#being in the office is rough but i’m hoping it’ll get a little easier as i kinda feel my feels and stuff

[stillcominback]

💖💖💖

[mammonsrockstargf]

Hey perse! I just discovered your blog and I really like your works! The sleepy MC was super relatable, and I was wondering if you could write some HCs about insomniac MC? It’s rough out here 🥱 looking forward to what you write next :D

AAAA THANK YOU I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY STUFF!! <333 Sorry to hear you’re struggling, insomnia literally sucks so hard. D:<

Hope I did your request justice, here you go~

Insomnia sucks, but do not dread! Demons do not need as much sleep as humans, which means they can devote plenty of time to helping you fall asleep instead!

The first thing Lucifer notices is the delayed reflexes and clumsiness. He originally thinks it’s just because you’re a human. Then he notices that you're quite frustrated with it which confuses him, because if that's the standard for humans then surely you'd be used to it, right? Still, he decides to observe you for a little while, before he confronts you.

It all collides one morning, when you drop your cup of coffee and burn your wrist, causing you to wince. Lucifer is immediately there, tending to you. "Are you hurt? Do you need ice on it?" You pull your hand to yourself and bite your lip, frustrated with it all. "I'm fine," you say, but now that he's close to you he finally notices the bags around your eyes. "Why do you look so tired?" he asks. You blink at him, baffled by his bluntness. "Just haven't been sleeping right," you eventually answer.

He immediately brainstorms how he can fix it. Do you need a new bed? Another pillow? Is the temperature in your room alright? He's very attentive after that and always assures you that the door to his office is open whenever you can't sleep.

Mammon notices that you have a hard time paying attention or focusing. You seem to doze off and stare into space often. He'll wave his hands in front of you. "Hey, human, you payin' attention?" he'll say and pout at you. He's such a whiner when your full attention isn't on him. "Sorry, Mams, I'm just tired," you say. "Yeah? Feel free to come to my room if you can't sleep," he'll offer an wink, despite his cheeks heating up.

He honestly doesn't expect you to take him up on his offer until he hears your soft knocking on his door. He immediately stumbles out of bed and throws his door open, grinning widely. When he catches your dissatisfied sleepy face, he tries to hold back a bit on his delight, obviously your discomfort is not a good thing, but he can't help being ecstatic that you're actually in his bed.

Leviathan notices because you always stay up really late with him to play video games. Don’t get him wrong, he likes playing with you, like a lot, but whenever he suggests going to bed, you always refuse. “One more game, please, Levi?” Come on, how can he say no to you? It’s just that one game always turns into three and the next thing he knows you’ve played for another hour.

One day he gathers up enough courage to ask you why and when you tell him you can’t fall asleep he immediately softens up. “Well, I, uh, so do you want to, maybe, I don’t know, sleep here?” His face is flushed but he insists that maybe it’ll be easier for you to sleep in the tub instead of your bed. You do sleep better that night, but it's not because of the tub, it's more because of Levi's calming breath and the slow heaving of his chest when he sleeps. After that, you often stay the night when you've played video games together and on the nights you have a particularly hard time falling asleep, you just lay there and listen to him sleep.

Satan reads for you until you fall asleep. He doesn't care how long it takes, he'll let you lay on his chest, while he reads for literal hours and he doesn't stop until he's absolutely sure that you're sleeping.

Like with sleepy MC, he'll begin to research why you can't sleep. He'll ask you if you're feeling stressed, offer to do your homework or if he needs to tell Lucifer to give you fewer chores. If he catches you drinking coffee or energy drinks, he'll tell you that those can actually worsen your sleep quality.

It gets to a point were you have to tell him that he's being kinda annoying about it. He'll frown and apologize. "I was just trying to help but I see that I might have overstepped." He's being dramatic here. Give him a couple of kisses and he's back at it again.

Whenever you wake too early in the morning and simply cannot lay in bed any longer Asmodeus is the one you go to. He's always up early, doing his skincare routine. He lets you sit in his bed, wrapped up in blankets, all bleary-eyed and with messy hair, while he’ll sit by his vanity. He thinks you look absolutely lovely, so sleepy and he'll look at you through the mirror, fighting the urge to smile and accidentally ruin his make-up.

Once he's done, he'll bring you to his chair and offer to do your skincare or makeup if you wear that. He'll take extra care, messaging your skin and shoulders. The sensation sometimes almost lulls you back to sleep.

Beelzebub absolutely hates it when you're cranky or depressed. "What's wrong?" he'll ask and when you tell him it's just because you didn't get any sleep, he gets quite confused. Humans get cranky if they don't get enough sleep? That seems awfully inconvenient...

I like to think that Beel is one of the best cuddlers of the brothers. He just has that build you know? He'll spoon you, wrap his arm around your waist and press kisses to your hair. If you ask, he'll tell you stories about his brothers, slowly lowering his voice to a point where it's just a low whisper. He waits till your breathing slows and he knows you're asleep. Then he'll kiss your head good night and go to sleep himself.

When you tell Belphegor that you have trouble sleeping, he doesn’t really understand you. What do you mean you can’t sleep? But you’re tired? Just go to bed?

Honestly, he’s kind of annoying about it but when he realizes that you genuinely just cannot sleep he apologizes. I don’t remember if this is ever addressed in the game, but I like to think that being around Belphegor actually makes humans kind of sleepy and because of that, naps are really nice with him because you actually manage to get some proper sleep.

Sometimes, Belphie and Beel team up and you all sleep together in the attic. You'll have Belphie facing you, face hidden in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around you tightly. Then you'll have Beel behind you, an arm thrown over the both of you. It's the perfect combo, that helps you actually sleep through the night.

thank you for reading! <3 find my other stuff here.

All graphic dividers are by @/cafekitsune

[trouble-off-grid]

Little Fish

Here it is, this is my piece for the mcyt g/t enchange, and my person was @lorie-the-little-ghost! I’ve never written Karlnap before so I was supper excited to see this prompt and I hope you enjoy! Living with Sapnap felt just as natural as swimming, of course, there were the occasional rough parts, but the reward was worth more to Karl than any risks that came with sharing a house with a human. When Sapnap first suggested they were to get a house together, Karl all but glowed at the idea. He loved Sapnap and couldn’t wait to spend even more time together with his boyfriend, there was only a slight problem with this. The house they moved into was right on the seaside and while the view was truly gorgeous, Karl couldn’t help the way his body froze anytime Sapnap mentioned going down to the actual beach.

The idea of Sapnap seeing what Karl actually was terrified him, he truly loved Sapnap and as much as he hated keeping such a main part of him a secret from him he couldn’t help but be more scared of losing his love. So he agreed to move there and just promised himself that he would avoid all water while around Sapnap. Even if it hurt him every time he declined going down to the beach with some flimsy excuse. After all, the man was relentless with his efforts, and seeing his face fall every time was not something Karl wished for.

It was this current thought process that brought Karl back to the conversation he was having with his boyfriend, “Come on babe I promise it’ll be so much fun, I even packed us lunch!” Sapnap pleaded, staring at him with his best puppy dog eyes. Karl almost broke then and there, maybe if he went and just stuck strictly to the sand everything would be okay. But the little voice in his head couldn’t stop whispering about all the what-if scenarios. Ignoring how his heart yearned to be able to swim with Sapnap while in his true form. 

He looked away from Sapnap, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes at his answer, “I’m sorry Sap but I’ve just got a really bad cramp right now” The excuse sounded weak even to Karl, and as soon as he mumbled out his answer he was standing from his chair and making his way down to their bedroom. He immediately flopped down onto the bed and groaned loudly into his pillow. Getting all his frustrations out he grabbed it with both hands and curled himself around it, trying to swallow down the guilt he felt at lying to Sapnap.

Meanwhile, Sapnap just stared as his boyfriend all but ran out of the room from him. Sighing he sat down the bag with their lunches in it on the counter and slumped into the seat Karl was previously sitting in. He couldn’t help but feel that Karl was hiding something from him. He seemed so excited to move in together yet there were times when it felt like Karl would just completely pull away from him. Thinking over all the odd encounters he’s had with Karl recently made him notice how these moments aligned with anytime Sapnap mentioned going to the beach. 

Raking through his brain for possible solutions he tried to think of why Karl would avoid the beach like the plague. It’s not as if he avoided water either, as the man still took showers like a normal person. So if Karl wasn’t scared of water then why wouldn’t he want to swim? As if his muddled thoughts cleared suddenly, he was left with an answer that made so much sense he was shocked he hadn’t figured it out earlier. 

Karl can’t swim. 

It made perfect sense! He must have just been too embarrassed to say anything so instead, he just avoided his problem. Well, how could Sapnap claim himself as the best boyfriend if he continued to let Karl suffer alone in his embarrassment? Sapnap was determined to teach Karl to swim now, he smirked as he thought about his adorable boyfriend clinging to him as they waded in the ocean together. Taking their food out of the bag and putting it in the fridge Sapnap left the kitchen and made his way to their office where he began his research on how to teach someone to swim. 

Deciding to stop wallowing in his own self-pity Karl peeked out of the bedroom trying to gauge where Sapnap was in the house. Karl was already hiding a big part of himself, the last thing he wanted to do was completely hide away from Sapnap. Walking through the hallway he saw the lights were on in the office, he gently knocked on the door before pushing it fully open and entering. 

At the sound of Karl coming in Sapnap swiftly closed the tab he was on and spun his chair around to face Karl. They made eye contact and Karl gave a little apologetic smile at Sapnap, normally the younger would feel disheartened after his boyfriend declined his offer once again but knowing the truth now he smiled fully back at him. 

When Karl walked into the office he was a little suspicious of how quickly Sapnap closed whatever screen he was on but with how big of a secret Karl was keeping from him he figured it was only fair Sapnap got to have his own. So instead of questioning the weird behavior he just moved on getting ready to apologize to Sapnap only to be surprised when Sapnap genuinely smiled at him, “I just wanted to apologize again for not being able to go to the beach with you but uh, I think I might’ve just eaten something bad.” 

Standing from his chair Sapnap made his way over to Karl grabbing both his hands in his own and rubbing a circle gently on his boyfriends’ skin, “Hey, no worries baby, I understand and besides there’s always next time,” He let a smirk grow on his face and wiggled his eyebrows at Karl, delighted in the way he broke into giggles at his antics.

Karl seemed to stare longingly into Sapnaps eyes as he replied, “Yeah, next time.”

Next time seemed to come sooner than Karl was prepared for as normally Sapnap waited a couple of days to ask him the dreaded question again but it seemed his boyfriend had other plans for today. 

Sapnap had left the house extra early that morning just to go shopping for the items needed for his swimming lessons with Karl. He couldn’t wait to show Karl the kickboard and fun assortment of floaties he had bought.     

He was practically vibrating with excitement as he unlocked the front door shopping bags in hand. He couldn’t help but smile in glee when he saw Karl started as he burst in through the door and saw Karl startle. 

Their current positions felt like Deja vu as Sapnap prepared to ask Karl the same question he asked yesterday. But this time would be different as now Sapnap knew why Karl was declining all his offers. 

“Karl my love! We are going to the beach today!” Paying attention he noticed how Karl winced once he realized what was said, only reaffirming Sapnaps suspicion. 

Biting his lip in contemplation he tried to find the words to say, “Sap I would love to, but, I just ate and I really shouldn’t go swimming right after eating.” Normally this would be the moment when Sapnap tried and failed to not act sad over Karl declining and then he would eventually give up asking until another today. Today however Sapnap seemed to only grin wider after hearing Karls response.

“See I knew you’d say that, every time I’ve asked you to come down to the beach with me you’ve always declined,” Karl wasn’t sure he liked the way Sapnap was walking towards him as he spoke, “I’ve been trying to figure out why you would say no.” At this point Sapnap was practically standing over Karl making the taller have to look up at him as he was sitting down, “And I finally know the truth.” 

Karl felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest with how fast it was beating. How could Sapnap know? He had been so careful not to slip up and expose himself yet somehow his boyfriend had still found out. “Go on, say it then.” He closed his eyes in preparation, not being able to look at Sapnap when he said it.

“You can’t swim!” Those three words had Karl startled out of his thoughts.

“I, uh what?”

“Yeah babe, I know you’ve been too embarrassed to say anything to me but I figured it out yesterday and I’ve decided I’m gonna teach you to swim.” Sapnap sounded so sure that Karl found it hard to even respond to him.

“That’s not- I know how to swim Sapnap” He weakly argued.

“You don’t have to lie anymore, plenty of people can’t swim Karl, you don’t have to be embarrassed around me,” and before Karl could even respond Sapnap was emptying the grocery bags to show his earlier purchases.

“Look! I even got stuff so that It would be easier for me to teach you!” 

Karl could feel as his eyes start to swell with tears, he was so lucky to have such a caring boyfriend, if only he knew the truth. Standing up so he was now right next to Sapnap, staring down at him. “Sapnap, this was all very sweet of you but I can’t go to the beach with you.”

He could see confusion paint Sapnaps’ face as he spoke, “I don’t understand, why are you avoiding this?”

“I just can’t okay?” He turned to leave the room, desperate to escape this conversation but found his wrist caught in Sapnaps hand before he could. 

“If you can swim then why are you avoiding me on this? Did I do something?” 

“No, I just can’t talk about it,” He tried to pull his wrist free but found Sapnap still holding on. 

“Why can’t you tell me?” Sapnap pleaded.

“I just cant!” Karl tried pulling his wrist out again at the same time Sapnap let go. Not expecting the sudden momentum Karl stumbled backward flailing his arms to try and catch his balance. As he did so he knocked a glass of water straight off the counter and onto himself.

It was as if time froze before multiple things happened all at once. Both men turned to a state of panic, Sapnap worried the glass hurt Karl while Karl was panicking over what he knew was about to happen. He could see Sapnaps lips moving, trying to ask if he were okay but his ears were filled with a ringing sensation. Karl could only pray that this time he got water on himself would be a fluke, maybe nothing bad would happen.

 As if thinking about it made it true he immediately felt himself go from towering over Sapnap to now having to stare up at him from the floor in just a quick flash. He had never seen Sapnap from this angle and he could only imagine the short jokes Sapnap would make if he saw him now. That is if he was able to ignore the fishtail now attached to his body and only focused on his new height.

Meanwhile, Sapnap stared in disbelief as one second his boyfriend was in front of him and the next he wasn’t. Looking around the now empty room and not seeing Karl he started to panic and call out, “Karl?! Baby, where’d you go?!”

While Karl was trying to figure out a plan to get away without being seen he couldn’t help but hear how desperate Sapnap sounded. He kept glancing from his tail, up to his boyfriend, and then again. If not for the way Sapnap was still calling out in a panic he might not have worked up the courage to gain his attention. Drawing all his nerves Karl sat, petting his tail for comfort, he had to remind himself that this was Sapnap, his loving boyfriend, who would never hurt him.

“Sapnap!” Watching as the aforementioned male looked around in confusion he continued, “Look down!” 

Sapnap hearing Karl’s voice looked down to see his boyfriend, not only tiny but sprouting a rainbow fishtail. Crouching down to get a closer look at him he saw that sure enough, his boyfriend was now a tiny merman,” So I take it this means you do know how to swim?” He joked.

Flustered, Karl covered his face with his hands, “That’s the first thing you’re going to say to me?!” God Karl couldn’t believe how much of a nimrod his boyfriend was. 

“Just trying to lighten the mood” He chuckled. It still felt like his eyes were deceiving him and he started to reach out to Karl only to pause right before actually touching him when he saw Karl flinch away from him. “I would never hurt you, Karl,” he whispered, keeping his hand right in front of Karl.

Slowly reaching out he put his hand on Sapnaps finger marveling at the size difference, “It’s not you I’m scared of, it’s just your height” 

Sapnap felt his breath hitch at the feeling of Karls little hand on him, looking closely he could even see little webbing between his fingers, “What, jealous that I’m taller?”

“Oh shut up nimrod!” Karl lightly smacked Sapnaps finger and gasped in surprise when he nudged him back in retaliation. 

“So, a fish huh, don’t you like need water or something?” His eyes squinted in concern as he stared at Karl as if he was about to drop dead.

“To stay in this form I need to remain wet, otherwise I’ll transform back, my scales will probably dry out soon enough”

“Do you want to? Stay in that uh form I mean, If you want, I can run a bath for you?” 

“Yeah actually, that would be really nice.”

Surprised that Karl agreed Sapnap perked up cupping his hands around Karl but not touching him just yet, “Is it okay if I carry you?”

Karl had never been held by a human before but if he was going to do this he was glad it was someone he trusted as much as Sapnap, “Yeah.”

Constantly looking at Karls’ face to see if there was any discomfort he slowly began to close his hands underneath the little fish. Until Karl was fully cupped safely in his hands, where he brought him against his chest for extra support, “I’m gonna stand now, okay?” He watched as Karl clung onto his thumb for support and nodded his head in confirmation.

With that Sapnap slowly stood up, thankful that he was still wearing shoes as he made his way around the broken glass on the floor, making a reminder to clean that up later. Careful not to jostle his little passenger he slowly made his way to the bathroom. Once inside he gently moved Karl to one hand, using his other to get the bath set up. 

He absentmindedly started to stroke Karl’s tail while waiting for the bath to fill, awed by how much trust Karl put into him. Karl may not have got a choice in Sapnap finding out his secret, but Sapnap was determined to do anything to show his boyfriend that he could be trusted with this.

Eventually, the tub was filled and Sapnap gently slid Karl into the water, “Into the tub for you.” As soon as he said that he felt water hit his face and looked to see Karl giggling before swimming under the water.

Sapnap couldn’t help but watch in amazement as Karl expertly glided through the water, truly able to see for the first time just how pretty his tail was as it seemed to sparkle underwater. It also looked like Karl just enjoyed swimming and it made Sapnap ponder when the last time he got to transform was. 

He waited until Karl popped his head above water to praise him, “You’re really fast underwater.” The blush that coated Karls tiny face was just an added bonus as he complimented his boyfriend.

“I’ve never really gotten to test out how fast I can go” 

“Well let’s see then,” that was all the heads up Karl got before his boyfriend’s hand approached the water ready to chase him down. 

Karl squealed before diving back under the water, and the chase was on. It was a little difficult for Karl to avoid capture while stuck in a smaller area but he was able to hold his own very well and the few times Sapnap almost got him he was able to slip out of his grasp and keep the chase going. 

It wasn’t until Sapnap used both hands to fully cup around Karl and scoop him out of the water completely did he admit defeat,” Sapnap,” Karl whined, “that’s cheating,” he pouted.

“Maybe this will make up for it,” He brought Karl up to his face and began to pepper kisses all over his body, delighting in Karl’s laughter and little squeals. He finally backed off, leaving Karl to catch his breath in his hands, minuscule chest breathing heavily as he did.

“Fish or not, I love you, Karl,” Karl didn’t think his face could get any redder at this point and he used his hands to cover his face before gesturing for Sap to come closer.

At his request, Sapnap leaned in closer, going cross-eyed as he watched Karl press a kiss to the tip of his nose, “I love you too, Sapnap.”

[catrasredemption-moved]

Can you do a fic where catra gives birth without adora by her side and panics please

I feel like I can't do justice compared to the others that exist, but sure!

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

Adora hadn't wanted to go.

Catra hadn't really wanted to let her go, either. She was coming up on her eighth month of pregnancy, and every single nerve screamed in imagined agony when she wasn't in Adora's arms. She hated it - she had gotten over clinging to Adora years ago. But everyone assured it was okay. She was pregnant. She was allowed to want Adora right by her side all the time.

But this was important. Two ally planets were threatening to go to war, and there was a risk of Etheria ending up in the middle of it. Which, unfortunately, made it very much their problem. Normally, Glimmer would have brought Catra (who was surprisingly good at being diplomatic and talking people down), but Adora had flat out said no to the idea of her very pregnant wife going anywhere near a warzone. Catra would have argued, but that was fair, really. She felt the same way.

So Glimmer had taken Adora and Bow, with the hopes that the three of them would manage to calm everyone down. Catra had resisted the urge to point out that they hadn't even know what a coherent plan was before she joined them.

It sucked, watching the three people she trusted most clear Etheria's atmosphere and disappear into the stars. But after ten years, Catra no longer felt completely alone in the castle. Netossa and Spinnerella had agreed to stay in Bright Moon while Glimmer was gone; they had declared themselves the baby's aunts the minute Catra announced she was pregnant. Entrapta, after nearly two year of work, had managed to replicate Prime's teleportation technology to create teleporting points in each kingdom, so Scorpia could visit her bestie whenever she wanted. Micah had decided the new baby was going to be his grandchild (with a pointed look at Glimmer, who had rolled her eyes and informed him they were adopting), and was happy to look in on Catra every single hour, if she'd let him. She did not let him.

And they were great. They were all great. Catra loved all of them. But Adora's absence was an aching hole in her chest. She wanted her wife. She wanted her when she woke up at three in the morning, back screaming in pain, and there was no one she could ask to give her a massage, or even just hold her until she managed to fall back to sleep. She wanted to see the adoration in Adora's expression every time the baby kicked. She wanted to hear Adora's excited babbling as she told literally anyone who would listen about how they had just finished decorating the nursery, and it was so cute. She wanted Adora.

She really wanted Adora now, as she whimpered into her pillow, tightly clutching her swollen belly. Melog nuzzled her cheek, meowing nervously.

"No, it's fine," she mumbled. "It's nothing. Fake contractions, remember?"

That got her a very unimpressed meow in return. The fake contractions were sporadic and mildly painful, but this? This was a steady pain, pressing down on her uterus, coming approximately every ten minutes, as Melog kept reminding her. She reached out, pushing their snout away.

"I'm still three and a half weeks from my due date. It's fine."

Lying down wasn't a viable option; there was no comfortable position. She pushed herself out of bed, shuffling unsteadily around the room to try and relieve the constant ache on her back. Melog helped support her when she had to stop and lean on the wall, breathing heavily.

It wasn't fine.

"Fuck," she breathed, sliding down the wall, tears burning in her eyes. This couldn't be happening now. No. No no no no. Adora wasn't here. She didn't even know where Adora was. Not within communication range - Catra had already tried to call her. Who knew when she would be back. Catra was alone.

Not alone, Melog reminded her, nudging her shoulder. There were people here who could help her. A healer from Mystacor had even transferred to Bright Moon to be on hand for any emergencies, and the eventual delivery.

"Okay," she whispered. Melog nodded and disappeared. And she was alone.

She was alone.

Adora wasn't there. Adora wouldn't make it back in time. Her entire support system had relied on her wife, because why wouldn't it? Adora would be there. Adora didn't break her promises. Adora would be there.

Another contraction seized her, closing up her already struggling lungs. Tears pricked at her eyes as she wheezed uselessly. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe.

A hand rested on her shoulder. "Easy," Micah said, squeezing. "It's okay. You're okay. Can you breathe with me?"

He exaggerated his own breaths, giving Catra a guide to follow along. It took a few minutes, but finally she managed to take a shaky breath, curling in on herself. "Okay. Good. What's wrong?"

"I - I think I'm in labor," she admitted unwillingly. "And Adora isn't here, and she supposed to be here, she was so excited, I can't take this away from her, I can't - I'm the worst wife-"

Micah squeezed her shoulder again, cutting her off. "You can't control when this happens," he reminded her gently. "That doesn't make you a bad wife. Or mother for that matter." Was he a mind reader? "If Adora doesn't make it back in time, it's okay. I know she'll be disappointed, but she'll be here for everything else. And I know this is hard, but you have to relax a little. The stress isn't good for you or the baby. Take another breath for me. Please?"

Catra nodded, sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly. The bedroom door burst open, Netossa and Melog hurrying in. "Spinny is getting Ivy. Is it really time?"

"Think so," Micah said, taking Catra's hands and helping her stand. "Keep trying to call Darla. Hopefully we can get in touch as soon as they're back in communication range."

Melog brushed against Catra's leg, purring loudly. She scratched the back of their ears, smile turning to a grimace when the dull pain of contraction started to grip her again.

It was going to be okay.

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

"Adora?"

"Yeah?"

"Catra is never allowed to be pregnant again. That was the worst."

It turned out talking and being diplomatic was a lot harder than just punching things. It had taken nearly four days to negotiate a deal that made both planets happy and stopped a war. Adora was fairly certain defeating Horde Prime had been easier.

She and Glimmer were sprawled out on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Bow was slumped in the captain's seat, sleeping. Entrapta was working energetically at the console. She had gotten to spend the last week on Darla, since they all knew letting her try to talk to people was a nightmare. Adora wanted her energy.

"I'm so tired," Adora groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. Glimmer reached out to shove her shoulder.

"Aren't you the one about to have a newborn? You better rest up now, you'll never sleep again."

Adora laughed, ignoring the uncomfortable swoop in her stomach. She missed Catra. She hated that she'd had to leave. She just wanted to be back.

"Entering Etheria's atmosphere!" Entrapta called, as if reading Adora's mind. "ETA - oh."

The console was beeping. There was a call coming in. Entrapta tapped a few buttons, bringing up a large screen. It flickered to life, showing Netossa, who was looking at something off screen.

"Yes I'm sure I'm calling the right - oh!" She jumped when she saw the call had connected. "Hey, finally!"

"Is something wrong?" Glimmer asked, immediately sitting up. Adora shot up as well, suddenly shaking. Netossa chuckled nervously.

"Okay, don't freak out. But um... Catra had the baby."

"What?!" Adora's voice cracked. She practically sprinted across the flight deck, grabbing the screen. "Is she okay? Is the baby okay? How?!"

"Are you asking how the baby was born?"

Normally, Adora liked Netossa's humor. This was not normally. "Netossa!"

"Okay, sorry. She's okay, the baby is okay, they're both sleeping now. It got a little rough, and Catra might need a little more time to recover, but she's okay."

Adora felt lightheaded. She took a step back, sitting hard on the ground. Catra had the baby. The baby was born while she was gone.

"Um... ETA five minutes," Entrapta said, quickly hitting a few buttons on the console and speeding Darla up. Glimmer and Bow moved to sit on either side of Adora, hugging her tight.

"I missed it," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. She had one job, to be there when Catra gave birth, and she missed it. "She probably hates me."

"There is no way Catra hates you," Bow said confidently. "Trust me."

"She never stops talking about how much she loves you and how you're going to be a great mother," Glimmer added. "I share an office with her, I hear about it every single day. 'Adora stayed up all night painting the nursery, Adora's been practicing how to swaddle with some stuffed animals, she's trying to set a record swaddling time, Adora woke me up at three a.m. because she had her head on my stomach and was letting the baby kick her ear' - seriously, it never stopped. I tried to send her on maternity leave two months ago so she'd stop."

"But I-"

"I know, you missed it," Glimmer said, hugging Adora. "But Catra isn't going to be mad. She probably just wants you there now. It's going to be okay."

Adora scrubbed her eyes, sniffling. "Yeah. It'll be okay."

They landed, and Adora darted off the ship. Bow and Glimmer smartly decided they could visit later, and let her go.

Netossa and Spinerella were sitting outside of Adora's and Catra's room, playing a game on their tracker pad. They both gave Adora a grin when they saw her approaching.

"Hey Mom. How's it going?"

Adora slowed to a walk, hands shoved in her pockets to keep from fidgeting. "Is... Is Catra mad?"

"Is Catra ever not mad?"

Spinnerella elbowed Netossa. "She's a little upset, but mostly at herself. I think she'll be happier you're here, though."

"How long has it been?"

"About twelve hours."

Adora had barely missed it. She did her best to put on a brave smile. "Thanks for being here."

"Honestly, thank Micah. He's the only one besides Ivy who knew what was going on."

"And he didn't almost pass out," Spinnerella added, smiling wickedly at her wife. Netossa gave her an offended look.

"I did not almost pass out."

"You absolutely would have if I didn't drag you out."

Adora left the wives to their argument, carefully peeking into the room. Catra was sleeping, bundled up in a nest of pillows and blankets. Adora just barely got a look at her before she was being tackled. Melog nuzzled up to her, purring and licking her cheek. She laughed.

"Hi, Melog."

This was good, right? Melog always did this when Catra was feeling particularly needy but didn't want to say anything. Adora couldn't have been in too much trouble.

She stood, feeling a bit more emboldened, and toed off her boots before making her way across the room.

And she finally got her first look at her baby.

They were so small. A small mop of blonde hair barely hid twitching ears, little claws kneading mindlessly against Catra's chest. Their fur was a mix of Adora's skin and Catra's fur - a beautiful dark blonde that was absolutely the most amazing thing Adora had ever seen. She wanted to pick them up, to hold them, to feel their weight in her arms. But she also didn't want to disrupt this moment of pure tranquility.

Catra made a small noise, nose twitching, and one eye fluttered open. "Hey 'Dora," she mumbled sleepily. "Really left me t'do all the hard, huh?"

Adora pressed a hand to her lips to keep from laughing. "Mind if I join you?"

"Left enough room for you, didn't I?"

She had, Adora realized. A perfectly sized space right next to her for Adora to slide into. She tossed her jacket off and carefully slid in next to Catra. Her wife shifted slightly to snuggled into her chest.

"How're you feeling?"

"Tired. Your child is so difficult."

"Oh, my child?"

"Yup. Stubborn, just like you."

Adora finally reached out to brush a finger against one of their tiny paws. "Cute, though."

"Got that from me."

George and Lance, it turned out, had a surprisingly extensive knowledge about Magicats, and had been more than happy to educate Catra after they'd met her. One of the big things they'd learned was that Magicats didn't name their children before they were a year old (some superstition) and all babies used neutral pronouns until they were old enough to understand what gender was and could choose their own. Two more things Shadow Weaver had taken away from Catra. Two things she was determined to give their baby.

"Do you think I can..."

Catra rolled her eyes, yawning. "No, Adora, you can't hold your own child. Come on, seriously?"

"I just don't want to bother them!"

Adora was reaching out even as she said that, carefully scooping up the little bundle. They wiggled a bit, making a few distressed noises, but stopped when they were close enough to burrow into Adora's shirt. And if the baby hadn't owned Adora's heart before that moment, they certainly did now.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, to their baby and to Catra. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"M'sorry they were so impatient," Catra murmured, snuggling a bit closer to Adora now that she was free. S'okay, though. You're here now."

Yes, she was. And she'd be damned if she ever left this planet again. Why would she? Everything she needed was already here.

[labomi]

play by the rules [1]

Nanami Kento is a well-known bodyguard who always adheres to his own set of principles when completing a job. But when his next assignment is protecting you, he suddenly finds himself second-guessing his morals and questions whether or not some rules are just meant to be broken.

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: none for this chapter, please look at the series masterlist for general content warnings

notes: i’ve been meaning to write a multichap fic for nanami for so long and i finally got around to outlining most of the story and writing the first chapter yay! i’m a little unsure if the plot will actually be good or not lol but i’m hoping it’ll turn out okay! thanks for reading!

series masterlist

There’s a distinctive knock on your door that pulls you out of your thoughts as you lay on your bed with an unopened book in your lap. You had been meaning to read the story for the past three months after seeing rave reviews about it online, but for some reason, you couldn’t quite find the energy to start reading. Every morning, you pulled the book from your shelf with the full intention of getting past the first page. But every night, it was returned to the same spot on your shelf, remaining untouched.

With a quiet sigh, you force yourself to crawl out of bed, leaving behind the comfortable warmth of your blankets. You drag your feet as you walk over to the door, dreading the imminent conversation you’re about to have.

To be honest, you’d rather he just leave you alone to wallow in self-pity in the comfort of your own room. You knew he had good intentions, but you dreaded his frequent check-ins with you. If he had no good news to deliver, you didn’t want to see him. And there had been no good news for the past three months.

You have no expectations that today will be any different.

With a hesitant hand on the doorknob, you take a deep breath and try to suppress the bitterness you feel towards the person on the other side of the door. Once prepared, you open the door with a wide grin and a bright twinkle in your eyes.

“Hi Dad!” You greet him with a high-pitched, chipper voice.

Your father looks pleased to see your lively expression. “Good morning, princess. Do you mind if I come in?”

You manage to hide your surprise. Most of his visits consist of a quick hello just to confirm you’re alive in your room, but he heads off to go back to work. If he intends to enter your room, there must be something serious he wishes to discuss. You try to ignore the small glimmer of hope that flutters in your chest. 

“Of course!” You waltz over to your bed and sit down, patting the space next to you. Your father sits on the plush bed beside you, twiddling his thumbs idly in his lap.

“I’m aware these past three months have been hard on you, princess,” he begins.

You dig your nails into the palm of your hands and bite your tongue to prevent yourself from spitting out a harsh retort.

Yeah, no kidding.

“They’ve been tough for me too.” He pats your leg comfortingly, giving you a sincere, apologetic look. “I hate seeing you stuck in your room all day, but you know I only do this because I love you and because I want to keep you safe.”

Your father’s words are genuinely heartfelt. There’s no doubt he cares for your well-being and bemoans the unfortunate situation, but you’re not in the mood to be swayed by his guilt.

After all, it’s because of him that you’ve been trapped inside for three long months.

“It’s okay, Dad. I don’t blame you.” You try your best to act like a caring daughter who wants to console her father and assuage his fears that you despise him for his actions. “I know it’s for my own good.”

Three months ago, your father fired your personal bodyguard. 

This also meant that three months ago, your father shredded your only ticket to the outside world.

You can only venture outside the family’s property lines if a trained professional, tasked with keeping you safe from potential harm, accompanies you to pre-approved destinations.

Your father worries about your safety in public, because he often does business with local mafia groups in the area. He is not an influential or well-known member of the underground economy, but in this line of work, it isn’t unusual to piss off the wrong person in a deal gone bad. Family members are the most common targets, so you are a natural choice for disgruntled clients to take their frustrations out on. 

On one hand, you believe it is unfair that you are forced to live a restricted life under the constant protection of a bodyguard because of your father. You have nothing to do with his business, yet you must suffer from the consequences of it.

On the other hand, there is no doubt that you reap the benefits from the success of your father’s career. You had never worked a day in your life and always received any material goods you asked for, so perhaps you do deserve to face at least a share of the consequences.

Your father is insistent that you must have your own personal bodyguard after an incident involving your mother that occurred when you were just a baby. There was an altercation when she had encountered one of your father’s enemies while doing some errands alone in the city.

It hadn’t ended well, to say the least.

So for three long months, you were stuck inside. To his credit, your father had immediately begun the search for a new bodyguard, but his vetting process was so rigorous that it was not a timely process. There had been some mishaps in the past with previous guardians, and your father had vowed to never let those mistakes happen again.

You know you should be grateful that your father cared about your safety enough to have a dedicated group of his team spend endless hours thoroughly investigating each and every potential candidate. You also know you shouldn’t complain about being trapped in a luxurious mansion, but you hate being at home.

You hate seeing your father’s workers around the premises.

You hate thinking about what sort of shady business deals are happening just a floor below you.

You want nothing to do with it. You don’t even want to think about it, which is why you prefer to spend as much time as possible away from home. 

“I’m so glad you understand,” your father says with a relieved sigh. “But I have some good news this time.”

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat. The moment feels almost surreal. You had been waiting to hear those words for so long, you almost thought it would never happen.

“I approved your new bodyguard.”

This time, you didn’t have to fake your excitement.

“Really?” you gasp, looking at your father with wide eyes.

He nods at you.

Unable to contain your burst of elation, you throw your arms around your father with a squeal, giving him a fierce hug. “Thank you! Thank you!”

Your father lets out a hearty laugh, patting your back as he revels in seeing your utter joy. “He starts tomorrow, so you may leave the property again in the morning.”

In less than 24 hours, you are free to once again explore the city, visit popular shops, and stop by your favorite restaurants. You can barely contain your enthusiasm as your heartbeat drums in your chest from the rush of adrenaline after hearing such wonderful news. Pulling away from your father, you continue to beam at him, feeling an unusual wave of gratitude towards the man.

A loud beep disrupts the heartfelt moment.

Your father looks at his smartwatch with a tight frown. “I’m so sorry, princess, but I have to go to a meeting now.” He gets off the bed and gives you a small smile. “I’m glad I could finally give you some good news. I’ll hopefully see you for dinner tonight.”

Before your father can leave, you reel in your scattered thoughts after being almost too excited to think straight. “Dad, before you go, can I at least ask for this name?”

You cannot believe you almost forgot to ask such a crucial question.

“Nanami. Nanami Kento.”

You nod at him. “Thank you! Good luck at your meeting!”

Alone once again, you throw yourself a little celebration which consists of childishly dancing around the room blasting your favorite “good vibes” playlist. Afterward, you grab your laptop and plop onto your bed with a satisfied grin. You crack your knuckles. 

It’s time to get to work. 

In order to maximize your free time tomorrow, you need to have a rough idea about what you want to do and where you want to go. But before you start the task, you need to make one important phone call.

“Hey, Itadori.”

Itadori Yuuji is one of your father’s henchmen, but he’s a sweet boy who had nowhere else to go when his grandfather died. Luckily, he isn’t directly involved in the main operations of your father’s business. Known for his fast feet and powerful arms, he is mostly used as a source of manual labor to move heavy boxes that are brought in or shipped out of the various underground warehouses scattered throughout the property.

The two of you had become friends when you saw him trying to sneak food out of the main kitchen during the late hours of the night. Only your family and your father’s trusted confidants had permission to be in this part of the mansion.

Itadori immediately got on his knees and begged you not to tell anyone that he was stealing food, but you just laughed and showed him where the good snacks were located. Together, the two of you had a mini feast using the leftovers from the culinary staff. It was the first of many secret dinners to be held.

“Hey. What’s up?” he answers.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Can you sneak into my father’s office and copy a file for me? It’s someone named Nanami Kento.”

There’s a groan. “Seriously? But you know how hard it is to sneak into his office,” he whines over the phone.

“I’m sorry, Itadori,” you apologize. You know you aren’t making his life any easier, but you need him to do this for you. “But I know you can do it. You’ve done it plenty of times before without a problem.”

Itadori sighs. He knows he can’t refuse you, not because he’s afraid that you’ll turn him in for punishment (or worse). No, Itadori genuinely likes you, and he’s grateful for your presence in his life for many reasons. Therefore, he does whatever he can to help you out whenever you ask.

“Alright. You got it.”

“Thanks, Itadori.”

Several hours later, a manila folder is slipped underneath your door. With a victorious grin, you grab the folder and set it on your desk. You shoot Itadori a quick text confirming that you got the delivery and thanking him once again for his help.

Quivering in anticipation, you open the folder and see a grainy, black and white copy of a man’s photo on top of the stack of papers. Even with the image’s poor quality, you can see the man’s sharp cheekbones and styled, light-colored hair. You think he looks rather handsome, but you’re not quite sure with the fuzziness of the copy.

Setting the photo aside, you read his file with an interested hum. Because of your father’s rigorous vetting process, the folder is stuffed full of numerous background reports. You vaguely wonder how Itadori slid such a large stack of papers under your door.

Nanami Kento, huh.

You flip over a page and continue reading.

What an interesting man.

“Did you finally accept a new job?” Gojo asks curiously, craning his neck to get a better look at the papers spread about on Nanami’s desk. He spots a photo of a woman among the various files that catches his attention. “Who’s that?”

Nanami rubs his face with an exasperated groan, wishing his coworker would mind his own business for once. He tries to hide the photo under other papers, but Gojo is too quick. The white-haired man easily snatches the photo off the desk before Nanami can touch it and waves it in front of him in a teasing manner.

“Nice try,” he grins, pulling back to observe the photo up close. “Oh, she’s pretty cute. I’m guessing she’s your new client?”

“No,” Nanami answers begrudgingly. He knows Gojo won’t return the photo or leave him alone unless he partakes in the conversation. “Technically her father is, but she’ll be the one under my protection.”

“Oh, so you did accept a new job then.” Gojo returns the photo with a satisfied grin now that his original question had been answered. “Surprised it took you this long to choose one. How long has it been since you finished your last assignment?”

“About three months. I wasn’t in a rush to start a new job.”

Nanami can afford to be picky about his assignments now. Over the years, he has built a strong reputation as a proficient bodyguard who always follows orders and always gets the job done. Now that he is well-known in the industry with a long list of satisfied clients, Nanami no longer has to scramble to accept any odd job. Plus, as part of Gojo’s renowned bodyguard service agency, he can rely on the secretaries to filter out any scams or seemingly impossible requests before they reach his desk.

Nanami is now constantly flooded with inquiries from influential celebrities, notorious mafia members, and other wealthy figures. These people are always willing to pay big bucks for an extra sense of security as they go about their lives, but Nanami is no longer interested in solely the money now that his multiple bank accounts are flush with cash. Instead, he wants to take it easy with a simple, straightforward assignment that won’t involve a lot of gunfire, blood, or death. 

Being a bodyguard is a lucrative career, but it is also both physically and mentally taxing.

Simply put, Nanami is tired.

This is why he waited three long months to find his next job. With each additional request, he ignored how many zeros were listed as compensation and instead took his time to scrutinize the client, their family, and their motivations in seeking a bodyguard. He had a mental image of what he was looking for in his “perfect” job and much to his surprise, he stumbled upon a request that checked almost every box.

While Nanami was lost in his thoughts, Gojo had secretly snatched your file from the desk and had been skimming through it. He couldn’t resist learning more about this new client.

When Nanami returbs to his senses, he sees the missing file on his desk and glares at his white-haired coworker. Gojo just laughs in response. 

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just curious to see what kind of person would pique your interest after all this time, Mr. Picky.” He purses his lips. “Hmm, she’s not much younger than us. Surprised she’s still single too. Aren’t most women in these sorts of families forced to marry early to strengthen business ties? Oh, maybe her personality is so bad her father can’t marry her off to anyone!”

Nanami rips the file out of Gojo’s hands with a scowl. “None of that concerns me.”

“Aww, come on, Nanami,” the white-haired man pouts. “You’re going to be spending a lot of time with her. What is she’s a demon in disguise? Women are pretty scary, you know.”

Nanami figures Gojo skipped the part in the file where your father had described you as a “bright, bubbly young woman who loves to shop and eat”.

“I think I can handle it,” Nanami responds flatly. “After all, I can reasonably get along with everyone except you.”

Gojo clutches his chest dramatically, acting like he had just been shot. “Nanami, you’re so cruel to me!” He then drops his hands and places them on his hips with a devious grin. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone now. Good luck! And don’t fall in love!” He lowers his sunglasses and winks. Gojo can’t help but get in one last jab to irk his coworker.

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

Nanami is a serious professional, one who always plays by the rules. He adheres to a certain set of principles in order to remain successful in this line of work. Without them, situations can get messy, and he has all too often witnessed other bodyguards make the mistake of deviating from protocol and facing the consequences.

There are three fundamental rules that Nanami always follows without fail:

Never go above and beyond what a job asks you to do.

Once a job is finished, leave immediately.

Never get personally involved with a client.

And under no circumstances would he ever disregard any of these rules.

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter five: italian leather gloves

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, smut

rating: 18+

word count: 6.0K

A/N: so the smut warnings start to go into effect in this chapter, guys! i can’t believe how many kind messages i’ve gotten about this story. please just know that i read every single one and i promise they all make me so happy.  i really hope you guys like this chapter and i hope it answers some questions.  of course i must thank the squad @ladyartemesia @taetaewonderland @ppersonna for being an amazing support system and kick ass beta readers.  love you guys.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

****************

Everything hurts.

The moment you open your eyes, you wish you hadn’t.  Late morning sun streams bright and unforgiving into your bedroom, making the ache in your temples even more pronounced.  You spend a good ten minutes lying flat on your back, staring at the ceiling and remembering everything that went wrong last night.

So terribly, terribly wrong.

Your punishment today -- apart from the pounding headache and sour stomach -- is that despite doing your very best to drink yourself to blackout, you remember every minute of last night in painstaking detail.  There’s a cruel clarity to the way your mind replays the awkward dinner with your boss and the confrontation with Donghyuk.

And your fight with Hoseok.

Shame curls in your gut when you recall the nasty things you’d said to try and get a rise out of him. The nasty things he’d said in return when your goading finally worked.

“People like me do the dirty work so people like you can impress rich assholes at stupid parties.”

It’s not like you didn’t already know Hoseok saw you as some kind of entitled rich bitch -- but that didn’t make hearing the words spoken out loud any easier.  It didn’t make the anger you provoked in him any less jarring.

And it didn’t make the moment he saw your scar any less humiliating.

That’s when you feel like you might be sick -- when you remember the way Hoseok went completely still at the sight of your damaged skin.  The way he’d tried so hard to look like he wasn’t staring and failed.

You get out of bed and slip an oversized sweatshirt over your head, take a few deep breaths to try and calm the wobbling sensation in your stomach.  

That’s when it hits you. 

You don’t smell coffee.

****************************

Kim Seokjin looks like he’s made himself quite at home when you finally work up the nerve to leave your bedroom. He’s reclined deep into your couch, long legs propped up on your living room table, tablet in hand.  He looks up from the screen to take in your bedraggled appearance with wide eyes.

“Rough night, huh?”

“Something like that,” you say quietly.  You make your way to the kitchen in search of a glass of water and Seokjin stands up from the couch to follow you.

“Hoseok, uh --”, he pauses for a moment, rubs one hand across the back of his neck,  “ -- said he needed a couple of days to take care of some personal stuff.”

You pour lukewarm water into a glass, take one tentative sip and say nothing.

“So you’re stuck with me,” Seokjin continues slowly, “For a little while, anyway.”

You stare into your glass, unwilling to meet Seokjin’s eyes.  It shouldn’t surprise you one bit that Hoseok took off after what happened between you last night.  It probably shouldn’t hurt either.

But it does.

The little water you’ve managed to get down feels like it might come right back up.

“You okay?” Seokjin asks after a long pause.

“No,” you admit.  “I don’t feel good.  Probably going to stay in bed for the day, so it’ll be a quiet one for you.”

Seokjin nods sympathetically. 

“You know what’s good for when you’re feeling sick?” he asks.  “Samgyetang. I found some in your fridge.  It’s pretty good too, kinda --”

Your stomach lurches at the mention of that goddamned soup.

You leave Seokjin mid-sentence to retch in the privacy of your bathroom.

*****************************

The next time you open your eyes, it’s to complete darkness.

You wake disoriented, not sure if you’ve slept for hours or for days.  The last thing you remember after getting sick was barely getting down some painkillers and a little more water before crawling back into bed.  

Then it was lights out.

Physically, you feel better.  The hammering headache is gone and the motion sickness is gone with it.  But as you lie awake in the darkness, there’s no way to escape your tumultuous thoughts.  The ones that keep going back to Hoseok and that fight.

“People like me follow orders so people like you don’t have to.”

No doubt the story of how you left the Gajog has been distorted over the years, passed between gossips in some twisted game of telephone. No doubt the story that’s told now is not about the scared teenager desperate for any semblance of stability; it’s about some spoiled little girl who decided she was too good for everyone else.  

“People like me stay behind and handle our responsibilities so people like you can walk away from yours.”

That was definitely the worst blow of the night, though.  

There is just enough truth to that accusation to make it stick, to make it sting.  You did walk away. You did leave your brother behind.

You run a hand through your hair and reach for your phone to check the time.  9:30 PM.  

You feel almost human by the time you get out of the shower and walk out into the living room to find Seokjin dozing on the couch.  You feel guilty for rousing him, but it’s his job.  You know this is something you have to do right now.

“Jin,” you call out, nudging him gently.  His eyes blink back, unfocused as he tries to get his bearings.  

“Yeah?” he’s alert at once, looking around.  “You okay?”

No, but I’m going to be.

“I’m alright.  I need you to take me to see my brother.”

****************************

Namjoon has a beautiful penthouse on the water, a luxury apartment high above the Han River.  But there’s no wife, no children waiting for him at home.  Nothing in that place but echoing walls and modern art.

So he spends most of his nights at the office.

Seokjin called ahead, just in case -- but you knew your brother would be there.  He’s still dressed in his suit, a tumbler of scotch in hand when you arrive.  Seokjin doesn’t have to be asked to leave.

“You don’t look well, Amsaja,” he says quietly as you sit in the chair opposite his grand desk.

“You are not the first person to allude to that today,” you say with a humorless laugh.  You look down at your giant sweatshirt and jeans, and shove a hand through your still-wet hair. “Message received.”

His eyes are soft with concern.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” you say, blowing out a heavy breath.  “Everything.  I just -- I just needed to see you.”

You were still a little girl when you learned the hard way that tears were futile and pointless and only served to make you a target. But you feel them welling in your eyes anyway.  The reflex feels foreign and rusty after so many years of disuse.

“I’m so sorry, Namjoon,” you choke out, voice thick.  “So, so sorry.”

Namjoon sets his tumbler down on the heavy wood of his desk, walks around it and over to you. When he gets down on one knee and reaches out a hand to brush your cheek you don’t see the grown man at the helm of Seoul’s largest criminal empire.  You see the brother who took care of you when no one else would.

Despite your best efforts to stop them, the tears come anyway.

Namjoon holds you close, strokes your hair while you cry into the jacket of his expensive suit.  He doesn’t say anything for a while, just waits for your body to stop shaking with the force of your sobs and for your breathing to even out. 

“Why did you let me leave?” you ask once you’ve managed to regain some control.  “Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

Namjoon sighs, standing to stretch his legs.  He grabs his drink before walking over to the window to peer down at the lights streaking by below.

“One of us deserved to have a choice,” he says quietly.  “It was never going to be me.  I didn’t want the same for you.”

Your heart breaks all over again, hearing Namjoon say those words out loud.  Your brother, born into a legacy he never asked for and a responsibility he could never run from. Your protector who let you walk away from the life he couldn’t escape.

“You saved me,” you whisper.  “He would have killed me if I hadn’t left Seoul.”

“I know that,” Namjoon admits, “I saw it coming, too.  The worse his drinking got --  I couldn’t let that happen.  I refused to let that happen.”

You stand out of the chair to walk over to the window.  Your brother’s profile is illuminated by the passing lights, mouth set in a grim line.

“You forced him to let me go.”

It’s not a question. Namjoon nods.

“I told him I would disappear if he didn’t let you leave.  And then what? He’d have spent his entire life grooming me for nothing.  He was just weak enough from the drinking to agree. He couldn’t fight me on it anymore.”

You shut your eyes against the fresh tears that come.

“I’ve been so selfish.”

“We’re all selfish, Amsaja,” he sighs.  “We all want things we can’t have. That’s human nature.”

It makes your chest squeeze -- how desolate that admission sounds.  You think about your brother’s massive, empty apartment.  Who takes care of him? Who does he have to talk to?  You swallow past the taste of guilt in your mouth.

“We could leave all of this behind, Jaegyueo. Start over.  Make our own choices this time.”

Namjoon huffs a sad laugh into the rim of his glass.

“How I got here is not the point anymore,” he says.  “You think if I dismantled this organization right now that all of this would just stop?”

He turns away from the window to look you in the eye.

“There would be ten syndicates ready to fill the hole we would leave overnight. And I promise you,” he shakes his head, “None of them would conduct business as neatly as we do. This organization keeps everything from going to shit. This is our way of balancing the scales.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look back out the window, out to the lights that make the city glow at this time of night.  You know your brother is right.  

This is his destiny.  

“You talk about being selfish,” he continues quietly,  “How’s this for selfish?  No matter how much you’ve suffered in the past, I still want you here by my side.  I still want you to come back.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“Namjoon, I --”  He interrupts you with a raised hand.

“You don’t have to defend your stance.  You have every right to leave this all behind you forever. Just know that you are the only person on this Earth that I trust without question.”

The ice in his scotch tinkles in the quiet of the office as he swirls the contents of the glass.

“Just know that there is a part of me that will always be waiting for you to come back.”

*********************

HOSEOK

Hoseok had to get out of there.

He had to put space between you and him or he was going to lose his mind.  

Thankfully, Seokjin didn’t ask too many questions when he’d phoned in the middle of the night asking to be relieved for a few days.  Seokjin didn’t press too hard when he asked about how you were doing and Hoseok nearly took his head off.  And Seokjin hasn’t asked why Hoseok is texting him every day to make sure you’re alright.

Sometimes -- rarely -- Seokjin knows exactly when to shut the fuck up.  

Hoseok knows he should be using this time to get his shit together. 

He knows he’s this close to doing something stupid.  He knows he’s got to figure out a way to release the pressure building inside of him before he explodes.

He thinks about how satisfying it would be to put his fist through Kang Donghyuk’s face.

He stares down the stone-and-glass entrance to Kang’s apartment from the driver’s seat of his car, one hand tight around the steering wheel.  He tightens his grip on the wheel and loosens it, over and over and over.

A call comes through.

“Hey, it’s Jimin.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says flatly, eyes never leaving the entrance to that apartment building. “What’s up?”

“I already briefed Namjoon but he wanted me to call you, too.  We finally got a hit on Lee Hyejin.”

Hoseok sits up straighter in his seat.

“What did you find?”

“We got access to her accounts.  Regular payments, every two weeks -- coming through an offshore wire.  Started about three months ago.”

“Shit,” Hoseok says under his breath.  “A Ssijog account?”

“We’re still working on confirming that -- but yeah, like 99% sure.”

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face.  

Who gets to break the news to you that your only friend has been fucking with your case -- fucking with your entire life? He thinks back to how blank and despondent you’d looked the night of the snake incident, how withdrawn you’d been the night of the charity dinner. 

How much more of this pressure can you withstand before you explode?

“What about the guy?” Jimin asks, after the line is silent for too long. “Any news on him?”

“Not yet,” Hoseok murmurs, tightening his grip around the wheel again.  “But it’s coming.  I know it’s coming.”

“Okay.  Tae is still trying to get a complete list of accounts linked to that offshore one.  If we find out more, I’ll make sure you know right away.”

Hoseok ends the call just as another call comes in.

He takes one look at the screen and rubs his fingers across his tired eyes before sending it to voicemail.

He knows he could have handled the situation with Dae with more care. He knows he could have done more than end their casual arrangement with one call.  Dae had been furious, demanding he give her some kind of explanation so she could understand why it was over.  

Hoseok hadn’t been lying to her when he said he didn’t know why.

But as he sits in the dark -- staring at the entrance of Kang Donghyuk’s apartment building -- he considers for a moment that he might have been lying to himself.

His phone rings again.

“Jung,” Namjoon’s voice comes over the line. “You in the middle of something?”

“Nah,” Hoseok lies easily.  “Just relaxing.  What’s up?”

“Come have a drink with me.”

*********************

It’s nearly midnight by the time Hoseok makes it across town.

Namjoon appears to be in a contemplative mood tonight, glass of scotch in hand, long body leaned back into his plush chair.

“You’re off-duty tonight,” Namjoon says, taking a sip of his drink.  “Scotch?”

Hoseok makes a face.

“Definitely not.  Have any whiskey?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got a bottle around here somewhere.”

Namjoon picks up his desk phone to reach his assistant, who makes quick work of finding a bottle and a clean glass.  She delivers both with practiced silence before slipping out of the room.  

Hoseok can’t help but notice his boss’s gaze lingering on the pretty young woman as she retreats. He keeps his mouth shut because he’s not an idiot.

Once he has a tumbler of whiskey in hand, Hoseok leans back into his own chair, undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt.

“Something specific you want to talk about?” he asks, sipping his drink.  

“Just checking in,” Namjoon says quietly.  “I’ve barely seen you these past few weeks.  Want to make sure everything’s alright where you’re concerned.”

“I’m fine,” Hoseok says.  “Jimin called me about the shit he found on the Lee girl, though.”

“Yeah. I don’t think my sister’s going to take that news well,” Namjoon murmurs.  “She’s not exactly the trusting type.  A betrayal like this -- ”

He trails off, abandoning one thought for another.  

“Does she talk to you?”

Hoseok clears his throat. 

He tries not to think about the last time he saw you and the terrible things you’d said to one another.  He tries not to remember the look on your face before you turned away from him.  

“Not really.  Keeps to herself a lot.”

“Yeah, well.  She’s had to put up with a lot of shit over the years,” Namjoon admits, rubbing his fingers across his lips. “She keeps things close to the vest.”

Hoseok sags deeper into the plush chair and takes a drink, welcomes the burn that comes with it.  He already knows Namjoon is not looking for some kind of dialogue tonight.  Namjoon is looking to unload.  

Hoseok keeps quiet and lets him do just that.

“My sister has been punished for things beyond her control since the day she was born,” he continues.  “My role was clear from day one and hers much less so.  My father was too ignorant to figure out how to raise a little girl without a mother and too disinterested to even ask for help.”

Hoseok’s fingers tighten around his glass.

“She spent half her time trying to get his attention and the other half regretting when she finally did.”

The image of that scar comes into Hoseok’s mind, unbidden.  The jagged lines of it, the deep indent of it.  All of the tiny details that speak to the brutality behind the wound.  

“He hurt her,” Hoseok says quietly, looking past Namjoon to stare out into lights outside the window.

“A thousand different ways,” Namjoon sighs, shoving a hand through his hair.  “I did what I could, but I couldn’t keep her from all of it.”

The ice in his glass tinkles as he empties his drink.

“I know what people say about my sister, Hoseok,” Namjoon exhales.  “None of them know what they’re talking about.  She was going to be damned either way.  She did what she had to do to survive.”

Hoseok swallows the last of his whiskey around the knot in his throat.

************************

He almost took the night off.

Hoseok’s body could have used the rest, and his mind certainly could have, too.  But every time he closes his eyes he sees you, hears your brother’s words.  

The pressure inside him keeps building.

He woke up this morning thinking about that photograph inside Namjoon’s desk -- the one taken inside your apartment.  The one taken while you were sleeping and at your most vulnerable, inside your own home.  

Every cell in Hoseok’s body is telling him that Kang Donghyuk took that picture.  

That’s why he’s in his car tonight, following Kang home from the office again.  That’s why he’s pulled into a space just outside the man’s high-dollar highrise prepared for another night of waiting and watching.  

Fuck, he’ll do it every night until he gets the answers he’s looking for.

A call comes in from Seokjin.

“Hey,” Hoseok answers on the first ring.  “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin sighs.  “Quiet.  She’s busy working in her room or something.  Why do I have the feeling you’re not at your place taking the personal time you said you needed?”

“Mind your business,” Hoseok mutters. 

Seokjin laughs.

“Honestly, I just called because I’m bored.  Wondering if you ever plan on coming back to your post.  I’m going out of -- “

“-- Shit,” Hoseok interrupts, sitting up straight in his seat.  “I gotta go.”

He ends the call before Seokjin can ask why.

Hoseok squints against the dark when he sees Kang Donghyuk walk out of the entrance to his building.  Kang stands on the curb, hands shoved into the pockets of his dress pants.  Even from a distance, Hoseok can see he’s looking up and down the street.

He’s waiting for someone.

Hoseok’s entire body is tense as he watches a sleek silver car pull up outside the building’s entrance and Kang slip into the passenger seat.  The car takes off and Hoseok’s pulse picks up.

This is it.

He waits until the sedan is a few hundred feet ahead to pull out into the street.  He’s careful to keep pace with the surrounding traffic so he doesn’t give himself away.  And after a short drive, the silver car parks outside a run-down warehouse in one of the shittier parts of the city.  

Hoseok pulls into a dark space, cuts the ignition and hides the bright display of his phone.

He watches Kang Donghyuk get out of the passenger seat, followed by the driver of the car.  A man Hoseok recognizes as Ssijog right away.  The men have a short conversation in the street before disappearing into the warehouse.  

Hoseok’s hand tightens around the steering wheel, then loosens.  Again and again and again.

He knows the protocol.  He knows he should have called this in five minutes ago.

He hasn’t.  

He won’t. 

Instead, he reaches into the console to pull out his favorite pair of Italian leather gloves.

*************************

Dressing the part has always served Hoseok well, even in this line of work.

Tonight -- his meticulously chosen suit and tie are his ticket inside Kang Donghyuk’s secure high-rise apartment building.  Hoseok walks right past the security guard on duty so casually that the man barely looks in his direction.

It takes him only a few minutes to find the door to Kang’s apartment and the entrance to the service elevator nearby.  Hoseok stands back into the recess and balls his hands into fists.  He concentrates on the stretch of his leather gloves.

Then he waits.

Kang Donghyuk doesn’t keep him waiting long.  

Just a short while later, he’s at his apartment door, fumbling with his keys.  Hoseok waits until he nudges the door open before making his approach.

One firm hand to the back of the neck and one firm shove is all it takes.  

Kang Donghyuk falls through the entrance to his apartment just as Hoseok is closing the door behind him.  He rolls onto his back on the floor, eyes wide and sputtering.

“What the fuck man?”  

Hoseok doesn’t bother to answer that.  

He pulls out his pistol and points the barrel at the cowering man.  Kang’s pupils blow wide and Hoseok feels a pulse of satisfaction at his obvious fear.

“Start talking,” Hoseok says, voice low and controlled.

“About what?” Kang squeaks -- voice slipping out an octave too high.  

Hoseok clicks the pistol’s safety into place and off again just to ensure Kang hears the sound.  The coward reacts immediately, covering his face with his hands.

“Alright man, I’ll talk.  Just chill -- “ he wheezes.  “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

“I need to know everything, Kang,” Hoseok says between clenched teeth.  “Start fucking talking.”

Donghyuk sits up slowly, hands raised and eyes fixed on Hoseok.  

“They came to me a few months back.  All they said is they wanted her to fuck up the case.  That’s all, I swear.”

There’s no feeling of satisfaction for Hoseok when he hears the words spoken aloud.  There’s no victory in confirming the guy he thought was a piece of shit all along is actually a piece of shit.  

The pressure inside him continues to build.

“You’re working with the Lee girl?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits miserably, eyes unmoving from the barrel of Hoseok’s gun.  “She would help me make copies of her keys and shit.  She knew where the important files were, too.  I mostly had to keep her out of the apartment when they needed to get in and -- ” he clears his throat, “ -- other stuff.”

Hoseok sees red. 

Fury ignites inside of him at the innuendo packed into those two short words.  His pistol seems to warm in his hand. 

“You took that picture,” he whispers, finger tightening around the trigger. Donghyuk winces, swallows so hard Hoseok can see his Adam's apple jump in his throat.

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits, curling in on himself.  “They asked me to.”

Hoseok turns the gun in his hand so fast Donghyuk barely has the time to put his hands over his face again.  He cracks the butt of his pistol against the side of Donghyuk’s skull and the man whimpers as he rolls over in pain.

The pistol whip should have been enough to take the edge off of Hoseok’s rage.  

But it’s not enough. 

He holsters his gun and Donghyuk stares up at him from the floor, terrified.

“Get up,” Hoseok hisses.  

Blood has started to seep from a gash on the side of Donghyuk’s head but the man complies.  He stumbles to his feet just in time for Hoseok to take him off balance again.  He wraps one hand around the man’s throat and squeezes tight, pushing him back against a wall.

Donghyuk’s eyes bulge as Hoseok pins him to the wall with that hand.

“Never, ever --” Hoseok spits the words, grip crushing the man’s neck,  “-- go near her again.  Do you understand me? That’s not something I have to repeat even for someone as stupid as you, right?”

Donghyuk’s face is mottled, features frozen in fear as he attempts to nod his agreement. 

 Hoseok tightens his grip and the man starts to turn a satisfying shade of red.  The color deepens as Hoseok squeezes harder and all he can think about is how easy it would be to end him, how just a few more seconds of this pressure could cause his windpipe to collapse. How one more hard press of his fingers could solve the problem of Kang Donghyuk forever. 

But protocol.

Hoseok finally releases his grip on the man’s throat and Kang immediately slumps down the wall, into a pile on the floor.  He gasps, hands clutched to his chest as he fights to regain his breath.

Hosok stands back, straightening his coat and adjusting his jacket underneath.  

He gives Kang Donghyuk one last glance before walking to the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warns quietly.  “I’d hate to have to pay you another visit.”

Hoseok waits for the door to click closed before pulling out his phone to call Namjoon in the quiet of the hallway.  He’s a little breathless when his boss picks up on the first ring.

“Regarding Kang Donghyuk,” he murmurs. “There’s been a development.”

**********************

Namjoon’s call comes late the next afternoon.

“Hey,” Hoseok breathes into the receiver, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear.  He drops his hand back into the bowl of ice water at his side.  “What’s up?”

“I need you to come in,” his boss says evenly.  “So we can discuss next steps.”

“Be there in ten.”

It’s a little pathetic, the way Hoseok perks up at having somewhere to be.  

Even meeting with his boss to explain how he broke protocol and nearly choked a man to death beats sitting in his apartment, icing his sore hand.  It sure as hell beats sitting on his couch, staring at the TV and trying not to think about you.

Namjoon takes the news of Kang’s involvement and Hoseok’s insubordination surprisingly well.  

He’d listened to Hoseok’s account of how he’d tracked Kang to the warehouse and ambushed him outside his apartment with quiet calm.  Maybe it’s his imagination, but Hoseok could swear he almost saw Namjoon smile when he described pistol-whipping Kang inside his apartment.

Yoongi -- pragmatic as ever -- laid the options out plainly.  

He argued that the Gajog could get rid of either Lee Hyejin or Kang Donghyuk, but not both.  Killing both, Yoongi reasoned, would put an entirely different kind of target on your back.  Both Hoseok and Namjoon agreed with that assessment.  Yoongi has always had a mind for strategy, even if his delivery leaves a bit to be desired.

Namjoon promised to think over the options before dismissing them both.

*************************

Hoseok’s hand still aches.

He’s been driving around the city for more than an hour now, not ready to go home and not certain which move to make next.  Each turn of his steering wheel sends a throb of discomfort through his grip.

Fucking up Kang Donghyuk was satisfying, no doubt.  But it’s not enough.

Hoseok doesn’t feel the sense of relief he’d expected to enjoy after choking that man to within an inch of his life.  There’s still a dull ache inside his chest too insistent to ignore.  

He tries to focus on the street signs that come and go, the traffic lights that glow against the backdrop of the setting sun.  He drives until the night takes over completely and then he drives until he parks outside of your place. 

When Hoseok cuts the ignition, it’s like he’s just come out of a fog.  He looks up at your high-rise and takes a deep breath before climbing out of the car.

******************

Seokjin’s bag must have already been packed.  

After a quick debrief he’s out the door in seconds, leaving Hoseok alone inside the quiet apartment.  He sinks down onto the couch and stares at your closed bedroom door.

He should knock, he thinks to himself.

He should get the apology sitting on the tip of his tongue out of the way so the two of you can move forward from what happened the other night.  He should apologize for the way he’s treated you and he should beg for your forgiveness.

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face before resolving to do just that -- at the same time your bedroom door opens.  He watches you walk to the kitchen without so much as a glance in his direction and then he hears the sound of running water.   

He follows you.

Hoseok worries for a split-second that you might drop the glass in your hand when you finally spot him.

“Oh,” you breathe, “It’s you.”

Hoseok thought the last time he’d seen you -- when you’d worn that incredible gown and pulled out every stop -- he thought that was the most beautiful you’d ever looked.  But somehow that pales in comparison to how you look right now, figure swimming in an oversized sweatshirt, hair loose and framing your bare face.  He can’t even bring himself to look lower because you’re wearing those godforsaken shorts.  Has Seokjin seen you in those things?

His brain derails and it takes a moment to get back on track.

“Sorry,” he says slowly.  “Yeah, it’s me.  I’m back now.”

“Okay,” you exhale, setting your glass of water down. 

“I’m sorry.”

Hoseok had planned on saying something a bit more heartfelt, something with a bit more depth.  He had not intended on blurting out his apology the moment he saw you.  

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” you say softly.  “I don’t want your pity or anyone else’s.”

Hoseok steps closer and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, a nervous gesture.

“That’s not what I said,” he insists, shaking his head. “I’m not sorry for you, I’m sorry for me.  I’m sorry because I’m a fucking jerk.”

You blink back at him.  “What?”

“I’m sorry -- ” Hoseok takes another step forward, “ -- that you have to put up with assholes like me who think they know everything about you when they really don’t know anything.”

Hoseok ignores the voice inside his head warning him not to press you too hard, not to take this too far.   

“I’m sorry anyone has ever tried you because I promise you they are going to pay,” he vows, stepping even closer.

You lean back against the heavy stone of your kitchen island, eyes wide. 

“And fuck -- ” Hoseok practically chokes the words out, “-- fuck, I am so sorry for wanting you as badly as I do when I know I have no right.”

There is a moment after those words tumble out when Hoseok thinks he may have just fucked everything up for good.  A moment when your mouth drops open but you say nothing and Hoseok is certain you’re going to make him leave.

But you don’t.

So he kisses you.

Hoseok swallows the sound of surprise you make when he slants his lips over yours.   You reach your hands around his neck to pull him closer and go up on your tiptoes to make up for the difference in height. Hoseok groans into your mouth when your nails scrape against the back of his neck.  

Any moment now -- any moment now he’s certain you’re going to come to your senses.  You’re going to demand he take his filthy fucking hands off of you.  He braces for it.

But you don’t.

Instead, you melt into his touch and whimper into his mouth and what’s left of Hoseok’s sanity evaporates. The sounds of panting and groaning echo off of the stone in the kitchen as you meld your body to his.

“I want you so much,” he whispers, gripping your waist to lift you onto the counter.

It’s easy to ignore the way his hand aches in protest when you’re wrapping your legs around his waist and sinking your fingers into his hair.  His cock is so hard in his pants he feels like he might explode.

You pull away from him, breathless, to lift your sweatshirt over your head and Hoseok’s chest tightens at the flash of doubt that crosses your features.  The heat that creeps into your cheeks when your scar is bared and on display.

He leans close to brush feather-light kisses against it, lips soft against the rough skin. “Every inch of you is perfect,” he whispers, sucking gently at the indent in your collarbone. “Just the way it is.”

You suck in a sharp breath and release it with a strangled sigh as your fingers grip the back of Hoseok’s neck.  He trails kisses from your scar, slowly down your breast, onto one aching nipple.

“Hoseok -- please,” you beg.  “I want -- “

Your plea breaks apart he takes your nipple into his mouth, teeth teasing at the straining bud.

“Tell me what you want,” Hoseok murmurs, burying his face into the soft skin between your breasts, “Tell me and I swear to God, I’ll give it to you.”

Your fingers fumble for his belt and Hoseok groans when you work it apart.  There’s no way he’s ever been this hard -- ever.  He’s certain he could come just from rutting against the counter with your voice in his ear.

“Hoseok,” you whisper again.  “Hoseok -- “

He doesn’t catch on to the panic in your tone until you go rigid in his arms.

“There’s someone at the door,” you whisper, eyes wide. 

“Shit.” 

Hoseok shuts his eyes, leans his forehead against yours.

You slip out of his hold and he leans over the kitchen counter, arms braced against the stone while he tries to collect the last remaining scraps of his self-control.  You pull your sweatshirt back overhead and run quietly to the door.

You’re back only a moment later.  

“It’s my brother,” you whisper.  “And Yoongi and some guy I don’t know.”

Holy shit.

Hoseok grits his teeth, takes a deep breath, and silently wills his rigid cock to stand down. Thinking about Kim Namjoon’s face on the other side of that door helps, actually.  It helps a lot. 

The door knocker thuds again loudly and Hoseok can hear Namjoon’s voice coming from the hallway.  You wait until he’s managed to straighten his shirt and secure his belt before opening the door.

He can see your brother’s frown from ten feet away.

“Hoseok should really be the one to answer the door, Amsaja,” he says, eyes narrowed.  “Is he not here?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Hoseok calls out, hoping like hell that his voice sounds even.  “Sorry. I was just -- uh, in the middle of something.”

Actually, I was trying to be in the middle of something.  That something being your sister.  That’s not going to be a problem, is it?

Yoongi looks between you and Hoseok and Namjoon but says nothing.

“So what’s going on?” Hoseok asks, desperate to move the conversation along.  “Something wrong?”

“Jeon is going to stay over tonight,” Namjoon says, pointing to the youngest man on his team.  Jungkook walks into the apartment and bows to you before taking a seat on the couch.

Namjoon nods at Yoongi before turning to Hoseok.

“The three of us have somewhere to be.”

**********************

tag list!

@saintjeonofbusan @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sunkissed725@shadowhale @sugaminyoonjiji @jinhitwhore @trust-me-im-joly @daydreambrliever @ultraanonymousey @yoon-bug @multistantrash17 @poohsaidhi @alyboo-jpeg @sahmfanficbts @yoongissugarmommy @p-polaroid @vi-hoshi @stressedinmedschool247 @jgissle12 @ctvrty @btsnatalena​ @strawbewymiwk​ @stephleee​ @jalexa83​ @livanthi​ @fantasybangtan​ @trviahope @mono-kookie​ @hauntedlilies​

[r3almellow]

MLQC Boys and Jealousy Sex

I’m blaming @kim-stxtches for this because I really wasn’t going to do this and then they forced me! Okay, I’m lying! I needed an excuse to write this! I’m shocked I finished in one go tbh. Normally takes me 3,000 years.  Please enjoy!

Warning: Title speaks for itself, but it is NSFW!

UNDER THE CUT!

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Kiro 

THIS MISCHIEVOUS MAN!

Will “discreetly” get handsy with you in front of whoever he feels threatened by. 

Purposes stands close enough to squeeze your ass. Might hug you from behind and press himself against your ass so you can feel his hardened length. 

Its kind of like a reminder when he does it.

“Hey, don’t forget your boyfriend is here.” 

By the time he’s done teasing you, you’ll have to excuse yourself. It’s highly likely that you’ll drag him along with you, so he could finish what he started.

Kiro’s a biter. 

He likes to leave his mark all over your body, but does his best to leave them in places that make it easier for you to hide. Only because you asked. 

Jealous Kiro will throw all that out the window. Be prepared to have your neck covered in bite marks. It’ll be turtleneck season for a while. 

You’ll have bite marks on your inner thighs as well so that whenever your legs brush against one another, you’ll have the memory of Kiro and the long lust filled night you spent together. 

Doesn’t help when you’re at a shoot with him and you feel your pussy clench involuntarily as you shift slightly, while trying to hold a conversation with Savin. Kiro will notice your discomfort and give you an impish smirk from across the room and all you can do is glare.

The idea of you thinking of him when you’re with another man fills him with pride and has him dying to bury himself inside you when all this is over.

Kiro gets pretty ruthless when he’s eating you out. Normally, he’ll do it until you’ve reached your orgasm and tease you a little bit after, but jealous Kiro is a different story. 

No matter how much you beg for him to let up, he probably won’t. He’ll continuously use his mouth until you’re a complete twitching whimpering mess. You’ll be on your fourth orgasm before he finally looks up at you, licking your juices off his lips. 

“I’ll make it so that I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” 

Gavin

A Jealous Gavin in the streets is a soft Gavin in the sheets.

In the moment, he’s possessive of you and has no problem with letting the person know that unless they want to get choked out they need to back off.

Behind closed doors, he’s another one that likes to cling on to you. His actions, however, aren’t as naughty as Kiro’s. Gavin doesn’t like the idea of you catching someone else’s eye so his hugs are also a reminder that you have him. You can barely walk around your apartment without him holding on to you. You rarely complain because a hug from Gavin is like a protective blanket. 

It doesn’t take long for you to start to feel him trail soft kisses along your neck and cheek. Then a hand slips under your shirt, lightly grazing your stomach as it travels up to cup your breasts. 

His kisses will get a little more intense. The sound of his lips smacking against your skin growing louder as he leaves hickeys in his wake. 

When Gavin is jealous he wants to make sure you never feel the need to look elsewhere for love. Will pamper you until his last breath because he loves you and doesn’t want to lose you. Might go a bit overboard so make sure to stop him if he gets ahead of himself. 

 Gavin, please don’t suffocate while eating me out. 

Once he slides his cock into you, just know that his movements will be as rough and desperate as his kisses. Yeaaaah prepare for your lips to be swollen and throbbing after this.

He uses his body to convey all the things he wants to say. “I love you.” “You’re mine just as much as I’m yours.” “No one else can you see you like this but me.” “Thank you for choosing me.” 

Hands roam all over your naked form to make sure you’re still with him, that you’re more than just his dream girl. 

At some point you’ll realize why he’s doing all this and turn the tables on him. Telling Gavin how much you love him while riding him will definitely boost your man’s confidence. 

Wiggle your hips the way he likes it, let him hear you moan his name, take his hand, guide it to your aching pussy and have him feel how wet you are.

To make him lose his mind say “You feel that, babe? Only you can make me feel this good.” 

Victor

Jealousy sex and angry sex kind of go hand in hand with you and Victor. 

You hate when he tries to showcase his dominance, but you also love when he has you bent over his desk, a hand firmly pulling your hair back and his length sliding roughly into your pussy. 

You know exactly why he gets like this? A business associate looks at you a lot longer than they should. A passerby makes a comment about how good you look. You say something that gets him worked up. 

Victor does his best to compose himself and tries to not let his jealousy get the better of him especially when he’s at work. But if you pick up on it and tease him he will break. 

“Is the great Victor Li jealous? Guess he should really appreciate how great his girlfriend is because other men seem to think so.” 

Its safe to say that even if you deny it, you love when he’s rough with you.  That’s the only reason why you push his buttons when he’s annoyed, jealous, or angry. And he knows it!

Let’s be real...Victor’s thrust game is always on point, but its even better when you’ve gotten under his skin. He hits that spot with excellent precision just so he can have you crumble beneath him.

A few slick comments and you’ll be glad that the sound of your moans and the lewd sounds your pussy made as your juices coated his dick will never leave his soundproof office. 

If you don’t tease him enough, Victor will wait until the two of you are home to strike. 

You’ll get mouthy which is to be expected, but your feisty words only make things that more intense and you end up on your knees sucking him off regardless. 

Afterwards, your grumpy man gets really soft and holds you close while stroking your hair. He knows that being with him is a challenge. He hates to admit how stubborn his is but you take it in stride and challenge him when you could easily live a life of simplicity. 

“I know I don’t say it a lot, but I’m grateful that you chose to be by my side.” 

Lucien

Lucien is the type of jealous lover who likes to test you. How far can you go before you’re begging for release that only he can give. 

Expect for him to throw toys into the mix. More specifically vibrators. He’ll use anything to stimulate you as long as its not his body. 

You’re not allowed to touch yourself or orgasm either. That defeats the purpose of what he’s trying to do. 

You’ll be chained to the bedpost writhing and panting, practically pleading for some form of release. 

Lucien will only watch intently from the other side of the room. Like he’s making note and watching your every move as the seconds ticked by. 

“Lucien..please...I don’t think I can...” 

Your eyes are watery, the throbbing between your legs growing more unbearable, and your back arches as you let out a frustrated moan. 

When he sees you’re almost close to an orgasm, he’ll give you exactly what you want. 

Depending on the situation, he can be just as rough as Victor or he’ll dial it down a bit, but you could careless. You just want him to fuck you senseless.

“My beautiful butterfly... You’re forever trapped in my web.”

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I’m honestly proud of myself. I managed to bust this out in a day! Anyways, hope you all enjoyed it this. 

Check out my other works here! 

[ohpedromypedro]

To The Future

A/N: This is my first Dave York fic, so I hope you all enjoy it! It does switch between present and past tenses at parts. Mainly I write in present tense, but some of the fic is needed to be in past. Thoughts are in bold italics.

word count: 7.3k+ (oops?)

characters/pairing: Dave York x f!Reader, small appearance by Resnik, minor oc characters created for this fic.

warnings: angst, stalking, hiring/plotting for a murder, the actual murder, swearing, mentions of jealousy, adultery, mentions of failed marriage, mentions of divorce, possessive!Dave, rough smut, blow job (m receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Daddy kink, etc.

Hiring a mercenary to get rid of someone for good was never something you thought you’d put at the top of your to do list, but with the man who’s been stalking you for several months now only getting worse, you decide enough is enough.

At first it started off with random bouquets of flowers showing up on your desk at work, noted that it was from a secret admirer. You were flattered at first, thinking it was harmless, but then things started to show up outside your apartment door, and immediately you knew something wasn’t right. Your building was a secure building and somehow this person was getting inside just to leave you gifts which you just threw in the trash anyway. No one except for your family knows where you live, so you knew someone had to be following you. And how right you were. 

Occasionally you’ll go on evening jogs to sweat out the day’s stress, take a few laps around the block where your apartment is located before heading back home to shower and wash it all away. This particular night you decided to take a jog, you weren’t alone. You decided this time to take a jog through the park, switch your routine up a bit, but what you didn’t know was that your stalker was in that very park and when he spotted you, he started to follow you. Closely.

You were unaware at first, completely oblivious to the fact that someone was following behind you. It really didn’t help that you were wearing headphones with music almost at high volume either, so it was partly your fault for not being on high alert, especially knowing you had someone stalking you. After a few minutes of jogging through the park you really started to feel the unease creeping up on you, the hairs at the back of your neck starting to raise. That’s when you stopped and quickly spun around, your eyes searching the area but seeing nobody. You sighed and gave your head a small shake, silently scolding yourself for getting so easily worked up. You decided to turn your music off and just jog in silence for the rest of the way.

When you reached one of the exits of the park, you smiled when you saw an older woman with a doggy stroller standing there idly. She had a look on her face you couldn’t quite read, but when she spoke to you, you realized why she had that exact look on her face.

“I’m...sorry to bother you, but I’ve been walking along the outer edges of the park for a while and...there’s been a man following you pretty much since you started your jog.”

Your face fell and once again you found yourself turning around and looking, your heart rapidly beating in your chest while your eyes scanned the area. You still didn’t see anyone, but you trusted wholeheartedly that this woman was telling you the truth.

“Thank you. I...I had suspicions that I might have a stalker. Guess I was right.” You sighed and shook your head, looking at her with hopeful eyes. “Could… Could you maybe walk me home? It’s just around the corner, but--”

“I would be glad to.” She nodded and motioned for you to the lead the way, which you did. “You should call the authorities once you get home. I’ll be happy to stay and tell them what I saw since I am witness to the young man who was following you.”

“Yeah? That would be very kind of you. Perhaps it’ll be good to report it so it’s on record in case anything else happens.”

The woman nodded and smiled, walking along the semi quiet sidewalk while you led the way toward your apartment. You exchanged names during your walk home and even shared a little bit about yourselves. Turns out Marjorie, the kind woman escorting you home, was widowed and retired from the air force. When you finally reached your apartment, you helped her to carry the dog stroller up the small steps to the front entrance of the building. When you got inside and to your apartment door, you opened it and walked inside, stepping aside to allow her entrance into your cozy abode.

“Make yourself at home. Would you like some tea or coffee?” You smiled, closing the door and locking it before walking into the small kitchen.

“Some chamomile tea would be lovely, darling. Thank you.” She took her small dog out of its stroller and moved to sit down on the love seat in the living room.

“Chamomile tea it is,” you hummed, grabbing a cup and saucer and the box of teabags from the cabinet before setting them on the counter while you got your Keurig machine turned on.

Once the Keurig was ready to brew a nice cup of hot water for the tea, you put the tea bag in the cup and placed it on the small stand, pressing the smallest button and letting the machine brew. While you let the water fill the cup, you decided to use that time to dial the police station on your cell, moving to secretly peek through your kitchen curtains while it rang.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The calm voice of a woman answered.

“Uh hi, I’m just calling to report a stalking,” you chewed your lip, moving away from the window and leaning against the counter.

“You’re the one being stalked?” She asked calmly, already pulling a report up on her computer screen to type out everything you say.

“Yes ma’am. At first it was just little things. Bouquet of flowers being delivered to my office at work almost every day, but then whoever it is started leaving things outside my apartment door and only my family knows which exact apartment I live in, so I’m a little worried.” You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “And just a few minutes ago while I was out on my nightly jog, I was told by a nice older woman just outside the park that she saw someone following behind me while I took my jog through. She ended up walking me home because I was nervous to walk alone and she offered to wait inside with me while I called you.”

“Okay sweetheart and would you like an officer or two sent out to get some more info regarding the man stalking you?”

“Yes please. I think she did get a good look at him, at least enough to give some sort of description.”

“Okay. I’ll have a car dispatched to your location soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So what exactly can you tell me about the man you saw, ma’am?” The officer that showed up just a few minutes after you hung up with the operator asked Marjorie who was sitting on your couch sipping her tea.

“Well, he had to be at least mid 30’s, looked like he could be one of those boys who still live in their mother’s basement. Tall, Caucasian, shoulder length blond hair, large square glasses, dressed in a long black trench coat.” She speculated, nodding as she tried to remember every detail of the man that she could. “He definitely looked like your typical creep. Skinny little thing.”

The officer only nodded, scribbling in his notepad as she listed off the details. He finally looked toward you after finishing jotting things down and shoving his notepad in his pocket.

“And for you, Miss Y/N, what would you like if we do find this stalker of yours?”

“I want a restraining order against the creep, that’s what. As a female living all by herself with no one or nothing to protect her, a restraining order is at least the better first option.”

“You got it. I’m gonna send my fellow officer waiting outside to search the premises as well as the park for the described person of interest. In the meantime, I’ll be outside searching the database for men with that description.”

“Thank you, officer.” You smiled, watching as he nodded his head and gave a small tip of his hat before leaving your apartment.

You sat down on the couch with a sigh, smile tugging at your lips when Marjorie’s dog came padding over to you with a wag of her tail, looking up at you with a smile of her own. You brought your hand down to give her a few pats and scratches behind the ear.

“Daisy likes you,” Marjorie smiled, setting her empty cup and saucer down on the coffee table. “Have you considered getting a dog of your own? Perhaps a nice Pitbull or bulldog.”

“Actually,” you laughed softly at that, giving your head a nod. “That’s not a bad idea after all. I’ll have to consider it.”

“You’ll thank me later,” she winked, moving to stand up from the love seat and grabbing the cup and saucer from the table. “I won’t impose for much longer, sweetheart. I think you deserve some rest after all this.”

“Thank you,” you gave her an appreciative smile, standing and following her into the kitchen. “I’m glad you made this process a lot easier for me. I would have had no idea where to even begin with a description of my stalker.” You shook your head and smiled at Marjorie when she walked back over to you after setting the cup and saucer in the sink.

“Of course. Anything to get another creep off the streets.” She mused as she scooped Daisy up from the floor and set her back in her stroller.

“Well, I’m grateful. You live close by?”

“About a five minute walk, sweetheart. I’ll be just fine, if you’re worried.”

“A little bit. I guess my nerves are just a little heightened.” You shrugged, smiling when she put a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll be just fine.”

You could only nod, quickly saying your goodbyes to Marjorie and Daisy before letting them out of your apartment. You closed the door once they were down the hall and immediately locked it, leaning against it with an exasperated sigh. You hoped the police could find your stalker and arrest him for being a creep and that a restraining order could be put in place to keep him as far from you as possible. You didn’t think you could put up with this any longer.

Days went by and you still heard nothing, absolutely nothing from the police department regarding your stalker. Not a single follow up call, visit or any info at all for that matter about whether they found out who the guy was. Of course now the situation was only getting worse. There were nights where you swore you could hear someone trying to pick the lock to your apartment door, but since you’re smart, you locked the doorknob, deadbolt, and chain lock. And fortunately for you, it prevented whoever it was from getting in. You weren't entirely safe, though. Not only did this man know where you worked and lived, but he was somehow getting into a secure building. There wasn't a place you could go to hide yourself from him. If anything he’d just find you wherever you went and that’s what scared you most. You didn’t know what this man’s intentions were, for all you knew, they were far from harmless. No stalkers intentions are harmless in the end.

That’s what brings you to your current situation, calling your cousin Resnik who you know is a mercenary now since he was let go from his previous job with the DIA. He told you to call him for emergencies only and you figure having a stalker trying to break into your apartment multiple nights in a row is good enough a reason to call him.

“Y/N? What’s going on?” Your cousin’s voice is monotonous on the other end of the line and you sigh.

“I need a favor.”

“A mercenary one?” He asks.

“Yes.”

“I’m booked.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Res?” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You told me to call you for emergencies and this is one.”

“Again, I have tons of jobs booked.”

“I’m family.”

“I’m aware of that,” he states. “But I really can’t. Not right now, at least.”

“Resnik, I have a fucking creep stalking me. He’s only been getting worse and I don’t know how much longer until he successfully breaks into my damn apartment.” You’re spitting your words at this point, anger boiling over the fact that your own cousin is blowing you off.

“How long has this been going on? The stalking”

“Months.”

“Has the guy actually made contact with you?”

“Clearly he’s trying to since he’s been trying to break into my apartment.”

“Do you feel safe at all?”

“No!” You snap.

“Calm down,” he grumbles. “I’ll send my buddy Dave to deal with this guy for you, okay? Just explain to him everything that’s happened and he’ll figure something out for you.”

“Alright,” you sigh, slumping onto your couch. “I trust whoever you send me.”

“Good. I’ll have him be there within the next day or so, can you handle that?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can handle another day of this fuckwad. Thanks Res.”

You hang up before he even gets the chance to respond, tossing your cell phone onto the coffee table in front of you. You rub your hands down your face and groan to yourself, hoping this Dave guy can actually rid this stalker of yours. For good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re in the kitchen making yourself a rum and Coke when the buzzer to your apartment goes off. Biting your lip, you shuffle over to the intercom on the wall and press the talk button.

“Yes?”

“Y/N? My name’s Dave York. Resnik sent me.”

“Thank God.” You groan, pushing the button to buzz him into the building and anxiously waiting for him to get to your apartment door.

When the knock finally sounds on the door, you bite your lip and undo the locks, hesitantly pulling it open. Your eyes are met with a middle aged man, probably early to mid forties if you had to guess, and he’s for sure a sight for sore eyes. Dark hair that you wish you could just run your fingers through, deep brown eyes to match which you know he’s been through and seen some shit in his days. When his gaze finally lands on you when your door opens, he straightens his shoulders, taking in every inch of your form as he stands just outside the threshold of your door. He thought his wife was beautiful, but you? You are absolutely stunning and just standing here in front of you is stirring up some adulterous thoughts in his mind.

“Didn’t realize anyone related to Resnik could be so breathtaking.” Dave chuckles softly, smirking at the way your cheeks go red. “You sure you’re related to him?”

“Unfortunately,” you bite your lip and sigh dramatically, stepping aside and motioning for him to come inside. “Please, come in. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

“Quite right,” he smiles, his eyes doing one more sweep over you before he steps inside.

You’re flushed by the time you close the door and relock all the locks, giving your lip a hard bite from the way his eyes raked over you just moments prior before internally shaking your head and turning around to face him.

“Would you like something to drink, Dave? I was just making myself something when you arrived.” You muse, making your way into the kitchen where you finish pouring your drink.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he hums, letting his eyes linger on you longer than he would anyone else he talks to.

“Bacardi and Coke it is then,” you smile, grabbing another glass and making a drink for Dave.

“A Bacardi girl, huh? At least you’ve got taste.”

“I suppose so,” you smirk, walking over to where he’s standing and handing him the glass. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you,” he winks, taking a quick sip of his drink and letting out a satisfied hum. “Mmmm delicious. Now,” he says softly, placing his free hand at the small of your neck. “Let’s sit so you can tell me all about this stalker of yours, yeah?”

“Of course,” you smile, grabbing your rum and Coke before leading him to the living room to sit on the long couch.

When you sit, Dave sits right beside you, setting his drink on the table just as you do before facing you and giving you his full attention.

“Does your stalker have a name?” He asks, watching while you shake your head.

“Nameless and only kind of faceless?” You question, more to yourself than anything. “The older woman who saw him following me around the park during my jog a couple of nights ago said he’s a tall white male with shoulder length blond hair. He was wearing a black trench coat at the time, but who knows if he wears the thing all the time.”

“And does the description sound familiar to anyone you might know?”

“No,” you sigh. “I barely know anyone around here. I only just moved in a year ago and I’m not exactly the social type when it comes to associating with neighbors. I’m here to live, not make friends.”

“Understandable,” he chuckles, picking up his drink again. That’s when you finally spot the wedding ring on his left hand. What a shame. He takes a sip before setting the glass back down. “So tell me more. How did this whole thing start?”

“Well, at first it was just flowers showing up on my desk at work with a simple note, nothing too extreme, but then whoever the fuck this is started leaving things outside my apartment door. How he’s getting into a secure building in which you need a key or a buzz to get in, I have no idea. But I’m scared, Dave. The past few nights I could hear someone trying to pick the lock on my door to get in. I don’t know what this man’s intentions are, but clearly they aren’t good ones. Maybe in his mind they are, but not mine.”

“Do you think it could be someone living in the building? Perhaps a creepy neighbor trying too hard to get in bed with you?” You laugh at that.

“Honestly I may have considered it, but I’ve seen many of the people who live here, none of them fit the description of my little stalker friend here.” You roll your eyes, picking up your drink and taking a nice long chug. Dave watches with semi raised brows and a smirk.

“So I’m assuming you want the guy gone for good.” He states, watching you closely.

“Please,” you plead as you set your glass back down, your eyes practically begging for it when you look back over at him. Dave smiles at the sweet sound of your begging voice, slowly raising his hand to rest against your cheek while his now intent gaze is set on your pleading one.

“I will gladly rid the planet of this guy for you, Y/N. We’ll just need to figure out how to track him down or lure him out, for that matter.” His thumb grazes your cheek and you can feel your face burning up again, giving your bottom lip a small bite.

Dave notices that and it only spurs him on even more, his eyes tracing over each inch of your beautiful face before finally landing on your lips and lingering there, his thumb brushing along your bottom one. All those adulterous thoughts come swarming through his head once again and though he knows it’s wrong to be wondering what it would look and feel like to have those pretty plump lips of yours wrapped around his cock, with the fact that his wife never goes down on him, he doesn’t really care. He’s only with her still because of his daughters, things haven’t been going quite well for him and Carol for a while. Maybe you’re the change he needs, the thing that will help him out of the marriage he feels so trapped in.

“Dave?” You whisper breathlessly, not even realizing that the both of you have inched even closer to each other, too lost in the burn of his touch and the way his eyes hungrily take you in.

“Y/N...” He murmurs right back, giving his own lips a lick before bringing his eyes back up to meet your gaze.

“I-- You’re-- Fuck it,” you sigh, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him hard, allowing him to pull you onto his lap as he kisses you with as much fervor in return.

His hands rest on your ass so he can pull your hips flush against his own, eliciting a surprised gasp from you when you feel something hard pressing against your clothed core. I really make him that hard? As if he read your mind, he groans.

“Feel how hard you’ve made me? Just thinking about how good those lips would look and feel wrapped around my cock…”

“Dave,” you gasp again, instinctively rocking yourself against his rock hard cock. The action makes him growl and immediately his fingers are digging into your firm ass cheeks.

“Tell me you want this.” He states, his tone stern and bathed in seriousness.

“I want this. I want… I’ll do anything you want me to.”

His whole demeanor changes at that very statement, his hand coming down on your ass for a hard slap before he flips the two of you so that you’re now sitting on the couch in front of him and he’s standing between your legs. A quiet yelp left you at his sudden slap to your ass and when you’re finally staring up at him once he’s settled between your thighs, you give your bottom lip a bite.

“Look at you…so willing to let a struggling married man do whatever he wants to you.” He smirks, brushing his fingers through your hair before wrapping it around his fist and giving your head a tug backward. “Open your mouth.” You do as he says, letting your tongue hang out in the process. “Good girl.” He smirks, dropping his free hand to start undoing his belt.

Your walls clench around nothing at his praising words, eyes trained on the way his hand quickly gets his belt undone along with the zipper of his slacks. You bring your hand up to stop him from going any further, giving your eyelashes a few bats.

“Let me…” You murmur, moving his hand away before bringing yours back up to yank down his pants, freeing his fully erect cock. Your head spins at the sheer size of him. “Oh…” You bite your lip. Hard.

“Mouth,” he gains the attention of your gaze again, fingers tightening in your hair. “Open.”

You do as he tells you, reopening your mouth and letting your tongue hang out once more. He rubs the swollen head of his cock along your tongue and lets out a low, pleased groan at the warm feeling, his lips parting while he slowly pushes his hips forward until his cockhead just barely brushes the back of your throat. Your cheeks are hollowed out around him now, your hands giving his thighs a small squeeze as you swallow around the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his lust blown gaze staring down at your mouth wrapped around his length. “Haven’t felt a mouth this good since before I married my wife.” You hum around him, wondering how in the world his wife doesn’t suck this big delicious cock? “And I was right too…those lips of yours look and feel so damn good wrapped around my cock.”

“Mmmm…” You moan around him, pulling back as you give a hard suck before taking him right back down your throat, purposely gagging around him.

“Goddamn,” he groans, bringing his other hand down to hold your head in place while he starts rocking his cock in and out of your mouth, keeping aim for the back of your throat since clearly you enjoy the thrill of choking and gagging around him. “You like this, don’t you? The feeling of my cock in and down your throat.”

“Mmhmmm…” You moan, your eyes still set on his dark gaze as he fucks your mouth and throat, your hand moving to rub at your clothed cunt for some sort of relief. You can feel how wet you are just from having him in your mouth.

“What’s that sweetheart? Does that poor little cunt need relief? Is having my cock down your throat turning you on?” He growls, basking in the glory of the sight before him, his cock twitching at the feeling of your whimpery moan vibrating through his length.

“Mmm…” You nod your head as best that you can with his cock buried down your throat, your eyes starting to roll toward the back of your head.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck and fill that needy little cunt with my cock?” He smirks, yanking you off his length before pulling you up from the couch by his grip on your hair. When you only answer him with a nod of your head after he pulls you off his cock, he grabs your chin with a growl. “Use your words.”

You open your mouth to speak until you hear the sound of your doorknob being turned and fiddled with, looking toward the door with wide eyes. You look back up at Dave after a moment and he’s only smirking wider, moving his hand from your chin and down between your thighs to palm at your drenched, clothed cunt.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, your stalker will hear how good I make you feel.” He rasps so low it makes your heart jump in your chest and your cunt clench once more. He feels the way your cunt moves beneath his hand and it only proves to him that you really really want this. “Yeah, he’s going to regret ever stalking you.”

Dave immediately rips your shorts right off of you, the quick sudden action making your eyes go wide. The strength. His hand moves to slap right against your drenched cunt, which makes you moan out and silently thank the gods for deciding to wear a g-string today.

“Fuck, you are a sexy little thing, aren’t you? So wet and ready for me.”

“Daddy, please.” The words slip from your lips before you can correct yourself, immediately flushing when realization dawns on you. The pleased look in Dave’s eyes, though, proves that perhaps maybe your mistake isn’t a mistake at all.

“Tell Daddy what you want, baby.” He hums as he gives your folds a few rubs, earning himself a few small whimpers.

“I want you to...to claim my little cunt so my stalker can hear and know he’ll never have me the way you do…” You whisper for only him to hear, your gaze set on his own.

Dave only groans, pushing you back onto the couch and moving you into a lying position, quickly yanking your g-string off and shoving them into the pocket of his button up shirt. You bite your lip at that, watching as he climbs above you with his knees resting on each side of your hips, his cockhead pressing right at your entrance. You quickly wrap your legs around him, lips parting with a long moan as he slowly pushes forward and lets your walls swallow each thick inch of his length.

“That’s it, baby…moan for Daddy... What a tight little cunt you have, fuck.” He groans, stilling once he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and allowing your tight walls to adjust to him stretching you.

“You’re--” You moan, squeezing around him like a vice. “So fucking big, Daddy.”

“Fuck, no cunt has ever squeezed me this good before.” He drops his head to bury his face against the crook of your neck, slowly pulling his hips backward before pushing right back in hard, earning himself a nice loud moan from you. “You take my cock so well, beautiful girl.”

“Oh Daddy, yes! Fuck me j-just like that.” You moan, rocking yourself against him. Dave growls and immediately sets a quick hard pace, eliciting several elongated moans from you.

“Only Daddy can fuck you this good, huh babygirl? No one could ever fill you the way I do.” He purposely speaks in a tone of voice loud enough for your little secret visitor outside the door to hear. If only you could see the rage and jealousy that takes over in your stalker’s eyes, the way his fists clench at his sides.

“O-Only you, Daddy! Only you!” You cry out the deeper he sends his cock inside of your warm cavity, your legs wrapping tighter around him.

“That’s right. Only,” hard thrust against your cervix. “I,” another hard thrust. “can,” harder thrust with loud cries of pleasure from you. “fuck,” more hard thrusts. “you.” deeper harder thrusts.

“Yes yes yes!” You practically sob out your words, your orgasm quickly building inside of you from how damn good Dave is fucking you. This was definitely not how you expected hiring a mercenary to take out your stalker to turn out, but are you complaining? Hell fucking no. “D-Don’t stop! Oh please don’t stop!”

“Who said I was going to stop?” He smirks, nipping and sucking at the pulse point of your throat while keeping the same pace and force of thrusts. “Are you going to cum, baby?”

“Mmmm yeah!” You cry out, your arms wrapping tight around his middle while your nails claw at his back through his shirt, your head tilting sideways to grant him better access to your sensitive throat. “‘m s-so close.”

“Yeah? Gonna drench every inch of Daddy’s cock?” He rubs circles as fast and hard on your clit as his thrusts into your throbbing cunt, your head flying back with a loud cry of his name at the new feeling.

“Oh yes!” You moan, giving your walls another clench around his cock as your hips now rock against his own to match his pace.

“Fuck, squeeze me just like that baby.” He groans, going right back to nipping and sucking at your throat while continuing to coax you toward your release.

“Please,” you gasp, closing your eyes tight as you try to focus all your attention and energy on his thrusts and rubs to your swollen nub. “Please fill my tight, warm little cunt with your cum.”

“Yeah?” He growls, snapping his hips with even more force now, the two of you moaning loud in unison. “Want me to really claim this cunt?”

“Yes! It’s--” your moans deepen the harder his cock hits at your cervix, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “--yours!”

“Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing you by the throat with the hand not rubbing your clit and moving to kiss you hard, swallowing your cries and moans of pleasure the more relentless his thrusts become. “Cum for me. Now.” He orders and right on cue, you cum hard, your orgasm crashing right into you and making you writhe and tremble beneath him. Your eyes are truly rolled back now from the tightness of his hold on your throat and you’re absolutely loving it. “Fuck me, you are the most beautiful little thing when you come undone for me. Where the fuck were you before I met my wife?” He groans, kissing you hard once more.

His words make your heart leap in your chest again, wondering if he truly means them or if he’s just saying them to help get the both of you off. What’ll happen between the two of you once your stalker is ridden from your life? Will it be as if this night never happened? Will Dave look at you as nothing more than just a one time fuck and that girl he saved from a stalker?

“Y/N,” he groans deeply, snapping you from your thoughts and bringing you back to reality, pleased groan leaving your throat when you realize he’s filling you with his cum.

“Dave,” you gasp against his mouth, clenching harder and harder around him to milk his balls for all the cum in the world, your arms and legs wrapped tighter around him. “Oh yes.”

“That’s it, baby… Take all that cum. Fuck you are such a damn good girl.” He growls, continuing to fuck the both of you through your highs and his cum even deeper inside of you, going right back to kissing and nipping along your throat.

The two of you are panting by the time he finally pulls out of you, your limbs loosening from around him and falling limp to the couch you lay out on. He chuckles at how fucked out you look, but if he’s to look in a mirror at any moment, he’ll see that he himself is just as fucked out looking as you are. Your eyes are closed as the after effects of your orgasm finally pass, only opening them to look up at him when he gives your throat a firm squeeze. You moan at the feeling which only makes him smile.

“Y/N…” He murmurs quietly, moving his hand from around your throat to brush a few stray strands of hair from your face.

“Dave?” You whisper, giving your bottom lip a soft bite.

“After I rid you of your little pest,” he mumbles, obviously referring to your stalker in case he’s still out there listening. He’s not. “If I divorce my wife--”

“Yes.” You cut him off, already knowing what he’s going to ask.

“Really?” He grins, brushing the backs of his fingers against your cheekbone. “You sure you can handle this life?”

“What? Spending it with a mercenary?” You murmur, smiling up at him as he nods. “Would I have had my cousin send you if I couldn’t handle it?”

“True,” he chuckles, kissing you once more. “You truly are what I need to get out of my marriage once and for all. Don’t get me wrong, I love my daughters, but I don’t love Carol. Not anymore, at least. Not for a long time.”

“I’m sorry.” You frown. He only shakes his head, giving you a genuine smile.

“Don’t be. You’re not the reason my marriage is fucked and fallen apart. Her and I are. We just...don’t work out anymore. We’ve built up our issues with each other over the years.”

“Issues that can be fixed through divorce?” You smile.

“Precisely. We’re just...not cut out to be a couple any longer,” he sighs, kissing you once more before carefully climbing off of you and admiring the view of your mixed releases dripping from your fucked hole. “Such a beautiful sight… One I don’t get to see often.”

“Glad I can change that for you, Mister York.”

He smirks at the name, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the side of your knee.

“Now, let’s get cleaned up and get a plan set in stone to off your stalker.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dave asks with a concerned look in his eyes and you give him a reassuring nod.

“I’ll be fine…” You whisper, reaching up to brush your thumb against his cheek. “It’s best to use me as bait, seeing as I’m the target. We’ve got this…”

“Okay,” he nods, pulling you in for a deep kiss before slowly pulling back and pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ll be down the alleyway we discussed hiding out and waiting. You remember which one, yes?”

“Yes,” you smile, nodding your head with reassurance. “Got the whole plan right up here.” You give your head a few light taps with your pointer finger.

“Good. I’ll see you in roughly ten minutes.” He smiles. “Please, be careful and on high alert.”

“I will,” you murmur, pressing a quick, soft peck to his lips. “See you in ten.”

He nods and you let him out of your apartment, waiting at least two minutes before leaving yourself and locking up behind you. Dave figured having you go on your usual jogging route would be the best plan, since there are several dark alleyways along the way that’ll be easy to lure your stalker down. If the guy is so intent on having you, why not follow you down a dark empty alley. If only he knew the outcome.

You start your jog down your street with a quiet hum, only one of your earbuds in while you listen to music so you can keep somewhat of an ear out for anyone around you. It’s only after five minutes that you start to hear and feel someone close behind you. Swallowing your fear, you continue your walk toward your destination and when you finally reach the alleyway where Dave is hiding and waiting for your arrival, you turn down it with a soft sigh of relief, making your way down the dark, damp corridor.

You pass where Dave is hiding and when he sees someone in a long black trench coat following right behind you, his fingers tighten around the handle of his knife, ready to make his move if the guy tries anything on you. He wants to wait at least a minute to see what his intentions are, see if he’s sick enough to lay a finger on you.

You feel a hand grab you by the shoulder and immediately pin you to the stone wall of the building beside you, looking up at the dark eyes of your stalker for the first time. You swallow hard, fighting back the urge to scream since you know Dave is right there waiting for the right moment to attack. The man is definitely exactly how Marjorie described, right on the nose, really.

“Can I help you?” You finally gain the courage to ask, a bit of disgust in your tone as you look up at him. He’s too close in your personal bubble for your liking and you swear you can smell the garlic and Camel cigarettes on his breath. “Do you always push random women against walls in dark alleys?”

“I’ve been waiting for this day for so long…” He breathes, kind of a wheezy breath, clearly ignoring your question. His hand moves to gently touch your cheek and immediately you turn your face away from him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You don’t need to deny me, Y/N...not anymore.” His other and slides along your inner thigh and you quickly slap at his hand.

“Don’t touch me.” You growl, looking back up at him with a death glare. “I don’t belong to you. I’m not your property.”

“Yes you are,” he smiles a creepy smile at you, his hand going right to grabbing your clothed core a little too roughly.

“Hey! I said don’t--”

Your words are cut off as Dave comes and yanks the guy away from you, one of his hands holding a rag and moving it to cover the guy’s mouth to muffle any screams he may make while his other hand repeatedly jabs his knife into the guy’s side and chest. You watch as his eyes widen with every stab of the knife into his torso, part of you enjoying the sight of his pain and the muffled sound of his screams. Is this too much? Killing a man for being a creep? Perhaps not too much because you already know that if you don’t kill him, there’s a possibility he’ll go and find someone else to stalk and potentially harm after Dave takes you away from this entire situation. You’re looking forward to it, really, being free from this city and it’s creeps and you’re happy to be ridding it of one.

“Sorry to say, bud, but you made the wrong life choices.” Dave growls in your stalker’s ear, giving one more hard stab into the guy’s stomach before slicing sideways to gut him, letting his body fall to the ground with a hard thud. “No one touches my girl like that.”

“Oh, Dave…” You whisper, looking from the lifeless body of your once was stalker to your new lover’s slowly diminishing murderous gaze, giving him a smile and earning yourself one right back. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, beautiful girl.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good afternoon, miss Y/N,” the soft, sad tone of your now previous landlord’s voice meets your ears as you exit the apartment building, giving her a small frown.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Patterson. Is everything okay?” You ask her, adjusting the last box of your things from your apartment beneath your arm.

“Oh no, honey, unfortunately I can’t say it is.” She sighs, shaking her head with a lost gaze. “I lost someone close to me a few weeks ago…it still aches my heart just thinking about it. My poor nephew was mugged and left for dead in an alley a few blocks from here. I told that boy not to go messing around with the people around here since he was wired a little differently and could easily trigger the wrong group of people… I suppose I was right.”

Your blood runs cold at her words, everything now all making sense in your head about how this guy was getting into your building. Instead of saying anything at all relating to her nephew’s death you only shake your head and frown, giving her your condolences either way.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs. Patterson. I guess some people around here just can’t handle a little difference.”

“Unfortunately so,” she nods, looking up at you with a sad smile. “You take care though, okay sweetheart? And good luck on that new job opportunity you got. If you ever need anything once you get moved into your new place, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Patterson. You take care yourself.” you smile, giving her a small hug before walking over to where Dave is parked with his trunk open and giving Mrs. Patterson a small wave goodbye, placing the box in the back of his SUV and closing the back door. You quickly climb into the passenger seat and close the door behind you, turning to look at Dave with a tight, nervous smile. “Get us the fuck out of here and I’ll explain everything on the way.”

“Okay?” He chuckles, putting the vehicle in gear before pulling away from the sidewalk and starting your several hour drive far away from here. Once you’re far from your previous apartment building you breathe out a relieved sigh, turning and looking at Dave with wide eyes.

“That woman, my previous landlord...is the aunt of my now dead stalker.”

“Get out. For real?” He asks, glancing over at you with raised brows.

“Yeah. She told me how her nephew was found mugged and murdered in an alley a few blocks away…”

“That explains how he was getting into the building and even found you to start stalking you.”

“It all makes sense now, yeah.” You sigh, reaching over to rest your hand on top of his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you again for everything. I truly don’t know where I’d be without your and your help…”

“How many times do I gotta tell you, baby, you don’t need to thank me anymore,” he chuckles, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Now that my divorce is final, I’m excited to start a new life with you...a safer and more happy life.”

“Me too, Dave. Me too,” you whisper, leaning over to press a quick, firm kiss to his cheek. “To the future.”

“To the future,” he grins.

Everything taglist: @halefirewarrior​ @takemepedropascal​ @wildcard566​ @readsalot73​ @talesfromtheguild​ @msmona​ @oberynispunk​ @whiskeyxinxaxteacup​ @pedrosdoll​ @ah-callie​

[bakugohoex]

chapter three ➺ slim triumph

pairing: pro hero katsuki bakugo x pro hero female reader

cw: language and angry boi, some violence

word count: 2500+

a/n: anything in italics in this fic means a flashback, tbh all my fics and one shots if its italics its either a though that you’ll be able to see or a flashback if its consistent and looks out of place, hope you guy’s liked it

summary: in which the fates of both you and bakugo are determined by one detrimental night, chaos and showmanship is put to the test and by the end of the night you’ll be the most hated people in all of japan

chapter two | masterlist | chapter four 

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

“He’ll love it, if he doesn’t, I can always just manipulate him” You spoke sadistically, Bakugo raising an eyebrow as he gave a what the fuck face.

“You aren’t doing shit Y/n.” You pout both glaring at each other before hearing Hawks fly back in landing right in front of you.

He raises an eyebrow before collapsing on the chair, his legs on the table as he leant back looking at the two of you. He played with his hands before finally speaking to make you both stop uncomfortably glaring at each other “You got a plan then or what?”

You take a breath about to speak, just missing your chance as Bakugo interrupts you. “Yeah, we want it to happen at the gala.”

Hawks crosses his arms, “what will you two do?”

This time you were the one to interrupt the boy, “make a show of course.”

Hawks smirks as he watches the both of you, you both looked at him waiting for any sign that he would agree to even hold it in a place so public and less secure. He broke the uncomfortable atmosphere by nodding, “tell me what you need, and it’ll be done.”

The car drove right up to the gala venue, the cameras flashed and screams, and shouts came from all directions. They had been discrete in the car but as Bakugo opened the door for you, they had become a lot louder. “Y/n, Y/n is it true you and Pro Hero Bakugo are dating.” The comments flooding through, asking about the two of you, wanting to get photos of both of you. It was chaos, the only perk being that there were cameras everywhere helping with the mission.

You didn’t speak rolling your eyes, the long black dress hugged you perfectly, your hair swept to the side and your make up made everybody drool, except Bakugo who couldn’t care less. His black suit fitted him perfectly, but you would never tell him, “If you read my mind tonight, I will shoot you.”

“You’re no fun, you haven’t even complimented me yet.” You pouted trying to gain some attention from the loud boy who gave a dumbfounded look.

“Why would I? You look normal.” You huffed at the boy as he grabbed your arm, you latched onto him as a leach would.

“Keep an eye on the clock Bakugo.” You both had a rough time of when everything would be occurring, but you knew the only sign you properly had were when the flickering lights would occur.

“Yes Y/n, I’m not stupid.” It was like talking to a child, an irritated big manly child.

You turned and looked at him raising an eyebrow, “could’ve fooled me.” You snickered; you could almost feel the anger boil inside of him. “Heel boy, we might need to get you a muzzle.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you Y/n.” You smiled at his empty threat as he guided you inside.

The inside was large, spacious, and started to get filled up very quickly. You could spot the lights and different exits and entrances. But most importantly the cameras that were stationed everywhere, as much as you hated becoming your worst nightmare a thrill of excitement came from within. Your friends came up to you both, having not seen them in a while, you all began to talk trying to find a table to get yourselves comfortable for the long night. 

“We didn’t expect you two to come together.” Mina was almost gushing at how cute you both looked together, a scowl was placed on Bakugo’s face, the red shirt he had worn with the black suit made you almost find him pretty. Almost, his face needed changing for certain. His arm leant against the back of your chair, you didn’t notice, nor did you care, it was nothing more than a show to make it seem like the two of you had gotten closer.

“We…” You interrupt Bakugo before he can say you’re not. You had a better thought to make this plan work out, you had thought about the night before not being able to sleep, your bag with your hero costume inside of it sitting on the chair. Hawks said he would get a way of giving them to you, somehow. 

It would be better to be closer with Bakugo to benefit the plan and make the possibility of this plan working a lot higher than it already was. Sitting at a 70% chance of success you needed it to be higher and with your relationship with Bakugo it would increase by 15% at least. But even then there was always a risk of a slim triump occurring.

“Well, stuff happens.” You seemed to speak calmly but the cold nature was sensed by Bakugo as he grabbed the drink that Kirishima had just brought for everybody. You spot Hawks in the corner, a twinkle in his eye as he looked at you. You gave a small nod, unnoticeable but Bakugo saw and he knew it was soon coming that the plan would be occurring.

The event began the commission president speaking and saying gratitude, even Midoriya having his own little segment, they both spoke about how glad they were about how far the pro heroes had come and how they were grateful. Of course, you would have to put on a show that it was all bullshit.

You saw Hawks walk to the back of the large room, straight to where the bar was, the speeches continued it was the same bullshit every year. Your normally cared and listened but your nerves were getting the better of you.

You felt Bakugo grab your hands under the table, he nodded, and you knew it meant he was letting you inside his head. ‘Don’t you fucking start being a wus now.’

‘I’m not’

‘Y/n you’re hands are sweatier than mine are’ You didn’t think anything and before you were about to stop listening to his mind, you heard him again, ‘you look nice, that’s the only compliment you’re getting so stop being a pussy, okay?’

His hands removed from your own, and you hadn’t realised you had been holding in a breath, you softly thought an okay into his head before tuning out. You didn’t want to hear anything more in his head, instead turning back to the president. The spotlights on top of her and around the room beginning to flicker, a sign to both you and Bakugo that it was time.

You got up pretending to go to the bar, to get a drink Bakugo following, nobody questioned it assuming you both were having a normal friendly conversation. You met Hawks at the bar, he didn’t say much, instead slipping a note into your hand. Opening it up, you and Bakugo read it, all it said was side. You noticed there was a door to the left of the stage were the speeches were occurring and you knew exactly what was happening.

You grabbed Bakugo by the sleeve he undid a few buttons to get some air on his body before you went through the door. “If we go through that door, then we’ll get on stage.”

“You ready, you’re not going to back out on me, are you?” He spoke not looking you but glaring at the door. The earlier conversation fresh in your mind you needed to prove to him that you weren’t acting like a pussy.

“What you don’t think I’m capable of something like this?” You questioned; you knew you had a couple minutes before the lights would turn off completely both standing in front of the door.

“You want to what?” The president spoke, Hawks, Bakugo and you were all standing in her office, she raised an eyebrow at what you had just asked of her.

“You want us to get into the Front, we need to prove that we’re allies of theirs.” You paused trying to say your words carefully.

“Fucking hell Y/n, just say it or I will.” You went silent at Bakugo’s frustration, “we’re going to kill you.”

“Bakugo made it sound a lot worse than it actually is, but we planned it all out. Please just hear us out.” You pleaded trying to salvage the plan, you knew Hawks would agree but the president herself you had been a lot more vary of due to both yours and Bakugo’s past with the attention you both craved.

“Seem’s like we’re having some technical issues.” At the sound of the president’s voice you both knew it was time, your stomach churned in anxiety. You were both becoming something you never expected to become, but now you saw a tense Bakugo, all your thoughts were calm. He was as worried as you were and you both were defiantly not going to admit it.

Bakugo blew the side door open, Midoriya had gotten off stage and it was just the President left. She had crouched down at the sight of seeing the door explode, a smirk knowing the explosion had made everybody draw attention to the two of you and not the president. Both Bakugo and you walked happily in like sadists ready to murder.

“You’re probably wondering what’s happening.” Bakugo spoke with a smirk, his sleeve of his shirt had been ripped off, left in the waist coat and opened red shirt.

You had a smile plastered on your face, “let’s make everybody see.” Your quirk activated, the necklace around your neck making your powers more stable, you made the cameras face the two of you. It was like a game and you had started to enjoy this façade.

Every years the camera’s broadcasted this gala live, both you and Bakugo had once watched it back in your UA days with the rest of your class, you knew how it worked. How each camera was positioned, and you made sure that it was live for the whole of Japan to see.

“We’ve come to kill the president.” Bakugo almost laughed out, at the silence and looks of horror from everybody. Your old classmates in shock, pro heroes quirks began to activate as you could see them all getting ready to kill you both. It was a simple action, everybody’s hands in front of them, ready to capture you both.

“Aww look Bakugo they think they can kill us.” At the sound of your mocking you quickly controlled everybody, it was easier to control a mass group to stay still than control them to move. And as they stood watching, unable to move, you moved a single camera forward with the flick of your fingers.

“We’re putting on a show for out lovely viewers at home.” You made the camera move along with both you and Bakugo. Bakugo smirked as the president had started to crawl backwards, trying to get away in fear.

“Funny isn’t it, she thinks she can run.” You could feel the hotness coming from Bakugo’s hand, a maniac smile on your face before Bakugo threw the explosion right at her. Her scream filled the room, you could almost feel the horror emotions in everybody but all you could do was grin at the sight. The explosion had been powerful, Bakugo using both hands and this ultimately made you knew that if it were real, she would be dead on impact. 

Of course this was always the plan, but she was never going to die of course, it had always been a body double that had taken her place at the time of the first explosion.

It would bleed and die out and both you and Bakugo would have your fun. Which it evidently was doing, the blood poured out, your quirk allowed you to move a bit of the broken glass from the door closer to her body. It was almost horrifying at what you were doing, carving the fake, everybody watching and seeing the gleeful look you had on your face. “Now whose next, Y/n let fucking Deku speak.”

Bakugo jumped off the stage going towards the green haired boy, you laughed allowing his mouth to move. “Kacchan, Y/n, please what are you two doing?” He was unable to move and you knew suppressing this amount of people would take a toll on you soon, but you kept it up just to see their little scared faces look at you.

“He didn’t here Bakugo, why don’t you repeat yourself?” The cameras were still rolling and by now the whole of Japan would have been notified, you knew it as well would be any moment before more pro heroes would come and try and stop you.

“We came to kill the president, and now we’re going to kill more people.” Bakugo’s quirk was right in front of Midoriya’s face, he would never harm the boy, but the smug look he had made you know it was almost a win for Bakugo to have some power of the boy.

“Bakugo, she’s bleeding on my dress.” You whine out, Midoriya’s face was in shock at your callous behaviour, you kicked the body making her lie on her front.

Bakugo runs back up to you smirking, he hears the sirens and helicopters above, grabbing your waist to bring you closer to his body. “Well we’d love to stay but we have somewhere to go.”

“Come and find us.” You weren’t saying it to the pro heroes, you winked directly into the camera saying it to the Liberation Front. You had made a scene and as your arms wrapped around Bakugo, his explosions coming from his hands as he smashed a window flying out. You both knew this was the start of something a lot bigger than you had anticipated.

Your quirk out of their reach, as they could move and feel, Hawks had been the first person to go to the president, he took her to the men who had known of the plot, declaring her dead-on site. Your friends had tears down their eyes, confusion across their face.

“How could they…How could they have done something like this?” Mina spoke, Sero held her shoulders, they were all in shock.

As hawks watched over unable to explain he heard Midoriya be the first one to speak. “Maybe… maybe they were under control.”

“Midoriya, I think it was out of their own will, they were having fun, they didn’t do it because someone made them do it. They enjoyed doing it.” Kirishima spoke softly, he didn’t want to admit it, but he knew what he had seen.

“I’m going to find them both.” Midoriya muttered barely audible, Hawks had heard, and he knew this would become a bigger issue if Midoriya got in the way. But as he saw your distant figures due to his own quirk, he was glad you two had each other on this undercover mission. But the full plan had not been accomplished yet, the Liberation Front may have not even seen the charade and that would be detrimental for everybody. 

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[hold-me-sickfics]

Okay guys, as promised:

Day 1: Namjoon💜

Prompt: Namjoon’s been up since 2:00 a.m. with a stuffy nose and a pretty rough cough. His throat is killing him, and can someone please bring him the lotion tissues? His nose is bright red from how many times he’s used that old t-shirt in the floor. Thankfully, he’s been given permission to stay home and rest for the day, but that’s just impossible for him. He’s supposed to be the leader of the pack, so how can he just abandon them right before an interview? What if they need him? What if the interviewer only speaks English? What if Jungkook loses his shirt 5 minutes before they go in? What if Jimin and Taehyung accidentally reveal what the new album is called? What if… well everything happens? Or… what if… just maybe… the leader needs loved and coddled but instead he’s all alone at the house all day...

TW: Food, this fic is more snz focused than anything (Note: if anyone sees a trigger I missed, please let me know and I’ll post a warning for it too!)

—————-

“Namjoon, why are you in here? I thought I just told you to stay in bed until I got your breakfast.” Jin lightly scolded the leader. Namjoon had been up since 2:00 feeling pretty sick.

“I know but I wadted to bake sure you didn’t deed help with breakfast.” Namjoon shuffled over to the coffee maker, and poured himself a mug of it.

“Joon, down. No coffee. You’re sick, so the last thing you need is coffee making your stomach hurt.” Jin took the mug from him, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Here, just sit down and rest okay? How about you make a quick call and see if you can get today off. I’ll make you some hot tea. We’ll see if you feel like eating once your sinuses open up a little, alright?” Jin eased Namjoon down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

Namjoon had to admit, he felt terrible. His nose was stopped up and running at the same time. His throat felt like it was tight and on fire. His muscles ached, and he felt cold. His skin felt so sensitive; even Jin touching him earlier had hurt. But still, having his hyung so close did help him to feel safe and cared for, so he had endured the pain.

Namjoon picked up the phone, and dialed the BigHit office number, asking to speak to his scheduler.

Jin listened closely as Namjoon struggled to talk. He grabbed a bottle of honey out of the cabinet and poured a tablespoon into the tea he was brewing on the stove. Sympathy pain took over his chest when he hear Namjoon cough to clear his throat. The cough was wet, and thick, and had nearly even made him gag.

Just then, Taehyung and Jungkook came running downstairs.

“I AM EATING THE BACON! YOU CANNOT STOP ME!” Taehyung screamed.

“I WILL JUMP ON YOU!” Jungkook swung over the railing.

Surprisingly, the maknae managed to land perfectly on Taehyung’s back, causing him to hit the floor- hard.

“Ah!” Taehyung let out a harsh cry.

“Shhhh!” Jin pressed a finger to his lips. He mouthed the words “Joon’s on the phone”

Both the younger boys apologized immediately, and then bolted to the refrigerator. Jin couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Yeah, I cad’t breathe well.”

Namjoon coughed again. This time wasn’t as thick, but Jin could tell there was enough snot in his throat to fill a bucket.

Hoseok came downstairs in his bathrobe, hair still dripping wet from his shower. He too, heard the last cough, and decided to inquire about the situation.

“Jin, he sounds awful.” Hoseok glanced over at the leader. He immediately noticed Namjoon’s red nose, puffy-pink eyes, and pale skin. A sheen of sweat covered his face and upper chest. His hair was half-matted to his head in sweat as well.

“He’s been like this since 2:00. He’s trying to get today off so he can stay home and rest.” Jin took the tea off the stove and poured a decent-sized amount into a small, blue mug.

“Okay, thank you.” Namjoon hit the “end call” button, and set his phone down. He rested his head in his hands.

Jin carried the mug to Namjoon and set it on the coaster. He took the chair beside Namjoon and stroked his hair softly.

“What’d they say?” Jin leaned down to try and meet Namjoon’s eyes.

“They’re letting be stay home... but you all have an interview today... I cad’t stay here and just let you guys go alone.”

Though it hurt to have someone touch his skin, he leaned in closer to Jin, trying to take in some of his strength.

“Joonie, you have to stay home today. You look like you feel awful, and I know you do. You’ve been up since 2:00 this morning, and I know you’re exhausted. We’ll be back by dinner, okay?” Jin carded his fingers through the younger’s sweaty blonde hair.

Namjoon was about to protest when his chest broke into hacking, heaving coughs. His ribs hurt from coughing so much and his throat felt like it had been run up and down a cheese grater. Tears came to his eyes as he finished his coughing fit.

“Take it easy Joon-bug. Sip on this for me. It’s got honey in it. It’ll help ease the pain a little. And hopefully it’ll open you up too.” Jin lifted the mug to Namjoon’s hands and helped him lift it to his lips. Jin couldn’t help it, he had a soft spot for all the members, but it was really bad when Namjoon didn’t feel well. It seemed that Namjoon was all he could think about on those occasions. Perhaps since they were paired together so often in games and such. They’d just gotten really close as oldest and leader of the group.

Namjoon gratefully accepted the beverage, and sipped it down. He was visibly relieved by the warmth and smoothness of the liquid. It nearly made him forget that he had to let the group be on their own today.

Aaaaaand that’s when he remembered.

“Jin, what if they don’t have a transblator? Or like, what if Judkook can’t find his shirt again? Or what if...” Jin cut Namjoon’s worries off short.

“I’ll take care of it okay? You just rest today. And if I come home and find you doing anything but resting, I won’t be very happy.” Jin gave him a gentle look, telling the leader that he was just doing what was best for Namjoon’s health.

Namjoon wanted to debate, but he just couldn’t. He wasn’t feeling strong enough. He nodded, and they went through the rest of breakfast pretty smoothly.

An hour passed, and Namjoon was currently being tucked in by Jin.

“Okay, I put a bottle of water on your table. There are two extra blankets in that chair over there. I have cough drops over here beside the water, but if you end up needing more, they’re in the top shelf of the bathroom cabinet. I know you didn’t want to take medicine, but I left it here anyways. Send me your temperature every hour, unless you fall asleep. If you fall asleep, then take it ten minutes after you wake up. We’ll be back by 4:30 p.m. If you need me, call me. I’ll have my phone on while we’re there except when we’re shooting. Other than that, I’ll most likely pick up on the first ring. Oh and-“

“Jin?” Namjoon interrupted him.

“Yeah?” Jin realized he might have been rambling.

“Thanks.”

Jin smiled. “No problem. Just rest okay? No doing stupid things. Don’t try and do housework, don’t work on songs, don’t make calls unless absolutely necessary... or well you know, unless they’re to me.” Jin’s eyes softened. “Feel better Joon-bug.”

Namjoon nodded, and rested his head on the pillow as Jin closed the door.

He heard the other boys close the front door, and suddenly, he was alone in the house.

He felt lonely almost instantly. Turning on the tv was supposed to help, but it didn’t. After one episode of “Housewives of America,” he turned it off and tried to sleep.

He woke up slowly, and turned to face his alarm clock.

“Please be 4:30, please be 4:30...”

The clock read 10:48 a.m. They’d been gone for 46 minutes. Namjoon whined loudly to himself.

He tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. His nose kept running and his throat hurt badly. He finally just decided to get up and get something to eat.

That task proved to be harder than he originally thought it would be. The moment his feet hit the floor, chills ran cold up and down his spine.

“Aish,” he wrapped his shaking arms around his body. Luckily, he remembered Jin’s statement about the extra blankets, and he was able to turn one of them into a nice cape for him to wear around the house. With that, he trudged to the kitchen and opened the pantry door.

“I deed food.” He sniffled as he eyed the contents of the small room.

Namjoon finally decided on a pack of blueberry muffins, and...

He glanced back at the coffee machine, recalling Jin’s strict warning about the coffee being bad for his stomach. But... Jin wasn’t here soooo....

Namjoon did a sneaky little dance of shuffling over to the machine with a mischievous smirk on his face. When he got there, he took the filter out and there was a small post-it note inside.

“Morning Joonie. I hope you’re feeling some better by the time you read this. I figured you’d come for coffee after I left, so I took all the coffee with me. There’s some tea in the refrigerator that you can warm up for your throat. Remember to rest up, and I’ll see you when we get back.

Ps. If I get home and find out you bought coffee and had it delivered, I will remove our address from every coffee shop record between now and last October. Remember to send your temperature every hour. *hugs*

-Jin”

As much as Namjoon knew that Jin was doing this in his best interest, he really wanted that coffee.

Within the next thirty minutes, he was on the couch with a coffee in hand (thankfully, they delivered). He sipped the beverage happily and took a few nibbles of the muffins he’d gotten from the pantry earlier.

The hot coffee felt great on his throat, and actually helped the muffins to go down easier.

When he’d eaten enough, he checked his phone just to see if he’d gotten any new notifications.

And that’s what he’d forgotten.

11:06 Jin: “how’s that temp bud?”

Okay now he was in trouble. Jin wanted his temperature, but if he gave it to him, his mouth would be wayyy hotter than normal because of the coffee... Then, he had an idea.

11:09 Namjoon: “I’m 99.3. I don’t feel like I’ve got a fever so I think it’s just a little cold.”

Thankfully, he’d remembered that you could take your temperature under your arms too. He meant to wait and see what Jin would say back to him, but he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and decided to take a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he came out of the shower feeling a lot better. Jin had texted back saying “good, make sure to stay hydrated and rest.”

He smiled at how caring his hyung was, and then turned his phone down. He thought it was best to go ahead and take a nap while he could still breathe. Maybe his symptoms would even be gone by the time he woke up!

Well, as hopeful as he’d been, he was wrong.

Namjoon woke up at 12:45, with his throat hurting more than ever. His nose was so stuffed, he had to breathe through his mouth, which felt like glass scraping his throat brutally.

On top of that, he had started feeling bitterly cold. A couple minutes passed and he took his temperature.

“101.4” Could be worse but could be better. The only problem was, Namjoon had a tendency to get really emotional when he had a fever higher than 100. This was no exception.

Namjoon’s eyes flooded with tears. He wanted the other members here... he wanted Jin here. But they couldn’t be... they had to work. He desperately wanted them home, but he knew they’d have to finish before they could come back. So, he decided to text them.

12:56 Namjoon: “I’m at 101.4.”

12:56 Jin: “Okay. Are you feeling worse? Or just the fever?”

12:58 Namjoon: “I feel bad Jin... my throat hurts, and my nose is stuffy and I can’t breathe. And my stomach hurts.”

As soon as Namjoon hit send, he regretted it. His stomach was starting to hurt because of that coffee from earlier, but Jin would be furious if he figured that out.

Before Namjoon had the chance to defend himself, Jin had texted back.

1:02 Jin: “That’s what I thought. We’ll be home in a few hours okay Joon-bug? Just lie down and drink water or tea until I get there. There are some fever reducers in the cabinet. Only take one, and then in thirty minutes it should start working.”

1:04 Namjoon: “You’re not mad at me?”

1:05 Jin: “Namjoon, you’re sick. I’m not going to fuss at you even though I probably should. I’m not entirely heartless you know.”

Namjoon wiped a hot tear from his cheek. More than anything in the world, he wanted Jin to coddle him.

1:08 Namjoon: “Please hurry home. I need you.”

Namjoon set his phone down and cried a bit into his crab plushie. He would take fever reducer, but it hurt to move. His muscles ached and his skin was so sensitive that even his pajamas seemed to prick him.

His soft cries tightened in his throat. He was in so much pain. Only one thought crossed his mind:

“Please come home Jin. I don’t want to feel this way alone...”

———-

Jin put his phone back in his pocket. His chest was tight with sympathy. There was nothing he wanted more than to hold Namjoon close and tell him it would be okay.

But for now, he had to push that aside. He had problems that were a bit more pressing...

“Jin Hyung! Have you seen my pants? I can’t find my pants.” Jungkook yelled from the other side of the guest room.

“Jin, my snack bag is gone and Hobi is gonna explode if he doesn’t get a sprite in the next 12 seconds.” Yoongi was scrambling around the room.

“Hyung, have you seen my other earring?” Jimin looked totally lost and Taehyung was trying to help.

“Aish. I’m coming just hang on.” Jin then set off to solve all the problems that had been named off. The interview was in 20 minutes and everything that had been mentioned was nearly life or death.

ESPECIALLY Jungkook’s. He really needed to find pants before he just decided to go on without them. Because, he definitely would if given the choice.

——-

Namjoon had managed to fall asleep.

Jin had rushed through everything as fast as he could, and had quickly thanked the interviewer and called for the bus early.

4:00 Jin: “I’m on my way Joon-bug. Hang in there for me.”

When Namjoon actually fully woke up, he felt a hand on his back. It hurt against his skin, but he hoped that it meant Jin was back. He turned over, and sure enough, it was.

“Grande? You had to get a grande coffee? You’re gonna take out that stomach of yours.” Jin was smiling, which told Namjoon that he wasn’t really upset with him.

“I really wadted it Jin. Like, really really.” He sniffled. His nose was back to running.

“Yeah yeah I’m aware.” Jin popped out a fever reducer pill and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Now take this for me. I’d check your temperature again but just feeling your forehead earlier told me enough.”

Namjoon did still feel chilled, even under three blankets. His throat was sore, and speaking was hard.

Luckily for Jin, this meant he couldn’t protest taking his medicine.

“Alright, open up for me.” Jin placed the tablet on the younger’s tongue and then lifted the bottle of water to his lips. When he’d taken it, he eased Namjoon back down onto the pillow.

“How’s your throat feeling?” Jin asked, taking the leader’s hand in his own.

Namjoon didn’t want to speak so he just shook his head sadly.

“Alright bug. Just wait here, and I’ll go warm up some tea. I’ll probably put a little something in it for your stomach too since I can literally hear it bubbling from the coffee still.” Jin patted Namjoon’s hand and then got up from the bed. He closed the door and started to walk up the hallway.

Namjoon just smiled. Since Jin was home, he knew he’d be better in no time.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Capt. Syverson- Chapter Three: Therapeutic Activity

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Tensions reach a boiling point during treatment one evening, Shane goes to her own veteran for advice, and takes the first step toward happiness…hoping beyond hope that everything doesn’t blow up in her face.

Masterlist with links to all parts HERE!

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None, yet… ;) But maybe I should be putting language warnings in here…there are some bad words. And not to spoil but…there might be a bit of kissing in this one…

Author’s Note: Guys, I cannot stress to you enough how much I am enjoying telling this story. My goodness. To sort of combine my passions of writing and Henry with something I know so well like therapy (I’m a secretary like Heather, not a therapist), it really just makes me happy. The next chapter is already done, also, it was initially part of this chapter, but it felt too long, so I’ll be posting it separately later. I know, I’m a tease. Have Henry spank me. Lol.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

"This sounds…kinda dumb…" Sy expressed his thoughts on today's warm up with Shane.

"Oh, trust me, it looks even dumber than it sounds. But it works. And it's easier on your knees than doing it the right way. You ready?" he looked at the treadmill, inclined at 3% grade as if it was Everest itself, and looked back at her. "I'll start slow." she raised her eyebrows at him.

"You know just what to say to a girl." he teased as he stepped up, still gingerly, even after eight weeks of therapy. Crutches mercifully jettisoned two weeks ago. He was on his way to being his fighting fit self. With a foot on either track beside the belt, but facing away from the control panel, he waited for her to press start. He took a breath and nodded.

"Test the belt with your bad foot first, and then when you're ready, step down with it. Remember what I've told you about which foot should lead when ascending and descending stairs or hills?"

"Good go to Heaven, Bad go to Hell. So I go up with the good leg and go down with the bad leg."

"A+ student. Okay, when you're ready…any time…Sy, this is an hour session…I have to kick you out in 55 minutes…chop chop." she cajoled him, but he wasn't budging.

"It feels…weird going this way, Shane." If she had been a less kind person, she would have called it whining…she called it nothing, instead.

"I know. Do you need to walk backwards around the clinic a little more to get you used to that sensation?"

"Hell yeah. If that means you're gonna spot me like you did before…felt kinda like dancin'." it was a perfectly legitimate and above-board treatment strategy. They stood back to back, Shane guiding Sy as he practiced walking backward and pushing off with the extensor muscle group, which had been weak. Sy had suggested holding hands, but Shane had compromised with the idea to link arms. Not that she wasn't dying to hold his hand…she was. But that had not been the time. The time was still weeks away. At least.

"I was thinking I'd have you try it with Jordan. He's got a free hour right now. And I can assess your technique. How does that sound, Twinkle Toed Romeo?" Immediately he placed a tentative foot down onto the slow moving belt trying to adjust to the odd sensation of walking up a hill backward.

"Ah, so I now know that all I have to do to get you to do something silly is threaten you with Jordan. Filing that away for a rainy day."

"Come on, you're breakin' my heart, sunshine."

"Aww, don't be ridiculous. I've seen therapists do way more embarrassing things to their patients in the name of treatment."

"Tell me!"

"Sorry, but it's classified information. Protected under the Health Insurance Privacy and Portability Act. I could literally get fired for telling you, and there are way cooler things to get fired for!" She'd always said it. And she meant it. She didn't fool around when it came to HIPPA, and there was no way she was gonna lose her job over a stupid slip like that.

"Any examples of things you'd rather get fired for?"

She thought for a few minutes. She used to have a list.

"Hmm, telling off my bitch of a boss," he looked shocked at her use of a bad language word, which he'd never heard from her. She nodded. "Telling off an asshole patient," sleeping with a patient…

"What about sleeping with a patient?" It was late in the day, the only person still there was Heather in the office, and a few therapists still documenting. Nobody in the gym to hear him echo the thoughts in her head. As if he could read them as clearly as a page in a book. Large print. She looked at him in shock.

"Sorry. That was over the line."

"It was…but…"

"But?"

"But…it would not be the least cool reason to get fired."

"It wouldn't?" she shook her head, reluctantly.

"Especially if the patient was…amazing, and kind, and…fucking gorgeous…"

"Young lady, that language today, I have never!" he exclaimed clutching at his broad and beautiful chest.

"I know, but, Sy…this is all hypothetical, and theoretical, and IF I was GOING to get fired how would I CHOOSE for it to happen and WHAT policy I would go against. People don't just CHOOSE to be fired, you know?" she was nervous and rambling.

"You know what people also don't choose? Who they care about, and have feelin's for. Who they--"

"Don't finish that sentence, Sy." She couldn't hear him say the word he was going to say. She couldn't let him start that. Not when there was too much complicating their situation.

She walked off to her treatment room, needing some space.  Some time.

She didn't get that space or time. Sy hobbled in behind her, looking like a man on a mission. And she knew from his war stories that his missions tended to be successful…even the one that got him his walking papers wasn't a total loss.

"Sy, you still had like, five minutes on the tr--"

His big hands found the sweet spot where her neck met her skull. He took a big breath and closed the distance between them, his lips landing light as feathers on hers, her soft skin welcoming the roughness of his beard, though everything else about the kiss was terribly gentle. Almost chaste. Even his beard wasn't so rough that she worried about beard burn…she'd be filing that away for later, as well. Against her willpower and better judgement but in full cooperation with her desires and instincts she began kissing him back, daring to deepen it by opening their mouths a bit, and sliding her hands up the back of his red tee that sported a black skull. All of his shirts were entirely too tight, but you'd never catch her complaining. Even after several months away from active duty and really, most activity at all, his body was still so solid and powerful.

"Ain't that a daisy…Fuck, I've wanted to do that since my first appointment." he chuckled, lightly.

"Sy…"

"Don't. Don't try to argue or tell me you don't feel it. This energy between us. I've seen it in your eyes, Shane. I've felt it when you touch me. It ain't nothin, sunshine. It's a whole lotta somethin'."

"I know, but I need this job. And I WANT this job. Being a therapist is the only thing I've ever wanted to do. Helping people. People like you. Getting them better. It's what I was meant to do. And there's no place like this in the area for me to treat such a diverse clientele and build my skill set. It's not without it's problems, but it's where I'm meant to be."

"I get that. And you should do what you were called to do. You're too good at this not to do it. But Shane, isn't it worth pushing back on some policy if it could mean you get to have some personal happiness, too?"

"I'm worried they'll make me choose." Actually, it was more than that. She was worried about which choice she'd make. Giving up a ten-year career with excellent benefits despite its pitfalls, or giving up someone she could hardly stop thinking about, who made her heart pound when he smiled, and who was rapidly shaping up to be someone she could see herself sharing a life with…making either choice terrified her for very different reasons.

"You shouldn't have to choose. Any boss who'd make you deny yourself what we could have just because of some ridiculous policy…well, they ain't worth the gas that brought 'em to work today. Y'understand me?"

She nodded, smirking at his idiom, "You don't know my boss."

"Well, maybe I oughta GET to know her, if it's like that. I have a way of throwin' my weight around, case ya hadn't noticed." he shot her a smug grin.

"Ya don't say?" she retorted, brimming with sarcasm, literally still wrapped in the evidence of said weight in the form of his muscular arms, warm and thick, encircling her. Even though she felt like her life was up in the air, she had never felt more safe. "I'll try to have a chat with her about it this week. Our schedules rarely align, and usually that's how I like it, but I'll try to move some things around if nothing naturally falls into place."

"I'll be happy to lend my voice or even come talk to her, if need be." he offered, ever the gentleman.

"I appreciate that, Sy, truly. But I think it would be best not to involve you unless it becomes absolutely necessary. We have several more treatments to get through today, though. You didn't finish on the tread mill, do you think you're warmed up enough?"

"Oh, darlin', I'm plenty warm." he grinned down at her sliding a hand down her side.

"Shit, am I gonna have to start being extra careful with what I say to you until this gets sorted?"

"I really doubt it'll matter, Shane. Ain't much you can say I can't make dirty." she could tell by the satisfaction on his face that this was a point of pride for him.

"Lay down and shut up."

"Yes, MA'AM!" he complied with a little too much enthusiasm. She didn't know whether to roll her eyes with amusement or grow increasingly feral…apparently there was room for both as long as she didn't act on the latter. Yet.

~~~~~~~~

She dismissed Sy for the day, instructing him to behave himself until she gave him the all clear, and even then, if she got the green light to see him outside of therapy, sessions would still be about getting him stronger, and not flirting. Or at least mostly. They settled on a 90/10 ratio by the end. She was a weak woman.

She went into the office where one of the senior therapists, Anita, was still charting and snacking on some pretzels.

"How was your day, Nita?" she asked affectionately. Anita had been her mentor since she started with the clinic over ten years ago, and was now part time, flexing toward retirement. She'd miss her.

"Oh, long, Miss Shane. As they tend to be more and more these days. What about yours?"

"Ah…just…nothin'." she shouldn't go into it all until she talked to Susan, their boss.

"Mmm, that's no nothing nothin', that's a something nothin'. Come on, kiddo. Spill." she offered Shane one of her pretzels and kicked out the chair next to her. Again, she was a weak woman. She took a pretzel, sat, and chewed it for a moment, collecting her words.

"What do you think about…starting relationships with patients?" she searched her reaction for any snap judgement or emotion, but only a narrowing of her eyes occurred.

"Is this about that Captain Sexypants who just left?"

"I'm going to kill Heather. I'm not the one who came up with that nickname and I'm not the one who started the whole having feelings conversation. I was going to be miserable until he was discharged, at least."

"Why would you need to make yourself miserable, Shane?"

"Because the policy. About dating patients."

"Technically the policy only says you shouldn't treat family/close friends if you feel you wouldn't be able to maintain objectivity or would be uncomfortable yourself. But that you should disclose any relationship to your supervisor for review."

"See, what's Susan gonna say?"

"Who cares? The policy is the law. And the board of directors governs the policy. Not her. Tell her in an email if you can't work out a time to talk to her before you see him next. Hell, I sent my boss a memo back when I started dating Ron. And look at us now! 20 years strong."

"No way!?" Shane was flabbergasted. She had never known that Anita's husband Ron had once been her patient.

"Oh yes. I wasn't long out of PT school, my first husband had passed away and I needed an income, so I got my PT license and about a year into working here, Ron got put on my schedule. I knew from the eval, he was meant for me. So I typed up a memo, sent it to Morton, our boss at the time, and told Ron I was free on Friday after work."

"Sy just…I don't know, we have this…connection…a spark. I've never felt it with anyone else."

"Are you concerned that seeing him socially would affect how you treat him here?"

"I'm more worried keeping my feelings for him bottled up while I treat him will get so distracting I'll become less effective."

"Well, then, if you get any push back, tell Susan that." Anita said. "Just be forthright. Honest. And speak with integrity. She'll have no cause to refute it, then. And send it tonight."

"Okay. Thanks Anita. You're the best."

~~~~~~~~~

Shane spent too long, probably an hour, at least, drafting her email to Susan. It read:

To: Susan DeForrest

From: Shane Benton

Subject: Re: Treatment Policy

Susan,

I wanted to bring to your attention a situation that has presented itself with one of my patients. I have been treating him almost exclusively for several weeks now, apart from my week on PTO, and he has progressed to both of our satisfaction as well as the ordering physician. However, we have come to be quite friendly and he has expressed great interest in seeing me outside of therapy. This is something that I too would like to engage in, and I plan to accept the next time I speak with him.

From my understanding of the policy, the only thing that would prevent me from treating him as a social acquaintance would be my own comfort level and ability to remain objective. I have every confidence that my objectivity regarding his case will remain intact. I am also completely comfortable with it, and if that changes, I will transfer him to another therapist. Furthermore, I have no doubts that I will be able to maintain the highest level of professionalism throughout our treatments.

Thank you, and if you feel we need to discuss any of this further, please let me know.

~Shane Benton, DPT

And send…whew. She needed a big glass of wine tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Up Next: Chapter Four- E-Stim

[darlingandmreames]

Babe! Contagion Inception!au with Eames as a liaison and Arthur as a field researcher—

Agsjdk okay so I meant for this to be under 1000 words but that uhhhhh didn't happen. Oops. It also got a bit angsty so sorry about that 😅 Because this is a Contagion AU, it deals with getting sick. That's obviously a topic that might make people uncomfortable given the state of the world right now. If that's the case, I highly suggest not reading this.

please feel free to send more prompts!!

*******************************************************************************************

Eames was still in Geneva when he got the call. He grinned as Arthur's name came up on his caller ID. Arthur rarely called anyone as a rule, so this was an unexpected surprise; part of him even felt a little smugly satisfied, if he were being completely honest. Something he admittedly generally avoided being when it came to Arthur. He picked up with a chuckle. "Hello, darling. This is a delightful surprise.”

“Eames?”

“The one and only, love.” He grinned a bit wider. “What, couldn't wait until I get in tomorrow to hear my voice? You better be careful, or I might start to think you don't actually hate me." He leaned back in his chair. "I was thinking, though, I still owe you dinner. If I can manage to pull you away from work for an hour or two, that is. Maybe tomorrow night? There's a little noodle place I love that…"

"Eames, I…I think I'm sick."

Eames stopped, stomach dropping. He sat forward, paying close attention; he had to have heard Arthur wrong. He couldn’t have heard him right. "What?"

"I-I woke up with a fever and I-" A harsh cough cut off Arthur's voice, and it was a moment before he was able to speak again. "I've had a cough since early this morning." He took a shaky breath and Eames could hear the edge of fear in his voice. "I contacted the hospital and they're sending a team to bring me in and put me in isolation but it might be a bit before they're here and I-I just needed…I needed to call someone."

No no no no, this isn’t happening. "I can…" Eames had already pulled up flights, scrolling through them quickly and clicking on the soonest option. "I can be there this evening." He logged off his computer and grabbed his jacket and the small packed bag he kept by his desk for emergencies, running out of his office. It'd be close, but he could make the flight if he headed out now. "Send me the hospital information and I'll meet you there."

"You don't have to come, you're coming tomorrow anyways, it's alright, I just…I just needed to hear someone’s voice, that's all, you don't have to…"

"Arthur." Eames cut him off. He tried to shove down the panic he could feel rising in his chest. Arthur was already afraid- god he could only imagine how afraid he must be- he didn't need to make it worse by letting his own fear show. "I’m coming. I'll be there this evening."

Arthur was silent on the other end of the call for a moment, and Eames could hear him sniffle quietly. When he finally spoke again his voice was quiet. "Thank you."

"You're going to be alright, darling." Cobb tried to pull him aside to talk as he ran through the lobby but Eames pushed past him frantically, shaking his head. He had to get to the airport. He had to make that flight. He had to get to Arthur. "I promise."

XXX

Eames hated hospitals. He spent his time more on the public relations end of outbreaks rather than the front lines or research end of things, but he was far too aware of exactly how many deadly diseases one could catch in a place most people associated with healing to ever be comfortable in one. Hospitals were, in his opinion, a breeding ground for antibiotic resistant infections and were best avoided as much as possible. Thankfully his job as a media liaison meant he rarely spent time in them even when on location and he preferred to keep it that way. When he was in them it was usually for press releases or meetings with administration. Not to visit someone. He tried to ignore how particularly strong the harsh antiseptic smell was as he made his way through the halls to where the isolation room was. It was a smell he'd long come to associate with sickness and death, and he didn't need his mind to go down that path right now. He couldn't let it. 

Arthur was inside the room talking with one of the doctors, who was seated as far away from Arthur as the room allowed and wearing full protective gear. The sight made the coil of fear that had already settled in Eames' stomach tighten. He'd always known this was a possibility- Arthur worked in the field, gathering information to help them understand what was actually happening, if anyone on the team was going to get sick it was always most likely to be him- but actually seeing him like this was different. Even from where he was standing Eames could see how bad Arthur looked. How sick. His normally pale skin looked grey and clammy under the harsh fluorescents and the hospital gown hung on him loosely, so different from his normal fitted suits. He wasn’t a large man to begin with and the ill-fitting gown made him look even smaller. Arthur wasn't supposed to look like this. He wasn’t supposed to get sick. He was supposed to just confirm the situation they were facing, to gather information and plan their next steps. He was supposed to be fine. 

The doctor left the room and Eames walked up to the window, tapping on the glass slightly. Arthur hurried over as soon as he saw Eames, expression equal parts relief and carefully controlled blankness. The look made Eames' stomach drop; he knew that blank expression. It was the one Arthur wore when he was giving bad news but didn't want to make it seem as bad as it really was, when he was worried but didn't want to show it. He reached for the phone and Eames picked up on his end. "You came."

Even over the tinny connection Eames could hear the relief in his voice. "Of course, darling. I told you I'd be here." He paused, pushing down the fear building in the back of his throat and trying to keep it from seeping into his voice. "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit."

"Yeah, you look like it." Arthur laughed slightly and Eames gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. His smile faded though as Arthur's laugh morphed into a rough cough that doubled him over. It was several seconds before it finally subsided, leaving Arthur shaky and out of breath when he finally picked the phone back up. "Are you alright?" It was a stupid question, he obviously wasn't, but Arthur nodded nonetheless. "Do they…do they know for sure?"

Arthur shook his head. "They're still waiting on the test. I-I have the symptoms though and contact with a source, and it's within the incubation period. So they're pretty sure. They should hopefully know by the morning."

Eames nodded, taking a breath to try and steady himself. "You'll be alright. You'll be okay."

"You know the odds, Eames. You know the mortality rate. 30% for H7N9, 60% for H5N1, so regardless of what strain it is I'm not…" Arthur's voice broke slightly and he looked down. "My odds aren't great."

"Arthur. Darling, look at me." Arthur looked up hesitantly after a moment, fear written plainly across his features. Eames wanted nothing more than to pull him in, hug him and tell him it would be okay, but he settled for simply putting his hand up against the glass. It was the most he could do right now. "You're going to be alright. You'll get through this. You're the most stubborn man I've ever met, so if anyone can beat this it's you, okay? You're going to be fine."

Arthur brought his hand up on the other side of the glass, resting his forehead against the window. "I'm scared, Eames." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't want to die here. I don't want to die alone."

Something in Eames' chest broke at that. In all their years working together, all the outbreaks they'd investigated and responded to, Eames had never heard Arthur say he was afraid. He moved as close to the window as he could, hating that all he could feel was cold glass. "You're not going to die. And you're sure as hell not going to be alone, alright? I'm going to be here. I'm going to be here until you recover."

"But the job, you have to work with…"

"I talked to Cobb. He's having Ariadne cover for me. It’s alright. I'm not going anywhere, love, I'm staying right here." Arthur nodded and Eames gave him a small smile. "And you have to get better because I still owe you dinner, remember?"

Arthur nodded again and closed his eyes, seeming to hang onto Eames' words. "You can…you can take me to that noodle place you mentioned."

"Yeah, we'll go there and you can pronounce all the dishes wrong like you always do." Arthur let out a quiet sound that might've been a laugh, or maybe a sob. Maybe a bit of both. Eames watched him through the glass, chest aching. He could feel words swirling in the back of his throat, things he'd thought and considered saying but had never gotten around to because he'd been too nervous. Because it was easier to maintain their status quo of banter and flirting without taking the next step. Because he'd always assumed they had time. He took a breath, praying to whoever might have been listening that he hadn't waited too long. "It can be a date, yeah? A real one. Been…been meaning to ask you on one for a while now."

Arthur let out another half laugh, half sob. "You have terrible timing." 

"I really do, I'm sorry," Eames laughed quietly, resting his forehead back against the window. "I'll make it up to you though, I promise. When you've recovered."

Arthur's fingers closed into a loose fist against the glass, and Eames could almost imagine the feeling of Arthur's hand in his. "I'd like that." His voice was quiet, and Eames could hear it trembling slightly. "I'd like that a lot."

"Good. It's something to look forward to then." Eames closed his eyes. "You're going to be alright, love. It'll be okay. And I'll be with you through all of it."

“Promise?”

“I promise, darling. Whatever happens…” His breath caught slightly in his throat. It was going to be alright, he wasn't going to lose Arthur. He couldn't. Not now. Not with so many things he still needed to say. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here with you.”

[abbacchiosbelt]

27 with Risotto please. (Hey I know you were having a rough time earlier, I hope you’re feeling better and the new year is a good one for you. Love your writing!!!)

cw for possessive behavior, unhealthy thoughts, unreliable narration, implied emotional manipulation, and brief but suggestive content.

Being designated as a runner between dangerous groups in Passione hadn’t been your first choice in life. If it were anyone else, you could run from the debt that had accrued under your family name. No one escaped Passione, though, and it’s how you found yourself facing life as a runner while staring down the barrel of a gun. You were only offered two choices — life under Passione or death by Passione.

Life, though unfair, was what you had chosen.

The job you were given was almost the lowest of the low, yet at the same time, you were given dangerous assignments. You did little more than deliver messages between teams, but the high caliber of the messages put a target on your back. Walking outside was risking being attacked, though ignoring your assignments would result in a far worse fate. 

Still, there are little perks. Not everyone in the organization treats you like dirt — a few of the members you’d met have escorted you while delivering messages, and some have even offered simple comforts like a cup of coffee or a pack of cigarettes. While some would scoff at such small offerings, small acts of kindness helped to restore some humanity to your tired mind. 

There was one group, though, that made a chill run up your spine every time you arrived in front of their safe house. 

Today happened to be one of those days where you were assigned to deliver a message to your least favorite group. It wasn’t so much that they were rude — they were stand-offish like many of the men you’d met in Passione, but there was something off about them that you hadn’t noticed in other members. The way they leered at you with a dark look in their eyes, or how the more outgoing members would wrap a heavy arm around your shoulders when you arrived.

It was unnerving, yet the fear of retaliation kept you from complaining. What scared you the most was their capo, Risotto Nero. It’d only been a coincidence that you’d learned his name, something you feared that would find you a fresh spot inside of the ground. One of his men had casually dropped it, playing coy when they saw the shock on your face.

Risotto didn’t say anything to either of you, instead just subjecting you to a slow and piercing look that left your skin covered in goosebumps, and a racing heart that told you to run away as fast as possible. 

“Lucky break,” The offending party had scoffed, earning a sharp reprimand from his capo. (You’d later learn that this man’s name was Illuso and that causing trouble was something that brought him fun, especially if it was the expense of others.) 

You’d left that day with a feeling that something was very, very wrong. 

-

You steel your nerves as you knock in the rusty door with the pattern you’d been instructed to use for deliveries to this group. The last visit had left you with a sinking feeling in your stomach and the way your heart dropped when you got your assignment just hours ago had left you ridden with anxiety. There was nothing you could do but follow your orders, so follow your orders you did.

It doesn’t take long before the door is rattling as various locks are undone, creaking open to reveal a tuft of green hair and a nervous face. Pesci you recognized and found him the least offending (though still odd) member of the group. 

“Fra,” Pesci calls behind himself. “I’m letting the runner in.” Pesci opens the door and you quickly walk inside the dreary safe house, dread settling into your bones. The decorations, if they could be called that, led you to believe that every man in the group was a bachelor. There was always a thin coating of dust on the coffee table and sometimes the meager kitchen sink was piled high with dirty dishes. 

Pesci’s Fra, or Prosciutto as you’d been told, rises from the couch and clicks his tongue in annoyance. “I’ve told you, Pesci. You don’t need my permission for this. Do better.”

“Sorry,” Pesci mumbles. He steps out from behind you after the locks are redone, scuttling behind Prosciutto to nervously look from the floor to you. It made you feel awkward. 

“Let’s hear it, then. I don’t have all day.” Prosciutto was always curt with you, treating you like you were nothing more than a speck of dust on his designer suit. Before you can open your mouth a deep voice interrupts the two of you, sending a wave of fear across your body.

“I need them in my office today.” Without turning, you know it’s Risotto. Prosciutto raises his eyebrow in your direction and shrugs.

“Hey,” Prosciutto snaps, grabbing you roughly by the shoulder. “Pay attention. Follow Risotto.”

You bite back the insult you want to throw at him and wrench yourself out from his grip, nodding curtly before you turn to walk towards Risotto. Every inch of the man radiates intimidation, from his broad musculature to his impossible height. To not fear someone like Risotto Nero would be a death wish. 

“Come,” Risotto states. The walk to his office is filled with an uncomfortable silence, made even more nerve-wracking when you step inside the small room and find the door shut behind you without even being touched. Locks slide in the door themselves and you swallow in anxiety. You’d heard of Stands, anyone in Passione knew about them, but you hadn’t been permitted to take the supposed test that gave you one.

You guessed, judging by this group’s high-security messages, that they all held dangerous Stands. You didn’t really want to know more. 

“Sit.” Risotto commands, already looming behind his thick oak desk. It was the nicest piece of furniture you’d seen in their safe house. You sit on the rickety chair placed in front of the heavy desk and fold your hands in your lap, not making eye contact out of respect for someone superior to you in ranking. At least, you hoped he’d interpret it that way.

“How do you like your job?” Risotto’s words make your heart flutter with fear in your chest. It’s the most you’ve heard him speak at once and a question you never expected to hear from someone like him. When you hesitate, he continues. “Speak freely, but it’s in your best interest to be polite when someone asks you a question.”

A strange feeling bubbles under your wrist, yet it’s nothing more than an annoyance. You chalk it off as a simple cramp, taking a breath before you look up and speak. “I’m very happy with it.” It’s a lie, but you’re not sure what Risotto is expecting. If word got back that you were saying bad things about your employer, you’d certainly be punished. The pain from your wrist flares up again, stronger this time. You hiss in pain.

“I asked you to speak freely, did I not? Tell me the truth.” Risotto catches your gaze and you shiver, nodding.

“I wasn’t given a choice. On one hand, the assignments are easy to carry out. I like getting out around town. But I also fear for my life every time I leave my house. Being given permission to carry and deliver information puts a target on my back.”

Risotto hums, sliding his gaze up and down your body as if he was appraising you. It makes you want to jump up from the chair and run despite knowing you can’t escape. Another strange sensation flits across both of your ankles — the same sharp tugging sensation that your wrists felt, though the sting is more prominent. 

“Would you like a new job?” There’s no hint of humor or sarcasm in his deep voice, only a blunt sincerity. 

“W-what?” You stammer. Red alarm bells are going off in your mind, but there’s nothing you can do to stop them. “I don’t think I can. I mean, if I stop, my boss will find me.”

“What if he couldn’t?” Risotto gives you an almost imperceptible smile before you feel an incredibly sharp pain burst from your wrists and ankles at the same time, making you cry out. When you try to stand, though, you’re stopped by a cold sensation digging into your flesh. Looking down makes your blood run cold — you’re held in place by handcuffs.

“What is this?” You shriek, struggling in your bonds. The more you struggle, the dizzier you start to feel. Risotto’s voice sounds like it’s coming through fog when you hear him speak.

“Relax. It’ll go easier.” 

You feel large hands cradling your face and you thrash with the strength you have left, earning you a sharp pain across your neck. 

“Stop.” Risotto’s dark voice scares you into stopping, forcing you to stay still despite the adrenaline coursing through your body. “You’re going to sleep for a bit. When you wake up, we’ll have a discussion.” 

“No,” you mumble, though your voice is already growing weak. Your eyes close against your will and you feel yourself slowly dropping into darkness before you feel nothing.

-

It’s been two months. Two months of struggling against your captor and wishing you could be anywhere but here. Though behaving would earn you better treatment, you can’t allow your will to be broken yet. The ‘discussion’ your captor had promised two months ago was little more than him describing what you were going to do for him. There was no talk of a new job. Your only duty would be to serve him. 

You complied with his mundane requests — filing his group’s paperwork (which you came to know as La Squadra di Esecuzione, erasing any hope you had of escape), cleaning his office, eating dinner together, and whatever activities involved the least emotional attachment. 

At night when he’d crawl in bed beside you, you’d thrash and struggle until he used his Stand against you to hold you down. Though it was only a small mercy in the scheme of things, he didn’t touch you. He’d murmur that he wanted you to love him before that and that he wouldn’t force it on you... Yet Risotto laid beside you in bed every night and held you as a lover would, even though most lovers weren’t held down by bonds made of their own blood. 

What’s worse is that you fear that you’ll fall to his affections soon. Your life isn’t better, but you can’t argue that it’s significantly worse. Being confined in the small yet homey room Risotto had you sequestered in was almost the same in your eyes as being sent out on the streets in fear that you’d be attacked every day. You’re aware enough to know that it isn’t really better... Of course not.

Maybe if you tricked yourself into believing it, you could earn Risotto’s trust. (And your first small step to freedom.)

As your second month with him drew to an end, your will to fight grew more frazzled.

-

Three months have passed now. Each day you wake up and look at Risotto, the revulsion in your stomach churns, but there’s something new behind it. When it passes you feel affection for Risotto that you don’t know where to place. It’s troubling.

At the end of the third month, you’re given a day to relax. You’re left with little to do but read or get lost in your own thoughts. You chose the latter, thinking of freedom and the ability to do whatever you wanted — yet your mind kept betraying you and coming back to Risotto, wondering what sort of life you would have with him if you just behaved.

If you listened to his every word and became his perfect little doll, just as he intended you to when he first saw you. Perhaps all the time you’d spent with him had warped your mind, but as the days went on, it was hard to care, even with the ache of your body being at the mercy of his Stand when you didn’t behave correctly.

It was your fault, wasn’t it? Risotto was doing it for your own good.

-

Five months have passed now. 

You’re laid in bed with Risotto on an early Sunday morning, rain falling heavily against the windows. This morning was the first one where you hadn’t woken up with your arms and wrists cuffed tightly to the bed, and you unconsciously curl around Risotto when you awaken.

“Are you up with the sun today, passerotto?” Risotto softly says, wrapping a warm arm around your shoulders. The nickname he chose for you no longer makes your stomach curl in disgust, instead of making it flutter with affection. You’re not sure when the change happened. 

You nod into his chest, sighing. Something about this morning feels different. Tentatively, you rest one of your hands on his bare chest. He shudders under your touch, exhaling through his nose. 

“If you touch me like that...” Risotto trails off. “I wish you would just let me have you.”

Risotto’s possessive words would have made you coil in fear a month ago. You find yourself wanting to bloom like a flower for him now. Maybe you were his, after all these months. 

But if you were going to belong to him, he was going to belong to you as well. 

You lean up and catch his gaze, smiling in the way he told you he liked best. “You can have me today.”

Risotto lets out another sharp breath and pulls you atop his body with almost no effort. A sizeable hardness presses into your rear as he holds you against his body, pressing his face into your neck as he inhales deeply. 

“Passerotto,” he whines in a voice you’ve never heard from him before. Risotto sounds needy and desperate. It makes you feel giddy. 

There was no way you could overcome Risotto, you figured this out early on. But perhaps you could make him just as reliant on you as he forced you to be for him. The small victory you’d garnered has you eagerly leaning down to capture his mouth in a sloppy kiss, grinding back against him to draw another whiny groan from him.

“Give yourself to me too,” You whisper, pulling away from him. You fear for one moment that he’s going to punish you for such bold words.

Instead, Risotto breathes out a hurried yes before he’s pulling you back into another messy kiss.

Yes, perhaps Risotto belonged to you as well. 

[nanamicide]

You are there, beyond despair - Chapter 1

Summary:  Kanon Nakajima and Yasuhiro Hagakure have been spending the past few weeks together in Towa City. As they get adjusted to their daily routine there, Yasuhiro wakes up telling Kanon that he had a vision -- he will be going home with his mom today. Kanon's reaction to the news is nothing like what she expected from herself.

Read on AO3

It had now been around a week since they’d almost parted ways – a week of small arguments, laughing and crying about sweet nothings; a week of making fun of each other while having each other’s backs whenever danger seemed to draw near. Things had definitely been quite intense, no matter how Kanon looked at it. But somehow, it had eased part of the pain and anger that she’d been holding onto since she’d been made captive.

It didn’t matter that Yasu was part of the Future Foundation anymore, as he clearly was different from most of them. First of all, he wasn’t a skilled fighter – she was the main reason why they’d survived this long in the city. Second, he wasn’t smart or manipulative the way she’d always assumed most of their agents were. He had tried to manipulate her, making her believe that he’d lead her out of the city and be able to protect her, but she’d seen right through him. Besides, it hadn’t taken a long time for her to understand that he was sticking around her because she had money – money he desperately needed to pay his debt to the Kuzuruyu clan.

At that moment, the sun was about to rise. This meant that they wouldn’t be able to stay here much longer if they wanted to stay safe and not have to hurt anyone. Sure, the Warriors of Hope weren’t running the city anymore, but this didn’t mean that it’d stopped being dangerous. Towa City was still filled with its fair share of criminals, and news sources were going on about how the Future Foundation was still looking for the Remnants of Despair, whoever these people were. Regardless of that, the fact that people associated to the Ultimate Despair were still running free implied that constantly hanging around a Future Foundation member was putting her in danger. Kanon didn’t mind, though. She knew they’d manage to save themselves. Besides, Yasu’s talents as a fortune-teller had been useful to them in the past. There was no way he wouldn’t be able to predict it if their lives were on the line, right?

Kanon rolled to her side, facing the sleeping man in the bed that was next to hers. Of course, he was still asleep. He always slept in. No matter how much she told him they he needed to stay alert and get out of bed as soon as the first rays of sun began peeking through the window of whatever place they’d chosen as shelter for the night, she still had to wake him up herself. It was almost as though she had to do everything for him. Still, as much as she complained about it, she didn’t mind it too much. It may have been weird, but something about his company and the way they interacted with each other made his flaws tolerable.

So, as per usual, Kanon sat up in bed and quickly fixed her hair before shaking him awake. She’d tried nicer approaches before but had quickly learned that the only way to get Yasu out of his slumber was to be rough.

“Ugh, you could be gentler when you do this, Kanon-cchi!” was what Yasu greeted her with, just like he did every morning.

“Well, how many times did I tell you to wake up before the sun even rises, idiot? Don’t you realize that if you could simply do as you’re told, I wouldn’t have to touch you like this,” she replied, making a face as if to show her disgust towards him.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, just pick your stuff so we can go, already,” Kanon shrugged, picking up her bag. “You wouldn’t want one of these mysterious Remnants of Despair to find us now, would you?”

“They’re not going to find us!”

“Huh?” She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I had a vision before falling asleep last night,” he started, wrapping a loose hair tie around his dreadlocks. “I’m going to see my mom and go home today.”

Kanon shivered, blinking to make sure she’d understood what Yasu had just told her. Were they really going to go home today? She knew the things he’d predicted about their futures had been quite accurate since they met, but what if he was wrong? And if he weren’t, what would happen to her? He’d mentioned that he would see his mother and go home, but he hadn’t said anything about her, had he?

“Now, now, Kanon-cchi, what’s the long face for? Think you’re gonna miss me?”

“No, thank God, you won’t be holding me back anymore,” she laughed, heading towards the exit of the building. “It’ll be much easier to just look after myself, you know?”

“There, there,” Yasu chuckled, patting her shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend to hate me now that you know I’m not gonna be around anymore. We did have some good times together, didn’t we? No point in pretending they never existed.”

“Like, when I saved your ass from all these Monokumas?”

“I mean, that’s one of the examples, but that’s not the only thing we’ve been through!”

Kanon rolled her eyes, stepping outside. The sun was beginning to shine its blinding, crimson light on Towa City. She hadn’t cared about how different the outside world looked when she had first gone out after spending a year in captivity. She’d understood that things were now a lot more dangerous than she remembered them right away, but at least she was free. And with that hacking gun she’d stolen from that dead Future Foundation member, she felt invincible. Today was different though – she wished the sun could have stayed shining on the other side of the world instead of hers. Did that mean that she’d already grown tired of her freedom?

No, that couldn’t be it – if it were, it would mean she was falling into despair again, which couldn’t happen until she’d get the chance to find out if she truly did want to avenge Leon Onii-chan by killing some Future Foundation members.

She wasn’t falling into despair, and it had nothing to do with Yasu and I probably having to part ways soon. She probably was just tired from all the things that had been happening to her recently. Regardless, she sure as hell was not going to give up.

-

“It’s gotta be around here! At least, it looks hell of a lot like what I saw in my vision!”

Yasuhiro was excited. After weeks spent in Towa City in a failed attempt to gather the money he needed to pay his debt and return to his peaceful existence with his mother, things were finally about to come to an end. At this point, he wasn’t thinking about ways to borrow Kanon-cchi’s credit cards anymore. He was only eager to go home and have things be normal, at least for a short while.

He understood very well that the Tragedy, and everything it’d changed in the world, meant that nothing would ever be the exact same again. But a few days of normalcy in the apartment he shared with his mom was everything he wanted – well, that and maybe a little bit more time with Kanon-cchi.

It was true that, at first, he’d stuck around her because she’d saved him. Once he’d realized she was the daughter of one of the richest families in the country, he’d told himself that he was after her money, nothing more. But the uneasiness he’d felt after he’d found out about her feelings towards her cousin and the Future Foundation, as well as how easy it’d been for him to forgive her – after she had damn near killed him! – and decide to stay in Towa City with her even though he could have very well escaped, made him feel as though there was a little bit more than purely practical reasons as to why he’d spent these weeks with her. He blamed it on his physical attraction towards the young woman. Just how long had it been since he’d had a girlfriend, anyway?

No, I don’t want her to be my girlfriend, he thought. It’s just that she’s kinda cute! Yeah, she’d be a terrible girlfriend – she’s always nagging about this and that and she’s so impulsive sometimes. Still, I enjoy being around a pretty girl! It’s normal for a guy my age.

“Is that… Her?” Kanon-cchi asked, pointing towards what probably used to be an important office for the Towa Corporation.

“Yeah! That’s right!”

It didn’t take more than two seconds for Yasuhiro to entirely give up his train of thought about his relationship with Kanon-cchi. His mother was there, standing around smoking a cigarette, just like he remembered her. He hadn’t seen her in years. Nothing mattered more to him than reuniting with her.

“Mooooooooooooom,” he called out, sprinting towards her.

-

Angry. That was how Kanon had been feeling since Yasu had run towards his mother without paying any attention whatsoever to her. After everything she’d done for him since he’d almost died at the hands of that Monokuma, was that how he was thanking her?

Paying no mind to how she felt, she had followed him, dragging her feet at every step. It didn’t help that the wind that was blowing was super cold and messing her hair up. It was just all so wack. Still, she waited for the mother and her son to finish reuniting and talking about how much they’d missed each other and how happy they were to be together after all this time. She didn’t even say a word no matter how much the entire scene annoyed her, which was out of character for her.

She was just silent, as though something inside of her was breaking – as though she were falling into despair again, except she seemingly had no reason to do so this time. Everything would be fine, right? Yasu would leave and she’d be able to gather all the answers to her questions, without him holding her back by being an idiot and putting himself in danger. She didn’t need to be feeling so negative about what was going to happen. It was good for her. She’d be one step closer to her goal.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Kanon glanced at Yasu and his mom, confused. Had she just asked to be introduced to her? Why did she care, anyway? It wasn’t like she was anyone important in her son’s life now, was she?

“Ah yes, mom, this is Kanon-cchi! She saved my life a few times after we arrived here, and I lost the Future Foundation squad I came with. We’ve been best buds since!”

Best buds, huh? That’s one way to put while completely disregarding the fact that I tried to kill you, weirdo.

“Thank you, Kanon-chan. My boy can be so clumsy sometimes, I’m relieved to hear he had someone as bright as you to rely on.”

“Huh? I… Uh, you’re welcome, I guess.”

Suddenly, Kanon felt overwhelmed with guilt. Why was she being praised after everything she’d done? Why wasn’t Yasu telling his mother the truth? It’s not like she’d even been happy about them finally reuniting. She didn’t deserve any of what was happening.

“Pretty girl, too. Good choice, Hiro,” the pink-haired woman added, making Kanon embarrassed. “Anyway, I’m Hiroko.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Future Foundation should be here with a helicopter in about fifteen minutes,” Yasu said. “Ahhh, I knew today would only be good fortune!”

“You’re still in debt,” Kanon spat, surprising herself by how rude and angry she sounded. “So, I don’t know about good fortune. What if one of the members of the Kuzuruyu clan is waiting where you used to live, knowing damn well you’ll have to go back there at some point?”

“Wh-what do you mean? Why d’you have to be so negative, Kanon-cchi?”

“Well, at least you won’t be able to say I didn’t warn you,” she shrugged, turning her back to them and starting to walk away.

“W-wait!” He called, making her turn towards him again. “Where are you going? What are you gonna do now?”

“You know what my plans are. They haven’t changed just because we spent some extra time together. I still hate them, y’know? They killed him.”

“But it’s dangerous out there. And what about your parents?”

Kanon froze, unable to understand why Yasu suddenly seemed so worried about her and what would happen to her. He’d had no problem ditching her to run towards his mom ten minutes ago, so what changed? What had gotten into him that made him want to know what she’d be doing?

“They’re probably dead, aren’t they?” She coldly replied, staring at him. “So, what if it’s dangerous here? At least I’ll have done what I had to do.”

Yasu frowned, making her even more confused than she already was. His reaction to the current situation made little to no sense to her. He’d been so eager to go home when he’d woken up and told her about that vision, so why was he holding onto her like this? Why wasn’t he letting her go and do what she had to do?

“I have an idea,” Hiroko finally said. “Why don’t you come live with us if you have nowhere to go?”

The question hung in the air for five long minutes, during which neither she nor Yasu spoke.  And at that moment, her heart felt like it was split into two different parts which wanted completely opposite things. Going with Yasu and his mother, although she wasn’t quite sure why, seemed quite appealing to her. She had never thought about it until Hiroko mentioned it, but now that she’d planted that seed in her brain, it was growing into quite a reasonable and safe-sounding plan.

On the other hand, that other part of her kept screaming at her that if she did this – if she gave up on attempting to kill at least one Future Foundation member without even trying to find out if she still felt like doing so – she’d be betraying her cousin. And that thought was unbearable. She’d put herself through a lot of hardships just to make him acknowledge her as a woman, and now that someone else was coming along and offering her some sort of comfort she was forgetting all of this?

He was dead, and she was thinking about giving up on him as if he’d never even existed. That wasn’t fair. Yasu had told her she was his captive because she was important to him. This meant that in his last moments, he probably thought about her, didn’t he? He probably even tried to survive that dreadful class trial for her. So how could she abandon his memory like this? How was it right for her to just leave Towa City without putting her plan into execution? What was wrong with her?

“Um, if I may,” Yasu spoke, breaking the silence that had lasted far too long for it to be considered comfortable, “I think it’d be a good idea for you to come with us. I know you have all this unfinished business, but uh—No, no, please, don’t cry!”

“I… I’m sorry, okay? It’s just that you come into my life out of nowhere and think you can just replace Leon Onii-chan like this? Do you really think your stupid demeanour and kindness are going to make me forget about how much I loved him? About how much it hurt when I found out he was dead? I’d trade you for him if I could, do you understand that?”

“I know all of that, but you still didn’t kill me when you had plenty of opportunities to do it. So, the time we spent together must have meant something to you! I’m not pretending like I can replace him or whatever weird relationship you had, but don’t pretend like you’re even happy to see me leave. You’ve been sulking all day, Kanon-cchi. Even the most stupid person on Earth could have noticed it!”

“Don’t you understand that me coming with you is betraying him?”

“It isn’t,” Hiroko spoke up, chewing on the cigarette she’d brought to her lips a few seconds prior. “I have no clue what you two are talking about, but if someone you loved and who loved you died, then I’m sure they’d want you to be safe.” She paused, lighting her cigarette, and taking a drag. “I don’t care about this hope versus despair thing they all have going on these days, but I’m pretty sure you choosing to stay here instead of moving forward in your life would be picking despair. In a way, you’d be giving whoever took that person away from you exactly what they want. You don’t seem stupid enough to do something so desperately idiotic.”

“C’mon, Kanon-cchi, it’ll be fun.”

Kanon blinked, wiping her tears away. As much as she hated to admit it, Hiroko made a fair point there. If she stayed here, she’d most likely despair – either she would realize that killing a Future Foundation member wouldn’t be enough to make her forget her cousin, or she would die at the hands of one of these Remnants of Despair. Deep down, she knew this.

“Fine,” she yielded. “I’ll leave Towa City with you guys. But don’t assume that it means you have free access to my money!” Kanon pouted, making Yasu let out an amused laugh.

Maybe leaving Towa City with the Hagakures wasn’t mistake.

-

With Kanon-cchi’s head resting on his shoulder as she was peacefully asleep, Yasuhiro realized that his life would truly never be the same again. Because the short, cute, wannabe-gyaru would be sticking with him for what seemed to be the foreseeable future. He did not mind, though. His fortune-telling abilities did not seem to be giving signs of anything bad happening starting from now, after all.

I’ll be the one to keep you safe, now. I’m gonna act like the protagonist, for real! He thought, running his finger through the young woman’s light brown hair.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

just a little while longer

Whumpee: Will Riker

Fandom: Star Trek TNG

For: ValorousLeader on ao3

Prompt: outnumbered in a fight

hi folks whats poppin!! i hope u enjoy this fic :)

He was not going to win this fight. That was obvious. He supposed he should have just been glad that none of his attackers had a weapon. He didn’t like to imagine what would have happened then. 

As it was, though, it was just him, standing warily in the middle of an alley, wishing desperately that he had a phaser on him, or even just a communicator. But he had no such luck. It was him and his fists versus the six or so people surrounding him and their fists. It didn’t take a lot of thinking to work out what was about to happen.

“I’m a Starfleet officer,” he said, like this was going to change anything.

“Good for you,” said the man closest to him, grinning dangerously. 

He tried a different tactic. “I don’t have anything you’d want,” he insisted. This was true. He had nothing on him except for his clothes. 

“What makes you think we want anything from you?”

“The fact that you’re all advancing on me like you’re about to do something really stupid.”

“Hm.”

There was no further communication between them. Or, at least, no verbal communication. They made a hell of a point with their fists. And feet. And elbows, knees…

The first blow wasn’t so bad. He’d raised a hand to defend against a fist aimed at his face, stuck out his other hand to strike at the man closest to him, and gotten punched in the ribs before he could move his hands and defend against that attack. It hurt, of course, but it was the kind of pain he was used to. It was like nothing so much as accidentally stumbling into something hard. Painful, but not so bad. Maybe this won’t be so bad, then, he thought. 

Before he could do any further thinking along that line, however, he realized that this was, in fact, going to be bad. 

After the first punch, the hits just kept coming. One after another after another after another until they all blended into one constant pain. He defended himself as best as he could, quickly giving up on the idea of fighting back. But for every strike he blocked, four more would rain down before he had time to react. 

At some point, he felt something smack into his nose, accompanied by a very unpleasant crunching and a warm, wet feeling trickling down his face. At another point, someone kicked him in the stomach, and knocked what little air there was in his lungs right out of them, sending him unwillingly to his knees.

Once there, all he could do was curl up into a ball, wrap his arms around his head, and try to outlast his attackers, who kicked him over and over again, seemingly harder and harder every time. 

He’d become quite unable to think. Everything that he knew was pain. Sometimes the pain would intensify in a certain place, but it was constant and overwhelming. It burned, maybe, or it ached. It throbbed, vaguely, in time with his heartbeat, which pounded in his ears, nearly outdoing the painful sounds of his body being beaten to a pulp.

Later, he wouldn’t even remember when it had stopped. The pain was so constant that he just couldn’t tell. All he knew was that, at some point, the level of pain evened out - there were no sudden spikes as a particularly rough kick hit home, no throbs as an especially hurt place was hit again. Slowly, his mind emerged from the haze of pain, and he blinked open eyes that had been screwed shut against it. 

He looked around as much as he could in his current position. He didn’t see anyone around. It was getting dark out. He thought it had been light when he’d stepped into this alley, looking for a shortcut. He hoped he hadn’t been there for too long. He kept looking around. There were splotches on the ground. Dark ones. His blood, he figured, feeling a trickle of it drip down his face. 

As he continued to gather his thoughts, he realized that he had no idea what to do. He’d left his communicator behind in his room at the hotel, eliminating his ability to call for help. He had come into the alley off of a busy street, but he was sure he looked, well, awful, and he didn’t especially want to scare any of the pedestrians, even if they would be capable of getting him some help. 

However, unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life in the alley, he was going to have to suck it up and get out onto the street. He groaned. He was not looking forward to that. It had to be done, though.

First things first, he had to stand up. This was a task much easier said than done. While the pain in his body had become almost bearable, movement of any kind sent it skyrocketing. Even pushing himself to his knees was an almost insurmountable task, and he nearly collapsed back to the ground again, fighting against himself just to stay conscious. 

He managed to stay up, though, somehow, and then very slowly stood up, closing his eyes as the world tilted and his head spun. What he wouldn’t give to beam up to Sickbay right now…

But Sickbay was off the table - the Enterprise itself wasn’t even anywhere nearby. He was supposed to be on shore leave while the ship made a routine delivery to an outpost. He’d thought it would be fun. Himself, Dr. Crusher, Data, and Geordi, exploring a new city on a planet he hadn’t visited before…

Dr. Crusher! She would be able to help him, somehow. He knew she’d at least brought some basic medical supplies. Maybe she had something that would stop whatever injury it was that was leaking blood down his face. Maybe she could make the pain go away. He had to find her. He just had to find her, and then everything would be okay.

He stumbled his way out onto the street, ignoring the shocked looks and offers of help from the pedestrians around him. He looked around, trying to remember which direction he’d come from originally. 

Eventually, his eyes landed on a small shop with a brightly colored awning. He remembered walking by that shop! He must have come from that way, he decided. 

He started off down the street, very slowly. Every step was pure agony, and he barely managed to keep himself moving, motivated only by the thought that as soon as he found Dr. Crusher, everything was going to be alright. All he had to do was keep going. He could do that. He always kept going.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he finally reached the friendly building that was the hotel his little group was staying in. He’d been walking for what felt like forever, dizzy and hurting and just hoping that he was going the right way. He very nearly collapsed the second he was through the door, and was saved from that fate by the surprised shout of a man sitting in the lobby, which brought him back to his senses.

“Sorry,” he choked out, the words tasting of blood. He ignored the man’s suggestions of finding a doctor, and stumbled off to find Dr. Crusher. He remembered where her room was, because it was right next to a painting that Data had talked about for half an hour over dinner the previous night. He found himself suddenly very glad for that conversation. 

He located the painting, and then the door, and knocked on it, wincing at the jolt to his arm and the pain in his fingers, glancing briefly down at his knuckles when he realized he’d left a bloody smear on the wood.

The door opened, and Dr. Crusher peeked her head out, smiling. Her face changed the second her eyes landed on Will, who stumbled forward into the room, collapsing at last onto the soft carpet. 

“What happened?” was the first thing that she said to him, as her hands fluttered carefully over his body, examining his many injuries.

“Dunno,” he said, trying to remember whether there had been any clear motivation behind his beating. “Lot of people,” he decided, vaguely recalling a jumble of fists and a man with a terrible smile. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Crusher said, her voice soft. 

“S’okay,” Will told her, wincing when her hand touched an especially painful spot.

“I’m afraid there’s not much I can do,” she continued, a hand coming up to lightly touch the side of his face. “I’ll comm the Enterprise, of course, but in the meantime, this planet doesn’t have much in the way of medical capabilities. They can’t do much more than I can, right now, and all I can do is clean you up, patch up some of these cuts, and give you something for the pain. I can’t heal you the same way that I could if I had access to Sickbay.”

“I just want it to stop,” Will told her, honestly. “Don’t care about anything else.”

“I know,” Dr. Crusher said, sympathetically. “I’ll do my best to make it stop.” She gently helped him into a sitting position, easing him back to lean against the end of the bed. 

“I know you probably don’t feel like moving, but you might be more comfortable on the bed,” she suggested, turning away to grab some supplies.

Will shook his head at her back. “Don’t wanna move,” he said. His head was spinning far too much for that to be wise, and he was feeling dangerously close to passing out. Just a little longer, he told himself, to avoid that outcome. Just a little longer, and it will all stop.

A hypo pressed into his arm. 

“This is for the pain. It’ll take a few minutes to settle in. In the meantime, I’d like to work on some of those cuts, if that’s alright.”

“Sure,” Will said, closing his eyes. He didn’t much care what happened now. The important thing was that the pain was going to stop. 

He faded in and out of reality as something wet and vaguely cold touched his face. It stung slightly, but that was absolutely nothing compared to the magnitude of pain he was in, and he didn’t even react. He felt something press against his forehead, and then the blood stopped dripping down his face. That’s nice, he thought. Something else touched his knuckles, then, and then his shirt was being pulled away from him, and he heard a sympathetic hiss. 

“Will…”

“I know,” he mumbled. He didn’t know, really. He hadn’t looked at the injuries beneath his clothes. But he felt them, at any rate, and could imagine how bad they must have looked.

The cold and wet thing passed over his entire torso, but nothing pressed up against it. No bleeding to stop, he knew instinctively. 

“There’s nothing else I can do for your injuries that aren’t bleeding,” Dr. Crusher said, voicing his thoughts. 

He gave an almost imperceptible nod. The hypo was starting to kick in, and he found he didn’t care about anything else. 

“Feeling better?” Dr. Crusher asked, evidently noting his slight relaxation.

“Think it’s working.”

“Good. I’m going to finish cleaning you up, comm the Enterprise, and have you in Sickbay by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” Will said, the word dropping heavily from his tongue. He was exhausted, and now that the pain was fading, he was finding it very difficult to stay any level of alert. 

“You can sleep, Will,” Dr. Crusher said, putting a hand back on the side of his head. “Just get some rest, and when you wake up, you’ll be in a nice, comfortable bed in Sickbay and I’ll be telling you that you can’t get up for a few hours, and you’ll be insisting that you’re fine…”

As Dr. Crusher continued to talk and patch him up, Will finally let himself drift off to sleep. The pain was gone, and tomorrow everything would be alright.

thanks a ton for reading this!!! anyway now it is time for Me News: i quit my job the other day lol and today i gave a speech to my whole school (admittedly online which was not so scary) and it went well which was nice!! i’ve been kinda swamped lately with school but after this week i should have some free time between writing college essays if anyone wants to req a fic!

[starlightsearches]

Office Romance: Ch. 12 Threats

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: Hello everyone! Thank you for the wonderful response to the last chapter, I'm completely blown away! Just so everybody knows, I'm still taking requests for one-shots, headcannons, and preferences.

There are a few super super slight references to sex in this chapter, but for the most part it's pretty mild. Let me know what you think!

Ren stared up at the intricately-painted ceiling as he laid on the bed. He was trying not to think about the fact that you were practically naked—wearing only a robe—and sitting a few feet away from him. Not that anything was going to happen, of course, no matter how badly he wanted it; he had been in this same position for about three hours now with little development.

The First Order celebration thrown in your honor was tonight, but neither the Finalizer nor the Supremacy were large enough to accommodate all of the transports needed to shuttle guests to a party like this one, and so instead you were at an estate on Alsakan owned by one of the members of the Directorate. Everything about the place screamed opulence, including the bedroom where Ren and you were waiting for the party to start. It was twice the size of his quarters on the ship and packed with every lavish furnishing you could imagine. Hux was overseeing arrangements for the festivities in the largest of the three ballrooms now, no doubt bossing around caterers and decorators to the point of insanity.

Ren had followed you to the room they had arranged for your preparation, since he had nothing better to do, and you didn’t seem to mind his presence. He had been to your quarters a few more times over the last few days, sometimes for teaching purposes . . . and sometimes not. You had believed him when he said he was trying to avoid the general, even if you found it a little strange. The white lie was worth it since it allowed him spend more time with you; if he had things his way, he’d never leave your side. Just being there with you in the room with you was almost unbearable, but the torture of it was sweet to Ren, the anticipation delectable.

“Would you hand me my hairbrush?” you asked him, pointing to your bag at the end of the bed. After you had finished reading over your speech for the hundredth time, you started working on your appearance, applying creams and pigments with a practiced hand. Ren sat up on the bed and grabbed your bag, giving it to you and finding a seat on a low bench by the gilded vanity where you worked.

“Have you had any success?” he asked, and he knew he didn’t have to clarify his meaning any further.

“No,” you sighed in response. You looked stunning, your eyes sparkling in the light of the mirror, and maybe he was a little glad that you hadn’t learned to pick up on his thoughts yet.

“It’s a process. It will come in time.”

“It doesn’t feel like a process,” you said, irate, “it feels like . . . nothing. I look at people, I try to feel it, try to sense anything, and-” you shrugged, and the robe slipped from your shoulder, revealing the smooth skin of your shoulder before you pulled it back into place. On second thought, Ren was definitely glad that you hadn't learned to read his thoughts yet.

“Have you tried contact? That can make it easier-”

“I tried that on the general the other day, and it didn’t work.” Ren paused, withholding a scowl. What had that entailed? “I’m telling you, I don’t feel anything!” You hesitated for a moment after your outburst, speaking more quietly, “the only time I’ve managed is when we’ve practiced.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there,” Ren said. He really didn’t want to argue with you, and part of him was still trying to discern what had happened between you and the general, pulling his focus away from the conversation.

“Do you think it’s possible-” you said, biting your lip before continuing, “do you think it’s possible that Snoke was . . . wrong about me?”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.” That particular discussion was not one he wanted to have right now, especially when you were already in a semi-volatile state.

“I’m just saying, maybe I’m not force-sensitive. Maybe I’m just, I don’t know, sensitive to the force? If it only works when I’m around you, could it be possible that I’m . . . accessing part of your power? Is there such a thing?”

“I’ll look into it.” Ren had never heard of anything like that before, but he wanted to give you some peace of mind, and you seemed mollified for now.

“I need to put on my dress,” you stood from the chair, walking to the garment bag hanging up by the door. He moved to leave, but you stopped him, saying, “you can close your eyes.”

Ren couldn’t find anything to say in reply, his mind gone blank, but shut his eyes in compliance, every nerve in his body thrumming as he listened to the sound of your robe sliding to the floor. What would he do, he wondered, if you came over to him, placed yourself gently in his lap, ran your lips over the skin of his jaw? What would he do if you brushed your fingertips over his eyelids, his mouth? If you kissed him? The fabric of your dress rustled as you pulled it over your body, but the sound far away in Ren’s mind, which was occupied by more pressing matters.

“You can open your eyes now.” The enchantment of the moment was broken, and Ren looked to you. You held the crimson gown up over your chest to keep it from falling as the straps and strings of beading hung low off your shoulders, apparently only decorative. “Would you mind lacing me up?” You walked over to him, and faced away; he was glad you couldn’t see the heat rising in his cheeks.

The back of the dress was mostly open, everything from the middle of your spine all the way to your neck visible between the laces of the corset. Ren swallowed hard, and reached for the strings that would hold the dress in place. Had you always had this much skin? And did all of it look this soft? He resisted the urge to brush his fingers up your spinal column, tried not to think about the way you might curve into him if he did, and pulled the ribbons tighter. It was a lengthy process, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he secured it. You let go of the dress and swished around, checking to make sure that everything felt stable.

“How do I look?” you asked, satisfied, turning to face him and settling the skirt around you. The dress was elegant, ornately beaded with burgundy jewels in organic patterns—leaves, flowers, birds—the scarlet color striking against your skin, giving off an aura of strength and authority. Ren wracked his brain for the right words, but nothing felt powerful enough to describe the way he saw you. Like a goddess, or a warrior queen from the stories he had been told as a child.

“You look . . . nice.” Damnit. That wasn’t the right choice, and your face fell for a moment before Ren stammered to correct himself, “I mean, you look beautiful.” You turned to admire your appearance in the full-length mirror, smiling, taking in the effect of your completed ensemble.

“Maybe it’s a little frivolous,” you said, “but I love these parties. I miss dancing all the time.” You swayed for a moment, and then twirled, holding your hands up for an imaginary dance partner, the skirt flaring around your legs as you moved.

“I never learned how to dance,” God. What other idiotic things should he admit to you? If you ran your hands through my hair I’d probably black out. I thought about kissing you once the other day and I had to take a walk to calm down.

“Come here, I’ll teach you.” You gestured for him to come closer, and he paused reluctantly before giving in. You grabbed both of his hands, placing one at the dip your waist, the beading rough against his fingers, and his breath hitched; he hoped you wouldn’t notice. You demonstrated the steps slowly at first, and he followed along clumsily as you led him in a small circle.

“Don’t look at your feet,” you said, squeezing his hand in yours, “it’ll only make it more difficult. Just look at me.” As if that was going to solve his problem. Ren obeyed, and noticed a familiar look of focus on your face.

“Are you trying to read me right now?” he asked, a little scandalized, hoping selfishly that you hadn’t had any success. If you started getting better at this, he’d have to be more careful around you.

“I’m just trying to get in more practice,” you said, widening your eyes and blinking with mock innocence.

“Are you getting anything?” Did he want to hear your answer? He couldn’t decide if it was worse to know or to wonder.

“You seem nervous?”

“Don’t guess. You have to reach for it.” Ren berated himself silently; he should not be encouraging you right now with his emotions going haywire.

“You’re-” A knock on the door interrupted whatever you had planned to say, and the general stepped in before you or Ren had the chance to answer. He was already dressed for the party as well, wearing a black suit and looking hostile.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Hux said, sounding terribly glad to have interrupted the scene before him. You let go of Ren—his hand slipping from your waist reluctantly—and walked to Hux, brushing some imaginary dust off of his shoulder and resting your hand over the lapel of his suit jacket.

“Hello, General! You look very handsome.” He blushed pink in response, and Ren forced himself not to gag. You adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, your hand lingering near Hux’s neck, and Ren felt the general’s pulse quicken at the contact. She’s trying to read him. Ren was once again impressed by your cleverness, despite the fact that you had just been using it against him. A better person than him would have warned the general what you were trying to do, but if you found out anything unsavory from your attempts to connect to the force, that would be Hux’s problem. Even in a stalemate, Ren didn’t owe Hux anything.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Hux was trying to keep his voice steady, but his attempts sounded ineffective, at least to Ren’s ears, “you look lovely.” You removed your hand from his collar; apparently you hadn’t been able to pick up on his thoughts. The general was dismayed that you had broken contact, and the bitter part of Ren wanted to tell him the real reason it had happened, despite the fact that the temporary wound it would cause to Hux’s ego would only be detrimental to Ren’s long-term goal.

“You’re too kind, General. Is everything ready?”

“Guests are just arriving now. Speaking of which,” Hux said, “The allegiant general and his wife are here. They wanted to see you.”

“They’re here?” Apprehension scuttled up your spine, and Ren picked up on it before you controlled it. Strange.

“Yes, but I can have them wait until the end of the party if you would like.”

“No, that’s alright,” your pulse increased incrementally as you spoke, “you can bring them in.”

Officious prick. Hux kept his mouth shut, but couldn’t keep himself from silently insulting Pryde as they walked back to the room. The man and his wife—a frail-looking, stuffy woman—walked a few steps behind him, talking as if he weren’t there at all, critiquing everything about the evening from the decor to the weather, and Hux wanted to scream by the time they finally reached the correct room. Pryde brushed by Hux as soon as they arrived and opened the door without knocking, his wife following close behind. Hux entered last, finding a place along the wall next to Ren to observe the reunion.

“Oh, darling!” Pryde’s wife greeted you first, and you stood from off the bed to go to her. She engulfed you in a hug, which you returned, bending down to hold the tiny woman in your arms. Pryde approached you next, and you saluted him, and then embraced him as well, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“We’re so proud of you, daughter,” Pryde said, holding you at arm’s length, and you gave both of them a gentle smile.

Hux watched the interaction with a strange fascination. His own father had never said those words to him, in public or private, had never expressed any kind of satisfaction in him at all . . . Usually it was the opposite. Hux had been suspicious when you first told him about your relation to the allegiant general and his wife, worried that your upbringing may have been like his own, but it seemed that they were caring parents to you, or at least, more caring than his father had been.

“Darling,” your mother began, looking a little scandalized as she scrutinized your appearance, “don’t you think that might be too much . . . skin for an event like this? You wouldn’t want anyone to think of you as indecorous.” The neckline was rather low, something Hux had already noticed, and the back was open, exposing the powerful muscles of your shoulders and arms. You laughed, brushing off her criticisms.

“Please mother, I like this dress,” you said with a sly smile, “and if you think this is indecorous, you should have seen the other ones I tried on.” You winked, and she reached out and swatted at you, shocked at your cavalier attitude. Hux perked up at your words. He would have liked to see the other dresses. Ren glared at him, hearing his thoughts, but Hux chose to ignore it. After all, he had probably been thinking the same thing.

“You still wear your grandmother’s necklace, though, at least,” your mother said, oblivious to the conflict behind her. Hux had hardly noticed it before now, a modest trinket. Besides, there were quite a few things more exciting about your attire than your jewelry.

“Always,” you responded, taking her by the hand. What would it have been like, Hux wondered, if he had been raised in the Pryde home instead? Would they have treated him this kindly? Or was there truly something terrible and weak about him that his father had picked up on, something that would ensure his abuse regardless of who was supposed to care for him?

A knock on the door interrupted Hux’s uneasy thoughts, and he opened it, blocking the view of the rest of the room. A servant of the estate stood at the door.

“Excuse me, General, but all of the guests have arrived. We’re almost ready for you to make your entrance.”

“Of course,” Hux said. He closed the door and turned back to face the room. Pryde looked at him with rancor, as if Hux had been the one to interrupt the gathering.

“We’ll leave now,” Pryde said, his hand on your shoulder in one final display of affection. “General, walk with us, I’d like to speak with you in private.” Hux raised his eyebrows in surprise, he had not expected Pryde to acknowledge him, but followed them out.

“Go on ahead, Mira,” Pryde directed his wife, shooing her down the hallway towards the party. He turned back to Hux, displeasure evident in his gaze, but the general stood his ground. Hux wasn’t a child anymore, and he wouldn’t let someone like Pryde push him around as he had so many times before.

“Walk with me, General.” They headed deeper into the shadowy portion of the hallway, away from the party, stopping in front of a large window that overlooked the massive grounds. The rain outside was torrential, falling in thick sheets, distorting the image and streaking down the glass like so many tears.

“I assume she told you,” Pryde said, finally.

“Yes.” So this was about you. Hux should have guessed.

“I assumed as much. She has always been a terrible judge of character.” Hux felt no sting in the insult, but his anger flared that your father would speak of you that way.

“On the contrary, Allegiant General, I’ve found her to be an excellent judge of character, present company notwithstanding.” It was not above Hux to make a snide remark, especially when Pryde had started it. “I assure you that I have no ill will for your daughter. I’ll keep the information private.”

“See that you do.” He made no move to leave, and Hux felt compelled to stay as well, despite his desire to do otherwise. He hated the idea of leaving you alone with Ren for any more time than necessary, especially after the impromptu dance lessons he had barged in on earlier. Pryde broke the silence again, his tone casual but his words laced with something dangerous, “My daughter is the most important thing in my possession. I will protect her by any means necessary. I’ve killed for her before, General, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. Do we have an understanding?”

“Of course, sir,” Hux knew he was being threatened, but he couldn’t bother to care. He found the conversation tedious, the warning a little clumsy. To his surprise, Pryde grabbed him by the arm, his grip much stronger than his age would suggest, and forced him to make eye contact.

“Listen to me you piece of shit,” Pryde was seething as he spoke, so different from the caring persona he had adopted only moments ago, “your father may have been too stupid to kill you when he had the chance, but I will not be making the same mistake. If my daughter is harmed while under your supervision, I will not hesitate to end you. Do I make myself clear?”

“As I said before, sir-” Hux pulled his arm from Pryde’s grasp, straightening out the wrinkles in his jacket sleeve, “I understand you perfectly.”  The man sneered at him, disappointed that his intimidation had not yielded better results, and stalked off down the hallway. Hux composed himself, running his hand once more over his jacket sleeve before heading back to the room.

“What was that about?” You asked the general as soon as he entered. Ren, too, was trying to determine what had happened, and he found the memory easily, observing Pryde’s threats with more unease than Hux had expected. What did he know?

“Just a question about Starkiller Base. Are you ready?” Hux didn’t feel good about lying to you, even if it was necessary for your peace of mind, if not your protection. Regardless of how affectionate Pryde had seemed, Hux doubted that he was a man who would accept any kind of defiance, even from his daughter.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, taking his arm. Ren placed his helmet over his face, and followed closely behind, the three of you on your way to greet your guests.

Ren hated parties. He normally could avoid them, as many members of the First Order were somewhat uncomfortable in his presence, but the ones he had attended were boring at the best of times. It didn’t help that most of the reasons that these gatherings were supposed to be enjoyable were denied him: the extravagant meals, the posturing in front of colleagues and competitors, and the dancing—something he never thought he would enjoy, but now that you were there . . .

It seemed from the beginning that this party was going to be more intolerable than most. It bothered him that you were on Hux’s arm, but Ren did have a reputation to maintain, and the Directorate was distrustful of force users; they would like any reason to question his competence, and showing any weakness would have immediate consequences.

The party started off with a reception line, which he was required to be a part of even though no one was there to talk to him. Ren was forced to watch as Hux showed off for you, probably part of the general’s plan, introducing you to members of the Directorate with a superior air. The grand manner with which he presented himself was already annoying, but even worse, it seemed to be working: you practically fawned over him as he spoke, admiring the way he was treated by the highest ranked in the Order. You had almost fainted when he introduced you to Rae Sloane, one of your personal heroes, and Ren was having a harder and harder time trying not to lash out.

A servant announced that dinner was about to be served, and you found your way to your seats at the high table. Phasma joined your group on the general’s left, in her armor but without her helmet now that she had finished with the assignments for the Storm Trooper security detail. The Troopers stood on the edges of the ballroom, more for show than anything else.

The meal began, the polite dinner conversation along with it, and Ren participated in neither, instead choosing to watch you, grateful for the mask—grateful that you couldn’t see the softness in his face as he studied you intently. You’re not eating, you pressed the thought towards him silently, feigning focus on the discussion happening at the table. Ren knew a shrug in response wouldn’t suffice, but he was unsure how to communicate back to you without alerting the other guests. Your hand slipped surreptitiously from above the table into your lap, and then underneath, reaching to him. He could see your fingers wiggling in his periphery. It’s worth a shot, he heard you, and he cautiously pulled his glove off of his right hand, placing it in yours. Your fingers intertwined with his, and he felt his palm begin to perspire almost immediately. He sneered behind the mask, disgusted with himself. How could he even think of being with you in that way when this slight contact had such an effect on him?

He focused his thoughts, trying to make his message stark in his mind so that you could more easily grab onto it. He could feel your attempts to focus, but nothing yielded, his thoughts still secure, and his palm grew slicker. Would you notice? What would the others think if they caught you holding hands like children away from prying eyes? Maybe, he thought, he could help you if he just gave a little push.

A strangled cry rose from your throat, which immediately turned into a coughing fit, drawing the eyes of the other dinner guests. Ren pulled his hand from yours, too abruptly, and he knew without looking that Hux had seen.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant General?” Phasma asked, and a waiter, sensing your distress, came over to refill your glass. You took a long sip of the wine, finally able to breathe again.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you assured her, and the others relaxed, except for Hux, who still had his eyes on Ren, “I don’t know what came over me.” Pryde was looking at you, as well, seated a little ways away, his gaze boring into you, and you shrunk infinitesimally, a stabbing fear entering your head. The same fear you had felt earlier in the bedroom, when your father had first come to visit.

“It’s probably just the nerves, Lieutenant General,” Sloane said, “I’m sure your speech will be wonderful.” Ren could feel your heart flutter at her words, the pride of being recognized by someone as powerful as Sloane only slightly dampened by your interaction with your father. The chatter resumed at the table, and you glanced at Ren, another one of your thoughts coming to him: how did you do that? Ren shrugged in response, but you moved your hand under the table again, insistent, and he was forced to oblige.

I’m sorry, did I hurt you? He pressed the thought at you, gently this time, and you shivered in response, but your expression remained impassive.

No, it just surprised me. It’s the strangest sensation, I don’t know if I could explain it . . . Have you ever done something like that before?

No, Ren could feel himself blushing like an idiot. The question felt suggestive in a way that put him on edge, and he hoped that you wouldn’t be able to pick up on his discomfort through your tenuous connection. He needed to distract you. Do you think anyone else noticed? Your father? You stiffened, pulling your hand from his, shaking your head minutely. By now, Ren had sensed a pattern. Whenever you thought of the allegiant general, your thoughts turned black.

The plates from the final course were cleared away, and the general took the stage, giving you a small introduction before your speech. Ren listened half-heartedly as Hux blathered on about bravery and loyalty and dedication. He finished, and you moved to the stage as Hux once again found his seat.

Ren tried to force himself to listen to your speech, but he couldn’t manage to focus on anything you were saying. He was still thinking about your father. Before the party, he had been curious: you acted the part of a loving daughter perfectly, but the terror had been undeniable. You, a person who feared so little, were practically paralyzed when Pryde had singled Hux out, pacing anxiously in the room while they had talked. He was still trying to make sense of it all when Hux elbowed him in the side, hard.

“What?” Ren whispered, hoping Hux could hear his anger despite the mask.

“There’s a Storm Trooper, up against the wall over there, six down from us. The fidgeting one. I want you to tell me what they’re thinking.” Ren rolled his eyes. A twitchy Storm Trooper; how trivial. Ren was about to tell Hux to piss off, but he looked to Captain Phasma first, and stopped. She was on edge, a fierce look in her eyes, completely ignoring your speech, her entire body focused only on the Storm Trooper in question, her hands balled into tight fists. He had never seen her this way before. Something was wrong.

Ren closed his eyes cast his focus outward, letting the thoughts of the crowd spill into his consciousness, trying to pick out the Storm Trooper in question without alerting any of the others to his presence.

He stood from the chair, knocking it over roughly, and Phasma and the general moved with him in tandem, out of their seats without Ren needing to say anything. But they were too late. Ren was forced to watch from across the room as the Trooper raised his blaster, aimed at your heart, and fired.

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99​