#i wanna apologize in advance in case i missed some

[meep-meep-richie]

Owen Wilson + headphones

[good-beanswrites]

🎬: About Es being a past prisoner and the secret 11th prisoner in your AU. But advance apologies if I'm overstepping into your AU!

I had this idea from a story that pretty much did the same thing. Going off there are novels/manga on Milgram and there being another Es and their own prisoners running another Milgram (but differently) I imagine this Milgram projects has been going on for a while, and our Es was from a previous project who might have gotten the worst verdict (or the most spared out of everyone), and was given this final task as a warden for the next group of prisoners. This is why they so readily agreed and had their memories wiped for this Milgram project instead of being weary on a shady project on judging an almost crime, they've already been through this.

(BTW is it bad and worrying for one of our ten fav prisoners to be the next Es if this is legit...)

Anyway, that's why Es is in Milgram in your AU, I guess? And the lore drop that Kotoko picks up on them being the 11th prisoner, I can imagine her also talking to Kazui since he's a policeman to see if she could cross out any theories on who Es is (Did they look familiar. Possible missing child. Any cases to do with an almost crime by a child other than the 10 of them here). Kazui knows Kotoko wants to investigate, but reminds her that, like in their prison while the trial is on, the facilities they're in have high security too. They do have the freedom to move about, but still limited.

If they're trying to investigate Es, maybe Fuuta, Kotoko and Mikoto can try to do the hacking on the comp Mikoto's allowed to use to Photoshop some shots for the MVs and photos (Fuuta and Kotoko seem to be able to search up info they need I think...). Yuno, Mahiru and Muu can work on charming the staff to see if they can spill more deets on Milgram. Not sure how much the group can gather, but oh boy fun times in Milgram can turn into another sort of stress in this AU...

No worries!! Like I said before, this whole au has been a fun collaborative project, so there's no overstepping :) I am sorry I won't be writing a lot on the ending until we get more info, but that's just the perfectionist in me who doesn't want to be proven wrong 😅 Still, I love tossing around and digging into ending scenarios, I really love this!

Because that would make a lot of sense why they're so willing to subject themself to the whole experiment! They remember how tough their experience was, and are confident they can care for the new set of prisoners while doing their job. I'm imagining they get the opportunity to return as guard, and get to have a nice talk with their own guard first. Once they fully understand what it's like, they're know they can handle it and sign up. It adds a bit of drama, too, since they must have been really young committing their crime in order to complete a years-long experiment prior to this one. They would have been like 10? Oof. (Now I wanna see their three trial songs 👀)

And like you said, that also brings up the question of the new warden. Though I think it's based on verdict results, I can just picture Jackalope keeping an eye on everyone during filming. He studyies their interactions and personalities, keeping his own set of notes on who would make a good successor. (I'm not going to go through every character but there are pros to any choice, it's very fun picturing them all taking the job.) Haha, on the other hand, maybe the reason Kotoko keeps bringing up her role as Es' partner/bringer of justice is because she did discover the truth. She drops as many hints as possible so she can be chosen next 😅

Ooh, I love her working with Kazui on an investigation! The fact that eh may know details on recent crimes (and almost-crimes) is super fun to work with. He's the last person who's going to spill a secret, so the group could go several trials without realizing Kazui had actually heard all about their situation this whole time.

(Getting sidetrack for a sec, I'm suddenly realizing that he and Kotoko may have heard things about the crimes in canon, too. They're a bit unclear about how much time passed between the murders and arriving to Milgram, so maybe he heard some things. I don't know how well-connected Tokyo police departments are, but Yuno, Fuuta, Muu, and Shidou are all nearby. There's definitely a chance he caught word of the vigilante nearby, and she heard about the odd policeman's suicide. Both of them could have heard about the tragic housefire, the disgraced doctor, or horrible schoolgirl murder nearby.)

Anyway, I like that idea of Kazui wracking his brain for any similar cases. Though, if he had, Milgram may have had the foresight to wipe parts of his memory, too. Maybe he does end up using his call to reach out to Hinako and have her look into it from the outside. Sadly, Kotoko seems the type to sacrifice her personal call to reach out to a connection who can help as well. I'll have to think about how closely Jackalope monitors those calls, hm.

I'm going crazy over prisoner investigation team !! Kotoko and Fuuta had the online knowledge to find some good info, and Mikoto and Kazui seem like they'd have a huge network of people they can ask for info and favors from. Haha, I'm torn whether Mahiru would have flirting down to a science or if she'd refuse to do it since it wasn't real love 😂 Still, she's very good at reading people and could definitely help the others charm and bribe their way into some restricted areas. Amane and Haruka can also charm with their innocence/cuteness (though I'm not sure Amane would). Shidou seems very organized, he'd have a plan and backup plan and backup-backup plan ready, no matter what happens. I think it's even funnier, then if Milgram had run several experiments prior. Jackalope would think this was just another runthrough, and for the first time the ten subjects decided to organize together and Cause Problems.

I think there's a beautiful irony in a story featuring ten prisoners planning a jailbreak to save the prison guard...

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You and Bucky arrive at the house in Lincoln, Nebraska, to start the mission. And you also meet some… SHIELD agents.

Warnings: Deaths, missing people, hydra.

Other: English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for eventual mistakes. -> 18+. !!

-> Masterlist

-> Part one ; Part three

-> Sam and Dean (02)

The tension in the Quinjet was thick as you and Bucky sat in silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Bucky had been avoiding you like the plague but that was no surprise, his jaw clenched thigh as he stared down at the clouds out of the window.

You moved uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes finding his figure. Whether you liked it or not - whether he liked it or not, you needed to break the ice. You couldn’t arrive there pretending to be a couple when it was clear from miles away he’d push you down a hill if he could.

“So,” You started. “Anything you wanna add to the plot? This shit says little about it, Fury is letting us set up a story.” You said, looking up again from your papers. Papers that needed to be burned in case anyone found them. Rules. “Like… when we met? How we met? Something like that?”

“Isn’t that enough?” He muttered, not turning his head to look at you.

“No.” You said letting out a sigh. “Listen, you need to put this one-sided fight you have with me away for a moment. We’re on a mission to save lives, not on vacation.”

He finally turned to look at you for a long moment, before crossing his arms under his chest and sink in the seat he was sitting on. “We met at a party thanks to our common friend, Steven. We immediately hit it off and I asked you out the same night, you said yes and we got together a few months after that - two months, to be exact. The tenth of march is our anniversary. We got engaged three years later the same day and got married… when’s your birthday?”

“Seventh October.” That was the day you were supposedly born. But no one was sure, since you didn’t have a birth certificate.

“Seventh October of the same year. We moved there due to my work since you’re a stay at home wife, and we have been talking about adopting a cat.” He finished. “Is that good enough?” He asked sternly.

“Perfect, actually.”

“Great.” He grunted. “Now shut it.”

“And they say I’m the rude one.” You muttered under your breath.

“I can hear you.”

“You’ll survive.”

* * * *

The taxi pulled up in front of a modest two-story house, its faded paint and overgrown lawn gave it a cozy vibe. There was even a porch. Not that you knew what to expect, you’ve never lived in a house before - and frankly, you couldn’t wait to have your own kitchen even if it was just a big play pretend for the mission.

You and Bucky got out of the car, taking your heavy bags from the trunk. The taxi driver, who was an undercover SHIELD agent, nodded at the both of you before driving away, leaving you both alone to face the mission. You weren’t nervous, and neither was he. If anything, your only complaint was the fact that he wouldn’t talk to you unless it was absolutely necessary.

The neighborhood was quiet, and you could see a few people already looking curious at the new couple in town. Little did they know how much that man hated you.

Unlike you, Bucky was looking at the house with a critical eye, his expression almost unreadable. Not that you had ever seen him without that frown.

“What’s your complain now?” Your hands found your waist, and you looked at him waiting for an answer.

“Too many windows. A kid would be able to break in any second.” He said - he wasn’t wrong but if they chose this house, they must have had a reason. He looked at you for a second before motioning you to follow him as he made his way up to the front door.

“Home sweet home.” You said, walking inside.

“Stay here. I’ll do a quick check of the house to see if everything is alright.” You two just arrived and he already started to boss you around.

“I’ll come with you.”

But this wasn’t an option for him.

“Stay here.” He repeated more firmly than before.

“Ah yeah.” You raised your hands in surrender. “You don’t trust me.” You said, clearly mocking him. “Whatever, James, just be quick.”

You stayed there for about ten minutes before he finally came back, his expression didn’t change one bit. He gave you a simple nod, took the bags - his and yours - and walked upstairs again.

The silent mission begun, apparently, as you were sure he won’t utter a word until he was forced to. Fucking great.

You walked - rushed, immediately to the kitchen. It was, honestly, everything you’ve ever dreamed of. The sunlight was coming in through the huge window that made you also see the backyard, the countertops were made of wood, dotted with small appliances and cooking utensil. A modest wooden table was in the middle of the room and you imagined yourself, perhaps in another life, sitting there with the family you never met.

You forced yourself to walk out of there to find your husband, wherever he disappeared to. You walked upstairs, your footsteps echoing in the empty staircase, and looked in each room - the bathroom, a small library room, and laundry room.

But you found him in the bedroom, pointing a gun at the window.

“What are you-“

Bucky didn’t turn to acknowledge your presence, his focus solely on the window before him. Without saying a word or turn to explain what the fuck he was doing, he pulled the trigger; the gunshot didn’t make you flinch but you weren’t expecting him to do that.

Your eyes widened in shock, mostly because you had just arrived and he was already acting like a fool. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” You almost yelled, walking towards the window to close the curtains - and you saw that the bullet only left a scratch on the glass.

“Relax, it’s bulletproof as I suspected.” He said nonchalantly, shrugging.

“Suspected?!” You repeated, this man was an idiot. So much for being over a hundred years old. “For fuck’s sake, Barnes, someone could have seen it! Or heard!”

Bucky’s eyes finally flickered to hers. “If I am correct, this house is also soundproof. Stark’s technology is hard to miss.” He said with complete indifference, putting the gun down.

You just sighed in frustration, knowing full well that arguing with him was like arguing with a wall. As you shook your head, you walked out of the room and went downstairs again. You irritation was palpable even for Bucky that was following you with what you swore was a grin. That asshole.

You, once back in the kitchen, stood in front of the coffe maker. The familiar hum of the machine filling the quiet room as you prepared yourself a well-deserved cup of coffee. Not even half an hour and he managed to piss you off.

“What do you know about those SHIELD agents we were supposed to meet today?” You tried to keep your tone casual as you turned to face him.

Bucky watched her from his seat at the kitchen table. “Not much.” He replied curtly, his arms crossed over his chest in a defensive stance. Stuck with the person he trusted less in the entire State, he felt alone in that mission.

Maybe he was being stupid, but he couldn’t look past the way you served Hydra for all those years without ever questioning a damn thing.

You raised an eyebrow, your irritation raising at his dismissive attitude. “Helpful.” You remarked dryly, taking a sip of coffee.

His jaw clenched at your sarcasm. “I know as much as you do, Emma.” He retorted, his tone full of annoyance. “If I’m not helpful then neither are you.”

“Then let’s just hope they’re better than you.” You couldn’t help but say. “Wouldn’t want to work with reckless assholes for God knows how long.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with anger after hearing your remark. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Or what, Barnes?” Your own temper was rising to match his.

He was about to answer before the doorbell rang and his words died in his mouth. The bell rang in a distinct pattern - three times with quick breaks. It was a code that both you and Bucky recognized instantly.

The agents had arrived.

That also meant the mission had officially begun, and you both had to put and end to the reckless behavior and start being professional. That probably was going to be the hardest part of the whole ordeal.

Without uttering another word Bucky rose from his seat, the tension on his shoulders was visible. He made his way to the front door with you trailing just a few steps behind. The asshole didn’t even spare you a glance before opening the door.

As it swung open, you were greeted by the sight of two men standing on the doorstep, they were both dressed formally and you noticed that one of them had a small cut on the lower lip.

One of the two men was tall, even taller than Bucky, and he was very well built. His brown hair was tied in a neat man bun, and he was looking back at the grumpy Super Soldier with a small, amicable smile.

You edged closer to the doorframe trying to get a better look at the other man since Bucky had moved just enough to block your view.

He was definitely shorter than his companion, but there was something about him that seemed far more intimidating. Perhaps it was due to the fact that his piercing green eyes were locked on yours and, for a short moment, you thought you saw a small smirk playing on his lips before it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Clearing his throat, the shorter man broke the silence. “Barnes and Dayne?” He asked just to make sure, his voice was barely above a whisper to prevent anyone to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Mh.” Bucky responded, nodding in affirmation to the man’s words as he moved aside to let the strangers inside the house.

“What he meant to say,” You glared at your partner for the mission before continuing. “was yes, we are and you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” The taller man shared a glance with the other one. “My name is Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean.” He pointed to the shorter guy, who was scanning the surroundings.

Before you could introduce yourself too, even if it was clear that the two men already knew who you and Bucky were, Dean spoke first.

“There are too many window in this house. Even a kid would be able to break in.” He said. “Is this supposed to be your base?”

How ironic.

“Yes. And the windows are bulletproof and locked, though. Already tested it.” Bucky answered. “No one can break in.”

“The doors?” Sam asked.

“They can’t be opened in anyway from the outside and there’s a passcode to lock them for more safety.” You answered. “We’re good.”

“Great.” Dean spoke, walking past the both of you to go sit on the couch. “You guys don’t mind if I make myself at home? It’s been a long day.” He said, sending his brother a glare. That sounded quite personal.

Sam shot his brother a warning glance back, clearly trying to dissolve the growing tension. “Dean’s right.” He interjected smoothly, his voice calm as he went to sit on the armchair - purposely away from his brother.

Weird.

“Are you two gonna stay in here with us for the entire duration of the mission?” You asked.

“No, we momentarily live in the house next to this one.” Sam informed you.

“We’ve been following a series of disappearances in the area.” Dean begun, getting down to business immediately, as you and Bucky took a seat as well. “We were given fake identities and went undercover as FBI agents, most of the cases led to dead ends…” He made a pause, taking a stack of papers from his bag and tossing it on the coffee table so everyone could have a clear view of it. “Except this.”

You looked closer. There were some pictures of a woman, not much older than you probably, alongside some of her personal data. Cassandra Miller.

“This says she was a nurse.” Bucky spoke. “Hydra is after people that nobody would look for.”

Sam nodded, agreeing to that. “True.” He said. “But after talking with some of her colleagues, we found out she was the assigned nurse to treat a patient that was found dying near a river. The man had no documents on him and he was barely recognizable but still alive.”

As Sam spoke, Dean retrieved another set of documents from his bag and spread them out on the table. Amongst them were medical records, lab reports and handwritten notes.

“She found out some anomalies in his DNA and begun to dig deeper - apparently went a bit too far because she completely disappeared five days ago.” Dean finished Sam’s speech, looking at both Avengers.

Your heart sank as the weight of the whole situation settled on your shoulders - if what you were thinking was right, Hydra was probably looking for another you. Another person who could survive all the shit they injected and comply, instead they were just leaving a trace of bodies behind - and you only had found two for now. Who knows how many there where out there.

You knew all too well the fear and helplessness that those poor people must have felt - must be feeling now as you spoke. Being assigned on this case was already bringing your mind back to memories you wanted to forget but couldn’t even if you tried. That was a burden you’d carry all your life.

Memories of your own captivity - that you didn’t even know was one. The experiments, the torture, the constant struggle to hold onto your humanity- everything came back in an instant and you felt like suffocating. Innocent people were going through that and you were there, trying to make light of it all without even knowing where to begin.

Your eyes fell on the photographs and documents spread out once again, and you felt a surge of rage and sorrow wash over you. But then, you frowned.

You were kept a secret for fifteen years inside Hydra’s facility, no medial records of what they did to you existed to your knowledge. You, growing up in there, often saw other ‘patients’. You had seen things that probably not even Bucky had seen, and you knew Hydra never left pieces behind.

“Why,” You started, clearing your throat as you tried to ignore the fact that you felt like someone was squeezing it. “Why are they leaving the bodies out in the nature? Why aren’t they burning them like they used to?”

Bucky turned to look at you, a frown on his face. “What makes you think it was them? One of them was found still alive, maybe he escaped?” He didn’t believe his own words for a second - no one escaped Hydra. But he also knew it was unlikely for them to purposely leave a trace to follow now that the Avengers were looking for them.

You shook your head, dragging the picture of the man in front of him. “Look at his feet.”

Bucky did as you said and he let out a breath. “Found without shoes and no scratches on his feet.” He noticed. “He was left there on purpose.”

You nodded. “And they wanted us to know.”

As you stared into Bucky’s eyes for a moment, you missed the glance the two brothers gave to each other. As if they knew something more about this whole situation than you and Bucky could ever imagine.

[kimbapkimbapp]

Hc of the letter Izuku gave to katsuki

Hi Kacchan, I'm Izuku and when you read this I'll be far from home, from UA.

Shigaraki and AFO want to steal OFA, and to do so they're gonna follow me. Reason why I can't stay here one more minute, I don't want to put people in danger.

I wrote the same letter for all of the class with some variations, yours is different. I've known you for way longer than them, and you also know the secret behind OFA, yours is also the worst one I've written because it's difficult to express everything that I want to say.

I don't know when I'll see you again Kacchan, or if I'll ever do, but I wanna thank you. You've always been my prime source of admiration and motivation, I think I wouldn't have grown so much if it wasn't because of you.

We had our differences, but I like to believe that our relationship improved a lot, and I like that, I really do. I have so much that I want to tell you, but I can't. I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to do so.

But I really want to thank you and I really encourage you to keep working hard to achieve all of your dreams, because I'm totally sure that you will. Even if I maybe can't see it, I know you're gonna be the number one (if I'm not competing with you, because you know I won't hold back)

I don't know if what I'm saying makes any sense, probably not, probably you're gonna rip this letter or even not finish it. If so, I would say a lot more things, but I'm afraid you will actually read them.

I might tell you someday, someday very far in the future, because I'm still figuring everything out. I'm still trying to know which kind of hero and person I am, and I guess that that's the case for you too.

But regardless of it all, I wanna thank you and apologize because I'll miss your birthday, even though you claim that you hate it I would've wanted to at least say happy birthday to you. But I can't, and if I die out there, I wanna congratulate in advance. Congrats for all of your next birthdays, for being the greatest hero of Japan (and the world, because I know you wouldn't stick up just with that. Honestly I really like that part of you), congrats for your wedding if you marry someone and congrats for your future children if you have some in the future.

Just wanna say a big congrats, and a big sorry for not being able to tell you these things face to face. As you have probably realized, this is just a bunch of nonsense, but your letter is too complicated to write to make any sense.

I just wish you the best Kacchan, I truly do.

Yours, Izuku.

[lower-management]

Maybe you'd be able to clear something up for me if you would be so willing. If you aren't or can't, not a problem. But just in case:

What is the hierarchy in Hell? Because I've heard several different things.

I've heard there are different rings in Hell (9 or something?) but I've also heard that there are rings for each of the 7 deadly sins (of which you would be Gluttony, from what I understand?) so I'm not sure which, if either is true.

I've also heard that alongside the tile of 'Lord of the Flies', you were titled 'Prince of Hell'. Wasn't that Lucifer's title when he changed his name to Satan? Was I possibly mistaken? Or did you inherit the title from him somehow (like when he potentially moved to Los Angeles, California in America to start up a club called Lux)? Also, does that title mean you're superior to other higher-up demons in Hell like Dagon? Or the other deadly sin demons such as Mammon? Is a Duke of Hell lower than Prince?

I know a Duke (or Dukes?) of Hell exist, such as Hastur, but how many of them are there?

Finally, are you part of the Dark Council I've heard about and who else is on it? Is Dagon?

I'm mainly asking out of sheer curiosity, but again, one never knows when one might require the information for something else, so I'm also asking to be on my guard. Thanks and apologies for all the questions in advance.

Before I say anything I wanna say that there's a multiverse, so what I'm saying works for my Hell, most here are from different universes (still trying to figure out who to be honest) so that's also why you've heard different things.

That being said

The hierarcy is basically a pyramid, the more powerful the role the less demons there are occupying it. For every role basically there are some exceptions, some variations, it's really a bitch to understand, the important thing is that loosely the king is the most important, then there's the sins, then the dukes and so on.

For our hell the rings are 7 as are the sins, domains if ya will, but I know that can vary from universe to universe.

I have been given many titles and attributes in the millenias, the most have been acquired in the period of time I played god for a few civilizations for a while, lord of the flies and prince of Hell were amongst the first if not the first two. I got the title prince of hell in the moment I was appointed Satan's right hand demon as he is instead king of Hell (that's a story on its own and, again, I don't know about other universes).

Right now if I'm not mistaken princes of Hell are under dukes, but my title is more something to give a bit of a show, not really an official one.

Lost count of the dukes, we have 'em all on file but even tho there aren't many compared to lower demons they're still too many to just remember off the top of my head outside of the few I work in close contact with.

I am not part of the dark council tho I work in close contact with it most of the time, I believe Dagon is in it.

Hell is an endless bureaucracy designed to make anyone who tries to do anything basically go mad so beware of it and of the paperwork.

Like I said tho, there are currently many universes so this accounts for mine, if speaking to someone from another one there may (and probably will) be some variations.

So, like always I do not mind the questions (especially when they give me an excuse to get away from paperwork), if I have missed any I will provide further answers or clsrifications.

[gimyung]

hiatus

aaa just realized im gonna be out on a 3-day trip, and i don't think i will have proper internet connection in there so !!

user gimyung 3-day hiatus !!

if you see me posting, that's prolly queued :-) that also means some other asks might go unanswered for days, so apologies in advance! and tbf i need time to think some of them haha

ask box remains open if u have something nice to say (in case u wanna surprise me when i come back hahaha omg dont i might fall in love)

okie thats all, bye for a bit! i will miss the dash ;_;

[pink-wooloo]

I love how you write Gordie!! It may sound specific but can you do a drabble or one-shot where Gordie takes the reader to meet his family for Christmas and they get way too attached to them and Gordie kind of dislikes it (because he wants all the reader's attention for him)?

If you agree, can it be fem!reader?

of course! No problem ;)

Before we start, Gordie's siblings don't have cannon names, so I'll give them the Fannon names I could find!

♡ Christmas Dinner ♡ (Gordie x Fem!Reader)

Gordie softly sighed before pulling some keys out of his pocket, he looked at you with a worried smile before spitting out what he had to say.

"I'm sorry in advance if anything happens, m'kay ?" Gordie Apologized just in case, he doesn't often come to celebrate Christmas with his family, so he's not too sure about what could happen. You smile and gave him a peck on the cheek to try and ease his anxiety. Gordie smiled getting a small confidence strike. Key's already in the keyhole, Gordie swung the door open, making a dramatic entrance, while you held some gifts in your arms behind him. Winter, Apollo, Dew, and Jade, Gordie's little siblings, smiled widely, quickly running to Gordie to give him the tightest hug they could.

"Gordie!" All of them exclaimed in unison as they held tight onto the Rock-Type gym leader. You smiled at how cute this scene was, you could see how much they've missed Gordie. Although He was happy to see his siblings, he was a little embarrassed that this was happening in front of you.

"Alrighty' kiddos', why don't you go with mu-" Your boyfriend was instantly cut off by his siblings rushing to you, they seemed so surprised that his older brother had brought a girl home. Winter stood in front of you admiring how beautiful your dress was, while the small kiddos hold onto your leg and just tried to play with you overall. You chuckled at how adorable winter looked staring at you, she seemed so shocked.

"Are you y/n?" The little girl asked with a smile, you nodded with a smile too. "Wow! Gordie has told me a lot about you! You're his girlfriend!" She exclaimed as her eyes lit up, she looked like she was looking at fireworks!

"Aww, I'm glad that your brother talks about me!" You giggled glancing at Gordie, who very much looked as red as a tomato.

"But wanna know something? Gordie talks a lot about you too" You whispered to her making her smile even wider, and making Gordie even redder. She looked so excited, and to be honest, that's not a lie, Gordie does talk about his siblings a lot, you know that Winter, Apollo, Jade, and Dew are extremely important to him.

"W-Why don't you go see mum kiddos'?" Gordie asked the kids as he tried to drag them to the kitchen, the kids complained as they got taken away. You giggled, you never imagined you would see this but you're not complaining either. "Anyway, why don't we go to the living room?" Gordie asked trying to play it cool while fixing his glasses. You smile and kiss his cheek, catching him off guard.

"Maybe we should go say hi to your mom," You say while rubbing his cheek with your thumb. He nodded although he clearly didn't want to. "And maybe you should take off these" You giggle as you take off his glasses. "Your eyes are beautiful" besides being sweet, you're clearly doing this to fluster him.

"Not as cute as ya'" He laughed and gave you a little peck on your lips. You smile and kiss back when suddenly you hear someone laughing, as you turn, you see Melony giggling while the kids stand behind her. Gordie definitely looks pissed. "This was supposed to be a private moment mum," He said as he put his hand on his forehead, looking clearly annoyed. She laughed and crossed her arms.

"Then don't have these 'private moments' in the middle of the entrance, where there is obviously no privacy darling" She spat making Gordie even more pissed. "But anyway, you're y/n, right? Nice to meet you, sweetheart!" She smiled extending her hand. You obviously shook her hand with a sweet smile.

"Well, enough don't ya'? let's just go have dinner" Gordie said as he put his arm around you. You know he's pissed, like, extremely pissed. Melony smiled and grabbed you by the arm, leading you to the table, as the kids spread around you talking to you and asking you stuff. Gordie was left behind, he rolled his eyes while making a slight 'tsk' sound with his tongue. "Maybe we should've spent Christmas at hers" He scoffed to himself before following his family to the dinner table.

As he sat down at the table, he realized how bright your smile was, and his family would literally fight over who speaks to you first. And when you talked, they would listen as if it was the funniest thing ever! Although you weren't used to this much attention... you actually liked this. On the other hand, Gordie hated this, they would forget that you're -his- girlfriend and they wouldn't even let him speak to you. Everything that was happening right now was just enraging Gordie. You noticed that your boyfriend didn't look very happy and tried to talk to him from time to time but you were bombarded with all this attention, that speaking to him was very hard. You felt really bad that they were leaving Gordie in the shadows, and would honestly forget about him, but you don't really know how they act when you're not there so you won't judge.

( . . . )

You wanted to be there when the kids opened their presents but Gordie insisted that you both had to go home. You knew that wasn't true, but if he's saying so it's because he really wants to go home.

"Did you have a good time, baby?" Gordie asked as you two walked home. You looked at him with a smile. You knew he had a horrible time, and it's so sweet that he still cares about how you feel. Honestly, this is one of the reasons why you date this man.

"I had a great time, but I'm not sure about you sweetie," You said. Gordie chuckled and put his arm around you, trying to get you to not worry about him.

"Just promise me that next year we'll spend Christmas at your house baby" He laughed and kissed your forehead.

N/A: I hope you like this dear reader! I know it's short but I put my heart into it! <3

[yeonjuins]

hello hello my loves i am officially back (: <3

i apologize for my abrupt hiatus (and all the shit posting i did in between, if you managed to witness that i applaud you firstly and secondly, i apologize for allowing you to see that mess) things happened and i urgently needed a break from tumblr.

i feel alright to come back on now and will most likely be reblogging a bunch of things i missed out on so i apologize for the spam in advanced ! i hope you don’t mind... 

with my entire heart, i hope moablr and all my mutuals have been doing well, getting their meals, and taking care of themselves while i was away <3

in the meantime, i’ve revamped my profile so please feel free to take a look around (”: i worked on it in secrecy while i was away hehe (ulkin yeonjun never leaves this blog no matter what...) 

stay hydrated my flowers (: 

[magicshopaholic]

Industry Baby (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: In an unexpected turn of events involving your economics class and a magazine article, you find out just how talented your boyfriend is.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Smut, fluff

Word count: 8.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, teasing, dirty talk, making out, breast play, blowjobs, restraints, mild dominance, edging, unprotected sex

A/N: Not me reading a Reddit thread about the best rappers in the Korean music industry and coming up with a whole fic by the time I get to the end of it :')

A huge huge thank you to @jeoniius for being a stellar beta as usual, reading the whole thing, giving me tips and telling me how hot it was at the end :') Couldn't have done it without you, Tannie <3

This is also part of my submission towards the Bangtan Bingo Spring Event by @bangtanwritingbingo, using my square "oral sex".

Listen to: "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

Click, click, click.

You don’t realise you’re clicking your pen until the person in front of you turns around to frown at you. You immediately stop and mouth an apology, sinking down further in your seat as your cheeks burn and you continue counting down the minutes until you get home.

Not just home, though. To your boyfriend. There’s a warmth that flows through you at the thought. For once, when you go back to your studio apartment, you won’t need to look forward to simply receiving texts from him or maybe catching him on the phone during a common free half hour. No, if everything goes well and you’re able to get out of here at a decent hour, Namjoon will be right there, in the flesh, tall frame and dimpled smile welcoming you.

“Diversification bias!”

You almost jump out of your seat as your professor barks a term at the class, quite possibly the reaction he was hoping for. You realise that you’ve missed the last ten minutes of the lecture entirely, most unlike you. You love what you do, what you study. You like this professor: a thin, lanky gentleman with kind eyes and thinning hair who speaks with an exasperation that suggests he’s seen war - or numerous batches of post graduate students, which is pretty much the same. You even like this particular topic - Practical Case Studies on Neuromarketing and Their Uses in the Modern World - which is why as a Ph.D student who doesn’t mandatorily need to be here, you’ve still shown up to an advanced post graduate class.

You’re surprised, therefore, at how distracted you’re getting. You glance down at the notebook before you, to see one and a half pages of written notes and feel slightly better; your boyfriend’s presence here doesn’t seem to have rid you of all your focus, at least. You don’t know why it should; it’s not like it’s the first time he’s visited you here in Amsterdam. It’s the first time he’s been here in months, it’s true, and for some reason you’ve missed him more than ever while he’s been working on promotions for his new album. Soon, he and his band will be on tour and you’ll be lucky if you can get even a minute of his time in between your classes, his concerts and the multiple timezones.

“That’s correct!”

Fuck. You’ve never been this low on concentration before. You sit up straighter in your seat as the professor nods approvingly at someone a couple of rows behind you, determined to focus for the rest of the lecture. You squint at the slides he’s presenting, sighing quietly in relief when you pick up the gist of what he’s talking about. The graphs are ones you’ve worked on yourself for your research and the insights are logical enough for you to catch up.

“Why would we be talking about Herd Behaviour in this context, though, hm?” The professor prowls about the dias in front of the class, peering at the forty twenty-somethings in the room. “Why -” He turns with a flourish to the other side of the class “- would the perception of a choice affect the decision of a consumer when those around them would perceive the choice to be something else?”

Everyone looks at him blankly for a few moments as they process this before the murmurs break out and the guesses start coming in. You don’t raise your hand; were you a student of this class, you would have. As a doctoral candidate, you and the professor both know it would be unfair for you to answer, even if you’re the same age as half the class.

“Exactly,” declares the professor when a girl in the front row makes an educated guess. “Can you think of a practical example where an industry not only employs this, but thrives on perception marketing to influence a consumer’s decision?”

Film, sports, music, pharmaceuticals… You sigh, suddenly remembering why you’d zoned out. Still, you wait patiently as the answers come in slowly from different students and the professor nods in approval.

“Quite right. All correct - except that, Janssen. Sports? Think again.” He claps his hands, making everyone jump again. “Let’s talk about a popular case study here, alright? This one’s for the kids.” The slide behind him changes and your heart stops. Right there, in the middle of your classroom, eight feet tall, is an image of your boyfriend.

You hear the lazy whoops and claps from corners of the class and the professor grins at the reaction, everyone suddenly a bit more awake at a pop culture case study.

“Does anyone know who this is?” The professor asks, almost jokingly, pointing at the picture on screen.

“BTS!” Several voices crow, the classroom erupting into laughter. They’re right, of course, for while your eyes had naturally gone straight to Namjoon, you now notice his six bandmates around him, all dressed similarly in suits, posing for the camera with perfect make-up and styled hair.

“And who knows who this is?” To your horror, the professor trains his pointer straight to Namjoon so the red dot hovers somewhere between his chest and his shoulder.

The voices are fewer this time but, if possible, louder. “Rap Monster!” a couple of people call, while some go “RM!” and one girl goes “Kim Namjoon!”, the loudest of all of them.

“So you all are capable of such energy in class. Imagine that,” quips the professor as everyone laughs, and the girl goes red in the face but continues smiling, eyes trained on the picture. “Well - yes, in answer. Rap Monster, RM, what have you. Leader of BTS. Can anyone tell me why he’s the leader of this world famous band? No, not you, Karina, we’ll have to wait for you to calm down…”

Your heart is still thudding, unable to reconcile the image of Namjoon, your Namjoon, here in your Economics classroom. As the answers pop up, you find yourself surprised at how many people know him and the detail in which they do. You’re not daft; you know BTS is world famous. Just because you had no idea who they were when you met Namjoon, aside from the band’s name in a vague sort of way, doesn’t mean other people in your campus aren’t aware of them. You’ve just never been faced with it this blatantly.

From behind you, you hear a guy speak in a low voice. “Mate, who’s the bloke with the blue hair and why is he looking into my soul?”

Another male voice answers. “Dunno. The only one I recognise is Rap Monster.”

From next to you, a girl whips around to look at them. “Wait, Bill, what the hell? You listen to k-pop?”

“Nah, not really,” the second voice, Bill, answers lazily. “But I know Rap Monster, though. Aoki posted a picture with him so I checked him out. He can rap, by the way.”

“He goes by RM now.” You don’t realise you’ve spoken until the girl next to you snaps her head down to look at you, blue eyes wide. “I think,” you add hastily.

“Are you army?” she practically squeals.

“I - uh, not exactly,” you stutter, already regretting saying anything. While Namjoon doesn’t get recognised too much in Europe, compared to back in Seoul at least, you want to limit any potential connection between you and him, especially while he’s here. He’s warned you before about getting photographed together, more for your safety than anything else, and you intend to defer to his judgment here at least. “My cousin’s a huge fan. She’s Korean,” you add, nodding when the girl sighs in understanding and you thank your stars for Jae-Lin, your favourite cousin and the perfect cover for your bouts of random BTS knowledge.

Somehow, like something out of a dream, the class progresses, proceeding to break down the entire economics behind the formation and positioning of one of fastest emerging bands in the world. The professor switches the slide and this time it’s thankfully not just a huge picture of the band but a couple of graphs, pie charts, article screenshots and pictures of about fifteen different bands in a messy collage of sorts. 

Some of them are k-pop - thanks to Jae-Lin, you recognise who you think is EXO and Got7, and whom you know is Blackpink. Apart from them, you recognise One Direction, NSYNC and some western girl group that looks incredibly familiar but you can’t place for the life of you. However, the picture of BTS, this time in baggy clothes and headbands as they glare into the camera, still remains bigger than the rest of the collage put together.

“Why -” The professor’s voice booms around the class even in the absence of a mic “- is the concept of a centre so important in the k-pop industry? What is the perception they’re working with, when -” He trains his pointer straight to Namjoon again “- the band was actually created around a different member altogether?”

For the first time this entire lecture, you’re paying full attention. The professor continues, with factual inputs from a few students here and there, to explain how Namjoon was the first member, former underground rapper, leader, producer and whatnot. “Where does the revenue for a label come from?” he asks dramatically. “Come on,” he prods, a bit impatiently, when no one answers for a few seconds, “how would a label make money?”

“Production.” It’s the only thing you’ve said in the class so far and you intend to keep it that way, even when the professor catches your eye and nods, looking slightly gratefully.

“That’s right!” He turns with a flourish to point the red dot at the western bands now. “Historically, usually, the labels are the producers. Why is k-pop different? Why is -” He turns towards the class this time “- BTS different? Take a wild guess as to who produces half their music!”

There’s a smattering of answers as people guess the answer to this rather leading question. Somehow - and you have no idea how - the class has turned into an RM worship session, and most surprisingly, a large number of people seem to be participating in it. You don’t speak again for the rest of the class, simply listening in awe at how much people seem to know about your boyfriend. 

In the eight odd months that you’ve been dating - and the few months preceding it where you both danced around the topic for longer than required - you’ve discovered his love for modern art, his favourite artists, how he likes his eggs in the morning, which t-shirts he likes to sleep in, the fact that he greatly prefers wine to beer, that he’d read the entire Iliad in English when he was sixteen years old, that his favourite mode of foreplay is to palm you over your underwear until you’re begging for his fingers. Somehow, amidst all this information, and the fact that he’s somewhat of a legend in the k-pop industry has escaped you.

Of course, sixteen year old Jae-Lin has done everything in her power since the day you’d met him to convince you of his greatness, but given the fact that she’s also called Jimin “a real life angel” and declared Taehyung her future husband, you’ve been forced to take everything she says with a rather large pinch of salt.

You’re shaken out of your reverie when there’s a collective gasp of acknowledgement from the class, usually reserved for when a professor presents the class with a logic that’s been staring them in the face this whole time. As seems to be the theme for today, you’ve missed the explanation, but you watch as the slide switches to the conclusion of this case with - you guessed it - a full screen picture of BTS, this time at some sort of interview where all the members are sitting on high revolving chairs.

Your eyes, predictably, go straight to Namjoon, who’s sitting in the middle with a mic in his hand and a small smile on his face. It’s incredible how much you miss him in that moment, even though you know you’ll see him in a couple of hours. As the professor takes doubts from the class, your gaze lingers on the t-shirt he’s wearing, how the thin material stretches across his shoulders and around his lean biceps. You’d left fingernail marks on those last night, you remember, biting your lip.

The summer heat suddenly feels stronger, and you reach for your bottle of water to cool down whatever it is you’re feeling. It’s pride, for sure, and a lot of surprise - but a pleasant kind of surprise. But there’s also something else, something that makes you feel just the tiniest bit uneasy, only because its elusivity makes your reaction completely unpredictable. Just a few more hours, you think as you take a sip. Next to you, the girl leans over.

“Which one are you looking at?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Um… no one in particular.”

She rolls her eyes and gives you a knowing look, as though letting you know your secret is safe with her. “Let me guess. It’s Jungkook, isn’t it?”

You almost choke on your water. “Oh, God, no,” you mutter, automatically thinking back to the first time you’d ever met the kid, his shocked and reddening face, inopportune timing, and the cold showers you and Namjoon had had to take after that. Realising how that must sound, though, you immediately backtrack. “I mean, he’s - he’s sweet, but… I was looking at… at Jimin, actually. I like his jacket,” you add lamely, for the first time noting the colourful and sparkly cardigan he has on.

She seems to accept your answer as the professor dismisses the class, thanking them for their unexpected participation. As you stand up and begin gathering your things, it takes you a moment to realise that while the case study might be over, the topic of BTS certainly isn’t.

“... documentary on how Eminem rose to fame,” Bill, one of the guys behind you, says as he zips up his bag. “Dre said it, too, that the best rappers have flow, beats and wordplay. RM has all of those. At least in k-pop, he’s one of the best,” he declares.

“The rest of them are really good, too,” the girl next to you pipes up, letting her blond hair out of its ponytail. “Suga and J-Hope. Best rap line in k-pop,” she corrects Bill.

“Wait, hang on, Ana,” says the guy next to Bill, turning to his friend. “What d’you mean wordplay? You don’t even speak Korean!”

They continue bickering, the two guys and Ana trailing behind them next to you. As the class exits, a few more people join them and it doesn’t take you long to realise that it’s everyone in the class who has any kind of opinion on k-pop. It’s incredibly strange; your heart skips a beat every time you hear anyone refer to Namjoon, especially when they’re giving him a compliment, but everything after that feels like brand new information. You hover around the same group as everyone mills outside before going their separate ways. There aren’t too many post graduate students you’re familiar with apart from the ones you studied with last year, but suddenly you’re glad you chose to attend this lecture.

BTS RM Tops Spotify Charts with Mixtape in Twenty-Four Hours… You scroll through the article on your laptop an hour later, feet up on your coffee table and a glass of red wine next to you. They’ve used a recent picture of Namjoon, dyed blond hair and winning smile taking up your whole screen before the article begins. You remember when the mixtape came out; you’d been together for three months at the most, and all he’d said about it was that it was different from the stuff BTS usually put out so he wasn’t sure if fans would like it. 

You knew it had done well, though; Namjoon’s relief and happiness hadn’t been a secret but it had coincided with you getting your research methodology approved and his reaction when you’d told him had been to “celebrate both wins together”. Now, you can’t quite believe he’d thought they were the same thing.

You continue going through headlines with a little trepidation. Even after Jae-Lin had revealed that the guy you’d bumped into and flirted with over a year ago was the leader of BTS, you’d been hesitant to look him up online, part of you wanting to follow your instincts and research, but another part forcing you to restrain yourself because you honestly had no idea what you’d find. Once you’d met him and gone on a couple of dates, you’d been able to form your own opinion of him - which, by all standards, was a fantastic one, and you’d no longer needed to read anything else.

The front door opens and you immediately close the browser window, looking up to see Namjoon enter. He takes off his earphones the moment he sees you and smiles easily, dimples popping. “Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, walking up to you and tilting his head to kiss you on the mouth. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, straightening up and taking off the baseball cap. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a seat next to you. “How was your day?”

“It was okay,” you reply, leaning into him a bit when he puts an arm around your shoulders. “Good lecture.”

“Yeah? What was it about?” He sounds genuinely interested, just like he had on your first date when you’d told him what you do. 

“Neuromarketing.” You bite your lip, not elaborating further. It’s suddenly odd to see him back here after everything you’ve seen and heard in your class today. You note how different he looks, too; every picture on the slides had him and the band looking flawless, in designer clothes and with smooth skin and perfect hair. But right now, in chinos and Chuck Taylors, with his hair slightly messy and face bare, he looks like a dream. 

He’s still frowning curiously, though, so you shake your head. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Okay.” Namjoon sighs and ruffles his hair again. “I’m going to take a shower. It was a hot day,” he adds, and you nod in agreement. “We’ll watch the documentary when I’m back?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Smiling and patting your bare leg affectionately, he kisses your cheek and stands up. “Oh, by the way,” he says, moving to hang the cap on the line of hooks you have on the wall next to your TV, currently occupied by your bag and a few stoles, “I passed by the gallery today while they were setting up for tomorrow’s exhibit. It looks like it’s going to be huge.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Do you think you'll be recognised? We can skip it if you want.”

“What? No,” he says immediately. “I know how hard it must have been to get these tickets - I definitely want to go.”

“Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent,” he confirms, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles before heading inside. He emerges fifteen minutes later, in a white t-shirt and black cotton shorts, drying his wet hair with a towel. The image makes something stir inside you and the warmth you feel coursing through you makes you wonder if the second glass of wine was a bad idea. You’d tried, while he was gone, to try and put your finger on why you were suddenly looking at him a bit differently, hoping that seeing him in the flesh might do the trick. But he seems more than ever like the same person you’ve known since June last year - except for that one thing.

“I just remembered, I have to send an email,” he mutters, going to his bag which he’d left under the row of hooks and retrieving a small, sleek laptop.

“Now?” you ask, keeping your own laptop aside and standing up before making your way over to him.

“Yeah, it needs to get to the management before they wake up in the morning, which is…” He checks his watch “... in about an hour.” He props the laptop open on your small dining table and begins typing away on the Korean keyboard, still standing. 

You stop right behind him and place your hands lightly on his hip bones, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He smells of your shower gel but there’s an additional scent there, something you only get to experience when he’s around and miss like hell when he isn’t.

Namjoon lets out a content sigh and pauses typing when he feels your touch. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly, “but this will just take a minute, I promise.”

“It’s okay, take your time,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist when he resumes typing. Your nose is at level with the top of his shoulder; you rest your forehead against it and inhale, content to just be with him, his large and comforting frame back in your life and in your apartment.

“Babe?” You tighten your arms around him slightly and wait for him to murmur in acknowledgement. “Who’s Runch Randa?”

The typing stops abruptly. “What?”

You lift your head to rest your chin against his shoulder blade so he can hear you more clearly. “Runch Randa?” you repeat.

“Where, uh, where did you hear that name?”

“In my Economics class today.”

“You heard Runch Randa in your Economics class?”

“M-hm,” you nod, mostly telling the truth. The girl sitting next to you - Anabelle, you'd discovered later - had mentioned the name to the group in a deliberate attempt to be nonchalant and looked extremely proud when no one else seemed to recognise it, before she finally explained it on her own. “Apparently, he’s a pretty big deal.”

“Kaya?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to have to explain, babe, just a little bit.”

You snicker against his shoulder. “You were a case study in my class today. Or, BTS was,” you amend.

“Seriously?” Namjoon turns around slightly. “Wow. Why?”

“It was actually a pretty good example of perception marketing,” you allow, “and it included other k-pop acts, too. But,” you add, coming back to the point, “apparently you’re, like… a really huge deal. Top of the industry and stuff?”

“Oh, that’s… that’s not true.”

“Really?”

“M-hm.”

“So BTS isn’t platinum in, like, forty countries with the highest album sales of any k-pop group ever?”

He pauses. “I mean… okay, yeah, but -”

“And you aren’t the leader of the group? And apparently the best rapper in the industry, neck and neck with Zico?”

Namjoon pauses, turning around a bit more. “Someone said I’m as good as Zico?” he asks, eyes wide. “Wait - how do you know who Zico is?”

You haven’t the faintest idea who Zico is, but it was one of the two names being thrown around while the group from your class debated on who the best rapper in the Korean industry was. But this isn’t about your k-pop knowledge - or lack thereof. “And your mixtape didn’t top Spotify charts in, like, a day?”

There’s silence for a moment before Namjoon sighs and turns around fully, and you drop your arms from around him. “Where did you hear that?”

“I read it online, like a normal person. Although a normal person would probably hear about it from her boyfriend, considering it was his album,” you tell him, unable to keep a note of annoyance out of your voice.

He leans back against the table and frowns slightly. “Are you mad?”

You sigh heavily, reaching out to tug at the bottom of his t-shirt. “No, of course not. I just… it’s a really huge deal. And even the other stuff…” You bite your lip, trying to get to the bottom of it. “You don’t talk about your work a lot,” you finish eventually.

He shrugs, eyes softening. “Yeah, because I don’t get to see you that often,” he says, pulling you closer by the waist. “Why would I want to talk about work when I do get to see you?”

“I’m not saying you need to talk about it all the time, but I want to know,” you say in a small voice. “The good stuff and the bad. I tell you everything about my work,” you point out.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “You tell me everything?”

“Pretty much. Minus the boring stuff.”

“You didn’t tell me you walk back home alone from campus after midnight. I found that out when I got here and saw it for myself.” You don’t miss the disapproving note in his tone, so you give him a look until he sighs again. “Look, I know you weren’t really into k-pop before we met. I don’t want to force it on you.”

“You weren’t into behavioural economics research when we met either, but I still tell you all about it.” When he doesn’t answer, you drop your gaze. “Congratulations. On the Spotify thing.” You feel yourself getting pulled closer to him and his arms encircling your waist.

“Thank you,” he mutters, pressing his lips to the side of your neck before coming back up to your lips and kissing you. You automatically kiss him back, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck as you melt into him, like you always do. His mouth opens against yours and you sigh softly, having thought about nothing but this all day. 

Namjoon slides one hand slightly lower down the curve of your hip. “Sexy t-shirt,” he murmurs against your mouth.

You smile into the kiss. “It should be. It’s yours.”

He lowers his hand even further so it skims the hem of the t-shirt and lifts it up, making a low sound of approval. “Damn, I thought you were wearing shorts under this.”

“M-m, it’s too hot for shorts,” you reply, feeling the familiar warmth between your legs and nipping at his lip. “Is that a problem?”

He chuckles, low and deep. “Not at all.” He squeezes your arse and the heat increases. “It’s encouraged, in fact.”

You know if you keep going, you’re bound to forget everything you were talking about before this so you pull away regretfully and push him back slightly, ignoring his quiet groan. “Okay, no, but back to you and how you’re some kind of legend in the industry.”

Namjoon groans, an embarrassed hint of a smile on his face. “I’m not. Really. There’s seven of us who’ve made all that happen.”

“No, I know,” you say immediately, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m not trying to take anything away from them, but… okay, aren’t you the leader? The first member of the group? Had the opportunity to go solo but didn’t take it? Underground rapper with a name and a brand already?”

His smile widens and the dimple appears, even as he drops his face into his hand before looking back at you. “Okay, yes, all that is… technically true. But it sounds a lot fancier than it is.”

“Ugh, you’re so sexy when you’re being modest,” you groan teasingly, your stomach flipping when he laughs as you push him back by the chest until he’s sitting in your recliner. It’s your most expensive purchase, one you’d made after you’d finished a gruelling research job for one of the university’s faculty members, and you’d sprung for a good version, with a soft leather lining and the cup holders on either arm. 

Namjoon sits back without protest, the top of his head just an inch above the back of the chair. You straddle him, finally having his full attention. His expression is somewhere between exasperated and indulgent and you have to ignore the jolt in your heart as his hands come up to rest comfortably on your hips. “Alright, what’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on.” You aren’t sure how to put this into words and it frustrates you. You’re normally quite articulate, especially when it comes to self-awareness, but this time you just can’t identify it. You hold his gaze; despite sitting on his lap, his height ensures that you’re still at eye level with each other. “I just want to know what’s going on with my brilliant boyfriend, that’s all.”

“Your brilliant boyfriend needs to finish writing an email,” he says, matter-of-fact.

You deflate. “Fine, I can take a hint,” you mutter, moving to get off but immediately feeling yourself being pulled back.

“No, come here, I’m sorry,” he says, smiling and sounding apologetic. “I’m… I’m just not very good at taking compliments.”

“Even from me?”

“Especially from you. My brilliant Ph.D girlfriend,” he adds, pulling you even closer and kissing you on the cheek.

“I’m not a Ph.D yet,” you remind him, your cheeks warm. You shift your gaze, suddenly feeling shy. You finger a strand of his hair; it was initially a warm, golden blond but with his natural brown seeping in, it’s a dark, caramel colour, longer than it had been when you first met. “It felt nice,” you say finally, “to hear all that stuff about you. Of course, a little weird because a room full of strangers knew more about you than I did…” You lower your hand and your eyes. “But I felt proud and…” You trail off.

“And?”

You shrug and shake your head. “Nothing. Just proud.”

"Thank you," he says after a moment, and his voice sounds deeper. When you simply nod and look up, he frowns slightly. "What?"

"... What?"

"Kaya." His voice is deep and soothing, like warm honey, and he looks more curious than anything else, tilting his head. "What is it?"

You straighten your face, wondering what exactly it is that he's seeing on it. "Nothing," you repeat, mostly because you don't know either. His torso, large and lean, is inches away from yours. You feel your toes curl of their own accord when you notice how his gaze continually falls and lingers on you.

Namjoon doesn't say anything else. He’s seen this look before - he just can’t place it exactly. You’re playing with the ends of your hair, falling dark and wavy down your shoulders and stopping just above your breasts. The leaf green t-shirt looks like spring against your olive skin and, without thinking, he brushes a strand of hair off your neck. As you shift slightly in his lap, he feels the elastic of your underwear against his thumb and immediately wonders if you’re wearing black - and he feels himself stir at the thought.

He can’t tell if you’ve felt it. It suddenly occurs to him where he’s seen this look and at the same moment, something seems to click in your mind. Leaning forward, you tilt your head slightly and kiss him. 

He seems surprised for a fraction of a second but responds passionately, sliding his hands slowly up your back as you bring your hand to rest behind his head, fingers running through his hair. All intellectual brilliance aside, Kim Namjoon is the best goddamn kisser you’ve ever come across in your life. You open your mouth against his, sighing when you feel his tongue press sensually against yours and pull at his hair slightly, and this time you definitely feel him stir under you.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, moving down to trail kisses down your jaw and to your neck as his hands disappear under your t-shirt. His large hands envelope almost your entire torso, warm and familiar on your skin before reaching your breasts, pushing them up and squeezing them. Your soft groan makes him twitch and he feels for your nipple, moving the hem of your bra aside and running his thumb over it.

“Oh, god…” You moan even louder, rolling your hips into his. “Shit, you’re really good at everything, aren’t you?” His low snicker against your neck makes your abdomen clench, and you feel him squeeze your breasts again. “World famous music producer and everything?”

Aside from the conversation you were just having, you’ve just referred to an inside joke, possibly the oldest one you both have. His chest flutters at the memory of your face looking up at him in the sunshine, juxtaposed with the reality of you on his lap right now, expression full of desire. “You know I am, baby,” he murmurs, snaking a hand down to your arse and pulling you closer. “A pretty damn good music producer…”

Your eyes snap open as he begins sucking softly at the spot above your collarbone. There it is, you think, except you don’t yet know what it is but you can tell it’s right in front of you, dangling just within reach. You run your hand through his hair again, your fingernails scraping against his scalp. He groans softly against your skin and your heart starts beating faster.

“Tell me you’re the best rapper the industry’s ever seen,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as he squeezes your breasts again. He chuckles again, soft and low, but you’re done with jokes. Pulling away slightly, you push him backwards by the shoulder and kiss him, ignoring his momentary surprise. By the time you separate, he’s panting, his eyes narrow and heavily lidded. You suddenly realise how you’ve both shifted, and you’re finally able to look down at him. “Tell me,” you repeat softly.

Namjoon bites his lower lip, as though just realising he’s looking up at you, too. “I’m the best fucking rapper the industry’s ever seen,” he says quietly. Your heart jolts and you feel a warm wetness between your legs as you reach forward and your mouths meet again, messier and wetter than before. Even his grip is stronger now, holding your pelvis to his as he slides one hand beyond the hem of your underwear and squeezes the flesh.

“Joon,” you murmur, pulling away, breathless, and holding his gaze. “I want to tie you up.”

His eyes flicker for a moment, running over your dishevelled hair, swollen lips and glowing skin. Then, he nods. “Okay.”

Your heart thuds and for a moment you don’t move. You think you know what this is about, but you don’t want to overthink it. Clambering off his lap, you walk towards the row of hooks and grab the two thinnest stoles you can find before sauntering back over to Namjoon. His eyes don’t leave you and as you near him, he places his arms on the armrests of the chair, his erection now fully visible. 

“Sure you’re okay with this?” you ask, pausing where you’re kneeling down, a dark blue stole ready to be used. When he nods again, the corner of his mouth curving upwards slightly almost like he’s looking forward to it, you smirk up at him. His heart jolts in his chest at the sight of your smile, his favourite thing in the world, and he sits back as you secure both his wrists to the cup holders of the chair before standing up again.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he mutters, visibly checking you out and letting his gaze linger on where the t-shirt rides up to the tops of your thighs as you run your hands through your hair. You notice where his attention is and raise your hands even higher, allowing the black of your underwear to peek through and Namjoon lets out a choked sigh before looking back up at you.

You love it when he talks dirty - which is often. He knows he has the voice for it and he uses it all the time, telling you how gorgeous you look or what he wants to do to you. It usually works differently because while neither of you occupy the role of the dominant one, Namjoon usually leads, worshipping your body and driving you crazy in equal measure. This time, though… you straddle him again, slowly, taking your time because now, the best fucking rapper in the industry has all his attention on you.

Hesitating just so you can see his reaction, you lean forward and kiss him again, slower this time. You tease him, swiping your tongue across his lower lip and biting on it lightly until he groans into your mouth. His erection twitches again and you feel it more clearly this time. Still kissing him, you reach down between you and palm him through his shorts, feeling yourself get wetter when you realise how hard he is.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling away and resting his head on the back of the chair. “God, I want your mouth on me…”

“I know you do, baby,” you murmur, slowly letting him go and sitting back so you can lift his t-shirt. You watch his expression as you run your hands up his torso, loving how he’s forcing himself to meet your gaze. You make sure to graze your fingernails against his skin until you reach his pecs and lift the shirt up further. The way his breath hitches tells you that he knows what’s coming - something you’ve only done once before.

Shifting further back on his lap, you lower yourself so you can press your lips to his sternum. The scent of your lime shower gel that he's used hits you again and you move up further, feeling his chest tighten under your light touch. “Something wrong, baby?” you ask softly, trailing your mouth higher up. When you reach the spot below his nipple, you feel his erection strain against his shorts.

“Kaya,” he mutters, sounding like he’s gritting his teeth. “Come on, don’t tease me, baby...”

“You tease me all the time,” you remind him, unable to resist pointing that out. “Being a big deal in the music business can’t get you everything, baby.” Lifting his shirt up further, you reach out to lightly brush your tongue against his nipple.

“Fuck!”

You look up from your position to see his head thrown back as he bites down on his lip. You continue, more confident now that you’re getting the reaction you wanted. You lick his nipple again, this time grazing it lightly with your teeth when he groans again when you feel a warm wetness against your thigh. Reaching for his erection, you brush your thumb over his covered tip, confirming the pre cum that’s leaked out.

Straightening up, you reach for his face, bringing it down to look at you. “Fuck, you’re so hard for me, baby,” you murmur, only partly in wonder. Slipping a hand under the waistband of his shorts, you grip his length through his boxers, your own clit pulsing at the feel of it. Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut when he feels your touch and you kiss his jaw, making your way down to his neck and biting lightly on his earlobe. 

“How many artists said they wanted to work with you this year, hm?” you ask calmly, your lips touching the helix of this ear and your thumb brushing the tip of his cock. “When you were in the States last month?”

“Not -” He breaks off, biting his lip as you continue stroking him. You sit up to look at him properly, waiting for him to pay attention to you. “I…” He swallows, and you feel him pulsate in your hand. “Ten… maybe fifteen,” he says at last.

You nod, knowing you’re soaked through your underwear by now. “I’m so proud,” you tell him softly, lowering your head to kiss him again. He kisses you back hungrily and you run your free hand across his shoulders and down his chest, your stomach leaping at how tight and tense he is.

“I want you…” Namjoon whines, lips moving off yours and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, “... please, babygirl.”

At the last word, you let him go and slide off of him, getting your first good look at how far you’ve been able to push him till now. Wrists tied, cock hard and expression both aroused and frustrated, you can finally reconcile what you’ve been feeling this whole time. RM, leader, rapper, producer and Big Hit’s main man is yours. 

Kneeling down between his spread knees, you hear him sigh and see his hands clench into fists on either side of your head, bound by a green and blue stole each. You snake one hand up his thigh, continuing even after it disappears into his shorts until you feel him again, big and hard. You palm him, trying to ignore how much you want him right now, how badly you want him to fill you up… Namjoon groans again, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

“Kaya…” He sounds so incredible, his deep voice reverberating in your small apartment, his huge frame in your favourite chair, all the while at your mercy. 

"Yeah, babe?"

“Please…”

You retrieve your hand and reach forward to bring his shorts and boxers down together, freeing his cock, hard and already dripping pre cum. You need to bite your lip to keep from audibly moaning at the sight; it’s never ceased to amaze you just how well-endowed your boyfriend is, especially because he doesn’t act overconfident or super proud of it. 

Getting on all fours so you can crawl back between his legs, you sit back on your heels and look up at him, willing him to beg again. His pleading gaze is enough, though; when you reach out gently grasp him, he lets out a guttural groan and drops his head back against the chair. 

“God, you’re so hard, baby,” you repeat in a wondrous murmur, stroking him once. Next to you, his fists clench again and his hard length pulses in your hand. You brush his tip with your thumb so the pre cum leaks out, your core aching when he groans in pleasure. Standing up but retaining your hold on him, you gently bring his face to meet yours. You kiss him, softly. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Namjoon’s eyes flutter open unevenly to look at you, the desire and desperation clear on his face. You feel a jerk, and when you see his gaze abruptly move to his hands, you realise it’s the first time he’s forgotten that he’s tied up. Licking his lips and swallowing, he meets your gaze again. “Suck me…” he sighs, closing his eyes and finally giving in. 

BTS’s RM essentially, you could say, was responsible for an entire quarter’s increase in revenue for the parent company - so why are we glossing over this rather important fact? The question that was posed to the class runs through your mind as you lower yourself, as does the response, wherein while everybody else struggled to put forward a few well-informed guesses, you’d felt a flutter in your stomach at the sheer power your boyfriend clearly held… except for now.

You stroke him a few more times, smoothly and consistently, using the pre cum to lubricate him well. Namjoon’s sighs tell you it’s working, so without making him wait any longer, you reach forward and take him in your mouth. The moment your lips touch his cock, he lets out a groan and you automatically grip him a little harder. Slowly, you take him in further until you establish a cadence, running your tongue along his length and swirling it around his head.

“Fuck, Kaya, you feel so good…” He groans, and you can tell he’s struggling to keep his hips from buckling. His deep voice, capable of making you feel so much even in a non-sexual setting, makes your heart race and your clit throb with desire. From your periphery, you see him look down at you. “You look so pretty with your mouth around my cock, fuck…”

You can’t help it; you moan at his words and hunch further over him, taking him in as deep as you can, feeling his tip touch the back of your throat. You lift your hips off your heels to get into a better position and feel his oversized t-shirt drop down your back. You don’t realise until you hear the chair creak and see his hands strain against the bonds that your underwear is visible and by his reaction, you were right about it being black.

“God, baby, I want to come in your mouth,” he murmurs, groaning loudly when you cup his balls with your other hand. “I don’t think I can - I think I’m going to -”

Just as he breaks off, you let him go with a pop and stand up, feeling close to the edge yourself when he groans in frustration. You don’t wait for him to glare at you or beg any further; you’ve teased him enough - and ironically, you’ve made yourself a hot mess for him, too. Brushing the rogue strands of hair off your face and wiping your mouth, you reach up under the t-shirt and tug your underwear down, stepping out of it and straddling him.

“Shit, yes…” The relief in Namjoon’s face is more than evident when you climb onto his lap. Kissing him, you raise your hips and slide down onto his cock, both of you moaning in unison. Pulling away from his mouth, you sigh in pleasure as you shift into position, feeling his length and girth inside you and feeling so full, so complete that you whisper his name without thinking.

He grunts in response, moving his hips so he hits your g-spot just right. “Fucking hell… Kaya, take off your t-shirt, baby.”

Instinctively, you’re about to listen before you stop and take a long, hard look at your boyfriend. He’s gritting his teeth, already on edge, his muscles tense and his eyes narrow and boring into you like he’s already undressed you mentally.

Can’t have that. Grabbing the back of his head, you roll your hips into his, not taking your eyes off him as he groans again. You kiss him, your tongues meeting immediately, both your moans being swallowed as you fuck him into the chair, your hands sliding up his t-shirt and feeling his taut chest. His shoulders tense further and you feel the chair move as he tugs on the restraints.

“Kaya…”

You shiver when you hear his voice, because he’s no longer pleading. His mouth moves to wherever it can reach, down your jaw and to the side of your neck before you manoeuvre him to look at you again.

“Tell me you’re it,” you murmur, using all your strength to keep your voice steady while he stays inside you, “tell me you’re the industry, baby.”

Namjoon meets your gaze, looking like he’s holding onto the last shred of resistance he has in him. Still not breaking eye contact, you reach down and take your shirt off, keeping just enough distance from him for him to screw his eyes shut in frustration and tug at the restraints again. “I’m the goddamn fucking industry,” he mutters, his gaze falling to your mouth.

You don’t keep him waiting any longer and roll your hips into his again, your breasts pressing against his chest as you kiss him roughly, pulling his hair and biting his lip to tell him everything - how proud you are of him, how much you love him, how ridiculously lucky you feel sometimes. He tugs at the bonds again and this time you feel the chair move.

“Fucking hell, Kaya, please let me touch you, baby!” Namjoon pulls away and blurts, sounding more frustrated than ever. He tugs at the restraints one more time but you don’t make him wait any longer, simply reaching back and untying both scarves one by one. His hands come up to you at lightning speed, flat on your skin, reaching everywhere. 

You frantically tug at the bottom of his t-shirt and unhook your bra as he takes it off, mouths meeting again in a fit of passion and desperation. You can feel every bit of his skin, as warm and clammy as yours, as he holds you to him as close as possible.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he mutters against your mouth, hands pushing your breasts together and squeezing them. He takes one of your nipples, rock hard between his fingers and twists it. You moan and pull away, fucking him faster now, your whimpers and his grunts in harmony. 

“Oh, God, Joon, I’m so close,” you gasp, clutching his shoulders. His hands snake down to your arse and he grabs the flesh, and you can feel his warm breath on your face, telling you he’s close as well.

“Mm, cum all over my cock, baby,” he murmurs tightly, pressing another kiss to your jaw. He squeezes your arse again before landing a light spank on your cheek - and you do exactly as he asked. You shudder in his arms as you feel wave after wave of your orgasm crash onto you. “Fuck, I love you so much,” you hear him say against your neck before grabbing your hips again and coaxing you to move.

Using him for support, you begin moving again, feeling his hips thrust upwards as well. “I’m almost there, babygirl,” he mutters, reaching up to kiss you again.

You kiss him back hungrily, feeling your wetness coat his cock further. “Come on, fill me up, baby,” you whine against his mouth, feeling his hips buckle upwards before he groans and drops his head backwards. You close your eyes as you feel the warm spurts inside you as he pants, his bare chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

You lean into him, dropping your head onto his shoulder, exhausted. Pressing a kiss to the slightly sweaty skin of his neck, you close your eyes again. “Love you, too,” you whisper, feeling his arms come around you as he softens inside you. This, arguably, is one of your favourite things about sex with Namjoon. While neither of you are too cuddly or tactile in general, the few moments after sex are so intimate and private that he holds you in silence anyway, gentle and protective no matter how urgent or rough the sex was.

“What was that?” His voice is quiet, fingers brushing your hair off your clammy shoulder.

You look up at him, head still resting on his chest. “What was what?” you ask innocently. When he gives you a look, a hint of a smile still on his face, you shrug and look down. It seems insane that after what just transpired, you might actually be too shy to meet his gaze. “Did you like it?”

Namjoon sighs thoughtfully, and you eventually do look up at him. “Well,” he says finally, “it was different. And I think you can tell if I liked it or not,” he admits, smile widening just a bit. “But I’d say if you like this chair, you probably shouldn’t do it again.”

“Okay. I won’t do it again in this chair.”

He chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “Where are you going?” he asks when you sit up a moment later, an underlying whine in his tone.

“I’m getting up.” You adjust yourself and both of you sigh softly as he slides out of you. Reaching for the tissue box on the side table, you clean yourselves up before you get off the chair and start pulling on your clothes. “What?” you ask, noticing how he hasn’t moved.

“I…” He sighs and smiles lazily, sitting back and watching you hook your bra. “Nothing. That was just…” He sighs again and you feel your cheeks heat up with the way he’s looking at you, but you keep your cool. “I’m not ready to be done yet,” he states, holding out a hand, presumably for you to take and climb back on his lap.

You shake your head, though. “Can’t, baby,” you tell him, pulling on your t-shirt and kissing him on the cheek. “You have an email to finish writing.”

~

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

Tagging: @kflixnet @k-radio @ggukkieland

[midnight-dreamerness]

Savior

Chapter 1: Brother’s Best Friend

(This is NOT my gif. Credit to the creator <3)

series summary: when your protector returns, he finds you broken and abused and helps you climb out of the darkness

chapter summary: you never thought you would see him after the funeral, but here he is.

pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

warning: small mentions of smut(nothing major), mentions of abuse, mentions of death, mentions of blood

word count: 2.3k

A/N: Not sure how I feel about this first chapter...let me know what you think! Also some of this may be confusing but it will get cleared up as the story goes on. Also I barely looked over this for mistakes, so sorry in advance <3

~

You met him in college. He was the popular football player, wanna be NFL. You were the book work that didn’t need any distractions. He was sweet and caring but cocky. Somehow he convinced you to go on a date with him. Everything was going great, but then he hurt his knee during a football game. Then he changed.

At the beginning it was just a couple of harsh words here and there. He would apologize after.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he would say, pulling you close. You got used to it, to the words, the hateful glances he would send ever so often.

His future as a football player was no more. He ended up working in an office, but it wasn’t enough for him.

The first time he hit you, he had come back from the bar, drunk and angry. He had met up with his old teammates, got plastered, made a scene, and got kicked out of the bar. He apologized that morning, crying for forgiveness. And you forgave him. You stayed, even when the abuse continued and got worse.

The worst part is, you blame yourself.

I shouldn’t have tested him and I wouldn’t have to cover the bruise on my jaw with a pound of makeup.

And now, almost 3 years later, you're still making excuses for him. Every hit, every slap, every kick to the ribs, every busted lip or bruised jaw, it was always your fault. It didn’t matter that you did everything he asked. He always found something to punish you for whether it was leaving a dish in the sink, not having dinner ready for him when he got home, forgetting to pick up something for him at the store, or something simple like not making the bed. It was always something.

Kade wasn’t always beating you. He had good days too. You glance down at the ring on your finger, finding it out of place. It didn’t fit right anymore. It didn’t look right on your hand. Truth be told, you didn’t want it there anymore. But what were you going to do? He had mentioned time and time again that if you were to ever leave, he’d kill you.

The elevator dings, indicating someone had come up. It gains your attention, pulling your eyes from the files you were currently going over familiar. His familiar face pulls at your heart and your mind flashes with memories. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Your brother's old best friend is walking right up to your desk, a smile that somehow still makes you weak at the knees, stretched across his face. His eyes shimmer with glee, like he recognized you the instant your eyes met. The familiar ocean blue pulls you in and you're drowning in them all over again.

The gold star hanging from his neck has your attention, a grin appearing on your face. He’s always been a protector. You remember when Danny, your brother, had left, leaving you behind while he fought wars overseas. Jay was a year younger, so Danny had made him promise to look after you. He made him promise to protect you. And he did, until ultimately the year following, he left too.

He approached the desk, shaking his head while letting out a laugh.

“I couldn’t believe it. Miss Hawkins, secretary to the multimillionaire Reese Connor,” he teases, placing his elbows on the counter, intertwining his fingers together. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying to ease the pain from your side. He’s bigger since the last time you saw him, it must be four years now. You were barely 22 when he showed up to your front door, holding your brother's dog tags in his hand and tears in his perfect blue eyes.

“Me? Let’s talk about you, Mr. Detective. I heard you’ve been kicking it in the Intelligence Unit.” You laugh, leaning over to shove his arm. He chuckles but something catches his eye. There’s red marks around your neck. You didn’t notice where his eyes trailed, so busy looking over what you could see from your stop behind the counter.

His shoulders were broad, more so than last time it seems. His jaw, not as sharp as it once was and he was no longer clean shaven. His five o’clock shadow runs across his jaw and the lower part of his cheeks. You remember all the complaining he did when he was younger about how he could never grow it out probably and opted just to shave it so your brother would stop teasing him relentlessly.

There’s still freckles running over his face in the most perfect way, trailing down his neck and down under his shirt. There’s a scar leaking out from his olive green shirt that is partially covered by his leather jacket.

You shake your head, looking back into his eyes that hold a different emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, and sigh. “What can I do for you Detective Halstead?” You grinned teasingly. His smile reappeared in a matter of milliseconds.

“I need to speak to Reese involving a case I’m working on. Is there any way I could speak to him?”

You purse your lips, looking down at your watch before replying, “He’s currently in a meeting, it should be over in about ten minutes if you wanna sit and wait?” Jay nods. You smile, pointing towards the chair behind your desk.

He rounds your desk and takes a seat only a couple of feet from your chair, which you sit back down in. You try to ignore the burning in your cheeks. This feeling takes you back to when you were fifteen. A young and naive teenager who thought she was in love with her older brother's best friend, who was 4 years older than you.

“I can see your cherry red face and your facing away from me.” His comment only made it worse. You groan, closing the file and turning to him.

“You haven’t changed have you?” You ask, crossing your legs. It gains his attention immediately. His eyes trail down to your ankle, a large bruise covers the area.

“Well it seems you got more beautiful since the last time I saw you,” he stares, leaning back in his seat. A sting punctures your heart, sadness attempting to creep over you. You push it away, laughing.

“Yeah well it’s been a while since then.”

“You know, I can still remember those boy band posters hanging in your bedroom. And those pigtails you wore everyday in middle school.”

Groaning, you reply, “I hope you don’t still see me as that clingy preteen.”

“I think you know I don’t see you that way anymore.” You knew exactly what he was hinting at, and if it could get any worse, the burning in your cheeks intensified, the ache between your legs reminding you of how good he made you feel and how no other man, even Kade, could make you feel the way he did.

You suck your lips into your mouth, trying to hide your smile.

“What are you here for?” You find yourself asking, picking at your nails, attempting to change the subject before you say something you shouldn’t.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”

Jay lets out a chuckle, making you glance back up to him. He’s shaking his head with a grin. You pout, turning back to your desk.

There was a slight pause as you tried to focus on your work, but you could feel his eyes on you, like he was trying to figure you out after all these years.

“Those are some nasty cuts on your hands, butterfly. What happened?” The nickname brought back so many memories of you and your brother. Tears welled in your eyes but you forced yourself to focus on the question, nervousness sitting in your stomach.

“I broke a plate washing dishes.” The lie fell smooth from your lips, dripping with innocence. A sound leaves his lips, like he didn’t believe you.

“Your eye?”

“Walked into a wall.”

“What about that bruise on your leg?” Looking down, the bruise now visible on the back of your leg you hadn’t noticed this morning while getting ready. You whipped around in your chair to look at the detective coldly.

“I fell.”

“I know you're clumsy, sweetheart, but not that clumsy.” Jag leans over, his forearms leaning against his thighs. “What about the red marks around your neck? Or the bruise on your shoulder that I can see through your white blouse.”

You curse yourself for being so careless. If Kade found out someone was questioning you, a detective and a friend no less, he’d kill you.

“Are you interrogating me, detective?” You ask, looking at him sternly. You intertwine your fingers and sit them in your lap. You watch him cross his arms over his chest, his muscular biceps, bulging through the sleeves of his jacket, gaining your attention. Gulping, you adjust your crossed legs desperate for the little pressure it gives. You hated that he could make you this desperate. Despite being angry, you could tell he knew the effect he had on you. He was going to use it to wiggle the information out of you.

“Does he do it when he’s drunk, sober, or both?”

You narrow your eyes, recalling the times you could smell it on his breath and the times you couldn’t. It seemed like it was worse when he was sober, when he was drunk he was sloppy. You glanced down to your lap, trying to keep the tears at bay. You didn’t need his sympathy. You didn’t need his help. You were a grown woman and you didn’t need your dead brother's best friend looking out for you anymore. You no longer needed his protection.

Luckily you're saved by a man approaching your desk from the direction of Mr. Reese’s office.

“Thank you, Miss Hawkins.” The man slaps the desk before continuing towards the elevator. You rise from your chair, motioning Jay to follow you down the hall towards your boss's office.

“That’s a pretty bad limp. You should get it checked out.”

You stop in the middle of the hall and turn to him, annoyed at this point.

“Detective-“

“What happened to JJ?”

Your eyebrows pull together as you run your hand over your face, a sigh escaping your lips. “Jay, I know you promised my brother you’d look out for me, but I’m fine.” You try to reason, even grabbing his arm and giving him a smile.

“I’m not doing this because of Danny, sweetheart. Believe it or not, I care about you,” he says, stepping closer to you. You gulp, pressing your hands to his chest. He had you against the wall now, his arms on either side of your head, trapping you.

“Jay, please. I’m engaged.”

Jay pulls back abruptly, giving you a shocked look but there was anger in his eyes.

“You're marrying that bastard?” He lets out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. You move to touch him, but he moves from your grasp.

“Take me to Reese.”

You look down, nodding before continuing on towards your boss's office. You knock on the door, waiting on the okay before walking inside. Your boss sits at his desk and was previously focused on his computer but his attention is turned to you.

“A Detective Halstead is here to see you.”

He flashes you a smile before motioning him inside. You let Jay pass, taking in a sharp breath as his body brushes with yours.

Once you're outside and the door is shut behind you, you lean against the wall, trying to calm yourself down. Ever since he came back from his first tour, to spend some time with his family, your feelings for him became much more than some school girl crush. You saw him in a new light. He was more than your brother's best friend, more than that guy who looked after you ever so often. He was a man and you, you were a woman. You had hoped for so long that he would see you differently. He did, but the time for you and him had passed.

Your little moment was ruined by the sound of a voice, “Who the hell was that?” Your head snaps towards the end of the hall. Kade’s friend Nathan stands there, a glare set in his eyes. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as your breathing becomes unsteady. You're stuttering out incoherent words but he’s already pulled out his phone and dials a number while walking in the opposite direction of where you're standing.

Although filled with fear and worry, you continued working, distracting yourself and praying that he’ll let it go, or at least listen to you when you tell him you didn’t say a word to Jay. He knows Jay, and when he finds out that it was him who you were talking to, it’s going to be ten times worse.

Your attention is once again drawn to him as he walks up to your desk from the direction of the hall. He slides a card onto the table towards you.

“I wasn’t there for you like I promised you that day. I failed you, and I failed him. I know the signs. When you're ready to get out, call me. I won’t let you down, not this time.” You watch him walk away, heart sinking into your stomach. You want him to come back, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to call out to him, or to trust him again.

Before he enters the elevator, he gives you another look and adds, “You’re strong. Remember that.”

He gets into the elevator and he’s gone. You picked up the card, looking it over. He reminds you that not every man is as awful as Kade. But he has his claws dug into you so deep, you can’t even trust Jay, the man who protected you when your brother was away. You don’t know what to do without Kade. You love him.

He’s going to change, you tell yourself. You only hope you’re right.

_

A/N: Okay can i just say how sorry i am for how long it took me to post this story :( Not gonna make any promises but chapter two should be out Friday or Saturday. Thanks for the support. If you want to be added to my taglist let me know!

[railingsofsorrow]

A Mending Fate

summary: y/n and spencer come to terms about their relationship. (sequel to ruptures of a high end)

pairing: spencer reid × fem!bau!reader

word count: 2.5K

warnings/content: luke alvez is a sweetheart; exes to lovers? exes to friends? read and find out; little bit of angst but fluff too!; mentions of luke & garcia being a thing ™.

A/N: I've no idea if luke is exactly how I portraited in here cause I haven't reached the season where he comes in yet but since this is fiction I can do whatever I want so I decided to put him in here. also! I'm not sure when the wedding happens- basically there's stuff out of the canon timeline. that is all. good reading!

A/N 0.2: not sure if i like this tbh

It's been two weeks since David Rossi's wedding.

Two weeks since Spencer and Y/N shared a dance and a conversation that doesn't leave his mind.

Two weeks since Y/N last spoke to him for anything unrelated to work.

It was torture. Spencer Reid felt his heart go up in his throat every time she walked by or even remotely glanced his away.

Torture.

She had been avoiding him for the past few days and he decided he had gotten enough. They had just entered the jet so there was enough time.

“Are you mad at me?”

Y/N gasped, holding a hand over her chest. Turning her neck she glared at him, “You wanna scare me to death?”

Spencer apologizes without much concern and leans against the countertop, “Sorry. Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you, Spencer?” She went back to swirl the sugar in her coffee, not glacing up at him.

The doctor scoffed, “You've been ignoring me for the past two weeks— are you really asking that?” His whole demeanor softened instantly, “What did I do?”

“Nothing.” She finally looks up, expression blank. He hated that she knew how to hide her emotions well; he envied a bit for that actually. “I am speaking to you. I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Y/N, please...” Spencer begged, moving closer but she immediately stepped back looking away. He felt his heart being punched at the reaction. “Just tell me how I can fix this. You're my friend,” And I'm in love with you still. “I miss you.” He admitts in a small voice.

Her coffee was already long forgotten, with sweaty hands she desperately tried to dry them in her pants but to no use. “Can we- can we have this conversation after the case?”

He perked up at that, “Okay.”

She gave him a nod and walked away to find her seat. Besides JJ.

When he sat down, Emily smirked adjusting her position, “Ready to lose, Doctor Reid?”

No, I always win with you.

He missed his usual partner in poker, Y/N never let him win, no matter how good he was. He missed her altogether.

“Let's see.”

Y/N Y/L/N would kill Luke Alvez. How dare he get hurt in a confrontation?

Okay, it technically wasn't his fault because the unsub advanced first. But the guy had a knife, so the minimum accepted action was to beck away and not move forward to stop him. Luke had a hero complex, and she couldn't change that. Hell, not even Penelope, his girlfriend, changed that, then how could Y/N?

“You're a real idiot. Did you know that?” She huffed by his side at the ambulance. He was getting fixed up by a paramedic. The wounds had been superficial, just some screeches. He had been lucky.

“Either he would kill himself or hurt a cop, I didn't have a choice.” He winced when the antiseptic hit a sore spot.

“There's always a choice. You could've stayed quiet.”

“Okay, mom. I'm sorry—”

“How many times have I told you to not call me that, Alvez!”

The paramedic pressed her lips together to not laugh at them.

“C'mon, Y/L. Don't be mad at me, I'm fine, ain't I?”

Y/L rolled her eyes and Luke gave her an amused look. After the paramedic said he was good to go, he thanked her and nudged his best friend's hip.

Y/N gave him a sideways glance, “What.”

“Why don't you go talk to Reid and end this misery you two are suffering?”

Y/N widened her eyes, but before she could protest Luke wrapped and arm around her shoulders, leading her away from the ambulance.

“C'mon, Y/L/N. Everybody noticed the tension. I know you're avoiding him.”

“Whoah! What?” Y/N moved his arm away to stare at him, “I'm not— it isn't like that. I just—” He gave her a look and she scoffed, “If anything this is your fault.”

Luke's mouth went agape, “Excuse me?”

“Yeah.” Y/N crossed her arms, shifting slightly, “You kinda of interrupted something.”

A flashback of the after-party of Rossi's wedding flashed through her mind, but she kept quiet. She knew that it hadn't been Luke's fault for two reasons: one, he was too drunk to even notice what was going on; and two, it had been her to brush off the conversation with Spencer, not Luke.

“Wait.” Her eyes snapped to him, who had a faraway gaze. “You two were talking at Rossi's house when I... oh, my god did something happen? I interrupted something, didn't I?”

Y/N's lips broke into a smile after seeing the desperation in his voice.

“I'm sorry, Y/N. I had no idea—”

“Shut up, Luke. There was no way you would've known.” Rolling her eyes she laid her head on his shoulder and sighed, “I'm just an idiot. An idiot that is still hung up in a past that has no future.”

“How do you know?”

Y/N looked at him through her eyelashes, “Mhm?”

“How do you know you two have no future?” He repeated, lifting one of his eyebrows as he stared down at her.

A creased was formed in the bridge of her forehead, “It's been five years, Luke. We've been with other people...”

“But you still have him in your mind, don't you?”

Way too forward, aren't you? She thought.

“I mean- No. We've just been good friends and I think I—”

“I didn't said anything besides you and Spencer being more than friends.” Luke smirked, staring at a spot far away and then looking back at Y/N, who glared at him. “I don't like seeing you with all this sorrow in your eyes. Regret is something strong, Y/N. Don't let it come in-between what you want to do. What does your heart say?”

She gulped, squeezing her hands together. They were damp with sweat.

“I've hurt him way too much, Luke.”

“He hurt you, too. Don't say it as if you were the only one to blame, Y/N. ” He gave her a look. "You know, he talks to me about you, too."

“He does?” She looks up, pretending not to be affected by the comment. He could see right though her.

“Talk to him, Y/N. You'll be able to think straight after this. Trust me.”

She closed her eyes for the thoughts were too much to handle with them open.

Y/N trusted Luke. Even with his stupid ideas and crappy pick-up lines, she trusted Luke. She knew that what he was saying was true. But it didn't mean it didn't scare her to hell. Y/N Y/L/N was a coward. She didn't like confrontation. Her heart was screaming and she just didn't want to listen this whole time. Y/N decided it was time to stop ignoring what her heart was saying and actually starts to listen to it.

Closure.

I need closure.

But when you come to terms with your heart, are you really a coward?

Spencer Reid carried a frown while he scribbled something down in official reports. JJ was amused at his expression, for whatever reason, if he was trying to look mad he only looked like a kicked puppy.

“What's up?”

She approached, pulling a chair and sitting in front of his desk.

“Uh?” The Doctor looked up for a hot second into JJ's baby blue eyes and then quickly went back to his files. “Just finishing this stupid pile-”

Jennifer raised her eyebrows, “Okay. What's with the frown?”

“I'm not frowning.”

“Yes, yes you are, Spence.” JJ let her back rest against the chair, intertwining her fingers on her lap, “You've also been staring at Y/N and Luke for and awful amount of time now." He glared at her and she shrugged, “What? Am I lying?”

“Drop it, JJ.”

The blonde sighed, leaning closer. “You know Luke and Garcia are official now, right? He and Y/N are nothing but friends,”

Spencer felt his cheeks heathen up in shame, “I'm not- I don't care.” He inhaled deeply, looking down. “I'm just frustrated. It's nothing.”

“Are you sure you don't wanna talk?” JJ's eyes softened as she asked.

Spencer nodded mumbling faintly.

He wanted to talk to Y/N. He wanted to know how to fix whatever he had screwed up. Was it too late?

That night, they got into their cars and went home to their respective apartments with longing feelings and unsaid words. None of them said what they desired to say. And there was so much, so much left to be cleared. How could one start? How could one rip off the bandaid if it was glued right into the wound?

Y/N decided to rip it off once and for all. It was better than to let it get infected with time, right?

Screw this.

Two knocks woke Spencer up from a nice slumber. When he opened his eyes and looked around he noticed the TV was still on playing another History Channel documentary. The knocking repeated and he realized someone was actually there waiting for him to asnwer the door.

Too sleepy to look at the peephole, he opened the door, meeting a raised hand getting ready to knock again. Once she lowered her hand, a sheepish smile scratched her lips.

“You were sleeping, weren't you?”

Spencer stopped rubbing his eyes, letting his vision clear up. Y/N. He wasn't daydreaming.

“No, I-” He gulped, giving space for her to enter. “Come in.” She stepped in as he quietly closed the door. When he turned around he couldn't help but analyse her fidgety nature. “Are you okay?”

Y/N lifted her eyes to stare at him. What was her problem? She hadn't rehearsed before to freeze pathetically like this.

“I'm sorry I left early today.” Was what left her mouth. Spencer frowned, confused of what was she referring to. Y/N sighed, crossing and uncrossing her arms. “You said you wanted to talk and I told you that we could after the case and I just... left. I'm sorry.”

His eyebrows raised in understanding, “Oh, right. It's okay, Y/N.”

“No. No, it's not. I need to talk too, Spencer. I was running away before, but now I can't anymore.” Spencer wanted to tell her to calm down. He wanted to tell her that she didn't need to be nervous around him, there was no need for that. That whatever she had to say, he would understand. But his voice seemed to get lost along with his thoughts. “You were right; I was avoiding you. But I only did that because I didn't know how to act after- after Rossi's wedding.”

Spencer changed his focus to the ground. His curls covering his forehead. “Y/N, that was... I overstepped. I shouldn't have had pushed you to say something you didn't feel comfortable sharing.”

“That's not the issue.” She took a step towards him cautiously. “Spencer? I was just too scared to realize what I was feeling. What I still feel.” He almost cracked his neck while looking up.

“What are you saying?”

She then took a deep breath and exhaled, eyes not leaving his. “I still care about you.” Liar. You love him. “And what I said that night was nothing but the truth. Just so you know, I was slightly tipsy.” After cleaning her throat and looking away, she said, “I miss you. I know it's selfish after five years... but I miss you.”

Reid's mind was a whirlwind and his chest was about to burst. So, he wasn't making things up. She did felt the same.

He didn't realize he had been silent for a while, causing Y/N to shift uncomfortably.

“I'm sorry, Spencer. I knew I shouldn't have—”

“I miss you too.” He let out, finally finding his voice. “God, you have no idea how much I have missed you, Y/N.” Her eyes widened in surprise. That was not what she expected him to say. Those words carried the same meaning as they did earlier in the day. “It doesn't matter that it's been five years. I never stopped loving you.”

“You-” She shook her head, staring at him in disbelief. “I didn't- I didn't thought that you did.”

His fingers reacher her cheeks and she felt them burn, but didn't move an inch away. That touch was home.

“Why didn't you tell me anything?” He asked softly.

Her forehead creased slightly, “Because I was the one that broke up with you. How would that be fair?”

Spencer retracted his hands, making Y/N frown. But he only switched the tender touch to her hands. “I know another thing that wasn't fair.” There was sorrow in his eyes and she wanted to take that away immediately. “What I said to you that night,” Somehow, she knew he wasn't talking about the wedding. But the night they had broken up. “About you changing your mind; that was wrong of me. Y/N l, I was not with you because I wanted the planned future I created in my mind. I fell in love with you. There is nothing more that I need. I shouldn't have forced anything. I am so sorry for acting like that.”

Y/N barely let him finish as she launched herself into his arms, burying her nose in his neck. Spencer stumbled back but he held her firmly. He felt his shirt getting wet, and tried to pull away but she didn't let him.

“I was scared you'd resent me.” She whispered as if it was the darkes secret she ever had. “But I'm glad you don't.”

He succeeded in pulling away so then he could look right into her eyes. He proceeded to dry her cheeks, his throat almost closing at seeing her so distraught, “I'd never resent you. If anything, I resented myself for letting you go. I'm sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Y/N mumbled, pecking his lips. Spencer felt the salty taste of her tears. Or were those his too? "I forgive you, Spencer."

He grinned against her mouth, kissing her again. She slowly backed away, eyes dazed as she studied his face carefully. Flashbacks ran through his head like fire. “I should've said something, too. I guess?” Spencer said, pressing his fingers against the red skin of her lips.

That brought a smile to her lips. He grinned at that and rested his forehead against hers.

“Maybe.”

“Yeah?” She hummed, eyes closed in bliss as their breath mixed due their proximity. She pressed her hands on his chest, pushing him away a bit. “We need to communicate better if we're gonna to this, okay?” Spencer quickly agreed.

“Of course. Yes. Did you know that, statistically, sixty percent of relationships tend to fail because of lack of communication? That includes marriage, friendship or couples that are recently together...” He pressed his lips together, “I shouldn't have said that, should I?”

Y/N chuckled, pulling the fabric of his shirt closer to her. “Well, we just have to make sure to not be one of those sixty percent again, don't we?”

Spencer nodded, leaving a long kiss on her forehead. “I'll make sure that never happens.”

Closure.

That was all they needed. And, of course, to be in each other's arms again.

taglist: @givemeth ; @aperrywilliams

[fandom-eclectics]

First, wanted to say 2 big THANK YOU, for this awesome and super-original event, for all these great songs I literally fell in love with (like, SO MANY GOOD DISCOVERIES THERE), aaaaand for the solid 35 minutes I took to decide which prompts and words I'd choose, because they're all so. So. So COOL

Okay soo, I'm a litteral simp for Todoroki. I just love him so much. And I just hesitated so, so, SO MUCH cause it's his last Os slot and I just didn't want to mess it kebdxbdkck so, hum, Im gonna tell you my choice, but really, just know I deeply hesitated with Yellow, okay?

Soooooo

May I requeeeest

Todoroki + 7 + speakers + ice + perfume ? Pretty please ?

Thank you in advance, I can't wait to read you since I just adored your previous posts (*^*)

Luluv en ya!

I may or may not have had to find a pillow to scream into after reading this….YOU ARE LITERALLY SO AMAZING STOPPPPP!! I’m so happy you liked the event and the songs, telling me I picked good songs is like the best thing you could ever tell me 😭. I’m so sorry this took so longggg, but I hope you like it!! Ilysm!!! Have an spectacular day/night!! 💕

60 Followers Event

|| ℂ𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕕𝕖𝕕 ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥 ℂ𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤 ||

Characters: Todoroki x reader

Status: Not Proofread

Reader: Hates crowded spaces // nothing else mentioned

Type: Oneshot // Angst? // Fluff

Warnings: crowded spaces, mild anxiety attacks

A/n: I’m…..back? After not posting for like….forever because school sucks I’m back, and I missed it all. So hello, and my deepest apologies for this taking SO LONG! Also….I just want to point out that I do myself have anxiety, BUT, everyone’s experience is different. If this offends you I’m any way PLEASE LET ME KNOW and I can take it down.

It could have been a lovely Friday night. Filled with you and Shoto eating takeout and watching a good movie. Cuddling on the couch and staring at each other lovingly instead of actually watching the movie.

Nope, that was hardly the case tonight. Momo had thrown a huge party for class A, B, C, and other friends and family. She really wanted you and Shoto to be there. Since Momo was a good friend of your’s, you agreed, even though you despised parties.

You stood in a darker corner of the room, looking at your phone. Shoto had gone to get you two some water so you were all alone. The room was dark as it is, only having small lights here and there and then a whole lot of neon brightness coming from where the speakers were.

The music was so loud, you felt like your ears had reached maximum capacity. The bass, you could feel it vibrating in your soul. The people, oh my the people. There were so many of them. Screaming, cheering, singing, dancing. So much going on at once.

Luckily, you kept calm, scrolling through your phone, trying to focus on your screen and not, everything else that was going on.

“Y/N, hey, why are you over in the corner?” You heard Mina call as she walked up to you.

“Didn’t wanna, you know, people.” You got out, trying to yell over the loud noises.

“Come on, you gotta dance!” Mina encouraged grabbing your hand

“Mina, I can’t. I suck at dancing.” You said, pulling back

“Oh come on, just once!” Mina insisted, tugging on your wrist.

“One dance.” You agreed, letting her pull you onto e dance floor.

You and Mina got out there and the first thing that came into your mind was how many people there were. Mina had your hands and here’s and you two were doing sort of a sidestep spin kind of thing. It was Mina, you didn’t know. Probably some new TikTok dance or something.

However, you kept feeling yourself dump into multiple people and it felt like they were all closing in on you. You started to sweat, when did it get this hot? Keeping up a smile though as your let Mina happily guide you to the rhythm of the song that was blaring through the speakers.

Your breathing started to quicken. It was as if you couldn’t get enough clean air in. You felt every bit of air you breathed. it was all too deluded with perfume.

The song ended and you quickly asked Mina if she could show your way back to we’re she had found you. It had gotten darker in the room and your head was starting to feel a little dizzy from the lack of air you were I taking.

Mina had a look of disappointment, but agreed. Guiding you back to your exact spot, you thanked her quickly, then sat down on the ground, pulling your knees to your chest.

You looked around, seeing if you a could possibly make out Shoto’s silhouette coming towards you. Nothing, you saw nothing but people and bright neon light coming from the front of the room. You smelled nothing but strong and flowery perfume. You heard nothing but blaring music.

Your mind was overwhelmed. It couldn’t take every sense besides taste and touch being overwhelmed. You felt your throat tighten to the point your breathes where extremely shallow.

You tried to breath, you tried so so so hard to breathe, but every attempt, got you less air. At one point you felt like you were drowning. You couldn’t breathe, you were going to die. Glancing around frantically, trying to find someone, anyone to plead at. There was no one, only a bunch of people dancing to the music.

People, people that might be looking, watching. Watching as you broke down, watching as you suffered. What are they thinking? Why aren’t they doing anything? Are they laughing? You couldn’t hear anything at this point, your ears were drowning everything out besides your shallow breaths.

You felt a hand touch your wrist and you quickly looked in front of you to see your boyfriend with a concerned look on his face. He took your hands in his quickly, giving them a warm embrace.

“Y/n. It’s me, Shoto, your safe, I’m going to take you outside okay? Somewhere quiet.” You faintly heard him say.

You focused on his touch, trying to slow your breathing. He got up and brought you up with him. Shoto looked around for a door, and thankfully found one not too far away from where you two were.

He took your hands and slowly lead you through the crowd of people. You did you best to focus on things that weren’t the feeling of being closed in or the pact of normal breathing happening. Reaching the door, he pushed it open

You would’ve felt the cold air hit your face if you were paying attention, but you weren’t. If your mind was focused and calm you would have seen that the sky was even darker tonight because of the clouds covering the glittering stars. You would have seen that the trees were bare and missing leaves because of the bitter winter. Though most importantly, you would’ve seen that your caring boyfriend was doing his best to get you two toward his vehicle as soon as possible.

Your mind was being pulled back slightly when he helped you into the car. You felt the heat hit your face and looked around realizing there was no one else in sight besides your Shoto. He helped with slowing down your breathing, which aided your mind with going back to a semi-normal state. You let yourself focus on looking at snow starting to fall. You felt Shoto’s cold but soft hands holding your’s. You smelled the cinnamon air freshener you had gotten him for his car as an early small holiday gift. It was all so comforting it was calming you down.

“Your hands are as cold as ice.” You finally said, when you had calmed down enough to talk.

“I forgot my gloves at home.” He simply stated

“You should put them next to the heater.” You said, taking his hand and putting it near the vent blowing warm air.

“Thank you y/n.” He said

“Thank you? For what? Warming your hands, I’m pretty sure you could’ve done that on your own.” You joked

“No, I mean, yes, I could have warmed my hands just fine. I mean, thank you for staying with me during the holidays. It’s always kind of a hard time because….we’ll, you know.” Shoto confessed, implying the struggles with his family making this season very hard for him.

“Hey, anytime, it’s my job to here for you because I love you. And, I want to apologize for back there, I just-“ you were cut off

“Y/n, there is no need to apologize for what happened. It is okay and valid and all the other normal things in between. It simply became too much for you, which is understandable. Everybody has their breaking points, and sometimes, we surpass them and things like this happen.” He told you, in a calm and normal voice.

“I know, but I hated to pull you away from the party.” You said

“Again, it is completely okay. I would choose being here to help you over staying in a loud and crowded room of people any day of my life.”

“Are you serious?” You asked out of somewhat disbelief

“Yes, I am, I really am.” He assured you.

That night, Shoto made sure to get you home and in bed safe and sound. He insisted on staying with you until you fell asleep, and unknowing to you, he left you a small note of on your nightstand that had a lyric he had heard on the radio the other day that reminded him of you. The note read:

“I want you to know that the snow isn’t all that cold if you’ve got someone to hold. Thankfully my someone is you.” - Much love, Sho

He wanted you to awake and have something there to put one of those bright smiles on your face. He deeply wished he could’ve been there to see it.

Hope you have a good day/night!

You are loved!!

Tags:

[bugsyfics]

Could’ve Just Asked

Yami Sukehiro x Reader

Fandom: BC

Summary: After touching one of Captain Yami’s most prized possessions, Y/N finds herself on thin ice.

Warnings: Smut/notsfw, spanking, masturbation, very slight praise and domination

Word Count: 1.3k

————•————•————•————•————•————•————•————

Captain Yami was out with the other members of the Black Bulls upon request of the Wizard King. Today you weren’t needed, because you visited him a couple days prior about the new mission. While you could’ve gone anyway, this was a good time to catch up on some well needed cleaning. You dusted, moved someone’s random pair of shorts, and threw away an oddly immense amount of trash. You got to the split corridor and took a little detour down the men’s living quarters. You’ve only been down there a couple times, but curiosity was getting the best of you.

There was no denying that you enjoyed looking at your captain and often wondered how he would feel on top of you, but because of the dynamic you two shared it made it almost impossible to express how you felt. Since you’d joined the Black Bulls, it’s always felt deeply inappropriate how hot this man made you with only a couple words or a pat on the back. It was even worse when you two would train alone, away from the others. Maybe your little flirts weren’t enough for him to catch on or possibly he was simply ignoring your advances.

As you passed Yami’s bedroom it took everything in you not to look at his door. You walked a little further, but quickly turned on your heel to walk back towards his room.

“Hm, I don’t know if I… no…” You contemplated intruding while your hand remained on the doorknob.

“Fine.” You opened the door.

It was… normal? A small pile of clothes and an unmade bed but nothing out of the ordinary. You did notice though, a shimmer from across the room. After quickly shutting the door, you made your way to the glimmering object to find a brand new katana placed against his nightstand. You knew it was a bad idea, but you really wanted to see the beauty of this finely crafted sword. You pulled it out slightly admiring the polished finish — possibly too long to not notice Yami entering his room.

“Get out or I’ll kill you!”

“Ahh! I’m so sorry! I’ll leave, j-just let me explain!” You sputtered hoping he wouldn’t kick your ass.

“I was cleaning a-and I wandered down the hallway a-and I saw your room. Then I-I saw—”

“Shut the hell up!”

“I’m sorry capitan,” you apologized.

Why did you have to keep doing stupid shit like this? No only did you invade his privacy but you also touched his brand new katana— Yami’s katana. Shit, you put your position in the squad in jeopardy and ruined the chances of him ever being interested in you. What would the other squad members thi—

“Hello? I asked you to hand it over,” Yami pointed to the sword with his eyebrow raised.

“You’re being creepy…” he continued and eyed you.

Yami grabbed your arm and released the katana from your grip. He laid the sword flat on his palms and pulled it out completely, inspecting it.

“Well, I guess you didn’t mess it up too bad. You know, acting like a dumbass and all,” Yami spoke and shook his head.

You opened your mouth to protest but remained quiet instead.

“You came in here just to look at a sword? Gonna steal it or somethin’?”

“No, I was just snooping. It was rude of me,” you muttered.

“Stop apologizing. Don’t care, just don’t do it again,” Yami grumbled.

He closed the katana back down into its scabbard and sighed.

“Ok, get out,” he spoke suddenly and walked you to the door.

After you walked out, Yami leaned against the doorframe.

“You know Y/N, you don’t have to sneak around. If you wanted to visit and talk you could’ve just asked,” Yami laughed and closed the door.

Did he say visit? What did that even mean? Well, you were just glad you made it out alive. Your palms were sweaty and after that encounter you needed a cold shower.

The next day...

After breakfast, all the squad members sat in the main room chatting. You assumed no one knew about what happened the day before, but you sat by yourself just in case. Well, not entirely by yourself since Zora was across from you snoozing, as always.

“Be quiet and sit down,” Yami clapped his hands together, “I’m sending a couple of you on a mission.”

“Julius needs to speak to Asta, Finral, and Charmy again. So, go do that or whatever,” Yami announced nonchalantly and sat back down to read the paper.

Everyone else traveled to the Noble Realm to shop or went outside to train. You quietly sat and drank your coffee hoping no one would notice that you were missing.

You heard a gruff voice from above you, “Y/N, come here.”

Yami?! What does he want? He stood over you and motioned you to follow.

“Yes, captain.”

You both ended up outside his room.

“What are we—”

“We have free-time. I thought you wanted to talk,” Yami shrugged.

“Sur— I mean, yeah we can,” you smiled awkwardly.

Yami sat down on his bed and stared at you, blowing out a puff of smoke from his cigarette. You stood against his desk, in the corner of the room, assuming it wouldn’t be appropriate to sit on his bed with him. The uncomfortable silence made you flustered and you slightly pinched your leg to right yourself.

“Are we gonna stare at each other all day?” Yami surmised.

“I don’t really have anything to talk about necessarily,” you spoke.

“Mhm, ok well we can leave—”

“Wait! I-I mean um… hold on. Tell me about your katana, please captain,” you blurted.

“You wanna hear about my katana? Nothing else you want to talk about?” Yami asked.

“Yeah… Well, no. I’m just interested in learning about it. It looks like it’s made with good craftsmanship.”

Yami stood suddenly, pulling his katana from the holster on his waist and motioned you over. He sat back down on his bed and waited for you to join. You awkwardly sat beside him and you couldn’t help your cheeks from turning bright red from the closeness.

“Put your hands out,” Yami instructed, “The blade is sharp so don’t do anything stupid.”

The sword laid balanced across both of your palms.

“The handle is called tsuka,” Yami began and stroked the top, “...and the blade is called sori.”

He took two fingers and slowly ran them across the surface of the blade.

“The only authentic ones are from back home, but since I haven’t gone back, I get them imported.”

“Wow, it’s a really beautiful sword,” you admired softly.

“Mhm, it’s quite… personal to me,” Yami cleared his throat and grabbed the katana from your hands.

He glanced over at your face with an unreadable expression and shifted away.

“I think that’s enough talking for today. I’m gonna take a nap,” Yami rushed and stood from the bed.

“Can I come back tomorrow?” You asked quietly and walked to the door.

Yami pulled his cigarette from his lips and crushed the butt into the cigarette tray on top of his nightstand.

“Eh, I don’t know… I think today was enough,” he responded curtly.

“Did I do something wrong?” you began to pry.

Yami stood silent staring at you for a moment. He finally made his way over, and towered over your small frame.

“I hate it when you act innocent,” Yami growled lowly and tilted your chin upwards slowly, “You know exactly what you’re doing, princess.”

“Captain… What are you talking about?” you questioned, puzzled by his sudden change in mood.

“I haven’t caught on for a while, but I’m not stupid. You like when I tower over you like this… or when I command you to do what I want,” Yami taunted and rested his hands above your head.

“You snooped in my room because you couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” Yami chuckled and stared deeper into your nervous gaze.

“C-captain I-I,” you stuttered and clenched your thighs together to suppress the tingling from your core.

“There’s no need to confess, Y/N. I already know how you feel,” Yami said. “I guess I was a little oblivious. I thought you had a childish crush, but it seems like there’s something more.”

Yami scratched the back of his head and his eyes traveled down your body to your clenched thighs. With one hand still above you, the other traced down your side and gripped your thigh gently. He began to rub small circles on your skin with his thumb.

You bit your lip and glanced up at Yami’s dark gaze from under your lashes.

“D’ya like that princess?” he teased as his hand traveled further underneath your skirt.

“Yes captain,” you sighed.

You were soaking through your panties and you were nervous about what Yami would think. His low voice and his digits pressed on you made your skin burn.

Yami’s eyes grew a little when he reached your panties. He took his middle finger and ran it over your heat feeling how your wetness pooled under you.

“You want me to touch you some more?” Yami spoke into your neck.

You nodded eagerly, opening your legs wider for his massive hand.

“Mm…”

Yami rubbed faster over your clothed pussy. He pulled his hand away and leaned down to your ear.

“Get on the bed. Head down and ass up, now.” Yami ordered you.

He could tell you liked being dominated, but you also like being praised and he stepped into that role nicely.

You scurried over to his bed and did what you were told. A little part of you wanted to push him further.

You reached under your skirt and played with yourself, bucking into your hand. You pushed your ass out and turned your head to watch him.

Yami cooly walked to his nightstand, grabbed a cigarette and lit it while he watched you. That was definitely not the reaction you expected.

Smoke billowed out from his lips as he spoke, “That’s a nice show you’re putting on. Maybe you can get yourself off instead.”

“Wha- no, I was just—”

“Touch yourself,” Yami demanded.

He watched as you hesitated and moved your hand away. Yami roughly pulled your hand back under you, placing it on your core.

“Do it.��

You had no choice other than to play with yourself in front of him, but it was technically your fault. You gently rubbed over the fabric and grazed across your aching pussy. The constant friction of the panties across your clit made it difficult to stay steady on your knees. You moaned incoherently into the bedspread and began slowing your movements.

Yami grabbed a handful of your ass and smacked it harshly, “Faster. Keep going like a good girl.”

“Yam-Yami please. I c-can’t…” you panted.

“Do I have to tell you again, princess?” Yami threatened while pinching your ass.

“No, sir… but I just need you,” you pleaded and grinded into the air.

With a grunt, Yami pulled you to the edge of the bed with your ass propped. He tore your panties off of you and spread your pussy open to rub harsh circles on your swollen bud, making your toes curl.

“Mm fuck. That feels so, so good, captain!”

“Something tells me this is your favorite place to be touched,” Yami chuckled, quickening his movements.

You bucked harder, fucking yourself down onto Yami’s hand.

“Shit, it looks like your gonna come, princess.”

He pulled you back into his chest and continued his movements while you came undone. You felt yourself on the brink of tears as you slumped down into Yami’s arms. You heard him breathing hard behind you as his erection poked into your lower back.

“Damn princess, that was only the first round! Hah! I knew you weren’t that innocent,” Yami teased and wrapped his arms around your waist.

————•————•————•————•————•————•————•————

A/N: I hoped you like this Yami smut! Thanks for reading 💕

— bugs

[chefdoeuvre]

Instinct

Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader

Description: No matter how hard you try to hide it Jay can read you like an open book.

Words: 1,479

Requested: yes by anonymous; So I thought it would be cute if Jay and reader have just started seeing each other secretly and she's acting off and quiet at work and he notices before everyone else please?? Thank you x

Warnings: angst (if you can even call it that), mentions of cancer, fluff as usual.

A/N: I just want my own Jay Halstead. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

After leaving Jay's place early that morning you made your way back home. You hadn't initially planned on staying the night, but there was something about being in his arms that made you not want to get up. You pulled up to your building and ran up to your apartment. Hurriedly heading inside you made a beeline for the bathroom and took a quick shower. Once you finished up your shower you pulled on your normal work clothes, which consisted of a plain shirt and jeans. Grabbing your holster and your badge you clipped them onto your jeans. You headed to the kitchen and scrounged for some form of quick breakfast before you would head off to your usual coffee shop.

Just as you began quickly munching on a granola bar your phone began ringing from the couch where you had tossed it when you walked in. The caller ID was your mom, so with furrowed brows, you answered the phone.

"Mom?" You asked.

A sniffle was heard on the other end before she spoke, "hi, sweetie."

"Mom, what's wrong?" At this point, you had started pacing and racked your brain for what possibly could have gone wrong.

"It's your father..." Your mother began, but she trailed off.

"Is he?" You couldn't even say the words out loud.

"No! It's not that, he went to the doctor the other day." She took a deep breath before continuing. "They said he has lung cancer." Your mom quickly explained after realizing where your mind had gone.

"What else?" You questioned in a whisper, holding your tears back to be strong for your mother.

"They caught it early, he's starting chemotherapy soon. Hopefully, he'll beat it since it's in the early stage still." Your mom continued.

"Can I talk to him?" You asked as you chewed on your lip, a bad habit you did whenever you became nervous.

The shuffling from the other end was heard and then your father spoke, "hi, honey." Even with his recent diagnosis, you could hear the smile in his voice, that's how he always was, happy no matter what.

"Hi, daddy." You whispered with a small smile from hearing your father's voice.

"I heard you finally got into Intelligence, I hope Hank is treating my best daughter well." He laughed, even if you had been in the unit for quite a while every time you talked he would tease Voight about treating you well, they had been best friends since they were young.

"Dad, I'm your only daughter and I've already told you, it's going great." You laughed, shaking your head.

"That's good to hear. Now, I don't know what your mother told you but don't worry about me, I'll be back to the same old me soon enough." Your father reassured you, "and shouldn't you be heading to work now?" Your father asked in a teasing tone.

"Alright, dad. And yeah I should, but it's fine one late won't kill my career. I'll just bribe Voight with his favorite coffee order." You joked.

"Bye, sweetheart." Your parents both said before ending the call.

Wiping the stray tears off your face you decided to skip out on going to the coffee shop and would just drink the burnt one they had at work. Taking a deep breath you set off to work, pulling on a coat and pocketing your phone.

Walking into the district you greeted Trudy with a small smile and headed up the stairs to Intelligence. Making your way to your desk Jay looked over to you and sent you a wide smile. In response, you gave him a tight-lipped one back. He furrowed his brows at your behavior, but decided he wouldn't push it and chalked it up to the early morning you had after leaving his apartment to make it on time to work.

The day got off to a quick start with you guys getting a case within an hour of arriving to work. Throughout the entire time, you had been silent and only spoke up to provide important points that the others missed. After uncovering more information Voight began setting up a sting. You were paired up with your usual partner, which just so happened to be Jay. This also was the reason why you had kept your relationship a secret, so much so that not one soul knew besides the two of you.

You were off in a corner pulling on your vest when Jay came up behind you to help.

"Hey, you alright?" Jay whispered, sweeping your hair to one side.

"Yeah, I'm good." You answered shortly, Jay caught on to this because whenever he would ask you a question of some sort you'd always babble on about the little things that made you happy that day.

This was the second thing today that set him off which made him furrow his brows in confusion. You were all smiles when you left this morning and he was racking his brain for anything he might have said to upset you, but came up with nothing.

After strapping on your thigh holster and checking your gun you hopped into Jay's truck and waiting for him. You looked down at your jeans and picked at the hole by your knee from when you tackled a perp. The sound of a door opening made you lift your head and you were met with concerned blue eyes. You did your best to give the man a small reassuring smile before directing your attention back to your lap.

Tilting his head like a confused puppy Jay eyed your movements carefully. Whatever was wrong had bothered you so much that it made you find your shoes the most interesting things in the world at the moment. Giving you one last glance Jay turned the key and started the car.

You guys quickly headed in and were out within minutes. Apparently, the offenders were in way over their heads and dropped everything after Intelligence busted into the warehouse. Dragging the last person out you handed him off to an officer and beelined to Jay's truck. Hopping in you let out a deep breath and pulled your hair out of the tight ponytail it was in. You leaned your head back before shutting your eyes. You didn't hear Jay get in and he examined your expression before announcing his presence.

"Y/N?" Jay spoke up.

Your eyes shot open and you spun around in your seat to face your boyfriend. Your eyes were wide at the sudden sound, you hadn't even realized he entered the car.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Jay asked, placing a gentle hand on your arm.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, letting your head fall onto Jay's shoulder. Instinctively his hand went to your hair and raked through it. In this moment you were thankful for the tinted windows that hid the two of you from plain sight and the fact Jay had parked farther away.

"No, I'm not." You murmured quietly that Jay barely heard it.

"You wanna talk about it?" Jay asked pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I'll tell you about it later." You shook your head.

Later had come and now you sat on Jay's couch bundled up in a blanket while a Blackhawks game played on the television. Jay was in his room pulling out your favorite hoodie of his. Walking out he handed you the article of clothing.

"What's this?" You asked sitting up.

"Your favorite hoodie of mine." Jay shrugged nonchalantly as he took a seat beside you.

You thanked him with a small smile and he gave you a soft one in return. Once you had pulled on his hoodie, which was big and baggy on you, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He pulled you into his side and rubbed up and down your arms.

"My ears are open for whenever you're ready." Jay reassured you.

He had his fair share of communication problems when it came to sharing his feelings so he understood if you didn't want to talk about it just yet.

"It's my dad." You began with a whisper. Jay only nodded for you to continue.

"He got diagnosed with cancer, they called me this morning." Jay squeezed your shoulders as he hugged you tightly.

"Thanks." You said after a few moments of silence.

"For what?" Jay questioned.

"I don't know, for noticing?" You said, but it was phrased more like a question.

"I know you better than you think." Jay mused placing a kiss on the top of your head.

You let out a small laugh and wrapped your arms around Jay's waist tightly. The two of you stayed in that position the majority of the night until he had to practically carry to bed once you dozed off after the game ended.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Pepsi Raspberry

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader/you

Warnings: There's a fight and Reader's ex left her with some issues, but nothing super traumatic. Frankie is super cute (and a little needy). I just threw this together on a slow day at work, apologies in advance for errors.

Summary: You fight with Frankie. That's it that's the plot.

A/N: This was honestly supposed to be a piece about feminism and female independence in a relationship but I can't be trusted around Frankie, he totally bippity-boppity-booped me into forgivance. Dickhead. Also I struggled for two and a half hours with the title and that's why it's shit. I hate titles.

Words: 2,416

A loud noise wakes you up, your heart missing a beat. For a moment, you're completely still in bed, scared out of your mind. That was definitely the sound of the front door opening and closing, and someone crashing into a chair. You're as stiff as a board, your first thought being that this is it, this is how you'll die, by the hand of a home invader who's probably going to assault you first and then kill you, or maybe kidnap you and do god knows what to you…

You hear cursing and as you recognize the voice you also realize that if someone wanted to break in, they'd probably at least try to be stealthy about it.

"Frankie?" You mean for it to be a call but it's just a breathless whimper. You wet your lips, finding your mouth too dry.

Heavy, staggering footsteps bring the unknown visitor to the bedroom door and you reach out to turn on your bedside lamp. Blinking blearily towards the soft light is indeed Frankie, a sheepish smile on his face.

"The hell are you doing?" Your fright-induced stiffness leaving your body, you sit up in bed and glare at your boyfriend who was supposed to sleep at his own place tonight after his night out with the boys. His eyes are unfocused and his face shiny, and it's clearly been a good night. You glance at the nightstand, where the red light diodes of the clock tell you that the time is barely three am.

“Sorry, baby. Did I wake ya? There was… there was a chair in the entry. Did you move a chair? There never was a chair there before. Stubbed my toe.”

He limps over to the bed, trying to look as sober as possible while unbuttoning his shirt – “trying” being the operative word, as he’s clearly lost control of his fine motoric skills. He ends up pulling the flannel over his head, but it gets stuck, and he topples over his side of the bed. You draw back a little, wrinkling your nose. He smells of stale beer and cigarettes and moreover: he was supposed to go home. You had both agreed that you'd spend Saturday night apart for once, him catching up with his friends, you with yours, and he'd go home where he could spend Sunday nursing his hangover while you got some cleaning done in your apartment.

“What you are doing here?” you demand again, anger replacing fear. “Can I send you to the shower or will you drown?”

“I’m not a good swimmer,” Frankie acknowledges ruefully as he clumsily rolls over in bed and attempts the next step of getting undressed: undoing his fly and getting his tight jeans off. “Here, baby, gimme a hand, you’re so good at this…” “You deal with it yourself,” you say sternly, in no mood to help. The whole idea of spending one night apart was to get a good night’s sleep – something you rarely get in the same bed as Frankie as both of you are usually too voracious for each other to think about sleep – and for you not to have to worry about a hung-over boyfriend the following morning. On top of that, you’re furious with him for scaring the shit out of you by stumbling in at three in the morning. You almost regret giving him a key but then again: if he didn’t have one it could have been even worse, he could have gone full on Stanley Kowalski outside your window.

“Ah, baby, c’mon… Don’t be like that. Help an old man out.”

Frankie tilts his head up and looks at you with imploring eyes, upside down from you. Half of him is hanging outside the bed and the rest is slipping off, and he looks like he might fall asleep any second. You might as well help him before he goes limp and ends up on the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter and crawl over to his side of the bed before climbing out. As you bend over to pick up his legs and lift them onto the mattress, Frankie manages to slap your ass.

“Baby. Hey, baby. Let’s have sex.”

“Not gonna happen.”

You unzip his jeans and yank them down carelessly, pulling Frankie down the bed in the process.

“Whoa, wild thing,” he murmurs thickly, his eyes falling shut. “Careful of the joystick, you don’ wanna damage that or you won’ be able to fly anymore…”

You don’t bother with an answer, he’s not going to remember it anyway. You help him off with the t-shirt as well and when you’re about to tuck him in, he grabs you by your wrist with a move much quicker than you had thought him capable of in his state. He pulls you down over him, the other hand squeezing your ass.

“Sex,” he mumbles. “Love you, baby, and I wanna be in you fo’eva.”

You try to avoid the smelly, wet kisses that he keeps pressing to your neck and shoulder. While you can appreciate him being horny for you in any situation, you’re still mad about him being here at all.

“You need sleep and I want it,” you tell him as you squirm out of his hold. Returning to your side of bed, you ignore the puppy eyes look he gives you as you turn off the lights.

“Not sleepy,” Frankie protests weakly before he’s out cold. He starts to snore loudly and you sigh in exasperation.

You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.

You barely sleep for the remainder of the night and when you finally give up and get out of bed, you're in a pissy mood. Not even two cups of coffee and the fancy bread rolls you bought at the bakery yesterday to treat yourself this Sunday morning make you feel better. You down a painkiller to combat the beginnings of the headache you feel creeping up on you before starting on your chore list. The clearing of the closets in the hall is the first task and you get to it, trying to find some satisfaction in the fact that you're getting your things in order.

As the hours pass by, you do your best to work around the tasks on your list that would generate noise, such as vacuuming. You may be pissed at Frankie but you're decent enough to let him sleep for a little while longer. However, you finally face the fact that if you're to get everything done in time for you to actually enjoy the rest of your day off and open that novel you've been dying to read, you're going to have to start the vacuum cleaer. If Frankie wanted to sleep until three pm he should have gone home.

When you turn off the vacuum cleaner, you hear Frankie groan in the bedroom.

“Babe?”

You're not really in the mood to talk to him but you go check on him, just in case he needs help to get to the bathroom. Nursing his hangover is the last thing you want to do today but you also don't want to clean up vomit.

He looks like a wreck with his hair standing out in every direction where it's not plastered to his skull, puffy eyes, and pale face.

“Morning.” Your tone is short but he doesn't seem to notice. He grunts and rubs his forehead with one hand, the other reaching out of bed towards you.

“C'mere. I wanna cuddle.”

“You smell,” you shake your head. “Get up already, I want to change the sheets.”

He groans again and retracts his arm, draping it over his forehead.

“One more minute. Or hour. It's so early and my head is killing me.”

“Not my problem, Frankie.”

Frowning, he looks at you, clearly bothered by the sunlight washing the room in light. You don't offer any explanations.

“Is there coffee?” he asks eventually.

“No.”

“Can you make some?”

“Make it yourself.”

He blinks at you, surprised.

“What's wrong, baby?”

You go to the other side of the bed, grab the pillow and start to take off the pillowcase.

“Just get out of bed. I have shit to do.”

Frankie sits up slowly, his head clearly bothering him when he moves from a horizontal recline to a vertical seat. He takes a moment, eyes closed and hand on his bare, soft stomach, before looking up at you.

“What's up with you?”

There's a hint of accusation in his voice and that does it for you. You slam down the pillow onto the bed and cross your arms in front of your chest as you glare at him.

“You scared the shit out of me last night, Frankie! I thought I was being burglared!”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he mumbles, his apology meaning nothing to you because you can clearly see that he doesn't understand the terror you felt last night.

“We agreed that we'd spend the night apart, what the hell did you come here for and ruin my sleep and my morning?” you demand, raising your voice a little despite yourself. Frankie hates yelling. “Did you think I'd take care of you, tip-toe around you all day, serve you coffee in bed and junk food on the couch while you get to feel sorry for drinking too much?”

“What, no, what are you – “ Frankie seems utterly confused, the state of him most likely partly to blame. “Can you please keep your voice down?”

You pull at the duvet, stuck partly underneath him. “Move.”

“Jesus...” he mutters as he slowly gets out of bed. He stands still for a moment as if to recalibrate as he adjusts his boxers, before sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom. You strip the bed and as soon as Frankie's out of the bathroom and heading into the kitchen, you take the sheets to the washing-machine and start it. And just because you're feeling like a bitch, you throw Frankie's clothes out of the bedroom, letting them land on the floor, before vacuuming.

When you're stowing away the vacuum cleaner into the cleaning closet, Frankie confronts you. He's now dressed but that doesn't help his half-dead appearance.

“Why are you being like this?” He's still struggling to understand you. It's typical Frankie: he always tries to talk about things, bring clarity into every issue.

“Like what? What am I like?"” You're being a brat, you know, but you have no desire to be an adult right now. Frankie really doesn't seem to understand: the frown seems permanently etched into his face and he looks so different from his usual soft, easy-going self.

“Mean. You're being mean!” The last word comes out harshly and you can tell Frankie's losing his customary cool.

“So when I have plans to spend a day apart from you and be my own person, I'm being mean?” you spit. He looks at you like you're suddenly speaking in a foreign language.

“What are you even talking about?” The exasperation is plain to see, and it somehow makes you even angrier.

“This isn't your mama's bed and breakfast that you can just check into whenever you feel like it, Frankie!”

“Fuck,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can't deal with this right now.” He pulls out his phone. “I'm getting an Uber.”

“Good!” you quip. “Fuck off home, like you should've done at three in the fucking morning!”

Without waiting for a reply, you stomp into the bedroom and slam the door. A few seconds later, you hear the front door slam as well.

[+++]

Sorry I showed up unannounced in the middle of the night. I just missed you. Didn’t want to go home and sleep without you. Call me, okay? I Love you.

You stare at the text message and feel bad, no, not bad: really fucking awful. It took you a few hours to calm down; hours that you spent playing angry music while finishing your list of chores. Afterwards, you didn’t feel that satisfying sense of accomplishment you usually experience after a good cleaning. Your head still hurt, so you went to your newly made bed which smelled fresh and nice even with the spread on top. You slept until late afternoon and woke up by the beep signaling the text.

You’re conflicted. The fact that he missed you is so sweet but there’s something about the statement that annoys you. He’s a grown-ass man, for chrissakes, and he should be able to be without his girlfriend for one single fucking night. And then guilting you into calling him with I-love-you’s and his fragile feelings? Fuck that noise.

And still. You know what Frankie’s like: physical, devoted, kind. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever been with. Not like your last boyfriend, who would pull shit like this all the time: show up at your place at all hours of the day (or night) whenever he wanted something from you. Sex. Comfort. Sympathy. Who would text and call you all the time when you were out with friends because he couldn’t find his way to the fridge without your help.

Reluctantly, you hit the speed dial button to Frankie, and he picks up almost immediately, saying your name with barely contained urgency.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

“Hi. You okay?” Such a Frankie thing to do, make sure you’re okay after a fight where, technically, he’s the injured party.

“Not really. You?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You mean the hangover or this morning?”

You hear the smile in his voice. “Both, but I meant the hangover.”

You exhale in an amused little sniff.

“I’m sorry, Frankie. Do you… wanna come over?”

“I’d love to. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Neither have I. I’ll pick something up. Burgers from that place you like?”

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of burgers but you’re more concerned with the sudden tears that rise in your eyes. Oh, Frankie.

“That would be great,” you manage, wiping at your eyes. Get a fucking grip!

“Parmesan fries?” he queries, but all he gets from you is a sob. “Baby?”

“I love you,” you sniffle. “You’re the best.”

“Aww, babe. I love you, too.”

You draw a deep breath to calm down, a little embarrassed at your emotional outburst. It’s not like you, but it’s been a weird day.

“You still there?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Pepsi Raspberry for you?”

You start crying.

[kirishimaswife2819]

Confessions || Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

Requested by @summertimedary : Hi there! I was wondering if you would be so kind to write a HC for Kiri? Maybe about what happens if obliviousReader after realizing their crush starts to distance themselves and avoid him because they can’t handle their own feelings? Now sitting next to him is too much for them and reader finds themself getting nervous and it is all too overwhelming.

If not, I am still super excited for your upcoming WIPs and am thankful for you even considering it. If you do decide to work your magic then thank you so much for writing this in advance!

Summary: After realizing your feelings for Kirishima, it starts to overwhelm you, so you start to avoid Kirishima, but he doesn’t take you avoiding him very well

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: Okay, so I’m aware that you requested headcanons, but I felt like this worked better as a oneshot, so I made it that, I hope that’s okay! Thanks for requesting! -Danielle <3

Kirishima didn’t understand, he didn’t understand it one little bit. Yesterday, you two were perfectly fine. You two were getting along great, you were laughing, messing around, making fun of Bakugou, and the next you were just being so quiet. You also looked nervous every time you looked at him, or every time you were near him, and it was really starting to concern him.

It was lunch time, and you were sitting next to the Kirishima, like you always did. But instead of eating, you just kept poking around at your food, causing Kirishima to frown. 

“H-Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you suddenly announced, standing up, and walked away from the table to go to the restrooms.

“Hey guys, do you think something’s wrong with L/n?” Kirishima asked his friends.

“No, why?” Kaminari asked, shoving a handful of chips in his mouth.

“They’re being really quiet and I’m worried,” Kirishima replied.

“Now, that you mention it, they have been rather quiet ever since we came to lunch,” Mina said.

“I meant all day,” Kirishima responded, “Have they been talking to you guys today?” Sero, Kaminari, Mina, and Bakugou all nodded, causing Kirishima to worry even more.

“Did you piss them off or something?” Bakugou asked.

“I don’t think so, yesterday everything was alright, and we were getting along great. I don’t think I did anything wrong,” Kirishima explained.

“I can talk to them about it, later, if you want me to,” Mina offered, causing Kirishima to give her a small and sad smile.

“That would be great, thanks,” Kirishima responded, causing Mina to nod in acknowledgement before she spotted you walking back over to the table. You sat back down, and took a sip of your drink, before noticing everybody was staring at you.

“What?” You asked, causing them all to look away.

“Hey, L/n,” Kirishima said, causing you to look over at him.

“Yeah?” You asked, and Kirishima didn’t miss the way that you refused to make eye contact with him, even if he was looking directly at you.

“Is something wrong? You haven’t talked much during lunch,” Kirishima explained, causing you to give him a reassuring smile.

“I’m fine, just a little tired,” you replied, before turning back to your food. Kirishima frowned at this, but looked back to his own food as well.

Later that night, you and Mina were hanging out in her dorm. You were laying on your stomach on her bed, watching as she did her nails.

“So, L/n, why have you been so quiet around Kirishima today?” Mina questioned, snapping you out of your daydream, which so happened to be about Kirishima.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, causing her to give you a look, to let you know that she knew you were lying. You sighed, “Okay, fine, I like him, and it’s too overwhelming to talk to him.”

“Wait- You like Kirishima? As more than a friend?” She questioned, causing you to nod, and her to get excited, “Ooo, you two would be so cute together!”

“Yes, I know. But you can’t tell Kiri,” you said.

“Why not?” Mina asked, frowning.

“He can’t know,” you replied, “It would just ruin our whole friendship.”

“But, I think he likes you back,” Mina said.

“Hmm, maybe. Can we talk about this another time?”

“I guess, but we’re talking about it soon, got it?” She asked, and you nodded.

Kirishima sat at his lunch table, watching as you sat at Izuku’s table. You were laughing at something one of them had said, causing Kirishima to frown. It had been a week since you started totally avoiding him, and with that, the rest of the friend group.

“Why do they keep sitting at Deku’s table?” Sero asked, glancing over at your table, “Kirishima makes way funner jokes whenever they’re sitting with us.”

“I don’t know,” Kaminari replied, glancing at you, “Maybe they just got bored of sitting with us. I mean, they still talk to me.”

“They still talk to me too,” Sero responded, and the other two members agreed that you still talked to him as well. Kirishima’s face fell at this, he thought you were avoiding the whole group, but once again, it was just him. Had he done something wrong? Did he make you mad? Did he accidentally hurt your feelings?

“Kirishima, are you okay, dude?” Kaminari questioned, noticing the look on Kirishima’s face as he stared at your table, he looked about ready to burst into tears. Mina took one look at his face and sighed. She couldn’t betray your trust and tell him that you liked him, but she also couldn’t stand to see one of her friend’s upset. Mina knew how you got when you had crushes.

The very presence of them beside you, makes you a nervous wreck. It was obvious that this was what was occurring here, and Mina was the only one who knew about your little crush, so she was the only one that could fix it.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick,” Kirishima said, wiping away the first tear that fell. If his friends hadn’t been staring right at them, they probably wouldn’t have even noticed that a tear fell. Kirishima stood up and went to the bathroom, leaving the rest of his friends alone at the table.

“I’m going to go talk to them,” Mina said, standing up and walking over to Deku’s table.

“Oh, hey, Mina,” you said, smiling at your pink haired friend. Mina didn’t say anything and instead grabbed your arm, forcing you to stand up.

“We need to talk,” she said, and you glanced at the table you were just sitting at, noticing everybody looked a little bit concerned about what was going on.

“Oh, uh, alright,” you replied, as Mina dragged you into the girls bathroom. She made sure nobody else was in there, before speaking.

“You need to confess to Kirishima,” Mina said, crossing her arms.

“Mina, you know I can’t do that, I can’t even be near him without turning into a mess, let alone confess to him,” you said, sighing.

“He started crying today, you know,” Mina mentioned.

“Crying?” You asked, furrowing your brows, “Over what?”

“Over you,” Mina explained, “You talk to all of us besides him, and he thinks that he did something wrong.”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you explained, “It’s just, I get so nervous around him, and it’s really overwhelming.”

“Considering his reaction to this whole thing, I think it’s safe to say that he likes you back. So, you don’t really have a reason to be nervous,” Mina said, “Look, I’m not going to force you to confess, and I’m not going to tell him your secret. But I can’t take sitting by and watching this upset him. So, please, can you just confess?” You thought about it for a moment, before responding. You were nervous, sure, but you couldn’t stand the thought of Kirishima being upset because of it.

“Fine, I’ll confess to him, tonight. Can you tell him to meet me outside of the dorms at eight?” You asked, and Mina nodded.

“Yup!” Mina said, smiling, “Are you going to go sit at Deku’s table again, though?”

“I probably will for the rest of lunch, I need some time to prepare myself for tonight, anyway,” you explained.

“Okay, well, I’ll tell Kirishima that, alright?” Mina asked, before seeing you nod. With that confirmation, she left and sat back down at the table. Kirishima was now back, it was obvious from the tear stains on his cheeks that he let out some tears, and she could tell he was resisting the urge to sob.

“Hey, Kiri?” Mina asked, causing the redhead to look at her, “L/n wants you to meet them outside of the dorms at eight tonight, don’t be late.”

You were standing outside of the dorms, nervously rearranging the items in the red basket that you had gotten. As an apology, you decided to make Kirishima a basket filled with some stuff that you knew he liked and would want. Your head snapped up, as the familiar redhead exited the building.

“Hi,” you said, awkwardly.

“Hey,” Kirishima responded, also looking a bit awkward, “You wanted to meet me here?”

“Oh, yes, I got you this,” you said, handing him the basket. He smiled slightly at the contents, before looking back at you.

“Thank you, L/n. But why?” Kirishima asked.

“Look, Kirishima, I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting this past week,” you apologized, “It’s just, I really like you, and I get so nervous around you, and sometimes, it’s too much for me to handle.”

“Wait,” Kirishima said, “You like me? As more than a friend?” You nodded in response, and Kirishima immediately sat the basket down and pulled you into a big hug.

“Why didn’t you just say so!?” He exclaimed, hugging you tightly, “I like you too.”

“You do?” You asked, hugging him back, but it was a bit difficult, since he was squishing your arms against your sides.

“Of course I do,” Kirishima replied, pulling away from you.

“Well, in that case, do you want to go do something together sometime?” You asked, looking at him, causing him to smile.

“Sure, but it’s kind of cold out here,” Kirishima said, picking the basket back up, “We should probably get inside.”

“Yeah,” you said, opening the door for Kirishima and letting him go in before you.

“Do you wanna watch a movie with me?” Kirishima asked, setting the basket down on the couch, “We can eat some of these snacks that you got me.”

“Sure, Kiri,” you replied, giving him a small smile, which he returned. And the two of you spent the rest of the night watching movies together and eating the snacks you got for Kirishima.