#maybe one day if i hope really hard i might actually get an offer

[themboty]

just finished another job interview, i hope they liked me

[martyrlamb]

✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer. 

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently. 

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on. 

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s  like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night. 

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder. 

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot. 

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air. 

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm. 

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather. 

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh. 

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side. 

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot. 

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job. 

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles. 

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you. 

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors. 

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either. 

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency. 

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home. 

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something. 

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it. 

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him. 

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly. 

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that. 

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes. 

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts. 

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him. 

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word. 

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came. 

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals. 

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow. 

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone. 

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed. 

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.” 

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold. 

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?” 

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back. 

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew. 

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort. 

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious?  You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again. 

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag. 

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it. 

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes. 

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re  enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find  yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath. 

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like. 

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over. 

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic. 

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention. 

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on. 

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all. 

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face. 

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

[azrielbrainrot]

Loose Lips and Big Feelings

Pairing: Band Member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Azriel gets a little drunk and you take care of him.

Warnings: Alcohol?

Word Count: 2320

Notes: This is a little short but very cute. As always, this is part of the band au but you can read it as a standalone. Also I decided the boys make early Arctic Monkeys type music because imagining Azriel singing 505 sounds delicious. Hope you enjoy!

Band AU Masterlist

The bar was already packed with drunk people by the time you arrived. It was so full you were surprised they even let you in, you had to take a deep breath, readying yourself before diving into the sea of people. Finding Azriel and his friends was going to be harder than you thought, you might have to text him again. The situation was somewhat nostalgic to the first time you set foot in this bar, the same night you met Azriel. It's amazing how much things have changed in a matter of months.

Someone was doing a cover of a song you recognized on stage, it almost made you want to hum along and enjoy it for a bit, but you needed to get to Azriel's table first. You couldn't really see the woman singing on stage aside from her striking ginger hair and blue dress, but her voice was truly amazing. You could definitely understand why everyone was so excited to see her. You'd have to ask Azriel if he knew her, maybe try to see one of her shows properly.

You hadn't actually planned on coming tonight, Azriel and the boys weren't even playing and you'd rather sleep away the week. In fact, an hour ago you had been sitting at your desk hoping to get enough progress on an essay so you could completely free up your Sunday to rest and lay in bed all day. But, when a mildly intoxicated Azriel texted you, asking you to meet up with him at the bar, you couldn't resist the offer.

It's not often he asks you outright to meet him, always so conscious of your hectic schedule and workload, even your recent aversion to social outings. So you couldn't really deny him the one time he actually did. You were also a bit curious to see what had him so excited, his happiness was extremely contagious, and admittedly a bit curious to see what he's like when he's drunk, if your intuition had been right then he was close to wasted when he sent you those texts littered with typos.

He had told you that they were sitting at the table by the big red poster, you were pretty sure you knew which one he meant, but unfortunately it was close to the stage which means it would be difficult to get to it while the performance was happening. You were caught between excuse me’s and apologies when you finally caught sight of familiar broad shoulders and luscious tied back hair.

Even when they're not on stage, they're hard to miss. Cassian is at least a head taller than the crowd, so even when he's sitting down you can always count on finding him. He's the first one to notice you as well, greeting you with a shout of your name, somehow audible over the music, and a big grin, as you keep trying to gently push your way through the crowd to get to them.

You find the three of them tucked into the sofas by the table Azriel told you about. Apparently being one of the performing bands gave you access to the best seats in the bar, you always got stuck with the regular chairs. As you get closer to the table you notice Morrigan and another girl you haven't met before were also present.

“You came,” Morrigan yelled excitedly as soon as you got up to the table. It seems they're all drinking tonight, the table is full of grins and flushed cheeks.

“I did,” you chuckle at the overenthusiastic greetings from everyone at the table. A familiar scarred hand reaches out for yours immediately, tugging on it so you would sit down next to him. It's not missed on you the eyebrows the gesture raises, you've learned that he's not always forthcoming with letting people touch or hold his hands so you're sure they didn't really expect him to do it so easily. They probably didn't know Azriel told you everything either.

The sofas were small so it was a tight fit as you sat down right next to him, having no other option but let your leg comfortably rest on his, the feeling of his rough jeans on your bare skin making you giddy for some reason. His arm comes around your waist straight away so his hand settles on the side of your thigh, pulling you even closer into him.

The gesture makes you look up at him, his face a lot closer than you expected, you could feel his breath hit your skin and if you moved even an inch closer your nose would bump against his. The smile he gives you almost takes your breath away as you let out a soft greeting, “Hi.” You're surprised he even heard you, if you weren't so close to each other he wouldn't have been able to over the music, but he throws the same word back at you, in the same whispered tone you used, as his smile widens, eyes not making any effort to leave yours.

“So this is Azriel's friend,” the girl you haven't met before says, with a tone that suggests she's heard a lot about you. The thought of Azriel or any of the boys telling anyone about you has your heart skipping a beat. Her voice also cuts through the spell you and Azriel seemed to be locked in, finally breaking eye contact with him so you can answer her. But, as you look back to the table, you become more than aware that everyone just witnessed your little moment and the smirks on their faces make it hard to play it off.

“This is Amren. She's our manager,” Rhysand explains before you have to ask, a shit eating grin growing on his face as he takes in the flushed state of yours.

“Nice to meet you,” you try to keep your voice leveled but even to your ears it sounds breathless. You swallow softly and try to move the conversation along as Azriel starts rubbing small circles over your skirt, “You didn't tell me why you're celebrating.”

“Rita just told us she's doubling our performances at the bar,” Azriel explains, a little slur noticeable in his voice.

“Really?” You turn back to him as he nods again with a big grin on his face. He looked really excited to share the news with you.

“She's giving us a raise too,” Cass adds, and then looks back at his mostly empty cup and then at your empty hand, “We need to get you a drink.” You stop him before he can get up. “I think I'll be the responsible one tonight and stay sober.” The disappointed reactions around the table make you laugh but also accept that you'd be the babysitter tonight, they were all bordering on wasted already.

As the night went on, everyone only got progressively drunker. It seems like since they can't usually drink too much when they have to perform, they took the opportunity that everyone was here to party as much as they could. Even Azriel, who you never really saw drinking, was talking and laughing like you've never really seen him. He's more of a quiet guy most of the time, preferring to listen rather than entertain. It was nice to see him let loose a little.

The bar was getting quieter since the performance had ended a while ago and the big majority of the attendees started filtering out shortly after. The only people that were still around were ones that were as drunk as your present company. You didn't really mind being sober though, Cassian had brought you some sort of juice so you had something to sip on, and as loud as they were, they were easy drunks to deal with.

Amren had left right after the performance ended with a warning not to stay up too late since they had practice tomorrow. You got the sense she wasn't too much of a crowded bar person but she seemed nice enough. After that everyone else seemed to leave one by one, you tried to keep track of them, not wanting them to end up in trouble as drunk as they were, but as you saw Morrigan making out with a pretty girl with long black hair on the dancefloor your worry subsided.

This also left you alone with Azriel, who has been a lot more talkative and touchy than he usually is. At this exact moment, he was telling you a story, that you lost track of about halfway in, and holding one of your hands in between his, as he played with your fingers, twisting and turning the rings you were wearing. He has also not made any move to sit away from you even though you were the only remaining people at the table, your leg really didn't need to be thrown over his. Azriel was a clingy drunk and your cheeks hurt from smiling at the realization.

You were pondering on how to stop him so you could take him home. It was getting really late and you've already gotten almost unreadable texts from everyone saying they left. He had also told you he had work today so he has to be exhausted. But you didn't have the heart as you watched him excitedly continue on with his story.

At some point, he notices you weren't really following along and just stops, tilting his head to the side slightly. Your smile only widens at the sight. “What?”

“You're cute when you're drunk,” you admit.

“I think you're cute all the time,” he retorts without missing a beat, making your face heat up.

You always had a hard time telling yourself to keep your feelings for him platonic, but between the boyish smile, the flirtatious comments and the lingering touches, it was getting close to impossible to achieve today. “And flirty,” you struggle out.

“Only with you.” Cauldron. You really needed to get him to sober up and take him home.

You get up to do just that and within ten minutes, you're out of the bar and waiting for an uber by the same empty parking lot you usually find yourself in when you come out. He's also a pretty obedient drunk it seems. All you had to do was grab his hand and he looked like he was ready to follow you anywhere your heart desired. You were so glad you chose not to drink because your heart was definitely giving you ideas and your brain was the only thing stopping you.

Azriel was still holding onto your hand and you honestly had no intention of letting go of him. You couldn't really take your eyes off him. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed, the low lights of the bar hasn't let you really take in the sight. Some of his hair was sticking to his forehead and that same boyish smile hasn't left his face all night. No one should be allowed to look this good when they're drunk.

“Remember when we met here?” His words were starting to sound a bit clearer, maybe the cold air was helping him sober up a little or he was just getting tired. You think he told you he had work today and it was already late.

“Of course. It only happened a few months ago.”

“Feels like I've known you my whole life,” he says as he looks down at your linked hands, running his thumb softly over your skin.

“We didn't meet here though,” your voice seems to bring him out of his thoughts, his eyes finding yours, “You gave me back my keys when we were still inside.”

His smile turned a little shy at that. “I'm not sure that counts. I was running late and barely said anything,” he says rubbing the back of his neck, “I was beating myself up over it the whole show.”

“I…” you hesitate for a moment, unsure if he'll remember anything come morning. unsure if you'd want him to, “I was having a really bad day when we met, didn't even really want to come out, but I'm really glad I did, even though I got a massive headache out of it. If I hadn't come I wouldn't have met you. And I can't really imagine my life without you now.”

You tighten your hold on his hand and use it to pull him a little closer to you, close enough that you have to crane your neck back to be able to keep looking up into his eyes. “I think you came into my life at the perfect time, Azriel,” you smile up at him.

The emotion that crosses his face is so overbearing it's impossible to miss or confuse for anything else than adoration and… something more, something you've been trying to ignore for far too long. Gods, you really wish he was sober.

He raises his hand to cup your cheek softly, rubbing his thumb over your warm skin. “I think so too, princess,” he whispers, looking at you like he can't believe you're real. You've noticed the nickname only comes out when it's just the two of you and at times like this, when it seems he doesn't even realize he's said it, like he's been holding himself back from doing it regularly.

You could have stayed here, looking up at his beautiful hazel eyes all night, but it doesn't take long for a black car to come to a stop a few feet away from you, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts. You almost forgot you were still outside the bar, still needed to take this big drunk bat home. Taking a step back, you tug on his hand once again, so he can follow you to the car. “Come on, Azzie. We need to get you home.”

taglist: @bookishbroadwaybish @sad-anxious-muffin @mika-no-sekai-blog @starwholistenanddreamsanswered @secretlyhers @evergreenlark @vermillionwinter @anuttellaa @lilah-asteria @tinymarklee @lupinswolfsbanes @therealmoonstone

[amsgrey]

take it slow

Kaz Brekker x Fem! reader

request:

hi love!! could you please do a Kaz Brekker x reader where the reader helps Kaz cut his hair?? maybe it’s super hard for Kaz to do it himself for some reason and he finally lets reader help. they take it really slow tho so kaz is comfortable. thanks 🥰🥰

warnings: not proof-read, canon typical violence, talking of gambling, a whole lot of angsty fluff, Kaz working through his skin aversion/phobia, switches a lot between the reader's pov and Kaz's, I tried to be fancy with the wiring but its meh, mid ending

You sighed, looking out over the bustling tables and colourful clothes that made up the Crow Club. Pigeons and regulars crowd the tables to avoid the pouring rain beyond the doors. Nights like this were freezing, the Ketterdam cold had a way of finding the cracks in buildings. Seeping into homes and putting out fires. Whenever it would get too bad, the Crow Club would get busier. Kaz carefully built the club to be enticing, it was hard to leave the comfort of warmth with weather like tonight.

You were in charge tonight, a steep task seeming the steady stream of people entering the club. Kaz had locked himself in his room at the slat, the last job the crows had gone on went south. Kaz took a bullet to the arm, effectively losing his strength for the foreseeable future. It had made him sourer than usual, he had chewed Jesper out for being careless and letting the job go south.

You looked over at the gunslinger now, sitting at a table with Wylan, the latter trying to stop too much money from being squandered. You had promised to stake him for the night, to make up for the way Kaz had treated him, it was the least you could do. Even so, you still felt the gnaw of guilt watching him at the table. You weren't a fan of gambling, at least not the kind Jesper was. He liked the thrill of the unknown, but he never knew when to stop. At least Wylan was with him now, supervising to be sure Jesper had a good time but not so much that he would regret it.

Nina and Matthias were here tonight as well, they hardly ever stayed around the club, but tonight Nina had convinced Matthias to have a drink and enjoy the night. Inej had been with them at the start of the night but had since slunk off to do what she did best. You hoped Kaz hadn't sent her on any errands tonight, you worried the spider might just get washed off her perch if she was. The steep gables of Ketterdam were treacherous on a clear day, they would be lethal tonight.

You were startled when a shout echoed around the room, the man it came from was clearly unhappy with his hand. He stood from his seat and grabbed the dealer by his collar, shaking and shouting in his face. You rolled your eyes, men who lost at the tables often blamed the dealers for their misfortune. The man yelling had silenced the club, everyone watching as Keeg pushed his way over to the man. Fighting and violence were not allowed in the Crow Club, if you had an issue you took it outside. You watched from the stairs as Keeg seized the man and hauled him away from the tables, tossing him outside into the rain with a terse warning not to stick around. The room was bustling again before the doors even closed.

You climbed down the stairs and headed to where Matthias and Nina were sitting, comfortably tucked into one of the quieter corners of the club. Nina lit up when she saw you, as she always did.

'Are you here to join us?" She asked, gesturing to the empty seat beside her.

You shook your head, "Have you seen Kaz tonight?"

Nina rolled her eyes, "I offered to help him with his arm but he refused." She crossed her arms, "Quite rudely, actually."

You offered her a small smile that felt fake, "Sounds like Kaz."

Nina waved her hand dismissively, taking a sip of her drink.

You turned to look back over the club, knowing you should be focused on the events that transpired here, but being unable to stop your mind wander back to the attic of the slat.

Kaz was not the easiest person to love but you did so anyway. Last night you had tried to offer him comfort, but he had lashed out and left you feeling stupid. You knew he had regretted his words, the moment he said them his eyes gave away his shock. Kaz was all sharp lines and harshness, he had boarded his heart up with cruel words and violent ways. You knew that he would not change at the drop of a hat, but you saw the good in him. The good he spent years burying so deep he couldn't find it himself. So you stayed patient, you gave him space when he needed it. Cautious not to smother him or hasten him when he was not ready. He would let you in, piece by piece until all his walls were gone, and he felt safe with you.

In the last few months since getting closer, Kaz had let you past his defences. He quietly told you small details about himself. How he had grown up outside of Lij, on a farm he had left behind after his father's death. How he was always fascinated with sleight of hand - magic - even as he outgrew childhood. He had even slowly told you about his brother. Only small things, like how he had been 5 years older and had died not long after they came to Ketterdam. You could see how hard it was for him to share those small things, watch him fight with himself about if he should tell you. So in turn, you told him about your own quietly kept secrets. It was a strange transaction, but you could feel the bond between you both strengthening the more you shared in the quiet of Kaz's room.

Nina pulled you from your trance with a hand on your arm, she drew your attention back to the present. You turned to look at her, knowing already she could feel how your heart was racing with worry.

"You should go try again," She said, squeezing your hand.

"I'm meant to be closing."

"We can do it," Matthias replied, "Jesper and Wylan will help."

You looked over to where Wylan and Jesper were, they seemed to feel your eyes on them and they turned and offered smiles.

"Go," Nina urged again, "Before I change my mind and cozy up in bed."

You hugged your friend tight, thanking her and asking her to pass on thanks to Wylan and Jesper.

You forced yourself out the doors before you could dwell too much more on it. Keeg waved you off, letting you know he would keep watch as you were gone.

You shoved your hands into your pockets as you walked, keeping your head down to avoid the rain as much as possible. You walked as quickly as you could, sticking to the side of buildings to avoid getting drenched in the downpour.

As you crossed over the bridge a few blocks away from the slat, Inej fell into step beside you. You were used to the Suli girl appearing at your side, if It were anyone else you would get startled, but Inej was always a comforting presence. Sometimes you felt like she was a saint, the way she watched over you and the crows. You told her this often, reminding her of how appreciative you were to have a friend like her around.

"Kaz hasn't sent you on any jobs tonight has he?"

Inej shook her head, "No."

You let out a breathy laugh, "Then why were you jumping across the rooftops?"

You knew the answer.

"I feel at home on the roofs, it's my own Ketterdam."

You hummed, taking in her answer. Inej told you about the time she spent training on the highwire as a child, how she loved the feeling of being free so high off the ground. She was brave and unwavering like that and you admired her greatly for it.

As you came up on the Slat, Inej disappeared back into the shadows of the night. She would return to the club, or retire to her room, but she enjoyed climbing her way across Ketterdam and you were happy to let her do so.

The slat was mostly quiet when you entered. Anika and a few other Dregs were drinking and conversing quietly as if not to disturb anyone. You knew it was to not bother Kaz. Although Dirtyhands had put in a lot of effort and money into making the slat warm and dry, voices still carried. Most nights you could hear conversations from the bottom floor all the way in Kaz's attic, it was how you knew whenever Jesper got back. He was loud enough to be heard all over the slat.

You started your climb up the stairs, watching your rain-soaked boots take each step with certainty. Although you climbed these stairs multiple times a day, you still felt as if you might trip down them. They were narrow and steep, a recipe for disaster when the rain made your shoes slippery.

Three floors up, you stopped in your room. It was hardly a room and more of a closet, fitting your cot and dresser and not much else. You truly didn't mind, you were right next door to Inej and you only ever came to your room to sleep or change.

You kicked off your boots and stripped off your socks, replacing them quickly with a dry pair to keep your feet warm. You shrugged off your jacket and hung it on the door handle , with any luck it would dry before you would need it again tomorrow. You slipped out of the room and headed back to the stairs to Kaz's room.

Your feet made no sound as you climbed the steps, the silence of your movements allowing you to listen for Kaz in his room. Most of the time you would hear him shuffling through papers, but tonight there was little noise coming from behind the door. As you reached up to knock you prayed he wasn't sleeping.

"Yes?"

You cracked open the door, surprised to find Kaz wasn't sitting at his desk but standing in front of the small mirror in the corner of the room. He had scissors in his good hand, the other shakingly brushing back his hair from his face.

You had noticed how Kaz's hair had gotten much longer lately. The dark strands often blocking his eyes. You knew it drove him crazy, he hated having his hair in his eyes, but he had been too busy to fix it for now.

Kaz shared how he cut his own hair not long ago, you remembered the conversation vividly. He had caught his reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands in the small basin, asking you if you liked his hair.

You had been surprised, Kaz never cared for what others thought of his appearance. You told him the truth, that you loved his hair. Loved how he took time to cut it and try to style it, to you it showed his quiet care. When you asked why he was suddenly concerned, he mentioned how Nina had teased him about it once. It had been a harmless comment, but to him brought back the fact that he feared others touch so much he couldn't bare to let someone else cut it. So it looked rough, uneven in some parts and sometimes much shorter than he intended. You offered to help him when he was ready, but he had yet to take you up on the offer.

"Kaz," You sighed, taking a tentative step forward as if not to startle him. "You should be resting."

Kaz just frowned at his reflection.

His hands were shaking, you noticed. His right hand with the scissors shook so subtly that you might have missed It if you weren't looking. His other hand gripped tight to the side of the basin, as he fought the pain that throbbed down his bicep.

"I can't stand it anymore," Kaz growled, glaring at the hair that kept flopping in his face.

You chuckled, watching the man glower at his reflection with all his barrel brutality.

Crossing the room towards him, you held out your hand, "Let me help."

Kaz stared at your hand like it was foreign. You waited patiently as he had an internal battle. You felt a pang of sympathy when you watched a look of longing pass over Kaz's face. He wanted to let you help, he wanted nothing more than to feel your hands running through his hair with the tender care you always held. But the waters were always there, right below him. If he let you help, they might just swallow him whole.

Finally, Kaz resigned the scissors to you with a sigh.

You smiled at him, "We'll take it slowly." You promised, "If it gets too much, tell me and we’ll stop."

Kaz nodded.

He watched you in the mirror as you stood behind him, assessing what he had already done and what you would do. You knew he liked it a certain way, you spent enough time staring at him to memorize how it always looked. You made eye contact with Kaz in the mirror.

"Ready?"

Kaz nodded, taking in a deep breath.

You ran your hand through his hair, combing it back off his face with your fingers. You could almost feel how Kaz relaxed, his tense shoulders falling just a little. You took it as a good sign, continuing to gently pull his hair away from his face and start cutting.

It was slow going, you paused every few minutes to remind Kaz to breathe and release the tension in his muscles. You had no intention of making him suffer through his flashbacks alone. So you muttered reassuring words, offering to take a longer break or to step back for a moment as he processed. Kaz would shake his head, refusing to let you move away in case he would never feel you close again.

Your body was so warm he could feel it through the shirt on his back. You were always comforting and warm like a fire on a cold day. Kaz sometimes felt himself leaning into the feeling, leaning into you. Getting close to someone after so many years of pushing everyone away was terrifying for him. But he was determined to work through it, to be worthy of the gentleness and care you bestowed on him.

When you were done, you ran your fingers through his hair one last time. Your fingertips brushed against the skin on the back of his neck. Typically, the feeling would repulse him, send him spiralling into the frigid waves, but now he felt warmth grow from where you touched. He let out a sigh, revelling in the peace that he felt at that moment. It had been so long since skin-on-skin contact had made him feel something other than repulsion, he had almost forgotten what it was like.

You stepped back, placing the scissors on the desk and giving him space. You were buzzing with emotions and you feared they might just burst out of you if you stayed too close.

The room was silent, the only sound coming from you and Kaz's quiet breaths. You could feel your heart beating erratically, it pulsated through your body as you tried to steady it. Kaz was staring at your handiwork in the mirror, his hands running through it and feeling how it reacted. After a few tense moments, he turned to you, the smallest of smiles on his lips.

Kaz's smiles were hard to earn. Often, it felt like his only facial expression was the stern frown he always wore. But every now and again, in the safety of these four walls, his eyes would relax and his lips pull upwards.

The first time Kaz had smiled at you, you had felt drunk. You could live in that moment for a million years and never grow sick of it. His smile was so gentle, it warmed you from the inside out. You searched for that feeling everywhere, but it only ever came when Kaz smiled.

You felt hopelessly lovesick now, staring into the eyes of the bastard of the barrel. He was so different within these walls, still sarcastic and ill-tempered at times, but also gentle and caring. When he allowed himself the chance to feel safe, you could see the little boy from Lij who loved magic and games.

"Thank you."

You could only just hear the words over the roar of your heartbeat, offering Kaz a tight-lipped smile and a wave of your hand.

"It's no problem."

You both stayed silent for a little longer, looking everywhere but at each other. You were brimming with butterflies, the same giddy feeling you got when you had your first crush.

Kaz stood from his perch, slowly limping over to you. You waited as he did so, worried a move might break the spell that overcame you both. You fiddled with your fingers, trying to calm the thoughts racing through your mind.

Kaz reached out a gloved hand, holding your hand to stop your anxious habit. You had held his hand before, mostly when he wore his gloves so that he wouldn't get too overwhelmed, but it always made you feel safe. The most dangerous man in all of Ketterdam was not dirtyhands here, he was Kaz, gentle and loving.

You watched silently as Kaz pulled his hand away and slipped his gloves off. You knew that he preferred to take things slowly, he needed to take things slowly. You were in no rush, you had all the time in the world for the man before you.

Kaz's hands were still shaky, trembling ever so slightly as he reached for you again. He slowly raised his good hand to your face, hesitating before making contact. His eyes held a question, asking kindly for your permission. You accepted with a small nod, unable to help the tiny smile on your lips. Kaz's hand was colder than you were expecting as he cupped your cheek, you were sure he would be able to feel how hot you were. His slender fingers sat against your jawline, his thumb feathering across your cheekbone, like he was exploring your face. You subconsciously leaned into his hand, closing your eyes and letting a sigh slip from your lips. You could live here forever, in this safety and warmth, tucked away from the prying eyes of Ketterdam.

Kaz took a shaky breath in and you pulled away, startled that you might have pushed him too far. He only smiled, taking a small step forward and keeping his hand on your cheek. You could feel his breath on your skin now, the ghosting of his fingers. It almost felt like a dream. Kaz leaned in a little closer, your foreheads almost touching. His eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes and back.

Kaz wanted nothing more than to close the gap between you and press his lips to yours. You were so warm, your face tucked into his hand like it was made to be held by him. Your breath tickled his skin, it reminded him how you were here, alive. Saints, if he could just lean forward and-

All at once the water was snatching him under. The feeling of your skin turning cold and deathly. He lurched back, holding in his gags of disgust as the freezing waters overtook him.

"Kaz?"

He fell backwards, scrambling to put space between you both as he choked on the waters.

You could only watch as Kaz scrambled away from you, unable to do anything to stop him. He pulled himself as far away from you as he could, becoming a mess of shaking and shuddering breaths. He was panicking, the anxiety and fear clearly written across his features. It hurt, you wanted to help him but you feared you might only make it worse.

You knew you wouldn't be able to leave him in such a state, hyperventilating on the floor of his room. So you slowly lowered yourself to the ground, a good meter away from him to not suffocate him.

"I'm here, Kaz," You said softly, watching over him, "You're safe."

He took another few shuddering breaths, but they were slower than the last. You took it as a sign to keep going.

"Take it slow," You spoke just above a whisper, "I'm not going anywhere."

You stayed a safe distance away as Kaz calmed down, watching over him and offering quiet reassurances as he slowly came to himself. When the panic was gone from his eyes, it was replaced with guilt. You knew how hard it was for Kaz to touch skin, you didn't know exactly why, but you didn't mind taking things slow for him.

You cut Kaz before he could say he was sorry, "It's okay."

Kaz reached for his gloves and shoved them on, "It's not."

You shuffled a little closer, "Kaz." The boy looked up at you with his dark eyes, "Truly, it's alright. I will wait for you. If it takes days, weeks or years, I will be here."

Kaz's eyes were glossy, you had never seen him cry but perhaps this was the closest he ever got.

"You, Kaz Brekker, are worth waiting for."

Kaz looked down, "Rietveld."

It caught you entirely off guard, "What?"

Kaz slowly lifted his eyes to yours, "My real name is Kaz Rietveld."

Your face burst into a bright grin, "Well, Kaz Rietveld, it's nice to meet you."

[wlntrsldler]

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat | luke castellan

based on this post in luke's pov.

warnings: loser!luke a little bit, percabeth crumbs and teasing from them, swear words, luke being jealous

i. i used to call you my best friend, way back before you were my everything.

"beth, you need to drop it," luke groaned, toying with the armor on his body. the young girl had been stuck on this conversation for hours now. ever since luke showed up to the athena cabin to talk strategy (there was no strategy talk, it was a ploy to get luke alone so she could knock some sense into him), annabeth had been going on and on about you and luke and your relationship.

"i'm just saying, you need to make a move."

"you have been saying that," luke checked the watch around his wrist. he tapped on the glass, "for about an hour and seventeen minutes."

"i'm sorry, but we're tired of watching you guys give googly eyes to each other and not do a thing about it," she replied, trying to keep up with luke as he walked towards the woods. luke was using his height and long legs to his advantage, hoping that she'd finally give up. (he should've known better; annabeth never actually gave up on anything.) "even percy asked me what was going on between you guys and he just got here like ten minutes ago."

"we do not give each other the googly eyes," annabeth shot him a pointed look. luke paused, pursing his lips, "fine, i give her googly eyes but she doesn't reciprocate."

"i knew you were dumb, but i didn't think you were a fucking idiot."

"hey, language," he tutted, crossing his arms over his chest. he can see the crowds of campers gearing up for capture the flag. "who taught you that word?"

she rolled her eyes, "sorry, but 'freaking' didn't have the same oomph."

"we're done with this conversation, 'kay?" luke walked away, shaking his head. under his breath, he mumbled, "fucking kids, man."

from behind him, he heard annabeth call out to him, "and you wonder where i learned the word!"

luke chuckled, twirling his sword expertly as he approached the group. he spotted you a few feet back talking to percy. the kid looked scared out of his mind, but after you reassured him that he probably wouldn't sustain any life-altering injuries, his demeanor relaxed.

luke walked over to you, immediately placing an arm around your waist. you knew that it was luke before you even got a look at him. you nudged yourself closer to him as you ended your conversation with percy.

"you'll be alright kid," you said, offering him a genuine smile. "i know clar has been giving you a hard time, but she's just like that. she'll warm up to you."

luke could tell that percy didn't really believe you based on the look on his face, but he also saw percy's eyes flicker to the lack of space between you and luke and knew that it was his time to go.

percy rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat, "alright, thanks, y/n. i appreciate it."

"no problem, percy. i'm sure beth wouldn't let anything happen to you anyway."

as percy walked away to find annabeth, you twisted your body to face luke. you beamed at him in a way that luke could only describe as cute. whenever you talked to him, the crinkles by your eyes appeared and your cheeks pushed up on your face, a slight tint of pink dusted over them.

"hi, luke," you greeted, "ready to win?"

"yes, ma'am," he mirrored your smile. he adjusted the strap on your armor, lightly grazing his fingers over your exposed collarbone. "you gonna show off the skills i taught you?"

"of course," you paused, "i might even be better than you now. maybe i can teach you some things."

he softly pinched your hip, making you squeal. he laughed at your reaction. "don't get cocky, dove."

"i'm just saying," you slowly peeled yourself away from him, but held his hands in yours as you moved backward. "one day the student becomes the teacher, castellan."

"that day is not today, but i'm loving this confidence."

you sent him a wink before joining your siblings. luke felt his knees buckle at the simple gesture. his heart was hammering in his chest and he was half-sure that the people around him could hear his heart thumping against the armor, like a drumbeat. he was glad that his helmet was hiding his face because annabeth and percy were now looking at him, both of their hands in a "thumbs up" gesture in the air.

ii. and it may not mean much but your plates are in his sink and your sweater's on his bed.

your team won (of course you did), but the victory came second to the claiming of percy. percy didn't make it to dinner, no doubt stuck talking to chiron and mr. d about what it all meant, but he was back in time for the celebratory bonfire.

percy found annabeth and luke grabbing some cookies on the snack table when he finally gave up trying to understand the prophecy for the night. luke threw an arm over his shoulder, "forbidden child, how you holding up?"

"i don't really want to talk about it. i honestly don't even know how i feel right now."

"that's fair," annabeth said, outstretching her hand to reveal a handful of oreo cookies. "want some?"

"thanks," percy took a cookie, his eyes scanning the bonfire for any other familiar (and kind) faces. his eyes landed on you. "i do want to talk about that, though."

luke and annabeth's eyes followed percy's to find you talking to an ares kid. you were sitting far from the fire (luke knew you hated how the smell of smoke lingered on your clothes.) luke's eyes narrowed, head tilting in question because he'd never really paid attention to the kid before. james? jackson? j-something? he was racking his brain trying to remember the kid's name.

"they look cozy," annabeth stated through a mouthful of oreos. "he's cute."

"no he's not," luke argued, looking at his sister in disbelief. "he's like okay looking, i guess, but he's nothing like special. i don't know. do you think he's cute percy?"

"dude, you have issues."

whether luke chose to ignore percy's comment or genuinely didn't hear him, didn't matter, because luke was already riled up. he shouldn't go over there, right? you were just talking to the kid. gods, he really should know his name. "plus, he's an ares kid. he's like the enemy. y/n wouldn't do that."

the two kids shared a look, trying to hold in their laughter. luke was too preoccupied with looking at you to notice them anyway. his eyes were on you like a hawk. he watched as you moved over on the log you were sitting on to make room for him. luke's eyes widened when you locked eyes with him. you smiled at him, offering a little wave, before returning to your conversation.

"did she really just do that?"

"let someone sit next to her...?" annabeth asked, dusting her hands on her pants to rid of the crumbs. "yeah, it is allowed."

luke chewed on his bottom lip, "i don't like the look of this."

percy rolled his eyes, voiced laced with sarcasm. "really? what a surprise."

iii. my baby, spare me all the rest. please just tell me that nobody else touches you like i do.

luke was going crazy. he could count on one hand the amount of interactions he's had with you over the last two weeks. at first, he tried to tell himself that you were just busy. you had a lot of things to do, but then he started noticing that you didn't seem busy when jake asked to hang out. (luke scoffed when he found out the boy's name. of course, his name was jake. typical.)

it felt like luke was getting stabbed in the heart every time he saw you walking around with jake, his arm thrown over your shoulder while you laughed at his (probably unfunny) jokes. you called off your training sessions with him to go practice your archery with jake (he wasn't even that good) his usual seat next to you during meals were suddenly occupied by the ares boy. he even saw him walk you back to your cabin one night and he wrapped his arms around you in a hug like he wasn't going to see you the next day.

luke had grown grumpy and everyone noticed it, but nobody was willing to ask him why you and him stopped being attached to the hip all of a sudden. nobody was brave enough to.

the final nail to the coffin was when he wandered into the dining hall, making his way over to chris (because that's where he sat now) and he saw you in an unfamiliar hoodie. plastered over your chest was the insignia for the ares cabin.

enough was enough.

luke stood outside your cabin while everyone else was giving their offerings to the gods. he was trying to figure out what to say to you but his brain was going a million miles an hour. all the words blurred together into a gigantic mess. he was never good with words or explaining himself when it came to you. he never really had to tell you anything before, you always just knew.

sighing, luke mustered up the courage to knock on your door with his head hanging low. when you opened the door, luke could've died in embarrassment because he just started talking, like all of the lines he prepared just spilled out of his mouth.

"please dump him," luke pushed past you to pace around the floor of your cabin. "i don't know how serious your relationship is with him but i am begging you to dump him. you belong with me. i miss you and i haven't seen you really in weeks and it's killing me, dove. i don't know what to do because you keep canceling our plans to hang out with him and i feel like i'm losing you. and-and you're wearing his clothes now? if you were cold or something, you know you could always wear mine! i literally have a drawer under my bed of things that are reserved for you. i sprayed my cologne on them and everything because i know you like it, but you went to him? i just-"

luke stopped pacing and finally looked at you. you were hiding your giggles behind your fist. luke furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before his eyes trailed down your body. oh.

you were wearing his shirt. you walked over to him, reaching up to grab his face, "are you done?"

he was calmer now, "please dump him."

"i can't do that, luke."

"why not?"

you laughed at his whiny voice, "i can't dump him because i'm not dating him."

luke blinked, "you're not?"

"no," your rubbed his face with the pad of your thumb, "we're just friends. he's actually been helping me get over my crush on you."

luke's head was spinning. he definitely read the situation so wrong. "your what?"

"oh, castellan, please," you were blushing now. "it started out with jake wanting to ask me out but i told him about my crush on you and how i felt like nothing would ever happen between me and you. he suggested that maybe i should distance myself from you, at least until my crush went away, but the longer i was away from you, the clearer it became. i'm not getting over you any time soon."

"please don't ever get over me."

"you're a dork," you teased, but you smiled at him again. that special smile you reserved for him. "i can't believe you never noticed i liked you."

"i can't believe you didn't notice i liked you."

"will you shut up and kiss me, please?"

you didn't need to tell him twice. "yes, ma'am."

[honey-milk-depresso]

Hello! May I request Diasomnia boys dealing a very sick S/O? Like they will get sick every month. High fever, vomiting, headaches, blocked nose, sore throat, you name it and they have had that illness before. And they're also very behind on their studies because of this.

I had a friend like that too, and she’s currently in another school but we still talk to each other once in a while. This might be a little bit of my own experience mix in this so hopefully it doesn’t sound weird :”))

Diasomnia looking after a really sick s/o

Malleus Draconia

The smallest of a little sneeze from his precious child of man already makes him panic. Seeing you bed-bound with a runny nose, sore throat and headache, he’s getting an actual heart attack.

How can one be so frail??? Malleus might offered casting long lasting healing spell, or try making an elixir to make you permanently well again that no sickness can touch you no longer. But even you think it’s a bit too much when he elaborates how hard it is to find all the damn ingredients.

But Malleus is insistent. “It’s alright, my dear. I will scour the whole continents to find each ingredient.”

After much convincing from you, he reluctantly agreed to just help make simple, healing potions that can last you for a few days before you need to consume them again from him.

He might also consult Lilia on what he should do to entertain you while your bed-bound, and I swear to the SEVENS that he will bring his whole violin as entertainment while having many other brass instruments playing a whole orchestra of soothing music for you like you’re royalty or something like-

He might’ve also consulted with Silver for help and he told Malleus that you probably only wanted his company. To talk to him while you’re stuck in bed for a while until the potion boils finish so that’s what Malleus do. It’s rather peaceful just sitting there and talking to you quietly. It makes his heart feel at ease and he hopes he makes you feel at peace too. <3

Lilia Vanrouge

He’s experienced in taking care of sick people because he had young Malleus and Silver, so he’s pretty much equip to look after you.

Although Lilia has never quite experienced someone who can REALLY get sick and stay sick for a long time, he’s up for the challenge if it means to care for you. You’re his S/o after all!

Lilia is actually really good! He knows how to make the bed super comfy for you to sleep in, his voice always soothes and calms you down, he always remind you to take your meds and drink lots of water while you’re at it. Maybe he’ll ask Malleus to make you a potion to cure your sickness for a while or do it himself!

Just errr…. Don’t eat his cooking because, well, we all know how ominous it looks. And tastes.

Lilia has the habit of reading bedtime stories to you, mostly because he did that for Silver and Malleus when they were younger and he projects that action into you to comfort and soothe you while you’re sick. After all, you won’t feel better if you’re heart isn’t at ease, either.

When you finally fall asleep, Lilia smiles softly before kissing your forehead, sitting on the chair beside you bed and watch over you. <3

Silver

He panics a little, but the first thing he’ll tell you is to get lots of good rest and sleep.

He also tries to mimic what Lilia would do when he was sick during his younger days: singing you a lullaby, try reading bedtime stories (although he might fall asleep halfway), reminding you to take your meds and drink plenty of water.

Silver may also seek Malleus help in making a potion that could help you recover for a while or even lend one of Lilia’s storybooks to help you.

Would stay around you to be company while you’re bedridden, even if he gets sleepy and tired he’ll never leave your side or stop taking care of you.

Might’ve also tried to cook for you, but he only cooks soup because he doesn’t really know what else he can do. He just hopes it can make you feel better at least.

While you rest in bed, Silver, although succumbing to falling asleep, still holds your hand while you rest as both of you fall into a deep slumber together. <3

Sebek Zigvolt

Panicking beyond belief. How can one be so fragile and sickly?! He can hardly believe it and he doesn’t know what to do when you are bed-bound. The smallest sneeze of you already has him all over you with concern, so with your really sick nature, he’s practically made it a point to just be in your life now. Like he shares with you.

Initially, Sebek might’ve come off a little bit insensitive, saying how you should exercise more or something to build up a better immunity system. However, Lilia taught him otherwise to put you first. He knows the boy cares about you so he’s helping him show care in better ways.

He learns to cook soup, pray to Malleus for help in making a potion for your sickness (which the latter helped obviously), might’ve also pulled off the “I WILL TRAVEL THE WORLD FOR THE RARE POTION INGREDIENTS TO CURE YOU FOR GOOD” thing like Malleus which you have to keep on insisting for him to, I don’t know, not be stupid to get himself killed and he RELUCTANTLY listens to you.

He watches over you despite being tired and despite him not being the most lovey dovey or romantic boyfriend out there, you know he cares about you, maybe much more than you know. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[saetoru]

#TOP OF THE CLASS! — GETO SUGURU.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ geto + virgin killing - your TA is nice, and more importantly, handsome. accidentally sending him nudes makes you realise he's also inexperienced

♱ kinktober ⋮ find the masterlist here !!

♱ pairing ⋮ college TA! geto suguru x student! reader

♱ length ⋮ 5.5k words (she tried okay. she did)

♱ contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, college! au, TA! geto, student! reader, med! student shoko, forging of legal documents (shoko forges you a doctor’s note lol), mentions of drinking + being under the influence, unprofessional relationships, explicit photography (taking + accidentally sending nudes), virgin! + inexperienced! geto, semi-public sex (in a campus office), teasing, humiliation, mentions of male masturbation, handjobs, blowjobs, nipple play, fingering, riding, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

♱ notes ⋮ here is the first kinktober post i hope you all enjoy and HAPPY OCTOBER ITS MY FAV SEASON

the first rule of being a college student is having good time management. that should’ve been something you remembered before saving this paper for the last minute—because now you’re beginning to regret overestimating your ability to finish all the research and the required components and hit the word count. and then you have to cite your sources—which is a pain, and the clock isn’t slowing even a little as it ticks away closer and closer to the deadline. 

you’re doomed, finished for the semester before you could’ve even fully begun. you’re counting your moments to failure for a class you absolutely need to graduate. this paper is thirty percent of your grade—how could you have been so careless as to leave it so last minute?

“it’s useless,” you moan woefully into your phone, making shoko snort as you hear her continue to type away on her keyboard. it hits you that if shoko of all people is further along her paper than you—the same shoko that cheats on everything—then you’ve really let yourself go. “i’m never going to finish this on time,” you mutter. 

“i told you to get started earlier,” she says matter of factly, almost with enough i told you so energy in her voice that you’re two seconds from storming over to her apartment and smashing her laptop to bits. but shoko has a point—even if you refuse to acknowledge it since…well, it’s shoko, after all. 

“i’m not on call with you to lecture me,” you grumble, “i’m on call with you to help me find a solution. you think if i offer the TA a blow job, he’ll give me an A?”

shoko snorts, pausing her typing as if she’s actually contemplating the idea. “maybe, honestly. you know he’s our age, and he’s like years ahead of us? probably too busy with school to get any bitches,” she laughs, making you roll your eyes as a smile tugs at your lips no matter how hard you try to fight it. 

“you know what, you might be right,” you chuckle. you almost feel bad for joking at his expense—your TA is nice, he’s young and kind and understanding, he takes time to slowly go over things when people have questions, he answers emails politely and quickly no matter how stupid the reason, he and has sensible rules that aren’t too strict. and, if you’re being honest, he’s rather handsome. “i wouldn’t mind giving him a blow job though,” you hum, “he’s cute.”

“gross,” shoko gags, “geto suguru is not cute.”

“he is too,” you argue, furrowing your brows as you huff, “he’s probably one of the few men i’ve seen who make a man bun work. and i know he’s ripped under that sweater, he has to be. i saw him leave the gym the other day, and his arms were huge.”

“he’s probably just trying to get bitches,” shoko snorts, “i bet he’s a virgin.”

“shut up,” you laugh, and for a moment, your mind wanders to your stupidly handsome TA. 

you shouldn’t be thinking about him this way—fantasizing about anyone who grades your papers is a line you shouldn't really cross, but you can’t help it. your thoughts turn into what hearing his smooth, deep voice would be like if he moaned into your ear, or what his bangs would look like stuck to his sweaty forehead, or what his abs would look like clenching as he cums, or how breathless he’d sound as he whispers your name—

“wait, i just had an idea,” shoko interrupts your thinking with a gasp, making you shake out of your (very dirty) thoughts as you blink.

you clear your throat, trying your best not to sound flustered as you speak. “i’m scared to ask what the idea is—you’re not really known for having good ones,” you say warily. you can practically see her eyes roll without her being there with you—you’ve been friends with shoko long enough to know her like the back of your hand. and if you know her like you think you do, her idea is about to cause you a lot of stress.

“well, looks like i’m never trying to help you again,” she scoffs, “i could’ve written you a doctor’s note with a few of the copies i managed to snatch—but since you don’t want my help—”

“no, wait! you’re a genius,” you gasp happily, grinning wide as shoko huffs through the phone and mutters something faintly similar to ungrateful under her breath, “i could kiss you on the lips right now.”

“no thank you. you suck,” she hisses. you only giggle, relief flooding through your bones that maybe your grade is saved—and all thanks to having a friend who works in a doctor’s office. you silently send the universe your gratitude for having your best friend pursue a career in the medical field—the perks prove to be quite beneficial, it seems. 

“just send me a picture of it and make it seem like i’m too sick to work on the paper, and i’ll tell him i won’t finish in time. a one day extension should be enough.”

“where would you be without me,” she grumbles quietly, “i’ll send it to you in a second. now please let me finish my paper in peace.”

“okay. love you, you’re the best.”

“i hate you.” the line clicks and you giggle, happily celebrating that you most likely have a saved grade and a free night to yourself now that shoko has so kindly offered you a solution. and of course, you’ll take this as a learning curve and appropriately plan to give yourself enough time for the next paper.

it’s not long before your phone dings and shoko’s contact pops up on your screen with, sure enough, a doctor’s note with today’s date and reason for the visit. shoko has even taken the liberty to make you seem contagious—just so you can skip class tomorrow for good measure. beaming, you text a quick thanks bestie <3 in response—too happy to even care that she sends you an emoji flipping you off. 

and it doesn’t take you long to craft the email either, making sure to properly address him with a greeting, adding apologies for the inconvenience—and as the icing on the cake, a promise that it won’t ever happen again in the future. you click the photo to upload the doctor’s note, and without even a second thought, you click send. 

and then within the split second that the email sends, and you realize just which photo you’ve accidentally clicked, your life flashes before your eyes. 

“no,” you mumble, “no no no,” you chant as you quickly open the email you’ve sent, eyes wide and throat dry. 

the photo is not the picture of the doctor’s note shoko sent—instead, it’s the picture right under it in your camera roll. the picture that’s not very suitable for sending your TA. the picture of your tits, just barely covering your nipples with your arm. the picture you took through giggles while changing after getting a little tipsy the night before (you’d felt just a tad bit sexy in your makeup.)

you sit in silent shock as you register that you just sent your TA your nudes—and just to make matters worse, he responds almost instantly, making your heart drop as you stare at his emailed reply with a shaky hand holding up your phone. 

please meet me in my office tomorrow before class so we can discuss the above email. 

suddenly, your worries are a lot more complicated than simply failing a class.

———————————————

you barely slept the night before, if at all, to be completely honest with yourself. the worst-case scenario runs through your head the entire time you toss and turn in bed. geto is probably going to report this, and then you’ll get expelled, and then you’ll never make it with a successful career, and then you’ll never be able to show your face to anyone you know again. 

your feet are as heavy as lead as they drag along the walk to his room, and you contemplate turning back and never showing up to his office, maybe simply even just refusing to ever return to campus at all. maybe you can move countries and start over somewhere else—maybe you can change your name and make a new life for yourself. 

but instead, you take a deep breath and knock on the door, waiting until you hear a soft come in before you enter. geto is seated at the desk, typing away at his laptop before meeting your eyes as you walk in.

“uh…hi,” you start, standing awkwardly by the door.

“hello,” he says, eyeing you slightly before looking back at his screen. if he has any ill feelings about last night, he does a good job of hiding it—you can’t read a single emotion on his face. somehow, that makes things worse. “have a seat,” he gestures at the chair across from him on the other side of the desk, waiting for you to seat yourself nervously in front of him. 

you sit down, watching as he opens his mouth to start—but you begin speaking before he can. “look, i know that email was really inappropriate, and i’m really sorry—it was an accident, i swear! i meant to click on the picture above it, and i didn’t realize—”

“i understand,” he cuts you off as he holds a hand up, offering you a kind smile that makes you tilt your head in confusion, “it’s fine.” fine. fine? he’s…just fine with it? he’s just willing to let you off the hook? “i’m not much older than you,” he chuckles, “i’m not foreign to these things. i’m sure you’re active in…that aspect of your life.”

oh god—why you? why of all people did this have to be you? why is the world so hellbent on making your life miserable in every aspect?

you eye the coiled wires of the phone on his desk, and you contemplate strangling yourself with them before he can say something anymore embarrassing. but, you have to admit—this is far better than being told you’ve been reported to the dean for misconduct.

“i’m really sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” you fiddle with your fingers as you avoid his gaze, “i really did mean to send you a doctor’s note. i just didn’t realize i hit the picture under it.”

“like i said, it’s okay,” he reassures. calm. he’s almost too calm about this. too okay with it. almost like…like he didn’t mind at all in the first place.“but i wanted to make sure you’re aware of how fragile photos like that are.”

“huh?” you raise a brow. now, this is not where you expected the conversation to steer. you expected a lecture on how sending an educator your explicit photos is highly unprofessional, that it’s unacceptable and suggests other things—things that are completely against the rules and completely out of question to even consider. 

“i mean, photos like those getting into the wrong hands can lead to really bad predicaments,” geto continues, clearing his throat as he closes his laptop and meets your gaze. he looks you dead in the eye as he speaks his next words, “and i wouldn’t want sensitive content of you circulating around campus.”

“right,” you nod slowly, “it’s not like i send them around, or anything. i was just a bit drunk that night, and i was in my room bored, and my makeup was cute so i was feeling good about myself…and…and…yeah…” you trail off. 

why are you even explaining this to him in such detail? you silently curse yourself in your head, beating yourself up for running your mouth so much. 

“oh, that’s good to know,” he nods, “i’m glad to hear that. no one else has possession of these photos?”

you eye him slowly, “nope,” you confirm. “just you—by accident, of course.”

you’re not sure if you imagine it, or if the situation as a whole is making you overinterpret everything that’s happening—but you’re almost certain you hear his breath hitch a little. he’s no longer looking at you, no longer burning you under his gaze like he was just a minute ago.

“right, by accident,” he repeats. it’s slow, like he’s reminding himself, like he has to speak slowly to process the information. “well, i hope this serves as a lesson for being more careful next time. you don’t want young men to save such pictures of yourself for ulterior motives.”

geto suguru, your teacher’s assistant for intro to literature 1301, seems to be rather invested in your well-being—more than a TA really should be. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s almost disappointed that you sent him a significantly revealing photo of yourself by accident instead of intentionally. and, if you squint just a little, it almost seems like he doesn’t want anyone else to have the pictures. not because he’s concerned for you—but rather, because he wants to be the only one who’s seen them. 

your thoughts from last night come flooding back, how he’s probably well built under his shirt, how shoko thinks he’s still a virgin, and especially how he probably looks and sounds when he’s overwhelmed with pleasure. and geto suguru might think he has you cornered like a cat would a mouse, but what he doesn’t know is that you’ve been the serpent the whole time, fangs ready to sink into him and devour him whole. 

“you know, you seem like you speak from experience,” you can’t help but grin slightly. 

now, logically speaking, this is wrong—this is pushing the kindness he so graciously showed you. by now, you should be fighting back tears as you figure out a way to break the news to everyone you know that you’ve had to receive an expulsion for sending your TA nudes. by now, your life should’ve been at an all time low, so you really shouldn’t be testing your luck. 

but geto has practically seen your tits, so you’re not really sure there’s any point in acting like an angel around him—and he’s so incredibly hot in that button up shirt of his, sleeves rolled halfway up his arm. plus, the thought of him being your inexperienced TA, one who lets you strip him of his innocence as you slowly taint his purity—it excites you a little more than it really should.

he clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. this time, yours bore into him through a searing gaze that almost makes him shift uncomfortably. 

“well, like i said, i am around your age, so i know how men’s minds work when it comes to these things—”

“so then tell me,” you raise a brow, smirking slightly as his jaw clenches, “is it because your mind works the same way?”

“now—”

“did you save my tit pics to your phone?” you ask bluntly. he hides the choked cough through a clearing of his throat—bingo, you think. almost instantly, the room shifts to him being nervous under your gaze as you eye him smugly. 

something about sweet, kind, successful geto suguru, young and ambitious with a perfect gpa and a flawless resume, being hot and bothered by your breasts makes you swell with pride—and you think maybe…maybe giving him a blow job might not be such an outlandish thought after all. 

maybe he wants it to be a reality just as badly as you do. 

“w-what are you implying—”

“did they turn you on?” you interrupt, watching as his cheeks heat up a slight flush of pink, “did you wish i’d moved my arm down so you could get the full view?” he clears his throat, opening his mouth to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. “was that the first nude you’ve ever been sent?”

“i think that’s enough,” he says sternly, but his voice is slightly higher in pitch—which tells you everything you need to know. and you’re enthused. “keep in mind, i could have every intention to notify the dean of these—”

“but suguru,” you pout, rolling his first name off your tongue so sweetly, he can’t help but be hungry for another taste of something so decadent, “if you tattle on me, you’ll never get a chance to actually see my nipples this time,” you giggle, “isn’t that what you want?”

“i—”

“i wonder,” you grin wickedly, “did you act like every other guy our age and jack off to a random girl’s tits?” 

you must hit close to home because he lets out a shaky exhale, jaw tight and fists clenched as his knuckles turn pale. he swallows thickly before finally meeting your eyes, face a deep shade of crimson as you grin at him widely. 

“i…i’m not…immune to things of that nature,” he finally admits, voice strained as your grin widens. almost instantly, you’re standing up, locking the door behind you and making your way over to his side of the desk without hesitation. the cards have been dealt in your hand, all that’s left is to play them—and you’re pleased to say that the game is heavily leaning in your favor. 

“wanna show me?” you ask with a sultry voice, “wanna show me how you fucked your fist last night? i’ll even let you see my nipples this time around,” you murmur as you seat yourself on his lap. 

geto scoots his chair back and makes room for you, breathing heavily as his pants strain with the tent already forming in them. his breath hitches when your hand rubs over his erection—and he curses himself for being so pathetic as to let a few words from you let him get riled up like this. but you’re so pretty—always have been. 

you sit in class and chew on the top of your pen, making it hard to avert his attention from your mouth. you tilt your head and furrow your brows so cutely when you’re confused, making it hard for him to concentrate on what he’s teaching. you laugh so sweetly out of glee when you do something correctly, and your voice shoots right through his heart—and sometimes, as ashamed as he is to admit it, straight to his dick too. 

and he’s well aware of how bad of an idea this is, but this is everything he’s ever dreamt about—right here under the palm of his hands. literally. so he grips your hips tightly, bringing you to rub over him through your own pants. the friction makes him throw his head back, moaning quietly as your clothed cunt drags along his length. you chuckle, palms gliding over his chest through his shirt and feeling the firm muscle under your hands. 

“does that feel good?” you ask, making him stifle a whimper as you glide over his nipples through his shirt.

your hands move to unzip his pants—and the best part? he lets you. he sits back and lets you free his aching cock from its confinements, he lets you wrap your fingers around his thick girth and squeeze gently, and he lets you pull the soft, low moans you’ve fantasized of hearing from his lips as you smear his pre cum along his shaft and stroke him slowly. 

“f-fuck,” he grunts, hips bucking into your hand, lips tugging between his teeth as he pants harshly with every squeeze at the base of his cock. and because you really can’t help it, you lean down to kiss along his jaw, making your way to his neck and nibbling at his skin. he groans, whispering your name—it makes your thighs squeeze together as a dull ache forms between your own legs. “feels…feels so good,” he mumbles breathlessly, “so different when you do it.”

you giggle, watching him carefully so as not to miss a single reaction. “oh yeah? you know, shoko said you were probably a virgin,” you purr against his ear, making his hands clutch onto your hips tighter, “you seem to be proving that theory right.”

“d-don’t stop,” he pleads when your hand slows, making his hips thrust sloppily into your fist and try to keep your earlier pace going. but you’re mean—just a tad bit cruel, and you wanna see him ooze with shame. so you squeeze on his cock, stilling the movement and making him rasp as he buries his head into your neck with a whine. 

“are you a virgin, suguru?” you hum, stroking his hair soothingly—but it contradicts the teasing tone of your voice. 

his face burns in your neck, “yes,” he mumbles quietly, like the admission stings. 

“how cute,” you pout, “so no one’s ever sucked your dick before?” he shakes his head slowly into the crook of your neck—but it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s hiding, so you pull his face away despite his initial protesting. “i want to hear it,” you say firmly. 

“fuck—no,” he groans, his face an even deeper shade of red than you thought was possible, “no, no one has ever…you know…”

“sucked your dick?” you grin.

“stop,” he whines. you chuckle quietly before climbing off his lap and sinking down to your knees before him, looking up at his shocked face with a smirk. 

“wanna know something?” you hum, “i’ve thought about sucking your dick.” 

“thinking about you TA like that?” he huffs a chuckle—but whatever semblance of composure he had, he loses as soon as you press a gentle kiss to the tip of his flushed cock, reddened and swollen at the head as beads of pre cum leak from the slit. 

“just like you jack off to your student,” you shoot back, “you want it, suguru? do you want me to make you feel good?”

“god—yes,” he hisses, “get on with it,” he says as he’s throwing you a glare when you snicker up at him from in between his legs. you run your tongue along the tip, humming as you take in the taste of him before wrapping your lips around him and taking him down your throat. 

the reaction is instant—geto slumps back against his chair, gasping as you swallow around him, bobbing your head up and down his length. you loosen your jaw, fucking him with your mouth, letting your tongue drag along the thick vein running across the underside of his cock. his hand falls to the top of your head while the other grips the armrest of his chair, skin turning white over his knuckles as he tightens his hold with each time the warmth of your mouth swallows around him. 

“oh—g-god, shit that’s it,” he grunts, hips bucking into your throat as you pick up your pace. “feels fuckin’ amazing—oh, fuck.”

your hand wraps around the base of his member, pumping what won’t fit in your mouth so no part of him is left neglected. and when your other hand reaches for his balls, rolling the sensitive sacs in your hand and squeezing gently, he rewards you with a whine, voice lilting off to a high pitched moan as his hips thrust up instinctively. your nose brushes against his pelvis, and with a few more swallows, you feel him twitch in your mouth. 

“fuck, fuck, ‘m c-close,” he pants, chest falling and rising erratically. you look up, watching through teary eyes as spit and pre cum dribble down your chin, taking in the pretty sight of his face flushed and his skin damp, bangs clinging to his forehead just like you imagined them to. “don’t stop—’m gonna cum…gonna…gonna make me cum,” he rasps. 

you moan around him, and the vibrations send him over the edge, hips raising as he groans loudly. hot, thick ropes of his cum paint your mouth, seeping past your lips and dripping down your chin as you try your best to swallow what you can. geto sounds better than you expected—voice deep and raspy, but still the same smoothness it always holds even through the cracks as he brokenly calls your name. 

the sound of his voice as he moans your name makes your walls clench around nothing and your clit throb. you let him fuck himself into your mouth through his high, riding out the last waves of his orgasm as pleasure burns through every nerve and every inch of him. when he finally slumps back into his chair, breathing harshly, you pull off of his cock, wiping the mess from your chin on your sleeve. and before you can open your mouth to tease him some more, you’re pulled back onto his lap, his mouth on yours, kissing you deep. 

“this’ll have to be a secret,” he mumbles, “for both of us.” 

for someone who’s never done anything like this before, geto rids you of your clothes almost expertly, lifting your shirt over your arms and sliding your pants off in an instant. he groans when his fingers trace over your clit—which you’re happy to know he can find—and feels the wetness of your slick drooling over the fabric. 

“c’mon, suguru,” you hum, voice edging on a little impatient, “go ahead and touch a pussy for the first time.”

he huffs, yanking the fabric to the side before sinking his ring and middle fingers into you, knuckle deep as this thumb runs circles along your clit. you whine, grinding your hips down on his hand, impatiently waiting for him to move. 

“for someone who’s experienced,” he grins, “you’re awfully impatient.” 

you open your mouth to respond, but as soon as you try to retort, his fingers thrust into you, hitting the sensitive spot of your walls with ease and making you cut yourself off with a moan. he scissors his fingers, stretching you open as your head falls to his shoulder with soft whimpers, feeling him curl his digits deep into you. you whine as your clit hits over his palm, feeling the slow build up of the coil in your belly reach the snapping point.

“keep going,” you encourage, “‘m close, k-keep going—fuck, suguru!” 

“god, you’re so pretty,” he breathes, watching as your head tips back and your mouth parts with a silent sob, watching as you break—all because of him. your walls spasm around his fingers as they bully into you and ride you through your orgasm, and your lips are slightly swollen from biting on them, eyes crinkled as you screw them shut, skin damp and glistening as sweat coats your forehead. 

perfect—you look perfect, and suguru has fantasized about this image in his head for so long, he can hardly believe it’s a reality before him. 

your hands find his long hair, tugging and twisting at the strands that slip between your fingers as the last few waves of your high crash over you. 

the rest is a blur—somewhere through rough and sloppy kisses, through rolled hips and soft groans as you grind against each other, geto has managed to unclasp your bra, letting your tits bounce freely. his hands immediately cup around them, squeezing gently before his lips pull away and his eyes fall to your chest. 

“fuck, they look better in person,” he grunts, rolling his thumbs over your pebbled nipples before pinching them lightly and rolling them between his fingers. you squeal, and your cunt is dripping—smearing your slick along his bare thigh as he teases over the sensitive skin. “feels good?” he mumbles.

“so good—don’t stop,” you moan, making his breath hitch in his throat. grinning, you open your eyes, hazy with lust, meeting his own unfocused gaze, “doing so well, suguru. making me feel so good.”

geto likes praise. you can tell that much alone from his hefty list of accomplishments on his resume. he’s beaming with pride the first day your professor introduces him in class while explaining how capable he is at his young age. he does a good job of staying humble, but you never fail to notice the twinge of excitement in his eyes when he’s praised for his impressive work ethic. 

there’s no exception now either—his eyes search yours for every hint he can find that he’s doing a good job, that he’s doing well and giving you exactly what you want. you swear his cock twitches when you say the word good—and he seems to notice it too because there’s a shaky breath against your neck as he groans. 

“fuck,” he breathes, hands falling to your hips and gripping tightly, desperately, when your hand grabs his throbbing cock, still hard and leaking pre cum from the reddened tip. “want to feel you,” he groans, “please.”

it’s all it takes for you to sink down on him, forehead pressing to his as you both moan against each other’s mouths. he’s big—long and thick, curved at an angle that makes him sink against your sweet spot almost perfectly, almost like he was made for you. it’s a shame he’s your TA, a small part of you almost feels a twinge of disappointment he can’t fully be yours. 

“fuck, suguru,” you gasp, “so big, feels so good.”

he whines, helping lift your hips up and guide you down on his cock, your hips rolling against his, the sound of your moans and the slapping of skin filling up the small office. you’re sure anyone passing by could hear and figure out what’s going on—but it only thrills you more, making you slam down on him faster. 

“so tight,” he grunts, “g-god, so fucking tight, i can’t—” 

his hands are everywhere, they dig into your hips, glide up to cup your tits, and find the back of your neck to pull you close and meet your lips. he’s panting, sweat making strands of hair cling to his forehead as his skin flushes a deep shade of crimson. his hips buck up into you, meeting you halfway with desperate thrusts, trying to feel you deeper. 

your head is spinning—not just from the way his thick girth splits you open, or from the way his tip slams against your spot so perfectly, but from the way his touch seems to light your skin up with every drag of his fingertips. and then he brings one hand down between your bodies, rubbing his thumb against your clit in harsh circles. 

“are you gonna cum, suguru? cause i am,” you moan, “wanna be good and cum with me? fill me up nice and full?”

“sh-shit,” he lets out a shaky breath. he does want to fill you up—wants to cum deep into you so you’re dripping as you walk out of his office. so that when you sit in class and stare at him as he teaches class, you can’t help but think of the way he was buried to the hilt inside you just hours ago. “yeah…yeah, ‘m gonna cum. gonna fill you up, baby,” he groans, “stuff you full of my cum. want it?”

“wan’ it so bad, suguru,” you whine, “look so pretty when you cum, wanna see it again.” 

and with a few more rolls of your hips, the squelching sounds of his cock slipping in and out of you all but drowned out but your pants, you fall off the edge—geto not far behind. you can feel his cock twitch as he shoots rope after rope of his thick cum into you, angling his hips up to fuck it deep into your pussy. it’s a mess, your slick mixed with his seed dripping along your thighs and coating your skin, but you can’t find it in you to care. and you also can’t find it in you to care that you’ll have to leave after this and see him again as you sit through his class. and you certainly don’t have it in you to care that you could both get in serious trouble if anyone realized this was happening.

instead, you cup his cheeks with a gentleness that makes his breath hitch in his throat with a strangled whine, and you kiss him, hard and deep. 

“f-fuck, fuck—ngh, shit,” he gasps, against your mouth in labored pants. it’s never felt like this—cumming into his fist is one thing, but cumming into your tight walls, feeling them squeeze around him in sync with his high is something he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget. he thinks you’ve ruined touching himself for him, thinks he’ll never be able to go back to being fine with just his hand to keep him company when he’s aching between his legs.

after this, geto isn’t sure how he’s supposed to just forget this happened—or about you. his hands don’t stop guiding you onto his cock, hips not ceasing to fuck up into you until you’re both whimpering from sensitivity.

it’s too much—but somehow, it’ll never be enough.

you slump over him when he finally slows down to a stop, bodies a sweaty heap against each other on his chair as his arms wrap around you and his lips find your damp forehead for a soft kiss. you turn your head, pressing a kiss to his jaw in return.

“so,” you wriggle your brows, “can this count as extra credit?” you ask cheekily, feeling his chest rumble with a low chuckle as he pulls you tighter against his chest.

“sure. i’ll even give you enough extra credit opportunities to be top of the class,” he grins.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[wandaslamb]

Cabin In the Woods

Parings: Dark!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ Non-con, Knife play, cutting, blood (just a little bit), pet names (bunny, baby doll, sweetheart, angel), body betrayal, fingering, cunnilingus, hair pulling, daddy kink, chasing, obsessive, stalking, pervy nat, if I'm missing things let me know :)

a/n: hi!!! this is my very first fic, and I really would appreciate it if you left some type of feedback :))) I was really nervous to post this, considering I haven't written a fic in years, but I got bored one day, and here it is!! I hope you guys enjoy it, and maybe I'll turn this fic into an actual AU

Word count: 4.5k

After your long semester and treacherous finals and projects you had to finish, you decided that you wanted to go to an Air BNB to relax and take time off from the real world. You always liked the woods; it was calming, and you and your parents always went on camping trips when you were younger. Getting older, you found escaping to the woods after a long, hard time and reconnecting with nature was very rehabilitating. So, seeing this offer, you decided to pack your bags and go out for a week. 

There was a slight knock on the door. You assumed it might have been Wanda, the lady who let you stay in her lovely cabin. "Hello? Anyone home?" The knocking continued till you got up and answered the door. 

"Oh..thank god someone answered!" A woman who didn't look like Wanda from the pictures in the cabin stood there. She wore a simple tank top with ripped jeans and black boots to finish the look. She had deep red hair that was messily tied up in a bun. She looked like she had a backpack with a camera around her neck; she must have been a hiker. 

"A-are you okay? It's pretty late out.. are you hurt?" Seeing someone out this late was very strange. When you would go out, it was close to sundown, but you always made it back in time before the sun fully set. 

The woman let out a nervous laugh, "I'm fine, I'm not hurt or anything, but um," she trailed off, clutching her camera in her hands.".. Fuck this is so embarrassing..but I'm uh, pretty lost.." her voice trailed off before she decided to muster up the courage to look at you. 

"Listen, I know... I know. I was trying to get some pictures of the area, and the lookout points weren't doing them justice, so I kind of.. Went off the trail. I mean, I did get a few good photos in the process!" she let out a deep sigh, catching the concerned look on your face." sorry, Besides the point. Can you possibly point me in the right direction of the trail?"

 "Well...I haven't been here for a while, but I can help you." You peeked your head outside past her and recollected your memory of the path you would take when you went on your walks before speaking again.

"got it.. Back up the hill, stay to the right of the river.." She smirked, "And there isn't any chance of you walking back with me?" You didn't know the lady, but the kindness in you wanted to go with her to make sure she got back safe, but how would you get back in the dark?

"I'm kidding! Of course not... It's getting dark for a young girl like you to be out this late anyways.." she grabbed onto the straps of her backpack, sighing, "Well... Thank you! I'm sorry for barging into your peaceful weekend; maybe I'll see you and whoever you are here with hiking tomorrow?" You gave a shy nod and told the woman goodnight before closing the door and going to bed. 

The next day, you spent the whole morning and afternoon cooking breakfast and sitting by the river writing in your journal. Since the river was so close to your cabin, you decided it would be nice to hang out there before returning. The weather was nice; some birds were chirping in the distance, the water was calm, and there weren't many people around. 

The sun started to set, so you decided it was time for your walk. It was pretty late; the sun had almost entirely set, but you figured no one would be around, and you wouldn't travel far from the cabin; you went on your journey. The woods at night were more serene; the stars you never get to see because of the city lights lit up your path along with the moon; the woodland creatures were more than likely asleep at night, so the bunnies, deer, and birds you saw while you were at the river were long gone. 

It wasn't before long you heard a crack deep in the forest that made you jump, assuming you were alone. "Oh, it's you!" you heard a familiar voice say before turning towards it. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to sneak up on you... I mean, it's not hard to spook someone when they are hiking at night." the woman let out a deep laugh before you glared at her for scaring you. 

"Well, I was going on my daily walk... I lost track of time and…what are you doing out here??" You folded your arms, waiting for her reply. "What am I doing out here? More photography..now that I know my way back, I won't get lost if I decide to go out and take some shots of the moon or... Other things.." she leaned against the tree before smiling again, "So, did you get any of your friends to come hiking with you?" You started to look down, but her laugh and deeper voice took you out of your thoughts. 

"Oh… don't tell me you came to that cabin alone... What is a young girl like you doing by herself in a cabin in the woods?"

"I just wanted to take some time off after my semester in school; I assumed no one comes out here, so-" The woman stood up straight; it wasn't until now that you noticed that she was a lot taller and more muscular-looking than you. She had defined muscles along with her shirt, showing off her toned abs. 

"Oh, you are a lot braver than me; I mean, your not worried something happened to you while you were out here; I get it it's pretty remote out here... But Shit can happen, right?"

"Yea… I guess you are right; I just assumed because, on the listing, the lady said people don't come around the area as much, so it would be quiet and peaceful… "You brushed off that she was standing slightly close to you, and you backed away a bit. "Anyways, where's your camera? I'd love to see some of your pictures if you don't mind.." giving her a soft, warm smile, you leaned against the tree. 

"Oh, it's here! I know it doesn't look like much. But I've gotten some really.. Really good photos so far. It takes great close-up shots...We could go back to your cabin and get you out of the dark, and I can show them to you. Only if you want.." she licked her lips before leaning over you against the tree.

"I didn't say this earlier, but you are very pretty. I mean, I could take your pictures too if you want.." The woman's deep voice rattled through your head, and the prominent shyness started to creep up on your face because of how close you were. "Come on! Why do you look so nervous all of a sudden? I mean, you know I've taken photos of you already... what's a few more?"

"You…what?" Your smile quickly turned into a frown, and hearing her laugh only made you feel worse, "It's not like you can stop me, pretty girl.." there was darkness in her eyes that made your body feel cold. You tried too hard to get from her, proving extremely hard because she trapped you between her and the tree. But you managed to get out of the way and make a run for it. 

"You know you only make it worse if you run!!" You paid her no mind instead, running as far as you could. You couldn't run to your cabin because she knew exactly where it was. Maybe the service road could be some help? 

You heard heavy footsteps come after you, but you were determined to get out of the woods. Your breath was ragged, and your running started to slow down; you assumed that you would be more fit to run long distances, but your daily pilates proved you wrong. 

It wasn't long until your arm got pulled, and your body got pressed against the ground. "You can only run so far, bunny.." her breath beating down your neck as you tried to catch yours. 

"Haha... I got you~ awe, bunny, look at those pretty wide eyes, you struggling to catch your breath. I told you there was no use to running; you should have listened to me, darling." she moved a piece of hair behind your ear, now straddling your back, "What really was the plan here? You came out to stay at a cabin alone, you answered the door for a stranger and went out a night completely defenseless. If I didn't know any better, it was like you wanted someone to." She stopped and laughed. She saw the tears roll down your face onto the forest floor. 

"Well... I don't want to spoil the surprise I have planned for you…" she smiled, taking her thumb and wiping your falling tears before she ran that same thumb across her tongue, letting out a guttural moan. 

You just knew you were dead; you watched way too many true crime videos to see what happens to people who are in your situation. You felt her start to bite and kiss the side of your neck, starting to leave a bruise on it, making you whimper in the process. 

"Was that a whimper? What a sweet little bunny..! Do it again.." she returned to a different spot, moaning on your neck, marking you as hers. "I feel you shaking, sweetheart, don't be scared... I'm going to make you feel good.." You started to kick at her, trying to free yourself yet again. 

"Hey.. hey... I can hold you down with one hand and choke you with the other. Do you want me to fuck your pathetic little body on the ground like the little slut you are," she growled in your ear, sending shivers down your body, "or are you going to come back to the cabin with me, like a good little bunny?" she nipped at your ear earning a small yelp from you, "ill.. Come back w-with you please.." you managed to squeak out. 

"Good girl, now come on.." she slowly got off you, still holding onto your arms. "I don't think I need to tell you; what would happen if you try to run again, do I?" You started to get a bit antsy, tears spilling down your face before you heard a flick of a knife that was swiftly held up to your throat. 

"Ah ah ah... Now you are all quiet, aren't you?.. I'm astonished you seemed like a very smart girl; you fell for the lost little hiker act... Such a gullible little bunny.." she chuckled before pushing you to walk. Not before long, you both showed up to the cabin. The knife is still at your neck. Your arms locked tightly in her other hand. 

"Open the door.." your shaky hands unlocked the door, letting you inside. She led you both to a couch in the middle of the room before she sat on it, grabbing your hair and pulling you towards her, making you cry out. "You have such pretty soft hair, bunny.." she let go of it, grabbing your chin and pulling you in for a kiss, instantly dominating your mouth. 

She bit your lip, making you whimper in her lap, making her pull away, now sadistically smiling at you. "Mmm, you like it when I bite your lip, hm? I felt that shiver, sweet girl.. "she let out a deep breath "fuck, I couldn't help myself after seeing you hiking from that lookout point. Your gorgeous ass and thighs in those leggings, your cute little face when you got tried...I got myself off before I got up to where I was. I snapped photo after photo of you while you played in the river and when you went out to journal in your pajamas every morning. But I knew pictures weren't enough, no... I had to have you. I had to be the one that makes you tired, to make you whimper and moan for me. I need to see you... All of you, bunny. Let's get you out of these, hm?" you felt the coldness of her sharp knife press against you, cutting your shirt off along with your sports bra. 

She moaned when she saw your breasts pop out of your bra before dropping the knife and taking them in her hands, teasing you, smiling when you started trembling in her lap. 

"I know you are excited, darling... I am, too.." she ran her palms up your stomach before wrapping them around your neck.

"N-no, please.." she tilted her head before frowning at you, "No? Did you just say no.. to me?" her voice became monotone. She looked like she wasn't happy. 

"Look at me." you didn't. You were too busy in your mind, assuming the worst was about to happen to you until you felt a sharp sting across your cheek. "I said. Look. At. Me." she gritted through her teeth. "You're going to listen to me, bunny? I'm going to get these leggings off, then you're going to go up to that bedroom of yours and lay back on your bed... Do you understand me?" you looked down at the knife in her hand that was dangerously close to your chest. "Look at me. Look at me in the eyes, not the knife, baby.." your eyes slowly met hers. "Good girl.." 

Tears started to pool up again, making her give you a fake pout, "Baby doll, you do not have to cry.. I'm going to make you feel so good. And you're going to make me feel good, too.." you started to sniffle and chose not to say anything else. 

"Now, we are going to walk... And you're going to feel this knife pressed against your throat. If you do anything stupid, you will be sliced open..is that clear?" you nodded, whimpering.

"Say yes, Daddy.." you heard the smile in her voice when she said that. 

"Y-yes, Daddy.." she let out a satisfied hum, "there we go.." You both made your way up to the bedroom, lying on the bed as you were told. "Just like that... Good little bunny!!" smiled, pulling out her camera, "Let me just... capture this moment.." she started taking pictures of you pouting when you began to cry again. "Baby, don't cry! I need you to smile! Let's see that pretty smile, okay?" 

After a few more pictures, she removed her bag, set the camera on the nightstand, and walked over to you. "Hmm, can you do one last thing for me, bunny?.. Give me your wrist." she took your wrist, chaining them to the bed. 

"You can pull off them now, but it won't matter.." she giggled. 

"W-why..?"

She chuckled, "Aren't you the curious bunny.." she smiled, getting close to your face. "Because baby, I'm going to fuck you so good you aren't going to want to go anywhere..not... That'd let you anyway. Now.. open your mouth." 

You looked at her, opening your mouth before she squeezed your face, making you stick your tongue out before spitting on it. "Aht aht.. Don't swallow it, doll. Keep your tongue out nice and pretty for me.." she started to take off her clothes, and you watched as she did, seeing all the scratches you had left from trying to fight back. "seems like you put up a small fight.." she climbed over you, giving you a complete view of her glistening pussy. Seeing how wet she was from this whole interaction didn't even compare to how much you were dripping on the bed. But you were scared shitless. Your body felt otherwise. 

She lowered herself on your face, grabbing your hair and making you moan against her. "Come on, sweetheart, you're going to eat Daddy out, okay? Clean up the mess you've made of me." you absentmindedly started to lap at her clit, earning her deep moans and her pulling your hair even more.

"Mm yea.. Use your pretty little tongue... Fuck.." her head was thrown back, her toned stomach was all you could see. You, too, caught up in her sounds, and she tasted didn't even notice when she reached back and started rubbing your puffy little cunt through your panties with her fingers making you moan against her, sending vibrations thorough out her body.

"Mm, don't stop licking, keep fucking going. Holy Shit… being such an obedient little slut.." she gasped when she felt your wetness seep through your panties. "Such a dirty little girl turned on by getting used like the whore you are. Letting a fucking stranger use your mouth to get off." her breathing got ragged as you got faster and more sloppy with your licks and sucks, making her cum all over your face. 

"Ah ha.. don't you look pretty angel.. Covered in my cum and your drool…I need another picture.." she grabbed the camera off the nightstand again, snapping some pictures. 

"You want to taste yourself, doll?" she moved her fingers up to your mouth, plunging them down your throat, making you gag a bit. "Taste good, doesn't it? I have to get a taste for myself later, but since you've been a good bunny for me, it's time for your reward.

You thought it was your chance to do something. You started squirming, and it made her a tiny bit upset. "Do you think squirming is going to do anything? You can't get away from me… did you forget I have a knife? I don't want to use it on you, but I will if you keep struggling. You're such a pretty girl... My pretty girl and I would hate to mess you up... Let me cut this underwear off, and then I'll put the knife up…" She flicked it open again, causing you to buck your hips as she got close to cutting them off, making her knick your thigh in the process. "See..this happens when you don't listen to daddy.." 

"No- no, please... Stop, please!" your tears started to come back; she shushed you, licking the blood off the knife before straddling your waist. "You can say no all you want, bunny, but it's happening no matter what.." she cut them off, exposing you to the cold air of the cabin, your scent making her moan.

"Look at you, bunny.. you're dripping down to your ass," she ran her softly up your slit before licking it clean, letting out a satisfied moan. You jerked your hips at her noises, making her giggle. "Oh.. you jerked pretty hard there... Does it feel good? I've barely even touched you.."

She got off your waist, looking down over you, "If I were to just... push my fingers into you now, they would slide in so easily. But I'll be nice... Just circle warm you up a bit."

"No! Stop it, please.." you cried out. Your voice was almost gone, and you watched as she rolled her eyes. 

"Here we go again with the no… you're being so stubborn. I think it would just be better for the both of us if I just.." she took your now ripped panties and shoved them into your mouth.

"Shut. You. Up. There.." she had a satisfied smile on her face. "Oh, don't look so terrified... It wasn't like you were going to wear those panties again anyway... Now where was I… right." she smiled, continuing to circle your clit, moaning before sticking two fingers in you and making you scream. 

"Aww, look at you taking two fingers like a good girl; you usually can only fit one in. You brought that new toy with you on your trip but couldn't even fit that. And look at you now, being a big girl, taking two of my fingers so easily." She really has been watching you this whole time. You were sure you closed the curtains... Maybe she had heard you mumbling to yourself about it...

The room was full of sounds from your aching cunt, her deep moans from seeing your pussy grip her fingers, and your cries of pain that soon turned into pleasures. She started to use her thumb to rub your clit. 

"What if I was to add another finger..oh.. Was that a moan, bunny?" she bit her lip before laughing, "Let me hear it again.." she started to move her thumb faster, making you arch your back before pushing down on your stomach and fingering you harder. 

"Oh, I think you're getting closer for me, baby; we can stop, though, for a second.." she pulled her fingers out of you, making you whimper and clinch around nothing, missing her fingers being inside of you. She started to laugh, seeing your face begin to tear up again. 

"Look at you... It's pathetic! First telling me no and now wanting me to finish you off... You're so adorable, bunny.." she went in her bag and got something to put on. When she came back, she had a strap without the toy. She started to look at your bags before taking the brand-new toy you brought and attaching it to it. "It's so cute that you picked out this one... This might be a little too big for you, don't you think?" she was right; you had picked out a toy that was way too big for you. You ultimately chose it because of its appearance; it was a clear and pink silicone toy with little hearts in it. You didn't read the size when you ordered it and ordered a 9-inch. 

"Don't worry, bunny, ill make it fit.." she lined herself up with your entrance rubbing the tip up and down your slick-covered cunt. "You make me so fucking wet bunny... The way you took my pussy in your mouth like a good slut. You were such a good girl, making me feel so good. But now it's my turn to make you feel even better." she slowly pushed herself in, making you moan out, her holding your hips still as you took almost half the cock in you. 

"Mm, look at that.. God, I wish you could see how good your cunt looks stretched around this toy.." She started to rub your clit again, pushing more and more into you before you felt her bottom out into you. "That's a good girl!! See, I knew you could do it.." she started slowly but started to pound you when she felt you loosen up a little bit. Your back was arched as she held your hips, mumbling dirty names in your ear as she fucked you senseless.

"Doesn't it feel good, bunny?" your face was puffy from all the tears you were letting out as she started to kiss them away. She mumbled into your neck, "I know, I know… it's so hard to go slow when you're making cute noises like these. I want you to scream for me... But there is always tomorrow for that angel; you are all mine. I don't have to rush; you didn't think this was the last time we'd do this, did you?" your heart sank as tears rose in your eyes. 

 You whimpered about how the owner of the house would be looking for you, but nothing came out except muffled sounds in between her thrusts. She chuckled and looked down at you.

"Honey, no one is going to look for you. Your mine for the next few days... Maybe even longer. Fuck! You feel so fucking good. I don't think I'll ever let you go.." you were trying your best to stifle your moans, not trying to be loud to let her know you were slightly enjoying her movements. She stroked your face with her hand before cupping your face.

"It's so cute watching you try to be quiet; you can let go for me, bunny... No one is going to hear you. It's okay.." her breath was ragged again, and her thrust became sloppier.

"You're doing so good for me, sweetheart. Sweetheart, let me help you.." she reached into the side table drawer and pulled out a small vibrator, widening your eyes. 'How did she know that was there?' you thought. But you were completely snapped out of it before she unchained one of your hands and put the vibrator in your hand before guiding it to your clit. 

"Oh fuck!! Your clinching so hard around my cock, bunny… I want you to come for me, doll.." she slapped your face, "aht aht I want to see your pretty little eyes, come on now look at me while you cum, come on be a good girl for me.." the tears pricked at your eyes, but they seemed only to egg her on. 

"Mm, does it feel good, angel? Me pounding you with your toy while you have a little vibrator on your clit?" her moans got louder, and so did yours. It wasn't until she removed your hand with the vibrator from your clit you let out the most pornographic moan, squirting on her and the bed as she pulled out of you. 

Your body was spazzing as she unchained you pulling you into her lap and holding you as you came down from your high. She reached over to grab a water bottle from her bag and gave it to you, making you drink it as she smiled down at you. There was a faint buzz from the other nightstand as you tried to catch your breath; the woman reached over to get what seemed to be your phone. She let out a small chuckle before moving the strand of hair out of your face and showing you your phone. 

"Look, bunny, the owner said you don't have to worry about the payment... She said she'd be home shortly... Though I don't think the cameras did you justice, she'd want to see you for herself.." She sat the phone down before laying you back down on the bed. 

"But let's get you cleaned up first. I want my wife to see how adorable you are when you aren't covered in sweat and cum.. Maybe you can show her the pictures when she comes. How does that sound?" 

And with that, she went to run the bath. You weren't going anywhere anytime soon, not that your legs worked anyway. She carried you to the bathtub, settling you in before going downstairs. It wasn't until long before you heard the words, "Oh Nat, she's perfect... Our perfect bunny."

[devildom-moss]

idk how to verbalise this idea properly so bear with me but: mc whose entire logic in life is 'fuck it we ball' including when it comes to romance, so they just completely go along with any attempts at flirting in a sort of "yes, and-" fashion

which probably only encourages said suitor and then mc has the Audacity to be surprised when it gets intense enough for them to realise they're actually being seduced lol

gn mc with just the brothers for now pls!! thank u for your services

Hopefully this request is what you were looking for. Honestly, I had a bit of confusion while writing, but I tried. I went with headcanons because that seemed like the best fit. Thanks for the request.

gn!MC who casually flirts back with the demon brothers headcanons

(and then has the audacity to be surprised that they're being genuinely pursued)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +2700

Lucifer

Lucifer is an awful flirt, trying so hard to fluster MC and convince them of his dominance. (Where’s it at though? I don’t see it.) His flirting is so suggestive that it’s actually pretty easy to just assume it’s a bit of playful teasing between friends.

For MC, it plays out like those posts that say something and then escalate immediately – something like “Kiss your homies goodnight. Kiss them with tongue. Eat their ass.”

Having an MC who flirts back with him can be a bit embarrassing, and it gets Lucifer’s hopes up so much. (“Could you pour me another cup of coffee, MC?” “Third one this morning, Luci. Not sleeping well?” “I’m afraid not. Perhaps you should come over and help – but then again, we might not get much sleep if you do.” “Aw, Luci, do you want me to fuck you senseless to help you fall asleep?” “If you’re offering, who am I to refuse.”)

He’ll be frustrated that MC keeps flirting with him, but they never follow through.

Lucifer is so horny that it’s absurd. MC could be completely normal, and this man would be thirsting. (“I really don’t want to do this lesson. This chapter is so boring.” “Normally, I wouldn’t use positive reinforcement, but if you complete your work, I’ll reward you.” “What kind of reward?” “Come to my room tonight and find out.”)

Poor MC doesn’t realize they’re being seduced until Lucifer has dragged them into his bed.

“Sleep with me.” “I’m not really tired, Lucifer.” “Good. Then you’ll have plenty of energy to make out and maybe even fuck me – if you want.” His touch would be so intimate – rubbing their inner thigh or groping their ass. “IF I WHAT?!?”

Lucifer would turn pink up to his ears. Part of him thinks MC is just teasing him again, but he would quickly realize that they’re being genuine. He’d feel absolutely humiliated. Did they not want him at all? Did all of that flirting mean nothing?

Before he could die from the shame, Lucifer would manage to blurt out, “Do you want me or not?” He wants some honest commitment in return for his affection, and if MC won’t bring that, that’s unacceptable. Of course, there is some thrill in a chase, but in that moment, Lucifer won’t have it in him. It would be a battle to fight some other day.

If MC tells him no or gives a half-hearted response, he will ask them to leave his room with one hand covering his blushing face. He wouldn’t even be able to look at them as he closed the door – and he’d probably avoid them for a day or two. (Also, he might cry a little after the door is locked).

If MC insists that they do want him, he’ll be especially needy while also acting all sadistic – attempting to tease them to distract from his own embarrassment. This poor loser will require so many kisses to reinflate his ego.

Mammon

To be fair, Mammon would bring this upon himself. He loves to act like he’s uninterested – constantly interrupting his fawning and puppy-like following of MC to save himself from the absolute humiliation of being *gasp* honest about his feelings.

I can see Mammon regularly initiating flirting, but this man can’t follow through to save his own life (maybe to save the life of someone else, though). An MC who reciprocates his flirting would leave him a blushing, flustered mess. Most of the time, his embarrassment cuts the interaction short.

“Ya just can’t get enough of the Great Mammon, can ya?” “Of course not, you handsome devil~” “I- uh! Hmph! Damn right!” he’d say it, crossing his arms and avoiding eye contact while the blush rises in his cheeks. How is MC supposed to respond?

If they tease him further and flirt more, he’ll just yell and tell them to knock it off. If they just shrug it off and move on, Mammon will be too flustered to make another move on them that day. The flirtatious spark just kind of fizzles out like a defective firecracker.

It takes a lot of boldness on Mammon’s end to get MC to realize he’s being serious. And honestly, Mammon is so adorable, MC may have the opportunity to take the initiative and push things a little further first. (You want to tell me most MCs could just flirt with Mammon, reducing him to a blushing, aggressive mess, and go back to watching that movie or playing that video game upon Mammon’s belligerent demand, and not want to kiss his face? Okay, sure.)

But let’s ignore that thought and say MC follows Mammon’s flirting in the “yes, and” fashion. After Mammon continuously sabotages his own chances, eventually, he’s going to get so frustrated that he will smother his own shyness long enough to get what he wants.

He’ll get MC alone and string together some make-shift confession – a plea for more. “Ya know, if ya wanna kiss the Great Mammon or somethin’, I’m not gonna stop ya – like, I mean, I want a little more outta ya. So, don’t hold back just cause ya think I don’t want to or nothin’.” (translation: Please kiss me. I know I act like I don’t want you, but I really, really want you to kiss me. Please, please, please.)

His face will burn, and a blush will work its way up to his ears. It’ll be hard to deny the intensity of his feelings, and it will weigh down on MC – a truth previously held in a bag on their back, tethered to dozens of helium balloons that disguised its weight, and then suddenly found every string cut loose by Mammon’s admission. He really loved them. For his confession, all Mammon would get was a stunned but heartfelt “oh.”

He gets so upset and embarrassed that MC didn’t realize he was being serious before. He went on a rollercoaster of emotions; meanwhile, this whole time, they hadn’t even taken his advances in earnest. It’s practically offensive.

The only remedy for Mammon’s bruised dignity is for MC to immediately hold and kiss him until he’s temporarily satisfied. (“Ya owe me big time for not takin’ me seriously.”)

Leviathan

I mean, he kind of has to flirt before MC can flirt back – unless we’re going to count accidentally blurting out his innermost perverted desires as flirting. Sure, I suppose it’s basically flirting to tell someone “It’s sexy when you tell me what to do. I can’t stop imagining you doing that in other settings.”

He’s so bad at flirting that nothing will happen for a long time after he realizes he’s head over heels. Levi is fine spending the rest of his (or at least MC’s) life pining for them – or at least he believes that. But the longing and desire will start to creep in, and he’ll wonder how much he can ask from MC. Friends can hold hands and maybe even cuddle, right? Maybe even kiss? Could they even –?

The thoughts eat away at him until he can’t wait for MC to make the move anymore. It slips out of him like some mating request written by Dr. Suess: “Would you –? Could you –? With an otaku? A gross, disgusting one, too?”

Levi is so visibly flustered that he doesn’t leave much room for ignorance. Even the most extreme masochist wouldn’t subject themselves to the furiously blushing, trembling state that Leviathan had worked himself into. He’d be on the brink of tears. All his hope in the world would be precariously perched on a ledge, awaiting your response.

I can’t see MC not knowing that Levi was attempting to seduce them, but perhaps the timing of it came as a surprise. Or perhaps they had never taken his affection seriously. He has so many favorites that he can’t pursue; just because he has a massive crush on MC doesn’t mean he had plans to act on it.

He will get even more embarrassed and down on himself to know that MC didn’t take him seriously at first. He understands, but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful.

He will require physical reassurance – as much of it as MC is willing to give him. And honestly, if MC doesn’t end up kissing him until he forgets how to think after his confession, he’ll probably hide in his room for a few weeks purely out of shame.

Satan

With an MC like this, the back-and-forth flirting goes on for an inordinate amount of time. Satan is not a flirt by any definition, but when there’s someone he likes, he knows how to turn on the charm. He’s smart, passionate, and mentally quick on his feet; he’s a natural charmer for the right audience.

Satan moves pretty slow when romance is concerned. If Levi wasn’t such a hopeless cause (affectionately), Satan would probably be the slowest to escalate a romantic relationship. He and MC will have a dozen dates under their belts before the desire for more had become an unbearable burden for Satan to silently ignore.

Eventually, Satan would find himself reading in his room with MC, unable to hold back anymore. He would ask, “Would you mind if I kissed you?” “No, I don’t mind if you want to.” “Could I kiss you now?” “Eh, sure.”

Everything up to that point could have been misread as platonic or some casual interest – maybe even curiosity on his end.

But he was serious, and it was evident in the way he approached MC to collect that kiss. He would straddle their hips, set their book aside (face down to mark the page like a real gentleman), and lean down for the kiss. Then, his lips would move against theirs, and the smallest sigh would escape him like a quiet release of sexual tension that had pressurized his entire body. Then, it would all click for MC.

Surprisingly, he wouldn’t be upset or humiliated if MC hadn’t taken him seriously before. In fact, he sees it as more of a personal failing, and in a low, seductive voice, he would tell them, “Allow me to prove how genuine and deep my feelings are for you.”

Asmodeus

He flirts with everyone, so how was MC supposed to know??

He asks them on dates so often. He’s probably the only one who could make out with MC and they’d still think, “yeah, we’re besties” because when Asmo pulls away with a giggle and a grin, telling them how much fun that was, it doesn’t feel serious.

It would take a moment of angst – either Asmo feeling like MC doesn’t take his advances seriously enough (and they don’t) or MC getting down on themselves – for them to realize.

Asmo would pull them into his room and leave small kisses all over them, peppering in compliments. “You’re so gorgeous, and I adore looking at your face.” Then, he would kiss their cheek. “You’re such a sweetheart.” Then, the other cheek. “I always have so much fun when I’m with you. I don’t ever want you to leave my side.” He would kiss their forehead. “I want you to feel confident; you’re such a wonderful soul.” (He would probably add more compliments if MC was feeling self-conscious.)

His words would get sweeter and more honest. “I feel seen in your eyes – like every part of me is accepted. I don’t have to play it up or try.” He would work his way down their neck with soft pecks to their skin. “I want to share everything beautiful in this world with you.” In part to avoid meeting their gaze. “I want to make you smile with everything I have.” And in part so he could whisper the words into their ear. “I want to help you whenever you need me. I’ll sit right next to you through any pain and hardships you encounter.” No one else had earned the right to hear his praise and affection. “I want to be a comfort for you – someone you can return to like a home.”

Finally, he would face them with a striking affection. “You know I’m in love with you, right? It’s not just lust and fun. You’re everything. You matter the most – after me, of course. It’s me and you and everything else.”

Asmo seduces everyone. That isn’t shocking. But this was more than seduction. It was genuine courtship. He won’t fault MC for being surprised. It caught him off guard too.

Beelzebub

Beel is not super flirty, but he makes it known that he cares through his actions. So, there aren’t many opportunities for MC to “yes, and” flirt back with him.

He asks them out to get food often and brings them snacks, but that doesn’t signal any romantic intentions. Sometimes he might stare at MC affectionately or admit how happy he is to spend time with them, but it’s nowhere near intense.

Sometimes, he asks for something more selfish. It starts small: petting his head, holding his hand, hugging him. None of those register as seduction from Beel for MC, especially compared to the affectionate nature of his twin. In fact, no one would fault MC for thinking these were platonic wants. After all, Beel has been through a lot. Sometimes this sweet, big baby boy just needs physical affection.

Then, he would get a bit bolder with his requests: “Could you feed me?” “Can I feed you?” “Would you hold me?”

As innocent and platonic as Beel may seem, he makes a lot of off-hand remarks that sound a bit perverted. “I bet MC’s lips would taste good.” “I wonder what you taste like.” “MC has nice hands. I bet they would feel good…” These comments could open the door for some flirting from MC, though. “Wanna taste me, Beel?” “Should I give you a massage? Or maybe something more?”

MC flirting with him would make his heart race. Even if MC didn’t follow through with their flirtatious offer, it would encourage Beel to keep pushing his luck.

Finally, he would ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Beel would look so shy and embarrassed, holding his hands awkwardly to his chest, that it would be hard not to take him seriously. The question – and his desire – would be a slight shock. Beel wouldn’t mind that MC was surprised, although he would be disappointed if he was turned down.

If MC takes him up on that offer, they will come to realize that his ravenous hunger showed itself through a kiss, too – as if he had been starving for MC’s touch and affection.

Belphegor

He’s so affectionate and cuddly. In that way, he’s similar to Asmo; it’s pretty hard to tell how serious and intense Belphie’s feelings are. He’s just kind of like that.

It’s common for Belphie to ask to be spoiled with affection – head pats, feeding him, hugging him, sleeping together, going out with him, praising him, holding his hand, being his pillow, etc.

His need for attention doesn’t cover up for how flushed his face gets when MC is the one to give him affection. His neediness doesn’t explain how much he clings to MC or how he blushes and tells them not to stop touching him.

So, actually, he’s less flirty than he is demanding of attention. Going along with his demands only encourages him to vocalize and act on more of his desires. He’d even ask permission to kiss them and to be kissed.

MC probably wouldn’t figure it out until Belphie starts sleepily trying to make out with them.

“Belphie, are you half-asleep?” “What? No. I’m awake. Why?” “That was a really heated kiss.” “Of course it was. Can we keep going?” “I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t you like me back? We sleep together, go on dates, cuddle, and you even let me kiss your face and neck whenever I please. Don’t you want to go further?”

It hits them. Belphie can read the look of surprise on MC’s face, and it makes him pout. MC really should have known how he felt by then, but he’s confident that his affection is reciprocated before MC even responds.

“Sheesh. You’re really difficult, you know? I’ve had to do a lot of the work here because you’re so dense.” Belphie would straddle MC’s lap and take off his shirt. “I’ll let it go this time, but you better start putting in more effort from now on.”

A/N: Only about 1 hour left to vote in the poll. And we just got to 100 so y'all are getting 2 posts this month. Genuinely, I typed this a/n up, talking about only needing one more vote, checked it again, and the one vote is no longer needed. Good job, y'all. I swear if there are ties...

[adorabluesposts]

I’m a massively hopeless romantic and hopelessly in love with our short paranoid chaotic duck loving king and the THINGS I WOULD DO TO THIS MAN JUST BECAUSE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH.

Anyway thoughts about he’d react to constant affection because my love is physical affection and maybe sometimes giving him handmade gifts because nothing beats time wasted on handmade shit. I LOVE THIS MAN SM ITS TOO MUCH 😭😭😭

I WANNA CONSTANTLY SHOWER HIM WITH KISSES AND PRAISES PLS.

Basically requesting a fluff with all of the above 💀💀

I also love your writing style sm, hope you’re having a great day/night

buckle up cause this is gonna be SWEET!

Thanks for the appreciation on my writing, I'm still working on it 😭💖 love this sm. This is for the physical affection ppl 🫶🏻

a/n:.. added some acts of service love language too I'm so sorry 😭

NOT PROFFRED.

PROOFREA. PROOFREWD. I can't spell.

NOT PROOFREAD.

(I managed)

divider by @al-of-the-stars. NOT MINE!!

It's not a surprise Lucifer's a sucker for physical attention. Not in a sexual way, just hugs and holding hands in the most unusual times.

At first you started off with 'baby steps', occasionally giving him a kiss on his cheek or lips, holding his hand or playing with his suit when he didn't expect it, just to see how he'd react.

He would get flustered, turn into a blushing mess and pretty much feel like his knees would give out at any minute. He would never admit what an impact you had on him, though.

When the showers of affection got more frequent and he realised what you were doing, every chance he'd get he would basically invite you to do those things for him. He loved tricking you into thinking he didn't know what your love language was and , even if he still got all flustered and was still surprised because he, obviously, didn't know what to expect (a kiss or a hug), he convinced himself he was just acting so flustered to trick you, again.

Of course Lucifer's love for you gets more and more powerful with every kiss.

His wife left him, after all, so he needs all the affection you can offer. He really loves you.

Even though you noticed he still wears his wedding ring sometimes, you know how hard it is to let go, and you showering him with affection actually helps him get through it!

"Good morning, handsome!" You shower his sleepy face with kisses as he slowly wakes up, watching his grumpy face turn into a weak, tired smile.

"Morning" He smiles and cups your cheek as you pull away, pushing you back in for a kiss.

He notices you're all dressed already and raises an eyebrow, sitting up. "Where are you going?"

"Well, Your Majesty-" He smiles at you, loving how intimate it sounds when you call him that, "-It's Monday. Meaning I have work to get done."

He frowns and you laugh. "Bummer."

"I made you breakfast, so you might as well get changed." You ruffle his hair as he struggles to put it back in place, even if it was tangled already and playfully huffs at you, lecturing you on how his hair must always be perfect as you leave the room.

When he joins you in the kitchen, you gasp in awe, like every morning. You go up to him and praise him for being so good looking, pestering his face with kisses and telling him how you're falling in love over and over again.

He loves it truly, holding your waist as you praise him. He looks at you with lovesick eyes and a goofy smile and only let's go when hunger takes the best of him. He praises you back, too, for being such a good cook (or not burning the kitchen down.. in certain people's cases aka me).

Before you leave, he makes sure to leave one of his ducks in your bag , knowing that by now you have millions if them in your office, as you leave one of your handmade gifts, drawings, or sweets in your shared room.

He almost never wants to let you go to work, turning the radio on to twirl you around in the kitchen and kiss your face or hands until it gets so late you either have to run to work or make him open up a portal for you.

It's not his fault he just loves the way you love him.

Ive never written something so fast in my entire life. THE THINGS LUCI DOES TO ME OMG.

[jaywonjuice]

hiii! i saw your requests were open! i was wondering if you could write a jake drabble/scenario where the reader and him get into an argument and instead of making him sleep on the couch, the reader voluntarily does so instead and the aftermath (apologies) afterwards? hopefully that makes sense ☺️ thank you so much in advance and i’m looking forward to it!!

~ 🩵

aaa my first ever request !! :3 tysm for this, i thought it was a rly sweet idea and i rly rly hope you like how the piece turned out !<3

timeless. ~ s.jy

pairing bf!jake x gn reader

genre angst, fluff, oneshot

warnings verbal fight, physical contact, kissing, mention of drowning

wc 1.27k

[00:00] you watched as the alarm clock on your nightstand ticked over midnight and beeped into the darkness. you hugged your knees to your chest, feeling as if you were glued to this spot, huddled up in the middle of the bed. a lump began to form in your throat.

he forgot.

you and jake had been dating for a year now, and to be truthful, it was the happiest you had been in a long time. through all the low points he’d been there, from staying up to cuddle with you on the sofa after the long hard days at your stressful job, to wiping away your tears with his gentle touch, refusing to leave your side until he saw you smile again. you honestly had to pinch yourself sometimes to check you weren’t dreaming, that he was really yours - your gorgeous, sweet, golden retriever boyfriend.

but he forgot. he’d forgotten your one-year anniversary. and you knew that it shouldn’t matter to you so much but it did. you’d waited hopefully all day for him to text or call, and when your phone finally buzzed you’d rushed to read the message excitedly.

jake🩶

should still make tn but schedule’s running late, prob won’t get there til like half 12 xxxxxxx

your heart had sunk. you’d really thought he might have something special planned in secret, a surprise date at a fancy restaurant maybe, so you hadn’t brought it up just in case. but now you felt like a fool, hopes crushed. he clearly wasn’t thinking about you. maybe he just didn’t love you anymore.

your spiralling thoughts were cut off abruptly by the sound of the apartment door opening and then latching shut softly. shortly afterwards a shadowy shape appeared standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

‘hey baby,’ said jake with a broad smile. entering the room he flicked the lights on, casually running his fingers through his hair and letting out a contented sigh, as if he hadn’t just crushed your heart. ‘i thought you might’ve been asleep. why are you just sitting here in the dark?’

his smile faltered as he took in your expression. you were staring at him dully with tired eyes. he thought you looked smaller than usual, sat hunched there, blanket wrapped around your shoulders in the middle of the bed. concern flickered across his features. ‘baby, has something happened?’

you scoffed, turning away from him. ‘“has something happened?” no, actually, as a matter of fact absolutely nothing happened all day.’

he regarded you, puzzled. ‘baby i don’t understand,’

‘today was our anniversary, jake,’ you answered him cooly. ‘we’ve been together for an entire year and you didn’t even remember.’

you watched as the realisation crept over his face.

‘oh gosh, yeah, it totally slipped my mind!’ he furrowed his brow, thinking. ‘let’s go to the movies tomorrow, hmm? a proper date, to celebrate,’ he offered with a smile.

‘no,’ you shot back without a moment’s pause. ‘it’s not the same. we can’t just do it tomorrow. it won’t be special, we’ve missed our chance.’

‘what do you mean it won’t be special?’ he scratched his head, clearly growing frustrated with the conversation. ‘we’d be doing the exact same thing just on a different day, it doesn’t make any difference.’

‘jake, this was important to me!’ you were shouting now, unable to remain calm with how easily he seemed to dismiss your feelings.

‘hey don’t yell at me!’ he put his hands up. ‘we can just go tomorrow can’t we?! seriously what is the issue here, all i want is to just be with you-’

‘well i don’t want to be with you!’ you spat.

his jaw worked. something about his gaze shifted, and his eyes hardened. you knew then that you’d hurt him.

‘just forget it,’ you huffed, pushing yourself up off the bed and making to storm out of room. jake stuck his arm out to block the door. ‘look, if you’d just listen-’

‘forget it, i said,’ you repeated yourself, pushing his arm out of the way before adding, ‘you’re good at that.’ with that you left the room, your blanket trailing behind you.

.❦.

[11:44] when you awoke on the sofa the following morning, it was to a sore back and a throbbing head. it had taken you hours to fall asleep and you felt anything but rested. your cheeks felt tight with the stains of dried tears, and as you sat up straight the events of the previous evening flooded your mind.

jake. as you remembered the wounded look on his face at your hurtful words, your heart ached, adding to your long list of pains. ‘such an idiot,’ you groaned, head in your hands.

berating yourself did little to relieve your discomfort however, so you dragged yourself up off the sofa and made your way blearily to the kitchen.

as you reached for the medicine cabinet, something stuck to the fridge caught your eye. a little envelope was tucked under one of your little puppy fridge magnets. removing it carefully, you turned it over in your hands to find your name scrawled on the back.

you opened it up and read:

morning angel,

you know i’m not good with words, but i need you to know how much i love you, and how sorry i am that i hurt you.

i should never have said the things i said. i know now how important this was for you and i should’ve been more understanding from the start.

it’s not that i don’t care, honestly it’s quite the opposite. i just want to celebrate every day that i get to spend loving you. you see, i think we’re timeless baby, no matter how long i’m with you i’m always going to be crazily in love with you, until we’re old and grey. no matter when someone asks me, now or fifty years from now, i’m gonna be telling them that you’re my baby, forever and always.

yours,

jake

p.s. i’m really sorry this is all in writing and not in person, but i had things scheduled all morning that i couldn’t get out of :( i promise i’m gonna make it up to you

p.p.s. i’m also sorry for my atrocious handwriting (you’re right, it does kinda look like a drunk spider slipped in ink and danced across the page)

the sheet of paper trembled in your hands.

‘y/n?’

you looked up with a jolt to see jake stood watching you by the door, his face fraught with concern. your eyes filled with tears as they met his, and he dropped his bags to the floor and rushed over to you. he pulled you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you.

‘jake,’ you were sobbing into his chest now. ‘jake i’m so sorry. i’m so so sorry.’

‘shhh, i know baby, i know,’ he stroked the back of your head gently. ‘i’m sorry too.’

still a sniffling mess, you continued ‘i do want to be with you, i want to be with you forever and.. i want to be timeless with you.’

you tilted your head up to face him, eyes shining. ‘please,’

he held your face in his hands as he leant in to kiss you, his thumb brushing against your cheek gently. the way he kissed you made you feel like you were both alive and burning all at once, like he was a breath of fresh air, like you were drowning. when he finally pulled away, he smiled, running his thumb along your puffy bottom lip, before replying softly ‘yeah, timeless sounds good to me.’

pls don’t hesitate to send me requests ! i love writing these sm ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©jaywonjuice | do not copy or re-upload my work on any platform

[lawsvalentine]

Hey I have a hard time finding stories of the monster trio + Law finding out that their s/o is pregnant. So if you could write one for each that would be amazing.🥹🙏 it be a sfw story

Cee’s note: Yay! My first request AHHH!!! And sure thing love 💓

They Find Out You’re Pregnant • Monster Trio + Law HC • (SFW)

Pregnant!reader

CW: Pregnancy, Fluff

Luffy

Luffy noticed something was off about you but couldn’t put his finger on it

You were going to the bathroom more frequently and you couldn’t stomach most of the food Sanji served without vomiting

He had Chopper take a look at you worried you might be sick

When Chopper reassured that you weren’t sick relief washed over you two only to be replaced by shock when Chopper reveals that you are pregnant

Luffy stares for a few moments blinking before a big toothy grin spreads across his face. He gives you a big hug can’t containing his excitement.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t kinda scared when Chopper dropped the bomb but Luffy’s excitement and joy was contagious slowly easing the fears you had

From that moment on, Luffy is extra careful with you. Always keeping you on the ship out of harms way and has either Zoro or Sanji stay with you.

Definitely takes advantage of your pregnancy cravings to get more food from Sanji

He loves to kiss and cuddle your round tummy and even talks to it

“Hey little baby, your dad is gonna be king of the pirates hehehe”

When you went into labor, he was right by your side holding your hand and comforting you while chopper delivered the baby

Luffy is overjoyed holding his child in his arms and absolutely falls in love with them.

Looking down at the precious being, he can’t help but make a silent vow to always protect them at any cost

Zoro

You actually found out you were pregnant before he did. Your period never came causing you to visit Chopper and well and behold you were indeed pregnant

You didn’t know how or when would be the right time to tell Zoro until one day you ended up blurting it randomly when he tried offering you some sake

The gif above was his exact reaction. Zoro couldn’t believe he was going to be a father. He was lowkey panicking on the inside

You started to feel like maybe Zoro didn’t want to have this kid with you when you saw his face. You started to tear up, causing Zoro to snap out of his inner thoughts

He immediately held you close to him, peppering your face with kisses and starts to reassure you.

“Babe don’t cry, of course I want to have this baby”

He is so protective of you. Literally carries you everywhere and doesn’t allow you to lift anything by yourself. Absolutely refuses to leave your side, no matter how much you tell him you’ll be fine.

Gives you foot rubs and leg massages whenever your body starts to feel sore

Loves to lay with you and gently rub your tummy

He felt the baby kick and he just looked astonished that there really was a little person growing inside you. Now he hopes he feels a kick every time he rubs your stomach

Was nervous asf when you went into labor, but didn’t let it show for your sake. You squeezed the hell out of this man’s hand but it’s okay he’s a big boy he can handle it lol

When your child was finally born, you could have sworn you saw Zoro’s eyes glossy (he will deny it with every fiber of his being lol)

He already is planning to train them to become a great swordsmen like their father

Sanji

You have been vomiting a lot whenever Sanji made you food. He took notice and was immediately concerned about you.

He took you to Chopper and he gives you the big news that you are now pregnant

Oh boy, you just made this man the happiest man alive

He is over the moon that his darling Y/N is now carrying his child. He had already wanted to start a family with you and settle down so this was a dream come true for him

Sanji is going to spoil you 10x more now because you’re pregnant. Whatever you desire, you shall receive it.

Sanji secretly hopes the baby is a girl, but will love the baby just as much if it is a boy

Sanji promises he will never be like his father, he will cherish and give this child unconditional love that he was robbed of from his childhood.

If you are feeling insecure about your belly and body changes, Sanji will immediately shower you with kisses and adoring compliments

“My darling, you are so beautiful and I am even more in love seeing you carry our child”

When you went into labor, he was right there by your side, holding your hand and helping you to control your breathing and encouraging you to push as hard as you can

Once your child is born, this man is actually bawling his eyes out. He is so fucking happy lol

Law

He definitely suspected you were pregnant from the symptoms you were exhibiting

He did a check up on you just to be sure and his theory was correct

Law definitely had some fears, you two were pirates and he already was protective of you before and now that you were pregnant you were even more vulnerable

But once he saw the panicked look in your eyes, he pushed his own fears aside and reassured you everything was going to be okay

“It’s okay Y/N-ya, I will take care of you.”

Law never thought about having children before but as your pregnancy went along he was starting to warm up to the idea

He is definitely even more protective and gives you even more check ups to ensure that you and the baby are healthy

Makes sure you are taking your vitamins and that you aren’t exerting yourself too much

Doesn’t let you leave the Polar Tang under any circumstances and don’t even try to fight him on this. He will have none of it

Protectiveness aside, Law is more softer and affectionate with you. He is always holding you and giving you kisses and loves to hold and kiss your tummy

Bepo and the crew notice this and tease their captain which is always met with death glares from Law that sends them running lol

Law is the one to deliver your baby when you go into labor, while Bepo serves as your comfort bear to help you through your delivery

When your child is born, Law had the biggest smile you ever seen on him

He thinks about Corazon and wishes he was here to see his child. But knows he is watching over him and his new family.

[rabbitblackx]

Hello again, can i request an Bubba Sawyer x Shy reader: When Bubba introduce them to his family for the first time, at first, the reader was nervous that his family might disprove of them since their cannibals but was proved wrong when they interact with his family? (Side note: Bubba and the reader were together for a long time and he come up with the idea of introducing them to his family since he's been telling his family all about them.)

Hope that your having a great month rabbit 😊

Hope u don’t mind it’s just a silly little headcanon thing!🫠💞 also hope ur having a spectacular day!!😸💖

Shy!Reader meets Bubba’s family

You had been in a relationship with Bubba for quite a while now. You met on accident one night, while him and Chop-Top were ‘grocery shopping’. Instead of killing you, Bubba grew a fondness for your shy smile and pretty face. He didn’t let Chop-Top see you, effectively hiding you away while they wasted anybody else nearby

To Bubba’s surprise, him being a cannibal killer wasn’t a dealbreaker. You still actually really liked him. You just had a hard time expressing it due to your shyness and fear

This strange, masked man continued to visit you almost every night, clearly infatuated with you. There were times where you didn’t utter a single word. You just sat with Bubba in your living room, silently admiring each other. Though you didn’t speak, your big shy eyes said a thousand words

It was now the day where you were gonna finally meet Bubba’s family. You were dreading this for the longest time. You stood outside this abandoned theme park with Leatherface, visibly shaking

“Maybe we should just turn back. They’re not gonna like me.” You squeaked

Your boyfriend made a grunt of disagreement, placing a large paw on your shoulder. You glanced down at it, before shyly meeting his gaze

“I’m scared, Bubba.” You uttered

Bubba attempted to comfort you with numerous pets and a small cuddle. He wished he could tell you how keen his brothers actually were to meet you. He had told them all about you

Bubba led you down into the quarters of the theme park in which they lived. The large space was littered with bright lights, skeletons and dust. It wasn’t that bad…

As soon as Chop-Top Sawyer popped up to greet you, you were immediately hiding behind Bubba. You squeaked in fear and pressed flush against his back. Chop-Top couldn’t take a hint, moving around his brother to get a look at you

“This them, Bubba? This yer little friend?” He crooned

Bubba nodded his head, carefully pulling you out from behind him by your waist and setting you next to him. Chop-Top’s wide blue eyes and insane grin made you hug your boyfriend’s arm tight

“Hi…” you peeped shyly

Chop-Top was loud and boisterous as ever, crudely complimenting you on how good looking you were. Of course, you had no idea how to respond, face red and pressing against Bubba’s arm. As different as you were to this man, he wasn’t the one you were afraid of the most. It was their oldest brother, Drayton, that you were anxious to impress

Drayton emerged from the kitchen with a surprised look on his face. He couldn’t believe that you were here. In fact, he couldn’t believe that you were actually real. For all he knew, Bubba was lying about this imaginary partner of his for the past few months

Drayton felt threatened by you at first, and protective of his baby brother. But once he found how shy and quiet you were, he let his guard down. He was actually quite glad Bubba found you instead of some hussy or whore

You stayed for dinner, where you met grandpa. You liked him. Mostly because he didn’t talk to you but that was beside the point. You barely said anything at all really, making Drayton eye you suspiciously. He liked quiet people. So were you just too good to be true?

After dinner, you stayed back to spend some alone time with Bubba. But just before you were to leave for the night, you popped into the kitchen. It took a lot of courage, but you offered to help Drayton with the dishes. He looked beyond shocked, like he couldn’t believe such kind words came out of your mouth

Bubba watched from afar as you and his brother silently washed dishes together. Just as you thought it was going to get awkward, Drayton turned to you and said something that warmed your faint heart

“I’m glad Bubba brought you home.”

[ugh-yoongi]

Hi. Can I request a drabble with Jungkook where they’re in a secret relationship and they think their friends are not aware of it but they’re actually really bad at hiding it. Thank you!

decided to combine these two. thank you both for the requests!

this one ran away from me but was really fun, so we're going to ignore the wordcount. hope you both enjoy! <3

obviously

pairing: jungkook x f. reader genre: secret relationship au, roommate au; crack, fluff warnings: two idiots engaging in idiot behavior, swearing, yoongi is tortured by reader's use of emojis, drinking/alcohol, one reference to jungkook wearing women's underwear but it isn't a thing, unedited. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 3.7k

In retrospect, getting married at nineteen wasn’t your brightest idea.

Not your worst, either, because at least you’d chosen well.

There are undoubtedly far worse men to have as your ex-husband than Kim Namjoon, who had also gotten caught up in all those romantic cliches about young love; had also been inflicted with whatever illness made you believe getting married so young was smart and cool; had also woken up one day and thought what the fuck are we doing and asked if you wanted to call it quits.

You did.

And even though you loved Namjoon, over time it turned into that platonic life partner kind of love and not that all-encompassing, love of your life, eternal kind of love. So, Namjoon offered to pay for the divorce with his grad school stipend and took his name off the lease so you could find a new roommate and insisted on meeting up every other week for takeout and cheap alcohol because he had a whole thing about not wanting it to be weird.

Now, here you sit, years removed from the most affectionate and anticlimactic divorce of all time, and you wonder what could be more weird than your ex-husband making you a Tinder profile.

“I know what you like,” he insists, cheeks ruddy from the wine. Namjoon talks endlessly on a good day, but he’s nearly impenetrable when he’s got some merlot in him. “No one’s more qualified to do this than me.” You quirk an eyebrow at him. “Except you, of course,” he hurriedly adds.

“Have you ever stopped to think—”

Namjoon heaves an exaggerated groan, hand to his forehead as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “You have no idea.”

You roll your eyes. “Have you ever stopped to think,” you repeat, “that there might be a reason I don’t have a Tinder? Or any dating profile, for that matter?”

“Yeah, you’re obviously still in love with me,” he jokes, laughing wildly at the absurdity of it; elbows you in the side as he wiggles his eyebrows. What could be weirder than your ex-husband treating you like one of his bros? “But alas, I’ve moved on, and so the time has come for you to also—”

“Either shut up or drink more,” you interject, filling his glass nearly to the brim. “You’re insufferable when you’re like this.”

Namjoon, seemingly out of arguments, simply hums in acknowledgment. Downs half the wine you’d just poured him, because out of the two options you’d presented him with, it’s the more realistic choice. Asks, “What’s your preferred age range?” before snorting another laugh and setting it from 18 to 50 for his own amusement.

“You know, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Why not?” he retorts, and there’s no judgment there, just genuine curiosity. You know he’s just having a laugh, would delete it and never mention it again if you asked him to, but the thing is—

The front door opens, and there stands your roommate, arms full of bags from Daiso. “Hey, ba—”

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks when he sees your ex-husband. Coughs to cover the pet name that nearly tumbled out of his mouth and lifts his hand in a wave. Namjoon watches the way the weight of the bags causes the muscles in Jungkook’s forearm to flex and shoots you a look. Maybe he does know what you like, after all.

“Hi, Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook says, polite but still awkward, even after all these years. Can’t seem to shake it, no matter how hard he tries. “What are you two up to?”

Namjoon is none the wiser, used to the hushed awe Jungkook always adopts when he addresses him. Polite and endlessly kind because his mother raised him to never be anything less, but only ever jittery around Namjoon. Doesn’t act like this around any of your other friends; takes Seokjin’s teasing in stride and dishes it right back, but never Namjoon. Would probably rather die.

So Namjoon just waves back, says, “Hi, Jungkook-ah,” before he returns his attention to his phone. Doesn’t look up when you abandon him on the couch to help unpack the bags. Says, “I’m signing her up for Tinder so she can finally get laid,” and also doesn’t look up when Jungkook chokes on an inhale and one of the bags splits in half.

Before he moved in with you, Jungkook lived with Hoseok.

It’d gone great, all things considered. Jungkook couldn’t have asked for a better first roommate, fresh out of high school and his family home and hundreds of kilometers from the salty air of Busan. He’d nearly been sick with anxiety, all green around the edges, and Hoseok had pulled him into a hug and calmed his fraying nerves. Helped him with his homework and taught him how to cook and pecked at his heels like a mother hen when his room got too messy.

Just like he’s doing now.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, not at all able to hide the surprise in his voice when he pulls open the door and finds Hoseok on the other side. “What are you doing here?”

Hoseok tuts. “I told you I was coming by this weekend to clean. I haven’t been here in weeks—”

“I know how to clean,” Jungkook argues, face growing warm from misplaced embarrassment, that Hoseok still thinks he’s a dumb kid who doesn’t know any better. “I said you didn’t have to come.”

His hyung’s face softens. “I know you know how to clean, Jungkookie, I’m just… I still feel responsible for you. You’re the first child I raised and released into the world.”

Jungkook sighs. Knows this is a losing argument. Opens the door wide enough to accommodate Hoseok and his bags of cleaning supplies, and doesn’t say a word as he follows Hoseok around the apartment even though he wants to say, I told you so. The entire place is spotless. There’s nothing to clean. No dust on the floor. Sparkling kitchen countertops. Laundry freshly-washed and hung on the drying rack by the window, warm in the midday sun. No toothpaste in the bathroom sink; no hard water stains on the shower glass.

All that’s left is Jungkook’s bedroom. That, too, is spotless, and Hoseok has never had a poker face and certainly can’t muster one now. “Why is it so clean in here?” he asks, taking in the bare floor, void of dirty clothes and whatever hobby equipment Jungkook had taken up that week; the pristinely-made bed with its hospital corners and fluffed pillows; the end tables that are suspiciously void of dust.

“Because I know how to clean,” Jungkook tartly replies, rolling his eyes. “I told you, there’s—”

“Are you even living in here?” Hoseok continues, either oblivious to or pointedly ignoring the way Jungkook starts to panic. “Because it doesn’t smell weird, either, and we all know that wasn’t the case before.”

“I have an air freshener.”

“Uh-huh.”

Hoseok continues his search. Actually praises Jungkook on the way he’d organized his clothes, the fact that everything in his drawers is folded and not shoved in haphazardly, that the few nice pieces he owns are hung in the closet. Kneels on the floor to check under the bed: empty, except for the XBox controller Taehyung had left behind the last time he came over to binge Valorant.

And Jungkook should’ve known—should’ve anticipated this—because it’s his Hobi-hyung and if there’s anything his Hobi-hyung is neurotic about it’s cleanliness and he’s got eyes like a hawk, makes him deadly efficient at spotting dust, so it’s really no surprise when he lets out a shrill a-ha! and pops out from under the bed with a pair of lacy underwear pinched between his fingers, but Jungkook should’ve anticipated it, anyway.

“And what do we have here?”

What Hoseok has here is Jungkook’s favorite pair of your underwear, but he can’t say that, so he just feels the way his face flushes with embarrassment again and wonders if he’d get out of the impending interrogation if he starts crying. “Um. Nothing?”

“Sure doesn’t look like nothing,” Hoseok continues, voice animated and lilting, the teasing smile evident even though Jungkook can’t bring himself to look. “Can’t believe my little Jungkookie is all grown up.”

Jungkook doesn’t feel grown up, he feels mortified. Feels like he wants to sink right through the floor, like he wants to disappear for three to five business years. Feels like an idiot for being so insistent on all this secrecy, because now he can’t tell Hoseok that the lacy underwear he’s inspecting belongs to you and that the two of you have been together for a while, that it’s great, Jungkook thinks this might be It, and all he can do is blurt out the first thing he can think of, which is—

“It’s mine.” Hoseok’s head turns so fast his neck creaks. “I’m, uh. Experimenting.”

Hoseok shrieks. Jungkook shrieks. “What the fuck,” Hoseok shrieks again as he drops the underwear to the floor and kicks it under the bed. “Why wouldn’t you just say that—”

“That’s what you get for going through my stuff!”

Hoseok doesn’t come over to clean again.

On the weeks you don’t see Namjoon, you spend your Fridays having game night at Jimin’s.

It’s always a raucous affair—wouldn’t be possible any other way with the friend group you’ve got, now seamlessly blended with Jungkook’s—and it’s always your responsibility to supply the snacks. You pop into the store after work, leave with your arms full of junk like you looted the place, and the man in front of you in line takes so long you miss the bus and have to wait for the next.

Which leaves you very little time to get ready, so you rush through a shower to rinse off the work grime and grab the first pair of leggings and sweatshirt you see, slip your feet into slides that may or may not be yours, and run down the hall to Jimin’s.

Laughter can be heard from just outside the door—Hobi’s and Jin’s louder than everyone—and it makes you smile. Warmth blooms in your chest, all affection, and it has you feeling terribly fond of this group you’ve cobbled together. Has you smiling wider as you punch in Jimin’s door code and let yourself inside. Has you dropping off the snacks in the kitchen and wanting to hug the first person you find, except one Park Jimin has other plans.

“Why are you wearing Jungkookie’s hoodie?” he says in lieu of a greeting.

You look down. Certainly is Jungkook’s hoodie, mixed in with the clean laundry you hadn’t gotten around to putting away yet, and you’re sure there’s no hiding the way your jaw drops a little. The man in question is across the room, stuck in a conversation about fuck knows what with Taehyung, and he sends you a panicked look that can only be an instruction to lie your ass off. So you huff, say, “What d’you mean? This is mine,” and paint on the most annoyed expression you can conjure.

“It absolutely is not yours,” Jimin retorts.

This time you look annoyed for real. “Ugh, who cares? Since when did you become an expert on our personal belongings?”

When you first met Jimin, you’d been tricked into thinking he was a sweet, innocent angel; the kind of person who would do anything for his loved ones, including not interrogating them over whose clothes they wear. Quickly, you learned this was not the case. Jimin is lovely and kind, but he’s also perceptive as hell and shameless, so he smirks knowingly and answers with, “Since I bought them.”

Which… makes sense, you can admit. You vaguely recall Jungkook’s last birthday and the way he’d gasped and insisted on Jimin returning the hoodie he’d gifted him because it was too expensive and the way Jimin had laughed and waved him off, because Jungkook has always been his favorite and he’s never attempted to hide it. The hoodie you’re wearing now could, theoretically, be that exact gift. It’s definitely soft enough to be made from something expensive.

“Oh,” you reply, changing gears entirely. “Well, you know how it is. Sometimes laundry gets mixed up. I’m sure you and Taehyung have worn each other’s clothes by accident, too.”

Jimin doesn’t buy it, you can tell, but he thankfully drops the issue. Watches you and Jungkook like a hawk for the rest of the night, just waiting to capitalize on any other slip-ups, but you purposely fall into a conversation with Yoongi that’s too boring for any normal human to follow along with, and Jungkook calls dibs on Mario Kart until someone can beat him, so there are no slip-ups to catch.

However, if the one constant of your friend group is that Jungkook is Jimin’s favorite regardless of Taehyung’s pouting, the second is that Jung Hoseok cannot hold his liquor.

He’s four mixed drinks deep, skin flushed and eyes half-lidded with sleep, when he stands on top of Taehyung and Jimin’s coffee table and shouts, for everyone to hear, “Hey, did you guys know Jungkookie started wearing women’s underwear?”

For once, this comes as a complete shock to you, too.

The thing about being in love, Jungkook finds, is that it’s nearly impossible to shut up about it.

He’s trying to be cool. He’s trying to be normal. He feigns delight and care when his coworkers talk about their partners, pretends he’s paying attention and not just waiting for his turn to talk about you. He prints pictures of the two of you off his phone and frames them and displays them at his desk, and all someone has to say is, “That’s a cute picture, Jungkook-ssi—” before all his affection for you erupts out of him like a volcano.

So far he’s been careful. His coworkers are sick of hearing about you, but they’re an outlet for everyone he can’t talk about you with. Like his friends, because he’d decided early on it was better to keep everything a secret for a little bit because he didn’t want things to be weird (and because he’s low-key terrified of Namjoon, because he’s gentle and clumsy but he’s still big) and now he’s regretting it but it feels like it’s gone on too long and he’s in too deep.

Really, it’s no surprise he slips up. Has probably been overdue for one like this for a while.

They’re at the arcade. Taehyung has sunk the last of his disposable income for the week into a claw machine stocked with LINE characters. Wants to win a Sally plushie for Jimin because he says they look alike. It’s cute, the bond they have, platonic soulmates the way you and Namjoon are, and Jungkook is starry-eyed and love-drunk when he heaves a wistful sigh and thinks out loud, “I should win something for her, too.”

The words catch Taehyung so off-guard his hand slips and presses the button to lower the claw. “Press it again,” Jungkook says. “If you double-press the button, it makes the claw stronger. You’ll get it.”

Taehyung is wary, still dazed from Jungkook’s slip-up, but he presses the button again anyway. The claw tightens around Sally’s head and drags her up and out of the pile, drops her into the chute and to Taehyung’s waiting hand. “Oh shit! Jungkookie, you’re a genius. Jimin’s gonna love this.”

“Yeah, sure. Didn’t know you didn’t know that trick or I would’ve told you sooner.”

His hyung nods absentmindedly, distracted with the selfie he’s sending to Jimin with Sally obscuring half his face. “Are you gonna try now?”

Jungkook swallows. “Huh?”

“You said you were gonna win something for someone.”

“No I didn’t,” he lies.

Taehyung’s face drops. Gets all serious when he shoves his phone in his back pocket. “Yes you did. Right before I won this,” he says, large hands wrapped around Sally’s poor neck, clearly strangling her. “You said I should win something for her, too. Who’s ‘her’? Are you seeing someone?”

“I said him, hyung,” he lies again. Is thankful for the garish arcade lights and the way they hide the blush creeping up his neck. “I meant Jimin-hyung.”

“You did not,” Taehyung insists. “You said her, and now you’re trying to gaslight me—”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Feigns exasperation. Swipes his game card and stares his hyung right in the eye as he drops the claw and double-taps, somehow picking up two plushies. Tosses Brown to Taehyung and says, “Tell Jimin his favorite dongsaeng won him that one.”

Tucks Cony safely in his pocket to give to you later, thankful the universe came through for him for once.

You (10:42pm): babe

You (10:42pm): what time do you think you’ll be home?

You (10:43pm): 🍆🍆🍆

Yoongi (11:06pm): What the fuck

You (11:08pm): oh fuck

You (11:08pm): that was NOT meant for you

Yoongi (11:14pm): Fucking obviously

Yoongi (11:14pm): Please do not ever accidentally sext me again

You (11:15pm): gross yoongi

You (11:15pm): that wasn’t a sext

You (11:15pm): i need it for the bokkeum i’m making

Yoongi (11:17pm): At midnight? Fuck off

Yoongi (11:17pm): Trade proposal

Yoongi (11:17pm): You never accidentally sext me again and I won’t tell the rest of our friends you’re secretly dating your roommate

You (11:29pm): it’s not even midnight 🙄

You (11:29pm): but that sounds good to me, thanks!

Hoseok had taught Jungkook how to cook, but not how to bake.

They’d attempted it, once, not long after Jungkook moved to Seoul and was homesick and missing his mom’s yaksik something terrible. Just wanted something that tasted like home, something comforting, and Hoseok had felt so bad for him that he said fuck it, let’s try, what’s the worst that could happen, and the two of them learned very quickly that nearly burning down their kitchen and the rest of their building was, in fact, the worst thing that could happen.

They never tried baking a damn thing after that, individually or together.

Still, there’s a special occasion coming up, so Jungkook asks the only person he trusts to help him.

“You need a cake,” Seokjin intones, swallowing his smile when Jungkook nods and his mop of curls bobbles along. Takes out a notepad to jot down ideas. “What’s the occasion?”

“Um. Just an… occasion.”

Seokjin blinks owlishly. “You just need a cake for an occasion? Do you wanna try again and actually be helpful this time?”

“What does it matter if I’m paying you, hyung?” Jungkook whines. “Aren’t cakes all the same?”

“Not if you want me to decorate it—”

“I don’t.”

“—because what am I supposed to write on it? Happy occasion, person whose name Jungkookie won’t tell me! Do you see how that might not work out for either of us?”

“Again, what does it matter—”

Seokjin looks up from his notepad, brows furrowed. “Are you ordering this for the president? What’s with all the secrecy?”

Jungkook huffs, puts on his Very Serious Face. “I can just take my business elsewhere if you’re going to interrogate me, hyung,” he says, to which Seokjin rolls his eyes, used to Jungkook’s dramatics.

“Be my guest,” he calls his bluff, gesturing to the front door of the bakery. “No one else is going to give you as good a discount as me, though.”

“I bet Junghwan-ssi would,” Jungkook grumbles, low but loud enough for Seokjin to hear, because there isn’t much else Jungkook can say that’d get under his hyung’s skin as much as the mention of his arch nemesis. “I bet I could walk into his bakery right now and explain the whole situation to him and he’d practically give it to me for free, just so it meant you didn’t get my business.”

And it works. Seokjin’s eyes narrow, chest starts heaving. “You wouldn’t,” he accuses, and Jungkook just shrugs, nonplussed, daring Seokjin to find out.

What follows can only be described as a tense standoff: Seokjin behind the counter of his bakery, looking hilariously underdressed for this stalemate in his pink apron, armed only with a pen; Jungkook, looking smug and pleased on the other side, not even knowing what Junghwan’s bakery is called, let alone where it is. The bell above the door chimes and neither breaks eye contact to look, and it’d probably go on like this forever, knowing the two of them, except the person behind Jungkook clears their throat, asks, “Excuse me, are you in line…?” and Seokjin is forced to concede if he wants to stay in business.

The person orders a cake for their daughter’s birthday. Answers each of Seokjin’s questions with certainty and preparedness, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the looks Seokjin shoots at him. See how easy it is to answer simple questions? they say. Why can’t you be like this?

Jungkook can’t be like that because the cake is for your birthday. Which Seokjin knows, because he has all of his friends’ birthdays saved to his phone calendar, but he’s never gone out of his way to get you a cake before so Seokjin will absolutely know something’s up. And as he waits for the person to be done ordering, his heart aches a little, because he wants to tell Seokjin to make you the nicest cake he can. Wants him to pull out all the stops, because it’s your birthday and you deserve it, and he could say all those things if he hadn’t insisted on this stupid secrecy.

Guilt consumes him so entirely he doesn’t notice the person leaving. Doesn’t hear the chime of the bell above the door. Is halfway to spilling the entire story to Seokjin, gets as far as hyung, there’s something I— before Seokjin holds up a hand to stop him.

“What kind of cake would you like, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook deflates. Takes all those transgressions he was about to confess to and shoves them back inside his chest, locks them away. “Whatever you think is best, hyung. Just no nuts.”

And Seokjin smirks knowingly, because there’s only one person he knows with a nut allergy.

[lilyrizzy]

Inspired by Daniel’s silly EA advert… hope someone enjoys!

It’s been a good day. A lot of the drivers hate this stuff, putting on the tap shoes for the sponsors and asking how high, but Daniel- He kinda likes it.

It’s something he’s good at, turning up to a set and being silly, making people laugh and being told good job Daniel. That’s great, perfect. The words give his chest the kind of buoyancy that has him feeling he could float the whole way home.

They’re a reminder that soon enough, he’ll be back in Melbourne where everyone will say his name with the same tenderness the director has given him, but this time wanting the best for him, instead of from him.

“Amazing job today Daniel,” Robert says again now, clapping a warm hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “I think that last part was enough just in the one take. You’re a natural.”

The pleased smile on Daniel’s face spreads easily.

“Cool,” is all he says though, “happy to help, I- Actually mate, I was hoping you’d let me have a little something in return.”

—

“Maxy!” Daniel calls, wrestling with both the front door and the giant box. “Where are you, baby?”

Their house in LA is big, his words bouncing off the walls of the grand entrance hall. Usually, it’s full of friends, sometimes family, but this week for once it’s just the two of them.

“Sofa!” Max shouts back, voice croaky like maybe he’d been napping. He’s probably not left the same spot Daniel left him in this morning. “How was the shoot, was it nice?”

Dumping his keys on the hallway table, Daniel follows the sound of Max’s voice. As suspected, he’s still stretched out across the cushions, belly up like Jimmy when he’s sunbathing in the balcony back home. His hand is shoved down the front of his shorts, but only idly. Daniel can see he’s not hard.

Still, for a moment his gaze gets caught there, before shifting back to Max’s face, his curious expression as he takes in the giant box Daniel is holding.

Right.

“I got you something,” Daniel says, setting it down on the coffee table. He opens it and begins to dig around. “A lot of merch swag and shit, but- Tah dah!”

He pulls out the game, proudly showing Max the box that has his own face on the cover. F1 2024.

“Oh,” Max says, and his smile is as sweet at the two happy pink splotches that begin to warm up his cheeks. “Thank you, Daniel.”

He sits up then, taking the game from Daniel’s hands and holds it like it’s something very special.

It’s not much of a gift really, because Max could get a copy for himself whenever he wanted. His people could call EA, or if he was feeling particularly desperate he could offer to do an ad of his own, but- He wouldn’t.

The only things he’s ever to gone out of his way to get are his championships and Daniel.

“I will have to wait for Lando to get his copy,” Max is continuing, but already he’s moving to crouch in front of their TV, his PlayStation, “or maybe Charles, for the multi-player but-“

“I can play,” Daniel interrupts, picking up the controller from their coffee table. It feels less foreign in his hand after a day being recorded holding it.

Max pauses, game disk spinning on one finger as he turns to look at Daniel.

“You want to play?”

He sounds confused, surprised.

“Sure,” Daniel says, all fake nonchalance. “I’ve even had a head start playing, I might be better than you.”

With a warmth fizzing in his belly, he watches the shock on Max’s face melt into quiet joy. He ducks his head to finish putting the game into the console, and when he takes a seat next to Daniel on the sofa, it’s close enough that their thighs are pressed together. Warm.

“I think if you want to beat me, you will have to hold it like this,” Max pokes at Daniel with a teasing grin, and then his hands are moving gently over Daniel’s to correct where he’s apparently holding the controller all wrong.

Daniel snorts, pushing out an elbow to nudge at the soft place Max’s ribs hide underneath.

“Fighting talk, baby,” he insists with far more confidence than he feels. “Just you wait, you’ll be begging for mercy.”

Max’s laugh is bright.

“Okay but I think we need to look at the settings first,” he begins again, “because of course I have the sensitivity set very high, and-“

Daniel lets Max’s explanations wash over him like music.

—

Later, Daniel manages to finally win a race by shunting Max into the first corner, speeding away while he’s still spinning in the gravel.

“That of course, does not count,” Max insists indignantly, though there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That is cheating, Daniel.”

“Not what you said in Baku baby,” Daniel reminds him, and then pokes his tongue out when Max begins to trip over his protests that he has done nothing wrong, ever.

Daniel begins a loud rendition of ‘we are the champions,’ in favour of listening.

Giving up his attempts to defend himself, Max tosses his controller onto the coffee table with a sharp clatter, instead choosing to crawl over Daniel, pressing him down into the sofa.

“I will show you a fucking champion,” he mutters, his thigh finding its way between Daniel’s legs.

Daniel’s own controller hits the hard wood floor with a thud.

[evieelyzabethh]

Love your work. <3 Could you write something with reader x spike where they're kinda' pining for one another, but one night he gets injured and has to stay over at her house? She patches him up and maybe offers him a bite? Doesn't have to be nsfw but +5 cool points if it is. <3

Hello, my loves, long time no see!!! I hope this is to your liking <3

Spike is so incredibly reckless. You knew this, he knew, everybody knew that Spike was a walking accident waiting to happen'. He likes to think he can handle himself. "I'm bad, baby," he'd tell you, "M' the big bad slayer killer. I can handle a few scratches." But you were never worried about what he could handle, you were worried about the fact that his blood was always staining your couch. That and the fact that his lack of self-preservation kept you up at night.

Usually, he has some decorum. He doesn't come to you with every scrape and bruise, even though you handled him with much more care than he was capable of extending to himself. It was his way of punishing himself, depriving himself of your head scratches and soft hands for bothering you too much. You scolded him for this, of course. It seems like its every other week (more like every other day) when you and he argue, most often in front of the Scoobies who waited anxiously for you take your arguments to the bedroom, about him leaving you to worry about whether or not he was ash.

"I mean, fuck Spike. Is it really that hard to just give me a call if you plan on bleeding at your place. A little 'Hi, yeah, I don't think I need my wounds treated with modern medicine, I'm gonna take my chances with old whisky and tetanus like the good ol' days'." And every time he takes his well-earned lecture with a smirk and a bowed head.

"Yes, mother, next time I'll break your door down at three in the morning for some pretty pink bandages."

"If you were so ashamed of the pretty pink bandages, maybe you should think before you run into knives!"

Spike has maybe told the truth a grand total of two times in his whole life, so his word means absolutely nothing. He continues to ignore your street like the plague unless it's an absolute emergency.

Now was an emergency.

You barely heard the faint knocks on your door from your bedroom, where you sat on your bed, music blasting from your stereo and some reality court show droning on in the background, catching your attention when someone decided to be particularly messy. You had thought it was your neighbors blind dog scratching at your door again until something large and loud hit it. Quickly arming yourself with a frying pan, you crept to your door, tearing it open for a very injured Spike to nearly fall flat on your floor before he caught himself using your doorframe.

His left hand clutched at his bleeding side and he walked with a limp over to his couch which now had a plastic cover. His dead heart was touched.

"Aw, you were waiting for me, " he croaked out. He fell on his back, one of his hands falling over the side and his eyes closing as soon as his head at the pillow. His shirt had claw marks that were lined with blood and his duster had barely escaped the carnage, a few holes separate from the preexisting moth holes sticky with some supernatural substance.

"Have to be prepared when it comes to you." You patted his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbones to try and arouse some consciousness. "Can't have you fallin' asleep on me. You might not wake up." You weren't going to leave his side until you were sure he wasn't going to die in your absence.

He babbled unintelligently, his mouth moving but having no connection to his brain to form any sort of actual thought. His eyes flit between closed and aware, his head moving to catch up with the spinning room, his mouth impossibly dry, and his head pounding. In his head, he insisted he was fine, but the words wouldn't come out right. He spat them out garbled and messy until he was too choked up to even try anymore.

He was barely conscious when he felt your wrist at his mouth. He had enough sense to shake his head and nudge away your wrist with his nose, but his lack of strength made his attempts futile. "No," he mumbled.

"You'll feel better," your voice swam around in his head until the words lost meaning and he just smiled at the sound of your voice. You swiped your thumb across one of his canines, the red contrasting with the pearly whites of his teeth swiftly wiped away by the pink of his tongue. After the taste of your blood was on his tongue, his sense was surrendered to instinct as he brought your wrist to his lips.

You didn't know what you were getting into. Vampires get their life force from blood, so it just made sense to have him feed from you to expedite the healing process. The more he drank, the louder your heartbeat grew in your ear and the closer he pulled you to him. You had only done this once before, when you were both drink and dizzy and jokes being whispered in your ear turned into tiny nips from your neck that Buffy nearly walked in on.

In complete shock of what had happened then, you never brought it up, halfway convincing yourself that it never happened in the first place. If it did happen, he had enough sense to pull away then and you hoped he had the sense the pull away now, but now was much different. Now, there was a newfound hunger. A desperation. Like he had been starving himself for years and you were the first bite of food he had eaten. Had to have been good food to, with the way he inhaled you, indulged in you like you were some ambrosia or golden mead.

"Spike," you moaned. "I'm getting a bit light-headed." Your voice was high and thin, fearful as you made attempts to pull your arm from his lips. Through his haze, his fangs contracted back, and his tongue swiped whatever lingered on your skin.

"I'm sorry." Sorry for going too far, sorry for almost turning you into an empty Capri Sun pouch, sorry for being reckless again.

" 's ok."

You wobbled a bit as you stood, fingers wrapped around your wound as you shuffled into your kitchen in pursuit of your first aid kit. "You gonna tell me what happened?" He only groaned from the couch.

"Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired." You laughed on your way over to him, wrist already covered in gauze with an all too familiar needle and thread in hand.

"You're tired?" The smell of your blood was all too pungent, still. He turned his head towards the wall, studying the numerous music posters and paintings you had hanging.

"Going out to fight evil is a very hard job." You chuckled.

"I know. That's why I stay in here to patch you up." Your fingers were like magic. They always had a way of calming him down. Especially the way you hummed to yourself while you worked. You were never content with just silence. "I expect an answer in the morning." He smiled.

"Yes, ma'am." He fell asleep before you even finished and by the time you were done, you were too tired to walk the down the hall to your bed. You laid your head down on his chest, with no heartbeat to thrum and no breath to rock you, you still fell asleep just like that. Who knew cold bodies were so comfortable.