re a feisty one,” he whispered in my ear; I avoided flinching at his sudden presence.

           “Visual trickery, how original,” I taunted him, moving away from my projection. He lunged forward to wrap an arm around my neck, stumbling when he shifted through the projection. “Hm, I thought you’d catch that. Apparently, I had more faith in your abilities,” I laughed, appearing against the wall next to him.

           “What are you,” he straightened again. I expected to see anger pulsing off him; to my surprise, he seemed intrigued. I pushed away from the wall, flipping a small knife from my sleeve.

           “As if you can’t sense it,” I smirked, circling him. “I can sense what you are,” I raised an eyebrow. “Frost giant,” I said flatly.

           “As are you,” he stated.

           “Look at you, so insightful! But only half Frost Giant dear,” I scrunched my nose, mocking him; I turned towards him. I took in the man standing in front of me now; he wasn’t a small man by any means, but he was not a warrior. He towered over me, and I could tell he wore a cape to make himself look larger, broader, trying to fit his towering height better. Deep black hair fell in curling wisps over his shoulder, framing his pale face, those fierce green eyes staring back at me, a mischievous smile pulling his already high cheekbones closer to his eyes. I noticed the slight movement of his eyes as he tried to run his gaze over my body subtly.

           “You certainly are gripping. What a pity I’ll have to kill you,” his expression darkened as he launched himself at me. He knocked the air out of my lungs as he landed on top of me; he swiftly grabbed a knife and brought it down to my chest. I caught his hand as the tip of the knife pressed into my chest; I grabbed the handle of his knife and twisted it towards myself. He loosened his grip at the sudden odd angle of his wrist, giving me an opening to hook my leg behind his and roll, slamming him down on his back. I straddled him, bringing the knife towards his stomach. Despite the compromising position and the threat of murder coming from the man below me, a calmness settled over me; my eyes met the striking green orbs below me, catching the confused look on his face.

           “Loki!” I heard a booming voice bouncing off the walls. I froze, raising an eyebrow at the man underneath me, seeing slight irritation on his face.

           “Well, it was a pleasure to meet the God of Mischief himself. I really should go,” I winked at him, tossing the knife in the air as I hid. I moved away from Loki, looking for the easiest way out of the room; I watched Loki catch the knife before it landed on his stomach. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling before a giant oaf of a man entered the room. I never expected to see him ever again; I almost didn’t recognize Loki.

           “Brother, why are you on the floor?” the man chuckled; I raised an eyebrow realizing who the other man was.

           “I tripped,” Loki’s lame excuse earned him a raised eyebrow from the God of Thunder.

           “If you say so,” Thor shook his head, helping his brother to his feet. I decided the way I came was my best bet of getting out of the castle; I glanced at Loki one more time. I could have sworn he knew I was standing there; his eyes bore into mine before I slipped away quickly.

                                                         ///

The following days consisted of drowning my failures in alcohol at a seedy bar in Knowhere. Every night I mainly sat in the same spot, downing drink after drink, trying to decide on another relic or treasure to steal. However, every night without fail, my mind drifted to that damn Prince on Asgard; the more alcohol I consumed, the more overrun my thoughts became with questions about Loki. Undoubtedly, he is an attractive man, but there was something else, some other force drawing me to this irritating Jotun. Maybe it was the shared heritage? No, it was something more profound than that, but what? Countless nights my mind wandered to Loki, and I did nothing to stop it.

***

(Loki POV)

1 year later

Keeping myself hidden under my cloak, I trudged through the streets of Knowhere, hoping to find a way to the Collector’s stash. Intoxicated creatures from all over the galaxy stumbled out of doorways on either side of the street. I felt a small hand near my thigh; I reached down and grabbed the little pick pocket.

           “I’d reconsider your next move,” I held the child’s wrist, moving my face closer to theirs. The child’s eyes widened as they tried to violently pull their arm away from my grasp, fear dripping off them as tears formed in their eyes. “Tell your friends,” I whispered before dropping the child’s hand; it ran off trying to put as much distance between themselves and me. I continued down the road, seeing the Collector’s assistant ushering someone else into a doorway. I smiled to myself and pushed my way into the crowd, stumbling when I broke free of the crowd behind the building I needed. I found a hole in the concrete, letting me see into the Collector’s giant room; I closed my eyes and imagined the surroundings I could see; I was inside the room when I opened my eyes. I wandered around looking at all the odd creatures, most of them just staring back if they were alive. Suddenly an arm came around my throat, pushing me to my knees, the cold kiss of a blade pushing into the underside of my jaw.

           “We really need to stop meeting like this dear,” a soft chuckle in my ear sent a slight chill down my spine.

           “What are the odds,” I rolled my eyes; of course, this thorn in my side appears again.

           “I was asking myself the same thing, Loki,” she breathed into my ear. I tried desperately to keep my mind focused on the task at hand, but her breath on my neck was making my head spin. Every fleeting thought from the past year filled my head again; the year since I last saw her had been filled with sleepless nights thinking of this irritating little halfling. I grabbed her wrist from under my chin and twisted it sharply, spinning on my knees, pulling her back to my chest, pulling her arm up at a sharp angle.

           “Are you following me?” I growled low in her ear.

           “How cute, you to think I’m here for you,” she chuckled again. I was taken aback by her laugh, and I unintentionally loosened the grip on her arm; she showed no inkling of pain or fear, almost like she was enjoying this. “Now, what do you want with me?” she craned her neck to look at me, my face a few inches from her cheek.

           “Why don’t you run from me?” I watched her face intently.

           “How would you like to get paid?” the Collector’s voice drifted through the room, too close for comfort. We both froze; I released her arm and pulled the little pain in my ass closer to my chest and clapping a hand over her mouth, scooting farther behind a statue to my left. The little witch wiggled in my arms, trying to break free; I had to remind myself we were hiding, forcing myself to ignore the feeling of her grinding into my pelvis, trying to get away from me.

           “Settle, you little demon!” I growled, squeezing her again; a whimper squeaked out of her. My chest tightened, blood rushing below my waist; I shifted her away from my lap and the growing bulge in my pants. What is wrong with me!

           “This way,” I heard the small voice of the assistant moving farther away again. I breathed a sigh of relief and felt her relax some too, slumping against me slightly.

           “Will you behave now?” I whispered in her ear; she grunted in response. I moved my hand from her mouth, helping her off my lap. I ran my eyes over her, taking in every inch, trying to burn her into my brain. I need to stop thinking of this little witch. I couldn’t take my eyes off her no matter what; her raven black hair was pulled away from her face in a loose braid, she wore a tight suit that accented every curve of her hourglass figure. Her blazing green eyes widened as she looked over me quickly before amusement sparkled in them again, and her plump, pink lips pulled into a small smile.

           “Can’t promise I’ll behave,” she winked, attempting to kick me in the side of the head. I quickly grabbed her leg, only making her laugh. Unfortunately, by the time I noticed the glint of metal, it was too late; the small knife burrowed into my shoulder. Finally, I released her leg, hissing as I yanked the small blade from my flesh. “You’re losing your edge, trickster,” she smiled over her shoulder.

           “Oh darling, you’ll pay for that,” I said as I stood, throwing the knife back at her. A high-pitched squeak left her body as the blade dug into her lower back; I watched her body become rigid. She lifted her arm, purple sparks dancing across her fingers; the air left my lungs quickly, gagging me; the floor was getting farther away.

           “You have to beat me first,” her icy voice traveled through the air.

           “I am the God of Mischief dear, I will,” I choked. Closing my eyes and moving my mind away from the lack of oxygen, I pushed her magic away, realizing it was significantly more challenging than I anticipated. I finally broke her, sending her flying into the concrete wall behind her, falling roughly to my knees, gasping for air. How could she be that strong?! A burn deep in my chest made me gag again, bile coming up; I spit on the floor, glancing up to see her slumped on the floor, head lolled to the side. “Christ,” I whispered hoarsely. A deep fear coursed through my veins at her unconscious figure slumped against the wall. I should not be this worried. I shook the unsettling fear off with an annoyed grunt, and I clumsily got to my feet, staying low in case the Collector’s assistant was nearby. “Get up, you irritating little thing,” I whispered harshly, smacking the side of her face. Her eyes fluttered opened focusing on me for a moment before kicking me square in the chest; I landed on my back, preparing for her to land on top of me, but when I lifted my head, I saw her rubbing her face, still sitting against the wall.

           “That’s going to sting for a while,” she groaned as she rubbed the back of her head.

           “Maybe stop trying to kill me then,” I narrowed my eyes at her.

           “Ha, I won’t guarantee anything,” she smirked.

           “Who’s there?” a voice a little too close for comfort shouted. I scrambled to my feet, and for some reason, grabbed her arm, yanking her towards me, running towards where I found the crack. I closed my eyes again and pictured the backside of the building, hearing a small gasp from next to me. I opened my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when we were outside again, letting go of her arm.

           “That’s my cue,” she said, saluting me, turning to walk away.

           “What is your name?” I yelled after her, she stopped.

           “Violet,” she called back, turning enough so I could see the side of her face when she answered before continuing to walk away.

           “Violet,” I whispered. I grunted, pulling my hood over my head before walking back into the streets of Knowhere.

____________________________________________________________

Series Masterlist | Chapter 2

Taglist:

@criminalyetminimal​ @kendallthesimp​ @marvelfansworld​ 

[hallowxiu]

Wasted Time

pairing: barbatos & gn!mc

word count: 1.6k

summary: As expected, Barbatos saw right through your plan. Literally.

a/n: this is part ten of the mc isn’t good at pick up lines series lol

if you’re ever too shy to ask for a request, you can always go to my ao3 account, kainess, i post the same stories there and also take requests there :)

part six | part seven | part eight | part nine

“Oh my devil, oh my devil, Mammon, is this really a good idea?” You’re pacing around Lord Diavolo’s guest bathroom, clutching the walkie-talkie in your hands. “How did you manage to convince me to do this? I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Relax. Ya haven’t even done anythin’ yet.” Mammon responded from the other side of the walkie-talkie. If you had to guess, you could assume that he was somewhere snooping around in the castle, looking for something he could pawn that Lord Diavolo hopefully wouldn’t notice missing. Getting it past Lucifer or Barbatos however, would be a different story. “And what’s the worst that could happen, huh? I already told ya if he tries anythin’ sketchy that I’ll be there to protect ya.” Your eyebrow twitched from how casual Mammon was at times like this. “Lord Diavolo invited everyone to the castle for a fancy lunch, it’s the perfect opportunity to try out your charms on Barbatos!”

“Okay, look,” your hand ran over the front of your shirt, smoothing the fabric down, “it’s one thing to hand out pick up lines to your brothers, right? And even Solomon and Simeon, but don’t you feel like it’s crossing a line with Barbatos and Lord Diavolo? I feel like Lucifer might actually punish me for it. Honestly, I’m more scared about Lucifer than Barbatos.” You were in a dilemma; Mammon had been scheming away on ways for you to improve your pick up lines and he was currently convinced that if you managed to successfully lay one out on Lord Diavolo’s butler, Barbatos, that you would be practically invincible. You’re not sure how that works, but questioning it would only give you a headache. “If I fail, I’m going to embarrass myself in front of everyone.”

“Ya won’t fail, not if ya have me there with ya. So please, just relax. Barbatos is not some big scary monster.”

“You’re also not a human.”

“Touché. Anyway, get outta the bathroom. If ya hole yourself up in there the entire time Lord Diavolo is goin’ to become suspicious of ya.” With Mammon’s reasoning coming through the walkie-talkie, you sighed and unlocked the bathroom door. How did he even manage to convince you to bring a walkie-talkie to the castle? What would be more embarrassing you wonder, failing a pick up line with Barbatos or having people see you walking around with a walkie-talkie?

You needed to figure out how to get Barbatos alone from prying eyes, especially from Lucifer, you wouldn’t be able to muster up any courage with the eldest brother watching. However, getting Lord Diavolo’s butler alone at a lunch hosted by said Lord of the Devildom would be no easy task. If you had to guess, you’d assume that Barbatos was running around making sure everything was perfect, as well as keeping a watchful eye on Mammon. Your eyes scanned the empty hallway, a sigh of relief escaping you when you didn’t spot the butler. It wouldn’t matter; you would still have plenty of time. Before you could turn around and make your way toward the dining hall, a familiar voice called out to you, making you pause.

“You’re rather far from the dining hall, aren’t you?” You inhaled deeply before turning around to lock gazes with Barbatos. Realistically, you should be happy that you ran into him now, where the two of you are completely alone, but yet you couldn’t find yourself to be. If you kept this up, you’re sure you’ll have sweat stains on your shirt. “Did you get lost?” His gentle voice met your ears and you felt heat creeping up your neck. “I could escort you back to the main room.”

“I, uh-- no. I’m not lost.” Was it hot in the room or was it just you? There’s a slight mischievous glint dancing around in Barbatos’ eyes and it almost unnerves you. You’re used to that look with Mammon, and that look has never brought you anything good. You watched as his lips curved upwards slightly to form a small smirk, and just like that, you felt the little confidence you had dwindle completely.  “Gee, look at the time, I should probably head back to the main room--”

“Why do you possess a walkie-talkie?”

Your eyes dropped to the old walkie-talkie gripped in your hand and you felt a cold sweat break out across your skin. You decided that being caught with a walkie-talkie was in fact more embarrassing. Your mind ran blank as you tried to think of excuses; it was hard to think up anything when you had Barbatos staring at you expectedly. “Mammon.” You figured that would explain itself.

That seemed to work, the green-haired demon nodding his head once. “That explains it. I decided that I would rather not know.” Just when you thought that Barbatos was going to drop the subject and let you go, his gaze locked with yours once again and you felt yourself backed into a corner. Perhaps it was foolish to play games with a demon who could control time? “You’re not being honest with me.”

“What?” Your voice naturally raised and you felt yourself flush from the way you squeaked. “The walkie-talkie really is from Mammon!” You held it up lamely as if surrendering, though you were not entirely sure what you’re surrendering for.

“What are you really doing down here?” Oh shit, he probably thought you were snooping around or participating in one of Mammon’s schemes. Your face lost some of its color when realizing the predicament you were in. If Barbatos seriously suspected you of something in Lord Diavolo’s castle, you could end up in a lot of trouble with a lot of people. Would it be best to just outright defend yourself, explaining that you’re not doing anything suspicious, or would that make you look even more suspicious in his eyes?

“Relax. You look like I’m about to kill you.” There’s no malice to his voice, but that did little to soothe your frayed nerves. “You were looking for me, weren’t you?” Your eyes squeezed shut when seeing the demon lift his hand, not sure what to expect. However, they snapped back open when you felt his gloved hand cup your chin delicately. “Will you answer me if I ask why you were looking for me?”

“Uh…”

“I lost an hour of time.” Barbatos stated plainly, eyes never leaving yours. “Can I borrow one of yours?” Your eyes widened when realizing what was happening, and you quickly pushed away from Barbatos.

“Did you just steal the pick up line I was going to use on you?” A soft laugh left Barbatos as you scrambled to your feet. “I even specifically looked up ones involving time for you!”

“I set my clock two hours ahead so I could see a future with you in it.”

“Barbatos! Stop using the pick up lines I was going to use on you!” Similarly to a child, you stomped your foot on the floor with a pout on your lips. “I only had a few ready!”

“You weren’t using them, so I decided to use them for you. You really looked as if you’d seen a ghost for a minute back there.” He smoothed out the front of his uniform, the small smirk still clinging to his lips. “Did you forget that I can see into the future? I already knew your intentions for coming today, so I purposely made sure that I was easily approachable for your task.” The more he talked, the more you wanted to bury yourself in a hole. “But you never approached me, so I figured I looked into the wrong timeline, and that maybe in this one you got scared and backed out. In the one I saw, you approached me confidently with the pick up lines, although I suppose I should have been suspicious. You’ve never striked anyone as the confident type, have you?” You felt your eyes narrow as he continued on; you couldn’t believe he just dragged you like that.

You stood straighter as you desperately tried to think of a new pick up line. You would not let Barbatos beat you at your own game. It’s as if a lightbulb popped up over your head and you snapped your fingers eagerly. “Don’t your feet hurt? You’ve been running around my mind all day.”

Barbatos looked completely unfazed by your sudden pick up line, however, leaving you uncertain if he already knew you’d be using one against him. “They do; it’s quite tiring to chase people around in their nightmares all the time.” You awkwardly took a step away from him.

“There must be something wrong with my eyes!” You quickly blurted out, leaning forward and staring at him with wide eyes. “I can’t seem to take them off you!”

“You could end up with a restraining order if you tried that on the wrong person.” His arms were tucked behind his back, his smile slightly bigger as he looked at you. “Oh dear, what was that?” He asked just as you winked at him. “Were you attempting to wink or was that a blink? Or perhaps you actually have something wrong with your eyes? Maybe you’re actually voicing your concerns to me.”

You sighed in annoyance as you threw your head back. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe.” There’s a cheeky smile on his lips when he takes a step toward you. You watched him cautiously, an eyebrow quivering as you anticipated his next action. “But if you’d like, I could let you in on a little secret.” The shock must have been evident on your face, because Barbatos let out another laugh. “You’ll have better luck with Lord Diavolo.”

[freddieslater]

Twelve Days of Rarepairs: Allydia | Allison Argent x Lydia Martin (Teen Wolf)

Requested by @wonderdoves

Hosting a Christmas party is not something Allison ever really planned to do. She just figured that if parties happened to be going on, and she got an invite, she'd go. But throwing one herself? Absolutely not, for many levels of reasons.

Then again, she supposes she isn't throwing it herself. Technically it's not even her party, really—Lydia wanted to throw one, but her mom said no, so she asked to borrow Allison's house. Her dad's out of town with Melissa and won't be back until Christmas day, and her aunt Kate's flight was delayed, so she's still stuck in the airport for the next twenty-four hours or so. Leaving tonight totally free.

For the best, too. Right now, Allison can't even find her way through her own house. She knew it was big, but she didn't realize just how big until nearly a hundred people were crammed inside of it. And that's just a guess.

"Oh—sorry, excuse me," Allison apologizes as she knocks into someone with her shoulder while trying to wind her way past without spilling the cup in her hand. 

The person ignores her. She just hurries on, taking a drink. Honestly, she isn't that thirsty, but she needed something to do to feel less awkward and out of place. Plus, Lydia made the punch, and it's surprisingly good when it doesn't have the secret ingredient of wolfsbane. 

She narrowly avoids tripping over someone else's foot, stumbling slightly. When she turns back around, she spots Lydia quickly approaching. 

Allison breathes a sigh of relief and stops in front of a rather annoyed looking Lydia. 

"So, I've not only lost all of our friends in here somewhere, but I'm also ninety percent sure I've lost control of this thing entirely," Lydia tells her. 

"Fantastic." 

Allison moves a strand of hair away from her face, blowing out a breath. 

"Well," she starts, letting her hand swing back to her side, "it could be worse, right? I mean, nothing is totally out of control, and everyone's having fun?"

Lydia raises an eyebrow. "Except you. And now me."

Allison rolls her eyes. "I'm not… not having fun. It is kind of nice to be able to relax a little. At least compared to what we're usually dealing with."

Lydia just gives a little hum in agreement, still not looking entirely sure as she surveys the shouting group hovering near them in the kitchen. 

"Here—" Allison holds out her cup, nodding her head at it, "—have a drink. It might help."

"I'm stressed, not dehydrated," Lydia replies, but she still accepts the offer and takes a drink. "Though maybe a little bit of that, too. Thanks. I'm just glad I found you."

A small smile curves Allison's mouth. She tries to ignore the slight flush of warmth in her face. She knows Lydia just means because she's worried about the party getting out of control and she doesn't want to be separated with strangers. But it still makes her a little bit happier to think she brings her some comfort. That feeling of safety that Allison gets every time she catches a glimpse of strawberry blond hair or that smile or their eyes lock across a room. 

The eyes she quickly realizes she's been gazing at for a moment too long. 

Snapping out of it, she quickly looks away, swallowing. Her heart thumps against her ribs accusingly. It's silenced when her eyes dart up.

Oh. 

"What?" Lydia asks, spotting her expression, now fixed on the doorway above them. Frowning, she follows her line of sight before Allison can stop her. 

She sees the sprig of mistletoe. One of many that they hung throughout the house, as insisted upon by Stiles when he and Scott came over to help them get the party ready.

"Oh," Lydia says.

Allison's gaze drops back to Lydia. She just stares up at the mistletoe with wide eyes, her lips parted as if to speak, but the words are getting lost on the way out. 

"I guess we should have expected something like this," Allison jokes, giving a half shrug and a forced chuckle. Trying to disguise how pink her face must be right now and keep the butterflies in her stomach calm. 

Lydia shifts her eyes from their captor to meet Allison's gaze. She presses her lips together, chewing on her lower lip. For a second, Allison thinks she's going to say how it's just some dumb, old tradition, and that she is not going to be a part of keeping something so pointless alive.

But she doesn't say that. She doesn't say anything. Doesn't make a getaway excuse. Her throat shifts as she swallows and takes a deep breath.

Then in a rushed exhale, she says, "You know, hanging mistletoe in a doorway comes from a Norse legend."

Allison's heart sinks. She nods, and smiles. She promised herself that if Lydia didn't show any sign of sharing her feeling by the end of the night, she'd let it go and move on. And reciting a Norse myth seems like a desperate attempt to get out of kissing her without just rejecting her. Even if it would be unknowingly. 

"Yeah," Allison says. "The, uh… the legend of Balder. Loki tricked Balder's twin brother into murdering him with mistletoe wood."

Lydia looks startled that she already knows. But surely that gives her an easy out then, right? 

"Yeah! Yeah, um…" Lydia doesn't move. She still stands there, glued to the spot, back to chewing at her bottom lip. Her face lights up, and she quickly says, "Well, uh, there are other legends, of course! People tend to mix them up with holly, because they look so similar, so people think that red berries mean mistletoe when, actually, they're quite different. And everyone knows that mistletoe is usually extremely toxic, to both humans and animals. As we know… from past experience."

Allison's just staring at Lydia, her eyebrows raised. She thought she knew where this was going. This? This is not it. Before she can say anything, Lydia's continuing her rambling, at such high speeds it's almost hard to keep up.

"It's toxicity actually varies quite a bit based on region, though, which—"

"Lydia," Allison starts. "We don't—"

"—can actually be really interesting!"

"Lydia."

"There are many different types of mistletoe, with different scientific names. Viscum album, viscum cruciatum, even Phoradendron leucarpum, which is native to North America!"

"That's—that's really interesting, but—"

"Viscum album—the European mistletoe—is more toxic than Phoradendron serotinum, which is the kind that we're most familiar with."

"Oh, that's—I mean—"

"And, despite the fact that all one-thousand-five-hundred types of mistletoe are toxic in most situations, it used to be used for medicinal purposes to treat things like arthritis, epilepsy! It's still used in parts of South Asia, because the effects aren't fatal. Disturbing and, frankly, unpleasant, but not fatal! In fact, the effects tend to be more prominent in animals. Which, wouldn't be good for any of our friends. But—"

"Lydia," Allison finally cuts her off. Her eyebrows are as far as they can be on her forehead. "You're rambling a bunch of scientific facts to me, and honestly, it's a little scary."

Lydia nods, pressing her lips together again. "Yeaaah. Sorry."

Allison pauses, thinking, this is her one opportunity, there will never be a better time, and—Lydia isn't running away. She's nervous rambling science to her. But she's not using her usual methods of getting out of something she doesn't want to do. 

Shutting her brain off before she can overthink it, she goes for it.

"I want to kiss you," she tells Lydia. "If you don't want to kiss me, that's fine, we can ignore the mistletoe entirely and move on. Okay?"

The blunt confessions throws Lydia off her usually perfect guard. She blinks those wide eyes, her lips parting but nothing coming out. 

"Uh, y-yeah," she fumbles out, then shakes her head, "I mean—I'm okay with it. Kissing you, I'm okay with kissing you—that sounds so lame, oh my god—I want to kiss you, too!"

"Okay," Allison laughs, and leans in. 

Her skin is on fire before her lips find Lydia's, and her stomach is doing olympic style flips when she does kiss her, and Lydia's kissing back with an eagerness she definitely wasn't expecting. 

If anything, she was certain it'd be a quick, funny peck on the lips, and that's it over and done with, just a fun little moment to laugh about. But Lydia doesn't pull away, and Allison is not going to be the one to pull away first. 

Instead, they keep kissing. Lips moving together, Lydia's hands on the sides of Allison's neck, holding her closer. 

Next second, someone bumps into them. They break apart out of surprise, Lydia trying not to spill Allison's drink. The person's already stumbled away.

They both look back at each other, Allison's heart in her throat, and Lydia's eyes widening again. She draws her tongue across her bottom lip as she clearly falters for what to say now, but it's actually incredibly distracting.

"So…" Lydia starts, uncertain. Then a small smile forms at the corners of her mouth. "You wanted to kiss me? Any particular reason? Is it because of my lipgloss? It is especially appealing tonight, extra shiny."

Allison can't help but smile at Lydia's teasing tone. It appears her nerves have fluttered off and left behind her usual cool, calm composure.

"That is one reason," Allison says, nodding, and Lydia gives a curious little hum, arching an eyebrow. "But also… because I've wanted to kiss you for a while. Because I really like you. A lot."

"Yeah, I think I got that," Lydia says, barely containing the shake of laughter in her voice and absolutely failing at disguising the sparkle of delight in her eyes. "I just cannot believe that you confessed before I did. And under the mistletoe."

Allison can't even begin to comprehend the "before I did" part. She just laughs as well, shaking her head and faking a wince.

"Wow, of all the cliches," she jokes. 

"Well, personally, I don't mind a cliche here and there," Lydia says, with a smile that makes Allison's breath catch in her throat.

She pushes it out and quickly draws in another, returning her smile as she says, "Neither do I."

[hyuniebaby]

Focus (3)

Pairings: Baekhyun x Y/N x Junmyeon

Genre: a little smut

AU: College student! Baekhyun, Professor! Junmyeon AU, college!au

Warning: masturbation

A/N: This part isn’t as important as the previous part. I just wanted to introduce some of the friends of baek and oc. There’s not much happening, just their friends teasing them. This part also mentions that Baekhyun can’t get oc out of his mind 🤪

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Baekhyun is a big flirt but he does NOT sleep around. He likes stability. He likes people who are constantly there. So when he woke up after sleeping with you, he didn’t know what to do.

His previous experiences allowed him to stay in bed until his partner wakes up, but you two weren’t in a relationship. Wouldn’t it be too awkward if you woke up cuddled to him? Is he supposed to be a one night stand? He didn’t want to be a one night stand though. Sex with you was mindblowing. He would even dare say it was the best sex of his life.

Baekhyun also dislikes awkward situations. When he’s with his friends usually when something awkward happens, he’d be the first to break the ice. But in this case it was different. Yes, he flirts with you most of the time you’d cross paths but he doesn’t really know you well enough. It was all flirting and no getting-to-know-each-other-deeply. Will you be mad if he left? Will you freak out if he stays? He doesn’t know! It was driving him insane.

But still, he doesn’t like awkward situations so he opts to leave before you wake up. He doesn’t want to be a jerk and just go out and leave though. He wanted to remain friends with you because he’s going to have to spend a whole semester with you. With this in mind, he grabs a pen and paper and writes a note for you quickly, afraid that you’d catch him doing this. If you do, this situation will be more awkward.

When he’s done with the note, he places it on your bedside table. Then he grabs his clothes and quickly wears them. He spares a glance at you before he reaches the door. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful. As if a spell was casted on him, he walks back to your bed and places a kiss on your forehead. And then he leaves.

When he reaches his dorm, he was surprised his roommate, Jongdae was still awake. After all, it was three in the morning. Jongdae squints his eyes on him. “Where have you been?”

“Uhh... I... uh...” Baekhyun doesn’t know how to answer. He scratches the back of his head while he tries to come up with an excuse.

“Nevermind. Tell me about it tomorrow when you’ve gathered your mind.” Jongdae dismisses him. Baekhyun sighs with relief. He goes to his room and lies on his bed. Still tired from the activities that happened, he falls asleep with you in his mind.

Baekhyun dreams of you. He dreams of you sucking him off in his car. Your mouth choking on his dick while you massage his balls. You sucked him off until he came and swallowed all his cum.

He wakes up with a jolt and realized he had a wet dream about you. He stares at the clock and realizes it was already noon, good thing he doesn’t have classes today. He stands up and showers. Thoughts of you still running in his mind. His body instantly reacting to the thoughts of you. As if his body has a mind of its own, he reaches for his member and strokes it.

You were naked and on all fours. You were so wet for him. Baekhyun inserts two of his fingers at once in your pussy. You moan out his name. Once you were fully prepared for him, he slams his dick inside you. He fucks you hard and fast, the bed creaking as he does so. His hands go to your tits, pinching your hard nipples. One of his hands then travels to your clit while the other continues to play with your boob. You were both nearing your climax. You tell him to cum in you. His thrusts go impossibly faster after you say that. After a few thrusts, your walls clench on his shaft. You felt so good.

He moans out your name as he releases. You were driving him crazy. How was he supposed to face you after he masturbated at the thought of you?

When he finished cleaning and dressing himself up, he goes out of his room to grab something to eat.

“The prince has finally woken up,” Jongdae loudly says.

Baekhyun ignores him. He grabs some ramen from the cupboard and starts heating up some water.

Jongdae takes this opportunity to talk to Baekhyun.

“So, what happened last night?”

Baekhyun sighs, he knows Jongdae won’t leave him alone if he doesn’t start talking.

“Last night, you looked...” Jongdae’s eyes widened at the realization, “I know! I know! You got laid!” He exclaims.

Baekhyun nods in confirmation.

“Wait... You have a new girlfriend?”

“No!”

“But you don’t sleep around!”

“I know! That’s why I don’t know what to do in these situations!”

“You’re too pure,” Jongdae coos.

“Fuck off.”

“So who’s the girl?”

“I’m not sure if you know her. You don’t really interact with sophomores.”

Jongdae gives him a look that screams “So what?”

“She’s Y/N.”

“Y/N? As in Y/L/N Y/N? The one with friends who are always dressed to kill? I’ve worked with her before, we trained together for some Chemistry quiz bee or whatever.”

“She was in your quiz bee team?!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jongdae casually says. “But isn’t she too... plain for you?” Jongdae knows Baekhyun’s type. He’s been his friend since high school so he’s basically met every single one of Baekhyun’s past lovers. He knows that Baekhyun adores pretty women. Pretty, sexy, slim. Modelesque.

In Jongdae’s eyes, you were very timid. Smart, timid, simple. He has only ever seen you talk so much whenever you’re with your friends. You don’t even talk unless spoken to. You would never make the first move. Could it be? Could it be that Baekhyun made the first move?

“She’s cute okay!” Baekhyun pouts.

“Fine, fine. Geez. So how was it?” Jongdae moves his eyebrows up and down.

“Fuck off Jongdick.” He turns around to continue making his ramen.

Jongdae laughs out loud at Baekhyun’s lame attempt to insult him.

“Guess I’ll find out myself.” He teases.

Baekhyun has never whipped his head so quickly at a statement. “Don’t you dare!”

Jongdae raises his hands as if surrendering, trying to look serious but failing to wipe the smile off his face. It was either (a) the sex you and Baekhyun shared was amazing or (b) Baekhyun’s getting so whipped about you but he’s oblivious about it, Jongdae thought, but he doesn’t say anything.

He lets Baekhyun be, trying to come up with a plan to approach you. He’s free the whole day after all.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You wake up with a jolt, body feeling sore from yesterday’s activities. The first thing you looked at was your clock. It was 9:00 AM. FUCK, your classes starts at 9:30. You’re going to be late! The ride to your college takes up 20 minutes so you only have 10 minutes to prepare. As much as you wanted to skip shower, you can’t, you were sweaty and sticky. You already know your day is going to go wrong, great, just great.

You try to walk to the bathroom as fast as you can, as fast as anyone can move when their body especially the nether regions is sore. You opt to wear a skirt today, not wanting to go through the pain in wearing jeans. You grab a sweatshirt and put on your shoes and dash outside your house. Disoriented because you were running late, you didn’t even notice the note Baekhyun left on your table.

You ran so fast after paying for the cab, people gave you weird looks. You didn’t care though, afraid you’d get scolded by your professor in Analytical Chemistry. He was old and very strict about time. When someone comes in late, he “targets” them the whole day, asking questions that were far advanced than what should be discussed. It was scary and you don’t need scary today.

You opened the door forcefully and all eyes looked at you. Thank god, your professor wasn’t there yet! You release a breath of relief and sat towards your usual place. Your friends immediately facing you.

“I forgot to set my alarm!” You instantly said before they could ask. It was amusing to them, you were never late.

“It’s okay to be late you know,” Seulgi says.

“And be Mr. Jung’s target? No thanks! I’d rather die.”

Your friends laughed at your exaggeration.

“Look who decided to skip the jeans and finally wear a skirt to class,” Mina notes as she sits beside you. She came in a few minutes after you. She woke up late too but she lives just around the block so she looks a lot less haggard than you did. “You only wear skirts outside the classrom. You look better in it, you should do it more often.”

Before you could respond, all of a sudden Joohyun gasps and your group of friends look at her. “Is that a hickey?” she whisper-yelled while pointing at your neck. All your friends whip their heads to look at you.

Your hands immediately went to cover your neck. “It’s a mosquito bite!”

Of course no one believed your excuse. If you were them, you wouldn’t too. They bombarded you with questions. “Who did it?”, “How was it?”, “Home run?” You were flustered. As if on cue, your professor enters the room. Your friends immediately stopped talking and faced Mr. Jung but not before giving you a look that says “Tell us all about it later.”

You know there was no winning with them. They would tease you all day until you caved in. So you half listened to Mr. Jung’s lecture and half thought of how to tell your friends about it without telling them it was Baekhyun who you slept with.

You didn’t want to dwell so much on Baekhyun because, well, he left before you woke up. And although he had no obligation to stay, you considered him as a friend. And friends talk, right? Just to be clear on how they move forward after that...

You know your friends are crazy about Baekhyun, but quite frankly, they are crazy about all guys who have amazing bodies and stunning smiles like Kim Jongin, Park Chanyeol, even your professors Mr. Kim Junmyeon and Mr. Kim Minseok. You aren’t as vocal as they are but you have to admit, these men have a way of making you feel giddy just by looking at them. If your friends were to know you did it with Baekhyun, they’d be so jealous but they wouldn’t mind. They‘d be supportive. Boys are just boys anyway.