#screaming crying throwing up punch me in the face indeed

[sith-witch]

I am crying, screaming, shaking... Might hit my head into a brick wall til i pass out. Brb.

[huenjin]

and they were roommates.

summary — who would have thought that a very naked sight of your best friend and a torn shower curtain in the rainiest of weathers could start romance? or in which you start falling for your childhood best friend, lee minho, unaware that he’s always been in love with you.

pairing — lee minho x reader, ft. binsung.

genre — fluff, smut, crack | roommates!au, bff2l!au

rating — 18+

word count — 11k words.

note — smut warnings under the cut, ofc! i suck at making summary adagafga!! but but but, i promise this story is adorable, okay, minus all that smut, my lame humor and those bit of rushed parts? this took forever and i'm so sorry for all that had to wait, especially the one who requested this uwuwu. 

smut warnings — a lot of kissing, a lot of swearing, mentions of naked exposure, fingering, cunnilingus, riding/reader on top, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it), choking. there isn't a loooot of smut either, ah! so enjoy the fluff ride.

"You idiot," you scream, loud enough for your neighbours to hear. You pull out the keys that hang outside in the key hole and pull open the door. "How could you leave the keys outside, Minho?"

"I mean, what if someone stole it?" You throw your keys and Minho's into the small box on a ledge by the door. Removing your shoes, you put on the pair of your house shoes by the side and walk further into the apartment. "Or what if someone broke in? You could get killed, you dumb hoe! Or worse, our new television could get stolen."

You hear no response and just the loud sound of shower running in the bathroom hits the walls of your shared apartment. You walk to your room, passing by the common bathroom, after throwing your bag on the sofa. You talk on the way, yelling in hopes that he would hear.

"Did you walk back in the rain? There's no other reason as to why I did not see you after college. Jisung was searching for you too, Minho."

You change into a pair of shorts and black camisole, pulling your hair up and knotting it, all while your ears pick up the small humming from the bathroom. You shake your head at the fact that since it's Lee Minho in the shower, he is probably going to take his own time to come out. After all, he is the reason why your water bill is so high. 

"Yah, Lee Minho!" You walk outside and hit the door with your fists to bring at least a little of his attention towards you. "Do you want the leftovers or should I get food delivered?"

"Delivery!" he screams back, hearing the shower sounds lower and you yell back in response, "Okay," and walk back to the living room, falling back and plopping down on the comfortable rexine covered sofa. 

Your phone rings in the next minute and you are pulling it from your pocket quickly all because you are bored out of your mind. It is also because your stupid best friend from the god forbidden age of five to till this date, takes forever to get out from the shower.

It's Jisung. Not that you would have a doubt even if you had picked up without looking at the name on the screen — your friend circle is that small. It has just been you, Minho and Jisung majorly for almost three fourth of your life, the other one fourth of it with you having your parents as your best friends. Jisung had always been the annoying kid in the playground that pushed you off the swing because he wanted to play and Minho had always been the knight in shining armour in your local playground, the defender of all things right as he saved you from Jisung's frustrating taunts. 

And then your mother — oh dear, she is the reason why you are still stuck with Minho's rich arse (mostly because she thought too that this is the finest her very antisocial daughter would ever find in a man) — decides that since Lee Minho was so kind to save her poor damsel-like daughter, he might as well do it forever. Fast forward to present day, and you are still cleaning up after him. 

"Did Minho reach home?" Jisung asks as soon as you answer the call. You roll your eyes and shift your position to one that allows you to stretch your leg against the length of the sofa.

"Oh, hi, Y/N," you fake your tone, mocking Jisung's ignorance. "Did you reach home safely? Did you get caught in the rain? Oh no!" And then quickly changing it back to normalcy, "Yes, Jisung. I reached home safely. The rain did get heavy as I walked back home but nothing to worry. Did you reach home safely?"

Jisung is laughing loudly on the other end. "Sorry, Y/N," he makes a weird kissing sound and you pull your phone away from your ear. "I presume Minho's safe at home, else you would be the one to crash my phone with the endless calls in worry of his safety. Ha!"

"He got caught in the rain," you sigh. "I hope he's okay though. I would have mentioned how he was, had he just come out of that goddamn bathroom but no! It almost seems like he is rebuilding the whole bathroom." Jisung laughs so loud that you have to pull the phone away from your ear again. 

"Dude, dude, dude," Jisung calls out for you through the line.

"Yeah?" 

"You and Minho are totally like my parents fighting." 

"Do you want to get punched in your face, Han Jisung?" You sit up straight, folding your leg across each other and bending forward, your elbow digging into your thigh as your hand supports your head. 

"And my boyfriend would punch yours if you punched mine," he huffs and you know he is talking about Seo Changbin. At a good five feet and six inches, the shorter male befriended Jisung and then wooed him over in grade eleven with some weird shining universe experiment for a science project and the Han Jisung you had always known, fell for the gesture immediately. They began dating a week after, making Changbin the only other human being you willingly chose to become closer to.

"Like Minho would let that," you click your tongue and Jisung laughs again, mumbling, "How have you guys not slept with each other yet? You guys are roommates."

"I'll kill you, Han Jisung."

"Like you would." The minute Jisung taunts back, you hear a loud noise of something crashing down and the sound is from the bathroom. You jump upwards, quickly hanging up without even telling Jisung that you were leaving as you drop your phone and rush towards the bathroom, taking huge steps to reach before the door in less than a few seconds.

You slam your fist against the door, over and over again, yelling, "Yah," to draw his attention before asking, "Minho, are you okay? I'm coming in," and you pull open the door to the common bathroom. A decision you wish you had not chosen but one you had to take for his safety.

Before a very surprised you lay a very, very naked Lee Minho, groaning with his back against the cold white tiles of the bathroom, neck lifting his head above to instinctively avoid hitting the floor. His hand holds a huge piece of the shower curtain that he must have tried holding onto before falling and as the colour drains from your face, lips wide apart, staring at your naked best friend in shock who is staring back at you, it dawns upon you quickly.

You immediately slap your hand over your eyes and scream as loud as you could possibly, "Fuck, fuck. I just saw your schlong, oh my god!"

"Are you not going to look at me at all now that you saw my dick?"

Minho rolls his eyes at you as a soft groan leaves his lip while he tries to make himself more comfortable on his bed. This time, he is fully clothed, black shirt over his torso and navy blue shorts. You are sitting on a small chair by his side, Chinese herbal medicinal mix in a white ceramic bowl, a tub filled with warm water and a towel and long white bandages on the table by the bed. The Chinese herbal medicinal mix was something your mother specifically ordered you to prepare for the boy before you.

You hand him a cup of warm water first which he takes and is about to swallow it down when you look at the wooden bedpost behind him and mumble, "But I saw your womb raider." Minho chokes on the water before coughing and you quickly pat his back which leads him to cry softly in pain and you are left apologising over and over again for being reckless.

He places the cup on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he narrows his eyes at you and questions, "Womb raider? What the fuck?"

"You know, your schlong," you look away, heat rising up to your cheek. "I saw your schlong, a womb raider."

"I can't believe you call a dick that," he groans, rolling his eyes as if he has completely given up on you, "After having your womb raided enough by many womb raiders."

You look away, taking the ceramic bowl in your hand and mumbling, "None of them were long and thick enough to be called a womb raider though."

"Did you say anything, Y/N?" 

"Nothing," you yell and glare at him, cheeks still hot with the image still vivid in your head. "You can't look disappointed in me," you frown at him, "I should be disappointed. You tore the shower curtain."

"It was a mistake!" Minho gasps and tries to sit up but quickly ditches the plan when he feels the spin surge through him. You place the bowl back on the table and push yourself forward to help Minho sit up, your arms wrapped around his waist, your chest against his as you slowly pull him up. Minho explains himself, "If I didn't hold onto that, I would have gotten injured worse. I'm almost perfect now. It's just the slight—" You press your palm against his back and he seethes in pain.

"Slight pain, indeed," you scoff and finally let him rest against the bedpost. "This should do the magic though." You lift the ceramic bowl again and wave it before him, shoving the weird smelling green substance right in front of his nose. "My mother totally said it would work. She also said that you would have to be on the bed resting the whole day."

"You'll be my maid the whole day," Minho lights up, face instantly shining and you sigh, "Do I have an option? After this day though, we are going to buy shower curtains and you are going to pay for it because you tore it." You accuse him and he clicks his tongue.

"Fine."

"Remove your shirt now," you order and he looks at you, a teasing glint glistening in his eyes and he smiles, moving slightly closer.

"Why? Are you going to call my abs washboard now? That you could do laundry on them?" He purses his lips and leans forward and you push him back, his aching back hitting the bedpost again and Minho is crying with pain on the soft impact, albeit this time, you worry if it is fake. "Y/N," he cries, clamping down against his lower teeth hard, "Can you go easy on me?"

"Then stop teasing me!"

"Fine!" He huffs and looks away, "Help me out of this shirt now."

"What? Why? You put the shirt on fine. Can't you remove it on your own?" You question him, the ceramic bowl securely on your lap. Minho stares at you for the longest time ever and you stare back.

Has his eyes always been this tender? Has his skin always been this soft? Was Lee Minho always this charming and pretty to look at?

This is all because you saw his stupidly good dick, argh!

Minho finally answers, "It's harder to remove a shirt than to wear it." You shake your head and your eyes narrow to crinkled slits as you watch your best friend for a second more before placing the crucible back on the table and bending yourself forward to hold tightly the ends of his black shirt. You lift the black material up and remove it from his torso, exposing his abdomen and chest to the warm breeze in the air. 

He stares at you and you stare at him back, only till you take the white ceramic bowl again and hopefully the last time and you raise an eyebrow at him, mocking him, "Aren't you going to give me the classic Wattpad naked white male line?"

"What line?" 

He looks confused and you laugh, holding the bowl tightly, "You know, the—" You try to lower the pitch of your voice and to sound as cocky as possible, smirking, "Like what you see, baby girl?"

Minho laughs with you till he calms himself down a little, tilts his head and in the most guttural voice you have ever heard your best friend ever go, he repeats, "Like what you see, my baby girl?"

Your heart should not have sped up. Your fingers should not have tightened against the cold white crucible. You should not have pressed your thighs against each other. You should not have had your throat dried up at his very words. But it did and you are staring at Lee Minho in an angle you had never seen him. 

When did that stupid five year old boy who thought he could save the whole world grow up into this man?

"Uh, Y/N," Minho waves his hand in front of you, trying to bring your attention back. "Are you going to apply the medicine or? I mean, it's cold."

"Oh yeah," you stutter. "Yeah, yeah, I was about to. Can you turn back so that I can apply it on your back?"

"Yeah," he nods and pressing his hands into the mattress, he shifts himself, turning a one hundred and eight degrees away from you so that his back is facing yours. "This okay?"

"Yeah," you agree. You bend your arm forward to take the cloth soaked in warm water and you press it against his back. Minho bites his tongue in pain, eyes watering before he can't take it anymore and he turns back to face you. 

"Minho?"

"Can I do that thing you allowed me to do whenever I was in pain and you had to take care of me?" He asks, unsure, "Am I allowed?"

You nod, softly, smiling warmly at the man before you and you lift the chair up slightly. Minho quickly wraps his arms around your waist, his face buried into your soft chest as he edges closer to you. You place the warm cloth again on his broad back and Minho does what he has always done to combat pain.

He bites into your flesh softly, hard enough to trigger something weird within you at this age but soft enough to not cause any pain. 

Your eyes widen and your thighs tighten a bit but Minho is unaware to all this as he snuggles into your warmth, head fuzzy with the pain that throbs through his entire back. After a few minutes, you place the cloth back on the table and hold the crucible tightly. You dig your forefinger and middle finger into the green mix before applying it on his back, soft circles to calm him down and Minho lets go of your flesh, although he still continues to snuggle into you, his thick arms tightening around your frame.

"You're comfortable to hug," he mumbles as you apply the medicine all over his back, his face occasionally pressing against your breast and you gulp, reminding yourself that this is your best friend, that this is the kid you've seen in all his embarrassments. 

"Of course, I am," you laugh. "It doesn't pain that much, does it?"

"Not anymore."

"Good," and you apply another layer over the existing one. "Because if you say anything else to my mother, I swear to God, Lee Minho, I will—"

You don't complete. Minho laughs — soft, precious laughter that fills the air and engages your ears. He tilts his head to look up at you from his lower angle. You look down only to come in direct vision of his bright, glistening eyes that hold the stars behind them and his oh-so-flawless skin that you are envious of. Your heart beat escalates and you are about one hundred percent sure that Minho is aware. After all, he did have his ear against your chest in this position. 

"Fine, fine," his voice is airy and you could listen to it the whole day. "I'll tell your mother that her daughter took care of me perfectly, alright?"

"Perfect," you smile. "Now sit up straight. I need to bandage you up, just in case." Minho begrudgingly pulls back, a soft whimper leaving his lips before he huffs, folding his arms and sitting straight, looking you in the eyes and you gulp. 

"I'll be fine in a day, Y/N," Minho whines and you shake your head, mumbling, "Just in case." You turn your body to grab hold of the white roll of bandage before you beckon for him to come a little closer as you wrap the bandage over his torso, covering the medicinal herbs sticking to his body now. 

"You, in fact," you chuckle as you tighten the bandage and Minho seethes in pain at having his muscles pressed. You rub his hair affectionately before continuing, "You, Lee Minho, should be ready enough to cash out money for the shower curtain."

"Fine, fine, fine," Minho huffs only to break out into a smile as he looks at you. "We'll go as soon as I don't think I'll die if I stand up and straighten my back, okay?"

"Perfect," you laugh and pull yourself away from your best friend, clipping the bandage in the exact manner. You help him lie back against the soft mattress. You pick up the crucible and the tub of water as you stand up. 

"Y/N," Minho calls out for you and you turn, your head gliding against the joint and your eyebrows rising up in question.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," he smiles, eyes closed and face so soft that you do want to hold it.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me, doofus. What would I have done had you not been there? You are my knight in shining armour now."

You laugh but your heart is furiously beating against your chest, thrumming against it so loudly that you can hear the beats. Your cheeks flush with heat and you look away, mumbling, "It's nothing," and walk away. You close the door quickly and fall against the vast wooden door finally, away from his presence and you hold the bowls close to you.

Fuck. When did your heart start beating this hard for the same man that you once knew as the stupid five year old with elephant print trunks? When did your heart start thrumming so loudly against your chest for your only best friend?

Either ways, you are doomed. Inevitably.

Jisung: baby, i think it's about time Changbin: for what? Jisung: you know, how we always said those two should probably fuck Changbin: yeah? Jisung: the sexual tension is too high. can we get it over with already and have them date already? Changbin: you've been trying this forever and you failed. Jisung: don't remind me. you're my boyfriend, support me. Changbin: fine! go, sungie!! i love you either way though.

It is exactly three days after the I-exposed-my-cock incident that Lee Minho agrees to go with you to buy the shower curtains. 

"Can't we just buy it online?" He had whined, arms folding against each other as he scrolled through his phone. You stand by the sofa, head shaking in disappointment as you reason back, frustrated, "The material," and you hit his arm. Minho winces. "The material is important. I won't compromise on that. Plus, you promised that you would come with me to buy something that you tore. Isn't that only fair?"

Minho does so. After bargaining with him for one tub full of mint chocolate ice cream that you will never understand why he loves so much. 

That is exactly how you find yourself here in this shop, shopping cart in your hand and Minho by your side.

"We are only buying the shower curtain," you tell him, staring at the half full shopping cart. "So I don't understand why we need all these."

Minho smiles sheepishly at you. He then points at the two tubs of ice cream and says, "One for you, and one for me. I even chose your favorite flavor!" He continues to point at each article and tell why he needs them very articulately and you stand there in surprise before breaking his speech.

"Fine, fine!" You push the cart ahead. "Now let's just go and get what we came here for." Minho follows you, his one hand on the shopping cart handle to keep pace with you. The two of you stop right in front of the array of curtains in different colours, some on display and some packaged and you smile, whispering under your breath, "Tada." Minho looks at you softly, at the small voice of joy that escapes your lips and he just watches you light up in fascination at something as simple as shower curtains.

Fuck, he loves your domesticity.

"Let's take this," Minho announces as he stretches his arms out to hold onto a pretty blue shower curtain. You hold it in between your fingers feeling the texture before announcing, "No."

"But why?" Minho whines, following your footsteps as you hold onto another shower curtain. 

"Because it's polythene," you frown at your best friend. Minho looks at you, confused, his eyebrows furrowing as they look at you like you have grown another pair of hands and legs.

"And so?"

"You could tear it again!"

"It happened once," he sighs, frustrated. "Once. It's not like I'm waiting to fall in the shower, tear the curtain and have you see my dick all the time, babe."

Your cheeks flush at his announcement and the tag he calls you by, your eyes looking away from his pretty face for a split second. Minho shakes his hand, taking a step forward to check a few other shower curtains out when the two of you hear a very familiar voice from behind, in the most professional manner ever.

"Sir, the one you chose is perfect. It is very durable and doesn't stain on contact with water—"

"Han Jisung?" Minho turns, the words of shock leaving his mouth almost instantly. You turn impulsively, eyes wide.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?"

"Hey," you narrow your eyes at the other male. "I could file a report for bad customer service about now, Sungie."

He folds his arms and looks at the two of you suspiciously, "What are you guys doing here?" He raises an eyebrow at you, scoffing at you, "Like you would."

"What does it look like we're doing here, Sungie?" You bite back jokingly and Jisung laughs, gaze shifting between the two of you.

"I don't know," he runs a hand through his hair before folding his arms again, his fluorescent yellow uniform crumbling with the shift in his arms. "Is this some sort of a new way to date?"

"We aren't—" You quickly start when Minho pulls a curtain forward and breaks your sentence before you can complete as he asks Jisung, "This isn't polythene, is it?"

"Are you stupid?" Jisung frowns before he laughs. "That's clearly polythene. Minho, dude, you're a chemical engineering student. You have got to be kidding me if you can't identify polythene."

Minho doesn't pay heed to Jisung's words. You, on the other hand, stare at your best friend who walks away from you to examine more shower curtains. Did Lee Minho really ask Jisung, a literature student, whether that was polythene — What in the world?

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" Jisung snaps your attention back to the present. "Are you going to buy shower curtains today?"

"Yeah?"

"But your shower curtains were fine the last time I came home." You understand Jisung's surprise because the last time he did come home was five days back and the shower curtain was in a perfect condition. "What happened?"

You stretch your arms and point at Minho. The very culprit rolls his eyes before raising his eyebrows and sighing, voicing in the most dramatic voice you have ever heard Minho take, "Yes, Y/N. Yes, Ji. It's me. I tore the shower curtain because I fell in the shower."

"Ouch," Jisung acknowledges Minho's injury before walking past the two of you and taking a shower curtain. "Here's one. You might like this, Y/N."

"It's not PVC, Sungie."

Jisung wants to hit your head, terribly. Perhaps it's your adamance that is the reason as to why your friendship is this tight and strong but in moments like these, he likes Minho more. Minho stands by the side, arms folded and back resting against the wall as he trusts your judgement.

"Are you not going to tell her anything?"

"She handles all this at home. Give her what she wants, Ji," he laughs, fiddling with a few more shower curtains by his side. Jisung shakes his head in disappointment before mumbling, a soft frustrated groan leaving his lips as he throws his head back, "Definitely a married couple," and takes a few polyvinyl chloride made shower curtains. 

"Here," he presses his lips. "Don't blame me if the designs aren't that great. You don't get that many good designs in PVC. People go for polythene because it's more available."

"PVC doesn't tear and it's easy to clean!"

"Seconding this as a chemical engineering student," Minho chirps in from behind. You and Jisung turn to look at the man who is on his phone currently and shake your head lightly. "What?"

"He remembers his major now!" Jisung clicks his tongue. "All say, praise the Lord."

"I'm agnostic." You frown.

"More reasons for you to say it easily!"

You find a plain one in the ones he showed you and you take it. Jisung smiles finally, mumbling, "You're a frustrating customer."

"Nah," you scoff. Minho pushes himself off the wall as soon as he sees you done with the selection. "I just know what I want exactly. You, on the other hand, sweetheart," you poke his chest and Jisung chuckles. "You're a pathetic salesperson."

"Of course," he laughs the insult away. "I'm a literature student. I should be working in a publishing company as a part timer."

Minho takes the shower curtain from your hand and puts it in the cart by the side. He comes back, throwing his arm over Jisung's shoulder and frowns, "Apparently publishing companies care a lot more about who your parents are than your resume."

"It's just that publishing company," the other male looks down. "I'll try applying for another one soon."

"Do you want to grab a drink at our place tonight?"

"Can I?"

"Sure," Minho agrees. He drops his arm from Jisung's shoulder and holds the cart handle back, pushing it forward slightly. You take big strides to stand by Minho's side, also holding the handle slightly. Jisung raises his eyebrows at the two of you and with a smile that you don't think twice about, Jisung laughs.

"I'm coming over tonight."

"Sure," you throw your thumbs up at him, stretching your arm. Minho smiles softly at you, his eyes lingering a little longer at your happy figure and he feels his heart beat a little quicker at your sight. Your hair strands framing your face so beautifully, eyes shining the minute you find the exact thing you've had in your mind and your lips curving upwards in joy. 

Lee Minho finds the calmness that spring brings him every year in him all over again with you by his side.

"Bring the soju. Beer is on us!"

Jisung: binnie, binnie!! Changbin: yes, baby? Jisung: i think i have a plan. Changbin: let them be, babe. Jisung: we let them be all these years! they pinned after each other without even knowing and we had to see that painfully! Changbin: i guess you make a valid point there Jisung: is it going to rain today? Changbin: it's been raining for the last few days, sungie. it could. just because i study geography as my minor doesn't mean i can forecast weather. hey! Jisung: fine~ i'm going to get them to confess tonight 👀 Changbin: don't mess up. istg Jisung: trust me 🥺 Changbin: i do. more than ever ❤️

Jisung reaches your doorstep at sharp nine. With two bottles of soju in his hands, you see the stains of the droplets of rain falling onto his shoulder. 

It is drizzling for now and you worry if it is to rain heavily in a few minutes as the forecast mentioned. You hate the thunder. You hate how the weather changes drastically and worsens to a point that it frightens you and makes you anxious. It's a phobia you have managed to hide from everyone for fears of being treated weaker.

Jisung makes himself at home. He always has. He places the soju bottles on the kitchen countertop and Minho smiles to himself as he walks towards the point where Jisung has happily seated himself. Minho and you are on the other end of the counter while Jisung sits on the adjustable chair, swirling in it before stopping and facing you, Minho and the bottles of soju before him.

"Did it finally hit him?"

"I think?" You whisper back.

"I'm right here!" Jisung yells and you smile. Minho pulls the chair from under the counter and sits himself opposite the other male, pressing his lips together and trying to not laugh. He opens the bottle of soju after shaking it and hitting it against his elbow for a while. It clinks open, the metal hitting the glass before falling onto the table and you watch the two, as Minho pours a drink for Jisung.

He downs it in one go, letting out a loud sigh before stretching his arms and demanding a second one.

"Go easy, Sungie. You have the whole night."

"I don't," he huffs. "Now, please."

Minho pours it again before looking at you and you shake your head to indicate that you wouldn't mind a few. You grab hold of one of the empty cups on the counter before stretching your arm too. Minho laughs – a soft chuckle, so airy and light that you find yourself holding your breath for a small second there – and he pours you your drink. 

You twirl your drink, watching the liquid glide against the surface of the cup. Your best friend gets up and walks a little into the kitchen to open the fridge and grab a box of leftovers of fried chicken that you bought a few days ago. He pulls open the microwave to heat it and as he waits, he turns to look back at Jisung and asks him finally.

"Do you want me to drop a word to my uncle?"

"About?"

"He heads the Cheongsam Publication," Minho reveelas, pulling out the chicken from the microwave. He places it before the two of you and almost like you and Jisung were zoomed in, in an American sitcom, both of you gasp dramatically.

"Am I really your best friend?" Jisung yells and you narrow your eyes at Minho. Faking tears in his eyes, he persists in questioning,  "Do I not matter to you, Minho?"

"Why are you rooming with me when you could possibly afford a whole room on your own?"

"Yes, Jisung," Minho sighs and sits back on his chair. You bend forward, arms folded against the table as you stare at your best friend in betrayal. "Also, Y/N, don't you love having me around?"

He laughs and rests his head on your shoulder suddenly, causing you to stiffen them in response. Your eyes drift to the left, trying to not make it overtly obvious that Minho's sudden reaction has taken you by surprise. Your eyes land forward on Jisung who looks at you as if he knew this all along, as if he wanted exactly this. The man has a goddamn smirk plastered on his face.

Jisung downs two more shots and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, mumbling, "Slow the fuck down. No one's chasing you."

"Yeah, my goddamn plan," he mumbles before coughing and taking another. Minho sits up straight, finally lifting his head from your shoulder. He stretches his arm to pat Jisung's shoulder in comfort.

"I'll drop a word."

"Now, don't you dare go and say that you want to earn it and all that bullshit," you sigh. "It's the fucking Republic Of Korea. Nepotism is the norm."

"Not planning on saying that," Jisung glares at you. Clearly, Jisung is slightly tipsy, having been the only person to keep drinking. You and Minho opt to just watch over Jisung for the night. Your best friend puckers his lips in Minho's direction and blowing kisses, he says, "I love you, Minho."

"Changbin wouldn't like you saying that to another man though," you scoff and Jisung flips you the middle finger before downing one more and standing up. The thunder rattles the three of you exactly then and you grip the table, face turning pale instantly. Minho's attention darts to you quickly in concern.

"You okay?" You hum in response, unconvincingly though to Minho whose gaze lingers on you in worry for just a while more. That is, till Jisung rips it away by dramatically placing the back of his hand on his forehead and playing the damsel in distress as he gasps so loudly, staring at the big window.

"It's raining heavily," he sighs and you shudder, afraid of another thunderstorm as you grip tightly on the side of the table.

"So?" Minho asks, both eyebrows raised at the man before him, looking at the two of you with doe eyes.

"I'm staying over, thanks," he rushes and runs to your bedroom, quickly shutting the door and latching it and you and Minho stare at each other. As soon as the realisation of what could happen dawns over you, you rush to your closed bedroom, fists banging against the wooden door.

"Yah, Han Jisung," you turn to look at Minho who watches you in amusement. "Open the fucking door."

"No. I don't want to go back home in the rain. You and Minho can share the bed. I am never opening the door. Good night."

"What the fuck? Yah, Sungie, stop acting like a child. Open the door now." You hear no response. "Sungie? Answer me. Open the door please." Minho walks over to you, and tries knocking too, in vain however because Jisung has no plans to open the door.

You look at Minho, the man slightly towering you as he stands by your side and you gasp. You had to share the bed with the same man you just realised you could, perhaps, have developed feelings for?

"Fuck."

Jisung: it finally seems to be working, binnie! luck's on my side this time. Changbin: oh baby. just please don't be disappointed if it doesn't work out this time either. Jisung: i won't be because it's definitely going to work out. eeeee! i'm so excited! 

Another thunderstorm ripples through the air.

Your heart beats quicker in anxiety, eyes squeezing shut as you grip tightly on the pillow, a light whimper leaving your lips. You feel the mattress shuffling underneath you and in the next minute, your ears are covered by Minho's hands. You stiffen as he edges closer to you, his chin resting on your shoulder as his palm pressed against your pinna, covering your ear completely to protect you from the loud sounds of the thunder.

"Minho, what—"

His hand on your right ear slightly shifts to the side as he bends forward to whisper into your ear, to amplify the sounds enough as a way to distract you.

"You never ever told me you were scared of thunderstorms."

Lee Minho is way too close to you to think straight. You feel his body pressed against your back, heat radiating from him to you through your oversized hoodie. His breath is harsh against your skin as he leans close to whisper into your ear. And all this in an attempt to forget the thunderstorm.

So far, it's working like magic. 

Your voice is almost small when you inform him, "We never happened to be in the same place during one," and Minho swears to God, he could lose it completely. All the self control to not confess and take you there is so ready to be shoved out of the window that all he can do is try and focus on worrying about your fears.

"I'll protect you," he mumbles so softly that you turn around to look at him. His eyes are bright in the soft lights in his room and as he lies by your side, so close that you can hear his heart that beats faster and his breath that is shallow, your lips part and you watch him.

You are fully justified for falling in love with this man. 

A man that tells you he'd protect you from your fears, god alone knows how, but the fact that they don't seem like empty words. A man that you know like the back of your hand and the same man that seems to have protected you all throughout your life, even if you have done the same. It was inevitable. Falling for Lee Minho is inevitable.

And that's why you kiss him. Because you're in love with him so badly that all you can zero in is him, him, him.

Your lips press against his, so softly for a split second. As if you are unsure. As if you know you could be ruining years of friendship over something the two of you could consider a mistake. 

You kiss him and suddenly it's the only thing that matters to you right now. Him, him, him. Your lips are slow and soft against him. It is almost as if you are reminding yourself that there has been nothing more morbidly right than this. To fall in love with your best friend. Minho's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss and with Minho so stiff by your side, you panic, and ramble. "I'm sorry. I should have thought it could be unrequited. I like you and I should have asked—”

Minho crashes his lips on yours, so quickly that it takes your breath away and cuts your sentence in half, but you don't care. He pulls you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your pink ones. You let out a small gasp as you deepen the kiss, running your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you. It is just you and him in this small room. Just you and him in focus. You can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute. That it has always been beating for you.

Minho presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth, tongue chasing after yours. Minho kisses you like he has finally achieved the greatest thing ever and he never wants to let it go. Minho kisses like he loves you and you feel it. You feel every ounce of it.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. Playing with the ends of his roots, you suck on his lower lips before he pulls away and finally tells you, "I've always been in love with you, Y/N. Always."

Kissing you again, his thumb digs into the skin by your jaw as he delves deeper, as if he never wants to let you go. The air in the room heats up when your hand moves under his shirt, feeling his muscles under your skin and you moan against his lips. Minho lets go of your lips only to kiss the side of it and then your cheeks and then your jugular before he is littering kisses all over your neck. You moan explicitly, gripping on him and slightly grinding on his thigh. You feel your core heating up, arousal sticking to your panties and all you can think is,

“I want you.”

Minho swears to God that he has always loved confident women but when you shattered right before him and built your confidence right back up — that is the hottest thing he swears he has seen. That, and the fact that you had always been hot before his eyes.

“Really?” Minho lifts himself up and hovers on top of you.

“Really,” you decide to respond before you cup his face and pull his face closer to yours. You don't pull him in for a kiss just yet. Your eyes zero on him, trying to cancel out the loud thunderstorms in the background and just focus on the man before you that you love, that you've been in love unknowingly for a while. 

You just hold his face and learn. You try to remember every single detail of his face that you never focussed on before.

You realise over again that his eyes are your favourite thing. They are black as charcoal and yet still shimmer as if stars are trapped and enclosed beneath them. And when he narrows them to look at you with a daze, your heart throbs and you gulp. They make your heart hurt whenever they fix on you.

You know his skin is soft as you touch. As creamy and velvety as they are, you can't stop touching him. 

His mouth is a pretty shade of coral, plump and pouty and honestly so kissable it hurts to look at it for more than a few seconds. You wonder how you haven't driven yourself to kiss him yet. All these years.

Everything about his face is soft and delicate, that is till he turns a little to the side and angles it perfectly, his head backward and you can clearly see the sharpness of his jawline; the distinct manly cut that makes your mouth dry and your heart beat faster. 

“You are perfect,” you gulp, your eyes back on him and Minho smiles widely. His warm breath caresses your face and his forehead is pressed against yours immediately.

“You know what else is perfect, baby?”

“No,” your voice is airy, even though you already know what he is going to say. You know it and yet the thought causes your heart to skip a bit, and flutter a lot in your chest.

“You and everything you have to offer. You are not average. You are one of the most perfect women I've seen in my whole life, Y/N,” he says. As soon as the words spill from his mouth, your lips are on his, claiming his mouth, the same ones that whispered into your ear that there is nothing to be afraid when he's right there by your side.

He gasps loudly as your hands leave his face and move to his hair to pull him down towards you — you need him so close to you. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to bend a lot forward and gladly welcome the intrusion of your tongue.

His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses and those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs. 

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bottom cheeks.

“Minho,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing. You fear getting too addicted to this human – more than you already are – to a point where you need to be attached to him by the hip, to never let go of him.

Minho's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. 

His hand moves from your clothed arse to under your hoodie, hand pressed against your back as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and god, you feel infinite and powerful.

His lips hover on yours. He smiles widely and you think it's cute. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.

You nod your head to signal yes. You hold your breath and your eyes flutter shut, awaiting him and his warmth.

Minho's kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, so much more, that you want to pull him in and suck the life out of him and yet, at the same time, it is precious and laced with not only the passion of the moment but also the tenderness of a first time together.

It makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. 

Your heart is beating quicker than ever in your chest, against your ribs, and you pull him even closer, so tight your chests have no choice but to heave against each other with every single breath you take. You don’t want to let him go, not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

Minho is something you desperately want to hold onto in your life. He knows your secrets, your everything. He knows what you like and how you like it. He seems to know everything and the thought of letting him go aches your heart and constraints your throat with a sob you wouldn't dare to let out. You want him to be completely yours.

And these thoughts turn you desperate. They force you to make the kiss deeper, to lick his lips and bite them down, to gulp down every sigh and whimper that comes out of him and make them your own. To make him yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over yours, arching further into him. You groan into his mouth and his grip on your back tightens instantly.

“I want you so much, Minho,” you whimper against him after your lips part from his. You lick your lips and gaze at him with your partially closed eyes. “So fucking much.”

“Then, have me. Take me,” Minho purrs against your exposed skin. In a minute, he pulls the oversized hoodie over you, leaving you in just your undergarments as he discards it to the side. His mouth moves over the skin above your breasts and his hand traces the bra you are wearing. He gazes at it and mumbles before latching his mouth back on your skin, “You are so fucking beautiful. Always have been.”

You gleam in pride and your body arches at the contact of his mouth on your skin. Your hands are on the side of his face as you pull him away.

“Can I?”

“Have me? Yes. Completely,” he smiles. He wonders if you are confident. That's all that he hopes when you look at him so unsure and so doubtingly. 

You wet your lips again quickly, your breath coming out in hot puffs of air. Your hands immediately rush to his top, roughly pushing it above. Minho helps you out and pulls it completely away. You are blinded by the passion burning inside of you, your hands eager to explore and touch every expanse of his glowing skin. You want to touch, feel, have a complete experience. You want Minho to remind you of everything you are missing out on.

Your lips attack his neck in a hurry, all rough and passionate on his tender, soft skin, blooming red roses that turn purple against it. You repeat your actions till he’s softly moaning out your name, almost purring them out that you feel yourself becoming slicker. His hands on your back pull you closer and into him so that you won’t stop tainting his flesh and slowly, his soul, in the best ways possible.

Minho whines and sighs and grunts for you. He doesn't hold himself back as his lips leave appreciation for who you are. He closes his eyes as he parts his lips to whimper out your name with every new thing you find that excites him and it drives you absolutely insane. 

You know you should not but you can’t stop wondering how he would sound like as you fuck him hard, rock on his cock to milk his orgasm, make him beg not to stop. You desperately want to break him and draw all these nice sounds out of him, but you know it would most probably be the other way round. Minho allows you to take control occasionally but you know he wants the lead. He wants to be the one to break you apart and pull you back together. 

He pulls back from you, his hands leaving your back and resting on either of your sides. Minho's dark hair brushes over his crescent lidded eyes and nearly shields the hungry, desperate gaze of them. His hand plays with the strap of your panties as his gaze flickers between affection and lust. He cocks his head to the side before asking, “You do want this, right?”

You nod, hoping it would be enough and that he would resume.

“I need to hear you say it out loud, baby,” he firmly says and you gulp.

“Yes, yes. Minho, fuck, I want this. I need this,” you whine, your eyes glassy, as you grip his forearm to lift yourself up and grate and move against the evident bulge on his jeans. 

Minho merely needs that verbal confirmation. He pulls away your panties, resting on your hips and you groan. Still hovering above you and his hands over your pubic mound, his fingers trail lower and you tug at your lower lip in anticipation. Easily, he finds your clit, and begins to rub in slow, languid, lazy motion, up and down, waiting for the moan he so loves to hear from you to spill from your mouth. He grins when he hears those little whimpers and you feel your legs lose mobility from the pleasure he brings you with just a flick of his finger. 

Your back slightly arches off the soft mattress upon the bed when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light. Your cheeks taint pink in embarrassment.

“Fuck,” Minho moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck your juices from it. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac ever known and your lips part at this sight. Lee Minho looks irresistible and you want him, completely.

“God,” he groans. Minho slides himself down your body until he’s in level with your pussy. His eyes gazed at it in sheer adoration and your hand slapped against your mouth. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping, baby girl.”

You wail as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name out loud. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you. This has been what you had been craving for so long. The ability of this man to cloud your thoughts and set your body on fire makes you yearn for him even more.

“Minho,” you cry out, whimpering underneath him. “Fingers. I need you. Please, Minho.”

You gasp, your voice airy, when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers dig at his shoulders between your thighs. “Minho, I want you. I just really want you. I need to feel you. Please.”

He drags his finger out of you before you clutch onto him, feeling the need to be overwhelmed. He presses his thumb on your clit and a whimper leaves your mouth. 

“Minho.” And he slides his digit in again almost as if on cue. He pumps his finger in and out of you as his thumb harshly rubs circles on your clit. Your hand leaves your mouth and grabs your hair as the other digs further into his shoulder. 

His mouth leaves hot air against the skin covering your acetabulum and you shudder. His lips graze from there till your thigh before biting on them, sucking them deliriously and leaving you as a whimpering mess.

“Minho, fuck!” You scream, your fingers grabbing your hair to hold control of your body. 

“That's it, baby,” he says against the skin of your thighs. “How I've wanted those beautiful lips to scream out my name from when I've felt them.”

Minho adds another finger and your eyes are screwed shut as he curls them within you and you gasp at the feeling of being widened. You are elated and you feel your arousal leaking down your thighs. He rubs your inside and your clitoris faster and you push your hips towards him, moving with his pace. Minho is also leaving beautiful purple marks in a trail on your thigh and you gape in awe.

You find it all too much. Your emotions are all over the place and your hormones rise up. The movement of his fingers inside you and around your clit, his lips attacking your erogenous spots, kissing, biting and licking short stripes on them. It finally gets to you and you scream his name out in pleasure. Your first orgasm comes crashing down upon you, blinding you. You release all over his fingers and Minho helps you ride out your high as he drags his finger repeatedly but this time, slower than what had been. 

Your head lifts up and hits the pillow slightly as it tilts away. Minho moves upwards, hovering over your face and smiles. You smile back. You are so happy and you do not know how to put it into words.

“Minho?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks?”

“For what?” He looks at you quizzically. 

“That was my first orgasm in months now that wasn't brought about by my own fingers,” you smile wearily and Minho leans forwards and kisses your forehead.

"Should have come to me," he laughs.

"Didn't know if I'd be ruining our friendship."

"Pfft," he scoffs, before kissing you again, his lips gliding against yours and piecing in as if they were always meant to be against yours. "I've been in love with you forever."

"Took me a while to know my own feelings," you mumbles. “Also,” you continue, hoping he listens to your request. “Can I . . . ride you?”

Minho is stunned. There are so many things about you that stuns him and maybe it's the way you try to take control that make you look so much hotter before his eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you plead. “If that is not a bother to you.”

“Why would it? Your wish is my command, but only for this night. Next time, my love, we do this my way,” he teases and winks and your core throbs at his words.

Minho pulls himself away from your body, pulling his shirt over his head and his denim down and away. As he flings his clothes aside and relaxes against the mattress, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum. You sit up beside the space Minho has taken over and watch him and his cock deliriously and lustfully.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Minho, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Minho notices.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and worry. He pushes back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “You're doing wonderful, babygirl. You are finally all mine. What a pretty girl and all to myself now."

You nod, biting down on your lower lip, and tugging at it harshly, cheeks heating up at his words, arousal gushing out as you look down before aligning with his cock. You want this. You needed this release.

As your folds, dripping with thick, sticky arousal, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you moaning out his name, gasping and panting for air, “Fuck, Minho.”

You rock your hips into him, trying this as you picture it to be, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick length. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord.

As much as Minho wants to give you complete power over this, it isn't like him and he wishes he could be better. Minho takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Minho,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and you feel sad.

As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Minho, ah!”

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. You are glad he is helping you out because you know you could not have done it on your own after having just ridden out your high.

The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you. 

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the second time that night. Minho’s finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge. Minho knows how to make a woman putty in his hands and you are a living witness of this.

“Are you going to come?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.

“Y-Yes,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good, Minho.” You lean forward and the motion causes Minho to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.

Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Minho, fuck. Oh fuck, you feel so good.”

“Then, come.”

Minho moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Babygirl, oh fuck. Come all over my cock.”

Minho’s other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find their place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and his eyes flicker a mischief that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Minho’s cock tightly.

Minho learns that your dirty liking for choking is incredibly hot. Seeing you like this is what he knows would get him to come when you are not around. Your fucked out expression as you gasp for air makes Minho plunge into you harder and you choke harder.

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Minho's waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.

Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him. 

“Hey,” you say and smile. 

Minho kisses your forehead and then, the peak of your nose, and finally, kisses your lips, softly. It isn't lustful or anything. Just plain passion seeping from him to you. You feel his admiration and an emotion you fear to mistake for love. He pulls away and smiles, “Hey, beautiful.”

He comes closer and licks the side of your neck, where he had wrapped his fingers out. The one fantasy that you are so in love with. He peppers soft kisses around it and mumbles an apology. 

“No,” you quickly stop him. “That was everything. I— I really like you." Pausing, the thought crashes your head, post your high and you mumble, "Fuck, I fell in love with my best friend." 

You nuzzle into his chest after he pulls back, your arms wrapping around his body as you calm yourself. Minho chuckles into your ear, "Yes, yes. You clearly did. What do we do now?"

"Take responsibility." You mumble as you slowly find yourself feeling sleepy. Your eyes are slowly drooping and your voice lowers in tone, words drifting away almost, “You better take responsibility for my feelings and take care of me.”

“It'd truly be my honour,” Minho mumbles, lifting you slowly to push his one arm beneath your neck. He uses the other hand to push your hair away from your face. Kissing your forehead, lips lingering for a while, he smiles to himself, laughing slightly as he asks you, "Was the schlong good?”

You laugh softly, snuggling into his chest, fist against it as you try to fall asleep, thunderstorms long forgotten. Kissing his chest, you giggle, "Best ever schlong I have ever had, baby. All mine to keep now."

Jisung: can you pick me up? Changbin: this late? Jisung: i just wanted them to confess. not fuck like bunnies. useless fact i learnt today: they are both loud in bed. Changbin: i'm laughing off the bed literally!!! also!!! Jisung: yeah? Changbin: and they were roommates! Jisung: god, they were roommates. 🙄❤️

[cerebrumrott]

Obey Me! Shall we Date?

Brothers x MC

Synopsis: Reaction to one of the other brothers insulting you

Lucifer

It had started out as a nice evening for once. Though of course that would never last with his brothers. Levi was at Mammon's throat all through dinner over some dumb figurine he was missing.

The argument quickly escalated into a full on screaming match, just as Lucifer was about to tell them both to shut up or take their pissing contest else where. You had chimed in asking them rather politely not to fight at the table.

Leviathan on his war path didn't stop to think before insults were thrown your way. "Shut up you worthless human and stay out of it for once!" Levi had snapped.

Everyone almost leapt out of their chairs in fear when Lucifer's fist loudly collided with the table silencing the room. "Leviathan you will apologize and go to your room." Lucifer said clearly a command and not a suggestion.

Levi now scared and embarrassed muttered a rushed apology to you before scampering away his tail literally tucked between his legs as he had been so startled by Lucifer's intervention that he had poofed into his demon form.

Once dinner was over Lucifer pulled you aside to ask if you were okay. With reassurance from you that you are indeed fine and didn't take anything that was said to heart he can go about his night without worry.

Mammon

It had been a rather stressful day for everyone in the house. Tensions were high and it resulted in Mammon acting as the punching bag for his younger siblings. Not that he really minded in all honesty as he knew they were just letting off steam and didn't mean anything they said.

Asmodeus was currently laying into him as the two sat in the living room. Mammon admittedly antagonizing Asmodeus into saying some particularly mean things as he just played stupid further annoying his little brother.

You had been an innocent bystander, sitting on the other side of the room just watching the whole spectacle before you whilst working on a school project. Mammon had something particularly weird in response to one of Asmo's outbursts which had pulled a small laugh out of you.

Though that had been enough for Asmodeus to turn his frustration on you in that moment. "Shut up you ugly bitch!" Asmodeus snapped but as soon as the words left his mouth the regret seeped into his features.

Mammon was far past playing now as he rose from his seat glaring down at Asmodeus. "Apologize Asmodeus." Mammon nearly shouted. Asmodeus was taking far too long for Mammon's taste to apologize and it was quickly angering him to the point he could feel his teeth grinding together.

Asmodeus quickly apologized to you after seeing how serious Mammon was before excusing himself. You weren't so much as hurt by the words as you were just taken aback by the sudden turn on you.

Mammon none the less joined you were you were sitting practically draping himself over you as he pulled you into his arms. "Don't worry MC the great Mammon is here there is no need to cry." "I'm not crying-" "Shhhh, it's okay." He would loudly hush you while smiling feeling better when he hears you laugh again.

Leviathan

He was sitting with you in your bedroom. Excitedly explaining the plot to this new game that was coming out and how it ties into the tv show it was based off of. Though Mammon who had been pacing around the room sulking was getting rather sick of Leviathan's consumption of your attention.

Mammon short on patience snaps at his brother urging to him to just shut up and get lost. Before Leviathan could retort for himself you had leapt to his defense.

"So what you are just as big of a loser as he is now?!" Mammon scoffed though the panic in his eyes was evident when he saw how upset Leviathan was at insulting his henry.

Leviathan literally hissed in anger at his brother as his tail lashed out behind him Demon form in full swing as he positioned himself between you and the idiot now backing up with his hands raised.

"N-Now Levi lets think about thi-" "Apologize and get out!" Leviathan roared his fangs bared to his idiot of a brother.

Mammon sputtered out an apology over his shoulder as he ran out of the room slamming the door behind him as Levi turned back to you. He spends the next ten minutes making sure you are okay.

"Levi I promise I'm fine." "Are you sure?" "I'm sure." "Are you sure you're sure?" "Levi please..."

Satan

Satan had been sorting through his collection in the library when you joined him. One thing led to another and now the two of you were working on using one of the spare bookshelves to turn it into your own little reading nook where Satan could put books he wanted you to read and you could easily browse your way through them.

Things were going swimmingly if Satan had to say so himself. He was happily chattering about books he thought you would like and was even more excited when you suggested a few for him to read himself.

The two of you so engrossed in the world you had formed between the two of you had forgotten that Belphegor was attempting to nap on the couch.

Satan had handed you a book and was beaming down at you as you exclaimed excitedly starting to explain how this was one of your childhood favorites when Belphegor yelled out in frustration.

The rage in Belphegor was painfully clear to Satan as his younger brother sat up suddenly glaring at the two of you with irritation.

"MC Do you not know when to shut your damned mouth!" Belphegor snapped as he stood to leave in a fury. Though he hadn't taken more than a few steps when Satan's roar made him turn back in fear.

Satan was unable to hold himself back as he flew forward tackling his younger brother to the ground his weight driving the air from Belphegor's lungs. The two wrestled for a moment both now in their Demon forms lashing out at each other, Belphegor attempting to throw Satan off of him by kicking out and scratching him with his thorn laced tail. This did nothing more than anger Satan further as he screamed pulling back his arm to punch Belphegor right in his face.

Satan was a half a second from caving Belphegor's head in when he felt you throw yourself on him arms wrapped around his neck as you asked him to stop.

He hesitated a moment as he listened to your pleas. Belphegor used this opportunity to squirm out from under Satan bolting from the room with a speed that was unlike the avatar of sloth. Satan would have laughed had he not still been boiling inside.

Rather than chase down his brother he instead turned to you holding you against his chest as he took many, many deep breaths until finally the calm returned to him and he could look down at you without seeing red.

"Thank you for standing up for me but please don't murder the others for me." "Not even a little?"

Asmodeus

Asmodeus had acted on instinct as he felt his arm snap out from his side his hand cracking across his brothers face. Even when his brother turned to look at him with a devastated look he couldn't help the anger seeping from him.

Asmo had spent the morning with you helping to assemble a new wardrobe for you with outfits more suited to devildom weather. Seeing as much of the clothing in majolish was designed with demon physic in mind, you had grown a bit timid in some of your choices.

Asmodeus was having none of that, wanting to show you how beautiful you are insisted on a mini fashion show in his room.

You had been loving it so far. Asmo taking special time to pull you in front of his full size mirror and point out all the best parts of you and your clothes. He was also quite enjoying the snuggling and cuddling between outfit changes.

You were trying on your last outfit, one you had been openly against initially due to its sheer fabric and open back. While in the bathroom changing, Asmo took the time to fold up your purchases slipping in a few shirts of his own for you to add to your collection that he thought you would like.

When Mammon let himself in...

The second oldest threw the door open striding in going on about something about Asmo hoarding you all to himself just as you stepped out from the bathroom shyly showing off your new shirt.

Before Asmo could throw Mammon out by the scruff he turned to look at you and snorted upon seeing what you were wearing.

"MC, How can you let Asmo do that to you? Don't you feel stupid dressed up like some old geezer?" Mammon teased not at all seeing the effect it had on you. Asmo could feel his heart clench as he saw your face fall.

"You don't like it?" "I mean MC you look like one of the pirate people from the movies you had us watching." Mammon laughed as Asmo stepped forward glaring up at him

"That's enough out of you, get out." Asmo snapped motioning towards the door as mammon gave him a confused expression

"So you can let MC walk around looking stupid? I don-" Mammon wasn't able to finish his sentence as Asmo's arm snapped out slapping Mammon across the face.

The impact sounded much worse than it truly was as Mammon stared down at his younger brother in surprise.

"Don't you dare say such things to MC when you dress like a total slob half the time! They will be taking no mind to the words of a fool like you!" Asmodeus all but growled as he grabbed Mammon by the collar of his shirt and tossed him out of his room.

Asmodeus was absolutely fuming as he walked back to you pulling you into his arms and snuggling you against him.

"Don't you listen to a single word that come out of that idiots mouth do you hear me? He wouldn't know a thing about beauty if it hit him upside the head." "You did just slap him Asmo." "My point exactly! He still couldn't see how dazzling you look!"

Beelzebub

The two of you had been cooking dinner in the kitchen. Really it was Beel's turn to cook but he couldn't be trusted not to just eat it all before serving it so you were on babysitting duty.

Even though it wasn't your turn to do anything you still insisted on helping Beelzebub with chopping and prepping things while he took care of the more labor intensive tasks.

Whilst working Asmodeus had made his way into the kitchen to get himself something to drink. You had yet to notice him as you were too focused on kneading dough to realize the brother was walking behind you. It was only when you suddenly whipped around with a handful of dough and splattered the avatar of lust across the chest that you realized your mistake.

The shriek that came out of Asmodeus startled Beel from his own work turning back just in time to see the anger flash across his older brother's face seeing his shirt was ruined.

"MC why is it that you can never do the simplest of things right?! Are you stupid!?" Asmodeus had snapped letting his anger over take his thoughts. Too busy trying to clean his shirt he didn't notice the tears welling in your eyes, but Beelzebub did.

"Asmo, you know it was an accident so apologize for yelling at them." Beel said sternly coming over to look down on his older brother.

"I think not! Look at the state of my shirt!" Asmo huffed only now glancing up to see you wiping the tears from your eyes with the corner of your apron.

"Asmodeus, Say your sorry." Beel urged as Asmodeus pouted pulling you into his arms.

"I'm sorry MC I lost my temper and I didn't mean it." Asmo apologized and Beel beamed down at the two of you happy that you two had made up.

"Group hug!" Beelzebub announced as he was already wrapping his arms around the two of you and squeezing

Belphegor

Belphie had decided that today was going to be a day just for the two of you. With enough snacks and drinks hoarded up in the attic to keep even Beelzebub sated. He stole you away early in the morning content to snooze the day away with you at his side.

It was nearing mid day when Belphegor was roused from his nap. He was still curled into your side as he opened his eyes seeing you trying to have a whispered conversation with Lucifer who was looming over the bed with a sour expression.

"Seriously MC now is not the time to be wasting about when you have work to be doing. Now get up and stop being so lazy, You think you would know better than to-" Lucifer ranted his voice slowly raising in timber as he grew more heated.

Belphegor felt his own temper flare just from hearing Lucifer's voice but then knowing he was harassing you sent it over the edge. Belphegor couldn't help the growl that started in his throat his demon form appearing before he himself could register it.

Without rising from the bed he felt the thorns on his tail bristle as he wrapped it around you barricading you from his older brother.

"Go away..." Belphegor grumbled glaring up at Lucifer through his bangs. Clearly not wanting to deal with Belphegor's attitude Lucifer simply sneered and strode off making a few remarks as he left though Belphegor ignored them preferring to you you down into his arms.

"Ignore him he doesn't know anything..." Belphegor yawned tucking your head under his chin. He could feel the dwindling tension in your shoulders as he pulled you close. Rubbing his hand in circles on your back he felt the unease slowly slip from you before he himself slipped into sleep.

He admits he may be over reacting with this next part but Lucifer's already poor sleep may be just take a nose dive with the ideas he was cooking up.

[kaijurakunsobs]

Karl coming back to you and the baby after a successful REVOLUTION!! Cause he deserves happiness (and maybe ethans there because I want rosemary and lil maginito baby to be friends

I like how you think anon

this one is gonna be fun and LONG

Let's start by pretending Ethan wasn't just a human chia pet, but the mold made him mutate like the Lords, he has no powers but his body is just...sturdier

that being said...

after Miranda's announcement of finding the perfect vessel and presenting Rose to the Lords, you could tell Heisenberg was extremely close to start his rebellion in that moment, what stopped him? that your child is waiting for the return of their parents and you still have no way out of everything goes wrong

it feels grotesque to receive a piece of such an innocent baby in a flask

through the creep vine you both learn about Ethan being in the Village, the father of the stolen child, you can see the expression in Karl's face shift into one of hope, he knows something you don't

when Winters is brought to the church you both play your role of sadistic monsters, giving a "show" for Donna and Moreau, but you have made sure there are useful things "left behind" by previous participants of your little game

with bated breaths, you follow his progress, feeling more and more hope with each Lord he takes down

Heisenberg cheers loudly when Dimitrescu goes down, lifting you off the ground and howling harder when only Moreau remains

He knows that, Ethan won't take it well when he arrives at the factory, so you offer to be the one to welcome him, reminding Karl to keep his cool and be straight with his answers and go to the point

NO THREATENING THE GUESS WITH THROWING HIM TO THE STURM

Ethan is, indeed, shaken up when he comes into the factory and the first thing he sees is you, he saw you at the church, why are you waiting for him?

"I must say, under other circumstances, it would have been...nice to meet you, but there's no time to lose, come with me, please"

he's hesitant, which is understandable, but he follows, a hand always hovering over his gun and eyes following your every move

when you reach Karl's center of command, you are careful with asking to sit and please listen to what you two have to say

"That boulder punching guy and his people are here, right Ethan?" Karl has his back to the other man "You see...me and Y/N...we need your help"

"My help!? after everything, each and everyone single one of you psychos put through?!"

But Karl is not listening, he starts to tell his story...your story, how Miranda took you both and used you like she's trying to use Rose, but you two were defective, useless, he wants revenge and is willing to do anything to get it

There's desperation in his voice but Winters seems unmoved by it, later you will admit that what you did was manipulative but as long as it works

Both men see you leave and come back with your child in arms, the kid is a bit older than Rose, the gray hair and factions that resemble yours is all that Ethan needs to know, Heisenberg as a child

they are vastly different but, he's like Ethan, he just wants to put his family in a safe place, so he accepts with the promise of "I'll kill you the moment you try to betray me"

Involving and convincing Chris is a lot harder, the man is already pissed at Ethan and now he's besties with 2 of Miranda's underlings? but time is running out and hes desperate for help, and maybe, it could actually work

Chris gives Heisenberg coordinates of where there's gonna be someone waiting for you and the kid, and that you have to be quick in reaching the point or they will leave with out you

of course, you panic! Karl is staying behind and you have to go? you want to kick Chris in the face and make him change his mind, he already has the soldats, why does he need Karl too?!

it's he who has to almost drag you away towards where the Duke is, he knows he has a better chance of getting you there, Miranda won't spare a glance at the merchant

a hefty payment and promises of coming back to you later, you are delivered safely to the team, Karl's trench coat draped over your shoulders and a sack filled with some of your most precious items. feeling like that's the last time you will see him again.

from the helicopter's window, you see with horror how the factory gets destroyed, gasping when Karl's mechanical form appears from the rubble and his army moving to where Miranda must be

the wait is grueling, painful, the sounds of gunfire and explosions make you jump, your crying child screams for their father, but this time, hes not there to calm the not cries and make them laugh

it's past dawn when the bigger explosion shakes the helicopter and when you cry the hardest, believing hes dead, that he die protecting you both.

the entire ride back to the BSAA is spent in silence, your child cried themselves to sleep and you are...just there...heartbroken, unable to shed another tear

a group of paramedics comes to you when you arrive at the new area, asking you questions and trying to check you for any wounds, but you don't answer or hear or care

from far away you see him, limping and using Ethan as a crutch, and then you are running, harder than you have ever done in your life, a strong hold in your baby

Karl looks up to see you and he can't help but smile and cry, open arms waiting for you and catching you, not carrying for his wounds, hes just there and his family is safe...and the 3 of you are free

neither of you put up a fight when the BSAA informs you that you will be under surveillance or that wherever you go you are expected to stay close to their offices, you laugh wholeheartedly when Karl asks "But we can go anywhere...you won't keep us locked away?"

Mia is the one who insists that both families must be close to each other, and you accept

it feels like a dream when Karl comes back and bitches about something that happened in the new lab, he may not be allowed to use corpses but hes allowed to tinker around with his creations and help to contain all bioweapons

you see your child grow and little Rose comes often to play, both children laugh and run around, not knowing what life they could have had

they whisper secrets and share what they have, Mia lights up whenever your kid gives her drawings, Karl melts down a bit when Rosemary calls him "uncle Heis"

and you see him change, he no longer frowns or gets irritated, he giggles or tells jokes, you have caught him develop a true fascination in watching videos and play video games

for once in so long...everything is finally fine

[ophiuchus-interactive]

In My Time of Need (MAJOR ANGST)

This is too long and too juicy of an ask to let it be just a common RO ask,

So! I'm going to be doing a mini-series answering this ask with all of the ROs!

Valerian is first! Now, remember, this is torture!

TW: Angst, blood, gore, torture!

Under the cut!

The prison cell looked akin to a tomb. Water leaking from the ceiling above your head, dripping through the stone brick and splattering against the aged, bloodied floor. Your hands were held in rusted, metal cuffs that were connected to the ceiling through chains. Valerian was in a similar state- only with him, his right eye was completely swollen shut. You wonder with a vague, passing thought if his eye dislodged from its position- or if it could be used at all anymore.

His breath was labored, heavy. The tell-tale rattle that echoed in his heavy gasps of air was a sign of broken ribs. The fierce, inky purple that took shape against his chest made sure of such an injury. A possibly permanent one.

They had beaten him within an inch of his life. The twisted, sinking feeling in your stomach was telling you that they weren't quite done yet.

In the darkness of the cells, you heard a large, metal door swing wide open, hitting the walls with enough force to make you jump. The clattering of your chains rang loudly in your ears, followed by the cacophonous, clobbering footsteps of your captors.

"He will not speak, commander. If we beat the whelp anymore without medical treatment, he will die,"

"He's not uttered a word?"

Silence.

A beat. Your heart is in your throat.

"...No, Commander. Nothing."

"'cause..." Valerian speaks up suddenly, his speech slurred by the blood the collected in his mouth, clogging his throat, "y'all dumb sons of bitches who can't....throw a fuckin' punch."

Your captors came into view. Their cloaked appearances giving you little to go off of as to their identity. Too tall for a Harpii. Too short for a Kal'Morran. They don't hiss their words- but something in the back of your mind makes you think they aren't exactly human.

"You know," The one called 'commander' says, " there is one thing I can never understand about your kind, captain. Do you know what that is?"

You watched- with a vague sense of astonishment- Valerian try his best to smile. You noticed teeth missing.

"What we're all better lookin' than you?"

Though you couldn't see it, you can imagine the Commander clenching his teeth, practically grinding them down to the gums,

"No. It is your aptitude for pain. In my experience, experimenting on the wide range of races that this universe, unfortunately, places in my hands for disposal, humans have always had a peculiar knack for...endurance."

The Commander chuckles, the action was enough to make your blood run cold, "True enough, I suppose. Humans have always been much more productive in experimenting than...well. Let's just say I don't think the two of you would do too well chained to our mining pits, living out the rest of your pathetically short lives harnessing the exact ore it is we will destroy you all with."

There was an audible smack to his lips, and then an almost dreamlike sigh, "Though the irony would be exquisite, indeed."

"Come 'ere to...talk, then?" Valerian coughs. The chains echo every harsh seize of his dry, bloodied throat, "I...stopped payin' attention right around the time you started...spewin' shit again."

You could practically feel the harsh and frigid stare the Commander was given Valerian. It was enough to make you swallow the lump that rose in your throat- a feeling of true fear.

"Grab the other one, Lieutenant."

"What?!" Valerian roars, his voice broken and scratched from his own screams, "You damned sonuva- they've got hell all to do with this! Leave 'em alone!"

Valerian's protests fall on deaf ears, the Lieutenant grabbing the chains that held your arms high in the air and release them from the hook- causing you to fall face-first into the floor.

Pain. White-hot, exploding pain burst like fireworks inside your skull. You felt blood pour freely from your nose; your forehead in enough agony to make you assume it was cracked.

You were pulled forward by the shackles that they hung you by, feeling every stray piece of stone and gravel embed themselves in your skin, burning the layers until it was raw, exposed.

The Lieutenant pulled you up from the floor, your blood trickling down the sides of your mouth and lips. Nausea began as your whole world started to spin. There was only one thought in your mind as you felt bile rise in your throat:

This was only the beginning.

"Come now, Captain, surely you can be reasonable? A member of your crew is about to be severely beaten. Their bones will break. Their skin will grow into that dark, nasty shade of purple- and you will have caused it. You will have caused their suffering.

Unless of course, you tell us precisely what it is we want, right now."

Silence.

And for that you were grateful. You and Valerian both know that not a word can be spoken of this. No matter what the cost.

"...Don't," You can hear Valerian say softly. Quietly. All that vibrato he had once before has been thrown to the side; all at once, he was a completely different person, "don't hurt them."

"I don't think you have much of a say in the matter, Captain. Either you start talking or I get to practice my hand combat- the ones that you abhor?"

"Don't- don't tell them shit, Val," You say as evenly as you can muster, "not a goddamn thing!"

CRACK!

It was the sound that came before the feeling- the force of a thick, gloved hand connecting with your side was enough to cause your body to forget how to breathe. You panicked as the pain blossomed into downright torment, your lungs being unable to catch up with the now broken pieces of your ribcage. You were left drowning in the dry, empty air.

"MC!"

"I'm going to give you one more chance, Captain. I suggest you take my words over your companion's- tell me everything. Every last shred of detail, and I will spare you both this pain."

Silence.

Do you think you hear a sob?

"Tch. Pathetic. Do you hold the silence above the people you're supposed to protect? What kind of a captain are you?"

"Stop! Please, stop, kill me- hurt me, anything but them-!"

"You do not get to beg like a diseased dog for a choice, Captain!" The Commander spits, his fury unable to be contained any longer, "Speak one more word that's not what I want, and I'll beat your companion until they're bloody, grey-mattered pulp on the floor!"

Silence.

A clatter. You think it was a tool. A hammer?

It doesn't take long for you to find out, however, as with a furious snarl, the hammer was slammed down upon the palm of your hand. You felt the bones in your hand crack under the force, the sheer magnitude of the assault was enough to make tears run down your face, and cry. Your nerves burned like fire, your body screaming for relief, and you know you won't be receiving any form of it. So this was true pain.

The world around you faded in and out of spotty darkness that threatened to consume your view, and you were afraid. Was this it? This- this can't be it. You needed to be awake, alive, you needed to see Valerian again.

But the darkness grew, and your air slowed down, and despite the chaos, the horror, you heard only one thing.

Silence.

A welcomed reprieve. An escape.

For now.

[jadedxrealityw]

-New Addition To The Family- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: some fluffy Draco for the soul

   Request: Some cute fluff of Draco Y/n toddler scorp and their new baby @futuremrsmalfoy20

   House: N/A

   Possible Triggers / Warnings: children, fluffy Draco, cursing

    ☼-☪-☼

   (this story is going is not going to be long at all. Just something short and sweet)

   today was the day you would bring your infant daughter home. You had been in the hospital for two days and were just about tired of the bright fluorescent lights and terrible food. You were standing outside the large wooden door that led you into your home with Draco and Themis in a baby carrier.

   Draco had asked your mutual friend Pansy to watch Scorpius while he went to pick you up from the hospital despite her distaste towards children. Scorpius was her one exception and Themis as well. That’s why she was ‘Auntie Pans’ to Scorpius.

   “Come on, let’s show Themis her home” Draco said from beside you, lifting the baby carrier up a bit so you could see Themis’s grey eyes. They were just like Draco’s. You nod once towards him and he smiles back at you. You reach for the handle and push the door open.

   you are met with the sight of Pansy holding Scorpius in her arms staring back at you- but they weren’t the only ones there. Next to Pans was Theo and Blaise. “Welcome home Themis!” they all exclaimed in unison. You burst into a fit of laughter.

   “I thought you two were busy?” you ask, referring to the couple Blaise and Theo. You had wanted them to meet Themis at the hospital, but they told you they had been behind in work that they needed to catch up on. “Surprise, we lied. Pansy planned for us all to be here on a certain day.” Blaise informs.

   you nod once and turn your E/c eyes toward Pansy. She shrugs nonchalantly and walks over to you “Take this snot rocket” she says in mock disgust while handing you Scorpius who held his arms out wide as soon as he saw your face “Mommy!” 

   scooping him up in your arms, you turn your body towards Draco who was placing the baby carrier on the table so he could undo the buckle around Themis. “Daddy’s here too” you say and Scorpius giggles in response. He had yet to say the word dad, daddy, or any variation of that word. 

   Blaise, Theo, and Pansy both look over Draco’s shoulder “Finally, another girl around. We girls have been surrounded by testerone for years” Pansy comments. Draco shakes his head as he undoes the last buckle “Love you too Pans” he replies. She gives him a half smile.

   “She looks like Y/n more then Draco” Theo points out, gesturing towards her face. Themis did indeed have more of your facial structure then her fathers, while Scorpius was a spitting image of your husband. “I thought they cloned Draco when i first saw Scorpius” Blaise adds, making Theo and Pansy snicker.

   Draco rolls his eyes, lifting Themis from the baby carrier “I did not clone myself” he retorts. Pansy grins widely “Yeah guys. Scorpius is like bright and cheery and you were a little shit when you were a kid” You hold back laughter as you realize what’s coming next.

   “Wait until my father hears about this!” all three of them say before going into laughing fits. Draco seemed unamused to say the least “I hate you all. Also Pansy you can’t curse around Scorpius, he repeats everything he hears. Pansy rolled her eyes “Everything, but Daddy huh?”

   “ha ha ha. So comical, i’m putting Themis in her room” Draco held Themis’s head with his hand before leaving the room and down the hallway. All of you turned to follow Draco as well and into the nursery. Themis’s room was a mix of  green, black, and white. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   a week later

   you had almost forgotten how newborns love to wake you up in the middle of the night with crying and screaming. Wear protection kids. As you slept peacefully in your shared bed, you heard the wailing of your infant daughter. You shot up instantly. 

   Draco had his arm around you, so he was yanked up as well. Poor dude. “What the fuck- are you alright Y/n?!” he shouts, assuming the worst. You look at his worried expression. His platinum blond hair was a sticking out everywhere, making him look like a goof.

   you held back a laugh “Sorry hun, Themis is crying i have to go check up on her-” as you spoke you then heard the crying of your other child Scorpius. Draco sighs with a small smile “I’ll check on Scorpius then, meet you back here?” he said, like you both were going on a mission. It was sweet.

   you nod once. Draco slithers his hand behind your head to rest on the nape of your neck, pulling your face close to his. He leans in a kisses you sweetly. It only lasted a couple seconds, but you enjoyed it very much. “Alright” you say and both of you crawl out of bed. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   you walk out the bedroom door and turn to the left while Draco turns to the right. When you get closer you notice that the nursery door is open and you vividly remember closing it so the light from the hallway wouldn’t shine on Themis’s face and wake her up.

   an uneasy feeling invaded your stomach as you approached the door. You push the rest of the door open and spot a strange sight. Scorpius was sitting in Themis’s crib holding her delicate head in his lap. They were both crying. What in the hell?

   “Scorpius?” you say, nearing the crib. He looks up at you and points to Themis “Help” he cried out, making your heart tug. Who would want to see there baby cry- well both babies. You reach into the crib and lift Themis out. As soon as you grab her, you notice that the diaper she was wearing was full.

   before you could even speak to Scorpius Draco comes busting into the room at full speed with his wand “I can’t find Scorpius! I looked around the house and every other room! I know that you told me that if i ever lost one of the kids you would leave me, but i don’t even know how to use that thing in the kitchen!”

   you bought a dishwasher 

   slowly moving to the side, you reveal Scorpius in the crib. Draco’s face that once was distraught was now revealed “Oh thank merlin” he breathed out, practically sinking onto the floor. It was kind of amusing. “Are you okay?” you ask, walking over to the changing station that was in the corner. 

   he stood up slowly “My whole life flashed before my eyes” he spoke, making you snort out a chuckle at the dramatic way of speaking. You lay Themis down and began to remove her onesie. “And?” you question. “Please don’t leave me. I know i was a little shit back in school, but i like to think i’ve grown”

   “You have. I’m not going to leave you, you goof now go console your son please” you say, turning you head to give him a side glance before going back to changing Themis. Draco nods and walks over to the crib “Hey little one” he said as he reached into the crib.

   Scorpius held out his arms, grabbing onto Draco as soon as he picked him up “Now why were you in here Scorp?” Draco questions with a small pout. “I think he was trying to help Themis, but didn’t know how” you said, putting a new diaper onto Themis.

   Draco smiled brightly, poking at Scorpius’s stomach playfully “I’m glad he’s already trying to help his sister like a good big brother” he praises. Scorpius’s frown turned into a bright smile and giggles cutely. Super adorable. “Just like you, super protective” you say, lifting Themis from the table.

   Draco rolls his eyes “I’m not super protective” he snaps back. You raise a brow at what he just said “You punched Harry in the face when he was wiping dust off my robe” you say and watch as Draco begins to sputter “I thought he was grabbing your ass okay? what was is supposed to do?”

   “Not punch him?”

   “Well-” He closed his mouth, unable to come up with anything to say “Whatever” he mumbles. You smile and walk towards the loveseat in the corner of the room “Alright i need to feed her. Can you take Scorpius back to bed for me?” you ask.

   Draco shrugged “It’s not like i haven’t seen those before” He said, referring to your breast. You narrow your eyes, something that scared Draco. “Okay okay. Scorpius say goodnight to mommy” he crouched down next you. Scorpius grabs your face with his tiny hands and kisses your cheek “Mwah!”

   you chuckle at his super cute behaviour. He gives you a toothy grin “G’night mommy!” he speaks and your heart just melts “Goodnight Scorpius”

    ☼-☪-☼

   the next morning

   you awoke to the sound of children's laughter, which was pretty sweet to wake up to in hindsight. You sit up in your bed and turn to face Draco, but he wasn’t there. Strange sense it was a weekend and Draco was usual the one to sleep in on these days. 

   deciding to investigate you pull the black duvet off of your body and push yourself to sit up. As soon as your straightened your back you smelt something- delicious. You couldn’t decipher what, but it smells wonderful. So wonderful that your stomach began to rumble. 

   you throw your legs over the side of the bed. You stand up, the air nipping at your skin and causing goosebumps. You look around and spot your light grey hoodie you had gotten from Pansy and slip it over your sports bra and black and white flannel pants.

    you let out a yawn as you walk across the cold hard wood floor that lined the hallway. it was definitely too early considering there were no signs of Narcissa. She usually stayed over on weekends to watch the kids so you and Draco could go do something together- but you both ended up just sleeping in. 

   children tire you out like that 

   as you made your way to the stairs the children's laughter got louder and closer. Was everybody downstairs? You start to walk down the steps, rubbing the tired feeling away from your eyes. Once you reach the last step you turn the corner to see a very- funny view.

   Scorpius was sat in his booster seat munching on food while Themis was in her cradle, shaking around a toy hippogriff that Pansy had gotten her as a joke. You named it ‘Chicken’. It is just as funny as Scorpius’s stuffed white ferret that she also got him. His name is ‘Dray’

   Pansy is a great aunt

   After looking at that you see Draco at your kitchen stove frying up what looked like sausages. “Draco?” you spoke and watched your platinum blond husband almost trip over his own feet in shock. Once he turned around you noticed he was wearing a apron that had a floral pattern on it. It was Narcissa’s.

   he musters up a smile as he leans against the counter, spatula in hand “Hey there darling. How did you sleep?” he asked and you shrug, smiling “Just fine- um, what’s all this?” you question, making your way around the table. He smiles and turns back to the pan. 

   “Breakfast” he states confidently. You look at the table and notice all the food, eggs, toast, jam, hash browns. It was impressive, but suspicious “Since when can you cook? You almost burnt the house down when i asked you to boil noodles”

   he rolls his eyes as he plates the sausages on a plate “Mother has been coming over early to teach me so i could be a ‘proper husband’ as she says. Plus you cook for us all the time and with the new baby i felt you needed a break” he explains. 

   Draco grabs your hand and lifts it to his mouth. He kisses your knuckles lightly which made you smile “Thank you Draco” you say. He sends you a wink before placing the plate with all the other food “Now eat before it gets cold” he adds. You nod and go over to sit down next to Scorpius’s booster seat.

   you look at what he was eating and notice he was chewing on french toast. You look up at him and grab his tiny pale hand “Now who made you that delicious food?” you ask in a playful manner. Scorpius gets visibly excited and points his other hand at Draco.

   “Daddy!”

   you and Draco both freeze. The one word Scorpius refused to say was just spoken. You look over at Draco and notice his expression falter before a big smile came to his face “Yes! Pansy owes me galleons!” he shouts excitedly. You shake your head considering he was already insanely wealthy.

   but he probably just wanted to prove Pansy wrong. “That’s what your thinking about?” you ask. Draco looks at you and shakes his head, walking over “Not just that. I’m very happy. I’m happy that Scopius said dad and I’m happy that i have a healthy children” he spoke before crouching down beside you.

   “and i’m happy that i have a beautiful wife that stuck around for so long. Even with all my family issues and shitty attitude” Draco looks up at you with a loving smile. What a cheesy dork you thought. You lean down and he follows along as you both kiss. It was short and sweet, but you cherished it nonetheless. 

   “Now sit in a seat so we can eat” you spoke, pulling back from him

   he stands up and takes a seat next to you and Themis’s cradle “Yes ma’am”

    ☼-☪-☼

   Taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @dracosathenaeum @pxroxide-prinxcesss 

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: I hope you enjoyed this short Draco fluff, it was fun to write. My requests are open as well as my taglist. Anyways, peace. 

[supercorpkid]

What the hell, you’re in hell.

Part 2 of T is for Trauma - The Series

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2040.

Warnings: kidnapping. Injuries. Angst.

Previously on the series – part 1

Things have not yet fallen into place with your moms. Of course that, as a family, sometimes you all say things you didn’t actually give too much consideration and end up kind of hurting each other’s feelings on the way. Most of the time, there’s a big apology, hugging and crying. You haven’t done any of those things during the night, and in the morning, you were kind of late for school so you didn’t have time to talk to them. To be fair, you didn’t even see them since your big blow out.

So, after school you say goodbye to Jamie, and decide to walk to L Corp. Since people are now paying more attention to the sky, you don’t want any more pictures of you flying around for a while. You don’t know how your momma pulls off not being recognized just by using glasses and a ponytail, but you sense you might not be able to do the same.

You’re on your way to L Corp to finally talk to Lena. You know that you hurt Kara too, but you did worse with Lena saying you didn’t expect better from her. That was shitty of you, and you know it.

Sure, there were also a bunch of things that you said that were totally true. Now that you think about it, you were only trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care that they never show up at your science fair, physics decathlon, or anywhere else in the school aside from the principal’s office to hear something bad about you. You don’t know why they stopped doing that when you got older, but not seeing their proud and loving face in a sea of people that hate you, really did a number on you.

Jamie has obviously noticed that this was the reason you left in the middle of the event, and she went all therapist Olsen on you and told you, you should tell them the truth. Tell them it hurts, that you miss them there, and apologize for saying it so aggressively.

So, your plan is talking to Lena first, and then buying some donuts and flying to CatCo right after, so you can talk to Kara. You could never know none of these plans would come true.

You’re walking, when you pass a black van parked close to the sidewalk and you feel something burning in your body. That’s so weird, you’ve only felt like this once. And only when you’re shot with a Kryptonite bullet.

You try to run, but your legs feel wobbly, and you can’t go very far before your legs give in and you fall on the ground. You look behind you, to a guy leaving the van, and going towards you. You take off your glasses to see inside the van, but you can’t see anything.

“Lex was right, Kryptonite always works.” You hear when the guy is in front of you, but you can’t see his face, it is covered with a black mask. You know they have kryptonite, but you have to call your momma for help. You put your hand on the watch and he notices your movement. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, child.” He easily lifts you up by the wrist, and takes the watch out.

He is not just a normal guy. You can see by the way he lifts you up like you weigh nothing. He either has super strength or some other kind of power.

“What do you want from me?” You manage to ask and he laughs right at your face. He walks back to the van, you’re still hanging a few feet off the ground, by the wrist. You look around to see if no one is seeing this clearly evil person carrying a girl to a black van, and your answer is that no one is. And the ones that are, certainly don’t care.

“Why would I want anything from a child?” He throws you in the van and you look around to see the kryptonite. It’s so close to you now, that you feel the burn going inside your bloodstream, and you whimper.

You look outside at the man’s hand, and you see him dropping your watch on the ground. He was smart, not to take it with him, ‘cause Kara could track you with it. Your hand goes instinctively to your necklace, as long as you still have that, Lena can track you.

“What do you have there?” One of the other guys notices your hand and tries to take it away from you. You fight, punching him with all the strength you have left, and he falls back with a hand on his nose. But you can’t fight all three of them, not while being exposed to Kryptonite. So, they snatch the necklace out of your neck and dump it on the street.

“No, please, no. It’s just a necklace, it’s my grandmother’s necklace, please.” You cry out, but they take no pity. They close the van and drive you away for good.

You want to take the high road, you really do. You want to go quietly and pretend that you don’t care about the fact that you’re being kidnapped right now, but if there’s a slight chance that Kara can hear your cry for help, then you don’t really care about taking the high road.

So you cry and you scream. You do everything you can to get help before you’re taken to Rao knows where, but help doesn’t come.

You try to use your x-ray vision to know where they are taking you, but, and you can’t believe you’re thinking this, these kidnappers are kind of smart, because they covered the van in lead, so you can’t see out, and Supergirl can’t see in.

“So you work for Lex Luthor. Why is he sending people to kidnap me?” You scoff, with not so much strength left in you.

“I don’t work for Lex!” He yells looking extremely offended by your insinuation. “He simply gave me some ideas, but I’M the brain of this operation.”

“Ok. Then what do you want from me?” You ask again, not satisfied with the last answer. “If you want to fight, stop the car and I’ll fight you!”

“No offense, but I can’t fight you. You’re like twelve.” Offense very much taken, excuse him. “I can’t fight a kid. And I don’t want to anyways, I want Supergirl.”

“Why?” You should’ve known. You always knew someday you would get into serious trouble because some evil jackasses are trying to get to your momma, but right now? While you’re in the middle of a fight with her?

“You’re too young to understand!”

“I’m not too young!” He scoffs like he is sure you’re twelve and you huff. “I’m sixteen!”

“Boss, you said we were kidnapping a kid.” Says one of the other men, looking at you in shock.

“It’s not my fault she looks so young.”

“So you’re ok with kidnapping a kid, but not a teenager?” You ask one of the guys and he looks back at you.

“Shut up, I think you broke my nose, you stupid shit!”

You open your eyes, and look around. You don’t remember closing your eyes in the first place, so it is very surprising when you open them and find yourself in a low light lit room. The only thing you see clear is a chair, and the ‘brain of the operation’ in it.

“Hello child.”

You want to punch his face so badly, but you can’t. They have you wrapped in chains with kryptonite in the middle. It burns so much you can’t even get up from where you’re lying on the floor.

“How long do you think it will take for Supergirl to find you?” He mocks and you try to use your x-ray vision to find out where you are, but it’s all made of lead. “I do think we made it too hard for her. She can’t track you. She can’t see through lead… I wonder if she will find you before the kryptonite kills you because of over-exposure.”

“Let me go.” You grunt, your voice almost gone and you hear laughter in response.

“Your mother put me in jail for years. I had a child too, you see. Now he is a man, and wants nothing to do with me.”

“Is there where you met Lex?”

“Why are you so interested in Lex Luthor? Oh, yeah. He is your mom’s arch enemy” He tilts his head to look at you. “I told him all about my hate for the Supers, so he gave me some ideas. And I guess he was right. I mean, just look at you. You look like you’re dying and I didn’t even have to hurt you.”

“You shouldn’t follow Lex’s footsteps. He is sentenced for a lifetime.”

“I thought you were dying, but you are way too talkative for someone who’s dying. Should I black you out again?”

“Supergirl will find me and you’re going back to jail to keep Lex company for the rest of your lives.” You growl between your teeth.

“I might. Or you might die first and I’ll have the last laugh. I guess we'll see.” He walks to where you are. “I must say, it’s an incredibly powerful feeling to make a Kryptonian bleed.” He stomps on your head, and you see nothing after that.

When you wake up again, you can taste the blood on your mouth. You feel weak and nauseated, and your ears are ringing loudly. You don’t open your eyes, because you also hear muffled voices. It’s hard for you to make up the conversation with the constant noise in your ear. You focus on the conversation, and try to forget the pain you’re feeling.

“She’s totally green. Look at her. She looks like Shrek.” Laughter. “Maybe she died already?”

Nope, still pretty much alive and suffering, thank you.

“Maybe coming to Gotham was a little much. Supergirl will never find her.”

Gotham? Fuck. He is right, your momma might not find you before you die of over-exposure.

“I’m so bored. Let’s go grab something to eat. She’s either dead or dying, so who cares?”

Well, he is right. You are dying.

You open one eye, the one that was not directly stepped on, and you see you’re indeed alone. Ok, you’re dying, but you’re not dead yet. What can you do?

There’s not much in the dim lit room, or at least not a lot you can make out with your one watery eye, anyway. There is one thing, only one thing that can help you. An old radio system. The best kind.

You force yourself up. Your head is heavy and you barely can’t leave it up. You can’t stand up, so you crawl to it. The taste of blood is strong on your mouth, your stomach is twisting and growling inside, you know you’re minutes away from throwing up all over yourself and passing out again.

You open the radio, you’re not even sure how, do you still have super strength? Is it just poorly made? It doesn’t matter, the only thing that matters right now is that you are able to pass your location to someone.

- - . .. -

-- .. -- .- -.

You press the button a few times and close the shell again, crawling back to the place you were, and laying down while panting because of the pain and the effort. You close your eye, and pray to Rao your message is received by them. You pray they’re looking for you. And you pray you don’t die before telling them you’re sorry for all the things you said, and that you love them more than anything in the universe.

It doesn’t take long until you hear the men coming back to where you are. You stay completely still, and even hold your breath to make sure they don’t notice anything.

“See, I told you. Dumb girl didn’t even move. She dead, man.”

She ISN’T dead. But if she gets out of this, you might be, you stupid shit.

[krappykawa]

i mildly like you more than like (pt. 6)

— in which an incessant fan girl, a kiss, and a little bit of denial makes oikawa tooru realize he might mildly like you more than like

description. you’ve been in love with oikawa tooru for longer than you can remember. having known him for the better part of nearly 11 years, you’ve come to accept that you’ll never be more than a best friend to him. but with the help of a few irritatingly persistent fangirls and a kiss that was only meant to drive them away, a tale of unrequited love might just prove to be something more.

word count. 7.9k

oikawa tooru x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, some angst

parts. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

author’s note. ahhh final part!! this story has been a thrill to write and it really does hold a special place in my heart so i’m so so happy with the positive feedback it’s gotten from all of you! for those that have stuck around every week for an update, here’s the final part! i hope you all like it :D

author’s note 2. so sorry for the repost! something went wrong with the tags but i hope it’s fine now!

previously ...

It almost hits him like a truck then because huh, he’s in love with you. And yet, he doesn’t feel so different, he just feels lighter.

“Huh.”

“You finally figured it out then?”

Oikawa smiles to himself. “Yeah, I think I did.” He’s almost glad that you had to spend your lunch tutoring one of the first-years because he’s not too sure what he would do with himself if you were here.

A smile finds its way onto Iwaizumi’s lips. “Happy to see it, asshole. Just don’t keep her waiting on you for another three years.”

“I won’t. I don’t plan on wasting any more time now that I finally figured it out.”

“How do you plan on telling her then?”

“That I love her?”

“You love her?” A voice that’s not Iwaizumi’s nearly jolts him from his seat. He’d know that voice anywhere.

He turns to find you standing not far from where he and Iwaizumi are seated and feels the color drain from his face.

“You love her?”

The question echoes over the soft whipping of the night wind, poorly masking the sound of heartbreak that seems to reverberate within every uttered syllable in the three words that had just left your lips on their own accord. Three measly words, and yet - you can feel the way that your heart slowly tears itself apart.

Your love for him was kept silent for so long, a love that you only ever communicated through glances that lasted longer than they should have, arms that wrapped just a centimeter too tight to be friendly, and smiles that tipped upwards in a way that it only did for him. It was the fear of this - that despite everything you had to offer, the object of your affections would never see you in the light that you saw him.

And you hate it. You hate how fast he stands from the bench, hate how the wind whips softly over his hair and forces chestnut strands over his eyes, hate how under the pale moonlight and with someone else standing next to him, he’s still all that you see.

Maybe if you’d just let go of that fear and just told him, maybe you wouldn’t be standing here feeling this way. Or maybe he’d have broken your heart back then and he wouldn’t be in your garden in the first place. You decide that you’d rather be standing here, eyes locked with Oikawa in an awkward standstill than have that scenario come to fruition.

“How long have you been standing there?” is all he says.

You turn your gaze down to the wide slabs of rock under your feet, unable to look at him in the eye any longer. There’s no inclination to cry, which surprises you. Maybe it’s because you already wasted all your tears earlier on in the day and have now run empty. Or maybe it’s because the possibility that he had already fallen for Hishoko had already been echoing over and over in your head throughout the night.

“Not long. I only just came out,” you say as you tilt your head back up to look at him.

Oikawa seems to let out a breath of relief, which sends pinpricks further into your heart. You wonder what could’ve been so personal about his love for Hishoko that he wouldn’t want you knowing.

“Oh, okay,” Oikawa pauses. “Iwa-chan and I were just out here for a breath of air. Couldn’t sleep. You know how it is.” A small smile makes its way onto his lips, almost sheepish in shape. There are lies on his tongue, that much you can tell.

“So? You love Hishoko? That’s a pretty big deal for you.”

Oikawa’s mouth comes open, but no words fall out. An answer instead comes from beside him.

“No,” is all Iwaizumi says. He’s looking at you with a hard stare, as if you should be able to read the unspoken words in his sentence. For the first time, you can’t.

Oikawa’s head whips to Iwaizumi. From where you’re standing, you can just barely make out the minuscule movement of his lips and the glare he directs in Iwaizumi’s direction.

Your eyes follow both their expressions as Oikawa’s goes from panicked, to angry, to firm, and Iwaizumi’s goes from angry, to stubborn, to a firmness that matches Oikawa’s. You don’t know what to think of the staring match that seems to have started between the two, each both unblinking and equally as stubborn in their resolves.

The tense air between the two of them stretches on for far longer than it should, and for the first time, you think that Oikawa might be the first one to throw a punch this time. It’s not that these two haven’t physically fought before, but it’s never Oikawa that throws the first punch or kick. You wonder what could’ve happened to make Oikawa so firm in his glare. It’s almost off-putting to see it directed at Iwaizumi.

“Am I missing something here?” Neither of them immediately turn at the sound of your voice, but there’s a tick to both their jaws that inclines that they did indeed hear you.

Iwaizumi breaks eye contact first, but not without a snide click of his tongue. He crosses his arms as Oikawa’s face finally returns to a state that doesn’t resemble the devil.

“No. Iwa-chan and I just got into a little spat before you came out. Not a big deal. We’re alright now,” Oikawa says pleasantly. Lies. Lies. Lies.

You raise a brow at him. “So you managed to fix whatever shit went down between you two with a staring contest?”

“Don’t underestimate the power of Iwa-Oikawa, Y/N-chan,” he says again with that same irritating fraud smile.

The smile doesn’t relent. You feel whatever patience you have drain out. You wouldn’t have minded if he was just honest about lying to you, but there’s something about being treated like someone who hasn’t been by his side for 11 years that makes your blood boil. You don’t care if he has secrets (you’d be the biggest hypocrite if you got angry for that), but what you won’t tolerate is being met with this fake version of Oikawa that you’ve never known because you were there before he even had the thought to hide his real self around you.

“Cut the shit, ‘Kawa. Stop fucking lying to me,” you grind out.

The smile drops.

“I’m not lying to you.”

The lies on his lips stay firmly glued on.

You fix one hard stare on Oikawa before switching your gaze to Iwaizumi. His position hasn’t moved from when he crossed his arms, but his jaw is hardened even farther that you almost find yourself worrying for the well-being of his teeth. “Iwa? You see that he’s lying too right?”

“He is.”

Oikawa’s head snaps to Iwaizumi’s for the second time. “Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi just holds a hand up to him and sighs.

“But,” Iwaizumi pauses, his gaze fixing on you with what might be sympathy. “For once in his goddamn life, he’s lying with good cause.”

Your gaze switches wildly between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. If it was anyone else that had said that, you would’ve engaged in a potential screaming match with Oikawa by now. But there’s something about Iwaizumi saying it that only makes you lose a bit of that bubbling anger. You know that Iwaizumi might have the most unbiased opinions for anyone that you know, so if he’s saying that whatever’s going with Oikawa isn’t something you’re meant to know, it almost feels like a defeat.

“Okay,” you finally say. You know that you’re not getting anything out of either of them if Iwaizumi is covering for Oikawa. The breath in Oikawa’s lungs seems to return and you wonder again what he so badly wanted to keep from you. Instead of asking, you just sigh. “I’m gonna head in then. Don’t stay out too late. You might get sick.”

Before you turn and head for the door, you swear that you see a flicker of regret in Oikawa’s eyes.

“Shoko-chan, can I speak with you?”

Oikawa walks up to Hishoko’s figure in the middle of a hallway. She’s standing next to the best friend he’s always hearing about, fingers wrapped around her best friend’s arm in a delicate manner. As Hishoko looks up at him and nods, he attempts to send the girl a friendly smile while he takes Hishoko away, hoping that he won’t get hunted alive for breaking Hishoko’s heart. He already knows from what Hishoko’s told him that this girl might love her more than anyone on earth, and he can only hope that her wrath isn’t as harsh as he deserves.

As he holds loosely onto Hishoko’s hand and pulls her beside a pillar that’s clear of people, he recites the speech he made in his head.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t regret how the night at your house had ended, but he knew that it was for the best. He wouldn’t be able to confess his love to you with a clear conscience if he was still with someone else, and from how close you and Hishoko seemed to be, he takes that you wouldn’t be able to accept his confession (He hopes, he hopes. Iwaizumi’s reassured him that you feel the same, but he doesn’t want to assume) with a clear conscience either.

He recites his plan over and over again. Break up with Hishoko with as minimal heartbreak on her end as possible, wait a few weeks so that he doesn’t seem insensitive, then confess his love to you with something special that you’ll forget that you were mad at him for keeping it a secret in the first place. (He also feels like he owes you something special, especially after Iwaizumi told him about how long you’ve potentially been in love with him. Though Iwaizumi never really specified that you were actually in love with him for what he can only guess is respect for your secrets, Oikawa could feel the weight of the unsaid words just from Iwaizumi’s gruff words).

In getting caught up with his thoughts, he doesn’t even notice that he’s been standing in front of Hishoko in silence for who knows how long. He’s surprised that she’s not confused. Instead, she’s grinning.

“Shoko-chan, I’m-”

“Breaking up with me?” she interrupts before he can even get the rest of his prepared explanation out.

Oikawa blinks at her, unsure of how to react. He was expecting her to maybe push him away or maybe cry, but instead, she’s looking up at him with a knowing sparkle in her eyes. He takes a breath. “How did you … how did you know?”

Her smile only widens. “I would be a fool if I didn’t notice. I think I knew even back then, from the way you looked at her when you introduced her to me. No best friend looks at their best friend unless they’re in love with them.”

“Then why did you stay with me for so long?”

“I didn’t know at first. I … I thought all best friends looked at each other like that,” she says. Oikawa doesn’t miss the way that her eyes dart to where her best friend is standing against a pole in the adjacent hallway.

Oikawa stares at the two of them, and suddenly he understands. It really doesn’t surprise him. Hishoko’s relationship with her best friend was similar to his relationship with you now that he’s truly thinking about it. “Why didn’t you … break up with me sooner? You know … if you ..” he asks while cocking his head towards the girl that was still discreetly watching them.

Hishoko just shrugs. “I was in denial for a long time. I think I finally realized it when I kissed you after your game. You’re like the most wanted guy at school, and yet I just …”

“I get it.” Oikawa nods in understanding and Hishoko flashes him a grateful smile. “I think she might love you too by the way, if the way she’s looking over here is any indication.”

Her gazes flicks back over to the girl in question and Oikawa can’t help but recognize the look on Hishoko’s face. Not that he’s actually ever seen what he looks like when he looks at you, but there’s an odd sense of familiarity at the look. After a few seconds, Hishoko turns back to him, her smile even wider than before. “Thanks, Oikawa-kun. Treat Y/N well, she’s an angel.”

“I know. I know she is.”

Hishoko grins cheekily up at him. “And tell her to text me, just because you and I are broken up doesn’t mean that I’m losing her friendship.”

“Will do, Shoko-chan.”

“Hishoko broke up with you? Tooru, what the hell?”

Though there was still a certain air of terseness that surrounded you and Oikawa, you knew that you had to talk to him the minute you heard from some gossiping group of girls that he’d been broken up with by his month-long girlfriend. Despite how much it had hurt you to learn that he was nursing such strong feelings for Hishoko, you still cared enough about his happiness that you would never have wanted him to be heartbroken over someone he really did love.

But the sight you’re met with when you finally find him is not a sight you would expect from someone who’d just gotten broken up with by a girl he potentially had strong feelings for.

When you find him standing with Iwaizumi under one of the cherry blossom trees, his face doesn’t hold an ounce of distress. You wonder what the hell might have changed between Saturday night and right now that could make Oikawa so relaxed about getting his heartbroken by the second girl he’s ever loved.

Oikawa’s gaze immediately finds yours as you walk up to them and whatever conversation he and Iwaizumi seem to be having is paused. You don’t miss the way that they exchange glances.

“Actually, I was the one who broke up with her. It was mutual, but she jokingly asked that nobody find out that I was the one who broke up with her. I figured I would do her that little kindness,” he says simply. “I meant to tell you earlier, but you seemed adamant on avoiding me. I was going to tell you later tonight by barging into your house and forcing you to speak to me but-”

That’s news to you.

“You broke up with Hishoko?”

Oikawa’s brow furrows. “Yes …?”

“But, I thought you said you loved her? Why would you break up with her if you loved her?”

Iwaizumi answers before Oikawa can. “He doesn’t. He never did.” This time, Oikawa seems to be prepared for Iwaizumi’s words and looks eerily calm rather than panicked.

The truth behind Iwaizumi’s words is evident, but if Hishoko wasn’t the person they were talking about before you stepped out into the garden, then who was? A tiny voice in your head supplies you with an answer, but it’s an answer that you’re sure your brain is just supplying in order to make you feel better. You pay the tiny voice no mind.

“Then … what was Saturday night about?” You look between the both of them. “What was I missing there?”

Oikawa’s staring at you once more, but this time he doesn’t look as if he’s searching for an answer. Instead he’s looking at you with something that you can’t pinpoint. You’re not even sure if the way he’s looking at you is negative or positive.

When Oikawa doesn’t make any indication that he’s going to speak anytime soon, you switch your gaze to Iwaizumi. He’s staring at Oikawa knowingly.

You can’t help but feel like there’s something huge that you’re missing here. What irritates you most is that you don’t know what it might be.

One moment, you believe that Oikawa’s in love with his girlfriend and the next you’re being told that he never loved her like that in the first place? You’ve known Oikawa long enough that he doesn’t throw around the word “love” when it comes with a romantic connotation. Not when he expressed to you that all he knew about his future was that he wanted to keep chasing volleyball, and he wasn’t entirely sure how many people would be willing to put up with that.

“I can’t say,” Oikawa finally says. There it is again, that odd tone in his voice.

The conversation is much too reminiscent of the same conversation you had with Oikawa in your kitchen that Saturday night. You wonder if this is the world’s way of making you realize your own hypocrisy. You know that you put Oikawa in the exact same position then that he’s putting you in now.

But Oikawa’s always been more trained in masking his emotions with whatever facade he wants to use. You on the other hand, have always let curiosity and anger have too much rein on your emotions.

“Iwa? What’s going on?”

Iwaizumi sighs. “It pains me to say this, but I think you should listen to him. He has a reason for not telling you right now, and it’s the only reason he’s ever come up with that’s made sense.”

That anger spikes again and you feel a stab of guilt at how hypocritical you’re being. “So you’re just going to keep me in the dark about why the hell you broke up on the girlfriend that you said you loved.”

“Iwa-chan wasn’t lying,” Oikawa says. “I don’t love her.”

“Then what …”

“Y/N,” Oikawa interrupts. This is the first time in 5 years that he’s ever said your name without the teasing ‘chan’ at the end. “I’ll let you know soon, okay? I promise.”

Your gazes stay locked on each other and there’s something about the depth of his look that you can’t seem to look away from.

You know that you could probably stand here and force him to tell you, but that’s not how the two of you worked. Your decade of friendship has gone through plenty of highs and lows, but it’s always been a relationship built on mutual trust and love.

There were times when he would promise you that he wouldn’t stay overtime to practice that you knew were lies, but you trusted him well enough to believe that he wouldn’t incessantly push himself to the brink like he might’ve used to.

There were times where he’d get in arguments with his sister that he’s never told you about, but he’d come to your house anyway and spend an hour just sitting in silence with you in the backyard because he knew that you trusted and respected his emotions enough to not push.

There were times when you sat in his bedroom and listened as he tried to pretend like his eyes didn’t light up at the idea of travelling the world to play volleyball, but you both trusted each other enough to know that when the time did come for him to admit it to himself, you would both figure it out.

So no, you won’t push, no matter how much you might want to. For the second time in two days, you say, “Okay.”

Oikawa knows he has to wait. He knows he can’t confess to you right away. He’s well accustomed to the ruthless rumor mill at Aoba Johsai, and he would hate for a repeat of second-year.

For his three years at Aoba Johsai, he’s seemed to become exempt from any nasty rumors (with the exception of the inevitable few that he just chooses to brush off), but he found that you were not. Late last year, Oikawa had gotten out of a short relationship, one that he’d ended because he was prioritizing volleyball a little too much, and he just couldn’t find it in him to compromise.

He of course expected the tears from the girl he was with, but what he wasn’t expecting were the tears from you. Somehow, a rumor had gone around that painted you in a terrible light with a few choice words that made Oikawa grip his locker with white knuckles. They’d dragged you into a situation that you weren’t even a part of because someone had gotten jealous of his close friendship with you.

So yes, he would wait. Even though he and Hishoko had ended on friendly and mutual terms, he wouldn’t give the nasty rumor mill anything to talk about.

He knows that you might be angry with him for keeping secrets so deliberately. But if there was something he never wanted to experience again, it would be watching your smile drop off your face as heard the rumors. He’d gladly let you be angry with him for whatever amount of time you wanted if it meant that he didn’t have to frantically search for you all over the school during lunch only to find you crying  in an abandoned restroom because you’d been called a demeaning word that had no place being used to describe you.

Besides, the time he’s using to wait until his relationship with Hishoko has gone its rounds in the rumor mill has been time that he’s been using to concoct a surprise for you.

So far, his plans haven’t been working.

He’s been coming home late everyday from practice and staying up well into the night due to unsuccessful attempts at baking a cake. He’s well aware that you’re a baker and that whatever mess of a cake he might be able to concoct won’t hold a candle to the cakes you can make. But he wants to let you know.

Oikawa’s well aware that his rocky past with his relationships hasn’t set a great track record and he’s noticed more than once that you seemed to be surprised anytime that he showed an inclination for trying with any of his romantic relationships. He doesn’t want you to still think that way when he confesses.

He wants you to know that for all his faults and shortcomings, he’s not going to mess up with you.

That’s why he’s sitting at lunch with yet another crumbly piece of half-scorched cake. It’s been two weeks since his first attempt at a cake, and it seems that he’s severely overestimated his own baking skills.

“That’s the fifth piece of burnt cake I’ve seen you miserably eating this week,” Iwaizumi says from beside him.

Oikawa just shrugs. “I’m trying to bake a cake for Y/N-chan. I think my oven just hates me.”

“It more than hates you if your cakes always look like that pile of shit.” A voice says from in front of Oikawa. Hanamaki is looking down at the miserable looking cake sitting in his bento box with an amused grin.

Oikawa lifts his nose arrogantly in the air. “Like you could do any better, Makki,” he crosses his arms. “You nearly burned down Y/N’s house only two weeks ago.”

Hanamaki lets out a small laugh before taking a seat across from Oikawa. Matsukawa slides in next to him.

“Yeah, but Mattsun can.”

Oikawa turns his head in Matsukawa’s direction. “Mattsun? You … know how to bake?”

Matsukawa lets out a snort. “Yeah, dipshit. Who do you think makes the brownies?”

In hindsight, Oikawa probably should have known that. Matsukawa often brings brownies for the third-years to eat after practice on their way home, but Oikawa never knew that Mattsun himself had been the one to make them. He always just assumed that his mother made them.

“Why are you making a cake for Y/N anyway? It’s not her birthday isn’t it?”

“He finally got his shit together and is planning to confess to her. I think he’s already failed,” Iwaizumi notes with a glance at the cake that looks like something Takeru would make.

“Fucking finally,” Hanamaki says a little too loud. A few heads turn to their table, but Oikawa just smiles politely at them until they have the decency to look away. Once the eyes have stopped looking in their direction, Hanamaki speaks again, this time considerably quieter than before. “Mattsun’s gonna help, isn’t that right Mattsun? Only because it’s for Y/N.”

Matsukawa rolls his eyes before mumbling a reluctant, “Fine.”

“Why does Mattsun’s look like that? Mine don’t look anything close to that.”

Oikawa’s leaning against his kitchen counter, watching with a concentrated stare as Matsukawa skillfully coats the small, round cake in fluffy, white frosting. The cake this time came out perfectly cooked and came out of the pan without falling apart. Oikawa finds himself cursing all of the half-burnt cake sitting in his fridge for not cooking properly.

Iwa snorts. “Because you’re a shit baker Oikawa.”

“Shut up Iwa-chan! My oven just hates me!”

All he gets from Iwaizumi is a chuckle and an eyeroll. Makki laughs lightly.

“Hey, ‘Kawa. You said you wanted to write something on this?” Mattsun asks as he finishes frosting the cake.

Oikawa stares at the small cake and around at the three standing in his kitchen. Suddenly the phrase he wanted to write on there sounds far more embarrassing than it did when it was only him making the cake.

“No, I didn’t,” he says.

Iwaizumi looks at him. “You’re lying.”

Oikawa’s hands come up to cross against his chest. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Hanamaki leans against the counter and sports a grin that Oikawa thinks looks far too close to a hyena. “Come on, as long you weren’t planning to write a dick joke, it can’t be that bad.”

“Makki!”

Hanamaki holds his arms up. “Hey, no need to yell, captain.”

Before Oikawa can whine out another reply, Iwaizumi reaches an arm behind him and snatches the paper that Oikawa had used to first sketch out the cake he was attempting to make. Oikawa tries to snatch it back before Iwaizumi can read it, but Iwa pulls far away from him before he can get the chance to do so.

Iwaizumi’s eyes scan the paper with a mildly amused smile on his face. When he lifts his eyes back up to meet Oikawa’s, his eyebrows are raised. “Really, Oikawa? You were going with this line?”

“Iwa-chan, be nice to me!”

Hanamaki comes up behind Iwaizumi and snatches the paper from the shorter wing-spiker.

His mouth drops open as he stares between the paper and Oikawa. “You’re a sap! You’re a fucking sap!”

Oikawa groans, already wanting to shrivel up on the floor and just sit there. Matsukawa attempts to take a peek over Hanamaki’s shoulder. “What’s it say?” His eyes skim the paper. “Ew, gross. You’re even worse when you’re aware of your feelings. You’re like a walking romance manga.”

“Mattsun shut up! It’s special to me!”

Matsukawa waves a hand at him, but there’s a smile on his face. “Yeah, yeah whatever. It’s a little cute. It’ll be hard to pipe it on though. I’ll just make one of those little toothpick banners.”

The hands that Oikawa was previously hiding his face in fall to his side. “Wait, you’re actually gonna put it on there?”

“Only because I think Y/N will like it. Knowing you, you’ll mess up the actual confession part. At least, if that happens then you can just show her the cake and maybe save your ass,” Mattsun teases.

“Do any of you have any faith in me?”

“No.”

“Iwa-chan!”

You’re wiping down a dirty table when the bakery bell chimes to indicate a new customer. Rather than a new customer however, you’re instead met with the sight of Oikawa Tooru with his hair looking more coiffed than usual and wearing an outfit that you’re sure he’d taken straight from a Pinterest aesthetic board. Coupled with the soft smile that graces his face, he looks as beautiful as ever.

“How many loaves do you want?” You ask, already mid-stride on the way to your place behind the cashier with the expectation that he’s come for another purchase of the milk bread that seems to be his holy grail.

“Actually, I’m not buying anything. I came here to pick you up,” Oikawa says.

You furrow your brow at him. “My shift doesn’t end until nine.”

Oikawa makes a flicking motion with his hand. “I already had a conversation with your boss. He said he’ll let you off early.”

That makes you pause. You vaguely remember a conversation between you and your boss nearly two months ago when you left early to pick Oikawa up from practice.

With that memory also comes the memory of what happened after you picked Oikawa up, but you will the thought out of your head.

However, since then, your boss Hada-san told you that every time you left early, you would have to be make up with overtime hours. Since then, you hadn’t left early for any of your shifts.

“How did you manage to do that?”

Oikawa flashes that grin that seems to be second-nature to him at this point, his teeth flashing brightly. “Don’t question my charm Y/N-chan.”

You raise a brow at him across the counter.

Before Oikawa can say anything else, your boss pops his head out from the kitchen with flour littering his cheeks. He looks rather cheerful for a man whose bakery is empty on what is usually one of the busier days of the week.  “Oikawa, hey! Don’t forget about tomorrow. My grandson’s practically dying to learn.”

It isn’t hard to figure out then just what Oikawa bribed your boss with. Oikawa greets the older man with a friendly smile and a promise that he’s more than excited to teach his grandson. Before Hada-san retreats behind the door, his statement of “Your boyfriend is a very lovely young man, Y/N!” makes you nearly choke on air.

You try to cover up your little malfunction by coughing into your sleeve.

“So, only your charm then?”

You swear that there’s a light redness to Oikawa’s cheeks. “Okay, maybe I promised to teach his grandson volleyball so that he can let you off early today. With pay.”

“With pay?” you gape as you look between him and the door your boss just disappeared behind. “Have I ever told you about how much I love you?”

“No, but you really should say it more often,” he says cockily at first. With a softer voice he says,”It sounds nice coming from you.”

You try to keep your face neutral. Even after everything, Oikawa’s breakup with Hishoko has only intensified your feelings for him. Especially since Hishoko herself has been bugging you about confessing to him ever since their breakup happened (though she won’t give you any other reason to do so other than just do it, trust me).

You start to strip the gloves off your hands as you say, “Alright, shut the ego up.”

“Get out of that apron then. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

Oikawa grins. “Well, you’re just gonna have to hurry up and find out aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes at the smug smile on his face before disappearing into the kitchen. At the counter, Hada-san is busy with creating a batch of cookies that will have to freeze overnight. You smile sheepishly at him when he looks up from chopping blocks of chocolate.

“That boy cares a lot about you, you know.” He lets out a chuckle. “He practically begged me to let you off early.”

You remember how he mistook Oikawa as your boyfriend earlier and shake your head at him. “We’re only friends, Hada-san. He’s just like that.”

“Friends?” He pauses his chopping once more to give you an almost incredulous look. “Really?”

You offer your boss a small smile. “Yeah. That’s all we ever are.”

He just shrugs. “You should tell him how you feel, you never know.”

“He doesn’t feel the same, it’s practically a lost cause at this point.” You try to hide the bitterness in your voice as you hang your apron up near the small rack at the far end of the kitchen.

Hada-san clicks his tongue. “Hmm, my head baker giving up? I don’t like to see that. But hey, it’s your life. Just make sure you don’t have any regrets.”

You wonder what could be so interesting about your miserable love life that even your boss is attempting to give you advice. “Of course, Hada-san.” You stop right before the door. “I should get going. I’ll see you on Monday.”

He lets out a small hum of agreement. You turn to push the door open.

“Y/N, one last thing.” You pause. Hada-san flashes you a small grin. “I think you need to look a little closer.”

“So. What’s the surprise?”

Oikawa raises an eyebrow at you. “It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, now would it Y/N-chan?”

“We’ve been walking for 20 minutes and you still jump at any mention of ‘surprise’.”

“Because it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

You groan and place you head in your hands. “I hate you,” you mumble.

“You love me.” Even though you can’t see him, you know for sure that Oikawa’s currently sporting a teasing grin on his lips.

You let your hands drop back down to your sides and your left hand brushes against Oikawa’s right hand lightly. You merely shake your head at him, already over the irony of those words. The two of you continue walking in a relatively comfortable silence.

“Okay now close your eyes,” Oikawa instructs. The two of you are standing at the edge of the park near Seijoh. Oikawa peers at you with an almost pleading look. You raise a brow at him. “Just do it,” he pleads again.

You have half a mind to pretend to refuse in closing your eyes, but Oikawa’s pleading eyes are ten times harder to resist when they turn golden under the setting sun.

“Fine,” you mumble before reluctantly letting your eyes flutter closed. You feel a larger, more calloused hand being slipped into yours and fight the urge to smile.

You let yourself be guided by the pull of Oikawa’s hand in yours and only hope that you don’t fall straight onto your face. The two of you only walk for a maximum of two minutes before you feel Oikawa’s hand starts jostling wildly as if he’s making exuberant hand motions with his other hand.

“Tooru? Can I open my eyes now?”

“No!” comes his almost panicked reply.

“Are you in any immediate danger? What’s going on?”

Instead of a reply, you feel the hand that’s intertwined with yours only move more jerkily. “I’m opening my eyes.”

Before Oikawa can even let out another high-pitched squeak, you let your eyes open.

Your mouth nearly drops open at the sight. In front of you is what looks to be a picnic blanket, a basket off to the corner, three guilty-looking Seijoh third-years, and one cake collapsed into two pieces on the picnic blanket.

“Makki? Mattsun? Iwa? ‘Kawa, what’s all this?”

“Y/N-chan, please avert your eyes. I’m about to commit three murders.” Oikawa briefly turns his head to you and sends you an exaggerated grin before directing a glare in the direction of Makki, Mattsun, and Iwa. “Please tell Coach that he will have to find a few new players for the team.”

You blink between him and the three figures staring sheepishly at the both of you.

Makki’s eyes switch between the ruined cake and you. “Surprise?”

Oikawa’s hand slips from yours as he places his head in his hands and groans. You’re left to stare at the three on the picnic blanket and at the cake laying in pieces on the ground. From it you can see vanilla cake, white frosting, and strawberries. Your baker’s instinct cringes at the fact that a perfectly good cake went to waste.

Iwaizumi clears his throat. You’re surprised that even he looks a little guilty. “Uh, I’m just gonna … take these two dumbasses away. You two … figure shit out.” His eyes flick to Oikawa. “Good luck.”

You watch as Iwaizumi drags Makki and Mattsun away from the picnic blanket. From where you’re standing, you can already see that an argument has started between them.

A sigh from besides you catches your attention. You turn to look at Oikawa to find him staring at the picnic blanket with hands on his hips and a frown on his face.

“Tooru? What’s going on?”

Oikawa’s frown only deepens. “This was meant to be the way that I confess to you.”

You swear that your heart stops beating. For a second, you almost panic at the very real possibility that your heart actually stopped.

“Confess … confess what?”

“I think you’re plenty smart enough to figure it out, Y/N-chan.”

If a brain could actually sputter and malfunction like a broken car, you’d say that your brain came pretty close to doing so. He’s right. You’re plenty smart and have been in enough relationships to understand what he’s implying.

But that doesn’t mean that it feels real.

You pause. “But … you don’t like me like that.” The statement is more for your own head to get a grip rather than an actual response to Oikawa. It’s hard to erase the constant nagging insecurity you have when it comes to him ever reciprocating your feelings.

“You don’t actually believe that do you?” Oikawa’s voice is mildly panicked.

“But Hishoko-”

“We broke up because I realized my feelings for you.”

You stare at him. “But. You like me? That doesn’t-”

Oikawa turns so that his body is completely angled toward you. Whatever ending you had for your sentence dies on your lips when that smile that’s only slightly upturned makes its way onto his lips and he says, “I’m in love with you, Y/N-chan.”

Your breathing stops for just a moment. Your lips part in surprise.

“You’re … in love with me?”

Oikawa looks at you like you’ve just said the most obvious thing in the world. “I called you at 3 A.M every night without fail even when I had a girlfriend that I could be talking to.”

“We always did that.” You shake your head. “Maybe not every night, but you still called sometimes.”

The tips of Oikawa’s small smile perk upwards the slightest bit. “I did it because your voice was the only thing that calmed me down enough that I could finally sleep.”

“Really?” You feel your mouth go dry.

Oikawa shakes his head and lets out a little chuckle. “I spent two weeks trying and failing to bake a cake while potentially almost burning my oven because I wanted this to be special. I even had this whole paper mapped out with how I would decorate it.” He pauses. “I think I was a little over my head with that.”

His gaze falls on the ruined cake that’s laying on the checkered picnic blanket. “We were supposed to have this cute little picnic that I read about on the internet and you’d forget that you were slightly mad at me for keeping secrets from you and then I’d slice a piece of cake for you. There’s even a little banner on the cake that Mattsun helped me make. I hoped that somewhere along the way, I’d figure out how to do the actual confessing stuff. But then we got here and apparently some kid ran into Makki while he was holding the cake and really Mattsun made most of the cake, but we were all really proud of it and now the cake’s a mess.”

A pout finds its way onto Oikawa’s lips and you get the urge to kiss it off his mouth. You shake your head and focus instead on what he just said.

“All of that … for me?”

“What part of ‘I’m in love with you’ did you not understand Y/N-chan?” Oikawa chuckles lightly. “Oh, this might be a good time to show you what the cake was supposed to tell you. I think you’ll like it. It might just be my favorite quote of all time. The author was a genius.”

He walks to the fallen cake and bends down to sift through the remains. He calls you over when he seems to have found it. When you bend down next to him, you see that he’s pointing to one of those little banner things that you’ve stuck into cupcakes denoting ‘it’s a girl!’ multiple times. But what’s written on this banner isn’t “it’s a girl”. Instead, it reads “I mildly like you more than like.”

“You remembered me saying that?”

Oikawa turns his head to look at you. The combination of the look in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips nearly knocks the wind out of you. It does so because it’s not any different from how he’s always looked at you. You always believed that you would never get to be privy to Oikawa ever looking at you with love in his eyes and yet, he’s done it all this time.

“Take a look around you Y/N-chan,” Oikawa whispers. He shifts his gaze upwards. “Look at the tree we’re at.”

You stand. In front of you is the tree you pulled Oikawa against when you kissed him.

“I can’t believe you remembered that.”

Oikawa stares at the tree fondly. It’s almost as if he’s reliving the memory. “That kiss quite literally turned my entire life upside down. I would never forget the moment I first started to realize that I was in love with you.”

“So something did change because of that kiss? I didn’t imagine it?”

A chuckle escapes Oikawa’s lips. “If you mean that you sent my thoughts spiralling into overdrive, then yeah, I guess you could say something changed.”

You stay silent, your thoughts buzzing. You’re not questioning it anymore - he’s in love with you.

“Y/N-chan?”

You turn to gaze at him. He’s here and he’s proclaiming to you what you’ve wanted for so long.

“Kiss me.”

Oikawa’s reaction is almost synonymous to the reaction you had when he first asked you to kiss him to get rid of those girls. “What?”

For the first time since he began confessing, you smile up at him. “You know, cause if you do, you’d know that I might be a little bit in love with you too.”

Oikawa looks as if he might be frozen in place. His eyes are wide as he blinks at you.

“So? Are you going to do it or not?”

He shakes his head and seems to be moving with reality again. With a step towards you, he gently cups your jaw and tips his mouth down to yours.

His other hand comes down to hold your waist with light fingers, sending a shiver up your spine. Your hands come up to rest against his chest. Oikawa smiles against your lips when he notices the reaction he elicited from you.

This kiss is softer that the kiss you two shared before, but you can feel every single word that came from Oikawa’s mouth about his love for you being reinforced with the way his lips move gently against yours. The action is still dizzying to you, as if his lips are lined with something addicting. You’re more than willing to get lost in it.

Oikawa’s the first to pull away. When you open your eyes, his gaze still hovers lightly over your features warmly. His thumb stays situated at your jaw, moving in circular movements. You can’t help the grin that makes its way onto your face. “So, how was it? Any plans to get a girlfriend in approximately two weeks time without telling me?”

A laugh escapes his lips at that - a melodic sound that you want to bottle up. “No, but I do have plans on getting a girlfriend in approximately two seconds. I think she might say yes.”

“I feel incredibly sorry for said girl.”

Oikawa gasps in a playful manner. “Y/N-chan!”

You roll your eyes, but the widening grin on your face ruins the act. “Yes, I will take on the burden of being the person that’s liable to be annoyed by you 24 hours a day.”

Oikawa pouts, looking much like a child and a dog all in one.

“Don’t make that face.”

“You’re mean,” Oikawa huffs. You let out a laugh. “Tell me that you love me and maybe I’ll reconsider crying in the middle of this park.”

Oikawa turns his head upwards pettily, eliciting another chuckle from you. “I’ll do you one better.” You bend down and pick up the banner from the cake and hold it up to Oikawa with a grin.

Oikawa still doesn’t budge. In fact, he only tightens his crossed arms and holds his head so high that you start to wonder if his neck is doing okay.

An idea pops into your head as you stare down at the small banner written in Oikawa’s handwriting. The banner is still attached to a chunk of cake.

With a grin, you take the bit of cake stuck to the bottom of the banner insert and smear it onto Oikawa’s lips. His reaction is instantaneous.

“Y/N-chan!” His mouth falls open in shock. You laugh heartily at the way his mouth is now covered in frosting and cake crumbles. Oikawa flashes a competitive smile in your direction. “Oh no. You don’t get to get away with that.” Your laughter stops.

You see him pick up a bit of cake and set his eyes on you before you get the mind to start running. You know that this game of tag is gonna be a game that you lose because his legs are much longer than yours, but you run anyway. You’re only able to run a few feet when Oikawa’s hands come to snatch you at the waist.

You wriggle in his grasp as he smears the cake onto your mouth. The sweet taste of buttercram frosting enters your tastebuds and you get the random thought that this cake is delicious pops into your head.

The two of you laugh as your hands wrap around his neck and your head comes to rest on his chest, the fabric of his clothing muffling your laughter. His arms are wrapped around the small of your back. You wonder what you two must look like to onlookers at the moment.

With a final laugh, you look up at Oikawa. He’s still laughing, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that he’s yours now. This Oikawa - the one that can’t bake for shit, that one that calls you at ungodly hours in the night, the one that gently strokes your jaw as his lips move against your own - is now yours.

His face is gorgeous as it contorts into a laugh that makes him tip his head backwards. And as the sun perfectly encapsulates his features in a golden light, you’re reminded that you’re sickeningly in love with this boy standing in front of you.

When his laughing stops and his gaze turns back to you, you don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his neck and pull his mouth down to yours.

This time, he tastes like frosting and vanilla cake.

taglist: @bumbledunce @angelkogane @waitforitillwritemywayout​ @mrsbakug0u @salty4tsukki​ @ppangiiroo @pharvhs​ @haksblade @whosmorales​ @yoitsseulgi​ @seijohreign​ @intheawks​ @smellssharpies​ @my-neighbor-todoro​ @fightcalum @yatoatyourservice​ @woo-youngs  @fandomlover-universe​ @cowward​ @iwaizoom​ @keitsukki11​ @airheadpillar​ @hockeycoaching​ @catchmeb-r-awling​ @gudetamalifestyle​ @starryhyun​ @babbykawa​ @chickentendo315 @bettys-other-shoe​ @darkshadowsofmetbh @anseoo​ @daydr3am3s @saucyleftovers​ @cleopatera​ @introvertatitsfinest​ @ughxghoul​ @smellssharpies​

AHH that’s a wrap! i hope the ending was satisfactory and i would love to hear what you guys thought about the last chapter!

[germvity]

RISES THE MOON

leon s kennedy x reader // 5 // blue blood

the officer sighs, keeping you close as he slowly starts to settle himself. eventually, leon falls asleep himself, rolling over with you so you were between him and the wall of the shack. you mumble incoherently at the movement, eyelids fluttering as you stir. yet, leon's deep breathing and soothing heartbeat makes you fall asleep once more.

genre: angst with fluff

tags: nemesis 👺, he's stinky, david being a bully 2.0, leon being a sweetheart, he cares, jill being a good friend <3, might rewrite this chapter maybe bc i just know im gonna skip a few paragraphs to get this out a bit earlier :(

warnings: bullying, hitting/beatings, crying, confession swerves, mild heartbreak bc i hate myself </3

tag list <3

@trinswhimsys , @hex-touchstarved (ily mutual <3)

---

you woke up with a harsh headache and no recollection of what happened the night before, tears stinging your eyes as you crouch down to work on the dirty generator in front of you. the wires singed your fingertips, and you hiss, pulling away right as the generator let out a skull splitting bang. your head ached as your heartbeat picked up, and you darted from the machine and into the gas station with nemesis now hot on your tail. "fuck.." you whine, just your luck that he would be on you first. you throw down a pallet with urgency, gasping as his tentacle slashes a deep infection into you. you splutter, blue blood oozing down your body as you cough into your arm. vaulting the window was easy, but unfortunately the killer's appendage is much longer than you thought as it whips your back, leaving behind a nasty gash.

fortunately, a pallet was nestled between two cars and you ran for it, managing to stun the greedy monster before scrambling to safety. "fuck.." you whine, coughing up some blue sludge as you quickly hide in your surroundings. the nemesis walks past you angrily, storming away and leaving you for a moments peace. you spot a white box's aura nearby, and it beckoned you over the the feeling of safety. you round the corner and see it sat there, and crouch down to snap the flimsy lock. you raise the vial carefully out of the foam in the case, sighing in relief before a rough hand snatches the scruff of your shirt. you yelp in surprise as david throws you to the ground, the vaccine rolls away from you and you reach for it. "you fucker! i never lose a fight!" david roars, kicking your stomach firmly. you cry out in pain, curling up into a tight ball to try and avoid david hitting any vulnerable spots. "i hate you! i hate you so much..!" the fighter continues, but now crouches down to pull you from your protective position. he punches you roughly and you wail in pain as blood bursts from your nose.

"leon!" you scream, hoping he was in this trial to help you. "leon! help me!" you cry out again, and david's cruel laughter finds your ears. "that pretty boy isn't here." he grins, giving you another punch before a pair of hands grab him. "what the-?!" the zombie cuts him off, teeth piercing david's neck as he screams in agony. the fighter scrambles away, and the zombie ignores you to follow him. "hello? i heard screaming." a new voice intrudes, and jill peaks around the corner. "jesus- what happened?" she rushes over to you as you reach for her weakly. "david... he's so mean." you cry, letting her pull you close as she hugs you tightly. "come on, let's get you somewhere safe." she offers a sad smile, pulling you up carefully.

jill patches you up firmly and cured you, she let you follow her around for the trial, pointing out totems and chests for you to work on whilst she pumped out gens. ash gave your hair an affectionate ruffle in passing, but he was always more of a lone wolf, so he left quickly to distract nemesis. the rest of the trial went bad quickly. david was mori'd, ash died on hook and jill was gravely injured as well as dead on hook by the time the last generator was powered up.

with noed rampant in the end, and the gates blocked by the entity, you and jill stayed hidden behind a pile of crushed cars as the nemesis patrolled the gates carefully. "fuck... what are we gonna do?" you whimper, looking at jill. "i have an idea. i saw hatch earlier, we can find a key." jill gives you a smile, "but all the chests are open?" you remind her, and she shrugs. "no matter, elodie taught me how to look thoroughly." she pulls you along, and you have no choice but to follow. the chest you two found had a broken key in it, and jill tossed it away to start rummaging. "aha!" she beams, tossing a skeleton key into the air and catching it as she offers you her other hand. "c'mon, let's get out of here." she says, and you take her hand.

the two of you run past the undead, past nemesis who caught wind of your scratch marks and started following, stopping at the hatch. jill leans down, unlocking the door quickly as you turn to see nemesis approaching way too quick for your liking. "c'mon, move it!" she yells, pushing you down into the void and jumping in after you. the trap door slams shut, cutting off any light as the two of you fall into the thick smoke.

you regenerate abruptly, catching yourself but still falling when jill is thrown onto you. she wraps her arms around her waist and steadies the two of you quickly, mumbling an apology as she lets go of you. "it's okay.." you reply, letting her lead you to your shack. "leon's probably waiting, c'mon." jill yawns, spotting the blonde who was indeed waiting at your door. his eyes scan the tree line, searching for you. "leon!" you call, and his eyes brighten at the sight of you and jill. "y/n! are you okay?" he runs over to meet you half way, letting you hug him tightly. "be careful, they've had a rough trial." jill says sternly, and leon nods. "thanks for looking after them, jill." he smiles, and jill nods before walking away.

"come on then, let's get you rested." leon says, but freezes when he sees the bruises on your face, "oh, what happened?" he cups your face carefully, analysing you for any signs of a concussion. "david got me... he's really mad." you sigh, melting into his touch. "that fucker... he'll get what's coming to him." leon growls, pulling you into a tight and safe hug. "can we go inside?" you ask quietly, and he nods. "of course, c'mon."

you feel safe with leon, and relax more as you enter your practically shared home. leon turns away as he lets you get changed into some more comfy and cleaner clothes, taking off his bullet proof vest and putting it in its usual spot against the wall. you flop down on your bed with a huff, the blanket feels so welcoming as leon sits next to you. you rest your head on his thigh, letting him gently stroke your cheek as you close your eyes. "you feel any better?" he asks softly, and you nod. "good. just relax, yeah?" leon smiles, leaning back against your wall as he gets comfy.

you move from his lap and smile at him. "lay down with me?" you ask, and leon chuckles. "sure." he says, joining you and letting you cuddle into him. "leon?" you mumble softly, resting your head on his chest. "yeah?" he responds immediately, rubbing your back. "thank you for doing this for me... i don't deserve you." you smile sadly and leon huffs. "don't say that. you deserve the world." the blonde says firmly, moving so you would look at him. "i like you a lot, y/n." he admits yet you just smile. "i like you too." you reply, and leon's heart tightens as he realises you're unaware of his meaning. "i like you, so much more than i should.." he whispers and you process his words.

"wait... like that or am i reading into this too much..?" you ask sheepishly and leon nods, "like that." he confirms and you look away to think. "y/n..?" he whispers, desperate for any response. "i'm sorry... i can't... i don't wanna lose you or get hurt." you reply, voice also just above a whisper. "that's fine." leon smiles to hide the pain he felt. "i'm sorry..." you say again, holding him close. "it's alright, i don't mind." leon lies, his heart burning with sorrow. "just get some sleep, y/n." he says, holding you as if you would melt away if you let go.

"are you okay?" you ask softly, hands rubbing his back. "yeah, i'm completely fine." leon replies, ignoring the strain in his voice. "no you're not... i'm so sorry..." you whisper, feeling your own tears starting to well up. "don't cry, it's fine." leon smiles, wiping your face for you. "i'm so sorry, leon.. i just don't want to get hurt." you say, nestling your head into his neck. "i know, i know.. let's change the subject now until you fall asleep." he sighs.

soon enough the two of you are talking again, and leon almost forgets the rejection until you doze off. "as long as you're okay..." he whispers to himself as he brushes fallen hair from your face. "i couldn't care less about my own feelings." he smiles, tears stinging his eyes as he pulls you into his chest.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Russian Roulette

Pairing: Sally McKenna x Fem Reader

Requested by anon “sally x reader with the prompt 2, 3, 9, 10, 15, 44 from angst but with a happy ending”

A/N: this one’s a bit chaotic and messy, but I wanted it to be, because so is Sally (I’m sorry anon I didn’t use one of the prompts, but I couldn’t make it fit with the rest of the story. I hope you’ll like it all the same). x

Word count: ~ 3 000

Warning: swearing, not the healthiest of relationships, English isn’t my first language

The Hotel Cortez had eyes. Of that you had always been convinced. The walls could see and they did not avert their gaze when lovers made love or when lovers broke each other’s heart.

You had whispered that to Sally one night, and she had nodded in agreement. Taken a drag on her cigarette, said the whole place was a fucking hamster wheel. But unlike hamsters, human beings were aware of being trapped, she had said, with a sad laugh and wiping at the tears that fell from her eyes (sometimes she would even cry in her sleep).

Liz – the ghost of Liz, still reading a book behind the counter, still so ridiculously faithful to the hotel – raised her head at the sound of your footsteps and peered at you over the rim of her glasses. You walked past her without as much as a glance her way. You didn’t care for reproaches right now. At least not from her.

You stepped into the elevator and waited for the heavy doors to close. Leaned your back against the wall, closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The elevator began to move. You opened your eyes again.

It was here, with her arms folded on her chest and her leopard coat sliding down her shoulders, mascara smeared, lips painted red and her breath stinking of cigarette, that Sally had stared at you and barked, “What am I in your life? Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.”

And you had been mad at her, so you had shrugged, toed at the ground in silence. Sally had blown smoke in your face, but that didn’t make you cough anymore. You had shot her an angry look as the doors of the elevator had opened, and she had tried to stop you but you had pushed past her with your suitcases in your hands and stormed into the hall, as the walls with their eyes had watched and frowned.

“Don’t be an asshole, Y/N, “Sally had called after you. Behind the counter the ghost of Liz had raised her head at the sound of your footsteps and peered at you over the rim of her glasses. “Fucking fuck Y/N I swear if you take one step out of this godforsaken rat hole I will come after you I will haunt you I will – “

The doors of the elevator opened with a ding. You jumped, straightened your shoulders and stared at the long, empty corridor in front of you. Silence. Only silence. It wasn’t even that late. Where was everyone? The clients? The staff? The ghosts were always so loud. They were mad, so, so angry, screaming and yelling and laughing and crying and stabbing and murdering. The place was too quiet.

On auto-pilot you walked to Sally’s room, knocked on the door, waited, frowned as an old man opened the door and asked you something in a foreign language. You raised one hand apologetically and turned on your heel. Where was she? The walls were sneering. They were mocking you. Run, run, little mouse.

You rushed down the stairs, down an empty corridor, into the bar. And of course – that’s where you should have headed first. For here she was.

She was sitting at the counter with her back to you, in a black velvet dress, shoulders slumped as always. It had been more than a year and a half and yet you remembered everything about her, as if she had haunted you indeed as she had threatened to: the way she walked, like a funambulist on a tightrope, the way her lips would close around her cigarette and how it would bob as she spoke. You remembered the exact shape of the tattoo on the nape of her neck, the exact way her tongue would dart out to lick your face like a hungry, faithful dog. Those greedy, nervous fingers of hers had lingered on your skin and you had been able to feel her touch everywhere and whenever, in the night, in the blazing sun, in the heart of a storm.

For a moment you stood as if frozen watching her. Wondering if you were really about to do the right thing. But then your feet were moving and you carefully sat on the stool next to hers.

“Long time no see, pumpkin,” you teased.

She jumped and turned her head to face you.

Her face still looked exactly the same. Time had altered the shape of your features, but hers were just as you remembered them. Her eyes were still like a dark sun, and they still made the water on her cheeks glint.

Her fingers closed around her glass of whisky like pale spider legs and her lips parted in surprise. You folded your arms on the counter and pressed them against your chest as you shot her a slightly sheepish smile.

And then her anger exploded like a bomb.

You barely managed to dodge her fist as she threw a punch in the general direction of your face. She lost her balance on her stool, almost fell, then with one hand gripping the counter for support she made to throw herself at you, but you pushed her away from you. She slammed into the counter, rounded her shoulders and bared her teeth.

“That’s not exactly what I call a warm welcome,” you hissed.

“Fuck off,” she growled, as she wriggled back up on her stool. Her hand closed around her glass again.

None of you spoke for a long time. Sally stared at her glass. You stared at her. Your fingers were shaking, so you folded them on the counter. A different you, a younger you, would have run away in fear and never come back. You had always wanted a love that was sweet and soft and easy. Sleepy morning kisses to the sound of birds singing outside in the sun. But that was before you had met Sally. Before you had opened Pandora’s box. You had bitten into a rotten fruit and the poison had seeped into your veins and now there was no going back.

You wanted her, and her only. It had taken so long for you to figure that out. You had run away from her, abandoned her with barely any second thoughts, and for a few days it had felt like freedom. Like finally waking up from a nightmare. Sheets soaked with sweat, pillow on the floor. But one morning you had stepped out of the shower and suddenly become aware of the ache in your chest that tasted like her mouth and smelled like her skin. You had tried to ignore it, but it simply would not disappear. It grew, like cancer.

So now that you knew what living without her felt like, nothing could convince you to leave again.  

“You stink of cigarettes and booze,” you remarked after a while.

“Shut the fuck up,” she snarled without looking at you.

You waited. Studied her face, followed the glistening trail yet another tear left on her cheek.

“You started drinking again, didn’t you?” you asked. There was no reproach in your voice. Just a casual observation.

Sally let out a mirthless laugh.”Yes, well, you noticed,” she said, voice raspy, gravel in the back of her throat.

“You promised you would stop drinking,” you said.

“And you,” she replied, an angry growl, but her voice broke on the last few words, “you promised you wouldn’t hurt me.” She laughed again, raised her glass. “So, let’s drink a toast to broken promises.” She downed her glass, slammed it onto the counter. “Fucking promises,” she hissed. “Do people really ever mean them?”

“They do,” you nodded.

She glanced sideways at you. “Oh, shut up. What the fuck do you know about it? Plenty of assholes lied to me, but you were the only one who didn’t have the decency not to promise me forever.”

“I never promised you forever,” you retorted, anger rising in your throat.

“Oh you sure did,” Sally growled, straightening in her seat. “You told me, plenty of times, that you’d never leave me, that you’d always be by my side, that you – “

“I didn’t realize it would mean being stuck in this hotel for the rest of my life!” you cried.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before!” Sally cried louder. Two tears dropped from her eyes, and she angrily wiped them away.

“Did you even miss me?” she went on, voice quavering. “Did you even think about me?”

“Of course I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

That was the truth. Not only had you carried her in your chest, but you had seen her in every landscape, found her in every song and read her in every book. People had smiled and you had seen her smile instead of theirs.

“But I had to see the world, Sally,” you went on in a softer voice. She scoffed. “What?” you growled. “I know you’d rather I had killed myself and stayed with you, but I can’t – “

“I never asked that of you,” she said.

“Now you are the liar.”

She shot you an angry look, then averted her gaze and stared at her empty glass. For a long moment there was only silence.

“There’s a man in your room,” you said eventually.

“Yes. I got a new room.” She sniffled, wiped her nose on the back of her hand.”The old one reminded me of you.”

Of course you’d known she would miss you; but you hadn’t thought she would miss you that much. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, really. She was an addict, Sally, had always been. First it had been drugs, then the internet, then you, then alcohol; whatever helped her feed that bottomless hole of need that was her mind.  

She reached for the bottle of whisky on the counter, but you caught her wrist and held it.

“I think you’ve had enough,” you said gently.

She tried to free herself; you tightened your grip.

“Let go of me, Y/N,” she growled between her teeth.

“I don’t think I will,” you retorted, as gently as before.

Your thumb started stroking the inside of her wrist, tracing the outline of her tattoo; for a few seconds she froze, and her eyes widened slightly and you thought that you had won her, easy as that – that a simple caress could be enough to pacify her wrath. But then she yanked her wrist free, jumped on her feet, grabbed the bottle of whisky and ran towards the elevator.

“Sally!” you called as you sprinted after her.

She gave a furious cry, tripped on nothing; you caught up with her, laid one hand on her shoulder. With her teeth bared she threw the bottle at you. You managed to dodge it at the last second: it crashed on the floor and you both watched, as if transfixed, as the thick carpet slowly soaked up the golden liquid.

Sally gave you a shove and walked away down the corridor. You followed her.

“Leave me alone, Y/N!” she cried over her shoulder.

“I won’t,” you said.

She turned on her heel, shook one finger at you. Her cheeks were flushed with anger or alcohol, you didn’t know.

“Why did you come back anyway?” she snarled. “Uh? Let me guess, you spent every damned penny you owned and now you need a place to sleep?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” You gave her a smile, saw the fury glint in her eyes. “I’m completely broke.” You shrugged, assumed a causal expression again. “I went to all the places I wanted to see and did all the things I dreamt of doing. I guess it was a kind of test. I wanted to know whether they could make me forget you.”

Sally blinked in surprise. For a moment she seemed at a loss for words; then she gritted her teeth and hissed, “Bullshit.”

You shrugged again. “If they had, I wouldn’t have come back,” you said slowly, staring into her eyes.

Her mouth opened, closed again; tears dropped from her eyes. You reached out to wipe them, but she swatted your hand away and once again stumbled towards the elevator.

And once again you followed her.

She reached the elevator, pressed angrily on the button. You leaned against the doors and watched her. She pretended not to see you, then turned abruptly and snarled, “Why are you still here? You can go back to motherfucking Greece or Italy for all I care. I don’t want you here.”

“Oh pumpkin,” you quipped, “we both know you’ll take me back.”

The elevator doors opened with a ding.

“You have no right,” Sally’s voice broke, her face crumpling, “to just waltz back into my life after all the pain you’ve caused! You fucking left me!”

She rushed into the elevator, and for the first time you felt nervous. What if she meant it? What if she really didn’t want you back, what if she had learnt how to live without you? You had thought she wouldn’t, thought she couldn’t. But Sally was fierce, Sally was stubborn. But then again, Sally was starving for love. It didn’t even matter who it was; she would fall for anyone who looked at her fondly.

You slipped between the elevator doors before they had time to close.

“And you,” you said to Sally, voice growing angry again, “you had no right to ask me to sacrifice my life for you. It had to be my choice. And I had to leave in order to make it. But now I’m back.” Something changed in her eyes. Something softened, like night subsiding to gentle morning light, as understanding dawned on her. “I choose to sacrifice my life for you.”

Your voice broke. You shook your head, closing your eyes to hold back the tears you could feel burning under your eyelids. “If that can’t prove my love for you, then I don’t know what can.”

She didn’t answer. You opened your eyes. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she stared at you, eyes as black as coal, tears coating her face. You didn’t say anything more. She didn’t either.

With another ding the elevator doors opened on an empty corridor. Sally stumbled out, bumping her shoulder into yours, and stopped in front of the second door on the left. With one hand on the handle she stared at you, lower lip still trapped between her teeth. It took you a second too long. The doors of the elevator were already closing.

She had called you on your cell phone the day after you’d left. You hadn’t been able to understand her first few sentences for she had been choking on sobs, her throat full of bits of broken glass, but then you had made out her words when she had demanded where you were and come back at once and she would fucking kill you if you didn’t come back at once. You had hung up on her, hung up on the mess, and your phone had rung again and Sally’s voice had screamed something that sounded like “Did I ever mean anything to you or were you a fucking liar since day one” and something else that ended with “you bitch”.

“Leave me alone,” you had growled, and when your phone had rung again you had thrown it out the window.

Now the bits of broken glass were back in her throat as she let out a groan and threw herself at the elevator doors to prevent them from closing. But she was a second too late. You cursed, slammed the button to open the doors – ding, and then Sally was in your arms and her tears and spit were on your face.

It was a blur of blond hair and red lips and the taste of salt and alcohol, it was all a mess and all too harsh – you pinned her against the wall as her hands desperately roamed and tugged and pinched. Fingers pulling on your hair, fingers kneading your ass. You bit her lip and tasted blood.  

And as she panted into your mouth you pressed her against your chest and felt her warmth slowly soothe that ache that tasted like her mouth and smelled like her skin.

“Mine,” she growled, or maybe sobbed. Her tongue darted out and licked up your cheek, collecting tears you had not even noticed were falling. “How I hated you,” she went on, voice breaking, “I could have killed myself if I hadn’t been already dead.”

You groaned, clasped her head between your hands and crashed your lips against hers.

“Mine,” she repeated. Her teeth sank into your tongue, and this time it was your blood that flowed into both your mouths, as if to seal a pact.

**

“Hold me,” she rasped in the dark, as if your body wasn’t already tangled with hers. Her tongue licked up your neck, hot and wet. You tightened your grip on her, one hand tugging on her hair and the other digging into her back.

“How many did you fuck while you were away?” Sally sobbed. With a groan you tilted your head to capture her lips with yours.

“Shut up,” you moaned into her mouth. She bit your tongue, somehow right on the wound she had made earlier, and you pulled away with a hiss of pain.

You rolled her on her back and kissed her again as another sob pushed out of her throat. “Are you going to leave again?” she whined, raking her fingers through your hair, tugging and pulling and making your skull sting.

“Never,” you groaned. “I told you.”

“So we’re staying trapped in here forever?”

“Together,” you rasped, burying your face so deeply into her chest that the eyes in the walls could no longer see you, only Sally’s face as it crumpled with despair and then her brow pushed up and it brightened with rapture. “Forever.”

[purefrostbyte]

Bakugo - My Queen (Part 2)

Bakugo 

Rating Smut

My Queen (Part 2)

Part 1

You rode on Kirishima's back as you made your way to  Bakugo, you were slightly worried from what the two dragons had told you. When you landed you slid off Kiri with grace , the whole castle staff staring at you. Kiri and Mina turned back and a blonde with a lightning streak in his hair ran up to them, "Dude Bakugo is going insane, where have you been?" Kirishima looked over to you, you were staring at the castle sensing Bakugo's anger. "Evacuate the castle," you spoke, you voice laced with authority. The staff stared at you before turning to Kirishima for confirmation. "You heard The Queen," Kirishima yelled, and everyone started leaving while whispering in awe at what Kiri had called you. 

You took a deep breath, knowing what you were going to need to do. "You need us to walk you in?" Kirishima asked, he was worried he didn't know what Bakugo would do to you in his current state. "I'll be fine by myself," you said and you started up the stairs to the double doors leading into the castle. 

The whole lobby was wrecked, as if a monster had torn through here. You followed the trail of destruction and growling, hand trailing the wall as you walked. You ascend up two flight of stairs, the sound of growling and the ripping of things leading you. You found yourself in a dark corridor, curtains ripped and decorations broken across the floor. You were carefully about where you walked, not wanting to get bits of glass or vase in your bare feet. 

You now stood in front of a lavish door, decorated in gold and jewels, and also happened to be slightly open. You pushed the door open further walking in quietly. The room was a bedroom, picture frames and vase pieces littered the floor. Your eye caught a familiar red cape, you didn't see Bakugo though. You walked over to it, picking it up and breathing in his scent. He smelt of caramel. 

You were stood grabbed roughly, pinned to a nearby wall by a feral Bakugo. His eyes were red, golden scales dotted his scales in random sections, a tail had emerged from his back and two wings adorned his back. He still wore your necklace, your hands trailing his chest to take it in your hands. You looked up at him, clenching your thighs together as a result. He had a feral and lustful look in his eyes, fangs showing as if he was going to bite you. 

He did, sharp teeth sinking into soft flesh. Blood dulling his mouth and a moan escaping yours. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he started biting around your neck, not caring how rough or hard he bit. You didn't stop him, knowing you could make things worse if you did. "You left," he growled, anger eminent in his voice, "You fucking LEFT!!!!" He punched the wall by your head, but you didn't flinch. Instead you reached your hands out to cup his face, trailing soft kisses down his jaw, "I'm sorry." 

Your words and actions filled him with a sense of calm, even if he was still angry you had calmed him down slightly. "You're not leaving," He growled, "Won't allow it." you bit you lip, and he pulled you closer to his body. "Mine," he growled deeply, "Mine, Mine, Mine, MINE!" he slammed you into the wall, picking you up by the thighs and pinning you painfully against him and the wall. "Say it," he growled, "Say your mine, say you won't leave again." 

He slammed you into the wall again causing you to scream, "I'M YOURS, I WON'T LEAVE I'M YOURS." The grin he gave was feral, like a hunter with his prey, a dragon with his treasure. "That's right," he smirked, moving over to drop you on the plush bed, it was the only thing not destroyed. "Your mine, all mine," he crawled over you, hovering just about your face, "And I'll make sure this body of yours knows it's." He took his hand, claws glistening in the light as he tore you dress to pieces.

Good thing you didn't like that dress. 

He worked hastily at his pants, pulling them down and throwing them far away. He was huge, and you knew he was too far gone to prep you. You knew what was coming. 

He trusted straight into your, groaning as your walls stretched around him. The scream that left your mouth made him stop. He watched as you covered you face with your arms, smelling as tears leaked down your face. He had hurt you. 

He bent down and pulled your arms away to confirm his thoughts, you were indeed crying. He kisses the tears away, peppering your skin in soft kisses to detract you. When your breathing evened out and you were only sniffing he started to move. He was slow, he wanted to ravish you but he also didn't want to hurt you. His thrusts built up speed when you started moaning lowly, picking up pace to hear you scream again this time from pleasure. 

He snapped his hips with purpose, he was gonna make you feel good. Make you feel so good that you would always stay with him. Your mind was hazy, the Dragon above you made your head spin. You couldn't think straight and could formulate words. So when that delicious knot in your stomach tighten and was about to burst, you thrashed around to try and warn him. 

He grinned at your body, enjoying how you thrashed and withered for him, "Come on, Cum for me." His words sent you over the edge, back arching in an inhumane position as Bakugo fucked you through your high.

Your walls squeezed him beautifully, he wanted to stay in you all the time. One good thrust and a well time squeeze firm your core and Bakugo was cumming, groaning at his release. He pulled out, eyes becoming more human as his dragon side let him take control again.

When he was fully in control he turned to see you panting next to him, hair sprawled out around your head in a way that resembled a crown. He smirked, tucking a stray strand behind your ear, "What I beautiful queen," he whispered, causing you to shift your attention to him. You didn't care who was in control, as long as it was him. "How are you feeling?" you asked causing him to snicker. "I just wrecked you and I'm your concern?" you simply nod. "Kirishima said you had gone crazy as soon as you got back to the castle. Breaking things and fighting people," you pause when you see guilt flash through Bakugo's eyes, "I just want to know your ok." 

You cupped his face and he sighed, leaning into your touch. "I'm fine… My Queen."

Taglist:

@bakugous-bakahoe​ @inumorph​ @bloodnroses6303​ @honneymusterd​ @lovebytes1191-blog​

[yugirl]

Day 18: “This Wasn’t in the Rule Book.”

Crossovers, coffee shops, and canon divergence collide today in the wonderful world of AU! Go nuts.

((Magical girl au? Magical girl au! @pridewhatpride my love?? This is for you!))

~~~~~~~~~

I gritted my teeth and looked up with fear and dread. It was no use… the Light of Destruction was so strong and so powerful.

Jaden was struggling to get up; Bastion was struggling to breathe; Jesse couldn’t move.

But… I couldn’t let it end like this…

“Yellow… Green… Black…” I whispered. My spirit partners appeared and looked in concern.

“What are you gonna do, boss…?!” Yellow squeaked.

“I’m going to keep fighting with everything I have… but I understand if you three don’t… if you want to run… now’s your chance….”

Jaden seemed to see what I was doing and summoned Winged Kuriboh.

“Chazz is right… just because we’re going to keep fighting doesn’t mean you guys have to… so if you want to get out of here, then go….”

Bastion grunted, “there’s no need for you to put yourself at risk if you don’t want to Pikeru… go….”

Jesse looked at the Crystal Beasts. “I’m with them… you’ve all been by my side from start to finish, but I want you to be safe….”

“YOU'RE INSANE!!” Yellow squawked.

“Huh?”

“Sure, I may be a scaredy-cat, but I’m not backing down when we’re this close to the finish line!!”

Green nodded in agreement. “Yeah!! If you’re gonna keep fighting, boss, then we are too!!”

“That’s right!! Brothers stick together!!” Black added.

I couldn’t help but smile “thanks, you guys….”

Winged Kuriboh seemed to mewl in protest as well, nuzzling against Jaden and assuring he was staying.

“Thanks, Pal…” Jaden smiled.

“Yeah! If you losers even think you’re fighting without us, think again!” Pikeru said smugly.

“Thanks, Pikeru…” Bastion chuckled and patted her head.

“Your friends are right, Jesse….” Topaz Tiger nodded.

“we’ve all come so far together, and as you said, we’ve been here from start to end. But it’s not the end yet….” Amythest Cat added.

Jesse teared up and nodded. “Thank you!!”

I used my lighting spear to help myself stand up before turning to help the others up one at a time…

“If this really is the end… I just want you to know…I… I love you guys….” I muttered.

Jaden teared up and nodded. “I love you too!”

Bastion wrapped an arm around Jaden to comfort him. “I love you all as well….”

Jesse teared up too and pulled us all into a hug. “I love you all too!! Thank you so much for staying with me and helping me complete my mission!!”

We hugged each other for the longest time, our hearts burning… no, they weren’t burning; they were glowing.

“What is this!?” I gasped

“Could this be… a new power?” Jesse wondered.

Suddenly four rainbow coloured crystals appeared, a star, a gem, a heart and a diamond.

“This isn’t anything like the rainbow dragon….” Bastion whispered

“That’s because it’s not!” Jaden explained, “I can feel it… this is our power!!”

I looked to my friends… the three boys I met on this journey, and the spirit partners who stuck with us. This indeed was the final battle.

“Everyone… LET’S GO!!”

“Right!!”

The rainbow crystals resonated with each of us. The power was overwhelming.

All of us ascended into the sky,

“SUMMON RAINBOW DUEL SPIRIT FUSION!!”

Thanks to the rainbow crystals, we transformed one last time into new, more powerful forms. It was time.

The light of destruction couldn’t believe that we were still fighting. It thought it had destroyed us once and for all.

“No matter what happens, we’ll always keep fighting to protect those we love!!” Jesse declared

“We want to live and pursue the future!!” Jaden added

“Destruction may always exist, but creation and life are needed to maintain balance!” Bastion stated

“And that’s why we can’t bow down to the likes of you!!” I pointed my spear at him. “We will defeat you once and for all!!”

Jaden charged in first, his new gauntlets glowing with power.

The light of destruction fired a laser towards us in response, but Jaden was having none of it.

“レインボー　コスミククラシ!!”

“RAINBOW COSMIC CRUSH!!”

He punched through it, blasting the light in different directions, leaving earth and us unharmed.

The light was baffled. It couldn’t comprehend this power.

“My turn!!”

Bastion flew towards the light and readied his throwing knives.

“レインボータイダルブラスト!!”

“RAINBOW TIDAL BLAST!!”

The knives surged through space, pinning the light to the spot and rendering it helpless as the power of the elements coursed through it. It had nowhere to run now.

Jesse went next, readying his sword. He was ready to avenge everyone and everything the light had ever hurt.

“レインボークリスタルストリーム!!”

“RAINBOW CRYSTAL STREAM!!”

The rainbow light burst from his sword and started to break the light up. It tried to escape, but it had me to deal with.

“THIS IS FOR EVERYONE YOU’VE MANIPULATED AND HURT!!”

I raised my spear high into the air, Channeling my lightning powers.

“レインボーデルタサンダー!!”

“RAINBOW DELTA THUNDER!!”

The light screamed in pain and agony. It wasn’t done. It conjured up his power for one final attack, but we knew it was on its last legs.

“EVERYONE WITH ME!!”

We gathered together, and with the power of our bond, our weapons fused together, creating a brand new weapon—the Miracle Rainbow Spear.

“Impossible!!” The light snapped, “don’t you know if you use all your power, the worlds will be separated!?”

“Even so… I have a sworn duty to protect both this world and the spirit world…” Jesse reflected “, my friends have shown me the true importance of being the crystal protector, and I will always treasure that… I will never forget that even if we are separated!!”

“People come and go… that’s an unfortunate part of life… but I will not cry when it’s over….” Bastion felt a grin grow on his face, “I will smile because I’ll remember every precious memory we’ve given each other!!”

“No matter what comes between us, we will always be together no matter where we are in one world or another….” Jaden added, holding back tears. “OUR FOUR HEARTS WILL ALWAYS BEAT AS ONE!!”

“It’s funny… when this journey began, I didn’t want anything to do with these guys… but now I don’t want this adventure to end….” I smiled “but I know they’re right!! No matter what happens, we’ll always be together!! I’ll never forget any of this and the friendships we made!!”

Our hearts beat as one as the spear resonated with us. It was time to end this.

“ミラクルレインボーレフラクション!!”

“MIRACLE RAINBOW REFRACTION!!”

The bright colour exploded from the spear charging towards the light, eliminating the white completely

“Stop it!! It’s too bright!! Stop it!!”

I screamed as I thrust the spear forward, charging with one last burst of energy.

“IMPOSSIBLE…. I AM THE LIGHT I AM ALL POWERFUUUUUL” piece by piece it was disintegrated

It was over…he was gone…

The four of us floated through space, relieved it was all over.

“Y’all… thank you so much for your help… I can’t believe it’s all over….” Jesse sighed

“Yeah…” I smiled. “I’m glad we were able to save everyone….”

“Now humans and duel spirits and live in peace….” Jaden nodded

“Indeed, a happy ending all round”, Bastion chuckled.

Suddenly Jesse and the duel spirits started glowing.

“Huh!? Jesse, what’s happening!?”

“It’s time, guys… I’m going back to the spirit world….”

“N-now!? But I thought we had more time!! I thought we’d at least spend more time together!!” Bastion gasped

“Sorry, y’all… I don’t make the rules, my missions over, and now it’s time to go home….”

“You can’t go, Jesse!! There’s still so much I wanted to do!!”

“Jesse, please!! We love you!!”

“I love y’all too!! But remember what we said… we’ll always be together… no matter what… we’ll see each other again… I know it!!”

Winged Kuriboh flew over to Jaden, who eagerly hugged him. “I’ll miss you too, Winged-Kuriboh!”

“I’m gonna miss you!!” Pikeru sobbed

“I’ll miss you too, Pikeru….” Bastion sighed and patted her head “don’t forget me, alright?”

“I don’t think I could ever forget a loser like you….” Pikeru giggled before flying in to hug him.

“BOOOOOOSS!!”

I pulled the Ojamas into a tight hug. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was going to miss them a lot.

“We love you, boss!!”

“I… I love you guys too… take care now, alright…?”

I slowly let go, and the Duel Spirits flew back to Jesse, all returning to their world while we returned to ours…

I don’t remember much after that… the months sort of flew by, and I graduated high school. Bastion left to work with Professor Eisenstein, Jaden disappeared after graduation… That was the last I saw of th-

“That can’t be the end!!”

“Huh?” I looked down to my oldest daughter “what do you mean, Aurora?”

“That can’t be how it ends!!” Aurora protested, “did you really get separated forever!?”

“That’s so sad!!” Rosalie, my second daughter, nodded.

“Uh-huh!” My son Damien agreed.

“Well, I said we got separated. I never said forever….” I mumbled

“S-so, did you get to see each other again?” Rosalie asked.

“I don’t know….” I pulled my kids onto my lap and hugged them “do you want us to see each other again?”

“I do, I do!”

I chuckled and hugged them all close. “Maybe we’ll see each other again….”

I heard the door open and the sound of tired shuffling.

“Oh, let’s see who’s home!!”

Aurora jumped up first and dashed out the door, seeing the three exhausted adults.

“DADDY! PAPA! MOM!”

“Hey, Aurora!” Jesse grinned and picked her up, giving her the biggest hug.

Rosalie ran over to Bastion and hugged him tightly. She was always a papa’s girl.

Damien and I chuckled and walked over to Jaden, both greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

“How was work?”

“Oh, you know the usual!” Jaden smirked.

I walked over to Jesse and wrapped my arms around him, planting a firm kiss on his lips.

“Mmm, that’s nice! What was that for?” Jesse grinned

“I just missed you a lot today….” I smiled.

Well, it seemed to work. The kids wanted us to meet up again. And we did.

[polaroid15]

Worst Date Ever

Summary: Peter and MJ go to the movies. Turns out, all it takes is an ex-Stark employee with a grudge and a sniper rifle to ruin the mood.

Read on Ao3 here :)

------

“That movie was terrible. Like, Captain America PSA bad.”

Beside her, Peter huffs out a small laugh. “Oh come on MJ, it wasn’t that bad.”

“It totally was!”

“But as bad as the PSA’s?” he stresses.

“Worse.”

“No way!”

MJ can’t help but laugh. It’s cold outside the theatre and she shoves her hands deep in her coat pockets to combat it. “Why’d he even agree to make those?” she asks.

Peter gapes at her for a moment. “Um. I don’t know. I haven’t exactly asked him.”

“But you could!”

And it’s true, crazy as it sounds.

“I’m sure he had a good reason,” Peter says, contemplating. “Maybe he was blackmailed.”

MJ hums in disagreement. They link arms at the elbows and start their long walk home, kicking up leaves from the sidewalk. “Do war criminals really have a good reason for anything?”

“Oh my God. You and Tony would get along.”

Tony. MJ smirks. “What happened to calling him Mr. Stark?”

Almost looking embarrassed, Peter shrugs deep in his coat. “Uh- did I say Tony? I meant Mr. Stark. Totally.”

“Right. And I definitely believe you.”

“MJ!”

“You know I’m messing with you. The fact that you’re on a first name basis with the Avengers is just-”

“Crazy? Hard to believe?”

“Well, duh. But I was going to say cool.”

Peter smiles again. It makes her stomach dissolve. “I guess.”

The streets are quiet, dark. It feels like they’re the only two in the world aside from the occasional flash of lights from a passing car. So what if she leans in a little closer, or tightens her grip on his arm?

Sue her.

“I had fun tonight,” Peter murmurs. He turns his head toward her but looks away just as quick. It doesn’t prevent her cheeks from heating.

“Me too,” she says. “Even though the movie totally sucked.”

Peter opens his mouth to respond but tenses before he speaks, eyes widening and head snapping towards the opposite side of the street. Feeling her heart rate spike, MJ digs her nails into his jacket. “What is it?”

His eyes narrow against the darkness. She can see his pulse jumping through his neck. “My- it doesn’t matter. Let’s just get out of here.”

With urgency, he slides his hand down to her own and grasps it tightly, moving to pull her down the street. They barely make it three steps before Peter jerks beside her, a sound like someone being punched hard in the gut reaching her ears. Before her mind can catch up to what’s happening Peter makes a low gasping sound and folds over like wet paper, dragging her down with him.

Her knees hit the cement hard, though she hardly registers the pain through the blind panic coursing through her bloodstream. Peter continues to gasp horribly, his hand leaving her own to clutch up at his stomach. “Oh- oh man-”

“Peter what happened? What’s wrong?”

“MJ-”

“Peter! Talk to me!”

“We have to- we have to go.”

“What?”

“Now.”

Then she sees it.

Red circles on the cement, growing steadily with each passing second. All the information snaps together in her head in one terrifying second and she forgets how to draw in air, tears of panic making her eyes sting.

“You got shot,” she concludes numbly.

“Don’t-” Peter whines, curling the hand supporting him into a fist. His gasps morph into short panicked breaths. “I can’t think about it, okay? Help- help me up.”

What? She feels glued to the cement, stuck forever in the whirlwind of the past thirty seconds. Peter isn’t Spider-Man right now. Getting shot shouldn’t have even been in the realm of possibilities-

“MJ please.”

“What?”

“I need- I need you to help me up. I can’t do it myself.”

Some semblance of coherence returning to her, MJ shakes her head vigorously and tries hard to separate her mind from her body. She sits him back and registers the growing stain above his hip bone before she’s pressing her palms into it. He bites back a scream at the pressure and tries to squirm away. “You need an ambulance!”

“No. No. Spider, remember? Just help me up before someone comes-”

“Peter Parker!”

“MJ! Trust me, okay?”

Their eyes connect for a millisecond. It’s all it takes. She nods, hands shaking as they release his wound and instead work to wrap around his arm. Together they manage to stand, though both of them sway once vertical.

“Tell me what to do,” she says, white spots eating away at her vision through her panic. She keeps looking across the street to where the shot was fired from, but it’s quiet. “I’ve got you Peter. Just- you gotta tell me what to do.”

Peter looks around deliriously, the skin under his eyes wet. She wonders in detachment if he knows he’s crying. “There,” he says finally, dipping his head towards a gas station on the corner. “Bathroom.”

Without wasting another second, MJ gathers her strength and helps Peter walk. He stumbles more than once, but she manages to steady him before he hits the ground. She ignores his slurred apologies and focuses on putting one foot in front of the other.

By some miracle, they make it. The bathroom needs a key but Peter breaks the handle clean off in his desperation to get inside. They collapse inward, laying gasping against the cold tile as Peter continues to fight for breath.

“Need- need to get it off,” he slurs. He crawls towards the sink and MJ lags, brain short circuiting. She watches him as he pulls himself up, eyes rolling for a moment before refocusing and turning on the taps. He lifts up his shirt with a shaking hand and throws the water against the gore on his stomach.

Move, MJ. Help him.

His breathing is getting worse, his face more pale than she’s ever seen it.

Move!

“Peter,” she wheezes, standing on weak knees and rushing to his side. She grabs his wrists gently and pulls them away from the water. He won’t look at her, fighting weakly. “Peter. Stop-”

“Need to get it off,” he says again, chest heaving. “Ben-”

Oh.

Tears returning to her eyes, MJ rests a careful hand against the side of Peter’s face, rubbing her thumb under his eye. It carries blood underneath it like the stroke of a paintbrush. “Peter look at me. Look at me.”

Slowly, he does, though she’s not sure he really sees her. “This isn’t Ben. You’re not there, okay? You’re going to be okay. We need to stop the bleeding.”

“Bleed- bleeding?”

Heart aching, MJ guides Peter to sit against the wall and maneuvers his hands to press into his side. When they stick, she rushes to the paper towel dispenser and rips out sheet after sheet until her hands are full.

“Where’s your phone, Peter?”

“Phone?”

MJ crouches down beside him, her knees sticky with blood. She moves his hands and pushes the paper towel over the wound, applying pressure until he grunts. “Yes, your phone! Give it to me.”

“Right.” Trembling, Peter wrestles it out of his jacket pocket and drops it before it reaches her hand. She picks it up off the floor and unlocks it, careful to ignore the way her thumb leaves an ugly streak of red against the screen.

“Come on, come on,” she whispers, her vision seeming to narrow down to a pinprick. She holds her breath until she finds the contact.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

“What’s up kiddo?”

MJ sobs in relief. Peter looks at her in confusion, reaching a weak hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She feels blood transfer onto her cheek from his fingers and shivers. “Mr. Stark? Thank God.”

“Who is this? Where’s Peter?”

“I’m- my name’s MJ. Peter’s hurt. We need help.”

“Damn it. Okay. Crap. Jesus. I’m on my way. What happened?”

MJ spaces. What happened? “We- we were at the movies. We were walking home. Peter- Peter sensed something bad and then- and then he got shot.”

“Shot?”

“Yes.”

Stark curses loudly. Multiple times. “Did you see who it was? Are you in danger?”

“No. They- they were across the street. I didn’t see them. I think we’re okay now.”

Whatever his response is, it’s lost to her ears as Peter relaxes under her hold, his chin dipping and eyelids fluttering. She yelps and shakes him, though perhaps too hard because he flinches hard, tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes.

“Ben,” he moans, lips wobbling. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a heavy silence on the phone, filled only with Tony’s sharp breathing. “Damn it,” he mumbles eventually, as if it hurts to talk. “Three minutes. I’ll be there in three minutes, alright? Try to keep him awake. Distract him from thinking about his Uncle.”

“Okay. Right. Sure.”

Peter curls his hand around her wrist. It leaves a bracelet of red. “MJ.”

“Peter. Oh man. I hope you know that you’re scaring the hell out of me right now.”

“Sorry.”

“No it’s not- nevermind. God, you’re annoying sometimes.”

At this, he smiles. There’s blood streaked on his face from where she had tried to comfort him, already on its way to drying. “At least- at least this is more exciting than that movie.”

Unbelievable. MJ huffs out an anxious laugh. “Are you kidding me right now Parker?”

“Memorable,” he slurs before his head dips again. MJ sacrifices a hand to catch it.

“Don’t pass out on me,” she says fiercely. “It’s rude to pass out on dates.”

“S’ry.”

“Tony will be here soon.”

Peter moans low at this, his touch around her wrist weakening. “Can’t- can’t invite dad’s on dates. That’s- that’s lame.”

MJ feels like she’s spinning. “Peter-”

Metal hits the ground hard from behind and she doesn’t need to look to know that Tony is here. He collapses at her side within seconds, his laboured breaths filling the small space and his hand reaching to cup the back of Peter’s neck. His other hand pushes Peter’s hair back in a movement more gentle than MJ could think possible.

Like a dad.

“Hey Petey, how’re we feeling?”

Peter doesn’t even try to look at him, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Been- been better.”

“I’ll say.”

“Bad date,” Peter murmurs, resting his head more fully against Tony’s hand. “Shot. Whoops.”

“Whoops indeed,” Tony agrees, “God, kid you’re a disaster.” He turns towards MJ. It’s her first time meeting the billionaire in person, though the shock factor is diluted against the fact that her boyfriend is actively bleeding out underneath her hands.

“You must be MJ,” Tony says, offering a hand. The fact that her own is covered in blood doesn’t seem to cross her mind as she reaches to shake it, feeling increasingly dizzy. “Sorry about all this. Parker luck, you know.”

“What-”

As if to steal back the attention, Peter gives one last guttural moan before his body goes limp. It takes both MJ and Tony to keep him from kissing the cement.

“That’s my cue,” Tony says, gathering Peter into his arms. Shifting the position, he looks at his watch. “Happy will be here in two minutes, alright? Do you know who Happy is? Actually, doesn’t matter. You can trust him. He’ll clean up this horror show and take you over to the compound, alright?”

After an inappropriately long pause, MJ finds enough sense to nod, distracted by Peter’s lax body in Tony Stark’s arms.

“Okay. You did good. Don’t freak out. Deep breaths. Stay here. Two minutes.”

She blinks, and Tony is gone.

Blinks again, and a flushed man in a black Audi pulls in front of the bathroom. She sits in the corner and can’t make out what he says to her as he pulls at the paper towel and mops away the blood. On the sink, on the wall, on the floor.

“Can you stand?” he asks when he finishes. It looks like Peter had never even been here. She looks at him through swimming vision. “What?”

“Stand. Can you stand?”

“Oh.” After a short nod, MJ makes it to her feet. The man’s hand wraps around her elbow, warm and gentle, and she lets him lead her out to the car.

-------

The Avengers Compound looks much bigger in person, she decides. She stares at it and shoves her hands between her knees to keep them from shaking. She smells like blood and movie theatre popcorn.

Happy tries to make conversation, to assure her, but her frazzled mind tunes him out to a dull static. Her teeth chatter with chills unrelated to the cold and she must lose time because the next time she becomes aware the car is parked and her door is open, the man named Happy standing in its place and talking. Surprised her ears have spontaneously stopped working, she fights to break the spell and blinks to clear her vision. “What?”

Happy sighs, though through his tough demeanor she sees a flicker of empathy. “You need to get out of the car.”

“Oh. Right.”

Nauseous, MJ stumbles out onto the driveway and from there allows Happy to guide her up to a set of double doors. The Compound is warm and for a moment, she lets herself relax.

“P-Peter?” she asks. “Have you heard anything? Is he- is he going to be okay?”

“It’ll take more than a bullet to take down that kid. Don’t worry. He’s in good hands.”

Though his words feign confidence, MJ remains unassured. They stop outside a large door, which Happy opens, and gestures for her to enter. “Clean the blood off. You’ll feel better.”

It’s a bathroom. She pauses at the door until the request processes in her brain. Then, strangely untethered, she nods and steps inside.

As soon as the door shuts she slides back against it, stars floating across her vision. She digs her nails into her scalp and forces herself to fill her chest with air.

“Oh God.” She crawls over to the toilet and barely has time to lift the lid before she gags.

She feels better.

Feeling more coherent, MJ makes her way to a fancy porcelain sink and twists the water until it steams. Then, without focusing her attention, she dips her hands under the stream and scrubs with lemon soap until her hands burn too badly to continue. She wipes violently at her face, at her arms, at the darkened denim at her knees.

Not sure how much time has passed, MJ exits the bathroom to find Happy standing in the hall, phone pressed to his ear as he paces. His eyes catch her and his expression softens. “I’ll call you back,” he says. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Good news. Peter just got out of surgery. They have him all settled. I’ll take you up to see him.”

He begins to walk away, though MJ doesn’t follow. Her feet feel like bricks. “He’s really okay?” she asks.

Happy stops. “Yes. He’s fine.”

A sharp pain in her chest she hadn’t fully realized was there loosens at the confirmation. Lightheaded, she follows.

The hospital room is dimly lit, casting long shadows. Peter is laying in the center of the room, pale and unconscious but alive. Hardly able to register her relief, she freezes in the doorway as Happy wanders in, his face a picture of undeniable worry. Stark is sitting in a chair close to Peter's bedside, his eyes bloodshot and his hand resting protectively against Peter’s arm.

Happy stands beside the man, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other on Peter’s blanketed leg. They share a quiet conversation before Happy nods and moves to leave. He pauses beside her. “What are you waiting for?” he asks.

Then he hurries out into the hall.

It takes a couple of long seconds before she regains control of her legs. She drifts in and eases down in a chair on the opposite side of Tony, who regards her with sharp eyes.

“How’re you holding up?” he asks, which almost surprises her more than the gunshot.

“M-me? I’m fine. How’s Peter?”

“Also fine.”

“He wasn’t-”

“He is now.”

Stark is running his thumb across Peter’s arm, almost absent mindedly. MJ is transfixed by the obvious display of affection and feels, to some relief, the confinement of her worry slowly dissipate.

“Do you know who it was?” she asks. “That shot him?”

The man’s eyes darken, something like guilt passing through them. “Yes, actually. A bitter employee.”

“What?”

“Someone who used to work for me. They were- unethical, to say the least.”

Once again, MJ’s mind is spinning. “Why Peter?”

Tony frowns, but quickly trades it for a look of nonchalance. He doesn’t look at her. “Hurting Peter hurts me more than actually hurting me. He knew that- the bastard. Though how he found you guys in the first place-” Tony closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. This should’ve never happened.”

“Oh. It’s not your fault. All that matters is that Peter’s okay.”

“Right,” Tony agrees, regarding her weakly. “Thanks for taking care of him. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

MJ shrugs.

“No, really. I don’t know what I would do if-” Tony tapers off, sighing deeply and closing his eyes. “You know.”

“I know,” she says softly.

Clearing his throat, Tony shifts, though his hand never leaves Peter. “So it was a date then?” he asks. It’s so undeniably paternal that she can’t help but laugh in exasperation.

Before she can respond, Peter moans between them. He swats Tony with a heavy arm, eyes still closed. “Don’ grill her,” he slurs, words barely coherent.

“Oh lordy,” Tony grumbles. “Only you would wake up from a drug-induced sleep to stop me from talking about your dating life.”

But when MJ looks at him, Tony’s face is soft and painted in relief. For some reason, it makes her eyes water.

Peter swivels his head towards MJ, managing to pry one eye open to half mast to look at her. Fighting for courage, she grabs his free hand and intertwines their fingers. “S’ry,” he murmurs.

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Then, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Peter smiles, though it falls into a wince. “I owe you one.”

“Definitely.”

Face relaxing, Peter’s head dips before he catches in with a startled breath of air. Tony rests a hand on his forehead and pushes him back against the pillow gently. “Go back to sleep kiddo. We’ll be right here.”

Peter hums, far from the surface. His head lolls into Tony’s hand and his hand squeezes MJ’s weakly before growing limp. “Love you guys,” he whispers.

Her stomach jumps. She squeezes his hand back.

Love you too, loser.

Tony sits back in his chair. He looks at her almost apologetically.

“Welcome to the family.”

[anika-ann]

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader    Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it’s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you.  You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? –, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you –, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

S.R. masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

[ask-prime-starscream]

Okay, so hear me out. How about I change that certain movie a bit? Let’s start right when Unicron-Megatron arrives at the field with the Predacon bones and Starscream gets an orgasm thinking his beloved abuser master is back.

I feel so bad for Starscream. He thinks everything is going to be okay again. Megatron is his protector after all. The only one who bothers to keep him around. What’s getting punched in the face and getting ridiculed from time to time when you aren’t left for dead? At least to Starscream it’s a good deal because he is used to abuse. Sometimes I think about a scene where Unicron not only punches Starscream, but threatens to kill him. If Megatron actually had a slither of fondness for Starscream or at least remembered what a total wild card he can be in the grand scheme of things, he could have tried his mind tricks on Unicron like he did with Predaking before.  I don’t know. Just to humanize him a bit. Think more of Starscream than that he suffers entertainingly. Buuut, let’s keep it as canon as we can. Scrap that scene. Let’s focus on things that actually could and should have happened!

When Unicron revives the Predacons, Starscream flees and Shockwave stays back because he is a slow inferior ground vehicle. Well, remember that Starscream pays back his debts? Remember that Shockwave grabbed Starscream at the end of season 3 and probably saved him from imprisonment or death? (I highly doubt the Autobots would have killed Starscream if he had had the chance to “avenge Megatron”, but Starscream just expects the worst from everyone, so...)  Since a horde of zombies is scary either way, Starscream flees at first, but then he decides to help Shockwave, the bot that kept him company and was his comrade after Megatron’s demise. Shockwave is about to be overpowered, but a few missiles give him some room to move again. Zombiecons really are not much better than Vehicons, Predacons or not. Megatron revived a whole army and Optimus and Ratchet had little problem slicing and dicing them all back in season 1. Dark energon is really overrated. It’s worthless actually. Megatron is a fool.

Anyway, as a nice quote from G1 which we know TF series can’t get enough of, Shockwave climbs on Starscream’s vehicle mode and together they can escape. We know Starscream is strong enough to carry Shockwave. He had no problem flying Knock Out around. Shockwave probably thinks that Starscream’s dangerous move was illogical, but Starscream just tells him to shut up.

What happens next? They try to free Knock Out and the Vehicons of course. The more the merrier. With Shockwave around, Knock Out thinks twice about who is gonna be the winning team here and doesn’t stab Starscream in the back over some petty thing. A petty thing I would call the emergency brake writers pull when A: Starscream gets a friend. Or B: Two male characters get some really nice chemistry.

I personally have no problem with Knock Out basically being a spineless Starscream who believes in nothing but his looks. What I have a problem with is the way he is treated. He is fucking dangerous and came pretty close to killing some members of team Prime. However, “No Autobot except Cliffjumper dies in this series by Decepticon hand” syndrome prevented that. He doesn’t believe in any of the Autobots’s morals. He doesn’t care if humanity gets wiped out. He has no honor, no loyalty. He contributes absolutely nothing in the fight against Unicron. The Autobots shouldn’t have treated him like a longtime member of team Prime. He shouldn’t have gotten away scot-free at the end of the movie as if he was actually good! It’s so unsatisfying and completely unearned! Breakdown, Starscream, even Dreadwing would have been better candidates for the turncoat. But nah, fuck actual character, Knock Out is cute and funny! He shall be good now! WRONG! Knock Out is a chicken shit opportunist, who will follow the faction in power. He would have submitted to Unicron if Unicron wasn’t about complete annihilation. Something like that shouldn’t be rewarded. If RiD did one thing right, it was showing Knock Out to be uncaring about Autobot stuff and just racing around on earth. So. Phew. Rant over. We will have none of that shit here. Decepticons and Autobots are at a standoff. And Bee won’t pull his dumb “Do you believe me or your own eyes?” shit either. Instead we do something else.

Arcee knows that Starscream follows somewhat of an honor code. He had saved her from Airachnid and spared her life. So she tries to actually bargain with him. While the other Autobots are more like “The heck are you trying here, Arcee?”, she starts talking about whether Starscream really wants to abandon Cybertron and lose it to destruction, this time irreversible. After all, he had put so much effort in reviving it, getting the keys and all. Bee maybe catches on and strokes his ego and Starscream is like “Whoah, what you guys say isn’t even that wrong...!” Shockwave is skeptical, Knock Out just wants to be safe, but everyone comes to the conclusion that together, Autobots and Decepticons, they might have a chance. And so they do their all to fight for their home. And with “do their all” I mean it. They use everything. The Autobots free Soundwave from the shadow zone and if there is one good thing about Soundwave, it’s that he follows Starscream’s orders. Without Megatron, Starscream is the leader of the Decepticons, just like he had been in season 1. Also the prospect of beating Unicron out of Megatron’s body might motivate him too.

So they fly with the Nemesis to Primus’s anus and get battle ready. 

In order to give the Zombiecons the smallest attack surface, they position themselves accordingly. Every Iaconic artifact gets used. Immobilizer, phaseshifter, shield... the Nemesis’s cannons... It’s a crazy fight and everybody is contributing. And then Starscream says “I would have never thought I’d die side by side with a grounder” to Knock Out and Knock Out responds with “How about side by side with a friend?” and... Maybe we even get some nice Autobot/Decepticon teamwork. Some really nice, fanservice-y shit. But the battle is hard and even with the Predacons joining them, they are about to be overwhelmed...

Until Prime and Wheeljack show up. Unicron finally enters the battle himself and Optimus and him start an epic fight surrounded by Autobots, Decepticons, Predacons and zombies. It seems like Prime will actually win and the morale is high. Until Unicron throws him to the ground and stabs him, Megatron screaming in his head. That’s not how Megatron had intended for their eon-long fight to end. He is overcome by guilt and regret. After all, his tinkering with Unicron’s blood had caused this outcome. Him, being nothing but a puppet, killing the one he once called his friend. 

The Autobots are devastated and unbelieving. The Decepticons are more like “Oh no, I guess...” Then Bee pulls his leader potential out of his aft since it’s time not for gods and Primes to define destiny, but for the average man! He quickly advises everyone to focus on Unicron and keep him occupied, never letting him target just one and overwhelm them, but having an advantage thanks to their quantity. Wheeljack holds Primus’s spark box like a hot potato asking what to do with it now and Bee says, they’ll get it where it belongs. So all of our good flyers are supposed to get the box to the core. Predaking, Skylynx, Darksteel, Soundwave, Starscream eye each other like “Is that a good idea?”, but there is no better plan. One of them holds the box while the others flank him, protecting him from any potential Zombiecons slipping through the now far weaker protection of the remaining bots. Unicron becomes aware of what is happening and follows them. With his super ultra speed he quickly catches up and the flyers have to throw the box from one to the other in order to get it out of Unicrons reach. Once more they show how important camaraderie, teamwork and friendship is... eh... even if all the flyers are Decepticons and Predacons, lol... Like... Like this is a GOOD moral, okay?! Different species working together, even though they were evil or kinda evil... there is worth in life, even if said life wasn’t always pure.

Eventually, one of them opens the box and throws it in a last ditch effort towards the core, reviving Primus. The sparks burst towards the sky and Unicron’s spirit is ripped from Megatron’s body, carried to who knows where... whatever Primus deems right.

Now, everything is good, isn’t it? Well, not for Megatron. He doesn’t have a place on the new Cybertron and chooses the exile. But Starscream is having nothing of that. Cybertron is theirs to take now, isn’t it? The Decepticons agree and Bee and the Autobots are like “Really?!?”, while the Predacons are like “Whatever... don’t try shit with us, though.”

Megatron is absolutely against any more carnage and says the war had been a mistake. Starscream can’t believe what he is hearing. Everything he ever did, was for nothing? All the losses? All the beatings? He tries to convince Megatron and tells him what he had done in his name. Cloned more Predacons, tried to avenge him. He is loyal for fuck’s sake!! He is like Megatron has always wanted him to be! Now that is all wrong and he had suffered uselessly?

Megatron just says, that Starscream had wasted his time. Then he wants to fly off, but Starscream holds him back, grabbing his arm. How can Megatron leave him now?! Megatron pushes him away and hurts his wing so he won’t get any ideas of following him before he transforms and flies away. 

Starscream is devastated. He has a breakdown. He reaches for his hurt wing and Knock Out is the first by his side, hearing him cry: “I can’t be alone again!” Knock Out shakes his head, smiling faintly. “But you have us.” Indeed. Even Soundwave was just disillusioned by Megatron’s sudden antics. There is no use following such a coward.

Autobots and Decepticons form a shaky peace agreement for now, everyone having to deal with the losses of their leaders and their almost destruction. The tone is somber, but Cybertron lives again. It is time for a new beginning...

[futurewriter2000]

Longer

A/N: What does pissed off Tijana make? She makes angst. So enjoy.

XX

How long does it take a male human being to realize that he is indeed an asshole? Maybe not the longest of time because you didn’t wait for the longest... you waited longer than you intended to. 

It was around the end of May when you and James Potter got into a big fight. He was your best friend in the entire world. There was nothing but trust, loyalty and respect in your friendship. He did everything for you and you did everything for him. All up until the two of you got into another stupid fight that never led into an apology or another word. 

You had waited three days, weeks, months, a whole season and still neither of you made contact. For you it was nothing but pure anxiety, sorrow and fury. 

There were a few steps you had to take when you lost your closest friend. 

Step number one: Fury.  You had never felt more angry in your entire life when he did not apologize. You felt prideful and egoistic, just like him. Both of you had managed to share a specific, horrible trait; stubborness.

Step number two: Sorrow. When something good happened to you, all you wanted to do at that moment was tell your best friend. It took you a second or two to realize that he didn’t exist to you anymore. Sadness and regret, filled your stomach, your heart and your brain went on overdrive with memories until tears fell down your cheeks and you burried your head into a small pillow in your bed. It consumed all your tears and buggers, you pleas to bring him back to you. Yet, you were still too prideful and stubborn to make that first step. No matter, how sad you were.

Step number three: Confusion.  There was a time in month number three where you found yourself thinking that what if you were in love with you best friend all along?- Dreams kept talking to you, bringing him to life in your mind, letting him hold you, smile with you, tease, joke around... everything that felt so much like home. Each time you woke up after those emotional dreams, you felt somethign squeeze your heart and your mind went to places you had never though existed. 

Step number four: Acceptance. Fifth month in and you had managed to accept the fact that the conversation between the two of you will never happen. This time your mind was a bit clearer. You were determined to know that: Yes, he was your best friend. Yes, you did care for him but you were never in love with him. Yes, you missed him- but more or so, you missed the memories than him. In those five months he could become a new person. A person you would not recognise. 

You thought that was the end. You haven’t seen him much around school, barely never because he was always on Head Boy duty. You were happy for him of course, no matter how much he hurt you. Sometimes you could feel those thoughts in your mind saying: ‘It’s your fault.’ - but you knew that was just anxiety. 

It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. You did what you felt was right to do in that moment. It hurt, it put you through shit but you’re here and you’re better. 

Or so you thought. 

You walked by the common room to find your classmate. She was supposed give you back her notebook. Both of you decided to meet in the Gryffindor common room and you had been waiting for her to come from her dorm. 

You wished that you hadn’t chosen that meet place. You thought you were strong enough but you saw them together on the sofa near the fire and it was like a pierce through the heart that made you stop to breathe. 

So you left because the steps weren’t over yet. 

Step number five: Test.

You ran to your room and you paced around your bed. Fortunately, you were alone and that was good because now you could feel and think however you want without anybody noticing. Your whole body was in overdrive. There was fury in your head, sorrow in your stomach, acceptance in your heart yet you couldn’t. 

You fell into the sheets and watered your pillow once again. 

---

It felt like you weren’t alive anymore. Your heart kept throbbing into existance, your mind screaming. 

That poor pillow didn’t stand a chance. It was wet, beaten and thrown around but it still managed to survive without a tear. 

You put some sad music on, for your mood and hugged the poor pillow. Your cheeks were wet, your eyes filled with fresh tears and focused on the ceiling. 

You hadn’t even heard the knock on the door. You only felt his presance and for a moment you thought you were going crazy. When you found him staring at you with an unreadable expression, you knew he was real.

Or was he?

Your mind really couldn’t process much anymore. It was out of batteries. 

“Are you really here?” you narrowed your puffy eyes at him and he squeezed his fists a bit, glancing at the floor before making his way to you. 

“You look...” he tried to joke but he couldn’t, not when you looked so broken. “...like you haven’t slept or eaten anything in two weeks.” 

You kept looking at him and though he was far away, it felt like he was choking you with his bare hands, causing you not to speak. You squeezed your pillow instead and turned to the side. “Leave.” you mumbled into the pillow, throat squeezing and tears falling. 

“Do you really want me to leave?” he asked softly.

“No.” you whispered really quietly into the pillow, closing your eyes as stronger, thicker tears fell down your cheeks. 

He didn’t hear you but he heard something and he took that as a no. He sat on the edge of the bed and locked his fingers together. “Your friends told me you haven’t left your bed and that you-” he cleared his throat. “-and that you cry every night because of me. That it’s my fault.” 

“They don’t know what they are talking about.” you replied with a raspy voice, staring at the doorknob of the warderobe, that stood so innocently still in front of you. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you being gone from classes.” 

“I’m sick.”

“You’re sad.”

“I’m sick of you.” you replied harshly, sitting up and feelign that same fury bubble inside of you. 

“You ignored me.” he replied just as harsh.

“And you let me.” you glared at him.

He didn’t like what he saw. Your eyes were red, your nose, your cheeks sunken in and your skin was pale. 

“I was mad at you James. Mad! And I was done appologising for what I said! I cared too much and you didn’t let me.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?!” he said but as soon as he did, you stood up from the bed and started pacing around. You knew you only had a shirt on and underwear but at that moment that was the least thing of your problems. “Oh, bloody hell, (y/N).” he turned away. “Put some pants on.” he kept looking away as you paced up and down the room. 

“No.” the stubborness in your voice made him look at you directly into your eyes, fire burning in both, yours an his. 

He stood up and left to that innocently still warderobe, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and giving them to you. “Put them on.” he ordered, growling and gritting his teeth as his eyes challenged yours. “Or I will.”

You grabbed the sweatpants from his hands and put them on yet your breasts were still visible through the shirt. He didn’t want to say anything because he knew you and he knew that if he did what he just did, you would throw him through the window. 

“So, suddenly you care? HUh?” you snapped, tightening the waistband around your hips. 

You lost weight as well. - he noticed. He didn’t like seeing you so low. 

“I always cared-”

“No! You pretended to care!”

“I DID CARE!” he shouted louder but you didn’t let his voice overthrow yours.

“WHEN!? WHERE?! HOW?!” you shouted louder. 

“YOU IGNORED ME!”

“BECAUSE YOU PRETENDED LIKE NOTHING WAS WRONG!”

“I WANTED TO MOVE ON!”

“ AND I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT IT!! Friends talk!”

“Friends also do not ignore!”

“Well, it clearly did not bother you. You had managed to move on without a single care in the world.”

He stormed towards you, his finger pointed at your chest and pressing on it. “Don’t for a moment think I did not care. I did but you are so dramatic-”

“I just wanted you to open up to me! I asked, you ignored me, I confronted you and you snapped at me. Then I ignored you.”

“I didn’t want to tell you!”

“Fuck you, James!” you pushed him away. “Fuck you and your stupid depressed episodes! Do you know how many times I wanted to tell you something that was bothering me but I couldn’t because you didn’t let me. It soon became a topic around you and how you were feeling. I had to lift you up when I couldn’t even lift myself up! I cared! I would have died for you. I would have lived for you. I would have killed for you!”

“I didn’t ask you too! You offered!”

“BECAUSE I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!” you punched his chest, pushing him away, kicking him, throwing hands wherever they could hit him. You were so furious and so sad at the same time. You felt ashamed and defeated. You felt like your whole body would just crumble beneath you. 

You didn’t know what was happening. Everything around you was just numb. The sound, the temperature, the smell,... your whole existance. 

Crying, thinking, not moving, not eating... it took all the energy from you. Your head was throbbing, your heart racing and your legs giving into gravity. You fell on your knees, throwing your head into your head and realizing what you had just said. 

You were in love with your best friend all this time. “I hate you.” you sobbed, feeling him stand beside you. 

He had no words. He had no thoughts whatsoever. He just stood there meanwhile you cried. He squated down to you and put his hands on your knees. He didn’t say anything but you had to. You removed your hands from your face, wiped away the tears and looked at him. “I got hurt for loving you.” you smiled, wiping more tears from your cheeks and letting out a laugh. “And you didn’t give a single fuck.” you pushed him back until he fell from his feet. You stood up and smiled until that smile became terrifying to him. “How pathethic of me?” you let out another laugh, turning him his back.

“That’s not fair, (y/n).” he said, looking up at you.

“Not fair?” you turned around. “What’s not fair is you moving on so fast!”

“What did you expect me to do? Wait for you to come to your senses?!”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT!” tears streamed down your cheeks but this time you felt annoyed by how many you managed to produce. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. When you told me how hurt you were when Sirius came to you- that was the day I wanted to tell you how alone and lonely I feel. How nobody fought for me! How everybody used me- how horrible I felt as a person! I wanted to tell you my insecurities, my dark thoughts but  I am so glad I didn’t! So glad! I am so happy that I did what I did because it showed me that you weren’t worth a tear, not one but I shed so many for you.” you grabbed your wand and continued to look at him with a disgusted look in your face. “Asshole.” you past him by and out of your room until everything- every single emotion for him was dead to you.