#it’s been less than a week and already my tagging system is falling apart

[bb-8]

Tech Savvy

Pairing: Tech x female reader Summary:  You’re an ex-imperial who has a crush on Tech. He’s awkward about it. Until he’s not. Rating: Explicit (18+, minors DNI) Warnings/tags: crack treated seriously, smut, unprotected PIV, awkward flirting, oral sex, first kisses, accidental exhibitionism, lots of bad jokes, slight angst Word count: 5.4K Notes: It’s smutty crack treated seriously, guys. Read on AO3.

The planet you land on isn’t anything special. It’s a humid swamp world in the Outer Rim that offers enough seclusion for even the Empire’s Most Wanted to pass by unnoticed.

You, being the kind and selfless individual you are, decide to help with repairs while Clone Force 99 are on a supply run. It’s the first time the ship has made planet fall in weeks and everyone is a bit stir-crazy, jumping at the chance to stretch their legs. Prolonged time spent in hyperspace has that effect.

Before he left, you told Hunter that your status as an ex-Imperial put an unnecessary target on their back. You’re still wearing your Imperial uniform, after all, and you know for a fact that the Empire is not exactly merciful to deserters. Especially deserters that committed high treason. Like aiding Clone Force 99’s escape from an Imperial prison.

You definitely didn’t just jump at the chance to stay behind because Tech opted to. That would be ridiculous.

You feel your face heat at the thought.

(What? His goggles are cute.)

The truth is, there’s been something – a tension, as it were – between the two of you since you arrived on board. You know it, he knows it. You’ve been orbiting around each other for some weeks now, and this is the first time you’ve been alone –

“Can you spare a minute?” Tech calls out, pulling you away from your thoughts. You swivel in your chair and shift your attention to him, a bit surprised.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t realise I was on board,” you reply as you make your way to the cockpit where Tech is currently fiddling with some wires.

“You’re...very hard to miss,” Tech replies and your heart skips a beat. “The ship is far too small to miss another sentient being’s presence.”

“Right,” you mutter while taking a seat, trying not to sound too deflated. So maybe he didn’t feel that tension. “What do you need help with?”

“I am taking this opportunity to rewrite the ship’s central comm unit to be more covert when passing through areas with increased Imperial traffic. If I can update the ship’s communication infrastructure to resemble that of a first generation Imperial craft, then we will considerably reduce our chances of being identified. Which is why I am particularly glad you stayed behind today. Considering your, er, history.” He fiddles with a mess of wires in front of him, not once looking up.

“And here I was thinking you wanted me around because you enjoyed my company,” you playfully jab.

“There’s that, too,” Tech replies. “Though it would be advantageous if you could list all of the Imperial access codes you can remember. The computer and I can do some pattern recognition to better–,” he cut himself off and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. “Apologies, you don’t need a long-winded explanation. If you’re happy to share, you can do so whenever you’re ready.”

You consider protesting and telling him that you find his rambling cute, but you decide not to dwell on it for his sake. You list the codes you remember from the Academy. You keep talking, relaying any tangential intel relating to access codes. If it’s irrelevant, Tech doesn’t stop you.

He is silent for a few moments analysing the data you’ve given him. You watch him closely, admiring the way his brow furrows and his lips purse while he’s concentrating.

“You trust me then?” you venture to say. You play with your hands in your lap. “Even though I was with the Empire?”

“You’re helping us now,” Tech replies, as if it’s obvious. He is still inputting data into the datapad he is holding when he continues, “You trust us, it would seem. And we were soldiers programmed upon our creation to destroy the Republic.”

You fumble over your next words.

“That’s – it’s entirely different.”

“And from my perspective, all that matters is where you are now,” he states with finality.

“Well,” you say shyly, “I like where I am.”

Tech smirks despite himself, briefly glancing up at you from his datapad.

You hold his gaze for a moment, before settling into a comfortable silence. You sit in next to him for several minutes, revelling in his closeness like a brezak basking under the Zygerrian sun. It’s only when you notice yourself blushing like a teenager that you decide to make yourself useful and actually help with repairs like you promised.

++++++++++++++++++++

“Would you mind holding this wire out of the way for me while I solder the capacitors for the localised memory bank?” Tech calls, breaking your concentration. The illumination device you were repairing could wait.

You have no idea what Tech means, if his string of words means anything, and you survey his makeshift workbench for a hint. Several panels are detached, limply dangling from a few brightly coloured wires. Tech is focusing his attention on a large panel that is plugged into a cylindrical storage device.

“Maker, that’s a big data stick,” you can’t help but mutter.

Tech makes an incoherent choking sound.

You do as requested and lean over his shoulder to take hold of the wire he specified between your thumb and forefinger. The fabric of your sleeves brushes against his shoulder armour and it feels as though there is a static shift in the air, like the air around you is alive and humming.

And Tech gulps with the contact. He types a few sets of numbers into his datapad with excess force, seriously testing the build quality of the device. His posture is especially rigid as focuses on testing the wires currently in his lap.

Your pulse is racing. It’s as if each second that passes without a confession threatens to rip apart the very fabric of reality.

“Tech?” He has to feel this too, right? “Why...why did you stay behind today?” you ask, careful to keep your voice even. You need him to say it, admit that he feels it, too. You’re desperate for it.

“You can let go now,” he replied, pointedly ignoring your question.

You let go of the wire, but make no move to step away from him. You’re acutely aware of yourself right now and suddenly self-conscious: about the deep shade of crimson enveloping your face, the way you’re breathing, the clamminess you can feel on your palms. You hope you smell alright and silently pray that any traces of caf on your breath are long gone.

Several seconds pass before Tech looks up, over his shoulder at you. His face briefly flickers with concern.

“Your flushed features and increased heart rate indicates that you are nervous,” he remarks.

Maker, is it that obvious, you cringe.

Your mouth is dry and you contemplate making an excuse, but your brain does not want to cooperate.

“Sometimes I –,” you begin. Void, here I go. “Sometimes I get nervous around you,” you admit, attempting to make your confession sound as casual as possible. You bite your bottom lip in a way that you hope will be interpreted as sensual, or, at the very least, cute.

And Tech? Tech is flustered. Like visibly shaken, blushing furiously, two-steps-away-from-hyperventilating, kind of flustered.

“Please do not be nervous,” he responds tightly. Each word is taking considerable effort to be spoken. “I already told you: we trust you. I am not a threat to you.”

The poor guy. There’s no way he can really be misinterpreting that –.

“No, no, it’s a good kind of nervous,” you attempt to clarify.

“Nervousness is not conducive to high quality work,” Tech chokes out.

“No, I mean like giddy. I feel giddy around you.”

Come on, Tech.

“Would you like a chair–.”

“Stars, Tech, I like you!”

Tech...errors. He attempts to start several sentences with no success before mumbling an excuse that he has to go, “fix the reverse polarity capacitive inductor,” which, to your knowledge, is definitely not a real thing.

So maybe that could have gone better. All things considered, he did seem affected by your admission. On the other hand, he also left the room entirely.

Your face burns with embarrassment and, hey, maybe this backwater planet could make a decent home. Maybe the swamp water would be safe for consumption and you could spend the rest of your days foraging for swamp... berries. Sure, it might be a little uncomfortable, but no less uncomfortable than staying here for one more second.

And this is why you don’t admit your feelings to anyone. Ever.

Ugh. You were so confident, too. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to transport to another star system.

The door to the ‘fresher shuts, followed by a slight scuffle of feet, and a thunk that sounds decidedly like a head hitting the door.

You briefly consider leaving the ship to attempt to meet up with the rest of the Bad Batch. It’s been far too long since you’ve breathed fresh, clean, air and you feel a second wave of self-pity wash over you as you contemplate the thought of breathing in the smell of Wrecker’s feet for several more weeks in the Marauder’s circulated air. They hadn’t been gone longer than a standard hour and there was a clear path to get into town. You could still salvage the day, you could still stretch your legs–

‘Oh you want to know why I suddenly decided to join you, Hunter, after promising I’d help fix the ship? Funny story, I was trying to seduce your brother and he rejected me!’

You physically cringe at that. On second thought, maybe just pretending this didn’t happen would be the easier option. Lesser of two evils and all that.

Well, you’ve endured worse situations than this. Swamp berries, if they exist, probably won’t offer enough sustenance anyway, you conclude. You turn your attention to fixing several access panels that require little to no attention.

++++++++++++++++++++

It takes a long while for Tech to exit the ‘fresher. The door opens with a hiss and you stiffen, not looking up until he briskly walks past you and resumes his makeshift work station in the cockpit. Once he is seated and his back is facing you and you can hear the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on his datapad, you allow your entire body to relax.

You look back down to your newest project: fixing the swivel action on a chair. You’re not entirely sure if the chair needed to swivel, or whether it was supposed to, but it does now. At least Omega would have fun with that.

“Can you spare another minute?” Tech says after a considerable stretch of silence.

His comment catches you off-guard. It’s fine, it’s fine, you are just going to pretend like nothing happened. You can just carry on helping with actual repairs like you promised.

“I’m coming,” you say, while putting your entire weight into tightening a screw.

Tech coughs slightly.

“The, uh, I need your help with the cum system. The comm system!” he stutters.

Your eyes widen and decide it’s best not to comment, furiously thinking about the fact that Tech rarely makes mistakes. You wipe your hands on your trousers and stride over to the cockpit where Tech is fiddling with some wires on his lap.

“Take these,” he says while coiling a piece of wire to make a conductor. He pushes right through the awkwardness and places a handful of resistors in your outstretched hand.

You stand there in silence for several moments before you drum your fingers on the back of his chair. He makes no move to immediately utilise the resistors, so you resign yourself to stand there and watch him work. (You suppress a sigh – you wish you weren’t attracted to him at this moment, but here you are, drawn in by his confidence and fixated on watching his nimble fingers work their magic.)

Normally, you’d have already lost your patience. But not now, not when you are trying to decipher just what exactly Tech was trying to accomplish by calling you over and ignoring you. And that’s when you realise that Tech either forgot you were there or forgot to give you whichever menial task he originally intended.

But there’s absolutely no chance that Tech makes two mistakes within the same standard year, never mind two mistakes within the same afternoon.

You start to wonder if he even has any use for the resistors. Your knowledge of technology is limited, but you really don’t see how they’d be useful with his current task. Maybe this is Tech’s uncharacteristically inefficient way to try to initiate conversation. You really hope you’re not completely misreading the situation, but it’s not like you have any pride left to lose.

“Why did you stay behind today, Tech?” you ask quietly, voice tinged with apprehension and perhaps an unmistakable eagerness. You phrase it more like a statement than a question this time.

He continues to fidget, his leg bouncing anxiously as he works.

“I did some research,” he blurts. “Regarding intimacy between human males and human females.”

Huh.

“I read the specifics on how to kiss,” he continues, “but I fear that I am a bit out of my depth as to how I am supposed to initiate it.” He is still fussing with the wires in his lap, not quite able to look up at you.

“You...want to kiss?” you surmise, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “Me?”

“Very much so.”

A grin breaks across your face and the sharp sting of Tech’s previous rejection immediately melts away. You deposit the handful of resistors in a tray containing various tools Tech had been using throughout the day before taking a tentative step forward from behind the chair. He cranes his neck to look at you, an unfamiliar expression that you’re not quite able to decipher written across his face.

You reach your hand out to caress his cheek, and sliding your hand down to his chin to guide it upwards as you bend down to bring your lips to his. The kiss is chaste, at first, but Tech proves himself a quick study as slightly parts his lips to deepen the kiss. His goggles nudge against your face and you’re pretty sure you’re leaving a greasy cheek print on one of them.

You pull away to gauge his reaction.

“Was that... satisfactory?” he asks, seemingly dazed. His eyes are hooded and still focused on your lips.

“It was perfect.” You offer a small smile.

He removes the goggles to clean one side of them with a nearby cloth. So you were leaving a cheek print. Once his goggles are back in place, he’s looking at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real, his golden brown eyes blinking owlishly at you.

“I apologise for leaving you earlier. I did not anticipate you returning my affections – it did not seem probable. And I was, regrettably, not prepared,” he mumbles.

“Probable?” It’s your turn to malfunction. You want to usher a thousand reassurances at once.

“Well, no.” Tech shifts his weight uncomfortably, not quite able to meet your eyes. “Hunter or Crosshair usually are the ones who capture the affections of –,”

“I like your goggles,” you interrupt in a rush before you surge forward to press your lips against his, hoping to convey just how much you return his affections. It’s a messy, urgent kiss that Tech returns with equal fervour. His fingers find their way into your hair, pulling you closer.

When you finally break the kiss, you straighten your back and take both of his hands in yours and take small, hesitant steps backwards, encouraging Tech to stand. As he does, the project he is working on slides off of his lap and clatters to the floor. He pays it no attention as he closes the distance between you, his eyes darkened with lust. He kisses you with renewed purpose as his hands wrap around your waist, roaming across your body, before they settle firmly on your ass.

Your hips grind into his codpiece and Tech lets out a low groan that goes straight to your core. He moves to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking at the delicate skin and making you squirm. The dampness between your legs becomes apparent and you press yourself closer to him, desperate for friction where you need it the most. As if he can read your mind, he trails a hand from your ass and places it between your legs, grazing over your clit before cupping your cunt. You involuntarily rock into his hand and moan into his mouth, hardly recognising the sounds you’re making.

Tech’s hand abruptly stills as he draws back to meet your eyes. His expression mirrors yours: searching wide eyes filled with longing, a silent acknowledgement passes between you as you reach the point of no return.

And in that moment you are struck with the urge to want nothing more than his cock in your mouth.

“Can I?” you blurt, glancing downward, hoping he is able to intuit exactly what you are suggesting in that moment.

“You may.” You allow the grammatical correction to slip by. “But I’ve never–,” he begins.

You don’t break eye contact and you begin to drop to your knees. He’s looking at you with his eyes wide, mouth slack. Tech’s bulged codpiece is mere inches from your face, and it’s in that moment that you realise that you have no idea how to undress this man.

And this, this is when you start to worry.

Does it have a latch? Does it even come off?

Your eyes dart from left to right looking for some sort of hint as to how it could be removed. You’re half tempted to just plant a smooch on the armour or the kiss inside of his thigh and pretend that all of this was intentional.

“I can get that,” Tech helpfully chimes in, blessedly oblivious to your internal struggle. He removes the pelvic plate with ease and, to your relief, you can see the shape of his erection straining under a layer of thick black fabric. Black fabric that conforms to his body shape exceedingly well. You reach out to feel his length, gently cupping his balls through the fabric before applying more pressure as you palm his shaft. He soft groan escapes his lips.

It catches you a little off guard, actually, to see him so hard. Knowing he’s been hard underneath his armour this entire time. Wondering when else he’s been hard and you had been none the wiser.

His cock has an attractive silhouette – it’s thicker than you expected and you can feel the patch of pre-cum that dampens the black fabric near his tip. You reach for his waistband and pull it down before slowly wrapping a hand around his shaft. He hisses with the contact and brings a white-knuckled fist to his lips.

You peer up at him through your lashes and you lick your lips, preparing to tease him a bit before taking him as deep as you can manage.

And that’s when something inside Tech snaps.

He looks down at you with wild eyes and places his hand on the back of your head to guide your mouth to his cock, apparently unable to continue the role of a passive observer for any longer. Clearly intent at putting his newfound research to good use. You lick a wet stripe from the base to the tip, before taking him in your mouth, the pre-cum tangy on your tongue. His grip tightens on your hair the same time he tilts his hips forward to push his cock further and you hollow your cheeks, sucking hard enough to make Tech groan and his knees buckle. He braces himself against the back of the pilot’s chair, captivated at the sight your mouth stretched around his length.

You begin to bob your head in a steady rhythm, taking him as deep as you’re able. You drag your tongue and press it flush on the underside of his cock, looking up at Tech with wide doe eyes, batting your eyelashes prettily as he struggles to maintain composure. You continue your pace until sweat starts to bead at his temple and his breathing becomes less controlled.

Patience isn’t your strong point and you’re too pent up not to touch yourself. You bring your free hand down your trousers, between your thighs, running your fingers through your wet folds and hum at the sensation. Tech’s hips stutter with the vibrations and his face contorts in what looks like a pained grimace. He takes a miniature step back and your lips leave his cock with a pop. He’s breathing heavily now and his weeping cock is painfully hard, his balls tight.

“I don’t want to finish in your mouth, mesh’la,” he pants, voice low.

You nod dumbly, currently unable to form a coherent thought or tear your eyes away from his erect length, only inches away from your face.

Tech takes hold of both of your forearms, helping you get to your feet, before wrapping his hands around your thighs, picking you up with surprising ease. You lock your thighs around his torso as he strides over to press you against one of the auxiliary control panels adjacent to the co-pilot’s chair in the cockpit. The incline on the panel is steep and the pressure of his hips against yours is the only thing keeping you from sliding down.

“Let me taste you,” Tech groans against your ear.

You let out a frustrated whine and desperately move to unclasp your trousers as Tech works to open your shirt. You shudder once the cool air hits your sweat-dampened skin and Tech messily palms your exposed breast while nipping at your neck. He helps you shimmy out of your clothing while holding you in firmly place before discarding them on the floor of he Marauder.

And this is how you find yourself spread eagle on the Marauder's control panel in possibly the most undignified position you’ve ever been in.

He goes to remove his goggles and you stop him.

“If they’re not uncomfortable for you, I’d like for you to leave them on.” He quirks a brow at you, quizzical. “What? I told you that they’re cute.”

His face evolves from sceptical to bashful in a few moments.

“Very well, then. I can leave them on.”

Tech moves his hands under your thighs as he lowers himself, draping your legs across each of his shoulders with surprising gentleness for a man who looks like he is ready to devour you. Once he’s on his knees and comfortably supporting your weight, keeping you pressed against the console, he places an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“A-are you okay with this?” you manage to stutter out. It’s not like you haven’t pictured his head between your thighs before, but something about his head actually being between your thighs fills you with a nervousness you hadn’t anticipated.

He mumbles his assurances against your clit. He begins with slow, languid licks and you suck in a sharp breath as you feel yourself craving more and have to stop yourself from violently bucking your hips up.

Okay, so he’s actually really good at this. You know you really shouldn’t be that surprised, Tech is nothing if not thorough with his research and it’s, er, practical applications. Any thoughts of humour at Tech’s expense are, however, ripped from your mind when he sinks a single finger inside your cunt. His finger curls with a precision that only Tech could manage and you moan in encouragement as he pumps it in and out.

You squirm when he hits the spot that makes you want to beg for more and you feel your bare ass hit a button on the console. The next thing you hear is a soft swish swish sound of the Marauder's screen wipers that you inadvertently turned on. Mercifully, it doesn’t break Tech’s concentration and his hands continue to grip your hips, holding your cunt to his face.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you chant. You writhe again and another button sounds its activation. Nothing immediately makes itself known. You hope it’s not something like a proton torpedo firing into the swampy area the Marauder landed in. Not because there’s anything nearby, but because you’ll die if Tech stops here.

He moans into your core as he brings a hand down to grip his leaking cock, desperate for some friction.

“Kriff,” you grunt at the sight of him fucking his fist, only to hear Tech utter the same exclamation at the same time.

“Is there an echo in here or something?” You smile at him, offering a half-laugh before your face contorts with pleasure once again and you hiss through your teeth.

“Yes?” a new, tinny voice chimes in on the overhead speaker system. “This is Echo... You’ve, uh, turned on the short range comm system.”

You knew Tech was a good soldier, but the reflexes in which he slammed the short range comm transmitter with his free hand surprised you. He didn’t move himself from between your thighs and skilfully cut off the transmission while continuing to work your clit with his tongue and your cunt with his finger.

Before you could die from embarrassment and wonder just how much Echo and the rest of the Batch heard, Tech adds another finger and your entire body jerks and tenses.

“I’ve – ah, right there – Maker, that feels good. I’ve never been with anyone who is patient enough to let me come,” you manage to say through gritted teeth.

“My research indicated that it can take around 20 standard minutes for women to orgasm if properly relaxed, why would others stop prematurely?” Tech replies, only briefly removing his mouth from your cunt to reply.

“Selfishness?” you guess.

Tech seemed to take your admission (and ability to form sentences) personally, clearly intent on rendering you incapacitated. He returns to his attention to your clit and maintains his rhythm, teasing a third finger near your entrance. You whine at the sensation and move to hold Tech’s head in place, because if he stops now, there’s no way you’ll ever forgive him. The pressure that’s been mounting in your core finally, finally peaks and your entire body tenses as you surrender to your climax.

“Tech,” you whine, unable to formulate thoughts, let alone words.

He assures you with a soft groan and tightens his grip on your hip. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he guides you through your climax.

As you come down from your orgasm, you feel like you’ve spent a year in bacta. You can’t move. Honestly, your bones are like Andorian jelly. The feeling is only temporary, however, as you’re overcome with the desire – no, need – to be filled.

“In me,” you urge. “Now.”

He adjusts his goggles and looks at you, spread out, completely ready for him.

“Lie back then.”

Tech settles between your thighs and nudges his cock head against your entrance. He takes a breath to steady himself, rubbing his length through your folds, covering it in your arousal.

“So wet and ready for me, mesh’la.”

Your hands wildly grasp at his chest plate, fingernails scratching along the plastoid, desperate to hold onto anything to anchor you. You meet his mouth with a graceless kiss, before he finally sinks into you.

“You’re tight,” he grits out.

He waits a few moments letting you adjust to his size before he begins to move. He restrains himself, slowly rolling his hips as your cunt stretches around his length.

“More,” you plead, breathlessly. “Please.”

Your encouragement is all he needs before he snaps his hips against yours, setting an unrelenting rhythm. He rocks into you harder with each thrust of his hips, his plastoid leg places slapping your skin.

“You feel so good, cyar'ika,” he pants. You surge upwards to greet his lips with a messy kiss, which only spurs him on to fuck you faster. “You’re, ah, taking me so well.”

“Fuck –,” you whine.

His grip tightens and his whole body starts to tense – he’s dangerously close to coming undone. And that’s when you notice his pace start to slow, his movements clearly distracted.

“Tech?” you mumble. You focus your eyes on his face and he looks dazed, you can practically hear him thinking. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t give you any time to panic.

“Elevate your hips by seven to ten degrees,” he states through heavy breaths.

“What?” Definitely not what you were expecting him to say.

Tech seems unfazed by your apparent annoyance. He wordlessly repositions himself, grabbing both of your hips and raising them slightly, holding your body up so it’s just the sharp incline of the console and Tech’s hands keeping you in place.

He began thrusting in earnest again, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure. And, Maker, he was right. The new angle hits a spot that makes your toes curl and you lose the ability to speak almost instantly and mewl helplessly as Tech fucks into you.

You made an undignified noise as you gripped his bicep, desperate to hold onto something, feeling the pressure mount in your core. With Tech’s hands busy holding you in place as he maintains a brutal pace, you bring a hand down to your clit, still wet with spit and your own essence. You barely have to touch yourself before you feel your body screaming for release.

“’M coming,” is all the warning you are able to give him before your cunt spasms around his twitching cock as your vision whites out. Tech grunts at the sensation, unable to hold his own climax off any longer.

“Where do you want me to –,” he grates out.

“Anywhere,” you cut him off, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Just want to feel you.”

“Fuck, mesh’la, I’m going to come,” Tech groans, desperately chasing his release with harsh thrusts. His hips forcefully buck into you before his cock stiffens and he spills himself inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, slowly pumping you full of his cum, before he slumps against you. “Bid jate par me,” he mumbles into your neck, barely audible. “Gotal par me.”

You don’t know Mando’a, but whatever he is saying, the way he is saying it, sends a pleasant chill over your body.

You’re both still breathing heavily when Tech gingerly places you back down with a surprising gentleness for someone who had just been fucking you within an inch of your life. He’s in no rush to remove himself from you, but when his softened cock does slip out and his cum leaks out of you and onto the console, he helps you slide down. When your feet touch the floor, your legs wobble slightly and Tech has to grasp your forearms to steady you, softly chuckling at the state you’re in.

And when you look at him, he looks positively debauched. Sated, but debauched. You probably look worse.

In one swift motion he bends down, brings an arm down under your knees, and lifts you up. You wrap your arms around your neck while he carries you to his bunk. His cool armour against your overheated skin is a welcome sensation and you press yourself closer.

“Your research paid off,” you mumble into his chest as he sets you down on his bed.

“Please do not act so surprised by that.”

++++++++++++++++++++

You and Tech aren’t quite finished with the repairs by the time the Batch return hours later, long after the moons have risen and the bioluminescent plants surrounding the ship have begun to glow. If the squad notice you’re sitting a bit too close to Tech, your thigh pressing comfortably against his, they don’t say anything.

Neither of you were expecting to defile the Marauder all day and Tech was frantically fixing the lever on a storage hatch access panel, attempting to make up for lost time.

“Wrecker!” Echo shouts. “Clean up after yourself, for kriff’s sake.”

“Why?” Wrecker drawls, stomping towards the cockpit. “What did I do this time?”

“You’ve spilled your juice on the console again, all the keys are stuck in place.”

The access lever snaps clean off in Tech’s hands.

[awkwards]

Kinktober Day 5. Aphrodisiac : Pleasurable Test | Overhaul

Day 5: Aphrodisiac

Title: Pleasurable Test

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Count: 2.2k

Summary: You needed to make ends meet, and so you go to subject yourself to a testing center that will pay. Turns out, you’ve signed yourself up for way more than you expected. You should really read the fine print.

Warnings: Noncon, syringe, aphrodisiac, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yandere, sadist overhaul

Note: It’s finals week and definitely starting to hit me. Also, thanks for all of the support! If you’d like to be tagged for my kinktober fics, dm me! My inbox is open~

You snarled behind your gag at the man in the lab coat, who was currently coming at you with another needle. When he stepped close, you managed to kick the shot away.

“You can’t even handle one little girl. Pathetic.” A voice you haven’t heard before chides. A man wearing a plague mask and rather large coat with purple feathers stepped in. You could barely see him from where you’re restrained on the operating table. He snaps gloves onto his his, his eyes glaring at the subordinate. “And now that needle is filthy.”

“I’m so sorry sir!” you could see the sweat from the doctor, his face pailing. “She kicked me and it went flying!”

“Begone. I do not wish to hear your excuses.”

“Yes sir.” The guy practically runs from the room.

The man levels his gaze on you, judging.

You quirk an eyebrow at him, challengingly.

You’ve been here for a week. It was supposed to be one test, in which you got paid for. You took it because money was tight and you needed to pay rent. Little did you realize they would keep you kidnapped and subject to their devices because you were the “perfect candidate”.  Your fear has practically been pushed aside by your anger. For a week they’ve been sticking you with needles, running “tests”, keeping you on the edge of functioning. All you had left was your anger and attitude.

“What a nuisance.” The man sighs. His dark eyes scan your barely clothed body.

Quicker than you can move, the man has your legs pinned down, fastened in place just like your arms and neck are. A gasp of shock careens past your lips, silenced by the gag.

“That’s better.” He moves over to the counter where the equipment lays. He turns his back towards you. “Do you know who I am?”

“Well, I assume you’re the one in charge of these monkeys. Do you know who I am?” You bite at him.

“I am Kai Chisaki. You will address me as Overhaul.” He turns slowly, an intense look in his eyes that makes your skin crawl. “I know plenty about you. You are a quirkless individual. Your blood type is AB negative. You’re allergic to penicillin. You’ve lived in this city your whole life. I know you were adopted at the age 5. You had a kidney transplant at the age 12.”

“Your parents were brutally murdered when you were in high school by a villain attack. I know that the villain attack was actually a target for your father’s brother because he made some bad deals with the yakuza.” He grabs a needle and begins to mix a mystery pink liquid into it. You’re shaking by now. How does he know so much?  “You dropped out of high school quickly after, and less than two years later sold most of your adoptive parent’s belongings, and then the house.”

Overhaul takes deliberate and slow steps towards you, tapping the air bubbles out of the needle. “You moved into a seedy little apartment in the middle of town. You work at a small bar across from the noodle shop in the bad part of town because it was the only place that would hire you. This month you couldn’t make ends meet so you showed up here.”

A gloved hand drops onto your arm, thumb soothing over the prominent vein of yours. “And most importantly, I know your name isn’t actually Nakaya Kosuke. You, Miss (y/n), have quite the extensive history.”

You jerk hard at hearing your birth name. No one should know! Only your adoptive parents, who as he stated were dead, and the lawyer that erased your identity knew.

You try to speak through the gag, your words hushed.

An amused dark chuckle falls from him. “Oh, my apologies, did you want to speak?”

You nod your head.

His eyebrows raise, as if debating it. Finally, he unties the back of your gag. You spit it out, breathing in deeply. “Careful now, say something I don’t like and I’ll put it back on. Or I’ll remove your tongue.”

“Why am I here?”

He hums. “You are special. Did you know that your blood type is extremely rare?”

You clench your teeth, glaring at this cocky son-of-a-bitch. “I did.”

“Well, fortunately for us, your blood type was exactly what we’ve been looking for in our experiment. It’s extremely hard to come by a willing participant, too.”

“I’m not willing. I signed up for a test. One.”

His chuckle is light, and his eyes are wide with sadistic mirth. “No. You actually signed up until there was one successful test. So far, none of them have been such. It would appear someone didn’t read the fine print.”

Oh. Oh god. Did you really?

“No worries. You will be fully compensated. Well-” His eyes narrow. “If you live.”

Overhaul begins to prep the vein in your arm. “See, quirks are filthy. Those heroes parading around their quirks are but vermin on this earth. Pathetic. But you - no, you’re corrupted like those who roam the streets. Your blood is pure. Your genes are clean. You and I are far more similar than you might think, y/n.“

“What are you going to do to me?” Fear is fully controlling your mouth now. You shiver as he sanitizes the area he plans on injecting you.

“I have reason to believe that your blood will be the perfect capsule to carry my new invention. It’s a device that will remove the quirks of those who come in contact with it.” The look in his eyes turned wild, excited. You shiver. “My parents were ripped away from me, too. Those heroes did nothing to save them. Yet, they parade around the world as if we, the common folk, owe them. Not for long. Now, don’t make too much of a noise; I’d rather not have to remove your tongue.”

The prepped needle’s cap comes off, and the metal slides into your skin. You whimper, looking away as Overhaul begins to press its contents into your bloodstream. As quick as it began, it ended. He wipes away the lone blood drop before pressing a bandaid against you.

“Normally I would never dream of coming so close to an individual. But you are different from the filth filling this world.” Gloved hands grab your chin, turning you to look into his eyes. “You’re pure. Perfect. And I plan on taking full advantage of that, my sweet Y/N.”

Tears burn your eyes, your lip trembling. You finally let your body relax. This time you were truly fucked. He pulls his hand away, throwing away the needle tip of the syringe. You watch him walk away, back to the counter where he removes his gloves and washes his hands and arms.

A warmth began to fill your system. You shoot a concerned look at Overhaul. It was like your body was warming up from the inside out, your blood beginning to boil. A feverish sweat was spreading over every inch of you. “Something’s wrong.” You croak out.

Overhaul turns back to glance at you, sweaty and blushed. A mild look of intrigue covers his face. “Oh?”

“It’s burning me.” You whine.

Your body is completely uncomfortable now. The warmth feels … different. Wrong even.

“Explain to me what is happening.” He dries his hands leisurely, watching you from across the room before putting on a new, clean pair of rubber gloves.

“I’m hot. It feels like my blood is boiling. I -” you whimper as the slightest movement of your head increases the feeling tenfold. “Please make it stop.”

Overhaul takes his time as he walks back over to you. He runs a finger over your pulsepoint. The single touch sends a wave of pleasure crashing through you, a moan following. “How interesting.”

You’re mortified and confused. You wish you could rub your thighs together at the uncomfortable feeling between them.

“I see now. The molecular constructs of those two vials creates an aphrodisiac.”

You pinch your eyes shut as his single digit drags down your arm, over the hospital gown you have. The thin fabric is too much. It feels as if it’s weighing you down and making it that much harder to breathe.

“I suppose I should relieve you. It’ll be the only way to collect your blood at the right molecular compounds,” He muses to himself, talking out loud as if you’re not there.

Overhaul pulls off the glove on his left hand. “If I hadn’t reassembled you already, I would let you suffer until the side effects wear off. But, because of me, you really are clean. You should thank me.”

Not knowing what to say, you watch the man through your watery tears. He presses his bare hand on your stomach. If you weren’t being restrained, you would have arched into his hand, moaning loud as pleasure floods your core.

When he removes his hand, your whole body shivers as air nips your bare skin. How? “Wh-what?”

He chuckles. “My quirk.”

You watch as Overhaul steps around your pinned body, coming close to your wet sex.

“What a mess you’ve made. Disgusting.” Despite his words, he runs his gloved hand up your right leg, stopping at the stop below your belly button. You can feel your walls flutter.

A choked out “Please,” tumbles from your lips. You’re so turned on it hurts. Your brain can’t think straight anymore.

You moan loudly as a single finger strokes your dripping lips. You roll your hips as best as you can to get more friction. He lets out a proper laugh at your discomfort, sliding his single digit past your folds.

“So needy. What would you do without me? If I wasn’t here to relieve you?”

Your walls flutter around his digit as he runs his finger against your inside. The burning in your blood only seems to increase at the slight relief. “Please, Overhaul please!”

At your pitiful begging, he slides another finger in, stretching your walls. He works the two digits in a slow and methodical pace, scissoring you. You whine and cry, grinding your hips into his fingers. When he curls the two fingers and strokes the spongy spot inside you, a coil snaps, and you cum hard around him.

He doesn’t stop, continuing to pump his fingers inside you. You moan as you come down from your high.

The heat inside dims for the barest of moments before firing back up with a vengeance.

“Did that make you feel better?” He mocks, putting more force behind his motions.

You gasp as the coil of pleasure begins again. “It hurts! I need more, please!”

“Patience, little one. You’ll get your release. Soon, you’ll be begging me to stop.”

As if to prove his point, he uses his thumb to stroke your clit hard. Your walls flutter and drip around his gloved fingers as you feel yourself close to the crest again. “Oh - Oh, oh please!” You wail.

“Cum again, pet.”

You do. Your walls spasm as you tip over, shaking in your restraints as a sigh leaves you.

He doesn’t stop. The fire inside is rapidly dwindling, and you flinch at the touch.

“Oh, are you sensitive already?” He muses. “It won’t last long.”

True to your words, the fire picks up again. You sob as his touch hurts. It hurts yet is relieving you too. Tears stream down your face as you’re overstimulated, but the heat is still there.

“It's almost over. Hold on just a bit longer.”

Overhaul fingers you faster, making the coil of pleasure twist quicker and harder than the last two orgasms. You sob as you near the edge again.

“Last one. Give me one more. Cum over my fingers.”

“I can’t!” You cry out, rocking your hips into his fingers despite what you say.

“You can. And you will.” You can hear the squelching as his fingers target your g-spot, his thumb rolling your clit hard. “Cum again y/n.”

A scream rips from your throat as you’re forced over the edge of another orgasm. Your entire body tenses, and white fills your eyes. Overhaul drags his fingers out of you slowly, making you wince from the overstimulation. He tears the glove covered in cum off of his hand before sliding a new set on.

Panting hard, you come down again, body relaxing. Your blood no longer feels like you’re being boiled alive.

You flinch as a syringe is forced into your arm, and watch in sick curiosity as he draws blood from you. Even the touch of the needle makes you quiver, your entire body too sensitive for touch.

“Shh, it’ll be okay. You did so well.”

You moan, shaking as he places a bandage over your skin again. Your head swims as black dots at the edge of your vision.

You look up at him, and can tell even from behind his mask that he’s smiling. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Rest well, pet.”

Tag list:

@ofthedewthesunlight​ 

[shoutaaizawas]

Hi! Can we see Aizawa x reader in a coffee shop!au with the phrase “I want you to be happy…even if its not with me.” ? Love your blog!!

thank you so much! this was a fun request i adore aizawa and coffee so i loved it

↳ aizawa shouta x reader → ❝graveyard shift❞

event: au prompts summary: you own a local coffee shop and when eraserhead shows up in your shop one night you get a crush on the hero. word count: 3.5k+ tags/warnings: fluff, first meetings, confessions, robbery, gun mention, light angst

Owning and working at a coffee shop was something you enjoyed. Yes, it could be annoying at times when dealing with bad customers but the good customers more than made up for it. Your coffee shop was a hot spot for pro heroes. Its location was in the sweet spot between a lot of agencies.

It wasn’t unusual to see Fatgum, Gang Orca, or even Miriko in your shop. You had even had their orders memorized and had them ready by the time they paid which they always appreciated so they could get back to work faster.

There was one hero in particular that had caught your eye. Eraserhead. You kept the coffee shop open pretty late for the various people who needed a pick me up later in the night. College students would often study in the night in your shop. Then there were heroes that patrolled at night that appreciated it.

That’s how you met Eraserhead. You had been covering a late shift for an employee that had a family emergency when he came in. You didn’t believe in love at first sight but you could honestly say you were drawn to him from the second he walked in.

He was tall, dressed in all black with his scarf-like capture weapon around his neck, long black hair, and dark mysterious eyes. You had to stop yourself from staring and act like a normal person. You assumed he was a hero but you had never seen him before.

“Hi, welcome.” You said, the familiar words sounding unsure in your mouth. “What can I get for you?”

“Can I get four shots of espresso on ice, please.” He said. His voice was deep and had a raspy edge to it. You shouldn’t be so pulled in by someone’s voice.

“One of those nights?” You joked as you wrote his order on the side of the cup.

“It feels like it’s always one of those nights, these days.” He said in a tired voice.

“I haven’t seen you before, have you been here before?” You asked as you started his drink.

“Yeah, I started coming here the other week. I’ve been a few times.” He answered. You glanced at him at the corner of your eye making sure he wasn’t annoyed by the conversation but he looked interested.

“You’re a hero?” You questioned.

“Yeah, I go by Eraserhead.” He answered. You hadn’t heard the name before, he must have been an underground hero. There were a few that frequented your shop.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Eraserhead.” You said before giving him your own name.

“How much do I owe you?” He asked.

“It’s in the house tonight.” You said. “I hope your night gets better.” You said with a smile.

“It already has.” He said giving a hint of a smile before he left.

The rest of your night went by fast, you closed up and headed home happy to be in your bed at last. As you laid there thinking of the handsome hero that ended up in your coffee shop you remembered that you had to open the store in the morning. You let out a sigh mourning the sleep you would not get. Turning on your side you tried your best to fall asleep.

Morning came too fast, your alarm a painful sound. You rolled out of bed thankful that you owned a coffee shop and were able to make your own coffee but sad that it wasn’t in your hand yet. You got dressed quickly and made your way to the store. Opening the door you let yourself in and started turning everything on and began preparing yourself some coffee, no doubt the first of many.

Customers filtered in throughout the first hour, it was busy but not overly so at this point in the morning. After the first hour, you had two employees come in.

“I’m so sorry about last night, my sister got sick and no one was home to take care of her and-” The girl who you covered for last night said as she clocked in.

“Don’t worry about it, things come up. It’s okay.” You said waving your hands.

“I feel so bad, you closed last night and you had to open this morning. You must be dead.” She said as she put her apron on.

“That’s the joys of owning your own business. It’s bound to happen. I’ll survive.” You said as you walked to the front of the shop with her. “Besides I met a new hero last night, he was pretty cute. His name was Eraserhead.”

“Oh! Eraserhead, I remember him.” She said. “Wow, do you have a crush on him?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit unprofessional to ask your boss about who they’re interested in?” You scolded. She looked at you with a pout on her face. “I’m just kidding, I do have whatever you would consider the adult version of a crush on him.”

“You should ask him out!” She said.

“I think you overestimate how brave I am. Besides, who knows when I’ll see him again.” You said.

Just at that moment, the door opened with a jingle of a bell and you both looked over to welcome the new customer only to see the man from last night. Your eyes widened a bit as your employee looked over at you with a cheeky smile.

“Long time no see.” You said. “I feel like I should be concerned that you’re back so soon. Do you ever sleep?”

“I could say the same about you.” He replied. “I teach at UA, not much time for sleep in between that and hero work. That’s where the caffeine comes in.”

“Always happy to help with that.” You smiled. “Although I don’t recommend too much, it can only help so much before it hurts. There is no alternative to sleep. Not to sound like I’m scolding you.” You realized how overbearing you sounded.

“It’s okay, you’re right.” He said. “I’m always so busy scolding my students I forget to scold myself.”

“Well, you know where I am.” You smirked. You could feel your employee’s eyes on you.

“What can I get for you Eraserhead?” She butted in.

“Four shots of espresso on ice.” He said.

“I’ll have that right out for you.” She smiled before starting the coffee.

“How long have you taught at UA?” You asked.

“Three years.” He answered.

“How do you like it?”

“It’s rewarding at times, frustrating at others.” He said humorously.

“I think I know the feeling.” You said glancing at your employee. She placed the drink on the counter for him. He handed her the money but before she could make the change he stepped away.

“I’ll see you next time.” He said looking at you.

“Looking forward to it. Have a great day!” You smiled at him.

“Wow, you could have a little less shame with your flirting.” She said nudging you.

“I was not flirting.” You replied.

“Oh, you were so flirting.” She teased.

“That’s enough out of you, go wipe a counter or something.” You huffed.

Thankfully for you, Eraserhead became a regular customer. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t start working night shifts to see him more. He assured you he did what he could to get sleep in between jobs, you were certain it wasn’t enough.

Some nights he would sit down for a break and you would join him. You loved talking to him, he was smart and had a dry sense of humor that you loved. It always felt good to get a laugh out of him. You denied you were flirting with each other but your employees assured you otherwise.

One night you were closing by yourself, you were short the people and you knew that you would be able to handle the store by yourself so you didn’t close early. It was late, no one was in the store at the tables and you found yourself on your phone waiting for something to do.

The door rang as someone entered and your eyes stayed glued to your phone as you greeted them.

“Welcome, what can I get started for you?” You asked looking up as they stepped up to the counter. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you saw the man standing in front of you with a ski mask on. “Oh,” The word fell out of your mouth.

“Give me the money, now.” His voice was low. You gulped, your body was frozen to your spot standing there. “I said now!”

The sight of the gun in his hand sent ice down your spine as your heartbeat out of its chest.

“I- I- Uh.” Your words stuttered out of you as you looked down at the cash register. Your hands fumbled as you put the code to open it, messing up the code multiple times.

“Hurry up!” He shouted firing the gun at the ceiling. You jumped in fear, trying harder to put the code in as tears ran down your face.

“I’m sorry,” You cried as your hands shook uncontrollably.

Everything happened quickly, the door opened with a chime of a bell and before you knew it the gun clattered to the ground as a familiar scarf wrapped around the man pulling him away.

You collapsed to the ground, your back pressed against the side of the counter as you sobbed into your hands.

“Hey, it’s okay now.” Eraserhead’s voice filled the air. You opened your eyes looking at him, it was odd to see him without his scarf. He kneeled down at your side. “You’re okay now, you’re safe.”

It was embarrassing but you hardly had control of yourself and you needed comfort, you lunged towards him hugging him. To give him the credit he handled it well, standing firm and wrapping his arms around you.

“C’mon,” He said leading you to the back of the store, you pointed him toward your office. He sat you down on the couch, sitting beside you with an arm around you.

Your tears began to slow and the adrenaline faded from your system leaving you even shakier.

“We just have to wait for the cops and once you tell them what happened I’ll take you home, yeah?” He said, rubbing your arm soothingly. You nodded softly.

Thankfully things were said and done with quickly, you let your employees know that they had tomorrow off and the store would be closed and Eraserhead walked you home. As you approached your door the two of you stopped as you unlocked your apartment.

“Thank you, Eraserhead. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Aizawa. Aizawa Shouta.” He said.

“Thank you for saving me, Aizawa.”

“I’m glad I was there on time.” He said softly. “Are you okay, do you need anything before I leave?”

“I couldn’t ask you for anything else, you’ve done so much already.” You said.

Aizawa motioned for your phone, you gave it to him and he quickly put his number in.

“If you need anything at all, just let me know.” He said.

“Thank you.” You said.

“Good night.” He said before turning.

As he walked away you felt a wave of emotion, you had never felt so vulnerable and scared before. Images from tonight flashed through your eyes. Almost on reflex, your hand moved to grab his sleeve causing him to stop. You gulped feeling the shakiness from earlier overcome you.

“P-Please stay.” You stuttered out. He turned to you, his dark eyes so soft on yours.

“Of course.” He said leading you into your apartment. He guided you to your couch, you were thankful for that because your legs nearly gave out as you sat down.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask you to stay. I know you’re a busy hero.” You said as he sat down with you.

“A good hero wouldn’t turn away someone in need.” He said. “Much less a friend in need.”

“T-Thank you.” You said as he put an arm around you, you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. You knew tomorrow when you felt better you would be embarrassed by your actions but right now you needed comfort and Aizawa was here for you.

In his arms you were hit by a wave of exhaustion, the day’s events hitting you. You didn’t even realize that you fell asleep. All you knew was you had never felt so safe and comfortable than you did right now in his arms.

It wasn’t shocking that you woke up with a gasp. Your living room was dark, the first light of morning just beginning to light up the city. Images of what had happened replayed in your mind. You realized you weren’t just on your couch, you were on top of someone. That, someone, was Aizawa, who was now half-awake from your commotion.

“I’m sorry.” You said, looking down at him. His arms were still wrapped around your waist.

“S’okay.” He said if you thought his normal voice was enticing his morning voice was on another level. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah.” You said quietly. He nodded, pulling you into his chest. You hated how normal that action felt. Was there any chance he was interested in you as you were in him? You supposed right now wasn’t the time to worry about that.

“You’re safe now, it’ll take time till you feel normal again but it’s okay to not be okay.” He said. You tightened your grip around his neck, shoving your face into his chest.

“Thank you.” You said, you knew his words came from a place of understanding and that gave you comfort in its own way.

Laying on his chest, the steady rhythm of his breaths and heartbeat calmed you down as you watched the living room light up slowly as the morning went on.

A growl from your stomach interrupted your peace.

“Are you hungry?” You asked. “I can make us breakfast.”

“I don’t want to impose.” He said.

“It’s the least I could do for everything.” You said looking down at him.

It was a nice morning despite what had happened the night before. You made him breakfast, he helped and you chatted while you ate. It turned out he had the day off so you told him he was welcome to stay. That led to you napping together to catch up on the sleep you both need.

After that, you felt a connection to Aizawa. You had already been interested in him but now you felt a closeness to him. If you were brave you’d call them feelings. When he came in you still flirted, not that you would admit it, but even with the playfulness of it, there was a serious undertone. Were you the only one who felt it?

You debated asking him out. Would he feel like you only liked him because he saved you? Or would he just not be interested in general? No doubt a hero like him could have any pick of love interests. Would he be interested in a coffee shop owner?

Maybe it would be better to leave things as they were. Or at least that’s what you thought until one fateful day.

Aizawa had finally worked up the courage to tell you how he felt. He had been interested in you for a long time but the night of the robbery had been a turning point. He realized he didn’t want to idly flirt with you, as much as he enjoyed all of your interactions together.

Holding you in his arms was something he was eager to feel again. A part of him felt bad as if he was taking advantage of you. He knew that you needed comfort, someone to make you feel safe and he was more than happy to be that person. No, he had to be that person for you. The thought of it being anyone else broke his heart.

He had mulled it over in the passing weeks. Your flirting felt heavy with the feelings he carried for you. A part of him wondered if you felt the change too. He finally reasoned that he should tell you. Well, truthfully Present Mic had been the one to convince him after he explained the situation.

Entering your coffee shop he was more nervous than he had been in a long time. His eyes moved to the counter looking for you but he didn’t find you there. Maybe you had taken off the morning. He was ready to push his plans to another time when he caught sight of you sitting down at a table but you weren’t alone like you were at times on your breaks. No, you were there with Best Jeanist. He couldn’t lie about the twinge of jealously that stirred in his chest but when he saw you laugh he couldn’t hold it back.

Did you have a boyfriend this whole time? Or were you this close with all the heroes that visited your store?

Aizawa caught your gaze before turning and leaving.

Catching Aizawa’s gaze you knew something was wrong as he turned and walked out the door. You looked at Best Jeanist.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” You said.

“No problem, I need to get to work anyways.” He said waving his hand.

“Thank you, we can continue this conversation another time.” You said as you headed towards the door.

“Of course.” He said.

You knew you had to be quick to catch Aizawa. There was something about the look in his eyes, it looked like heartbreak. Maybe that was presumptuous. Whatever it was you just knew you needed to catch him. You spotted him turning to corner and you rushed to follow him. He turned into an alleyway but you were quick enough to catch up grabbing him by his sleeve, stopping him.

“Aizawa, where are you going?” You asked, concern melting through your words. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” He said pulling his sleeve free from your grasp. You couldn’t help the hurt that blossomed in your chest. You had never seen him so dismissive.

“Aizawa, you don’t sound okay.” You said. “Please, you can talk to me. You were there for me, I can be there for you.”

Aizawa let out a sigh, turning to face you fully. He ran his hand across his face, you could tell he was conflicted. After a tense moment, he finally spoke.

“To be completely honest with you I wanted to tell you that I had feelings for you. I didn’t realize that you had a boyfriend already and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable so I just left.” His words were rushed, uncharacteristic for him. "I want you to be happy, even if it's not with me. I would never want to interrupt your relationship."

“A boyfriend?” You questioned. There was a lot to unpack in that sentence but you having a boyfriend was the first thing that jumped into your attention.

“Yeah, Jeanist. I didn’t know you were dating.” He said.

“Oh?” You said. “Oh! He’s not my boyfriend, I just asked him for his opinion on the new uniforms I was going to get for the shop. Not that he was any help he just said it needed more denim.”

“Oh,” Aizawa said looking taken off guard.

“I like you too, Aizawa.” You replied taking advantage of his silence while he processed everything. “Like a lot. Maybe even more than just like.”

“Oh.” He repeated looking at you so innocently with those soft eyes. You could feel the embarrassment of his jumping to conclusions.

“I wanted to tell you but I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way but I guess we’re both on the same page.” You said looking up at him.

The two of you stood there for a moment.

“An alleyway is a very romantic location for a love confession.” You joked.

Aizawa let out an unexpected laugh. He reached out grabbing your wrist pulling you towards him. He looked down at you, inches away from your face. Your gaze flickered down to his lips back up to his dark eyes. He got the hint leaning in to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you and holding you to him.

It was easy to get taken away in the passionate kiss but you had to come back for air. You let out a laugh as you pressed your forehead against his, smiling big.

“For such a logical man you really thought I was dating Jeanist after I’ve been flirting with you for months.” You teased.

“What can I say, I guess you make me illogical.” He teased, pulling you closer. You laughed, hiding your face in his chest. His hand brushed against your chin pulling your gaze back to him. “Let me take you out tonight, show you how I feel properly. Not in an alley.”

You smiled up at him.

“That sounds good to me.” You said before going in for another kiss.

[spencers-renaissance]

Hunger

Summary: Spencer really likes his new coworkers: they're nice, welcoming, friendly, and made his transition to the BAU as easy as possible. Which makes it impossible for him to turn down an invitation to eat dinner with them at an upscale fancy restaurant, no matter how anxious that makes a boy who grew up with next to nothing feel.

Tags: insecurity, anxiety, allusions to poverty, hurt/comfort, team as family, angst with a happy ending, fluff, background jelle

TW: mentions of poverty, financial difficulties, and food insecurity

Pairing: Gen (Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid)

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This fills my "trying not to cry" bad things happen bingo square and is set a few weeks after Spencer joins the BAU, in an AU in which Elle was there before him.

Everyone is so nice, is the thing.

And that’s great. Really, it is. Spencer isn’t about to complain when JJ kindly walks him through the filing system all the while asking questions about him and his life, or when Derek ribs him gently about his ducktail hair or his nerdy brain. No-one cuts him off when he gets carried away — unless it’s time-sensitive, of course — or teases him about anything that cuts too close to home. Being the new guy in the most prestigious unit in the FBI could’ve been a nightmare, but this team made it easy. He’s so grateful for all of it.

It just makes it really hard to turn down dinner invitations.

He watches his shaking fingers in the mirror as they button his shirt up and wrap his tie around his neck, poking it fastidiously under the collar, not a wrinkle of fabric out of place. He glances down at the countertop again, re-reading the restaurant name copied down in JJ’s careful handwriting onto a piece of copier paper regardless of having committed it to memory the first time he heard it. Sur la Rivière: a fancy European restaurant in DC.

He’d hoped for a cheap and cheerful Chinese when Hotch had first brought up the idea of a team bonding dinner, something more his style, but he’d smiled anyway when Elle had mentioned this place her foodie friend had recommended, no matter how strained it might have been. He’s the new guy after all. He doesn’t expect much swing when it comes to choosing where to eat.

As soon as his shirt and tie are perfectly in place, he gets to work on taming his curly hair. It makes him look younger when it’s loose and fluffy, and with a baby-face like his combined with already being the youngest person in the entire FBI, every year he can add on counts. Soon, though, there’s no more grooming he can use to stall the inevitable, and he sighs tiredly before clicking off the bathroom light and heading to the hall.

He collects his phone and wallet, checking for the sixth time that evening that his credit card and extra money to tip the waiter is definitely in there, grabs his keys, and heads out of his apartment. Derek is in his car waiting on the curb for him like he promised he would be, looking effortlessly suave and cool in a way Spencer never will as he honks his horn at the sight of the younger man walking towards him.

“Pretty boy!” he calls, his grin making Spencer smile, too. “Took you long enough. Hop in, fancy European cuisine awaits.”

Another rush of nerves floods Spencer’s stomach at the mention of the fate he’s signed up for, but he smiles anyway as he opens the passenger door and slides in. “Thanks for giving me a lift, Derek,” he says, hating that his anxious discomfort is so obvious in his voice.

Thankfully, Derek doesn’t pick him up on it, simply pulling away from the curb and beginning the drive across town. “How many times do I have to tell you not to mention it? I live less than ten minutes away, Spencer, it’s really not a problem.”

Spencer flushes a bit at that, wringing his hands in his lap as he watches the streets of his district pass by out the window. “Well, I appreciate it anyway,” he settles on, flashing Derek a quick smile that he doubts he sees anyway with his eyes glued so firmly to the road. “Riding the metro is a nightmare at this hour.”

“Never learned how to drive? I didn’t have the money for lessons, Spencer wants to say, irrationally frustrated at his situation. I was rushed through the academy too quickly to learn something as trivial as driving.

“I was too busy getting five degrees,” Spencer says instead, forcing a smile on his face. He wishes he wasn’t so well-practiced at managing other people’s emotions; wishes he could say what he’s really thinking. But he can’t, not in front of the people he’s trying to impress, not so soon.

“Alright, alright, I get it, you’re a genius,” Derek chuckles. “I’m glad you’re coming tonight, we all are. Gideon didn’t tell us much before he left, just that you had an IQ of 187 and he’d pulled a lot of strings to get you in at only 22.”

Spencer winces slightly at the mention of his ex-mentor. “Yeah, I’m sorry he ran out on you guys so suddenly.”

“Hey, from what I hear, he did the same to you,” Derek counters. “You guys seemed way closer than we were anyway. I never really liked the guy.”

As much as most of Spencer hates Gideon for abandoning him without warning, leaving him to find his footing in the FBI alone and afraid, a small part of him still itches to defend him. “He was a good mentor. Not such a good friend, as it turns out.”

Derek looks away from the road for a moment and shoots him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, man. But Gideon’s loss is our gain. You’re gonna be an amazing asset to the team, I just know it.”

A genuine smile crosses Spencer’s face at that. “Thanks, Derek. I can’t wait to really get stuck in, you know?”

“I remember the feeling.” Derek grins again.

They continue chatting for the rest of the journey, Spencer finally relaxing into the company of a new friend— that is, until Derek cuts across one of his stories from his second PhD. “Hey, the restaurant should be up on the left somewhere but I can’t see it…

“Oh, there,” Spencer says, pointing at the sleek, almost anonymous-looking black sign hanging above a set of fancy doors. How can doors be fancy? They’re supposed to be functional, not pretentious. All of a sudden that sinking feeling that had lifted on the car ride over settles back into his stomach and he can’t help but swallow nervously as Derek parks the car and they step out into the street.

Everyone’s already seated when they finally push through the restaurant doors, and Spencer hates that he made them both late with his apprehensive stalling, but no-one really seems to mind as they all cheer happily at the sight of them, ignoring the dirty looks it earns them from the other patrons.

“You made it!” Penelope squeals as she gets up from her seat to give Spencer a hug. He’s a little touch-averse, really, but something about Penelope’s hugs make him never want to leave her arms. He does anyway, though, and he and Derek find their seats opposite one another at the end of the table.

“I’m glad you’re here, Spencer,” Hotch says kindly as the waitress passes the two late-comers their menus.

“You’ll fit right in,” JJ promises, “we’re like a weird little family, to be honest.”

Spencer flushes a bit under the attention of so many experienced FBI agents, but he nods anyway before they all get started on deciding what to eat. He listens vaguely to everyone talking amongst themselves, giving one another suggestions in a way that corroborates JJ’s statement, and all of a sudden Spencer’s collar feels tight. It’s not just the nerves of meeting new people or the anxiety of an alien social environment, he realises he doesn’t recognise a single item on the menu.

He knows what the words themselves mean, but reading the words 'tortellini of venison’ and trying to imagine deer meat pasta is not easily done. The only simple meals seem to be seafood and Spencer’s never been a fan of fish. The only food he can even begin to imagine himself actually putting in his mouth, chewing, and swallowing is the porterhouse steak: not that he’s ever really eaten much red meat like that.

Spencer isn’t a fussy eater. He’s eaten a wide variety of dishes from any number of different restaurants across multiple cuisines, he’s just never had the kind of money to eat at a place that serves caviar, for God’s sake. Far too soon, the waitress wanders back over to the table, taking everyone’s orders with a polite smile on her face.

He listens as everyone confidently orders their meals: the smoked trout, the Moroccan quail, the lobster tagliatelle. Spencer thanks the heavens he isn’t a vegetarian, at least, but it’s not much of a consolation prize when everyone’s eyes fall on him.

“Uh, I’ll have the porterhouse steak,” he says uncertainly, hoping nobody notices the sweat beading on his forehead or the anxiety raging behind his eyes.

Everyone seems to accept his answer, the waitress taking their menus and walking back towards the kitchen as the rest of them resume their conversation. Hotch’s eyes linger a moment too long on him, and Spencer thinks he sees something like concern in his gaze, but before he can think much of it, Penelope’s drawing everyone’s attention to JJ’s bracelet.

“Can we please appreciate this?” she says, sounding scandalised for some reason Spencer can’t quite discern from context yet. “Elle, baby, you have taste. This is absolutely gorgeous! Are you sure you don’t want to date me, too?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raise slightly at that. “Oh, you two are together?” he asks, although now that he realises it he’s not sure how he didn’t notice sooner.

“Are you sure you’re a profiler, kid?” Derek laughs. “They don’t exactly hide it.

“Even though they’re supposed to,” Hotch chimes in with a faux stern look. “You two are gonna have my job at some point.” “Aw, but where would we find another Unit Chief that would help us hide our secret so well?” Elle says charmingly, making everyone laugh, including JJ, who presses her face into her shoulder fondly.

It’s easy for Spencer to momentarily lose himself in the banter, smiling as they tease one another, interspersing their gripes and funny stories from work among it all. They include him in all of it, and he doesn’t feel left out for even a second, finally relaxing into the unfamiliar environment of a fancy restaurant, eased by the reassuring company of his new team.

“JJ’s right,” he muses out loud when there’s a brief lull in conversation, “you guys really are like a little family.”

JJ leans away from Elle towards him for a moment, wrapping him in a side hug. “And you’re the perfect addition to it, Spence,” she says softly, everyone’s expressions reading nothing but fond agreement. “We needed a little brother to add into the mix.”

Spencer blushes again but leans into her touch.

No-one gets a chance to say anything else before the food arrives, the servers bringing JJ and Elle’s meals first, then serving Hotch and Penelope, before they finally bring out his and Derek’s order.

Everyone dives into their food, immediately making noises of contentment, passing bites around to one another, but Spencer can’t join in the jubilant celebration of a good meal. He picks his knife and fork up shakily as he stares at the massive portion of steak in front of him. It’s served with roast potatoes and flecks of a pointless salad that he suspects is only there as a garnish rather than actually part of the meal, but that’s not what has him worried.

This huge slab of meat hasn’t been sliced beforehand. He knows that he’ll shake the whole table if he tries to do it: it’s a massive, impenetrable slab of red meat that Spencer has no chance of enjoying, let alone finishing. He stares at it as tears burn in his eyes: he’s so out of his comfort zone and he’s so terrified of messing up and pushing away these newfound friends that he can’t move.

“Spence?” JJ cuts in gently, putting a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look up, only to find everyone looking at him with worried expressions on their faces. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” he says, standing up abruptly, the disturbance of the table barely registering in his brain. “I just need a minute.”

He rushes out of the restaurant without looking back, drawing in deep breaths as soon as he’s in the cool evening air of spring. Thoughts race through his mind at a million miles an hour as he grasps for something concrete to grab onto, eventually settling for a tall flower pot.

“Spencer?”

He looks up to find Hotch standing next to him, deep concern written across his face, and Spencer’s heart clenches at the thought that he’s already messed this up so quickly. Could this night possibly get any worse?

Apparently, it can, because all of a sudden he feels his face crumple and the stinging tears finally spill down his cheeks. He sinks down to the ground and buries his face in his hands, humiliation glimmering in every cell of his body.

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says gently, lowering himself to the cool pavement next to him and placing a warm hand on his back. He lets him cry it out for a couple of minutes, his palm drawing small circles in between his shoulder blades, trying again to get through to him when Spencer’s sobs calm down slightly. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

With a shuddering breath, he forces himself to lift his face from his palms, although he still refuses to meet Hotch’s eyes, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the Korean restaurant across the street. “I guess it just all got to be too much,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” Hotch says encouragingly. “What specifically?”

“I— I didn’t have much growing up. It was just me and my mom so we were living in the middle of Vegas on a single disability check each month. And, uh, then I went to college, and I was barely scraping by there, too. It’s only recently that I’ve known the luxury of knowing for sure I was eating that night, and it still gets to me sometimes when I’m faced with fancy restaurants and heavy, expensive meals. My body’s had to work for years on virtually nothing, there’s no way I can stomach a steak like that. I guess, all those feelings that are a lifetime in the making combined with the anxiety of eating with the team for the first time… wanting to make a good impression, it just all got too much. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Hotch raises a hand, and Spencer finally meets his eyes, finding nothing but compassion and understanding there no matter how much he searches. “You don’t need to apologise, Spencer, not for something like this. I’m sorry that none of us thought to make the first team dinner with you a more casual affair, and I’m even more sorry that you felt like you couldn’t tell us you were uncomfortable.” “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but I’m glad you accept my apology,” Hotch says, smiling softly. “You know, we all bring baggage with us, Spencer. I can’t relate to food insecurity, but I had my own issues when I first joined the BAU. I grew up with a pretty terrible father, and the thing I found myself reprimanded for the most when I was a new recruit was the inability to follow orders. I’d spent my whole life scared of this man, obeying his every word, and I couldn’t help but hear him when my superiors would tell me to do something. When I was finally free of him, it was like I couldn’t help but rebel.

“You’re not the only one whose childhood follows them around, and I’d much rather it be something like this that we can easily manage, than something that will affect you or the team in the field, okay? Instead of beating yourself up over things you can’t control, try and remember that you have a whole new family who will do anything they can to make you feel as comfortable as possible. We already think the world of you, Spencer. Sacrificing fancy dinners that — let’s face it — can’t beat cheap junk food anyway is hardly a big ask.

Warmth spreads across his chest at Hotch’s words, replacing the feelings of failure and rising anxiety with something that feels like a promise of all the good to come. There’s something fatherly, something deeply paternal in Hotch that there wasn’t in Gideon, and it’s the most comfort Spencer’s felt in years. “Really?”

“Really,” Hotch nods, squeezing his shoulder gently. “You wait here one minute, okay?”

“Okay…” Hotch is gone before he can finish replying, and Spencer is left staring at the doors confused, until the rest of the team are piling out of them a few minutes later, Hotch bringing up the rear with his jacket and wallet in hand.

“We just paid the tab. How does cheap Chinese food eaten in the park a couple hundred yards down sound?” Hotch suggests, raising an eyebrow as he smiles warmly at Spencer.

He looks around briefly at the rest of the team, who are all giving him encouraging looks, not a trace of judgement or annoyance to be found.

“That sounds amazing,” he laughs wetly, the tears springing to his eyes this time caused by a completely different emotion. “I can pay you back, though.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy,” Derek says, patting Spencer’s back, “we’ve got it. Now, come on, I’m gonna order sweet and sour chicken balls, and I want them now.”

“That’s what she said,” Penelope giggles, linking her arm with Derek’s.

“That was terrible, baby girl, but I love that you tried.”

“Do you want to share shrimp chop suey with me, babe?” Elle asks JJ as they clasp hands, walking a couple of steps ahead of them.

“Well, I’m certainly not sharing with any of these losers,” JJ teases, before kissing Elle’s cheek.

Spencer feels Hotch place his hand on his back, and he turns to smile gratefully at the older man. “Thank you,” he says quietly, trying to convey just how earnestly he means it. “No-one’s ever done anything this nice for me before.”

There’s a slightly sad tinge to Hotch’s smile, but it doesn’t look like pity. “I’d get used to it if I were you. That’s just how we do things in the BAU.”

Well, if that’s the case, Spencer thinks, smiling as he falls into step between Hotch and Penelope, I think I might just stick around.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @jellejareau @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic-not-stupid(taglist form)

[yoditorian]

a law divine - 1

soulmate au!ezra/reader

this is solely the fault of one single anon who called out something i put in the tags and now it’s a whole universe but you know what?? it’s the love of my life. anon i hope u see this 💛 i also just want to say i know there isn’t A Lot of soulmate talk in this one but it’s important for the narrative okay bear with me

playlist // series masterlist // main masterlist 

word count: 7.2k (a Big Boy)

warnings: swearing, my usual allusions to smut bc we keep things neutral in this house, brief food/alcohol mentions, 18+ please no babies

It might be the ugliest ship you’ve ever seen.

Not that you’re really one to judge, the one you charter out when you’re running point on a job is a mismatched patchwork of rusty panels held together with electrical tape and hope. If there’s the slightest possibility you might be a teeny tiny bit disappointed in it, it’s only because agency jobs are usually a little cushier. A little safer for once. You could do with a bit safer. 

Your family might prefer a lot safer, but you’d sooner take your chances in open space without a suit than take a job working scrapyards. At least risking your life on digs gets a decent payout.

“You the danger mouse?” 

It’s not an accent you hear often on the Pug, the majority of the station’s population is human, but you turn with a smile to meet the bright purple eyes of the Thanne. Armour-strong scales and sharp teeth, but he seems kind and mild mannered despite his clear predatory biology. You nod as you readjust the pack on your shoulders.

“I’m Iras.” He holds his hand out to you. A distinctly human gesture made a little awkward by the sharp edged scales and extra fingers, but you shake it nonetheless. He’s your captain for this job after all. You wonder where a Thanne became so well versed in human custom, the species as a whole tend to keep to themselves instead of branching out into the universe like so many others, until his crew members appear on the boarding ramp.

Iras gestures to each of them in turn. Summer, a blonde woman with dark skin and a kind smile, and Milo, an older man with a swirling tattoo above his left eyebrow that matches the navy blue of his eyes.

“Is it just us?” You ask. You could have sworn there was a fifth name on the manifest you’d been forwarded, but teams are always subject to change. You just hope you’ll have your own room.

“Ezra always leaves things down to the wire, he’ll show up right before we’re due to push out.” Summer laughs fondly, throwing an arm around your shoulders like she’s known you her whole life. You’re usually a little wary with brand new teams but the way she’s already chatting away makes you feel at home. The last agency job you were sent on got dicey, fast, somehow you’re sure the same won’t happen with this lot.

“There he is.” Milo leans out of the ship to point out into the docks. 

You turn to see a man sauntering through the throngs of harvesters towards the ship, and it’s odd. The rest of the crowd seems to melt away as he closes the distance, even the weight of Summer’s arm on your shoulders feels not quite there. You take the moment to study him. He looks all business with his dark hair and his charcoal grey shirt and the neat pack slung over his shoulder, but his pants and boots have seen better days and the streak of blonde at his temple makes you smile. It’s nice to finally be with a crew without a single stuffy addition. 

“It’s not often I get to congregate with like-minded souls.” He grins when he’s in earshot, a flash of something feline in his eyes. You don’t want to admit that you like it.

“Like-minded?” You tilt your head at him as you follow Summer up the ramp and into the ship. Ezra slips in behind you just as it starts to raise. Just like the others said.

“We’ve all got the same death wish, Sunspot.”

The launch, at least, is smooth despite the beaten up ship and it’s only about twenty minutes before you’re far enough from the Pug to punch a lane to the next system over. At least it isn’t far, there’s only a day between now and making planetfall. Somehow, you’re not surprised to find that it’s more of a barracks and bunk beds situation rather than each having a private quarters. Last time you were hired by the agency, you definitely got your own room. But it gives you a chance to chat with the others as you unpack. 

Milo explains the air isn’t breathable, so he’ll need to double check to make sure everyone’s filters are running at capacity. But he reassures you that it’s a comfortable temperature, so it’s good to know you won’t be sweltering in your suits or freezing your asses off. 

You pick the bed on the wall beside the door, taking out a few essentials from your pack and tucking the rest safely away in the storage compartment. Just as he did back at the docks, Ezra is the last to find his way to the room. He settles his things on the bunk opposite yours because the universe has it out for you, apparently. 

“Did I hear one of them call you the danger mouse?” 

You struggle not to roll your eyes at the nickname awarded to anyone stupid enough to do your job, although admittedly he doesn’t sound like he knows why. You offer him your name instead and pretend the way he rolls it around in his mouth doesn’t send a shock right down to your bones. You’re not in the habit of sleeping with colleagues, not until the job’s over at least. But you’d be lying if you said you’re not tempted.

“They call me in when a site’s unstable but too profitable to close.” You answer, tugging your sleeves up as the climate control settles to a comfortable temperature.

Ezra raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, and you pull off your gloves. They land on your thin mattress as you hold your hands out between you. Not even the slightest twitch.

“Steadiest hands on the Pug.”

“So they are.” There’s a challenge in his voice that threatens to send a shiver up your spine. It’s clear he doesn’t doubt your skill in the field, but the return of that glint in his eye from the docks has you wondering exactly what else he’s thinking about as he studies your hands. It’s not hard to work out.

It’s been so long since you had to travel out of the system, you forgot how much inter-system lanes can fuck with the human brain. You’re half asleep for the thirty minutes you spend sorting your things for the morning, barely enough energy to change into the sweatpants and ratty t-shirt you call pyjamas, before you crawl into bed and settle down almost immediately.

Only you don’t get to sleep for as long as you’d like. The rest of the crew seem to have filtered in after you, the shift of sheets and snores float through the dimmed room. Except, it’s not just that. There’s shuffling and bed creaking from further down the line of bunks. A hushed giggle sounds in the silence and-

 Oh god. Oh no.

They’re not. They can’t be, they- they are. 

You’re very awake all of a sudden, eyes wide as you keep them firmly on the ceiling and wishing as hard as you can for an alarm to start beeping or something. Anything to get whoever’s banging Summer to stop. A deep voice hushes her when she laughs again. Iras. Knowing is somehow worse. The mechanics- you don’t even want to think about it. 

You turn onto your side slowly, but loud enough to hint that maybe they should find somewhere else for their escapades, and fold your pillow around your head as a kind of makeshift set of earmuffs. Whether they’ve quieted down or it muffles the noise, you’re not sure, but it seems to have worked enough. You catch Ezra’s eye in the almost-darkness, much in the same position as he holds his pillow over his own ears. 

It’s embarrassing for the both of you, even as you share a conspiratorial look. But somehow, it’s less awkward to have to hear Iras and Summer going at it when you know he’s awake. He winces when a particularly loud squeak echoes through the room, and it takes everything in you not to bust out laughing. You fall asleep again eventually, making faces at Ezra in the dark until neither of you can keep your eyes open anymore.

You’re surprisingly well rested come the morning, when the whole ship jolts as it punches into the system and you’re almost thrown out of bed. So much so that it’s easy to forget that you woke up at all until you shuffle into the main living compartment of the ship. One of the crates by the wall has been cracked open, Milo hands out granola bars for breakfast.

Summer and Iras are sitting in the same chair, feeding each other, and it might be cute if you’d been awake longer and hadn’t been woken up by their activities in the middle of the night. You slump into a free chair,  face twisted in disgust for a moment. You’re pretty sure nobody else sees until Ezra laughs and drops into the seat beside you. They’re nice people, from how they took you as a friend immediately, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s just a bit much for your perpetually single heart to take. 

“It’s a week-long job, they can’t take a break?” You watch as they finally pry themselves apart to start, you know, actually working. But not without a genuinely gross kiss that definitely toes the line of public decency. Suddenly the half-eaten bar in your hand isn’t all that appealing anymore.

“Soulmates take no breaks, Sunspot. I’m sure yours would be hard pressed to be anywhere but in bed with you whenever they get the chance.” Ezra winks and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. A glance at the pair makes your new knowledge obvious, the way they seem to be touching, even now, on opposite sides of the room. 

“I’m not sure I believe in all that red string stuff.”

Once the ship is safely landed a short walk from the site, the days you spend digging pass with ease. The deposit is a decent size, it takes all five of you to cover it completely, and the payout should be enough to keep you all comfortable for a little while even with the agency’s cut. The crew around you fill the time enough that you barely notice the week coming to a close. 

Summer sings in the mornings as she cleans her equipment and readies her pack for the day. Miles talks gently to the cells as though they can hear him, shushing them any time he worries a gem might corrupt. Iras seems to have a secret superpower when it comes to the ration packs, they always taste better when he’s the one on lunch duty. And Ezra spends the afternoons regaling you all with tales of ancient beasts, laying eggs that fossilise into the very gems you’re harvesting. Although you’re not sure how true they are. 

You almost get through the whole dig without a hitch. Almost. But aurelac is a tricky thing, even a change in the wind can turn a site for the worst. You’re all sitting around at lunch when it happens. The telltale smoke wafts up into the air for no visible reason at all and although you’ve collected enough to cover the quota, you’d still rather not lose viable gems.

“Get to what you came here for.” Iras gestures in your direction and you dive into the pit head first.

You’re not even sure you stop to think as you follow the harvesting steps at lightning speed, salvaging half the corrupted cells before someone tugs you out by the collar of your suit. The rest of the site starts to smoke the moment you’re out of range, spitting and hissing and rendering the rest of the gems worthless. 

“Danger mouse indeed.” Ezra chuckles over the comm system, hand still fisted in the fabric of your suit. For once, the nickname makes you smile.

While you all go your separate ways after the ship has docked back on the Pug, Summer makes you all promise to meet later at a club you’ve only heard of in your friends’ messy night out stories. Still, you pinky swear when she holds her hand out to you and try to remember if you have a single item in your wardrobe that’ll pass as club attire. Or at least something that isn’t so worn there are holes in it. 

Even if it’s a song he knows, there’s no chance that Ezra could recognise it with the volume cranked so high through the cheap speaker that everything but the beat is distorted. Still, it doesn’t stop people from dancing. 

He’s a little late, as usual, but he doesn’t need to worry as Iras appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder, pointing to a booth across the room where Milo is looking increasingly uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take long for Ezra to spot you and Summer in the middle of the dance floor, as he follows Iras around the edge of the space to the booth Milo’s claimed. You’re both more jumping than dancing, yelling the unintelligible lyrics of the song into each other's faces. He can’t hear your breathless laughter as Summer spins you in a circle, smile wide and bright, but he can feel it in his ribs. The drums of the song kick in at the same time the swirling lights of the club light you up like some kind of celestial being, just as you catch his eye through the crowd. And everyone else disappears. The rest of the world, rest of the universe, fades into the background. Just like they did the first time he saw you, glaring suspiciously at the ship on the docks.

Summer’s dragging you back to the table when the song comes to a close, the both of you out of breath and laughing, and Ezra has to try desperately to remember how to speak when he watches a little bead of sweat slide down the side of your neck. And stop himself from just licking a line straight up it. His silent suffering only increases when Milo holds out a shot of the most potent alcohol the Pug has to offer and you down it without so much as a flinch, winking at him when you return the glass to the table for good measure. 

Milo calls it a night only an hour later, clearly only having braved the crowds of the club to celebrate the job. Summer and Iras are tangled in each other on the dancefloor, or the booth, as they keep the shots coming. You, at least, decide to keep your wits about you, declining every drink after the one Milo had handed you. Nobody’s going to fuck with a Thanne, even in as seedy a club as this, so you don’t worry about Summer as she gets sloppier and sloppier. But there’s no spiky non-human boyfriend looking out for you down here, it’s just you and the knife you keep at your hip.

You pull yourself from the dance floor, eyes tracking the room for the missing member of your party, until you feel a set of eyes on you from above. Ezra’s leaning on the bannister of the stairs, his unflinching gaze set solely on you. And you can’t help but smile. You follow him up to the mezzanine without hesitation when he glances upwards and back to you. The buzz of the shot has mostly faded from your veins, replaced by something much more dangerous by the way he’s looking at you. The way he’s looked at you since you met him.

It’s not hard to spot your friends from up here, leaning over the barrier with Ezra to people watch. He crafts stories about every stranger who catches his eye. The man hunched over the bar in a beaten up jacket, the waitress who fiddles with her necklace any time her hands aren’t occupied, the pair of lovers tucked away in the dark corner on the other side of the mezzanine. You find yourself sliding closer to him the more he talks, wrapped up in the warmth of his voice even in the rundown club. Your shoulder knocks into his as you mindlessly bop to the music and listen to his made up stories. Utterly enchanted. It’s hard to remember a time when you felt this way with anybody, if you ever did at all. To tell the truth, it’s hard to remember anyone before Ezra. And neither of you have even made a move yet.

He's got his arms braced on the barrier, and you find yourself lifting the one closest to you so you can slip in between them. Surrounded on all sides and you couldn’t feel more comfortable. To his credit, he doesn’t falter in his vivid storytelling about the group now settled in the booth your crew had claimed earlier, not even a stutter as you turn in his arms to face him. He’s decided they’re here to celebrate the beginning of a new job, rather than a successful harvest. His eyes flick to you for the barest moment, enough to notice yours are firmly focused on the way his lips move around his words, before searching the club below for another story. Another way to keep his mind and mouth occupied so he doesn’t accidentally admit all the sinful things he wants to do to you when you press your ass up against him like that. 

“Ezra.”

He shouldn’t be able to hear you over the music, but you’re nose to nose and he’d be hard pressed to ignore the way you practically purr his name. He’s expecting you to make another flirty comment in that voice that sends his mind reeling into all manner of indecent places the same way you have been all night.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t expect you to just outright ask him. 

“Yeah.” Yeah. Hell of a time for his eloquence to fail, not that it matters anyway. You’re on him the moment he stops speaking.

It’s like the sun explodes inside him, the way his stomach bottoms out the second your lips touch his. There’s nothing soft about it, not the way he might have imagined there would be. If he’d been so bold as to let himself imagine what kissing you might be like. You’re all warmth and heat and you still taste a little bit like the shot you’d thrown back earlier, and he finds himself falling. Not that Ezra minds, he hopes his parachute never opens if it means you’ll keep kissing him like this. 

You let your fingers roam under his jacket, twist themselves in the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and you sigh into his mouth. God, you knew he’d be good at this. His hands leave a trail of starlight as they trace over your body, never quite choosing a place to rest. They start to settle on your shoulders, only to skim down your arms and squeeze harshly on your waist, to play along the strip of skin he finds just underneath the hem of your shirt, to grip harder than he might mean to onto the meat of your ass through your pants. You gasp, break the kiss for barely a moment, and stop his apology in its tracks. 

He doesn’t protest when you walk him backwards, still groping at each other like it’s just the two of you in the whole club. Ezra only groans when his back hits the wall and you push even closer into him, as if there was even any space left for air between your bodies already. He’s not about to complain. He could kiss you for a thousand years and it still wouldn’t be enough. It’’ll never be enough, not for a soul as hungry as his. You pull back too soon, far too soon, and it takes a solid minute for his brain to kick in and break the vice grip he still has a little too low for the public eye.

Oh, that look on your face. He’s in trouble.

“Where are you off to?” Ezra asks, flushed and breathless, a hand stretched halfway out to where you’re backing toward the stairs.

“Home,” You say with a sly smile, “You coming?”

He can’t push off the wall fast enough. 

You don’t live far from the club, a ten minute walk at the most, but Ezra manages to make it a solid twenty with the way he keeps pulling you to him. Not that you’re about to complain. You’ve been waiting a week to let him get his hands on you. At the press of his lips on your neck, the shudder it sends down your spine, you wonder if part of you has been waiting even longer than that. 

You’re trying, desperately, to type in the keycode to your apartment. If Ezra could calm down with the grabby hands, you might have gotten it right straight away. 

“No roommates?” He asks, kissing along your shoulder, and you take the temporary reprieve to kick your brain into gear and remember the fucking numbers. 

“Hugo won’t be too upset if I make him sleep on the couch.” 

The door slides back into the wall to reveal a dark apartment, a strip of light from the hall falling on a very orange cat. He stares at you for a second, clearly not particularly pleased that he’s been so rudely roused from a nap, before he settles back to sleep stretched out on the couch cushions. Hugo. Ezra is silently relieved that the roommate is just a cat, he’s not sure he’s got the self control to stay quiet tonight. Or to make sure you do. 

You waste no time once you gesture for Ezra to walk in ahead of you, flicking the switch on the wall to slide the door shut and pulling him back to your lips. He doesn’t hesitate to crowd you up against the cold metal. 

Although you could devour each other until the closest sun explodes and swallows the station whole, Ezra has to break away. To think, to breathe, to tease you a little about the moan he just swallowed from you. But you beat him to it.

“Gotta catch your breath?” The smile on your face threatens to make his knees buckle, and with you pressed up against the closed door the way you are? He might just let them. 

“What do you want, Sunspot?” 

You left a lamp on in your bedroom, the door cracked just enough to let a little filter through to the main living space. Still, he’s almost completely silhouetted against the warm yellow glow. As if he’s some kind of ethereal being, maybe he is.

“Make me see the stars.” You pull him in as close as you can and let your lips brush over his as you whisper. His next words make you shudder almost as much as the way he drags the zipper of your jacket down, slowly, tooth by tooth. 

“As you wish.” 

And boy, does he deliver.

You’re expecting things to feel more unfamiliar than they do, as you explore each other for the first time, but it’s like you’ve been here before. Once, twice, a hundred times before. Every move feels oddly choreographed. Ezra knows exactly how to take you apart and put you back together again, the way he pulls every twitch and moan out of you so expertly. You’re no different, as your fingers map the plains of his chest like it’s muscle memory. 

You shake it off, put the thoughts to the back of your mind. You’ve been around the block a little in your time on the Pug, it only makes sense that he has the same kind of experience. But shared experience or not, you can’t deny how much having him so close feels like a homecoming of sorts.

It’s the best sleep of your whole fucking life and, honestly, you’re not that surprised. Ezra makes a damn good pillow. Even if you both wake hours later into the day cycle than either of you normally would. Even if he’s more of a morning person than you are. It’s kind of nice, to sit still snuggled in your pile of blankets and watch him potter around your apartment as Hugo winds around his ankles like he’s been there for years. 

Your fridge, however, is heartbreakingly empty and renders his offer of making breakfast pointless. Instead, he pulls his shirt on and offers to take you to the best little diner he knows, tucked away in the heart of the marketplace. It’s a hard offer to turn down.

“What kind of gentleman would I be to have so much income at my disposal and not treat such a beauty as yourself to a good meal?” He winks as he flashes his credit chit at you as if you didn’t scan in for your paychecks at the same time. You laugh as you empty a food pouch into Hugo’s bowl, and tell him he better show you all the good breakfast spots. You shrug off his raised eyebrow and mutters of a ‘next time’. As if he didn’t already know.

Still, Ezra takes you by the hand the moment your apartment door secures itself shut behind you, leading you through the hall and out into the street, and you’ve never felt more wanted.

It’s like everything’s brighter, walking leisurely through the bustling market stalls with Ezra. The smells are stronger as spices in the air cling to your nose, the cacophony of vendors calling out almost sounds like music, and you start to laugh. Hand in his, in the middle of the maze of stalls full of food and tools and trinkets. As if it’s just the two of you in the whole universe. 

At least Ezra doesn’t look back at you like you’re crazy. He smiles too, just as big, and you feel bathed in warmth the same as when the sun comes out planetside.

You’re both still grinning when he leads you deeper through the market, down an alley and up a flight of stairs to an unassuming door.

“Is this where you murder me?” You joke just as the door opens to reveal a short older woman with an eyepatch, who pulls Ezra down into a tight hug as soon as he’s in arms reach. He introduces her as Merse, the woman who’s run the best diner no one’s ever heard of on the whole station. She slaps his arm for his cheek, but her grin grows twice as wide when she spots your intertwined hands. 

Ezra pulls you through the doorway after him as he follows Merse, chatting about how she always keeps the best table open just in case he brings a friend and you try not to smile too wide when she wiggles her eyebrows at you. He says something to you, but you’re too distracted by the view from the big windows. 

The far wall is completely glass, overlooking the main docks, lined with booths. A small family sits in one of them, their two children standing up on the seats to watch the ships come and go. You’ve never seen it from this angle before, always down in the masses and scanning the boards for new jobs. It’s kind of beautiful. In a rusty, patchwork sort of way.

Merse points you towards one of the booths with a promise that she’ll bring you the best breakfast you’ll ever have, something tells you she’s not lying. 

It’s not long after you slide into the booth that she comes marching out of the kitchen with two plates, wafting steam that makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble. Rice and vegetables and eggs and all sorts of things you’ve never even seen pile high, and you’d worry you wouldn’t be able to finish it all if you weren’t so hungry. 

“You know I won’t break, right?” You push your fork around in the remaining rice on your plate as you watch Ezra absorb your words. He thinks about it for a long moment, dark eyes over you before settling on your own.

“What’s this about?” He knows, you know he knows. More importantly, you know he’s going to make you say it. In the middle of the day cycle, in this family friendly diner. 

“Just,” You exhale sharply, “Making sure you’re aware.” Your body floods with a shyness that’s alien compared to the confidence you had last night and suddenly, your breakfast is the most interesting thing on the Pug. You can practically feel him smiling at you, but you don’t dare look up to meet it. 

He was right though, the food really is some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s not until you’ve wandered back through the market, still hand in hand, and found your way back to your apartment that Ezra decides to bring it up. He may have been more than a little distracted last night, but he’s sure he spotted a set of old books sitting on a shelf above your couch. You freeze, ready to go on the defensive about how ink and paper will never be obsolete, until you realise he’s genuinely interested. He’s not judging you by any means. Something about the curiosity shining in his eyes makes your heart flutter more than you care to admit. 

He could watch you talk about your books all day, every day, for the rest of his life. How your eyes lit up when you recognised his interest, a paperback lover himself. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you dive into the intricate details of your favourite classics, two or three hundred year old texts that make you feel like you’ve lived a thousand different lives at once. He wants so badly for you to keep talking but the more impassioned you become, the more he wants to kiss you.

You trail off at some point, he loses track when you climb into his lap to point out notes you’ve made in margins and the books lie scattered on the couch beside you as you kiss him until neither of you can breathe. You’re still a little achy from last night, deep in your bones, and you hiss when his teeth scrape across your shoulder.

“Won’t break, is that right?” Ezra chuckles darkly and nips at your jaw, “Can I try?”

“Please.”

You wake at the creak of your bedroom door, sometime in the early hours. Hugo noses his way through the narrow gap and hops up onto the bed, curling up on the unclaimed pillow by your head. Ezra sleeps deeply, face buried in your neck, and you let the warmth of him wash over you. It ebbs and flows like a tide, that familiarity. The undeniable fact that something about this just feels right. You’ve known this man a week and yet you’re here wondering, as he rests in your arms, if he might want more than just this with you. 

Oh, but you are so afraid. Afraid to put a name to anything about him because what then? Will he tell you that you’re simply a placeholder in his life for something better, or that his heart might bleed through his skin when you’re apart? You’re not sure which is worse. Not that it matters, there is no word in any language that would be able to explain exactly how you feel about the man asleep in your arms. It’s enough, you think, to have him with you at all. In any capacity. Whatever pieces of his soul he bares as your breathing evens and his mind wanders. That is enough, and you will protect it with your life.

You have to part ways at some point, of course. Another week of rolling around in your bed sheets together, on the couch, on your pitiful kitchen counter, up against the wall, and Ezra gets a call from the agency. It’s a last minute job, the crew only need an extra set of hands to fit the safety standards, but it’s several systems out from the Pug. It’ll take him away for at least a month. You trail after him at the docks, with promises of messages in his absence and all manner of unsavoury activities on his return. It’s with a deep kiss and a wolf whistle from a couple of dock workers on their break, that you wish him luck. And ask him to hurry back.

Summer’s message surprises you when it dings through on your tablet. Some gajillionaire on Dallore T53 has found an aurelac deposit on the grounds of his new estate and wants it gone. She’s preoccupied, already out on another dig with Iras and a new crew. But it’s the kindness of her even thinking to offer it to you that makes your heart swell. It’s been a while since you’ve had real, honest to god, friends. 

You’d go in alone, normally, for something like this. But now? Now, you’re punching in Ezra’s comm pin before you can even really register what it is that you’re doing. He only got back a week ago, and you made him settle in back home before he could settle in yours. It’s not like the two of you would be doing any resting on his return to your apartment, exactly. The job was a pain, he’d told you, it ran months longer than anyone expected and you’re sure he’s still exhausted. He won’t agree, but you find you have to ask. Just in case.

“Sunspot?” He sounds happy, rested. And you breathe a sigh of relief, at least he can follow your orders when he wants to.

Hugo snakes around your ankles at the familiar voice, the same way he does any time the man himself walks through the door. If you didn’t know that the little orange devil’s alliances lie in who feeds him, you might think he loves him more than you. 

You explain about the job, make sure to stress that he doesn’t have to come. That you don’t even really need to take it if he’d rather you stay close by. Okay, you don’t say that out loud, but the smile you hear in his words through the speaker makes it known that he’s heard you. Loud and clear. 

It doesn’t matter in the end, not when he accepts before you even have a chance to give him any details. You don’t know why you were so worried he might say no.

“Any excuse to be warmed by your light, Sunspot.” Hugo brushes up against your leg at the same time Ezra’s voice practically drips through the speaker, smooth as honey.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You choke on your breath and he laughs like you’ve told the funniest joke in the universe. He’ll kill you one of these days, you’re sure of it.

You charter the ship you usually take on private jobs, the space a little smaller than you remember with another person on board, but it’s not like either of you aren’t used to being in close quarters with each other by now. At least Ezra has the decency not to be mean about the beaten up exterior, she still flies true. He’d grinned at that, told you how a rough outside often means the opposite of the interior mechanics. The glint in his eye is enough to know he’s not just talking about the ship. 

At least the planet is in the same system as the Pug, so there’s no need to punch through to a lane. You fly in silence for a few hours, the familiar feel of the controls under your fingers as you guide it through the sky. Ezra’s eyes remain firmly on you although you pretend as though you don’t notice, and it takes him a moment to come back to the present when you ask him to flick a few switches and prepare to enter the atmosphere. 

The coordinates the client gave you to land are only a short walk from the house itself, a great stone castle-looking thing. It’s kind of ugly, the way the limestone juts out above the treeline. A big white block among the rich reds and oranges of the leaves. They grow that colour all year round, perpetually stuck in spring and summer. It must be nice to have the kind of money to find somewhere like that and decide you’ll build a house there. The air is breathable, and a quick look at the planet file proves it’s never too hot or too cold. A perfect place to build a house really. Although, if it were you making that kind of decision, you’d maybe go for a design that’s a little less cubist. 

The deposit isn’t huge, but it’ll be a good payout nonetheless providing the cells are all in good nick. You and Ezra wade through swathes of long grass and wildflowers until you find a spot to set up camp. At least you’re not stuck in bulky suits and having to lug around your equipment.

You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect dig if you’d tried. Each of the cells sit far enough away from each other that even if one were to fail, it wouldn’t corrupt a whole mess of the others. Although with both of your talents, it doesn’t surprise you when you collect every last crystal without a single misstep.

You’d told Ezra the profit would be split down the middle, equal pay for equal work. But it doesn’t stop him from sliding an extra gem into your pack to cover the ship charter. After all, you’re the one who was offered the job in the first place. He’s just following his heart, the one that walks around outside of his body and throws itself into deposits mid-corruption.

You hold one of the little gems aloft in the sunlight and watch as it sparkles.

“I used to think it was weird how rabid people go for these. But the more I dig the more I get it, isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Ezra tilts his head like he’s studying the rock, but his dark eyes don’t leave yours.

“It’s a close second.”

Sap.

Night falls before either of you realise just how late it is, clearing out the last few cells of the deposit. It’s not worth going back to the Pug now, he reasons, and you find it hard to disagree. The ache of the few days you’ve spent digging has settled deep in your muscles, the thought of having to run through docking procedure when you’re so tired is enough to make you wince. 

You let him take you for all you’re worth under the watchful eye of the heavens, and find there’s more stars behind your eyelids than you could ever hope to see in the skies. It’s all you can do to cry out the name of the only god to ever make you feel this holy. Ezra. 

He wakes with the sun, the same way he always has on jobs, to find you curled so tightly against him that it bubbles up from his toes all the way to his throat and he finds his eyes threatening to spill over. Everything in the universe seems to slot so perfectly together when you’re like this. Ezra sighs, content to never let the moment end. You are so beautiful.

He shifts up onto his elbow a little, still cradling you against him, and lets his free hand trail softly over your face. Tracing the shell of your ear, the curve of your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose. The dawn’s sunlight breaks over the trees and filters through the fabric of the tent, bathing you in soft green light. He could stay here, holding you, until the universe implodes. Ezra doubts he’d notice such an insignificant thing with you beside him. 

But end it must, and he rouses you gently with soft whispers and kisses against your temple. You stretch in his arms, not unlike Hugo, and sigh as your joints pop and settle. Packing up happens slowly, moving around each other so naturally it’s as though you’ve done it a thousand times before. Every time Ezra passes, you drop a kiss wherever you can reach. His shoulder, the arm of his jacket, that little patch on his jaw. He pretends not to blush when you catch his hand and carefully press your lips to the little tattoo between his thumb and index finger, you pretend not to notice when he does.

You’ll be the death of him, he’s sure of it. The way you keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, the way your smile is so bright when he catches you that he can barely stand to look at it. With the tent and equipment packed up, his fingers itch to thread through your own as you start the walk back to the ship, there’s not a word in the universe strong enough to describe just how much he hates that both his and your hands are too full.

It’s odd, thinking about it. How you met by pure chance, hired by the agency just because you were on the same station at the same time. Would he have ever met you if you’d chosen a different career path, if he had? Maybe somewhere, centuries before or after this moment, where you’re meeting again. Different lives, different times, spanning across all of existence. Maybe, right here and now, you’re starting to feel the way he does about you. Just a little. Maybe he’ll get up the courage to ask what you think, how far you want to take things. He’d give himself to you in a heartbeat, without question. In a way, he already has.

Ezra can’t stop himself.

“What do you make of the red string of fate?”

“All you’ve seen of the universe and you still believe in soulmates?” 

“Maybe I’m more foolish that I made myself out to be.” He shrugs, trying not to let his eyes fall to the little finger of his right hand. Trying not to clench his fist to show you exactly how much your disbelief affects him down to his bones, as though his soul itself is frowning. You’re smiling. Uncharacteristically quiet, but you seem appropriately pleased by his answer and stray a little further out into the long grass.

Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can you see yours?” You have to call out across the gap you’ve unintentionally created, yellow stalks swishing in the breeze between you, and for a moment you’re not sure he heard.

Ezra looks at his right hand, at the thin red string tied neatly at the knuckle of his little finger, and follows the line as it threads through the grass to where it’s knotted at your left. 

“No.” 

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[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 6 Damian x reader

Professor X sat in his wheelchair glancing around the room he hums his eyes pouring over all that there was finally landing on Robin. He gives me a look gesturing over at him.

"He informed me about The Crows sir, apparently they have gone under the radar, they've killed three people and the system didn't go off. At first, I thought we still had time, I treated a wound he had it he had come in contact with one and fought it. You know like how Wolverine did, I treated the cut and it's gone, but I was sure they were still in the dream state. But he got injured saving those left how survived probably not far from here, but the fact we didn't even receive the ring can only mean...they've returned under complete control again."

Concern fills the face of professor X, he turns to Robin, who shifts uncomfortably by the entrance of my kitchen. "Who are you then?"

"Robin."

The professor nods not even turning from his spot, he looks over Robin as if completing an inspection.

"How much does this Robin Know Dreki, about you, and The Crows?"

"I told him about the Jal-sein, the old race before the collective mind sharing, and he knows about my box of scales." Professor sighs.

"How did you meet him."

"When he broke through my window last week, infected."

"You gave him some scales to purge poison."

"Yes sir."

"Very good," He moves back to his original spot in the middle of the room. "You have been permitted to stop them at all costs if you must. Your uncle will be here soon to help you kill whatever has brought them back, in the meantime try not to use the stones. We don't want to attract more trouble than what has already been done."

"You're allowing me to put my powers to use?"

"As long as you don't wear it out, vibranium is not easy to turn into clothing."

"What a minute!" Robin's voice carried out through the room. "Just what's going on?"

"Robin," Professor X starts. "your world is being invaded by the Crow so that you become one of the many planets they have drained of life. And to do it they need a vessel that can contain the leader of the Jal-sein, Hok'mor." Professor X looks at him, his use

"And?" Robin says his face remaining unreadable

"I was the vessel, I escaped, destroyed the flagship and the army they had." I shiver moving out from my room to the box still lying on the kitchen table. "They were after the life of my home, so then I became a weapon for my planet." I pull out a bag of coins from the box.

"And what do you intend to do now (Y/N), destroy them yourself." Robin stands in the entryway, professor X stands behind him.

"Yes," I turn to him a chakram and the bag of coins in hand. "so unless you know how to obliterate a bird in 15 seconds or less you need to forget this ever happened and never come back."

"So, why tell me any of this, why tell me about anything why expose yourself?"

"So you can tell your family and friends and hopefully, just maybe you can survive. Because knowing them keeps them out of your head, but too much knowing allows them to enter." I pick up Nightmare, he crawls up to my shoulder and I head out of the kitchen, Robin makes room for me but just barely. I open my closet and pull out the last thing I have, two letters one written in my mother's signature ink and the other in my own handwriting, I hold them out to the professor.

"You know there is nowhere left for me to run professor if I end out getting caught...I just want him to have this. In my letter, papers are containing the custody terms for my brother to Uncle. I just need you to grab them to complete the transfer." Professor X slowly takes the letters where they rematerialize on his side.

"Good-bye Dreki, I will see that these get to your Brother."

Professor fades out of the com, and it clicks turning off, I pick it off the floor and slip it into the pocket of my sweatpants. I pulled out the chakram ready to leave a mark on my hand, I only needed a little bit of blood to completely transform when Robin coughs gaining my attention. He leans against the wall to the left of me now glaring at my form, Nightmare growls at the boy from the corner of my eye I see his fangs getting slightly bigger.

"Are you making it a habit to ignore me while I'm here?"

"No, But I do need you to leave, you can't stay here anymore." I begin to push him out the door in the kitchen, he slaps my hands away confusion leaving his face replacing it's with anger. He open's his mouth and I put a magic orange circle on his head.

"You Robin son of batman, found this information interrogating one of the monsters. It spoke in a language that was foreign but somehow understood all of it. You have made no such connection to the girl Y/N M/N, you did not see a man from another dimension, you came back to thank her for her help you had some tea and you were just leaving." I flick my hand and the circle vanishes, his head lowers for a moment as the information in his head readjusts. He moves to the balcony edge turning to face me the scowl returned to his face.

"Thank you for the tea." he pulls out a grappling hook and leaves without another word. I sigh moving to the same device I used to contact the professor. Picking it up I hold it to my mouth.

"Find me the closest thing to a sorcerer supreme, name and whereabouts contact them when you get there."

I toss it back onto the floor and it roars to life to give me a purple image of the earth and orange magic circles to tracking and moving. I move to my couch and fall asleep waiting for this day to take me.

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I wake the next day with the globe still searching for my request I sigh and get ready for work. I thank god that it's just the coffee shop below me, I work on the weekends mostly unless they need an extra member of staff then it's just me and the older lady and her husband. They both owned the building and the shop they helped me get the apartment set up and showed me how to work the coffee machines. I don't really drink coffee though after seeing what a raving maniac my dad became without it, also it was just so bitter no matter how much sugar I put into it. I partially blame my heightened scenes that came with my abilities, so I got free white hot chocolates and any extra flavors I wanted as long as I did my job and chatted with them for a while.

I asked them personally to stay away while I was sick, so they wouldn't be affected. When I get down the stairs Martha, the elderly lady beams thankful that I'm feeling better.

"I so glad you are doing well dear, I know the acidity in our rain makes you sick so Glenn and I got you this umbrella." She hands me a purple umbrella that still has a tag on it, it reads for sun and rain.

"You didn't have to do this Martha, I told you I'm not good with gifts, you already let me stay here on the government's program and gave me a job here, you and Glenn have already done so much." She pushes the umbrella farther into my chest.

"No you do so much for us, you work without complaint, you've also taken care of us and our granddaughter when she came over. When you were sick we were so worried about you so you going to take it or I can give you more gifts."

"Thank you very much."I smile brightly. She pats my shoulder and gestures to the counter to start the machines.

Once all the machines are started, the desserts are placed and the base coffees are made I open shop. Customers come in and some lounge around in the chairs or couches drinking coffees and either studying or chatting with their friends. Molly usually comes on Sunday as one of our regulars, so I would see her then. A few of our regulars are happy to see I'm back at work one of the other tenants gave me a green bean casserole and a hug. It's 5 O'clock and I make a cappuccino as I finish I hear the door open and the bell ring on the counter.

The black-haired blue-eyed male I had gotten to know as detective Richard Grayson, came in every other day at 5, he normally talks often while I tried to take his order. So I memorized what he usually gets so he doesn't block the register so I can still make the register.

"Hey Y/N I'll take the usual."

"I thought so," I hand him his drink " one cappuccino."

He takes his coffee and moves to the bar we have set up if you wanted to watch the process and it's only then I see the other people behind him, one pissed-off looking male with a cigarette in his mouth, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne. I look back to Richard he smiles at me leaning onto the bar.

"They came with me this time, It's family bonding time."

"You mean you dragged us out of the house to grab a coffee from this place cause you have a schedule."

"It's bonding Jason! Bonding!"

The two began arguing in the shop, I return my attention to the other two boys. Tim as at the counter puts a ten-dollar bill on the counter, while Damian does the same.

"Give me a regular coffee, black, large cup."

"Tea, no sugar, regular size."

Their voices crowed each other but since this happens frequently it was easy enough to at least get their orders down.

"Sure here's your change." I look back to the two arguing and I see Jason didn't put out his cigarette. He taps it and the ash of his drug falls to the floor.

Sighing I move out of the workspace gabbing a tong and a wastebasket, I take out the cigarette and throw it in the bin now gaining the full attention of Jason. I give him a stern look he seemed to freeze, bitting back any words he might have prepared to say before.

"Sir, I am not sure if I made we've previously made It but there is a strict no smoking policy. As you see we have many elderly, and young children in our establishment." I smile but I know my face is full of malice. "But please enjoy your stay at our cozy corner of our fine and fair city." I move back behind the counter start on some of my orders, I look at Jason again the smile still on my face.

"Would you like anything?" He gives me an odd look.

"White hot chocolate, Large," he nods his head over at Richard. "Put it on his tab."

"We don't have a tabs sir, he works for the police."

"So?"

"He gets Free coffee." He gawks at me as if I told him the sky was black, and I see Richard trying to contain his laughter.

"You give that guy free coffee?"

"It's a store policy." I pass out the coffee and the tea and I see from the corner of my eye he pulls out a flask. I grab the tongs again and clap them together, Jason looks at me then grumbles putting the flask back in his jacket, and instead pulls out a five and hands it to me. I take it from him gingerly and head straight to work on his order. I hand him both his spare change and his drink, and the complimentary cookie bag that came with it. He gives me another look.

"They come with a drink." I leave and continued my chores around the shop.

"You are doing much better (m/n)." I whip my head around and look at Damian who's behind me on the other side of the counter. His companions seemed to be in deep conversation amongst themselves.

"Yes, I'm doing just fine, it happens occasionally but nothing like a good cup of tea and a few nights rest couldn't fix." I go back to cleaning the counter.

"You were sick for much longer than that."

"Yeah...it happens." I change the topic to "Did you think of anything for the project?"

"Why not make a model, there is not really much to do with it anyway." I gasp dramatically.

"Not much to do with an astrolabe! You clearly didn't read the whole paper!" By now I have caught the attention of his group. Damian frowns.

"No, your paper was written very well, I just don't think we need to dwell too much on this project seeing as how we really are not presenting." I had heard that bit from Molly.

"I suppose your right." I put away the cleaning supplies and turn back to him. "I'll get started on a model right away!"

"You will do no such thing." His voice is stern. "I will come back later and work on it with you," He moves his chair back and heads out the door.

His companions follow quickly after him and they say their goodbyes.

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As promised, he came a few hours later right as my shift ended and another person came for the second half of the day. I moved the glowing tracker to my room so it wouldn't gather any extra attention.

"I have supplies, what is all of that?" my brows furrow staring at the bulging plastic bag in his hand while I turn the keys in my locks. opening the door.

"I wasn't sure if you were prepared." He moves to the door, my arm shoots in his way stopping him.

"I wouldn't go in quite yet."

"What?"

I put a finger to my lips and crouch slowly to the floor, I shake the key in my hand then slid them across the floor. A ball of black attacks the object just as it crosses the doorway. Nightmare attacks the keys rolling around and bitting.

"Ah yes, observe the feral kitten in his natural habitat." I walk inside the door beckoning Damian to follow. "I would beware he is an ankle bitter. You can set up in the living room I'll just drop this guy off in my room."

"Does he attack all the time?"

"He's been like that since I picked him up, I don't blame him he was born in a rough neighborhood." I set Nightmare on the bed next to the floating version of earth. "Watch it make sure it finishes." then head to the living room. Damian has all his stuff set out on the table. There was veneer, paper, paint, some nails, an Exacto knife, a hammer, and a bag of pipe cleaners.

"This looks like stuff to make a birdhouse," I try and pick up some of the wood that was on the table." you realize cardboard, scissors, and a sharpie would have been enough."

"And here I thought you like polished and neat projects."

"yeah, but even with cheap materials you can still create a masterpiece."

"You don't do anything nice for yourself self do you?"

"Dude the most expensive thing I own is a cat who attacks me." I sigh, I sketch out a design for the astrolabe. "Well, why don't you start on the Mater, I'll get to work on the plate for our side of America."

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

"3 hours of hard work and I got to say it's not bad." I hold the fished product, It's attached to a string of green yarn. "The calculations are down to point." I put it down, I clean up the mess that's on the floor of the living room.

"About the last time we saw each other, I'm sorry."

"It's fine, you probably knew about me from the news already, the big myste#wayne#scifi#damian#bruce#bats#fanfiction#xreader#characterxreader#jason todd#tim drake#character x reader#mxf#fxm#batboys#batboys x reader#Damianxreader#X reader#DC#Marvel#MarvelxReader#DCxreader#batfam#mutants#Damian Wayne x reader ry of the missing journals. So many interviews." I dump the trash in the kitchen, saying that last part mostly to my self.

"You forgive too easily."

"I'm not as forgiving as you think, honestly you view me too highly it that's what you believe. Would you like something before you leave?"

"No, but I have something for you before I go." I open the door to my room and let Nightmare out.

"Oh?" He's already at the door and pulls a shiny gold card from his pocket, he hands it to me.

"Father thought it would be good to meet you."

"Because I'm the daughter of a famous dead professor, is he going to ask about the journals too?"

"No, this is to apologize for my previous behavior."

"Oh," I take the card looking at it uneasily. "I don't think I can go to this, I don't do well at parties."

"Not a very good excuse." He smirks.

"I'll think about it." I push him out the door and give him the Astrolabe, closing the door slowly. " I'll see you at school."

I look at the card again, It's like the parties mom went to I knew them well. While some were nice, others were nice only in their face. I laugh slightly to myself, Molly already called me earlier telling me I was her plus one to the same thing. This was already suspicious enough as it is. I look at Nightmare who cocks his head at me.

"You think I should go, don't you?" the furball nods

"Fine. I was going to be forced into this anyway."

[mrslilyrogers]

Betrayal Part 6

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

Author’s notes: Sorry this took so long. I’ve just been going through something at home. I posted about it, I think a week or two ago. Anyway, thank you for those who reached out to me and thank you for all your feedback with this. Really warms my heart and has been such a great help. This chapter is a bit longer than usual, I hope that makes up for it. Let me know what you think! :) Oh, and if you want to be tagged, please message on my ask. Thanks!

Warnings: Cheating, Angst

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5 

Bucky let out a yawn as he opened the door to their apartment. He couldn’t help the smile forming on his lips as he took the stairs two steps at a time. Excitement building up in his chest to see his girls despite being so sleep deprived the past few weeks. 

“Trust me, my friend, enjoy your time now. You’d be lucky enough to get three hours of sleep before you hear that wail of death again,” Thor had warned, all serious and brooding, as they lifted heavy weights at his gym the week prior to Y/N’s due date. To Bucky’s horror, he was proven right. They barely had time for themselves anymore, let alone sleep. Today, was his first day back at work since Y/N had given birth and he was so tired, he almost dozed off at their meeting. It was a good thing Sam had backed him up but of course, only for the price of constant teasing after.  “Hell, it’s only been a few weeks and you already look like the walking dead, Barnes! Even Thor looked better than you, and that’s saying a lot,” he motioned around his stomach, referring to the time their usually fit trainer and gym buddy gained weight after welcoming his first child. So naturally, when Bucky refused to go with them for their usual after-work training, Sam couldn’t help but quip, 

“You’re losing touch, Barnes! Next thing we know you’d lose all that hair and have a beer belly, god, I’m never having a baby!”

Bucky just rolled his eyes and dismissed him with a casual “Later, Wilson,” not bothering to have a witty retort as he always did. Sam tsked him and shook his head, giving him a genuine smile despite his teasing manner. Bucky really couldn’t care less about putting on a few pounds. He just wanted sleep and his wife. And of course, to see his daughter, because no matter what he just couldn’t blame his little miss smarty pants, always knowing when her parents had closed their eyes to rest so she could wake them up again.

He thought his first day back at work would’ve given him the respite he needed from taking care of a newborn baby for weeks but all day, he had just missed his little Lizzie. It was as if holding her in his arms after a long day at work was his prize. It didn’t help that as much as Sam had teased him, Steve wouldn’t stop remarking on his change in attitude,  “This is great. I’m so proud of you, Buck.” while patting his back like the big brother he was. Bucky had just scoffed at him, not at all knowing how to respond. Steve was the only one who had been there for him all those times he and his sister had been under Rumlow’s care. He knew the things they went through and how having a family terrified him. His reassurances meant more to him than he could admit. He vowed he’d never make his daughter feel unwanted and unloved like how he was throughout his childhood when both his parents died abruptly leaving him and his sister abandoned to the foster care system. A chill went up his spine at the remembrance of all the “conditioning” he went through, all the pain he had to endure to achieve the “order” Rumlow so devoutly believed in. The slight tremor in his hands warned him he was getting in too deep. He took several deep breaths as he tried to shake off the memory. It was all in the past now. Even Becca had moved on, married right out of college and started her own little family. Y/N and Lizzie were his future now, this family they were building was more important to him than anything else. A dream he never thought he’d have.

He slowly opened the door to their bedroom quietly, not wanting to wake Lizzie up if Y/N had finally gotten her to sleep. She must’ve been bored out of her mind with her taking the time off her newly-built bakery to take care of Lizzie while they haven’t sorted their schedules out yet. All week, she had been worried about how they were all coping without her. He brought the tulips up with a big grin on his face, ready to gift it to her as a peace offering from her time off work and hoped it could cheer her up even for just a little bit. His eyes landed on her curled up on the bed, a bit of her hair falling on the side of her face, her even breaths putting him at home as she peacefully dozed off. He looked to the bassinet beside the bed, a soft smile playing on his lips. His little girl slept like an angel with her pink cheeks and her tiny mouth puckering as she dreamed. He placed the flowers on the bedside table, giving Y/N a kiss to her forehead before heading to the bathroom to change, all the while wondering how he got so lucky after everything he’s been through. He met the love of his life in college, married her after eight years of being together then had a baby girl in their first year of marriage. Maybe the universe wasn’t out to get him after all. 

He snuggled next to Y/N, draping his arm across her waist. She moved back into him, her back to his chest as he pulled her close, drinking in the scent of her hair, sleep already seeping into his tired mind until the “wail of death” broke free. A lazy smile formed on his lips. He knew it, his little girl was smart.

“Ugh,” Y/N grumbled, already making her way to stand up.

“No, no. Go back to sleep, I’ll get her,” Bucky said as he kissed her on the cheek and stood up before she could protest.

“But you just got home, Buck,” she complained but didn’t make a move to leave the bed.

“Shh,” he smiled back at her, picking his little Lizzie up.

“How are you sweetie? Are you hungry? You just miss Daddy, don’t you?” He cooed, rocking her in his arms while Y/N watched, her heart in her eyes. He continued to coo and rock her and soon the baby went back to sleep. He looked up to Y/N with a cocky grin on his face only to find her with her phone out, taking a video of the moment. He rolled his eyes, “If you continue to take videos of me and Lizzie, you’ll run out of space on your phone.  But see, I told you, she just missed her dad!” He then proceeded to make a show of a sleeping Lizzie to Y/N’s phone while she giggled in the background.

“Yeah right. You just got lucky, Buck,”

“Oh come on, you must admit she’s always calmer when I’m around,”

Y/N laughed again, ending the video and putting her phone back on the bedside table, finally noticing the flowers.

“Aww, babe you didn’t have to,” she said, bringing it up to her nose. Her heart skipping a beat as she watched him smile at her. She’d never get tired of his smiles, she thought, not knowing he was thinking the exact same thing about her. Her smile faltered for a split second as she brought the flowers back down to the table. It wouldn’t have been noticeable to anyone else, but Bucky knew when something was bothering her. He noticed it ever since they got back from the hospital four weeks ago.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, concern in his eyes as he held on to Lizzie.

“It’s nothing, really,” She waved him off again, shaking her head.

“Y/N…” He warned.  

“I just… I’m just thinking maybe I should sell Winter Bakery—”

“No,” He cut her off before she could even finish her sentence, his voice stern.

“Hear me out, Bucky. This makes sense. You’re about to get promoted and I’ve only been open for a year. I know, for sure, we’ll get losses from this but if we plan it right, It shouldn’t be so hard.  We have Lizzie now. I don’t think I can do both—,”

“Yes, you can.” Bucky cut her off again, determinedly reassuring her. She wished she had that same faith in herself but she just shook her head. How could she be a mother and manage her own business at the same time? Winter Bakery had just been opened for a few months before she realized she was pregnant. She remembered all those days she sluggishly went to work with her belly swollen, trying her best to show her employees that she knew what she was doing but deep down inside, she had no clue. All the anxiety she was facing with opening her own bakery cafe and being a new mother were all too overwhelming for her. She was in uncharted territories. It was pathetic. She was pathetic. This was not how she imagined their first year of marriage would be like at all. They hadn’t planned to get pregnant. They were going to wait it out, prioritize their careers first before they even discussed having a baby. Now, their plans were all screwed. And she hated herself for thinking that way, she loved Lizzie with her whole heart, seeing her for the first time she knew she’d never love anyone the way she loved her child and yet… the guilt was eating her alive and she hated herself for it. Winter Bakery could wait, she just has to—

“Y/N come on, this is your dream.” Bucky’s convincing voice cut her out of her reverie.

“Yes, but it’s different now. It’s not just the two of us anymore, Bucky. We have Lizzie, and you’re about to get promoted. You can’t just slow down in your job but I still can. I’ve only been open for a year—”

“Yes and you’d stay open for a lot more. Come on, we can do this, Y/N. Tomorrow, I’d get off work so you can visit your shop,”

“Bucky, you just got back to work. You can’t miss it tomorrow.” She replied exasperatedly. The reason he went back earlier despite Shield having a longer paternity leave was for his promotion. He needed to clock in more hours, show that he was up for it.

“Watch me,”

“Bucky, come on. You’re getting promoted remember? Steve said so himself, it’s almost already a done deal. I’m being serious,”

“And I’m not?”

She gave him a face that said he was pushing his luck and he tried his best not to laugh at her. She looked adorable whenever she gave him that face. He flashed her her favorite smirk as he put Lizzie down. Lying back down beside her, he let out a huge exhale.

“Come here,” he said, beckoning his arm out for her. She laid her head on his chest, right under his calm heartbeat, feeling herself relax in sync with him. He softly played with her hair, brushing his lips on her forehead gently.

“I’m being serious too, Doll. Stop doubting yourself. You’re more than capable enough to handle this. I know you,” Bucky reassured her, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“But how can you be so sure, Buck? I have no idea what the hell I’m doing half the time,” she replied, hating the whine that seeped into her voice.

Bucky chuckled from underneath her, the rumbles from his chest somehow easing her worries.  “Baby, you married me. What more proof do you need?”

“Come on, you’re not that bad,” she said, feeling a smile tugging at her lips despite herself as she propped her head up to look at him.  

“Babe, seriously. Go to your shop tomorrow. I can get Steve to cover for me. With this promotion, I’ll be earning a lot more. We can get the best day care for Lizzie when you start going back to work. Hell, even hire a nanny if we really need to. We’ll be fine, Y/N. I promise, trust me.” He said, tucking her stray hair back behind her ears. He looked at her with all the trust and encouragement in his eyes.

“We’ll make it work?” She asked, doubt still in her voice but feeling a weight being lifted off her chest.

“We’ll make it work.” He reassured her, nodding his head before craning his neck forward to give her a gentle kiss, calming all the worries and tension she’d been feeling all day. That night, as sleep claimed her, she had a gnawing feeling deep in her gut that no matter what happens with Winter Bakery, everything was still going to be okay. Because she’d always have Bucky.

______________________________________________________________________

Y/N waited in bed as Bucky tucked Lizzie in after getting home from the hospital. Soon after Steve had left, the test results came back and it turned out she had a UTI. They were immediately discharged when her fever had lowered with a prescription of a round of antibiotics. Y/N let out a sigh, it had been such a long night and she was relieved and thankful Lizzie didn’t have anything more serious. As to Bucky, she felt… oddly calm and relieved too. Finally, it felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. Her marriage, although broken and beaten, was at least honest now. Only question was, where do they go from here?

Bucky cleared his throat when he entered their room, Y/N looked up at him from her perch on her side of the bed with an empty look on her face. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what she was thinking, he didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. And it was his damned fault that he couldn’t. He only wished he could turn back time and undo all the mistakes he made because it wasn’t worth it. None of it was worth it to lose his family.

“How long has it been going on, Bucky?” She asked him, her voice numb. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. Why did she want to hurt herself like this? Did she know it would hurt him just as much too?

“Y/N, please don’t ask me that,”

“You wanted to explain, didn’t you? So do it now, answer my question, explain. How long has it been going on?” She asked again patiently. She didn’t know where the hell she got her patience from but it was better than breaking down and throwing things at him which was what she always thought she might do. Silly of her to think she’d even have the energy for that.

“Two months.” He answered truthfully, letting out a puff of air as his jaw twitched, his hands forming fists at his sides, trying his damned best to keep his distance and not to wrap his arms around her, to prove his love for her. He knew it wouldn’t work anyway and she deserved better than that. She nodded her head as if considering but in all honesty, she didn’t even know where she was going with this, she didn’t know why she was asking things that would break her. All she knew was that it was better to know than be kept in the dark, better than being lied to.

“How did it start?”

“Y/N…”

“How did it start, Bucky?”

”I, I met her at a bar,” Bucky uncomfortably answered, swallowing a lump in his throat. No more lying. But a voice in the back of his head told him this wasn’t going to end well. She was going to make him leave. He was going to lose her.

“You say you don’t love her. You love me?” She asked, her voice finally breaking, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She fought so hard not to cry, her throat worked as she swallowed down her tears, her body stiffened at trying to control herself, to keep herself together. Bucky was in front of her in a stride. Kneeling down, he put his hands on her arms and stared deep into her eyes willing her to understand and to listen to him. 

“Yes, god, yes! Y/N, I love you. You’re the one I love. I swear, it’s always been you,” He said frantically, slightly shaking her, his eyes convincing her to take him back but she just stared back at him doubtfully, her brows furrowed. She shook her head as she backed away from him and stood up.

“No, Bucky. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have cheated on me.”

“Two months!” She screamed exasperatedly as if finally understanding everything he’s told her. How could he have slept beside her and pretended everything was alright for two whole months while meeting up with another woman? How could he tell her he loved her when he had been lying to her face? It was as if a dam had broken loose inside her, all of her emotions spilling over.

“I can’t even look at you right now, Bucky. How can you do this to me? To us? To Lizzie? We’re your family.” She paced the room, her hand on her forehead as she tried to think back on all those times she tried to make it work. “You know, I don’t even know if I believe you! You’ve been way distant for longer, I doubt it’s only been for two months!”

“No, Y/N! I’m not lying about that, I swear! No more lies anymore. Y/N please... I’m sorry,” He pleaded, his voice becoming desperate. Did it even matter anymore that he wasn’t lying now? The point was that he still fucked up. And there was nothing he could do to make it right. He had no excuse, he was a selfish bastard.

She scoffed at that, her voice incredulous as she whirled back at him, “A little too late for that, don’t you think? What did you think, Bucky? That you’re the only one who makes sacrifices? I know starting a family was the least of priorities when we got married but we said we’d make it work. You promised, we’d make it work! I’ve stayed loyal to you throughout everything and this is how you treat me when you say you love me?”

“I’m sorry,” He hung his head knowing his words weren’t enough. He wished she would punch him, hurt him, do her worst to make herself feel better because she deserved that. God, she deserved better than that.

“Get out, Bucky. I don’t care where you stay, just please leave.” Her voice quivered, tears welling in her eyes. She tried to regain her composure but her traitorous tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Y/N, I… please just tell me what to do to fix this and I’ll do it. This is completely my fault. There’s no excuse, but please, just please give me another chance,” Bucky desperately tried to get near her again, to hold her close but she stepped back as if his touch would burn her.  

“For months, you’ve made me feel like I wasn’t enough and still I ran after you. What? You think I didn’t know? You come home late at night drunk and smelling like her perfume and you think I wouldn’t notice? All those times I waited up for you, cooked your favorite dinner, come by your office only to find you not there but still, stupid me, hoped you’d come to your senses and get back to me.” She laughed dryly at that, shaking her head at her foolishness but continued on, he needed to know how he made her feel. She wanted him to hurt as much as she was hurting.

“It’s too late, Bucky.  I… god! Can you believe that, Buck? I knew all along but I ignored it ‘cause I knew I’d let it all go if you just stopped. You had me wrapped around your fingers, doing anything for your whim, following whatever you wanted and I lost myself in it! You’ve made me into such a fool and I can’t even blame you for it! I was so stupid for you. And that’s my fault. I deserve better, no more of this. You need to leave, I don’t care where you go. Stay in your office or go to her house. I don’t care, just leave!”

Bucky stared at her, a lump painfully lodged in his throat as what she said dawned on him. Shame, guilt and regret punched him in the gut. He hated himself more than anything. He’d been such an asshole, the worst husband he could imagine. How could he have treated the only woman he’s ever loved like this? What kind of a sick monster was he?

“I’m sorry,” he says again, pathetic words he knew wouldn’t change a thing. He turned to leave, feeling her eyes boring into his back, hoping against all odds that she’d call him back. Once he reached the door, his hand lingered on the knob, there was one more thing he needed to ask, and he was afraid to even think about what she would say.

“Y/N...” he turned back to look at her, his eyes searching and pleading.

“What are we going to tell Lizzie?”

Y/N sighed, burying her face in her hands. She looked so small and defeated and all Bucky wanted to do was to run to her and envelope her in his arms, hug all her problems away. But he was the one who caused all of this and there was nothing he could do but to accept whatever she wanted to throw his way.

“I don’t know, Bucky. I don’t know,” her gaze drifted skyward, as if she could get her answers from there. She was confused, her bravado slipping. It was a different thing when she thought he hadn’t cared at all, that he was going to give them up for his mistress but he wanted to stay, he wanted to fight. And who was she to take her daughter’s father away from her? It wouldn’t be fair to Lizzie.

“I’m going to tell her you’re called for work and need to be away for awhile. At least, while she’s sick. I don’t want to stress her out more and then, we’ll give her the talk,” her eyes didn’t betray the warring emotions in her heart. She wanted him to see that she was determined. She wasn’t backing out, he was still leaving. Period.

Bucky nodded, giving her a grateful, forlorn smile. She was the best mother he could’ve asked for his child. 

“Thank you, Y/N. I’ll grab my stuff tomorrow. I promise you won’t have to see me then. But baby, please, think about this. Don’t give up on us, give me another chance to prove myself, please,” he pleaded with her again, hoping if he gave her enough space she’d want to talk soon. She just stared at him, her eyebrows knitting. She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t even really know how these things went. 

“I’ll give you all the time you need, Y/N. But please just, please don’t give up on us,” he begged again, softly this time. His eyes conveying all the guilt and fear he felt and all Y/N could do was nod. What was she supposed to say anyway? Say “thank you” to the only decent thing he could do? She wanted to laugh at the irony of that. The best thing the man she loved could do for her was to leave her alone. What has her world come to?

“Bucky, wait,” she called out as he opened the door. Bucky looked back at her, his hopeful eyes scanning her face. Y/N felt shame and anger boiling in her veins, making her resolve stronger.

“Could you leave your keys once you get your stuff?” She asked coldly, keeping her voice strong. If he thought she was going to be easy, he was wrong.

“Of course,” Bucky assured her, willing to give her the world if she just asked him to.

“Take all the time you need. I… just know, I’ll always be here, waiting,” he said sincerely, humbly, laying his soul at her feet. He didn’t care if it took forever, whatever it takes.

Part 7

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[madatobiweek2019-2021]

Submission from PeacefulDiscord

Back To Spots

“Are you sure this is a good idea?,” Madara stared at his idiot friend incredulously. “If we die in here, I’m going to kill you Hashirama.”

Hashirama paused his snooping, turning away from the test tubes balancing precariously in his hands. He set them down on the table, a smidge too close to the edge if you asked Madara but whatever. That was Hashirama’s problem when Tobirama saw how displaced everything was. Brown eyes peered woefully at him, tearfully vehement as the other man pouted, though ineffective with the messy state Hashirama was in. Scraps of parchment paper were stuck in his hair, ink streaking across his cheek and speckling his fingers.

Madara crinkled his nose, chucking a handkerchief into Hashirama’s face.

Hashirama beamed, rubbing the cloth against his cheek and smearing the ink more. “I don’t think it will be that bad Madara. Tobirama has a lot of protective seals around his lab to keep it safe!”

“Seals that you’ve no problem getting around!”

It was worrisome really, as foolish as Hashirama was, being related to Tobirama and married to Mito had left him with many chances to learn basic skills. While he could not fully understand the way seals functioned or how to lay them, he knew much too well how to disable some. Some like the ones Tobirama had around his lab.

Not to mention his willingness to disable them.

“Now Madara—,” Hashirama began, shoving the napkin into his pocket before snatching up another scroll that looked newer and striking through yet another one of Tobirama’s protective seals.

“See! Like that! You even took down the damn wall with your Mokuton just to get in here! If we don’t die because of whatever disasters are in here then we will die at your brother’s hands!”

Madara shuddered. The last time he aggravated the younger man he’d found himself on the receiving end on some awful seal that summoned nearby birds and critters to him, drawing them to burrow and nest in his hair. Villagers had flocked around him, curious and far too amused, tittering behind hands as they watched the animals lay siege to Madara’s hair knowing he was too busy running away to scream at them. His hair was ruined, bitten off and tangled so horribly that he had to chop the strands to a length he hadn’t had since being twelve years old.

He can already hear the sharp snap of the younger man’s voice— “Don’t go in my lab without me!"— as if he were standing right there.

"It’s important! He’s been in here for weeks—" Hashirama exclaimed, puppy dog eyes on full force.

"Three days! He was in here for three days and he actually came out to eat and take naps—”

“—and who knows what he’s been getting up to! He could be getting hurt or devising something awful—”

“He’s been making food preserving seals for the past month!”

“Do you remember the chain-reacting explosive tags? The undead jutsu? He said he was working on enhanced storage seals!”

Madara froze, mouth opened to yell, and clamped his lips shut. Tobirama did have a way of spiraling away from his original intentions— it wouldn’t hurt to just look to make sure nothing was too….deviated.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But if anything happens I’m chopping your hair off!”

Hashirama squeaked, hands coming up to clutch at his hair. And knocking over the test tubes, sending them careening to the floor with a resounding shatter. Madara watched in horror as the liquids met the black lines of a seal Hashirama had left on the floor— to be analyzed with Mito, he said— and lit them. Colored smoke filled the air and Madara could hear the ground breaking apart moments before Hashirama used Mokuton to send them upwards away from the mess. With a quick wind jutsu, weaker than usual he noticed as his vision swam, Madara sent the smoke into the vent system Tobirama had incorporated early on in case of explosions or dangerous fumes.

Madara rubbed his eyes, carefully lowering himself to the ground. His body was aching— much like the summer over a decade ago when he’d grown almost half a foot in what felt like a few short nights. Coughing, he looked up to see how his friend fared and shrieked.

Sitting in front of him, rubbing his eyes, was Hashirama. But a twelve year old Hashirama. With too big clothes and that godforsaken bowl cut.

“What the fuck! Hashirama, you're—”

“Oh my god, Madara you—”

Madara glanced at his hands. His smaller than before, less calloused hands. “We’re kids again. What the fuck? How? Hashirama!”

He snarled, throwing himself forward to tackle the other man, no, boy, to the ground. “The fuck did you do Senju?!”

“I don’t know— ow! Madara! Don’t, not the face!”

“I'll end you!”

———————————————————-

Half an hour and a semi brutal spar that resulted in Hashirama’s entire face being painted in ink later and both boys were sitting sullenly in the debris they had made of the once pristine lab.

“Tobi’s gonna kill is,” Hashirama sniffled, tears cutting through the black. “I won’t even get to see what my baby looks like.”

“If they’re lucky, nothing like you,” Madara sneered, pulling at the sticky glue-like substance that he’d tumbled into during the fight, snarling angrily as his sleeves still stuck together.

He was surprised his clothes even stayed on, they were so big, but the ties must have worked for something. Hashirama had already wrapped himself up in the excess cloth and tied it off as tightly as he could with his obi and other straps of fabric that he tore from his haori. Madara, on the other hand, would just have to wait.

He tugged at his sleeves again, cursing the glue and Hashirama.

“Ah Madara, don’t be mean!” The brunette sobbed. “My baby would be cute! Even if they looked like me!”

Madara opened his mouth to respond— wanted to sneer that it was good Hashirama knew he wasn’t attractive— but froze as the door opened at just that moment. Red eyes peered distractedly over a thick book, widening as they caught onto the state of the lab. With careful movements, Tobirama lowered the book and set it down, hand reaching for his sword.

“Anija. Madara. What did you do?” He snarled low in his throat, biting through every word like a separate sentence.

The boys blanched, glancing to each other and then shunshinning to the window only for Tobirama to slam his hand against the wall, a seal stretching across the metal to form a barrier they couldn’t get through.

“It was an accident!” Hashirama wailed, gasping through his crocodile tears. “I-am-so so-rry o-tou-to.”

He ran over and clutched at Tobirama’s yukata, burying his messy face into it. “I’m such a bad brother!”

“Anija! Stop that! You’re dirtying my— get off you idiot!”

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe and—!”

“By destroying my lab?” Tobirama shoved at Hashirama, stumbling when the boy’s grip didn’t let up. “Damn it, you poisonous vine, let go!”

“Tobi—!”

“I will get Mito-nee in here so fast—”

Hashirama yelped, letting go with a heavy pout. “You don’t have to be like thaaaat,” he whined, scuffing his foot on the ground. “That’s a really low blow, Tobi. How could you do that to your precious brother—”

“After he destroyed my lab and turned he and his idiot friend back into children?” Tobirama snarked, leveling both of them with a sharp glare. “I’ve no idea.”

Madara shuffled guiltily, wincing as he took in the mess they made.

“We can clean it up!” He offered quickly. Hashirama squawked, shaking his head.

“Oh?” Tobirama quirked a brow. “Properly?”

Madara could feel Tobirama’s chakra rise and fall, unsteady and bothered like a riptide, dragging him closer to anger and not letting him calm down, and nodded hastily. Hashirama became frantic in his head shaking, panicked as he looked at the mess miserably,

“Absolutely. No problem. It’ll take an hour. Tops!” Madara promised, grinning a touch sheepishly even as he tossed his friend a glare. “I understand why you’re upset— we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy and we certainly shouldn’t have made such a mess of things. We were concerned but we should have respected your boundaries. You’ve my sincerest apologies Tobirama.”

Tobirama’s gaze softened and he huffed out a breath, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“It’s fine. You haven’t gotten into anything too important. We now need to figure out what you two have done and fix it. None of my seals were meant to do this.”

Hashirama slumped in relief, “Oh thank god, I hate cleaning— what?”

———————————————————

“Oh wow, I haven’t seen Hashirama look that awful in years," Touka breathed out in wonderment. ”I almost forgot he was such an ugly bastard.“

"Touka-nee, you’re supposed to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t destroy anything, not keep an eye on his confidence to just destroy it,” Tobirama sighed over his brother’s wailing. Then, speaking over the sound of Madara pummeling his brother, asked, “Mito-nee, will you be able to handle the Hokage’s duties in your state?”

His sister-in-law and he were able to deduce that the jutsu, since many had overlapped and were then combined by the liquid soaking through the papers and smudging the inks, would eventually wear off on its own, a few days at most given the seals were not meant for major bends in time and space. And, even without that, it would, or at least should, not take them too long to devise a remedy.

But that was for tomorrow. Now, they were much too tired and irritable.

“My pregnant state, Tobirama?” Mito arched a brow. “You’d be amazed at what I can handle in this state, brother-in-law. The bigger concern is will you be able to handle Madara while Izuna is away?”

Tobirama looked at the two boys now disguised as other, unidentifiable children. Too many people remembered them as children or at least would recognize their features. With their weaker abilities it was best to keep them hidden and separated (they couldn’t last too long without bickering and yelling each other’s name in rage, like the complete idiots they were) to not give away the precarious situation the Village had now found itself in. The jutsu that changed Madara’s haír to a soft, pale blue, gently wishing about his face and skin to an olive tone did nothing to hide the fire in his chakra boiling beneath.

A new student from a distant place— Cloud Country perhaps— that was the story they would go by. A student adopted from parents Tobirama had saved.

The younger man felt a sudden tiredness fill his bones watching Madara blow flames at Hashirama’s shoulder length purple hair only to be slapped at by many flowers that erupted quite spontaneously from the wood paneling on the wall.

This would be a long few days if they couldn’t undo the mess that was made of Tobirama’s work. 

“Izuna may find himself rather alone if he doesn’t hurry back,” he rubbed between his eyes, hand glowing green to chase away the headache. “Who knows? He might thank me.”

He ignored the smirks on his cousin and sister-in-law’s faces, snatching Madara by the wrist and all but hauling him out of Hashirama’s home  to his own. Madara glared and very pointedly took his hand away to instead clasp Tobirama’s in his own, twining their fingers together and smiling triumphantly when Tobirama did nothing but sigh.

Oh yes, it’d be a long few days indeed.

———————————————————

The walk home had been silent, the streets much too empty for distraction and they were inside Tobirama’s home before he could properly gather himself. He could admire the timing, if anything. Just yesterday his house had been strewn with far too many papers and even some dust, given the time he spent in the office or his lab instead. Messes from ruined meals had been spattered across his kitchen and his dirty laundry pile had consisted of all of his clothes save for the set on his back. That was the breaking point, sending him into the cleaning frenzy that lasted clear into early morning, until every corner was cleaned to pristine, his laundry washed, dried, and packed neatly away. It was the most presentable and welcoming his home had ever been and the first time Madara, child or not, would actually step past the threshold.

He resolved to give himself a silent pat on the back, watching carefully as Madara took everything from the bookshelves to the altar in, knowing those hawk-like eyes were looking for dust as his clean freakishness often had him doing and finding none.

The tension seeped from Madara’s shoulders and he carefully took off his shoes, setting them neatly aside as he wandered furthered in, already growing comfortable in Tobirama’s small space. At least, if anything, Tobirama could rest knowing he had made a good impression, hoping it would serve him well when the jutsu finally wore off.

“You know,” Madara began over his bowl of noodles, slurping the noodles gracelessly. “I don’t think your brother would’ve wanted me to come stay with you if he knew I was courting you.”

“You’re a child at the moment— that’s hardly relevant right now,” still Tobirama felt his face warm and he swallowed some of his food quickly to disguise it. What they had while Madara was an adult was— nice. A small secret for just the two of them while they got comfortable with each other.

Just the other day he and the older man had a picnic besides a lake closer to the edges of Konoha, waded deep and relaxed beneath the stars— quiet because they hadn’t needed any words to enjoy just being with each other. It was smiles upon eye contact, soft laughs at little quirks. Thinking of slightly chapped, languid lips against his own, gentle like the brush of fingers on something so invaluably precious and irreplaceable, the feel of coarse hair twisting in his hands and just the comfort of a body pressed to his to block the chill of night air made something warm build in his chest and spread to his cheeks.

It wasn’t so nice a memory to think about when his beau was a mere twelve years old to his twenty-eight however.

Madara set his bowl down carefully. “Does it bother you?”

“Hm?” Tobirama wasn’t used to the other man, boy, being so pensive. He put his scroll down and met Madara’s eyes, concerned.

“Does it bother you to be with me?” Madara clarified, clearing his throat as he sat up straight. “I know with our past, the rumors, and our temperaments— they don’t exactly make for an ideal relationship but…”

Tobirama interrupted. “But yet I have not rejected you or your gifts,” he frowned. “Madara, my only problem before was that— well, I had wanted to keep things private for a bit and have time for us before Anija started planning a wedding and now, well you’re a child now,” he scrunched his nose in disgust, giving Madara a pointed look when the boy stared at him with a fondness much too heady and mature for his age. “It’s best not to think of my attraction to you given the circumstances.”

Madara flushed, looking away quickly. “Ah right.” He paused for a long moment before a cheeky grin pulled at his lips. “I suppose I won’t be allowed to sleep in your room then?”

Tobirama scowled, throwing cold tea into Madara’s face, relishing, privately, the crack of the boy’s voice, so much more high pitched than how Tobirama knew it to be.

———————————————————

“You can’t do that Shouta,” Tobirama hissed between gritted teeth. It was only the second day and he was ready to throw Madara, now going by Shouta, into the deepest, roughest river he could find.

Drawing a deep breath to calm himself, he willed water from the air to douse the flames engulfing the now terrified shopkeeper’s stall.

“He was flirting—” Madara bristled, crossing his arms. “He deserved it!”

Tobirama huffed, apologizing quickly to the shopkeeper and pulling Madara away. “He asked where I got my kimono—”

“Because he was admiring the way it fits you!”

Tobirama cringed. Madara’s voice as an adult never, not once no matter how much he was yelling, ever got so shrill. He would need to invest in earplugs at this rate. Glancing around discreetly, he shoved Madara around the corner, away from prying eyes and dropped to a crouch so they could talk face to face.

“Because he liked the fabric and wanted some pieces made for his daughter! You are completely insufferable, even as a child!” Tobirama snapped.

“I’m protecting your virtue! Hashirama said you never realized when people were interested. And that shopkeeper was interested. I know he was!” Madara protested angrily, before turning away and crossing his arms, grumbling curses under his breath.

Rubbing at his nose— it was a wonder the shape hadn’t changed after all the times his frustration had him irritating it— he sighed explosively before swallowing a quick, calming breath. Younger Madara lacked maturity and sense apparently so Tobirama needed to gain patience.

“Madara, you trust me, correct?” he asked softly.

Madara turned back to him curiously. “Of course.”

“So why would anyone showing interest in me be a reason to get so angry unless you thought I would leave my courtship with you for them? That is a lack of trust towards me Madara,” Tobirama explained. He’d seen too many people treat their partners in such a manner and he detested it. He wanted to be able to be himself without worrying how others would perceive him— he had lived much too long with others in mind.

Madara fiddled at the braided bangs Tobirama had put his hair into, pinky finger touching his lip. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” he whispered. “I just…don’t like it.”

Tobirama smiled softly. Madara, no matter his age, was always much too protective. He couldn’t fault him though. Not now.

“Let’s go, I have to get some shopping done. I think you already finished all the food I had in the house.”

Madara blushed fiercely, ducking his head so his hair fell in front of his face though he still took Tobirama’s hand in his.

“You said I could have whatever I wanted!” Madara’s free hand was back by his lips again.

“Ah right. Whatever, everything. I see how you could get the words confused,” Tobirama ribbed gently, easily pushing down Madara’s hand so the boy wouldn’t bite his nails. “That’s a bad habit, don’t do that.”

As they passed the still horrified shopkeeper, Madara stood upright, pout replaced with a haughty sneer. “You talking to him won’t change anything. He’s mine.”

Tobirama flushed, letting out an awkward laugh as the other villagers eyed him in curious amusement.

“New student,” he grimaced through an explanation. “You know how they are.”

“We know how they are with you Tobirama-sama!” Someone called out, drawing more chuckles from the crowd.

“He’s so cute!” A lady smiled, gently patting Madara’s head as she passed by. “If only people closer to our age were like this, hmm, Tobirama-sama?”

Madara preened under the attention, tugging Tobirama closer and intertwining their fingers, much to the growing entertainment of the entire marketplace. Tobirama thanked every kami for his happuri, casually activating the seal on the side to cool his flaming skin.

If he let Hiruzen test his monkey summon on Madara later that day, no one would have to know (something that was more terrifying without the ability to use his sharingan anymore, having been sent back to an age where he did not have them).

Not that that stopped Madara from yelling at anyone that showed a smidgeon of too much interest in Tobirama to “get their own boyfriend”.  ———————————————————

“Madara, you needn’t carry everything,” Tobirama sighed, watching fondly as the boy shifted the basket and bags about in his arms, stumbling along as they made their way back to Tobirama’s home. “I am perfectly capable of carrying my own groceries.”

It was only the fourth day of Madara’s stay and they’d run out of groceries again. Especially the few sweets he had bought just for Madara. Those were gone within moments.

Madara squawked suddenly, one leg tripping over the other, and went sprawling to the ground. With a quick shunshin, Tobirama dropped a scroll onto the dirt to catch all the groceries, letting his free hand shoot out to grab Madara and pull him upright. Straightening the young boy’s collar, he snatched up the now rolled scroll and tucked it into his pocket.

“Like I said, perfectly capable of carrying my groceries,” he drawled. Catching sight of Madara’s embarrassed pout— and oh, he made that exact expression as an adult too!— hair moving forward to hide his face again, Tobirama pushed the unruly strands back with an indulgent smile. “How about we get some dango?”

The word koibito hovered on the tip of his tongue but he bit it back. He was getting rather impatient waiting on this jutsu to let up.

He ignored the flicker of ire and almost-sadness, grinning as Madara’s face lit up. If anything, he was given quite the ideal opportunity to know his suitor. He could enjoy it while it lasted.

———————————————————

“Save me,” Mito snarled as soon as he and Madara stepped through the door. Her face was splotchy and she seemed less composed than ever. “Before I kill your brother.”

Tobirama blinked, eyes searching, landing on his brother sat in the corner and facing the wall. “Mito-nee—”

“Because Hashirama doesn’t realize being in his childhood body doesn’t mean he can act like a child. He keeps making messes and being too loud and, Hashirama if I hear you wailing one more time—”

“Breathe Aneue,” Tobirama held his hands up placatingly.

Mito heaved a breath, pushing her hair behind her ear before resting her hands on her belly. Her eyes were watering when she looked back at Tobirama. “We need to work on the jutsu Tobirama. I can't— with the Hokage duties and watching Hashirama and feeling sick all the time—”

Tobirama nodded. “Go sit, Aneue. Madara—”

“I can make you some tea, Mito-hime,” the boy said, bowing quickly and heading to the kitchen. “Ginger maybe? Or chamomile?”

Mito stared at him in wonderment. “How—I thought he’d be like Hashirama. I was sure of it. Has he been well-behaved this entire week?”

Tobirama smiled sheepishly. “More or less.” He frowned, sending a hard look to the boy all but wilted over himself. “Has Anija been giving you a lot of trouble?”

“Not really—” she glanced at the boy. “Hashirama, can you be a dear and help Madara in the kitchen please?”

Hashirama sprang from his seat, wiping his eyes and nodding hurriedly. “Of course Mito-!”

The rest of the sentence was lost as he scurried away.

“I just need my husband, Tobirama. Not this child who can’t keep his hands off my belly or food in his mouth. I— he’s not even being bad! Not really, just—”

“Overwhelming?”

Mito gave a small nod, looking horribly miserable.

“He was like that as a child. He only learned more restraint as an adult when he realized he kept accidentally hurting others in his enthusiasm,” Tobirama rolled his eyes, heart feeling a little too fond given the grievances his brother had put him through. Once, Hashirama had fractured his ribs with a hug. He’d hoped, however, that Hashirama would not fall back on childhood habits.

He should’ve seen it though— Madara had after all. The flailing, the quirky habits, threatening with fire— wait no, he did that as an adult— but everything else was so painstakingly innocent. Tobirama should’ve really kept a closer watch on Hashirama.

“I’ve been working on the jutsu, a little while longer and I believe I will be able to undo everything,” he reassured.

Mito sighed in relief, pulling Tobirama into a hug as best as she could around the swell of her stomach. Tobirama let her hold onto him for a few long moments, talking softly of the progress he made with the seals and making note of her suggestions, before coaxing her into the kitchen to eat.

And let Mito freeze, hiding his smile at her surprise. Dishes were neatly laid across the table, a cup of steaming tea covered with a small plate and placed by Mito’s seat. Madara grinned at them from beside the stove, turning at a pot.

“I’m making ramen! I know it’s nothing fancy but you seemed stressed and tired so I thought you might want something easier to eat so you can go rest sooner.”

Mito blinked. Settled herself into her seat and took a sip of her tea, humming appreciatively. “I didn’t even remember having those spices.”

“You didn’t,” Madara frowned. “I don’t know what the hell you two are eating but without these,” he gestured to the various small bottles he had set on the counter, “it can’t be anything good. I sent Hashi to Tobi’s. I made him buy these earlier.”

Hashirama grinned, swinging his feet from where he sat atop the counter. “See! I helped! I even set the table!”

He looked at Mito hopefully and she smiled. “Thank you Hashirama. Thank you Madara.”

Both boys beamed proudly though Madara quickly ducked behind his hair, adorably bashful. “It’s very simple. I hope you find it as pleasing as the effort.”

Mito smiled encouragingly, taking the pot from Madara and helping share it into the bowls. “I am certain it is delightful Madara.”

Madara blushed a bit brighter, settling quickly in front of his own bowl.

“Itadakimasu!”

Tobirama grinned, making sure to limit his own portion as he watched his brother’s and sister-in-law’s eyes open with surprise, noises of appreciation slipping past their lips as they dug in with a little more vigor than would be polite. Mito and Hashirama were sure to want seconds. Maybe even thirds.

Madara’s eyes darted to Tobirama’s bowl and he looked up with confusion, eyes silently asking if Tobirama were okay. Smiling gently, Tobirama glanced at their other two companions before dropping Madara a wink.

It was okay. He’d get Madara to cook for him later.

———————————————————

“I uh want to go look for berries at the river! From over there!” Madara called out awkwardly, shuffling from one foot to the other.

Hashirama looked up from the berries he and Tobirama were picking. He looked bemused for all of two seconds before his lips spread in a wicked grin that he hid behind his basket. “Okay!”

Tobirama, too busy separating the berries (and perhaps sneaking a few to eat) just nodded distractedly, only looking up when Hashirama stood up a few minutes later. “Anija?”

“Let’s go look at the river too, Tobi!”

Rolling his eyes, Tobirama let himself be pulled down the path Madara took, frowning when he heard something like a trickle of water when usually the river was silent during these times of low-tide. As they neared, he could just faintly make out Madara’s hair and, just before he could call out, watched Hashirama throw himself out of the bushes right behind the other boy.

Madara’s back went ramrod straight.

“Still can’t go when someone’s behind you?” Hashirama laughed loudly, finger pointing.

Madara whirled around just as Tobirama stepped through the bushes, face cherry red and mouth open to scream at Hashirama. Upon seeing Tobirama, he burned even redder, looking for all the world humiliated and betrayed as he hissed at Hashirama to shut up.

And suddenly so many other things made sense. Madara’s insistence to wait until Tobirama was far too distracted or not even in the house to use the restroom, mumbled excuses of needing privacy to go do something like clean or having to water plants of all things (“better for him to get the job done correctly”) keeping the bathroom door firmly locked even though Tobirama had not once known him to be body shy. Hell, just that morning Madara thought it appropriate to walk around the house with nothing but a small towel wrapped about his waist.

Madara was shy to use the bathroom around…anyone apparently. Tobirama bit back a laugh, frowning instead when he saw Madara hide more behind his hair, the tip of his nose reddening as he curled as much into himself as he could.

Tobirama could feel the headache coming. Why did he think agreeing to watch over both of them was a good idea? Oh right, so Mito could rest and Touka wouldn’t feel tempted to commit treason by killing one of the two brats. Especially given the fiasco that happened yesterday when Touka was in his shoes so he and Mito could work on the seal more.

He really was too kind for his own good.

“Anija!” Tobirama snapped. “Stop wasting time bothering Madara.”

“But Tobi—” Hashirama whined. “I—”

“We are going to pick berries at the river mouth—Madara already has this area covered.”

That would put them far off out each other’s sight so Madara could have his privacy and still be close enough for Tobirama to come if anything were to happen. He dragged his brother away without another word, missing the besotted and grateful look Madara shot him.

It wasn’t too long until Madara joined them again, flicking his hands through a much too familiar sign and setting the edge of Hashirama’s clothing on fire. Shrieking, Hashirama took off upstream before Tobirama could douse him with water, passing the place Madara had been and diving beneath the river surface.

“I suppose that was fair,” Tobirama mused. “I don’t think he got hurt at least.”

Madara scuffed the ground with his shoe, voice soft when he responded.  “Yeah.”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. While I’m certainly surprised your bladder cooperated with your discomfort in quite the opposite manner than I would have expected—”

The boy flushed deeper. “No! I um yeah that’s odd but I um, I actually have something for you!”

“Oh?” Tobirama raised a brow. “Did you get something you were with Touka?”

Madara shook his head, determinedly looking at his shoes. “No I, I meant to give this to you earlier but then,” he waved his hand about awkwardly. “-all of this happened instead.”

Tobirama squinted, nose wrinkled. “Before you do that, did you wash your hands?”

The Uchiha squawked. “Of course I did! I’m not your brother! Stupid Senju—!” He shoved a small box in Tobirama’s hands as he continued his tirade against the Senju Clan.

Ignoring him— Tobirama had gotten quite good at that even before they began courting— he opened the box carefully and stilled. Inside was a small chain with a circular tanzanite pendant, a silver dragon figurine curled around one edge, its tail curling up to connect the pendant to the chain, and a silver leopard figurine stretched along the opposite edge. Their eyes were little red gems, pyrope, and almost exactly the shape and shade of his eyes. The only difference was the trace of black cutting through the red, carving Madara’s mangekyou into the dragon’s eyes.

Tobirama felt his breath catch.

“Madara—”

“You like both those animals! And, and you said I'm— that having me around is like having you’re own personal dragon so I…” his voice fell to little over a whisper. “I had that made for you. So it’s like I’m always around, like we’re always together.”

And now Tobirama’s eyes were watering, happy tears, and wasn’t that an idea. After so much grief, after never once even humoring such an absurdity as crying happily like his brother, Tobirama was well on the verge of doing the same.

Falling to his knees, he pulled the Uchiha into his arms, habit leading him to tuck his face against Madara’s hair. “I find myself really wishing you weren’t a child right now.”

Madara stroked a hand through Tobi’s hair, returning the hug tightly with a disgruntled pout. “Me too. This is fucking annoying. I want to kiss your pretty face, damn. Why’s that so much to ask for?”

“What!”

Hashirama stood gaping behind them, horror and anger twisting his features. “You’re dating my brother?”

“Anija—” Tobirama sighed, hand going right for the bridge of his nose.

“No!” Hashirama yelled, stomping his foot, childishly if not for the Mokuton poking through the dirt. “No, you don’t get to say anything! You were supposed to tell me before— don’t bother explaining or, or giving excuses now! I forbid it!”

Tobirama reeled back in shock. Not once, not even in the worse of Hashirama’s anger, had he ever tried to silence Tobirama.

“What?" Madara growled. "You what?”

Hashirama snarled. “I forbid you from dating my brother.”

The plants and grass were growing, leaves and stems thickening, hardening, and coiling up towards Madara.

“You can’t do that!”

“I can! And I will! I know you! I know your habits—”

“My habits?”

“All that damn time— you can’t handle a long-term relationship! And I’m not letting you use my brother, you backstabbing—” Hashirama was shaking with rage. “You, you bastard!”

With a yell, he lunged towards Madara recklessly only to be thrown over the Uchiha’s shoulder. Madara kneeled onto Hashirama’s chest, wrapping a hand around his throat, body also trembling with fury.

Tobirama moved to separate them, hands grabbing at Madara’s shoulders.

“I love him!” Madara yelled. “I love him! And you don’t get a damn say in any of it!”

Hashirama stopped clawing at Madara’s hands and Tobirama’s own hands went slack. Madara spun to look at him, sharingan burning in his eyes. Something like desperation seemed to spin in the commas.

“You hear me? I love you.”

Perhaps with the best timing ever, the air filled with smoke, startling them all apart. Tobirama covered his eyes as a bright light danced between the wisps and tossed the scroll he’d kept packed with Hashirama’s and Madara’s clothes into the fog, right at the red eyes looking back at him. When it dissipated, a Madara, an adult Madara (thankfully somewhst properly dressed) was standing there, sharingan still spinning in his eyes as he stared at Tobirama. No words passed before the two men pressed their lips together, hands tangling in each other’s hair. Something wet trickled down their cheeks and Tobirama couldn’t tell if the tears were coming from his eyes or Madara’s.

“I love you, I love you,” Madara whispered between kisses. And Tobirama nodded as of to answer some unspoken question.

“You love him?” Hashirama whispered, eyes flooding with tears. He tugged a haori over his shoulders. “You love my baby brother? You’re not just— Oh. Oh Madara I thought you were— oh I’m so happy!”

They weren’t paying attention to Hashirama’s babbling though, too transfixed and overly emotional at the admission of a confession they had been denying themselves.

“I’ve missed you,” Tobirama murmured, pressing his forehead against Madara’s. “Don’t ever go in my lab without me again.”

Madara laughed shakily. “Never. I’m never going anywhere without you ever again." 

———————————————————

Omake:

Hashirama wailed, squirming against the chains and seals in vain to get away as Madara used his kama to shear his long brown locks down to the base of his scalp.

"I told you I’d chop your hair off, bastard!” Madara cackled. “Now stay still before I accidentally take your head off!”

“I can’t believe you disguised yourself as Mito!” Hashirama sobbed. “I can’t believe she and Tobirama helped you! Traitors!”

Madara just laughed louder and continued hacking at Hashirama’s hair.

[prismatales]

Reunion

Word Count: 1.8k

Bingo slot: Saying goodbye

Pairings: None

Tag/Warnings: Angst, Vague body horror, swearing

Synopsis: You've always been there for each other, this time was no different.

Introducing yet another entry for @bnhabookclub 's bingo event as well as a new sibling request! This time with the "Saying goodbye" slot. 

Thank you so much @pixxiesdust and @hawks-senseis for beta reading this for me! ❤

It was already hard enough when one has to witness their whole family falling apart and being unable to do anything about it, but it’s even harder when the reason is all because of the actions of someone who should be caring for that very same family in the first place.

But what could you expect when you consider this ‘family’ is nothing but a repulsive lie? A disgusting facade meant to hide the only reason you were even brought into this world in the first place?

It wasn’t fair to be forced to pretend to be a normal family outside this place that could easily be compared to a prison. A place that others had the luck to call 'home'.

But for your siblings and your poor mother? This was hell of earth itself.

Those thoughts fill your mind with venom, corrupting everything related to hero society and everyone serving under their corrupted principles, at the same time that your hands are busy applying ointment to one of the few who’s suffered just as much because of this corrupted system.

Your little brother shifts in place, trying to fight back unshed tears as the medicine touches the sensitive skin around his left eye. The physical proof of the pain your family had to endure on a daily basis, a consequence from the ambition of one man that you have the unfortunate luck of sharing blood ties with.

“Nee-san, it hurts.” Shouto’s whimpers pull you back from the horrendous thoughts that linger deep inside, tainting everything remotely connected to heroes.

“I’m sorry snowflake, but please bear with it just a little bit longer, this medicine is going to heal your burn in no time!” You reassure the little boy sitting on his futon, who doesn’t stop squirming in place as the skin around his left eye is being carefully covered with ointment, before being wrapped with bandages to prevent the risk of infection.

“There, all done!” He lets out a small sniffle when your hand pats his head softly, caressing the locks of hair underneath with a touch full of love and affection towards the youngest sibling “Just you wait, it should stop hurting so much in a couple of days, can my little snowflake hold on?” 

He looks up at you, nodding weakly with sad, tired eyes that make the pain inside increase dramatically, nearly to the point of tears when you think about everything Shouto has to go through because of him. 

“Mhm.” It’s the only answer you get from the small child nodding off tiredly. He wraps his little arms around you, clinging to your neck just like a little koala as the sheets of his bed are pulled back for him to climb into bed, once he’s lying down on the soft mattress, the blankets are pulled over until they cover him all the way to his soft, chubby cheeks. 

It takes less than five minutes for Shouto to start falling asleep, but not without him giving you a sweet smile and a whisper that breaks your heart into a million pieces before he slips away into a deep slumber. 

“Can we go to the summer festival next week?”

You have to fight back unshed tears, smiling softly at the little boy before nodding in approval.

“...Of course.”

Your hands instantly fly to cover your mouth, it’s but a sorry attempt to fight back the sobs threatening to turn into painful, heart-breaking cries when his words are repeated in your head over and over again, almost like a painful mockery as you stare at the little boy sound asleep.

“I’m sorry, snowflake…”

Your hands caress his mixed strands one last time, before leaning down to give him a soft peck on his forehead. While he sleeps, an envelope is pulled from behind the back pocket of your shorts, that is quickly placed down underneath the boy’s pillow. 

Quickly, you stand up to walk out of the room, closing the door as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing Shouto, and make a dash for your own room where there’s a bag waiting on the bed.

Tears run down your face, combined with a pathetic mixture of pain and grief by the idea of everything, and everyone that would be left behind because of your selfish actions. But even if you choose to stay home, there would be no difference. 

After all, Touya told you what he overheard your dear father was planning to do; Setting you up for a quirk marriage with the son of a family that lived overseas.

When you heard the news, the anger was such that it made the whole garden fall victim to your quirk. Leaving a frozen wasteland all across its path.

As if you’d ever accept that fate without fighting back, but knowing Endeavor, he won’t take no for an answer. You know it’s selfish, that running away would leave nothing but a heavy burden on all of your siblings, one that you’ve been enduring for years if it meant at least they’d be the ones capable of having a somewhat normal life. 

But with this dreaded antict your father was willing to pull for the sake of his ambitions, the outcome would be the same. Either way, you’d never be able to see your family again...

Wiping the liquid embodiment of the doubts and fears, your eyes turn stone cold. Determined to break free from this nightmare, you quickly grab the bag to swing it over your shoulder and walk out of your bedroom. 

Thank god Natsuo and Fuyumi were already asleep, and your father wasn’t around, too busy with a mission to realize there would be someone else missing at home by the time he came back.

Heading to the backdoor, nothing can change your mind about this decision, not even the pain that threatens to consume you thinking about how much this will hurt your little snowflake.

But when you think about the circumstances, all that pain quickly disappears and eventually. In a matter of hours, you finally leave behind the life bound to an endless cycle of abuse. 

All you can do is pray that your siblings will be able to understand the reason why you have to leave them behind. If only they knew that you wouldn’t be alone in this journey, maybe then it would be easier for them to understand…

“You’re spacing out again, focus on the mission.” 

You look up towards the man standing beside you with a look of pure indifference on his features. Dabi’s stare doesn’t change when he makes eye contact with your bored self, too busy looking around the burning forest to pay attention to anything else.

“I was just thinking.” Instead of giving him a clear answer, your attention focuses on Toga, who couldn’t stop rambling in glee about these new friends she made, as well as the guy she ‘fell in love with.’ Sometimes, her demeanor kind of reminded you of Fuyumi when she mentioned her very first crush. 

“Do you think they’re doing okay?” You look back at the waves of blue destruction that flicker rampant across the forest “Sometimes I can’t help thinking about them, you know?” 

Breathing deeply, you don’t pay attention to the way Dabi looks at you. Knowing exactly what’s going through your head, but he’s always been better suppressing his feelings, which is why he doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t get the chance to answer when Mr. Compress comes crashing down before your group, along with another three people restraining him. When you see a familiar face between the teenagers, time seems to stop once you recognize the face of one of them.

It’s Shouto, the little boy that used to cling to your neck for dear life, the same kid that would always run straight into your arms after a particularly harsh training session was right there, holding down one of your comrades so he could rescue his classmate.

“...Snowflake?” 

Dabi sees the look of surprise all over your face and is quick to react when he sees you taking a step forward, trying to approach the youngest of your siblings without thinking twice about it.

You’re pulled back harshly to your brother’s side, despite the initial struggle against his hold. But when he gives you a small glare that hides a slight sense of panic, it’s when you realize that the little stunt could have blown your covers with the League.

You were lucky to be wearing a disguise, otherwise, Shouto could have easily recognized you. But it did nothing to help when you threw a signature attack; a wall of light blue fire that froze everything it touched.

The moment those flames came to life, Shouto’s eyes became wide open as he made sure none of his friends were afflicted. He knew just one person capable of using an attack like this one. But there was little he could do when all the villains disappeared through the warp gate, including Dabi, who was too busy holding Bakugou hostage.

 As soon as you’re back through the warp gate, both you and Dabi walk away from the group and stand outside the bar all by yourselves. 

You can’t help looking down at the floor and hug yourself. Just coming face to face with your little brother brought back all the memories. Like the time Shouto got that burn on his face, and the last time you were able to see your mother after she was sent away.

“You know that little stunt could have cost us everything, right?” he asks, aware of just how blunt he’s being. One hand rests over your head, a futile attempt to comfort you.

“I know, but I couldn’t help it. When I saw Shouto, all I could think about was the little kid that would follow me around like a lost puppy.” The chuckle you give him is almost pathetic, almost as much as the sad smile all over your face. “Sorry for not being as tough as you…”

He pokes your sides hard enough to make you yelp in surprise. Rubbing on the abused ribs, you send a glare in his direction, and Dabi can’t fight back that grin that crawls into his face. 

Jerk.

“Do I need to remind you who helped me that one time I got hurt? Who was the one who froze off that fucker’s arms like they were nothing?” His fingers dig into your sides again just to be pushed away “It was you, idiot. And you had this murderous look on your face the whole time. You’re tougher than you think.”

With a bashful look, you punch Dabi on the shoulder before laughing slightly. It’s been like this since the time you ran away from home, taking care of each other no matter what.

“Let’s go back. The boss is going to throw a fit if we’re not there to greet the newbie.” 

“Alright, alright. After you, overcooked bastard.”

“Bitch.”

@bnha-ra @bnhabookclub @gallickingun @godtieruwu @hanniejji @mysticalite @savagetrickster @shoobirino @songsforbnha @sugacookiies @unbreakableeiji @wesparklebitch

[longitud-de-onda]

Congratulations on 1k!! 😊😊💞🎉🎊🎊 You totally deserve it, I'm absolutely in love with your Javi fics 😭😭Javier Peña and 'oops we accidentally kissed and now you're not talking to me' and maybe kinda angsty?? But it's totally up to you 🤗

okay so i was supposed to be making these short 500 words or less but then i got caught up in this one and wrote a lot. i’ll be catching up on the rest of my 1k event drabbles in the next couple days. this one got long enough that i’m considering it a short oneshot, tagging my taglist, and adding a read more 😳

character; javier peña

prompt; exes who still live together because money is tight and it just gets really complicated: oops we accidentally kissed and now you’re not talking to me

warnings; um, lots and lots of angst and no happiness, i’m sorry

The fact that the embassy still hadn’t found a spare apartment for you to move into yet was definitely your fault. Neither you nor Javier had heeded the warnings of keeping relationships strictly professional, and while the ambassador had been lenient in letting you two remain a together for the time, upon the occasion of the explosive break-up, she was less inclined to kindness and had told you that no extra efforts would be made to find you a single apartment.

Thankfully there was a guest bedroom, into which you had moved for the time being, but it was small and the bed was the smallest, creakiest, uncomfortable thing so you tried to spend as little time possible in the apartment.

Javier and you hadn’t spoken to one another in a couple days, and the last time you had said anything of substance was over two weeks before when Javier brought an informant home and you walked in on them fucking on the couch.

The whole thing had led you to the bar tonight, hoping that you would be returning to an apartment with only one occupant.

As the alcohol settled into your system you weren’t the fun and boisterous drunk you usually were, just a sad and emotional one, replaying all the ways you missed the way Javier and you were before. How in the beginning you would come home to each other's arms, making dinner together or ordering takeout, smiling and laughing through it all. How you would go out dancing together. How you fell asleep intertwined in each other.

But over time that slowly faded into less contact. You would come home after a long day and instead of telling him about it, you would fume in silence and he would do the same. You started arguing about everything. There were days where you couldn’t stand him, and yet you’d end up in your shared bed every night, even if you were on opposite sides.

Until one day the argument went so far that you couldn’t bear to crawl under the covers next to him, instead choosing to fall asleep on the couch, still in your day clothes, covered by only a scratchy afghan. That was it. The next morning you had told Javier that your relationship couldn’t continue like it was, leading to a shouting match that caused Steve and Connie to come banging on the door, worried someone had gotten hurt. They entered into the wreckage of your relationship, moments after you had said the words “we’re done” and Javier had only nodded. Someone had definitely gotten hurt.

By the time you were stumbling home, crying over what no longer was, you were out of it enough to make some stupid decisions. What those would be you weren’t sure, but as you entered the apartment seeing Javier still awake in the kitchen, making some sort of midnight snack and smiling to himself as a record played softly in the background, that decision cleared up.

He was so beautiful and you missed getting to wrap your arms around him and kiss him any time of the day. Which was what led you to walk up to him as he looked at you with concern and confusion, and planted your lips on his. Sloppy as it was, the kiss was still nice. And to your surprise, Javier started to kiss back. You could taste a little bit of alcohol on his tongue too, so maybe neither of you were truly thinking of the reality of things as you started to make out, but what felt like an eternity later, he was pushing you off, wiping the saliva off his mouth and you were suddenly very nauseous, both with the guilt and the numerous bottles of beer.

The next morning you waited until he left for work before you crawled out of your room, head pounding and hungover. It didn’t matter that you were late for work.

You returned to your room after work, not exiting until you needed to make something for dinner. When you did go out, however, it was to a seemingly empty apartment where you stood by the stove making some pasta. Which is exactly when Javier walked out of his own room, first startling you as he slammed a beer bottle on the countertop, then proceeded to avoid eye contact as he pulled another bottle from the fridge along with a container of leftover pizza which he placed in the microwave.

“I’m sorry, Javi,” you said, wanting anything to break the silence. It hurt to remember the times when a kiss like that was just one in a million. And how much you wanted to go back to how things were. But you knew that was a time long gone.

Javier didn’t respond.

The microwave dinged and he grabbed the pizza and a plate and began to walk back to his room.

“Javier, are you going to say anything to me?” you asked. Your voice cracked.

He stopped and turned around, throwing up his arms.

“What do you want me to say?” Javier exclaimed. “That you should have kept your damn distance? That I forgive you? That I’m sorry too? Because I’m not.”

“Javi—”

“You don’t get to fucking ‘Javi’ me,” he said, “This is all we fucking do. We fight and we yell, and I don’t have a damn clue why we’re still doing it now that it’s all over.”

“I don’t want it to be over,” you said.

“Yeah, well, you should have thought about that months ago when we started falling apart.”

“What? Like it’s all my fault?” you asked.

“You’re doing it again. You take any conversation and escalate it. And we never worked in the first place. Neither of us wants to share enough of ourselves to be worth being in a relationship with. I know I’m not. And I’m pretty sure you’re not worthy of one either.”

You stopped whatever words were going to come out of your mouth. You had no idea Javier thought of himself that way. His words about you hurt, but not as much as the burden of knowing the pain of his own self-judgment.

“Javier, you’re more than worthy of a relationship,” you whispered. “You shared so much. I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t be able to share enough to match the weight of the things you shared.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. We’re just a couple of DEA screw-ups who’ve shot too many people to have lives worth something,” he said. “But I guess I was wrong: I am sorry about the kiss. I shouldn’t have led you to believe there was something worth saving.”

You laughed bitterly. “Right. I guess that’s it then. I don’t have anything more I think I can say.”

“Good, because I don’t either.”

You nodded. He didn’t turn back around to continue to his room. You didn’t turn back to the stove.

There was so much left unsaid but you were so damn scared that it would turn into another loud fighting match, leaving you more broken than you already felt. But there was one thing left unsaid that you couldn’t bear alone.

“I miss us, Javi,” you said.

He solemnly nodded. “That makes two of us yearning for something long gone.”

Javier then turned around and disappeared into the black of the hallway, and you only let the tears fall when you heard the open and close of his bedroom door.

.

perm taglist; @turquiosenights @el-lizzie @sparrows-books @dxxkxx @opheliaelysia @trashbin2 @rzrcrst @arcadianempress @stevieharrrr @peterparkers-tingle @blushingwueen @coredrive @lokiaddicted @mserynlarsen @badassbaker @1-800-fandomtrashqueen @flower-petal-blooming @talesfromtheguild @eupphoriaaa @weirdowithnobeardo @gaybroadwayloser @randomness501 @adikaofmandalore @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @poesdxmerons @bountyguild @sinnamon-bunn @readsalot73 @gooddaykate @rage-isaquietthing

pedro taglist; @pascalisthepunkest @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @mrsparknuts @souls-rain @twomoonstwosuns

javier taglist; @letaliabane @awesomefandomsunited @applesislife

[baekhypnotized]

☆— [one]

summary: Baekhyun is just a man who doesn’t believe in romance as much as Byul, who is trying to give herself to him. But day by day, he will soon realize that her fleeting actions are breaking down his cold-hearted brick wall, no matter if it takes her a million years.

warning(s): -

word count: 2.7k+

author’s note: first chapter is finally up!! feedback is much appreciated so please leave your thoughts regarding this fic!! to anyone who would like to be tagged in the next chapter, please let me know too :) 

tag list: @baestelcolor​ 

[next]>>

Today marks three months since I moved to an affordable studio apartment in Seoul. With an agreement, my mom agrees to let me further my studies in Seoul on one condition, she can only give a limited amount of monthly allowance for me. It doesn’t really matter to me because I have been planning to find a part-time job in a cafe or a flower shop to pay for rent and my college fees. Trying to find a job in a city where only experienced people will be prioritized is quite a struggle considering my lack of experience but I am grateful to be able to land a job in a small cafe near my university. I will be working in shifts to fit my class schedule and the weekends.

Since it's the weekend and some of the workers are taking their leaves, I take this opportunity to take over their shifts for extra wages. This is the only effort that I can do for my own living. Next week will be super hectic with orientation week as a post-graduate student. I’m feeling a little nervous about it that I can feel the shiver down my spine. I wake up early in the morning, prepare a simple toast for breakfast and get into my work outfit. Styling my hair with a messy bun, I apply lip tint on my lips to make me look alive for today. 

The walk to the nearest train station is about 10 minutes from my apartment and since it’s still early, the amount of people on the train is less than I imagine. Maybe, most of them are still tucked in bed and enjoying their weekend with beloved ones. But here I am, working on a Sunday when tomorrow is my first day as a Master student. The view of the Sunrise, lighting up the panorama of Seoul with her gleaming rays, reflecting beautifully on the blue water of the Han River is endearing to me. The beauty of Seoul will always catch people’s attention, including me and that’s the reason why I decided to continue my studies in my own hometown. It feels good to be back in Korea after living in New Orleans for years with a new family for so long. 

When I arrived there, the cafe is already open as I guess, Senior Hana arrived earlier. I greet her politely and she instructs me what to for today. An hour left before the cafe’s starts to open, cleaning the place up would be a good idea somehow. Dahyun will be here any minute now because she’s responsible to display the cakes and appetizers at the display counter. I rearrange the tables and chairs accordingly, sweep the floor and finish it up by mopping the floor. 

The first bell chimes make me turns around, noticing that Dahyun has finally arrived. 

"Morning, Byul!” She greets with a loud yawn.

I pause for a moment from cleaning the cashier counter to look at Dahyun, with a smile stretched. “Morning, Dahyun.”

She leaves me alone to set up the desserts by the display counter as I go back to the staff room and grabbing my black apron as I wear it, completing it with my nametag pinned on the apron. There are approximately 15 minutes left before we open for today’s business and I just hope my first day at the cafe goes well considering we’ll be getting a lot more customers on a Sunday.

"I’m done arranging them! Finally!” Dahyun huffs a loud sigh before she plops down on a small chair. I give her a thumbs up, rewarding her for her hard work. Dahyun stands back on her feet, walking towards the staff room to prepare herself. “I think we can start for today, Byul.”

"Are you ready?” I confirm it back to her, waiting for her reply. 

"Yes, I’m ready. I’ll be back and you can unlock the main door already.”

I comply with her commands, go straight to the main door and unlocks it, and then turning the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’. Waiting for customers to enter the cafe behind the cash register counter, I hum to random songs while figuring out what outfit should I be wearing on the first day of university tomorrow. I’m feeling quite edgy and anxious but I pray that everything will be fine.

A tinkling sound comes from the wind chime that my boss hung at the door, alerting the staff of new customers. My first customer for today is a he. The heels of his expensive shoes makes a clear, nice sound against the wooden floorboards. He enters the café. His hair is combed perfectly and parted in the middle, looking so sleek in his black suit. As he comes closer towards me, I can clearly see a few cute little moles on his face. 

This man in front of me greets me with a smile that manages to make my heart beats loudly, my cheeks redden into a rosy pink color. I let out a small cough to control myself as I plaster a polite smile to him.

"Good morning, sir! Do you have anything in mind?”

The guy scans through the menu board, taking his time to order.

"I’ll have one cup of latte and a waffle with honey on top.” He asks with a firm voice, unknowingly making me feel nervous. 

I key in his order into the system one by one without leaving anything. “That will be $15.65, sir.”

He digs into his pocket and hands in a 50-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

"But sir… It’s my responsibility to return your change back. It’s a business policy…” I stutter while explaining to him, hoping for him to understand my current situation since I don’t want to risk breaking a rule or worse, get fired from this only part-time job that I have. 

The guy is busy staring at me in amusement when I’m trying to be a good and innocent staff that wouldn't have done any wrongs. He gives me a contemplating ‘hmm’ before he complies. “Listen here,” He reads my name tag, “-Hanbyul. Let’s just say I treat your next upcoming customers. How does that sound?” He smirks slyly before taking a seat by the window, playing with his smartphone to kill time while waiting for his orders. I baffle when he just left without giving me an answer. I sigh and keep the dollar bill into the cashier and start brewing his hot latte and baking the waffle.

Dahyun comes back to the front and she is surprised with the early customer that we got. “Woah, what the heck is he doing so early in the morning? It’s only 8 in the morning!”

She nudges me with her elbow but I refuse to answer her because I am busy with my work. But, she’s right though. How on Earth does a guy wake up so early in the morning looking so handsome like this guy?! And it is the weekend for God’s sake!

Once I finish up preparing his orders, I bring the tray to him instead of calling him because he’s the only customer in the café.

"Sir,” I greet him while serving the hot latte and the waffle on the table, “your orders are here. Hope you enjoy it!” I beam brightly and bow 90 degrees as respect. The guy was busy scrolling his phone as I leave him behind. 

"Hanbyul.” My name was called by his husky voice, making me stop in my tracks, turning around to face him.

"May I help you with anything, sir?” I question him as he starts to take a sip on the latte. He starts to make weird faces and I assume there’s something wrong with the latte. 

"Is there anything wrong with the latte, sir?” I ask worriedly.

He shakes his head before the frown on his lips stretched into a grin. I am taken aback but I sigh in relief, knowing that I didn’t do any mistake that might risk me my position.

"It surely tastes sweeter today,” he says with a hum, taking another sip. “Yeah, definitely sweeter than yesterday. Probably because it was prepared by a sweet girl.” His eyes sparkle with a glint of something unfamiliar as he gazes at me. The intensity of his gaze is making me feel so, so warm that I’m sure he notices my whole face reddening in front of him.

What an odd day. 

On the first day of class, I wake up earlier so I don’t have to rush. It’s going to be a challenging day because I’m going to meet new people for me to get along with throughout these two years except for Soomin. Thank God we’re decided to continue our study and graduate together like we used to. Living in the same house with her and now enrolling in the same class. Again. But, I will never get bored with her or maybe I would, one day. 

"Wake up, Soomin. We’re going to be late for our first class.” I shake her shoulders violently because she is a heavy sleeper and waking her up softly will be fruitless. However, Soomin with her eyes still shut tightly doesn’t budge even as I raise my voice an octave higher, simply humming before going back to sleep.

I rake my head for ways to wake her up. After a few long seconds of thinking, an idea came into my mind and I can only hope for it to work. I lift her thick duvet from her body and push her off from the bed, letting her body fall to the floor with a thud.

Ouch!” Soomin sits up with her hand rubbing her back as she tries to glare at me with her half-lidded eyes.

"Breakfast is ready so please, go and take your bath quickly,” I order her as I’m busy folding the duvet before placing it nicely on her bed.  She fumes in anger, holding her tongue from cursing to me early in the morning. Stomping her feet on her way to the bathroom, she expresses her irritation towards me with a powerful slam at the door. 

I only let out a giggle because her tantrums are not foreign to me, I’ve known her for years, a childish yet a good friend that I would rather stick to even if it takes years to unglue her from me. The only person who understands her annoyingness is her family, me and Sehun. The three of us are best friends since high school and I’m grateful that Sehun loves her a lot by making her the only girl he would have after his mother and older sister. I couldn’t imagine an unfamiliar guy coming into her life and claim her love without deeply knowing her. 

And that’s not what love is about. 

Heading back to the kitchen to prepare peach tea for us, I remember the encounter I had with the guy at the cafe yesterday. The way his deep voice calling my name made me feel butterflies in my stomach and I somehow wish for him to drop by the cafe again, just so I can admire his good looks again.

"What took you so long to stir the tea?” Soomin says as she passes by me. “And ew! Is that drool?! Byul, I don’t want drool infested tea so early in the morning.”

Soomin’s voice knocks me off to reality as she was standing by the fridge for a few minutes.

"Gosh, can you please don’t hurt my poor heart like that?” I say with a soft tone and she smirks, pulling a chair to sit by the island table. She takes one french toast and take a single bite, staring at me curiously. “What are you thinking of?”

"Nothing,” I say while grabbing clean cups from the cupboard. I place them on the table and pour the peach tea before handing one to Soomin. She thanked me before taking the cup from me, blowing on the surface a little to cool it down before taking a sip. Soomin scoffs. “You never hide secrets from me.”

"How did you know that I really told you everything?” I say, successfully turning her into a furious woman as she grabs the toast, ready to throw it to me. “Okay geez. I’m kidding.”

She brings the toast for a bite but continues to give me a death glare. I chuckle silently and sip my tea, glancing at the clock hanging by the wall. It’s already 8:25 in the morning but both of us are still busy having our breakfast.

"We’re going to be late!” I hurriedly gulp down the tea and put the empty cup in the sink. Rushing to pack my stuff and making sure that I don’t leave anything important at home, I prepare myself for the last time in front of the standing mirror. Light makeup added nicely with a shade of pink blusher and the nude colour of lip matte; I’m good to go. 

"Come on, Kim Soomin!” 

She groans loudly to take her car keys as we leave the apartment. Crossing my fingers and calming my nerves, I stare at the outside scenery by the car window. How the fluffy clouds hang beautifully by the blue azure sky, following the Sun shining brightly. Everything will be fine, Byul. 

We arrive 10 minutes early before the class starts. As Soomin and I settle down in the big lecture hall, I observe the seats around me. It’s already occupied with people who are taking the same course; Master in Business Administration. All of them are unfamiliar faces to me.

"Good morning, Byul.” Sehun greets me. I smile at him back before he takes a seat beside Soomin, leaving a peck on her temple. 

"Good morning, baby.” He greets her this time with adoration but Soomin only hum as a reply. Sehun looks at me curiously when I could only shake my head and shrug my shoulders to his wordless question. “Tell me who ruined your morning, Soomin.” 

Soomin quickly points her index finger to me that makes me lift both of my hands in the air, defending myself. “I only pushed her off the bed. It wasn’t that bad.” I grin as I confess. She dilates her eyes and starts pinching on my arms, causing me to groan at the slightest pain.  “Okay! Okay, enough! It stings!”

Sehun can only chortles while watching this normal catfight between us. I am only able to stop her off by pushing her away. I brush my already wrinkled blouse, thanks to her. I roll my eyes and divert my attention to the front. One by one people enter the hall up until an aged woman comes in with a rattan tote bag and I guess she’s our lecture for the financial management class. 

"Hello and good morning everyone! My name is Lee Kyungmi but please call me Mdm. Lee,” she greets the whole class with a firm voice.

The whole class replies in unison with a loud ‘yes’ to her greeting. She then decides to begin our first class with ice-breaking session even though in my opinion, it is very lame for university students. But, I’m glad she didn’t jump directly into the syllabus in our first class.

We are separated into a few groups where I finally get to detach myself from my best friends and sit in a circle that is full of unfamiliar faces strangers. We begin to exchange our names within the group. Being around people whom I’ve never met is making me feel a little more confident. When it is my turn, I start to introduce myself, “The name given is Kim Hanbyul, but I prefer being called Byul.” I plaster a smile to them. After about 10 minutes, we head back to our seats and Mdm. Lee decides to start the class with the first topic. 

I take out my notebook and pencil case from my bag, ready to jot down notes that will be displayed on the white screen from the projector. But before Mdm. Lee gets to continue her words, a single clear knock is heard from the door. She then calls the intruder to come in. I don’t pay attention to the intruder as I am focused on my notebook.

"Late for your first class, Mr. Byun?” She takes off her glasses to look at him as the person goes straight to an empty seat. I lift my head up to focus back on the screen, gasping softly when my eyes accidentally landed on him.

It’s him. The 50-dollar bill guy with the same dashing look from the cafe. 

[themissingmarvel]

Kind Regards, Detective [Part 5] -Prelude to Deepest Sympathies

(I don’t usually trigger warn or content warn, but this might be a triggering chapter. I’m including the Reader’s Drabble I wrote a little while back as recommended reading prior to this, [Drabble 2] but if it’s hard to read about family death then maybe avoid it. This chapter was hard, but important. And I think sets up a truly important dynamic. I’m a slow-burn romantic kind of lady, and I wanted their relationship to be powerful and important, not just one of lust. Or even basic attraction. I needed it to be human. Anyway I liked writing it, and feedback is always appreciated and loved and treasured ((i seriously reread any feedback and comments)) and as always, ask to be tagged or removed from tagging.

Pairing: Detective Loki x fbi!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Death, emotional anguish, PTSD flashbacks, language)

Catch up: [Part 1] // [Part 2] // [Drabble] // [Part 3] // [Part 4] // [Drabble2]

She didn’t sleep last night, which was no surprise. She had spent much of the night awake and poring over documents and cataloged pieces. Her own theories had been spun and while some might have felt outlandish in her head, she understood that this was an outlandish case. It had been hard enough to put on those headphones and let herself fall into a trance. Remember her sister. But not directly. She remembered remembering. Buying that damn CD she would play over and over. Peter Gabriel was her sister’s favorite, not that she’d ever tell anyone. Neither would. Her sister touted her love for System of a Down and Trust Company back when those bands made you cool.

For years after her sister passed she had found the only thing that felt vaguely satisfying was leaving that CD on her sister’s grave. And when CDs started becoming scarce, she had spent a few hundred dollars on Amazon buying all of the CDs she could find with that song on it. She’d be damned if she ever missed a single anniversary. Never went on the day of her passing, though. No. That felt sacrilegious. She went on her sister’s birthday, played the song on her headphones, along with a few others, but Heroes was the one that she played most. It was the one she’d leave behind after telling her how her parents had finally divorced, or how her dad had been ‘thinking’ about retiring again. For the hundredth time. Or how she’d been accepted as an Agent and two weeks ago, about how she was feeling so fucking lost.

But memories of memories are easier to put away, and much like her locker that held Detective Loki, her sister’s, much more ornate and much larger, she put those memories of memories away.

Her bag was hanging off her form lazily and her hair was done just enough to be presentable. By no means was she falling apart, but she was working. Working hard meant she lost focus on other parts of herself. It meant she had zeroed in on certain aspects of the case. Like how all of the individuals abducted had been on the same phone carrier, Radius, or how the TV was a model made by the company Source that had been discontinued three years ago, but at the time had been beyond revolutionary. Even now it was considered brilliant. She had found no traces of the nerve agent were discovered at the scene which meant they were probably injected with the pure form. Which meant someone had a lot of it.

Her theories meant that this man was not just dangerous but he had resources. He had access to things that people shouldn’t have access to and maybe he worked with Radius? Had access to their systems? The generator powering the church had been a Source item as well, meaning both were connected. Who used Source and Radius?

The precinct was still somewhat quiet, at 8am, slightly later than yesterday. Shift change had taken place and the detectives were still filtering in. Except for Detective Loki who was hunched at his desk, a long sleeved, form fitting black shirt on his form and black pants hanging off his hips. He looked sleek. Dangerous, even. She could see how someone might fall for someone like him.

Placing her bag down in the conference room, having actually remembered her coffee traveler this time, she glanced up as one of the cops walked in with a box, “Agent Y/L/N, this was left here about an hour ago for you. UPS dropped it off.”

The 2-PAM. She smiled and took it, “Thanks. Kind of nice when things work out like they’re supposed to for once,” she chuckled, curious why the box was so damn light.

The officer left and Y/N looked down, noticing that the label wasn’t stamped ‘FBI’ and in fact the sender name was absent, save for an address in Pennsylvania that didn’t look familiar. Maybe not the FBI?

Her heart suddenly began to race, carefully putting the box down as she looked to the side, seeing Detective Loki still hunched over. The man was on a mission.

Reaching behind herself she withdrew the small switchblade she kept tucked into her waist line, the one that no one ever saw. That was small. Cold and awkward at times but useful. Like now.

Why did this feel like defusing a bomb?

The blade clicked and she carefully began to open the box. She was aware it didn’t matter anymore who touched it, or if she damaged it. She knew whatever was inside the box was key. And with a final tug, the lid opened and she peered inside.

Time stopping had always felt like kind of an exaggeration to Y/N. How does time even ‘stop’? What, does the world freeze? Well, it did.

Staring inside the box she could see the face of a man she knew well, a man who cradled her soul and her heart and sang brilliant love songs to her, who had kept her connected to her sister, even in death. The black CD cover with two red forms on it, her sister claimed them red blood cells but said they looked like rose petals.

Her hand was surprisingly steady as she picked up the note inside, reading the immaculate cursive written on some kind of specialty papyrus paper, “My deepest sympathies, Agent. Your triumph through tragedy only enhances your beauty.”

And with that, she ran for the plastic trash bin nearby and fell to it, retching hard as she threw up the entire contents of her breakfast, causing the box, the note, and the Peter Gabriel CD with Heroes on it to tumble to the floor.

Immediately David heard the noise and jumped, running inside the room as the precinct suddenly jumped to life, turning to take in the scene. The note, CD, and box were on the floor and Y/N was kneeling by the small, cheap plastic trash bin puking.

“What the fu-” David was almost able to spit the words out before a strangely animalistic sound came from her lips, screaming into the bin that she had already emptied the contents of her stomach into.

The world grew quiet as the scream died down, leaving Y/N on her knees with her eyes closed, knuckles white as she gripped the bin as though it were the only thing keeping her alive right now. Stable. Present. Here.

“Get me gloves and bags for the items, now!” David yelled out, to no one in particular as he knelt by the woman in a kind of distress he didn’t know a person could experience from a simple box, “Hey, talk to me, what happened? Are you OK?”

Her face snapped, wiping her lips as she glared, “Do I look OK to you, Detective? Do I fucking look OK?” Her voice was raised, though not yelling.

Snapping back David glared, “Do we need to decontaminate the room? Is there anything infectious?” He looked at her seriously.

Taking a breath her eyes pulled away, “No. No chemicals. But it’s toxic none the less.”

Her voice was quiet as she spoke the words, closing her eyes and trying to forget what she had just seen. Experienced. Felt in her gut. Her soul had been torn forth in that moment and the timing of the CD was so tragically horrifying. For a brief moment of paranoia she wondered if perhaps someone had been able to access her personal phone, heard what she was listening to. The artist. The song.

Getting up rather quickly, Y/N stumbled slightly as she made her way through the people that had clustered, watching as two other detectives came rushing forward with evidence collecting items. Forensics would get it. They’d dust it for fingerprints and they would come up with hers, the delivery driver’s, the handlers at the warehouse… maybe a dozen people. And none would be the culprits. David would direct people to track the package and they would. They’d track it to some nondescript location where cameras weren’t installed and it’d been paid for with cash. She knew it like she knew the songlist on that CD.

Heading for the door of the precinct her head felt light, woozy, and she was struggling for something stable. Something to keep her grounded. Even as she threw open the doors of the building, those glass doors lined with metal, solid as hell, heavy as fuck, she ran out into the bitter air, feeling the cold devour her skin.

More.

She didn’t realize it but she was running now, into the parking lot, David not far behind, though he didn’t exist right now. Her sister’s smile was there, a true memory in its purest form, the smile she had wanted to see last night but didn’t want tainted and tied to this psychopath now.

Unthinking and perhaps uncaring, her hands grabbed at the hem of her sweater, pulling it up and over her head, tossing it to the ground of the parking lot filled only with cars, otherwise without a soul. The air was frigid as it enveloped her and tore her from reality. She gasped as the item fell, leaving her in her form-fitted white t-shirt and jeans alone, able to see her breath as she felt it stopping her from hyperventilating, the cold burning her skin, tearing at her and pulling her out of this other reality.

Once, during training, she had been shot. Not with a real bullet, of course, but shot none the less. A rubber bullet the academy insisted they feel the impact of to know what they might use in certain circumstances. And, perhaps, be prepared for since it’d be similar to a bullet hitting a bulletproof vest. The bullet had been fired by some complete and utter asshole Thomas Engleson, a man who didn’t think women could hack it. He shot her in the ribcage, instead of the stomach. He hit her directly. Not indirectly. And of course he was excused for it.

The pain of the shot had been incredible but she had gritted her teeth and taken it in. A cracked rib meant she was out for a bit, but it didn’t actually stop her. She kept training. Moving. Not exacerbating the damage but doing just enough to keep going. But the pain of that moment had been etched into her body’s memory.

This hurt worse.

Her skin was covered in goosebumps from the cold, beginning to shiver as she stood, perhaps for ten minutes, David standing behind her as he looked at her. This woman unshaken by so much, who had taken in twelve dead bodies and kept going, who took information meant to terrify and had kept pushing. Whatever had been in that note, in that box, had been meant just for her on a level those notes for David never touched.

It felt like an ache, standing in the cold as he watched the woman he had found himself so fond of suddenly pushing out the entire world as though it might infect her. He wanted to grab her sweater, wrap her in it, and pull her close. He’d swear to god he’d get the guy. And he would, even if he didn’t tell her that. He swore as he watched her, that finding this man would be his only task. He wouldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t eat. This was Dover and Birch, but now he was the onve involved. His own life was on the line.

“Do you ever wonder what it feels like to die, David?” The words were loud enough for him to hear, the wind suddenly picking up as she stared ahead to the road leading into the precinct, fairly empty though cars scattered about, the day cloudy and bitter.

He took a moment to consider it. He had. He had wondered once, when the kid in his backseat was frothing at the mouth, if maybe he prayed hard enough her poison would go into his body. He could take it, he thought. Better let the child live. He had seen enough, “Yes.” He answered simply. Now was not the time for banter.

A sort of dark chuckle left her lips, “I used to wonder what it might be like to die. After my sister was killed, I thought it was the only thing left that could actually scare me. The world couldn’t hurt me any more than it did when I was seventeen. I didn’t want to die, I still don’t, but I knew I could face that fear.

“But now? God, David… I wish I was fucking dead.” She fell to her knees so suddenly it caught David by surprise, running to her as he grabbed her sweater, saying ‘fuck it’ to the world as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her body to his as he tried to finagle a way to keep her sweater on her as well.

No sobs or cries escaped her lips as her body went lax, falling against him as she wondered, perhaps, if maybe just giving in to this would be best. This felt so goddamn dramatic, and maybe it was, but for good reason. This man had found out one of her most intimate details of her life and sent it to her in a box. He had delivered to her a piece of her, and what scared her most was the fact that this man, this murderer, thought he was showing some sort of deranged compassion.

Time seemed to stop and David was grateful for the fact that they were far enough away, and behind most of the cars in the lot, that the world wouldn’t see them like this. He could smell the free, nondescript shampoo offered by the hotel, unsurprised that she wasn’t doused in perfume. But she did smell of something. Her own personal brand of herself. Pushing back some of her hair he spoke, “You can’t go anywhere yet. You can’t possibly trust me to finish this case by myself,” he grinned, stopping himself from pressing his lips against her head.

Chuckling, despite her desire not to, she shook her head, “I sure as hell don’t expect you to solve this alone. You need my theories, Detective Loki. I came up with a bunch last night.” It was tragic in a way, how fast she was working to compartmentalize. Whoever it was that had sent her the letter had done a bang-up job scaring the shit out of her. He had opened the locker that held her sister and emptied the contents without permission. But Y/N was cleaning it up. She was fixing it. In her mind she was already putting herself and all those pieces back together.

Looking confused David pulled away slightly, “Don’t you think you should go get coffee or something? Take a- Ah, fuck, who am I kidding. You’re not listening to me, are you?”

The ghost of a smile crept onto her lips as she raised an eyebrow, looking at David now, “Not really. And I mean, what’s stopping going to do? We both know I’m invested. He… he may have targeted you and those other detectives, and honed onto you, but with me… I’m a happy accident. He picked me. I don’t want to be another body in a church, David,” her eyes changed as she looked at him, suddenly fragile and vulnerable, opening her heart to this man. Detective. The one holding her in the parking lot of the precinct while both tried to put together what they just went through.

Stroking her cheek lightly David whispered, “And you won’t be. You’re gonna get up, put your sweater on, and go back inside. And when everyone looks at you, or asks if you’re OK, you’re not gonna smile or fake it, you stare at them. Through them. None of them matter now. Not a single soul inside. We’re gonna find this asshole, and we’re gonna stop him. Now get up.”

He pulled away, nothing truly romantic in the gesture but one that broke her just the same. They were words that felt charged with something more than a pep talk, but instead felt like a true demand. David understood she wasn’t some person who just fell over because they were pushed. She’d stumble. She’d fall. And he knew she could get right back up and go back to bat. And as she stood, David doing the same, he watched her eyes as she put the sweater on. Something had changed, briefly, something else. Something oddly dark that he couldn’t put his finger on, but understood she perhaps needed. The same thing he had needed in his time.

Turning her back to him, Y/N made her way back towards the precinct, her feet marching with purpose, her eyes focused, laser focused, as she understood what this was. This man chose people. Always. He had a reason and a purpose and it was never an accident. He had found the CD she brought to her sister’s grave (though she suspected it wasn’t the same one), he had written a detailed note, and he had found the one thing in this world she was still so very vulnerable to.

Now she was going to find him.

( @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @is-it-madness @detecellie @oscarflysaac @peccobagnaia @fgtakbrjbdl​ @doritosandavocados​ @miss-missing-patd​

[jokerownsmysoul]

the brightest sun in the golden hour

Summary: the city is rarely invaded by such a blinding sun but when it happens sprinkle everything with magic, marking the rhythm of your day and mirroring a sun, even brighter, that has always lived right next to you.

Pairings: Arthur x Reader Content: soft, fluff

Warnings: nothing. only pure fluff

Word count: 5174

If you want for a better atmosphere I was listening to this playlist while writing.

A/N: so. I really don’t know why this piece took so long, I’ve been writing it for weeks by now and I’m not even completely proud of this. Also it’s very clear that my ability to make summaries is broken today, I hope this piece isn’t as bad as this summary lmaoo

Tag list: @arthurflecksgirl , @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​

A/N: english is not my first language so I apologize for any typos, I’m still learning.

The scorching sun warming your day had surprised all the citizens of Gotham. Gotham was famous for many things, and among them was certainly not the sun. It was the dark nights, those alleys that instilled fear and beyond which no one knew what kind of crimes took shapes to be stained with blood; it was the riots, the resignation to live an unhappy life and not be able to change the fate of an entire existence, it was the destruction in a city that sucked up anyone who moved there in search of a dream that very soon would have proved impossible to achieve in a city like this.

This morning you woke up surrounded by freshly laundered white sheets with the welcome of a sun that lit up the room through the shining curtains, like the white light of a lighthouse overlooking a midnight sea. Your face was turned toward a lightened ajar window from where filtered a dazzling light wedged between your eyelashes, blinding your eyes and forcing you to turn to the other side of the bedroom to protect your eyes as much as possible, in the hope that your eyes would find comfort in a more shaded area.

But when you turned to the other side of the bed your face was blinded by an even bigger sun; Arthur. The sun of your life, the sun of your solar system around which your entire existence and all the lives you would have lived revolved, again and again holding him by hand. Yet Arthur always shines with a different light; he’s always been the only light that could never blind your eyes causing you pain and forcing you to close them like the sunlight had just done; his was a rare kind of light that blinded you by bringing to your eyes not pain, but only relief; his light made them thirsty of its beauty and stroked them through its light beams. Arthur was the kind of light that the more you looked at it, the more you wanted to look at it and the more the desire to disappear under its mantle enveloped you entirely.

He was sleeping on the right side with his face toward you, his undressed torso was kept warm by the sheets. On his sleeping face were readable all the stories of his past and his present, converged into his relaxed expression wrinkles that into sleep seemed to have been smoothed and more bearable than when he was awake and his wrinkles rippled out and weigh him down with all the pain that Arthur had gone through and his body could never release. It was as if during sleep his pain was not visible on his face, but only in his mind.

The skin on his face enlightened by the sunlight looked like an amber and crystalline sand of a distant land, one of those surreal fairy-tale lands dotted with diamonds and so magical and unearthly that we wonder if they really exist even while looking at them. On his cheeks the sun immortalized every pore and wrinkle his skin was made of, stretched in a serene expression and amalgamated with the rest of his skin without creating more steep frustrated layers of wrinkles.

His never ending eyelashes were floating subtly as his eyelids were moving in his sleep, casting little strands of shadow upon the bags under his eyes; the sun by catching his eyelashes made them bead of white and red translucent spots that its light poured on their dark-midnight length as liquid colors that like water in a crystal glass took the shape of what containing them.

His chestnut hair was intertwined with crimson and golden reflections that stood out on his chestnut locks as if they were threads of sunshine that an otherworldly celestial spirit had sewn on his soft curls, which scattered here and there and on his pillow like the mantle of a werewolf who wants to be set free were falling on his forehead in invisible caresses.

The corner of his mouth was vaguely curled in a vague smile and the natural folds formed on his lips, deepened by the interplay of light and shadow created by the sun on his face, looked even more delicious and seemed to call you by name, inviting you to enter the charming slot formed by his slightly parted lips.

You stared at him, breathing in all his incomparable beauty brighter than any sunlight that could ever blind your face this morning. You felt the sunshine Arthur was made of absorbing your entire existence and make it shine bright, filling you as if you were a vessel and its light a liquid that filled every part of your wholeness and gushed out of it, letting your body swim into its existence as aqueous as water. You kept watching its existence inhabiting the world until your self-control shattered like glass and you could no longer resist his mouth on which shadow and light were embracing each other, making this game of color reflect on the tip of his tongue, slightly visible from his parted lips like a appetizing call.

You brought your face toward him, just a few inches since your faces were already close, but enough to quietly lay your lips on his own; you savored the taste of his sleep on his lips without even moving yours, you only wanted to enjoy the heat of his lips mixed with the one of the sunlight that had warmed them further, drinking him in. Soon after did his lips began to move instinctively awakened by yours and Arthur began to deepen the kiss without ever opening his eyes, still closed in his sleep from the night before.

The sunlight had entered between your lips in a large lumpy bubble which through a lens flare gushed out of your profiles that were delighting each other kissed by the sun. Arthur was - is - so bright that even the sun itself wanted to kneel before him with reverence, wishing to be kissed by him and share his own light and to rise at the right middle of your kiss glittered by the beauty of you both.

The sun was rising between your mouths and his lips during this kiss while the golden hour was envying you for being so close to the sun and being able to even kiss it without burning down as a mortal human being would.

In your mouths the last traces of your sleep were dissipating as you deepened the kiss and your tongues were listening and telling each other the dreams you had had during the night; a secret that no one else could have hear but the sun which was framing you beyond the window and yet it was totally forgotten by another sun more marvellous, more imposing, all encompassing and brighter; Arthur.

Waking up between the sun and a kiss had never been so fulfilling as this morning. Arthur had got up from the bed excited to see the room full of sunshine and had immediately turned toward the bedroom window to open it further, letting a wave of sun to expand within the bedroom walls and coloring it with a ripe apricot color.

He had looked out the window and had laid each hand on each of its side; his arms wide open welcomed this golden hour being born before your eyes on a day when, for once, the love that was inside your apartment matched flawlessly even outside.

The courtains slid in the air moved by a light breeze, which allowed them to create white fabric pirouettes around Arthur’s silhouette by touching his hips mildly and tickling his skin through a confusing trajectory.

You were lying on your bed watching the love of your life observing the world thinking that it must be thankful and flattered to contain a wonderful creature like Arthur since he deserved nothing less than to live in a place as ethereal as his existence.

And in fact, the curtains moving casually around him in fabric waves seemed to realize the dream of the wind to caress his form; they looked like one of those huge palm leaf fans used by Egyptians to wave fresh air over their kings in their homes, and you would have sworn that at this moment the world was waving its breeze reverently over Arthur with the same amount of worship, looking at him like a sovereign covered by the kind of beauty more natural and genuine of all kinds: the unfeigned and candid morning beauty following a long sleep.

He kept his eyes closed letting the heat of the sunlight kiss his skin like you had just done before wondering when it would happen again to wake up under such a infrequent sun. The golden hour exalted the beauty on his body which, lit up by the sun, had taken on iridescent shades alternated with black lines right where the shadows of his muscles and his protruding bones were formed, drawing shady veins on his skin.

The sun was projecting a ray of light on the room through which you could see the dust in the atmosphere floating around the figure of Arthur, caressing his body imperceptibly and cradling it in what people would call dust particles but that for you were instead life particles, which were flattering Arthur and his transcendental beauty through every element that nature held in its invisible hands.

Everything in your room, in fact, at that very moment was staring at Arthur as the only sun actually existing in the universe despite a real, bodily and physical sun was right in front of him. It cleared up in your mind revealed by the morning, when Arthur turned to you shortly after smiling with a glimmer of sun in his eyes, the realization that your eyes could never look at another sun that could blind you without bringing pain to your eyes, but relief, other than the sun that was Arthur.

You smiled at Arthur with the same intensity looking forward to the day ahead and to the prospect of enjoying a sun you’ve always longed to see in a city as gloomy as Gotham.

***

It's been hours now since you woke up but the sun was still warming the apartment with its light spread from the wide open windows, letting in the apartment the invisible smell of the sun and the air of Gotham which took you by surprise.

You were making the bed as you wondered how a filthy city full of smog and garbage like Gotham could actually smell like trees, sun and peace. Probably, you thought as you grabbed the sheet to place it over the bed, the smell coming from the window was not Gotham’s smell but the one of a very far away place, a dreamy and unrealistic place that had originated from your love, the same place from which your souls had originated and that belonged to the same corner of a street in a city buried in the mystery of a planet never known, except by your love which like a sentient spirit already knew the place it belonged to.

A slice of magnificent heaven mirrored the small world formed within the walls of your apartment and had taken the ephemeral consistency of the earthly sun that on this day seemed to shine only to simulate a sun, more powerful and worldwide, that had always been in the center of your apartment. It felt like in your apartment there was a specific solar system composed only of the two of you and a loving sun which, by the union of your bodies and souls, came out of your lives and condensed itself into the center of your home like a star that shone only for you.

When you raised the sheet energetically to lie it over the mattress it soared in the air like a wild eagle which finally had took flight after being caged for too long. You saw it rising in an enchanted pearl color mantle on which the sun made reflect its light that struck your eyes before meandering carelessly into the room for a few seconds, smearing itself in the thin air and sprinkling it like a flood river that takes the form of an embroidered weft carrying both of your scent. You watched the sheet fall on the mattress in white fabric waves that traveled along the walls of your bedroom with such a grace that reminded you of the peculiar grace Arthur always brought within him. Their uncoordinated silk dance was so bewitching that its magnetic dance revealed itself before your eyes like a slow motion movie.

You had witnessed the most domestic form of poetry when the sheet, rubbing and waving in the air moved by your arms, moved an army of dust that had spread along its entire trajectory and around the bed as had happened that same morning when the curtains moved by the morning breeze had pushed the dust along the bare forms of Arthur.

You always adored to make your bed for this very reason; because it was in the secret intimacy of these small moments where it was hidden the homely poetry of nature sneaking into the walls of an apartment inhabited only by love. You always adored it because repeated and familiar gestures such as making the bed were the embodiment of the bound you had with Arthur and they gave you the same safety that he gave you every day; they had the taste of the daily life you experienced with Arthur, of the certainty of your love that would never end because, from the beginning, you both had understood that you had always belonged to each other. In the intimate silence produced when one of you was making the bed there was the kind of magic that enters people’s lives by hiding itself on the surface among the furniture of the house, making itself identifiable but remaining secluded between their cracks so that only those who really love can notice it. And you, of course, noticed it.

Nature had crept into those walls through a sun hotter than ever, through the atmospheric dust that wanted to caress both your shapes and furniture and through the smell of clean holed up between the blankets. While you held in your hands a sheet that still bore the memory of all the times when, held in each other’s arms, you had loved one another by letting yourselves be stuffed in the embroidery of its fabric, you could hear from the open window the sound of Gotham playing like a radio left on in the background; birds chirping in the distance hidden by trees that occupied your view but you could imagine them like a daydream crouching on thin branches while watching you as shy spectators laying the sheet on the mattress, removing the folds created carelessly on it and placing the blankets along the sides of the bed in neat and automatic gestures you knew by heart.

The freshly laundered pearl color sheets had left in the air the smell of fabric softener and detergent, a scent smelled like home and you, which brought to your mind every moment spent together with the love of your life.

You wondered how the smell of a fabric softener bought in any store by millions of people could hide within itself a fragrance that, in every home and in different people's hands turns into a different scent, acquiring a memory that carries a distinctive fragrance as if it were the imprint of the family using it. It felt like it was the identity card of a house and, through its smell, you could even learn about those people inhabiting Gotham and their home.

Your scent was the one of your lives mixed together in a single fragrance, so pleasantly yet pungent, sweet yet strong that was totally enveloping you and filling your nostrils and, although Arthur was in the other room doing other chores, through the smell of your love that was not only hidden among the embroidery of the fabric but remained palpable behind everything that apartment was made of, surprisingly did you found out that actually you missed him as if you had not seen him for a lifetime and your body, missing its other half, was glimpsing it in every inch of the room, in every particle of your intrinsic smell, on your pillows neatly resting on the mattress and on the blankets now positioned on the bed flawlessly, on which you could see his features as if you had just embroidered his face on it with a wool of Arthur's colors.

You were lining up the pillows by laying them perfectly parallel to each other, just as your lives which meant to follow each other throughout your life had walked side by side until you met, when all of a sudden did you felt Arthur’s arms encircling your waist and his body pressing on your back bent toward the bed to wrap you from behind in a hug. A soft chuckle of amazement came out of your mouth by feeling his body unexpectedly on you and catching you by surprise just when you needed him the most, before his lips began to kiss your cheek and every point of your neck they could reach with the heat of who had missed you and couldn’t contain the adrenaline he had in his body to feel his skin in contact with yours.

You didn’t need words to understand that you had missed each other; you understood it by the heat with which he was peppering you with kisses, and he understood it from your arms that moving away from the pillows, now perfectly aligned and in order, they had rested instinctively on his arms still surrounding your waist as if your bodies were driven by a magnet that always brought you back to each other.

“Arthur!" Was what came out in a playful laugh from your lips when Arthur, pressing his body toward yours further as he kissed you more urgently and his starving lips sought your skin, he began to keep you both off balance by swinging your bodies that wrapped in this turbulent embrace were following by now a confused dance in which the only right steps were the loud pops of his kisses. “What you are doing?” You mumbled while with his arms he kept you from leaving. You were only amused by this exhibition of passionate love.

Your embrace soon turned into a vivacious challenge in which you couldn’t tell whether it would overcome the gravity force or the playful attitude with which Arthur was laying love on you throught all the energy he could. "I missed you." He whispered on your cheek, his voice was heated and hoarse with desire, his lips as warm as his breath brushed against your cheek in a smile while he spoke holding them over you so as not to deprive himself of your contact even for a second, before continuing to throw his body and lips on your skin feverishly, kissing you with fury and giving relief to the pleasant thirst he had for you, his lips numb with love carried the after-taste of your skin.

He gracefully turned you on yourself by slipping your waist into his arms so he could look you in the eyes. Your chests touched each other now while Arthur held you in a firm but gentle grip as he continued to sow kisses everywhere on you. On your face, on your neck, right on the soft spot behind your ears and on your collarbone with the same heat and energy as before. At every kiss of his you’d laugh and every time Arthur put even more pressure on you your bodies would lose balance, moved by the frenzy of your love that had taken over. The more pressure he put on your body to dive into everything you were and kiss you as inhumanly as possible, the more you moved away from him by teasing him and bending your back backwards. In the bedroom resonated the lovely popping noises of his boisterous kisses and your laughter when he couldn’t reach your skin so every kiss he wanted to give you remained suspended in the air. Your laughters were the only thing passing between your neighboring bodies that like an echo in the mountains were spreading throughout the apartment. Your embrace had become a confused, messy, indefinite grip as you tried to hold your feet steady on the ground and sustain the attack of kisses and cuddles that had driven Arthur to sneak into the bedroom, assaulting you with all the reverence and love his body could hold, and much more.

Until this challenge was overcome by the force of gravity and as Arthur approached you further for yet another kiss did you clumsily fell on your bed one over the other.

It had won the feverish hurricane that had enveloped both of you when a loud laugh came out of your mouths as soon as your bodies touched the mattress. You looked each other in the eye with complicity for a second before bursting out laughing with a spark of childlike innocence in your eyes, realizing that falling was inevitable, but also premeditated. Arthur’s body was laying completely on yours, his muscles were smeared on your own warming you with his heat and his weight pressed on you in a pleasant physical sensation made you more eager of him and revealed how much you wanted to feel his weight on you all your life. "We fell." You said pointing out the obvious, your laughter was smoothed in a childish giggle.

His eyes were staring at you intensely and full of adoration as if looking down at you while the sun was making your face shine brighter you looked different. Your face at that moment was to him like a landscape that changes its beauty depending on the seasons and Arthur, looking at you under the dazzling and rare sun of Gotham, wanted to remember this new beauty of yours forever. "Yeah… we fell." A grin was drew on Arthur’s lips erasing his previous laugh as the thought of what it meant crept into his mind. "You can’t elude me anymore." The swollen vein in the middle of his forehead, illuminated by the sun, looked like a streak of light beaded of sweat droplets shining like little emeralds on the hairline, his dimples deepened over you as his grin grew further and Arthur traveled your arms with his hands in smooth movements.

Once his hands reached your wrists he grabbed them delicately and dragged your arms over your head, continuing to grab your wrists steady in his hands. You couldn’t rebel from his grip and you actually didn’t mind being unable to move under him either, because a second later Arthur was peppering kisses and raspberries all over your body, making you laugh and preventing you from talking. Your body struggled underneath him with sweet tickles and soft lips, the popping noises of raspberries alternated with the smack ones of his open mouthed kisses and the sheets were unraveling through your bodies chasing each other and through your attempts to grab his lips with yours in the hope that he kissed them; it looked like Arthur wanted to kiss every part of your body except this one, increasing your cravings.

When you managed to dampen your laughter and speak the veil of a giggle was still pressed on your words. "I just made the bed!" You screamed, the bed completely wrecked had the memory of your bodies racing together in a carefree race between prey and victim; the more you tried to free yourself from his grip to kiss him and the more he didn’t want to let you go and not to kiss you, yet. Arthur chuckled, bringing his lips close to yours so that they could rub one another, but not enough to give you the relief of a kiss you were desperately begging for.

His heated breath smelling like him enveloped you and his lips slightly tickled your lips, his languorous eyes stared at you. "I'll make it up later, I just want to kiss you now." He said in an unconcerned but at the same time thoughtful tone of voice. It looked like it was impossible for Arthur to stop laughing even for a second once he'd enjoy his lost innocence. He’s so neat and yet, in front of you, everything pales into insignificance and he was more than happy to see on these sheets the marks of what he was doing to you.

He kissed the corner of your mouth with a sly and cheerful smile still on his lips, your body was melting underneath him because of these ghostly, unsatisfying touches that made you even more needy. "Besides," he continued, another kiss on the corner of your mouth, "last night you didn’t mind to unmade the bed."

You swallowed while the memory of the feeling of his naked weight pressing on your body made room in your mind, so alike to the feeling of his now dressed weight that, instead, was now pressing on your body. "You’re unfair!" You kept screaming in a laugh matching his, pretending to be annoyed; actually never as in that moment his barefaced attitude was making you fall on your knees even though you were literally lying on your bed. "I know." A proud smirk pierced his lips before continuing to sprinkle kisses and raspberries on any part of your body unveiling before his eyes. By now your body was giving itself completely to his attentions and you had stopped tinkering with your arms to escape from his grip in the attempt to finally kiss him on his lips.

A cloud moved into the sky giving the sun the chance to shine even more, spraying a ray of sunshine that from the window lit up the bedroom even further and further, just when Arthur formed a streak of kisses from your chest up to the corner of your mouth and, after having locked his eyes of a blinding green on yours, sealed the bright light entering from the window upon your lips by finally kissing you while the sun, more dazzling than ever, it was shining between both of your lips and gushing out of them looking like a lens flare just as it had happened that morning.

Your apartment was so bright it felt like it was swimming into the core of the sun, dragging you both with it. Your bodies had resumed playing with each other innocently in a incandescent yellow sea which was framing your silhouette, made even hotter than this unnatural sun enveloping the entire city as you rolled on the bed childlike not taking your hands off each other for even a second.

Your apartment had always been a second indistinct world, totally dissociated from the real world in which you lived, and every day was lit up by the sun of your love from within. Even on the more icy night, the coldest winter and the darkest, gloomy day, your apartment always contained a boiling sun that warmed up every piece of furniture on which your fingerprints were visible.

And truthfully you were both embroidered in that apartment for real. Your love filled everything like a material impossible to remove, a fabric sewn with the most powerful needle even in the hardest surfaces that in other times, with another needle, would be difficult to pierce with an object as small as this one. And in every area of the floor, in every dusty corner, in every utensil and in every room, you could smell the fragrance of two souls living in the happiest period of their lives because they finally found themselves after years spent looking for each other.

The separate world you lived in your apartment was a sun-drenched paradise, it was in this earthly paradise that two lovers were playing like two children in the enchanted innocence of two people who, despite being adults, they have never ceased to preserve within their souls the innocence and the ability to be always astonished of life, enjoying their love as if it were the first sip of water of the day: a simple but indispensable thing without which you cannot live.

By loving him, you had allowed Arthur to live the magic of a childhood that had been stolen from him and for that he had never been able to have but of which he had always kept the seed. He knew that one day it would flourish in the hands of his one and only person that, once met, they would have watered by making him understand that he still deserved to be a happy child even in his later years and allowing him to experience a childhood that no one had ever allowed him to live before he was an adult. You brought to the surface the carefree child he never could have been.

By loving you, he had given you the heart of a man who never made you ashamed for having kept the child you had been, he actually had helped you to let this inner child be your strength. He gave you the young love you always dreamed of; a love made of kisses as sweet as candies, of laughter ringing in your lips like comforting lullabies and the spontaneity of a love you knew would never end just like one of those fairy-tale books ready telling never ending stories to be read again and again, night after night, asking to be told to your parents before sleep.

The blankets were totally messy, the unmade bed had erased the perfection with which you had arranged the blankets almost obsessively until a few minutes earlier and the numerous pillows, which Arthur loved to keep tidy and composed on the headboard of the bed, were completely scattered around your figures. From the bedroom window it seemed, in fact, that your bed had never been made and still bore the marks of the previous night.

You smiled at each other with complicity between the mountain of pillows woven between your bodies and the broken sheets. Not because there was a summer sun all over the city that day, although it was a surprise to both of you and you adored it.

No. You both smiled at each other because, for once, finally, the heat of the summer sun spread on the outisde over the whole city corresponded perfectly to the solar heat on the inside that every day had always illuminated your apartment from within. It was your heavenly Eden springing into a dark and hellish city like Gotham, which seldom was illuminated by a sun as bright as the one of your loving souls.

[let-it-raines]

Okay, now I know you're accepting prompts for the CMIYC verse, expect a whole lot of them coming from me 😂I'd LOVE to see Emma finding out she's pregnant, and her telling Killian, and just their whole journey through her pregnancy!

This isn’t going to cover everything you asked for @dorisquinn but I’ve got 2/3. You can send me all of the prompts you want. Honestly, seeing your enthusiasm as well as the enthusiasm of others to still want parts of this universe makes me so happy! You guys should see the timeline I just mapped out to make sure everything stays cohesive because I’ve got some more extras to write for you guys 🙈

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

March 2022.

“These boxes are never going to get unpacked.”

“We could have hired someone, you know.”

“I’m not even working full-time right now. There’s no need for us to have hired someone when all I’m doing is sitting at home.”

“You go to meetings…on occasion.”

“I have a meeting tomorrow. Stop making that look on your face, twenty-nine.”

“There’s not a look on my face, besides a handsome one.”

Emma huffs and falls back against the wall, sinking down onto the ground and pulling her knees to her chest. They should have moved as soon as last season ended. It would have given them more time to unpack the ridiculous amount of stuff they somehow accumulated over the past three years, but there was a problem with the closing and then the plumbing, and they officially signed for this place two weeks into spring training. Killian had to fly back from Florida for the paperwork, spent one night in the house with her where all they had was their bed set up, and then he went straight back to the hell that is Florida humidity.

At least they’re not there for months at a time in the summer. Everyone would die. It’s bad enough when they’re in Tampa for a few days at a time.

(Then again, humidity in New York in the summer is no joke.)

She could have flown down and stayed with him, already has for a few days here and there, but they need to get settled before the season starts and things get insane. Things are really never not insane, but there are definitely periods where there is a little more peace.

Off-season is undoubtedly her favorite season.

She loves baseball and the game and working almost every day, but having Killian home for months at a time and being able to sleep in their own bed instead of a hotel bed is so much better than anything else.

Emma definitely wants the off-season back.

And this house to be unpacked.

One of those things is more likely to happen than the other, and it’s not the house getting unpacked.

“I miss you,” Emma whispers into the phone.

“I miss you, love. You know you can fly down anytime, right? There’s nothing keeping you there. It’s been less than a week, but I miss you terribly.”

She flips the camera around to all of the boxes. “I don’t want to be living in chaos. I want, like, some kind of organization. I told myself that when I left my room key with you that I would not be flying back to Florida. I have to get this place functional.”“I know we’ve been married for nearly a year, love, but I don’t think you should be turning into me quite this quickly with all of that talk of organization.”“Technically, as far as everyone else knows, we’re only nine months into this whole marriage thing, so that’s not quite a year.”

“Specifics.”“Ruby was over here yesterday helping me unpack and found the pictures from the clerk’s office. I’m pretty sure she figured us out.”“I think David has known for awhile now.”“Why do you think that?”

“Just a hunch.”Emma groans and scoots further down on the floor. “If David knew, he would have said something.”“Aye, you’re likely right.” Killian smiles, his face slightly pixilated. “Come see me this weekend, Swan. I know you said no more flights, but maybe just the one more. I’ll take you to dinner. Wine and dine you and all that.”“I think there’s a third part of that proposition.”

Killian gasps and holds his hand to his chest. “Dirty.”

“You know it, twenty-nine.”

“I think you mean sixty-nine.”

“Oh my God.”

Killian chuckles and pushes his hair back. It’s too long again. He hasn’t gotten it cut in months, and as handsome as he looks, she’s desperately waiting for him to get it cut. Suggesting it hasn’t really worked out well for her, but if he likes it long, he likes it long. It’s not like she’d appreciate it if he told her to shave her legs or something like that.

“I’ve got to go to workouts, but I’ll call you again tonight, yeah?”

“I look forward to it. I love you.”“And I you, my love.”

The video lingers for a moment, and then it disconnects, only the memory of Killian’s smile there.

She misses him like crazy. It’s ridiculous and stupid and kind of annoying. Maybe she should go down and see him this weekend. It’s not like she has this weekend. Spring training is almost over, and she could wait it out. She really could. That’s what she’s told herself she’ll do, but should she if she doesn’t have to? Maybe if she gets enough boxes unpacked.

Hell, maybe she should just cave and hire people to do it for her, but she put up such a dumb fight when Killian suggested it that she doesn’t want to admit to failure now. Not that he’d ever truly judge her for it.

Okay. He’d judge her a little bit.

Her phone buzzes in her hand.

Elsa: You planning on letting me in?

Shit. The doorbell didn’t sound, and Emma didn’t hear a knock at the door. Quickly, she stands from the ground and kicks a box to the side before hurrying down two sets of stairs to get to the front door. She loves having more space than the apartment, but she doesn’t love all of the stairs. At least, right now. Soon she’ll hopefully kick ass at being able to walk up and down them quickly.

Hopefully her ass will look fantastic because of it too.

Damn Manhattan and its lack of space.

“Hey,” Emma greets after unlocking the front door. “Did you ring the doorbell?”

“I did.”

“Well shit.” Emma leans forward and wraps her arms around Elsa. “I guess our doorbell is broken too. Do you know anything about electrical work?”

“I know how to hook up our cable, but that’s about it.”

“Then what good are you to me?”

“I bring you donuts.”

“Bless you.”

“I know.” Elsa steps inside, closing the door behind her, and immediately walks toward the kitchen where she puts down the bag of donuts she’s carrying and then immediately starts looking around the room. “Have you unpacked any of the kitchen?”

“A few things. Mostly things I use. It’s all Killian’s, and he hasn’t really been here to tell me where to put anything. I don’t know his system as well as I should.”

“Do you have silverware out? Plates and bowls?”

“I have a few things but not all of it.”

Elsa sighs and pulls her shorts up and then adjusts her t-shirt. She took the day off to help Emma unpack, and, really, she should be lounging around watching TV or something. “I don’t mean to go all mom on you, but grab a donut. We’re about to unpack your kitchen. Then we move to your bedroom and your closet so you can at least function. Everything else will come later.”

“As long as I get a donut, this all sounds good to me.”

“You can have another if you finish this room.”

“I’m good with a bribe.”

“Incentive. It makes it sound less dirty.”

Emma laughs. “Deal.”

Elsa is some kind of unpacking machine. It’s actually ridiculous. She knows exactly how to store everything in their cabinets and the pantry, and while Emma is sure Killian will rearrange it all when he realizes it’s not to his specifications, after three hours, they have all of the kitchen boxes emptied. It’s practically a miracle, and Emma didn’t even need an extra donut to make her do the work.

(An extra donut is sounding really good right now, though. Elsa got the good kind.)

All she really needed was Elsa. If they had Anna here, though, Emma imagines the entire house would be finished by now. Well, if Anna wasn’t eight months pregnant. Mary Margaret would probably be the better choice, but she’s got a class full of third-graders to attend to. Ruby, however, would bring everything to a halt because she’d get distracted by the things she was unpacking.

They move upstairs and back to the bedroom after they’re finished in kitchen, and Elsa sticks to the bedroom while Emma works in the closet. She’s got some of her clothes up, mostly her workout stuff, and even though their stuff is boxed in a way that should make it easy to hang up several things at once, Emma keeps getting distracted trying to organize it in a way that’s not something she’s going to sustain.

Seriously. Who is organized enough to keep things sorted by color?

Killian. Killian is. He organizes his freaking t-shirts by how old they are.

The weirdo.

Emma finally decides to just do it by type of clothing, and after she’s gotten all of her dresses on the racks, she decides that she needs some kind of break. She did not sleep last night, and no amount of coffee could wake her up.

Has she even had coffee today?

Or maybe she’s simply bored by having to unpack. That’s a lot of the same thing over and over again, and all Emma really wants to be doing is watching Netflix.

Slowly, she slides back down to the ground and pulls out her phone again, answering her texts and then clicking on Instagram to move away the notifications. It’s all stuff Killian has tagged her in, and she quickly moves through the videos and memes before clicking on his page. It’s been mostly baseball lately, pictures of him, Will, and Robin, but if she scrolls a little further back, there are pictures of Liam and Elsa or Addy and Lucy. And then there are pictures of her. She mostly uses social media for work, but she does like to get on and see what Killian has posted. It’s usually something she’s never seen, and there are at least ten pictures on here that she had no idea were taken.

There’s one in particular that she likes the most. It’s from last November. They were in Portland for Thanksgiving sitting on the swing in Ruth’s backyard, and Killian snapped a photo of her drinking coffee, the sun glinting off of her skin in just the right way so that she looked tanner than she actually was.

My love forever, the caption reads.

That day had been…hard. It had been fucking awful, actually, but Killian had wrapped his arms around her and held her until it wasn’t so awful.

That’s what he does. He makes awful days feel that little bit better simply by being there.

She likes that, likes that she has that forever now.

My love forever.

She has had that love for awhile with David and Ruth, with her friends too, and while she doesn’t like to put some relationships over others, Killian does get the slightest elevation.

It’s good to have all that love. It’s healthy, and if someone asked her twenty years ago if she’d ever have any of this, she would have laughed in their face.

She can’t stop staring at the photo and all of the memories behind it. She had been so sure that morning, and it wasn’t…she wasn’t.

“Hey, Emma, do you have – woah, what’s wrong?”

“What?” Emma sniffles, wiping below her eyes. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You’re sitting on the floor sniffling and wiping your eyes. Those are pretty big clues.”

Emma scoffs. “I’m fine.”“You’re a liar.”“Els, I’m fine.”

“I believe you about as much as I believe Killian when he says that.” Elsa walks over to her to and slides down onto the floor next to her, kicking away a shoe and grabbing onto Emma’s forearm. “You want to talk about whatever it is? You know you don’t have to, but I’m a good listener. I couldn’t be married to Liam if I wasn’t.”

“Liam does talk a lot.”

“I think it’s a Jones family trait.”

“I think I might be pregnant.”

She might have that trait too for the way she just blurted that out.

Elsa gasps, and Emma braces herself for it just like she braces herself for it every time this conversation comes up. She’s the one who brought it up this time, but it was kind of inevitable when this is honestly all she’s been thinking about for two days now.

For a little more than two days if she’s totally honest.

“I didn’t…I’m not,” Emma stutters, trying to continue talking before she shuts herself up, “I never thought I would be someone who wanted a baby. I thought I was going to be alone for so much of my life, so when Killian and I decided to try and kept having these negative tests, I don’t know. I, well, it sucks, and it’s been really damn hard. It hasn’t even been a long time, and we’re still so young. I probably shouldn’t even complain because I know it’s harder for other people. It’s just that a part of me feels like I’ve gotten so much good in my life I was never supposed to get. What if this is the thing I don’t get? What if I have this feeling in my gut now because it’s some kind of sign that I should give up before my hopes get too high?”

“Oh, darling,” Elsa sighs as she wraps her arm around Emma’s back and pulls her toward her, rubbing her hand up and down her arm, “you can’t think like that. The world doesn’t give you a certain amount of good and then just stop. You can have more good than you think you deserve. I do. And that feeling of helplessness when it comes to getting pregnant and it not working as fast as you want? I’ve had that too. It’s what happened with Lucy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought maybe Addison was going to be it for us, and we were like you two. We hadn’t been trying for a long time, but it could still feel hopeless when Addison was so easy. Getting pregnant is hard, and unless you talk to others like this, there’s no way you’d know. All you’d see is the happy announcements and the smiles.”

Emma turns her head into Elsa’s shoulder. It’s a good thing she’s not wearing mascara because she’d totally ruin Elsa’s t-shirt.

“So I’m not some kind of freak show for sitting in my closet freaking out about this?”

“Emma, having a baby, or even the possibility of it, is the most terrifying thing in the world. If you weren’t having meltdowns, I’d be concerned about you.”

“This is so not in my wheelhouse,” Emma mumbles. “I talk for a living, talking about this is…different.”

“Baseballs and babies aren’t exactly in the same category.”

“They are on Family Day.”“Yeah, well, you know what I mean.”

Emma huffs and pulls away from Elsa, leaning her head back against the wall. “This closet is still such a mess. My shoes are everywhere.”

“Oh, I know. I think I’m going to need to borrow those wedges that are caught up underneath the pile of Killian’s jerseys.”

“They are yours to borrow.”

“Not to keep?”

“Nah, I like them too much for that.”

Elsa laughs and twists on the ground until she’s facing Emma, small smile on her face. “You’re going to be okay. You and Killian both. And if you ever need to talk, Liam and I are always here. Anna too.”

“Anna is eight months pregnant with twins. All she does is warn people against getting pregnant. I don’t think she’s ever going to have sex again.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Absolutely not.”

Elsa claps her hands together. “Okay, let’s conquer this closet, and then I’m taking you home with me for dinner so you’re not left in this house stalking your husband’s Instagram.”

“I was not doing that.”

“You totally were. I could see it on your screen when I walked in.”

“I’m taking away your shoe privileges.”

Elsa quickly gets up and runs over to the wedges, picking them up. “Nope. They’re mine now.”

-/-

She’s pregnant.

Or, at least, that’s what the three tests she took this morning said.

Emma had gone over to Liam and Elsa’s last night for dinner, and she’d forgotten about everything. She really had, and it had been nice not to think about it and to be able to know that her life was going to go on no matter what. She knew that. Logically, she did. Her life is not defined by what a pregnancy test says, but when it’s what you want…

When it’s what she and Killian want.

And they might get now.

Oh shit. She is not ready to give birth.

That’s not even happening right now, or in the near future, but it’s going to happen. Emma’s pretty sure it’s some kind of torture device designed to make being a woman even more difficult, but she’s got to stop thinking of that right now.

What she’s got to start thinking about is the fact that she’s in New York while Killian is in Florida.

Florida.

Shit. She’s got to book a flight to Florida.

She said she wasn’t going to do it, but that was before she knew for sure.

That was before.

Where the hell is her neck pillow?

Emma gets off the rim of the tub and walks into the bedroom, grabbing her laptop off the charger and stretching out on the bed while trying to find the next flight. There are a few this afternoon, but she’s got meetings she can’t cancel. There’s one she might be able to make around seven, though, and she quickly enters her information and books a one-way ticket.

She’s never been so excited to go to Florida.

-/-

“Can I get an extra key to room 835?”

“And your name is?”

“Emma Jones.”

The receptionist starts typing on her keyboard, looking up at Emma and then looking back at her computer, her brows furrowed. “I’m sorry. There’s not an Emma Jones in that room.”

“I know. It’s my husband’s room. It’s under his name. Killian Jones. It should be under the block of rooms for the Yankees.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t give you a key to that room. It’s our policy, especially when it comes to our VIP guests in our suites. It’s for their safety.”

Emma has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She’s exhausted. It’s been a long ass day, she sat next to someone who snored the entire flight down here, and all she wants to do is see Killian. Why the hell did she leave her key with Killian last week?

Oh, yeah, because she wasn’t supposed to come back.

“If I was some kind of stalker, how would I know his room number?”

“You would be surprised what people know.”

She sighs and pulls out her phone, clicking on Ariel’s name.

“Emma?”

“Ariel, can you get me an extra key to Killian’s room?”

“Are you here?” Ariel squeals before quieting. “Wait.” There’s a mumble and then the sound of a chair squeaking before Ariel’s voice comes back into focus. “Sorry. We’re out at dinner, and I had to move away from the table. This is a surprise, right?”

“Mhm.”

“That is literally the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You need to hear more things.”

“Oh, hush. I’ll call the front desk. We’ve got to be back soon anyways because I have to relieve the babysitter for Morgan, so it won’t be too long.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll probably see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I can’t wait, and I promise that my lips are sealed.”

They hang up, and the front desk’s phone immediately rings. The receptionist nods and smiles and is completely and totally nice to Ariel, typing in a few things on her computer as she avoids eye contact with Emma. Then the conversation is over and Emma is being handed a card.

“This works for both the elevator and the room. Have a nice night, Mrs. Jones.”

“Thanks,” Emma says, forcing a smile. She knows the woman was just doing her job, but it doesn’t keep her from being annoyed. She’s not about to be pissy with her though. “Have a good night.”

Grabbing her luggage, she maneuvers out of the lobby and to the elevator. She knows this hotel better than any other hotel in the country from how much she’s stayed here, and she easily makes her way up to Killian’s room, sliding the card in the door and sighing in relief that the clerk actually gave her a key that worked. She was worried that she wouldn’t.

Killian’s suite is clean, and Emma knows it’s not just because of housekeeping. The man is so damn particular about everything, and even though all she wants to do is curl up in bed and go to sleep, she opens up her suitcase and starts putting her few clothes away, making sure not to mess with any of Killian’s stuff. It’s what he would end up doing later anyways, and if she does it now, it’ll be one less thing he’ll have to focus on.

How the hell is she supposed to tell him that she’s pregnant?

That’s something she should have focused on for the flight down here, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to murder the man who was snoring next to her.

She’s going to be great at the whole getting no sleep thing.

Did she really want this? Did they? Are they crazy? What drives someone to want to have a baby? Yeah, they’re cute, but then they grow up and yell at you for telling them not to eat straight sugar for dinner. And she didn’t have parents. Well, she has Ruth, but she didn’t have Ruth for fifteen years. Killian’s mom died, and his dad is a piece of shit. What do either of them know about babies and being parents?

What do either of them know about kids in general?

Well, they do have nieces and nephews and friends with kids. Hell, their friends have had so many kids. It’s like in the past two years all anyone has done is pop a kid out and –

The door to the suite beeps, and Emma doesn’t even realize she’s been pacing for a long time until Killian’s standing right in front of her blinking with his mouth wide open.

“Hi,” Emma squeaks out.

It’s official. She is not herself today.

“Fucking hell,” Killian mumbles.

“Well, that’s always the greeting a girl – ”

Killian strides forward and cups her cheeks before pulling her to him with his mouth, sucking on her bottom lip before he starts moving and can’t seem to stop. It’s been less than a week. That’s all. It hasn’t even been that long since they’ve been apart. They make it a point to never go more than nine days, but she’s missed him more than she ever has.

Melodramatic and all that.

“What,” he starts, still kissing her, “are,” he continues as his lips move to her jaw, “you,” he sighs against her cheek, “doing,” he whispers against her eyelid, “here?” he finishes as his lips find hers once more while their foreheads rest against each other.

“I really missed Scarlet.”

Killian tilts his head back and barks out a laugh as his hands move from her cheeks to her biceps, squeezing them. Her stomach is absolutely swirling.

“God, I love you. You’re – ” He shakes his head, and his eyes crinkle. He’s gotten darker during training, and there’s the slightest tan line from where he’ll wear his hat backwards during pitching drills outside.

“I’m what?”

“Well, if I were to list all of the things you are, I imagine we’d be standing here forever.”

Emma scoffs and pushes at his chest before moving closer once more so she can wrap her arms around his neck. “Why are you the way that you are?”

“Charming? I believe I was born this way.”

It’s Emma’s turn to shake her head at him. She presses up on her toes and lingers until her breath is ghosting over his mouth. “I love you, twenty-nine.”

“Good. I love you, Swan.”

She finally kisses him then, and Killian slowly backs her up to the bed until she’s falling down on top of it. All thoughts leave her mind as his lips and his hands move over her, and they truly disappear when his mouth is between her thighs and all she can think is how damn good that feels. It almost always does, like some kind of magic that’s bottled between the two of them, and even when it’s not good, Emma knows that there’s no one she’d rather get lockjaw or really unfortunate cramps with.

And weirdly, as Killian swivels his hips and hits just the right rhythm, she knows that no matter how much she’s freaking out about everything, the two of them have got this.

“Did you know the front-desk clerk thought I was a stalker?” Emma asks later. They haven’t changed back into any clothes, and Emma can’t seem to stop twirling Killian’s chest hair around her fingers while his hand dances across her back, tracing familiar words there.

“Really now?”

“Mhm. I tried to get a room key, and she refused to give me one.”

“Ah, well, I have been having an influx of stalkers lately. It must be my devilishly good looks.”

“You’re never lacking in confidence, are you? Even when it comes to joking about something that’s not funny.”

“You would know more than anyone how that isn’t true.”

Emma leans down to kiss his chest before resting her chin there. The air conditioner clicks on, and a cold rush of air runs over Emma’s bare skin. Killian tugs the comforter up over a little more of her back, and they sit in silence as Emma starts counting how fast her heart is beating. If she doesn’t tell him tonight, she won’t sleep. It’ll eat at her until the morning, and with how exhausted she is from not sleeping two nights in a row, she really can’t afford another night without sleep.

She also hasn’t had coffee in days. That has sucked.

“Killian, I – ”

She stops when his finger traces her name into her back. “What is it, love?”

“Nothing,” Emma begins, even if she knows it’s everything. “It’s just…Killian, I’m pregnant.”

For the rest of her life she’ll remember that Killian stopped blinking for a few seconds too long. She’ll remember that his eyes are slightly red-rimmed from his own lack of sleep, and she’ll remember the way that slowly but surely his lips curl from a small smile to one of the brightest she’s ever seen from him.

“Are you? For real? I’m not imagining this conversation?”

Emma inhales and nods. “I think so. I wouldn’t be far along. Like, at all, so anything could happen. But my period is late, and I took, like, three tests this morning that were positive. Peeing on a stick never feels normal.”

Killian chuckles as his free hand comes around to tuck her hair behind her ear. He’s so gentle like that, and she doesn’t know what she did to deserve him. He can be hot-headed and impatient and ready to act on his anger instead of thinking it through, but at his core, Killian Jones is a good man.

“Aye, I imagine not.”

He leans down to glide his lips over hers, and even if Emma had imagined what it would be like to tell Killian they better start reading all of those books so they have some clue what they’re doing, she knows none of it would be better than this.

Calm and content and like they were always supposed to end up here.

“I love you, Swan,” Killian whispers as his hand shifts from her back to her stomach. “I don’t – thank you for being by my side for all of this.”“Always, twenty-nine. Always.”

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @bluewildcatfanatic​ @killianswannn @dorisquinn​ @onepunintendid​ @authorarsinoe​ @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ @carpedzem​ @tornadoamy​ ​

[not-majestic-bluenicorn]

Puzzle || Ink Prints JohnKun Chapter 4

Fandom(s): NCT (127 & WayV)

AU: Soulmates AU

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Relationship: Johnny x Kun

Language: English

Status: 5/5

Chapter WC: 4,413 words

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, Bruises (someone falls of a bike), Divorce.

Chapter Warnings: Divorce

Summary:

“Hey,” Johnny said, snapping Kun’s attention back. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Uh,” Kun frowned a little, “sure?”

“Can I like…” Johnny cleared his throat, “hold your hand for a moment?”

AO3

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Tagged: @queen-of-himbos​

Johnny left his room and walked all the way to the living room, where his mother was sitting watching TV. At fourteen years, he was already very tall, but he still hadn’t fully grown into his limbs, which made him look a bit uncoordinated and gangly. His mother looked up and smiled, seeing him all dressed up.

“Are you ready to see your father?” She asked, patting the sofa next to him.

“You know he’s not gonna come,” Johnny muttered, taking the place next to her.

He couldn’t see it, but he could feel how his mother tensed up. He could easily imagine her severe rictus and displeased look. She looked at him like that a lot those days. Johnny knew he was right though, because she wasn’t denying it, and because it was already past five in the afternoon and his dad still wasn’t there to pick him up for the weekend. He was okay with that, though, he didn’t actually want to see him anyway.

“Could you take me to see my friends?” He asked. “We made plans.”

“Why would you make plans with them? You know your father is going to come for you!” She reprimanded him.

“He’s not!” He yelled, throwing his arms up. “He misses his ‘turn’ with me almost every single weekend. I want to go see my friends.”

“Then why don’t you spend the afternoon with me?” Her voice softened, and she grabbed Johnny’s hand. “You’ll see them at school anyway.”

“It’s not the same,” he turned his eyes, pulling his hand away. “And what would we even do together? We don’t even like the same things, just take me to see my friends.”

“I can’t take you today,” she took his hand again. “Let’s just stay at home and watch a movie or something.”

“Fine, I’ll go by myself!” He stood up, yanking his hand away.

“John Seo!” His mother yelled.

“Don’t call me that!” He retorted, turning around. “God, you’re so annoying.”

Johnny stormed out of his house in a rush, forgetting his phone and keys. He was angry. His mother was always prohibiting him all sorts of things, and it made his life so difficult. Moving to the neighborhood had been difficult enough. Their apartment was small and cramped, the classes sucked, and Johnny was still struggling to integrate into the new friend group. His father being an asshole didn’t help.

He didn’t quite understand why his mother was always so intent on denying him everything. It was like she was against fun. He didn’t want to be angry at her, but it was so hard when she refused to at least listen to him. The worst part was that he didn’t even know where he was heading to. He had made a scene, and for what?

Stopping in his tracks, he glanced around. The anger seeped from his body and he began feeling unsure. He knew where his friend lived, but didn’t know how to get there. Maybe he should head back to get his phone and call his friends. It was most definitely not the guilt of leaving his mother like that. He just didn’t want to get lost. 

The way back took him longer than he would have liked, because he hadn’t been paying attention while running away from home. Once he recognized the area he was in, he ran. The door was still unlocked, so he pushed it softly and tried not to make noise, to not claim his mother’s attention. However, it didn’t matter, because she was currently distracted with something else.

“Can’t you just come see him like you promised?” His mother asked, dropping one hand to her side. “He still needs you.” 

Johnny ceased taking off his shoes and sat at the entrance, listening in to the conversation. He knew he wasn’t supposed to do that, but he felt entitled to some answers about the man supposed to be his father. His mother sounded hurt and desperate, and he felt the guilt spill out of his chest into the rest of his being, because he had upset her before, and now she had to deal with his father.

“Then can you at least give me the money?” She asked, lower this time, defeated. “I know you’re still looking for a better job, but Johnny asked me today if I could take him with his friends, but if I do that we won’t have enough gas for the week and I have the money counted.”

He felt his heart constrict in his chest. That was not what he had expected. His mother had never once complained about struggling with money or about his father not paying them the amount he had promised at court. He knew they were trying to save a little by living in a smaller apartment, but he hadn’t realized the situation was that bad.

“What do you mean he shouldn’t go then?” She raised her voice. “He’s a teen, he needs his friends at this age!” He could hear her pace around the room. “No, it’s fine! We don’t fucking need you!”

The cellphone collided with their two-place sofa with a soft thud and his mother sighed. Johnny decided to leave his hiding. He took off his shoes and walked to the living room. His mother was sitting on the sofa with both hands covering her face. She looked so small and tired, and Johnny felt guilt crawling at his throat. 

“Mom,” Johnny spoke in Korean, his mother’s native tongue. He hadn’t used it in sometime, as a sort of rebellion for how things had been going between them.

“Youngho-ya,” she raised her head in alarm. “Did you hear all that?”

“I’m sorry…” he kneeled in front of her, grabbing her hands. There were tears in his eyes, but he didn’t want to cry. It was his mother who was hurting the most.

“I imagine you didn’t make it to your friend’s house?” She chuckled, but she was crying too.

“I’m really sorry, really,” he repeated, squeezing her hands.

“I know, it’s okay,” she squeezed his hands back and smiled. “You’re at the right age for rebelling, I’m glad you were able to recognize it was wrong though.”

“Should we watch a movie together today?” He didn’t care about meeting his friends anymore.

“Let’s do that,” she nodded, sniffling a little. “What is that on your cheek?”

“My cheek?” Johnny rubbed at his right cheek, but he didn’t feel anything.

“Wait, let me look,” she gently turned his face and let out a gasp. “Your marks!”

“My marks?” Johnny stood up and ran to the bathroom, where they had a mirror. He got there in time to see the small red panda and bunny hiding under his shirt. He turned around and hugged his mother tightly, knowing that her sacrifice was the reason behind those marks.

“I love you,” she whispered into his ear. He was already her height.

“I love you too.”

--

Johnny woke up late and ended up rushing to the meeting room. The foreign students were having another conference about how the dorms worked and whatnot, and Johnny was supposed to be there to mentor his peers. He ran to the door and stopped right in front of it, taking a deep breath and making sure his clothes and hair were in order. Kun was in there, he needed to appear chill. 

He cleared his throat and walked into the room in silence, mindful of the other mentors in charge of that day’s meeting. Johnny spared one glance at the audience and instantly found Kun, who was looking at him. Kun smiled, and Johnny tripped over his own feet like a fool, almost falling to the ground. He caught himself right on time to avoid breaking his face, but the damage to his pride had been done.

“Are you okay?” One of his friends asked.

“Yeah…” Johnny nodded, but he could feel his skin burning with embarrassment. 

He looked up to find Kun covering his mouth as he took notes. It looked like he was trying hard not to laugh, but his shoulders betrayed him as they shook softly. Johnny smiled despite himself. Kun had seemed very serious at first, and Johnny had worried that they wouldn’t be able to get along. But the marks didn’t lie, and it seemed like Kun was slowly opening more; not only to him, but in general.

After the meeting ended, all of his group approached him. They exchanged a few words as they asked him questions they had about the system and whatnot. At some point, Kun sneaked next to him, and when he was done answering questions, he felt a tug on his shirt. Kun was looking at him expectantly, and with a small smile on his face.

“Let’s go eat together?” It was a question more than a suggestion, since they had agreed on nothing, but Johnny nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh? What is this?” Alex asked with a raised eyebrow, leaning into their space. Kun immediately let go of Johnny’s shirt, a little taken aback.

“Kun? You can’t go flirting with our mentor, I’m sure that’s illegal!” Junhui exclaimed, looking half like he was joking and half like he was scandalized.

“Actually-” Johnny didn’t get an opportunity to say much.

“He’s not a teacher Junhui, stop,” Kun rolled his eyes. “Besides-” Kun grabbed his arm where it was uncovered, and it didn’t take long for the others to open their eyes in surprise.

“You’re soulmates!” Yanan exclaimed, a big smile on his face.

“Now this is a surprise,” Handong chuckled, “when did you find out?”

“Like two days ago, actually,” Kun shrugged. Johnny was still looking at him, marveled at his tenacity. “So, should we eat together?” Kun asked again, this time looking back at Johnny.

“Yeah,” Johnny smiled, understanding that he wanted to get away from their friends’ teasing, “let’s go.”

Johnny ended up guiding him to a little restaurant that had homemade style meals. It was small but nice and outside of campus, which meant they were less likely to encounter the others. Kun wasn’t yet quite familiar with actual Korean meals, so Johnny did his best to choose a good variety from the menu so that he could try food to his heart content. Food was, after all, the way to a man’s heart (or something like that). 

“I was not expecting you to do that back there,” Johnny said as he observed food put a spoonful of kimchi jjigae in his mouth. The spice didn’t seem to bother him too much as he hummed in delight.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t stop to think if you wanted to show others about our marks,” Kun apologized as soon as he had swallowed his bite. “I should’ve asked you before.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind, actually,” Johnny shook his head. “To be fair, I thought it would be you who wouldn’t want to tell anyone.”

“Hyung, we’re trying to make this work, right?” Kun smiled. “Keeping it a secret is not the way. Besides… I don’t like being teased.”

“Note taken,” Johnny chuckled, digging into his own food.

The next day, on Friday, they also went out to eat together. Johnny promised to take him out during the weekend and show him Seoul, since they wouldn’t have any meetings to attend or activities to participate in. What they were doing was a surprise, but Kun guessed it would be related to water at the very least, because Johnny advised him to take swimming trunks with him.

When Saturday arrived, Kun met with Johnny outside of the university. They took a taxi to the Han River, and Kun very quickly understood why they were there. It was the middle of summer in Korea, and as it was very hot, water sports rose in popularity. He had never really tried any of those, but the idea seemed exciting to him. 

“This is a suggestion,” Johnny explained as they started walking down the river. Kun looked around, admiring the beauty of the place, “but I was thinking we could do wakeboarding, and whoever lasts less on the board pays for today’s meal.”

“Oh, you want to challenge me?” Kun chuckled, looking back at Johnny.

“I’m pretty sure I can win this one, actually,” Johnny smiled, softly pushing Kun with his shoulder. Neither missed the way his red panda tattoo reached towards Kun since he was wearing a sleeveless shirt, but Kun’s shoulders were covered.

“I’ll let you know that I’m pretty good at everything I do,” Kun scoffed. 

“Of course, Mr. Perfect,” Johnny’s smile widened, almost turning into a laugh.

“Have you tried this before?” 

“One time when I first came to Korea, but I haven’t since,” Johnny shrugged. “It’ll be fun.”

It did end up being quite fun, even though Kun lost by a few seconds. He then convinced Johnny to ride the banana boat with him. By the time they were done, they were completely drenched, but their chests were light with laughter. They sat together by the docks while they waited to dry off a little before going to get changed.

“Turn around,” Kun commanded as he took the towel off of Johnny’s hands. “You’re going to damage your hair if you continue rubbing it like that.”

Johnny turned around and closed his eyes as Kun gently dried his hair. It felt like a massage, and helped him relax. Even after he was done drying it, Kun continued carding his fingers through Johnny’s locks. He had wondered if his long hair was real, and was pleased to find that it was. His roots were starting to show through the blond dye, but it still looked good on him.

“I like your hair, it’s pretty,” Kun smiled, carding his fingers through one last time before sitting back down.

“Thank you,” Johnny turned around, also smiling. “I should probably dye it again soon.” Kun nodded.

After they finished drying and had changed back into their clothes, Johnny guided them back to a picnic area. He put down a blanket while Kun ordered the food. The oldest had insisted they get chicken, because apparently Korea had the best chicken in the world. Kun used the chance to order some more snacks he was curious to try out. They ended up with a blanket full of delicious food, which they somehow managed to finish.

They walked for a while, towards the Banpodaegyo bridge, because Johnny wanted to show him something. The sun began to set while they made their way there. As they came closer to it, a spectacle of music, lights and water started. The bridge lit up in a beautiful display, and Kun let out an exhilarated laugh. Johnny smiled and guided him to a spot where they could see the show better.

“This is really pretty!” Kun exclaimed, turning around to see Johnny staring at him.

It was a little weird, because it seemed like Johnny just liked to look at people. Almost like he was able to learn all about them just by observing. Kun wasn’t sure he was worth being observed like that, but it made him feel a little flattered that Johnny wanted to know more about him, despite the circumstances in which they had found each other.

“Hey,” Johnny said, snapping Kun’s attention back. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Uh,” Kun frowned a little, “sure?”

“Can I like…” Johnny cleared his throat, “hold your hand for a moment?”

Kun opened his eyes in surprise before letting out a light laugh. He extended his arm towards Johnny, who grabbed his hand gently. Johnny’s eyes were trained on their tattoos, following them around their skin, marvelled by the sight. Kun looked too. It was a beautiful sight, one he had never thought he would get to see, because finding your soulmates could be hard.

“You don’t have to ask to hold my hand next time,” Kun said after a while, the water show long forgotten. “You can just take it, if you want.”

Johnny looked at him and smiled, squeezing his hand softly. They went back to walking shortly after, this time holding hands. It felt really comforting, despite how little they knew each other still. To Kun, having Johnny there was like an anchor; a sign that maybe he wasn’t making the wrong decision. To Johnny, it was a sliver of hope that maybe things wouldn’t go like they had with his parents. 

“Why did you come to Korea, Kun?” Johnny asked him as they made their way back so they could take a taxi. They hadn’t stopped holding hands.

“I’m not sure, actually?” Kun hummed. “I don’t know if I was looking for something, or maybe running away from something… I just kind of woke up one day thinking it would be a good idea, and now I’m here.”

“Hmm,” Johnny nodded, looking down at their linked hands.

“Why did you come here?” Kun asked in return, because he was curious. Johnny had mentioned he missed his mother once, but aside from that, he didn’t know much more.

“I suppose this is as good of a time as any to unlock my tragic past,” Johnny’s voice went dead serious, but then he smiled and broke into a laugh. “Don’t look at me like that, it was a joke.”

“A terrible one.” Kun clicked his tongue.

“I simply came because I wanted to know more about my mom’s culture. She’s from here, my dad is from America though,” Johnny shrugged. “I thought she would want to come with me, but she’s happy over there; and she’s gotten on better terms with my dad after the divorce.”

“I see,” Kun squeezed his hand softly. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Johnny smiled. “Should we head home now?”

--

The weekend went by fast, and so did the following week. Between meetings and activities, Johnny and Kun found the time to go out and get to know each other better. Johnny showed him all that he knew about Seoul, and it was a lot of fun. It felt, simultaneously, like they had all the time in the world and like they were running out of it. 

The Friday of the second week, Kun found himself worrying. His flight back to China was the next day, but he still didn’t feel like he knew Johnny enough. He didn’t feel the certainty that he wanted to feel. Plus, there was the issue with his second tattoo, which he was still keeping a secret. 

He was so focused on his feelings, that he completely missed the end of the meeting. He didn’t realize it had ended until Johnny sat next to him and gave him a little nudge. Kun turned to look at him and smiled, putting everything back into his backpack. Finally, the long introductory course was over, but Kun felt like it hadn’t lasted long enough.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked, looking a bit concerned.

“Yeah,” Kun nodded. “I want to talk to you about something though, let’s go outside.”

Johnny followed him suit to the grounds of the university. They walked a little until Kun found a comfortable bench and sat down, patting the place next to him until Johnny had sat as well. There were two concerns in his mind, but Kun couldn’t bring himself to talk about both of them when he saw Johnny’s worried expression. Instead, he chose the most urgent one.

“I have to go back tomorrow,” he explained. Johnny’s face dulled with realization. “Don’t look so sad, it’s just a few months until the semester starts anyway.”

“Yeah but-” Johnny clicked his tongue. “I completely forgot, I kind of got used to you being here.” He put his head on Kun’s shoulder and sighed.

“I did too, but again, it won’t be for long.” Kun patted his knee.

“Can’t you just stay here until the beginning of the semester?” Johnny asked, a tad hopeful.

“That is illegal, I’m pretty sure,” Kun chuckled. “Besides, I would like to spend some time with my parents before coming here for the next… four years, or so?”

“Fair enough,” Johnny conceded.

“I’ll tell you what, though,” Kun perked up, turning around to face Johnny. “I’ll cook for you tonight, I’ll make it special.”

“I’d love that!” Johnny immediately perked up as well, grabbing Kun’s hand unconsciously.

“Where can I cook, though?” Kun smiled, letting out a small laugh at Johnny’s enthusiasm.

“There’s a kitchen here in the dorms,” Johnny stood up, pulling him along.

“That’s not very romantic hyung,” Kun scrunched his nose, displeased with the idea.

“You’re not going to propose to me, Kun,” Johnny huffed, “we can just have fun.”

Kun ended up agreeing, and Johnny took him shopping for the ingredients. He wanted to try making both Chinese and Korean dishes, so he and Johnny made up a menu on his cellphone and bought everything that was needed. They ended up choosing three main dishes and a bunch of sides to accompany them, although Kun was almost certain he would end up cooking way too much. Especially because Johnny seemed way too excited about trying his food.

When they arrived at the dorm’s kitchen, they found it empty. It was nice, because that meant Kun could cook with ease. He put on an apron that Johnny had insisted on buying and then helped Johnny put on a matching one. Even though Kun had insisted that he could do everything on his own, Johnny wanted to assist him, so he ended up accepting.

Cooking was, in short, a little bit of a mess. Kun wasn’t used to the appliances, and Johnny was very confused when given instructions, but by the end of it they managed to not burn any dishes and have a table full of homemade food. Johnny was ecstatic, to say the least. Kun, instead, was nervous. He worried that his cooking skills wouldn’t be up to Johnny’s expectations. Of course, the worry was unwarranted.

“This is amazing,” Johnny let out a pleased sigh as he put the spoon in his mouth.

“Really?” Kun looked at Johnny with expectation.

“I’m serious, it’s so good,” Johnny chuckled. “Let me try this one next.”

They ate to their hearts’ content, and to Kun’s surprise, they ended up finishing almost everything. Johnny immediately offered to clean the dishes, but Kun insisted on helping him anyway, so they did it together. When they finished, Johnny walked Kun to his dorm room. It was kinda late, and they were both sleepy after having eaten that much, but they still fell into quiet chatter.

“Will you come to the airport to see me off?” Kun asked as they reached his door.

“Naturally, I don’t want your parents to think badly of me,” Johnny muttered. Kun laughed it off.

“See you tomorrow then,” Kun smiled.

“See you.”

--

The rolling of his suitcase numbed Kun’s hand as they headed over to the gate. His flight was boarding at that moment, and Johnny was following him like an anxious puppy until the last point where they could be together. Kun’s heart was divided in half. He was feeling a bit homesick, and wanted to get home to his parents and tell them everything that had happened in those two weeks. At the same time, he didn’t want to leave Johnny behind.

“I can’t go any further,” Johnny muttered, grabbing his hand.

Kun stopped walking and turned to look at him, letting out a little sigh. Johnny smiled. His eyes mirrored what Kun was feeling. Without saying a word, he opened his arms, and Johnny smiled excitedly as they shared a hug for the first time. An actual hug, because they had held hands before and put an arm around each other’s shoulders. It was nice, and it made Kun feel certain that he was doing the right thing after all.

“I’ll see you in a few months,” he promised. Johnny nodded before letting him go.

--

The distance didn’t last them much, because they talked basically all day everyday. Kun’s parents often asked about Johnny, and he was more than happy to let them know what he was up to. They had even talked through a phone call once, with Kun serving as a translator. Johnny had also gotten creative with the virtual dates, finding all sorts of games and activities to do while they were apart.

They often had movie nights, and even cooked together sometimes while wearing the matching aprons they had gotten before. Johnny had even decided to go visit his mom, and introduced Kun to her. Those two weeks Johnny had spent back in America had been the most painful ones, because the time difference was a lot, but once he came back to Korea, it was easy to settle back into their routine.

Johnny-hyung: what are u doing?

Kun: studying Korean, why?

Johnny-hyung: your Korean is really good, don’t do that

Kun:  what should I do instead, then?

Kun rolled onto his back with his phone on his hands, smiling to himself. He had taken to seriously studying Korean while he was at home, wanting to make sure that he wouldn’t be behind his peers once classes started at the university. Plus, it made communication with Johnny easier, without much use of an online translator.

Johnny-hyung: pay attention to me

Kun: that’s not nearly as productive

Not even a minute passed and Johnny was already calling. Kun let out a laugh as he answered the call, having known fully well that Johnny would do that. The oldest immediately complained, arguing that talking to him was far more productive because he could practice his Korean and talk to his soulmate at the same time, which was a big advantage. Kun conceded, still laughing to himself.

They talked for a little while until the sun set, and Kun began to feel sleepy. He was about to ask for the call to end when Johnny’s tone changed. It immediately woke him up, feeling as if the air had turned heavy around him.

“Hey Kun…” Johnny cleared his throat. “There’s something I haven’t told you, and I wanted to be honest with you before, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Well,” Kun felt his heart drop inside his chest. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“Okay, right,” Johnny took a deep breath, before letting it out. “I have a second mark.”

[qrbie]

The Masterlist

Hey. I know it’s been ages since my last fic rec, but my motivation is slowly building again and I think I’m going to have a big one coming up soon. Meanwhile, I tossed a ton onto @0nceuponafanfic, so she might have something brewing for y’all. Anyways, I’ve been updating this thing, so if you ever need a pile to fall back on when I’m MIA, here you go!

Please tell me if I’m missing something, like a trigger warning or a link to someone’s Tumblr. Also don’t be afraid to rec me your favorite fics or even your own fics! I wanna see them. If you want to request fic recs, I’m open for those too! Even if you don’t have fics or even a specific purpose, come to my inbox and mess around. I’m bored and want human interaction.

‘allo people! yeah yeah yeah It’s been AGES since the last update so I’mma dump some new fics into here soon. I’m also gonna fix up the organization a bit. so sayonara and see ya later!

As always, stay hydrated!

Happy pride, everyone!

Last updated 6/23

1-Chapter bits of fluff or angst or something else

one hell of a hook | A TodoBaku fic... but don’t let that drive you away! This is an amazing fic, so please give it a try before you judge.

Mafia Au | What if Present Mic was a yakuza boss and Aizawa was a spy? (There’s a lot more to this, including a lot more art, over at @nartothelar‘s blog)

UA Music Conservatory | a series of one-shots in an AU where UA is actually a music school.

Silent Shadow | has the potential to evolve into something bigger. Nomu!Midoriya is Kurogiri’s protege. So cool.

Present Mic’s Awesome Mixtape 2.0 | Aizawa doesn’t like any kind of music. Shocking, right? After discovering this, Yamada has a new goal. Find a type of music Aizawa likes.

cultivating something so divine | Vet!Kiribaku, with so much fluff and animals and mutual pining that even the hardest of hearts can be softened.

The story of how Midoriya Izuku won the Sport Festival | I love a good dose of Crack Treated Seriously, and here’s some.

Trash Goblin Finds Love | “Bakugou. This is the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.”

president of the krbk club | Whenever something exciting happens, what does Midoriya do? Whip out his notebooks, of course. So what happens when Bakugou isn’t pushing Kirishima away?

It's Hard to Get Past Some Things | Whenever Midoriya’s drunk, Todoroki’s his designated caretaker. What happens when drunk Midoriya decides to talk about kids (or pups, whatever)? (A/B/O)

it's just the little things | Bakugou’s interactions over the years (stealing from the official summary here)

The Knock-On Effect | There’s only a couple types of knocks that Bakugou likes. Kirishima’s knocks in the middle of the night are one of them.

Smile for me, would you? | Unlike the rest of us, Present Mics has goals, and actually follows through with them. This goal? Make his neighbor, Shouta Aizawa, smile.

Shadowed Soul, Electric Eyes (We'll Be Okay) | What if Tokoyami and Kaminari, people with completely different quirks, got quirk-swapped?

A Matter of Pride | How everyone in BNHA came out. That’s it. It’s so fluffy, though.

firedancer | Unlike the rest of these, this one has the tiniest bit of angst. So little you’d need a microscope, though. Whenever someone falls in love, romantically, platonically, or any other way, a flower appears on their skin. Kirishima has a ton of flowers, but where are Bakugou’s?

A Mile in New Shoes (and A Mile Too Far) | Artist!Bakugou is invited to his first house party... Luckily he has three guys showing him around.

Boy things | Ashido loves her friends, but sometimes it gets lonely being the only girl in the Bakusquad. Good thing they understand!

come home to me | Kiribaku might’ve gotten a telepathic connection... There’s so much fluff in this one!

one to ten | Kirishima wants to date Bakugou, but he’s gotta climb the ladder of friendship first!

Get Mad! | Bakugou teaches Eri how to cope, and Eri returns the favor.

bakugatsu | Yeah, I know this is 20 chapters long, but it’s basically 20 drabbles compiled together by the amazing wonhaebunny!

a mix of six | Probably my favorite series of all time, no matter the fandom. What happens when Aizawa and Hizashi adopt Bakugou, Todoroki, Shinsou and Eri?

KiriBaku Week 2020 | A series by PoorUnfortunateSoul - full of fluff!

Safety In Numbers | A little bit of fluff and a lot of parental Erasermic.

Multi-chapter Stories

How To Get Adopted Without Letting Your Dad Know He's Adopting You, A Guide By Class 1-A | Good old fashioned school fluff. (WIP)

Dandelion | No masterlist is complete without at least one fic from the legendary Broken Realities, right? So here’s @owlf45‘s fic... (there’s a lot more! Check out the Broken Realities Collection on Ao3 for at least some of them... I bet there’s a lot more floating around.) (WIP)

Phosphenes | A Naruto/BNHA crossover, Mina is reborn from Naruto, and learns to navigate life even with such a big burden on her shoulders. (WIP)

Flour Power | Kirishima and Bakugou are supposed to take care of a sack of flour for a school project. What could go wrong?

Not really a villain, but close enough | “Aizawa didn't expect the raid to go so well. he didn't expect the informant to be so useful and well-mannered. who was hi kidding? Aizawa didn't expect the informant to be a kid. but the green-eyed boy cuffed to the interrogation table was wiling to help, and Aizawa wasn't one to look the gift horse in the mouth“ (WIP)

green haze | Vigilante!Midoriya is known as the Green Haze, a vigilante, Eraserhead’s supposed to capture. Shenanigans happen.

2am Knows All Secrets | One of those classic Kiribaku fics that trickle through the ranks. Lots of fluff, with good ol’ tropes like sharing a bed and mutual pining and Good Friends, and-it’s great.

The life of a hero | Such a good series. It’s so amazing. It gives angst and pain but then soothes it over with fluff, but then it tears you apart... and then it gives you life... a great read.

The Last Resort | This is basically pure angst. It’s so painful, but it’s such a good story... Shinsou was sold as a young child to a yakuza. This yakuza would rent out people for their quirks... This is an amazing read, but don’t expect any fluff from this. (Check the tags! WIP)

¥300 Shampoo | When Aizawa’s working on a book at the cafe, he certainly doesn’t expect someone pulling his hair. He definitely doesn’t expect getting a free haircut out of it, either.

quote love unquote | Take the official summary “When Kirishima Eijirou's band hits the big time, he's not prepared for his newfound fame. He's even less prepared to meet the actor he's been crushing on for years, or to start dating him as a publicity stunt. The closer Kirishima gets to Bakugou Katsuki, the more he realizes he's in over his head. But it's hard to stop, once his heart is in it.”

lovin is easy | Blasty doesn’t get “feelings,” so here’s five times Bakugou doesn’t get love and one time he does. (WIP)

The Empath & The Mind Reader | Bakugou is a mind reader, and Kirishima is a empath. If both of them can literally know what the other person’s feeling/thinking, why are they still dancing around each other? (WIP, Contains smut, Anxiety attacks)

and finally I see the world in color (the violet stands out, thanks to you) | This fic deserves a LOT more than just 76 kudos. Sometimes people miss out on amazing fics just because it’s a femslash. Momojirou, where Yaoyaorozu is a businesslady who is bored with her life and everything else, until she happens upon the rambunctious band Dark Shadow. Seriously, please read this! (WIP)

Behind The Scenes | A KiriBaku actor AU. What happens when you start falling for your co-star - and your on-screen love interest? (WIP, It’s rated E for smut, but there isn’t any yet)

We Didn't Start the Fire | What if Touya decided to make something out of himself instead of becoming a villain? This is amazing, by the way. (WIP)

it seems i'm never letting go | Here’s how I summarized it to myself... “Koi no yokan... will Blasty experience it? (His sister left)” By the way, koi no yokan is basically love at first sight, Japanese-style. (WIP)

Lips Like Blood | What happens when Bakugou, a mage, falls in love with the one person who can’t love him back? (WIP)

Charm Me, Loser | A Hogwarts AU that has no right being that ingenius and amazing. My only problem with it is sorta small... There’s already a wizarding school in Japan... Why aren’t they going there? (WIP)

Gotta Get Away | Tsuyu and Bakugou are out getting some new hero merch together because of the new buddy system at UA. What happens when they’re mistaken for a couple? (WIP)

Opposed to the Typical | A fashion AU. This is ridiculously good. It feels like the author was actually in the Japanese fashion industry! (WIP, smut, past child abuse, mental health issues)

One Day at a Time | Pretty genius idea, actually. Bakugou and Uraraka are trapped in what is essentially a time-speeder-upper. What’s going to be a day for their classmates is going to be a year for them. What will they do in that year together? (WIP, it’s rated Mature but it’s pretty innocent so far)

The UA Quarantine Collection | Basically, a bunch of authors got together and made a ton of one-shots of what Class 1A is doing in quarentine. Technically it isn’t a coherent story, but I’m counting it as one. There’s two versions, a clean version and a version with all the smutty bits. The smutty one’s the second story in the series. This one’s linked to the clean one. (WIP)

Midoriya Fuckin' Izuku | This is an amazing fic! It has a ton of TWs, though. Make sure to read the tags before starting it! (WIP)

Seeing Double | A very good, and very long, fantasy AU. (WIP, smut)

Broken, but Still Good | Bakugou was rescued, after four years, from an illegal alpha fighting ring. Can Kirishima, a beta, help him back to society? Pay attention to the tags. (WIP, A/B/O)

Broken Wings | Kirishima’s a dragon who was rescued from the dragon slave trade by the mysterious Bakugou Katsuki, I don’t know what else to say. (WIP)

The Roast of Class 2-A | Have a crackfic. (WIP)

The Space Between | Midoriya’s a photojournalist who is just starting out. One fateful night, he goes to photograph the Antiheros in concert. (WIP, mild smut)

A Fissile Family | Bakugou’s been kidnapped by the League of Villains again. They’re actually sorta a weird family. (WIP)

Mochi Mochi | Just take the official summary. “Ochako never saw a problem with DM-ing an internationally known actor her grocery lists, absolutely certain that he'd never see them. That is—until he replies. And who the hell does he think he is to tell her mochi isn't real food?”

Green as the Leaves, and Red as a Rose | A TodoDeku flower shop AU. (WIP)

remember my name | Post-UA, Bakugou realizes that some things are for forever.

Blinding Shapes | What happens when soulmates, a blind abstract artist and a burnt out barista meet?

a heart swelled to bursting | Mind the tags, here. Training camp part 2 for Class 2A. (WIP)

manly man falls for manliest man | What happens when businessman!Kirishima meets his idol, and maybe biggest celebrity crush ever, actor!Bakugou? (Smut)

Miscellaneous Stuff From Other Fandoms

I have some Harry Potter fics lying around somewhere, so I’m going to add those later.

Stucco Hearts | One of my absolute favorite soulmate fics ever, from Percy Jackson.

Christmas and Chill | A old series I sorta just came across again from PJO.

The Florist and the Punk | Maybe another old series from PJO.

Hearts Need Love | Keep an eye on the tags! This is my favorite PJO fic of all time.

Our Songs | It’s good if I spent half an hour trying to find it again. It’s a Solangelo songfic.

Some random writers I recommend (A lot more coming along-I’m in the middle of a ton of different fics right now)

aloneintherain | @captainkirkk

wonhaebunny | @wonhaebunny

rosedvst

Sif (Rosae) | @intothedarknessigo

kiritime

sinderellaa

aloera | @aloera

Argentina | @junepixel

KuriKuri | @letaizawarest