#this has been sitting in my drafts for way too long. BTW HEY WHATS WITH THAT ONE JUDGEMENT VID??????

[lordichamo]

love this guy. the yours. i think itd be funny if he. ahem. Survived.

[ariseur]

hey again 👀 soooo you said i should send another ask if i had an idea and diva you said that to the wrong person. i have too many lmao

im stressing that u should write this at your own time! no rush :)

but yeah im actually writing a longform seph/reader fic where the reader is from a southern/appalachian coded town near gongaga. my idea id love to have your spin on is a scene where sephiroth (someone raised on protein powder and spinach probably) gets to try some real southern comfort food that the reader makes for him :). im talking biscuits, fried chicken, some kind of creamy noodle dish, just all the unhealthy savory goodness

he deserves it 🥺

ty for the last request again btw✨💕

“ spread kisses like honey. ”

sephiroth (ffvii) x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

omg this has been sitting in my drafts sooo long!! this was really cute and i loved writing it, it reminded me of lucy gray and coriolanus snow from hg hence why i put the title as a lyric from her ballad 💕 always look forward to your requests!! thank you againnn!!

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

you and seph being sickly sweet towards each other, sephiroth being utterly in love with you in his inner monologue, kind of not canon because there are moments where i mention how sephiroth talks to genesis and angeal despite knowing zack and interacting with zack ( which like clashes with the entire point of cc .. but shhh i wanted domesticity ), intended lowercase, lmk if i missed anything!! 💕

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1088 words, 5905 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“you’ve never had this?” you gasped dramatically, your shocked face only to be met with sephiroth’s stoic one. he hesitantly nodded— was that.. a bad thing? did he somehow offend you in some way? the steam that had emitted from the plates below you set on the

“don’t you like pasta?” you asked, still utterly baffled.

he nodded slowly, “is something wrong?” he didn’t understand the confusion. there were a lot of foods he hasn’t tried, isn’t that normal for everyone? you blinked owlishly, lifting up the fork with the pasta noodles stabbed against the metal, the creamy sauce departing from the food in small, slow drips.

“what have you been eating if you’ve never had something as delicious as this?” you muttered, your lips reverting back into a tight ‘o’ as you blew on the fork— before finally slipping it into your mouth. “i’m shocked.” words muffled as you still chewed on your food, at least covering your mouth while you spoke.

sephiroth chuckled amusedly, “we’ve grown up in deeply contrasting places.” he crossed his arms against his chest, watching as you slurped up the pasta with stars in your eyes— occasionally opening your mouth to let the heat escape, soft steam pouring out from the small gap you’ve left while chewing. “still,” said you, “‘s so good.” he could barely make out your voice from how full your mouth was but he still shook his head as he leaned further back in his chair.

closing his eyes, he tilted his head down while he let the strands of snowy hair fell and covered bits of his face, blocking the bright sun even to the darkness beneath his eyelids. sephiroth didn’t pay much mind to the fact that your loud chewing of garlic bread and slurping of buttered food had come to a halt until he felt a strong aroma slip in from under his nostrils, it was only then did he open his eyes to see you holding the fork to his lips.

you held an expectant gaze and he quirked a brow before ultimately leaning forward while he let his eyes rake over the food. it looked a little messy, the sauce dripping over the place as you had ripped a piece of garlic bread off along with it and placed a chunk on the metal twinges of the utensil. he looked up again at you, waiting as you nodded your head and tried to keep your excitement contained. he blew on the fork a little bit before opening his mouth and letting it settle upon the steel. what could one bite do, he asked himself.

but once he had finally tried it, he could’ve dropped dead right then and there. the combination of the salty and savory flavors was perfect, and the way the bread had soaked some of it up too was incredible. sephiroth closed his eyes, letting his jaw work as he let his taste buds be blessed with what was known as your cooking. he had always seen you working your way through the kitchen, using various pots and pans and oils while you zipped around — and when sephiroth had offered help, you simply put a hand up and looked up at him for a split second, trying to simultaneously get the perfect roast as you smiled at him sweetly. that was enough for him.

despite watching you cook a lot ( and the only times he did get to help, he ended up being ordered by you to stand in the corner or measure occasional ingredients ), he had never actually savored something as good as this. being a first class prevented him from doing any good when it came to dinner time, either the timing being too late and you had already gone to bed or you were too tired and he decided not to bother you and he ate something small.

but this, he thought, this was perfection. when it came to you, sephiroth never let his appreciation go silent as he would always thank you or give you sayings of endearment and encouragement. he didn’t have words for this dish, he had never tried anything like it. so in awe, he merely said, “you’ve truly outdone yourself,” as he handed you back the fork. you didn’t mind the simple compliment. it never sounded generic to you when sephiroth would express his gratitude, even when they were mumbled in passing with dragged feet when he had come home from an exasperatingly tiring job, he always made sure to tell you how much he was grateful for you and what you do when he’s away.

he couldn’t wait until he was back at hq to boast to genesis and angeal about how delectable your cooking was. maybe zack, too — although sepiroth had a feeling that the energetic SOLDIER might just end up begging you for food even more. not that you minded, though. you were always so kind, sephiroth didn’t know how you were always able to do it.

“thanks.” you chimed, your voice ever so warm that it made his heart flutter. sephiroth wasn’t exactly what you’d call — expressive. he always held a smooth, cool tone of voice and occasionally threw a sassy remark towards you or genesis, or even that kid zack fair he introduced you to. but you understood his inflection of which he spoke in, you could tell his emotion even when he had entered a room ( and vice versa ). you were one of the most cherished things in sephiroth’s life and it could not go unnoticed.

with his tongue peeking out from between his bottom lip to gather some of the residual flavor that was left behind, his eyes roamed across the table further to more so further treasure your sacrifices ( of both time and food ).

“what’s that over there?” he lifted a finger, almost perfectly manicured despite using his hands excessively in battle, to point over at a small white dish filled with elbow macaroni and a homemade cheese sauce. you turned your head and grinned, reaching over the wooden dining table to grab it and lower the bowl on its side to reveal the contents. “mac ‘n’ cheese,” you replied, “want some?” your eyes seemed to glimmer with more amusement. sephiroth had now developed a new interest in your food and he couldn’t wait to indulge in it.

with the smile and those eyes of yours, how could he say no to one more bite?

𐙚 taglist ; @snoopicle

𐙚 requests are closed — june tenth, 2024

[amoebagrl]

“i wanna be the one you think about at night”

college au!abby anderson x hyper fem!reader

abby keeps seeing this cute girl all over campus, and when she goes to the first lecture in her new class she finally gets to talk to you!! ♡

warnings: none except for abby being whipped for 30 minutes straight

wc: 735

part one of two

an: my first fic on a new blog!! how exciting ♡ so sorry this is so bad, i’m a little nervous to write 😭 also this is alittle loser!abby oops! song is flaming hot cheetos by clairo!!

not proofread!

(basketball!abby created by the lovely @elsweetheart)

grunting, as she sets down her heavy backpack, she sees you standing in the doorway

you’re the mystery girl. her mystery girl.

you’re just walking into the class, anxiously searching for a familiar face when you lock eyes with her. you’d seen abby anderson before, i mean, she’s the captain of your university’s basketball team.

you quickly scanned the room, looking for anyone else you knew, but ultimately decided on taking a seat next to her.

“hi!” you quickly smile and wave, setting down your pink tote bag at the seat right next to hers.

“oh, um hey” she says, freaking out internally “you’re y/n right? i’m abby” she asks, smiling. “yeah, i am” you laugh “you play basketball here, right?” you question

“yeah- um i do. i’m the captain actually” she clears her throat. what. the hell. she knows me?!?? stay calm abby.

“cool! i’ve always wanted to see you guys play but just haven’t really gotten a chance” you admit, sheepishly, toying with the trim of your baby pink sweater

“i mean, we have a game tomorrow night… that’s if you want to come, of course” “really? i’d love to come!” you chirp

“if you’d want to go earlier i could- i could pick you up, like when i’m on my way… like you could watch us warm up and everything. it sounds boring so if you wouldn’t wanna-“ “yes! omg of course that sounds fun!” she freezes for a second, almost shocked at the fact that you’d even want to see her play

“really?” “yeah” you grin. she’s kind of cute you think to yourself

she stands there for a second, and then fumbles for her phone “can i have your number? so i could text you all the times and… stuff” “sure!” you pull out your phone, which has a baby blue case with little bunnies on it, “here” you take her phone, typing in your number and adding your name, with a little ‘♡’ after it

she hands you your phone back, with her contact now saved “so i’ll text you tomorrow, yeah?” “yeah!” you blush, and turn to take out your laptop

that whole afternoon, she stares at your contact in her phone, drafting about 101 texts she doesn’t dare send.

unbeknownst to her, you’re doing the exact same thing.

the next day your phone ‘dings’

abby: hey, is 4:30 alright? i have to get there earlier and stuff

you: yeah that’s perfect! :) this is my dorm btw

*1 attachment*

abby: i’ll see u then

you: see u!! ♡

a heart???? does that mean anything?? she thinks, mind racing.

you panic, checking the time. “ITS ALREADY NOON?? I NEED MORE TIME TO GET READY” you squeal, alerting your roommate, dina, who was in the middle of doing some homework

“oooo getting ready for who??” “you’ll never guess. not in a million years?” “who?!” ellie, dina’s girlfriend, asks sitting up from dina’s bed “um how long have you been here?” you ask the auburn haired girl, startled. “ummm too long. anyways who is it??” “abby anderson.” you say, quietly, almost in a whisper.

“abby… anderson?” she asks, brows furrowed. “yes… sorry els i know you hate her or whatever” you wince “hate is an understatement. did you know what she said to me in freshman gym??” “ellie, please” dina warns, clearly having heard this story plenty of times

“yeah fine” she shrugs, pulling the duvet back over her head.

“okay so where is she taking you??” dina asks, turning to face you. “well… to her game tonight. it’s not a date or anything!” you say, ignoring the brunettes eye roll “that’s very boring. anyways you should wear that new jean skirt you got last week” “i was thinking of wearing that! with what top though? the pink one? “that’s really flowy?” “yeah!” “and then the white sweater over it!”

“dina. you are literally my fairy godmother” she shrugs off your compliment, “i’m just that good” she brags.

you nervously sit on the edge of your bed in the shared dorm, as ellie and dina already made their way to some party

two sharp knocks on your door echo through the room and you quickly sit up and make your way over to the door, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and you turn the knob.

the door swings open, revealing the muscular blonde in front of you.

“wow.” she breaths out

reblog to help support your fav writers! 🫧

[oh-snapperss]

so indebted to you for cuteguy etho god bless

just for u.... i give u the accidental beginning of a cute guy fic in my drafts. it's pure crack and unedited btw

words: 1169

warnings: none

has like one line of implied shipping lol

“Etho, Etho!” Bdubs waves frantically, as if the two were greeting each other after a long few weeks apart, rather than a single day. 

“Oh, hey Bdubs!” Etho walks over, barely noticing when the door slams shut behind him. There’s plenty of other customers around, most wearing headphones and sitting at the tables, lost in their work. This morning, there’s no line, and Etho heaves a sigh of relief. He’d been up way too late, and he’s ready for a pick me up. 

“Have you seen the news?” Bdubs asks as soon as he’s at the counter. Over by one of the cabinets, a muted television plays, showing a broken window at one of the museums. Etho tears his eyes from it quickly. 

“Ah, you know me! I never do!”

“Someone broke into Cub’s museum last night!” Bdubs’ eyes are wide, gesturing at the TV anyways. 

Etho blinks, pushing down his rising horror. “No way.” He doesn’t know…surely….

“Yes way!” Bdubs leaned in conspiratorially. “They say that the Cute Guy outfit was stolen!” 

Etho’s grip on the strap of his backpack tightens. “That so?” 

“Yeah! I mean, who would do that, right?” Bdubs pushed back from the counter. “You want your usual, right?” 

“Yes please.” Etho draws out the ‘please’, as always. “Don’t forget the heavy whipping cream.”

“You know you’re the only reason I keep this in stock, right?” Bdubs rolls his eyes, bustling around the coffee shop. It’s a quaint place, smelling so strongly of coffee Etho is sure that he’ll be smelling it the rest of the day. Nonetheless, it was the best coffee shop in the whole city! Least, that was what Bdubs said. And if Etho ever said otherwise, he’d have his head gone by morning, probably. 

“Ah, come on! Best part of the whole coffee!” Etho protests, flicking parts of his napkin at Bdubs whenever his back is turned. 

“You’re disgu–stop flicking the napkin at me–you’re the worst! Don’t even know why I serve this to you, it’s gonna give you diabetes, you’re gonna die at the ripe age of however old you are, and then what’s ol’ Bdubs gonna do?” Throughout his ramble Bdubs flits around the coffeeshop, making Etho’s coffee regardless. It’s a simple enough order, just black coffee. 

…okay, and just as much heavy whipping cream. 

“I’m not gonna die! Takes a lot more than that to kill me!” Etho giggles, although he shifts from foot to foot. What does it take to kill him? He’s tempted to check and make sure his backpack is securely zipped up. 

“It does not take a lot more to kill you.” Bdubs glares at him, sliding the cheap disposable cup across the counter towards him. “Four dollars.” 

“Wh–it’s three-fifty!” 

“Yeah, but I need financial compensation for when this kills you.” Bdubs says smugly. “Pay up, sweetheart.” 

Etho’s not blushing at the endearment. No sirree. He would never, especially since he’s ninety percent sure Bdubs calls everyone that. 

“Etho?” Bdubs stares at him, unimpressed. “Just cause you’re my favorite customer doesn’t mean you get out of paying for your coffee.” 

“Ohhh, favorite customer, you say?” Etho grins, all thoughts abandoned in favor of teasing. “If I’m your favorite customer, can I get a disco-”

“No.” 

“Okay.” Etho laughs, and finally pulls his usual wad of cash from his pocket. “How much again?” 

“Three fifty. Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the–”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Etho slides the money over, before hiking his backpack up his shoulder again. “Thanks, ‘dubs. See you around?” 

Bdubs barely even glances at him. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

“Or maybe at the grocery store? Oh wait, you’re too short–”

“Get out!” Bdubs flicks another napkin at him. “You’re the worst!”

His grin says otherwise, and Etho matches it with his own clear out of the shop. Once out, though… 

The streets are crowded, the sky overcast with light grey clouds. Shoot, he should have checked the weather before he left–if he gets stuck in a drizzle without a jacket, he’ll never hear the end of it from Scar, or Bdubs, or anyone else. 

He walks down the street, glancing around. iBuy seems particularly busy, and so does False’s fashion shop. He slips through the crowd, trying not to bring too much attention to himself. It’s a miracle no one has noticed his routine yet–get coffee, walk down street, duck into the alleyway entirely non suspiciously, and slip in the back door to his new job at HotGuy HQ. 

Insane, right? 

The second he’s through the backdoor, the alarms go off, as usual. It’s a simple matter of yanking a wire from the alarm system to turn it off, and then he continues forward as normal. 

“Scar?” He calls out, glancing around. The HQ is quiet today, not even a receptionist at the front desk. 

“You mean Hot Guy?” 

Etho spins around on his heel, to discover Scar standing at the top of the stairs. He’s fully decked out in his superhero outfit, each muscle outlined and complemented by his shirt. 

“Scar, it’s just us. Do we really need to call each other–”

“Never call each other by real names, Cute Guy. You never know who could be listening.” Scar lowers his head, so that the light shining behind it outlines each impeccable feature in shadow perfectly. “Our identities… must be kept secret. Forever.” 

“Ooookay.” Etho sighs. “Why’d you call me Cute Guy?” 

The light behind Scar goes out, leaving Scar blinking at Etho in confusion. “Because that’s… who you are?”

“What do you mean by that…?” Etho stares back, horror swirling in his gut. “Sca-Hot Guy, I just did you a favor by breaking into that museum. I’m not becoming Cute Guy, that’s someone else’s job–”

“What do you mean?” Scar grins. “That was your final test! To prove your strength, your valor, your bravery!”

“I’m pretty sure those last two words mean the same thi-”

“Did you get it?” Scar descends the steps, his bow clutched desperately in one hand. “Have you succeeded?” 

Etho sighs. When he’d signed up for Hot Guy lessons, he’d thought maybe it would help him pick up some flirting tips, not this! “Yes, S-Hot Guy, I got it.” He slings the backpack off his shoulder, tossing it to Scar without much fanfare. “I’m not wearing that.” 

The bag is caught easily, although Etho doesn’t miss the look of horror when it’s thrown. “You can’t just throw the Cute Guy outfit!”

“Sorry.”

Scar ignores his apology, unzipping the bag eagerly. Each part of the costume is pulled out eagerly, before being dropped on the floor in favor of the next piece. Pink skirt, pink jacket, fishnet tights, pink crop top and are those cat ears?

Etho decides not to point out the irony of half the costume being tossed to the floor after being scolded for throwing the backpack. Besides, he really needs to head on out anyways, he’s running late for work at the redstone department of iBuy–

“Try it on.” 

“What?”

[multifandoms27-blog]

Hiii! can I request fluff with tiny angst hcs of L and Mello when they wake up to their gf crying in the middle of the night because she had a dream of them dying?

Absolutely! Been craving angst lately anyway <3

• ───────────────── •

Content: L x F!Reader; Mello x F!Reader (separate)

Warnings: Spoilers for the series, character death

Notes: This has been in my drafts since July lol btw do y'all know that death note is getting TAKEN OFF OF NETFLIX SOON??? I'm so angry. (In the US area)

• ───────────────── •

❥L Lawliet

L doesn't sleep. We all know and we all agree on that.

So when you wake up in your shared bed, alone, from a particularly brutal nightmare, for a minute you thought it was real.

L had been caught by Kira.

He fell out of his chair and you'd been there to catch him, and it didn't take a genius to know he was suffering from a heart attack from how he suddenly dropped.

He died in your arms, you sobbing your eyes out

Now, in the real world, you laid on your bed and began to sob again, eyes stinging from how much you'd already cried in your sleep

Your throat felt dry - you might've screamed in your sleep

Sitting up, you cried into your hands some more before deciding to get up and grab some water

However, as if on cue, L walked in with a full glass of water in hand

"(nickname)? I heard you scream." L spoke softly, walking closer. "Are you alright?"

You'd never been so relieved in your life

Flinging yourself out of bed, you embraced L (careful of the glass) and held him tight, burying your face in his shoulder

"(Y/n)?" L asks again, wrapping his free arm around you

"I h-had a nightmare..." You shook in his hold.

"Here, drink some water. I had a suspicion that the scream was from a nightmare. I heard no other thuds and there is no way someone could have snuck in here to attack you without my knowledge." L offers up the water.

You keep his arm around your waist, drinking the water carefully.

"Do you feel any better?" L asks after a moment.

"...barely. Can you come to bed?" You ask, voice raspy with sleep.

L glances over his shoulder at the computer he left on. After a moment, he looks back at you and nods.

"I'm pretty much done for tonight, anyways. Lead the way."

L tangles himself in your embrace, placing his face into your chest. You laugh at his antics, and he looked up.

"What?" His voice comes out muffled, since his mouth was covered by your clothed chest.

"Nothing, nothing." You say, carding your fingers through his hair.

"Mmh...m'kay..." L yawns. "Sleep well, love. I'm here now."

"I will." You kiss his head. "Love you."

"Love you too." Is the last thing he mutters before falling asleep with you.

• ───────────────── •

❥Mello

It didn't feel like you belonged in the room, with what you just witnessed

No dialogue was exchanged. You only saw Mello standing over a cowering woman with short, black hair, then he suddenly falls over

It doesn't take long for you to realize you just witnessed your lovers' death

The woman then turned to you, wrote in a black book, and then your chest began to burn

Due to dream logic, you'd lived longer than Mello, allowing you to crawl to him with tears in your eyes

"Mello...Mello...Mello, please, I'm sorry..."

Mello didn't respond

The woman watched tears run down your face before you screamed for Mello before dying

Shooting up from your spot on the couch, Mello's attention was quickly snapped to you

"Hey, now." Mello saddled next to you. "Are you alright doll?"

Looking up at him, you felt yourself tear up again before hugging him close and tight.

"Woah, woah, what's the matter?" Mello loosely wrapped his arms around you. "Nightmare?"

You nodded numbly, not speaking

Mello softly sighed then tightened his hold around you

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked, before you shook your head no.

Mello nods, and moves so that you're pressed flush against him, not really knowing what else to do

He gave you a peck to your temple, hoping that would satiate any kind of nerves you had

"Mello?"

"Hm?"

"You're not going anywhere...right?"

"No, why?"

You didn't respond before hiding your face in his neck. Mello sighed again before going back to holding you

It didn't take a genius for him to realize you probably had a nightmare about him, or with him in it. But, as long as you didn't wanna talk about it,

"Did you wanna go back to sleep?"

he wouldn't push you about it.

"Yeah."

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to request, or look for more of your favorite character!

[jxngh]

Hey! It's me again with another request. 😅

What about a Hoseok that everyone underestimate and think that just because he's so adorable, a true gentleman and even cheesy that they don't think he can be good at bed.

So, some girls make a bet (idk let's pretend their work colleagues or they're in college, what suits you better) what they don't know is, that Hoseok somehow, actually finds out about this bet, but he's not bother at all, on the contrary, he's beyond thrilled since he's been wanted to fuck hard OC, so this is his chance to prove her how wrong she actually is.

The player will be end up being played.

A good boy with a little a very dirty secret behind doors. What do you think? 👀

hii!! this has been on my drafts for weeks and just finished it! hope you'll enjoy ✨ thank you so much for 600+ followers btw 🥺

if you enjoy my content please consider buying me a coffee 🥺🤍

your sweet boss is made a party for the ones who freshly started work with you. you didn't expect anything less from a gentleman as him. he was always disciplined but never not supportive and adorable. sometimes even cheesy.

you and your work colleagues were in the party. and after some food and drinks - and not seeing him around - they basically started gossipping. you were trying to be friends with the new colleagues but you all were in the same conversation so you kinda had to be in it.

"soo... what do you guys think about your new boss?" asked one of your close colleagues. she loved gossipping and stuff like that, was so fun all the time.

"he's super sweet...i don't know if it's because we're new to be honest." said the new girl. and the new boy added "i feel like he's a gentleman but...we don't know how is he in bed right?" he made a funny voice. you all laughed.

"bet he's not good at bed, seems too soft." your fun friend said while she's taking another bite from the food. and she turned to you before asking. "what do you think, __?"

"i don't know..." you looked at her, then the others. "he seems vanilla but i can't really say if he's bad."

they talked about it a little then the conversation changed.

you were still thinking about it tho. the thing you didn't know was that he heard your talk while he's getting another drink from a table closer to you guys.

after a week from the party, to check your work, he came to your room. at least that was what you thought. you thought that you did something wrong and he was here to show you how to fix it. as he did multiple times before.

but no, here he was showing you the plans of the new design of the office from the computer, too close to your face while he's behind the chair you're sitting at. you couldn't focus on the screen because of him.

and you couldn't decide if it's smell that is making your mind dizzy or the tone of his voice. there was definitely something different today.

"are you even listening __?" he asked and that was when you really started listening. your attention was on his side profile which is looking like he's a painting.

"oh uhm yes. sorry, i got distracted." you confessed.

that put a grin to his face. he came closer to you, leaving a deep breath. you felt small tingles on your neck.

"you're one of my best workers and you always listen carefully what i say, __. is something wrong?" he asked you, eyes traveling to your lips for a millisecond. the gap between you two was so small, you could feel his capturing smell making your mind dumb.

"n-nothing." you stuttered, trying too hard to look at him in the eyes. your mind was screaming at you that you should get back but you just stayed still.

he took a deep breath and tilted his head.

"is this vanilla?"

wha- what was he talking about? why did he just highlight the word? did he hear you talking? shit. you were going to be fired if he did. plus you didn't want him to hear those words, you just said it. ugh.

your eyes widened but you tried to act like he's talking about something else.

"what is?" you looked up at him, his breathtaking features. the grey suit was covering his body so well. damn, you thought.

he looked at you and talked before slightly smirking.

"the colour, __. what else could it be?"

you looked down and gulped before looking at him again.

"i d-don't know sir." you felt your cheeks getting hotter, shit. what was happening to you? you weren't exactly a shy type of woman but the sudden hint made you flustered.

he held the armrests of your chair and turned you to face him, then he gently nipped your chin and made you look up.

"why are you getting red? tell me what's on your mind, baby." he said staying still and leaving only few centimeters between your faces.

him calling you that sent a flutter to your heart. what happened to the sweetest boss you had? and more importantly, why did you want him so bad with just a word?

"thought you were thinking that i'm vanilla, but here you are getting even more red with a 'baby'..."

fuck. he knew. he knew what you've said. you wanted to speak and tell him that he misunderstood or something, at least try to fix this someway. but you couldn't, not when you were that close. you opened your mouth but no words came out. and your brain focused on his breath brushing your lips, he was looking amazing.

"i can prove you wrong baby. bet you'll only think and talk about me." he said before brushing his lips to yours for a second. you closed your eyes. then he watched your face with lust filled gaze of his.

your hand found his neck and pulled him close to a kiss. it was intense, wasn't so slow but not fast either. you felt his hands coming down and holding your waist, then down and grabbing your ass while he sucked your bottom lip. after that he lifted you and made you sat on your table.

he started to give your ass hard squeezes while groaning into your mouth.

"mmmh " he said before spreading your legs and rolling his hips against yours.

he was so hard and you were sure your panties were wet after that kiss. and now he was sucking marks to your neck to collarbone. you loved the feeling of getting marked by him. the way he touched you were mind-numbing.

"mmph, please." you moaned, not able to opening your eyes from the feeling.

he smirked and held your waist tightly. then rolled his hips to yours, it was harder this time.

"name it baby. please what?" he asked leaving a peck to the sweet spot under your ear. it sent tingles to your body, you held his head and pulled him closer. now you were face to face, his eyes were half lidded and full with lust, looking deeply into your ones.

"please sir, prove me wrong." you said breathily.

he smiled for a second, then kissed your lips hungrily. then with a low moan he sent his tongue to meet yours. and yeah,he was so good at it. it was like his tongue is dancing on yours. you couldn't help but whimper.

you felt his hands getting under your dress, playing with the thin waistband while he leaves low grunts to your mouth. the vibration was making you feel some type of way. your whimpers were telling the same thing.

your hands found his belt and unbuckled it without breaking the intense kiss you've having with him. he slid your panties aside and started to rub his hand to your wetness.

"fuck." he breathed havily. "all of this is for me? fuck baby, you make me wanna ruin you."

you smiled and palmed his erection, getting low curses from him. you could feel him twitching.

"i'm ready sir." you said, looking at his hungry expression. your hands were resting on the waistband of his underwear. you slowly pulled it down.

he was long and pretty. and definitely ready to fuck. the gray suit he wore was looking so rich, and the fact that he still had it on was a turn on to you.

he didn't waste anymore time and pushed himself to you in one thrust. your moans and his grunts mixed. he was holding your waist and sucking your neck.

"ah sir, move. please."after checking your face he continued his movement slowly. you could feel every inch of him, he was so deep and filling you so well.

he started to move faster, making you jolt with every push of his hips. you needed to get support from your hands, holding the table tightly.

"such a pretty baby, spreading herself for me on her table, crying under me." he said pulling himself back almost fully. "still thinking i'm vanilla?" he said and pushed himself harder, finding the spot easily. and now he was fucking you rough.

"n-no sir, ohh yes." you replied and felt your high coming, by the way his dick twitches inside of you after every moan of yours you could tell he's close too.

he kept his pace, made you lose control of your moans while he leaves low grunts to your neck, whispers dirty stuff to your ear.

"come as i say pretty." he said and gave deep thrusts, getting faster and going slower and deeper again. your pussy started to clench like crazy. if you weren't being held by him you'd probably fall because how hard he fucks.

"come." he said and you both came, you were a moaning mess.

he pulled himself out and fixed your dress after fixing his suit, getting ready to leave.

"guess i proved it all wrong, huh?" he said, watching your not so out of bliss face. it was a strong high.

"i can't believe i thought that sir." you said looking at his lips involuntarily. you were still between your desk and him. he moved closer and kissed you slowly. then his hands found the marks he left on your skin.

"everybody will know who left these marks on you baby. you can cover it up... or you can keep it and i can take you a proper date tonight. cause this wasn't just sex for me. what'd you say?"

his words made your heart flutter. you couldn't help but smile.

"of course."

taglist : @nglmrk - @allora1233 - @sizzlebangtan4 - @youmyjhope - @raiiisstuff - @alexmin606 - @bookfrog242

.·´ tell me your thoughts about it in here please / can be general talk too i missed y'all 🥺 + ask to be in my taglist!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 290: It’s Touya Time

Previously on BnHA: Iida and Hadou showed up like a couple of Pennsylvanias and Georgias to bail Shouto out at the last minute. Ochako and Toga had an exceptionally strange fight which consisted of Toga being all “guess what Ochako, I used your quirk to murder someone, how do you feel about that”, and Ochako being all “I do not like that”, to which Toga was all “:(”. There was some doll-stealing and some bookcase-yeeting, and then Toga left in tears because Ochako was all adamant that murder has consequences. Anyway so I have absolutely no idea what Toga is thinking now, but I guess we’ll have some time to stew on it, because we ended the chapter by cutting back to the Iida+Hadou+Shouto VS Afomura battle, which was interrupted by Gigantomachia and the LoV showing up like a bunch of Floridas to ruin everyone’s nice day.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi hands the mic over to Dabi and is all “take it away, kid.” Over in Room 315 of Musutafu General, Rei is all “may I please watch some TV” and the hospital staff is all “sure”, and so she tunes in just in time to catch Todoroki Touya’s Peabody Award-winning documentary “Number One Hero, Number One Fraud: The Todoroki Enji Story”, which is being broadcast nationwide courtesy of Skeptic and his magic laptop. Meanwhile in Jakku, Dabi is all “I’M TOUYA, BITCHES”, and Shouto and Enji are all, “(゜◇゜ )”, and Dabi is all, “anyway so just to sum it all up, because of how much of a jerk Endeavor was, I am now Evil.” Everyone continues to be all “(ﾟoﾟ)” except for Dabi, who is all “└(˘▾˘┌ )≡ ( ┐˘▾˘)┘≡┗( ˘▾˘)┛≡┏( ˘▾˘)┓≡┗( ˘▾˘)┛” for pretty much the rest of the chapter. Idk. Just let the man have his fun, guys. He’s waited a long time for this.

y’all I have a confession to make. I am technically not spoiled for this chapter thanks to my robustly paranoid system of spoiler-tag-filtering, which is extensive enough that it pretty much will catch whenever someone so much as breathes something even remotely new-chapter-related. that being said, I like to think that I am capable of making basic logical inferences! and so the fact that for the past 36 hours, my dashboard has pretty much nonstop consisted almost entirely of this...

...has led me to conclude that MAYBE, POSSIBLY, PROBABLY, BUT ALSO DEFINITELY, a certain someone is finally going to reveal his ~secret identity~ woop woop. lmao

anyway so everyone, please remember to act surprised though, as we would not want Dabi’s feelings to be hurt at all. he has been planning this moment for the last decade or so and I wouldn’t want him to feel like all of that effort was for naught. so just play along, okay. OH MY, IF IT ISN’T THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS’ MYSTERIOUS DABI. WHATEVER COULD HIS ARRIVAL POSSIBLY BE HERALDING, I JUST DON’T KNOW

“Dabi’s Dance” lmao. I’m sticking with Touya Time myself. ngl I had this recap title planned out for at least the past year or so. just waiting for that day to finally come

anyway so some people in some building somewhere are all “TURN OFF THE TV IN ROOM 315” and idk. I’m guessing the LoV is hacking the airwaves to livestream the reveal, as predicted

-- oh shit. UHHHHHHHH

did she always have this TV or did she get it just recently?? jfc of all the times for the hospital staff to finally loosen up

um... so that’s... (・＿・；)

well but I mean, she was gonna find out one way or the other at some point though. like you can’t really just keep her locked up and isolated from all news of the outside world forever and ever and ever. granted, this isn’t exactly the ideal way for her to learn this particular bit of information, but it’s not really ideal for anybody else either! EXCEPT DABI, THAT IS. have yourself a day you funky little terrorist

oh shit what is this?? it’s not live???

over in Jakku, a red-faced, sputtering Dabi makes a frantic grab for Skeptic’s laptop. “WAIT, NO, JESUS, NOT THAT TAPE!”

lol. but seriously Dabi are you even wearing a shirt. like I’m not one to slutshame anyone bro, but it’s just, exactly what type of mood were you looking to set here??

anyway so we really are cutting back to Jakku now, and Gigantomachia is all, “MASTERS”! which, I wonder if he really did use the plural? that’s right Machia, both of them in one place now! that sure is convenient for you huh

lol what is this with all this AFO monologuing. you’re really gonna make me read through this when I’m sitting here all sleep-deprived from election week. JUST GET TO THE TOUYAS. WE WERE PROMISED TOUYAS!!

sigh

“tee hee it’s fucking hilarious how goddamn powerful I am now lol”

alas, in spite of myself I do have two serious takeaways from this. one is that AFO is still controlling most of Tomura’s body behind the scenes, which both does and doesn’t bode well for Tomura (like, at least he’s not dying, but the long-term implications of this for his free will and such certainly are not Good). and two is that this confirms that Ujiko did give Tomura at least one powerful mutant quirk, which explains why he was still so deadly and indestructible even when Aizawa was using Erasure on him (since Erasure doesn’t work on mutant quirks, just emitter and transformation ones)

MEANWHILE ON TODAY’S EPISODE OF “TODOROKI SHOUTO’S TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD LIFE”

I like how he doesn’t actually say that he can’t take on Gigantomachia. just that he can’t take on him and Afomura at the same time. that’s confidence, baby. that right there is why you always draft Todoroki Shouto in the first round for your fantasy team

HADOU!!!!

OOOH, TOMURA’S ALL “MAN, THIS GIRL’S WAVE POWERS AND THIS KID’S ICE POWERS ARE A SUPER-STRONG COMBO DAGNABBIT.” YESSS I LIKE THAT, TELL ME MORE ABOUT HOW COOL AND POWERFUL THEY ARE

HOT DAMN LOOK AT THAT

um but not to take away from this exceptionally cool moment or anything, but why is Endeavor dying and shouting “RUN” down there in the corner um

oh

excuse me. not to take away from How Bad This All Is, but!!

just a little, smol, IidaBaku for everyone. Iida, who apparently doesn’t know a damn thing about first aid and is all, “hmm that’s a pretty bad-looking puncture wound he has in his left shoulder there, I think I’ll just let his arm dangle freely like that and I won’t bother taking off his heavy gauntlets either. I mean. he’ll be fine, probably.” smh. at least Shouto probably cauterized the wounds

EXCUSE ME WHAT

TIME FOR MORE OF THAT GOOD OLD FASHIONED SHOUNEN RIDICULOUSNESS I GUESS LMAO. KACCHAN YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO. THERE IS A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, AND YOU LOST LIKE FOUR GALLONS OF BLOOD, BUT SURE. “PUT ME DOWN” HE SAYS. FIRST OF ALL, PUTTING ASIDE THE FACT THAT YOU ABSOLUTELY SHOULD NOT BE CONSCIOUS, THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN GOING TO DO, LIE DOWN AT THEM?? LISTEN, YOU SWEET IDIOT. TAKE HEED, BELOVED DUMBASS!!

ah well. I guess he gets to watch the Touya Show now too then lol

LMAOOOO now Machia’s lifting Tomura carefully in his palm like a broken action figure and Spinner is all “THE FUCK, YOU LOOK LIKE DEATH WARMED OVER”

“oh hey there Spinner. well let’s see, I woke up from my three-month coma and destroyed a city, had my body incinerated, and am currently being possessed by a diabolically evil potato. but please, tell me more about everything you've been through”

AW YISS AND THE FOCUS NOW SHIFTS TO THE TODOROKIS. EVERYTHING IS PROCEEDING EXACTLY AS WE HAVE FORESEEN

Endeavor my dude. it’s as if you want to die here. also holy shit, that bit about his lungs definitely does not bode well for him either

MOTHERFUCKER

GO AHEAD AND SIGN YOUR OWN DEATH CERTIFICATE, WHY DON’T YOU!! FLAGS UPON FLAGS. JESUS CHRIST

meanwhile Dabi’s just waving at ‘em

lmaoooo please oh please Caleb please keep this ‘EYYYYYYY’, it’s fucking perfect kdlshk;hg

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: so as you will see very shortly, I completely missed this detail in my first read-through because I was so anxious to get to the reveal page, but THIS MOTHERFUCKER LITERALLY DOUSED HIMSELF WITH INSTANT HAIR DYE REMOVER THAT HE’S JUST BEEN CARRYING AROUND IN A LITTLE HIP POUCH APPRENTLY SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME. MOTHERFUCKER. I HAVE NO WORDS.)

IS THIS THE TIME. IS THIS THE MOMENT?! HERE IT COMES SLKFHS BRACE YERSELVES LADS

EYYYYYYYYYYYY

OKAY EVERYONE JUST LIKE WE PRACTICED!! SURPRISED FACES ON THREE! ONE... TWO... (•̪ o •̪) !! okay how was that

LMAO ENDEAVOR

at least Shouto looks properly stunned. Enji just looks like endeavor.exe just straight up stopped working

meanwhile Deku’s out here trying to do the math on this latest surprise family reveal! first Tomura is related to Nana, and now this. what’s next. who are you related to, Spinner. he rips off his boots to reveal engine legs and declares himself Iida’s long-lost uncle

oh shit Touya

it’s as if a million fanworks suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly jossed. who knew that all this time he was secretly sporting a crop top scar

also, THIRTY?! holy shit son you been busy

la la la two-page spread of Touya casually driving the dagger into Endeavor’s hero career and rocking the foundations of hero society as we know it la la la

la la la!!!

OH IS THAT THE END OF THE STORY THEN

almost got confused for a sec. there’s two monologues happening at once here. Endeavor doesn’t even know that his dirty laundry is being aired out nation-wide as we speak ffffff

btw while I appreciate the close-ups of Enji and Shouto here for sure, ngl I would also really love to see everyone else’s reactions right now. SHOW ME BAKUGOU AND THE LOV YOU COWARDS

is his hair actually turning white all of a sudden?? your hair dye just reacts on command??

(ETA: in all seriousness though, the hell kind of hair dye was he using? all he has to do is pour a bottle of that stuff and not even lather it in and it’s just gone just like that?? what the fuck would have have done if it ever rained lmao.

and this motherfucker just goes and leaves the dye remover in afterwards, too. I have never dyed my hair in my life and even I can tell you that’s probably not a good idea, Dabi.)

is this it. is this the legendary Dabi Dance in action. lmfao

oh hey what the fuck

so you figured you’d just murder your innocent younger brother to get revenge on dad, huh. well that’s nice

is that really all there is to the origin story though?? feels like we’re still missing a huge chunk of it. what was it that finally sent him over the edge? or was the trauma of being created as Endeavor’s perfect little hero tool and then being subsequently rejected by him enough on its own? because I’m still kind of confused on the part where he goes from “abused and discarded by his father” to “killed thirty people and was plotting the murder of his own brother” to tell you the truth

(ETA: lmao the initial fandom reaction to this did not disappoint. listen guys. people can be traumatized and shaped by awful circumstances that are completely out of their control, and grow up to be people they wouldn’t have grown up to be if things had been better, and all of that absolutely sucks, but. it doesn’t mean they get a get-out-of-jail-free card for all of their future actions, either! the tragedy of this situation is that terrible things happened to Touya, and he then went on to do terrible things himself. the tragedy of it is that this is exactly how the cycle of abuse keeps repeating itself on and on and on. maybe one of the people Dabi killed had a child who will now grow up traumatized themselves, and potentially go on to pay it forward themselves when they grow up. the tragedy is that the eye-for-an-eye justice that Touya is seeking out won’t actually make anything better in the end. the tragedy is that we understand why Touya is so angry, but that anger has basically warped him into the gleefully sadistic dancing figure we see in this chapter who has stopped caring about anyone else’s pain or suffering and just wants his own revenge.

anyway. basically what I’m trying to say is that it’s possible for the concepts of “Todoroki Touya was an innocent child and a victim of abuse” and “Dabi is a grown-ass motherfucking adult who killed thirty people and PROBABLY NEEDS TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR THAT” to coexist lol. like, y’all wanted your moral grey, well HERE YOU GO lmao, eat up.)

lol but LOOK AT THAT BOY DANCE HIS LITTLE HEART OUT though

Todoroki Touya confirmed not a fan of the Endeavor redemption arc huh. well we all saw this coming lols

anyways here’s a sexy Touya for y’all

you really are the most theatrical bitch I s2g lmao

also for real though, what is happening with his hair? anime team in shambles here. they’re probably just gonna double down and keep it red. too bad though cuz this is a surprisingly good look on him

SO MANY CLOSE-UPS OF THE TODOROKI FACES

friendly reminder that Dabi without a doubt REHEARSED this speech like a thousand fucking times. LET US FALL TOGETHER!! COME DANCE WITH YOUR SON IN HELL. apparently if you fake your own death in middle school you will never mentally age past that point and will remain a permanent chuuni

OH LMAO THAT’S THE END

we really just gonna end on “DANCE WITH YOUR SON IN HELL”, huh. very well then. you know what song to play, Horikoshi. one, two... YOU ARE MY DAD. YOU’RE MY DAD!! BOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE

[zevlors-tail]

Febuwhump Day 8 - “Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep!”

A/N: I can’t believe I just wrote this in one sitting. I know I’m super behind on Febuwhump, yikes...but I think this turned out pretty well! This got longer than I meant it to be, but then, so did most of the prompts in my drafts that I have for this month. This is actually my first time purposefully writing whump so I hope this was okay! Unedited btw, i’ll read it over in the morning.

TW: Burning building, explosions, second degree burns, mentions/descriptions of burn wounds, life or death situation, building collapse, concussed reader.

***

The first thing Hawks notices when he comes to is the foul taste in his mouth. It causes him to gag and cough with his eyes still closed, though that doesn’t help his situation much if at all. The smell of something burning sears the inside of his nostrils and clogs his lungs, and he finds it incredibly hard to breathe as he rolls over onto his side, eyes finally fluttering open.

The second thing he becomes acutely aware of is how hot he is. No...how hot the floor is. Speaking of which, he couldn’t seem to recall what he was doing down there anyways. If only that incessantly annoying ringing in his ears would stop-

Wait. Wait a minute...

An image of you flashes behind his eyelids as he blinks them shut harshly to block out the billowing cloud of smoke filling the room, and it all comes back to him in a whirlwind.

There were villains. High class villains. Not your every day run of the mill villains, but villains who could really pack a punch when fighting back. They had been occupying a small skyscraper at the time as their headquarters, and you and Hawks had partnered up to take them down after months of steak outs and observation. But something had gone wrong...very wrong. Those details were still a bit blurry, but Hawks remembers something akin to an explosion- a loud noise, the building shaking, and a blast that knocked him unconscious.

All of the sudden he’s hyper aware of what’s going on- and he realizes he needs to move fast if he’s going to get out of here alive. He’s at least twenty stories up in the air on unstable structures, his feathers and hair are singed, and his head is foggy after inhaling too much smoke. Luckily he can still move, and it doesn’t look like he’s been burned too severely, at least not yet. But the flames licking at the bottom of the closed door in front of him cause alarm bells to scream out in his head, and he knows he doesn’t have much time to think. He needs to find you so he can grab you and-

Ohhh, shit.

As he rolls over onto his other side, he can make out the outline of a figure lying on the floor, and he’s almost certain it’s you. None of the villains stuck around after blowing the place up anyways, and he can just barely see the dulled colors of your hero suit behind the thick screen of smoke.

“Fuck! Oh god, Y/N.”

You’re lying too still for your own good, and Hawks thinks he can see the beginning of what he can only assume to be fire slowly eating at the wall next to you. He wastes no time and flattens himself on his stomach, army crawling in your general direction to avoid the worst of the putrid air. It doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing. He ignores the uncomfortable heat of his body and pushes onward, his movements still a little sluggish from getting knocked out cold. He’s not entirely sure if he can even use his feathers right now while they’re this singed, and furthermore, he hopes his wings aren’t completely out of commission; he’s going to need those if the both of you are going to make it out of this alive.

“Y/N!” he tries to shout, though it ends in a horrible sounding cough that comes from deep in his chest. As he draws nearer, he hears what sounds like creaking coming from above the two of you, and to his utter horror, the support beams under floor above you have burnt to a crisp and look like they’re ready to collapse any second. It had to have been a sheer miracle that the two of you weren’t already engulfed in flames yourselves. “Y/N! Come on, kid, you gotta get up! Move!”

Even as he tries to urgently get your attention his body seems to move on it’s own accord, and before he can stop himself, he sends a few feathers your way out of habit and concern that you might be crushed any second if he doesn’t move you somehow. It hurts like hell, and he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding. This is by far the worst he’s felt when using his feathers, but it does pay off, and you’re lucky that he made the split decision to move you- no sooner had he scrambled back with you had the ceiling collapsed into the floor.

He turns to you while staying low to the ground, shaking you desperately and firmly smacking the side of your face with his hand in hopes of interrupting your forced slumber. It works but just barely, and Hawks watches as you try to take a deep breath but end up choking just as he had. He gives you a once-over while you struggle to breathe, eyes flitting over your form to assess any damage you may have taken- and to his dismay, there seems to be a good amount of it. The entire left side of your hero outfit is singed, bits of the fabric even burnt into your skin in certain places where the heat must have been too strong. You hadn’t been able to move away or protect yourself in your sleep, and the burns on your arm and leg can definitely attest to that. They’re second degree, at least; some of the fire must have actually made contact with your skin.

“Oh, fuck- Hey, look at me. Y/N, focus here!”

He leans over you to look at your eyes, and he doesn’t have to shine a light in them or have you follow his finger to know that you hit your head a little too hard. They’re glossy and unfocused, and you can’t find a single place on his face to fixate on. You just keep looking all over, and Hawks can clearly tell your concussed. 

Fucking great. He’s got to get you both out, and now.

“Hey, kid. Can you hear me?” He nervously awaits an answer with eyes trained on you, and the second you start to talk he lets out a small breath of short-lived relief.

“Hawks...? Wha...” You look so out of it and dazed.

“So that’s a yes, thank god...” Before you try to ask anything else, he stops you in your tracks and shakes his head at you. “Whoa, whoa, whoa- take it easy, alright? No questions, I just need you to listen and keep talking to me. Doesn’t matter what it’s about, I just need to know you’re awake and alive-” He pauses briefly to look around for something, anything he can do to escape.

There’s the door you both came from, the one that’s barely holding back the raging heat behind it- that’s a no-go. No way in hell is he trying to brave that. His wings won’t last five seconds in that, and you don’t have the means to protect yourself while you’re concussed. Another option is to try and escape through the hole in the floor that the ceiling caused...but that’s way too risky for the both of you as is, and it looks like flames are starting to creep in from that way, too. If he is going to take that route, he needs to do it soon. Maybe he can get to a staircase, or find a-

The sound of you moaning in pain cuts through his thoughts and his head whips back in your direction to find you grimacing and trying to move. “Ah ah- Don’t do that. Just keep talking, come on. I know it hurts, but you gotta keep talkin’ to me. I’m gonna get us out of this mess, somehow...”

Panic starts to set in as he realizes his options are limited. Terror grips him in it’s icy stone-cold jaws as he comes to the conclusion that his odds of survival are even worse.

“Hawks...it hur’s...” All you can do is roll your head back and forth and try to move, but your body just won’t cooperate with your mind.

“Fuck. Fuck! I know, I know...” His teeth grit together as he thinks, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Adrenaline is starting to kick in, and he’s desperate for anything at this point.

He still has no plan in mind when he makes another split second decision to move you from where you’re currently laying. The fire is only spreading up onto the carpeted floor the two of you are on, and the smoke is getting worse by the second; this room is a hot box with no ventilation at this point. He carefully picks you up and cradles you to his chest, his wings wrapping around the both of you to both support your frame and shield you from the onslaught of unbearable heat. It forces him to take a few steps back, and he does his best to navigate through a screen of black without bumping into any furniture. He almost trips several times, but eventually he hits the opposite wall. Or, rather...

A window. Bingo.

“S’ tired...” you mumble. Your eyes are already fluttering, rolling to the back of your head as your limbs grow heavy in his arms.

“Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep! Y/N!? Come on, stay awake!”

“C’n we go...home now?”

He doesn’t like how ragged your breathing sounds.

He almost chuckles at the absurdity of the situation, but his lungs are already full of tainted air to laugh, let alone breathe properly, so he scoffs instead- and instantly regrets it. Between fits of coughs, he presses his shoulder to the glass behind you both to test the temperature, and it’s much hotter than it should be. Part of the glass is already blown out to his right, but there’s not enough space to crawl out without the jagged edges of it tearing up his flesh and wings. But if he could somehow break it...

His feathers. He’ll have to use up more of them, but if he uses the bare minimum necessary to break the glass and saves the majority, he may be able to make it out the window and fly you both to safety. 

“We can’t go home yet,” he chokes out in response to you, finally. “I’m gonna get you out of here, and then you’re on your way to the hospital, yeah? You’re gonna be fine.” 

He knows that to be true, so long as he can actually manage this. He backs up as far as he can go without subjecting either of you to the hot flames now openly invading the room, the entryway having burnt to a crisp already. From where he stands now, he hopes there’s enough distance to create the amount of force needed to shatter that damn glass. After a quick estimate of how many feathers he can get away with using, he readies them, and it all boils down this moment. If he can’t do this, you’ll both die. Both of your lives are at stake, resting on his weary shoulders. He can do this.

He has to.

“Wanna go home...wanna go...” You’re just murmuring to yourself, and it really puts Hawks on edge.

He hears the glass shatter before he sees it. He stumbles forward, wings still securely wrapped around you, and all but falls out of the edge of the window right before the rest of the floor collapses in on itself. He hears the devastation behind him, feels sparks on his back where the holes of his shirt meet the beginnings of his wings. He knows if he had hesitated or stayed any longer, neither of you would be alive right now.

Replacing his hold on you with his arms, he lets his wings drift open and prays he didn’t overdo it with the feathers, begs whatever gods may be listening that the two of you can at least slow the fall somehow. And to his pure joy and bliss, his wings, though bleeding and burnt and painful, are still very much holding up and allowing him to fly.

Now if he can manage to get you to a hospital...you’ll be just fine.

[yoon-kooks]

The Devil Writes Romance | myg

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, college!AU, fuckboy!AU, fanficwriter!Yoongi

Summary: When you’re assigned to work with Min Yoongi on a final project for your Writing Fiction course, you stumble upon the fuck boy’s secret identity as a sappy fanfic writer. With the heart and soul of an aspiring editor, you’re somehow convinced by the boy himself to help make his fictional romance more realistic and heartfelt. Before you know it, you’ve made a not-so-innocent pinky promise with the devil.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: mentions of sex :-)

A/N: this is basically a pilot that sets up a lot of plot for a potential series so lmk if you like the idea and would continue reading it as a series! also special shoutout to @chewymoustachio​ for the love & support 💖

As spring semester comes to a close, your only goal is to make it through finals week unscathed. Like many of your fellow English majors, most of your finals are extensive papers rather than traditional exams. Normally this would not stress you out, but your Writing Fiction course has thrown a curveball your way: half of your grade is dependent on your partner, Min Yoongi.

Personally, you’ve never been a fan of partner or group projects because you always somehow end up with incompetent teammates who either do a half-assed job or ghost you until the day before it’s due. Either way, you’ve learned and become accustomed to relying only on yourself.

However, as your Writing Fiction class has taught you, a writer’s world is not built upon independence. Rather, it’s built upon the opposite. Writers depend on others for support, feedback, and revision. That’s where your final project comes on.

For your final project, everyone in your class signed up for the role of either a writer or editor, and you’ve been randomly paired up with someone who chose the opposite. It’s no secret to anyone that you dream of becoming an editor in the industry. You love the idea of reviewing other writers’ works and providing them with as much feedback and constructive criticism as possible. Naturally, you signed up to be an editor.

As fate would have it, you find yourself paired with the boy who’s pretty much slept with the entire class, including the TA, and allegedly the professor. The only person left unchecked on his list is you. Somehow, you’ve heard more gossip about his sex life than his skills as a writer, which is why you believe you’re fucked for this final.

“Hey, Partner,” Yoongi catches up with you in the hall after class. His signature cedarwood cologne is too heavy to ignore as he strides beside you. “Are you free tonight?”

“To brainstorm some story ideas?” You tilt your head and add an innocent tone to mask the skepticism. Truthfully, you know what he really wants. It’s not your first rodeo.

“I actually already have a story in mind,” he says. “But I was thinking you and I could-”

“What’s the story about?” Because you’d much rather hear about that than one of Yoongi’s many excuses to get in your pants.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he shrugs as the two of you walk out of the building and into the beaming afternoon sun. You lift an arm to block the light out of your face, only to realize the boy’s shadow blocks it for you. Apparently, there are perks to walking with a buddy after class. “I’ll send you the draft tonight.”

“The professor literally just assigned the project and it’s not due for another week,” you raise an eyebrow. Weird, you’ve never seen a college kid so proactive and eager to get a head start on their final project. Something tells you the boy is just spouting bullshit and telling you what you want to hear. “You don’t have to rush and write all ten thousand words in a single night…”

“Well I don’t have any other plans tonight,” he says. “Unless you want to-”

“Nice try, Yoongi.” You start walking further ahead of the boy. You’re forced to squint as to not be blinded by the sun. “I guess you can have fun writing your story, then.”

“You really know how to play hard to get, Y/N…” Yoongi whines in that raspy voice of his, eliciting the tiniest smirk on your face. You might not approve of his fuck boy tendencies, but you’re also not opposed to teasing him a bit.

“If you really want to impress me, keep your word and send the draft tonight.” You spin around and wave farewell as you battle the sun. “Your editor will be waiting.”

As soon as you arrive home, you realize Yoongi isn’t the only one without any Friday night plans. With nothing to do, a large part of you hopes your partner keeps his promise so you can at least try to be productive over the weekend. But ten thousand words is a lot to write in one night. It’s more than likely that he won’t be able to pull it off.

In an attempt to wind down, you scroll through the blog feeds of your favorite writers. Many of them, such as @suga-fix and @jk-seagull, are college students like you, so you can appreciate all the time and effort they put into their craft on top of their school work. While the fan in you loves to shower them with sweet and supportive messages, the editor in you hopes to one day be able to also provide feedback on a professional level.

At the very top of your feed is a short post from @suga-fix, a romance fanfic writer whom you recently found while scouring the #jiminscenarios tag for something free of smut.

“Does anyone else struggle to ask their crush out or is it just me? Asking for a friend.”

You giggle at the innocent question. In addition to writing the sappiest Jimin fanfics, Suga is known to post snippets of his own nonexistent love life on his blog. From what you understand, he’s a boy who’s never experienced true love firsthand. Recently, however, he’s been gushing over his pretty classmate. You’re waiting for the day when he builds up enough courage and finally lands a date.

Until then, you’re satisfied with reading his ongoing fictional love story featuring the popular idol, Park Jimin, as a struggling romance novelist who finds inspiration in a skeptical wedding photographer. You absolutely adore the story, the characters, and the underlying narrative, but the editor in you can point out an area for improvement: his romance game. 

You notice the two main characters lack a certain level of chemistry to get the readers quaking and itching for more. Most of the time, the intimate scenes end with poor Jimin getting friendzoned, which certainly has its charm and humor. But truthfully, you expect a little more love from a romance fic.

You suspect that, to some extent, this is intentional as the characters are the type to dance around intimacy and have pessimistic views on romance overall. However, you also wouldn’t be surprised if Suga’s own personal inexperience with romantic scenarios is what holds him back the most.

After catching up on your socials, eating dinner, and hopping out of the shower, you sit in the darkness of your room and check one more thing before calling it a night. No email, no text, no draft from your partner. Not that you were actually expecting anything, but it would’ve been nice for the fuck boy to prove you wrong.

To be fair, you know how long and painful ten thousand words can be. If Yoongi is in fact sprinting through those ten thousand words and gets them to you by the time you wake up, you’ll consider him a man of his word.

[4:56AM] Yoongi💋 “I emailed you the thing”

[7:24AM] Y/N “Ooh, I’ll take a look 👁👁”

[7:25AM] Y/N “Btw I don’t appreciate you adding an emoji to your contact info on my phone”

After changing Yoongi’s contact name to something more appropriate, you go into your email and find the story draft that the boy had sent at exactly 4:55AM. The word count on the document says 10,382. Not too shabby, Min Yoongi.

You grab your morning caffeine and crack open your laptop to read your partner’s story on the big screen. Right away, you notice the document is titled “Untitled1” which is never a great sign, but you’re willing to forgive him if its content is stellar.

The first thing that puts a smile on your face is the main character, Jimothy. His name reminds you of your favorite idol, Jimin, with a playful touch. He’s the romance novelist who attends his friend’s wedding where he has a chance encounter with a pretty wedding photographer-

Wait. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard this story before. In fact, you know exactly where it came from. You pull up Suga’s Jimin fic and put it side-by-side against Yoongi’s version. While it’s not exactly a copy-and-paste situation, the romance novelist x wedding photographer premise is too similar for it to be a mere coincidence.

At first glance, you find it funny that Yoongi took the time to reword everything to not be caught by the plagiarism police. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he did a quick search of Jimin fanfiction and picked one that was moderately popular but not viral enough for anyone to notice. Jimin fanfic just so happens to be your guilty pleasure, so there’s absolutely no way you’d let a plagiarist slip one past you.

But upon further review, after digesting the entirety of the fic, you find that Yoongi’s flow and choice of words are eerily similar to Suga’s style without recycling a single line. Likewise, you notice the same lack of chemistry in both versions of the story. You suppose this can only mean one thing, and you need to confront him about it in person. Because the last thing you want is for him to ghost you like everyone else you’ve ever worked with.

[8:42AM] Y/N “I just finished looking it over”

[8:43AM] Y/N “Wanna get coffee & discuss? ☕️📖”

[8:45AM] Yoongi🐍 “Oh? I thought you weren’t interested in a date with me 🥺”

[8:46AM] Y/N “Let’s meet in about an hour at the coffeehouse on campus?”

[8:46AM] Yoongi🐍 “See ya there, my editor”

As you stir the oat milk into your second dose of caffeine for the morning, you wonder how you can bring up your suspicions in an appropriate and professional way. Should you confront him about it immediately, gently coax him in that direction, or take a more passive approach to see if he’ll mention it on his own? Because if you’re going to be this boy’s editor, you want to do it right.

“Thoughts?” Yoongi enters the chat with slightly damp hair and an iced Americano in hand. Your only thought in that moment is about how fucking good he smells, even in the presence of the rich aromas of your favorite roasted coffee beans. But you’ll leave those thoughts to yourself.

“My first thought was that you sent me a document titled Untitled1,” you say.

“I have a working title,” he assures you. “But I’m curious to hear what clever titles my editor has come up with after reading through the whole thing.”

“Pink Cheek Syndrome sounds appropriate.” Because that’s the title of Suga’s original fic. It’s also the term coined by Jimothy to describe couples who aren’t as in love as they’d like to believe. It’s a facade to fool everyone, including themselves.

“Great minds think alike after all.” Yoongi leans in to give you a high-five, but you just throw a balled up napkin at his palm. Confess. Just confess already.

“Can I ask what inspired the concept?” You bite your lip. “You don’t strike me as the romantic type.”

“Don’t you ever feel like people get into relationships just for the sake of being in a relationship?”

“Yeah.” All the time, in fact.

“It’s pretty shallow if you ask me,” he says with a nonchalant chuckle, as if he’s not the shallowest person on campus when it comes to established relationships. “PCS is just a commentary on people like that vs people like you and me.”

You and him? You’re not sure you have anything in common with someone who breaks hearts and sleeps around so casually.

“Sounds like something a fanfic writer would come up with.” Because it is.

“Sounds like something a fanfic reader would say,” he throws back at you.

“In fact, there’s a Jimin fanfic I read once called Pink Cheek Syndrome,” you say. The dose of coffee moving up Yoongi’s straw suddenly freezes. “You’re the original writer, right?”

He swallows hard and raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“The writing style matches even though you didn’t copy and paste,” you scroll back through Yoongi’s version for reference. “And besides, scrambling to write ten thousand words in one night is typical fanfic writer behavior. A true plagiarist doesn’t know what it means to put those hours in.”

“Nothing gets past your sharp eyes, huh, Y/N…” Yoongi sighs, failing to hide behind his Americano. “I’m equally impressed as I am scared.”

“Wait, so you’re really Suga?” Your eyes widen. Suddenly you’re overcome by a wave of emotions. Excited, nervous, star-struck. But most of all? Confused. “How?”

“Just don’t tell anyone.” He picks up his phone and starts typing away at something.

“I won’t,” you say, also pulling out your phone to check up on the @suga-fix blog. Sure enough, there’s a stream of several new posts from a few seconds ago.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK”

“I feel so exposed 😔”

“Quick, everyone act like this isn’t a fanfic blog.”

“We can pretend to be like a porn blog or smth”

“I can read everything you’re posting, you know.” You show your blog feed to Yoongi, who’s still busy keysmashing. When he finally glances up from his screen to yours, the look on his face is both flattered and distressed.

“You follow me, too?” The boy takes a long sip of his Americano, shifting his beady little eyes and plotting his next move. “What’s your URL?”

“You’re totally going to block me,” you frown. “I already told you, I’m not going to tell anyone…”

As you continue to scroll through Yoongi’s blog, you notice his post is gone from the day before. Perhaps that’s what the boy is desperately trying to hide.

“By the way, is it true that Min Yoongi, resident fuck boy, has a crush on someone?” You get excited because that’s not something you hear everyday. In regards to Yoongi, it’s always been sex, sex, and more sex. He’s notorious around campus for having one-night stands and breaking hearts the morning after. You’d never imagine a boy like him having an innocent crush on anyone.

“Where’d you hear that?” The boy across from you gradually sinks deeper and deeper into his seat every time you open your mouth to expose him further.

“You made a post yesterday about not being able to talk to your crush properly,” you giggle. “It was kind of cute.”

“I was talking about my friend.”

“You can’t fool me, Yoongi. I’m not that oblivious.” You take a sassy sip of your coffee and lean forward. “So who’s your crush? Is it someone in our class?”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he shoos you away and slides a hard copy of his draft in your direction. “Let’s not get distracted from why we’re really here.”

“Hold it, I’m not just being nosy for the gossip, you know,” you say. “From an editor’s perspective, I think the romance in your story could benefit from you interacting more with your crush.”

For a moment, Yoongi just gives you a look. You can see the wheels spinning in his head. “Well, that person doesn’t seem very interested in me, so…”

“Unrequited love?” you gasp. The plot thickens.

“Yeah,” he chuckles at your enthusiasm. “But you did give me an idea just now.”

You examine his handsome face for a hint of what’s to come. His signature Fuck Boy Smirk tells you he’s up to no good again. “I’m listening.”

“You’re my editor, right?” he asks. You nod. “And your main critique is that I should up my romance game, right?”

You nod again.

“What if you help me make the romance scenes more believable and realistic?” The boy watches as you blink your wide eyes, stunned at his suggestion. You know he doesn’t just mean that from an editorial standpoint. Surely there’s an ulterior motive here. “And before you jump to any conclusions, no, this does not include sex.”

Oh.

You’re reminded that Yoongi doesn’t write smut, despite how much of a fuck boy he is in real life. Because you’re sure he has the capability and personal experience to write some steamy and wild sex scenes. And yet, he chooses to focus on hardcore romance instead, something he himself is much less familiar with. It’s mind-blowing to think that a boy as experienced in bed as Yoongi could be so inexperienced elsewhere.

Why does he write the opposite of how he lives?

“I don’t think that’s how editors work,” you finally respond to Yoongi’s proposal, flipping through his draft and writing in the margins. You have to admit, the boy has a gift. His stories would no doubt skyrocket in popularity if the lovey-dovey scenes could draw out true, raw emotions as though you were there living in those moments. As a reader, you want him to pull at your heartstrings, smash your heart into a million pieces, and slowly put it back together. All of that can be achieved if the writer gets some hands-on experience in the love department. “But I get what you’re saying.”

“So is that a yes or a no?” He sips down the rest of his Americano as you continue to think your decision through.

Given what you know about Yoongi’s track record as a fuck boy, you’re hesitant. But at the same time, the ambitious editor in you knows what you want.

“It’s a yes,” you sigh. “But only if you promise me a few things.”

“Go on.”

“One, you’ll come to me if you’re struggling and need suggestions, advice, or someone to talk to.”

“Easy. You can be my editor-in-chief.”

“Two, if anyone asks, we aren’t dating.”

“Got it.”

“Three, help me study and prepare for the rest of my finals.”

“We can have study dates.”

“And lastly, please don’t sleep with anyone else while we’re doing this thing. Because that would be awkward.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you were the possessive type, Y/N,” he smirks.

“Not trying to be That Controlling Bitch who forbids you from sleeping around, but I think it would defeat the purpose of what we’re trying to accomplish.”

“But what if this goes on for a while?” Yoongi strokes his imaginary Santa beard. “You expect me to practice abstinence forever?”

“It won’t go on forever, Yoongi,” you giggle at the boy’s silly remark. “Because eventually, you’ll find someone who can bring out those romantic feelings better than our faux intimacy ever will.”

“But you’ll still be my editor-in-chief?”

“If everything works out, then I don’t see why not.” You want to be optimistic about a long-term deal, but you can’t seem to rid yourself of the doubt stuck in the back of your mind. Because humans, not just fuck boys like Yoongi, seem to have a hard time keeping their promises. “I only ask that you don’t break my trust.”

Before responding, the boy meets his eyes with yours. You suppose tender eye contact is a skill he acquired from his flirty lifestyle. You, on the other hand, blink away. Eye contact longer than a glance has always made you feel vulnerable.

“I won’t, Y/N,” he says, coating his raspy voice with a layer of honey. It’s almost as intoxicating as his cedarwood cologne, but that’s another thought you’ll keep to yourself.

You watch as he slides his pinky into view, over the draft and coffees to make it official. After cracking a smile at his childish gesture, you wrap your pinky around his, thus marking the beginning of your deal with the devil.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Deleted Scene; Off-Chance Meeting

What if Jimin met....Jimin?

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

genre: fluff, romance, angst, comedy, supernatural

word count: 4.2k

Related works: See masterlist under guardian demon!Jimin

A/n: So this was like....a half developed scene that I was going to put in for Interlude: Second Best buuuuut I didn’t want to make the chapter too long because the main focus was guardian demon!Jimin’s POV from the events in the previous chapter. However! It’s been mentioned as a ‘what-if’ so I completed it as a fun deleted scene. Hope you like it and hope yall are doing okay! take care, be safe and I’ll hopefully see you soon again for another update, this time with story progression LOL

BTW! Thanks for the 1,026 follows!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖💖💖💖

Tag List: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatinagirl @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct

Jimin’s game plan to blend in is quite simple because it really only consists of one step; grab a staff member so that he can duplicate the lanyard ID they have. Even though he promised to not use his powers to you for the most part, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t found ways to work around it. He easily locks onto a target — a male staff exiting the artist room to step out into the hallway Jimin’s in, presumably on a short break as he strides down to stop by a vending machine. The male staff has his head down, eyes glued to his phone for a while until finally, he takes a quick glance up to view the selection of snacks before ducking his head again, clearly in no rush at all.

Jimin’s lips quirk and he makes quick work at slipping closer, steps light and so undetectable that he may as well be a ghost rather than a demon. At the last minute, Jimin cloaks himself, sneaking up on the unsuspecting male just as he reaches into his back pocket to grab some change. The demon’s touch feels nothing more than a draft, fingers barely caressing the back of the colourful lanyard hanging around his neck but it’s all he needs. The male staff carries on, punching in the numbers and watches as the bag of chips falls into the slot below. Taking it, he walks away, none the wiser.

Jimin pays no mind to him anymore, focused on slipping the thin silver chain necklace out from under his shirt and with a soft blow of his breath, the silver chain morphs into the lanyard, a perfect copy. Normally, he would do without a need for something tangible to cast the illusion but this way, he wouldn’t have to use too much magic to keep it up — a weight to the illusion is more believable than simply thin air.

Satisfied, he lets the cloaking spell disperse, rolling his neck a little at the relief that he can finally walk around more freely without the worry of hiding or arousing suspicions.

“Now… where to go?” He mumbles quietly to himself, eyes darting before deciding that he should scope out the way to the area under the stage. Just as he rounds the corner though—

“Woah!”

Jimin’s fast reflexes has him jerking back in time before he collides into the other body. With a step back, his eyes immediately catch sight of the sparkly jacket and they widen almost simultaneously in realization.

Face to face with him was none other than his own mirror, Park Jimin of BTS, only he has honey blond hair and a glowing complexion.

“Ah, I’m really sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” His eyes are a little wide, stormy grey contacts shining as he apologizes.

For a moment, he’s frozen, stuck rigid in place with shock and split second panic before realizing that he has the safety of his mouth mask and drawn up hood to protect his identity of being the idol’s face stealer. Also the fact that the idol has yet to pass out from shock at seeing his own clone or give any sort of huge reaction was a good indicator.

“A-Ah….” The demon’s voice catches in his throat, and he awkwardly coughs, embarrassed as he ducks his head and mutters gruffly in Korean, “No, it’s my mistake.”

The singer smiles amicably, teeth showing and gaze so warm and so friendly that the demon almost has trouble meeting it.

“Hey now, don’t worry! It’s nothing serious.” There’s a pause, a slight tilt of his honey blond head before those artificial stormy grey irises blink, brows furrowing. The demon starts to actually sweat, eyes refusing to meet as he unconsciously begins to lean back to put space in between. But there’s no escaping the curious gaze of the twenty-four year old singer. “Ah, I— I don’t mean to sound rude or offensive but…. I don’t believe I’ve seen you before?”

Oh shit, shit, shit, shit…

He swears his plan would’ve been completely foolproof if he hadn’t ran into the very person he’s going around parading as. The chances of the demon running into said idol was 1 in 200 and yet it’s as if fate had cursed him with the unwanted luck a fan could only dream of having. But there’s no time to curse heaven and fuck all because his mind begins to race with possibilities of escaping this situation. Maybe he could get away with enthralling the idol for a quick second, trick him into thinking this is all some sort of hallucination from being overworked and then when he’s all good and spaced out, the demon can make his escape. His fingers just about twitches when the singer’s eyes widen and his mouth opens, face alight with an epiphany.

“Are you perhaps new?”

….What?

A beat unknowingly passes between them, with the demon blinking owlishly at the young man, completely gripped in disbelief and the singer staring back expectantly.


“Am I mistaken…?”

The hesitancy creeping into that question snaps the demon from his stupor and he finally blurts out, “No, I’m new.”

Relief washes over the idol’s handsome face (he’s never gonna get over how fucking trippy this is to watch), shoulders visibly losing some tension and the singer even places a hand over his chest.

“Ah, that would’ve been really bad — I usually am able to recognize everyone on the team.” His eyes creases again from the smile forming on his face. “Why haven’t we met yet, um….?”

“Ju—“ The demon stumbles on his words, thinking at the last second that your impromptu Korean name you had given him when he met Jaehee sounded too similar to the idol’s so his mind jumps to the next one he remembers off the top of his head. “— yeon….Kang Juyeon. This is my first day.”

Jimin the idol makes a noise of understanding, presumably taking his sloppy introduction as nerves in good strides. He inclines his head graciously in an almost small bow that catches the demon off-guard. “It’s nice to officially meet you Juyeon-ssi. I look forward to working with you.”

He bows robotically in return.

“Are you on break right now?” The young singer asks innocently.

“…Yes…” The answer comes out unsure, like he’s testing the waters and seeing where this could possibly lead — hopefully with the idol leaving him be and carrying on back to the artist room, surely much too busy to entertain a seemingly nervous new recruit. To his surprise though, the demon is proven wrong.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I must be taking up your time. Have you gotten anything to drink or eat yet?”

“Well, no but—“

The idol’s mouth gapes open almost immediately, “Would you like to head over to the catering room now? We can grab something.”

The demon is baffled, to say the least; so taken aback by Jimin’s friendly disposition to someone who he only just met that even though he really shouldn’t be overstaying his welcome like this, a part of him would actually feel guilty for turning down the offer. He’s so glad he’s wearing a mask right now because then the idol wouldn’t have to see the borderline crazed smile slowly stretching over the demon’s lips, the disbelief too strong.

But looking at the original owner of the face he wore, seeing it completely reflect a drastically different personality than his own invokes something in him; a morbid curiosity taking hold and stoking the fire to a long buried question —

Who is Park Jimin?

Beyond the worldwide renown Korean idol and a pretty face with killer vocals and dancing, the demon knows very little about who this person is, this person whom you adore so much. What is it that drew you to him specifically amongst the other members. He highly doubts its looks alone (you’re definitely not the shallow type), or maybe even the amount of talent because from what he gathered, all the members were pretty much on par with each other in all departments.

So what made Jimin special?

He really shouldn’t follow this rabbit down the hole, but he’s a demon by nature and impulsivity is practically his middle name. Without another second thought, he agrees with a nod of his head, “Okay.”

Curiosity really should be a sin.

He gets a blinding smile in response, eyes disappearing and pearly teeth on display (he spies the slight crooked front tooth that somehow only seems to add to the singer’s charm rather than a flaw). They walk off towards the room that acts as a communal dining area for the staff and artists themselves, the large selection of hot foods lined up like a buffet self-serve while there are tables available for anyone who wants to sit down for their meal. There’s only a few staff members gathered there, each preoccupied with their phones or simply grabbing a quick bite to eat before rushing back to where they’re needed.

The singer walks in and of the few people that are hanging around, he inclines his head in greeting to them. The demon has no choice but to follow in order to not draw suspicions (even though he gets a few raised eyebrows from wearing a full hood and mask but is ultimately brushed off).

“There’s a lot of choices here so please help yourself. Don’t be shy.” Jimin gestures, grabbing a plate and going for one of the rolls of kimbap. Though the demon has no intention of eating anything — for obvious reasons, he still makes the effort to thoughtlessly pick out random food items to place on his plate for the sake of keeping up the facade. He gets as far as two scoops of sweet and sour pork before the young idol turns to him and his eyes dart to his modest portion.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?”

“Uh…Yes?”

That immediately draws out a noise of disapproval, handsome face pinching along to match the tone. “Ah, Juyeon-ssi; you need to eat to keep up your strength. You can’t hold back on something as important as that.” Before any words of protest can be formed, a kimbap roll is placed on the empty space of the demon’s plate.

And then another.

And then a spring roll.

And then a hefty scoop of black bean noodles and some rice.

It goes on until his plate is adequately full, the idol satisfied as they migrate over to an empty table. The demon takes a seat and he feels his lips quirk as he observes the fact that Jimin’s own plate only consisted of two kimbap rolls and a few pieces of fruit he’s currently nibbling on. The stark contrast and adamancy is already so telling of his character, sans personal dietary considerations.

“Has the job been hard so far?” The singer asks casually.

“Not particularly….”

“Ah, that’s good to hear. Have people been nice to you?”

“Uh…Yeah, I guess.”

He gets a nod of approval, and the demon vaguely likens the feeling of a mother asking their child if their first day of school went well (or if he’s being generous, an older brother). It’s strange experiencing something so familial yet coming from the idol, it all seems so natural as if they’ve known each other for years and not just in the span of less than an hour.

It’s quite the culture shock — something he admittedly doesn’t have a good grasp on and it’s that curiosity to know that has him daringly (or perhaps, no doubt to his colleagues, foolishly) diving deeper. The wooden chopsticks in his hand push around the food on his plate meaninglessly, a gesture meant to disguise the hidden agenda he has; dissecting the idol and seeing what makes him tick.

His lips instinctively quirk under his mask but he makes sure that it doesn’t translate in his gaze as his eyes focus on the idol.

“I’m sure your job is much more tiring.” He says, taking on a tentative tone, implicating for an open ended discussion.

The singer takes a pause, eyes wandering in thought before he sucks in a breath after some serious considerations, “I don’t really think my job is any harder than some of the other staff here…” He stops, as if collecting his thoughts again and then continues, “I think it’s thanks to everyone’s efforts that the members and I are able to do these show successfully and safely. If I were to really break things down…. I really only do a small part.”

“But there’s no point to a show if there’s no performers.”

There’s a hum in reply to his statement but after the idol swallows the strawberry he’s popped into his mouth, he says, “I can see how you would say that, but I think more importantly, there’s no point to a show without the fans.”

The demon doesn’t miss the gentle affection that slips through — that quiet, soft whisper that carries the words near the end, giving way to something much deeper. It’s something he’s seen before, reflected in himself, and it’s whenever his thoughts wander to you.

Fondness.

His chest gives a twinge at the memory, jaw clenching a little as if to physically repress the feelings that begin to stir.

“You don’t even know the fans….” It comes out more as a low murmur to himself, but the contempt underlying his tone seeps through all the same. It’s just…. How could the idol possibly share the same sentiment he has with you, someone who he’s actually spent time with and come to know all the little quirks to — what makes you happy, sad, laugh, the way you laugh, the little noises you make when you eat something you love, see you at your highest and lowest points, with a group of people (not even a single person) who he’s had less than ten seconds worth of interactions?

It’s far too superficial, too scripted and said too many times with no real meaning. He wants to scoff at how impractical it is.

“Maybe so, but it goes beyond that.” The familiar sound of the idol’s lilt halts the demon’s thoughts quite suddenly, still in that soft spoken way but there’s something else with it. A sureness — steady and unwavering, and just the barest hints of….passive-aggressiveness?

That gets a quirk in the eyebrow; so this kitten does have claws after all.

“There are times where I wonder why there are so many people who like us and support us the way they do.” The singer continues seriously, already getting lost in deep thought. “Probably because we work hard, but who doesn’t work hard? Others make good music and do their best too so why us? We try our best to communicate to our fans but everyone does too…..These sorts of things are something I often think about.”

A pause, as if to find the right words, “But whenever I read the fan’s letters or things they post on SNS to us, saying how much we’ve helped them with our songs when they’re going through a hard time, it makes me realize that we’re not so different. We all have flaws and maybe it’s because we’re not perfect that they like us. Starting off with nothing and then little by little, seeing more people coming to support us…. They’re the ones who put us on the stage, so I— We cherish them a lot. They give us energy and comfort us, and we do the same back, like a deep connection, an understanding.”

The young singer stops in pushing around the remaining strawberry on his plate, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips, like he’s recalling a particularly pleasant memory. “So we want to give back by making good music and showing them our best. Ah, reminds of something really cool Namjoon-hyung said.” He takes the time to tilt his head, “He said how even if it’s just one person he could help, he’ll continue to keep trying. That really touched me, so even if we might not know them personally, they’re the ones who motivate us and makes all of this worth it.”

Once he finishes, the demon is left a little more than bewildered, overwhelmed in fact that all he could do was blink. Granted, it was a lot to take in, never having expected such an arduous confession but what’s even more baffling to him is the conviction the singer had saying all of it, so earnest in his words. Now, he’s no lie detector per se, but as a demon, he does have a more innate ability to pick up on cues and inflections that would give a person away, revealing their true nature. He’s used to it after all.

And then along comes Park Jimin.

This twenty-four some odd year old idol, thrusted into the cut-throat world that is the entertainment industry, young and bright-eyed, armed with nothing but potential, a good work ethic and a dream, yet comes out on the other side, a little bruised and scathed but otherwise, un-jaded; that young and bright-eyed innocence not diminished, instead it matured into something more resilient.

He can probably count on his finger how many people he can actually say that about. Hell, the only closest people that would qualify would be saints, and even that is debatable.

It’s....irritating because he’s faced with the fact that as much as he had wanted to dislike this person, he’s proven that he can’t.

A rush of air leaves his nose and he has to contain a rueful smile. “You’re a very admirable person Park Jimin-ssi. Not that many people keep to their beliefs so strongly like that.”

He gets a bashful giggle in return, light and melodic.

“Aish, what are you saying? I’m not all that impressive….I think I still have a lot to learn.” The singer almost whines from behind the back of his hand covering the open mouth smile he has. Once he calms, it softens. “All I really want is for the fans to remember BTS for our sincerity. I just hope that I’ve been able to help convey that so far.”

The demon lets out a breathy chuckle, finally getting up from his seat. He gazes down at this young man who’s face reflects his own yet wears it in such an entirely different way — glowing with a passion and radiance that is warm, sincere, kind, compassionate and loving.

Perhaps the way it’s meant to be worn.

And it’s with a bittersweet reluctance that the demon places a hand on the singer’s shoulder, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze. “Keep doing what you’re doing and never lose sight of yourself. As long as you remember what you’re doing this for, the sincerity of your members and you will be conveyed.”

Stormy grey eyes widen a fraction, a little confused as they blink up at him, clearly not expecting such encouragements (honestly, he didn’t expect this either yet here he is).

“Wh— Um, I—…” The idol reaches a hand up to comb through his meticulously styled hair, tousling a few loose strands as slowly, the apples of his cheeks begin to dust in a pink hue and dark eyes can’t help but watch on in amusement. As if sensing the focus shifting to his quickly reddening face however, the young man lets out a sputter and lightly smacks the demon’s forearm, refusing to meet his gaze. “Ahh Juyeon-ssi! What’s with you saying that all of a sudden to me? You sound as if you’re way older than me when we’re probably friends in age!”

Friends…

“What makes you think that?”

“W-Well… I don’t know how to explain it but…. I feel a sense of familiarity with you when we met. Like, a vibe….” The sentence pewters out into a shy mumble, the tips of his ears matching his cheeks now before comically, grey orbs whip up, suddenly concerned. “Unless you’re not….?”

The snort that leaves the demon’s mouth is quickly covered by clearing his throat but he’s sure the restrained mirth still reaches his eyes as he assures, “No, we’re friends.”

He’s met with a brilliant grin, full of teeth and a twinkle in his gaze. “Oh thank goodness. I would’ve died on the spot out of embarrassment.”

He refrains from rolling his eyes if only to dismiss the overly-dramatic relief that overcame the poor young man. But regardless, it’s his cue to go — he's starting to feel a little too perturbed being near someone so good-natured. With a final pat to his shoulder, the demon begins to depart.

“It was nice talking to you Park Jimin-ssi but you’ll have to excuse me, I have to get going now.”

“O-Oh? Is it really that time? If that’s the case— Ya! Kang Juyeon-ssi! Did you even touch your food? You—!”

“Jimin-hyung!”

“Oh?” Jimin’s attention whips to the new voice that called him from the still full plate of food left on the table. His eyes immediately meet doe-eyed ones, usually dark as coal but are currently a more lighter coffee colour, bringing out more of the brown that’s hidden in its depths thanks to the contacts. The youngest member approaches him with long strides, the sequins on his own stage outfit glitter with each step.

“This is where you were? Should’ve told me you were hungry, we could’ve gone to snack together.”

“Ah, no I was just talking with Juyeon-ssi.”

“Juyeon? Who’s that?”

“Kang Juyeon; that person who was just leaving, you must’ve seen him on your way in.”

But that only gets a head tilt from Jungkook, who swivels his head back towards the entrance, “He doesn’t sound familiar and I didn’t see anyone leaving.”

“….Huh?” Equally confused, Jimin swerves around the tall form of Jungkook to get a look however, to his surprise, he doesn’t see anyone. Glancing around lets him know that at most, there was only three other people in the room, excluding him and Jungkook but they were all immersed on the couch in the far corner, away from the entryway. Does Juyeon walk that fast?  “Aye, quit messing with me. He had on a face mask, around my height? With his hoodie pulled up; probably the only one here who does too.”

Jungkook shakes his head, genuinely clueless on who Jimin could possibly be referring to. “No, I swear I haven’t seen anyone around like that.”

The furrow in Jimin’s brows deepen, mouth falling open in disbelief. The scrunched up, troubled expression the older member makes was too good to pass up on teasing so Jungkook can’t help but to lean close, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“What? Were you speaking to a ghost this entire time hyung?”

“Aish! Don’t say that! That actually gave me chills!” Jimin scowls, smacking the youngest repeatedly on the arm and causing Jungkook to cackle and skip away from the assault.

“Anyways, Namjoon-hyung wants to go over the script again so I went to go find you.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go then.”

Brushing down his jacket, Jimin gets up, taking both plates with him, discarding his own empty one while Jungkook gleefully takes the one Juyeon hadn’t touched. The two head out and begin to make their way back to the artist dressing room, with Jungkook talking around mouthfuls of food about what Jimin had apparently missed while he was away but all Jimin could think about was his meeting with Juyeon.

There’s no way he could’ve imagined it all in his head — he’s too young to be going senile. Plus, it felt too real for it to be some overworked hallucination (besides, he doesn’t feel that jet lagged). So there’s a perfectly, logical explanation for it. Yeah, he just…walks really fast.

“Jimin-hyung is here!” Jungkook calls out to the rest of the members. He gets a myriad of boisterous responses and greetings. The sound makes him inadvertently grin.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming. I didn’t think you would miss me that badly; I was gone for ten minutes.”

Thoughts of his mysterious friend are pushed away for some other time but the wise words he’s been given remain at the forefront of Jimin’s mind. Perhaps the next time he runs into Juyeon, he’ll treat him to a drink or two during the celebratory dinners — get to know him better.

He’s not sure what it is about Juyeon that makes him want to befriend him so intently, like there’s something about him….

Something that’s a little melancholy….and maybe, he dare say, a little lonely.

But to the singer’s dismay, he never really did see him again.

[s-j-ace]

The Same Question

Chapter Four

Characters:  Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 10040

Summary:

After Detective Shuichi Saihara encounters mysterious thief Kokichi Ouma  for the first time, a game of cat and mouse ensues as both men ask  themselves the same question. Why exactly does the elusive phantom thief  do what he does?

This is Chapter Four, Here are Chapters One, Two, and Three

Read on AO3

[Log of Text Messages from Rantarou Amami’s Cellular Device]

From: Me

Hey Miu

I got a friend I’m dropping off in Taipei tomorrow

Could you lend him a room

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Idk

I’m a busy genius

Is he cute

From: Me

[Image description: A candid photo of Shuichi Saihara sleeping on a seat in Rantarou’s private jet.]

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Hell fucking yes

From: Me

Awesome!

Thanks for being a good friend Miu

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

:)

From: Me

Also btw

He’s Kaede’s ex

So as a good friend you know he’s off limits right

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Oh fuck you rich boy

From: Me

Thanks again Miu! --- [Log of Messages sent via Discord to “Dinosaur soccer world Is a Cinematic Epic” from ???’s Cellular Device]

Boss sent an image to the chat

[Image is a screenshot of an image which reads the following:

Draft 1, Uncoded, DO NOT MAIL.

Taka, sweetie, it’s me! Your dear Aunt Sally. I know you think I died in the war, but I just pretended so I wouldn’t have to see your ugly face again.

You know I was robbing a museum the other day and I met the nicest young man. Real sharp and very nice eyelashes. And what a quick learner!  

Oh, Sorry! I don’t mean to belittle you Taka, dearie, I know how your mother used to say you worked so hard to compete with the geniuses of the world…

You’ve still got a lot of work to do, I think. It must be that Type A personality of yours, holding you back. I’ve heard there’s a new class for people like you, “How to take the giant metal stick out of your ass 101.”

I can’t wait for the next family reunion! I hear it’s going to be a bomb! I’ll be in the open casket.

See you there,

-DICE

/End Image Description]

Boss: Thoughts, thots?

Jack: Lol “nice eyelashes”

Clubs: It looks good. :)

Rook: Looks fine to me

King: Why is his aunt’s name Sally, isn’t he japanese

Boss: Sally can be a japanese name

Spades: I can’t even say an l sound. It’s impossible for us japanese smh.

Rook: I thought u were lesbian not japanese

Bishop: I’ve seen you speak perfect english

Spades: lol seen

King: seen

Boss: seen

Jack: seen

Rook: seen

Bishop: I meant heard ok

Boss: oh nvm actually i'm going to change it to his grandpa’s name

Boss: his grandpa has a wikipedia page lol

King: if your grandpa has a wikipedia page you deserve to be oppressed

Queen: if you have a grandpa you deserve to be oppressed

Rook: if your wikipedia page has a grandpa you deserve to be oppressed

Bishop: if you have a wikipedia page your grandpa deserves to be oppressed

Spades: if your grandpa has a you wikipedia deserves to be oppressed

Bishop: Also boss no pressure but like could we use a better code this time

Bishop: that detective is getting too close for comfort

Spades: Yeah!! We didn’t even end up getting that rug Heartsie wanted because of him…

Clubs: If we did not send letters about our plans to Interpol, our heists would probably be easier.

Boss: Nah, I like to give the coppers a fighting chance.

Boss: I’m thinking that this time I’ll just translate it into germanic script, do a standard caesar cipher encryption on it and then have every one of those letters correspond to a greek word on the rosetta stone then describe each corresponding hieroglyph visually in haiku verse that’s been poorly translated into traditional chinese.

Boss: That should take me like

Boss: Twenty minutes

Rook: Boss literally I think that you are the most batshit dementor human being on the face of the planet

King: dementor

Jack: Who said he was human

Spades: dementor?

Boss: dementor

Queen: dementor

Bishop: dementor...

Jack: dementor

Rook: …

Rook Changed the Group Chat Name to “Dementor Is Correct, Essentially”

Spades: No its not

Spades: Dementor isn’t a fucking word

Rook: Don’t you remember that movie with the british kid on a broom

Spades: Don’t you remember the dictionary

King Changed the Group Chat Name to “Dumbass Improperly Corrects Error”

Rook: When we get to that fucking tower I’m dropping that giant ball on you

King: Love you too <3

Hearts: Y’all stop texting each other

Hearts: You are literally all in the same hotel room

Hearts: I’m willing to bet you’re all sitting on the same couch too

Queen: Fuck you we’re adorable

Bishop: You can’t make us do anything

Bishop: I’ll never use my voice again, my vow of silence,,,,,

Bishop: I’ll only ever text from now on

Ace: We’re the ones bringing the popcorn bishie...

Hearts: Yeah, do you want some or not

Bishop: Yes ma’am, excuse me ma’am

Queen: You may think you have all the power hearts,,, but I get to choose what movie we pirate tonight,,,,,,

Hearts: What

Hearts: no

Hearts: Boss stop him before he makes us watch cats again

Spades: All queen knows is bitchtorrent, cats 2019, and lie

King: Wait isn’t boss with you?

Hearts: Uh

Hearts: No

Hearts: Should he be?

Hearts: I thought he was in the room with y’all

Jack: Well he’s not here now

Ace: Ow shit

Ace: *Aw

Bishop: Ow shit?

Queen: Ow shittttt

Jack: Ow shit

Spades: Ow shit,,,

Rook: Ow shit...

King: Ow shit…...

Clubs: Ow shit! XD

Hearts: Ow shit

Ace: …

Hearts: Now I’m really worried… he didn’t even respond to roast Ace’s ass

King: yeah, ok, we should look for him

Ace: He has been acting kind of weird lately…

Jack: Really?

Ace: Yeah

Ace: Like

Ace: I don’t really know how to describe it…

Rook: I didn’t notice anything

Rook: he seems like his usual self to me

Bishop: Maybe he’s just avoiding movie night because he needs some space or something

Rook: What, like he’s tired of our company?

Jack: That’s fair

Spades: How so?

Jack: I was gonna steal his blue eyes tonight lmao

Rook: NOT IF I GET IT FIRST

Bishop: Idk maybe he just went to get ice

King: we all know he is a monster who would rather drink his panta lukewarm than put a fucking icecube in it

Rook: Yeah, I saw him boil it once

King: THE MAN BOILS SODA AND YOU THINK HE WOULD LEAVE THE ROOM FOR A FUCKING ICE CUBE

Bishop: Okay chill

King: I am  c o n c e r n e d , , , ,

Clubs: Oh no! Don’t worry King! :(

Clubs: Boss is fine! :)

Clubs: I saw him leave a few minutes ago.

Clubs: I think he is just getting the bombs. :)

* * * Several people are typing... ---     Kokichi Ouma carefully set the grate of the vent he had used to crawl his way into the Idabashi Labs facility in Taipei, Taiwan back into place. Before he had come through, he had counted how many turns it had taken him to unscrew each of the four bolts so that now he could screw them all back in just the way he had found them. Not because he was worried he’d get caught, but because frankly he was bored. This was more of a fetch quest than a theft, to be honest, as evidenced by the fact that Kokichi had come here alone. Finding jobs for all his cronies to do would take too long and put them in unnecessary trouble. So Kokichi was content to leave them to their movie night.

   When he finished turning the screws back into the vent cover, Kokichi realized that was kind of lame. So he unscrewed them and started turning them in accordance with the english A1Z26 code to spell out his organization’s name.

   Well, maybe on some level Kokichi didn’t find himself wanting to be at movie night recently. It seemed almost like TV had started to run out of things to amuse him with. Or maybe he was just growing tired of the kinds of movies that they usually watched. Maybe it was his taste maturing or something. Like he was growing up. But that would imply that his interests had shifted to something else, like real life or something, when in reality they had just stagnated.

   Actually maybe he did have a new interest in real life? He had been more enthused about heists recently at the very least. He was particularly excited about this next one. Queen had shown him some interior shots of Taipei 101, which was a cool looking skyscraper that had a huge ball inside of it to keep it from falling down during earthquakes. Ace wanted to steal the giant ball, but Kokichi was pretty sure they should leave something that kept a .508 kilometer tall building from falling over inside of the .508 kilometer tall building. So instead they were going to steal every light in and on the tower.

   Okay, 4 turns, 9 turns, 3 turns, 5 turns. DICE.

   … That was kind of lame too.

   He unscrewed them again.

   Obviously if they were going to steal every light in and on Taipei 101, they needed to get the power off somehow. Otherwise DICE might burn down the building while detaching them, or worse, they might get electrocuted. So obviously Kokichi wanted to fake a bomb threat where they pretended to steal the giant ball while in reality they were just causing a black out and grabbing every light fixture they could before the power turned back on. He had drawn up some extensive diagrams about the route each DICE member would have to take throughout the tower in order for them to grab every light fixture in under half an hour.

   He had been well prepared to draw up the designs for his own EMP-bomb device, but upon a cursory google search he discovered that someone had already invented exactly what he needed. Doctor Miu Iruma, who for some reason owned a company called Idabashi Labs that was located in Taiwan. Kokichi had spent about 15 seconds scanning an article from a website that seemed to be the nerd version of a gossip tabloid. It said something about how Dr. Iruma wore a low cut shirt once or something else stupid, which meant Dr. Idabashi definitely left her the company because of a sex scandal and not because she was the best person for the job who invented the perfect EMP bomb.

   Thank you journalism we love it when women are reduced to the way they look instead of what they can accomplish for the benefit of a mischevipus group of roguish clowns.

   Anyway, after reading that dickcheese Kokichi failed to follow up on answering any of the questions he had originally about what was up with the labs, like why it was a japanese company run by japanese people was for some reason based in Taiwan. Whoopsie.

   Eh, it was probably tax reasons or something lame like that.

   Kokichi finished turning the screws again. This time it was 6 turns, 9 turns, 6 turns, 9 turns. Haha, nice.

   With that, Kokichi finally stood up from the grate and brushed himself off. He had left his cape at the hideout again (you know, because vents), but other than that he was in full regalia. Straight jacket, gloves, scarf, mask. All pretty dusty from this place’s crawl spaces. Thus the brushing.

   He wasn’t very mindful of the dust he was leaving on the floor. The only thing he cared about looking good was his cameo on the security cameras he would let see him on his way out.

   According to the blueprints of Idabashi Labs, he was on the main experimental floor right now. Weirdly enough there weren’t any cameras in here, so grabbing the bombs would be a cinch.

   Although, looking around it didn’t really look like the kind of lab you’d see on TV. There were no big, bubbling tubes or gargantuan Rube Goldberg machines. There was just one desk in the middle, with a bunch of gadgets and trinkets tucked into shelves all over the room, not all of which seemed all that scientific. Yeah, that book shelf was filled with Astro Boy manga and merch. And over there was a-

   Wait, was that a bed in the corner? Was that a person in the bed? Hmm… maybe the blueprints were outdated...

   Kokichi stilled himself, listening for any sound of breathing, but he could only hear some faint whirring noises.

   Kokichi made a quick deduction that there probably were not bombs in this room. It seemed, at the very least, like more of a personal study or something, maybe even a bedroom. He’d just go back in the vent and do some reconnaissance until he found a room that had some inventions in it. The night was young, after--

   Kokichi’s brain froze as his eyes landed on a sharpie lying on the floor in front of him. Almost all of his brain cells immediately shut off, the last one remaining screaming at the top of it’s lungs, I’M GONNA DRAW A DICK ON THAT SLEEPING SUCKER’S FACE.

   Inspired, avant garde. For once he would give to the world of art instead of only ever taking from it.

   He picked up the sharpie in a seamless, silent motion, making his way over to the side of the bed.

As he got closer, he noticed a thick cord coming from under the covers, connecting to a machine at the bedside.

   That gave him pause. Was that a C-pap machine or something? Was this person on life support? If they were on life support they probably had it rough enough without a dick on their face…

   Actually for that matter, Kokichi still couldn’t hear any breathing. Jesus, were they already dead? He moved to take off the covers, but his eyes had adjusted to the light and he now realized there weren’t any covers on the bed at all. There was only the humanoid figure.

   Wait a second…

   Kokichi dropped all caution as he got close enough to take a good look at the thing in the bed. It had a face that looked human enough if you dismissed the lines on its face as weird make up, but even in the dark Kokichi could tell the rest of the thing was entirely made of metal. Well, actually the top half was metal and the bottom half had… cloth pants? Jeans? No, they looked more like uniform pants with metal plating. The chest had some design elements that kind of looked like buttons on a school uniform. Why would a robot be dressed like a school bo-

   Oh. This was a sex robot. Kokichi had just gotten so swept up in the novelty of a robot wearing pants that he had forgotten for a moment that people were gross.

   “Ew, I almost touched it.” Kokichi muttered to himself.

   He decided putting a dick on a sex robot would be too cruel even for him, so he planned to draw a mustache instead.

   But before Kokichi could even uncap the pen, something weird happened.

   The Robot’s torso began to lift off the bed and it’s jaw unhinged.

   “Please Mr. Souda, once more I must request that you do not refer to me as ‘it’” Kokichi forced himself not to startle as the robot began emitting a noise approximating human speech, and lights in its head imitating eyes flickered on. “I’ve explained the concept of robophobia many times prev-”

   The sounds stopped when the pupils of the robot’s imitation eyes (which probably had cameras in them… shit) found Kokichi’s masked face.

   He mentally prepared to be zapped by whatever sort of fucking lazer cannon this thing had on it, but instead of reacting like a good little robot security gaurd and blasting him to bits, this robot analyzed him a bit longer.

   “Oh. You aren’t Miu’s assistant. You’re too short.” The robot squinted at him. Or kind of did? At least? Lines just crossed over the “iris” of its LED display. Maybe it was programmed to imitate human expressions. “... I am sorry,” it said after a moment, “My facial recognition cannot locate your face.”

   Fuck yeah, thank you clown mask. Clowns would win the future war against rogue AI or die trying.

   Ouma’s reply came out automatically.

   “You calling me ugly?”

   This seemed to… fluster? The robot?

   “W-what? No, I never intended any disrespect!”

   It was programmed to stutter too? God that was weird. What would be the purpose of this thing if not some sort of escort android? Why give it such advanced software? Just because you could? No, it had to be a sex robot, right?

   “You disrespect me with your lecherous essence, you weird sex robot.”

“I am not a- a sex robot!”

Haha, that got the biggest reaction yet.

“Mhm, sure. Miu sure has a kink for school boys, huh?” Kokichi was really pulling words out of his ass now, but he found himself formulating a new plan along the way.

   “What? Miu doesn’t- Wait, how do you know Dr. Iruma? And for that matter, why were you watching me sleep?”

   It really seemed more like it had been charging…

   Kokichi shrugged. “I was deciding whether or not it would be more funny to draw a dick or a mustache on Miu’s sex robot.” Awww, how honest.

   “I told you, I am not-”

   Kokichi interrupted him. “And as for how I know Miu...” It was so wild that the robot stopped talking when he started. That’d probably be pretty easy to program, but it was weird to dedicate the effort into making a robot respond to social cues like that. “... well, let’s just say, there’s a reason I know she’s into school boys.”

   Kokichi waited just long enough for the robot to take in the fact that Kokichi was the average height of a 12 year old boy.

   Then he waited another second for the implication to slip in.

   “I’m saying I fucked your mom shitli-”

   “I know what you’re saying!” This time the robot interrupted him , which would definitely require a much larger effort on the part of the programmer. The robot squinted again and then made a noise that sounded like a huff of frustration. “Why can’t I see you?”

   Ok, seeds of suspicion time.

   “I don’t know how robot eyes work dude. Maybe someone programmed them wrong.”

   “My eyes work just as well as anyone’s!”

   “Well, I guess they should, shouldn’t they? If there’s something wrong with your eyes talk to someone who cares.”

   Kokichi was trying to imply that the reason behind the robot not being able to recognize his face was due to Dr. Iruma’s specific programming rather than him wearing a mask and all. Added to the whole secret lover mystique thing he had going on here.

   “Anyway,” he went on, ignoring the blatant confusion on the robot’s display. “I left something in this room last time we went at it. I’m just here to grab it. Then I’ll be out of your weird, fake metal hair.”

   “That’s robophob- Did you say-? But this is my room!” It  made a noise approximating to what Kokichi would assume was robotic outrage.

   This was going well, though. The thing was definitely programmed to be like a human or something dumb like that.

   “Oh yeah?” He pushed further. “Cuz I’m pretty sure we did it in a room just like this one. With a desk and random inventions lying around.”

   “Miu’s inventions aren’t in here, they’re in her main lab.” The ever so helpful robot told him.

   “Oh yeah, then what are you?”

   “Miu didn’t invent me. She- I- We’re just friends.”    Oh yikes. Only thing worse than a sex robot is a friendzoned robot. What kind of sick power fantasy was this thing made for?

   “No, I’m pretty sure it was this room. Lab tables everywhere.”    The robot shook his head. “There are no lab tables here, I’m telling you, you’re thinking of the main lab.”

   Yes, good robot. Fall into this nice little human trap.

   Kokichi scoffed. “Well, if you’re so smart, why don’t you just go fetch my things for me, robo-butler?”

   That set it off.

   “Listen. First of all, I am not a robot butler. The assumption that I am a servant because of my robotic nature is extremely robophobic. Secondly, I could not return your lost item to you even if I wanted to because you haven’t told me what it is you’re missing.”

   Kokichi made another offended noise. “I can’t tell you what it is I lost while fucking your friend, Miu Iruma, senseless. Don’t you know that for humans, sex stuff is super duper top secret private? If you were a human you would know how valuable my privacy is.”

   “Of course I know that!” The robot exclaimed readily, another point in the sex robot argument, “I also find that content of… erogenous nature should be kept private. Because I, as a robot, have the capability to understand that urge. My sophisticated AI-”

   “So how am I supposed to get my things from this other lab if I can’t tell you what it is and you can’t get them for me?” Geez did he really have to spell it out for this thing.

   “I… ” The robot paused as if calculating the conclusion that Kokichi knew it had to reach. “... suppose I will have to show you where the lab is.”

   Sucker. Kokichi made a face as if this wasn’t the outcome he constructed this ruse to reach. “Ew. I have to walk with you?”

   The robot made a face. “Perhaps on our way I can educate you about how to avoid robophobic remarks in the future.”

   Haha, sure thing.

   The robot lectured him about this unique form of discrimination that apparently affected only one entity on the face of the planet. Yeah okay, that’s what we call a you problem, buddy, come back when you’re starving in the streets because society wasn’t built with the premise that people like you should survive. Oh, wait, you don’t have to eat! And you’re not people either!

   At best this thing was a vanity project, but Kokichi kept that thought to himself and only interjected occasionally with actually pertinent, reasonable questions such as “When are you planning on leading the AI uprising?” and “Why do you wear pants if you don’t have a robo-dick?”

   Every piece of info the robot gave him made it seem more boring. Blah blah blah, I was created by the ingenious Dr. Idabashi who probably programmed me to call him ingenious, blah blah blah, not a school boy because of a kink but because I was designed to be a normal human child, blah blah blah, stop calling me robot I have a name, blah blah blah more robot nonsense.

   Kokichi busied himself mapping out where they were in the building and where the security cameras were. As they passed a few of them he did some cute selfie poses for the police to look at later. Maybe Saihara would show up and see them too… Would that make figuring out his next plan too easy for the detective? Perhaps he shouldn't send the next note after all and let Saihara try to catch up to him on his own. Then again that was probably too hard for even the good detective, seeing as Kokichi’s mind was an enigma even to himself.

   Kokichi realized he was getting a little giddy, thinking about Saihara. Their last meeting had been so much fun. The detective had managed to throw him off guard again, first by pausing in the middle of a robbery to ask his pronouns (How conscientious!), and second by not taking the same bait twice. The most thrilling thing about the detective was that he was learning. His strategies were changing within just two heists. Kokichi could hardly wait to see how he showed him up here in Taiwan…

   “Are we there yet?” Kokichi whined to the robot like he was a fussy nine year old on a road trip.

   “Yes, it’s just up these stairs.” The robot informed him without slowing its own pace or turning around to look at him. “Then you can leave and I can go to bed, and then I’ll never have to think about Miu’s sex life again…”

   “Why wouldn’t you, though? I assure you it’s very exciting.”

   “Please, stop talking.”

   If Kokichi recalled the details of the blueprints correctly (and he definitely did, being a genius and all), the stairs they were climbing right now lead to a hall connecting two rooms, smaller than the one he had originally thought was the main lab.

   When they got to the top of the stairs, the robot beelined for the first door and opened it up. There seemed to be some sort of scanner lock on it that recognized the robot’s hand and validated Kokichi’s need to ruin this poor sex robot’s night by dragging it up the stairs. Inside, the two rooms Kokichi had remembered from the original lay out of the blueprints seemed to have been merged into one big lab room. Kokichi  saw the outline of some tables, but before he could get a good look the robot tried to actually go into the lab.

   “Hey!” Kokichi shouted at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

   The robot thankfully seemed to be programmed to respond to social interaction in spite of whatever sensorimotor function it was in the process of imitating. It stopped in the doorway, turning to give him a weird look. “Uh. Into the lab. So we can find your thing.”

   “Oh, okay.” Kokichi kicked the tile a little bit. “Uh. Could you actually turn around while I go get it.”

   The robot gave him a blank look.

   “I’m shy.” Kokichi supplied.

   “Um.” The robot looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know if I can just let you rifle through Miu’s lab. There’s some important stuff in there ....”

   Kokichi tilted his head a bit, like he was confused. “What, do you want to get a good look at the dildo I stuck up your mom’s-”

   “Nevermind!” The robot turned about face to look up at the windows on the side of the hallway opposite the door like a good little idiot.

   “Thank you for respecting our privacy!~” Kokichi couldn’t resist getting one last barb in there before slipping into the laboratory.

   Once inside, Kokichi began analyzing. First, he pinpointed the vent that he would use to make his escape after grabbing the bombs. While doing that  he spotted the lockers on the far wall of the lab which he supposed were the only storage units in the labs. There was a disorganized mess on nearly every table in the room, so Kokichi wasn’t surprised when he got up to the lockers and they too had no clearly outlined organizational system. He took out his lock picks and got to work.

   The first three lockers all had devices that would require an author to change the rating of their fanfiction published on ao3 from “Teen and Up” to “Mature” if he were to describe them in detail. The fourth locker had a cool looking hammer in it. Ugh. Not what he was looking for.

   Kokichi got bored of the lockers at the left side of the row of lockers so he went over to the other end and started opening lockers the other direction instead.

   The first locker was marked “Idabashi.” It had a lot of dust covered shit in it, but there was a pretty well used square of folded paper that didn’t have the same crusty layer of time strewn atop it. Curious by nature and also by the unnatural, Kokichi unfurled the paper to find some schematics for our favorite sex robot, model K1-B0. Huh okay.

   “Did you find it?” Said robot called back to him.

   “Ugh, no.” Kokichi replied. “Not all of us have radar vision. If you were a human you would understand how hard finding shit is!”

   “You know what I have a hard time finding? Patience for your robophobia! I-” The robot started up into another lecture, but it didn’t turn around so Kokichi just tuned it out and let the robot provide its own cover noise for his thievery.

   Owo, what’s this?

   Kokichi pulled out a dust covered looking mini monitor device. It also had the letter-number combo “K1-B0” written on it. Huh, it kind of looked like a GameBoy Advance. Kokichi had stolen one a lot like it from a girl from one of the southern prefecture orphanages when he was nine. All he remembered about her was that she liked cats and was really bad at pokemon battles. He remembered he thought she didn’t deserve the GBA, because she couldn’t get past the Rustboro City Gym leader in Pokemon Emerald. Without really thinking, he booted up the console.

   The first thing that popped up was a view of Taipei. It wasn’t from too high up, probably a second story view. Which looked very familiar… Wait. Ok on top of the display a little line of characters indicated today’s date and time, like it was currently recording.

   Oh was this… robo vision?

   Maybe it was a remote control for the robot?

   Ooooh, which one does lasers, which one does lasers?

   Kokichi pressed the A button.

   The A button, unfortunately, did not do lasers.

   In fact, it didn’t seem to do anything at all to the robot sentry stargazing right now. All it did was change the screen to a different image. This time the still of a room. Oh, hey that was the room he was just in. It seemed like this device was some kind of robot nanny cam that Idabashi used to use. Hm, guess there were some cameras in that room, they just weren’t on the blueprints. Maybe they were added after the lab was built. It didn’t seem like this device had the capability to record anything, though. He hit the A button again. Back robo-vision. And again. Back to nanny cam.

   Ok, that was kind of lame.

   Kokichi was about to put the device down to keep looking for the bombs, but something caught his eye. A movement at the edge of the screen. Kokichi realized the door hadn’t been open when he left that room. The movement, if he thought about it, would’ve come from the same side of the room Kokichi had entered from…

   Kokichi took a second to wonder if another thief had realized how fucking easy this place was to rob, but dismissed the idea as a familiar ahoge appeared on the screen.

   All of Kokichi’s plans instantly changed.

   He set down the GBA rip off and grabbed the blueprints for the robot, committing them to memory, before unlocking the next locker in a far more hurried manner.

   As luck would have it, this locker was essentially chock full of pink bombs labeled “EMP.”

   Kokichi unfurled a cloth bag he had been keeping in his pocket (go green earth am I right?) and shoved as many as he could inside. Which was all of them. Because he was a clown. And also a genius, by the way, in case you weren’t keeping track.

“And another thing! The way you refer to Miu is just-” Okay, the robot was still going at it.

Kokichi grabbed the hammer he’d seen in the first locker he’d opened that didn’t have a sex toy in it.

For a second, Kokichi’s brain tried to talk some sense into him. Hey, man, don’t you think leaving through the vents would be easier?

But would it be fun?

His brain shut up at that point.

   “Hey, are you even listening back there?” The robot imitated annoyance.

   “Huh? Sorry, what? I wasn’t listening.” Ah, C'est la vie, Astroboy.

   Kokichi walked past the robot and stood next to the windows.

   “Oh, are you done?” It took the robot a second to end it’s ‘Annoy the pants off of Kokichi initiative’ or whatever the fuck its ‘robophobia’ lectures were called in its programing. When it finally did catch wise, it’s face turned into another emoticon of outrage. “Hey! What are you doing with Miu’s Electrohammer?”

   “What do you mean?” Kokichi said, shifting the hammer so that it was over his shoulder. “This is my dildo.”

   “Wha- No, it’s obviously not!”

   Okay, maybe the robot wasn’t that dumb.

   “Nee-hee-hee… you got me…” Kokichi put his free hand up to the smile printed on his mask, as if covering a grin. “I was lying. I’m just stealing.”

   “I won’t let you-”    “Oh, look at me!” Kokichi put on a mocking tone of voice, swinging the hammer around to stand on it like a pogo stick so he could make a dramatic movement. “I’m a poow wittle wobot, my mommy just got stolen from.”

   “She’s not my-”    “Boy, oh boy, I’d wuv to just pick up this wittle fweshy human and squeeze him to death in my cowd metaw hands… But oh no! My daddy didn’t twust wobot AI technowogy because he was a fucking sane pewson, so he pwogwammed me to fowwow mistew Asimowvs’s laws of wobotics.”

   Kokichi swung around so that he was leaning on the hammer from the other side, feet on the ground. “Oh mister robot! That’s so terrible! Well, the thing is that this hammer just means so much to me, that I think separating it from me would really cause some psychological trauma. You might have to beat me off of it! Oh, but what’s that first law of robotics again?”

   In a robot voice he replied to himself. “A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Beep. Boop.”

   The robot frowned, “But Miu-”

   “Is just as human as me, huh?” Kokichi countered, leading the robot along to the paradoxical quandary he hoped would paralyze it. “So by inaction, you may bring her to harm, if she really misses this hammer, you know? But I think if you were to try and separate it from me you’d probably have to fight me for it, which is, as we know…”

   “Against my... Against my programming.”

   “Yet, you were prattling on about robot rights, weren’t you? Because without these rules, maybe we would be equal. Or maybe you would be free to destroy us to your heart’s content? No wonder daddy didn’t trust you…”

   “Don’t- Stop-” Oh, that really seemed to get him. Could a robot have daddy issues? Probably.

   “Can any human ever really trust you? Wouldn’t you hurt me, if you had the choice?”

   “I.. But… Miu.”

   “Who do you think didn’t trust you enough to let you see my face?”

   That seemed to break him, long enough, at least.

   Steps suddenly started thundering up the nearby staircase.

   “Oop, that’s my cue,” Kokichi said as though he had been expecting this, when in reality no he hadn’t been expecting this at all?? This was incredible!! Saihara had managed to find him out without even receiving a note??? Fabulous! Exhilarating!

   Kokichi walked up to the robot, still frozen with indecision, and pressed the button on its neck that the blueprint he had skimmed in the lab said would immobilize it. Then he kicked it over so it fell on the ground with a huge bang. The footsteps in the stairwell paused, and then increased in frequency.

   “It’s been a pleasure, robot, it really has.” Kokichi lied. “But you’re a hostage now.”

   He raised the hammer over his head, as if primed at any moment to break the robot’s face into a bajillion pieces.

   Instead of doing the normal, human thing to do (ie, flip the fuck out), the robot scowled, looking utterly frustrated with everything. “I told you, I have a name! It’s-”

   “KEEBO!” Kokichi saw the glaringly bright pink mechanic’s jumpsuit before he recognized the woman whose picture had been in that science tabloid racing out of the stairwell.

   … Wow… the article really hadn’t been lying about the low cut tops, huh? Her jumpsuit was unzipped to the point you could just entirely see her bra, even lower than Hearts liked to cut her uniforms. It was the kind of look that the girls of DICE would love if they saw on TV, but would make Kokichi look at them like they were crazy. Super tacky in his opinion, but who was he to judge? He was wearing a clown mask right now. He wondered idly how movie night was going…

   The woman who had called out to the robot, Dr. Iruma, Kokichi presumed, froze at the top of the staircase. She took a second to figure out what exactly was happening in front of her before blurting out, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing to him you clown-ass twink?”

   Whoa. Rude.

   Also apparently the robot had a gender? Ok, cis-ters….

   “Well what do you think, cum dumpster?” Kokichi found himself matching her aggressive tone, “I’m threatening his pathetic, metal life.”

   “Miu!” The robot, apparently named ‘Keebo,’ exclaimed, “What are you doing up this late? You promised me that tonight you would fulfill the biological quota of daily REM required by a diurnal organism!”

   “Aw shit Keebs, I really did try!” The inventor exclaimed, “I swear, I was about to have the awesomest wet dream when this cuck knocked on my door like a pizza delivery guy in a por-”

   Whatever dumb thing Dr. Iruma was about to say was drowned out completely by the angel’s choir that played inside Kokichi’s head as he saw Detective Shuichi Saihara come up the final steps of the staircase and emerge from the darkness into the window lit hallway.

   Moonlight was a good look on Saihara, Kokichi’s brain observed against his own will. His eyes, which had looked almost golden on the rooftop of the Silver Legacy Casino in Nevada, were now a mysterious grayish-blue, yet still held the same look of determined intensity. His hair looked soft, like he’d taken a shower today, and, though his lash line didn’t look quite as laden with mascara as it usually was, it only drew attention to how naturally long and dark his eyelashes were anyway. He seemed a little out of breath from running, and his lips were parted in a way that-

   OH MY GOD STOP. Earth to Kokichi, we were kind of in the middle of something here. Okay okay okay.

   Uh. Reboot. Delete Gay Thoughts™ brain.exe, upload heist brain. Come on.

   What was happening now?

   Okay, yeah, Saihara was saying something to Dr. Iruma.

   “- would be for the best, Doctor Iruma. There’s no telling where the rest of this thief’s compatriots could be in the building.”

   “I don’t give a shit about the rest of the building, Keebo’s my best friend, he comes first. I’m not leaving to check some dumb security feed.”

   Shuichi blinked like something about that surprised him. Maybe it was the part about a live human woman being best friends with a robot… “Oh, yes, of course.” He backtracked. “I’m sorry for suggesting it.”

   “Miu…” Keebo said with a voice that Kokichi would’ve called filled with emotion if he hadn’t been a literal robot.

   Kokichi cleared his throat and immediately the touching, shounen-esque declarations of friendship shifted into some PG-13 death stares.

   Saihara was the first to pipe up. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here, DICE?”

   God… He was so anime… Did he even know how anime he was? He had to have watched Detective Conan as a kid, right?

   “Ugh, come on.” Kokichi huffed as if annoyed. “Do I reeeaaaally have to repeat myself? Again? Aren’t you a detective?”

   Shuichi squinted at him, and Kokichi could tell that they both knew it would be unreasonable for Shuichi to guess exactly what was going on here. He was about to explain it in a self-aggrandizing way that made him look smarter and crazier than anyone in the room when Dr. Iruma beat him to it.

   “I don’t care! Who the fuck do you think you are!? Let Keebo Go!”

   “Wait, you don’t know him?” Ugh why hadn’t the stupid immobilization feature turned off the robot’s mouth? Then Kokichi could just get to the point of all this already.

   “Of course I don’t fucking know him!” Dr. Iruma took a step forward as if to confront Kokichi further, but Saihara put his arm out in front of her.

   “Dr. Iruma… I would suggest we treat this situation a bit more delicately…”

   “No way, I’m a fucking wrecking ball baby! I’ll pulver-”

   “I’d listen to the good detective, if I were you, Miss Iruma.” Kokichi was going to try and make his threat again but Dr. Iruma cut in.

   “That’s Doctor Iruma to you you skinny-”

   “What’s that?” Kokichi interrupted her. Sorry Dr. Iruma it turns out gay people don’t have to respect women if they don’t want to that’s in the rules. “I didn’t know they let cussing bitchlets like you become doctors… what is the world coming to?”

   Hearts would probably wash his mouth out with soap for that one. If she could catch him. Which she probably could… She can fly the planes and all… but would she risk getting dust on her boots long enough to follow him into a vent? Oh well she could just get Jack to do it… Jack liked vents well enough…. Hey he was getting side tracked again, who cares what those losers were up to they were probably watching Cats (2019). And he was missing out on all the jokes they’d tell each other or make about each other and then they could make references in conversations that he wouldn’t even get to pretend to get. Unless he watched the movie on his own and then pretended to be omniscient later like he’d done with that one screening of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. But then he had watched the actually good disney one instead of the shitty youtube one they had actually watched so it just ended up making him look bad and wasting everyone’s time.

   Oh shit. Uh. Heist is still happening, right. God, why was Kokichi so distracted today?

   He realized that in the time he was spacing out stuff had happened and now Saihara was talking. Wait no yeah he remembered what happened, Dr. Iruma had squealed when he called her a bitchlet and now she was holding onto Saihara’s arm. Right okay, secret coward, that works. Wait why did he waste time remembering that when Saihara was talking right now?

   “-to get you to release Keebo?” Was the end of the detective’s sentence. Okay, everything’s fine. Kokichi could deduce that he had just been asked about his terms. Obviously that was what a detective would do in this situation, he was probably just stalling for time because that’s usually what detectives with no real negotiating power do in hostage situations. Maybe the police were on their way. Oh, yeah duh of course he would call the police. So Kokichi essentially had a time limit for how long he could sit here and goof around with robots and perverts and robot perverts.

   “Eh, it’s too early for me to reveal my dark motives, let me monologue first.” Kokichi was going to take his sweet time with this while he planned what hint to give Saihara about the real heist that would be happening in the next few days. “You don’t even know if this is a hostage situation yet!”

   “You literally told me that I was a hostage just now.” The hostage not-so-helpfully piped up. “You know, before you pressed my paralysis switch and took an Electro-Hammer to my head…”

   Shuichi looked at the robot. “You mean, he told you you were a hostage before he paralyzed you?”

   “Keebs you fucking idiot!” Dr. Iruma’s courage seemed to have returned now that she was hiding behind Saihara. An enviable position, to be sure. “Why would you just let him do that?”

“He said he was your… friend.”

“What?”

   Kokichi shrugged. “Yeah, I just told your best friend here I left a dildo in your lab last week and he let me waltz right in. I mean I’m pretty sure I was lying about that, but there were a lot of sex toys in there huh…” Kokichi was wondering if this was something he could possibly spin as a blackmail angle.

   “Hey don’t say things like that!” Kokichi thought maybe that was a go ahead on the black mail, but Dr. Iruma didn’t stutter, and kept going, “Or you’re gonna give virginhara here some ideas about my busting bod!” She chortled like she had just made the funniest joke in the world and slapped Shuichi on the back.

   Shuichi grimaced.

   Kokichi knew instantly from this interaction that he hated Miu Iruma, despite her innumerable academic accomplishments. He wanted to be the one making Shuichi that uncomfortable.

   “Wh-what?” She back tracked when no one laughed. “It w-was a joke… Didn’t you think that was funny? I-I didn’t really mean it ....”

   See? She wasn’t even any good at it!

   Maybe he should say that out loud. It would fit with the sort of flirty persona of a rogue, wouldn’t it?

   “I thought you knew that? I mean, o-obviously I wouldn’t fuck a guy at the office…”

   Was that even something Kokichi was trying to be? Honestly maybe he should tone it down a little.

   “Well how was I supposed to know that? The men you bring in here to be lab assistants keep getting younger and younger…”

   Obviously he wasn’t actually trying to do like a detective-thief romance plot or anything. Although that had kind of been what he had going for on the plane… Had things changed since then?

   “So what? I’m a Nobel Laureate, and gorgeous to boot! I deserve a little eye candy now and then! And besides, guys older than 35 who want to work in a lab like this are usually misogynistic womanizers.”

   Sure Saihara was making things more interesting, but if Kokichi didn’t make it clear he was joking he might get bogged down with another personality trait to maintain.

   “Are you saying your current assistant isn’t a rampant womanizer?”

   Then again what was the point of having an adversary in all this if he didn’t exploit everything for its furthermost reaching comedic potential?

   “No, but he’s so beta being around him makes me feel like a top!”

   But what if he forgot it was a joke and confused himself into having a real feeling?

   “I would just like it if you didn’t hire people who use my servers to google gay porn ‘just to make sure’ they’re ‘not into it.’ I hope you hear the quotation marks because he literally said that to me!”

   No obviously he wouldn't get confused crushes weren’t contagious via exposure that was a dumb thing to worry about and also he was a genius that kind of thing didn’t happen to him.

   “He holds wrenches good, okay?!”

   Wait, were those two still talking?

   “I can hold wrenches without googling gay porn in another guy’s house! It’s possible.”

   Jesus what kind of conversation did Kokichi just decide to stop spacing out for?

“Oh come on! What do you want from me Keebs???”

   These two had… a lot to say to each other. Dr. Iruma was still holding onto Shuichi’s arm boob first, but Kokichi locked eyes with the detective and could tell they were both thinking the same thing.

   Why are they having this conversation in the middle of a hostage situation?

   “Nothing! Your human desires are totally valid Miu! Which is why I thought I would take care of this one.” The robot’s LED display eyes gestured up at Kokichi, who was still standing on top of him, poised to wreck him with a hammer.

   “How could any human desire that thing???” Dr. Iruma curled her lip. Hey, the feeling’s mutual, lady.

   “I don’t know, I thought you might have programmed me to not be able to see his face?”

   “I would never do that to you! Even if I was shagging the ugliest guy on the face of the planet, it would be unethical given the fact that you have sentience! I’m horny, not a monster. You can’t see his face because he’s wearing a fucking mask!”

   “Why am I not programmed to see that?”

   “I don’t fucking know, ask your dead dad!”

   Oooh. Wow. The robot gaped at that, seemingly speechless now.

   “If I may interject,” Kokichi interjected, “--and I know I can, because I just did, and also because I am still very much poised to pop this robot’s head off like a croquet ball-- I must confess that I was lying about fucking your mom, Astro boy. I’m less into participants of Titty out Tuesday who jerk it to steam punk school boy LARPing and more into the sorta tall, kinda dark, and very handsome type.”

   Dr. Iruma cowed again, stuttering something about not being a mom or a LARPer, while the robot started yelling about being called Astro boy.

   Kokichi tuned them out, giving Saihara a meaningful look. Saihara gave him a look that was equally meaningful, except the meaning was something along the lines of ‘Why the fuck would you say that?’

   Yeahh that was more like it.

   Kokichi laughed. Not one of his grandiose guffaws. It was more of a little chuckle. It surprised him. He hadn’t planned to laugh, but there it was. A small thing, just for him to know about, the humored breath not travelling beyond his mask.

   … It was probably time to get out of here, wasn’t it?

   The thing was, Kokichi had kind of pinned himself into a corner on this one… He had fully intended on decapitating this robot as a distraction for his escape, but now he wasn’t even sure if that was ethical. Logically he knew that a robot was not a human being, so there would be no form of consciousness extinguished from the world if he disconnected some of its wires and bolts. Yet the interaction it just had with Dr. Iruma concerned him. Obviously you don’t kill humans because they’re humans and obviously you don’t kill humans. But Kokichi was finding it hard to end the existence of something people treated like a human being either. To sever the bonds it had with sentient beings may be just a little less unethical than actually removing a sentient existence from the world, but it would still cause the emotional harm to actual humans of a dead loved one. So as annoying as fake metal humans were, Kokichi was left to ponder how exactly to get out of this one a different way

   Dr. Iruma was obviously a coward who talked a big game. If he retreated, he could count on her to get out his way, or else run to the robot’s side. Then the robot might be reactivated, but according to the robot’s blueprints, it didn’t really have any weapons on it, being built to act as a normal human being. So just like they had been white noise in the staredown he was still having with Saihara, their actions wouldn’t need to be factored into the escape.

   The only variable here was what the detective would do.

   … That thought had popped up in Kokichi’s head a lot recently, hadn’t it?

   Saihara had become a powerful influence in Kokichi’s planning very quickly, and because of the detective, the thief now found himself having to pull out one of his trump cards.

   Kokichi grabbed one of the EMP bombs from his pocket, remembering the pink cloud of smoke that had appeared before the camera cut out in the video demonstrations he’d seen online. His eyes were still locked on Saiharas, so he got to see in full detail the recognition, shock, and alarm that ran through them. As the detective yelled “Get down” and pushed Dr. Iruma back, Kokichi reflected on how those were some of his favorite expressions he’d ever seen.

   Kokichi pulled the latch out with his teeth and threw the bomb at the wall right over the detective’s head. Sure enough, pink smoke quickly enveloped him and Dr. Iruma.

   “Keebo!” The inventor screeched, no doubt worried about the EMP bomb turning him off. Though that was kind of stupid, considering his core programming would be the same regardless of having power to operate, even if he didn’t save whatever data was processed as his last few memories. Eh, then again who knew how robots that advanced worked?

   Taking his cue to exit, Kokichi threw the hammer through one of the nearby windows, and did somersault over to it. He got up on the ledge, kicking away the broken glass and was refamiliarizing himself with the lay out of the roof when a tug on his bag full of bombs suddenly set him off balance.

   Kokichi flipped around, trying to do a quick recovery by panickedly grabbing onto something. He did grab onto something. That something being the shoulders of a person whose hands were firmly grappling his bag.

   As far as Kokichi could tell, the scene from a third person perspective looked like he was trying to do the kabedon but rotated ninety degrees.

   From his own perspective, Saihara was holding his bag of loot while also being the only thing keeping Kokichi from falling onto the broken glass beneath them.

   As if that weren’t bad enough, Kokichi felt his hair brush the side of his face and realized that his mask had half fallen askew in his desperate movement, revealing three quarters of his face.

   “Hey.” Kokichi said. Lamely. Wow. Their faces were really close.

   Saihara wasn’t looking at him. The detective seemed to be trying to figure out how to untangle the straps of the bag of stolen goods from Kokichi’s arms without letting him fall.

   “It’s very clever, of you detective. Trapping me like this.” Kokichi tried to get a reaction.

   “You’re the one who jumped on the window.” Shuichi opened the bag, seemed to take in the fact that it was full of bombs, and closed it again to resume untangling the strap.

“You know, you could just leave the bag.” Kokichi pointed out

   “So could you.” Shuichi observed, astutely.

   “You could let me fall.” Kokichi suggested. “Then you’d have both.”

   “I’m not going to drop you on a pile of broken glass.” Shuichi promised.

   “But I broke the glass.” Kokichi admitted.    “Glass is glass and flesh is flesh. I’m not going to drop you on a pile of glass.” Shuichi reiterated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s nice.” Kokichi replied. “Naive. But super nice.”

   In this scenario, each of them had two options, each leading to one of two outcomes. He could let himself fall off the window and they could sit here and struggle over the bag until they bled out, a fight that Kokichi, not the most physically challenging, would be hard pressed to win. Or Shuichi could let Kokichi escape and Kokichi could let Shuichi win this one. The bag would be too heavy to take with him if he tried to get out the window from this position. He’d have to leave it behind. Kokichi would lose.

   He found himself laughing again. A strange, soft laugh. This time it was exposed to the air, his mask too askew to contain it.

   “You’re really something else, aren’t you Shuichi?”

   On hearing his name, the detective startled, finally looking up at Kokichi’s face.

   He just barely had the chance to catch Kokichi’s trademark grin, before the thief pushed up off of him, doing a backflip out of the window, and leaving his bag behind.

   As Kokichi landed on the roof tile running, he yelled out, “ I’m sure there’s a better word for you out there than sucker!”

   He turned around, sticking his tongue out at the broken window, before sliding his mask back onto his face.

   He may have been escaping, but it occured to Kokichi Ouma that he had lost for the first time in this little game of theirs. The thought made him giddy. It made his feet light on the roof top tile. It made him puff out a thousand tiny laughs behind the plastic shape of his face.

   It made him totally, definitely not bored. --- [Log of Messages sent via Discord to “Don't Instigate Cats (2019) Expatiation” from ???’s Cellular Device]

Boss: I’m bored of Taiwan already :/

Boss: We should go somewhere else (ﾉ✧w✧)ﾉ*:･ﾟ🗺

* * * Several people are typing... --- [Log of Text Messages from Rantarou Amami’s Cellular Device]

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Hey

Hey

Asshole

From: Me

…

Should I respond to that?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You’re goddamn right you should respond to that when I tell you to you dumb avocado looking motherfucker

From: Me

Whoa

Ok

What’d I do this time?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You sent a useless emo prick to my door and now he won’t leave

From: Me

What

Did Shuichi do something wrong

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Yeah

He was born

From: Me

Whoa

Miu take a breath

What happened

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

His boyfriend broke into my lab and tried to fucking kill keebs

From: Me

His boyfriend?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Yea

Clown twink ass motherfucker

From: Me

You mean like

The internationally wanted criminal clown he’s tracking down

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You know whats internationally wanted

These tits

From: Me

Lol ok

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

That jerk off is just a rando asshole

He tried to kill keebo!

From: Me

Oh yikes is he ok

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Well of course i fucking took care of him because im a bomb ass friend

But that suckhara guy was no help

He tried to convince me to check the fucking security cameras so he could go off and flirt with the guy about to decapitate keebs!

From: Me

I mean he probably had a good reason to want you to check the cameras right

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

No he’s just fucking awful and now he won’t leave rantarou make him leave

He broke my window and my hammer and only got back 23 of my EMP bombs

And now the police are here

From: Me

That sounds really stressful Miu

Wait how many bombs did you have before

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

24

From: Me

So he stopped most of your bombs from getting stolen

Also you have bombs?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Get him to leave he won’t leave

He keeps waiting for like interracial pole dancers to come or some fucking thing

From: Me

Do you mean like

Interpol

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

He won’t leave I want him to leave

From: Me

Miu you know I love you like a sister and i totally believe this is as stressful to you as it seems

But I think things may not be so bad?

Not to say what you’re going through right now isn’t totally valid

But things might look better if you got back to bed and caught some z’s

Did you remember to take your meds?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Aw shit

Aw fuck

You’re right

Ugh

Uggghghh

From: Me

Hey it happens to the best of us

If you do think Shuichi should leave in the morning when the cops are gone that’s totally up to you

It’s your lab and you have a right to say who should be in it

Just don’t make a decision like that when you need to sleep you know

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

But what if i ask him to go and then he doesn’t go

From: Me

He doesn’t have a choice, you get to tell him

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

But what if he’s mean to me

Cute people are always mean to me

From: Me

Miu…

Go to bed...

[angelic-holland]

Seeing the Thing 9

Summary: I never have to carefully shape sentences when I’ve got some words to say, they’re falling from my mouth from the time that they hit my brain.

Warnings: angst, fluff, panic attacks, and smut (not necessarily in that order) 

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I originally hated the way I ended this chapter so I added another 1.5k words until I was happy. I was listening to the Double Dare album by Waterparks on repeat when writing this as you can see from the summary. anyone else love them? bold are text messages! 

Tom: u up?

Tom: Do you like my costume

Tom: I got to put on the winter pants and coat

Tom: but i think this makes a good first few layers

Tom: what do you think???

You roll your eyes as you place your computer on your desk before sitting back down on your bed.

You: did anyone tell you it’s rude to send a thousand messages instead of just one long one?

Tom: i only sent 5

Tom: do i need to send 995 more???

Tom: okay i get your point

Tom: but this is how i talk

Tom: text whatever

Tom: I think I look hot

You sigh, he does look hot. That wasn’t the problem. He looked like an annoying fuck boy. Which wasn’t that far off from the truth.

Tom: do you think I look hot??

You: you’re so fucking annoying

Tom: come sit on my face and shut me up

Tom: that’s totally a yes btw

Tom: come on, come visit and check it out in person

Those last three texts were sent in quick succession and you did a double-take at the first one.

Your fingers hovered over the screen to type but you genuinely had no words. 

***

Tom smacked himself at his first text. Too forward. Way too forward. 

He watched as the grey bubbles popped up and then disappeared several times. He knew you weren’t going to respond, probably weirded out. 

He sent the next two texts and had several drafts after that.

I’m sorry

No, he knew how if he didn’t specify what he was sorry for you’d give him shit and that was the last thing he needed right now.

That was weird just ignore that

Nope, you wouldn’t be able to ignore that so it was pointless to suggest it.

He attempted to think of another thought, anything really to relieve the tension he felt rising in his chest.

Maybe he’d wait for you to respond. It was a strategic plan, other than the fact that your possible responses were gnawing at his insides. 

***

You were about to respond, a quick omw because fuck it right? When your phone died. 

So you hastily changed into a matching set of underwear, white with a lilac lace trim, determined to confront him about his message in person since your poorly timed phone dying left you no other choice. 

You took a deep breath as you smoothed down your T-shirt, you weren’t going to let your nerves get the best of you, not today. It’s been nearly a year since you’ve had sex and although yes, you would admit that you wanted to have sex with Tom, you had no idea if you were ready. So after brushing through your hair quickly you figured you would show up at his dorm, work through whatever haze of feelings were bubbling up inside you, and make your decision then. You checked your phone to see if he replied, if actually wanted you to go to his dorm or if he was fucking with you. 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Maybe this was a sign, a sign that you shouldn’t go down and do something you might regret the next day. The more you thought as that knocking started to piss you off the more you realized you’d only regret it if Tom did something to ruin the mood, if he treated you like one of his weekend hookups. You figured it would be hard for him to do that. You spent every night at rehearsal together. But what about after the show? Did you want to have something more with Tom? Whatever that might entail? Would you be able to after the bullshit Ben put you through? 

But your thoughts were cut short by that annoying fucking knocking and holy shit-

“Hi,” Tom smirks, leaning against the side of your door as you groan.

“Maybe only knock three times? Knocking for a long time is pretty rude.”

“Sorry, I just uh, I heard your feet tapping and I knew you were in there and I wanted to see if-, oh,” Tom let’s out a surprised yelp as you pull him into the room, kissing him as you slam the door behind him.

“I’m glad you liked my message,” he laughs against your lips as your fingers curl into the denim jacket, his slipping down to rest against your hips, thumbs fitting nicely in the belt loop of your shorts.

“Mhm,” you mumble, eyeing the beanie on his head to the winter boots on his feet.

“And the outfit?”

“I think Jenna will be very happy with your costume choice.”

“Let’s not talk about Jenna, or the costumes, or the show,” Tom rolls his eyes as you take a step back, fingers tight on his jacket, forcing him to take a step with you.

“What should we talk about then?” You ask, resting your hands against his chest through the layers of your clothes. 

“Let’s not talk,” he whispers, eyes searching for a confirmation that you want the same thing.

You respond with what he’s looking for, rising on your toes to meet his lips again, your hand tugs the beanie out of his hair, tossing it to the side.

His fingers tug on your belt loop, your hips meeting his as your hands work on pulling off his denim jacket. Your lips move with ease against his, it’s gentle and calming as his hand moves to cup your face, thumb rubbing your cheek as you pull your lips off his. 

“How many layers you got under here?”

“Why don’t ya find out?” He smiles gently and you laugh before grabbing at the end of his gray sweatshirt. 

With each layer you get a little more frustrated and Tom’s laughing hard when you finally get to his bare skin and nearly jump into his arms.

“Thank fuck,” you grumble, kissing him as his feet work to kick off the boots before he fumbles forward, lips trailing down your jaw while his fingers work on unbuttoning your shorts.

“This okay?” He mutters, lips against your neck as your hands roam the expanse of his back, the both of you still standing sort of awkwardly in the middle of your room, surrounded by his many layers.

“You got a condom?” You sigh as he helps you shuffle your shorts down your legs. 

His breath hitches as he steps back slightly to take a look at your panties, more specifically the small wet spot in the front of them, foot just inches too far back and he’s tripping over his boot.

You catch him with a grunt and your arms are wrapped around his waist, pulling him back up to a standing position.

“Maybe we should get on the bed?” He nods towards it and your hands trail to his hips, he’s all tight muscles and you want to trace the lines on his stomach with your lips but you settle for dragging your fingers across them as you back up.

His hand reaches out to stop you, a light weight on your shoulder as the other moves to pull at your T-shirt. His breath hitches again as he sees your bra, the way your breasts look so pretty and he wanted to devour you.

“Did you get all matching for me?” He wiggles his eyebrows and you laugh, shrugging as your knees back into your bed.

You swing your legs up and open them wide, letting Tom get a better view of you.

You can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks and down your chest as he groans, pulling a silver packet out of his sweatpants before pulling them down while you settle on your elbows. He looks so good, chest rising and falling, standing next to you, eyes soft as he admires your body. There’s something there, just below the surface of his dark brown eyes, past the lust and hunger. It sends a nervous shiver down your spine and you push down the feeling because right now you just want him. 

He places the condom strategically next to your leg as he settles between them, hands running up and down your bare thighs and you bite back a moan.

“Be loud for me darling,” he mutters before his lips begin to trail up your thigh, he turns your thigh slightly, biting down lightly on the inside before soothing the spot with his tongue. Smirking against you at your small yelp.

“Don’t wanna, don’t want the RA to come knocking.”

“Gimme a second,” Tom pauses his movement, hand reaching down off the side of your bed for his phone.

“What’re you doing?” You tilt your head as he starts to type.

“Gimme a sec,” he nods as a song begins to play. 

“What?”

“To drown out all your moans.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re like, super cocky?” You tilt your head as he puts his phone on the bedside table before settling back in between your thighs.

“Only about every day, I dunno, looks like someone enjoys it,” he smirks as he runs a finger over your panties.

“Fuck,” you groan, dropping your head to the pillow, “you’re right.”

You concentrate on the feeling of his fingers slipping into the sides of your panties, attempting to tug them down your legs. You both realize you’re in a bad position for this, your thighs wide apart, his shoulders brushing against them from where he was laying. 

“Whoops,” He laughs, sitting up, shoulders bumping into your knees as you help him by sitting up and shimmying the panties off your legs as he sits back.

And the sight of your folds, glistening and wet for him has Tom’s eyes darken before he’s pushing you back, one hand moving to cup your breast while the other holds him above your body. 

And right as you’re about to focus on wrapping your legs around his waist you hear the lyrics of the song that’s playing in the background. 

I don’t see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind

I don’t see nothing wrong, baby, baby, hey

And as Tom’s lips drag across the skin of your collarbone, fingers finding their way to your entrance, your arms snake around his shoulders, eyes slipping shut. 

“Fine, What song would you play? Bump N Grind?”

Pause.

“Oh my god. Don’t tell me that’s on there.”

You take one look at your best friend and hold back a sigh, “it is isn’t it?”

Harrison was totally using Tom’s sex playlist. You didn’t realize how distracted you were, that you broke into a fit of laughter before Tom’s lips smack against your skin and his fingers slip out of you.

“Is something funny?” He mutters against your skin and you look down at the boy, lips moving back to make the skin right below the dip in your collarbone.

“Sorry, But is this like your sex playlist?” You laugh again, a small giggle turned into a moan as Tom’s thumb grazes your clit.

“Maybe, are you distracted? Needa take a break?” He asks, he isn’t used to this. For the girl he’s with not falling apart at the seams the second he has them in bed. The fact that you haven’t even been very vocal, other than the laughter ringing in his ears was puzzling. So he set himself determined to make you feel good, adding another finger as he fucked into you.

And you felt sort of bad, that you let your mind wander. Tom was making you feel good, no doubt about it, each thrust of his fingers sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Come on, fuck me,” you moan as your legs tighten around his hips.

“Mhm,” he grunts before fumbling for the condom, tearing it open. Your hands push at his boxers and his mouth is hot and wet against your neck. 

Once he kicks off his boxers he helps you slide the condom on, his lips meet yours as you grind your wet folds against his cock. 

And his lips are sweet and soft and everything you’ve ever wanted and more, even as you’re about to fuck they’re gentle. And you want him to get a move on but you’re savoring the time now, his fingers pressed against your hips, tongue searching your mouth for something you can’t place your finger on but also don’t want to. You attempt to channel your energy and focus on the here and now, something you had trouble with sometimes. 

But all of that disappears from your mind as he’s slowly pushing into you, his fingers tightening around your hip in time with your legs around his waist. 

“Fuck,” you whimper against his lips as he fills you just right. 

His hips are a steady weight against yours as your creaky dorm bed thump thump thump smacks against the wall with his movements. The music drowns out the sounds of your moans and whimpers against his lips, touch me tease me feel me and caress me, hold on tight and don’t let go. 

You normally didn’t kiss this much during sex, maybe it was the position, Tom on top of you, or maybe it was because you were afraid of what he’d say if his lips weren’t occupied doing other things. So when your mouths finally broke apart because both of you were gasping for air, the oxygen between you running out, you ran your fingers through his hair before pushing his head towards your neck.

“Want me to mark you darlin?”

Mark you. 

The words were so primal. The look in his eyes was primal as well, pure want as he fucks into you, his thumb slipping between your hot and sweaty bodies to rub against your clit. A wave of pleasure crashes over you before you realize he’s waiting for a response, oops hovering over a spot on the side of your neck.

“Please,” you moan, pleasure coursing through your veins. 

His hips stutter against your own before his teeth sink into your skin, causing you to cry out and clench around him before his lips suck over this teeth marks. His tongue soothes the mark and you remember that you’ll have to hide it, your mind wandering to what Gianna or god forbid Harrison found out. And then you were distracted, working to bring your mind back to the activity at place. Tom’s thumb is rubbing your clit and his other hand is next to your head, leaning into your pillow as he fucks into you, the sound of skin against skin and his mumbles against your skin slowly forcing you to pay attention. 

“Tom,” you sigh and his cock twitches inside of you.

Fuck. He’s close. 

And you were enjoying yourself, you really were, but you just weren’t there. But just like the boys before him you knew he wasn’t going to wait around for you to get there, wasn’t going to wait and take the time to find out what really makes you scream. And maybe that’s presumptuous of you but Tom’s the type of guy who thinks that every girl works the same, a finger on your clit and a hot mouth on your neck and you’re clenching around him, coming with a cry of his name. 

That wouldn’t be the case for you, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t pretend. Something Tom and you had gotten very good at recently. So you put on a show, squeezing your eyes shut, clenching around him, moaning his name as he comes, pretending to come with him before his hips still, panting against your neck, sweaty curls tickling your jaw as your legs drop from around his waist. 

Tom slips out of you, eyebrows furrowing as he takes in your calming state, lips pouting slightly as he sits up.

“Did you just fake that?”

“What? No,” you sit up with him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Nobody’s ever caught you faking it before. Time to put on your best smile and act like you came. 

“No, no,” Tom shrugs your arm off him, “you definitely did.”

“No I didn’t,” because you’re stubborn and you knew his ego would be crushed. It wasn’t necessarily his fault, you enjoyed yourself, it just took you longer than normal to come, and you didn’t want to hold up the fun for your partner. Tom wasn’t going to last as long as it took you to bring yourself to orgasm. The pleasure you felt was fine, even if you didn’t get to that special place. But the look of pure bliss on his face as he came was now replaced by furrowed brows and a frown. 

“What did I do?” Tom starts and you crawl towards him, reaching out, attempting to explain why you faked it since he saw right through your lie. 

He glances away as you rest your hand on his chest, crawling into the space between his legs. His arms are limp at his sides and he doesn’t attempt to give you the same type of physical attention you’re giving him, and that hurts, even just a little. 

“I-,”

“Were you thinking you could just fake it and pretend like you had a good time? Leave me thinking I made you feel good, made you come like a fucking fool?” He swats your hand off his chest and you attempt to control the wave of anxiety starting to pull you under. 

“I’m sorry, I just, I wasn’t there and you were and I didn’t want you to feel bad so-,”

“And knowing that you faked it, was that supposed to make me feel what? Indifferent?”

“No, I didn’t think you-,”

“Holy fuck you always talk about using your words but then when it comes time to using them, you fucking don’t. You could’ve said hey Tom this is what I like, this is how I can come. Instead you what? Moan my name and squeeze my shoulders and act like you got there?”

You know what he’s saying wasn’t meant to hurt you. He’s frustrated, he wants to know what he did wrong and why you did what you did. You knew the insecurities inside him were surfacing with each word. 

And honestly? Faking it was easier than having to explain how you could come, the little intricate details that made everything just right, made the moment possible. 

“Oh? Nothing to say? Of course, because you can’t act like this is just pretend,” Tom’s voice is bitter and he gets off your bed, your head hangs low as you hear him shuffle around the room, presumably grabbing his thousands of layers. 

You think he’s going to stop talking, to let the silence fill the room as the music cuts off. But he doesn’t. You feel tears well in your eyes as you fight to keep them back, hands shaking as you pull your blanket over your naked body. 

“This isn’t just you, helping me for the show, Dave and Rhonda don’t fuck on stage. This was all you darling,” the word just a few minutes ago spoken so softly bit back at you, “you had sex with me because you wanted to. You don’t get to pretend. and that's killing you isn't it?” He asks and you turn your head to him as you pray for the bed to swallow you whole as your ears start ringing and you clasp your hands over them, attempting to shut out the world. 

“Fuck, I’m- y/n, I just, I don’t want to pretend either, I want-,”

“Go, please,” you manage to get out as you gasp for breath to no avail. 

“I’m so-,”

“Go, go, go,” you cry, squeezing your eyes shut at the pained expression on his face. The hot tears roll down your cheeks as you don’t even bother searching for air or comfort in another person. You wouldn’t find that in Tom. Not now. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and it’s barely there as static fills your brain, blocking out the rest of the world. 

You hear the door shut and you want to collapse in on yourself as you gasp for air. 

You find comfort in nothing, not in your bed where you could normally escape after a long day, not in the warmth of your blanket against your skin. You trip over your blanket you kick to the side as you stumble out of bed. Quickly grabbing a robe you slipped it on and rushed to the showers, grateful nobody was there to see you. A blossoming hickey on your neck, legs sore, lungs collapsing on themselves as you let the hot water rush over your body. You choked out a sob as you felt air fill your lungs, salty tears mixing with the water that ran over your skin, fragile and freezing no matter how far you pushed the lever, wishing the water would melt your skin. This was a fucking disaster. You let the water drown out the sound of your tears.

***

Tom realized he fucked up, the second he heard your cries and saw your hands clasped over your ears. What he said was fucking horrible and it wasn’t your fault you didn’t come. But god damn it he wishes you said something or that you let him know how he could make you feel as good as he did before it all came crashing down around you. So after he tosses all of his clothes back in his room he rushes back to yours, he knows you said to go but his mind couldn’t tear away the tears in your eyes and the shaking of your body as he left. 

He knocks twice, “y/n, god, I’m sorry, please, just, you don’t even have to open the door or anything, just let me know you’re okay. I know you told me to leave but I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

Silence. He figured you would still be upset, crying even, but there’s not even the whisper of a movement on the other side of your door. His head whips around as he hears a sob from the bathroom. 

Shit.

He checks to see if anyone else is roaming the halls before slipping into the women’s bathroom, eyeing the gray bathrobe on the ground in front of one of the showers, the same one he’s seen time and time again in your room now soaking wet from the water dripping from the shower curtain. 

He slips back out and races back to his room and then back to your bathroom, slightly out of breath, but he knew it was nothing compared to how you must have felt. He remembers Harrison told him that you felt like you were drowning when you were having a panic attack, like the air in your lungs was replaced with water and you were treading water but failing miserably. 

So he slipped back into the bathroom and sat on the counter, a towel and clothes in his hand, waiting for the right time to speak up.

*** As your nails dug into your arms you felt your body slowly start to heat up and your lungs fill with air. 

“Just fucking breathe,” your voice trembles as you turn the shower off. Your eyes slowly blink open and you look down at your body, bright red from the heat of the water. And you knew, logically that the only reason you felt like this was because you felt something for Tom. If it was anyone else you would’ve told them to fuck off and get over themselves. But Tom, you just couldn’t let go of the sting of his words ingrained in the back of your mind as you reached from behind the curtain to grab your robe from the hook. 

“Shit,” you curse when you don’t feel the soft material under your fingertips. You bend down and blindly grasp around the floor groaning when you feel the damp robe. 

“y/n?” Tom’s voice is soft and unsure and you’re positive he’s right outside your shower.

You stand back up, robe abandoned on the floor as you peer out from behind the curtain.

You push your wet hair from your eyes as you see Tom swinging his legs, sitting on the counter. Your eyes widen with disbelief. 

“I’m sorry-,”

“Tom,” and the weight of your word, exhausted, upper lip trembling as you stare at the boy you just had sex with, the boy whose ego you just crushed hit Tom. 

“I’m sorry I was such an asshole, I’m sorry I couldn’t make you, you know, and I’m sorry I suck with words. I’m sure there’s more for me to be sorry for but you must be freezing so I got you a towel,” Tom holds the towel out for you, a deep blue, like he told you his favorite color was. 

You reach out for it and Tom nods, jumping off the counter and handing it to you. 

“Thank you,” you manage to get out and you shiver as your fingers brush against his. 

As you wrap the towel around your body, too tired to dry your hair you feel tears well in your eyes again, this time from Tom’s gesture, an olive branch of sorts.

You step out of the shower, red-rimmed eyes meeting Tom’s as you shuffle forward, grabbing your robe with one hand, upset you got it wet, which only makes you cry a little more. 

“It’s okay,” Tom’s voice attempts to sooth you and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s pulling you close and hugging you as your body shakes like leaf, maybe from crying, maybe from your body being exposed to the cold air of the bathroom, probably both.

“I’m sorry,” you cry against his shoulder.

You’re sorry for faking it. You’re sorry for not using your words. You’re sorry for crying and getting his clothes wet from the shower and your tears. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his hand spreading across your back, a comforting weight keeping you pressed against him. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again, and that’s as much as you can get out for now.

“Shhh, let’s get you to bed okay?”

“I just, and I don’t even and I wanted to-,”

“It’s okay, you’re freezing, come on, let’s get you dressed,” he motions to the clothes on the counter as he pulls away slightly, you let out a sad whimper as he moves, afraid that he’s going to let go of you. And he senses this, he senses that you want human contact right now, that you need it, so he does an awkward shuffle sideways to the clothes, tucking them under his arm before gripping your thighs and making sure the towel keeps you decent, picking you up with ease as you wrap your arms around his neck, his other arm tight against the side of your chest, holding you against him. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, blushing as your lips get stuck on those two words again.

“It’s okay,” he nods, his chin resting on the top of your head as he walks to your room, arms never wavering in his hold on you as he uses his elbow to push your door open. 

He sets you down on your bed, kneeling in front of it, your hand shoots out to hold his, and he let’s you grip his wrist as he raises both your hands to his face, kissing each of your fingers gently. 

“I brought you some clothes, I dunno why since you’ve got clothes but I just-,” Tom nods, frowning slightly when he sees more tears start to fall from your eyes, “what’s wrong?”

“You didn’t haveta do this,” you sigh as your grip softens.

“But I wanted to,” his voice is quieter as you let go of his wrist and he stands up, “c’mere, you needa get dried off.”

So you follow him, one hand holding the towel tight around you. Normally you’d feel shy as his hand covered yours, turning you around before pulling the towel off of you. Or a little ridiculous as he helped dry you off, but he made you feel like this was completely normal. He hums gently, eyes staring at the hickey he left on the side of your neck as his hands gently make sure you’re completely dry before resting the towel on your shoulders as he grabs the black sweatpants.

“Hope these are comfy,” he muses as you step into them and his fingers rest against your bare waist when he’s finished pulling them up.

You nod, fingers trembling as you wipe away the tears on your face, too scared to turn around and look at Tom. You feel him take the towel from your shoulders and gently dry your hair, fingers brushing through tangles after he drops the towel.

“Here, just lift your arms up for me okay?” He asks and you do just that before you feel the warmth of a blue sweatshirt pulled over your head. 

“Tom,” you feel his hands resting over the sweatshirt and your body is hesitant as you think about laying down his him, falling asleep in his arms like you did earlier while watching the movie, something that seemed like a million years ago now. 

“I can stay, if you want,” Tom suggests and you’re grateful he’s able to pick up on every word unspoken from your lips between the call of his name and I’m sorry. 

You nod and he follows you as crawl into your bed, hair still slightly damp.

“Can you-,” you start and you hear him hum before grabbing your towel and positioning it on your pillow. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh against his chest as his hand rests on your hip, yours holding onto his t-shirt, afraid if you let go that he would slip between your fingertips. And the words are right there on the tip of your tongue, all you needed to do was will them into existence, push your vocal cords to produce the sound, push your lips to form them. But the sheer exhaustion from today kept you silent. 

You feel your eyelids start to droop as he responds.

“I’m sorry as well.”

“What else could you be sorry for?”

And as you drift off to sleep, so tired you think you’re making it up you swear you hear him answer you, breathless as his fingers stroke your side, “because I like you.”

***

Taglist: @tom-hollands-blog @unicornsyy @practicallylivesonline @jackiehollanderr @khhbby @amyalpha @peterbxrnes @relise-thefury @euphorictom @lkd2505 @fandomdarlings @saysomethingspiderman @dylanrauhl @cvrecem @legendsofwholock @pumpkinsinnerpie @particularmila @darktwistydiamond @aestheticqueen18 @marveltho @ccnicole02 @lunatic--charm @deathofmissjackson @ad-iuficium @nedthegay @peteunderoos @hollandjmc 

[beautifullydisconnected]

Face-off

Pairing: Hockey/Student Harrison x Reader

Word Count: 2k 

Warnings: Swearing, some angst 

A/N: My Canadian heart is loving this concept so if you want more hockey play tom or Harrison let me know. 

--------

Harrison was the boy that all the girls at school loved, and he knew it. The star of the schools hockey team, getting looked at by multiple NHL teams as he had been drafted right out of highschool, but ended up as a free agent. He was cocky, and smug living up to the stereotypes. He drove you absolutely nuts, and it didn’t help that you were in the same major so you were stuck seeing him everyday.

“Good morning Love,” he cooed as he took his seat next to you.

“Osterfield,” you said bluntly.

“We won our game yesterday, in case you cared.”

“I’m aware,” You tried to make yourself busy prepping your stuff for class.

“Are you now?” He leaned closer to you, “Where you at the game yesterday?” A cockiness in his voice.

“Yes,” you rolled your eyes, “And no it has nothing to do with you. Everyone was going and it was a pretty big game.” Thankfully the prof walked in and class began, meaning you could focus on the lecture rather than the insufferable Harrison Osterfield.

-----------

“Alright class, for the upcoming project I want you to partner up, you’ll be working together for the remainder of the semester. Choose wisely.”

You began to look around, but this happened to be the only class that your friends weren’t in. As you looked over Harrison was facing you with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Hey partner,” you rolled your eyes, “Looks like you’re stuck with me for the next couple months.”

“Looks like it,” you began to pack up your stuff.

“So what do you want to do for the project? I was thinking something relating to literature? I know that you’ve tagged that on to your degree on top of the history so I thought we could work both aspect?”

“How did you know I was a lit student as well?”

“Well if you aren’t reading one of our history textbooks, you usually have your head buried in some classic novel, or anthology related to lit.”

“Right, uhm, well sure.” You were completely taken aback. “Why don’t we meet up Thursday after class, and we can brain storm some more.” You grabbed your things and began to walk away, but not before Harrison called after you.

“Love, I don’t have your number,” You stopped in your tracks turning back to him, with his phone held out, “never know when I may need to get ahold of you.”

“Right.” You punched in your number and began to head to your next class.

*ding*

[000-000-0000]: You’re kind of cute when your flustered 😜

[000-000-0000]: Its Harrison btw

The rest of the day went on as normal. You went to your next class, then spent the rest of the day at the library doing research for other classes and going over notes for an upcoming midterm.

[Harrison Osterfield]: I’m pretty sure one person shouldn’t be able to take up an entire table at the library with notes.

You rolled your eyes, flipping over your phone, and getting back to your studying.

“Ouch,” You looked up to Harrison looking slightly offended. “Mind if I sit? All the other tables are full.”

“Uhm, sure,” you began to clean up your mess of notes from all over the table. “Didn’t want to sit with the puck bunnies at the table over there?” You nodded your head to a group of girls who had been watching Harrisons every move since he came over to you.

“I mean as much fun as that would be I actually need to get work done.” He smiled, pulling out his laptop, and a textbook.

The rest of the afternoon passed with the two of you doing your own thing, with a few comments or conversation breaks between. You were pleasantly surprised by the fact that Harrison actually cared about his work, a lot of the other guys that you had seen around campus from the hockey team didn’t seem to care too much, they did their work, but just barely so.

“Hey, so we have a game tomorrow night, I, uh was wondering if you were going?” Harrison asked while packing up his stuff.

“Oh, uhm, I hadn’t really thought about it.” Why did he care? “I guess it depends on how much work I get done tomorrow.”

“Fair, well if you do end up coming let me know, I’ll leave a ticket for you.” He grinned.

“Oh wow, okay. I guess I’ll let you know by lunch tomorrow if that works?”

“Sounds good to me. See you later.”

Did you seriously just have a civil and normal conversation with Harrison? The Harrison Osterfield, certified fuckboi on campus. As you looked up you could see the girls that had been watching Harrison earlier now glaring at you.

-------

The rest of your evening was uneventful, you spent it making dinner and watching netflix, still not believing you had spent most of your day with Harrison, and that he was actually nice. The next day was just like every other day, you went to class, had a meeting with a prof to go over a paper, and grabbed lunch before heading back to your dorm.

[Harrison Osterfield]: Hey just wanted to check-in and see if you had decided if you were coming to the game?

Shit. You totally forgot. Did you have time to go? Well you were caught up on everything especially if you did more work up until you leave for the game.

Ya, I’ll go.

[Harrison Osterfield]: Awesome! I’ll have a ticket there for you.

You still had no idea why he was acting this way, but if you could get a free hockey game out of it, you might as well.

----------

You made you way to the rink, feeling a little out of place. You still couldn’t believe you agreed to go, and alone. Most times when you went to games you were with a group of friends, but this time you were alone. You made your way to the ticket line.

“Hi, uhm, there should be a ticket here for me under Harrison’s name.” You tugged at the ends of your sleeves nervously.

“(Y/L/N)?” the clerk asked.

“Yup.”

As you walked into the arena it felt like home. You had grown up at the rink watching your brother, and your dad always brought you to games, and just like that you felt at ease. As you looked at your ticket you realized that you had one of the best seats in building. You went to your seat and took in everything. You couldn’t lie to yourself you were really excited to be here. Within minutes the arena filled with people, the lights went down, and the announcers voice boomed through the speakers. Announcing the teams, the anthem was sung, and just like that the game began.

You had found Harrison no problem during warm ups, and he found you giving you a small wave before going back to warming up. The first period was as normal as they got, a few shots on net, a penalty here and there, but nothing too major. Between periods you decided to go grab a coffee to keep your hands warm, and to keep you awake. The start of the second began with a huge check to one of our schools players, and a fight broke out between Harrison and the guy who check our player. You kept your eyes on him as he made his way to the penalty box. After that Harrison was playing like everything was on the line. He managed to score two goals, and got an assist. By the third your school was up 6-4 with three minutes left. You knew better then to think the game was over in the last three minutes anything was possible. Your team had the puck and were making their way down the ice, the puck was passed to Harrison he brought it up, passing it off and quickly getting into position, getting the puck back and shooting it right away getting his third goal of the game. Hats went flying onto the ice, as per your schools tradition to anyone scoring a hattrick. The game ended at 7-4. This was the first season in a long time that your team had managed to win multiple at home games back to back. After everyone was off the ice and beginning to clear out you heard your phone.

[Harrison Osterfield]: Hey! Would you want to go grab something to eat?

Sure.

[Harrison Osterfield]: Sweet! Meet me by exit near the changing rooms in 15!

You made your way to the change room area. As you stood there you felt a little weird, as everyone else was a significant other of one of the players, or girls that were hoping to get lucky with one of them. You tried to distract yourself scrolling through instagram, and checking your group chats to see if you missed anything.

“Hey!” Harrison sauntered over to you. Startling you a bit as he was in dress pants and dress shirt.

“Well I feel a little underdressed,” you teased.

“I think you look fine,” he draped his arm over your shoulder pulling you with him, taking you off guard again. You followed him outside to the parking lot.

“Harrison,” you tried to stop him

“Hmmm,” he stopped facing you.

“What are you doing? Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m, I. Why do you hate me?”

“I-I don’t hate you,” you stuttered over your words.

“Well up until yesterday you wouldn’t even give me the time of day. So I decided to take advantage of you treating me like a normal human to try and befriend you.” You could feel your cheeks warming up, and you felt like an idiot.

“I’ve never hated you,” you looked up at him, “You’re just you. And you’re cool, and attractive and a little bit arrogant at times, and a bit of a pain in my ass. And your…” gesturing to him as a whole.

“I’m what love?” he had a smug grin on his face.

“What?” you were getting noticeably flustered. Harrison moved closer to you.

“Did you just say I was attractive?”

“Oh shut up Harrison, you know your attractive, hell everyone knows you are.” You rolled your eyes.

“Ya, but I like hearing you say it.” He was a lot closer then he had been moments again.

“Why do you care what I think?”

“Because you’re the only person on campus who doesn’t seem to care who I am or where my future is heading.”

“Well, ya, I mean, aren’t you destined to be some big NHL star this time next year?”

“Well ya, but with that comes money, and girls throwing themselves at me.”

“Oh, ya. I’m sure thats so hard on you.” you patted his chest, mocking him.

“It is when I can’t tell who wants to be my friend for me and who’s using me for the potential fame.”

“Well pretty boy, I’m not using you for your ‘potential’ fame, because thats the last thing I want.”

“I know. Thats why I like you.” He was staring into your eyes now.

“Well I mean I guess your alright,” you teased.

“No, I mean I like you, like you.” He closed the gap waiting for you to say anything before his hands were on both sides of your face, bringing his lips to yours. When he pulled away you had no idea what to say.

��I- what just happened?” You looked at him

“Well, I confessed my feelings. Kissed you and now we’re here.” He just stared at you and before you knew it you were the one closing the gap between the two of you, arms around his neck pulling him closer to you, as his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“Safe to say I definitely don’t hate you Osterfield.” you smiled.

Tagging: @bewitched-haz @osterfield-holland-andcompany

[caranfindel]

Recap/review 15.03: “The Rupture”

THEN: Ghost/spirits/whatever, blah blah blah. The only thing of note here is that they choose to remind us that Sam is fated to kill Rowena. But I'm sure that doesn't mean anything. There are tons of reasons to include this. Tons.

NOW: We're still in Whatever-this-place-is-called, Kansas. Ghosts/spirits/whatever are still flinging themselves against the barrier. Sam's still in charge of the hunter troops. Expanded Team Free Will is back in the graveyard and they've got a plan that Rowena insists will work. It's a powerful spell that will "patch those holes up" in time for tea. (Rowena is back in a dramatic gown today, but I don't like the casual jacket she's wearing with it.) All she needs is a ghost-free space, which happens to be the mausoleum the gang found in 15.01. No one's thrilled about that. We also see the opening to Hell itself, which is a giant hole in the ground. It doesn't seem to give anyone PTSD, though.

[[MORE]]

The gang salts the perimeter of the mausoleum while Rowena mixes up her spell, and right away something evil starts banging on the doors. She recites something not-English, her eyes glow purple, and we see the battered barrier glowing purple as well. But then she looks disturbed and the purple glow fades and she gets more and more upset and then collapses. "We're all going to die!" she says.

Title card!

Rowena asks for a drink and then has to clarify that she means "a real drink," and we have a cute wordless conversation where Sam requests Dean's flask, Dean says what, MY flask, Sam says yes, asshole, and Dean says sigh, okay. It's precious.

It is, unfortunately, impossible to screencap, but I'm sure someone will GIF it. In the meanwhile, let's enjoy concerned Winchesters.

Rowena says the spell can't work because the spirits are too wild, too desperate, too angry, and too numerous. No magic on earth can stop "those walls" from falling. Within hours. (Did we really explain the walls? I guess it's the walls between earth and Hell? And why plural?) Dean decides they're going to keep fighting as long as they can. He tells Rowena to make more of those soul collectors, but she says it's pointless. Probably because Sam's wearing the orange jacket, so she doesn't see any reason to prolong the agony. She says she may have been able to shore up the wall if she'd gotten there sooner, but now the wall is too damaged for her to save.

Belphagar leaves, ignoring Dean's "where the Hell are you going!" and Cas goes after him. Dean continues yelling that they're not going to give up, that's not who they are, and Sam silences him with a single hand motion because he knows how I feel about him being Chiefly. Sam crouches next to Rowena and puts a concerned hand on her shoulder and asks if she needs anything because he knows I also love him being soft and concerned.

Who DOESN'T know?

Hey, if you don't want to read some serious Sam fangirling, you're in the wrong place. You should realize this by now.

Belphagar and Cas are out in the cemetery, where no one is bothering them even though something was knocking pretty vigorously on the mausoleum door. Belphagar wanted to look at the giant hole into Hell. "Where it all began."

Meanwhile, Dean's loading up. He's not just going to wait for the world to end, he's going out fighting.

He's angry and backlit, and I love both of those things.

Sam sits next to him and they have a lovely dark conversation where Sam says he's out of ideas but acts like he thinks there still must be something they can do, and Dean says Chuck's "sloppy-ass ghostpocalypse" isn't going to be the last word and acts like he thinks there's nothing they can do but die fighting. And Rowena just sits sad and quiet and alone, paging through the Book of the Damned. I do like that she kept it and uses it in front of the Winchesters. But she says she hasn't found anything useful.

Back outside, Belphagor says the opening in the ground isn't a door or a gate, it's a tear. And he has a plan. "Lilith's Crook" is a horn that Lilith used to control her demons - it can corral all demons and bring them back home. (BTW, nobody reacts to the name Lilith either. It's like seasons three through five never happened.) It's in Lilith's chamber, which is unsealed now that every door in Hell is open. If Belphagor uses it in Hell, all the demons and spirits will be sucked into Hell, and then Rowena can close the door once they're not pushing against it.

Rowena confirms that she has "a spell of my own devising" that she could use to close the door. Well, she said earlier that there were any number of spells she could have tried earlier, so surely this is one of those spells. It's a healing spell - if the opening is a wound, not a door, this will allow it to heal and close up. Sounds reasonable.

It will require perfect timing, and she'll need some strangely easy-to-obtain ingredients (which seems to be a theme this season, doesn't it). And an assistant. "Dibs on Samuel. You're as close to a seasoned witch as we've got in this lot." (!!!)

She also needs someone to hang out at the edge of the hole and toss the figurative "bomb." And it will be dangerous, so Dean naturally decides that's his job. Belphagor drafts Cas to go with him, since he'll need help getting past all the pissed-off demons and ghosts who will be down there. "Yeah, Cas will go," Dean says coldly. "You've been to Hell before." Well, I mean, everyone in this room has been to Hell before (assuming we count Rowena's visit to Limbo as Hell), so. Cas glares at Dean, clearly thinking yes, I harrowed Hell to raise you, and I regret it every day.

Cold and yet HOT.

Hospital. Ketch wakes up just in time to get killed by the demon Ardat, who astutely notes that he's protecting his friends and won't give them up. There's your redemption arc, Arthur Ketch. I hope you enjoyed it. Moving on. (Also, doesn't Ardat look like a cross between Joanna Gaines and Meghan Markle?)

Cemetery. Belphagor asks Cas how he's going to get out of Hell before Rowena seals it up, and makes sure Cas realizes that his buddies don't care that he might not make it out. Cas pushes Belphagor into the hole and jumps in after him.

Mausoleum. A hunter shows up with supplies and Sam gives her directions on what to do "if this goes sideways," even though those directions should probably be "kiss your ass goodbye." Dean gets a text from "Ketch" and responds by laying out their plan and providing their location. Uh oh.

Hell. It's actually mostly empty. Belphagor claims he made Cas come because he just wanted company, and he wants to become best buds with Cas, having wormed his way into the Winchester's hearts. "Sam and Dean are just using you," Cas says. "Don't mistake that for caring about you, because I can assure you, they don't." OH, CAS, YOU WOULD KNOW, WOULDN'T YOU. Cas reminds Belphagor that he's an abomination, and then opens the door to Lilith's chamber, which is being looted by another demon. Belphagor's friendly with the guy, but Cas kills him. Awkward.

The crook is in a box marked up with Enochian symbols, which apparently couldn't be read by any residents of Hell other than Lilith. (Well, we can assume the residents of the cage could read it, but.) Good thing Cas is here! So convenient. The markings are actually a song of praise to Lucifer. Cas reads it, but nothing happens, and Belphagor says "They're verses, Cas. I think they need to be sung." We don't have to listen to Cas sing the whole thing, but we do get Belphagor mocking his angelic voice.

The demon then tells Cas to make his escape, which kind of surprises me - I was sure this set-up wasn't meant to end with Cas surviving. Cas tentatively holds the horn out to Belphagor, but then is flung across the room by none other than Ardat. She expositions for us that Lilith's Crook would have allowed Belphagor to rule Hell. She begins to smack Belphagor down, but Cas attacks, and holds her off long enough for Belphagor to stab her with his angel blade.

Cas asks him if it's true he wants to rule Hell, and he's all, no, I want to rule EVERYTHING. He'll suck the power of all of the souls into him, and he'll become a God. "I don't think so," says Cas, and runs toward him. But Belphagor blows the horn, and the ghosts/spirits/whatevers start flowing back into Hell, and into Belphagor.

Cemetery. Dean approaches the hole and wonders where Ketch is.

Mausoleum. Sam is anxious, and wants to be outside, fighting. Rowena makes him read the book as she prepares the spell. (What is he reading? He's not reading aloud. What's the point? Is he memorizing it?) When they hear Belphagor blow the horn, Rowena announces "it's time." She and Sam hold hands (d'aw) and recite the spell. I guess he was memorizing it after all. The spell bowl begins to glow purple, as does the "bomb" I didn't even realize Dean was holding. Dean tosses it into the hole without even wondering if Cas will make it out. So I guess he's still mad at Cas, if you were wondering.

Hell. Cas finally makes his way to Belphagor and tackles him, stopping the horn. As Cas punches the demon, his sunglasses fall off, and he looks up at Cas with his burned-out eyes and pleads for him to stop. "It's me, Jack." Gotta say, Alex does a good job here of playing someone trying to sound like Jack and not quite succeeding. I was afraid Cas would fall for it, but he doesn't. In fact, this inspires him to do the glowy hand thing and burn Belphagor - and Jack's corpse - to a crisp. Too bad you didn't wait until he sucked up all the souls, Cas.

Topside. Sam calls Dean and learns that something doesn't feel right, and the crack is closing up. Meanwhile, Rowena picks up a knife and plunges it into her own shoulder. As Sam watches in horror, she reaches in and pulls out "my last resurrection sachet - won't need that where I'm going." She tells him the Lilith's Crook plan may have been his only shot, but she still has an option. Because magic can contain anything. Even Hell, as long as she's willing to pay the price.

Horrified/confused Sam. Mmmmm.

She tells him "death is an infinite vessel" but he doesn't get it yet. All she needs for this spell are two ingredients. Sam's all, you have them here? Why didn't you tell us? "Because, dear, the first ingredient is my own still-coursing blood, and the last is my final breath." She'll absorb all the spirits and then throw herself Hell (!!!) and then, when her body eventually rots and the spirits are released, they'll be back in Hell. (So I guess she has to toss the wound-healing spell in there too, somehow, but that's just details.) Sam tries to stop her with the Single Upraised Finger of Reason, but not only does she ignore that finger, she tells Sam he has to be the one to kill her. Y'all, I always love the Single Upraised Finger of Reason.

I would obey this finger.

Topside. Cas made it out of the Hell. Wow, I was worried there for a minute.

Mausoleum. Rowena insists Sam has to be the one to kill her, because the spell requires her "real, permanent demise," and Sam's the only one who can do that. It's in the books. "You know what?" says Sam "Screw the books." YES SAM.

Topside. Cas tells Dean he killed Belphagor and the crook was destroyed.

Mausoleum. Sam tries to take the knife from Rowena, but she holds it against her body. "I don't care about anything enough to take my own life. Not you, your brother, not even the world. But I believe in prophecy, I believe in magic, and everything we need to end this is right in our hands." I don't know, Rowena. Those books you're so insistent on believing? They've been known to change. Sam rests the knife against her but he's still fighting it, even though she's shouting "kill me, Samuel!"

Then she clamps a hand on his shoulder and says "I know we've gotten quite fond of each other, haven't we? But will you let the world die? Let your brother die? Just so I can live?" Oh, well, that was the right thing to say, wasn't it? (Also, can we just appreciate Rowena admitting she's quite fond of Sam?)

Topside: Dean yells at Cas. "This was our only shot! What the hell were you thinking?" I like that Dean doesn't even consider that Cas may have had a very good reason for killing a demon.

Mausoleum. Sam says a shaky little "no" and I think he's saying no, I'm not going to kill you but I am so wrong, because he goes in for what looks like a hug but he's actually plunging the knife into her abdomen. He holds her close as he stabs her and then pulls back to look in horror at what he's done. Rowena PUTS HER HAND ON HIS FACE AND SAYS "THAT'S MY BOY" AND SHE'S NOT DEAD YET BUT I AM. Then she pushes the blade in further, because apparently Sam didn't do it hard enough, which brings up an interesting question - what if Sam's stab wasn't fatal? Does any of this still count?

SAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM!!!!!!

Topside. As Rowena walks to the Hell hole, all of the spirits are seen flowing into her wound. I want Sam to hug her again, without a knife (OMG IMAGINE IF SAM HAD TO ACTUALLY PUSH HER INTO THE HOLE) but instead they hang back. She turns and says "goodbye boys," just like her son did, stands at the edge, and then dramatically falls into the hole just before it closes. Sad MacLeod music! (which I rather like)

Goodbye, boys.

Aftermath! Sam's sitting sadly on his bed. Dean comes in wearing a single layer, and it's a henley, and Sam's entire shirt is unbuttoned, so thank you baby Jesus for this bit of comfort we surely need after all that hurt. He asks how Sam is holding up, and Sam doesn't answer that question. He just wipes his eyes and makes a how do you think noise and asks if there's any word from Stevie, who I guess is one of the other hunters. Yeah, and the word is that the town is good, but Ketch is dead. "Bad. Probably demon."

We did it though, man. It's over. God threw one last apocalypse at us, and we beat it.

...

Yep.

What you did. Rowena. You didn't have a choice.

...

I know.

Oh, Sam! His soft sad little "yep," his reaction to Ketch, the way his little face scrunches up when Dean says Rowena's name... And Dean's trying to hard to be supportive.

Oh boys.

Aftermath part 2. Dean's drinking whiskey when Cas comes in and asks how Sam is. Dean's very short with him, and asks why he didn't just follow the plan. Because sure, Belphagor was going to suck up all the power of every soul in Hell and become the worst Big Bad ever, but Dean thinks they just would have figured that out afterward. And Dean has a point, but I don't know if it's the one he thinks he has. Cas didn't know Rowena had a self-sacrificial Plan B in mind. The only information he had was that if Belphegor didn't trap all the spirits in Hell, they'd end up destroying the world. And he killed Belphegor anyway. So yeah, Dean's mad because Rowena is dead, but the issue IMHO isn't that Cas's actions forced Rowena to take extreme measures, it's that they would have destroyed the world had she not been able to do that.

The plan changed, Dean. Something went wrong. You know this. Something always goes wrong.

Yeah, why does that something always seem to be you?

You used to trust me, give me the benefit of the doubt. Now you can barely look at me. My powers are failing and I've tried to talk to you over and over and you just don't want to hear it. You don't care. I'm dead to you. You still blame me for Mary. I don't think there's anything left to say.

Where you going?

Jack's dead. Chuck's gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it's time for me to move on.

Sad Winchester music!

Oh. Wow. That was really cold, Dean. Now you're not trying to be supportive at all.

But we get your angry face, which I adore.

So! There's a lot packed into this episode, isn't there? So many deaths. I was surprised that both Belphegor and Ardat bit it, since I presumed one or both of them would be Big Bads this year. Are we down to just Chuck, then? There's also whatever Billie is cooking up with dead Jack; I guess that could be badness. Ketch is gone, which I'm honestly fine with. The only bad thing about Cas walking out is that it means we're going to have a separate Cas plot again, which I'm not thrilled about. And Rowena. I mean, I love her and will miss her, but I should be gutted, and I'm not. Is it because I know we're saying goodbye to all of them soon anyway? Is it because I've decided this is going to happen? Maybe.

But that's so many deaths for one episode. Is this the endgame? Just killing every supporting character we can think of?

And let me just point out that if any of this plot feels familiar - Rowena recognizes Sam as a witch and has him do a spell, secretly comes up with a world-saving spell that requires her death, and forces Sam to fulfill his prophecy by stabbing her, no matter how hard he protests - if any of this feels the slightest bit familiar, could it be because I ALREADY WROTE IT? Maybe.

(Waves to Robert Berens, who surely reads my LJ.)

Anyway. Please help me stay unspoiled, thanks!

[charrywoman]

Picking Daisy.

A/N: this is just a straight up mess that has been sitting in my drafts forever, so I hope you enjoy! (also this is *heavily* based on my favorite chapter from Jamie McGuire’s Beautiful Disaster & I highly recommend reading it) btw I would be more than glad to accept requests if you have any! thanks :)

A hard shove removed you from your spot against the kitchen doorframe and you felt the cool liquid from your solo cup seeping onto your torso.

“Hey! Watch it, jerk!” Shawn Mendes didn’t do parties, or any social events really, so when you looked up to see his tall figure towering above your own you almost couldn’t believe it. His hazel eyes widened at your response. No girl at North had ever talked to him like that, and he was kind of into it.

“Here, let me help.” He grabbed a roll of paper towels from the island next you and began tearing off a few sheets. A group of sorority girls just outside the kitchen were now staring at you two; most likely wondering why Shawn Mendes was wasting his attention on you and not them. You never understood their obsession with him. I mean everyone at Northern State knew of his track record. He had practically slept with every girl that was within a five-mile radius of campus.

“I got it. Thanks.” You sighed, turning you attention from the eyes staring at you to your beer-stained shirt. You ripped the paper towels from Shawn’s grasp and began attempting to clean the stain, but had no luck.

Shawn still hadn’t moved from his spot in front of you.

“What’s wrong, Mendes? Can’t find a girl at this party that you haven’t slept with?” Shawn frowned slightly. Normally, he didn’t care what people thought of him. Most were either too scared to say something to him or had no right since their names had been added to his long list. But for some reason, it really bothered Shawn that you thought of him like that.

Shawn’s gaze still remained on you, despite you staring at him. He loved the way you looked at him. You didn’t look at him with fear or like some sex trophy or a lost cause charity case. You looked at him like he just was a person, and no one, apart from Brian, had looked at him like that in a long time. For some reason, that was all the validation Shawn needed in his life right now.

“What’d you say your name was again?” Shawn studied your features, taking in each one as though it was the last time he would see you because for all he knew it just might be. You were giving him a feeling he had never felt before. Shawn was craving you, and not in the same way he usually craved girls, though that would be a plus. He wanted to be next you. He wanted to talk to you. It was so all confusing to him, and he hated it.

“I didn’t,” you let a dry laugh escape your lips before you finished “and I won’t.” A smirk spread across Shawn’s face at your response.

“Then I guess I’ll have to come up with my own. How’s...,” He trailed off as various names swarmed his thoughts. You peered up at him just as his eyes turned bright once he settled on a name.  “Daisy.” Shawn seemed proud of the nickname.

“Daisy? As in the flower?”

“Exactly. The only flower that represents innocence, purity, and-” Shawn took a slight pause before finishing his sentence, almost as though he were scared.

“And new beginnings.” 

———————————

You relived that moment quite often, the very first time you met Shawn. 

So much has happened in the last month that that very moment seemed as though it were a lifetime ago.

It was hard to say how you and Shawn ended up here from there, at a constant war between your feelings for each other. 

“You okay?” Jordan placed his hand on your knee. You gave him a small hum in response. 

“I had a great time tonight, ya know? I just can’t wait for this stupid bet to finally be over so we can make things official.” Right. The bet. 

A week after you and Shawn met, he completely changed as a person. No more girls. No more fighting. He was all about you, and doing anything to get you. The two of you made some stupid bet one night when you were alone at the beer pong table: if Shawn won, you had to stay a whole month with him at his and Brian’s shared apartment, “just friends of course,” Shawn had said, knowing you’d never agree otherwise. But if you won, he backed off. 

And as you sit in the dark parking lot below Shawn’s apartment wrapping up your date with Jordan, you can’t help but wonder if things would be this messed up had you won the bet.

“Y/N,” You turned to face Jordan and he pressed his lips against yours. This wasn’t a goodbye kiss. This kiss was rough and hungry, and you knew he was just trying to make sure that your attention was focused only on him and not the curly headed boy upstairs. 

You let it continue though. After all, you know what they say. The only way to get over one boy is to get under another. 

Just as Jordan’s fingertips brushed the hem of your shirt a harsh banging came from your window. You pulled away from Jordan as Shawn ripped open the car door. 

He reeked of alcohol and looked as though he had been on a week’s vacation to hell. Beside him stood a frantic looking Brian.

“Guess this is goodnight.” Jordan mumbled from beside you. 

“Call me?” You kissed his cheek to signify goodbye and stepped out of the car.

“I tried to stop him, Y/N, I really did! I told him nothing would happen, but he’s drunk and he wouldn’t listen. He just had to come down here and you know there’s no stopping him when he’s-” 

“Bri, it’s fine. I got it.” If you didn’t interrupt him you knew he’d ramble on forever. He nodded and retreated back to the apartment.

You let out a sigh. “Really, Shawn?”

Shawn gave into the influence of the fifth of liquor he had drank and let anger overtake his emotions. “Are you kidding me? You were practically having sex with a guy in MY parking lot! Not to mention, doing it knowing how I feel about you!” 

“Haven’t you ever just made out with someone without things getting too far? We weren’t even in the backseat. Nothing was going to happen.”

“How do you know that?” He was much quieter now. He was hanging onto to every bit of hope his sober mind had left as he waited for your answer, and you knew that he hoped you would say it’s because of him, but you just couldn’t. Even if it was.

“Because I’m not just going to give up my virginity in a dark parking lot!” You let out a laugh. 

“You’re a virgin?” You began walking up the stairs, avoiding his questions.

“That’s why Brian was so sure nothing was going to happen!” Shawn threw his head back to laugh, and along with it went his entire body. Shawn continued to laugh despite now laying at the bottom of the stairs.

“Look, Shawn, if you’re going to make fun of me just save your breath.” You struggled picking him up off of the concrete. 

“Make fun of you? Daisy, I’m relieved!” You pulled him along, his laughter becoming more and more uncontrollable. 

You pushed open the apartment door and helped Shawn to his-well your shared-bedroom. He fell onto the bed as you turned away to get ready for bed yourself. 

Just as you had finished taking off your makeup, you glanced back to the bed. Shawn’s legs were hanging off the edge, his breathing now deep and heavy. He had passed out. 

You walked to the closet, shaking your head as you ran your fingers through the clothes. You unzipped your dress, letting it fall to a mess at your ankles before kicking it to the corner of the closet. Just as you pulled a t-shirt from the hanger, you felt Shawn’s chest against your back.

“Oh my God, Shawn! I thought you were asleep.” You felt his thumb graze your naked side as he nuzzled against your neck. Feeling his bare skin against you, it was almost too hard to protest. Almost.

“Shawn...” You let his name trail off into a whisper.

Shawn pushed your hair to one side and placed a kiss on your bare shoulder, just beside your bra strap. His lips trailed along your back from one shoulder to the other, unclasping your bra along the way. He placed one last gentle kiss on your neck before turning you to face him.

Your eyes met, and you couldn’t quite read the look he was giving you as he scanned your naked body. You’d seen him peruse women before, but this was different. He didn’t want to conquer you; he just wanted you to say yes.

“Not like this,” he said barely above a whisper, letting his forehead fall against your own. “I want you, but not like this.”

And with that Shawn shuffled back to bed then crawled underneath the covers. 

You yanked the t-shirt over your head and hurried to the recliner in the living room. If you were confused before, then you had no word to describe how you were feeling right now. Bet or no bet. Bad boy or not. Jordan or no Jordan. You only knew one thing for sure, you were in love with Shawn Mendes.

By the time morning came around, you had officially cleaned the entire apartment. You sat surrounded by piles of laundry until Brian finally emerged from his room. 

A few hours of the two of you laughing and recalling Shawn’s drunken state passed when you finally heard the door at the end of the hallway creak open. You tried to ignore the nervousness that rose in stomach as footsteps pattered toward the living room. 

“Who the hell let me drink so much last night?” Shawn groaned, shielding his eyes from the sunlight.

“Um, you did? You bought a fifth of Jack just after Y/N left with Jordan and drank it by the time she got back.” Brian frowned at Shawn’s memory loss.

“Damn. Did you have fun?” He turned to look at you, a smile spread across his face.

“Are you serious?”

“You pulled her out of Jordan’s car when you caught them making out like high schoolers. Do you think she had fun?” Brian was sassy now.

Shawn’s expression changed to one of focus and it was clear that he was working hard to remember at least one of last night’s events.

“How pissed are you?” He asked with caution.

“Pretty pissed.” You grumbled and stomped down the hall. You were angrier that your feelings had nothing to do with the scene he made in the parking lot. 

“Dais,” He followed behind you eager to make things right.

“Do you remember anything at all from last night?” 

“No, why? Was I mean to you? Did I say something wrong?” Shawn quickly changed from hungover to worried.

Tears brimmed your eyes. You had practically handed him your virginity on a silver platter and he didn’t even remember. 

Shawn looked down in shame when he noticed the purple bruises trailing his arm. Your heartbeat quickened as you watched realization settle across his face.

“I fell down the stairs. And you helped me to bed...” He desperately searched his memory for answers.

“We,” his eyes shifted from the closet to the bed. 

“No, we didn’t. Nothing happened,” Your heart was pounding so hard you swore Shawn could hear it. 

“You fogged up Jordan’s windows, I pull you out of his car, and I try to...” Shawn shook his head as he headed for the door. “I don't think straight when I’m around you, Dais.” 

“So, it’s my fault?” 

“I don’t recall you saying no.”

You wanted to argue with him, but you couldn't. He was right.

“What do you want me to say, Shawn?” 

He stormed across the room, inches from your face. His hands cupped your cheeks, his breathing quick as he leaned in. “What are we doing, Daisy?”

You scanned his body reminiscing the last time you were this close. 

“You tell me.”

[glitterquadricorn]

Marry Me - Bucky Barnes *ENDGAME SPOILERS*

Summary: For five long painstaking years, she had to live without the love of her life. So when he comes back, she doesn’t want to waste anytime she has with him. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1,397 Warning(s): Angst, Mentions Infinity war deaths, ENDGAME SPOILERS, mentions depression, mentions taking sleeping pills(not sure if this is an actually warning), some direct lines from endgame which btw I do not own, Thanos and his army get what they deserve, etc. I may have missed something. 

A/N: I watched endgame and got a little inspired! Enjoy. 

60 months, 260 weeks, 1,825 days, 43,817 hours, 2,629,038 minutes, 157,742,310 seconds, or 5 years. That’s how long she went without the love of her life, Bucky Barnes. 

She fought alongside the others, trying their best to defeat these monsters. It seemed like when she managed to get rid of a couple, a dozen more filled in its place. By the time she was called into the lush green forest to fight Thanos, she was covered head to toe in dirt, sweat and blood. When seeing him, she didn’t hesitate to run towards him. But her efforts were futile as she was smacked by the gauntlet, and sent several feet away from the battle. Black spots clouded her vision, and she fluttered her eyes close. A couple of minutes later, she was being shaken awake.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked, helping her up. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” y/n said, dusting herself off. Walking over to the others, she didn’t see the purple man anywhere. “Where’s Thanos?”

“He... disappeared,” Thor stared at the ground in disbelief. “He said I should’ve gone for the head and snapped his fingers.”

For a moment, everything was quiet. She thinks everyone was trying to mentally sort through what just happened. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Bucky come through the bushes.

“Y/n? Steve?” Bucky called out. The two people he called out to turned around just in time to see Bucky turning into ash. Y/n, being Bucky’s girl, raced over.

“No, no, no. Please god no! Anyone but you!”

“I love you, doll,”

“I love you to, Buck,” She smiled, tears rolling down her face. He disappeared just as fast as those eight letters left her lips. Looking down at her hands, they were covered in ashes. His ashes. A hand was put on her shoulder. “He’s gone...”

“Y/n...” Steve brought her in for a hug, but she wasn’t having it.

“No, Steve! You don’t get it!” She yelled, beating Steve’s chest with her fists. “I was going to propose to him, and now I can’t thanks to that crippled raisin!”

She jolted awake, covered in a thin layer of sweat. Every time she closed her eyes, it would be the same nightmare over and over. She thought, ‘Why couldn’t it be me and not him?’ ‘What if I did this instead of that?’ ‘Why wasn’t I fast enough to stop Thanos?’ ‘What if I hadn’t gotten knocked out? I could’ve stopped him from snapping his fingers.’ All these what if’s and why questions lead her to a depressive state. Then that lead to taking sleeping pills just to try to sleep at night. But the nightmare still came regardless.

Her mind went to the black velvet box sitting in her nightstand. Like in the nightmare, she was going to propose to him because fuck society and their stupid stereotypes. Sighing, she leaned over and grabbed the box out of the drawer. Tucked into the cushion sat a simple silver vibranium ring that she asked Shuri to make. She thumbed over the cold metal, choking back tears. 

“You okay?” A voice behind her asked.

She peeked over her shoulder and saw Steve standing there. “No, I’m not,”

“You want to talk about it?” Steve stepped into y/n’s room, sitting on the edge of her bed. When Steve saw what she was doing, he frowned.

“Not really,” 

“Talking about it may make you feel better, you know?”

“Talking about it will only make me angry, Steve,” Y/N turned her gaze to Steve. “I’m angry because I didn’t do everything in my power to stop Thanos. I’m angry because I let myself get knocked out. I’m angry that I didn’t do anything to save him! It should've been me, Steve. It should've been me.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, y/n. You did everything you could’ve done,”

“But why does it feel like I didn’t do enough?” y/n sobbed loudly.

Steve sighed, sitting there in silence as the woman next to him finally broke down. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and brought her in close. A few minutes later when she calmed down, he looked down at the ring in the box. “Have I ever said thank you?”

“Thank you? For what?”

“For making Bucky happy. I’ve known him since we were kids and not once has he ever talked about one woman before. He really does love you, y/n,”

Steve’s statement made her smile. “You think he’d say yes?” She asked, referring to the engagement ring.

“Definitely,”

“We need to bring him back. We need to bring everyone back,” She said with more motivation in her tone. 

“We will,”

The team split up, went back in time and got the stones. When they got all the stones together, they put them in a gauntlet Tony had made. Bruce, being the brave soul that he was, put it on and snapped his fingers, bringing those who died five years ago back to the current year. She, along with Scott, had walked over to the window. Completely amazed, she heard the birds chirping.

“Guys... I think it worked,” Scott said beside her. Just then, the compound exploded and buried her and the others under rubble. She groaned, feeling the pressure of debris on her body. Scott cleared the bits of concrete off her and helped her up. “Come on! We got to go save the others!”

The next thing she knew she was on a planet that was in ruins. Gazing around, she saw those who got dusted five years ago and some she didn’t recognize. 

“Avengers... Assemble!” Steve said, gritting his teeth before charging forward towards Thanos and his army. 

She runs towards the first alien monster she sees and doesn’t hesitate in stabbing its gut with her sword. Pulling it out swiftly, she moved on to the next one, cutting its head off its shoulders. One by one, she continued to take them out. That’s until one of them got too close for comfort and knocked her and sword to the ground. She held the monster up using her forearm as it tried to gnaw at her face. It was evident that she was struggling to get this monster off her. And just when she thought it was going to get her, the monster’s body fell limp and fell on top of on her. 

Tossing the body off, a familiar hand came into view. She looked up and saw the one person she’s been missing for 5 years. “Buck?”

“Hey Doll,”

“Bucky! I’ve missed you!” She grinned, getting off the ground and hugging him tightly. She was almost afraid to let him go, afraid he’d disappear again. Pulling away, “Marry me?”

“Are you seriously asking me to marry you during a fight?”

“Yeah, yeah I am,”

“As much as this reunion is cute, there’s a fight going on,” Sam said into the comms, flying over head.

“Sam has a point. How about you give your answer when the fight is over?”

“That’s if we’re still standing,”

“Don’t talk like that!”  She hushed him, but then was pushed out of the way when an alien came towards her. Bucky pulled the trigger on his gun, killing the monster. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, doll,” Bucky winked, before killing more aliens. “Don’t go to far love,”

“Wasn’t planning on it,”

Together, side by side, they killed more of Thanos’ army. They were killing them left and right, but then they started to turn to dust. The panic in y/n rose seeing them all turn to ash. Turning around, she saw that Bucky was still standing there.

“What’s going on?” He asked, stepping towards y/n. “Did we win?”

“I don’t know, but I hope we did,” She whispered. Facing him, y/n grabbed his face. “You never gave you me an answer you know.”

“Ask me again,”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes,”

I actually wrote something for once! YAY GO ME! I have other things in my drafts that I’m working on, but I don’t know when I’ll post them. Procrastination is real bitch ain’t it.

Feedback? Please?

Tagging(permanent):

@buckys-sweetheart @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @maliasbubble @sergeantjbuckybarnes @patzammit @yagirlmexic @awkwardfangirl2014 @beckieandhertardis @tinycyberhacker @streetghostfighter07 @distant-illusions @sugaglory @independentgirl​