#have no objections or signs of not being okay w it even if she would still go through w this last resort of violating gojos body to save

[heartshapedtrap]

oh brother gojo’s corpse is being weaponized as a tool… group suicide in ten minutes

[thebluestbluewords]

Not Clickbait!! Real Life Witch Activates Ancient Curse!

Inspired by this post.

Evie coughs up a mouthful of emerald green smoke. It's always a bad idea to poke at magical objects in a dorm room, but they usually don't fill the whole room with majorly icky-feeling magical smoke when they explode. "...Mal? Babe? Are you okay?" 

"Storytime—” Mal starts, and then launches into her own coughing fit. There's a cloud of the thick, oily smoke around where she was poking at the amulet, and it's rolling around her body like it's a living thing. "I Learned My Lesson. Smoke Is No Joke!!" 

...huh. That's some strange phrasing coming from Mal, especially considering that it usually takes her at least five tries and just as many explosions to learn any lesson when it comes to not messing with magical objects, but Evie's not going to complain. The smoke feels thick and oily against her skin, and she's really not a fan of the sensation. It's like all the worst parts of fish skin rolled together with fog, and the sooner they stop producing it, the better. 

"I'm opening the window." Evie decides. She's got too much fabric stored in the room to risk damaging it with some magic smoke. "We can air this place out while we visit the boys, and then once we're clear, you can go back to poking the ancient cursed object that probably wants us dead." 

This is the place where Mal would usually protest. 

She coughs instead. "Life Hack Alert! Let This One Weird Trick Clean My Whole Room."

"Mal." 

More coughing. 

"I'm opening the window." 

"Caught By The Headmistress with WHAT in My Dorm Room?? Cursed Amulet Leads to X-TREME Punishment." 

"Okay." Evie plans her hands on her hips. "Right. This isn't funny anymore. I'm opening the window to air this place out, and then we're going down to the boys, and you can stop doing whatever you're doing and tell them how we fucked this one up." 

"Storytime: I Broke The Mysterious Amulet You Said Was Cursed." Mal spits. The smoke is clearing now, so at least Evie can see her face clearly. "Ancient Magical Object Wants Me Dead." 

Evie's stomach drops. "It doesn't actually want us dead. I didn't mean that." She laughs, even though it's not funny. Her mother encouraged her to act extra charming whenever things showed signs of going wrong, and Evie's stupid, malleable brain absorbed that information and decided that she should start giggling whenever shit hits the fan. "The ancient, cursed amulet we took from your mother's abandoned house totally doesn't want us dead. It probably likes you. This is just... just an extension of that! The smoke is just a sign that you're activating the totally not deadly magic that doesn't want us both dead for disturbing it." 

"Hysteria At The Dorm Room: My Girlfriend Said THIS!" Mal says. She's got a deadpan expression plastered on her face. The smoke is almost entirely gone, just a few whisps left around their feet. Unfortunately, Evie can see how uncomfortable she looks now. Their odds of this being a totally normal and reversible magical accident are dropping every second. "I Activated An Ancient Curse!" 

"It's going to be fine. We're going to fix this." Evie giggles again. She sounds borderline hysterical, but she can't put any energy towards stifling the giggles if she's going to figure out how to fix this mess. "It might be a symptom of the smoke inhalation, and once it gets out of your system, you'll go back to normal. That's a possibility." 

Mal rolls her eyes. 

"Okay, or it could be the curse." 

"My Apology Video (I F*cked up!) Should Have LIstened to My Girlfriend" Mal says, without moving her face. The enthusiasm dripping from her voice is creepy without any expression behind it. "Mysterious Amulet Explosion Causes CRAZY Problems." 

"Can you just-- stop talking?" 

Mal nods. 

"Well, that's something," Evie says, because she's going to have to talk for both of them. "We can just say that you have laryngitis. Totally normal, not at all magical laryngitis." 

"Class Presentation Gone Wrong! Will This Tank My Grade??" Mal mumbles. "Upcoming Storytime on TUESDAY!! Subscribe Now For Updates." 

Evie's stomach drops again. At this rate she's going to need to start digging the castle a second basement just to get the rest of her body on the same level as her guts. "Oh shit. You have to present our goodness project to Fairy Godmother on Tuesday. We can..." she waves a hand. "We can figure out something. We've got two whole days before the presentation. We can totally fix it by then." 

Mal holds up a hand. 

"Wait?" Evie guesses. Thank evil for hand gestures. They'd be in even worse shape if the curse forced Mal to speak every single time she wants to communicate. They'd be moving even slower if Mal had to say  Hold Up: My Inner Thoughts Revealed every time she wanted to think for a moment. 

Mal nods. 

Evie waits. 

And waits. 

The problem with growing up on the isle is that they're all a tiny bit too practiced at holding on to every scrap they get. It's not a problem on the Isle, because there's nothing for them to hoard in the first place, but it's growing to be a problem now. Evie's not sure what Mal's looking for in the piles of stuff under the bed, but she's positive that the solution to the curse isn't inside her empty nail polish bottles. 

"Uh, M--" 

wait. 

"I don't think the solution to a curse is under our bed," Evie says gently. "I can try some herbal remedies for breaking spells cast upon the user, but they're all small scale things, and this seems like a pretty big curse." 

Mal's eyebrows speak volumes. Evie's pretty sure that the tilt and glare she's getting right now is saying something along the lines of don't be stupid. With a side of duh. 

"It's not my fault you tried to break it open." Evie reminds her. "The next time we find an ancient locket that glows when you touch it, we could just leave it alone. Y'know, not disturb whatever curse your mom put on all her stuff, just let it keep being evil all alone and not bring ancient curses down on our heads!" 

She sucks in a deep breath. So she's maybe a little bit upset about this.  "I mean, I'm sorry that this happened to you. I really am. It just feels like sometimes you get so excited about magical objects that you ignore all the warning signs, and I feel terrible when you get hurt and I'm just stuck here watching. I'm supposed to be your healer, and I can't even break a simple hex, much less a fairy curse that's clearly tied to that locket. I'm useless, M." 

Mal scoots backwards out from under the bed. There's a dust bunny stuck in her bangs. "I F*cked up." 

That's-- 

Almost normal? 

"At least you're admitting it." Evie says, brushing the dust off her head. "But did you get what you were looking for?" 

Mal brandishes the shiny purple object clutched in her hand. "Lost Treasure Recovered! It's Been Gone for How Long??" 

"You--" Evie laughs, and drops her head onto Mal's shoulder. She's not even hysterical anymore. "You lost your phone under the bed." 

Mal nods. Opens the phone. 

I thought maybe I could type. 

"Clever. What does it feel like?" 

Weird. Mal types. Not bad. 

"Well, at least you're not being hurt. That's better than a lot of curses." 

We could always try the classic solution. 

"We're not dunking you in the lake, if that's what you're thinking. For one thing, we need to ask permission to leave campus, and we don't need the door monitor hearing all about your cursed amulet storytime." 

true love's kiss 

"Oh. I mean, you haven't used the L-word with Ben yet, have you?" 

I meant with you. 

"Oh." 

Her head is in all the wrong places today, apparently. "I suppose we could try. But you're with Ben now, and I really think your boyfriend is the more traditional person to try and break a curse with, not--" Evie swallows down a hysterical giggle. She's not that stupid. She's never going to be a prince in shining armor, and she's never going to be more than a side fling, not while Mal has an actual prince looking at her like she hung the moon and stars. "Not the girl you escaped the Isle with." 

Mal grips her hand. "I've Been Keeping Secrets From You: Meet My Girlfriend."

"Babe..." 

Mal's free hand comes up to cup her face. "Is This True Love?? I Found The Girl Of My Dreams In The Worst Place On Earth." 

"We can try," Evie whispers, tipping her head so that the words come out against Mal's lips .Chapped skin and dragon breath and all. "I love you." 

Mal nips at her lower lip. Evie's wearing lipstick, but Mal's mouth is warm and insistent and she can't resist pushing, pushing, pushing. 

"Mm." Evie hums. "mmhm." 

Mal slips her a little tongue. Evie's eyes slip closed. It's too good, the slick push-pull of their mouths against each other. Mal's mouth is hot, and her hand tips Evie's face up just right, and Evie melts into the motion. 

They pull apart. 

Evie's lipstick is all over Mal's mouth. 

"You taste like cherries," the wicked fairy in question says, lifting a hand to touch questioningly at her own lips. "I don't feel cursed anymore." 

"We'd better have one more kiss just to make sure," Evie murmurs. "Better safe than sorry." 

Mal grins, sharp and wicked. "I couldn't agree more." 

[onemoregayapollokid]

Echoes Of Home

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Word count: 3.4K

Summary: Bucky has spent decades yearning to know what happened to his sister. When he discovers she's still alive, will he let her back into his life? Or is he too damaged for even family to accept?

T/W: Mentions of war, Bucky's past as the Winter soldier.

A/N: This will be a two parter! I'll have the second part out asap

I took a deep breath, gripping my steering well tighter, the object of my trepidation just outside the windshield- a nondescript brown building, low to the ground, a small sign reading “ Newark Community Home” nestled in the corner of the yard, dotted with picnic tables and umbrellas. I thought back to the events of the last six weeks that had brought me to this parking lot.  

SIX WEEKS AGO: 

“Y/N? Where are you?” Bucky’s voice called to me from our front door. I allowed a small smile, still disbelieving that it was our home. Bucky had truly been doing so well, he still had nightmares and occasionally drifted deep into himself, where I could not reach him, but compared to where he was a year ago, he had made leaps and bounds. It had actually been Bucky’s idea to get a flat together and make a home together. He had been so anxious to broach the subject, so uncertain that I would say yes as if he deserved anything less than love.  

“In the bedroom!” I called back, listening as Bucky pulled off his boots and padded his way to our room. He peeked his head around the doorframe, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, even as his eyes remained guarded.  

“ Hey doll” He murmured, crossing to give me a kiss, “How was your day?”  

I shrugged, wrapping my arms around his waist.  

“Alright, I mostly hung around here, got some laundry and dishes done, plus sent off those emails for work. I did go out and get some groceries though. How was your day?’ 

“ Okay.” Bucky avoided my eyes, looking up at the wall over my head, shifting his weight subtly. He thought he hid his feelings well- and to be fair, he did, to most people. But I had spent three years watching him up close and personal, and much longer before that admiring him from a distance, and I’ve learned his little tells. He’s not as stoic as he thinks he is.  

“What is it? What happened? “ I ask, standing from the bed, meeting his gaze. 

Bucky sighed, sinking down in the spot I just vacated, picking up the socks I had discarded, and turning it over in his hands. His eyes finally focused on me, still guarded, but he at least was there.  

“Sam gave me something today.” He finally said, his eyes searching mine. 

“What did Sam give you?” I reached out, pulling the sock from his hands, and sliding my hand into Bucky’s. I sat down beside him, encasing his hand in mine. I shoved the socks into my hoodie pocket, making a mental note to put them away later. Bucky sighed, leaning his head against mine, and sweeping his thumb over my hand.  

“ I mentioned that I don’t know what happened to most of the people I knew, back in the war and the 40’s. “ This didn't surprise me. Sam Wilson was easygoing, kind, and loyal. He wouldn't even tell me what Bucky said in confidentiality. He was a good friend, and I appreciated him more than probably anyone knew, he was exactly what Bucky needed after losing Steve.  

“Sam gave me a stack of files. Some of them I know what happened to them, Steve, Peggy and my ma and pa are in them. But there's a lot that I don’t know what happened. I don’t want to live the rest of my unnaturally long life not knowing, but I don’t know if I’m ready to read the files yet.” I turned my head slightly, allowing my lips to just brush his cheek, scrunching my nose as his stubble roughed against my mouth. 

“I know they're probably all dead, but I don't know what their lives looked like.” He continued, sighing with a breath of air that held 70 years of torment, of being uncomfortable with his hands, uncomfortable with his body.  

“If you want to, Buck, I could read them to you?” I offered. Bucky considered my offer, brow furrowed, fingers tracing along mine. The silence dragged on, seconds turning to minutes. Finally, slowly, he nodded. He stood and walked out of our room, returning a few moments later with a stack of manilla folders, all tied shut with twine.  

“ Who do you want to start with?” I asked, shoving the laundry piles to the side to make room. I spread the files out so we could read the names typed on the front. I could sense Bucky hovering hesitantly behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder at him, seeing the tension he held in his shoulders, the way his vibranium hand pulled at his flesh one, the tight look he wore. I smiled at him, hoping to reassure him. He smiled back, shaky but there. He glanced at the row of envelopes, tapping on one envelope that bore the name Philip Davie.  

“ Him. He was a Private I worked with for a bit before he shipped out. He was a good man. ” Bucky murmured, blue eyes lost to the many years that separated the Bucky in front of me and the Bucky who knew Private Davie. I nodded, picking the envelope up off the bed, and undoing the twine that tied it shut. I skimmed the report. Clearing my throat I started. 

“ Private Philip Anthony Davie:  

Enlisted December 11, 1941 

Discharged: October 20, 1945 

Type: Honourable.  

Private Davie served his country with honor, standing fast in the face of great turmoil. He served in the 107 and saw two overseas tours. He did sustain a leg injury, having been struck by shrapnel in the left calf on or near March 22, 1943. He was moved first to a field hospital and then to the Royal Alexandra. After a month recovering he was sent home on sick leave, where he continued to heal. He was soon back in the trenches. After the war, he married the nurse who had tended to him in the Royal Alexandra. They had four children, Andrew, Ruth, Edmund and Josephine. Philip died at the age of 62, surrounded by his family at his home. 

I finished the brief report, glancing up at Bucky where he stood, seemingly frozen to the ground.  

“ Buck?” I questioned, starting to stand up. He shook his head, sinking to sit beside me.  

“ Keep, reading- please" He whispered. I nodded, reaching for another folder. Bucky’s hand caught my wrist gently. I turned to look at him. He reached for a different folder.  

“ Read this one, please” He whispered. I took the folder from him, glancing at the name. Understanding dawned upon me. I nodded, clearing my throat once again. Rebbeca Fairhurst nee Barnes 

Born: April 1921 

Rebecca Fairhurst was 20 years old when war broke out. She applied to nursing school immediately but was denied. She found a job working in a local shop, supporting her parents while her brother was deployed. Becca was 24 years old when her brother was KIA, and after the war, she married Arthur Fairhurst. They settled in New Jersey. They had five children, Alice, Vivian, Edith, Charles and James. Arthur died at the age of 58 from cancer, followed by Charles at 25 from a car accident. Becca says her greatest wish is to know what truly happened to her brother in 1945. Becca currently resides at the Newark Community Home.  

Bucky sucked in a ragged breath; hands splayed against the bed as if it was supporting him.  

“She’s alive? He questioned softly. I nodded, just as shocked as he was. I glanced at the bottom of the report, seeing the address and phone number handwritten there. God bless you Sam I thought.  

“Buck you can go see her,” I told him excitedly. He shook his head, the joy on his face fading.  

“ I can’t. She thinks I’m dead. And honestly, it’s better than she thinks that” Confusion knit my brow into a deep furrow.  

“ What do you mean?” I questioned, reaching to place my hand on Bucky’s arm. He shrugged, refusing to meet my eyes, fingers digging into the quilt.  

“ Buck” My voice was firm. He slowly dragged his eyes to meet mine. Deep in the cerulean was hope but even more evident was despair.  

“ Y/N, she doesn’t want to see me. I’m not the person she used to know. There’s so much blood on my hands and so much pain that follows me around. I can’t bring her onto this. It will be better for her if she thinks I died all those years ago like I was supposed to. I will not bring her into this.” His voice was pained, but firm. I knew I wouldn’t change his mind. I also knew he needed to see his sister and give him some closure he lacked. I glanced at him, seeing the mask slip into place. He smiled easily at me as if he hadn't just received life-changing news.  

“ Any plans for supper?” He asked. I nodded.  

“ Yeah but I have to run out for something. Can you finish the laundry while I go?” I asked casually, but my mind was racing. Bucky nodded.  

“ Course I can doll” He assured me, kissing my cheek as I stood, grabbing my keys and wallet.  

“I shouldn’t be long” I promised, stepping out the door. I hurried to the elevator, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I waited for the slow elevator. As soon as the door shut behind me, I had my phone in my hand, rapidly typing out my passcode, and unlocking the device. My finger found the contact I needed, waiting until the elevator delivered me to the main floor. Stepping into the chilly fall air, I walked a few feet before I dared call Sam. I didn’t trust Bucky’s hearing to not hear me if I called inside the building.  

He picked up immediately.  

“Hey, Kid!” He greeted. I groaned.  

“ Hey, Sam.”  

“ Everything okay?” He asked. I sighed.  

“ We went through a few of those folders.  

“ Did he take it hard?” Sam asked, concerned.  

“ No, he took it better than I expected but Sam, one of the ones we read was his sister. She’s still alive” I heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone.  

“ He must be excited” Sam ventured. I groaned again.  

“ No. He doesn't want to reach out. He says it’s better if Becca thinks he’s dead. But she has to be in her 50s or 60s now, and if I can give them any time together, I want to”  

“ Well,” Sam sounded pensive. “ Did he tell you not to reach out?”  

“No,” I said, “ but I know he doesn't want to. “ Sam sighed.  

“ Tell you what. I’ll reach out to the home, and see if she’ll agree to meet you. Then if Buck gets mad at someone it’ll be me, and maybe we can give him some closure”  

“Have I ever told you how thankful I am for you?” I asked, stepping into the market. Sam’s low chuckle reached my ears. 

“ Not recently” He joked. 

“ Thank you, Sam,” I said earnestly.  

“ Anytime kid” I groaned. 

“ Don’t call me kid. I am older than you.” I scolded, laughing. 

“Yeah, but I’m taller. “  

“ Goodbye, Sam” I laughed again. 

“ Bye kid” The line went dead before I could offer a smart retort. Now I had to find something to justify an impromptu grocery trip.  

I finally settled on a loaf of bread and a metric ton of garlic for garlic bread- it would pair well with the soup I had made. Heading back to the flat I shared with Bucky, I paused just outside our door, hearing the low tune of Bucky’s music through the thin walls. I opened the door, shutting and locking it behind me.  

“ Buck?” I called, stepping into the kitchen, and smiling as I caught sight of him, reading another file. I crossed to the table, bending to kiss his head. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me to sit on his lap. I glanced down and the fire spread across the table, seeing the name Rebecca Barnes across the top. 

“ I was wrong,” Bucky murmured. His eyes were focused on the file, but his thumb swept over my hip, soothing without intention. I hummed softly, carding my fingers through his short hair. Bucky sighed, closing his eyes and turning from the table.  

“Hydra took everything from me. ”He continued, eyes focused above my head, lost to the years he endured. “Everything including my family. I wasn’t there when Ma or Da died, and Becca thought I was dead too. Hydra can’t take this chance from me too. They may have taken my past from me, but I won’t let them take any future I have.” He finished voice firm. I smiled at him. 

“ When do you want to go see her?” I asked. Bucky hesitated for just a second before asking in a small voice, “ Can you go see her first? I don’t know what exactly she knows about my past- even if I’m alive. From the file, it says she’s been in the home for a few years, and it hasn’t been that long since my past is common knowledge. I don’t want to show up if she doesn’t know I’m alive or if she doesn't want to see me. “  

“Of course, love” I hurried to reassure him. He smiled at me then, hesitant but hopeful. I hopped off Bucky’s lap, and grabbed my phone, typing the number written at the bottom of Becca’s file quickly. The line rang once, twice before a brisk voice answered.  

“ Newark Community Home, Tina speaking. “  

“ Hi Tina, My name is Y/N and I am looking for some information and to come visit a resident”  

PRESENT DAY 

I unbuckled my seatbelt with shaking hands. I took a ragged breath, stepping out of my car. I glanced around the lot, heading toward the main entrance. Bucky and I had come up the night before, getting a room in a nearby hotel. He had elected to stay behind while I met Becca. When I left, he was video chatting with Sam. Behind the desk was a young woman, probably mid 20s. Her nametag read “Tina” She looked up as I walked toward her, smiling warmly.  

“ Hey there, what can I help you with?” She asked. I smiled back. 

“ Hi, we spoke on the phone, I’m Y/N” Her smile grew.  

“ Of course. Mrs. Fairhurst is ready for you. We set her up in our common room. Most of our residents are in their rooms after lunch so you should have some privacy. Once you’ve signed in I’ll show you the way” Tina gestured to the sign-in book on the desk, standing and leading the way to the open room. Carpeted in deep red carpet, the was a long table against the far wall, with assorted puzzles and books on it, as well as a smaller two-person table off to the side where an elderly woman sat. She smiled as I approached her, white curls cut close to her head. Vivid blue eyes- Bucky's eyes- crinkled as I took a seat across from her.  

“Hello, Mrs. Fairhurst. My name is Y/N and I appreciate you agreeing to meet me. I wanted to talk to you about your family, specifically your brother, Seargent Barnes. “ Becca shook my hand with surprising strength. She smiled at me again.  

“ I appreciate you coming all this way” Her eyes were clear and focused on mine. I smiled, glancing around and searching for my words.  

“ Mrs. Fairhurst” I began. Becca interrupted me. 

“ Please call me Becca.” she urged. I nodded, starting again.  

“ Becca, what can you tell me of your brother?” Her eyes gazed behind me, eyes lost to the years that separated her from her brother.  

“ He was the best brother.” She said finally, voice wistful.  

“ He was kind and funny and spent far too long worrying about me. He got into fights protecting me and when his number came up, he promised me he’d come home. “ Don't you worry, Bec. “ He said. “ I’ll always come back to you. “ When Arthur brought the news that he wasn’t coming home- my entire world fell apart. I couldn’t go to work, I couldn’t stand to be around my family. I wanted to lock myself in my room and scream. The funeral remains the hardest day of my life, and I’ve buried a child and my husband. I think it was knowing that Bucky wasn’t in the coffin, that he was lost somewhere in France, and not even his body would come home. And Steve was gone too. So much death those days and I was right in the middle of it. It hasn’t gotten easier, but I’ve grown around my grief.” She said with a sigh, hands laced tightly together. I nodded, biting my lip as I considered my next words.  

“ pardon the change in subject but I promise there’s a point to this. What do you know about the Avengers?” Becca frowned slightly.  

“ Not much. I heard about the fight in New York, with the aliens. And that Steve was still alive and spent all those years under ice. He called me once after he came back. He apologized for Bucky. I had just buried my Ma- Pa died years ago, only a few years after Bucky did. Other than that, nothing. News is pretty hard to come by here- the TV never works and I don’t have family nearby anymore. “ I nodded again. I reached a hand to Becca’s holding it gently as I explained to her.  

“ There’s no easy way to tell you this- but Seargent Barnes didn’t die in that fall.” Becca gasped, eyes riveted on me as I continued. “ He was badly injured and he fell into Hydra’s hands, where they.... tortured him. Brainwashed him and turned into a weapon. But he fought his way out, time and time again, and came out the other side. He’s not the same man you remember- he lost an arm but he’s alive and as well as one can hope. “ I reached into my bag, pulling out the folder Bucky and I had compiled on his life. His past as the winter soldier, Hydra's ( and Shield’s) fall, the torture and abuse he endured, his time with Sam, everything we could find. There were articles, links to videos, interviews, and official memos from Shield. His whole life was comprised of a simple manila folder. I slid it across the table to Becca. She glanced up at me, questions in her eyes.  

“ Where is he?” She questioned softly.  

“He lives in New York now. But he’s currently here, in Newark. He is at the hotel. I tried to convince him to come with me, but he wasn’t sure if you’d want to see him.” Becca looked at me sharply.  

“ Why wouldn’t I want to see him?” She questioned. I smiled softly. 

“ He said he has too much blood on his hands. It’s been too long and it would be better if you continued to think he had died ‘when he was supposed to.” Becca snorted, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.  

“ He was always stubborn. He’s my brother. I want to see him. We’ve spent too long apart. Will you bring him to me? “ I nodded.  

“ I’ll give you the evening to read over the file. My phone number is in there, call me when you're done and we can plan a time for tomorrow if you agree?” Becca nodded, standing as I did, reaching her arms to me. She hugged me fiercely, her voice sounding in my ear as she whispered,  

“ Bring him to me. He obviously means so much to you, and I need to see him and I think he needs to see me too. Bring him to me.” I nodded, stepping back. I smiled at the lady in front of me.  

“ I’ll talk to you later?” I asked. She nodded, a determined set to her chin. I nodded softly and then turned and walked into the hallway. Hope surged in my chest, and I couldn't wait to get back to Bucky. 

[mebemilena]

Confused

summary: you're Maya's worst student and she is trying to flirt with you.

A/N: i was mistaking brazilian sign language and ASL, but i only understand a few signs. Wrote this as an exercise, i feel like i like it better with more diaogues, but i'ts been a bit hard to organize them in my head. i know i don't have to explain but i wanted you to know. Thank you for reading me.

A/N:  I'm so sad and tired. dont forget to eat bananas and sit outside for a while

- - -

You'd meet Maya three times a week for a new lesson in ASL. This week you were learning more daily vocabulary and she invited you over so you could practice the signs for objects, chores and more greetings, but you were way behind on the lessons. 

Maya's house looked cozy even from the outside. You saw Biscuits' dog at the front door first, bending to talk to him. "Hello, there, Billy Jack!", you caressed his fur and he sniffed your hands and face. "Hey, Boonie.", you greeted when the woman opened the door for you.

Boonie was wearing her firefighter uniform, probably coming home from her shift. You looked at her and smiled shyly, knowing your crush on Maya would probably show the moment you were in the same space. You looked around and saw Maya on the couch, looking at you.

"Good afternoon.", she greeted, signing slowly so you could follow. "Come in, baby. Have a sit next to me.", she signed.

You looked at Boonie then back at her. Maya decided to keep it simple for you. "Let's start.", she tapped the spot right next to her on the couch and your smile grew.

"Good afternoon. Let's start., you signed in reply, repeating the signs Maya just did. You felt silly for not coming up with something different.

Boonie watched your interaction before smiling at herself. "I'm going to see Pokni.", she signed to Maya, voicing her words for you. "You better study more.", she signed slowly and voiced the signs again, giving you the opportunity to learn a few new ones.

- - -

Being home alone with Maya made you a little more nervous. You wanted to tell her about your feelings and that you've been thinking about her; But you were afraid of rejection and didn't want to ruin what you already had.

You opened the book on page six and waited for her to start the lesson.

Maya just looked at you. "You're cute. I like your hair.", she signed, watching your face turn into a confused expression.

You opened the book but couldn't find what she signed in the lesson. "What. Page. You.", you tried to ask, but Maya just shrugged. 

"I wish I could kiss you right now. Would you go on a date with me if I asked? Or stay for dinner. Or spend the night with me. I'd treat you so right. ", she kept going, watching you stare at her.

"I'm sorry, Maya. i have a small vocabulary.", you signed how you had rehearsed many times before. "It's hard to learn but I'll try to study more.", you promised with an apologetic smile.

Maya was frustrated, that much was obvious.  "Please study more.", she pleaded, defeated.

The rest of the lessons went a little more smooth until noon. Boonie arrived back right as you were leaving, she eyed you up and down before pulling you aside to talk.

"Are you two hooking up or something?" , she was straight to the point. 

"W-what?", you stared at her in shock. 

Boonie scoffed. "You're almost eye-fucking all the time. I saw it earlier.", she told you. "Come on, spill the tea. We're friends, it's okay."

You felt your skin burning, a violent blush spreading all over your face. "Stop talking like that. Maya and i are just friends.", you whispered, knowing Biscuits could arrive anytime soon too. 

Boonie bit her lower lip and giggled, like she knew something you didn't. 

"You are really that stupid.", she signed, making you confused again. It seemed like this was the only adjective possible for you right now. 

[delicatemusickingdom]

Book 2 Part 3 Chapter 1.2

Chapter 1.2

“Did you hear the rumours about the ‘Dark Wings’?” 

“Oh? How many years has it been since I last heard that name? I thought for sure they had quit the thieving business.” 

“The economy’s been doing well lately. Lots of people have lots of stuff worth stealing.” 

Yuri overheard the adults talking, and mulled over what that meant. 

The ‘Dark Wings’ only took action in situations when there was no other option left — that was what the person in question once said. 

He hadn’t heard of anything serious happening in the lower quarter recently. No one was seriously ill or up to their ears in debt, and in any case, no one in the lower quarter was in a situation so serious that they were beyond everyone’s help — as far as he knew, anyway. Of course, Yuri didn’t think that he was aware of everything that occurred in the lower quarter, but if there really was someone in such dire straits, it was hard to imagine not hearing any news about that at all. 

But the ‘Dark Wings’ had been active even before Yuri discovered their true identity. Just like how they had once tried to save Flynn’s mother, Norein, there must have been other people like her in the past, and even now, there could be people out there who needed help. People that Yuri didn’t know about, in places where he couldn’t see. 

Or maybe there was another reason for it. Yuri was curious, but he didn’t try to speculate any further. He didn’t think his guess would be correct anyway. However, the restless feelings inside of him showed no signs of subsiding. 

Good grief. Yuri got up. It’ll be the easiest if I ask the person in question directly. And if that doesn’t answer the questions I have, then it will be pointless to do anything further anyway. 

****

“I thought you’d given up a long time ago.” 

Jiri had taken a look at Yuri’s gaze and immediately guessed what was going on, and said. 

“……I didn’t come here to ask to become your apprentice this time, okay?” 

Jiri raised an eyebrow, but said nothing in return. 

The ‘Dark Wings’ was the infamous chivalrous thief of the Imperial Capital Zaphias, who only targeted the houses of wealthy people. But their true identity was someone Yuri saw and interacted with on a daily basis — Grandma Jiri. A little while after Yuri discovered this fact, whenever he had the chance, he would go to her — when there was no one else around — and beg her to take him on as her apprentice. 

Yuri had been born and raised in the lower quarter, and he had witnessed the unfairness of society, starting with the Imperial Knights and continuing on to a long line of other injustices. He didn’t feel that much of an animosity towards thieves. There was the premise that the other party was the one carrying out this ‘unfairness’, but he didn’t object to the act in and of itself. However, what he disliked even more than that, was receiving help or favours from someone one-sidedly. He couldn’t settle with being relegated to such an uneven position. 

Besides — though this was something he’d never utter aloud — the thought of being able to get one over those high and mighty people on the ‘other side of the wall’ was a very satisfying one. 

He didn’t discuss this with Flynn at all, because he knew it would only lead to a fight. 

Ever since they first learned of the true identity of the ‘Dark Wings’, Flynn looked like he was always thinking about it deep within his heart. Flynn’s strong sense of ethics was something Yuri couldn’t understand — or it was better to say it was something Yuri couldn’t share with him. It was strong enough that the fact that his mother could have been saved through illegal means, and that it was precisely because of that that she had rejected that salvation and chosen to die instead, had nearly torn Flynn apart.

There was the letter left by his mother, the way Jiri and the others treated him after that, and most importantly, the fact that the ‘Dark Wings’ had stopped all activities after that. As a result, there weren't many opportunities for the topic to be brought up as often in conversation, and it looked like the storm raging inside of him had calmed down, at least on the surface. 

Since then, Flynn had behaved cheerfully, leaving a favourable impression on many people just as he had before his mother’s death. He definitely wasn’t faking it — there was no doubt that that was his true face, and not a false mask. But whenever the topic of the ‘Dark Wings’ or matters related to the public order came up in conversation from time to time, he would show a stubborn reaction. And that showed that he still hadn’t sorted out his feelings on the matter. He was too pure to accept the idea for a necessary evil. 

Yuri didn’t feel that need to draw a clear line between good and evil. So he avoided bringing up the topic in conversation, and Flynn didn’t bring it up either. 

Putting the feelings of Yuri and Flynn aside, Jiri stubbornly refused to agree to Yuri’s request. Naturally, Yuri protested. He argued with her, saying if Jiri could do it, why couldn’t he? First of all, it was for the sake of the lower quarter… and so on. He even carelessly let slip something about her skills declining because of her old age and got punched for it, but even so, Yuri didn’t give up in the slightest. Granted, he wasn’t skilled enough to be up to the task, but everyone had to start somewhere. If she taught him, he’d learn, and surely he’d be of use to her—

Jiri refused to listen to a single word of his rambling excuses. Even when he told her he was willing to negotiate his terms, her answer remained a flat refusal. 

“Have you forgotten about the day of your ‘River Escapade’?”

When asked why her answer was a no, Jiri finally spoke up. 

‘River Escapade’. To Yuri, those words were akin to a critical blow. It referred to a day back when he was a young boy. It was a day when he had experienced many things — when he fully realised his own foolishness, and his lack of strength. 

Yuri couldn’t say anything more, and from then on, he never asked to be her apprentice again. That being said, even though he understood what Jiri was trying to say, he couldn’t fully accept it. He felt like she was belittling him. It was as if she was saying, It’s impossible for you. In that sense, he couldn’t understand her reasoning at all. 

Anyway, as Yuri said earlier, the reason he had come looking for Jiri this time wasn’t to ask to be her apprentice.  

“Didn’t you say that the ‘Dark Wings’ only takes action in situations when there’s no other option left? Is there someone out there that’s in that much trouble?” 

If there is, I’ll do something to help out. Yuri spoke as if to imply those words, but even then Jiri’s expression didn’t change.  

“There are exceptions. Didn’t I tell you, there are times when I do it to confuse the Knights?” 

“Wasn’t that to distract them away from something? If there isn’t anyone causing any harm, then why are you doing it?” 

“That’s what I want to know too.” 

“……What?” 

Still keeping that stone-like expression on her face, Jiri gazed past Yuri, staring at something that couldn’t be seen from where they were. Following her line of sight, far beyond that, should lie the middle and upper levels of the Imperial Capital. The ‘other side of the wall’. 

“I can’t help but feel like it will be needed very soon, for real this time. You should pray that my intuition is wrong.” 

Prev | Index | Next

[violettelueur]

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || KIND HEARTED

| featuring : ryōmen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar error, but other than that n/a

| form : imagine

| word count : 1339

| published : 14 november

| request : could i request an imagine w/ sukuna where itadori’s best friend is just so welcoming of sukuna and tries to include him when they do things? like they’re just hanging out and she goes “sukuna would you like to try this” and she holds up a piece of food to his cheek so sukuna can try it and it just warms the curse’s cold dead heart bc she’s genuinely trying <3

| barista’s notes : i kinda went a little off track with this imagine ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but i hope you enjoy your order of a cup of black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request) and that you have an amazing day! please come back again soon ʕ´•ᴥ•`ʔ

“You know, I think curses spirits have emotions”

“Mother, what in the world are you talking about? They don’t have feelings, they kill without remorse and try to gain power from their greed”

“Y/N dear, how are curses formed?”

“Negative emotions that results in cursed energy leaking from the bodies of humans”

“See ‘emotions’ is in the sentence dear”

“‘Humans’ mother, you forgot the word ‘humans’ was also in the sentence”

Back then you had no idea what your mother was suggesting or saying at that time. Curses having emotions? What was that all about? You knew from previous missions that some curses were intelligent from being able to take hostages to some being able to talk but other than that you still couldn’t comprehend what she was trying to communicate to you.

“You know the Legend of Sukuna?”

Looking up from your book, you stared at your mother - who was sitting on the opposite end of the room with a cup of tea in her hands - with a somewhat nonchalant but surprised expression on your face wondering why she brought up such a topic that was feared by most jujutsu sorcerers

“You used to tell me about it when I was younger, why are you bringing it up now?” you asked curiously, as you closed your book before gently placing it on your lap.

“We all know that the curse was a human before his fingers became cursed objects, don’t we? How do you think he felt when he was killed?”

You were about to answer her before you shut your mouth completely, not sure on how to even answer that question. How could you? No one knows the whole story to even come to a conclusion for that question, you have to interrupt the story in your own way to make one yourself? Wouldn’t he have been enraged when he was killed, annoyed at the fact that he lost in a way? Or was he unsettled? 

“Personally from my perspective, I think he would have been vexed at the fact that he somewhat lost, you mother?”

“I think the same as you, but I have a small feeling that he was upset for some reason, I’m not sure why though”

                                              ꕥ

You still have that assumption till this day. However, you were a little more open about your mother’s thoughts and took them into account sometimes when you were debating on the subject on your own. However, there was a slight shift in your opinion once Itadori Yuji unexpectedly came into your life.

The first time you meant the boy was when Gojo came back with him carrying him and Fushiguro back to Jujutsu high, confusing you completely on what was going on. For someone who was sent to just retrieve a cursed object, Fushiguro looked completely beat up and that worried you completely on what he had encountered during his time away. However, Gojo just couldn’t read the room.

“Yo Y/N, what is my favourite student doing at a time like this? It’s quite late you know,” he greeted you with a smile, before plopping Fushiguro on the ground.

“Sensei, now’s not the time to play with me, what the hell is going on?” you muttered annoyingly before using reserve curse energy to heal some of Fushiguro’s wounds.

After some time of your playful teacher explaining what was going on, you came to the conclusion that the boy ate the cursed object that Fushiguro was supposed to collect causing him to become Sukuna’s vessel as a consequence.

“So what you’re saying is that Fushiguro failed to get the object in the end,” you commented as you pointed at your close friend, leading to Gojo giving you an ‘okay’ sign telling you that you were technically correct.

“Was that all you got from the whole explanation Y/N?” Fushiguro irritatedly asked, causing you to lightly giggle before apologising to him.

                                              ꕥ

However, after that night, you made the decision to become friends with the teenager as you didn’t want him to feel completely isolated on his situation right now - he did leave everything behind to come to Tokyo - and with everything that was going to happen to him, you wanted him to live a happy life with people surrounding him before his execution after he ate all 20 fingers. What you didn't realise was this friendship would lead to you guys to have a sister and brother type of bond.

You and Itadori did everything together from going on missions together with Nobara and Fushiguro to randomly going out to do some shopping or showing him around Tokyo. As time went on, you decided to fully take in your mother’s opinion. You slowly included Sukuna in some of the activities that both of you would be participating in - usually this would involve you asking for his opinion on something, even if he sometimes gave a rude response.

“Do you think Sukuna is a pork or beef type of guy?” you randomly asked, as you lifted up your chopsticks that held a piece of cooked beef to Itadori’s cheek. “Sukuna, would you like to try this?” you kindly asked, leading to the curse to take a bite of the meat before his mouth disappeared like it didn’t appear in the first place.

“I never really asked, but why are you so kind to Sukuna? I mean he is a curse, after all, ain't sorcerers like you supposed to like, hate them?” Itadori asked in a confused tone, causing you to look up away from the meat that you were cooking to the boy that had asked you that question. 

To be honest, you weren’t so sure how to answer his question, just like the same situation that you were years ago when your mother asked you that question. How could you answer this time around? How could you answer this question now?

“Personally from my perspective, I guess I took in some consideration towards anyone’s emotions,” you casually answered, before going back to the meat that was cooking on the grill, leaving Itadori confused yet somewhat understanding what you were trying to say.

                                             ꕥ

Sukuna on the other hand was confused about what you were trying to interrupt to his annoying vessel as he sat quietly in his Innate Domain. Ever since the beginning of your friendship with Itadori, you had been nothing but kind-hearted toward him making him wonder what your intentions were from the start. However, over time he began to discover that’s what you were naturally. You were naturally just a kind-hearted person that was trying to become acquainted with him. You were generally trying.

It was hard to recall the last time he had someone to confide in - if there was anyone he even confided in at all - you were someone that took his emotions into consideration, you always question his reason for power, greed and destruction, instead of assuming that he was born with his sadistic nature. He still remembers that time you were able to somehow get close to him during his fight with Fushiguro and heal Itadori’s heart with no issues at all - making him intrigued on how powerful your reserve energy was. However, he remembers what you said to him as your hand was placed on top of the wound on his chest.

“Listen, I have no idea what caused you to become the man that you are today, I have no idea what pain you went through before your death 1000 years ago, I have no idea what you are feeling right now and I’ll try my best to understand” you quickly stated just as your curse began to revive his heart, “but right now, there is no way in hell am I going to let you kill Itadori, you got that Sukuna!”

That. That caused his cold empty heart to suddenly become warm.

Your kind-heartedness was the reason he began to reach out to you.

He wanted to cherish that trait of yours.

You were kind-hearted.

[kira-fluff]

Heeey!

Saeyoung, Yoosung, Jumin and Zen reacting to to “hotel only one bed” trope ? ♥️

a/n: of course you can lovely! <3 *AHEM* Lemme just say this trope is ELITE and I will NEVER not love it // also, i’m writing it like it’s before they’re dating (OF COURSE) because I want it to be spicy (actually that’s the only thing that would make sense for this prompt but you get my point whatever). ALSO also I’m basing the fancy hotel off my stay at the Ritz Carlton (it was like $25,000 a night) because my grandma couldn’t manage money N E WAYSS. Also, if y’all could let me know whether you prefer Y/N to MC pls lmk k thx 

TW: drunk old lady w/no filter, gets pretty suggestive because I couldn’t help myself, an overbearing aunt, savage Italians, and loud hotel neighbor 

Note: omfg i accidentally made this so long oh well here’s yo present lmao 

“There’s only one bed” PT.1 PT.2

- 

Saeyoung 

Getaway missions are mad cool until you can’t sleep 

When you finally neared the parking entrance to your hotel you were SO looking forward to taking a nice hot shower before shimming into the covers of your crisp, (clean, you hoped) sheets. 

It was past 3AM when Saeyoung finally drove his elegant vehicular device (because what other word is there for it) into a secured parking space 

“Because I don’t trust those shady valets, y/n.” 

“Whatever you say, Seven”, you replied groggily. 

You hauled ass up to the front desk, then to the elevator of the exquisite hotel you were staying at

not that you cared 

because S L E E P 

but Saeyoung likes to quote Jurassic Park (because of course he does) like “I spare no expense, y/n” 

“I’m too tired to laugh” 

*gASP* 

“Not everyone naturally stays up until the early morning light before going to sleep.” 

“It really should become a thing, it’s honestly very iconic of me.” (it’s not)

By the time your conversation ended you were glad to see your hotel number and a little key card slot. 

Saeyoung made a show of sticking the key card in like a spy or something 

it was funny for normal y/n but not for tired y/n 

“Here’s your room, M’lady.” 

He held the door open to your room as you looked around the room 

a large, lush bed set before a ginormous flat screen TV with complimentary expensive chocolates laid before you as well as complimentary take-home elegant towels and slippers. 

suddenly, you heard a knock on the door 

blinking in confusion, you opened to see it was Saeyoung 

“Um.. hey! What’s up?” 

Saeyoung looked a bit bewildered himself before saying, 

“Hey, so, I realized my key card was the same room number as yours and I was like ‘That’s weird!’ so I called the front desk who verified that I had placed a reservation for one room, not two, so I hacked into their system to see what went wrong and if I could change it but it looks like they’re completely booked and I think I had made the reservation before I knew that you had to come along and I’m so sorry” 

he was breathless after the mouthful he just gave you 

As it was 3AM a drunk, old woman was tripping her way to her room and shouted much louder than she should at 3AM, “Kiss her already n’ fuck, ya youngin’s!” 

Saeyoung’s hair now matched his face :) 

His ears were tipped bright red before coughing awkwardly 

“I can sleep on the ground. I’ve done it plenty of times, it’s actually pretty comfy.” 

“Um, Sev’ I’m not going to make you just sleep on the floor. If you want--” 

“You’re not making me, y/n, I want to do this” 

“Actually I think I’ll sleep on the floor, I sleep a lot better on the ground”, you fibbed. 

“You’re sleeping on that big ass bed.” 

“No you are.” 

“If you don’t listen I’ll sleep in the bath tub instead of the floor.” 

“Then I’LL sleep outside the room!” 

“LIKE HELL YOU WILL!” 

“WATCH ME” 

the phone rang, a worker politely asking you to quiet a bit down because even with your luxurious privacy walls, guests could still hear you arguing. 

Saeyoung began whisper shouting, “Guess that settles it.” 

he plopped on the ground, fake snoring with his arm as a pillow

you sighed 

“Fine, if neither of us are going to agree to this then we are both going to sleep in this bed.” 

Saeyoung blushed lightly at your boldness, a tad worried you’d find him creepy or weird

You started again, beginning to undress a little, causing Seven to yelp in panic and turn around immediately, shielding his eyes,

Now in your tank top and your leggings you’d been wearing under sweatpants and a t-shirt, you said, “I’m gonna go take a quick shower and go to bed. I’m so tired.” 

Seven turned around only when he’d heard the bathroom door shut 

he sighed, What am I going to do with this girl. 

By the time you’d come out of the bathroom, drying your wet hair, Seven was lying on the bed, clad in casual t-shirt and jeans. 

“Come on, Saeyoung, you have comfy clothes! It’s okay, change! I’m done in the bathroom now.” 

“Nah, this is fine.” This was not fine. Saeyoung was out of his area of expertise of expecting the unexpected because God you were so unpredictable. 

“Please” you jutted out your bottom lip in a little pout, being sure to make eye contact with him 

Something glowered in his eyes for a split second before he half-smiled saying, “Ah, little Y/n, you know I can’t say no to you when you go all sad on me.” 

He stepped into the bathroom to change, but let’s be honest. He was freaking the fuck out. 

he covered his flushed face, changing into his soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt. he was scared 

the more comfortable he became the more likely he’d accidentally get closer to you and then you’d freak out because you’d hear the sound of his heart beat like it’s a fucking rave concert and then you’d be weirded forever and quite possibly never talk to him again

but on the outside, he stepped out of the bathroom, whipping his phone out with a huge smirk saying, “Smile” 

you threw up a peace sign with your tongue sticking out 

he laughed before sending it to the RFA chat 

707: Sleepover lolol [see attachment]

immediately both your phones blew up with buzzes of notifications from the chat 

you laughed lightly, brushing a stray hair from your face to tuck it behind your ear 

this was gonna be a long night for Seven. 

Zen: UGH get away from her!!!!!!!!!111!!1!!

Jumin: Maybe you should learn to type first. 

Zen: shut it cat freak

Zen: seven answer 

Zen: hey 

Zen: y/n, text “qwerty” if you’re in any kind of danger 

Jumin: What a strange code. 

You: qwerty :(

707: lololololol

Zen: !!!!!

Zen: ASJDHKJFASHFKJA 

Jumin: -_- 

Zen: WE NEED A CAR, NO A HELICOPTER im omw!! 

You: just kidding <3 i’m fine you guys 

707: lololol 

Jumin: Have a bit more faith in your subordinates, Zen. 

You closed the chat and muted your phone, expecting the incoming argument that was quickly to ensue. 

You patted the bed lightly, ushering Saeyoung to lie down next to you. 

He obliged, though he politely laid at the far edge of the left side of the bed. 

You yawned before shutting the light off and whispering a “good night”. 

Saeyoung glanced at the clock. 4AM. Only 15 minutes had passed. You were breathing softly in your sleep within the 10 minutes after you’d said goodnight and here he was still awake. 

You suddenly tousled in your sleep, and Saeyoung raised his head, whispering a soft, “Did I wake you up?” 

You replied with a soft moan before abruptly turning left onto his corner of the bed and grabbing for the first thing you’d felt -- his torso. 

Saeyoung’s breath hitched as he felt you exploring the new found “object”, running your fingers up and down his torso and nearing dangerous areas below 

Saeyoung whisper-shouted, “What are you doing?” 

He leaned closer to hear your reply, but your only answer was more soft little snores 

Saeyoung sighed, trying to lightly grab your wrists without waking you up, and directing toward yourself

no matter how hard he’d try, your arms kept finding his own

your nails would softly ghost over his chest or neck, causing him to shiver and blush profusely 

again, he sighed, trying his hardest not to give into your sleepy state 

until you broke him with a soft utterance, “Sae....young..” 

Saeyoung’s eyes widened to the size of saucers before he dared to look down at you, your hair curling on the bed every which-way.. your mouth slightly agap... 

he groaned, his brows furrowed and his eyes shut

at last he slunk his arms around your torso, being sure to respectfully keep them high around your waist 

he buried his face in the crook of your neck to subconsciously try to hide his ever growing blush (and erection) 

I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this ‘friend’ thing when you’re driving me this crazy, y/n.

You awoke to a sleeping Saeyoung, his toned arms enveloping your small body in a hug

shamelessly, you laid still for a few moments longer. 

Yoosung 

this bean is lonely uwu

so when he’d invited to you go with him on a trip his uncle had paid for, you felt bad saying “yes” because it’s a paid trip!! 

until he begged you because his cousin Chaewon would be there and he was always really pushy and borderline a huge fuck boi 

so you conceded 

but hey free trip for the both of you minus shitty family gatherings with no one you know, right?! 

you hope there’s at least one dog. and alcohol. 

dog + alcohol at a party = an actual fun fucking time 

you were glad Yoosung was there with you because he honestly couldn’t agree with you more 

You opened your beach-side resort room to find there’s only one bed. 

Yoosung blanched and quickly dialed his auntie, who’d made the resort reservations

“Ah...hi auntie! Um, how come there isn’t a separate room for me and y/n?” 

his aunt cackled into the phone, “Aren’t you an old fashioned little gentlemen!!! Awe~~~ you’ve grown up to be such a good boy! <3 Well don’t worry, I won’t say a word to my sister or your pops. Enjoy the time you have with your adorable girlfriend and get it on a little!! I’ve got condoms if ya need ‘em honey~~ Remember dearie, when the shlong is not covered, the child support better be.” 

Yoosung hurriedly hung up the phone, his face completely red, praying you hadn’t heard the conversation that’d just ensued. 

You did 

but you smile and say, “So.. what’d they say?” 

He cleared his throat before saying, “Well, --err.. Basically there’s been a little mishap. B-but don’t worry!! I can just ask Chaewon if I can spend the night in his room.” 

“Didn’t you say he leaves a sock on the door handle every time--”

“YES but I want you to be comfortable, okay! It’s really not a big deal.” 

You shyly smiled while looking down before softly saying, “You can sleep with me.” 

Yoosung’s eyes widened and you quickly looked up, your face flushing to a deep crimson 

“I-I-I meant in the bed!!! With me. We can lie together. In the bed---- I mean we--” 

Yoosung could practically see the steam coming out of your ears and the room felt a LOT hotter 

“S-sure! Sounds great.” he had a feeling if you didn’t agree you’d end up embarrassing yourself further.. and he didn’t want you to feel bad. And he didn’t want those thoughts circulating his mind again. 

“Alright, so I’m going to hop in the shower, y/n... unless you want to go first?”

Gulping down some complimentary water you’d found in the hotel mini fridge, you quickly replied with a shake of your head. 

Nodding, Yoosung make quick work of washing his hair and trying to give himself a pep talk before he would be sleeping next to you. 

Thankful for the big size of the resort bed, you climbed under the covers, already beginning to feel sleep take you 

When Yoosung had at last dried himself off and walked out to the bed area of the resort room, he gazed at how small you looked, hugging a soft pillow in your arms, your eyes fluttered shut 

He looked away, feeling like a creep. 

He shut off the light after making a call to the resort staff to wake him up at 8AM as directed by his uncle’s itinerary

He slid under the covers, shoving a pillow in between the two of you as a little border to separate the two of you 

it wasn’t until further in the night when Yoosung had felt a jolt and he looked up in panic, through the blackness recognizing the pillow-border had been cast onto the ground 

and even more noticeably, your leg was swung over his hip, your body flush to his own 

your arms were snaked around his neck

he felt like he could feel every inch of you

your soft breath just below his ear 

your soft .. er.. chest... against his torso 

your stomach and .. the rest of it... against his own 

Yoosung could not breathe

like someone actually help this man for he is losing oxygen by the minute 

He squeezed his eyes shut and make the executive decision to wait it out til morning 

he was terrified that if he’d move you, you’d wake up and see just how much you affect him. 

And so, when the phone rang that morning, you’d startled, looking up to see your tangled limbs lying on top of his own

“oH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY YOOSUNG UGH IT’S A HABIT OF MINE AHAHHSAHDAJSHS” 

he looked at you with eyes that had noticeable circles under them (darker than even after his LOLOL gaming) 

“you look like you didn’t sleep much.... --- Is it because of me!? Oh my god I’m so sorry you should’ve just shoved me off or something seriously I didn’t mean to do it on purpose, honest!!” 

“N-no, no it’s really not!! I promise!!” He tried his best to grin, though it probably looked like a grimace, because the next thing you said was, “I’ll make it up to you” 

“You don’t need to do that. Really, I liked it.” 

It took a moment for him to realize what he just said. 

“I-I mean I like you! I mean I liked sleeping with you!!! I mean--!!” 

Yoosung was quickly spinning circles in his mind 

you couldn’t help the little giggle that came out of your mouth, “I guess we’re pretty similar, huh?” 

Yoosung smiled lightly, “Yeah, guess so.” 

You walked out together toward the breakfast area of the resort

“Hey”, you started, “Is.. Did you mean what you said? About liking me?” 

Yoosung glanced away, taking a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, yeah I did. I really like you.” 

You couldn’t hold back the big ol’ smile that took over your face as you proudly declared, “Me too!!” 

Right when Yoosung was going to go in for a kiss, he saw his auntie suddenly right next to the both of you 

“Oh my GOD when did you get here?!” 

She smirked, “My question first, dearie, what did you two like?” 

Neither of you answered, your cheeks growing red 

“You know, the first time your uncle did it with me I felt the same way. Like, what a man! Must run in the fam--” 

“OKAY! THANK YOU FOR THAT AUNTIE BUT BREAKFAST IS CALLING MY NAME MM SMELLS GOOD SEE YOU LATER.” 

Your blush didn’t leave you as you smeared strawberry cream cheese on your toasted bagel 

This trip was going to be very VERY difficult. Thank God there was alcohol. And Yoosung. And probably dogs. And Yoosung. 

Yeah. 

Gotta love relatives. 

Jumin 

You received a call from a stern voice you didn’t recognize

<<“Hello. This is Mr. Han’s chauffeur. I’m approximately 6.3 miles away from your residence. Do not worry about clothes or other necessities. All will be provided for you.”>>

“Uh.. thanks? Where....?” 

<<“Mr. Han has invited you to join him on his stay at the Ppalgan Vineyard Estates. Have you not received the notification?”>>

You glanced at your phone, seeing two unread messages on your phone. 

You read them, feeling bad you hadn’t seen them before. 

“Yes, yes of course. Thank you. Tell him I said thank you. Are you sure it’s okay for me to attend?” 

<<“Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Han gave me specific instructions to assure you would be able to come with him. I have been ordered to give 2 minute updates following your being picked up. I can assure you, it is his utmost wish that you join him this weekend. I’d be honored to thank him on your behalf, though I feel it would mean much more to him if you said it to him rather than me.” >>

“You’re right, thank you. And thanks for driving me. And for all the other stuff you said”, you replied nervously. 

<<”There is no need to thank me, Miss. I am glad to serve Mr. Han in anyway I can.”>>

The call hung up before you could spout out more thank yous 

you phone buzzed, startling you. 

you clicked the notification

<<(XXX-XXX-XXXX HAN COMPANIES) I’ve arrived at your residence. Let me know if there is anything I can carry for you. Sent 13:52>>

You quickly texted a reply of gratitude before rushing down the stairs out of your apartment, not wanting to make Jumin’s chauffeur wait. 

“Good to see you Miss Y/L/N. Is there anything I can get you? I have been given orders to purchase anything you may want or need on our way to the airport.” 

He quickly texted something on his phone, presumably a text to Jumin about your safe arrival to his limo.

“A-airport? You mean, like, flying? Are you sure I don’t need my wallet? It’s not too late for me to go grab it, right? I have my debit card on my phone too, otherwise.” 

“Miss Y/L/N you are not to spent a single won on this vacation. All is paid for.” 

“But my clothes... I don’t want Jumin to have to pay for all new things!!” 

"I assure you, money is not something Mr. Han wishes for you to be concerned with.” 

You’d stayed silent at that, feeling bad that you’d already bothered the poor man who’d just been ordered to drive you, not reassure you of Jumin’s financial affairs. 

You grew quiet, looking out the window as trees, streets, and cars zoomed past you. 

“If you so wish, there are numerous meals options in the compartments below the seats as well as alcohol, carbonated beverages and iced water glasses. You are, of course, welcome to any of these. Please do not hesitate to notify me if there is something you’d like instead. We’d glad to make it a regular option in all of our limousines.” 

You flushed, embarrassed at the amount of power Jumin’s words, and effectively, your own seemed to have on the entire Han Conglomerate as a whole. You laughed a little, it was funny thinking to yourself that you had so much power as to decide snack options for Jumin’s cars. 

Jumin was extra like that, he always went above and beyond to make you comfortable. You loved that about him. It made you feel a little spoiled, so you instinctively rejected most offers at things that seemed to further complicate his worker’s duties. 

You had no idea that when the chauffeur had said airport he meant the Han Private Airway Transportation Zone. 

As in... private jet. 

It was hard not to feel like you were in a whole different world. 

Not that Jumin treated you that way... but it was hard not to notice! 

You bowed in thanks to the driver before hastily finding your way to the nearest man standing in another black suit, his hands folded together in front of him. 

As soon as you uttered your name, his whole demeanor changed and he instantly had gone from cool and collected to humble and overwhelmingly kind. 

He’d quickly made his way to the boarding area, escorting you to the jet before leaving you at a polite distance way from Jumin who’d been looking at you from the moment you’d entered the aircraft. 

His eyes searched your own as you’d yet to discover his presence 

He couldn’t help but rake his eyes up and down your body, admiring the way you could look just in anything. 

He at last saw you searching the spacious cabin, at last laying eyes on him. 

His heart pounded faster, as if your noticing him made his heart leap in joy

You looked relieved and smiled, running over to him and sitting down next to him 

“Hi Jumin!! Oh, should I be calling you Mr. Han? That’s what your chauffeur called you.. sorry if that’s what I should’ve been addressing you as!!” 

His deep voice rumbled in your ear, causing you to shudder, “Jumin is fine.” 

You gazed up at him through your lashes, noticing the way his perfectly tailored vest made him look so... well... for lack of better word...hot. 

“Wow. You look...” Your eyes moved from his hair, to his face, to his neck, to his torso, slowly to his groin, to his legs... before you realized what you’d been doing and quickly your eyes shot up again. 

You bit your lip, “You look nice.” 

“Nice?” 

You laughed shyly, and slightly (embarrassingly) breathless, “Yeah. Yeah you do. Nice.” 

Jumin couldn’t help the sly smile he’d been holding back before replying, “You look beautiful.” 

You flushed and looked down, squirming in your seat a little before looking at him once more, offering a small, “..thank you..” 

After a few minutes of silence, you’d decided to change the subject, chattering on about how you wondered what this mysterious vacation would hold 

Jumin couldn’t help is concentration half on every word you were saying, but also your lips. Slowly licking his own, he nodded along when you’d gotten especially enthusiastic, grinning slightly when you’d gotten so excited you’d leapt out of your luxury seat. 

Within a half hour of the trip to your destination in Italy, Jumin had trouble concentrating on much else. 

Get it together, Jumin, you’re not some fool like Zen. 

It’d gotten worse the more you’d leaned further in your seat, your chest becoming slightly exposed

he covered his mouth with a hand, opting for looking out one of the many windows of the jet. 

You’d always caught his attention and made him lose his focus -- something he’d never lost before he met you 

He blamed the strawberry sent that you’d always carried with you 

He wasn’t much for expensive, faux perfume that so many of his father’s skanks would wear... it was like no other. 

After a few hours of grueling torture on your part (though you hadn’t know every single time you’d grabbed his hand or arm it’d sent his heart on a sky dive) Jumin was glad to have arrived in the gorgeous Italian acreage of the countryside. 

It was even more beautiful at the dusk of night, you’d decided 

Immediately a shiny vehicle pulled up, ready to transport you and Jumin to the estate you were to be residing in for the weekend. 

Upon pulling into the culdesac, you almost scoffed at the word “estate” -- it was more of a country in and of itself, land stretched beyond what you could see 

The mansion itself stood on pillars and high, Gothic windows. 

Inside, flying buttresses decorated the building, giving it an elegant and aged ambiance that you just adored 

“It’s so beautiful.” 

He smiled at you then, watching you take in the wonders he’d realized he took for granted. 

He was then directed to a double-door entrance way, “Your room, Mr. Han, Miss Y/L/N.” 

“Separate, correct?” 

The man stood in surprise, looking slightly aghast, “T-they never specified such details.” 

“Contact them immediately to confirm. I’ll work it out from there.” 

“Yes, Mr. Han.” From there, the man scurried away to contact the head of the estate. 

After a few moments, he returned, “The Rossi Conglomerate had assumed that you’d brought your fiance with you.” 

“Did you mention I don’t have one?” 

“Y-yes, of course! But, Mr. Han, your father--”

Jumin sighed, “I’ll take care of it.” with a wave of his hand, the man was gone 

You thanked him on his way out. 

Jumin looked at you, searching for a reaction of displeasure or worry

When he didn’t find one, he began, “I was notified the Rossi had booked their other estates to their American investors. My being here is a formality, but it is business. It would be a great discourtesy to demand--” 

You smiled reassuringly, “Jumin, don’t worry about it.. we’ll share the bed, okay?” You held your hand in his own, rubbing soothing circles on his knuckles. 

Jumin looked at you, choking on his spit slightly. 

“Y/N you do understand that--” 

“It’s fine, Jumin!! It’s late already, I’ll just put up my hair.. and.. do you know where the night clothes would be?” 

He watched as you fixed a bobby pin between your teeth before running your fingers through your hair, watching as you arched your back to-- 

“Jumin? ...you don’t know?” 

He cleared his throat, looking away, pink dusting his cheeks

“Bathroom.” 

You thanked him, unaware of his watchful eyes 

It had been a few seconds since you’d entered the bathroom before he heard a loud and alarmed, “..UM....JUMIN...?!” 

He’d quickly made his way into the bathroom

“What’s wro--” 

He looked and laying on the long granite island of the large bathroom was a silky set of lingerie as well as a note in Italian you couldn’t read. 

Jumin’s words stopped dead on his lips as he stared at you, then the silky underwear set, you, silky underwear, you.......silky underwear. 

On the outside, Jumin liked to think he came off as calm and collected, saying, “I can get you something else to wear.” 

But when he’d made it two steps out of the bathroom he had a little collision. And by collision, I mean his face.. and the wall. 

He looked in every drawer, finding nothing. He presumed clothes would be delivered as specified. But it was late already.. their servants are dismissed, only the protective guards surrounded the inside and outside of the estate.. explaining the situation to them didn’t seem very promising. 

Of course you were kicking yourself, before you’d found their little....gift... you’d cast your days clothes into the washer. They were probably soaked by now. 

Maybe I could use a hair dryer...? Or I could stuff them in the dryer?? 

Either way you’d be without clothes for.. too long. 

And nothing would be greater punishment then showing all that in front of the man you had completely fallen for... 

You heard a knock on the bathroom door. You listened from inside. 

“Hey, I, uh, couldn’t find anything. Do you think you could wear your clothes from today?” 

You whimpered, on the verge of tears, “I already put it in the washer!” 

He knocked again, “Can I hand you something?”, he asked, undoing the buttons of his formal shirt. 

“C-close your eyes!” 

Jumin chuckled darkly before covering his eyes and handing her his collared shirt 

“I’d give you the pants, too, but I don’t think they’d really fit you. Could you look at what they’d provided for me? Maybe slip on something from mine.” 

“N-no! That’d be even worse for me!! .. and you!” You blushed again imagining him half naked

You hurriedly shuffled through the drawers, but to no avail. 

You gulped, slipping on the lingerie to ensure that maybe something would be covered before buttoning Jumin’s formal shirt on you as well. 

it was so big it didn’t leave much for the imagination 

but you decided through a 10 minute pep talk that you’d suck it up and try your best to make his shirt into a night gown. 

You at last stepped out of the bathroom, Jumin’s head shooting toward the sudden noise before taking you in 

He could scarcely breathe, much less come up with a coherent sentence 

you were in his shirt... 

with barely any clothes on underneath

and you looked up at him shyly, biting your lip a little 

drawing even more attention to your lips 

Jumin had to stifle a groan, opting to head to the bathroom to change

After splashing some cold water on his face in a poor attempt to get his head out of the gutter, he quickly got on his pjs 

after you both were ready for bed, Jumin sat on the bed, opening a small novel he’d been enjoying, Anthem.  

His attention was immediately diverted from the dystopian fiction when he saw you were stretching

His shirt rode up high as he took in the way the lingerie perfect accentuated your curves, though it didn’t cover much below the waist 

Noticing your folly, your eyes widened in shock before you immediately put your hands down

which, just your luck, made it all worse. 

the sudden movement disheveled the shirt, causing it to ride down completely on one side, openly displaying the soft brassiere beneath it 

Jumin slammed his book so hard it left an echo in the large room. 

Great. He couldn’t even make it look like his book was suddenly unbelievably interesting that he just so happened to not take notice of the obvious sight before him.

You blanched, feeling a breeze along your shoulder, gasping before running to your side of the bed and pretending you don’t exist anymore 

Meanwhile Jumin is in a  c r i s i s 

In the most eloquent of words, his mind said holy fucking motherfucking shit oh my God fuck fuck fuck AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH oh my god shit shit shit fuck shit sdfasodjgiajsidogjosdg MALFUNCTION!! WARNING!!!! RUN BITCH!!! 

But Jumin didn’t run

because mama ain’t raise no bitch 

but also because if he stood up it would be blatantly obvious that he had-- 

Stop thinking about it, Jumin.

He tried to redirect his mind to his 5 senses, a grounding technique he’d learned when he got too anxious when he was younger 

But sight seemed to dominate it as his mind replayed your facial expressions, the way your hands awkwardly tried to cover yourself up, the way you looked the way he’d take it all off--- 

Oh God. I’m deep in shit. 

He had never been so pissed at himself... and embarrassed. 

He looked over at you, a horrible decision, really. 

You were still awake, your face was redder than the strawberry sent that adorned you 

“s-sorry..” you whispered, willing yourself to try to forget, “pretend that never happened..” 

Jumin was practically feral and you were saying it never happened? 

Jumin couldn’t just pretend he didn’t just see a fucking goddess 

but he would for you 

“..........pretend what never happened?” 

You sighed, a small smile on your face as you quickly turned to thank him 

but he was a LOT closer than you imagined 

he was propped up on one elbow, looking down at you, his head slightly angled. 

And suddenly your faces weren’t so far apart.

And you couldn’t help but slowly close your eyes 

Jumin felt confusion when you’d done this

he can be a bit of a pea brain, so he of course said, “I’m sure you’re very tired.” 

He shut off the light, reaching over you 

You held back the big frown you’d gotten when you realized he’d rejected you 

unbeknownst to you that it took everything in him, from the moment he’d saw you in the jet cabin, not to scoop you up in his arms and make out with you the whole way there. 

Zen 

Was Zen going to invite you to his own fucking tour? 

Of course he was 

he liked flexing his connections 

and most of all, showing you just how much he cared about you 

and loved you

but not the love part because God if you ever found out Zen might jump into the nearest body of water and never return 

not that he didn’t have any confidence

he has lots of it 

but it all kind of disintegrates when he gets to talking about his real feelings

But come on, it was blatantly obvious to anyone who had heckin eyes 

or ears 

or just any functioning body 

the way he’d try to subtly throw an arm over your shoulder 

or he’d lean in whenever you spoke 

or the way he’d readjust his posture when you walked into a room 

or the way everyone caught him staring 

like anytime you weren’t looking 

or when you are looking because he is “built different” 

So the limo ride to the fancy hotel he was to stay at was something that had him looking forward to the tour, but also dreading it 

you’d sat close to him in the limo because his agent and other workers were sitting along with him. 

So close that your ass got pushed further and further onto his lap

because damn where the fuck are we and why are there so many goddamn potholes 

Zen tried to steady you by firmly grabbing your hips 

which was NOT the move 

because now that you were firmly set on his lap, every bump felt like a fucking war against his hormones. 

Like a gentleman, he quickly opted to seat you next to him, not wanting you to feel embarrassed 

still, he could feel you being pulled closer to him with every long turn the limo made or every bump or abrupt stop 

and it was torture. 

like this man is sweating 

but by some miracle you arrive at the hotel in one piece! Yay! 

but Zen’s soul has left his body~~ 

so you get set up 

You open the room, “Look, Zen! This bed is HUGE!!”, you ran over to it and plopped your face onto the sheets

He chuckled, watching you act like a little kid excited about a hotel for the first time 

his brows furrowed when he realized there was no door separator between your rooms 

He immediately called the front desk 

all you could over hear was “No, there seems to be some kind of mistake” 

and “I reserved two rooms -- conjoined” 

“Alright, ok. Thanks.” and then he hung up. 

“So..” he sighed, “They can’t get another room because they’re completely booked. Someone must’ve recognized the limo and lots of fans immediately bought up all the rooms in hopes of seeing me.”

“It’s alright Zen! I can ask to switch with your agent or something!!” 

“NO!” Zen said a little too loudly. “No. Um, look it would be bad because he’s a man.” 

“Your a dude, too, Zen.” 

“I-- yeah, but that’s different because I’m a guy you can trust.” 

“True..”

“So I’ll sleep on the couch, ‘kay?” 

“Zen, no! You need your beauty sleep to be ready for your performance tomorrow!!!” 

“It’s alright, really!”

“I’ll sleep on the couch!” 

“Like hell you will.” 

“Please :(”

“Y/N, seriously--” 

“Then how about this! You and I just sleep in the same bed!” 

Ever the dramatic soul, Zen gasped with his palm over his heart “How SCANDALOUS!” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be Mr. Playboy?”

“Only for you, baby”, he winked. 

You stuttered, “T-that’s not funny! Seriously don’t make it weird you horn- dog!” 

He threw his head back in laughter, “Horn-dog?! I thought you said you trusted me!” 

“Not when you’re obviously thinking about doing this and that to me!!” 

“Doing this and tha---Hey! Who do you think I am?!”

There was suddenly a loud bang on the wall and a burly man shouted, “GO TO FUCKIN’ SLEEP YOU OBNOXIOUS, SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED LITTLE SHITS!”

You smirked, holding in a laugh saying, “Sounds like your fans are getting jealous.” 

Zen’s mouth dropped and you began laughing hysterically 

“T-that was like a 60 year old man!” 

“I’M 42 YOU LITTLE SHIT” 

You fell back on the bed, laughing louder 

Zen shouted back, “WELL EXCUSE ME, SEXY, 42 YEAR OLD MAN” 

There was silence before a harsh knock sounded at your door 

All Zen’s bravado disintegrated and he made a dash for the bed, whispering loudly for you to “Turn off the fuckin’ lights, turn off the fuckin’ lights!” 

You stifled more giggles rising up to your throat as you clicked off the light, making sure the room was locked, and climbed into bed

you breathed out your last laughs, sighing to yourself contentedly before noticing the close proximity you were to Zen 

You stared at each other for a long moment 

You leaned in closer 

Zen placed a palm on your cheek, gently cupping it

he softly whispered, “Can I kiss you?” 

You answered by harshly connecting your lips

The two of you feeding off each other’s oxygen as Zen bit your lip, causing you to gasp and open your mouth to make way for his tongue 

you whimpered, feeling faint from lack of oxygen

the two of you parted, out of breath 

Zen wanted to say something smooth like “I’ve always wanted to do that.” 

but instead he said “I’ve always wanted to do you.” 

He mentally smacked his head, blaming the lack of oxygen for his stupidity

But you smirked up at him coyly, replying, “Then why don’t you?” 

Um yeah rip your hotel neighbor he will literally hate both of you so much 

I had honestly SO MUCH FUN writing this!! Let me know if you want, like, a part two to this. I think I’d just be so fun lol

[donald4spiderman]

The City

masterlist

-

Summary: Reader is thinking about moving to California. Spencer’s determined to get her to stay.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff (angst if you squint)

**Inspired by Ben’s poetic confession in Parks and Recreations, S3E14**

Here’s a draft i forgot to post

-

**not edited yet**

Spencer’s POV

As a profiler, I’ve mastered the observation and analysis of behavior— we all have.

Picking the minds of serial killers is second nature— so why is it so hard for me to figure out why (Y/N) is behaving so strangely?

In the recent months, her witty and charming energy has dwindled into a lethargic imitation. Whether she’d admit it or not— (Y/N) can be extremely enthusiastic about certain things— especially our job.

So, when I watch her drag her feet, inch by inch, into the BAU each morning, It’s hard to contain my concern.

I know Morgan has noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too. They’re probably just too scared to say anything. (Y/N) doesn’t enjoy people prying into her private life, so we all stay a comfortable distance away.

I watch her a lot... more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to be unaware of her nervous behaviors— the nail biting, hair twisting, skin picking— I practically have enough data to make a correlation graph. I can tell when she’s upset, and it’s happening more than usual.

(Y/N) has always been kind to me. Even when I was at the peak of my stammering, slicked-back hair phase, she treated me with more respect than I deserved. I can only imagine how awkward I must’ve been (or, still am), and I thank her for not belittling me.

I guess I’m validating the Benjamin Franklin Effect when I say this— but I feel like I owe it to her to ask what’s wrong. Over the years I’ve built up (arguably) the closest friendship with her, so it only makes sense for me to bite the bullet for the team.

It’s partially due to the fact that I’ve developed a slight (if not major) crush over time, but who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted women is kryptonite for any person. Our conversations are always stimulating, she gives the best advice, and she’s always there to comfort a team member.

So, it pains me to see her struggle through a paperwork day. I wish she would reach out to anyone for help, but it’s not in her nature.

“H-Hi.” I smile as I approach her desk. Her tired eyes look up at me, and she smiles back.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?

I rub the back of my neck nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Morgan and Emily watching me struggle to form a sentence. They giggle as they watch.

“I-I was... um. D-do you want to get coffee with m-me? Not now! I mean— after work!” Morgan stumbles out of the bullpen, barely containing his laugh. I must sound pathetic.

(Y/N) nods hesitantly, “S-sure. I don’t know why you want to get coffee with me, but I’m free.”

“Really?” My surprise shocks her. “T-that’s gr-great! I can drive you!”

She chuckled, “I think I’d rather drive us. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive a mile without hitting a curb.”

I nod fervently. “Sounds good.”

As I make my way back to my desk, I send a glare in Emily’s direction as she continues to smirk at me.

-

(Y/N) grabs an empty table in the café, and we sit down, huddling close to our warm drinks. She orders a cinnamon latte, I order a black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

I place the drinks down. “Did you know that cinnamon is shown to reduce systolic blood pressure. It’s commonly used in South Asia and works by dilating blood vessel.”

She nods, “Surprisingly, I did know that. You’re gonna have to teach me something else, Doc.” I laugh in response, enjoying the relaxation that radiates off of her.

“I feel like we don’t get to, um, t-talk as much as I would like to.” My words get caught in my throat and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the most leisurely job.” She states, sipping her drink.

I bite my lip, she looks down. I convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, because there’s no way (Y/N) would glance down to watch me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I know... but you used to talk more.”

“I’ve been busy lately. Tired too.” She mumbles.

I mean forward slightly, my voice is a hushed whisper. “A-are you... okay?” I’m anticipating an defensive response, but all she does is sigh.

“I’m alright. I just... I’m getting tired of being here— in D.C.”

My eyes widen and my brows knit together. “W-What! Why?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I don’t know. I just expected to feel... really, really attached to D.C when I first moved here. I love my job, and I love you guys— but nothing’s keeping me here.”

My face drops. My disappointment is adamant because she scrambles to reassure me.

“It’s not that I don’t absolutely love working with you guys. You’re my best friend, Spencer. But... I came to D.C to... I don’t know... settle down.” It comes out as more of a question rather a statement. “It’s sounds weird, right? Me, settling down?” She laughs. “I-I don’t mean a husband and a family necessarily. I moved here because I wanted to belong somewhere.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“I feel... I feel like everything I have right now is temporary. It’s not the feeling I expected to have. I just want to have something permanent in my life for once.”

I remain silent, lacking the proper response.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

I smile solemnly, “I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, I make another promise. Not just to (Y/N), but to myself. I’m going to show her how many things she has here for her in D.C.

I’m going to prove how much I believe she belongs.

-

I started by bringing her coffee each morning— a cinnamon latte from the same café we went to.

The first time she seemed pleasantly surprised. I sped through the doors of the bullpen, my coat and slacks absolutely soaked due to the rainy D.C weather. She giggled at the sight of my hair plastered to my forehead. I was certain that I looked like a wet dog.

“Morning!” I greeted, placing down both cups of coffee on her desk so I could fix my hair. “I-uh-I got you coffee. A cinnamon latte, of course.”

(Y/N) smiles brightly, “You’re the best. Thanks, Reid. I definitely needed this.”

Hotch and Rossi are watching me curiously, pretending not to look up from their files. At this moment, I could care less.

“It’s n-nothing.” Suddenly I’m blushing furiously under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks, again.” She clears her throat, “Y-you’re a really good friend.”

She smiles. And I smile.

-

In the next three weeks, (Y/N) and I grow closer at a rate faster then ever. I try to do something small for her everyday. Finishing up a file for her; Bringing her coffee or water; Sitting next to her on the jet. It appears to be working— she looks much more relaxed and happy. Her sarcastic humor is back and she engages more with the team.

We’ve decided to hang out after today. I find myself enjoying every minute with her, even if all we do is talk, eat, and walk around aimlessly. I’m sure she’s tired of me, but my infatuation with her only grows.

Tonight, we’re sitting at the park, watching people on their late night jogs, dog walkers, babysitters. We finished eating Indian food at a local restaurant. Turns out we’re both regulars at the same place, it’s a shame we haven’t run into each other.

She’s sitting criss-cross on the bench, her elbow rested on top of her knee. “You know,” She starts, “D.C is pretty great. I don’t think I’ve felt this... content in a while.”

I smile, even if it’s too dark for her to see. “Th-thanks. D.C is a great place, despite averaging 39 inches of rain annually.”

She means her head back against the bench. “I still don’t know. I feel like I’m just waiting for something. I don’t even know what that something is... a sign maybe?”

“A sign?” I laugh.

“Y-yeah... a sign. I’d usually make a pros and cons list and research the differences between the two places but... this decision feels too personal to look at it as just statistics.”

In this very moment, I decide to toss all my concerns, questions, what if’s, into the wind. This is my final move; my last resort; my Hail Mary.

My hands are trembling, and it takes me seconds to force the words out of my throat.

“W-well, besides the higher cost of living and considerably gloomy weather, D.C can be a p-pretty great place to reside. It has a busy political culture and is one of the most diverse states in the country.” I pause for a little longer than necessary.

“But, besides statistics and facts, if w-we look past objectivity, to me: D.C is where my friends are, and my friends are my family. Um... I like The City because it’s home to so many great people. A-and I know it’s hard to see the good in things considering how much violence we see on a daily basis, but certain people make me believe that things aren’t all that bad.”

(Y/N)‘a listening attentively, making me even more nervous than I thought possible. “D.C— The City— is beautiful. It’s charming. It’s a warm, cinnamon latte on a rainy day, o-or a late night walk in the park. To me, it’s home.” I catch her smirking a little bit, and I can only hope that she understands what I’m trying to say.

“Plus, The City is really good at her job. The City’s an excellent profiler. But, the city’s an even better friend, and an even better person. It doesn’t hurt that The City has great hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a perfect smile. And, she does this cute thing where she twists the ends of her hair, even if I keep telling her to stop. The City’s beautiful and definitely out of my league. She probably wants nothing to with me now, but I don’t care. I really like The City. And, even if she doesn’t like me back, she should stay, because there are so many people that like and love The City. ‘Cause who wouldn’t.”

(Y/N) is full on grinning right now, and it’s hard to stay patient when so much is on the line.

“Wow.” She giggles. “You really like The City.”

I chuckled awkwardly, “Y-yeah. I really do.”

“I mean, if you think The City’s so great, maybe I should stay. Plus, I’m sure The City likes you too.”

I feign confusion, “Really? I don’t know... The City can be kind of closed off sometimes.”

“Trust me— The City definitely likes you back. And I don’t think The City appreciates you saying that about her”

“Oh really?” I gasp. “Let’s ask her.”

I turn my head around, then proceed to look back at (Y/N) in the most dramatic fashion.

“Hey.” I laugh.

“Oh, Hi Dr. Reid!” She feigns surprise to match my frivolousness.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, b-but I really like you. And, a little birdy told me that you like me back.”

She laughs heartily, “Well, that little birdy is a pretty reliable source.”

Soon, her head is resting on my shoulder. My body’s stiff and the air is caught in my lungs, but I feel more content than I have in years. Somehow the weather is warmer, and the sun is brighter, and things just seem... better.

“This is a great city.” She mumbles, peering up at me in the most adorable fashion.

“Yeah,” I smile, “It really is.”

-

“Pawnee��s a really special town, I love living there. And, I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to hang out with the town, and talk to the town about stuff. The town has really nice blonde hair too. And, it’s read a shocking number of political biographies for a town, which I like.” - Ben Wyatt

[intercoursefluids]

You Lied to Me?

The Wayne Enterprises building was the most beautiful building Marinette had ever seen. The tour guide was a very sweet man and he loved telling jokes to try to get the class to laugh.

Unfortunately, Lila was on a roll today, lying about knowing the Waynes and growing up with the youngest son, and finding out that they were true mates.

Even if she was claiming that her true mate was Prince Ali a week before the trip was announced, god forbid Marinette points that out and makes Lila shed her crocodile tears.

Even Adrien, her own mate, took Lilas's side and yelled at her for pointing out her lies when she should just stay quiet.

It ended up leading into a huge argument between them that Marinette had to apologize for to get him to talk to her after 3 long weeks of him ignoring her existence.

“Bruce Wayne funds multiple charities around the world in honor of his late parents, he has several adoptive children and a single blood son. Bruce typically keeps his children out of the spotlight and most Gothamites are very good about keeping pictures with them off of the internet.”

As the tour guide talks, Marinette reaches out her hand for Adrien's just for him to brush her off and step away from her.

Wrapping her arms around herself she leaves his side to stand next to the tour guide. At least he tells jokes and tries to make this interesting.

Damian's POV:

“Master Damian, you should start heading to the office if you want to catch Master Dick before his lunch break is over.”

Running his hands over his face he thanks Alfred before grabbing his jacket and starting his car up.

He needed Dick to sign off on his trip to Paris, France since he was his temporary guardian until Father got back from his honeymoon with Selina.

Pulling up to the building he stops. Not because of the bright yellow bus sitting in the parking lot, no, it's because of the intoxicating scent of baked goods, plants, and rain wafting through the air.

Following the smell leads him to the tour group Grayson is leading into the cafeteria.

Walking to Grayson's side he passes him the permission slip, trying to understand why he wants to be near the Blue haired angel getting a lunch tray.

“Grayson, how can you tell if you’ve found your true mate?”

Grayson startles looking up from signing the papers.

“Well, their scent is one way, they will smell like absolute heaven to you and you can’t help but follow it. Another way is that when you see them you want to touch them so you can get your scent on them as well, and when you do touch them, it's electrifying. Literally and figuratively. Do you think you found them?”

Damian nods, his eyes following his mate as she looks for a table to sit at.

“She’s right there. The one with the blue hair.”

Grayson smiles, clapping Damian on the shoulder.

“She’s pretty.”

Damian snorts responding without even thinking.

“She’s beautiful, Grayson. ‘Pretty’ doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

Grayson coos at Damian, being thoroughly ignored.

Damian starts walking towards her, intent on introducing himself when he catches another scent just beneath hers.

Another male’s scent.

He freezes in place making Grayson stop his cooing to instead question him.

“What's wrong? Is it not her?”

Damian watches as she walks to a seat at an empty table away from the rest of her group.

“She-”

Damian cuts off as he watches someone stick out their foot and trip her. Her lunch spills everywhere as she falls to the floor.

Not thinking twice he rushes over to her, holding out his hand and helping her up.

Just like Grayson said little shocks travel up and down his arm and he finds himself never wanting to let go.

She has the most beautiful blue eyes he's ever seen and the most angelic voice he's eve- Oh wait she's talking.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and tripped, I’m so sorry!”

Damian just shakes his head, motioning for one of the janitors to come over and clean up the mess.

When he arrives she automatically drops down beside him to help pick up the mess muttering apologize the entire time.

Damian shifts his hand to her shoulder, subconsciously marking her with his scent and trying to overpower the other males.

“It’s fine honey, this stuff happens all the time. Why don’t you go hop back in line and get another tray? We wouldn’t want you to go hungry now.”

With the janitor's gentle prodding she finally stands up and gets another tray.

On her way back, Damian makes sure to keep an eye out for anyone else who wants to trip her.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly as she takes a seat at the table she was heading to and Damian watches her from his spot next to his brother.

Everything goes fine until they are about to finish the tour. A guy with blonde hair roughly grabs the girl with blue hair pulling her off to the side.

“Ow! Adrien, what’s wrong?”

Damian watches from Grayson's side, wanting to go help but certain she can handle herself.

“You know exactly what you did, Marinette. Don’t play stupid.”

A low growl leaves his chest as his mate is insulted.

“Adrien, you’re not making any sense. What did I do?”

He grabs both her wrists, shaking her violently.

“You belong to me! You are mine Marinette! Trying to get me jealous by flirting with that other guy? Really?! How low can you sink?! It's pathetic!”

She pushes away from him, rubbing at her wrists with the start of a bruise forming.

Damian starts to make his way over, a low, vicious rumbling in the back of his throat.

Grayson, seeing how mad Damian follows him.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I wasn’t flirting with anyone! I fell because Lila stuck her foot out and tripped me! It wasn’t my fault!”

Their argument starts to attract the attention of the other workers, a few running to find security.

Damian starts running as he watches the guy's hand clench before raising it.

He strikes her. Hard.

‘Marinette’ being caught off guard, loses her balance and falls to the ground, turning to look at him before he roughly grabs her by one of her pigtails and pulls her up to his face, and screams at her.

“Don’t talk back to me! I own you and you will do as I say! Do you understand?!”

She pushes him away.

“Whoever decided that you were my true mate was wrong. Dead wrong!”

He snarls, pulling his fist back to strike her.

Damian gets there first.

The next thing everyone knows is Damian Wayne is standing protectively in front of the girl and the guy is several feet away clutching his cheek and groaning.

Grayson kneels next to Marinette, helping her to her feet and taking Damian’s coat from his outstretched hand to wrap around her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

She nods as he pulls her closer to him away from the fight that is likely to break out before a loud screeching voice cuts through the air.

“True mates? With him? Please Marinette, I knew you were ignorant but I didn’t think you were stupid. I am Adriens true mate. Not you.”

Damian stands up making his way to Marinette, taking her in his arms as she starts to shake.

“What are you talking about Lila? Adrien was there on my birthday, he said we were mates!”

‘Lila’ cackles as other people gasp, some with their phones out recording the entire thing.

“Oh please, did you just take his word for it? Why didn’t you just check his scent? That’s always been the easiest way to tell. Go ahead, I won’t even mess with you.”

She stays frozen looking straight at the boy claiming to be her mate.

“I can’t. I lost my sense of smell when I was a kid. I couldn’t check even if I wanted to.”

Lila looks surprised now, before looking on sadly.

“You really had no idea he was lying, did you?”

She starts shaking, taking a hesitant step towards Adrien.

“Adrien? W-what's she talking about? It’s not true. Is it?”

Her voice ends in a broken whisper, eyes tearing up as he slowly stands up and walks to her.

“You are mine, Marinette. You were mine the moment you put on those earrings. I mean seriously if I don’t take you who will?”

She flinches as he steps closer, his voice getting louder with hysteria.

“Nobody likes you, Mari! I am all you have left now! You want to leave me? HA! I’d like to see you try it.”

At the end of his ‘speech’ he roughly grabs her arm pulling a whimper from her and a very, VERY dangerous sounding snarl from Damian.

Ripping Adrien's hand from her arm while being as gentle as possible to not hurt her he pulls her behind him handing her off to his brothers entrusting them to take care of her.

“Who do you think you are grabbing her like that?”

The words are accentuated with the deep growl rumbling from his chest.

“I don’t see how it's any of your business, what I do with MY personal belongings.”

Damian picks Adrien up by his neck slamming him against the nearest wall.

“Don’t talk about her like she's an object.”

Adrien, being the Buffon with no sense of self-preservation he is, laughs.

“Oh yeah? What's it to you how I treat her? Not like you would want her for anything other than her body anyway.”

Adrien sneers down at Damian, even as he slowly starts to turn purple in the face from his grip on his neck.

Slowly tightening his grip even more he watches as the blonde idiot starts to flail from the lack of breathing. Fighting to get a single breath of air.

“Do not act as if I would ever treat my mate in such a way.”

His voice is deadly, sending shivers down even the security guards spines.

Everyone watches on, some with their phones recording, certain that they are about to see Damian Wayne, their bosses son, about to commit a murder in the lobby.

And no one is even going to try and stop him.

That is until a small pale hand lands on his arm, shooting sparks all the way to his heart.

“Is it true? Are you really my true mate?”

Damian nods ever so slowly, never taking his eyes off the blonde who is slowly losing consciousness.

Two thin, lethal arms wrap around his waist from behind.

“Please stop. I just want to leave right now. Will you take me?”

Without another word Damian drops the barely conscious man, taking his coat off and wrapping it around Marinette's shoulders, tucking her into his side as he swiftly walks her out of the building.

Adrien slowly gets up, trying to chase after them only to be cut short by the three eldest Wayne brothers.

All armed with glares that could kill.

Behind them stands all of the Wayne enterprises employees, making a human barrier between the newly found mates and Adrien.

The brother with the white piece of hair steps forward pushing Adrien back down to the ground.

“I think we need to have a little talk.”

[mostlydysfunction]

From The Stars, Part 9

Summary: Kira moved out of town for isolation and peace and quiet. But that quickly gets turned on its head when a spaceship crash lands not far from her house and a strange creature decides she's its new queen. Luck had never been on Kira's side, but things are going to get a lot worse for her as she's forced into this new role and everything her new alien subject thinks it entails.

Warnings: Lying, shady parents, some hinted at violence at the end.

Authors Note: Again, this has been up on my Ao3 since like February. Link is in my masterlist if you prefer to follow there and get updates sooner. There’s going to be only a couple more parts to this one however, so might not even matter. 

MASTERLIST

Kira watches the SUV roll down the hill and into the lake. It’s cloudy, the moon and stars covered, bathing the trees in darkness. Kira’s only light is from the flashlight in her hand, aimed at the SUV currently sinking in the lake. She won’t move until it’s gone under completely, not wanting anyone to see what’s happening.

Two months ago if you had told her she would be standing in the woods in the middle of the night sinking a federal agent’s SUV in the lake to cover up their murder by her alien babies, she would have thought you were insane. But now she felt nothing. Her babies needed to eat and it was just unfortunate that the Feds happened to be the first to show up.

Kira waits until the bubbles have stopped before turning, making her way up the hill and back to the road. It’s a bit of a hike back to her house, the air cold enough she can see her breath fog in front of her. Her mind goes to her children and if they’re warm enough in the barn. Her alien hadn’t shown any signs of minding the cold, but her children were obviously different than him, and she can’t help but wonder if they can tell the temperature difference.

She feels a sense of urgency as she gets closer to her house, hating being apart from her family. They were her family now. Her children, their father. She doesn’t understand the relationship between them, she doesn’t even know if it’s biologically possible for her to love an alien. Humans could feel emotions towards animals, inanimate objects. Emotions including love. Who’s to say it’s not possible to feel the same for an alien lifeform she has no communication with who had forcibly impregnated her with his eggs. Maybe it’s only the oxytocin talking, the immediate motherly instinct she had felt over her babies that was drawing her closer to her alien. Or maybe it was because around him, she felt safe.  

Kira opens the door to her barn when she returns to her property, quickly closing it behind her as her babies run up to her. They’re hip-height now, growing faster than she thought possible. All eight of them surround her, bumping her gently with their heads. She smiles down at them, patting them each on their smooth heads. They let out content little cries, warming Kira’s heart. Her alien approaches her, nudging her gently with his own head. She gently strokes its elongated head, leaning against him.

Her eyes drift closed, her brain buzzing with energy. She focuses on it more and finds she can see with her eyes closed. The barn looks distorted like she’s seeing out of a fish-eye lens. The colors are darker, not quite as vibrant with her own eyes, but she can hear every small sound wave bouncing off the walls. She can hear something speaking, not words but a sort of idea in her mind. She can feel her eight babies around her, all of them like strings connected to her mind.

She wants to lose herself in the sensations, bury herself in them, and never come out, but her phone vibrating in her pocket snaps her out of it. She pulls away from her alien, her brain reeling for a moment before she centers herself back on Earth.

“I have to take this. I’ll be back.” She says, backing away from her babies and her alien.

She leaves them in the barn, heading back towards her house. She looks at her phone. She doesn’t want to answer, but she knows she has to.

“Hello?”

“Kira? God, I thought something had happened to you! I was going to come and check on you but...you sounded so sick when we talked last and then you weren’t answering.”

Kira feels a pang of guilt in her chest. “I’m sorry, dad. I was on some heavy meds. It was some kind of viral thing. Wiped me out for a few days. I didn’t even think to look at my phone. I’m doing better now though.”

“That’s good. That’s...really good.”

“Do you want to come over? Catch up a little?”

“Yes. That would be great.”

*********

Kira sets the cups of coffee on the kitchen table before taking a seat. Her dad looks old. Older than the last time she saw him. He’s had something on his mind. She can tell by how messy his hair looks. He would always run his fingers through his hair repeatedly when he was thinking hard. Her mother used to joke he’d go bald from doing it one day. Now that she looked at him, Kira can see his hair is thinning. There are dark circles under his eyes and he looks about as bad as she does, but she doesn't think he birthed alien eggs days ago.

“Kira...I’ve had a lot on my mind recently. About you. About this place.”

Kira sips her coffee. It’s scalding but she can’t bring herself to care. She hums in response, letting him continue.

He runs his finger in a circle around the rim of the cup. It’s an old habit. It means bad news. “You’re all alone out here. I shouldn’t have left you out here by yourself. But...your mother...I just couldn’t...”

Kira reaches out, putting a hand over his. It feels strange to her, to touch human skin again. She almost doesn’t like it. “It’s okay. I know.”

Her dad stares into her eyes for a moment, taking her in. “There’s so much she wanted to tell you. She begged me to tell you, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t face the truth. I didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t sure you’d believe me.”

Kira frowns, her stomach churning. She doesn't like his words. “Dad...what are you talking about?”

He sighs, taking a long drink of his coffee, staring out the back door. “I remember it like it was yesterday. Right out there. Where the roses are. It used to be hydrangeas before...before you arrived.” He runs a hand over his face. “God, I should have told you this years ago Kira...”

“Dad...you’re scaring me.” Kira’s hands are shaking as she sets her coffee cup down.

Her dad turns back to look at her, holding her gaze. “You’re not ours.”

Kira’s body goes cold at his words, a strange feeling running through her. Her whole life she’d been told they were her parents. This was her dad sitting across from her. And now...

“W-What?” She pulls her hands into her lap, squeezing them into fists to stop them from shaking.

“We don’t know where you came from. Well...we sort of knew...” Her dad glances back out at the garden before looking at her again. “Kira...you fell from the sky.”

Kira can’t say anything. None of it was making sense. Her brain was buzzing, churning, his words seeming like a foreign language. Thankfully he doesn’t wait for her to respond.

“It happened almost twenty years ago. It was almost dark. Your mother was outside planting tulips on the other side of the garden. I was making dinner. Grilling, like I used to. Everything was quiet like it gets out here, but then...the sky exploded. Blew the windows out, it was so loud. Came down in a ball of fire right into your mother’s hydrangeas. I thought it was the end of the world for a moment, but then...your mother was always so quick to act. Put the fire out with the garden hose. I thought it was some kind of meteor, but once the flames died, I could see what it was. It was...some sort of space pod. We tried and tried to get it open, see inside. Eventually, we managed to pry it open and inside...You couldn’t have been more than four years old. Teary-eyed and sucking your thumb. You looked so human.”

He runs a hand down his face. Kira can see the tears in his eyes.

“The feds were on us almost immediately. I wanted to turn you over to them, but your mother refused. She knew what would happen to you if we did. So we hid you. Made up some bullshit story. The feds didn’t believe us, but we were insistent.”

Kira’s mind begins to work at high speed. The visits from the feds suddenly didn’t seem so strange anymore.

“You were so human in every way. Almost every way. You never got sick. Kids always got sick but you never did. You could bend metal with your bare hands and you could hear things miles away. Your mother taught you to control it. She was better at that than I was. I made it my job to make you feel as normal as possible. She dealt with all the...strangeness. That’s why when you told me you were sick...I knew something had to be wrong. Something was going on. You’ve never been sick before.”

Kira clenches her fists tighter, taking in her father’s words. She had arrived on Earth in a spaceship? She supposedly had superpowers? He was right in one thing...she had never been sick before. She just thought it was a good immune system. But apparently, it was something else. Something more.

“Kira...please say something.”

“I don’t...” Kira bites her lip, breathing deeply. “You expect me to believe that? That I fell out of the sky in a spaceship and...I’m supposed to be what, Superman?”

“No, it’s...” Her dad sighs, looking down at his coffee. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. I wanted your mother to tell you from the beginning but...she thought it would be best...if you thought you were normal...”

Kira stands from the table, unable to sit anymore. “Bullshit. I call bullshit.” She makes her way to the back door, looking out at the roses. The place she supposedly crash-landed on Earth. “You had an affair, didn’t you? I was never my mother’s child and you couldn’t live with that so you made up some bullshit story to hide it! That’s why you couldn’t stay!”

“Kira, you know I would never have...”

“I don’t know anything anymore.” She clenches her fists again, glaring at him. “I don’t know what’s more unbelievable. The story that might be true or that you would spew some bullshit to try and hide something else you did to fuck up.”

“Kira, I loved your mother!” Her father stands from the table, knocking over the chair. “I loved her more than anything. But we couldn’t...” He takes a deep breath. “We tried. We tried so many times. She wanted so badly...but we couldn’t. Then you fell out of the sky like an answer to our prayers.”

Kira feels tears prick behind her eyes. The story is starting to sound not so fake the more she thinks about it. She had an alien hiding in her barn with her babies she had birthed after mating with him. An alien that had crashed to Earth and found her and chosen her. If she was also an alien...it would make her new reality not quite so strange anymore.

“Kira...I’m sorry...”

“I want you to leave.” She says, her voice shaking. She hates it. She turns back to face her dad. “Get out. Go home. Don’t come back here.”

Her father stares at her brokenly for a moment before grabbing his coat and heading towards the door. Kira stays where she is until she hears his car door shut before heading out to the barn. She’s shaking by the time she reaches the door, slipping inside quickly and closing the door.

She takes a few steps into the darkness before dropping to her knees, tears falling down her cheeks. She’s overwhelmed, not knowing what to believe or even what to think. If the story was true, then so much of what had happened made perfect sense. But if her dad was lying to her to cover up something else...either way he had lied to her. He had hidden the truth about her for her entire life. She feels anger bubble up inside her.

Her children are by her side in seconds, snuggling up to her. She reaches out to them, touching them, solidifying herself in reality. She should have died. She had carried eight eggs to term and birthed them. She had lost so much blood...too much blood. But here she was, mostly healthy with no medical help. She had never been sick a day in her life. She had managed to tame an alien simply with her presence. She had seen what he was capable of. He could have killed her instantly that night, but something about her had stopped him.

Maybe she was alien.

Kira is on her feet as soon as the barn door slides open. It hits the other side with a slam, the shadow of her father standing in the doorway. Her heart leaps to her throat, the buzzing of her babies loud in her ears.

“Kira...what the hell?”

“Dad...you should have just gone home.”

[uwuwriting]

Abusive boyfriend w/ Midoriya, Bakugou and Todoroki

Request: Can I have deku, bakugo and Todoroki reacting to the readers unhealthy boyfriend. He brings her down a lot and abusive. - anonymous

Being part of a toxic relationship is so so soooo painful. Thankfully reader-chan has her heroes to save her. Hope you like it. Love ya.💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warnings: abuse both physical and mental, ptsd and panic attacks, cursing, characters are aged up (they have graduated)

Midoriya Izuku

-Okay so he basically was the one who managed to build your confidence back up after the horrendous break up with your ex. 

-Your ex never laid a hand on you but his words were enough to bruise your ego and self worth so much that you believed that you were nothing compared to others. 

-From looks to personality, you believed that even a snail was more worth it than you. 

-Now you are a beautiful girl and very very smart. 

-Guys and girls looked your way even though you were in a relationship. 

-And your ex was having none of it. 

-It started off really subtly.

- “Are you sure you want to wear that to dinner?”

- “We are going to grab some coffee not going out for drinks.”

- “Don’t you think you are showing too much skin?”

-Then the body shaming started. 

- “I think you shouldn’t wear that, I mean look how large it makes you look.”

- “Have you been eating more?”

- “How about I make a diet for you?”

-This really brought you down. 

-It reached the point where you would only wear really baggy hoodies in order to hide your body. 

-After that turning point he still wasn’t satisfied. 

-People, although fewer than before, still had the nerve to hit on you and it was getting on his nerve. 

-He started belittling you in front of friends and acquaintances, destroying your already fragile confidence. 

-He had dug you a grave and sugarcoated the casket with empty I love you’s. 

-He had made you believe that he was the only one who would accept you and love you despite you’re so flawed. 

-And he managed to keep you for quite some time. 

-Then Midoriya comes along. 

-A childhood friend who had become a pro hero and on the top five. 

-He saw how skinny you had become, borderline unhealthy, how you shied away from him and literally everyone. 

-You were like a scared deer. 

-Then the boyfriend came in and everything fell into place. 

-Midoriya is smart, he caught on your boyfriend’s belittlement and the reason behind it. 

-Now getting you out of this toxic relationship is his new mission. 

-You ran into him more often after that first encounter and he always talked to you, complimenting you whenever he could. 

-Your boyfriend didn’t catch on until it was too late. 

-Midoriya had managed to get you to talk about your relationship and what your boyfriend was like, he had opened your eyes to his abuse and helped you built up the courage to stand up to him and dump his ass. 

-He was there of course to support you after the break up. 

-And of course after months and months of seeing each other almost everyday, you two became a thing. 

-Finally you get to experience true love with someone who truly appreciates you. 

Bakugou Katsuki 

-You and Bakugou have been friends since high school. 

-Inseparable. 

-He comes to you for everything, all his troubles are solved by you and you alone. 

-You’re special!!

-So when you get a boyfriend he is the first to meet the guy. 

-In truth he really didn’t want to because he has been in lobe with you for the longest time and seeing you with someone else reminds him that he is a coward. 

-Anyway he meets him and everything is fine, he looks decent and he seems to treat you well. 

-As months pass you seem to distance yourself more and more from him. 

-Bakugou at first is angry, he is fuming I tell you. 

-He doesn’t like the silence that he receives when he calls, or the single word replies when he texts and he especially despises your refusal to go out with him like you used to. 

-He gets that you have a boyfriend now and you have to spend more time with your bf but he still felt betrayed. 

-Then doubt started to settle in his mind. 

-Maybe you realized he wasn’t worth the trouble, I mean he is a difficult person, maybe your new boyfriend opened your eyes and now you want nothing to do with him. 

-Or maybe you figured out he was in love with you. 

-Had he been scowling more than usual while he was meeting your boyfriend? 

-He wanted to ask you what he did wrong but he couldn’t reach you. 

-So he sucked it up and drowned himself in his hero work, drowning his nagging mind along with his free time.

-Then something unexpected happened. 

-Uraraka visited him, worry written all over her face. 

-She was worried for you and wanted to ask him if everything was alright, since he was your best friend. 

- “She stopped showing up to our weekly girl evening and she won’t answer my texts.... I’m really worried for her Bakugou.”

-That was the last straw for him. 

-He went to your apartment and after five minutes of knocking your boyfriend opened the door. 

-The scowls on the guy’s face was really REALLY pushing his buttons. 

- “Is Y/N here?”

- “What do you want her for?”

- “I want to talk to her.”

-This man..... he closed the door in Bakugou’s face. 

-Well closed is putting it mildly. 

-He slammed the door shut with so much force that a mirror down the hall rattled. 

-Bakugou was ready to blow the door open when he heard the shouts. 

- “Y/N why the fuck is that guy here?”

- “W-what guy?”

- “Don’t act all innocent you slut! The guy you are fucking!”

- “I-I don’t k-know who y-you are talking a-about.” 

-The moment he heard your sniffles echo through the door he was inside the apartment shoving the guy away from you. 

- “Don’t you fucking dare speak to her like that, asshole.” 

-You were trembling behind him and Bakugou could feel the sob threatening to escape your lips. 

-Looking over his shoulder at you he spoke gently as if you were a scared kitten. 

- “Y/N could you go get some of your stuff ready? I’m taking you away from this dickhead.”

- “Who do you think you are? That’s MY girlfriend she listens to me alone!”

- “Don’t speak as if she’s an object!”

-You had disappeared to your room to get your things and were now clinging to Bakugou’s back. 

- “So you are fucking him. What should I have expected from a whore like you!” 

-Okay now Bakugou was presented with two options. 

-Option A: beat the living shit out of this guy and most likely losing his hero license for a week. 

-Option B: get you out of here and let this asshole boil in his own defeat. 

-He went with option B. 

-Wordlessly he guided you out of your apartment complex and into his car, drove you to his house and proceeded to help you calm down. 

-You had had one panic attack in the past so he didn’t really know what to do. 

-But he managed. 

- “Whatever he said to you isn’t true. I don’t know what actually went down between you two and what he got into the pretty little head of your but none of that matters. Just know that we are all here for you. Me, the girls even stupid Deku. And we love you, I love you so don’t worry about anything. Everything will be alright.” 

-From that point on everything was history. 

-It didn’t take long for you two to start dating and Bakugou made sure to have a firm talk with your now ex boyfriend when you ran into him at the grocery store. 

-Get wrecked douchebag.

 Todoroki Shouto 

-Toxic relationships is something Todoroki is a pro at this point. 

-He grew up in one so yeah. 

-He sees the signs of the abuse faster than anyone. 

-First of all, you inch away from anyone who starts flaying their arms. 

-Despite the warm weather you always wear long sleeves. 

-And he has seen you applying extra make up around your eye once. 

-He also notices how you always try to avoid annoying your boyfriend, like you take extreme measures. 

-You distance yourself from other males going as far as to avoid him to an extent. 

-Then he sees the bruises. 

-You two were training at the agency’s gym when your shirt rode up your torso and there was this huge bruise right under your  ribs. 

- “Y/N who did this?”

- “Oh I just got slightly injured during my last patrol.”

-He isn’t buying it since he was with you during your last patrol and you didn’t get injured. 

-But he lets it slide because he believes that you know whats best for you and you will get away from this guy. 

-But for some reason you stay with him. 

-For months. 

-And Todo can’t take it anymore.

- “Y/N can I talk to you?”

-He talks to you about what he has seen and that he knows that your boyfriend is doing this to you. 

- “So please, please leave him, get out while you can. Y/N I can’t see you hurt like this.”

-You see the thing was that you had made the stupid decision of moving in with him and now.... you had nowhere to go. 

-If you broke up with him you wouldn’t have a place to stay and you couldn’t start searching for a new place, he traces your phone and search history. 

- “You’ll live with me. I’ll give you everything you need just please please let go of him. He doesn’t deserve you. I hate seeing you so hurt and broken.” 

- “Please come with me then, Shouto I-I can’t do this alone.”

-Of course he came with you, standing in between you and that asshole as he went to strike you when you broke the news to him.

- “You are leaving me for this piece of shit huh? Of course you would you whore!”

-He went as far as activating his quirk, attacking Shouto in an attempt to get to you. 

- “I own you you fucking slut! No one will want you! You are mine!”

-Shouto wasn’t as calm as Bakugou in this situation, punching the guy before leaving the apartment, making sure that the guy got the message and wouldn’t try to come after you. 

-Back at his apartment, Shouto comforted you as best he could. 

-You know where this leads. 

-Shouto gives you the space you need before making a move. 

-My mans waits months before even remotely flirting with you. 

-After a year long wait he finally manages to ask you out. 

-And the rest is history.

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @dnarez-mangetsu​ @reinyrei​ @bemorefiction​

[gojo-x-reader]

Not So Special Now

Relationship(s): F!Reader x Gojo Satoru

Warnings: canon-typical violence

Tags: fluff (at the end), reader-focused

AO3 Link: here

Words: ~4k

Request: “hello there, i love ur soulmate and marriage life hc 🥺 can you make scenario/hc/drabble whatever u prefer where his fem/gn so is also a sorcerer and gets hurt/injured on a mission? thank you!”

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” Your boyfriend, Satoru, asked you. His hands were on your biceps, giving it a worried, yet comforting squeeze.

“Yes, Satoru,” you answered, a little annoyed at how he was treating you. It’s been several years since either of you were in high school; this wasn’t your first mission.

“I can’t help but worry, you know. It’s your first ever special grade assignment.”

“Just because I’m not the same rank as you, Mr. Special Grade, doesn’t mean I’m weak. Besides, there are two others going so I’m not doing this alone.”

“I know, I know.” Satoru pressed his lips gently onto your forehead, then gazed into your eyes lovingly. In a rare instance while on the job, his blindfold was replaced with dark sunglasses. You reached up to shift them down, allowing you to gaze into his bright blue eyes. They were breathtaking no matter how many times you saw them. You moved your hands from his glasses to his shoulders, forcing him down so you could reach up to leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you promised.

The two of you embraced one more time before you joined your other group members for the mission. You turned back and waved at him as the three of you entered the car to be driven to the location for your mission.

“Sure wish Gojo-san was coming with us,” one of them mused. “He could handle this mission single-handedly and we could just stay home.” He sighed deeply, then put in headphones and stared out the window.

“Why isn’t he taking this mission?” your other group member asked. She stared at you, eager to know.

You had just met these two today (not even knowing their names, except that they were both Grade 1 sorcerers like you) and you weren’t sure how well this mission would go. “Well,” you began, “for one, he works best alone. Second, Satoru fights best when he’s away from civilians.” 

The girl hummed, then crossed her arms in thought. The three of you awkwardly rode in silence for about five minutes, before the girl grabbed your arm suddenly. “Soooo, how long have you been dating Gojo Satoru?” She asked eagerly. There was something about her that seemed familiar, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

You weren’t sure why this was any business of someone you just met, but you decided to indulge her to hopefully make this awkward car ride, well, less awkward.

“Two years, almost three,” you answered. The two of you had known each other since high school, but it wasn’t until almost four years ago that you had reconnected after you moved back to Tokyo, and almost three years ago when you started dating. To this day you still had no clue why he would get a crush on you over all people. There were much prettier girls he had spent more time with, why you?

“Annnnd? A ring soon?” She gushed, gripping your arm harder.

You shrugged. Satoru and you had discussed marriage at some point, but both of you were busy at the moment, especially with Ryomen Sukuna being somewhat revived into the world. While Yuuji was still technically “dead” to others, Satoru had trusted you enough to tell you about how his student had pretty much been revived from the dead. On your days off, you often visited your boyfriend and helped out with Yuuji’s training regime. He was a nice kid, despite his circumstances and being thrown into the jujutsu world suddenly.

The girl let go of your arm and got out her phone, furiously typing to someone. “Oh, my little sister won’t be happy to hear about this.”

“Little sister?”

“Yeah, my sister Momo goes to Kyoto. She’s pretty close with another girl, Kasumi, who I consider almost like another younger sister. She was super excited to meet Gojo-san a week ago. She’s like a superfan of him or something. I like to indulge her sometimes. I think she even made a fan club for Gojo-san or something. Anyways, Momo, even though she’s friends with Kasumi, she often gets annoyed with her talk about Gojo-san.”

You vaguely remember Satoru mentioning a girl from Kyoto that asked him for a picture. It wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for your boyfriend to be asked to take pictures with, from the jujutsu world or from civilians; he had devastatingly good looks, so you couldn’t blame any of the people who asked for pictures. Besides, you knew his heart belonged to you and you only, so you were fine with others recognizing his allure.

“Oh, Kasumi’s calling me,” the girl said. She answered her phone, only for a younger voice to scream over the speaker. It was loud enough that you could hear it. Your teammate held her phone away from her ear.

“What do you mean he has a girlfriend?”

“Oh, come on Kasumi. You know how handsome he is. Besides, he’s like, what, twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine in December,” you confirmed.

“Way too old for you, ma’am,” the girl relayed to Kasumi.

“I don’t like him like that , Sumi-san! I j-just really admire him, okay! W-Who wouldn’t? World’s strongest jujutsu sorcerer in all.”

“Mhm. Anyway, I’ve got a mission today with the said girlfriend of Gojo Satoru. Want me to get you an autograph?” Sumi joked.

“...Could you?”

You let out a tiny laugh. This girl was funny, so you decided to humor her and leaned toward the phone. “One autograph for Kasumi?”

“M-Miwa Kasumi!” the voice on the phone squeaked out. She told you what kanji made up her name as you rummaged for a scrap piece of paper and pen from your bag. You made out the autograph, laughing a bit as you handed it to Sumi.

After you told her you signed an autograph for her, Kasumi said goodbye, hanging up the phone before Sumi could reply goodbye back. She seemed embarrassed about the ordeal.

“You were right, she seems like a good kid.”

“Kasumi is nice. She really balances out how serious my little sister Momo is,” Sumi responded.

For the rest of the car ride, you and Sumi chatted. Apparently, this was also her first Special Grade mission, as well as her first mission after graduating from Kyoto. Their other group member was also from Kyoto; he was two years Sumi’s senior. His name was Takahashi Daisuke. She didn’t know much about him since he tended to keep to himself. But she did know this wasn’t his first Special Grade mission. That relieved you substantially since you were nervous about this mission (as much as you didn’t want to admit to Satoru).

Eventually, the roads transformed from paved to just dirt. The driver turned onto a road on a hill, then began briefing the three of you on your mission. This was a Special Grade, suspected to be awakened by a Sukuna finger. This was just based on speculation, since the last Special Grade to pop up was from a Sukuna finger as well. The Special Grade had taken over an abandoned shrine, supposedly terrorizing the local village just down the hill (which had been evacuated just hours before). As the driver parked the car, the three of you exited the car. The air was crisp, with a distinct chill in the air. You could sense a particularly strong cursed energy in the premises, on par with Satoru’s cursed energy. You shuddered; this was not going to be an easy task.

The driver placed a curtain around the area, the sky darkening. It only made the situation seem even more grave. There was something in your gut telling you to run, not from being scared of the Special Grade, but because something bad was going to happen.

Sumi grabbed a wand from her belt. Her family was a pretty small sorcerer family on her mother’s side, as she had told you in the car. She and her sister have cursed techniques similar to “witches”; hers involved spells while her sister’s involved levitating a broom, among other objects.

Your cursed techniques, however, involved nature. There was a reason why you were selected specifically for this mission; the shrine was in the middle of the forest, the perfect place for you to go wild. Cities like Tokyo were incredibly constraining for you to use your cursed techniques, so you almost exclusively were assigned missions out in the country where nature was plentiful.

Neither you nor Sumi knew what Daisuke’s cursed technique was, but you assumed it was pretty strong considering he had been on missions with Special Grades before.

The mission started off fine. The three of you approached the shrine. It wasn’t particularly impressive, nothing that you would expect to house a Special Grade curse. The stone torii at the entrance was standing tall, unbothered by neither age nor the moss and vines growing on it. The shrine itself, however, was crumbling. One of the pillars holding up the roof was destroyed, so the roof was lopsided. The shimenawa knots were cut in half, the ends completely frayed. Definitely not a good sign.

After crossing the torii , you felt the Special Grade’s presence. It was overwhelming, unlike anything else you had experienced before. It possessed near-equal amounts of cursed energy as Satoru, but unlike your boyfriend, it held malicious intent within its cursed energy. To your left, Sumi was shaking. You held out a shaky hand onto her shoulder and squeezed. While you yourself didn’t feel confident about this mission now, you had a duty as the oldest member of the group here to be strong, for their sake.

The shrine began to shake, then the roof was suddenly blown off. You used your cursed technique to form a barrier of tree roots that erupted from the ground. Slabs of wood hit the roots, then bounced off. After the rain of wood subsided, you controlled the roots back into the ground in their original position.

You finally got a good look at the Special Grade curse. It was humanoid, but only in form. Its flesh was midnight blue, with eyes covering every centimeter of its body. Great, it had no blind spots. The curse had no apparent mouth, yet you were able to hear it let out an intimidating roar.

Daisuke made the first strike. He quickly pointed a handgun at the Special Grade and pulled the trigger. Out came a burst of his own cursed energy instead of a bullet. The blow just grazed the Special Grade enough for it to let out a screech of pain. Interesting, so this was his cursed energy. You wondered if it was limited to guns, or if he could apply it to a bow as well and use his cursed energy for arrows. You’d have to ask him later after this mission was completed.

It was apparent after Daisuke revealed his cursed technique that all of you were primarily distance fighters. There wasn’t much Sumi could do if her cursed technique focused on spells through her wand apparatus and Daisuke seemed to only have a gun on him. So, that meant you had to switch to a melee approach.

You weren’t the biggest fan of hand to hand combat. You weren’t very strong, preferring to assist from a distance. Recently, Satoru has been helping you learn new ways of fighting in close quarters. You decided to take the risk and make an attempt at using this still relatively new technique. You reached out your hands, summoning leaves from the trees. They surrounded your fists like boxing gloves, your cursed energy reinforcing the leaves to be almost as hard as the bark from the trees they came from.

You sprinted toward the Special Grade, preparing to land a blow. As you reared back for a punch, the Special Grade disappeared from in front of you. Then you felt a blow land on your back and you were sent through the forest until a particularly thick tree stopped your projectile body. Luckily, you reacted quickly enough to reinforce your front with cursed energy. If it wasn’t for your quick thinking, you probably would’ve been knocked out immediately.

You picked yourself up from the ground, but the world was spinning. You leaned against a tree to collect your thoughts and rest a bit. The Special Grade was insanely fast and had no blind spots. You were panicking; this was well out of your skillset. Perhaps Daisuke was right; Satoru should’ve joined in on this mission. But you knew that wasn’t possible, as he also had his own Special Grade mission to handle today.

You brought a hand up to your face and gave yourself a hard smack. This was no time to doubt yourself or panic. You had two comrades out there fighting a Special Grade curse alone. There was no doubt that the Special Grade would notice you if you tried to rejoin the fight, at least on the ground. Your best bet would be to get the high ground; there would be fewer eyes on the top half, so the chances of you being noticed would be less than if you arrived by foot.

Okay, you had an idea. Now, to get an idea of how the fight was going. You kneeled down to the ground and placed your hand onto the ground, closing your eyes. You sent a minimal, hardly detectable pulse of cursed energy toward the fight through the ground. From what nature informed you, the fight was mostly one-sided in favor of the Special Grade. Daisuke was pretty beat up, and Sumi wasn’t in good shape either.

You got up then hurriedly began climbing the nearest tree. As you climbed up, you manipulated the bark to form grooves for you to place your hands and feet on. As you reached a decent height, you created a bridge with the overlapping tree branches sturdy enough for your weight. You sprinted across the bridge, ignoring your double vision. You definitely had a concussion, but now was not the time for you to worry about that. You didn’t wanna lose your comrades on this mission. Not again.

You wiped the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes. In your final year of Tokyo High, your two classmates were killed right before your eyes on a mission. You escaped out of pure luck, but was determined to get stronger to avenge their deaths. If you let those two die… well, then, that meant you hadn’t gotten strong enough to protect anyone else.

Once you were just out of sight range of the cursed spirit, you closed your eyes to sense the battle again. Sumi was sitting on the ground, back to a tree as she watched the fight between Daisuke and the Special Grade. She was barely conscious, and it seemed like she had lost a lot of blood. You had an idea, but in order for it to work, you needed her help.

Using thin vines, you sent a message within her sight: I am still alive. I’m going to trap the Special Grade curse with branches. Use a fire spell on it when it’s bound.

All you could hope was that she was able to read the message and had enough cursed energy to cast the spell. You began moving branches from distant trees close to the Special Grade, as fast as possible without your cursed energy being detected. Once they were close enough, you waited for the right moment.

As Daisuke finally landed a hit with his cursed energy, moving the curse to the center of the shrine remnants, you launched your attack. The branches extended as fast as you could make them move. The hit Daisuke landed had temporarily slowed the Special Grade, enough for your branches to immobilize it. As the branches gripped the curse, Sumi sent a fire spell toward it, just as planned.

The branches (and the cursed spirit) caught on fire. But something was wrong; normally, you could extract cursed energy from a curse with your cursed technique to exorcise, but that wasn’t happening. Was it resisting? You felt a tug on the branches.

Without thinking, you acted on your own. You re-equipped the leaves cursed technique, as you jumped from the trees above. As gravity brought you closer to the Special Grade, you reared back to prepare the punch you had wanted to introduce it to earlier. As your fist landed on the curse, you allowed the leaves to leave your fist, sending it into the curse’s body. The leaves caught on fire before they entered the curse, imploding it.

So, you managed to exorcise the Special grade. But, doing so took all of your cursed energy and you had no more left to cushion your fall. Luckily, you managed to adjust your fall so that you slid on your stomach parallel to the ground instead of falling headfirst. It still hurt, and you definitely broke a few ribs doing that.

You somehow had enough energy to turn yourself onto your back, looking up at the starry night sky as the curtain was released. Your first Special Grade mission. Everyone lived and you exorcised it without Satoru’s help. Ha. He would be so proud of you.

You began to fall into unconsciousness right as you felt familiar arms lift you up.

When you woke up, you were in Shoko’s infirmary. There was a thin blanket covering your bottom half. Suddenly the events came back to you.

You sat up, gasping for air. Where were Sumi and Daisuke?

“You might want to lay back down,” a familiar voice told you. “Shoko healed you, but the pain might still be there.”

You did as the voice said, laying back at the elevated position you woke up in. You look over and blinked a few times, seeing your boyfriend sitting in a chair next to your bed. He was in his work uniform, including his blindfold. You winced as you felt a pain in your chest; Satoru was right, there still was residual pain.

“I exorcised a Special Grade,” you croaked.

“I know. I’m proud of you.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it, giving you a soft smile, showing off his tiny dimples. His smile quickly turned to a frown as he lectured, “However, what you did was risky and crazy.”

“Aren’t you the one who says that jujutsu sorcerers have to be crazy to survive?” you argued.

“Yes, but there’s a difference between crazy and throwing your life away.”

“You saw that?” you asked, much more awake than you were a few seconds ago.

“I hurried as fast as I could with my own mission to come assist you if you needed. I got there right as you pulled that stunt of yours.”

You pulled your hand from his and placed your face in both of your hands, embarrassed that he saw you launch yourself from several meters high, use up all of your cursed energy, then make a hard landing onto the ground.

“How’s the other two?” you asked, refusing to move your face from your hands.

“Alive and doing well. You’re the most beat-up out of everyone.”

You removed your hands, clasping them together in your lap. “Thank goodness…”

“There wasn’t a Sukuna finger either,” Satoru reported to you. “The villagers’ fear of the shrine must have caused it to grow to a Special Grade. Now, come on. Shoko said you could come home once you woke up.” Satoru stood up, then scooped you up from the bed. You screamed in protest, now wide awake.

“Wha--Put me down!”

“No can do, honey. Doctor’s orders. Nothing strenuous for the next week.”

“Satoru, I don’t think walking counts as strenuous!”

He smiled his signature shit-eating grin, then gave you a kiss on your forehead. No fair, he knew forehead kisses were your weakness. You melted into his arms at how tender his kiss was, now docile and less likely to argue with him.

In a flash, he teleported the two of you to his apartment, setting you on the bed in front of him. After placing you on the bed, he yanked off his blindfold and began rummaging through his dresser, looking for a set of his clothes for you to wear. He tossed the shirt and pants toward you, not even bothering to turn around while you changed. You’d been together for so long (or at least, it felt like a long time) that there wasn’t anything particularly embarrassing about changing in front of each other.

You winced while lifting your hands up to take off your shirt, so Satoru was by your side in an instant, helping you take off your shift without much pain. He even helped you out of your bra and put on his shirt.

“You don’t need me to help you with the pants, do you?” he teased.

“I think I can handle it on my own,” you replied, standing up and shuffling out of your pants. Satoru’s pants were much too long for you, so you had to roll not only the waistband but also the cuffs so that they didn’t constantly drag on the ground. Not like you minded doing that; there was just something about his clothes that was infinitely more comforting than your own, and he knew that more than anyone else.

As you adjusted the pants, Satoru left the bedroom to head toward the kitchen, no doubt to start cooking some of your favorite foods. You laid down on your shared bed, happy to be home. It was a long day (Days? How long were you even unconscious?) and you were glad to have such a caring boyfriend, even if he was being a little annoying about this.

About an hour later, Satoru came into the bedroom with a tray of food. He wouldn’t let you even touch the chopsticks, insisting on feeding you food because he didn’t want you to “strain yourself.” You thought he was just being a little too overprotective, but you allowed him to feed you anyway. The look of satisfaction on his face was just too cute for you to deny him this tiny pleasure.

After dinner, you immediately wanted to go to bed. Satoru quickly ate his portion of dinner then changed out of his work clothes into something much more comfortable to sleep in. He joined you under the covers, using his cursed energy to turn off the lights. You felt his arms gently snake their way around your waist, pressing you into his front. You sighed in contentment; he was warm, but not too warm.

After a few seconds of silence, you piped up, “Satoru?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for taking care of me. I love you.”

He placed a gentle kiss on your neck, just behind your ear. “Anything for you, my love,” he breathed onto your neck. You could feel him smiling gently. “Maybe we should just get married.”

You grumbled something, not even quite sure what you said or even what he said completely. Before sleep overtook you, you mumbled out one last final “I love you,” incredibly happy to be in your boyfriend’s arms at the moment.

[voiceless-terror]

I’m bad at prompts so I have an aesthetic vibe for a fic: dusty library, silver glasses, warm blanket, hot tea, cold voices.

Jon wants to get Martin’s attention. Daisy and Melanie have an unusual plan.

“I think he’s made it quite clear that he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I need...I need to make sure he’s okay. Daisy’s already tried and well, you-”

“Absolutely not.”

“Exactly.”

Jon sighed. He needed to trust Martin, he knew this. But how could he, when he faded more and more each day? When Jon couldn’t reach him, couldn’t know he was safe? He needed to touch him, make sure he was still solid, still there. That Jon still cared. And if Jon could just break through-

“He won’t let me talk to him. And I don’t know what to do.” The words came out more plaintively than he would’ve liked. Melanie gave him an unimpressed look, Daisy leaned back on the couch. He didn’t know why he’d suddenly decided to confess his feelings to these two, perhaps it was the leftover alcohol in his system from their afternoon drink. Basira was off on another lead and Daisy needed the distraction. They all did. And now they were back at the office, bored and lethargic, Jon dodging the paper balls Melanie lazily tossed his way.

“You’ve got to do something,” Daisy drawled, idly picking at her nails. “To get his attention. You’ve got to make him come to you.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Jon groaned in frustration. “If I did, I would’ve done it already.”

“Wait.” Melanie sat up straighter, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I know exactly what to do.” Daisy and Jon shared a glance as she broke into a smirk. 

“And Martin won’t be able to resist you.”

____________

“Is this really necessary?” Jon asked, flinching back as Melanie applied the pink-coated brush to his cheek. “It seems a bit excessive.”

“Stop moving. And yes, if you want to look the part.” Melanie wielded the makeup brush like a weapon as Daisy followed with a critical eye. “Does he look pathetic enough?”

“Hmm.” Daisy leaned forward, uncomfortably close to Jon’s face. “I think he needs a bit more. Just a pinch.”

“Agreed.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jon snarked, leaning away from Melanie’s hands. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. It’s not going to work.”

“You agreed to this because you know it’s going to work,” Melanie insisted, dipping the brush in the compact. “Trust me, Martin won’t be able to resist doting on you if you look properly ill. When I came here the second time ‘round, he hovered outside the door the entire time. “Do you need anything, Jon? Can I get you some tea? Are you feeling alright?”

“That’s not what he sounds like-”

“That’s exactly what he sounds like,” Daisy smirked, settling back into the couch. “If you don’t like the makeup, we can always go with option two-”

“I am not letting Melanie punch me, thank you very much.” She still harbored a lot of residual (and rightful, in his opinion) anger from the surgery incident, and he wasn’t willing to be the outlet for it. “How do we know he’ll even see me?”

“He goes down to the library every Wednesday, sneaks in and out real quiet-like,” Daisy repeated for the third time. “Trust me, I know his patterns.” There was still some Hunt in her yet, no matter how much she starved it. Listen to the quiet. He didn’t say it aloud, but from the look in Daisy’s eyes he didn’t need to. “We’ll set you up there. Don’t worry, he won’t be able to miss you.”

“Whatever you say,” he grumbled, batting away Melanie’s hand. “Are you done yet?” She evaluated him with a scowl.

“That should do it.” She shut the compact with a definitive snap. “I was going to add a bit of purple eyeshadow under the eyes, but that might be overdoing it. You already look like a zombie.”

Daisy nodded appreciatively. “Powder did the job. God, Melanie. You’re a pro.”

“Thank you,” she preened as Jon rolled his eyes. “Now, for the finishing touch!” She leaned forward, yanking the scrunchie out of his hair and ignoring his yelp with an air of satisfaction. “Perfect!”

“I fail to see why that was necessary!” His head ached from the sudden pull on his hair, which was now falling down his shoulders in a tangled, ruffled mess. God, I must look insane. He lifted a hand to put it in some semblance of order when Melanie grabbed at it, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, you’ll ruin it!” she snapped. “Martin likes it when it’s down.”

“How do you know that?”

“God, he really is oblivious,” Daisy said with a disbelieving chuckle. “I may have only visited a few times, but even I saw the way he stared at you whenever you so much as touched your hair. It was sickening to watch.”

“C’mon, we’ve got to get you settled. We have to time this perfectly.” Melanie gestured impatiently for him to get up. “Daisy’ll take you up. I’ve got to grab something.” Jon didn’t trust her but in all honesty, what did he have to lose? The things we get up to when Basira’s gone...though I suppose this is significantly better than the Coffin Incident. 

Daisy took his arm, leaning on him for a bit of support as they made their way up to the library. To anyone else it would look the opposite, that he was the one relying on her- Daisy was good at hiding her weakness. “There’s a couch by the front desk,” she murmured as they rounded the corner. “It’ll be right in his line of vision.”

“What if he isn’t paying attention?” Jon worried, watching as the other staff studiously avoided their gaze, side-stepping them in the hallway. The Archives were truly toxic, and no one wanted to anger the heavily-scarred, scowling Archivist and his rabid ex-cop friend. For the first time in his life, Jon was intimidating. He didn’t like it.

“He always pays attention to you,” Daisy insisted. “He just doesn’t want you to see it.” The words put a lump in his throat. He wondered if they were true. He opened his mouth to reply when Melanie scurried up behind them, her arms full of-

“No.”

“Yes.” Melanie pushed into him, impatiently urging them forward. “Trust me, it’ll work.”

“I am not-” He was cut off by a surprisingly strong push from Daisy, landing him on the couch with an ‘oof.’ Melanie threw the offending object around his shoulders- a fluffy pink blanket Jon recognized from its place on Basira’s cot. He tried to worm his way out of it but Melanie gave him a sharp slap on the arm, ignoring his hiss of pain. He looked around, wildly embarrassed by the entire situation to find that the room was strangely empty, which was surprising for the time of day. I suppose everyone’s trying to avoid us these days.

Daisy froze, her eyes narrowing and posture straightening. “He’s coming.”

Melanie swore, running around the corner and coming back with an old, heavy tome she'd snatched off the nearest shelf. She grinned, an almost manic thing that Jon instinctively leaned back from. “The final touch,” she said proudly, not waiting for his answer as she opened the book with a flourish, flipping the pages in front of his face like a fan. He flinched back, utterly confused.

“Melanie, what on earth are you-”

_______

Martin heard him before he saw him.

The scurrying of feet across the hardwood was strange enough, but Jonathan Sims sitting on the library’s best couch, sneezing into a fluffy blanket and looking bleary-eyed and very exhausted was even stranger. Well, not the exhausted part. That was Jon’s normal state of being. 

But there he sat, wrapped in Basira’s fluffy pink blanket with a flushed face, messy hair, and an ashen pallor that could only come from sickness. Martin had seen it before, back when he lived in Document Storage and Jon was working himself into the ground, much like he was doing nowadays. He felt that pang of worry that accompanied those long nights in the Archives, something he was trying desperately to tamp down.

Working for Peter was infuriating and isolating, just as it was supposed to be. He was constantly reminding himself that it was for the greater good, that he was doing something important, protecting his friends. Protecting Jon. But how could he protect him when he kept finding Martin, even though he promised to trust him? How could he protect him when he kept throwing himself headlong into any danger he could find? How could he protect him, when his biggest enemy was himself?

Another sneeze. Jon looked almost confused by it, maybe even offended that it happened. It made him want to smile, an urge he fought down as he tried to remember Peter’s promise to keep them safe if he kept his distance. He hazarded one last glance, sure that he wasn’t in Jon’s line of sight that he noticed one last detail- Jon’s sweater. Incredibly baggy, worn, light blue knit- a color he’d never seen on him before.

Martin’s sweater. And with that, he found himself walking over to Jon almost involuntarily, steps loud and purposeful as they startled Jon from his perch on the couch. And when Jon noticed him he smiled, so bright and happy and obviously extremely out of it if he was having this reaction to Martin. His face really did look flushed up close- he must have a fever, especially if he wandered up here in this state. Martin successfully resisted the urge to feel his forehead. 

“M-Martin!” God, how could he not talk to Jon, when he said his name with such happiness? He fought to keep his voice level and cool as he responded.

“Jon. What are you doing up here?” Jon’s smile dimmed slightly, and Martin tried not to feel guilty. He did not succeed.

“I, um-” Jon stuttered, his usual sign of nervousness as he ran a hand through his hair. His hair, that was mused and tangled and falling in his face. Fuck. “I w-was reading.” He struggled to pick up a particularly heavy-looking book from where it sat on the couch next to him, its title obscured from Martin’s view. “It was getting, er, a bit stuffy down in the Archives.”

A red flag if Martin ever saw one. They rarely left the Archives these days, unless it was for a quick lunch and even then, Jon had to be dragged out bodily. He sighed, trying not to meet Jon’s pleading eyes. And still, he couldn’t help but ask. “Are you...okay?”

Jon looked down to his lap, the blanket half slipping off his shoulders as he fidgeted with his hands. Martin looked pointedly away. “Not feeling very well,” Jon murmured to the ground, looking strangely nervous, maybe even guilty. That didn’t make sense. He must be really ill, if he’s actually admitting to it. Martin hesitated, fighting between what he should do and what he really, really wanted to do. The cold evaporated just a little and Martin had never felt so seen. 

He missed that.

And so, less reluctantly than he would have liked, he extended a hand down to Jon, who looked at it in shock. “C’mon. Let’s get you back downstairs, I’ll make tea.” Make tea. His solution for everything, he remembered Tim deriding. But Jon looked at him like he’d offered much, much more than that. Maybe he had. The hope in his eyes was too much to bear. So when Jon put a thin, scarred hand in his, he looked away, even as he helped him to his feet.

To his disdain and delight, Jon immediately leaned into his side, as if trying to leech warmth that Martin couldn’t provide. In fact it was now Jon who was the warmer of the two- the Eye would not accept the chill of the Lonely, and the fever probably didn’t help. He was like a touch-starved cat looking for a crumb of affection, and god did he want to give it to him. If it were the Martin of a year ago he would have blushed, stammered, maybe even squeezed him back. Now he can only offer him the shoulder, nothing more.

Jon didn’t say anything more than a muttered thanks as they made their way down to the Archives, as if he were afraid of spooking him. More than one staff member they saw stared; Martin had been AWOL except for a few official emails, and was now suddenly the assistant to the head of the institute. To see him with the dreaded Head Archivist must have been even more of a shock. He felt pity- what a pair we make.

By the time they arrived at the archives, Jon had leant almost all of his weight against Martin’s side, making it difficult to maneuver them both down the stairs. No one was there, and he wanted to scold the other three, wherever they were, for leaving Jon to wander in his condition. I’ll fix him tea, get him on the cot and then I’ll go, he promised himself. 

Easier said than done.

He barely managed to pry Jon off of him, and only with the promise to return with a cup of tea did he let go. Never in his wildest daydreams did he imagine Jon to be this clingy, hanging off him like a limpet. As he made his way to the break room he drew the Lonely back to him like a security blanket, albeit a cold one. You can’t stay. You have to go. He looked blankly around the room he used to think of as a safe haven; it was no longer familiar, different mugs on the table, different food in the cupboards, a bag of makeup on the counter. He no longer had a place. 

Jon was sitting up on the cot when he arrived back, cup of tea in hand. He pointedly didn’t meet his eyes as he handed it over, staring at his feet and ignoring Jon’s thanks as he turned to leave. Go go go-

“Wait!”

Damn it.

He turned. “What is it, Jon? I have to-”

“Will you stay?” His face was so open, so vulnerable it made Martin ache with longing. “Just- just for a bit.”

Martin sighed, trying to maintain his stoic façade. “You know I can’t.”

“I miss you.”

“Jon-”

“I know, I know,” Jon replied, voice going quiet. He thought dying would harden the man, but it only seemed to soften his sharp edges. “I’m sorry.” He held the mug between his hands, staring down like it was something precious.

“It’s fine,” Martin replied, though they both knew it wasn’t.

“Will you stay if I don’t talk?” Jon leveled that hopeful gaze at him again and Martin looked up to the ceiling for divine intervention that wouldn’t come. 

“Jon-”

“Please.” He was begging. His eyes were bright, whether from tears or the fever Martin couldn’t discern. But what was he to do, say no? Not when he was like this, not when he was sick. Martin made excuses, none of them particularly convincing even to himself and they certainly wouldn’t be to Peter, but it didn’t matter. He’d already made his choice as soon as Jon said the word.

“Okay. For a bit.” That smile again. Jon said nothing as Martin tentatively sat beside him on that small, rickety cot. He would only stay for a bit, until Jon fell asleep. He had no one to look after him, after all. He would go back up and face Peter later. 

For now, he let Jon rest his head against his shoulder. He let his fingers rise of their own accord and brush the hair from Jon’s face, eliciting a shiver. When he fell asleep, Martin didn’t move. He needs the rest. So he sat, reveling in the warm, heavy weight of everything he’d given up, everything he stood to lose, and knew he made the right decision.

Much later, when he’s faced Peter’s disappointed gaze and a mountain of extra work, he notices the strange, powdery cast on his sleeve from where Jon had laid his head. When he rubs at it, his fingers come back with hints of pink and white. It takes him a moment to put the pieces together- the footsteps in the library, the absence of Daisy and Melanie, the makeup on the counter. He wants to roll his eyes, wants to be angry.

Instead, for the first time in months, he laughs.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581141

[fandom-puff]

Being Sirius Black’s daughter would include...

Requested by: anon

As usual. Gif creds to the owner:) enjoy !!

Warnings: some swearing

Okay so let’s just imagine that dumbledore didn’t let Sirius rot in Azkaban despite knowing he was innocent all along bc dumbledore is a bit of a dick

And obv Sirius didn’t die bc fuck you JKR the fandom is ours now and we say Sirius is alive

I’ve always headcanonned (It’s a word now) that Sirius’s daughter would be a little bit younger than Harry by a few years and would’ve been raised along side him (James and lily still die in my hc bc plot convenience?)

Your own mother died pretty soon after you were born thanks to the first wizarding war, so sirius ended up with dead best friends, one traitor, a two-and-a-half year old and a newborn all within two years

Yeah he was in way over his head

He didn’t give up though. Your cot was next to his bed, and Harry often waddled in for cuddles in the middle of the night. Sirius was in no position to object, and made sure both infants were settled and sound asleep before he even considered his own sleep

There was a lot of help from Uncle Moony, who Sirius and his girlfriend (your mum) had named as your godfather

‘Calm down, Sirius, she’s just got wind. Here, like this’ he puts the tea towel over sirius’s shoulder and teaches him how to wind you properly. “There we go. Always remember the tea towel or you’ll end up with a back covered in vomit”

Teamwork makes the dreamwork really

As you and Harry grow up, there are LOTS of pictures taken, and Remus and Sirius quickly fill multiple scrapbooks with all of your adventures.

Harry starts to show signs of magic when he turns 4. He somehow managed to change the colour of your teddy. Your magic showed itself moments after when you indignantly turned it back

You cried when Harry got his hogwarts letter and left for school that September. “Promise you’ll write?” You had said, and he did promise

A few days later, Hedwig comes to the window with a letter. You tear it open and let her have some of your toast as you read it.

“Dad! Moony! Harry’s a Gryffindor!” You announced and they both cheered. You carried on reading. “Hey... who’s professor Snape? Harry said he’s the worst...”

Sirius roared with laughter, but remus frowned. “We went to school with Severus,” remus said slowly, fixing Sirius with a pointed glare. “We didn’t get on. We’re grown ups now, though,”

The last bit was DEFINITELY aimed at Sirius.

You’re thrilled when you get your hogwarts letter- the owl also had a letter for remus, requesting he teach Defense

It takes some convincing, but he eventually agrees to it, replying to dumbledore as Sirius takes you to Diagon Alley.

You get an ice cream from Florean Fortescue, but Sirius notices you’re a little quieter

“What’s wrong, love?” He asks gently

“Dad... you know how you, uncle Moony and Harry are all in gryffindor?”

He reaches across the table and squeezes your hand. “If you get put in gryffindor, we’ll be proud of you. And if you get put in any of the others, we’ll still be proud of you, alright love?”

“Even Slytherin?” You whisper, because you’ve heard all about Sirius’s blood-supremacist family and the slytherin reputation after reading Harry’s school books back to front (and some of remus’s)

Sirius looks at you with the SOFTEST eyes imaginable, and smiles. “Even slytherin. Because I know you’ve got it in you to be nothing like my lot,” he says, and you’re soon reassured.

During your first year, remus keeps a close eye on both you and harry- there are MANY floo calls and owls in the first term

You soon become a force to be reckoned with, truly Sirius Black’s daughter

You and Harry rat one another out to Sirius and Remus, and it’s often a game of who can get there first, especially if you’re both in the wrong

Around your fifth year, boys (or girls) start making their way into the scene

What starts off with innocent dates in Hogsmeade soon turns into you getting caught snogging someone two years above you in Snape’s classroom

You earn yourself a month of detention

Is your father angry?

Is he SHITE

You get a howler the next day (bc Harry AND Remus can’t KEEP THEIR MOUTHS SHUT and love the gossip)

‘YN MY GIRL WELL DONE A MONTHS DETENTION IN ONE SITTING? I’M SO BLOODY PROUD OF YOU MY GIRL, MOONY SAID HE’S NEVER SEEN SNAPE LOOK MORE CONSTIPATED IN HIS LIFE!’

There’s a little lull of silence before the howler starts up again ‘WAIT YOU WERE CAUGHT W I T H SOMEONE? WHO WAS IT? I BET IT WAS THAT DONNOVAN KID! YOU WAIT, MADAM, AND YOU, DONNOVAN, KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF! THAT GOES TO ALL YOU LITTLE BASTARDS LOOKING AT MY DAUGHTER!’

The howler explodes and you cover your face

Harry laughs the loudest

You flip him off across the great hall/table

And get an extra detention for it too

It’s worth it though

Because Remus snorted pumpkin juice everywhere and Snape’s eyes practically bulged from his face

You totally introduce ‘Donnovan’ to Sirius the next hogsmeade weekend

Be on my tag list :)

Tag list: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @justanotherwildstar @kashishwrites @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot

[sabraeal]

Climb to the Rooftops

[Read on AO3]

Written for @another-miracle; a birthday fic that is COMING OUT ON TIME would you look at that (though I am definitely doing some fancy footwork to make it work out in both time zones 😂 Yixin asked for the Post-Rescue Tanbarun Tree Scene for WFB, and then I said, I could give you that, but what if I told you about a secret scene instead...

And then Yixin told me to write whichever one was Obi POV

He knows her.

That’s what keeps running through his head’s hamster wheel as he clomps up the student center steps. He knows her; he’s always known her. If he reached out on that park bench, if he’d grabbed her with both hands and just said, don’t leave me--

He would have been laid flat on his ass, courtesy of that mean right hook her dad taught her before he bounced. And there’d be another demerit on his record to boot, one more instance of anti-social behavior to make him even more unadoptable than he already was. Doc was always destined to go to a loving home, complete with cozy hideaways and towers of books, with warm firesides and even warmer grandparents, and he...

Well, he wasn’t meant for anything like that, no matter who he clung to. Sometimes shit just happens, and no wishing on stars thirteen years gone can change that.

It’s good to see her though. He’d always wondered what happened to his muppet girl, whether she’d gone off and had her happy ending just like she said she would. And now he knows she did.

He glances down at the peanut butter canister in his hand. Well, at least for a little while. That’s the thing about happy endings; they don’t really stick.

Obi hesitates, one foot poised over a step up, his hand wrapped around a ruddy safety rail. “Um, Doc.”

It takes her three steps to bounce to a stop, just enough to let her look down instead of up or across. He’s got double vision for a moment: Doc in the here and now looking at him with so much hope and anxiety that he’s half-afraid she’ll shake apart like a Hot Wheel in a blender; superimposed over the little girl in his memory, round face beaming up at him and her worries far behind her.

She’s got more freckles now, though most of them are hidden beneath her coat, fading without the direct application of summer sun. More inches too, though not as many as he’d given her in his head; for once he’d given more benefit of the doubt than nature could provide. And her hair-- well, that’s the same. Red. Fluffy. Muppety, too, if it’s the morning.

“Obi?”

He should really be paying attention to this conversation he fucking started, instead of just staring at her like a creep. “I just wanted to check in.”

“Oh.” She goes rosy under the freckles he can see, shifting the urn from her hands to her elbow. “I’m-- I’m fine. I’m glad that we could find--” one arm juts out, trying to encompass both them and the containers-- “everyone.”

“Yeah, I got you, but I meant...” He angles a pointed look over her shoulder. “Why are we going up?”

Doc’s jaw drops, and he sees it, the way panic crests right behind her eyes.

“Not that I’m suggesting we don’t.” He takes the next step slow, just enough to put them on equal standing. Except it doesn’t, it puts him a little above her; the beginning of really looking down. His heart flutters in the exact way it shouldn’t when he’s carrying human remains. “I’m just saying, if we’re going to carry geriatrics up a few flights, the elevator’s better for their hips.”

He expects her to laugh at that one, or maybe even roll her eyes, but instead Doc breaks out into a full-body Chihuahua tremble.

“Obi.” Her eyes are so big in her face they might swallow him whole. “We can’t take the elevator.”

“We...can’t?”

Her head jerks in the scarcest side-to-side. With one long, steeling breath, she informs him, “We’re going to do something a little illegal.”

His brows raise. “Illegal?”

The urn bobbles treacherously as her hands fly up between them. “Only a little!”

“You cashed in your favor with me,” he repeats slowly, savoring the thrill that zips through him with every syllable. “To do something illegal.”

Doc deflates with all the gravitas of a popped kiddie pool. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if that would be okay. Especially with, um...”

She’s far too polite to say, your presumed preexisting criminal record, Doc just hasn’t realized it yet. Not when she doesn’t know for sure whether it does exist or not. It’d be easy to help her along, but it’s kinda satisfying to watch her flounder, fishing for the pieces of him she does know.

“If it’s a problem,” she says finally, lifting her eyes to his. “You don’t have to--”

“The only problem is how hot that is, Doc.” He wraps a hand around the rail beside her, leaning in close enough that her eyes nearly cross watching him. “Are you gonna get into your old field hockey kit and punch a girl up there too?”

She blinks, heels clunking into the concrete rise. “I don’t think it would fit. The skirt would be too short, at least.”

Are you sure, he wants to say, stretching every last inch over her, but instead he rumbles, “Honey, you’re saying all the right things to me--”

“Hey.” A finger presses into his nose, hauling his words up short like a pileup. “No call list.”

“Ahh.” Her mouth twitches as he pulls back, rubbing at his nose. “Haah. You know I hate that.”

“Then stick to the list,” she informs him pleasantly. “Besides, are you really trying to flirt with a girl in front of her grandpa?”

“Well.” He holds up the tin, giving it an experimental shake. “You think they’d mind?”

There’s a quality to the silence in the stairwell that clues him in to the fact that he’s cocked up real good this time. First with the tomb joke, now asking if grandma might be watching from beyond the grave, objecting to his game. At least he knows he never had a chance; otherwise he’d have to go take his hopes out behind the woodshed--

“No,” she hums, confident. “They’d like you.”

It’s a good thing she doesn’t get it in her head to try the nose trick again; it’d push him right over. He can survive a lot, but four flights is pushing it. “Doc,” he huffs, scratching the bristle at the back of his head, “I don’t think--”

“Well...” She’s thoughtful when she puts her back to him, bouncing up the next couple of stairs. “Opa would. Oma would think you needed to be fattened up.”

He laughs, but even to his own ears it sounds busted up, wings broken. “Sounds like my kind of lady.”

“Ugh,” Doc sighs from one landing up. “She’d love that you said that.”

“That just makes her even more--”

“Don’t.”

RESTRICTED ACCESS, the doors says, bright red letters fading against the plastic sign. ALARM WILL SOUND.

Doc’s been bullish these last few flights, pushing a pace that makes him want to remind her he’s a hitter, not a runner, but now--

Now she shuffles on the stairs, daunted. “Do you think it will really...?”

Obi thinks this might be a private university, funded by mommy and daddy’s pockets to keep their babies safe, but alarms go off all the time. Unless this building has a rent-a-cop watching daytime TV down in the atrium right now, it could take hours for someone to answer the call, especially mid-afternoon on a Saturday.

“Who knows.” He’s not sure what she’s got up her sleeve that involves two dead people and a rooftop-- especially when even Doc is quick to admit it’s got at least a toe on the wrong side of legal-- but it probably won’t look good if they’re interrupted, even by the Diet Coke of the law enforcement vending machine. “Maybe you should plan to keep the fancy speeches to a minimum.”

“Eulogies.” Her thin fingers flex over ceramic, white where they press in. “You mean a eulogy.”

“Gesundheit.”

Doc turns her head, real slow, letting him soak in every drop of her disapproval. Well, that’s one pigtail successfully pulled.

With a breath so deep it makes her pea coat really earn the name, Doc nods. “Right. Okay. I think...”

Obi expects some dithering, some real soul-searching doubts being dragged out for airing right here in the stairwell. Doc likes that sort of thing, taking everything out of her head so she can fold it all up real nice again, but instead--

Instead she barrels across the landing, plowing right through the metal door, a whole stretch of gray winter sky stretching out before her. There’s one blink, two, and then-- well, the sign wasn’t kidding. The alarm does, in fact, sound.

He catches the door with a hand; it’s weighted, ready to swing right back into place and-- if he knows his doors-- lock right behind her. Not that it’d be a problem if he meant to stand around on the stairwell and act as look out; a role he’d be happy to play if that’s how Doc wanted this whole show to run. But right now she’s slumped at the ledge, every last ounce of her usual moxie wrung out.

Maybe she might tell him to stand back, that this is something she’s got to take on alone, but Obi knows every aching line of that pose by heart. A car can keep going for fifty miles once it hits empty, but that just means you’ll never know when the tank runs dry. That’s where she is right now, stalling out at her limit.

And that’s what he’s here for, to push her that last inch over the finish line. Besides, he can’t just stand back, not when he’s grandpa’s ride.

“So.” There’s a shim in a corner-- a naughty thing to have around an emergency door like this, but Obi’s not about to tattle. He’s perfectly happy to wedge someone else’s problem right where the paint’s flaked off the door. “What’s the problem?”

Doc blinks, one hand trembling on grandma’s lid. “W-what?”

He settles grandpa on the ledge, arms folded around him, taking in the sprawl of buildings below. Clarines isn’t as big as one of those state universities, but it makes Tanbarun look like a college playset instead of a campus. Both of them have those stuffy brick and marble buildings they like up here, the kind that say academic and too good for you loud and clear, but whereas Obi’s walked across Clarines for thirty minutes and still never hit the edge, it looks like he could lap this place in twenty. No wonder Doc was miserable here; the real mystery is how she managed an entire year in this fancy rat cage.

“There’s got to be one.” He knows better than to look at her; if he’s going to make her talking about feelings, the least he can do is give her the privacy to have them. “You were all gung-ho a minute ago, ready to do your thing even if you had to punch out a cop to do it--”

“--I didn’t say that,” she murmurs--

“--but now you’re just standing here.” He shrugs, chancing a glance from the corner of his eyes. “Looking lost.”

“I just...” She shifts, head twisting toward him, he doesn’t need to meet her gaze to know it’s wild, desperate. “It doesn’t feel right that they don’t go together.”

It’s his turn to stare now, lost. “O...kay.”

“What if...” Her teeth fold over her lip, worrying at places already worn. “What if I left them go, and they don’t find each other?”

“Ah...?” It seems like a bit of an oversight now, not asking what the plan is, but he ventures, “You mean...the ashes?”

Her mouth twists up, annoyance in every wrinkle. “It sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“No, no, I’m just...” He glances down at the tin between his arms. “I’m just putting things together. There’s nothing wrong about how you feel, Doc. Not like anyone’s really written a book about how this works.”

She looks up at him, so guileless. “Of course they have, Obi. There’s a whole section in the bookstore for it. It’s just that they’re all written by charlatans and quacks.”

Whatever the conversational version of whiplash is, Obi’s experiencing it now. For a minute all he can do is stare, taking in the abject disapproval rumpling her face, and then he-- he--

He laughs. Because this is what he’s into. The sort of person who pumps the breaks and spins the conversation 360 without even a courtesy ‘buckle up.’

“Listen, I’ve been thinking...” He taps the top of the tin, the metallic ting drowned out by the blare of the siren. “What if we just...mixed them? Then when you release them--”

“--They’re already together.” Doc blinks up at him, eye shining like he’s her savior, the center of her world, the answer to her cosmic question--

The way she really shouldn’t, when she already belongs to someone a hundred times better than he’ll ever be. Not when she’d never mean to get his hopes up.

“Thank you, Obi,” she breathes, a smile dawning on her lips. “That’s exactly what we need to do.”

Like all his good ideas, it’s easier said than done. On the ground, it’d been breezy, the sort of gentle push he’d come to expect from New England right before it got its first good snow, but up here--

“Here, take this.” Obi shrugs off his jacket, hurriedly pushing it into Doc’s boneless hands, but it’s too late-- they’ve already lost a bit of grandma. “Hold it up.”

She stares down at it, thumbs rubbing over the leather in a way that makes his shoulders itch. “Hold...?”

He swings out one arm-- the one not holding a geriatric-- yanking it wide. “Like a wind screen. I don’t want to lose Oma’s pinky toe or something.”

Doc blinks, stretching the coat between her hands. “Pinky toe?”

“Wouldn’t that make you cranky in the afterlife?” he asks, shaking more of Oma loose in a lull. “Losing a toe? Or a finger. Like just the last knuckle. A bit of your nose.”

The leather starts to ripple as the wind spins back up, and Doc stomps a foot down on the end of it to keep it from smacking up into his face. He appreciates the effort; it’s hard enough trying to pour from a large container to a small one without his zipper clocking him over the eyebrow. “Would that really matter?”

He shrugs. “To some people, probably. I got plenty of nose to spare.”

Doc mouth curves shyly, hunching down to hide behind his coat. “I think it’s fine just as it is.”

“Haah.” It’d be nice if she could give him a heads up when she plans to make his heart pound like that. “Think you might be the first to think that.”

“I don’t know,” she hums, eyes electric with some mischievous spark in their depths. “Maybe I’m the first to say so, but you certainly weren’t getting any complaints a few nights ago--”

He huffs. “Drunk college girls aren’t exactly arbiters of taste, Doc.”

She fixes him with that steady stare of hers, the one that’s so earnest it makes his heart make a bid for freedom through his throat. “I think,” she says, each word weighed before she lets it free, just like a good scientist, “that they did just fine.”

He smothers a whimper into a sigh. “Maybe your grandparents don’t mind me flirting,” he mutters, hunched over that stupid peanut butter tin, “but I’m sure they wouldn’t like you returning the favor.”

She blinks, head cocked. “Did you say something Obi?”

“No,” he says, just a little louder. “Just talking to myself.”

“You know--” he sets down the urn, wiping the sweat off his forehead-- “this would have been a lot easier going the other way.”

“We can’t.” Doc’s mouth twists up into that troublesome knot. “Opa always said he never wanted to be in one of those big fancy vases. And even if he would never know, I...”

Obi sighs, hanging his head. “Yeah, I know, I get it, just...complaining to complain. You know how it is.”

She stares down at him like he’s a fish on a dock telling her about the dangers of air. He shakes his head, stifling a laugh. Of course Doc wouldn’t get it; she could lose a limb and she’d still be thankful for the other three. Probably point out how much better things were now that she didn’t need to keep track of all of them. He might complain like it was as easy as breathing, but Doc-- Doc would take every last uncharitable thought to the grave.

Haah, give her some time. A few more months around him, and she’d discover some things to complain about. People always did.

“So,” he says, picking grandma back up. “Why here?”

Doc blinks. “Huh?”

“You know, on top of the roof of the campus center at one of the prestigious universities on the East Coast?” He raises a brow. “I know you used to go here, but most people just settle for leaving dog shit on the stoop when they want to send a ‘fuck you,’ you know.”

Doc unleashes a sound that can only be termed a squawk. “What? What do you mean most people--?” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t-- I mean, it’s not supposed to be a, um...”

“Fuck you?”

“Ah...yes. That.” She grimaces. “They met here. And when I tried to think of places they might want to be...”

Her words drift to a stop, but it’s gentle. They don’t abandon her, leaving her high and dry, but she just...stops saying them, letting the wind carry them away.

“I couldn’t think of any place else,” she admits, fingers tightening in the leather. “They always talked about Tanbarun so fondly, and I...I always thought it sounded like paradise.”

“But the roof?” Obi asks, incredulous. “Is it just easier to scatter the ashes, or...?”

“It’s where they met,” she repeats, like that makes any sense at all. “They used to have movie nights up here, played on one of those reel projectors,”

Her gaze swings out over the concrete like she could see it; all the hippy bean bags piled up, big screen pulled down and movie hardly able to be heard over the wind. Not a bad picture, he’ll admit. Wholesome, just like he’d expect out of the people who raised this Precious Moments doll of a person. Doesn’t really explain Mukaze, but well, shit happens. Half the people who raised him don’t deserve the person he’s become either. “Nice story.”

She’s hardly here with him, eyes hazy and distant, stuck in a past only she can see. “That’s what I always thought. I always wanted...” Her voice trails off again, but this time her smile falters, topping like china from a wobbling shelf. “I always wanted to have a story like that too. But it, um, didn’t really work out that way.”

He shouldn’t say anything. He’s not some neutral party, here to give her that impartial, unbiased pick-me-up she wants to hear, like telling her won’t rips a strip right off his back, so-- he should keep his big mouth shut.

But he’s never been good at any of that being smart shit. “It’s not like you didn’t have your own meet cute, it just wasn’t here. It was, er...”

Huh, now would you look at that. He’s never actually asked.

“At a record store,” she supplies slowly, like she has to think on it too. “Between the aisles after I missed my bus. No--” she laughs, more bitter than he’s ever heard her-- “after I chose to miss it.”

“See?” he hums, vibrating the knife deeper. “That’s already a good start.”

Her lips press thin. “I suppose...”

“No supposing about it.” He taps grandpa so the ashes sit flat before he starts another pour. “If I know anything about your Oma and your Opa-- and I don’t know nothing besides what you told me--” and what he saw a decade ago, sitting on that park bench-- “I don’t think they care whether you met your person at a rooftop movie or in a Walmart--”

“Record store.”

“They have CDs too,” he informs her, just as prim as Doc gets with him when she indulged the one pedantic bone in her body. “But the point is, they wouldn’t care where it happened, they just wanted you to find what they had.”

“I...” She deflates, the leather bowing over her legs. “I know. I think they used to worry that I wouldn’t, especially since I wasn’t really, ah...”

“Looking for it?” he offers.

She nods, relieved. “Yes, that. After my parents, I think they expected a much more, um, active interest in...anything. And I wasn’t.”

He doesn’t need to hear her say it to know that there’s more to it than that, that what she means to say is, and I don’t think they understood.

“Well, nothing for them to worry about anymore, is there?” She blinks up at him, alarmed, and he adds, “You and chief are kind of a done deal right?”

“Ah!” It’s hard to tell with the wind slapping both their cheeks red, but he could swear Doc’s blushing. “I don’t-- it’s not-- we haven’t really talked about--” she heaves a heavy, resigned sigh-- “I mean, I...I guess?”

“As done as it can be without getting PR involved.” He gives her the sort of eyebrow Kiki might. “I’m sure that if they’re out there floating on clouds or whatever, or, i don’t know, free energy in the universe, molecules just bumping around...they’re happy for you.”

“Right.” Her reply’s so faint he nearly misses it, but the wind that snatches it away carries it right by his ear. “Yeah.”

“All right, I think I’ve done as much as I can do.” Obi levers himself to his feet, brushing off his lap before handing her the tin. “You ready for this?”

Doc stares down at the canister, jaw set, the same way he’s sure it looked right before she threw herself out a window. Certainly looks the same way it did when she tried to bean Itoya with her purse.

“Yeah,” she breathes, fingers tightening around the metal. “I think I am.”

The wall’s not tall, but neither is Doc; she has to go up on tip-toe to throw an arm over it, the wind already pulling at the ashes laying loose at the top. Her brow furrows, mouth working for a good minute before she manages, “It’s time to say goodbye, I think.”

Obi stares. Sure, he’d said to keep it short and sweet, but if it’s taken this long for the rent-a-cop to hustle up, maybe she can spare the people who raised her more than--

“Thank you.” He’d thought it might be hard to hear her over both the alarm and the wind, but somehow all her words fly true, brightening the air. “For...everything. I don’t really know how you...”

Her breath catches, but her eyes are clear, no tears streaking down her face. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You did everything and more. But I think...” She sniffs, taking a moment. “I think I can take it from here. I’ll miss you, Oma. And Opa...”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I forgive you. For whatever still needs forgiving. Rest well.”

Her hand tips, just the barest degree, and the ashes scatter, wind whipping them past, twisting high over the quad.

“Hey.” Obi steps up beside her, shrugging his coat on over his shoulders. If it’s a little gritty-- well, good thing Doc thing thinks Oma would like him so much, because part of her might linger until the next wash. “I’m pretty sure it’s super illegal to scatter human remains like this.”

“Oh,” Doc hums, shoulder bushing his arm. “It absolutely is without a permit. I was not joking about the slightly illegal thing.”

Obi grins. “Well good thing that no one ever came to check on the--”

As if summoned by the mere mention of potentially having something approaching good luck, the door bar rattles, accompanied by some creative cursing.

“Who the fuck is leaving this open?” A gruff yet feminine voice demands, as if she might be able to shake down the universe and pick up the answers from what fell out of its pockets if she just rattled it hard enough. “Bill, is it you? God, what did I say about using the roof for your smoke breaks--?”

The door swings all the way open, and there she is, a security guard with shoulders that could have dropped straight from the Lowen family tree. Obi would take a picture if he wasn’t sure that would get him thrown in the campus drunk tank.

She takes one glance at them, then another angrier one. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“UM,” Doc shrills informatively.

“No, wait.” One broad hand waves in front of her. “I don’t care. What are you doing up here?”

Doc flounders in the face of authoritarian disappointment-- which is fine by Obi. This is his wheelhouse, after all. It’s nothing to reach out, cinching Doc’s waist against him, grin wide. “Sex, obviously.”

If it were possible for a body to choose the time and place of its expiration from this earthly dairy aisle, Doc’s mortified stare suggests she might curdle on the spot. “Obi.”

The guard’s glare is a study in skepticism, taking in the both of them, and then the concrete wasteland around them. “Here? With your clothes on?”

“It’s our kink.”

“Please,” Doc mutters against his shirt. “Don’t talk.”

The guard spares them one last weary look and sighs. “You know what? I don’t care. Just get out.”

Doc certainly doesn’t need to be told twice. Obi’s got his mouth open, what can’t you let us finish first about to spill right out, but her small hand clamps around his, and she drags him right off the roof.

“SORRY,” she yelps as they pass. “WON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.”

“Yeah,” Obi agrees with a grin. “Next time we’ll fuck on some other roo--”

Doc pauses for one moment, just long enough to raise a finger and inform him “DON’T.”

This time he lets her drag him off, grinning.

They’re halfway down the stairs when Doc finally slows, her cheeks reaching a shade of red that looks more lipstick than lobster dinner. Her hand wraps tight around the rail, and it’s not until he saunters down the last couple steps to stand beside her that he realizes-- her eyes are screw tight, breath coming in ragged bursts.

“Hey,” he murmurs, trying to ignore the spark of alarm zipping under his skin. “Did you just realize we could have used the elevator?”

Her fingers, already wrapped tight around his palm, squeeze. “Obi...”

The muscles in his arm lock, the way he’s sure lizard tails do, right before they drop them off and run. “Doc?”

Her head turns toward him, and when her eyes flutter open, they’re bright, clear. “Thanks. For being there.”

“No. No, no,” he murmurs, his fingers spasming against hers. “You’ve got it all wrong. I should be the one thank you for letting me. No one...”

No one has ever asked me to be there, he doesn’t say. No one but you.

It’s too much when she’s looking at him like this, like he’s not just a stand-in but her first choice. Like there’s more to how he feels than some one-sided over-investment. It brings him so close to feeling like someone, like the kind of guy who might be her person--

And maybe he could have been, if he hadn’t let some asshole rip her right out her arms in the middle of the night. If he had a record of being something other than a professional disappointment.

The grin doesn’t sit right on his face when he says, “No one’s ever asked me to get rid of a dead body before.”

Doc blinks, then rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she sighs, tugging his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“Well,” she wheedles. “That. And I dropped the tin when the guard surprised us...”

“Ah I see.” He slips his hand from hers, grin finally sitting the way it should. “So we’re adding evidence removal and obstruction of justice to our list of crimes.”

She tips a dubious look back at him. “Are you complaining?”

“Doc,” he breathes, pressing a hand to his chest. “I would never. I’m touched that you would even think that I could--”

“Come on, Obi,” she laughs, hopping down the steps in front of him. “I’d like to do this sometime today.”

His mouth curls as he watches her back. “Your wish is my command.”

[morizoras-cave]

Pass Out (Request)

Jake Gyllenhaal x gn!teen!co-star!reader, Tom Holland x gn!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Request Description: can I request a Tom Holland and Jake Gyllenhaal x teen!reader where she gets sick during the press tour and ends up passing out in front of fans? love your writing btw!!

Warnings: none, really? sick reader, slight insecurity, language

(A/N): yeah im in berlin (we’re being very safe and wearing masks all the time :D) and thats why i havent updated much. im trying to update a bit, im writing this at 7:43 to make it before breakfast hsghssgs anyway hope y’all enjoy

“Y/n, you don’t look too good? Caught a stomach bug?” 

You sighed at Jake’s question. You did quite literally feel like shit that morning, all three of you padding out of the hotel to enter the car. It was going to be another day of press, and while those days could be a bunch of fun, this time the thought just worsened your pounding headache, nausea, weakness, and general shit-feeling.

“I don’t know what it is, I just feel real bad,” you grumbled irritably. Tom and Jake exchanged glances over your head. 

“Think you should stay home today? Me and Jake can take a yelling from Marvel, it’s totally fine. They hate me anyway.” 

“Yeah, I was gonna say, there’s really no way Tom can worsen his image to Marvel. He can take the blame. I mean, he’s already hit rock bottom.” 

You snorted at their banter, and without looking, knew Tom had that undoubtedly offended face. Though, you still shook your head sadly. 

“It’s not that bad. It’ll be fine.” 

There wasn’t much arguing then. The boys never knew you to be a liar about such things, and trusted your judgement completely. And, to be fair, you didn’t lie about how you were feeling. You just thought it was less bad than it was, which is why, when you entered the car, sitting between the two man-children, you got very nervous when it suddenly worsened drastically. 

You were sickly-looking, and both your head and stomach hurt. Your legs felt like jello (which is a very weird sensation, by the way, causing you to wriggle your legs to give them life again), and an overwhelming feeling of nausea hit you. Overall though, you felt weak.

Jake and Tom were still watching you worriedly. Your worsened state was easily spotted by them. 

“We’re here,” the driver announced. Out the window, you could see the sandy building that you were filming press in that day, and a pretty sizeable group of fans (mostly beautiful young gals) who were looking to meet their idols. 

“This is a bigger group than usual,” Tom mumbled, and the comment made you involuntarily groan. You loved fans, but today everything sucked. 

Soon enough, you three exited the black car, and The Jello Effect was in full effect, as you wobbled to the front door. 

“Oh my God, hi! We’re super big fans!” A nice-looking lady smiled brightly when she spotted you all. Her voice was pleasant, you thought. 

“Oh wow, I can’t believe we’re actually meeting them. I didn’t think they’d show up here today. Guess you were right,” came the mumblings from between them.

“We can sign a few things, if you want? We still have a bit of time before our schedule,” Tom offered kindly, because he was such a celebrity that really loved the fans, possibly more than both you and Jake (not that you two didn’t, Tom just had so much love to give out). 

All the fans (girls and boys and nonbinary alike) gathered to have their shirts, comics, papers, and anything else that they wanted signed. 

You felt horrific, but didn’t object, signing and smiling the best you could, but overall staying quiet. You even joined in on the pictures. 

“C-Can I, um, also have a-a picture?” a shy boy asked stepping forward. Both Tom and Jake smiled and said “yeah” and “of course”, but in that moment the world suddenly got very blurry for you.

Everything was very overwhelming, the noise, the questions, the requests, and the responsibilities, and all of a sudden your legs were gone, and the ground was very close to you. And then it was black. 

Jake and Tom were standing in front of the boy, when a thump came from behind them (your jello body falling down, in case you were wondering). They looked, and surely enough, there you were, on the ground. 

They both immediately jumped down to you, crouching beside your collapsed body. 

“Holy shit, are they okay?” one of the fans asked, as a worried murmur spread throughout the crowd of people. 

“Uh, I don’t really know-” Jake said nervously. “Damn it, Y/n,” he cursed you, because, of course, you would underestimate the seriousness of your sickness. 

Thinking quick, Tom grabbed the rather shy boys phone, angled it so the boy was behind him, and then tapped Jake’s shoulder. They both, comically, duck faced simultaneously, and Tom snapped a picture. 

“Here,” he gave the kid back his phone, whilst Jake grabbed and lifted you. 

“We gotta get them to a hospital. I don’t want to risk anything,” Jake whispered, not wanting to further upset the fans that stood beside them, with wide eyes and filming phones. Tom nodded. 

“Alright, it’s been good, but, uh.. Well, we’ve got things to fix here,” Tom waved goodbye, and then followed Jake, who was sprinting to the parking lot with you in his arms. 

“W-What?” you mumbled and blinked awake. You felt drowsy and sick and simply quite terrible, and it was hard to understand, but you realized you were in someones arms. 

“Holy shit, Y/n, you scared the crap out of me!” Jake exclaimed breathlessly, as you awoke from your nonconsensual nap. You looked around in confusion, at Jake’s face (you had a great view of his nose and chin), the parking lot, and then a moment where you wondered what the hell was happening. 

“Did I- What happened?” your mumble was weak.

“You passed out! We’re bringing you to a hospital!” Tom came from behind Jake. This made you stir. 

“Uh, no. No, you’re not!” you (with much grunting and effort - and probably Jake simply letting you go out of respect) jumped out of Jake’s grasp and onto the parking lot. You stumbled, overestimating the solidness of your legs, and almost falling down again, but this time Tom was prepared. He grabbed your arm and pulled you to stand up. From his eyes came a warning look.

“Y/n. You’re sick. We’re going to a hospital. Just to make sure.” 

You knew he was right, but still you couldn’t help but feel like a bother. The boys both saw your stubbornness fade slightly. 

“Alright, I’ll go to the hospital. But you guys go and do press. I can’t have you getting in trouble with Marvel..” you mumbled somewhat angrily. 

Jake and Tom looked at each other for a moment, and then shook their heads. They begun moving at the same time, each taking one of your arms and just starting to walk. You looked back and forth between them accusingly. 

“I called an Uber. It’ll be here five.”

“Sounds good, sounds good.” 

“Excuse me? I said, I’ll go alone!” 

Tom stopped, turning to you. Surprisingly, he smiled playfully.

“Look, N/n. We’re going wether you like it or not, because me and Jake, we care about you too. So stop being so selfish, and let’s go get you checked out, because we can’t have you feeling sick and passing out on us. Alright?” 

His voice was surprisingly light and his smile was upheld, but you could tell he was still a bit concerned. The feeling of someone caring about you. It warmed your heart a bit. 

Jake ruffled your hair from behind, and you all started walking again. You smiled stupidly, and, though still present, your nausea was much smaller now. Jake eyed you from the side, watching your smile. He shook his head.

“Dummy.” 

___________________________

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