#i just wish i could drop off the face of the earth right this instant !!!! it would be the loveliest thing if i could !!!!

[spookythesillyfella]

★* GET MOTIVATED !!!! ^_^ ★*

[ponderingmoonlight]

Heyyy, i love ur jjk fics so when u posted abt writing for aot i SCREAMED bc ik you'll do it justice 😩❤❤

Do u reckon u could do like a levi post rumbling fic bc i need the confort rn and SO DOES HE I NEED HAPPY LEVI PLSS ❤❤❤🙏🙏🙏

When I tell you I had to write this IMMEDIATELY <3 Please let me know if you like it, this is my first AOT fic EVER

Levi finally getting his happy end with (y/n) after the rumbling

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: When he met you after first stepping a foot at Marley, Levi didn't forget you until the very end. But while he thought you died through the rumbling, he meets you again for his happy end.

Warnings: this is the comfort I needed, I actually had to cry while writing this, not proofread because I wanted to publish this asap

Tags: @sanicsmut begging on my knees, please I hope you like this

You’ve been on his mind ever since he met you on that fateful day at Marley. So gorgeous that he couldn’t take his eyes off you, a smile so sweet it could melt even metal. Yes, you were so different from what he expected to find across that ocean, a truly pleasant surprise to say the least.

“Oh, you are quite small for a grown man!” you commented, giggling so effortlessly that Levi wasn’t able to even react to your rude comment.

“But to be honest, I’m a little small myself. Well, not all of us can be tall, right? Where are you from, stranger?”

“None of your business.”

His voice sounded harsher that anticipated, making your joyful face drop in an instant. Why…Why the hell did it even bother him to see you like that, that sad glow that formed in your eyes?

“I’m not from here”, he added.

“Oh, I see! Don’t worry about it too much, it’s like everywhere else!”

Oh, if you only knew how wrong that statement was.

His eyes landed on your right arm and the star that covered the sleeve of your blouse. Why would you wear such a badge? Upon closer inspection, he noticed your shattered clothing, the hem of your earth coloured dress completely torn.  

Before Levi was even able to react two men ran into you, forcefully pushing your body into the dirt of the streets.

“Get out of the way, scum”, one of them hissed towards you.

Anger rose inside his veins immediately. You were just standing there, minding your own business. Why on earth did they push you?

“Watch your step”, his voice suddenly called towards the men.

“Please, it’s alright. Don’t get into trouble because of me.”

And then your hand rested against his shoulders, making his heart beat so loud that Levi swore you could hear it. What was this? Why did your little innocent touch turn him all flustered?

Something about you just seems different. No, despite the fact that it is so wrong, despite being here only for a mission, his mind wanders to you every free second.

Even though you might be dead by now.

“I will leave after tonight”, he announced into darkness, your moonlit features making it hard for him to focus on staying serious.

Your lip began to tremble, glossy eyes darting towards him.

“What? But why do you have to leave? You just arrived…”

“I came here because I have a mission to accomplish, (y/n).”

“But you will return when you’re done, right?”

The hopeful tone in your voice killed him from the inside. Oh, how much he wished he could just take you with him, how much he’d love to have more time with you. But this is simply not possible.

His cold eyes glared at you through the darkness, desperately trying to keep his composure.

“I might never return to this place, (y/n).”

You felt like someone pulled the ground from beneath your feet. Within the last few weeks, you learned that Levi’s hard façade isn’t more than a trick. No, in fact, he carries a character made of pure gold.

You started to like him.

“Then I’ll find you wherever you’ll go.”

And you did. You never missed to write him letters. Levi can’t help but wonder how you did that, your elegant handwriting following him through the darkness of the night, lighting up his mood despite the situation he’s in. Yes, he looked forward hearing from you every single day.

Until the rumbling started.

Until he didn’t receive any letters from you anymore.

It broke his heart, waking up from his coma with all that was on his mind being your stunning smile.

“Did I receive any letters from her?”

“You mean (y/n)? No, not until it all started. She lived in the northern area of Marley so it’s very likely that…”

His heart shattered into a million pieces, dead eyes staring into the distance. Your beautiful smile, that promise you gave him the night before he left. The thought of you getting trampled to death…

“Don’t say it.”

“Hey, maybe she did it somehow. (y/n) is a smart woman. I’m sure she found a way out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, shitty four-eyes. She’s dead.”

He has seen it all, countless people died in front of his very own eyes. Why would it be different this time? Why shouldn’t you of all people be taken away from him? A little spark of luck, a minor ray of sunshine in this sheer darkness.   

He leans back in his wheelchair, darkness consuming him all over again. You deserved so much better, your whole life was still ahead of you. In a world that never wanted you, you always kept your smile as bright as the sun. Despite the fact that they treated you like the dirt underneath their feet, despite how poorly the circumstances were, your smile beamed brighter than anything else.

“What would it give me to burry myself in sadness? I only have this one life, why not making the best of it?”

The best…

“Fuck!” he cries out, slamming a nearby book against the wall in frustration.

Why you? Why out of all the people, you are the one who had to lost her precious life? He never had the chance to tell you how he feels, how you turned his world upside down, that he survived for you.

Dear captain Levi (I love to call you that),

How are you? I hope your mission is going well and that you’ll return soon. I have some exciting news to share with you! After working so much over the last few weeks, I was finally able to buy myself a new dress! Although I wanted to get a white one because I know you love the colour, I bought a dark green one in honour of you. When you come back, we’ll be matching!

I miss you and our conversations late at night. Please tell me you and the others are okay.

In love,

(y/n)

That dark green dress he never got so see, the joy you fuelled inside of him despite being hundreds of miles away from him. God, how much he misses you. How much he fucking misses talking to you through the darkness of the night, to hear from the world through the unwavering veil of your optimism. What would he give to stretch out his hands after you for once, holding you tightly against his chest? It truly kills him from the inside, knowing he will never be able to hold your hand or kiss your lips tenderly, that you’ll never tell him old fairy tales anymore.

You were special. An angel in a world full of devils. Your word alone should have been enough to end every war in the blink of an eye. It definitely was enough to end the war inside himself.

“Captain Levi, will you assist me?”

“Stop calling me that, Onyankopon”, Levi mumbles, silently following the taller man into the heart of the city.

The war made the remaining 20% realize how precious being alive is only after their lives hanging on a thread. While the others carried on with their lives, Levi himself got stuck in this cursed city, the city he last saw you in. Returning to Paradis would mean giving up on you, giving up on the spell you put on him. And he simply can’t take it. Even though the whole town got destroyed by the merciless feet of titans, despite numerous people telling him than no one was able to escape, he always looked out for that dark green dress you described to him.

“Thank you”, a little girl giggles at him, eyes widen at the delicious sight of the lollipop in her hands.

All he can do is stare at the ground in front of her tiny feet with empty eyes. How nice it must be to have something to hold onto in times like these, after losing everything and everyone.

“Hey, can I get another one?”

“Don’t get greedy, young lady!”

That voice, that angelic voice almost reminds him of you. How long has it been since you last spoke to him? So long that the sound of your speech slowly fades in the back of his mind.

But that woman, that woman almost sounds like you. His gaze wanders up her dirty shoes, the hem of her green dress…

A green dress. Dark green, to be exact.

“Levi?”

His eyes widen, his heart stops beating.

No, this can’t be. Is it a dream?

“Levi Ackerman? Is that you?”

His gaze darts towards your face, time stands still. Your facial features, your joyful eyes. It’s you, it has to be you. Without any doubt.

“(y/n)”

He can’t catch his breath, his orbs lingering over your delicate figure, your dark green dress.

That dark green dress.

Before he can stop himself, his eyes get glossy. It is really you. You’re standing in front of him, uninjured, just like you did before.

“Levi!”, you cry out.

In the matter of seconds, you kneel in front of him, hungry arms holding onto his frame for dear life. Oh god, how much you prayed to see that man again, how much you longed to finally be able to hold him in your arms.

“I never gave up hope. I always believed in your abilities and that you’ll return to me someday”, you mutter against his chest, your salty tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

“I thought you were dead.”

His voice isn’t more than a fade away whisper, hand running through your soft hair. He always wondered how it would feel against his fingertips. And now you’re here. In his arms, alive.

You are alive.

“I’m fine. I did leave this town just in time because I wanted to see you again. It was a close call, I almost got crushed but…I made it. I couldn’t leave after telling you the fairy tale about the fox and the rabbit, right?”

Silent tears stream down his face like a waterfall while you cry rivers against his chest. His whole life Levi was haunted by loss and grief. As if he was cursed, everyone around him seemed to die in front of his very eyes. Just after letting himself fall, after trusting someone, after gifting them his feelings…They just lost their lives like flies.

But you’re safe and sound, you look just like you did in his memory.

“I love you, (y/n). I should have told you this way sooner and I did all of this just to return to you.”

Your heart sinks in your chest, body overflowing with feelings. Without thinking twice, you press your lips against his scarred ones, letting yourself sink into his lap while your hands hold onto his face for dear life. This man right in front of you, the man who never left your mind, the man who risked his life to save yours. He survived. He survived and came back to you just like you always dreamed of.

“I love you too”, you shriek, smiling at him so widely with tears overflowing in your eyes that you make his world whole again.

“But as you see, I’m not the man you met back then…”, he begins, looking down his disabled body.

You shake your head vehemently, gently taking his hands into yours.

“All I see is the man I love and waited for”, you reply.

You wipe away your tears and a trail of snot in the most unladylike and precious way Levi ever witnessed before standing up and straighten your skirt with trembling hands.

“So now, what do you think? How do you like my now old new dress?” you croak.

You twirl around, making his life complete. This. This is exactly what he fought for, why he never gave up even after Hange dedicated her life. You standing in front of him in that dark green dress, smiling widely after he told you that he loves you.

This is all he ever wanted.

“You look lovely. Absolutely lovely, (y/n)”, he replies.

And for the first time since forever, a genuine smile is formed on his face.  

[joelmillersdumbslut]

I think it's time you had a pink cloud summer (part one) (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

masterlist

summary: After losing your job and moving back to your hometown, you begin a fast-paced and steamy summer romance with your parents' friend, Joel Miller. (no outbreak AU, no use of y/n)

rating: 18+ explicit (minors do NOT interact)

warnings (for this chapter): age gap (reader is in late 20's, joel is in his 50's), dirty talk, pet names, hand kink (if you squint), mutual masturbation, fingering, hand job, soft!joel, dbf!joel, just a mix of smut and fluff

word count: 5.2k

a/n: this is my self-indulgent attempt at a smut and fluff series featuring my fav, joel miller. hope you enjoy it! ♡

ao3 link

You’re a loser. You’ve resigned to that fact. Your career has abruptly ended at the ripe age of twenty-eight. Over a fucking Zoom meeting, of all the ways to be laid off.

We appreciate all the hard work you’ve done for us.

You’re just not the right fit for this company.

We wish you luck with your future endeavors.

The job you fought so hard for. The one you studied and practiced hours for the interviews alone. The late nights spent at the office, weekends of writing emails and checking for messages from your coworkers. All gone in an instant.

After a few days of crying and wallowing in your misery, you call your parents. They drop everything to help you move back to your childhood home in Austin.

Your room is untouched. Pink bedding, unicorn decals on the walls, plastic glow-in-the-dark stars clinging to the ceiling. You cringe and beg your mom to let you paint over it. But, she loves reminiscing about the good ol’ days of your youth, and asks you to think about it before making any “irrational” decisions. You leave it as is. For now.

While you’re hauling the last box from your car to the house, a hand touches your shoulder. You spin around to see a man. Graying hair, scruffy beard, dressed in dirty jeans and a black t-shirt. His biceps protruding through the cloth. Your first thought is how attractive he is. And how he looks so familiar.

“Hey there, remember me?”

You squint at first before it hits you.

“Mr. Miller? I haven’t seen you since… Since I don’t know when,” you set the box down and he embraces you. His cologne fills your nostrils and you take a deep breath, hoping to remember the smell.

“You call me Joel now, we’re both adults, right?” he chuckles.

Joel lets go, his eyes trained on you. “Thought you were livin’ in Dallas. Had you a big girl job.”

Your face falls, you play with your hair nervously, “Well, I did. Guess they had enough of me.”

“Sorry, babygirl,” he mutters, the word knocking the wind out of you. “Sure you’ll find somethin’.”

“Yeah, if you have any leads, let me know,” you laugh awkwardly.

Since when did Joel get so handsome? Was he always this way, but you were too young to notice? Or care? His long, thick fingers comb out the curls in his hair and your heart skips a beat. Salacious thoughts about those fingers run through your mind before Joel’s gravelly voice brings you back down to Earth.

“Your mama invited me over for dinner. Lemme carry that for you.” Joel picks up the box and heads for the door.

—

“I know it’s weird. Please don’t judge me,” you feel embarrassed at the fact that the hot, older friend of your parents is standing in your childhood bedroom. You feel the urge to rip the decals off the walls, throw the girly bedding out the window. Anything to prove to him you’re not a kid anymore. Your anxiety doesn’t seem to faze him though. He sets the box down on the desk next to your computer, taking in the scenery around him.

“I like the stars,” he says, nodding at the ceiling.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen a night full of real stars,” you admit. “It’s hard to see them in the city.”

A prolonged pause fills the air. Joel raises his eyebrows, looking to test the waters.

“Maybe I could take you,” he murmurs.

“Like, the two of us?” you ask, stepping closer to him.

“Yeah, just like that,” he affirms. He closes the distance between the two of you. You’re standing face to face. Joel reaches out to caress your cheek. Your body is on fire.

“I’d like that,” you hum.

Joel seems to be thinking. Weighing the options of his situation. You bite your lower lip in anticipation.

And before you know it, Joel’s hand is reaching for yours. It happens so suddenly. His lips crash into you. His beard tickling your skin. You reciprocate, kissing him back, your hand clutching his fingers for dear life. You don’t dare pull away. Not yet. His tongue enters your mouth and collides with yours. Instinctively, you moan, and Joel drops your hand to wrap his arms around your body, pulling you even closer to him. You can feel something poking you through his pants. Your hand moves lower and lower and—

“Honey, dinner’s ready! Have you seen Mr. Miller?” your mom’s voice calls from the hallway.

The two of you separate. Quickly. Joel stands beside the desk, the box blocking his lower half from view. You sit on the bed, ignoring the wetness growing between your thighs.

Your mom is now in the doorway, apron tied around her waist. A delighted expression shines on her face. She has no idea what events just transpired in her daughter’s childhood bedroom. And you are going to make sure she never finds out.

“Joel was just helping me with my moving boxes,” your smile is as sweet as saccharine.

The older man gruffs and moves to tousle your hair, “It’s good to have her back.”

—

You think about his tongue, what it would be like between your thighs. You think about his fingers, wondering what it would feel like if they were to hold your breasts. You think about his cock straining against the denim of his jeans, desperate and hungry. Just for you.

You masturbate all night long.

Thinking of him.

—

In the morning, you decide to go for a walk. You can’t job hunt. Not yet. Not with your mind clouded like this.

You need to figure out where this is going first.

You head down the street and round the corner. Joel’s house is on the left. It’s Monday, but you hope he’s there. Maybe he took the day off from work. How could anyone be expected to focus after that moment in your bedroom?

He’s waiting for you on the front porch. His hands are occupied with his guitar, morning sunlight gleaming against the wood of the instrument. It reminds you of the way he’d play songs for you when you were a teenager. You would sit on the floor of his living room, watching in awe as his fingers danced across the neck of the guitar. You’re trying to recall what exactly he played for you, maybe it was Bob Dylan or Pink Floyd, but that memory soon escapes your brain when Joel glances up at you. He smiles as you carefully take the steps, each foot landing on the wood with a heavy thud. You cross the porch and sit down on the swing next to him.

“Good morning,” you finally say. Your hands are already shaking. Afraid you read the signals wrong. Terrified he may turn you down.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” he asks, setting the guitar down against the porch railing. His arm envelops your frame, pulling you a little closer. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest.

Your answer is honest. Straight-forward. Simple.

“I came back for more.”

—

You find yourself standing in Joel’s living room. It’s been so many years, but it’s just like how you remember it. Knick knacks, magazines, and books spread out across shelves. A record player with a stack of vinyl in the corner. You thumb through the collection, settling on a Soundgarden album. You vaguely remember Joel telling you about them when you were going through your “emo phase.” You had preferred Nirvana instead. Once you slide the record onto the slipmat of the player and drop the needle, the heavy, sludgy rock music fills the air. You turn back to face him.

He’s been watching you intently, a small grin on his face. “Just makin’ yourself at home, huh, babygirl?”

You blush at that word again. It fills you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. One that feels so wrong that it’s got to be right.

“What, you like when I call you that?” he teases, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What are we doing?” you ask quietly, your skin burning against his slightest touch. You know exactly what you’re doing. You know what’s about to happen in this house. You just want to hear him say it. Make it come to life. Make your fantasy a reality.

“Whatever you want, pretty girl,” he kisses your forehead, moving down to your neck. The small nips and bites he leaves have you aching for more, but you silently pray he doesn’t create any marks for your parents to see. How would you even begin to explain that?

“Is what we’re doing okay?” you mumble between his kisses, fighting off all the moans trying to escape your lips. “What if my parents find out?”

Joel pulls away, holding your hands. His soft brown eyes stare into yours.

“We don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do. We’ll go at your pace,” he whispers. “And if they find out, I’ll take care of it. How’s that sound?”

It’s an offer you can’t refuse.

—

“Ri-right here?” your voice trembles as Joel leads you to the couch. He had suggested you start there before making your way to his bedroom. On one hand, it feels rather adolescent. But on the other hand, there’s something about sneaking around like a couple of teenagers that excites you.

“Remember what I told you,” Joel plants kisses along your hairline as he helps you sit down on the couch. “Whatever you wanna do. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He heads into the dining room, returning with a chair. He sits across from you, waiting for you to make the first move.

Moments pass. Joel’s hand reaches out, caressing your cheek. You can feel yourself melt as his calloused fingertips brush against your skin.

“It’s—It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything, with anybody,” you say suddenly, mindlessly picking at your fingernails. “Work kept me busy. I guess I don’t… I don’t even know where to start.”

Joel stares at you, deep in thought. Finally, he asks, “You wanna watch me?”

You glance up at him, amused. You’ve never done this with a partner before. Especially not with an older man like Joel. But, you aren’t going to let your lack of experience stop you.

“Okay,” you grin.

At your command, Joel unbuttons his jeans. He slowly pulls the zipper down. You observe his fluid movements as his cock springs from his boxers, and he begins to stroke himself. Soft moans slip away from his lips. He occasionally looks at you to smile.

After a few minutes of watching Joel touch himself, you begin to feel your insides throb. Thinking about how badly you want him. Your nerves dissipate as you remember what he told you. Whatever you want. At your pace. 

“I can’t let you have all the fun,” you giggle as you slip out of your shorts. Joel groans at the sight of you in your underwear.

“Such a pretty thing,” he murmurs, pumping into his hand at a quicker pace. “You gonna play with yourself for me?”

Your hand slips into your panties and you start rubbing your clit. Your fingers moving in slow circles against your already sensitive bud. You whine from your own touch, which causes Joel to crack a smile as he further examines you.

The two of you watch each other. The only sounds in the room consist of your simultaneous labored breathing and the record player needle reaching the end of the vinyl, a dull scratching noise on repeat.

“Can I see you, babygirl?” a whimper breaks away from Joel’s throat. You can see the head of his cock is now glistening in precum. You wonder how close he is.

With a smirk, you kick off your underwear, spreading your legs for him. You swear the old man’s heart stops for just a moment as he stares straight into your dripping pussy. Absolutely hypnotized.

“So pretty,” he exhales, his hand quickening its strokes, “That all for me?”

“It is,” you reply in a hush, “Is that cock all for me?”

“Just for you, babygirl, just for you,” Joel sighs.

You buck your hips as you keep touching yourself. You can feel your orgasm building quickly as you watch Joel. Imagining his cock inside you is pushing you over the edge.

“I think I might cum soon,” you whisper, your fingers moving faster against your clit, fire growing deep inside your belly.

“Can I help you, babygirl?” Joel asks, removing his hand from his cock. You nod frantically, needing something, anything to help you release the tension building inside your body.

The long and thick middle finger of Joel’s hand is suddenly curling up inside you, hitting places you forgot had existed. Places your own fingers can’t even reach. He moves in and out gently. Your body stiffens right as you’re about to let go. You hear Joel mumbling words of encouragement, plenty of them including “babygirl,” as you cum all over his couch, your arousal trickling down the back of your thighs and sticking to the fabric.

Joel follows you soon after. He takes your slick from his finger, using it as lube for his cock. He mutters obscenities as you watch him orgasm, long liquid ropes splattering in the palms of his hands. He breathes heavily in the afterglow, looking up at you to grin. 

“How was that, babygirl?”

You nod, your brain still thinking of his fingers, his cock, his mouth, his everything, unable to find the words you’re looking for. Joel stands up and walks to the kitchen.

You begin looking around for your clothing, not remembering where you had tossed it during all of the commotion. You hear the kitchen sink running as you pull on your underwear, reaching for your shorts next. Once you’re fully dressed again, you make your way to the record player on the other side of the living room and flip the vinyl to the next side. Trying to find excuses to stay a little longer in case he wants you to leave. Your heart sinks, hoping that’s not the case. Hoping you’re more than just material to jack off to.

To your surprise, Joel’s arms wrap around you from behind, and he leans down to kiss you.

“You don’t have anywhere to be, right?” his voice is a little wobbly. You wonder what he’s got to be nervous about. If anything, you feel like you should be the anxious one.

“I was hoping to stay for a while. If that’s okay,” you answer, turning around to face him.

“Good,” his smile is genuine, warm. “I was plannin’ on takin’ you to see the stars.”

—

When dusk rolls around, Joel leads you to his truck. He holds the door open for you as you settle into the passenger seat with plastic bags filled to the brim with snacks and drinks. You set them on the floorboard and put on your seatbelt as Joel sits down next to you in the driver’s seat. You’re looking through your phone for songs to play on your mini-road trip when you receive a call.

“Shit, it’s my dad,” you mutter, eyes darting between the “Answer” and “Decline” icons on your screen. You never told your parents where you were headed when you left this morning.

“You should tell ‘em where you are,” Joel suggests, turning the key in the ignition to start the vehicle.

“You gotta help me then,” you respond, your eyes full of fear. You aren’t sure how your parents would react if they were to find out you spent the day messing around with their longtime friend. And even though you’re an adult who is capable of making her own decisions, even if that includes developing a relationship with an older man, you're still afraid of their reactions.

“‘Course I will, babygirl,” Joel grips your thigh as you tap on the “Answer” icon.

“Hello?” you try to remain cool and collected when you pick up the phone.

“Honey, where have you been? Your mom and I have been worried sick,” your dad’s voice echoes through the speaker.

“I know, I’m sorry. I lost track of time,” you explain. Not totally a lie. You just won’t tell him what you spent your time doing.

“Where are you?” your dad asks.

You glance at Joel, your eyes pleading for help.

“Don’t worry, she’s with me,” Joel answers. “Found her a temporary job while she’s lookin’.”

“Joel, is that you?” your dad’s voice is drenched in confusion, “What did you find for her to do?”

“Figured she could organize my paperwork and my blueprints,” Joel says calmly. Your eyes light up as you remember Joel’s carpentry business. It’s a good cover.

“Yeah, he needs all the help he can get,” you add with a grin. Joel smiles back at you.

Your dad lets out a sigh of relief, “That’s mighty kind of you, Joel. Just make sure she’s not out too late.”

“Dad, I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m in good hands with… Mr. Miller,” you remark.

“I know, I know. We’ll see you when you get home,” your dad says and the call ends.

You stare at your phone, wondering how the hell you just pulled that off.

“You know, you’re gonna have to actually work for me now,” Joel teases you as he backs the truck out of the driveway, turning onto the street.

“I don’t know, seems like a lot of effort. What exactly do I get out of it?” you joke back at him.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Joel chuckles, his hand reaching for yours as he drives toward the highway.

—

An hour later, you’re fifty miles outside of Austin. On the way to your destination, Joel tells you about this river with beachside parking that’s great for stargazing. It’s hard to focus on the conversation when his fingers are interlaced with yours. Those same fingers that were touching you just hours earlier. You snap back to reality when Joel squeezes your hand.

It’s pitch black when you pull into the parking lot at the river. The sky is littered with stars and planets and the blinking lights of airplanes flying overhead. Just begging for you to see what wonders it holds.

You climb into the bed of Joel’s truck, laying on your back. You forget about how uncomfortable it is when Joel joins you, his arm wrapping around you.

“See that one right there? That’s Jupiter,” he whispers, his scruff grazing your ear.

“How do you know?” you squint your eyes, trying to see it a little better. A bright blue glowing dot in the nighttime sky. Millions of miles away from you.

“Looked it up before we came here. Wanted to impress you,” Joel sheepishly admits.

Your heart skips a beat as the two of you continue to look up into the atmosphere.

“You know,” Joel breaks the silence, “It’s been about ten years since I last saw you. We got a lot to catch up on.”

“Well, we’ve got all the time in the world now,” you lean over and kiss his nose. It’s hard to see in the dark, but you swear his face briefly turned red.

You nod at one of the clusters of stars in the sky and ask, “Which one is that?”

“Which one? Hard to see with all of ‘em so close together.”

“That one riiiight there,” you smirk, your finger pointing at a star at the very edge of the cluster. All by its lonesome.

“Don’t know,” Joel laughs, “Maybe that could be our star.”

“I like the sound of that,” you murmur, cuddling closer to him.

—

You spend your days at Joel’s house. He actually puts you to work organizing his carpentry blueprints and filing business paperwork. But, it’s easy and you’re grateful for something to keep you busy. Spending time in Joel’s presence is an added bonus.

It’s been a few weeks since you watched each other. Glimpses of that moment keep swirling around in your mind. You try to focus on alphabetizing Joel’s client list, but all you can think about is the way his hand wrapped around his cock. Sliding up and down his length. You think about how you wish that was your hand instead. You wonder what his skin feels like, you wonder what it tastes like, you wonder what it would feel like inside of you—

“You workin’ hard or hardly workin’?” Joel’s voice disrupts your impure daydreams and you nearly jump out of your seat.

“I’m almost done,” you stammer, spinning around in your chair to face Joel. He’s standing just inside the doorframe of the home office. He’s covered in dirt and sawdust and sweat.

“Gonna take a shower. You wanna hang out when you’re done?” he looks at you expectantly.

You’ve been skipping dinner with your parents a few nights a week to “hang out” with Joel. Which entails making out on his couch, your hands traveling across each other’s clothed bodies, kisses on cheeks and necks and shoulders. Every night, you pray that it leads to something more.

“If you wanna hang out, I’ll be free,” you can feel your face burn, wondering if he has anything special in mind for the two of you tonight. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“Good. Got a surprise for you.”

Or maybe it’s not.

—

“We’re here,” Joel puts the truck in park, glancing over at you with an enthusiastic expression.

“A record store?” your face is planted against the glass window of the truck as you marvel at the flashing neon “open” sign hanging on the shop door.

“Thought maybe we could pick out some new albums together,” Joel runs his fingers through his hair, “Since you like my record player so much.”

You beam at him and lean across the console of the truck to hug him. He seems surprised, but returns your embrace, his hand rubbing your back.

“Come on, let’s go!” you break away from him and push open the truck door. Joel scurries after you.

The inside of the store is filled with racks and shelves. The vinyl records are organized by genre, mostly in alphabetical order. A little anarchy seems to exist in certain sections, but what you’re focused on is rock. The bridge that connects you and Joel.

You thumb through the albums whose artists start with the letter “N,” already knowing exactly what you’re looking for. Joel joins you, amusement dancing across his face as he watches you.

“Oh my god, they have it!” you exclaim, carefully sliding a record out from the batch before you.

“What’s that?” Joel scrunches his eyes as you show him the cover.

“Only one of the most monumental albums in history! It’s from when Nirvana played acoustic versions of their songs live on MTV,” you explain quickly, your excitement growing.

“Were you even alive back then?” Joel teases, scanning a stack of records in front of him.

“Can we get it, Joel? Please?” you bat your eyelashes, fully prepared to go all doe-eyed in the case that he tells you to put it back.

“Only if we can get this,” he says, holding up a dark pink album cover with hands and arms reaching up to the text of the band’s name.

“Pearl Jam? You still listen to them?” you smile, remembering that Joel had given you a burned copy of one of their albums when you were in high school. You don’t remember ever listening to it, but now you hope you have it packed away somewhere in one of the moving boxes in your bedroom.

“‘Course I do. You think I’m old or somethin’?”

“You’re not that old,” you playfully punch his arm.

You feel the urge to say something. You’re not sure if the two of you are there yet, but you want to see how he reacts. See if this is going where you think it might be. Better to figure it out now than get your heart broken later on down the line.

“This is probably the best second date ever,” you confess hesitantly.

Joel looks surprised, but not startled. He takes your hand, leading you to the cash register.

“‘Probably?’ Anything I can do to make it the best second date ever?” he asks, a small grin appearing on his face.

“I’m sure you can think of something,” you smirk, relief washing over you.

—

Once you get back to Joel’s house, you kick off your shoes in front of the door, making your way to the living room. It’s late and you should be home by now. Your parents are probably worried. You know you should hurry home. But, you have to arrange the albums perfectly. You decide to organize Joel’s existing pile into alphabetical order after he admitted to you that he normally leaves the records lying around when he’s not listening to them.

After spending a few minutes getting everything systematized, you finally place Nirvana and Pearl Jam next to each other in the stack, standing back to admire your handiwork. Ever since you lost your job, you’ve been feeling like you don’t have control over anything. But, at least Joel lets you have this with his albums and his paperwork. A little bit of calm amidst turbulence. 

“It’s gettin’ late,” Joel is standing behind you now, “You should probably head home.”

“Yeah,” you respond somewhat sullenly. Spending time with Joel has recently become the highlight of your days. You always manage to find reasons to stay. Because leaving is the hardest part.

“Unless…” Joel begins.

You turn around, your eyes darting between his face and his hands.

“Unless what?” you ask.

Joel’s hand reaches up. He tips your chin as he leans in to kiss you. The press of his lips is soft, doting, sweet. You ache for more. You always do. With him, it’s never enough.

“Can I touch you, babygirl?” he asks between bated breaths. Pulling away, he looks into your eyes. Waiting for your confirmation.

“Please,” you whimper, “Please touch me.”

Joel guides you to the couch, gesturing for you to lay down. You shimmy out of your pants and underwear, letting them pool onto the floor. As soon as you’re on your back against the cushions, Joel climbs on top of you. His kisses are ravenous as he nibbles your collar bones, leaving his mark for you to see, to admire later on when you’re alone.

“You ready?” his hand moves from playing with your breast to just below your belly. He hovers over your sex, waiting for you to give him the word.

“I’m ready.”

“If you don’t wanna do this anymore, you tell me to stop. Okay?” Joel refuses to break eye contact with you until you nod. 

His middle finger easily penetrates you and slips inside your body. A gasp evades your throat and you arch your back. Joel begins to move slowly, his calloused fingertip hitting your sweet spot just right.

“How’s that feel, babygirl?” he asks, kissing your jaw.

“So fucking good,” you murmur, focusing on the pleasure being transmitted from your core to your limbs to your brain to your teeth to your toes.

“Want another one?”

He certainly doesn’t have to ask twice because you’re wildly nodding, silently begging and pleading for more.

“You let me know if it hurts,” Joel adds another finger, sliding deep inside you, pumping in and out a little bit faster now.

“So, so good,” you can already feel your orgasm building, climbing up from deep down inside your depths.

“I know, babygirl, you’re so fucking wet. Just imagine how wet and tight you’ll be when I finally fuck you,” he cooes.

“I want you so bad, Joel,” you whine, panting faster as your body exudes your satisfaction.

“Soon, babygirl, soon. Just focus right here, right here on my fingers. Cum for me.”

And you do. You cum all over the couch, liquid dripping from between your legs. Joel fucks you through it, slowing down once you’ve reached the end. He gently removes his fingers from your pussy, holding them up to his mouth. He sucks on them and you feel desire rise up inside you again. You want him so bad. You feel insatiable.

“You taste so good, babygirl,” he leans down and kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Can… Can I touch you?” The words barrel past your lips.

Joel sits up, leaning back against the couch. He unzips his jeans, reaching into his boxers. He eases his cock out. It’s already hard, waiting just for you.

“Come here,” he smiles.

You suddenly sit up, leaning against him. Your hand makes contact with him. The skin is soft and smooth. Just like you had imagined it.

It’s been a long time since you’ve touched another person. So, you mimic what he had done a few weeks earlier. You start out slow, your hand gliding up and down his shaft. You glance up at him to gauge his reaction. Joel is breathing deeply, his eyes closed. Focusing all on you.

“How does it feel?” you question him, your hand moving a little faster now.

“Feels good, babygirl,” he murmurs. His head tilts toward you, his kisses along your neck are driven by desire and lust.

“Bet it would feel better if my pussy was wrapped around you,” you purr mischievously.

That gets a groan out of Joel. His sighs are getting shorter, raspier. He must be reaching the edge.

“You got a mouth on you, you know that?” he teases.

You hurry your hand’s pace, hoping to help Joel arrive at his climax. Your thumb grazes the head of his cock, you can feel arousal dribbling out.

“Doin’ such a good job for me,” Joel moans, “You’re gonna make me cum, babygirl.”

You stroke faster as he releases into your hand, covering your palm in a sticky, ropy substance. You slow down, kissing him on the cheek.

Then you climb into Joel’s lap, holding him close to you. Your chests rising and falling as one. You spend several moments like this. Just existing. Together. Joel’s fingers interlace with yours, combining each other’s fluids.

“I don’t wanna go,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to,” his lips brush against you, “Stay here with me for a little while.”

A little while turns into several hours. Time spent kissing and listening to music and dancing in the living room. You sneak back into your bedroom after 4 a.m. You’re careful not to wake your parents. You wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain the bruises on your skin, the pounding in your chest, the yearning in your heart.

You fall asleep thinking about how losing your job and moving back home originally felt like a death sentence. But, now with Joel, it feels like the beginning of a new life.

And there’s so much yet to experience.

—

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

Twinning

Panda’s Notes: Started this one in August last year. Could be wishful thinking, but I hope the boys get along when it's all over. Hope you guys like it. >w<

[Ao3] || [Commissions] || [Ko-fi]

Miles Morales was down in the garage hidden below his uncle’s apartment. He nodded along to the beat coming through his headphones, humming the tune as he dismantled a motorcycle that he’d swiped after a fight with some cartel goons. If he took it apart fast enough, he wouldn’t have to tell his uncle how he’d gotten it back to base. He’d drained the gas and oil already, and he’d trashed most of the outer casings—If he wanted decorative junk, he could hit the body shop whenever—now, he was ripping the engine apart, switching between the wrenches and screwdrivers laid out beside him by just the feel of the handles.

He might have ignored his phone buzzing the first time. If it didn’t ring, it wasn’t his mom, and it wasn’t a worry. When it buzzed a fourth time within 20 minutes, he realized something was probably happening. He sucked his teeth as he wiped his hands down; the bike wasn’t exactly ripped up enough to say he’d gotten it from the scrapyard, but it would have to do if someone was looking for him. He tossed the towel aside and picked up his phone, tapping in his code and glancing the newest notifications—What the hell…?

Aaron: [Ayo, come get your cousin] Aaron: [He gettin on my last nerve] Me: [my wat]

His uncle didn’t respond. At least, he didn’t respond fast enough for the new rush of confusion that was filling Miles’ head. He grabbed his jacket and took the stairs two at a time. He was joking; he had to be. Right? Seriously… But, even then, who the hell would it be dropping in without giving Aaron time to…warn… him…?

Hm…

When he got up to the apartment, he might have slipped into Prowler mode without meaning to. Time slowed to a crawl, and all of the world became that one instant as he took in every altered piece of the room he could: There were two pizza boxes and a box of soda cans on the table beside the window. He didn’t recognize the brands on either of them. The punching bag was hoisted higher off the floor than he remembered, and the record player was spinning another old R&B track.

“Tio?” He called, slowly stepping forward. “Uncle Aaron!”

“Yeah, man?” His gaze whipped to the couch, and Aaron was just…there. He sat on the couch, using a game controller to beckon Miles closer as he sipped from a cup. “You good?”

Miles pouted, and his uncle smirked slightly; Aaron knew it would take nothing short of a bomb going off to pull him away from whatever thing he was tinkering with if he was in the garage. It wouldn’t be the first time a metaphorical one was used, but he hadn’t thought Aaron would lie to him like this.

“M’fine.” Miles insisted with a huff, reaching to close the door. “The hell was that text though? Just because I’m busy doesn’t mean you have t—”

The second the door clicked shut, Miles thought he heard a step behind him. Before he could spin around, he was bear-hugged from behind and lifted up. His legs flailed as he shouted, and he tried to swing his head back against whoever held him.

“Happy to see you too, tough guy.” Miles recognized that voice, and all the panic transformed into that funny emotion smack between relief and incomparable rage.

Of course it was him.

He heaved a sigh before muttering several strings of Spanish curses under his breath, and Aaron laughed a bit as he looked back at them.

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

“So, this is my cousin now?” Miles—um, Earth-42 Miles? Uh, 42? Sure—42 asked in a huff once all three of them were on the couch with pizza on paper plates and colored cups filled with ice and soda.

Miles—1610 Miles. Yes, it was his turn with his own name—smirked around a bite of pizza and reached behind their uncle’s head to push him lightly. “Picking up a lot of attitude toward the guy who brought you free lunch.”

42 slapped his hand away, hiding the little grin on his face with his cup. “Nobody invited your sneaky ass to crawl all over our ceiling.”

“Uh, my ceiling? Thank you.” Aaron interjected, reaching back to smack both of their arms from behind his head. “And you left your little communicator up here when you went down to work. I told him he could drop in.”

“Ugggh, why?” 42 put on the most exaggerated tone, unable to resist the grin that took over his face as Aaron and Miles gave him almost matching looks. “You know I can’t stand him.”

Aaron just shrugged, and Miles put on that offended look. “He had pizza. And you needed to get out of that garage. I know you skipped breakfast this morning.”

42 was about to argue when Miles butt in. “Oho, you skipped breakfast?! I know Mami was pissed.”

“Best believe. She texted me probably the second he left.” Aaron gently elbowed 42’s side. “She knew you were coming over; you don’t got anywhere better to be? No cute little dates with that Ganke boy?”

Miles nearly choked as 42 tried to shout over both of them. “You’re dating Ganke?!”

“Ey, ey, ey! We—ugh! We haven’t put labels on it yet, alright?!” He insisted, blushing madly. “What’s it to you anyway, you ain’t met him!”

“Dude, I have a Ganke; he’s my roommate at school. My best friend.”

“Ew, you live in one of those shoebox rooms? Could not be me.”

“Deflecting!” Miles pointed aggressively and laughed around some comments in broken Spanish while 42 sipped smugly and looked away.

“What about you though? You kissed your boy yet?” Aaron asked without looking at either of them.

42 coughed hard as Miles balked. “Aaron!!” It was almost eerie how their voices were exactly the same sometimes. Aaron just snickered, tossing his game controller casually onto the table.

“Ya’ll do a lot of bickering for supposedly being the same person.” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

42 rolled his eyes, wiping the side of his mouth. “Please. I’m still not convinced it’s not some kind of bullshit half the time. As if I’m anything like this goody-two-shoes dork.”

Miles snorted, crossing his arms. “Is that really all you got, eh? Disney channel lookin’ ass.”

“You wanna fuckin’ go, cuz?” 42 pulled his legs up onto the couch, attempting to lunge at Miles when Aaron caught him around the waist. He flailed for a moment, and Miles sneered. “Ay, let me go; the punk has it coming anyw—Wait, wait, don’t you dare!”

Aaron had shifted one hand, letting his fingers crawl gently on the back of 42’s ribs just below his shoulder blades. And Miles’ face lit up in shock as his doppelganger fell into near-hysterical laughter.

“No way, seriously?!” He snorted, and Aaron gave a slight smirk as he tried to keep his flailing nephew from squirming away from him.

“Oh, you’re surprised?” He chuckled, scribbling up between 42’s shoulders and pulling him close before he could flail his shrieky self onto the floor. “His mom always called it—”

“Angel Wings!” Miles said at the same time as Aaron, laughing softly as his eyes lit up at the memory. “Man, I can’t believe it; that never worked on me.”

42 glared at both of them as he was more or less dropped back onto the couch cushion, and Miles couldn’t tell if it was just anger or a sort of envy. “Bullshit. You have to be fuckin’ lying.”

“Pfft, well—” Miles stammered a bit, looking away in slight embarrassment. “Not half as bad as it gets you, clearly—Hey!” He dodged to one side as an unopened soda can launched past his head, barely managing to snag it with his web shooter before it hit something.  

“’Ey, chill.” Aaron said lightly, sneaking another tickle on 42’s back as he wrapped his arm around him. “Wildin’ out all the time… Staying in that garage all day is not helping you relax.”

“I don’t need to relax!” 42 barked out suddenly, only to cringe and cross his arms as he pouted. He took a few deep breaths, sighing when Aaron pat him on the head.

“Somethin’ you need to talk about?”

42 glanced between the two of them, and Miles leaned slightly to see his face. He let out a final sigh and shook his head. “Just stressed…” He admitted with a shrug. “Tired, maybe?”

Aaron hummed, nodding as he squeezed 42’s shoulder.

Miles let out a sigh of his own, setting down his cup before resting his chin on one hand. “Think we should call Ganke to cuddle with you?” He asked gently, letting the smirk grow on his face at the incredulous look 42 gave him.

“Nah, yeah, that’s three strikes.” Aaron chuckled, shrugging when Miles balked. “You can kill him.”

42 sneered, and Miles flailed slightly, about to run off when Aaron sneakily grabbed his ankle. His escape was disrupted just enough that 42 was able to tackle him off of the couch. They wrestled for a moment, with Miles quickly gaining the upper hand with his Spider strength…right up until 42 shoved his hands under Miles’ arms. Miles shrieked, pulling his arms in tight and kicking against the floor as he cackled. 42 balked for a second, his eyes and smile brightening.

“No fuckin’ way; you were actually right, you little shit.” He laughed, pressing his thumbs into Miles’ ribs.

“I-I’m taller than you!” Miles managed out between his laughter.

“You—!”

Aaron chuckled as Miles squealed, and he grabbed his game controller again while they fought. It wasn’t much of a fight for long—one of them did have super-strength, after all—but it was nice that his nephews were finally having fun.

[pixiemage]

Welp time to prepare my grave for laughter. Wonder what my stone would say.

Maybe Here Lies Ravio, They Died of Laughter.

The original context of this ask was in response to a confirmation that I'd be writing a THIRD chapter for These Small Hours, the first two parts of which can be found HERE and HERE. So uh...hah...how about that third chapter, huh? ^^;;

[This work can also be found on Archive of Our Own]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In Cahoots

For a brief few moments, Jimmy was swayed by the hopeful belief that he would manage to return to Bad Boy Manor without Grian or Joel being any the wiser. The sun wasn’t too high in the sky and Grian had yet to drop any messages in chat checking to see how long he needed to wait before restarting everyone’s timers (which were strange in their own right, as they certainly were not running at normal speed; if they had been then half of their time would have ticked down by now - but Jimmy wasn’t awake enough to ponder that at the moment). So with no sign of him in chat, there was a chance Grian was still asleep, and even if he was awake he may have assumed Jimmy was off collecting resources or…something. There was a chance he was under the impression that Jimmy hadn’t actually been gone all night but instead had woken early and left for a while.

And Joel - well, Joel wasn’t exactly a morning person, something which Etho had teased him for during one or two server meetings while in Double Life. Joel could still be asleep even if Grian wasn’t…unless Grian had woken him up, of course. But even if Jimmy had left TIES’ base later than planned, it was still early. Joel wouldn’t be awake enough to question where Jimmy might have been. Right?

So Jimmy scaled the uneven terrain of the burned mansion shell with that thought in mind, treading quietly and wincing at every creaking unstable wooden plank. He willed his wings to stay still enough to avoid rustling in the morning air and he hoisted himself up over the edge of the roof…and froze.

Where Grian and Joel had been sleeping the evening prior, there was no sign they’d been there at all. Their makeshift sleeping arrangements were tidied up and packed away. They were both awake.

But that didn’t mean anything, right? They wouldn’t assume anything. They had no reason to. Right?

Jimmy forced himself to act casual - or as casually as he could manage - as he crossed to the farmland they’d built up on the large lower portion of the roof. He tugged a few tufts of grown wheat free from the earth and he was halfway through replanting them when someone cleared their throat nearby.

Jimmy jerked, his wings fluffing in an instant, and he spun on his heels to try and spot the intruder.

“Where’ve you been, Tim?”

Jimmy’s eyes snapped upward and he blanched. Up there, with his sneaker-clad feet hanging over the edge of the upper roof, sat Grian, his eyes narrowed and a smirk threatening to come to life on his face. Beside him Joel was crouching as well, a wicked little grin tugging at his lips and a diamond sword hanging from one hand. He was most definitely awake, then.

“Er…sorry?” Jimmy blurted out, his voice higher than he wished it was. His grip tightened on the wheat he was still holding.

“Where were you, Tim?” Grian repeated. (For a fraction of a second Jimmy was sure he saw the man’s eyes flash purple, but it happened so quickly he couldn’t be sure. It would be a Grian move to try and use an intimidation tactic like that, wouldn’t it?) “You were gone an awfully long time, you know,” Grian carried on in a teasing drawl. He drummed his fingers against the edge of the roof. “I woke up to do some quick server maintenance in the middle of the night and - poof! No Timmy. Can you imagine how worried I’ve been?”

Oh. Oh no. Jimmy swallowed thickly, his eyes darting from Grian to Joel and back again.

“I…just went for a walk,” Jimmy tried. He twisted the wheat between his hands before letting the bundle vanish into his inventory. He shrugged. “Woke up. Couldn’t sleep. You know how it is.”

“That’s a really long walk, Jimmy,” Joel chimed in. “Innit Grian? What’d you do, get lost for over five hours?”

Grian hummed thoughtfully.

“That would be an impressive feat, getting lost on a map this small. Honestly, Tim, I knew you were bad at these games but that’s just beyond the pale.”

Jimmy’s feathers ruffled and he let out an irate twitter.

“I didn’t get lost!” he snipped. “I just needed to get some air, is all!”

“Yeah?” Joel’s grin sharpened and he leaned over to Grian. “Maybe he just needed to get some, period. How far away is Team TIES basing again…?”

Jimmy choked on air, an alarmed and airy chirp breaking free from his throat.

“Wh - JOEL! It’s not like that!”

Joel popped to his feet, pointing his sword down at Jimmy with a victorious spark in his eyes.

“Ah-HAH! So you don’t deny it! You were with Tango last night!”

Jimmy’s eyes went wide and he gaped up at them both, all words leaving him as any scrambled attempts to cover his ass would be futile now. Crap, crap, crap–

“Colluding with the enemy, are we?” Grian taunted. He leaned forward over the edge of the roof, a wicked smile splitting his face. “Conspiring even?”

“Cahoots, Grian,” Joel said. “They’re in cahoots.”

“Oh, they’re definitely in cahoots.”

“We’re not in cahoots!” Jimmy spluttered, and though he couldn’t see his own face he could feel the flush of color flooding his cheeks. His ear feathers flared and his wings fluffed, curling forward as though to hide him away from the onslaught of mockery his brother and his brother-in-law were dishing out. “It’s not - we’re not - I just–”

Grian leapt from the upper roof, his wings flaring to slow his descent, and he dropped right in front of Jimmy with a flash of mischief in his eyes that the younger avian most definitely did not like to see coming from someone as troublesome as Grian. Grian stepped into his space with that same sharp grin on his face and poked Jimmy in the chest.

“Cahoots,” he declared. “We’re not in Double Life anymore, Tim. We’re in Limited Life. And that means you’re part of the Bad Boys. You’d better not be spilling team secrets to Tango.”

“I-I’m not! I haven’t! I just - I only–”

“You just what?” Joel drawled, smirking, having dropped near Grian in the past few moments. “I just, I just, I just - spit it out, man!”

“I just missed him!” Jimmy blurted, shoving Grian’s prodding hand away. His wings were raised high behind his shoulders and his brows were knit, his face slightly flushed in embarrassment at the open admission…but he didn’t back down. He huffed, folding his arms tightly over his chest. “I missed Tango, alright? It’s nothing to do with the game. He’s been busy with Decked Out, an’ I’ve been workin’ on new lore stuff for Empires, and we haven’t seen each other. So when the clocks stopped, I…” He shrugged, his shoulders hiking up to his ears as he avoided looking at either of them. “...I snuck out to see him.” He darted his eyes to Grian, whose teasing expression was still present but a little softer than before. “We’re not on the same server, G. Not like you and Scar.”

That, at least, he knew Joel would understand, even if Joel and Etho’s soulbond during Double Life had been vastly different from Jimmy and Tango’s. While the ranchers had become romantically entwined, Etho and Joel had found themselves to be more like kindred spirits, but Jimmy hadn’t missed the quiet disappointment that had lingered around Joel when Etho didn’t arrive with the other Hermits when they crossed the rift to Empires. Grian and Scar being separated during the games wasn’t nearly so maddening because, when they weren’t on a Life server, they could still see each other any day of the week. It was just…different.

Grian huffed and gave Jimmy a friendly punch to the shoulder.

“I know that, Timmy,” he said, still teasing, though more gently this time. “Why d’you think I figured out where you’d gone? You’re unbelievably predictable.” He reached up to ruffle Jimmy’s hair, earning a yelp of protest from the flustered blond. “Just don’t get all mushy and lovey-dovey on me when we’re supposed to be playing the game. And leave a note next time you plan on vanishing, for void’s sake.”

Grian rolled his eyes and left Jimmy there by the farm, wandering off to dig through his chest for something while Joel fell into snickering laughter. Jimmy blinked owlishly at him.

“...you’re not gonna stop me from going over there?”

“What? Of course not, idiot,” Joel scoffed. “It’s just a bloomin’ game. You think I didn’t visit Lizzie all the time during Last Life? When the plot wasn’t rolling, I was off at the Fairy Fort any chance I could get.”

…oh. True. Jimmy had completely forgotten about that, in all honesty.

“Just don’t take it personally if I ever have to chop your boyfriend’s head off, alright?” Joel shrugged. He walked backward after Grian. “It’s just the game. You know how it goes.”

Jimmy let out a startled laugh, and he found he wasn’t really all that bothered by the comment. That was how the game worked. At some point there would probably come a time when he’d have to fight Tango himself…not that he was sure he’d be able to take it seriously when the time came. Ah well. That was a problem for future Jimmy.

As Jimmy went about finishing the planting he’d begun before their conversation, Grian and Joel’s voices carried over from where they were digging through their chests. Jackets, they were talking about. Leather jackets, if they could find the materials or find similar clothing in their deep inventory to pull from. Matching leather jackets, if they had the time.

“I’m sure I’ve got a leather jacket somewhere you can borrow if you wanna look the part,” Tango had said, Jimmy recalled, down on the beach the night before. And though it may have been a joke at the time, Jimmy had half a mind to ask Tango if the offer was still open. He could match his teammates if Grian and Joel were as serious about the jacket thing as they seemed to be…and, if Tango really did have a jacket that would fit Jimmy, then he could carry a piece of his soulmate with him despite them being on opposing teams.

It was a nice thought. Jimmy smiled softly to himself. Like getting a hug from Tango even when he wasn’t around. Yeah…he’d definitely have to ask about that later.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N:If y'all haven't seen the matching jackets, you need to see the matching jackets. I refuse to believe that Jimmy got it anywhere but Tango, for fluff purposes. Also I'm glad I managed to get this out before tomorrow, because I have no idea what might transpire during tomorrow's upload lmao...anything could happen!]

[unboundtravels]

SHORT TRIPS; UNBOUNDNOVEMBER 23/23: VALE

In the 25th century, The Doctor faces off against The Daleks one last time.

Featuring additions made by @vonerde

The War’s not over, yet.

As much as he wishes it was, it isn’t. Even after all this time, they always survive. After everything he’s lost, everything he’s fought for. The only thing he thought the endless sacrifices were good for, was that at the very least… The Daleks were dead and gone. Sure, there was the odd survivor here, the wounded soldier there, but that’s all there was. Remenants, scattered traces of what once was. Memories. 

Two Billion Daleks currently orbit the broken remains of Earth in the 25th century. At the very top of that food chain lies the worst of the worst of them. The Dalek Emperor. Histories collide again on this day, as both The Dalek Emperor and The Doctor had been present at the beginning… when he’d been sent back to avert their creation. Only to fail miserably. The Drone who’d shot the creator, the father, went on to wear the crown himself. Shakespeare in Dalek form, he’d always thought.

He thought he’d seen the last of The Emperor on the final day of The Time War. His flagship had been destroyed, his daleks had been crushed. Yet here they stood, an army built out of the bones of humanity. Only one atom in a trillion was fit to be nurtured by The Emperor. That was what he’d said. They were abominations, half human Daleks driven mad by their own flesh. By the years of isolation under the mad king. 

He’d sent Gaia away, already. He’d had no choice. “Get me that thing I have in the console,” He’d said— before sending her away. He knew he couldn’t let The Emperor have The TARDIS, and he knew that if The Daleks’ had found Gaia, the power they could get from harvesting just a single drop of her blood could spread chaos all across the universe. Perhaps more then in just a metaphorical sense, too. 

Right now, he was assembling something he’d wished he’d never have to assemble— a delta wave. A subatomic pulse, boosted by the power of the space station The Daleks are currently slaughtering their way through. One push of the trigger will activate a pulse that’ll engulf the earth. Instant lobotomization of every living thing within it’s radius. Genocide. He had tried to reel in the range of the wave— but he didn’t have the time. He barely had the time to assemble the delta wave— but he’d manage to pull it off. 

Suddenly, the doors blow off their hinges. Smoke fumes in from the doorways, legions upon legions of Bronze Daleks entering as The Doctor scuttles to his feet near the trigger of the Delta Wave. Sweat is matting his forehead. Classic Daleks with Jean? They were no sweat, they were pushovers. He was composed, then. Time War Daleks? Just one of them could wipe out an entire planet, an entire solar system. An army of them had him erratic. The emperor, who’d hijacked every screen he could find— a legion of eyes staring at him.

“NOBODY MOVE!!!” He shouts, his voice almost tearing in his throat as it echoes through the control room, his fingers tightening around the trigger, “If any of you PEPPERPOTS think about moving even an inch closer to me, I’ll turn you all into SPACE DUST!!!” He doesn’t know if he’s ever been this angry before. He’s not angry. He’s afraid. He wants himself to see red so this can be easier. He’s shaking.

None of the Daleks are moving, every eyestalk is staring at him. His eyes are flickering across the room, and he’s unable to stare at anyone in particular before the emperor’s voice suddenly speaks quietly toward him.

“Then do it.”

Silence. The Doctor swallows thickly before blinking in surprise.

“It’d kill you, you’d die with it. Don’t tempt your own fate—” “I am the blessed King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality.”

“I will never die.” The Emperor says, and The Doctor can feel it reverberate throughout his entire body, “Then why? Why do you want me to push this button? You know I’ve done it before!” He has, on the day he wiped out all his friends, all his family, all his people. Stella. They’re all gone. He wraps his hands around the trigger, ready to wipe out every single last Dalek off the face of the maP… but they want that, don’t they?

“I want to see you become like me. To curse and sin upon the canvas of this portrait, to leave the same stains that I and my children leave.” He seems triumphant, declaring The Doctor’s new title with grandiose. 

“HAIL THE DOCTOR. THE GREAT EXTERMINATOR.” The Emperor declares, “Which face will you wear today, demon? Coward or Killer?” 

His blood’s never ran this cold before. His stare goes absent for a minute, as he feels thousands of eyes on him. All he can hear right now is the sound of his own heartbeat. This is the kind of man he is, now, isn’t it? The man who walked away from the Time War soaked in the blood of two races. He thought his journey through life since then was to step out of the shadow… but maybe he never wanted to. Maybe he liked having that victory over his enemies so dearly that he enjoyed any opportunity to take it back.

You would make a Good Dalek. The first words spoken by a survivor, back before he had this face. It had shocked him then. It shocked him now. The Doctor’s hands were clammy, his breath shaking before he eventually takes his hands off the device, stepping away. His hearts in his ears, as if the choice to stand by his morality is harder then killing the rest of The Dalek Empire. It really is, though. Isn’t it? Killing is easy. It’s why The Daleks exist.

“...Coward.” He decides, then and there. “I’d rather be a coward.”

“The Bulk of Humanity will be harvested. My choir will sing across the cosmos. It will be on you.”

“...You can’t win ‘em all.”

That’s what’s been following him around, all this time, wasn’t it? His song. His chapter. It’s all going to end soon. He’s going to die. Maybe he should just embrace it, and he inhales deeply, realizing now that’s just so tired. He shrugs lightly.

“What’s to become of me, then? Am I worthy enough for a pair of wings?” Sarcasm, even till the end. “You are my greatest sin. I will be rid of you on this day.”

“You keep talking and talking.”

At the very least, he won’t give them the satisfaction of eye contact. He closes his eyes and holds his breath, hearing every twitch of the gunstick. 

Until he was suddenly blown off his feet by the powerful sensation behind him. The Blue Box unnaturally returning to where it had been before he’d sent it away. The Doctor turned away in shock as it fully solidified. The Daleks backing away in fear as The Emperor screaming out, “YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE, DOCTOR!” All the while, The Timelord’s face was filled with confusion.

With a powerful blast of raw energy would the blue doors of the TARDIS fly open. Dark brown hair coursed through the air like tendrils, agitated by the newfound power that found home within her. It felt like a rush when she looked into it. When she saw it all. Memories of the past she didn't know and visions of a future she couldn't know spread through her mind like a wildfire, consuming everything in its wake. The burning sensation that ensued began at the base of her neck, struggling down her spine until she felt something awaken. Energy that had been long deemed forgotten bloomed within her like the first flower after a harsh winter. 

Azure eyes were drowned out in the light that escaped from her orifices, transforming her into a being that might resemble Gaia in appearance but differed greatly from the way that she carried herself. She observed the scene unfolding before her, gaze trailing from the Doctor to the bronze Daleks surrounding him. And finally, her eyes met that of the Emperor. Almost agonizingly slow would she raise her arm, index finger pointing at the screen with her facial features unchanged. 

"YOU." 

Her voice was no longer soft, echoing from every conceivable direction and penetrating the senses of each being able to perceive this display of cosmic power. 

"I am your end. You shall no longer harm." 

The Squid on the screen trembled slightly, not of fear but of anger. His singular, mutated eye squinted in at The Abomination before him, his voice boomed in offense over her threats. Though he did not attribute them to anything, despite the power he bore witness too. 

“Only I will decide the end!! I am The TRUE GOD OF ALL LIFE!!!”

But The Doctor spoke first before either of them could. He moved to sit up, having been blown onto the ground from The Goddess’ emergence. 

“Gaia!!” He spoke out, concern spread over his face. All priorities had shifted toward what was happening to her. What had she done?! His voice is so soft, and he almost reaches out to touch her, but the heat of her power causes him to hesitate. “What did you do..?”

Her gaze remained fixated on the twitching squid shown on the screen before them before violently ripping itself from it. With a crack of her neck would she angle her head towards the ground where The Doctor was kneeling. Her features softened and for a split second, it seemed like something within her eyes shifted. Grief. Anger. Fear. A mixture of it all was displayed upon her face as she answered to his desperate pleas. "I looked into the TARDIS." Her voice was gentle. "It showed me everything . . ." 

And now he looked at her with fear. Not out of fear of her, though— but for her. He reached out again, desperate to hold her— but the energy that was coursing through her caused his hand to recoil when he touched her, palm littered with burns as he fell back a bit, but scurried back onto his knees—

“Gaia— No!” As if it was wrong of her to do something like that, “That’s time! Time and Space! Your past and future are running through your mind right now! Everything you ever were and will be! And for someone like you, that’s—” Now there were tears, “Why would you do that?” 

"Because I have to do it." Her eyes softened more and perhaps, if she could at this very moment, tears would spill from her lashes. But she can't. Not right now. She has to be strong. She has to let this burning feeling consume her until he is saved. "I have to save you. I saw . . . " Lips quiver, canines sinking into the plush flesh until she was sure to taste blood. "I have to do this, Doctor." 

“This is an abomination. The Snake within my garden.” The Emperor decrees, one of his drones aiming their gunstick at the goddess, “EXTERMINATE!!” The Drone cries out, “DEATH TO THE FALSE GOD.” It cries out as a ray of blue energy fires out at her.

Immediately, her neck cracks back to face forward, features freezing in the icy depths of the power that was encapsulating her soul. One of her hands shoots up, creating an impenetrable barrier between herself and the undeniable fatal shot that would have awaited her. 

"You have no power here." 

“YOU CANNOT HURT ME.” The Emperor protested, “I AM EVERLASTING.”

"SILENCE!"

Gaia's voice bounces off the walls like a stray bullet, finding its target immediately in the crevices of their rotten flesh. "Your imitation displeases me." Her voice softens, unneeding of the previous edge. She knew that her existence alone would cut through his mutated muscle like a warm unsharpened knife through butter. Without hesitating any longer or entertaining its spiel, the divinity would raise her arms letting the energy course through every inch of her. It would know its target when it found one. 

"I shall show you what a real god can do." 

And so, it was done. The raw energy fell from its mortal vessel into the air, spreading like vines throughout the atmosphere until it found its victims. Like a cluster of serpents would they infiltrate the metal casing of the Daleks, penetrating the mutated flesh of its operator. The power was uncaring for any resistance or cries, seeking carnage. Seeking release in the grotesque muscle that felt as resistant as a leaf as it pierced through, relishing in the squelching of meat as it had no other choice but to give into her demands. Slowly would it impose its own rules upon the mutants, releasing energy into their wounds not meant for their degraded selves. 

The power took root within them, letting them feel the power of the wild for one split second before it ripped through their bodily tissue. Green vines sprouted from every inch, growing and growing without an end in sight. It would not stop. No, they had to be fully consumed by nature. They should be honored to become a vessel of it, overgrowing the mutated flesh until the metal casing of the daleks popped open. A cacophony of raking vines penetrating every inch of tissue and horrid screams filled the air and yet, the goddess would not flinch. She would not even blink. Her eyes were permanently glued to the grotesque gore before her, feeling the power slip into something darker before the vines started to wither away. It would take the daleks with them. The rot would fill up their bodies, crevices teeming with black ooze as it slowly drowned them in their own decaying fluids. 

“I… WILL NOT… DIEEEEEEEEEEEEE—” 

It was like one last cry of desperation before he is torn apart by the roots that Gaia imbued into him and his children. Ripping apart and withering, choking the life from the Emperor before the saucers surrounding and housing the many Daleks within them began to crash into each other, for they had no one left to pilot them— a series of explosions around the moon made it look like there were fireworks. The Doctor, even though he could not see the chaos, could visualize it thanks to the rumbling in the station. His eyes took in the chaos, seeing how she was continuing to wither them into dust.

“Gaia.” He spoke now, trying to reach out to her, “Listen to me, you need to stop now.” He tried now to get back up onto his feet but felt crushed by the weight of the room. The power that was flowing from her was more than anyone in their right mind could handle, even her. “You’re going to burn! Your mind! It can’t handle all this power!”

The goddess feels relief coursing through her veins whilst listening to the last cry of the Emperor, though, her facial features barely show it. She cranes her neck towards the Doctor once again, gaze softening as she listens to his desperation. "I was always going to burn, Doctor." She says, tears brimming her lashes as she feels herself gaining more control of her body. "It was my destiny. This is how I save you… How I save everyone." A pause. "I was born for this." 

“No!” He immediately protests, reaching out to her. “No, Gaia! Not like this! Never like this! You’ve got the entire time vortex running through your mind. You’re becoming the very foundation that reality is built on, and that’s not supposed to happen! You’re going to die.” 

She feels it. The finality of death rushed towards her like a train without a conductor. "Death…" The goddess repeats, eyes trailing towards her hands as they continue to glow with the blinding blue that had infected her entire being. "My head hurts, Doctor …" She whispers in a meek voice, feeling the weight of it all crash down on her. "I'm scared…I'm so scared."  

His gaze softens somewhat, “I know.” He speaks, because of course he does. They might not come from the same place, and they might have different stories— but they’re the same. He sees that in her, the same plights he faces. The curse of immortality and the endless years droning on and on. It’s hard. He stands now, on both his feet. He gets as close as he can to her, but it burns. He moves to hold her, despite it. His hair also floats somewhat, but only because he’s having a hard time standing this close to her. There are visible indications of pain from him, though. So. Dying. Like that, they meant. Okay. That’s fine.

“Let me hold you, dear.”

She feels herself slip. Not physically but mentally. A tiny smidge of freedom lingers behind those words, behind their very existence. Gaia sees the power attacking his own flesh and skin and for a brief moment, the goddess hesitates. But she feels weak against those feelings that are starting to float to the top. The tears no longer brim her lashes, instead falling freely down her cheeks as she lets herself fall into his grasp. It's an embrace that she knows. It's an embrace that she's always gonna know. 

"Thank you, Doctor . . . " A sob breaks through her words. "Thank you for being my friend." 

“It was my honor.” Truly. As if he’d do this for anyone else but her.

Lips press against hers and it feels like he’s swallowing a star. It burns, but he has to push through. He has to take the power from her and give it back to the TARDIS before he loses too much of her. So he takes it and takes it. He can feel every single cell screaming at him to stop until they’re split to the point of bursting. By the time he finishes ripping the power from her, she’s unconscious in his arms, but he continues holding her regardless.

Seeing time and space. He lives that way, constantly. So it’s nothing new, he’s simply trying to survive the experience. His body glows with an intense power, some of it from The TARDIS, some of it from Gaia. When his eyes snap open, they’re flooded with that same blue energy that game from hers, but he seems more calm and collected. He seems almost in a trance. As if obeying a silent command, the TARDIS doors open and he exhales starlight back into his ship…

Until his eyes go heavy and his skin goes pale. He almost stumbles again, but his eyes trail down toward the Goddess in his arms, and he exhales firmly. No more burns litter his body, as if they’d never been there at all. He takes another long inhale and his eyes open, flashing gold for just a moment. 

It’s starting.

The doors to the TARDIS slam shut behind him, the Police Box fading. The remains of the once great Time War being left in its wake. The howling engines echoing out quietly… 

And the goddess dreams, the whole time. Of a song that never ends.

“She’ll be fine.” The Police Box sits atop a roof in a metro area, back in the present time. The Doctor standing outside of it, hands in his pockets. “A little scatterbrained after the first couple of weeks, but she’ll be fine.” He refers to his passenger, who he’d left on the couch in the apartment of the only person he could think to take her to. “She just needs some bed rest.”

Python's gaze trails from the unconscious body of his master towards the Doctor, almost as if he couldn't believe what was happening. He hadn't seen her in so long. It felt like looking at a relic. "I understand." He presses through gritted teeth, hands steadying himself upon the railing of the roof. "And…" His attention flutters back to the other guest of his home. "What will you do now?" 

He inhales deeply, staring out at the blue sky now. Gaia’s downstairs, asleep. She probably won’t even remember what happened, but he prefers it that way. He exhales, rolling his shoulders as his hands rest in his pockets, “Collect my reward.” He mumbled quietly, fishing the key to his police box out of his TARDIS. Wordlessly, he turns away… but he stops, his eyes squinting.

“Y’know…” He turns back toward Python, tongue pressed against his cheek. “She saved the universe. Billion years from now…” He gestured to the sky, to where the moon would be if it was nighttime. “I think that’s worth a second review.” He didn’t know much about Python and Gaia’s relationship, but he knew it was strained. If he was parting from her now, the least he could do was leave a good word in for her.

Python's expression turned to one of shock at the other's words. Grey eyes widened at the revelation as his grip upon the metal railing tightened somewhat. There was a moment of silence as his gaze trailed downwards, observing strangers as they went on with their daily lives. Billions of lives . . . A small smile tugs at his lips before he raises his head to look at the Doctor once again. "That's what she does. That's what she's always done." He mumbles, feeling a memory of the past creep up on him. "She never stops helping… I don't think she would know how to." 

But then, another thought came to mind. "She will not see you again, right?" 

He squinted softly, “Maybe.” He left it vague, “I don’t really know. I hope so.” He remarked but left it brief. He hated goodbyes. The Door hung open halfway as he remained with one foot in the TARDIS and one foot outside. He gave the young man a weighted smile before his head tilted quietly.

“Goodbye, Python.”

"Goodbye, Doctor." 

Even if it was goodbye for Gaia and Python, he still had more he needed to do. People he had to see, faces he had to burn into his mind before he went. It was hard, holding back the change for as long as he was doing it. He was sure that would come back to bite him, eventually. Right now, all it was doing is causing immense pain and an increased body temperature. Sweat was slicked to his skin, and he looked so tired. He needs rest. Rest can wait, for now… he had a bucket list to cross off.

His first stop was back to the land of contrasts, where he dropped a sneaky tip off to an informant regarding Fatui movements in the area, all of it suppressed under the Tianquan’s nose. Of course, she never saw him— not until he was already back at his Police Box, giving the first face his eyes ever saw one final look and a heartfelt wave.

His next stop was a visit back to the city of freedom, to watch an old friend get sworn in as Mondstadt’s official Grand Master in place of the absent one. He watched the ceremony, and let her lock eyes with him one last time before she too, received a farewell in the form of a casual wave and a soft smile, before finally that Police Box vanished one last time. 

Though his second stop, also just so happened to be his final stop. This time, however, it was snowing. The chilly air against his burning skin helped relieve some of the tension in his body. He couldn’t be that far away from the TARDIS, because now he was having a hard time standing up. He drew his hood over his head and exhaled firmly, knowing that he couldn’t be seen. He rested in against the shadows underneath the winery… just… simply waiting.

He shouldn’t have come here. He knew he shouldn’t have. He inhaled deeply, turning back so that he could try and start his walk back to the TARDIS. Pain shoots up his side, though. It causes a small groan as he leans against the wall, holding his hip in pain as he feels his vision start to blur. He feels like he’s going to collapse, but something pierces through the noise— causing him to focus, stabilize, and shake off the pain.

“Are you alright?”

It’s her. 

She’s standing right behind him, he turns to face her— barely. He’s hidden away enough in the shadows so that he can’t be seen, his hood still drawn over his features. He chokes out words, through excruciating strain. 

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay. I… I just… had a bit too much to drink.” Hearing her voice was good enough. “Do you need any help getting home?” Instantly. Without any hesitation.

“N-No— No, I’m not that out of it… I just… I was catching my breath.”

She seems to buy that, for now, at least. She sighs, and he knows she’s smiling. “I understand, just make sure you get home safe.” She requests, and he lets out a soft sigh, “Oh… Absolutely. I’m wiped.” He laughs it off. It’s been a day. He can hear The Captain laugh about it too, only a bit more softly.

“Then I hope you sleep well, it sounds like you should rest.”

His eyes soften somewhat, and he smiles.

“I’m planning on it.”

He stands up straight, giving her a wave, “Have a goodnight, Captain Lawrence.” He turns to face her, to see her face from the shadow. That icy blue hair and those dual toned eyes. Patrolling the streets in the midnight snow because she longs for the chill of dragonspine. Only a couple of months before she’ll be sent on the mission where she’ll meet him. He hears her tell him goodnight, and he watches her go back to her patrol.

When she crosses the corner, he feels another rippel of pain shoot up his body. He keeps it more contained as to not re-alert Miss Lawrence. He starts his stumble back toward the TARDIS. He’s whimpering softly, making it around the corner. The TARDIS was only a block away, but it felt as if he had to walk the length of a football field just to get there. Just… push on… a little longer.

He makes it about half the distance before he falls onto his knees and lands on his chest. His legs have just given out, and he’s feeling the strain of having pushed his regeneration off for too long affecting him too much. Every breath is replaced with a wheeze. His head is spinning round and round as if his head’s been put into a blender.

Until that song of the universe begins to creep in, as if he can hear the atoms of the universe singing to him. A telepathic song? From across the cosmos? It feels like he’s had his telepathic range extended somewhat. A last gift from his departed cosmos? The ability to hear the universe’s lullaby? It causes him too pick himself up and carry himself onto his feet, The TARDIS within sight. Cold sweat is pouring down his forehead, but he knows he needs to persist. 

“Silly old universe.” He gives it a quiet chuckle as he begins to make his way toward the TARDIS, “The more I save the universe, the more it feels like it needs saving.” He mumbles quietly, “But you’d get it all wrong without me, wouldn’t you?” He chuckles quietly before he arrives at the door of The Police Box. As he fishes his key out, he wraps his fingers around the door handle of the exterior.

“What’s one more lifetime, eh Old Girl?” He smiles softly, “Won’t kill anyone… Except me.” He chuckles dryly before he finally shuffles into the warmth of the TARDIS, shutting the doors behind him. He can hear that song growing in his mind as he looks towards the console. Already he can feel the TARDIS stabilizing him somewhat, allowing him to complete the walk toward the console. He rests his messenger bag on the coat rack, for once, and approaches the console. 

“Let’s remember the fundamentals before we trade it off, shall we?” He chuckles before yanking down the TARDIS take off lever. That last action of strength causes him to groan in pain— but he hears the whirring of the TARDIS engines as he looks up toward the ship. One sharp inhale echoes out before he exhales, “Never be cruel nor cowardly… that’s the promise.” The Doctor’s hands trace over the console as he walks around it, one last time. “Laugh hard, run fast… Be kind…” His face softens towards the TARDIS, looking up. 

He can hear his song swelling towards it’s finale. What could he possibly say right now, while he’s on his own? This pressure is terrifying. His hand twitches softly, and he waits for someone else to fill it… but he isn’t sure who will. He knows he has to be brave… say something brave. He's going to be fine. So why does this time feel so hard? He chuckles, looking down at the floor for a moment. He’s overthinking it… and he knows it. He just needs to—

His song stirs for a moment. His eyes drift up.

“Doctor,” He speaks aloud… “I let you go.”

It’s starting. His hands begin to glow this bright yellow. The energy swirling around them, like heat from a flame. The skin pulses with a powerful, vibrant glow. Now, his hair swirls around him like tendrils, as the golden energy ripples off of every part of him. It grows in a powerful vibrant color that only grows more and more intense. The Doctor’s exhales and inhales become increasingly more harsh and harsh as the light swirls further and further towards its tipping point. Eventually, he takes one final inhale, to hold his breath. The light grows until its breaking point—

His head snaps back and his arms stretch outwards. Golden energy explodes off of his body, like rocket fins. Flames of regeneration spit across the console room, causing a discharge of power as explosions and flames pop off of the console. Wires snap off, and some of the pillars crumble and snap apart as The Doctor regenerates. The TARDIS exterior windows even break and explode, the Police Box spinning as it begins to spin wildly through the Time Vortex.

The Doctor is immobile, stuck standing in place with his eyes locked toward the ceiling. Every single atom in his body recycles itself into a new state as he feels the energy begin to warp his outer layer, his physical body. It’s extremely painful, the bones and muscles rearranging themselves. His eyes finally shut as he releases the exhale he’d been holding onto the whole time— only to hear someone else’s voice come out as the change occurs almost instantly.

The Doctor spins, a whole 180-degree spin after the glowing golden energy suddenly ceases. He wobbles a bit, somewhat taller. His hair is a bright flamingo pink and his eyes are burning gold. His skin is somewhat more paler and his body is a bit more curvy. He looks from his hands to his body, feeling every inch of himself that he can before finally spitting out words. 

“Legs!!” Beat, “Well— at least I’ve got those.” He groans before moving to look at his hair, “And— what on earth?! Pink!? Who’s been introducing shrimp into my diet!?” He curses outward before he’s suddenly flung into the console due to a chain of explosions that causes the TARDIS to rock around roughly.

“Oh! Yes, right— Wasn’t I just doing something?” He looks down at the console, “Fixing the chameleon circuit? No— wait—” His finger suddenly raises, “Yes! Yes! My apologies! We’re crashing, aren’t we!?” The Doctor exhales, his fingers flying across the console as The TARDIS spits itself out into real space, rocketing toward a familiar blue planet.

“Right! Yes! Of course!!! We’re crashing!!” The Doctor laughs suddenly.

Of course…  Because the adventure never stops, does it?

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Moving Forward - Chapter 4

*Warning: Adult Content*   

Wasting Time

"I saw you with Kyle Rivers earlier."

"Hmm."

The noncommittal answer left Lara looking a bit lost.

Max lifted a shoulder, unsure what he was supposed to say.

Max had known Kyle all of two weeks and though he was incredibly attractive, Max wasn't entirely sure what to make of him and his strange scent.

Not to mention the fact that the pair hadn't had a longer conversation than the one they'd had that first day they'd met.

Lara snorted.

"You serious? You're not interested? Like at all?"

"I barely know him."

"But he's like, the friendliest person on earth."

Max found himself looking for the man in the crowd.

"He is?"

Lara rolled her eyes.

"'He is?' Yes, he is."

"Oh."

Clearly, she was a little fed up with Max.

"No offence but are you slow?"

Max paused for a moment, wondering why she was asking and then chuckled at the realisation that he wasn't giving her proper answers anymore.

"No, I'm not slow."

And in that instant, her face brightened excitedly.

"You're looking for him."

"Looking for who?" the voice had Max cringing internally.

Kyle had snuck up on the both of them.

"No one," Max muttered.

"Just a certain hottie," Lara sung, making Max wish he could just run and Kyle laughed.

"Is that so?"

Max didn't hear Lara's answer.

The sight of Kyle grinning like that was somewhat distracting.

His teeth were somehow perfectly in line, with just two pairs of pointed canines to mark them just the slightest bit odd.

Something about how he was behaving though seemed... off.

Like his face made the expression often but wasn't comfortable wearing it.

Kyle didn't seem to particularly not like being here but... Max was here.

He seemed anxious at the porch, too.

It was because Max was here that Kyle was uncomfortable.

The realisation had Max making up a vague excuse to leave the festivities and go home.

Kyle caught his arm before Max could leave.

"Well, I drove you here, I should at least take you home."

Pushed off his guard by the warm hand claiming his arm, Max nodded dumbly and Lara giggled.

"Well, I'll see ya Friday, Max."

"Friday?" both men questioned, though Kyle's tone was certainly harsher than Max, whether that was because Max's tone rarely went above the softness of a whisper or because of Kyle's surprise was unknown.

"Yup," Lara sung.

"Max and I are goin' cherry picking. You should come Kyle. It'll be fun."

With that, she strode away and left Max to be driven home by Kyle.

Max was sprawled across the fluffy dark grey carpet in the living room the next day.

Sure, he had a sofa but the carpet was just so much nicer.

Remembering the drive home with Kyle Rivers made him cringe.

Neither man had said anything and when it was time for Max to get out, they... they shook hands... how awkward.

Max moaned aloud just thinking about it and what was worse was when he remembered how warm Kyle's hand was.

Just a stupid, awkward little hand shake and Max was already... what was he doing?

'Fawning' over Kyle Rivers?

He couldn't be, they'd known each other for all of two weeks and neither man had even referred to each other by their first names.

This couldn't be happening.

Another groan and then Max jumped up for a change of scenery, meaning, the back garden porch.

The open space, yet to be filled by things like a pool or a washing line, made Max's problems a little less urgent, especially since it was just a little issue and not an unsolvable paradigm.

"Aargh," he groaned, dropping down on the cushion's he'd left outside.

"How can I have a crush already?" the soft voice barely made a ripple in the air but Max sat up in surprise.

A very familiar scent reached him, was Kyle Rivers here?

He couldn't be, Max would've heard the truck coming up the gravel driveway if Kyle was here, then where that smell coming from?

Searching the forest for signs of movement, Max found a pair of eyes staring right at him.

Before he could even think of standing, the creature disappeared into the darkness.

The scent, however, lingered for a while before fading, meaning whatever it was had stayed for a few minutes.

It was gone now, though and the scent much less potent.

Max had to wonder, though, how long it, whatever it was, had been crouched in the bushes.

The only reason Max had noticed at all was because the wind had changed direction, as light as it was and put Max downwind.

For a while, Max considered following the scent trail, finding the eyes that were watching him but doing that could cause trouble, especially if the creature turned out to be a runner.

If it ran whilst Max was in jaguar form, he would chase without even a second thought and if that chase led into town... well, what would a jaguar be doing in the USA outside of a zoo?

It would cause a kind of trouble that Max was certain he didn't want.

Dismissing the idea, Max turned from the forest and returned to the carpet in the living room and for a while, he was distracted from his thoughts.

That didn't last long though, not even ten minutes in, Kyle was already back in Max's head and,with a groan, Max succumbed to the grossly awkward memory of the car ride home.

Until, that is, the doorbell rang, a glance at his home told him immediately that it wasn't a good idea to let them inside, seeing as he had cushions and pillows and blankets strewn all over the floor in spaces uncovered by carpet.

In fact, the only rooms that weren't drowning in soft stuff were the kitchen and the bathroom, the kitchen would be a fire hazard if that happened and who just sits in the bathroom for no reason?

Needless to say, Max was not expecting company and didn't move from the doorway as he answered the doorbell.

Lara stood on the other side wearing a grin that looked like it would split her cheeks.

"Hey there, handsome," she sang and Max raised a brow.

"Didn't I see you yesterday?"

Lara rolled her eyes and smoothly slid past Max's hulking figure into the house and then whistled.

"Somebody likes to get comfy."

With the front door shut, Max strolled away from the mess in the living room and turned on the kettle.

"Tea?" he offered.

"Please take off your shoes before you step on anything."

She snorted but dumped her trainers by the door anyway.

"Do you have coffee?"

Max nodded.

"Cream, no sugar please."

Max exchanged the cream for milk with her consent since he didn't buy cream.

Of course, the coffee was instant and made Lara cringe a little but was apparently decent enough for her to deem it drinkable and sit down, on the actual sofa, not the array of cushions on the floor, unlike Max.

There was only one sofa and although there was enough space on it for three, he preferred to sit on the floor with his cup of tea on the other side of the coffee table.

Leaning back on the sofa, her blonde locks tumbled over the back and glinted with the sunlight as she took sips of her coffee.

"So?" Max prompted and she flashed him a grin.

"Well, I'm not sure about you but I really would like to do something interesting today."

He couldn't help the eye roll.

"Like what?"

Rather dramatically, Lara stood, grinning down at Max with what could only be described as an idiot smile.

Really, could her mouth get any bigger?

He didn't stand with her, being both too lazy and too unimpressed to even bother. 'Something Interesting' to Lara was most likely 'Something I Don't Want To Do' to Max.

"Go put some pants on," the girl ordered.

"We're going paint balling."

"I'd rather not," was Max's immediate reply, trying his best not to show any emotion on his face.

If he was being honest, he would've have told her it sounded like a great idea.

As it was, though, Max hadn't been able to do anything relating to guns in the civilian world without slipping into flashbacks or setting off his PTSD.

Even laser tag was too much for him at the moment.

Once or twice, he'd even shifted unbidden in a reaction to perceived threats.

Games like Call of Duty and Halo were certainly out and since paintball actually hurt, that was a definite no.

Of course, he wouldn't be telling Lara any of this, mostly because it was none of her business but also because talking about it put him in a dark mood that was unpleasant for everyone to deal with.

"Aw come on," she pleaded.

"No."

"Why not?"

Max blinked, irritation beginning to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

"Am I not allowed to not want to play paintball?"

"But it's so fun. You'll be missing out."

"Still no," Max's voice was a lot more guttural than he'd intended but it got the point across.

He didn't want to play.

After another two minutes of Lara suggesting annoying things to do, they finally settled on taking a tour around town.

It wasn't very big but Max knew that already.

Evergreen was a kind of rest point for people who got lost too far from the main motorway, according to Lara.

The field they held the founding of the town festival at was where they held pretty much all town festivals or just where most people went to hang out.

Near it was a lake that was lovely in the summer and froze over during winter.

There was also a diner and a couple of bars, along with a restaurant that Lara said made the best burgers.

Back at his house, Max finally dug up the courage to ask Lara about Kyle Rivers.

He'd been trying to avoid thoughts of the other man all day but apparently it just wasn't happening, so there was only one option left, embrace it.

"Lara," he called, interrupting the girl's ramblings, which he hadn't actually been listening to.

"What... what can you tell me about Kyle Rivers?"

Max knew he was normally soft-spoken anyway but his tone now was definitely in the range of being bashful and shy.

She flashed a wicked smile.

"Why do you wanna know?"

This was going to be painful.

"It's... I..." he grumbled under his breath.

"I think he's... interesting."

Yup, definitely painful.

"Is that what you call having a crush?" Lara giggled.

Max chose to ignore the comment.

"That's sweet, so I'll take pity on you just this once. What do you wanna know?"

"Anything."

Max didn't really have anything specific in mind.

He just wanted to know about Kyle.

She grumbled.

"God you're difficult."

And then, with a sigh, flopped back to lie on the sofa.

"His family has been living here for at least four generations. His dad's a busy guy, owns a company and everything so he's out of town sometimes. Kyle occasionally goes with his dad but I hear the business is more likely ta be passed onto Carter."

"Is... is," Max cleared his throat, staring at the floor.

"Is Rivers taken?"

Lara giggled.

"Finally at the heart of the matter. No, he's not got a partner, luckily for lil ol' you."

At that, Max felt his face set fire and knew instantly that she and Marie-Anne would make great friends.

Why did he always befriend the weird girls?

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Crossing

Pairing: George Russell x Reader

Rating: T

Notes: Idk this just popped out. Not beta-read

*Also, that gif is not mine, I do not know why tumblr says that it is. I did not make it, I do not claim ownership, I never posted or reposted it. All credit to the maker of that gif.

Warnings: Fluff; Gilded Age Manners™; mentions of gambling

Summary: You run into Mr. Russell on your day off.

- It’s a fluke.

- You nearly slam right into him.

- You’ve no clue what your employer, Mr. Russell, is doing in Brooklyn, but nevertheless there he is, crossing paths with you on your day off.

- It seems to take him a moment to recognize you out of your uniform.

- It’s a touch mortifying. You’re hardly in your nicest clothes.

- Well, you’re simply out to run some errands for your family—you’ve chosen clothing suitable to picking up vegetables, dropping by the butcher’s.

- You’ve only planned to stop at the bookshop to pick up the four books that you’d picked out a couple of weeks before, but had yet pick up and pay for.

- “Mr. Russell,” You manage, head shaking a touch in disbelief. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

- You know in an instant that your impertinence has shown through.

- His lips curl into a smile, eyes twinkling with amusement.

- “A friend of mine recommended this shop to me. I’m looking for a particular book,” He says.

- “I see.” 

- “And you?”

- You could lie, but it wouldn’t do you any good. The man has means enough to hire Pinkerton himself to carry out an investigation.

- “My family lives nearby. I’m running a few errands.”

- “And one of them involves this bookshop?”

- Your face goes hot at the question.

- “No, that is something for myself. I have a book waiting for me.”

- “Shall we, then?”

- Mr. Russell holds the door open for you, and you mumble your thanks on your way in.

- You’ve been a hundred times—you know the shop like the back of your hand. The shelves are packed in tight, narrow rows; the sections aren’t labeled, but everything has its place.

- “What is it you’re looking for?” You ask, unable to help yourself.

- “Lange’s Field Guide of North Carolina.”

- “It should be two rows over and one row back.”

- You regret offering the help, especially when Mr. Russell requests, “Will you show me?” 

- You’re chagrined to do so, but you lead the way into the cramped stacks, careful not to tip or upend the basket of food on your arm. You stop at the appointed section, eyes skimming the shelves.

- “Why here?” Russell asks.

- “This is where the field guides are kept.”

- “It isn’t labeled.”

- “I’ve been in here before.”

- “That has rapidly become evident.” 

- You shoot Mr. Russell a sidelong glance before raising your hand to point out the book he was looking for.

- “Ah.” He plucks it off of the shelf, skimming the cover, the back, and flipping through the contents. “Thank you.”

- “Of course. Excuse me.”

- You round out of the aisle, heading for the front counter and leaving Mr.Russell to his own devices.

- The bookshop keeper greets you warmly, taking your hand in his and giving it a friendly shake.

- He asks after your family, and you exchange pleasantries before he waggles his finger at you.

- “You’re here for your order?”

- “If you have them, yes.”

- “Of course I have them, you silly girl,” He chuckles, turning to rummage under the desk. “When you tell me you’ll be back for a book, you never fail. You know,” He adds, setting the first of your books on the counter, “If you wish to take them and come back to pay for them later, I would not mind. Your credit is good.”

- “I won’t take something that I can’t pay for outright.” 

- The bookshop keeper hums, then turns his head a touch to the left of you.

- “I’ll be with you in a moment, sir.”

- “Please, take your time.” Mr. Russell’s voice is alarmingly close.

- It’s only a moment before the shopkeeper is lifting a second, third, and fourth book onto the counter for you.

- “I thought you said you were picking up a book,” Mr. Russell comments.

- Your neck goes hot at the reminder.

- “Did I?” You ask lightly, voice tight.

- “You did.”

- “I misspoke.”

- The shopkeeper’s eyes dart between the two of you, a question evident on his face, though he doesn’t ask it. 

- You begin to fish into your coin purse for the money, but before you can, Mr. Russell comes closer to the counter, setting his book on the counter.

- “I’ll pay for them all,” He announces.

- Your head snaps toward him, mouth dropping open, stunned. 

- “Mr. Russell, there’s no need—” You start to insist.

- “Consider it repayment for your kindly directing me.”

- “That is hardly worth this—”

- “How much are they?” Mr. Russell asks, plowing over your arguments.

- You can do nothing but watch as money changes hands, with Mr. Russell leaving the shopkeeper a substantial and unnecessary tip. 

- Your shock is palpable as you watch your books tied together with twine, and as Mr. Russell takes them up for you, leading the way out of the shop.

- “Mr. Russell,” Your voice shakes a touch as he holds the bundle out to you.  “I don’t—How can I repay you—?”

- “There is no need for that.”

- “But your money ought to go somewhere better—”

- “Money spent in the pursuit of knowledge is never misplaced.”

- Your fingers brush as you hook your fingers under the twine to take hold of the books, and it sends goosebumps skittering up your arms.

- “Where are you off to now?” He asks.

- “Oh—Home, I suppose. I’m told there’s a stew that these ingredients must get into. Yourself?”

- “Back to Manhattan.”

- “Of course.”

- The two of you hold one another’s eyes for a moment. His gaze makes your head feel clouded, heavy. 

- And then thunder rumbles overhead, and you realize that it must not be George Russell’s look that makes your head press—it’s the storm rolling in.

- “You should hurry,” You warn. “If the water grows too choppy, the ferry won’t run.”

- “Too right. Good day.”

- He gets only a handful of strides away before you raise your voice again: “Mr. Russell!”

- He turns to you expectantly, and you hurry up to him to keep from yelling in the street. 

- “If you’re unable to make the crossing, please come and take shelter at my mother’s. We’re on Henry Street—The corner of Henry and Cheever.”

- Mr. Russell smiles warmly before he gives a small nod.

- “Thank you for the kind offer. I will not forget it.”

- He tips his hat to you before he turns, heading toward the docks and slipping his new book into his pocket.

- You’re tempted to watch him go, but your eyes dart toward the ominously darkening sky, and the sight hurries you on home.

- Your parents’ home is a modest one, and bustling with activity.

- Your mother mends clothing, and has baskets of overflowing work in the parlor.

- Your father is popular in your neighborhood, and often has friends and fellow gamblers looking in.

- Your elderly Aunt Margaret lives with them, along with your cousin Theodore.

- A couple of your father’s friends rush down the front steps and out through the pouring rain as the storm begins to pick up.

- You can’t help but peer out of the kitchen window worriedly.

- You do hope that Mr. Russell has made it back to Manhattan, and that he’s not on the docks somewhere, standing under an awning or a tree, holding a newspaper or his new book up to shield his head. 

- You’re so distracted that you nearly take your finger off a couple of times as you’re chopping vegetables.

- Your heart leaps into your throat when you hear a knock on your door just a few minutes later.

- You drop the knife onto the counter and run down the hall, but Theodore opens the door before you can reach it.

- At just sixteen, Theodore is growing like a weed, and is often mistaken for a man twice his age. 

- Now, as he asks, “Who are you?” You wince at his rough tone.

- You’re even more embarrassed when you hear Mr. Russell’s voice asking for you.

- You can’t stop yourself from darting into the front hall and opening the door more widely.

- Mr. Russell looks half-drowned, and irritatingly dashing nonetheless.

- “Oh,” You reach out, taking hold of his wrist. “Come in before you catch your death, for goodness sakes.”

- Mr. Russell obliges, taking his hat off, hair drooping over his forehead.

- You try not to notice the way his eyes interestedly sweep the front hall.

- “I take it the ferry was out,” You comment.

- “It was, though a worker at the dock recommended I get into my hat and row it across the Hudson.”

- You fight the urge to laugh openly, biting down on your lip.

- “Let me take your coat,” You offer, rounding him.

- “Thank you.”

- “Dumpling, who is it?” You hear our mother call.

- “Which one of you is that?” Mr. Russell asks, glancing between the two of you.

- “Me,” You mumble, rounding him to go into the parlor. You hang Mr. Russell’s dripping coat on one of the hooks in front of the fireplace. 

- “This is my cousin Theodore,” You turn, gesturing to where your confused cousin is still lingering in the hall, “And—”

- “Dumpling, who is it!” Your mother argues, striding into the parlor as she dries her hands on her apron. She goes stock-still, eyes widening at the sight of Mr. Russell.

- “And this is my mother. Mother, this is Mr. George Russell.”

- “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” He nods genially.

- “Mr. Russell was on his way back to Manhattan, but the ferry is out because of the storm. I told Mr. Russell that he was welcome to stay here.”

- “I owe you a great debt,” Mr. Russell adds.

- “I think a dinner and a seat by a warm fire is worth four books,” You argue.

- Mr. Russell shoots you a sly smile, one that makes your stomach flutter.

- Your mother seems to snap-to, then, walking toward Mr. Russell with her hand out to greet him.

- She’s practically tripping over her words as she takes in the sight of your sopping boss.

- “We’ll need to get you some dry clothing—Oh, I insist. I can’t have you catch pneumonia under my roof,” She urges, waving him toward the stairs. “You can borrow some of my husband’s clothing until yours dries. It won’t be as fine as yours, of course—”

- You lean to the side a touch, watching as Mr. Russell is waved up the stairs.

- “Is it quite safe?” He asks, and you do laugh, then.

- “You better let her, Mr. Russell, or she’ll fret until you leave.”

- “Go check on the stew!” Your mother insists, waving you toward the kitchen.

- You turn back to where his coat is hung up on the hook, and hesitantly fish your hand into his pocket, drawing the book out. It’s a touch damp.

- You take one of your own off of the shelf and kneel in front of the fire, setting a dry book atop his wet one to ensure the pages don’t wrinkle and curl.

- Then you do as you’re told, though you cast your eyes toward the ceiling now and again as you hear their footsteps thudding along over you.

- Your father’s voice joins your mother’s—introductions, requests for a shirt, pants, suspenders—you can’t imagine what’s going on up there.

--

- Sitting at the dinner table is a tight squeeze—nothing like dining in the grand spaces that you’re sure Mr. Russell must be used to.

- The two of you are elbow to elbow as you pass around bowls of hot soup, rip chunks of fresh-baked bread off of the loaf.

- Your mother and father jabber his ear off, discussing local and national politics, questioning the work to be done for the new rail station.

- Mr. Russell answers them all with ease, and he volleys back questions of his own—about your father’s horse and stock picks, your mother’s work, your cousin’s ambitions and your aunt’s hobbies. 

- You take up the dishes as dinner settles, going into the kitchen and setting them in the washbin.

- You stay in the kitchen for a while, standing in the back door and watching the rain.

- You listen to the pattering of it on the sidewalks and roofs around you, and the low hum of conversation the room over.

- “...The storm rages on, I see,” You hear.

- You turn your head toward Mr. Russell, unable to help your smile at the sight of him.

- It’s quite unlike you’ve seen him before—a pair of dark suspenders press into his broad shoulders; he’s been clothed in a thick grey henley and a pair of your father’s old pants with a patch at the knee.

- “It does indeed.” You cast a nervous eye toward the dining room. “I do hope they didn’t overstep with their bounds with that conversation.”

- “I was happy to speak with them. And I am truly grateful for the dry clothing, the company—and dinner.”

- “It’s not quite lobster salad.”

- “Not at all. It’s better.” 

- You give him a little, chastising smile.

- He joins you in the doorway, peering up to the dark sky. A flash of lightening brightens his features, and the deep pools of his eyes.

- Some of his pomade has been rinsed from his head by the rain. His curls sprawl a touch wildly over his forehead. You have the terrible urge to reach up and toy with the dark coils.

- “...I am glad that you...Came here,” You say softly, “Rather than drowning where you stood on the docks.”

- “I was nearly drowned by the time I got here,” He chuckles.

- “Were you?”

- “Mm, I saw it in your eyes.” 

- “Perhaps you only saw what you wished to.”

- “I know precisely what I saw.”

- The two of you cast your eyes toward the dining room as a laugh ripples through the group.

- “They’re a kind bunch,” Mr. Russell comments. “I see where you get it.”

- “You speak of kindness, yet you’re the one that bought me four books this afternoon.”

- “Will you ever let that go?”

- “No, I will not. I work hard for my money, Mr. Russell.”

- “I’m well aware.”

- Your stomach flips with indignance and abashment.

- “I simply mean—”

- “I know what you mean. But now I have freed those funds up for you to buy another few books.”

- You grunt in concession, glancing back outside.

- “And your book?” You ask.

- “I hadn’t the chance to look it over...Oh, damn,” Mr. Russell mutters, turning away from you.

- “What is it?”

- “I left it in the pocket of my coat—”

- “I took it out.”

- Mr. Russell goes still then, brows raising in surprise. You bite your lip, folding your arms across your chest, abashed.

- “There’s nothing worse than a wrinkled book,” You mumble, hurriedly adding, “I saw you put it there—I didn’t go through anything else.” 

- Mr. Russell walks back toward you curiously, leaning across from you again.

- “And yours?” He asks.

- “I managed to escape the rain.”

- “I'm rather more curious about the subjects.”

- “Oh, I don’t want to bore you with that.”

- “You won’t bore me,” Mr. Russell reassures.

- “And if I do?”

- “I’ll be far too polite to say so.”

--

- When Mr. Russell bids you a goodnight that evening, there’s something boyish and soft to him.

- Maybe it’s the way his curls still coil over his forehead. Maybe it’s the glow of the lone candle lightening his features.

- Or maybe it’s simply the way he holds your gaze in the dim hallway, murmurs his repeated thanks, and the promise to see you in the morning.

--

- The sky hasn’t cleared entirely by the next morning, but the rain has at least stopped.

- Your mother sends you and Mr. Russell off to the docks with stomachs full of a delicious breakfast.

- You have a basket full of treats and clean clothes over one arm, your books in your other hand. 

- The crossing on the ferry is a relatively calm one, though the odd high swell does catch you off-guard, wobbling against the railing.

- When Mr. Russell flags down a carriage in Mahnattan, you take a step back, and smile a little as his brow furrows.

- “I will get myself back to the house, Mr. Russell.”

- “Don’t be absurd. It’ll be more expedient if we go together.”

- “More expedient, perhaps, but not proper.”

- Mr. Russell’s lips press into a tight line. He seems to know that you have the right of it, even though he may not like it.

- “I will see you there,” He comments quietly.

- “You will indeed. Have a pleasant trip—and avoid any ferries, would you? It looks like the sky is planning to open up again.”

- Mr. Russell turns a teasing eye toward you as he climbs into the carriage.

- “I shall. I may even do some reading.”

- You bite back a stupidly wide smile, holding Mr. Russell’s gaze as his carriage pulls from the curb.

- You continue your way on foot, your stomach churning like the Hudson ahead of a dangerous crossing.

Tag list: @foxilayde​ ; @wretchedwisteria​ ; @massivecolorspygiant​

[fragilefawn444]

“ KISS HER, YOU FOOL “ a Ronance oneshot

Summary : In a moment of impulse, Robin invites Nancy over to share something with her that she’s wanted to get off her chest for a while.

Contains : fluff, all the ronance feels, minimal swearing, kissing , mega soft robin <3

Word count : 1.4K

Author's note : A lot of the mentioned ‘memories’ that take place in this story are just cute little headcanons I have for ronance! I wish they really happened…don’t we all?

Her thumbs trembled above the letters on her phone screen. One sharp inhale through the nose, one slow exhale through the mouth. The breeze blew the front strands of brown hair away from her field of vision. The girl sat with her back pressed to her door, knees to the chest, catatonic. Typing and deleting, her fingers hurt. Nothing seemed to be quite right. Nothing sounded like her.

‘Holy shit Robin, c’mon man. What is wrong with you,'' she thought to herself.

Pressing send on a poorly written text that appeared to have no emotion in it whatsoever, Robin stood up and chucked her phone onto her bed out of pure annoyance. With a thud, it recoiled, smacking face down onto the wooden floor below. She cringed at the sound, realizing in that instant that she should've used a screen protector like Nancy always told her to do.

Nancy was the kind of girl who prepared herself for the best of times and the worst of times. She had never cracked a screen in her life, but used a protector. She kept a raincoat in the backseat of her boxy little car even on the sunniest of days. Not only did she have one hair tie on her wrist at all times, but a second for forgetful little Robin. The amount of times the wind had blown while they ate ice cream together, plastering strands of robin's hair to her face with the sweet treat had become too much for Nancy to take anymore.

She longed to feel Nancy sweep her hair out of the way, secure it into a short ponytail and gently wipe the dessert from her cheeks again.

Robin carefully picked her phone up from the floor, taking inventory of the spider web-like crack in the glass of her screen. Her lock screen shown through in all its cheesy glory, a photo of her and Steve Harrington behind the counter at scoops ahoy in their dreadful uniforms, back to back with their arms crossed. Now unable to make out any incoming messages due to her own stupidity, she placed her phone down with a groan.

Nancy would pull an “I told you so” the minute she saw the damage.

The girl wasn't even confident the other would show up. Nancy was a busy gal, or at least that's the front she would often tend to put up. Pressing her forehead against the glass pane of her front window, she shut her eyes and dreamed of a better place.

The better place in question was-

“Helloooo. Earth to Robin.” Nancy tapped a finger gently on the glass from the other side, startling Robin beyond belief.

She snapped out of her trance quickly, jumping so high she might as well have hit the ceiling. Her feet seemed to move before her upper half, dragging the rest of her body quickly to the front door. Flinging open the door, she stood opposite Nancy, a goofy grin painted across her face.

“Sorry about that I just-“ Robin stuttered, motioning awkwardly over to the door to point out what she was referring to. “Nevermind, come in?” She shuffled away from the door, leaving room for the young journalist to enter.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to come over, '' she began, shutting the door behind Nancy. Her stomach felt like she was sitting on top of a roller coaster, waiting for it to drop. Except it wouldn’t drop. It sat, teetering, her heart rate increasing.

“I tried texting you back but you didn’t answer” Nancy pointed at her phone, flashing her multiple texts to Robin.

“Shit.” Was all Robin could mutter as she sheepishly pulled her phone from her pocket. Flipping it over to expose the screen, she cringed, anticipating the scolding she would receive.

“I told you to use that screen protector!!” Nancy squealed, standing up snatching the electronic device from the others sweaty hand. Nancy's fingers brushed robins in the exchange, robins heart race increasing entirely higher than it should’ve from just a touch.

“My busted phone isn’t the reason you’re here right now. But it is a good excuse to talk to you, even if that means I get a lecture. Which is totally fine because-“

“You’re rambling, Robin,” Nancy said sweetly. Her words were smooth like honey.

“Okay well I don’t know how to tell you what I want to say. It’s been eating at me and I just feel all, blegh inside. Kinda like when you have to-“

“Woah woah woah. Okay I get it” Nancy let out a little snicker accompanied by a smile, her dimples making an appearance. The dimples Robin loved. The dimples that she pictured more often than she should’ve.

“You know you can talk to me, Rob.”

Robin stood across the room from Nancy now, wringing her hands together. The air felt thick with Robin's anxiety. Out of the hundreds of thousands of words that existed in the English language, none seemed to be able to express how she felt. So she decided to fire off everything that pushed its way to the forefront of her mind until it came out right.

“Sometimes when we’re walking outside, you do this thing where you get real close to me. I know it’s because there’s a big bug on the sidewalk and you don’t want to walk near it, because I see it every single time. When the sun hits you just right, your eyes shine. Like little pools of water on a hot day. I like it when you laugh so hard that you can’t stop and you hold onto your stomach and kick your legs. The way you wear these clips in your hair that- You know, I don’t even know if you’re into women. Like what do you think of boob-“

Robin felt like she was trying to sit down in a chair, and life just kept pulling it out from under her. The poor girl was failing miserably. Nothing could've saved her from the colossal clusterfuck of words she was spewing.

Nothing except the unexpected.

The roller coaster in her stomach had finally dropped when Nancy pressed her lips against Robins.

Robin's clammy hands shook as she cupped the side of Nancys delicate face. It was just one kiss, but it spoke all the words neither of them could seem to say. Their eyes fluttered open in sync, their foreheads pressed against each other.

“You know, you look like you only have one eye at this angle”

Damn it, Robin. Are you really that awkward?

“Are you kidding me?’ Nancy scoffed, accompanied by a light chuckle. “I just kissed you to save you from totally drowning and you compare me to mike wazowski?”

Robin's cheeks flooded with color as her laughter filled the room, keeping her forehead exactly where it was on Nancys. “I just wasn't expecting that and didn't know what to say.” The girl flashed an apologetic smile. Her midnight fantasies had just come to fruition and all she could manage to do was stand there like a kid who'd just dropped their ice cream.

‘You know..’ Robin began, swallowing the massive lump in her throat. “There's been so many times as of late that i've just thought to myself ‘kiss her, you fool’. But I couldn't do it”, dhe admitted out of embarrassment. Had Nancy never initiated the exchange, Robin wasn't sure she would have gotten herself to do it. Her feet shuffled awkwardly beneath her as she waited for Nancy's response. The possibility of rejection was at an all time high at that moment.

“I would've let you” Nancy choked out, bringing a hand to rest on the back of Robin's head. “Now's your chance. Do it” Her voice shook. Little Miss proper Nancy Wheeler wasn't used to being the one to make decisions, but this felt right.

With a deep breath, Robin lifted her forehead, colliding her lips with Nancys. Her body was aware of every single sensation she was experiencing. Her thumb dragged slowly across the soft surface that was Nancy's cheek. Her lips tasted like the strawberry lip gloss Nancy had bought with Robin at starcourt just a few days prior.

“To answer your question-’ Nancy whispered against Robin's lips. “I do in fact like boobs.”

[binniedeactivated]

whorehouse. || 💦

➥ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➥ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬! 𝐚𝐮, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

➥ 𝐖/𝐂 |  4k

➥ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | 𝐧𝐨, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

➥ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱! , 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥!𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲.

multi-fandom ask requested by @light164star​ hope you enjoy this my love!

in any normal university a fraternity represents ambition, passion, and integrity amongst brotherhood. but things were different in your university.

the Sigma Chi (ΣΧ)’s were different. they stayed in this big gorgeous frat house across campus, they threw the best parties and had the best of everything. they had the best selection of everything on campus, even down to the best dining hall. they were very selective to who they admitted. well, judging by the guys you saw leave that building it seemed as if they only accepted the best of the best. the best looking guys, best athletes, the academic powerhouses, the all rounders. every guy on campus wished they were one of them and every girl wished they could be with one of them. but the Sigma Chi’s never dated anyone. that was their number one rule.

and lastly, the sigma chi was rich. not because it was full of a bunch of guys who were spoiled rotten by their parents. not because the university provided them with full ride scholarships. but because the sigma chi house wasn’t what everyone thought it was. of  course it was a house of brotherhood, but they had subscribers all across campus. including you. and the university officials had yet to know that. not that anyone would snitch anyway, they practically had everyone wrapped around their fingers. they even managed to wane off some of the security guards and professors from scoping out their territory, giving them hush money for their loyalty.

i know what you’re thinking. no -- the sigma chi’s aren’t a mafia. despite their ways they’re actually far from a mafia. they were a fraternity. they were a business. and one thing for certain, two things for sure, don’t you ever meddle in the business of the sigma chi’s. no one has ever came back from that little mistake. as far as you were concerned the victims were basically wiped off the face of the earth, complete lost of contact, even their social media accounts deleted and deactivated. no one knew what the sigma chi’s did to them but no one wanted to find out either.

anyway, you held your head low while walking towards the steps of the house. not everyone on campus knew about their little secret but that still didn’t keep you from being embarrassed about yours. you were a happy subscriber and you weren’t going to deny that. sometimes you wondered how your application even got accepted. but it did. you went into the little convenience store they held in the building, waiting for kim seungmin/kang taehyun/ ju haknyeon, either one of them were required to check you in. they worked at the house convenience store but little did anyone know the trio were the brains behind the whorehouse. they didn’t handle much subscribers themselves, but faithfully took care of admissions and payments. oh, and also check in’s. no one could get service or even have access to the whorehouse without going through them first.

the motion detector chimed indicating that they had a customer. you bit your lips looking around a bit, hoping no one walked in right after you. hoping they would think you’re just there to purchase snacks or something. with his sleeves rolled up from handling the store’s stock--coming from the back was kim seungmin. he approaches the back of the counter and does a little head tilt, indicating that you needed to show your identification. you reached your fingers into your wallet and plucked up your student identification card, sliding it on the counter. he reaches for it and opens an app on his smartphone, making sure you were a paying subscriber. lord knows they had enough people behind on payments yet still trying to receive service. even though you knew you were up to date on your payments you still gulped. seungmin never really showed much of any facial expression which scared you. just a sullen, hard expression that made everyone around him think he hated them. 

“you’re all set. sign this slip”.

he grabbed the small notepad full of paper slips he’d printed and specially designed himself, writing the date and his signature signifying that he approved your service. it was your job to sign the bottom line though confirming your consent to anything included in your service. you swiftly grabbed a pen and scribbled your signature.

“room 502. make sure you give them that or else you’ll have to leave”.

you nod and place the slip in your pocket, taking the elevator to the floor. you admit you were nervous as hell, this is how you were each visit. when you’re a subscriber you don’t know what type of service you can get. you’re just assigned to a random room and you’re promised a good orgasm-- several even--- by the time you leave. the way university was stressing you out these days that’s all you needed. your feet finally approach the door and you knock hesitantly. the door opens a bit, just enough to show his face and they grey and black silk robe he was wearing. it was choi yeonjun. fuck. you were scheduled with choi yeonjun today. there was no doubt in your mind that you’ll be fucking ruined.

“slip?”.

you fished it out of your pocket and showed him. he took it and nodded before crumbling it and tossing it in the nearby trash can. he opened the door further, you could see the dark room only illuminated by the deep red lights that lined the perimeter of the room. your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach at the sight of handcuffs, a pack of gummy worms and a vibrator sitting on the edge of the bed.

“come in”.

you nervously slipped through the crack of the door while he shuts it behind you. the room smelled like cherries, it always did for some reason. you stood there and swallowed. you could hear yeonjun faintly chuckling behind you, his hand brushing along your waist.

“you scared baby?”.

“y-yes”. you stammer. he kisses your cheek.

“you should be. take those panties off and get on all fours for me”.

“okay”. you stuttered once more doing as you were told. you came here enough to know that clothes always went on the clothing rack beside the door. fully naked you hesitantly crawl on the bed and remain on all fours just as instructed. you could hear the clashing metal of the handcuffs behind you as yeonjun undoes them and hooks them around both of your wrists and around the headboard. the cold metal ring clung painfully tight around your wrists and you gasp a little at how rough he was.  your back was now arched in the perfect bow and anything he wanted to do he could do it, your body was at his full disposal. you could feel his hand slide down your midsection and your breathing hitched. he removes it and lowers himself to the level of your face just to glare into your eyes. you stared into the abyss of his eyes in fear. he takes two fingers and rub them together, smearing the wetness he collected from you before slipping them in his mouth. he then slides it out.

“you’re not wet enough”.

and on that note he shifts to another side of the room and you heard the familiar sound of goo melt into the palm of his hand. you wince at how cold it was when he coated you with it, getting a good rub on your clit before slipping his fingers inside of you just to coat you that way. a subtle moan left your lips when he did so, unbeknownst to you that yeonjun had other plans when it came to your needy noises.

“none of that today,”. he says in response before picking up a pack of long heavy gummy worms. “that’s what these are for”. he ripped the pack open and grabbed a handful just to go over and shove between your lips. “I don’t want to hear any sounds from you today, you understand?”. you nod with the gummy treats in between your teeth. they were so thick you didn’t know how anyone could ever chew through them.

the buzzing noise of the vibrator rang behind you and your feet immediately grew cold. you couldn’t back out now. you paid for this. this is what you subscribed for. you had to take it.

yeonjun clutches your thighs and slides himself beneath you, face to face with your pussy that was practically begging for him at this point. you felt the smooth, thick grey vibrator slip past your slippery folds pushed deep inside you. in an instant you no longer knew how you were going to keep your legs in place this whole time. you started breathing hard gnawing on the gummies as hard as you possibly could. “shaking already baby? you’re going to have a hard time today”.

he steadily holds the toy, sinking it between your folds and pulling it back out slowly relishing the way your wetness coated it. moans awaited in your throat yet you forced them back down. yeonjun loved the way your pussy looked from this angle but most importantly he loved the way your clit looked. plump and glistening with lube. he softly hums and slides his tongue against it. you gasp but this time refusing to exhale.

“mmm”. he hums again and gives it another cat lick before pushing his face closer and coddling it between his lips. you decided to breathe, as shaky as it sounded at least you weren’t making any noises. but fuck you wanted to. the way he was twisting and moving the toy inside you, the way his wet tongue felt curling against your clit, you wanted to collapse. and he knew it.

he groans after pulling away from your folds with a thin spit string to follow but he couldn’t keep himself from going in for more. he ate you like a hungry tiger, each taste of you is like heaven in the coil of his tongue.  that’s what killed you the most. that’s what made your legs tremor the most. yeonjun didn’t eat pussy as if he wanted to eat pussy. he ate pussy as if he needed to eat it. and that made all the difference.

every lick sent electricity straight to his groin. the fact that you were shaking above him unable to do anything but breathe heavy and take whatever he was giving you turned him on. he thought your little lips were so soft, pretty and scrumptious. he slid his tongue around every crease and fold refusing to neglect a sector. he always had an unquenchable desire to please. your insides burned with agony. he told you that you weren’t allowed to make noise yet he ate you like this? you couldn’t take it. your breathing was already heavy and your legs were already on the verge of collapsing so if he didn’t stop within the next 5 seconds you’d be a moaning mess through the gummies in your mouth.

he fucks you with the toy a bit faster,  twisting it inside you while he flat tongued your clit prior to sucking it gently; hallowing his cheeks in the process. your eyes close and the jolts of pleasure made your tummy cave in. your heart rate soars and now your wrists were writhing desperately inside the cuffs. it felt so fucking good. god, it felt so good. your torso was on fire. his fingers dug into your innermost thigh while his tongue further explored you. he licks a particular spot that you weren’t quite fond of anyone licking, sending a bone shuddering moan through the air.

“ ffuckk! please!”.

yeonjun halts his movements at the sound of it. you mentally cursed at yourself. how could you be so stupid?

“what was that?”.

you swallowed. you agreed to keep silent. that was a bad choice. he slipped himself from underneath you and approached your face, grabbing your jaw roughly forcing his attention on him.  “answer me when I’m speaking to you”.

lord knows you wanted to. but he looked so incredibly scary like this your jaw trembled at the thought of even replying. he lets go of you forcing your head to drop back down in between your shoulders. “you don’t want to fucking listen right?”. you heard a barely audible chuckle but you knew he wasn’t chuckling because anything was humorous. “I got something for you”.

the sound of that made your heart drop. you didn’t know what the hell that meant. your mind couldn’t even grasp what it could possibly mean. all you knew was that you were handcuffed to this bed in this dark red room, your body in the position of complete freewill. after a couple of minutes more of drowning in the fear of your own thoughts the door behind you open and close. you heard not one set-- but other sets footsteps creak the floor. your eyes grew as wide as moons. little did you know though, this was all apart of their plan. yeonjun knew you wouldn’t be able to take what he was doing to you.

“since you don’t know how to shut up, I brought some friends who won’t mind doing it for you”.

squatting to your eye level was lee juyeon, another one of sigma chi’s most honorable members. he does this sly smirk before rubbing your cheek with his hand. “how you doing precious?”. your heart began to pound dangerously fast. sliding his hand through your hair was hwang hyunjin, on the other side of your face wearing the same smirk as juyeon. “damn you’ve got a pretty one jun”. he comments. if you weren’t bound to the headboard you’d run out of sheer nervousness. but you couldn’t.

juyeon grabbed your jaw and glares into your eyes steadily, almost as if he were searching for something. with him doing this you hadn’t even noticed that yeonjun and hyunjin disappeared behind you. “you have some pretty lips. you know that? show me how well you can suck my dick“.

he fiddles with the waistband of his briefs, giving you a gorgeous view of his chiseled body and you wanted to melt right then and there. however someone was groping your thighs underneath you and you realized yeonjun was back in the same position as before. and hyunjin was above him, his hands groping your ass and kneading it. he spills some lube into the palm of his hand and shoves two slendery, slippery fingers inside your ass without warning. you choked on your own spit and wince at the pain. he rubbed his clothed dick against you, biting his lips.

“have you ever done anal before baby?”.

you shudder. “nno i haven’t”.

he hums before scissoring his fingers inside you a bit more, stretching you out so his dick could fit perfectly. you’ll admit, you weren’t too keen on anal before hyunjin stuffed his dick inside you and filled you to the brim. yeonjun attaches his lips to your clit again, and juyeon rubs his dick against your lips forcing you to take him in whole. more than anything you didn’t know you’d be experiencing this. being ruined by three men instead of one.

you hummed against the shaft of juyeon’s dick at the feeling of yeonjun’s tongue licking your soft folds through and through, all the while hyunjin’s giving you soft thrusts from behind. the delicious mix of pleasure made you delirious. your tummy caved in and your thighs were trembling once again. and oh yeah, yeonjun got his wishes of you staying quiet. juyeon was filling your mouth so much a sound could barely be audible. juyeon slips his hands in your hair, jerking your head back just so he could see your mouth filled his precum. he grins.

“a subscriber of the whorehouse gets used like a whore. you like this shit don’t you?”.

hyunjin grips your waist harder and chuckles. “she can’t talk with her mouth full. she’s being a lady”.

juyeon smirks and glances down at you trying to suck him as far as you could possibly reach. “is that true? you’re trying to be polite?”.

yeonjun smirks and licks another stripe up your wet swollen clit before chiming in. “if so, shes at the wrong place. polite prissy princesses don’t get fucked and sucked this good”.

hyunjin slams a hand down on your ass, making it jiggle underneath his palm. “they sure don’t”. you groan against juyeon’s length feeling like you could pass out any second. he thrusted himself between your lips steadily loving the sloppy, messy sounds your mouth was making in the process.

“look at you...you suck dick and take it good. who taught you this?”. juyeon growls.

you softly whine, crying in response. numerous moans left your throat but it was a mystery on whether or not they’d actually be heard. it didn’t even matter though because all three of them was groaning loud enough to drown out the sound of yours. you felt like you were going to lose your damn mind being used like this. the pleasure of it all made your toes curl and body shiver. yeonjun’s wet lips were coated in nothing but you precum at this point and hyunjin speeds up the movements of his waist, snapping into you like he’d never get a chance to do it again. well, considering the system of the whorehouse he just might not. and he was making it evident.

“fuck, your pretty ass”. hyunjin groans while throwing his head back and biting his lips, slamming you back against his waist every chance he got. your ass was pretty like this, stemming down from your cinched waist it was plump and perfect from this angle. hyunjin thought he could watch it bounce against him all day if he could. you unintentionally pushed back on him leaving a hum of approval sputtering from him lips. “oh shit”. he grumbled.

“she’s fucking you while riding yeonjun’s face. shit, I like her”. juyeon licks his lips while holding your hair in up a makeshift ponytail. tears jerk from your eyes as he shoves his dick down your throat again before pulling it back out. you gagged enough to spit his precum back over his tip.

“I like her too”. hyunjin mentions, completely stopping his hips just to watch you desperately fuck yourself to an orgasm. a throaty groan became a murmur as your legs trembled and the familiar wave of electricity washed over your whole entire body. you didn’t know how much more you could take.

“she’s pulsating so hard around my tongue I think she’s about to cum”.

“she’s so cute look at her fucking herself. you gonna cream all over us baby?”. hyunjin groans.

your high pitched whine rang through the steamy atmosphere and as if your body listened to hyunjin words you did just that, your juices spilling down his thighs and waterfalls down yeonjun’s chin. hyunjin slips his fingers into the curve of your waist and fucks a bit more until your ass was filled with his cum, and the sticky contents of juyeons fluids were already slithering down your throat. your body spasmed and jerk so hard and yeonjun licks the aftershocks out of you before getting up and fucking your throat until he got a fix of his own. he grunts and roughly pulls your hair while he does so, letting his hot cum spill down your throat after he was finished. your limbs felt so weak. you wanted to just stay there and sleep. but unfortunately you had to walk back to your residence hall in this condition. it was fucking worth it though.

after you were freed from the handcuffs you could see the bruised rings on your wrist from them both. “put your clothes back on, go back to your dorm and take care of yourself baby”. yeonjun speaks just before they all vacated the room.

[worstloki]

Fic gift for you

Variants come and go at the TVA, and the Judge rarely remembers the faces, so often does she have to prune annoying miscreants who risk ruining the Sacred Timeline. Almost all who come before the judge are guilty, and for those who are innocent, their timeline is still doomed – and them along with it. Is it fair? Perhaps not. But this is the job the Judge has been bestowed, and she has no memory or desire to carry out any other purpose, content to decree a death sentence to all.

There is one name however, that sticks in her mind, despite the fact that she wishes otherwise. Loki Laufeyson; Loki Odinson; Loki, God of Mischief; Loki, Prince of Asgard; Loki, Heir of Jotunheim – no matter the title or surname, the first name remains the same, and the parade of Loki variants who inevitably find themselves before the Judge bring with them their own versions of chaos. It would be exhausting, if the Judge could feel exhaustion.

There are Loki variants of all shapes and sizes, genders and abilities, and the unpredictable nature of Loki means the Judge presides over the pruning of their variants more than any other living soul in her career. The most frustrating variants however, are those who are so close to the Sacred Timeline – so close to perfecting the role set out by the Time Keepers – who then make one poor decision and ruin the natural order. The Judge hates these ones most of all.

-

L6128 is a version of Loki that falls under this category. The Judge is currently staring at a small boy, with pale skin, dark hair and slightly trembling knees.

‘Laufeyson, Variant L6128, you are charged with Sequence Violation 7-84-29. How do you plead?’

The boy before the Judge squeaks slightly, stumbling backwards in shock.

‘I’m Odinson, not Laufeyson,’ he mutters, chin stuck out stubbornly despite his shaking voice. ‘My father will come and destroy you for stealing me.’

The Judge leans forwards slightly on her desk, and peers downwards.

‘As you have just learnt, in your extremely ill-advised adventure into your weapons chamber, you are not an Asgardian, and Odin is not your father. Learning your true heritage at this point has caused a Nexus event. I find you guilty.’

The hammer slams down on the gavel, and the small boy is led away for pruning. Compassion is not instilled in the Judge, but look the boy gives her remains in her mind for a long time.

-

‘Laufeyson, Variant L3524, you are charged with Sequence Violation 7-28-59. How do you plead?’

L3524 stares back at her with a slightly haunted expression, which hardens when he hears the name.

‘Don’t call me that,’ he snarls, struggling against the guards holding him in place. This version seems to be more physically combatant than the last few, and the Judge eyes him warily.

‘You did not deploy the Destroyer against your brother on Earth,’ she announces. ‘I find you guilty.’

‘So what?’ snaps L3524. ‘I showed compassion for my brother and didn’t murder him, and for this I am condemned? Who the hell are you to determine what I should or should not have done?’

The Judge sighs. ‘By not deploying the Destroyer, you did not set the scene for your brother’s development,’ she drones, shuffling some paperwork. ‘You caused a Nexus event. Guilty.’

-

‘Laufeyson, Variant L9173, you are charged with Sequence Violation 7-46-39. How do you plead?’

Another court case, another Loki. L9173 can barely stand, covered in bruising and burn marks. He might drop dead before the Judge can issue a verdict, which would be efficient but unsatisfactory.

‘I don’t think my brother is very impressed that you stole me away,’ L9173 grunts out, an amused expression on his face despite everything. ‘Didn’t you hear, we had a very touching reunion when I managed to shake off a little bit of mind control? He’s not going to be happy he’s lost me yet again.’

The Judge gazes back with a bland expression. ‘Mister Odinson is not a concern to us. You were the one who violated the sequence and caused a Nexus event by choosing to fight the Chitauri instead of leading the invasion. The Avengers cannot continue down the Sacred Timeline if this happens. Guilty.’

-

‘Laufeyson, Variant L3372, you are charged with Sequence Violation 7-59-41. How do you plead?’

L3372 is being held up by two Minutemen, his face ashen and one hand attempting to staunch the flow of blood that is spreading across his chest.

‘I’d say interminable legalese is not my highest priority right now,’ he says, attempting to sound proud and strong despite slowly dying as they all stand in the court. ‘Perhaps we could discuss random allegations after I’ve taken a moment.’

The Judge doesn’t need a moment to determine guilt, however. This variant has not faked his own death for Thor Odinson, and was therefore not on the pathway to pretend to be King of Asgard. The events of Ragnarok had been moving further away; the Sacred Timeline must be preserved.

‘Guilty,’ the Judge announces, a bored wave of her hand. She can’t be bothered to even give an explanation this time – and L3372 is leaving an annoyingly large pool of blood on the floor.

-

The Judge is performing deskwork rather than court duties when the whispers and rumours begin to trickle around the office. A Loki variant, who escaped the Minutemen and is now set free in the timeline. It’s a concerning accident, but the Judge is sure the TVA will resolve it in an appropriate manner. It is not the Judge’s problem to deal with, however, and so she pushes the thought aside. There is more pruning to be done.

-

‘Laufeyson, Variant L6742, you are charged with Sequence Violation 7-93-19. How do you plead?’

After the last few variants, it’s almost surprising for the Judge to see such a strong and triumphant looking Loki, despite a heavy layer of annoyance displayed across his face, and bruises littering his cheek. He’s still clutching a blue, glowing box.

‘What right have you to bring me here?’ L6742 snaps, clutching the box tighter. ‘I demand you release me and take me back to Thor at once.’

The Judge reads out loud from the paperwork. ‘You have violated the Sacred Timeline and caused a Nexus event through using the Tesseract to save yourself and Thor Odinson from Thanos the Titan. You are guilty, and sentenced to pruning.’

L6742 fights back against the Minutemen at this, managing to kill one with his own weapon before more Minutemen burst in and surround him.

‘Whatever it is, you’re wrong about me,’ L6742 says desperately. ‘I was making a difference.’

‘Exactly,’ the Judge feels compelled to interject. ‘You were making the wrong difference. Stop fighting the inevitable. You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That’s how it is, that’s how it was, that’s how it will be. All so that others can achieve their best versions of themselves. Stop trying to stray from your path. Guilty.’

The hammer bangs on the gavel with finality, and L6742 is led away for his sentence.

-

There’s another Loki variant at the TVA not long after – L1130. The Judge doesn’t meet this version – Ravonna Renslayer herself oversaw his sentencing. But she is surprised to hear that the variant is allowed to keep existing, at least whilst helping on a case. Mobius always was a bit pathetic. The Judge doesn’t waste any more time reflecting on L1130 however – she has too many other important duties to be concerned about.

Indeed, she doesn’t think of him again until the TVA is burning around them. All of the Judge’s purpose in existence, going up in flames and she simply stares, for once truly feeling the shock. L1130 rounds the corner, followed by Mobius and a small man in bland office attire. They are all carrying weapons. There is no history between the Judge and L1130, but she swears she can see hatred in the Variant’s eyes before they open fire.

The Judge is disintegrated in an instant.

[sukirichi]

earned it (3)

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. mentions of murder, explicit smut, oral (m. receiving), mentions of violence, TW dub-con, drama, drugs, mentions of virginity loss, dirty talk, unedited as always

series masterlist

Pained groans filled your ears, coating the dead silent night. Immediately, you sprang up awake, finding your husband clutching his knee beside you. You rushed to the bathroom to prepare an iced compress, helping him sit beside the bed. Naoya breathed heavily above you, his usually slicked back hair falling into soft bangs above his eyes. In this light, the fierceness of his face had smoothened down into that of vulnerability, fox-eyes replaced with a sort of tenderness that partnered his pain.

Looking down at the ragged scar running down his thigh to his knee, the gnarly scar popped from his otherwise flawless skin, you ran your hands over it. Naoya sighed as you kissed the scar gently, rubbing soothing circles over his good knee.

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little,” he admitted. Both of you enjoyed the comfortable silence after that, with you kneeling on the floor as you helped numb his pain, your husband’s fingers looped through yours. Minutes passed and soon, the sunlight streaked behind him from the floor length glass windows, illuminating your dark silhouettes in a golden glow. Naoya’s eyes flickered to the clock on your table, his hands squeezing yours for a fleeting moment. “It’s today. Are you ready?”

No, you wanted to say. You and him had prepared for this moment better than anyone else, and yet, you couldn’t ignore the tightening of your chest. Much like Naoya, you both held wounds that couldn’t be healed by time.

But Naoya looked at you expectantly, soft hands cupping your face as if he immediately read the worry written all over you.

You wanted to cry, wanted to stay in his arms and pretend nothing would go wrong, but you couldn’t do it. Not when he’d saved you countless of times before, and this was your only chance of saving him.

Naoya needed you more than ever – you had to stay strong from him.

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be ready for anything,” you smiled at him, feeling warmth spread all over your chest when he reciprocated the gesture. You liked it on him; he always felt a lot more youthful every time he smiled. Reaching up to kiss his forehead, you trailed your lips down to the ring adorning his fingers to look him straight in the eye. “Always?”

Naoya nodded as a promise, “Forever.”

Your hands treaded through Satoru’s locks, his lips sweet and tender as he tasted you. It had been a few months since your arrangement began, and slowly but surely, little by little, you were growing more comfortable with him. There was still that voice at the back of your head screaming that maybe this was wrong, this was dangerous; you didn’t know him very well – but these thoughts slipped away the moment you felt his lips on yours.

If it was wrong, why did you fit in his arms so right? He felt like home; peaceful, secure, strong and stable. If it was dangerous, why was your heart at peace? If you didn’t know him very well, why did it feel like had always been there, a fragment you’d been unknowingly waiting to build you up in all those lonely years you walked this earth?

You’d definitely underestimated him. The cocky and smooth customer turned out to be the most caring person ever, his kindness showing through the fact he’d never pushed you for anything.

Making out with him was now a daily occurrence, though you never got past the first base. Sure, there would be teasing touches under your shirt, your curious hands trailing over his pants, but it had never escalated into more than that. You could tell Satoru was holding back; the painful tent in his slacks enough proof of this. His hardened cock rubbed against the thin material of your shorts as you grinded against him, earning a harmonious man from the man who’d gotten so addicted to worshipping you.

“Satoru, hmm, baby,” you stopped kissing him, turning to look at where his hands gripped at the flesh of your thighs. A thin thread of spit connected your lips from your heavy make out session, though your mind felt dazed, core burning at the friction. If you could just...

Satoru easily caught on the words bit down your tongue, his calloused hands caressing your cheek to coax it out of you. “What is it, angel?”

“I…Can I try something with you?”

“What is it?” he tapped your cheek, a sweet smile on his face when you groaned in embarrassment, head buried in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay, don’t be shy.”

“Well, you’re always making me feel good and I know you’re holding back so I just wanted to…”

“Wanted to what, angel?” he pulled you back so he could look at your face, his usual teasing grin now hardened into a serious expression. Satoru had always been adamant to put your comfort above all else, his voice dropping an octave lower as he massaged your thigh. “I can’t know if you won’t tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, you managed to look him in the eye, squeaking out, “I want to make you feel good too.”

Satoru’s brows dipped down. “Angel,” he said, that saccharine nickname dripping like honey from his lips. Did he even know how much effect he had over your heart? Apparently not, because Satoru swooped down to steal your breath away, pressing his lips harder to reassure you he respected your limits. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you insisted, hands fisted on his shirt. “Want to taste you.”

Satoru opened his mouth to speak, but you were faster, and for the first time in his life, he did not see something coming. His back hit the wooden headboard as you crawled down on his lap, tugging his pants down to palm the erection bulging from his boxers. His groans were deeply masculine, so fucking sexy coming from him that you rubbed your core against the sheets in desperate search for friction.

Your hands fumbled for his boxers until you completely pulled it down, gasping when his thick member slapped at his toned stomach. His muscles clenched above you, thighs quaking from your ministrations.

Truthfully, you had not the slightest idea of why he seemed so aroused when you were inexperienced at this. You had to keep sending him nervous glances as you placed a tentative grip at the base, thumb swiping the pre-cum away from his tip. Satoru’s head fell back on the pillows, strings of curses spilling past his lips. Fuck, you had no idea how to do this; you just hoped it could be good for him. Deciding to hell with it, you slipped the throbbing member inside your lips, his reaction reflexive.

Satoru fisted the sheets under him, hips thrusting up. The action caused him to buck deep into your mouth until he hit the back of your threat, tears springing at your eyes. You wanted to pull out to breathe until you looked at Satoru, and fuck, did your mind change.

“Goddamn, angel!”

Your boyfriend looked absolutely delectable like this – shirt crumpled and eyes snapped shut from the pleasure. His cock burned in your mouth, and purely out of curiosity, you swirled your tongue around his vein just to see his reaction. Satoru’s blown out pupils met yours the deeper you took him in, his arm reaching out to fist at your hair. It wasn’t painful – he never hurt you even if sometimes you wished he could go a little rougher – but you were determined to evoke more of those pretty moans from him, fighting back the tears that blurred him from your sight.

Your throat would burn like a bitch by the end of this, though that no longer mattered when his composed self fell apart bit by bits. Gosh, you loved him so much; you could keep him in your mouth forever if that could express it.

Satoru moaned the instant you hollowed your cheeks around him, pushing his hands away that moved to hold you. You didn’t want to be romantic; you just wanted to make him cum.

He saw your determination to push you over the edge that he let go, slipping his fingers through yours instead. It shouldn’t have felt so domestic when you sucked him off good, but nothing had never felt more right. You pulled him off with a pop, licking all around the base to coat his cock with his cum and drool. His groans painted the room and he wouldn’t stop squirming underneath you, dulcet low moans so, so addicting.

Other than his moans, you were also addicted by the taste of him. You flipped your head at a different angle before you took him in again, flattening your tongue on the base and making sure to poke hard on the veins. He had a fucked out grin as his knees bucked beside him, his hands keeping you flat on his head.

“Yeah, angel,” he gritted his teeth, “That’s so fucking good.”

Was he coming?

You had no idea, having never done this before. For now, you just wanted to repay all the kindness he’d shown you by sucking him off good that he’d never forget you. You probably cursed him then, conditioned this man into being so addicted to you that he would never even think about leaving.

The mere thought of that had you choking on his cock, driving him back deep your throat. Your nose came in contact with the neatly trimmed hairs on his base as you gagged on his length, nails dug deep into the linen sheets beside you.

One thrust, two more – his cock twitched, then he came. “Right there, angel, fuck!” he spilled inside you, pulling out just in time for the rest to smatter all across your face. You drew back just as his semen painted your face like he was the artist and you were the canvas, and you didn’t think you’d ever felt so majestic in your life. Satoru gripped his cock to smear the contents all over your face, on that day giving you a hint just how much of a kinky little shit he really was, but you let him – because you loved him, and you’d do anything for the one you loved. As you sat there licking away the cum sprayed on your face, he tugged you upwards for a kiss.

You leaned away, thinking he could be disgusted by the bitter taste flowing down your throat, but he paid no mind. He kissed you hard and deep, effortlessly flipping both your bodies until were trapped underneath him, cornered by the love pooling in his eyes. You stared up at him with that same adoration, albeit more hesitant, the pounding in your heart incredibly loud.

You were falling fast – way too fast – that you couldn’t comprehend what would happen if this ended. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if you were still just a baby girl? Were you mistaking his post orgasm bliss with something else, were you getting too ahead of yourself?

Satoru nudged his chin on your neck, his lips hovering right before your ear. You could hear each ragged breath, your attention zeroed in on the deep, long cut that ran on his back. Not really aware of your actions, you slipped your hand downwards to trace the ragged flesh. Satoru hissed above you, his weight nearly crushing yours as he pulled you in for an embrace far too intimate for an agreement purely on casual fucks and company.

At least, that had been your belief, until – “I think…I’m falling for you.”

You didn’t remember any time you had cried harder, the sobs wreaking your chest desperate and pitiful. Satoru kissed your tears away, each peck of his lips translating to a thousand more i love you’s that healed every crack in your soul.

You held him close then, chest to chest, hearts beating above one another. Perhaps it was too early, but you loved him – excruciatingly so it scared you deep to the bone.

“Me too,” you cried, “I love you – I love you, I—”

“Shh, angel,” he cooed, his hands now trailing down your hips. He gripped at it, his cock once again hard as it teased your entrance. You knew what was to come next, and you squeezed his bicep in anticipation, both fear and anticipation exploding through your nerves. Satoru gazed at you warmly as he read the multiple thoughts running in your head, foreheads pressed into one another as he asked, “Can I show you? Do you trust me, angel?”

“Yes,” you answered in a beat, “A million times yes.”

“I’ll show you then,” he laced his fingers through yours, a lopsided grin so impossibly handsome you just fell harder for him. “I’ll show you how much I love you. I’ll make you feel it deep ‘til you never think about anyone else but me.”

Had he failed then? Had he not shown you enough how much he loved you?

You were the same, but the person standing in front of him seemed so impossible to be you, as well. Your once sweet smile had been replenished by a perfectly practiced one, the taut tightness of your lips and the faux charm so sickeningly sweet.

But it wasn’t what he hated the most. It was the fact he was there, holding you right where Satoru once used to, kissing you right on the lips Satoru used to ravish all by himself.

He didn’t know what he was feeling. Anger? Jealousy? Hatred – upon himself or upon you?

He didn’t know, couldn’t understand anything, that he brushed past Suguru’s equally stupefied face and found comfort in the back part of the cruise. Satoru had lost count of the drinks he’d taken from the waiters who had began to look worried, but he didn’t give a fuck. The image of you comfortably situated by that bastard’s side of all people stirred something dark within his chest. Satoru stared out into the dark ocean instead, dumping his drinks with a scoff.

What a fucking joke, he laughed at himself. He believed leaving you would mean protecting you, but life had a funny way of playing its part.

“Mr. Gojo,” an all-too familiar voice, one that was much too sweet and golden for his liking, caught his attention. His eyes slid over to your form, his jaw clenched at how empty your eyes seemed. There was no spark, not a trace of the light he had always loved, and not a sliver of warmth that never failed to melt his heart. It almost felt like it wasn’t you until your perfectly manicured nails rested atop his shoulder, all elegance and grace in your steps – just as he’d expected from the infamous Zen’in wife. “My husband, Naoya, wishes to speak to you.”

Husband. So you really married him.

You spun away from him with a salacious roll of your hips, and just like that, Satoru snapped. This was you, this had to be you – except it scared him shitless this time around because you were the one walking away from him.

It reminded him of the day he left you, dread sinking deep into the pits of his stomach. Satoru reached you in two long strides, spinning you around until you nearly collided on his chest. You glared at him so harshly he might’ve burned to the ground but god, this really was you and he fucking missed you – so badly that his suit felt impossibly tight he couldn’t breathe. You were still warm against him, soft in the places he was hard, and you were, you were there.

You came back to him.

“Angel,” his voice cracked, “I know that’s you, please—”

But your grip was ice-cold, eyes shooting daggers at the offensive hand on your shoulder. “Let go of me before I shoot your arm off, Mr. Gojo,” you sneered at him, the tension attracting the attention of other guests. Satoru could feel it; the burning gaze of passerby’s who’d stopped in their chatter to spectate the scene. “Just because you are invited, doesn’t mean you get to be too comfortable with me. You and I are not friends, much less acquaintances. Let me go.”

It’s over, his own voice screamed back at him, Let’s go.

Right. He left you, and it made sense you couldn’t stand to be around him. With a broken heart, he removed his hands on you, ignoring the slight scoff following afterwards. Satoru trailed after you like an obedient puppy as you led him inside a narrow hallway, unsurprised as two burly guards slid the double doors open.

Inside the grand room sat your husband himself, his good leg perched on top of his bad one. He was in the middle of his drink, cockily clanking the ice against the glass. His cane perched on the other side of the sofa, just out of it’s owners reach.

Satoru wanted to punch his stupid face but held back as you quickly seated beside him, possessive hands on top of his thighs. He took the seat across the both of you, his lips pressed into a flat line, unimpressed by the turn of events. Though the ocean reflecting the beauty of the moonlight gleamed terribly divine that night, and you illuminated even more radiantly than ever, Satoru felt no entertainment, no joy – just pure hatred.

“Gojo Satoru, the Six Eyes himself. It’s an honour to meet you.”

“You met me before,” he responded stiffly, expecting that Naoya would crack the same way his fucked up father would. But no, he was by far worse, the young man tipping his head back in laughter as if Satoru said the funniest thing.

Beside him, you buried yourself deeper into his arms, absentmindedly sniffing Naoya’s perfume before your shoulders visibly relaxed.

It was clear you trusted this man with your whole heart, though Satoru couldn’t make sense of the attachment. Why him? How did you meet him? Was it right after he left you? How did you wound up in the world he tried so hard to keep you away from? On reflex, Satoru’s need to protect you never wavered even after years, and his gaze trailed down each inch of your exposed skin to look for scars.

Nothing. Not even a single sratch.

And as if feeling his gaze on yours, you smirked back at him smugly, that damned smile reminding him that your husband was more than capable of – what he couldn’t do – protecting you. It was such a harsh slap to his face because Satoru was most evidently the most powerful man in the room; he had more connections, had been in this world long before he walked, had more experience and bloodlust than anyone else, and yet...he couldn’t keep you.

“Indeed, and it wasn’t such a great experience, was it?” Naoya’s voice kept droning on, waving a slender hand in the air. “This is what this party is for. I hope to alleviate any tensions my father may have caused between other clans,” he nodded at the untouched drink in front of Satoru, “Please, enjoy yourself. I only wish to discuss something about Xenet with you.”

“Xenet? You mean the drug your family tried so hard to keep to yourselves?”

“Yes, that. My father…was too prideful with his creations. He didn’t want to share what was his,” Naoya smirked to himself and leaned back into the chair, with you following the motion. Satoru fisted the couch so hard he might as well break it, unable to tear his eyes away from the comfortable way you rested on Naoya’s chest, blinking up innocently at him as you did so. Your husband paid you no mind, seemingly way too used by your affectionate gestures that he continued, “But I am not my father. I care about good connections and profitable business. I think if you’d let us borrow your manufacturing base in Osaka, we could supply you with Xenet to last a decade. Free of interest.”

“And what makes you think I want to have your little drug? It’s just an ecstasy pill.”

“That’s what we want you think,” you piped in, keeping your gaze averted from Satoru’s, shooting little kisses down your husband’s jaw instead. “Xenet is no ordinary drug. It was made with the intention of just making more bougee version of aphrodisiacs and poppers at first, but we found a much more…offensive approach to this,” you trailed off, eyes glistening with mischief.

It was alien – the look on you didn’t feel right. You had changed; his angel was no more.

“Xenet, once manufactured publicly, could even help us grow richer with how affordable it is. Other than the side effects of increased sexual drive and giddiness, it’s also strong enough to be a ticking time bomb,” you announced proudly, “Consume two a day and you might die from a heart attack.”

“So it’s a failed pill.”

Your eyes narrowed at his implications, reminding him that even though you may no longer be his, one thing had not changed: you were still that top student in your Chemistry class. How else could you have saved him from getting poisoned on that day? But now, you used your intelligence differently, marrying mafia leaders, creating drugs.

“I did not create failures.”

Satoru should hate it. Hell, it was wiser to steer clear from you, yet you’d never been more alluring. Your innocence and vulnerability from when you were younger had definitely aroused him in more ways than one, his mind often occupied with the different ways he could get you to cry for him. However, this version of you, the one who had risen from the ashes and flew around like a magnificent surrounded by your own burning flames – it would be a lie to say he did not find himself fascinated by your maturity.

Seven years really changed you.

“You mean to tell me,” he leaned forward, “That you’re basically asking to borrow my base so you can make suicide pills? Is that it?”

“Xenet is only dangerous when consumed in larger doses. But taken regularly, it actually boosts your health, clears your mind. It’s like a super vitamin. It makes you feel…well, on the top of the world. Makes you feel powerful.”

“Death is not the catch,” Satoru concluded from Naoya’s lilting tone, glaring at suspicious man who was staring at his drink in so much glee. He really was fucked in the head – what did you like about this guy?

“What’s your true reason behind this?”

“I want my relatives dead,” Naoya deadpanned, “Before we turned to illegal business, the clan stocks were debated to be passed either to me, or my cousin, Toji. He’s changed his name to Fushiguro now and even had a kid, but he can’t hide forever,” he lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug, and finally, Satoru started to see glimpses of Naoya’s psychotic father through his eyes. Naoya grinned at nowhere in particular, rubbing his hand over the matching rings you wore, the sinister grin he wore uncannily similar to something Satoru had witnessed years before, though he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. “He’s not going to take what’s mine.”

Satoru scoffed, “Why do you think I would be interested in your family issues?”

“Because that cousin of mine is the only one who’s ever gotten successfully close into killing you,” Naoya snickered, “Remember? Shibuya, 2007? He was still inexperienced that time too. We don’t know how powerful he is now.”

“That fucker went after me for no reason.”

“Money is always his reason,” Naoya explained, “You see, my father was not the real clan leader. It was Toji’s father, my uncle, but he died of lung cancer and my father invited himself to the throne. He wanted everything to be ours, so he kicked my cousin out, leaving him nameless and penniless on the street. He was desperate to survive and—”

“—and became an assassin instead,” Satoru finished for him, to which both you and your husband nodded. You were taking your trophy wife duty seriously; keeping in mind to never interrupt your husband as he spoke. Satoru did his best to not pay too much mind to you, focusing on the looming threat of Toji Fushiguro present. “Let me guess, he was sent to kill me, failed miserably, and now he’s after your money? Why would he be interested in taking the mafia business when he seems fine enough being a hitman?” Satoru urged, “He looked like he enjoyed it.”

Much to Satoru’s surprise, Naoya slammed his glass down on the table, slapping his knee as he howled in laughter. “You are really as humorous as they say, Mr. Gojo.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“Because from what I heard, Toji did not fail miserably,” you mumbled through Naoya’s neck, that grin of yours mocking as your lips trailed down his skin. “The scars on your back – you almost died that day if you weren’t saved by your guards, didn’t you?”

Oh, Satoru mused, two could play this game.

“And how’d you know I have scars on my back, sweetheart?”

Knowing he had you cornered, you scowled. You turned away from him and clutched Naoya’s biceps to soothe your wounded pride, but Satoru knew he’d most definitely hit a nerve. It was low, utterly petty of him, to be exact – but he didn’t care. Right now, his determination to win you over just grows stronger, but Naoya merely chuckled at your exchange, the fucker maintaining his eye contact with Satoru’s while kissing the top of your head.

“Darling. Don’t get too worked up. He’s a friend now.”

“Said who?”

“Said me,” he announced confidently, “My cousin may be ruthless, but he’s not as heartless as I am. He’ll do anything he can to sneak his son within the family ranks and make him clan leader. Toji may be fine living in the streets, but he wouldn’t want the same fate for his son,” Naoya rolled his eyes boredly, “He loved his pathetic wife so much that he’s burdening himself with the promise of securing their child’s future. He’s not going to stop until he finds me.”

“And where do I fall into all this?”

“Toji can’t kill me,” Naoya brought to light, and Satoru noticed the faint change in your face. You looked grim, empty faced from anxiety. “Nearly 40% of our all our money – including where our gold is stored – you do remember stealing that, don’t you?” Satoru shook his head, too distracted by your sudden silence. “You made the mistake of taking what was not yours, Mr. Gojo. It may have been just a disposable slush fund to you, but everything that account had, those were all Toji’s last remnants of his wife before she died. He kept all those money for his family, and you took it away from him,” Naoya leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, smiling through the drink he downed in one go. The sound of the glass setting down on the table was much similar to a final judgement – the dilemma hitting Satoru right in the face.

“Now unless you cooperate with us, I can’t guarantee you’ll be living for the next ten days. He’s in Tokyo right now, and from word on the streets, he’s looking for the Six Eyes.”

“I don’t have that money with me.”

“Right, because you transferred it to my wife seven years ago, right?” At his words, Satoru froze, peering at you for confirmation. However, you’d made yourself smaller, almost shaking while different memories replayed right before your eyes. Satoru wanted to come and wrap you in his arms, to tell you it’s okay because he couldn’t understand why you were trembling so much, but Naoya’s taunting felt too loud and clear. “You wouldn’t want her to die now, would you? It’s going to be a tragic story of Romeo and Juliet, two fallen lovers sharing their last breaths,” he added bitterly, “That account wasn’t activated, you fucker. Everything may be wired to her, but she can’t open it unless you complete the authentication. Now do everything I ask of you and—”

“Naoya,” you finally snapped, “Don’t.”

“Is it true?” Satoru pressed, feeling his heart crush harder in his chest. “You never got the money?”

Your face said it all. “I didn’t.” So it was all for nothing – Satoru had left everything for naught. This whole time, he thought he was doing the right thing, but it was nothing, fucking nothing, utterly useless.

He left you for no valid reason.

“Why my drug base of all places?”

“It’s the biggest running establishment. Besides, you’re a lot more influential and richer than I am. No one would dare step a foot inside while I take over the business, hm?” Naoya challenged, “Xenet’s side effects also include languidness that leads to submission. I simply want to have more control over my people.”

“You’re going to manipulate this entire fucking country.” It wasn’t a question – Satoru had really made sure this guy was fucked in the head, and he thought he was awful.

“I’m not that different from my cousin,” Naoya retorted, “We’d both do anything for money.”

“And you’re using your wife as a pawn to your sick game?”

Naoya remained unaffected by Satoru slamming his palms down on the table, standing in his full height in an attempt to intimidate him. However, your husband merely raised a brow, taunting him with a smirk. “Was I the one who caused her hell all these years by making her a target to all your rivals?”

Things escalated faster than you saw it. One moment, you were cuddled with your husband, the next, Satoru had him by the collar. Naoya refused to show the pain from when his bad knee bumped into the table, enraging the taller man with his endless goading of how Satoru threw you to the side for nothing, calling him useless, pathetic, weak. You stood in front of both of them and pushed Satoru hard enough he fell back into the seat, glaring at you from where he fell. “That’s enough!” you bellowed, protectively encasing Naoya in your arms to steady him. His grimace told you he was in a lot more pain than he let on, and you snatched his cane to the side, screaming at Satoru with so much anger it shook the walls. “Fuck you, Gojo! You need to leave!”

“You’re fucking sick,” he spat at Naoya, “You’re a thousand times worse than your old man. You’re just using her to protect yourself, you fucking coward—”

Your palm resonating with his cheek stung. Satoru was rendered silent from the burning sensation on his face, the flesh still hoarse while you shook in anger. “Don’t you fucking dare speak to him like that.”

“Why are you with this guy?”

“As opposed to being with you?” your anger thundered, “You need to leave, Satoru. I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

“Escort him out,” said Naoya as he caressed his knee from the couch. His voice did wonders in calming you down, those three simple words for him regulating your breathing. As if a switch had been flipped inside you, you grew demure, exchanging a thousand words with your husband in just one glance. “You and I will talk later.”

Just like that, you gripped Satoru by the arm and pushed him out the door. He would’ve been happy by your touch, but your nails dug so deep in his suit he actually hissed.

You both didn’t talk until he’s made it through the speedboat that he came in, Suguru already giving you privacy with his back turned. Not that it would change Satoru’s behaviour much because he’s weakened by you again, eyes pleading as he caught your wrist. “Angel,” he whispered, his demeanor far too pitiful for a powerful man like him. Only you – only you could make him this way. “Are you really happy with him?”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” you answered, effectively breaking Satoru for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Because he loved you, and with loving you came knowing you – he knew there was no lie behind your statement. “I’ve had a taste of hell before, and now I’ve found bliss in my heaven.”

“You’re lying,” he tried to convince himself, shaking his head to get rid of the pathetic tears. “That’s not true, you said you loved me – that’s our promise, right? I’ll get you back, angel. I’ll protect you this time around I – I’ll do everything I wasn’t able to do before. Please. I need you back.”

“Good luck with that, Gojou,” you smiled, but nothing about is happy. In fact, you looked hopelessly, perhaps just as devastated as him. “Time is ticking. One of us is going to die soon.”

It had been three long gruesome days since that fucking cruise party. You were glad to have finally returned home – and yes, you did have a happy home now – but it just felt different when the spot beside you was empty.

You flopped down on your king-sized bed, legs kicking up in the air as you talked to Naoya through the phone. He had business to attend to overseas, leaving you all alone in the Zen’in Estate because he was going someplace dangerous. Though you assured him you could handle yourself just fine, your husband wasn’t having any of it. He shut you up with a kiss and left not long afterwards, so now you had to settle for hearing his voice.

“Have you arrived?”

“Yeah, plane just landed,” his voice that turned gentle only for you crackled through the other line, sounds of shuffling and clinking heard before he spoke again. “Are you in bed already?”

“Hm.”

“Bet you look so fucking pretty right now,” he teased, “You gonna touch yourself at the thought of me while I’m gone, princess?”

“You know my fingers could never compare to your cock.”

“You’re so dirty,” he chuckled back, and your laughter mingled. It was so easy to laugh with him through mindless conversations to kill the time; the two of you acting like the world around you wasn’t burning. “When I get back from Shanghai, I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.”

“If you do that, I won’t be able to hang off your arm prettily in your events.”

“We can always cancel them, princess. I don’t mind spending the entire weekend in bed with you.”

“Naoya, stop,” you buried your face in the pillows, giggling like a schoolgirl while your husband chuckled. You could hear him ordering his favourite drink to the stewardess and for a moment, you grew jealous, thinking that maybe his servants would be pretty. Then, you remembered – Naoya hated every human being in this world with your exception – you had nothing to worry about.

“You like it when I talk to you this way,” he mused, and you made no move to deny. “So about our anniversary—”

You lifted your head from the pillow as you heard the bell ringing, which was odd because it was half past midnight already. Most of the servants had long retired into their quarters right now, the entire estate on heavy lockdown too. The only person who could arrive was probably a special parcel, and you eagerly hopped off the bed, tying your silk nightgown to make yourself modest. “Oh, hey, I think my package arrived. Someone’s ringing.”

“Is it the Louboutin I got you?”

“I hope so!”

“Have fun dressing up then,” you could hear Naoya’s smile, “Send me photos okay? No undies.”

“No undies!” you agreed, swiping end call before you rushed to the front doors. Gosh, one of the worst things about living in a manor was that you had to take three flights of steps down, the lights in the servants’ wing already turned off so you had to open it yourself. “I’m coming!”

Taking a few seconds to compose yourself, you swung the door open, ready to finally get the shoes you’ve been gushing to Naoya about for days. But you were met with nothing but a tuft of white hair, blood smattered on his cheeks, and lips crashing down onto yours. Satoru pinned you against the wall in the same manner he held you on that day he left, his kisses harsh and longing while you moaned into his mouth, legs turning into jelly.

“Angel,” he rasped into your mouth, grinding his boner to the thin material of your night gown. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

taglist OPEN: @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @friedghostspyathlete @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @greysoulthings @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn​ 

ALSO GUYS!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ANON WHO MADE THIS NAOYA X READER DOODLE IM CRYING SO MUCHHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCH I AM LEGIT SPEECHLESS LIKE YOU GUYS? ARE? AMAZING?! ANYWAYS I FINALLY FINISHED THE ENTIRE PLOT OF THIS SERIES AND WELL...I mean, I hope you guys are excited for this as I am, hehehe!! I take back my former note that this was going to be angsty. I think this is more of drama tbh but we’ll see how it goes! (side note...IM IN LOVE WITH THIS FANART PLEASE.)

[heavenbarnes]

come on, baby, let me get to you

Nancy Wheeler x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: swearing, mentions of a cutting your finger, fingering, tit sucking, implied top! reader, implied bottom! nancy, pretty soft by my standards

Word Count: 2.8k

i think about er a lot, so it was only right that i gave you something to work with! x

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Nancy wasn’t even sure how she was dragged, maybe coerced, into this. Her eyes had lit up at the news of her younger brother going away to summer camp for nearly a whole month. That light had died the moment her mother told her she’d be going too.

She argued she was too old for a stupid summer camp, until her mom explained that she’d be a camp counselor. Rambling on about how it’d look good on her resume, and how her skin could use some sun, that was what got her here. 

How she found herself stood up to her ankles in mud, the same slimy dirt splattered up her shirt and across her cheek. 

The culprit who threw the mud ball directly at Nancy was turning pink in the cheeks, pulling his feet out of the dirt so he could hurry away from his counselor before she totally flipped out.

“Keep running before I make you scrub the whole kitchen for that!” A voice came from behind Nancy, and if she could've sunk down into the sludge, she would’ve.

If anyone could’ve found her stuck in the mud, covered in it and nearly fuming, Nancy really didn’t want it to be you. She couldn’t fight the tinge of embarrassment she felt twang in the pit of her stomach when her fellow counselor stepped around the side of her.

“It’s just because you’re new, we’ll whip ‘em into shape sooner or later.” You dropped an eye into a wink as you lifted one of her arms.

Wrapping it around your shoulders you crouched down to give yourself enough leverage to pull the other girl out of the predicament she found herself in. As her feet became unstuck, she sighed quite loudly.

“I wish the kids liked me as much as they do you, they all think I’m boring or something.”

Nancy wrapped her other arm around your front, almost enveloping you into a hug as you continued to pry her from the mud. Silently, you hoped to whatever was listening that she couldn’t feel your heart speed up at her touch.

“You just have to give them time, soon they’ll love you as much as I do.”

You wished you could pluck those words out of the air and swallow them as quick as you’d said them. Nancy’s doe eyes darted in your direction, if you knew any better you’d think she was wiling you to elaborate.

“I- I love your fun nature and- and your tenacity.” Stuttering only slightly, you filled the silence your comment had left.

Nancy huffed a breath out her nose. “You think I have tenacity?”

“You’re up to your shins in mud, had the stuff thrown at you, and you haven’t demanded to go home.” Finally you freed both her feet. “You’ve got tenacity and then some.”

Still using you for support, Nancy had the hint of a smile drift across her face as she tried to take her first step. The change in feeling was too much for her, sending her flailing out towards the ground.

She would’ve hit the mud with an almighty splat, had she not grabbed you tight around the neck. Your arms flew behind her back and anyone watching on might’ve thought you both were practicing the dip in your waltz.

Blinking up at you with those big eyes, you knew there was no doubt she could feel your pulse against her arm, beating like crazy. You told yourself that if she asked, you’d play it off as adrenaline from catching her. A bold faced lie when just watching her walk across the room had you feel the same way.

You cracked a grin at her, shaking your head gently as you looked down to her. “If you could stay vertical, that’d make this a whole lot easier.”

She giggled quietly, a nearly angelic sound to your ears as you both managed to make your way back to main camp. Walking beside her through the trees, you wished you could have the smallest glimpse into what she was thinking.

Nancy stayed dead quiet, overall just rather embarrassed that you’d had to rescue her like this. Especially as this was the second time you’d had to save her (if you consider Nancy forgetting her towel and having to ask you to get her one and bring it to the shower to be a disaster).

To her, you had this effortless way of captivating everyone. The kids and the counselors loved you, and she couldn’t blame them. She just couldn’t put her finger on the reason why she felt the way she did whenever you showed up.

There was a feeling stirring deep in her and she most certainly hadn’t felt it before, but the moment you laid even the softest touch on her, Nancy swore she could feel it long after you’d let go.

Arriving back at camp, that desperation to sink into the earth and out of view came back to Nancy in an overwhelming sense. Her younger brother, Mike, was stood with his friends and had a shit-eating grin take over his face as he saw the state she was in.

You picked up on Nancy’s energy before she even said a word, her whole body tensed up in an instant. You’d had a sweet little crush on the girl since the moment you laid eyes on her, you knew when things weren’t right.

“Now, when I say you look like the creature from the black lagoon I don’t-“

“Michael, say another word and you’re on firewood duty till the end of camp.”

Both the Wheeler’s turned to look at you with mouth’s agape, the eldest looked considerably more pleased with you.

“What? But she’s my sister I’m allowed to say crap like that!”

“She may be your sister, but here she’s my bunkmate and what I say goes.”

Mike’s shoulders deflated as he kicked his toes into the dirt, you continued on past him with his sister in toe. As you left him behind, you tossed the final say over your shoulder.

“By the way, that was another word so you’re definitely on firewood duty.”

“God damn it.”

Walking Nancy over to the shower blocks, you claimed it was so she didn’t fall into another ditch, but both of you kind of knew it was to have more time together.

Neither of you said a thing about it.

“What did you mean by “bunkmate” was that just to get my brother of my back?” She asked quietly, toeing at the loose dirt like the other Wheeler had.

You shot her a second of confusion before speaking. “Did they not tell you Fatima Torrence got food-poisoning? They’re putting you in my bunk until they clean your one.”

Now, Nancy never wished ill of anybody. But if she said she wasn’t even the smallest bit happy her old bunkmate had eaten that grey chicken the night before, she’d be a liar.

Nancy Wheeler didn’t often find comfort in lies, but she did in kind girls who rescued her from mud and 13 year olds.

Reaching the door to the shower room, you felt yourself sink a bit. She was only going to be gone 20 minutes tops, but if you could spend every moment with her, that’d be quite alright.

“Thank you for before, and thank you for not making fun of me.”

Smiling kindly at her, you couldn’t ignore that tinge of embarrassment that clouded her. For someone that, to you, made the sun rise in the morning - she didn’t have an awful lot of confidence just yet.

“Any time, I’d never make fun of you, I like you too much.” That stirred a smile on her cheeks. “Don’t forget your towel, I can’t be running back here or they’ll think somethings going on.”

Sending her another wink, the blush the crept up her neck was undeniable but her smile wasn’t able to be kept down. You wouldn’t make fun of her, but tease her endlessly? How could you not.

Chopping potatoes for dinner that night, you physically had to stop your mind from wandering to that steam filled shower block where Nancy was probably humming to herself.

Her hands were probably running across her whole body, that lavender soap was filling her senses and if you tried hard enough it’d do the same to yours.

She’d be dripping hot water and her hair slicked back and you could nearly feel it, nearly reach out and touch-

“Can you hear me?”

Jumping at the sound of that sweet voice, the one you’d just imagined moaning your name, the knife slipped from your grasp and across your finger.

“Fuck!” Bringing the pad of your pointer finger to your mouth, you sucked at the superficial cut.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!” Nancy reached out to grab your other arm and pulled you towards the first aid kid. “I am so stupid!”

“No, you’re not.” You mumbled around your digit. “I was just lost in my head.”

Opening the case she rifled around for a band aid as she carried on about how she shouldn’t have given you a fright. You haphazardly retorted how you should’ve been paying more attention.

Finding the sticking plaster adorned with a panda bear, Nancy reached out for your “wounded” limb.

“Stop sucking your fingers and give them to me.”

Your head shot up to her, eyes widening to nearly the size of her own. Whilst yours opened wide, hers narrowed at you. “And get your mind out of the gutter whilst you’re at it.”

“Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.” You saluted with your free hand.

Once the finger was bandaged and you could get back to the potatoes, Nancy stood by your side as she took on the carrots. Working together in harmony, you swore you could’ve stayed like that forever, listening to her hum quietly as you worked away.

You willed for her to come into your kitchen and be the main course, the starter, and the dessert.

After the campfire where Nancy had curled into your side, allowing you to drape your blanket around the both of you, you found yourselves walking back to your bunk room.

It was more plausible that nothing would happen, you’d both tuck into bed and that’d be it. But there was something in the way she held onto you in the cold air of the night, the way she looked at you as you said her name.

If there was something up there and listening, please throw plausibility to the wind.

Picking up your shorts and t-shirt, you head to the bathrooms to get changed. As you brushed your teeth, you wondered how you’d even get any sleep knowing how close the girl that’d captivated your mind for so long, was within reaching distancing.

The cool air brushed along your exposed legs as you went back to your cabin, opening the door to complete darkness. Figures, Nancy just wanted to go to sleep, that was more than plausible and you nearly cursed yourself for thinking something could’ve happened.

With your back to her, you put your backpack under your bed as you pulled the covers back. Your shoulders jumped slightly as one of the cabin lamps were flicked on.

The softest voice called your name.

Turning around, all the breath in your lungs were drawn from you, coming out in a breathy moan. “Holy shit.”

Nancy Wheeler, sweet and righteous, doe eyes and cheek bones meant to be held. Nancy Wheeler laid before you in the dim light of a lantern, only in her frilly pink bra and knickers.

Nancy Wheeler was beckoning you over.

Letting your feet move before your mind could catch up, you were kneeling on the end of her bed and making your way closer before you even thought about what was happening.

All that mattered was this girl was reaching out and grasping your arms, pulling you up her body until you were caging her in on that threadbare mattress.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Running your finger tips along her thigh to her hip, you felt her shiver. “I want to hear you say it.”

Her voice was a featherlight whisper just inches from your ear, it was your turn to feel a shiver wrack your whole body as she spoke.

“It is, I want you.”

So your fingers were hooking over the edge of her panties as you drew them back, feeling like unwrapping a present on Christmas morning. Every inch of skin that was revealed to you seemed to get even more beautiful.

Squirming beneath you, those wide eyes watched every movement you made as you took your time with her. You purposefully drew your nails along her as you undressed her, making her buck up into you.

Her own hands came to the cups of her bra, fingers gently tracing the puckered lace that rested there. You stilled for a moment, eyes casting up to see what she might do next. She was almost waiting for permission.

“Go ahead, let me see.”

With that, she drew down the fabric to expose her chest to you. Your breath caught in your throat as she tweaked at her nipples, pulling them with her slender fingers.

Your head swirled with the severity of the situation, the very real situation where you had the wonders of the universe at your finger tips. Turning back to the panties you had in your hand, you tossed them onto your bunk, hoping they’d get lost amongst your belongings.

Gently gripping her thighs, you pulled them apart and opened her up to you. Tugging her down the bed a bit, you slotted nicely between her long legs, like that was where you meant to belong.

Bringing a hand to her center, you ran two fingers along her and felt the sweet wetness that lay there. You felt your insides seize, desperately aching to feel even more of her. Nancy gasped, telling you that this wasn’t a feeling she was used to.

“You ever had a girl this close to you, touch you like this?”

Nancy shook her head as she tipped it back, feeling the way you dipped your fingers in and pressed them tight against her clit. She rolled her hips into your hand, trying to angle you down and closer to where she wanted you.

Giving into her easily, you gently dipped your fingers into where she was wettest. You couldn’t help but moan quietly as you slipped into her, watching the way her back arched off the bed.

Dipping down, you pressed your face into the curve of her neck to breathe her in. Slowly working your fingers against her, you curled them upwards to draw the most beautiful moans out of her.

Nancy wrapped her arms around your shoulders, pulling you in even closer. Feeling her breath against your skin was enough to send you feeling, peppering your lips along the soft skin of her neck.

“That- that feels so good, faster.” Her stuttered breath had her chest rising and falling quickly beneath you.

Doing as told, you sped up the movements of your wrist as Nancy called your name. You felt her head turn beside you, lips moments from your cheek as she moaned for you. Turning your head towards her, you found your own lips so close to hers.

She closed the distance, pressing her mouth so gently to yours before you felt her tongue slip past. If there was a moment in life you could keep forever, this would be a pretty good contender.

Nipping her lower lip, you rolled your fingers up into her sweet spot. The noises you pulled from deep within her chest were mesmerizing, your name had never sounded this good in your life.

Nancy’s thighs tensed around you, body going rigid as you continued to move against her. Angling your thumb up, you rolled the pad of it against her clit. Her whole body tensed tighter, hands sliding down you to grip the material of your shirt.

You left her mouth, coming down to take one of her nipples between your lips. The varying pleasure had Nancy’s voice breaking, a strangled cry of your name rolling off her tongue. Working her through it, you felt her whole body melt around you.

“That’s a good girl, let me hear you.”

Her fingernails gripped into your shoulders, dragging up as she continued to roll into your movements. You felt her wetness around your fingers, her moans still tumbling past her lips as she came for you.

Letting her catch her breath, you brought your fingers to your mouth, laying them against your tongue as Nancy watched with curious eyes. You smiled around them as she started to reach out for you again.

“Stop sucking your fingers and give them to me.”

[fanfic-me-up]

Capture This! || Kaminari Denki

Synopsis: You walk in on Denki, your best friend of five years, getting off. Two questions: Why is there a picture of you? And why do you want him to take more? 

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x fem!reader

Warnings: M/E+, 18+, explicit sexual content

Word Count: 6k+

A/N: This is for the @bnhabookclub​ bingo event! Thank you @shoutogepi​ and @im-here-for-the-heroes​ for beta reading. Shout out to @whats-her-quirk​ this fic was born from me poppin in during your thirst hours lol

“Lotion? Check. Tissues? Check. Pictures?” 

Denki swallows. 

“Check.”

It’s routine for Denki, really the only ritual he sticks to in his otherwise scatterbrained schedule of kickin’ ass, chilling with friends, and playing Fortnite till ungodly hours of the morning.

But he can’t help it. You’re fucking gorgeous, and Denki has needs - his brain programmed to get off at least three times a day else he can’t function. The first time it happened, he felt a deep sense of shame, twisting his gut, disgusted with himself that he defiled your image. He couldn’t look you in the eye for a week until you had enough and demanded to know what was up. It was the first time he lied to you. 

But one time became two, and three, and suddenly Denki needed an image of you all the time. The one of you looking all pretty in that stupid summer dress was his favorite. You bought it that one time you dragged him to the mall because you needed a “guy’s opinion.” He rushed to the bathroom because if he didn’t get out fast, he was gonna drag you back into the changing room and rip that dress off himself.

You’re adorable, hot, sexy, and absolutely terrifying, wrapped up in one perfect package.

Oh, and did he forget to mention?

Totally off-limits.

This is why Denki has to resort to hanging out with you, listening to you vent about your boy problems, and how you just want to meet “the one” already. Denki’s heart breaks a little more every time you shove him deeper into the friend zone, all the while pretending like he didn’t just jerk it to you a couple hours before.

He works his hand up and down his shaft, growing harder by the second with each stroke. It doesn’t take much to get him going, not when it’s you. You’re wearing his hoodie, toes buried in the sand, roasting a marshmallow in front of a bonfire. You’re smiling at something Kirishima said, Denki doesn’t remember what, because all he could see was the light in your eyes. A genuine spark lit only when the cameras were off, and you were unaware of anyone watching. Denki loved witnessing these rare moments; wanted to commit it to memory, so he did. When you posted the picture on Instagram, Denki was more than surprised; you had scrunched your nose when he showed you the picture, displeased with how you looked.

This should not be happening. Any normal person would feel ashamed when staring at a picture of their best friend and touching themselves. No one knew about it, and Denki was surprised he was able to keep it a secret for this long considering he’s friends with fucking Mina of all people.

Enough pre-cum bubbles at the tip that he doesn’t even need the lotion. Staring at you on the screen, wearing his hoodie that’s way too big it covers your thighs completely, makes his mind wander to all sorts of ways he wishes he could get you out of that hoodie. He leans back into the chair, spreading his legs with his eyes half-lidded, imagining what your lips might look like wrapped around his cock. 

“Fuck yeah...”

Groaning at the image of you on your knees, lips bruised and slicked with spit from fucking your pretty little mouth has Denki tightening his fist, hips fucking into his hand in a continuous rhythm. 

He’s on the verge of coming when the door swings open - the first and last person Denki wants to walk in is standing there in front of him.

“Hey, I called, but you didn’t - ah!” You squeak, throwing the box you’re holding. A sea of random knick-knacks and hero merch rains over you. You hear a thump when the yellow polaroid camera you bought for Denki at a thrift shop hits the floor. 

“Fuck!” Denki jumps from his chair, an array of pens fall in a heap to the floor. 

You whip your head away, heat spikes your body, embarrassed that you saw your best friend in such a compromising position. 

Denki mutters a repeated “shit shit shit” to himself for a good minute before he finally addresses you; his voice rising with each word.

“How did you get in here!?”

“Spare key, dumbass!” 

“That’s for emergencies only!”

“Are you talking to me with your dick out!?”

Silence.

“No?”

You huff at the uncertainty in his tone. It’s only two o’clock, and you can already feel a migraine coming on.

“Denki, if I turn around and you’re not covered, so help me god I will-”

“Okay, okay, I got it. Pants are zipped.” 

You don’t move until you hear the confirming “zip” before slowly opening your eyes (you have no idea why your eyes were closed in the first place), and you turn around to find Denki leaning against the desk. He’s trying his best to appear casual, but the flush on his face and frazzled hair give away what he was doing moments before you walked in. You don’t know where it comes from, but the thought alone stirs something inside you.

The confusing emotion is replaced by hot-blooded anger when you lock eyes on the screen behind him.

“Is that my face!?” 

Denki’s smile drops as he turns around. Dammit. Of course, he forgot to close the tab.

“Uhhh…”

He has no words, none, not when you’re standing there with that intense look in your eyes you get when you’re about to rip someone a new one. Your anger could rival Bakugou’s, and Denki has unfortunately been in the middle of one too many screaming matches. He’s surprised his eardrums aren’t blown out by now.

He clicks to exit out, or at least he thinks he does until he comes to the dumb realization that he’s clicking the zoom button instead. 

“Ho-hold on, let me just…” 

With each click, it zooms a little more into your face until only your nose is in the frame. Denki sheepishly looks up at you.

“Oops?”

Denki’s had a good life. He’s already come farther than most ever dream in their career when becoming a pro-hero, and he’s made some amazing friends most spend years trying to find. The only regret of his is not confessing his true feelings to you, but really what’s one regret? He’s totally a-okay with saying goodbye to this cruel, cruel world if it meant not being subjected to this torture any longer. 

“Denki Kaminari.”

Denki gulps. Oh no. You only say his full name when you mean business. 

“Explain right this instant or I will walk out this door and tell the whole world how you and grape boy took body shots off cardboard cutouts of each other!”

“Hey! We were really fuckin’ drunk and thought it might score us some pity sex with the ladies!” 

“In what world would you licking fuckin’ Mineta equal oh yeah, fuck me, Denki?”

Denki cowers with each step you take, gulping down the lump in his throat when your face is close enough to hold in his hands. He’s never been more simultaneously turned on and terrified in his life. Especially when he just heard the words “fuck me, Denki” escape your lips.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Whatever you do. Don’t. Look. Down.

The last thing he wants is you flinging him out the window because he couldn’t keep his eyes on your face. Don’t get him wrong; he could look at your face forever, even when you look like your one move away from killing him. But… he’s a dude, and there’s boobs in front of him, not to mention your boobs.

“Hello? Earth to Denki?” You wave your hand in his face.

“You may wanna sit down for this.” 

“I’m fine where I am, thank you very much.” 

He huffs out a breath, annoyed you didn’t take the bait. The suggestion was more for his sanity than yours. With you standing so close, his brain is going haywire; the tantalizing scent of strawberries and cream short-circuiting his brain quicker than when he overuses his quirk. It never fails to make his mouth water, if only he could bend down and bury his nose in the crook of your neck, god, he’d never let you go.

How does he even begin to work through the feelings he has for you when they’ve been bottled up since the moment he knew he was in deep? Where does he start?

The fact he’s been in love with you for the past five years? 

Or that he’s been getting off to you for half that time? 

Denki’s mind is running a mile a minute, like a computer in overdrive. He can’t make enough sense of his emotions to convert into words. But, instead of waiting to open his mouth, like a normal person, Denki spews out embarrassing word vomit that connects his two thoughts.

“I love getting off to you.”

A pin could drop, and it’d be as loud as a freaking hurricane. 

Denki groans in frustration, facepalming his forehead. What the hell did he just say, and can he take it back? How long would it take for him to hack into a database and find someone with a time manipulation quirk? He doesn’t even know how to hack, but he’d wrangle his one brain cell and fucking learn if that’s what it takes.

He’s usually good at reading you. You’re one of the few people he cares enough to pick up on how you’re feeling. The myriad of emotions that pass on your face from shock to confusion to a hint of amusement lets Denki know he can breathe easy. At least you’re not trying to kill him anymore.

“Oh-kay that’s not what I - what I meant to say was - hold on, lemme just, rewind.”

He makes some weird, loopy gesture with his arms. His brain was firing a million synapses at once, each connected to a different thought, some deep like the fear of losing you and some not so deep - like he’s really excited to eat the cheeseburgers Bakugou promised he’d grill tonight. 

But he tries his best to reign in the million and one thoughts to focus on you, who’s waiting for an explanation. He takes a deep breath to steady his heart that’s about to beat out of his chest. He only hopes you don’t stomp on it after what he’s about to say.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been since our first year at U.A. I wanted to tell you for the longest time, but then you got with Bakugou. Then you broke up, and you needed a friend more than ever, and how could I say no to being ‘your best bro’ when you were crying on my shoulder? It was just never the right time.”

The more he rambled, the more uncomfortable he felt. Out of all the scenarios he imagined of how he’d confess to you, this one was at the bottom of his list to be prepared for. He never expected to be forced into confessing because you caught him masturbating to pictures of you. He rubs the back of his neck and gives an awkward laugh when you stay silent.

“I get it if you wanna, like, shun me forever or something. I deserve it for being such a creep.” 

Denki lowers his head to the floor, the clutter of fallen pens and knick-knacks looks way less intimidating than staring into your eyes. A soft hand touches his chin, lifting his face to meet yours.

“Hey, look at me, it’s okay.” 

Your voice does wonders for soothing the nerves shaking him up.

“I guess it’s not that creepy when you put it like that, and for some weird reason, you’re like the one person I can catch jacking off to my pictures, and I don’t feel the need to report you as a registered sex offender.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but Denki’s heart drops at the idea of you labeling him as the neighborhood perv.

“Please, don’t do that,” he squeaks before clearing his throat, “But for real, Y/N, I’m so sorry. It’s wrong to disrespect you like that, and I promise I won’t do it again.”

Denki has no idea how he’s gonna get off now, but that’s his future self’s problem.

“I can’t help it, you’re gorgeous, and I love ya, and I don’t remember the last time I got laid.”

Fuck. He didn’t mean to say that last part, but it’s the truth. You’re the reason he couldn’t even look at another girl, because they weren’t you, and that’s why he had to resort to pulling up pictures of you. Pictures that aren’t normally deemed “sexy” and of you dressed modestly, without much skin showing.

That doesn’t stop Denki from coming in record time with your name rolling off his lips every time.

“How bad do you want me?”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit curious about what sex with your best friend would be like. You heard he wasn’t a bad lay from a couple girls back at U.A. 

You’d also be lying if you didn’t say you were just as horny as said best friend.

It’s difficult finding time to date as a pro-hero. When you do, it doesn’t last very long anyway - the other person growing tired of always coming second to your career. Don’t even get you started on one night stands. They’re practically impossible to uphold as once the media gets wind of it, you’re slapped on the cover of “Hero Times Magazine,” and everyone and their mother is calling for you to “spill the tea.” This is why pro-heroes either end up with other pro-heroes or end up alone. 

Denki’s eyebrows shoot straight to his hairline. If someone were to tell him you were attracted to him in any sense of the word, his heart would double-time it, but he’d ultimately brush it off. He knew your type, and he could not be farther from it. The aggressive, beefy, gym rat who could match you move for move in a heated spar of harsh words and hot-blooded passion. You dated Bakugou for fuck’s sake! There was no hope for Denki after that.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take what he can get. The words pour out of him like the dam’s been broken and the unforgiving flood rushes.

“I want you so bad, Y/N, fuck, I’ve waited so long, so fucking long, you don’t know how crazy you make me.” 

Your breath catches. His words have an unexpected effect on you, but your heart drums in anticipation. If you listen close enough, you can hear Denki’s beating at the same rate, waiting for what you’re going to say next. Power surges through you. In your past relationships, sex was always seen as this competition. Your exes never wanted to relinquish their pride or control, but Denki is nothing like your exes. He’s laid-back, always cracking jokes, and never dwelling too much on the past, always moving forward to the next moment. He’s perfectly fine with letting you take the reins most of the time. You determine what will happen next.

“You love getting off to me?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but he answers in earnest.

“You’re the only one I get off to.”

You slide your dress off, and it falls to the floor.

“Show me.”

Denki’s eyes travel over your body, his mouth slightly open in disbelief at your undressed state. He wants to capture this moment in case this is as much as he gets, even if he can never use this mental picture because he promised you he wouldn’t. His fingers itch to brush along the lace trim of your bra, to graze along your nipple, and watch your reaction. Are you sensitive enough where you’d full on moan, or would he have to strain to catch the small hitch of breath? Denki was never top of his class. He preferred to wing it and hope for the best, but for you, he’d take his time to study every inch and crevice of your body until he could read you cover to cover with his eyes closed. His gaze travels down to the matching lace panties you wear, a cute little bow in the front waiting to be untied with his teeth. 

Did you plan to get fucked today? Or do you usually wear matching sets on the regular? 

Your skin looks so soft and supple, he’s aching to dig his fingers, but before he can, you step away. Denki cocks his head. Have you changed your mind? But any doubt leaves Denki when you make your way across the room to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

You start with feather-light touches dancing along your collarbone. Your eyes are locked on Denki, getting high on the way he drinks in your every move. Your touches are teasing, especially when your finger dips down to your cleavage. Still, instead of giving Denki what he wants, you change course, making your way back to your shoulders. Denki exhales a breath at your teasing, but says nothing, too afraid he’ll ruin the mood if he says something stupid. 

When you make your way down again, you don’t disappoint; you pinch your nipple through your bra, and the way Denki swipes his tongue over his lip has heat rushing to your core. You slide your hand down your stomach, stopping when you reach your clothed slit. Denki stares, hungry and buzzing in anticipation for what you’ll do next. Smirking in victory, you spread your legs open and pull your panties to the side, giving him the view to capture the perfect picture of your dripping pussy.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

You taunt breathlessly, tracing your folds with your fingers.

Oh shit. Were you for real? Please, tell him you were for real because he legit might cry if this was some elaborate prank. Where are the fucking cameras? 

“You don’t want to?” You bite your lip, insecurity seeping through the confident smile you wore just a moment ago.

“No! I mean - yes! Yes, I do, holy shit, let me find - where the fuck is…” Denki whips around, trying to find his phone. Fuck! Out of all the times to misplace it, it has to be now. But then he spots the yellow polaroid camera sitting on the floor, and before he can think, he’s picking it up and praying it has film. He kneels, so he’s eye level with your pussy, but also making sure the angle gets your whole body in the frame. The light streaming in gives you an ethereal look, your skin glowing, and adding to the cute flush on your cheeks. The camera clicks, and a second later, the picture slides out. You giggle at Denki’s impatience. He’s waving the picture frantically in the air, so the color comes through faster. He completely stills when he can finally take a good look at the beauty he’s captured.

“Fuck, Y/N, you look…” 

Denki can’t control the groan that escapes. He looks back up at you, eyes darkened with lust before he’s ripping his shorts off so fast, his foot gets caught, and he almost trips in the process. Once he’s out of them, he plops back down in the chair across the room. You’re surprised when all you feel is pure, unadulterated lust. You expected to be at least a little bit weirded out staring at your best friend’s cock, but all you want is to put it in your mouth and explore all the different ways you can make him come. The tip is oozing pre-cum already, and the way he works his hand with a sense of urgency suggests he’s been hard for a while. It doesn’t take long before you hear Denki grunt.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

You look so pretty spread out for him. For the last five years, he wanted nothing more than to see you like this. His hips jerk up, and he throws his head back, but he makes sure to keep his eyes open like his life depended on it; he didn’t want to miss a second of this. You, with your legs wide open giving him a view of your perfect little pussy. Your panties soaked by you rubbing your clit mercilessly, and your pupils blown wide as you watch your best friend get off to the show you’re giving him. It’s erotic as hell, completely different from the pictures Denki has of you. This one easily tops all the others. He tightens his fist - he doesn’t want it to end without feeling your skin on his at least once.

“Let me touch you, Y/N, please, I just wanna touch you, need to feel you.” 

Denki doesn’t give a fuck that he’s begging at this point. He’s waited too damn long to care about pride or dignity, not when the chance to fuck you is placed in his shaking hands. You bite your lip to suppress a moan, but it comes out anyway.

“Touch me.” 

That’s all Denki needs. Before you know it, you’re pushed down on the bed, and lips smash against yours. He’s eager, a little too eager, shoving his tongue in your mouth and touching everywhere that he can. You don’t have much room to breathe, so you gently push at his chest.

“Chill, Denki.”

He huffs out a breath, muscles shaking like he’s restraining himself from overwhelming you.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” 

He mumbles, peppering kisses into your neck before making his way back to your lips. It’s much smoother this time, his tongue sliding out to tease your bottom lip, asking for permission this time. He groans when you open up for him, your tongue meeting his. Hands trail up until they reach around, resting on the clasp of your bra. Honey eyes meet yours, but you cut off his question.

“I’ll stop you if I need to, but you asking me if it’s okay every time you try something is gonna seriously kill the mood.” 

You reach around to place your hands on top of his, unclasping your bra along with him. His eyes darken at the sight of your bare chest. You try not to squirm at the intensity of his gaze. It becomes near impossible when he dips down to flick his tongue over your nipple before biting with his teeth. He pays the same attention to the other one before kissing his way down your stomach. You arch your back when he spreads your legs and positions himself between them. He makes his way around, avoiding your dripping pussy, teasing your thighs with soft kisses. You huff in annoyance, and he smirks up at you, biting into the flesh of your thigh. This time he places a kiss to your heated center, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. 

“Is it everything you imagined?” You ask.

He looks up at you, with such a serious expression, one you’ve only seen a couple times since knowing him.

“Everything and more.”

Your heart flutters, and you know you’re going to say something you’ll regret if you don’t stop counting the different shades of gold in his eyes. You clear your throat before throwing your hair back.

“You gonna fuck me, or am I gonna have to do it myself?”

You pull his head in for a demanding kiss, biting on his lip to distract yourself from the rush of bubbling emotions threatening to surface.

“One sec,” Denki whispers, placing one last kiss to your lips, before getting up.

You gape at the giant box of condoms he casually pulls out. It hasn’t been opened, and oh my god, you didn’t even know they made huge boxes like this. There were at least a hundred in there. What person thinks to buy a big box of condoms if their plans don’t include… fucking a whole ass army? 

“What the fuck, Denki?” 

People usually have one, maybe two condoms in their wallet at most. Some guys don’t have any at all, which kills the mood when you’re in the heat of the moment, so I guess you can be thankful that Denki is... extra prepared?

“What?” 

He pulls a condom out and drops the box. It thumps when it hits the floor. You’re taken aback by how nonchalant he’s being about this.

“I- you- wha- How many times do you think we’re gonna do it!?” 

Denki slides the condom on, smirking at your shocked expression.  

“Till we finish this box,” he says as he slides into you. 

You gasp at the stretch. He pushes to the hilt, and stays there when he notices the slight furrow of your brow. It has been a while since you’ve fucked, but soon enough, you crave more so you roll your hips, but he doesn’t move.

“Denki?” 

His head is pressed into your neck, warm breath tickling your skin, and the stuttering heartbeat matches to the beat of your own. 

“Just… gimme a minute, don’t wanna ruin it by coming in two seconds.” 

His words are muffled, voice raspy with desire, and you can only imagine what his face looks like. It makes you want him all the more. Finally, someone who doesn’t see sex as an opportunity to one-up you or to put you in your place. It’s scary how the last twenty minutes have changed five years of friendship.

“Hey,” you hold his face in between your palms. He already looks completely fucked out with his face flushed and eyes glazed. You place a tender kiss to his lips, unlike the previous kisses you shared. 

“You couldn’t ruin it even if you did come right now.”

You caress his hair in an attempt to reassure him.

“You’d just have to make it up to me,” you wink.

His smile is so pure, lighting up his eyes that’s unique to Denki; it makes your heart do somersaults in your chest. But the moment passes as the previous heat between you two spikes when Denki circles his hips, taking his time to feel you inside and out. He’s touching and kissing you wherever he can, your cheek, neck, chest, thighs, like it’s the first and last time he’ll experience you like this. It might very well be. 

This thought doesn’t sit well with you.

Once he’s mapped out your sweet spots, he digs his fingers into your thighs and pulls your hips flush towards his. He pulls out of you until only the tip is brushing your opening and pounds back into you, taking your breath away. He pumps in and out of you faster, and you cry out when he hits that special spot deep inside of you.

“Denki,” you moan. He grunts and spreads your legs even wider, grabbing one and hauling it over his shoulder to pound into you deeper.

He’s getting close, hell, he’s been close even before you walked in. 

“F-fuck…” Denki groans, thrusting at an uneven pace and feeling the familiar tightening in his groin.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you flip him over and begin bouncing on his cock in a much more steady rhythm. Denki’s staring up at you, eyes wide in admiration.

You’re a goddess. An absolute fucking masterpiece that needs to be put in a museum for his eyes only. God, when did he get so fucking mushy? You always brought out different sides that Denki, himself, didn’t even know he had. He can’t keep his hands off you, grabbing your boobs, sliding down the curves of your thighs, gripping your ass. He wants to commit it all to memory in case he never gets to know this pleasure again. 

“Y/N, ah, shit, I’m gonna...” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence.

He’s holding on to that sweet release for as long as he can. He’s been craving it since he met you on the first day of class at U.A. His balls tighten, unable to hold it in any longer, before he gives in to the long overdue orgasm. It hits him hard - his entire body tingling from head to toe like 1000 volts of electricity bolt through him. Denki had no idea he could come for this long, but he doesn’t want it to end - it feels so fucking good inside you. He rides it out for a couple more thrusts before he relaxes, completely sated. You try to pull off him, but he grabs your hips and forces you back down. You squeak, clearly not expecting him to care enough to help you out after he finished.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The tone of his voice sounds foreign in his ears, too gruff and too deep, but you seem to have no problems with it as you moan in response, working yourself on top of him. Your thighs crush his hips, shaking with need as you seek a release of your own. You’re tired from bouncing, so you resort to grinding, swirling your hips deliciously around his cock. Denki squeezes your ass in appreciation.

“You close?” 

“Close, so close, Denki, please…”

Your eyes well up with tears, desperate to finish; the coil in your stomach wound too tight that you might burst any second. Denki helps you by thrusting his hips to meet yours, his hand rubbing your clit. You jolt at the sudden zap to your clit, you look down to see a small spark leave Denki’s fingertip. He does it again, and you cry out, your pussy fluttering from the electrifying touch.

“C’mon, baby, you can do it, come for me.” 

Fuck. Denki didn’t mean for the pet name to slip out, but then you’re moaning louder than before that Denki would’ve had to quiet you if you weren’t alone. Words are tumbling out before you can stop them.

“Oh, fuck, Denki, I love this so much, I love you, I-” 

You slap your hand over your mouth. Denki’s eyes widen for a second before a dangerous glint takes over, and he wretches your hand away from your mouth.

“Lemme hear you. C’mon, Y/N, show me how much you love this.”

You hardly recognize the scream as your own; you flush at how loud you are, but Denki doesn’t seem to mind. It seems to spur him on. He sits up so your chest to chest before he bends down to tug at your nipple with his teeth. You throw your head back in pleasure, your hands coming around to grab at his hair. Golden eyes look up at you from your chest, a slight smirk curving his lips.

“I’m no photographer, baby girl, but I can sure as hell picture us together.”

Leave it to Denki Kaminari to make you come with a cheesy pickup line. 

He gives one final thrust, balls slapping against your ass and hitting the spot deep inside you just right. Your thighs quiver from the pleasure wracking your body, a scream lodging out of your throat so loud that the people next door bang on the wall. You’re overwhelmed to the point that all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, whispering his name in a broken whimper as you finish. 

You fall next to him on the bed, sweaty and completely wiped, both of you trying to catch your breath. Denki tosses the condom in the trash while you stare at the ceiling, watching the fan swirl round and round. Your mind is no different at the moment, going round in circles, and you’re trying to catch up. Your body feels weightless, tingling all over and loving the high you didn’t think was possible. The bed shifts, and suddenly you’re faced with your best friend of five years. Before he can get a word out, the front door slams shut, and two very familiar, very masculine voices are down the hall, getting closer by the second. 

“Kaminari, you lazy shit, get the fuck down here!”

“Shit!” Denki jumps from the bed, ruffling through the mess to find his pants.

“Denki, just lock the door! Hurry!”

It’s too late as the door swings open, and yeah… if today taught Denki anything, it’s that he really needs to lock his door more often. He doesn’t have time to think as he hops back into bed with you to avoid flashing any of his other friends today. Bakugou would probably threaten to chop his dick off and… yeah, Denki doesn’t wanna think about the rest.

You squeak and cover yourself with the blanket when you’re met with two sets of equally shocked crimson eyes.

Kirishima drops the bag of chips he’s holding. It seems like dropping things when walking into Denki’s room was a common theme today, and he’s sure as hell not looking forward to the cleanup. Denki regrets chancing a glance at Bakugou; nostrils flaring like a rabid predator on the loose and Denki’s his target.

The four of you stare at each other for who knows how long before Kirishima breaks out into a full-on grin.

“About time, bro, congrats!” 

“Congrats?” You turn to Denki, confused.

“The fuck!? You bangin’ my ex, dunceface!?” Bakugou shouts.

“Please don’t hurt me!” Denki squeaks, hiding underneath the covers.

“Oi! You fuck like a man, you better fight like one, too!”

You roll your eyes, hardly affected by Bakugou’s exploding presence, unlike Denki, who is literally shaking beside you.

“Oh fuck off, Katsuki, listen to yourself. Keyword ex-girlfriend.”

Bakugou sputters, and Kirishima drags him by the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s been in a mood since he found out he’s gonna be the next star of the Bachelor.” 

“You wanna die too, shitty hair!?” 

You and Denki burst out laughing at the absurdity of Katsuki forced to act like a gentleman on live TV. The image of Katsuki in a suit and tie, holding a rose and actually smiling, is comedic gold to you.

“C’mon, bro, let’s give ’em some space.” 

“Oi! You’re on my shit list now! All of you! Aye! Get the fuck off me!”

Kirishima drags Bakugou the rest of the way, giving you a quick thumbs up on the way out.

You and Denki are still cracking up, but your laughter dies when they leave, and you’re faced with the tension from before. Denki sinks lower into the sheets, hating that he keeps getting walked in on. Who decided it was ‘make a fool out of Denki day’ anyway?

“So…” you start.

“So…” Denki finishes. 

You both stare straight ahead at nothing. 

“Did you mean it?” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly asking him to elaborate.

“What you said, when you... you know...” he makes a clicking noise with his mouth like that’s universal code for fucking, “Or was it just a heat of the moment thing?” 

You take a moment to think before you give your response. You want to be as honest as possible, and not lead Denki on in any way. Of course, you loved him, he’s your best friend, but did you love him? 

You think back on your friendship, and suddenly a supercut of all the times he was there for you flashes before your eyes. He was there when you needed someone to drive you when you had your wisdom teeth pulled out. You didn’t expect Denki to stay with you the whole weekend, buying you ice cream and watching your favorite movies, but he did. 

He was there when you and Bakugou became an item, always listening to you swoon over how amazing a boyfriend he was. Denki would always respond with “But can he do this?” and would proceed to overuse his quirk like an overpowered Pikachu just to make you laugh. It sends a knife through your heart, knowing Denki was in love with you while you were talking about how great of a boyfriend his friend was. Not to mention how he was there when you and Bakugou broke up, heart-broken and vowing to swear off boys for good. Denki held you in his arms while you cried, staying silent the entire time, which you knew was against his nature. Denki was always there for you as a friend. There’s no doubt he’d be there for you as a lover.

“I meant it,” you say.

Tears threaten to spill, and your heart might burst out of your chest and land right into his hands. You hope he holds on to it forever. He squishes your cheeks and leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. This is what you’ve been missing - more like who you’ve been missing. You open your mouth to deepen the kiss, and he meets you move for move. He pulls away, hands still on your cheeks, grazing your cheekbones with his fingertips as he stares into your eyes. 

“Denki, I…” You bite your lip, overcome with emotion. You desperately want to say the words to capture this picture-perfect moment forever. 

Until you feel something poking your thigh.

“Denki!” 

You yell, affronted he popped a boner in the middle of what was supposed to be a romantic moment.

“Sorry!”

“Ugh! Worst timing ever!” You slap his shoulder.

“Ow! I said I’m sorry!”

You wiggle out of his embrace. Silence eats at the room, and you can feel Denki’s energy radiating in uncomfortable frequencies. The last moment had been thoroughly ruined.

But you have all the time in the world to make more.

“... round two?” 

Just seeing Denki’s face light up like Christmas is enough to promise the birth of a new moment. He bends over to grab his box of condoms, some spilling on the floor and adding more to the mess, before saying, “hell yeah!”

You roll your eyes with affection. What a weirdo, you think. But he’s your weirdo.

That night, or rather the next day since it was currently three in the morning, Denki plops down on his bed exhausted from the day. He’s fluffing his pillow, trying to get comfortable, when he feels something underneath. His eyes widen when he takes in the picture he’s holding. You must’ve taken it when he was downstairs and snuck it under his pillow. You’re bent over with that same damn lacy bra that sends him for a loop. Your cleavage deliciously on display as you bite your lip and stare at the camera with those innocent eyes. Denki can’t help it, his hand sliding down on instinct and cupping himself through his boxers. He turns the picture around and smiles at the cute little message written on the back.

“To add to your collection 😉”

[forever-rogue]

Baby Steps (A Good Man)

A/N: Hello my sunshines! I’m back with another little installment of the AGM ‘verse with our favorite Javi and Dulzura! I love them so much and I’m glad y’all do too! I hope you guys enjoy!  As always, comments and feedback are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! Xx

*can be read as a standalone or part of the ‘verse as a whole*

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: language, pregnant!reader

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Mrs. Peña?” the sound of your name still surprised you, despite the fact that the students had been calling you for several months now. A grin worked its way onto your face as you looked at the young boy who was watching you with wide, eager eyes. Putting your pen down, you motioned for him to continue, “will you come outside and play with us?”

“You want me to hang out with you guys?” you almost laughed at the idea that any kid deemed you worthy of spending time with them, “I thought teachers were lame, Mikey?”

“Some of them, but not all of them! You’re pretty cool,” he smiled and displayed his toothy grin. How were you supposed to say no to him? You nodded and stood up, taking the hand he was holding out to you, “besides we’re playing kickball and we need one more person!!”

“I should have known you were just using me for my exceptional skills,” you pretended to be hurt as he pulled out of the building and into the playground, where the sun was shining brightly. 

Normally, you’d have turned him down, opting to get some work done during the lunch period, but decided you might as well indulge him and yourself. You really enjoyed the kids you had this year, and it was a gorgeous early spring day. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Turns out, kickball with a bunch of seven and eight year olds was not as simple as it seemed. They seemed to come up with all sorts of nonsense rules, and on top of it all, they happened to be extremely competitive. And yet...you were thoroughly enjoying yourself - and glad you had opted to wear jeans today instead of a skirt or dress. Javi had been particularly fond of the tight, high-waisted jeans that hugged you in all the right places, getting very handsy before you both had to leave for work. Typical Javier; not that you minded of course. 

“Come on, give us a good one, Mrs. P!” Mikey yelled at the top of his small lungs as you proceeded to kick the ball that was rolled at you. You offered up a firm kick, but not one you would have used if you’d been playing with only adults. Taking unfair advantage was something you definitely didn’t want to do.

As soon as your foot made contact with the red rubber ball, you watched it whistle through the air before running to the first base. But...it was over before it started as you ran and then immediately proceeded to trip over your slightly untied shoelaces. You made contact with the hard earth before you knew and rolled your ankle in the process. 

You landed with a mixture of an annoyed sigh and a loud oof as you chided yourself. You should have made sure they were properly tied before doing anything. The kids clambered around you, faces anxious as they tried to make sure you were okay. Physically you were sure you’d be just fine, but mentally your pride was wounded. Oh, to make a fool of yourself in front of a bunch of children. 

“I’m alright,” you promised as you slowly rose to your feet; an instant tinge of pain shot through your ankle and leg as you almost lost your balance again. Maybe you were hurt… “it’s alright - you guys go back to playing and I’m going to go back to the classroom and sit for a moment. I might have twisted my ankle.”

They nodded, but gave you wary looks as you hobbled back inside the building. You should have remained the umpire and refused to play; you were obviously not coordinated enough for any of this. Slumping back in your chair, you rolled up your pant leg and hissed at the sight of the already swollen ankle. Shit.

“You’d better get that checked out,” Anna, one of the teachers from across the hall looked at you with a pained expression, “looks painful.”

“Nothing some rest and elevation won’t fix,” you insisted as you slumped against the back of the chair, “I’m too old for this! When did I become an adult?"

“Hey, at least they think you’re cool,” she huffed playfully, “they never ask me to play! But seriously, that looks pretty bad. And it happened at work, you know how they get about stuff like that.”

“Fineeee,” you groaned, “I’ll go to the school nurse.”

“I would recommend an actual urgent care or ER visit,” she raised an eyebrow, “besides, you know how Javi gets - he'll flay us all if he thought we weren’t looking out for you.”

“He’s...something else.”

“He’s amazing,” she reminded as you nodded in agreement. For how much of a worrywart he could be, you knew it was all out of love, “now go and get it checked out. I’ll handle getting the sub in and telling everyone. You have enough to worry about. Can you make it okay, or will you need a ride? Should I call Javi?”

“I can drive myself,” you promised, thankful it happened to your left foot and not the right, “I’m not going to bother my darling, overprotective husband just yet. Not until I can confirm that nothing is actually wrong. I don’t want him to stress over nothing, and I’m sure by the time he gets home tonight he’ll just be laughing at me and my clumsiness!”

“Alright,” Anna grabbed your purse and handed it to you, as you managed to slink out of the chair, “go get checked out and feel better. If you need anything at all, just call me.”

“Thanks for all of your help,” you hobbled towards the door, trying to keep as much weight off of your foot as possible, as Anna grimaced at you, “I swear it’s not that bad - worse than it looks.”

“Sure, sure,” she disagreed politely, “now quit stalling and go get help!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The white walls and bright lights of the exam room were enough to rattle your nerves, even if just ever so lightly. You sat on the examination bed and tried to keep yourself calm as you waited for the nurse to come back and begin examining you. Nothing but the distant sounds of people outside and the tick-tock of the aging clock met your ears. You almost wish you’d called Javier just to have some company. Shit.

“Mrs. Peña?” a kind looking woman, maybe around Javier’s age poked her head in as you nodded, “sorry for the wait, we’re pretty busy right now. You’re here for a rolled ankle?”

“Yeah,” you answered as you relaxed at her comforting presence as she came in and sat on her rolling stool, eyes immediately dropping your swollen and irritated ankle, “I was playing with my kids outside - kickball - and then tripped over my own damn feet and ta da!”

“Were you at home when this happened? Playing with your kids?”

“Oh no, I’m a teacher,” you quickly explained, a warm flush rising up your cheeks at the thought of children, “it was on their lunch break at school. I-I don’t have any children of my own.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to offer up a clarifying statement.

“I see,” she made a few notes before turning back to you, “it looks pretty bad, to be quite frank. I’m going to assume it wasn’t a break, a sprain rather, from how you’re managing, but we’ll need to do some x-rays to confirm. We’ll do your blood work as well just to make sure everything is in order. Before we do x-rays or anything - are you pregnant?”

“No,” you admitted, looking at your feet as you tried not to sigh. It had been on your mind recently, and you weren’t sure quite what to make of your own feelings on the matter. While you hadn't been actively trying, you couldn't help but wonder if it would ever happen.

“Any chance you could be?” 

“Umm,” you twiddled your thumbs as you shrugged your shoulders, “I-I suppose. I’m not on birth control and my husband and I don’t use protection...we’ve been trying but not trying if that makes sense? But my cycle’s been regular so I highly doubt it.”

“Okay,” the scratching of her pen on paper was almost maddening as she was making notes and you just sat there. You could curse yourself for babbling on to her, but you couldn’t really help it. Besides, it’d be better for them to know all the details if they were going to x-ray and poke and prod you, “very good. Let me just go get everything and we’ll get started and a better look at everything. We’ll have you set and on your way in no time.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Here you go,” you scratched Stevie’s ears as you offered him a treat, a scrap of carrot from the vegetables you were chopping up for dinner, “what do you think, buddy? Should we tell him tonight?”

“Should we tell who and what tonight?” Javi’s voice startled you so much that you almost dropped your knife. You hadn’t even heard him come in, ever the sneaky DEA agent as he walked into the kitchen. A smile was on his face as he came over to you and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “hi baby.”

“J-Javi,” you couldn’t help but melt into his touch, despite his surprise arrival, “you’re home!”

“Oh very observant of you, Dulzura,” he teased as he pulled back and started to undo his tie. It was only then that he noticed you weren’t wearing what you had earlier in the day; you were in one of his sweaters and a pair of joggers and… “what the hell happened to your ankle?!”

There it was  - Javier switching into overdrive. You put everything down on the counter and turned to him, putting on your most innocent and sheepish expression. His large, warm hands found your face as he looked you over to make sure you were okay. 

“It’s nothing, Javi,” you promised him, “I swear it. It’s just a bad sprain, but I went and had it looked at and they wrapped it and gave me pain killers. It’s umm...a stupid little story actually…”

“What happened?” he bent down and reached out to tentatively and delicately cheek the binding to make sure the nurse had properly tended to your sprain. He made a small sound of disgruntled satisfaction before standing up and waiting for a proper explanation, “why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, Javier,” you promised as he crossed his arms over his broad but acquiesced with a nod, “you’re so busy, and honestly, it wasn’t a big deal at all. Besides, Anna was ready to call you immediately, but I told her not to worry. All that happened was that I was outside with the kids and we were playing kickball and I tried over my laces, fell, and twisted my ankle. It hurts, but no fracture or anything.”

Javier’s lips twitched as he tried not to laugh, his shoulders shaking with effort as he just studied you, “are you....are you serious, Dulzura?”

“Don’t laugh at me!” you pouted as he started laughing at your dismal nod when you confirmed that that was what actually happened, “they thought I was cool and how was I supposed to say no to them!? I’m the cool teacher to them!”

“And look what that got you,” he snickered as you sighed heavily, “I’m sorry - I’m sorry. As long as you’re okay, that’s what matters. Whatever you need, just tell me the word and I’ll make sure you have it. I’ll take good care of you, Dulzura.”

“I know you will...you always do,” your heart raced as you tried to decide whether or not to tell him the rest of your revelations. But then he looked at you with those eyes, those soft brown, gentle eyes, and your heart melted. He gently pulled you into his arms as he kissed you again, chasing after your soft, sweet lips with his own, seemingly never able to get enough of you, “Javier, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you felt him smile against your lips, “what’s brought on your sudden declaration of love, mi alma?”

“I...I’m pregnant,” you blurted it out without even really thinking about it. Javier pulled back as a surprised expression crossed his features. He looked at you, seemingly in a state of shock, before opening and closing his mouth a few times, “Javi?”

“You’re pregnant?” he repeated as you nodded. It took about a moment for everything to finally come full circle as he finally realized what you had said. Immediately, an overwhelming wave of emotion came over you as you felt the back of your eyes start to sting with tears. He grabbed your face and slowly crashed his lips back onto yours and kissed deeply and slowly, “holy shit.”

“I know,” you beamed at him, “they asked before they did x-rays and blood work and then well...they discovered I was pregnant. I had no clue and then they told me and yeah - holy shit."

“That’s amazing,” he said softly, “pregnant....”

“I know,” you breathed him in and ran a hand through his dark curls, “I’m not far along, only like six weeks, so it’s still very early, but yes. We’re finally having a baby, Javier!

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around and held you in a tight embrace, “I love you so much.”

“You deserve this - everything. You are such a good man, Javier, and I am so honored to call you my husband, and the father of my child,” he almost melted under your praise as you traced along his features before resting your hand on his cheek, “I love you, Javi. I am so excited for this.”

“Me too,” he agreed, “this is everything - you are everything.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

3 months pregnant

“Dulzura?” Javier yawned as he wiped the sleep from his eyes as he got up and found you in the kitchen, peering into the fridge. You were in the mood for...something. You just weren’t sure what that something was. Everything sounded good but nothing seemed to satiate that craving you had deep within, “what are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, hoping you hadn’t woken him up by accident, “and I got hungry. I’m sorry if I woke you, my love. Go back to bed, Javier.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted as he shuffled into the kitchen and slowly pried you away from the fridge, “sit down, and let me make you something to eat. What sounds good?”

“Javier,” you did as he asked, padding over to the other side of the counter and taking a seat at the bar. You rested your head on your hands as he stifled a yawn, "honey, go back to bed. You're exhausted and you've got back to back classes tomorrow."

"They start in the late morning," he insisted, with a sleepy nod as you just laughed at him. He was such a stubborn man sometimes it drove you crazy - but you knew it came from a place of love and concern, "don't sleep well without you anyways. 's better when you're there."

"Oh, my sweet husband," he reached into the fridge and pulled out some cheese, butter, and your favorite pickled jalapeños. You watched in curiosity as he went to the bread box and grabbed the fresh loaf of bread you'd purchased earlier at the store, "grilled cheese?"

"Grilled cheese with jalapeños," he corrected, a lazy smile tugged up the corners of his mouth. You made a small sound of musing as you realized it didn't sound too bad at all, "and tomato soup, naturally. How does that sound?"

"Sounds delicious," you grinned eagerly as you leaned in to watch him work. You made a small sound of surprise as your stomach rumbled loudly. Apparently you were hungrier than you had thought, "apparently, my stomach and I agree. I think its your daughter that agrees."

At the mention of your baby, Javier paused and smiled, his eyes flitting to your barely visible bump. Some days he still couldn't believe that you were having a baby. You were his wife. What a wild world it was indeed; years ago he'd never dreamed he would have all of this. The Javier that once existed and refused to believe that there was any light in the world could never have pictured any of this. 

But here you were. Continually proving him wrong. And he loved it all.

"Wait - how do you know we're having a girl?" he asked, suddenly wide awake as he raised an eyebrow at you, "I thought we still need to wait another month or so."

"We do," you grinned at him, "but I just know. I'm sure of it!"

"Well, you do have a fifty-fifty chance of being right…"

"I have a hundred percent chance of being right," you insisted as you reached over the counter and grabbed the jar of pickled jalapeños and fished a few out, and popped them into your mouth, "don't argue with your pregnant wife, Javier Peña. You of all people should know not to cross someone so dangerous."

He snorted with laughter, suddenly feeling much more awake as he sliced up cheese and turned on the stove, "and if we end up having a son?"

"Then we keep having more until we have a daughter and I am proven right," you plastered on a sweet smile, knowing it would wind him up. You'd never really discussed how many children you wanted or planned on having. It was just a sort of...whatever happens happens type thing. But, if you were being honest, you'd probably have given Javier as many children as he wanted. Your husband fell silent as he watched you for a moment before taking the jar away from, "nothing to add? Silence isn't like you, my love."

"We can have as many as you'd like," he promised, "you're the one doing all the hard work. If you're done after one, then it's fine for me. You already amaze me every day."

"Don't make me cry, Javier," your whole body soaked in the warmth and love from his simple words, "its getting really easy at this point, and you're taking advantage!"

"Sorry," he shot you a wink before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, "back to business."

"Hmm," you mused quietly, "I thought kissing me was business."

"I thought you were hungry?"

"Fine," you playfully huffed as he carried on cooking, "Javi?"

"Dulzura?"

"I love you," you beamed at him, the little smile that worked its way onto his face take your breath away - as it always had. 

"I love you."

»»————-　♡　————-««

6 months pregnant

A huff escaped your lips as you tried to reach for the socks and underwear that had fallen out of the laundry basket. It was no easy feat when you couldn’t see your own feet anymore. But you were determined to get everything up and off the floor as you walked back towards your bedroom to put away the clean clothes. And you weren’t about to give up and ask for help - not yet anyway.

Instead, you opted to awkwardly lower yourself to the floor in order to blindly grab for the discarded items. But it was no use...this was almost harder. 

“You alright, Dulzura?” Javier came in and found you struggling, cleaning his dirty hands off on a rag. He’d been working outside, getting the garden spruced up as the summer slowly came to an end, “can’t reach?”

“I can,” you stuck your tongue out at him as he huffed with laughter, but motioned for you to go on. Wanting to prove that you were right, and weren’t completely helpless after all. It hadn’t been easy having to give up a lot of the things you used to be able to do with ease as you progressed in your pregnancy. The fact that none of your pants would fit over your belly anymore had been a point of horror for you - it meant you were truly and actually pregnant, you were actually having a baby. You’d always known, but that had been what made it all extremely real. Every day you got closer and closer to your due date, it all became a little more real. Exciting - but terrifying. 

Not being able to see your feet had been another blow. You could hardly get proper shoes on anymore, opting for easy slide ons, which were great for the warmth of summer and didn’t matter since you were on summer break along with your kids. It was almost as though Javier could sense your frustration, and he’d often silently help you with getting your shoes on in the morning. He never said a word, knowing he didn’t have to. He always told you he loved you in so many ways, often without saying it. 

You tried to again, dangling your hand along on the floor as you tried again. After watching you struggle for a moment, Javier came over and grabbed everything in one foul swoop before taking your hand in his and helping you upright. 

“Hey,” you pouted at him as he put the items back into your basket, “I almost had it!”

“I know,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “but I wanted to help. Why can I not help my gorgeous wife?”

“Your very pregnant and easily frustrated wife?” you teased as you started to walk towards the bedroom. He followed after you, swatting at your bum as you squealed in delight, “Javier!”

“Come on, mi alma,” he grinned, “let me help put everything away.”

“If I let you help, you’re just going to take me to bed and then I’ll have to wash the sheets again!”

“I’ve never heard a single complaint from you before,” as you set the basket on the dresser, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before settling a hand on your belly and gently rubbing it a few times. He pressed a few kisses to the side of your neck as you tilted your head to give him easier access, “there we go, Dulzura. Just like you like it.”

“You’re the worst,” you teased as you turned your head to kiss him, “you’re lucky I love you. And I’m seemingly always in the mood right now - they really weren’t kidding about pregnancy making you more horny. Although, I’ve never heard a single complaint from you before.”

“And you never will,” he promised, his low in your ear as you tried not to completely let your mind wander too far away, “do you have any plans for this afternoon, Dulzura?”

“N-no,” you  managed to choke out as one of his hands skimmed along the waistband of your leggings. You knew exactly where this was going, and you were loath to stop him, especially as he slowly kept kissing you.

“Good,” he rasped, “because I have plans for you. Been thinking about you all day, especially in these tight leggings. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you honey?”

“Uh huh,” you agreed as his warm hand slipped inside and a shiver ran up your spine, “Javier. Please.”

“Don’t worry, mi alma,” he captured your gasp in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take good care of you.”

The laundry could definitely wait.

»»————-　♡　————-««

9 months pregnant 

It was an early, chilling morning as you sipped on some tea as you sat out in the garden. It was probably too cold to be sitting outside, but you were handled up in blankets and didn't care. 

Christmas was a few weeks away and you enjoyed peeking into the neighbor's yards to see what they all had going on for decorations.

"Are you sure you don't want to come inside?" Javier poked his head out from the sliding screen door, his brow furrowed in concentration, "its freezing! And I have breakfast!"

"I've got blankets and a baby keeping me warm," you reminded him, pointing at your large belly. You were due in a couple of weeks; how time had flown. He jokingly frowned at you, sticking out his tongue. Playfully rolling your eyes, you clambered to your feet and waddled over to him, "fine, hold on you big baby. This is because I want breakfast."

Javier was on his winter break from teaching and you were on maternity leave now and you definitely didn't mind having him around all the time. If you could have always had it this way, you definitely wouldn't have minded.

"I'm just looking out for you," he insisted with a pout as you pressed a kiss to his lips, "I talked to Papà. He's really excited to come in a few weeks - more like excited to meet his grandbaby."

"I'm not complaining at all," you insisted, knowing there would be many sleepless nights and chaotic days ahead of you, "we'll need all the help we can get. Hell, maybe we can convince Steve and Connie to come and visit too…"

"I'm sure we'll have all the help in the world between our families and friends, Dulzura," he promised as he took your hand and pulled you into the warm kitchen, putting a plate of breakfast for you on the counter, "I'm sure we'll get sick of having so many people around."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," you took a bite and smiled as Stevie laid by your feet. The whole house was warm and cozy, perfectly decorated for Christmas, with a huge tree and already lots of presents. Javier had really outdone himself this year, seemingly more in the Christmas spirit than you. Honestly, you were feeling a little bit out of it - being so pregnant would do that to you. 

You watched your husband for a few moments, admiring his profile and lazy smile. Gods, you were still so in love with him. He felt you watching him closely, and turned to you, cooking a dark brow, "what's on your mind, mi alma?"

"Nothing much," you shrugged lightly, feeling a flush of warmth was over you at him catching you, "just thinking about how I love you, and how I'm glad you're here with me, that you knocked me up, and yeah. Are you…are you nervous Javi?"

"About the baby?"

"No, about the Astros' odds next season," you snorted as he groaned at your joke, "of course the baby. I'm just...so nervous. Like I feel ready to meet her, but I'm so scared that I'll fuck it up somehow."

"You still think its a girl?"

"Positive," you grinned at him - you'd decided not to find out the sex ahead of time, leaving it a surprise for both of you. You were still convinced it was a girl, Javier was undecided, "we'll find out soon enough!"

"Either way," he brought his plate and sat down next to you, "everything will be alright. You're going to be an amazing mother, Dulzura. You are everything."

"I love you, Javier," you beamed as he gently put a hand on your belly, "I know it'll be alright, but holy shit - I'm so nervous. Its getting so real lately. We're going to be parents."

"Parents," he repeated, "fuck."

"Who would have thought-" you were quickly cut off when you felt the baby flutter round. A small sound of surprise left your lips as you grabbed Javier's hand and placed it on your belly, "she's telling you not to curse."

He was silent for a moment as a smile spread on his features; despite having felt this many times by now, it still continued to surprise him. He couldn't even imagine how it felt for you, "this is...everything."

"I realized I didn't know what to get you for Christmas so I got you a baby instead," you don't know why it came to mind, but as soon as the words left your lips you brought into a fit of laughter - Javier joined in, a brilliant sound that you adored above all.

"Best Christmas present ever," he whispered before leaning in and giving you a gentle kiss - sweet from the syrup and pancakes he had just eaten, "I mean it. I love you both more than you will ever know."

"We love you too," you grinned as he stroked your belly, "I'm glad your class was the only one available and I took it. I'm glad you were a grumpy professor that let me into his office - I was able to work my magic and look where that got us."

He threw his back with laughter, his dark curls shining brilliantly in the light as his eyes crinkled in the corners. You'd never been more glad for subjecting yourself to his class.

"Me too," he whispered as he put a hand on your cheek, "you always were a stubborn thing."

"Some things never change," you stuck your tongue out at him, "I trust your daughter will be the same!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were humming to yourself as you shuffled around the kitchen and tried to put together a mid afternoon snack when you felt an odd sensation in your lower belly. It caused you to drop the knife on the counter as you held onto the marble and gritted your teeth. Stevie was at your feet in an instant, looking at you with concern.

"Its okay, buddy," you reassured him as the pain passed. Surely it couldn't have been anything too bad...probably just an end of pregnancy pain. Sighing at your nonsense worry, you reached for the knife again but before you reached it, the pain was back, "never mind, shit shit shit."

Trying to keep yourself calm, you leaned against the counter and tried to even your breathing. Contractions. Of course. You were due in a week and you still hadn't been expecting it.

"Javier?" he was down the hall in the second bedroom that had been converted into the nursery, putting away the final touches of clothing. Before he could respond, you felt an odd sensation followed by liquid running down your legs, "Javier!"

"What's wrong, Dulzura?" he rushed down the hall and back into the kitchen, worry etched onto his features as you stood there in shock and clutched at your belly, "honey-"

"My water broke," you said meekly as you pointed to your wet pants, "and I've had a few contractions - I think the baby's coming."

"Okay," he immediately kicked into gear as he remained cool and calm, despite wanting to panic and worry along with you, "its okay. I'm going to get the hospital bag, we'll get you in the car, Stevie to the neighbor, and then we'll go and have a baby."

"You make it seem so simple," you huffed lightly as you tried to channel his inner calm demeanor, "we'll be okay, right? I-I'm scared…"

"I know, honey," he promised as he kissed the side of your head, "you've done so amazing already, it will all be okay. I'm right here, okay? I'm just going to grab your bag and the dog and we'll go. Ten minutes and we'll be on the way."

"Okay," you agreed as he practically ran down the hall to get your packed bag, "we're going to have a baby, Javi."

"Indeed we are," he agreed with a small smile as he reached for his wallet and keys and stuff for the neighbor to watch Stevie for a few days, "we're having our baby."

Holy shit.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You’re doing amazing, sweetheart,” Javier praised you as you squeezed his hand after another push. You groaned and gritted your teeth as you glared at him; this was absolute hell, “the baby’s almost there.”

“Shut up, Javier,” you hissed as you got ready for another push, “I am never letting you touch me again! You did this to me.”

“Hey - it was a team effort,” he reminded you in a vain attempt at a joke. Your death glare and the squeezing of his hand said it all, “sorry, Dulzura. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said as you took a deep breath, “but right now, I’m blaming this on you.”

“Fair enough,” he said as you pushed again. He was sure his hand was going to break.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It wasn’t much longer before you were laying back and holding the smallest bundle you could ever imagine in your arms. You were somewhere between crying tears of joy and exhaustion, as you stared at your newborn daughter in awe. Javier was sitting next to you, looking down at her, his own eyes glossy as he gently touched her cheek. She had the darkest eyes and a shock of dark hair, already taking after her father. She had come into the world squealing and crying but had fallen asleep almost as soon as Javier held her. 

“I told you we were having a girl,” you teased him softly, “I was right. Look at her, Javier. That’s our daughter. We made her.”

“You did all the hard work, mi alma,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “she’s beautiful.”

“Lucia Luna Peña,” you grinned at your husband, “it’s perfect. I love you both more than you could ever know. Javier...you really are everything to me - the best friend, best husband, and now the best father. She’s going to love the hell out of you, just like I do.”

He remained silent for a moment as he looked at the sleeping baby before looking back at you. His whole world was in his arms, and the thought of that alone was enough to overwhelm him with emotion. He’d never thought he wanted this - a “boring” job, a home, a wife, and a baby. 

But here he was. And he had never felt happier, never felt more full of love and life. This was everything. 

“I love you so much, Dulzura - you and Lucia,” he promised as he rested his head on top of yours, “you have given me everything, more than you know. Te quiero con todo.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[niksfics]

↬ WHAT COULD NEVER BE

↬ PAIRINGS: bokuto x f!reader? (Side) atsumu x f!reader

↬ WARNINGS: nothing really. Just some heart wrenching angst, bokuto is careless with your heart I guess

↬ SUMMARY: you fell in love with your bestfriend but your bestfriend has never felt that way about you.

↬ A/N: I totally did not cry while writing this pft

↬ WC: | 1.7K |

My first year at Fukurodani had been lonely to say the least. I had been new to the area wheras everyone else had gone to middle school together, and I'd been the odd one out. The cliques had already formed leaving me to fend for myself.

My second year though I'd seen a flyer for the boys volleyball team needing a new manager. I signed my name against my better judgement and hoped for the best. When I'd shown up to the first practice game after a talk with the coach, I had realized signing that flyer was the best decision I'd ever made.

Bokuto Kotaro a second year -at the time- like myself was just a ball of energy. He was an honest to god enigma. Being around him was just intoxicating, a rollercoaster you never wanted off of. We got along fairly quickly and him and the rest of the boys had made my second year a little less lonely.

In my third year I was always greeted in the halls, by my fellow classmates who'd known me because of Bo. When he'd learned that I was basically friendless in my second year he'd gone around and introduced me to just about everyone he knew. Eyes shining with love and happiness. That was the third time my heart had skipped a beat because of him.

By the time I realized the butterflies in my stomach increased as the months went by in my eventful second year, the more I realized I was falling in love with my best friend. My heart thumping against my rib cage every time he'd look at me. My skin lighting on fire as his skin brushed against mine. My breath catching in my throat whenever he'd look at me a certain way, or whenever he leaned down to whisper something in my ear. He made me feel breathless and I could never get tired of it.

The day I realized my bestfriend, Bokuto Kotaro, just might not be in love with me as well was the day I'd stayed late after practice to put some of the equipment in the storage closet. I'd been proudly wearing his jacket. It swallowing my body because that's just how big he was. He'd rounded the corner into the closet and smiled at me sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"Y/n, I was wondering," he'd paused and my heart beat against my chest almost as if it was gonna burst right through my skin. The breathless feeling coming back and I felt myself starting to smile until he'd finished his sentence, "well uhm... I was wondering if I could have my jacket back, Koyuki is cold and I don't want her to freeze," my smile dropped in an instant. The way he'd said her name, it was.. well it was different than whenever he said anybody else's name. "Oh yeah sure Bo, lemme just put this stuff down really fast," I'd turned from him nose stinging from the tears welling up in my eyes, and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat down. Suppressing every single emotion in my body.

I'd handed him his stupid jacket back and slammed the door closed as I watched him drape it over her shoulders and she smiled brightly at him.

I should have known then. Known that he was falling head over heels for akaashi's twin sister, because when bokuto falls in love it's not quiet, its loud and powerful and passionate and it'll swallow you up if you let it.

Koyuki akaashi did just that. Let his love consume her like the raging fire it was. They were a beautiful couple. A match made in heaven.

She was beautiful and confident. His personal little cheerleader. She was undoubtedly the most wanted girl at our school. She was perfect for him. I knew that. I felt it, and I tried my damn hardest to be so happy for him. To love him differently. The way he loved me. Platonically. I watched them fall in love.

Watched him kiss her with a passion I only dreamt of feeling from him. They held looks of love whenever they looked at the other. The hardest part though. The hardest part was she was the kindest, sweetest girl you'd ever meet. A heather. No hidden agenda. Nothing like those girlfriends in the cliche best friends to lovers trope books. She welcomed me as a friend and fully supported me as bokutos bestfriend. She was impossible to hate, and how could I hate her when she was the reason my best friend smiled the way he did. The reason his breath caught in his throat just the way mine did.

When we graduated and I'd become a cheerleader for the MSBY Black Jackals, because I'd promise Bo to not leave his side. Promised I'd followed him to the ends of the earth. We were y/n and bokuto. We came in a pair. It was hard. Hard being around him when he'd talk about Koyuki and how he couldn't wait to feel her again and how it was so hard being away from the person you love more than anything, and then he'd say "you know?" With his puppy eyes, and I'd just shrug and agree.

The way I'd wished and hoped that it wouldn't last. That somewhere in bokutos head he'd realize she wasn't the one. That they'd get in a fight too big to cool down from. The more I'd wished that the more I felt guilty. Why would I wanna ruin my bestfriends happiness? Why would I wish that to go away?

So when shoyo hinata asked me on a date, I'd excitedly agreed. Finally I could, maybe, forget about the big himbo I'd fallen for. No. In fact that made it worse. I found myself comparing hinata to bokuto. The way hinata walked, the way hinata talked, the way Hinata's touch didn't make my skin burn up quite like bokutos did. Me and hinata didn't last. It was a disease, and I was dying. Being eaten from the inside out. My very heart collapsing in on it self, and when he'd proposed to her. God, the way I cried. The way I ached. The way my chest clenched and the tears finally fell.

"Y/n, what's wrong?! What did I do?" He asked desperately grabbing my wrist as I'd gasped and tried to turn.

"Nothing Bo, I'm so happy for you!! These are happy tears Ko!"

He smiled big and bright. Bokuto wasn't dense. He was more aware of anyone's feelings than he was of his own. Either he saw the pain in my eyes that night and ignored it, or he saw it and in fear of our friendship crumbling right in our hands that night swallowed down what he'd wanted to say. It was the latter.

The day of the wedding finally came. Here I stood, next to my favorite boy. Waiting at the end of the aisle for a girl who was not me. My bestfriend, the boy.. no man I'm in love with. Tearing up as is his wife to be walked closer towards him.

Tears gathered in my eyes and I forced a smile as they fell down my face. Atsumu tapped my shoulder. I turned and he'd held open his arms. I'd buried myself in the tight embrace of the setter who knew. Who knew the story. Who'd held me as I cried many times. Times just like this one. He kisses the the top of my head and I turn back around catching the eyes of bokuto.

After the ceremony everyone had gathered at a venue for the reception. I walked away from the laughter. The buzz of the party and the cheers as the groom dipped the bride and kissed her.

Unfortunately for me, he'd soon noticed my absence and come to find me. "Y/n" he whispered hand closing over my elbow, and a warm, salty tear rolled down my cheek and stopped at the corner of my lip.

I turned away from the salty water washing over my feet, and my toes dug in the sand. "Don't touch me" I tried my hardest to sound determined, but my voice cracked.

"What was it? What does she have that I don't Ko?" I asked. Desperate. Reaching for anything. Grasping at straws.

That's when I looked at him, and his eyes said it all. He was never very good at hiding his emotions. His eyes always gave him away, and he'd known. He knew the whole time. I knew that now.

Lovely Bokuto Kotaro had known all along.

He was quiet for a minute. "You have everything that she has and more." He said what he felt and bokuto never lied. He hates lies I knew that.

"Then why not me? I know you knew. You knew the minute we were sitting in that boba shop and you looked at me staring at your hands interlocked. I know you realised. Then and there." I pulled my elbow away from his hand.

"I love you y/n, just not in the way I love koyuki," he says it so casually as if he'd just told me he'd left my purse on the counter. Not tenderly. Not carefully.

My eyes closed collecting myself, "don't you think I know that Bokuto? Don't you think I've cried over that every night for years? I know you do, and God it's so fucking hard to be happy, and bite my tongue. To swallow down the word vomit, because I love you so fucking much, kotaro. I've loved you since the middle of our second year, but now you've gotta let me go. Leave me behind." I turned back facing him again.

"Please don't ask that of me, you know I can't do that. That'll kill me sweets-" I stopped him and turned to glare at him, "you can't fucking call me that anymore. That's a pet name for lovers, not for a man who is married to use on his bestfriend."

You could hear someone walking towards you guys, "y/n?" You knew that voice. "I'm here tsumu," you sighed. Moving around bokuto and walking closer to the setter. "Just... just.. enjoy you're honeymoon Bokuto, and please let me move on and heal. Congratulations on your marriage"

You smiled softly at him kissing bokuto on the cheek as you took the hand of the blonde. Atsumu smiled down at you, heart beating faster just like yours did the day you made eye contact with bokuto for the very first time.