#with past jobs that i hated it was a slow build but this week i was just SLAMMED with the idontwanttodothis out of nowhere

[tsukimefuku]

CHAPTER TWO: MISTAKE OF FACT ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

masterlist link | mdni!

❀ mistake of fact.

the concept “mistake of fact” describes a situation in which someone acts unaware of circumstances that could turn their actions into criminal acts. this can affect the assessment of their intent or culpability, reducing their penalty or even excluding the criminal nature of said act.

wc: 7.2K | ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ summary.

classes, law Firm meetings, and a little grit about it all. after taking and not doing so well on your first criminal law class assessment test, you decide to get hammered at the campus party. you just didn’t expect to accidentally bump into the professor of said class there.

❀ tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. silly slow-burn rom-com between professor and college student (this is purely a work of fiction, okay guys?). smoking and drinking. corporate trauma. itafushi is also a slow-burn. higuruma hates doing cardio (mood). nanami needed a subplot and kusakabe had to be in it, the voices told me so. exams suck. campus parties are a special kind of hell. the return of the ugly red scarf.

❀ notes etc.

as i said previously, some characters will have their subplots, hope you enjoy reading them too (they all tie into the main plot). yes I’m working through some issues regarding the lawyering world while writing this fic, how did you notice?

also, some love for the betas: @redlikerozez and @dottedsilktie thank you two so much 💛

You had a habit, a very ugly one. Ironically, the habit you used to unwind was currently driving you insane as you tapped around your pockets, failing to find the lighter for the cigarette you held in your mouth for the past two minutes. You stroked your bangs back in annoyance and grunted, a strand of hair poking up like a spike.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered to yourself the moment the bells went off, letting you know it was time for yet another Criminal Law class. At least this time you managed to wake up somewhat early and were already by the building.

Good job, me.

“Oh, hey!” you heard the light-hearted voice chirp from a distance. Darting your eyes towards it, there came the fluffy ball of pink hair and upbeat mood frolicking in your direction.

“Hey, Itadori! Do you by any chance have a lighter?”

He shrugged, “no, I’m sorry.”

Of course he didn’t. As the best track field runner you had ever met, you wondered if Itadori even knew what a cigarette was.

“You should stop smoking,” a broodier voice said. You noticed the spiky black hair student who was also approaching.

“Ah, get off my case, Fushiguro,” you retorted, putting your cigarette away, “which class are you guys here for?”

“Criminal law! And you?” Itadori replied.

“Oh, me too. I didn’t see you guys in his class last week, though.”

“We saw you!” Yuuji answered, completely oblivious that this was definitely something which would render you uncomfortable. You blushed, and after a few seconds, Fushiguro elbowed him. “Ouch, why did you do that?”

 Fushiguro sighed loudly at his friend’s cluelessness, and you sheepishly giggled.

“Yeah… I guess everybody saw me.”

The three of you were sharing an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Itadori spoke again.

“So… Why isn’t Kugisaki enrolled?”

 You shrugged, “she wanted to have other classes during this year to fast track her internship opportunities, I guess. I kind of did the same thing.”

“Is that allowed?” Yuuji inquired.

 “Yeah, it is, as long as you take some other 101 classes before doing it,” you answered, while you three began walking into the building.

 “I did that too, I want to pursue an internship in the public defense office as soon as possible,” Megumi interjected.

 “Oh, nice! Me too,” you answered him, “but I’d totally take a position in a private law firm if given the chance.”

Fushiguro made a face you couldn’t quite identify, and didn’t answer anything in return.

The conversation about an internship in criminal defense died down as the three of you entered the elevator together, and while you were walking towards the classroom, Yuuji and Megumi began bantering.

More specifically, Itadori seemed keen on making small-talk about amenities, meanwhile Fushiguro simply did not take the hint and was shooting down every conversation topic his friend tried to bring up. You felt for Yuuji, noticing he was clearly eager to engage Megumi in a conversation, but the guy wouldn’t budge. At that point, you entertained Itadori for the remainder of the quick walk down the corridor.

Perhaps, you thought to yourself, Megumi was the clueless one.

Entering the classroom, you saw Professor Higuruma already seated by his desk fidgeting around with his glasses. This time, there was no suit jacket in sight, and he wore a white buttoned up shirt with a black tie, all under a suit vest.

You weren’t too proud to realize that you noticed the way his vest hugged his torso just right.

To top it off, after he was finished fidgeting with his glasses, Higuruma opened the cuffs of his white shirt, rolled up the sleeves up to his elbows, and slightly loosened his tie with two fingers hooked around it.

The way his arm muscles popped while he was sliding his fingers side to side around the fabric of the tie had every thought in your head poofing away instantly, and you looked away before your staring became too obvious.

The other students were coming in quickly. You made your way towards three miraculously empty seats in the front and sat on one end, while the boys took their places right beside you.

Higuruma noticed you and nodded softly as you met his eyes. You weren’t sure if he’d remember your face, but given the circumstances, it’d probably be hard not to. You greeted him back, smiling, and gestured around your regular-not-pajamas blouse, to which he replied by discreetly gesturing down his clean, not-coffee stained white buttoned up shirt.

Cute.

This time you thought that maybe sitting in the front would keep you safe from the Professor’s experiments. You had already tested your luck sitting in the back and it surely backfired — no pun intended.

After the students were settled, Higuruma got himself up and walked towards the white board, writing self-defense on it. He then turned on his heels, shoved his hands in his pockets and asked, “can anybody tell me what self-defense is?”

From your row, only Megumi raised his hand, but Higuruma’s eyes landed on Yuuji.

“You. What’s your name?” the Professor inquired, pointing at Itadori.

You heard him gulping by your side at that very same moment.

“Itadori Yuuji.”

“Then, Itadori, tell me what you think self-defense is.”

“I mean… self-defense is protecting yourself from someone trying to hurt you.”

Higuruma nodded, “you’re on the right track, but that’s not the entire answer. There is still something missing. Criminal Law occupies itself with criminal activities, so why do we need to study acts taken under self-defense? What else can you tell me about self-defense?”

Yuuji didn’t come up with something else to say, so Higuruma lifted the whiteboard marker in front of him.

“Itadori, I’ll throw this at you now.”

You and Megumi were instantly shocked, and Itadori began stuttering.

“W-wha-”

Higuruma actually threw the marker towards Yuuji’s chest, but Yuuji quickly grabbed it, glancing incredulously at the Professor.

“Now, that wasn’t self-defense in the way that it interests Criminal Law,” Higuruma noted, resuming the class as if nothing had happened.

Truth was, you could try sitting in the back, in the front, or anywhere in between,  but when it came to Higuruma Hiromi’s class, apparently, there was no safe place to hide.

“It wasn’t?!” Itadori exclaimed.

“No. Self-defense, you see, is used to exclude the illegal quality of an action that would otherwise be considered a crime, like assault and battery, for example.”

Higuruma stepped into Yuuji’s direction, and excused himself as he picked the marker back in his hand, leaving the three of you dumbfounded as to how he could nonchalantly do these absurd things and think it was just alright.

The professor began writing on the white board and the classroom was filled with scribbling and typing sounds.

“Self-defense is when someone uses force, against another person, to protect themselves from harm or imminent danger offered by this other person’s criminal actions. In that sense, you didn’t use force against me, you solely protected yourself, hence, that’s not actually self-defense as the concept that matters to us in this classroom.”

Well, the example was crystal clear, indeed. Once again, he illustrated what he wanted to say brilliantly.

But holy shit, did he really have to do those crazy things every damn time?

“Before we proceed, I have some leisure homework for you all. I’d like everybody to watch the first three episodes of this TV series for us to discuss during our next lecture the evolution from legitimate self-defense to extrapolating it and finally committing a crime.”

He wrote the name for the show on the white board.

A shy hand lifted on the other end of the class, and a girl with blue hair and crooked bangs spoke after Higuruma pointed at her.

“Professor, won’t you ask us to watch one of those old movies other teachers usually do in introductory classes?”

“Most definitely not,” he answered — not without scoffing first, “this is Criminal Law, here things are interesting. If you’d like to sleep, go to Professor Nanami’s class, Commercial Law I.”

A tiny chuckle echoed from the back.

“Someone gets it,” he concluded before proceeding with the lecture.

The class went on without a hiccup with Yuuji quickly forgetting the marker debacle a few minutes in. After Higuruma was finished talking about the day’s topic, though, he remembered everyone about next week's assessment test, receiving mumbled complaints in return.

“Yeah, I know. I hate these things too, but unfortunately we have orders from above. Be sure to study everything up until the end of the self-defense module,” Higuruma said as he sank into his desk’s chair and fished his phone out of his pocket, “I wish you all best of luck.”

As the class was done, everyone began leaving.

 “So, where are you going now?” Yuuji asked as you were currently fumbling around in your bag looking for your lighter — perhaps it wasn’t in your pockets after all, right?

 “I… if you two are tight on time just go without me, I’m looking for something in here and it might take some time,” you answered, thinking that some physics law might’ve been broken. Your bag seemed larger from the inside than from outside, and your lighter had surely disintegrated into thin air.

 “It’s fine, we can wait,” Fushiguro answered.

Yuuji suddenly seemed to remember something and came at you sort of hyped, asking “will you be at the campus party by the end of next week?!”

 “Sure, sure,” you answered absentmindedly, still fondling your things around and considering flipping it all on the ground.

 “There will be a party next week on campus?” Higuruma asked with his eyes still glued to his phone’s screen.

Fushiguro elbowed Yuuji again, as it was kind of a secret from faculty members, just so none of them would butt in — there were the clueless ones, like Professor Gojo, for instance, that would always find their way into the free drinks and free food celebrations that were supposedly just for students.

 “Y-Yes… it will be pretty late, though.”

Higuruma hummed, completely unfazed, “when I was a student here, we’d usually have those after 11PM to avoid faculty members, it’s a good idea. My suggestion is that you all just keep the noise down and use the space behind the brown brick building, there’s a blind spot there from the rest of the campus.”

Yuuji and Megumi shared a look before nodding hesitantly. Higuruma noticed they were both somewhat worried and sighed.

 “Don’t worry, I’m not telling the other Professors, and you can all be completely sure I won’t be there.”

The bated breath the two students shared finally subsided.

“God fucking damnit where is this fucking lighter?” you mumbled to yourself.

That caught Higuruma’s attention, and he called your name.

Your hand stammered inside your bag and you looked at him.

 “Do you need a lighter?” he asked you, lifting his eyes from his phone towards your direction.

You had the impression his eye bags were smaller that day.

 “Yes, I lost mine.”

He reached into one of his pockets and pulled a small, yellow, disposable lighter, stretching his arm in your direction, “you can take this one, I have tons of these.”

You got up, threw your bag over your shoulder, and went to pick it up from his hands. As your fingers wrapped around the lighter, you accidentally locked eyes with him, now sure his eye bags were definitely smaller. Higuruma spared you a small smile and you immediately felt your cheeks warm as you took the tiny yellow lighter from his fingers and stepped back.

I’m pathetic.

 “So, we’re good to go?” Fushiguro asked, looking at you.

“We’re good to go,” you answered him, then looking at Higuruma, “thank you, Professor.”

 “It’s no trouble, Sanrio” he answered, redirecting his attention back to his phone, completely unaware he had just called you that out loud.

After a few seconds, realizing what he'd just done, Higuruma sheepishly lifted his eyes, seeing two confused boys and you looking away with your hand over your mouth, coughing softly. You bore the same weirdly twisted face you made days before, when he asked you to leave in the mock expulsion.

Truth was you wanted to laugh, equal parts amused and mortified.

“Sanrio? What?” Yuuji asked.

“My next class is Civil Law II! What about you, Fushiguro? We should go!” you blurted out, ignoring Yuuji’s question while stepping away, “bye, Professor. See you next class!”

 “You three have a good day,” Higuruma muttered, sinking further into his chair as he looked away to conceal his own embarrassment.

The boys, still at a loss, followed you outside, also bidding Higuruma a good day.

***

This is hell. I’m a smoker and this is my personal, dantesque circle of hell for that sin.

With one leg launching in front of the other at a steady pace, Higuruma was jogging down the street while accompanied solely by the rhythmic thuds of his feet on the pavement. He had already put at least a mile behind him.

His blood felt like battery acid pumping through his veins, and lungs and muscles were burning with the strain of an exercise he was doing for the third time this week thanks to the encouragement of his best friend.

This time, however, there was no distraction from the discomfort while Higuruma dragged himself completely alone on this morning run. His usual jogging partner, Nanami, told him just ten minutes before the scheduled time that he would not be able to make it.

 “Did something happen?” Higuruma asked on the phone, “It’s unlike you to cancel appointments with such short notice.”

Truthfully, Nanami was someone extremely considerate of other people’s time.

 “Nothing too serious. I’ll have to be in a meeting with a Labor Law associate. It involves one of the companies we represent here at the firm,” he replied with an involuntary sigh. Nanami did not enjoy being taken by surprise like this.

 “A meeting for one of those Union settlements?”

 “Yes.”

 “Yeesh, good luck with that. Don’t be too harsh on the workers, though.”

 “I’ll just be there to oversee the meeting and report the outcome to our client, I have no say in the matter.”

 “Really? Couldn’t the Labor Law associate do that, then?”

 “It’s Kusakabe. He doesn’t do anything he’s not specifically paid to do.”

 “Oh, right.” 

Higuruma paused for a moment. He was already at their usual meeting point, all propped up and ready to go, but didn’t quite feel like subjecting himself to that torture alone.

 “You should just do your run today, I’ll join you back after tomorrow,” Nanami told him, as if reading his mind.

 “I don’t know. Having company makes this slightly more bearable.”

 “Is that so?” Nanami barely concealed the hint of amusement in his voice.

 “Tsk, shut up.” Higuruma retorted.

 Nanami huffed, nearly a chuckle, and proceeded, “this routine seems to have affected you positively, you shouldn’t miss a day for such a pedestrian reason.”

It was true. As a consolation prize for this suffering, the Professor had managed to sleep better those past few days and his mood had improved too.

Prior to his breakdown, Higuruma had never given much thought about his overall health. After he came back to normal life — or as normal as it could be —, he tried to eat properly and exercise at the gym most days of the week. 

“I guess,” Higuruma finally conceded, defeated, loathing cardio with every fiber of his being.

 “Then, off you go.”

“Okay. I’ll run and suffer alone today after being ditched,” Higuruma stated, half in jest.

 “Don’t be so dramatic, Hiromi,” Nanami remarked, “you can do it just fine.”

Just fine… I’m not sure if “fine” is the word I’d choose for this self-imposed torture.

Taking one of the final turns, Higuruma passed by a storefront. On it, there was a big illustration of Hello Kitty that covered most of the space. He hadn’t noticed that store before, but seeing the cartoonish cat with its pink bow brought an amused smile to his face as he remembered the student that, for some random reason, decided to attend his class using a kitty’s pajamas — you.

That moment got him to reminisce on the occasions that he, himself, was also too tired or too out of it to properly change before going to class, leading to some similar debacles during his undergrad years.

Ever since that day, the Professor had nicknamed you Sanrio in his head, a silly inside joke with himself. 

As he reached the end of the usual route, Higuruma paused and hunched over, inhaling deeply through his mouth, oxygen failing to properly enter his cells — or at least it felt like it. 

I wonder if I can take a taxi to go back home...

Involuntarily hearing Nanami’s voice in his head chastising him for wanting to take the easy shortcut, Higuruma grunted and took a deep breath before jogging his way back.

***

Nanami churned on his coffee’s last sip as if that alone would be enough to realign his chakras and soothe his growing headache. 

It wasn’t.

Nanami rarely saw himself pulled into other people’s work, but he detested each and every time it happened. As someone that usually planned his day thoroughly, with every minute properly accounted for, these types of unforeseen events would, most times, end up causing a domino effect over everything he had arranged in his schedule.

This time, however, he wasn’t sure if his distaste for the situation stemmed solely from the fact that his agenda got fondled around.

Something else about it was bothering him, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The contrast on the meeting table was clear — on the company’s side, he sat with Kusakabe, at least three mid-level associates, two juniors and one random intern. Behind them, the firm’s logo hung high on the wall, casting its brushed steel sheen over the expensive mahogany table. 

On the other side, though, sat an Union representative with one single lawyer beside him. Since the firm had rescheduled this meeting on short notice four times, demanding it took place in one of their offices — which was everything but close to where the union-office was located —, the Union only had enough money to pay for the expenses of sending the minimum amount of people required to legally sign a settlement.

Nanami slowly realized, as the negotiations went on, what was bothering him so much.

This wasn’t a negotiation meeting.

It was a power play consisting of intimidation techniques. Clearly an attempt at wearing the Union down and pushing them into accepting any settlement to end the strike as soon as possible.

It all said we can take you on — if you don’t accept our offer and take this to Court, we have the money, the people and the ways to win this fight.

“These are our terms, as we had already discussed, printed and ready for you to sign,” Kusakabe remarked, as he pushed a pile of papers towards the two.

The Union representative seemed ready to crumble under a put-upon expression, his black hair parted in the middle and thick framed glasses not doing nearly enough to conceal it. He knew exactly what was going on, how this had happened, and also that this strike couldn’t go on for much longer without causing serious issues in the lives of all the workers. 

The company was successful in their attempt of making it look like they tried to settle the dispute, and it had been long enough that people would start falling like dominos in the firing list.

The blond woman beside him seemed ready to toss her attorney’s license in the nearest dumpster and go do something else with her life.

The Union representative took the pen in his hand and sighed.

 “Are you positive you want to do this, Ijichi?” the lawyer asked, looking at him with a tinge of concern in between her brows.

 “We don’t have another choice, Nitta,” he replied, signing those papers away so quickly it felt like his hands were about to get burned in the fiery pits of hell. 

She exhaled sharply while leaning back on her chair.

“I’m glad we got to settle this amicably. We expect you all back on the grounds by Monday,” Kusakabe concluded as he pulled the pile of papers back to him and lifted himself up on the chair.

Everyone got up, but when Kusakabe extended his hand towards Nitta, she and Ijichi just turned around, stepping towards the exit.

Nanami’s slight discomfort had grown into an actual stone weighing in his gut, and he didn’t quite think about what he ended up doing next.

He walked behind Nitta and Ijichi, and called them by their names — something that surprised them both, given they didn’t expect him and most of the people inside that meeting room to be paying any attention at all. 

“So, you did listen to that meeting and weren't there just to add numbers?” Nitta asked begrudgingly.

 “I did,” Nanami answered.

 “What do you want?” Ijichi inquired, itching to get himself out of that building as quickly as possible. He felt dirty, to say the least, and needed a minimum of three full baths to feel like himself again.

 “To give you both my business card.”

Both of them looked incredulous.

 “I don’t mean any harm nor am I trying to get something out of a terrible situation. I just... That was...” 

He really didn’t think this through.

 “What I mean to say is that if there is anything you both need, this is my contact info.”

Nanami pulled the slim piece of cardstock and offered it. Ijichi and Nitta shared a hesitant look right before she took it from his hands. With a bow, both of them left, still feeling a little dumbfounded.

 “Are you trying to get yourself in trouble? You’ve made it to Partner in the firm, leave it alone,” a slightly muffled voice echoed behind Nanami. It was Kusakabe, who had just shoved a lollipop in his mouth and had his hands inside his pockets.

 “That didn’t bother you at all?” Nanami inquired, gesturing towards the now emptying meeting room.

 “I’m not paid to get bothered. I come, I do my job, and I go home.”

 “Still,” Nanami remarked, “it was...”

 “I know,” Kusakabe answered him. He took a few moments before sighing, leaning himself against a wall, and repeated in a lower tone, “I know.”

For the briefest moment, Kusakabe’s expression resembled a slight grimace.

 “You don’t seem completely unbothered, even if you’re not getting paid to care,” Nanami stated.

Kusakabe looked at Nanami and said nothing as they made their way back into their respective offices.

***

Higuruma also had a bad habit.

Due to his terrible memory regarding people’s names, he gave everyone a nickname in his mind. Beyond calling you Sanrio, his nicknames for the pink haired fluffy guy and the brooding dude always by his side were, respectively, Clueless and Porcupine. 

At that moment, he watched as Sanrio, Clueless and Porcupine sat beside one another while taking their first assessment test for the Criminal Law class.

You were so laser focused on the test, eyes darting from one end to the other of the paper frantically, hand periodically brushing your bangs back in desperation, that he feared you might actually end up accidentally activating a laser beam and burning the thing. Clueless was… well, clueless. He looked like someone who had never been properly alphabetized in his entire life. And finally, Porcupine didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, calmly reading and selecting each answer with the ease and certainty of someone that knew what he was doing.

He was sort of amused to realize Sanrio’s bangs had a small lock of hair poking out.

Higuruma glanced his eyes over the class, and made the sad realization he’d have dozens upon dozens of tests to grade and submit to the Dean the following morning.

What a nightmare, I’ll be here forever grading these after hours.

He had completely forgotten, earlier that day, that he’d have to deal with assessment test shenanigans. The information popped back into his mind five minutes before he arrived at the Uni, and Higuruma got a little desperate, remembering he needed to pick up the pile of tests inside the brown brick building’s print center before darting his way to class.

At least, he was more accustomed to running by then.

After parking near the building, Higuruma ran against the clock, and made it by the skin of his teeth. The Professor was completely relieved, failing to realize that his memory had fucked him over more than once that day.

You, on the other hand, weren’t fending off much better.

What do I do, there is more than one answer to this, it fucking depends, goddammit, you cursed inside your mind while answering most of the questions in that assessment test.

I need a cigarette.

You were particularly bad at taking multiple choice tests, especially in subjective areas — which was definitely the case for Criminal Law.

You had this little curse of wanting to select two different answers in nearly every question and always choosing the wrong one.

At least I can drink this failure away at the party today. 

“Ten more minutes!” Higuruma’s voice echoed through the classroom, and you must’ve looked particularly more hectic than before, because you felt his eyes on you, and when looking up, noticed he seemed a little concerned.

Very charmingly concerned in that disheveled suit and slightly messy hair.

Ah, shut up, brain.

After the ten minutes flew by, a cacophony of pens being put down or clicked around could be heard. People got up, and one by one, the students put their tests over Higuruma’s desk. He dangled over his chair lazily, bidding his students a good morning with a mumble.

You were the last one left, and stared at your test like it was a nuke falling right into your future criminal defense attorney career. Sad wasn’t the best word for it — you felt disheartened.

Sighing defeatedly, you lifted yourself from your chair like your clothing was made of lead and walked towards Higuruma’s desk, handing him the paper. His eyes lifted towards you while he took the test from your hands. 

“What did you think of the test?” Higuruma inquired, organizing all the papers into a neat pile.

You huffed.

“Sanrio is worried about this test,” you replied, smiling while poking a little fun at him.

His eyes widened a little, and for a second, Higuruma looked embarrassed. 

“About that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” he began.

“Oh! It’s...”

Completely okay. Kinda sweet. Something I might’ve actually liked. 

“Fine. I didn’t mind. It’s not always, but sometimes I nickname people in my head too.”

He offered you a discreet awkward nod, “okay, then.” 

Noticing you might’ve made him unnecessarily uncomfortable, you decided to lighten up the air.

“So... No random experiment for torturing your minions today? I mean, the students.” 

Higuruma chuckled softly.

“Ah, no. I figured this test was enough torture for one day,” he answered, spirited, “I’m not that ruthless.”

Remembering the Yuuji marker debacle, you thought about something for a moment before you resumed speaking.

“You know,” you began, “perhaps you should ask for students to volunteer before doing your… things.”

“I used to, actually,” he promptly answered.

“You did?” your voice sounded surprised.

Higuruma nodded, “Yes, but students rarely volunteered.”

That sounded a little off.

“Quick question, Professor. Did this scarcity of volunteers happen before or after the first volunteer demonstration?” you inquired.

“After. Why do you ask?” He asked while putting the tests into his briefcase.

Oh my God, he’s so clueless.

“No reason. Just curious.”

***

“Hey, people! I brought us beers!” Yuuji exclaimed, light spirited, as he walked towards you, Megumi, Nobara and Maki all seated on the grass behind the brick building. He quickly descended to sit beside the group.

“You are the best, but I’m not mixing today,” you thanked, greeting him with a cup full of pure vodka, “this should do the trick for tonight. Also, it’s pretty fucking cold for beer.” 

“Is that why you’re wearing that thing?” Nobara inquired while pointing at your ugly red scarf around your neck. 

“Get off my case, Nobara,” you retorted, gulping on your drink with some unidentifiable desperation.

“Shit, was the test that bad?” Maki asked you as she took a single can from Yuuji’s arms, while mindlessly pulling Nobara closer and kissing her head.

“It was weird, I was so confused, it felt like every question had at least two answers,” you complained, stretching your body over the grass. 

“You probably did fine, you tend to be overly dramatic about these things,” Nobara stated while pulling another can from Yuuji, smacking on his shoulder with a fist. He whined in complaint, and she chuckled like a tiny ginger demon. 

“I agree with Kugisaki, you’re smart!” Yuuji chirped in, while scrambling his way to sit beside Megumi, “I had no idea what I was doing. If you thought about at least two answers to each question, you’re already better than me.”

This poor, poor kid, you thought.

“There’s more to exams than just being smart, you need to know how to do them, and I do not, unfortunately…” you answered, a tinge of disappointment to your expression.

“This is solely an assessment test, anyway. It doesn’t compute in our final grades, there is no need to be so upset about it,” Megumi interjected, shushing himself when you glared at him. 

He was terrible at comforting people. 

“So, Fushiguro, I didn’t quite know what you’d like to drink, so I brought three types of beer,” Itadori mumbled, extending three different cans of beer towards Megumi like a raven with trinket offerings for his favorite human.

Not exactly smooth, but definitely cute.

Nobara and Maki shared a look, both of them with cheeky smiles on their faces. You covered your mouth to conceal your own smile — you were far from being as saucy as the power couple by your side — and waited with a bated breath for Megumi to pick up on the hint from Yuuji.

It was about time, considering it had been months of Yuuji trying to make a move. 

“No, thank you, I won’t drink today,” Fushiguro cluelessly replied, and Itadori visibly deflated from that. 

“T-then… I can grab a soda for you, or…” Itadori clumsily interjected, while scratching the back of his neck. 

“There’s no need, I will go-” 

Perhaps it was the vodka, the dreadful day or how much Megumi had just cock-blocked your shipping dreams, but you blurted out your next few words. 

“For fucks sake, Fushiguro, if you don’t take a beer can from Itadori right now, I will body slam you into oblivion.” 

“… We’re on the ground. How would that even-” 

“Bitch, don’t test me.”

Fushiguro was somewhat taken aback by your interjection, but hesitantly extended his hand and picked one of the three beers Itadori had selected for him, prying it open with a wheezing click. Megumi looked at you, then the beer can, then at Itadori, suspiciously taking a tiny sip. 

“It is… good,” he muttered, as a smile slowly returned to Yuuji’s Kirby persona. 

“Now, thank him,” you complemented, pointing at Yuuji, “he did find three types of beer in this God-forsaken campus party only for you, after all. I’d never have bothered to do so, and I bet Maki and Nobara feel the same.”

The power couple raised their drinks in agreement towards you, and Fushiguro sighed. 

“Thank you, Itadori.” 

Yuuji happily nodded, “you’re welcome! Do you want something to eat? I could-”

“Baby steps, buddy… baby steps,” you interrupted, putting your hand over Yuuji’s shoulder. He nodded sheepishly while Megumi was at a loss.

“O-okay,” Itadori acquiesced.

Suddenly, you all heard a voice calling Megumi’s name from a distance, sounding like some kind of haunting, and began looking around as he buried his face in his hands.

“Who is that?” you asked.

“Megumi! Where’s the food!?” the voice inquired in a light hearted tone. In the distance, you saw a fluffy, white ball of hair approaching under sunglasses. At night.

Megumi groaned from the depths of his soul.

“Argh, for fucks sake,” he complained, well aware as to who was coming.

Trying to dodge the faculty members didn’t do much to keep his adoptive father away, apparently.

Not so far from there, Higuruma sat in a poorly lit office grading the tests the entire class had taken that morning. After finishing grading yours — and you didn’t do very well, just as you had anticipated — he muttered to himself, out loud, “what happened there, Sanrio?”

The Professor failed to notice he did remember your name perfectly, even if he kept calling you Sanrio. 

“Will you sleep in here today?” a familiar voice scowled from the door, and Higuruma turned his face to meet the dusty blonde head of hair peeping through. 

“I’ll just finish grading these and then I’ll go home, Kento,” Higuruma answered with a tired smile on his face. 

“And couldn’t you have done that from home?” his friend asked, looking at the menacing pile of paper over the man’s desk, “or maybe tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, I’d never get to it if I had left it for later. I’m already here, might as well just ditch this Pavlovian nightmare as soon as possible,” the other stated, flailing a test on his hand before proceeding, “what are these even meant to assess? Someone’s capabilities of answering formulaic questions like trained dogs? Ugh.”

Higuruma was ranting.

Nanami huffed a slightly amused chuckle, but underneath it, he seemed a little beaten down. 

“Is everything okay, Kento?” Higuruma asked, interrupting his ranting when noticing his deflated friend. 

“I’m… fine.”

Nanami had forgotten for a second that Higuruma, underneath all his antics, was a very perceptive person. 

“Are you sure?” Higuruma insisted, “you don’t look so well.” 

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about work, that’s all.”

And that he was. That meeting had stuck with him for those past few days. 

“Oh, how was the meeting with the Union?”

Nanami’s breath got caught for a second before he mustered up something to answer. 

“It wasn’t what I expected it to be. I might be switching things up soon,” Nanami said with some understated grave finality. 

“Truly?” Higuruma sounded surprised. 

“Yes. Perhaps exploring new fronts beyond Corporate Law.” 

“Well, then, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help apart from practicing law.”

Higuruma’s voice cracked softly right at the end of his sentence. ​Nanami didn’t fail to notice it, and kept silent as his friend seemed to mull over bitter memories. 

“Hiromi,” Nanami began. 

“I can’t, I… can’t.”

Higuruma had visibly tensed up, his fists unconsciously clenching as his forearms laid flat on the desk.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nanami concluded, careful not to dig too deep on the matter.

Both of them shared an uncomfortable silence before Higuruma hesitantly steered his gaze to meet Nanami’s. Unsure, Higuruma gave his friend a tiny nod, and moved his attention back to the task in front of him. 

Understanding that the talk about it was over, at least for now, Nanami asked, “I’m leaving, do you want me to help you carry those to your car?” 

“Oh, there’s no need. I parked far, behind the…”

Oh, shit. 

“Nanami, what day is it today?”

*** 

“I’m not drunk,” you mumbled, while filling your third cup of vodka. 

“I’m not so sure about that,” Nobara said, giving you a light push to your shoulder, having you nearly tip over. Meanwhile, Megumi, Yuuji and Maki were entertained with Yuuji trying to score Gojo’s open mouth with peanuts like it was a basketball hoop.

Megumi was the least entertained of the trio.

“Knock it off!” you complained, slapping her hand away.

You fished your pack of cigarettes from your pocket, and she instantly grunted. 

“Those things stink and itch my nose, go smoke them somewhere else.” 

It was your time to grunt. 

“Ugh, fine. Then I’ll find a new best friend that’ll let me smoke — hell, one that might even smoke with me!” you  replied, getting ready to leave. 

“Make good choices!” she poked at you, and you playfully brushed her off. 

“I won’t!”

You walked away — not before hearing Yuuji and Gojo cheering right after Yuuji managed to score ten peanuts in a row — and gave your cup of vodka another sip, having the burning tingle dripping down your throat, warming you up against the cold wind.

After about two minutes or so of walking, sure your smoke wouldn’t blow on anyone’s faces, you put a cigarette into your mouth and pulled the lighter Professor Higuruma had given you, trying to light the cig up.

However, the wind wouldn’t let you, no matter how much you tried to tent your hand around it.

God, why? you thought to yourself, fidgeting with your bangs in annoyance.

While darting your eyes around, looking for any sort of shelter from the wind, you found a beat up, dark navy-blue car that surely had seen better days parked just behind the brick building. In your drunken haze, you figured that squatting between both would be the best idea.

Stumbling your way towards the gap, you quickly went down on the ground in a crouched position, holding your cup in one hand and the lighter on the other, cig strongly held in between your lips.

Flick, flick, flick.

Nothing.

God fucking damnit. 

“Hey!” a male voice exclaimed from behind you, scaring the shit out of your soul. 

Your body moved on instinct. You instantly jumped up, startled and screaming, and tossed the entire vodka contents from the cup towards whoever had nearly given you a heart attack.

Higuruma stood there, completely stunned and incredulous, as the beverage hit his shirt, vest, tie, face and coat. 

“… I didn’t mean to scare you,” he offered, taking his glasses off to shake the liquid from them before putting them back, “but why?”

For a split second, he was just glad this wasn’t coffee or wine, the staining demons of liquids. It could’ve been worse.

Oh my God. I can’t believe I assaulted this man with my drink again. This has to be a prank.

This time, already impaired from two full glasses of vodka in your system, and increasingly nervous at that situation, you couldn’t hold it in. 

You began cackling, directly to his face, as his expression became profoundly confused. He lifted an eyebrow, not knowing if he should feel scared, amused or offended.

"I-I just… Just laugh in i-inappropriate… moments- I’m sorry!" you tried explaining, in between laughs and huffs, drying a tear that bubbled up at the edge of your eye with the tip of your fingers.

You both stood there for a few seconds until your laughter died down, and he was then sure you definitely had a few screws loose.

It amused him.

“Here, let me use this to dry your shirt," you told Higuruma, approaching him with your red scarf, pressing it against his chest. He put his free hand over it and haphazardly rubbed it over the damp patches of his clothes alongside you.

This up close, he couldn’t help but notice once again that tiny hair lock which swirled away from your bangs.

Realizing he was staring at your hair, Higuruma diverted his eyes elsewhere, having them landing over the ugly red scarf. 

"Ah, that hideous thing." 

Shit, I said that out loud, he thought to himself, facepalming internally. 

To that, you looked at him, wide eyed, and laughed wholeheartedly, having Higuruma blushing embarrassment at his own incapacity to control his words. 

"It is hideous, isn't it?" you noted, surprising him.

For the second time in that interaction, he was nothing short of perplexed. The Professor was more than accustomed to having people get deeply offended at his talking mishaps from time to time.

"I thought you might be laughing because what I said was terribly inappropriate," Higuruma admitted, somewhat relieved.

"Oh, no. It was funny. I also laugh at funny things," you jested with a mindless smile pulling on your cheeks.

It was his time to chuckle, and you didn’t fail to notice, even in your tipsy fog, how a tiny crease would form on the edges of his hangdog eyes when he was laughing. And how his voice reverberated. And how his disheveled hair framed around his face beautifully, highlighting his beautiful hooked nose. And-

Shit. I have the hots for the Professor.

"... Is there still anything on my face?"

That snapped you out of it, but not entirely.

"Uh? Why?"

"Because you're staring at it."

Yeah. That checks out. 

“I just… never mind,” you told him while blushing discreetly, scrambling around to give him some space. It was only then that Higuruma noticed he had his hand resting over yours for a while after you stopped trying to pat him dry with the ugliest scarf known to mankind. 

Clearing his throat, he asked, “why were you slouching by my car?” 

“I was trying to light a cigarette,” you replied, pointing at the cig on the ground after the debacle, “the wind is pretty unforgiving today.”

“I see. I’m sorry about the fallen soldier,” he stated. 

“No worries, I’ve got more,” you replied, pulling your pack from your pocket, “do you want one?” 

I shouldn’t, smoking is bad, I’m doing cardio three times a we-

“Yes.” 

You pulled two cigarettes from the pack, put them both in your mouth, cupped your hand around the cigs to light them up, and it actually worked.

Well, that’s convenient.

You inhaled the smoke for a second, feeling it waving into your mouth. It immediately soothed your crave.

Taking one of them in between two fingers, you extended your hand towards Higuruma, who grabbed the smoke. 

“Thanks,” he offered in a calm tone.

“No worries, it’s the least I could do after assaulting you with vodka,” you shrugged with some embarrassment.

“It’s oka… pure vodka?” 

“Yes.”

That’s… a lot.

He was a little taken aback, but decided not to ask anything. 

“Well, at least it won’t leave a stain, unlike coffee,” Higuruma remarked. 

“Yeah, it won’t,” you replied while mindlessly giggling.

Higuruma finally bowed his head towards you and you retributed the gesture, bidding him goodbye before leaving on your way to your dorm room. 

Once you were gone, he went inside his car, cracking the window open. As he was finally alone pulling the cigarette towards his lips, Higuruma noticed something around the edge of the cig. A soft pinkish-red ring that went all around it.

Is this… her lipstick?

It was.

Against his better judgment, Higuruma blushed softly, instantly shaking his head to weave off the heat that had pooled around in his cheeks before flipping the engine on.

Get a hold of yourself.

He did, however, hold the cig in his mouth, smudging the faint lipstick tint it had on his lips until the smoke was all spent up.

-

Tag list:

@arusearu @yammy-yammy-yama @markleeisdabestdrug @redlikerozez @delirious-donna

@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @senseifupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider 

@ohhheymessa @bigbaddulce @actuallysaiyan @s-witch-bitch @pseudowho

@soft--cherry @bsaeshell @quinnyundertow @traffi

[daysofyellowroses]

noodles

carmen berzatto x reader | 1.9k | based on this absolutely adorable request from my darling @thecapricunt1616 enjoy it then i am beyond happy 💗🌼🫶🏻

It didn't matter how many times you shook the plastic stick, the little pink plus sign didn't fade. You tossed it in the trash can, where it joined three others with matching pink pluses. You couldn't really get your head around it, you'd been careful, taken things relatively slow..well, kind of. 

Things had just progressed a little quicker than you'd expected. One minute you're applying for a hostess job, thinking you probably won't even get an interview, seeing as it was a Michelin-starred hotspot, then next thing you're front and center at a fancy restaurant and spending large portions of your shift flirting with the head chef. 

It was never serious flirting, it was just silly and fun. You made flirty comments to everyone, you just particularly meant them with Carmy. He finally seemed to get the hint when you asked him upstairs after he'd dropped you home for the 10th time. 

Nothing really happened that night, you just shared a drink, cheap wine from your refrigerator, and made each other laugh with stupid jokes. You told him you meant it when you flirted, he insisted you were joking. It was only when you kissed him that he finally got the message, kissing you back with a fervor that had your head spinning in the most wonderful way. 

From there you two developed a relationship that suited you both. You were professional at work, still had some nights apart when you were both exhausted or just needed some alone time. But you had spent hours sitting on his kitchen counter watching him cook, told him stories from your past, encouraged him to tell you some stories too. You watched movies that you didn't pay full attention to, you read your book with your legs over Carm's lap, rolling your eyes with a grin when he would tease you for looking so serious. 

It was the best relationship you'd ever been in, and while you weren't sure what the future held, you were positive Carm would be a big part of it, that you two would keep going, develop your relationship.

Sure, you had thought about kids, marriage, a home together etc., but in a kind of just-for-fun-daydreamy kind of way. 

Now, one of those things was becoming a reality. It wasn't exactly how you would have planned it, you and Carm weren't even living together. Sure, you stayed at his most nights of the week and had more than a few personal belongings left there, but it wasn't the same.

It felt like moving in should have been the next step. The excitement of starting to really build a foundation together. You were just skipping ahead a step or two, apparently. 

Eventually you left the bathroom and chose to sit on your bed for a while instead. You called your doctor and made an appointment, more as a formality. Maybe it would feel more real when your doctor told you rather than seeing it on a plastic stick you'd peed on.

Once you were dressed you went to make a coffee before stopping yourself, wondering if it was ‘allowed’, even though it was so early on. You decided to play it safe, having a herbal tea instead, which you nearly choked on when your phone rang, Carmy's ID flashing up on the screen.

Did he know? How could he know?

“Hey,” You smiled as much as you could, trying to feel normal. “How are you? How is everything?”

You hoped you didn't sound too unusual or not yourself, feeling annoyingly aware of yourself.

“Hey, everything's good,” Carm replied and you felt yourself relax a little. “Just..there's been a slight change of plan for today.”

You stifled a laugh, nothing Carm could say could be a bigger change of plan than an unexpected pregnancy.

“Oh? You raised a brow, lightly tapping your nails against your cup. “What's up?”

“So, it turns out that apparently I promised Richie and Sug that I'd babysit while they have some meetings. I hate to ask when it's your day off but..could you help me?”

You couldn't help but laugh, resting your head on your head on your hand and letting out a soft sigh.

“Of course I'll help, don't worry. When do you need me?” 

An couple of hours later, you found yourself at Carmy's apartment, smiling as he opened the door looking flustered, a toddler on his hip and a doll in his hand.

“Perfect timing,” He smiled, stepping aside to let you in. “I'm outnumbered.”

“Who said I'm on your side?” You raised a brow, smiling at the little boy on Carmy's hip and gently stroked his cheek as he giggled. “I'm here to help the kids gang up on you.”

“Oh good,” Carm nodded, lightly tapping you with the doll. “Bring it on.”

You made your way to the living room, smiling as you spotted Eva on the couch, giving her a little wave.

“Hey girly girl,” You grinned, going to sit next to her. “Hope you've been keeping your uncle busy?”

“Yeah,” She giggled, leaning over to you as Carm came into the room. You leaned down, smiling as she whispered in your ear.

A half hour or so later, you went to open the living room door as there was a knock, adjusting the toddler on your hip before opening it and trying to keep a straight face as you met Carm's eyes.

“Hi, can I help you?” You asked, raising a brow.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Carmy nodded, trying to keep a straight face. “I have an appointment, I'm a little early but..maybe you could squeeze me in?”

“Maybe,” You nodded, biting your lip softly. “Come in, follow me.”

You turned and walked further into the room, gesturing to the couch. “Take a seat.”

“Yes ma'am,” Carm nodded as you walked to the kitchen door and opened it.

“Your two o'clock is early,” You said, glancing back to Carm for a moment.. “Do you want to fit him in now?”

You nodded before turning back to Carm and gesturing to the kitchen. “She'll see you now, come through.”

You walked into the kitchen and smiled as you watched Carm walk in, the smile on his face as he spotted the makeshift beauty salon that had been set up.

“Take a seat,” Eva gestured to the seat across the counter, an adorably serious look on her face. You placed the baby into his high chair by the table, smiling as you heard Eva boss her uncle around.

“Hands in the bowl, keep them still.”

You went to the fridge, taking out a little light blue lunch box before glancing over to Carm with a smile.

“What color do you want?” Eva asked, pointing to the handful of nail polishes sitting on the counter. 

 “Hm, I'm not sure,” Carm mused, looking at the colors. “I got a big date tonight, I wanna look my best. What do you think will suit me?”

You smiled to yourself as you put the lunch box in the microwave, laughing softly as you heard Eva tell Carm to hold still.

After lunch and Carmy's nail appointment, you decided to take the kids to the park, feeling a new wave of love for your boyfriend that he made no attempt to remove the red nail polish. When you were taking the stroller to the lift, one of Carm's neighbors passed you in the hall and smiled at you and realized that it wouldn't be long before the baby in the stroller would be yours.

You brushed off the thought, trying to focus on just having a nice, fun day. As you were en route to the park, Carm asked if you could have a little detour, and you were sure the look on the kids faces when you arrived at build-a-bear would never leave you.

Carm took his nephew from the stroller and placed him on his hip before taking him to pick out a teddy, your heart swelling in your chest, moreso when Eva took your hand and asked you to help her choose.

You found yourself subconsciously placing your hand on your stomach, wondering what it would feel like to hold your own baby on your hip, feel their hand in yours, see the excitement in their eyes when they were presented with a cute little toy.

Carm's nephew had picked a bear (perhaps with a little nudge from his uncle), that ended up in a chefs uniform (that one was a total push), while Eva chose a bunny that she chose a performance outfit for. 

When you got back to Carm's, you were more than happy to chill on the couch, though you practically melted into it when Carm got a book and read to the kids (and their new toys) til they were asleep. 

“Not a bad effort,” You smiled, looking over to Carm and trying not to imagine the toddler that could be in his lap one day. “You might actually be pretty good at this whole uncle thing.”

“I might just be,” Carm grinned, reaching out to touch your hand. “Had help from the best though.”

“You're welcome,” You smiled, gently stroking his hand. “I presume that's why you're taking me on a..big date, was it?”

“Oh absolutely,” Carm nodded, looking serious for a moment before he grinned. “the biggest.”

“Hm, guess I'll have to get glammed up,” You smiled, looking over to Eva. “Maybe I'll see if I can get a last minute appointment.”

That evening, after a quick trip home to grab a change of clothes, you were back in Carmy's apartment. It felt so quiet without the kids, you found yourself putting on music just for background noise. 

When you were in the bathroom putting on your makeup, you felt a wave of nausea hit you, more out of nerves than anything else. You hoped it would leave, but before you knew it you were bent over the toilet, taking a deep breath as you waited for the inevitable.

There was a knock on the bathroom door when you were washing your hands, looking up at the mirror taking a deep breath. Even with makeup you still looked unwell. 

“Hey,” Carm smiled as you opened the door, the concern evident on his face. “Are you okay? I thought I heard..”

“I'm fine,” You nodded, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh as the concern didn't leave his face. “I just..need to talk to you.”

You walked into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and trying to think of the right words.

“Okay,” You began. “this is..really not what I thought would happen, and I don't know how you're going to take this but..oh god..”

As you buried your head in your hands, Carm was immediately by your side, his arm around your waist. 

“Whatever it is you can tell me,” He assured you. “I promise. Just let it out, we'll handle it.”

“I'm pregnant.” You said before you could stop yourself or build it up more, lowering your hands and looking over to Carm.

“You're..wow,” Carmy nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Well, thank fuck for that. I mean, I knew, but I thought you were dumping me.”

“Wait what?” You raised a brow. “You knew? How did you know?”

“I just knew,” Carm shrugged with a smile. “I mean, I guess I hoped I was right..I know it's skipping ahead a little but..I want what we had today, all the time.”

“Can you stop being so perfect for like one day?” You rolled your eyes with a grin, resting your head on Carmy's shoulder. “Or maybe just after the big date.”

[ltbarnes]

Back to December (2/2)

Summary: Your new job as an assistant for the CEO of a big, shiny company was supposed to be a good thing. Instead your ex from uni who completely ghosted you out of nowhere several years ago happens to be one of your superiors. It doesn’t help that he’s only gotten more handsome over the years. But you hate him for leaving without an explanation, and he seems to hate you too. Everything is just fucking great.

Pairing: ex!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Word count: 7k

Warnings: OFFICE AU (Ghost is not ceo but he’s up there in the company somewhere), exes to enemies to lovers, harassment, past emotional violence/threats, blood, smut (p in v), oral (f receiving)

A/N: Took me a few weeks but it’s finally here ;) you guys don’t understand how happy it made me when so many people loved the last part!! makes me so excited to write more for the cod fandom! (I have not proofread this because I was too excited to publish it so there might be errors and weird stuff lol)

Part 1

Masterlist

The car ride is quiet. He glances your way whenever you wince. You watch his hand gripping the stirring wheel tightly, fingers drumming along anxiously with the faint beat of a song coming from the radio.

It's a nice car. Like, you would not afford this even if you saved up for years. You knew Simon was influential in the company, but this...it almost scares you. He's fucking rich. Probably going to laugh at you when he pulls up outside of your apartment building.

This is the first time you have ever been in a car with him. You wish things were different. Mostly that your eyes weren't so puffy from crying. And that he wasn't your ex and you weren't working together.

A red light forces him to slow down into a stop, the only sound now being the wind picking up pace outside. It's so quiet for a few seconds that you barely have the courage to breathe.

"Why did you fuck up my entire office? Whole day was ruined," Simon speaks from nowhere. Your lip twitches, fighting the urge to smirk despite the pain tormenting you.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Of course it was you. No one else in there knows that I'd have a bloody breakdown over my files being out of order," he mutters.

You let out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head. "It was petty. But...I was mad. About the coffee-thing." Your voice grows softer with each word, merely a whisper by the end.

Simon clears his throat, shifting in his seat. "Yeah, uh...not my finest moment."

A thick silence falls over the car once more. None of you dare to talk about the thing that actually needs to be brought up, the dark cloud hanging over your shared past. You are not really mad at each other over coffee.

The drive takes much longer than usual because of the heavy rain. You're shivering despite the heat being on. It's been thirty minutes once the wheels slow down right outside of your apartment, and you instantly move to get out after throwing a sincere 'thank you' his way. It's all you can muster.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Simon asks, not even making an attempt to answer to what you were saying.

"What do you mean?" You stop, looking over your shoulder with one hand on the door. You just want to go inside, away from his gaze before it all gets too much.

Simon unbuckles his belt, getting out of the car. Rounds the entirety of it until he's opening your door, leaning down to look at you with a frown.

"You're hurt, for fuck's sake, Y/n. You can't take care of that yourself, no way."

You sigh out of frustration, shaking your head while looking away from him. "Why are you being nice to me, Simon?"

That seems to halt him in his actions. Simon blinks, pauses for a few seconds, before opening his mouth again. "Don't know. But I'm in a chipper fucking mood, so just let me get you out of the car, okay?"

You huff, giving no protest as he takes a hold of your waist to assist you out onto the curb. "You're not in a good mood..." you mutter under your breath. He just scoffs.

Simon sits and waits for you in the kitchen as you wrangle yourself out of your wet clothes into an old sweatshirt and a pair of pyjama shorts. For much too long you stand in front of the mirror, staring at the newly formed bruise on your upper arm. You have to take a few shaky breaths to force the tears back before you limp back into the kitchen.

This outfit of yours is the last thing you want to wear around him, but it's what the situation requires. But did you really have to be so dramatic and fall onto your knees before? This is going to take weeks to heal. And now you have Simon sitting on your chair waiting to patch you up. Simon.

"The first aid kit is in the bathroom, I'm just gonna go get—" You point with your thumb.

He's on his feet before you even have the chance to finish the sentence. You barely even processed the fact that he's discarded his suit jacket and shirt, now walking around your home with a white tank that does no good job at hiding his fucking massive muscles. His arms are covered in tattoos that he definitely didn't have when you last saw him. Fuck.

Simon returns just a minute later, already rummaging through the box for...something. You don't really know what's required for a wound like this. He was right about you not being able to take care of it yourself, which you hate. Loathe, actually.

"Sit down," he tells you, dragging out a chair from the table as if you are his guest and not the other way around. The strangest thing is that you listen, without a single protest. He seems to still have that power over you.

You can't take your eyes off of him as he kneels down, grabbing a hold of cotton and some liquid-thingy you didn't even know you had in that kit.

"Is that gonna hurt?" you ask, his hand one inch from touching your knee. Simon sighs, blinking as if he's going to lose it soon.

"Well, what do you think? It's alcohol in a bleeding wound. Of fucking course it's gonna hurt."

You grimace, biting your cheek, before inching back just slightly. "Then I don't wanna do it," you whisper.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Grow up for once, will you?"

"What do you mean ‘for once’?" you seethe, retracting yourself entirely from his proximity as he rolls his eyes.

"Well, c'mon, what you did today was just...fucking childish." Still sitting on his knees, but it feels like he's towering over you the way he speaks.

"Uh—like you acting like your coffee was cold when it clearly wasn't just to humiliate me wasn't childish too! You started it!"

You rise to your feet, turning away from Simon out of frustration.

"Sit down, Y/n."

"No! I won't...let you in my apartment to order me around and...and—"

"Just sit down," he seethes, getting up to his feet. Now he's really towering over you. You hate it.

You continue walking away towards your bathroom, letting out a wince as you put too much weight on the bad knee. You keep walking anyways.

"Y/n, for fuck's sake!" Simon follows you. He could have been ahead of you if he wanted to already, but he stays behind for some reason. "Why won't you listen to me?"

His yelling makes you turn around with so much anger in your expression. But the anger can't hide the tears pooling in your eyes—nothing can.

"Because you left me!"

Silence. Thick, anxious silence as he stands there dumbfounded. His chest is heaving from your altercation.

"You left me without a single word, Simon! Not even a fucking hint!"

His previous stunned silence turns into a bitter chuckle, one hand on his hip and the other running over his chin as he shakes his head. You see the change in his eyes—irritation turned into real anger.

"Not a hint, huh?" he scoffs. "You could've given a fucking hint that you were sick of me before you went and fucked Graves and half of his team behind my back."

All of a sudden the roles are switched, and you're the one stunned silent. A person who can barely process the words you just heard—did you hear right? Could Simon ever say that to you?

"I was so happy that night. Just wanted to celebrate with my team and my girl—searched the whole party for you, you know?" Simon shakes his head, still that cold, deprecating chuckle on his lips. "And then I find you eating up Philip fucking Graves' face and two of his friends. Fucking two of them, Y/n!"

Agressive flashes of fear-filled memories attack you along with the line of Simon's retelling of that night you go back to so often. Of what you could have done differently, of the anger you felt that he just had to make things worse. Water was up to your neck, pressing on your lungs, and his abandonment pushed your head under the surface.

"You get your fucking boyfriend to back down or we'll leave your pretty body half-conscious on his doorstep."

"Please, just let me go. I'll talk to him, I promise. Please." You were sobbing, the emotions heightened by the vodka in your bloodstream.

"Such an obedient little puppy, huh? No wonder he spends all his time fucking you instead of hanging out with the team." Philip's laughter filled the room, looking over his shoulder to his friends who found just as much amusement in the situation as him.

"Nothing to say, huh?"

Simon's voice shatters your deep train of thought with the sheer bitterness behind it. It makes the tears fall faster.

"You...you saw that?" you ask weakly, your voice frail as if you have been crying for hours. Your arms come up to shield yourself from the invisible presence of them, hugging your torso as if it helps.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. It was fucking hell, seeing the girl you love cheating on you with three guys. So I'm sorry if I've been acting like a bloody prick, but I can't just pretend I'm not still so fucking angry at you. Don't come crying here saying that my behavior isn't justified when you know damn well why I'm mad at you."

All these years. So many sleepless nights obsessing over every detail of your behavior during your relationship, and this is the answer. You have been so angry at him over leaving, and you never thought you would understand why. But you do, and it breaks your heart even more.

Blood is smeared all over your leg as you look down, and that still doesn't hurt as much as the fact that Simon has gone around for years hating you, thinking that you cheated on him. You loved him so much. Betraying him is the last thing you ever would have done. You understand Johnny's reaction now too—he thought you cheated on his best friend. That's not something you just forgive. It's your job to be mad at the people who wrong your friends.

But a nagging voice in the back of your head tells you to be angry. Simon walked past that dark bedroom, saw what was happening, and left. He could have saved you. It's an unfair thought to have. You can't be upset with him for misunderstanding. He couldn't have known about the threats dealt out in that room, or that the passionate kisses he witnessed was in reality seething, harsh words and a much too up and close Philip Graves. But it still hurts. Still haunts you, having three massive rugby players crowding you in and promising to beat you to a pulp.

A loud sniffle comes from your lips, drying the tears away from your face with the back of your hand. Blinking to rid yourself of the water on your lashes. You have to tell him. Simon looks about ready to leave.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," you say breathily. Your voice cracks in the middle of it.

"Sorry?" he shakes his head, lifts his eyebrow as if assessing the word. It's clear that's not enough for him.

"I'm sorry you thought I cheated all this time. I understand why—" A hiccup,"—I get why you left."

Your choice of words changes his demeanor. From hostile, clenched jaw with a fire simmering underneath the surface to hostile, clenched jaw and confused.

"I didn't kiss anyone, Simon. I didn't—I didn't do anything with Philip, or any of his friends." Broken words, distorted by the constant movement of your chest and throat as your body desperately fights for you to let out the sobs. Not yet. "They wanted me to get you to quit the team, and I couldn't...I couldn't fight back. Not against all of them."

Nostrils flare, lip is bitten down on. A veiny hand runs over a mouth. Blinking. Hands shake with contained...fury? You don't know who it's directed at.

"What the hell are you trying to say?" he seethes, taking a step forward that makes you take one back.

"We weren't kissing. They were threatening me. Said I'd be left on your doorstep bleeding and bruised if I didn't convince you to stop going after the Captain position. I was so scared, Simon," you say, voice cracking pathetically on the last sentence.

He’s quiet for much too long. You can’t read him, standing there so exposed and vulnerable and he’s silent. That’s why his outburst is so sudden.

"Fuck!"

You flinch, inching backwards as Simon turns around yelling. Not once have you heard him scream this loud. So you stand there, rooted in place, tears streaming down your face as he tugs at his hair with his hands. His chest heaves as if he just ran five miles.

You tremble too. The first sob comes out. It's a sad, pathetic sob that you try to muffle with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. Futile. Simon turns around. You can't see his expression through the blur of your tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeat, burying your face into the palms of your cold hands.

You almost jump as strong arms pull you into the tightest hug you have ever lived through. It's an urgent one, a desperate one. It's warm. Your cheek gets mushed against his damp shirt, hand encasing the back of your head as his chest rises up and down with his rugged breaths.

You lose the single crumb of composure you had left. If Simon wasn't a wall of a man he would have been dragged down with you as your legs lose the ability to carry you, just like in the alleyway. He notices anyway, slowly sitting the two of you down on the floor. Your knee is protected by a gentle hand keeping it from colliding with the hardwood.

"I am so, so sorry, Y/n," Simon tells you on a frail voice. It almost sounds like he's on the verge of crying too. You didn't know his voice could sound soft. "I am so sorry I didn't protect you. That I just—I just walked away. So fucking thickheaded—"

Your fingers clasp onto his shirt, tugging just slightly. It's your silent 'stop'. A reassurance that he doesn't need to blame himself. You understand.

"All these years I—I hated you for something you didn't even do. Fuck, I didn't even give you a chance to explain."

He shakes his head, his hold around you tightening subconsciously. It takes a few seconds before he realizes and softens again.

"Oh fucking hell. I got Graves suspended the day before 'cause I ratted him out to Coach about smoking fucking weed. Fucking shit, this is all my fault. I am so sorry," Simon croaks out. His voice will give in any minute to the guilt and frustration and anger and tears.

"Simon..." you whisper before sniffling, putting your hand on his chest. "Don't. Don't do this to yourself."

He shakes his head again. He will give himself a concussion soon from how much he's done it this night.

"It's not your fault. It's...it was horrible. But it was them, not you. Someone came and stopped it before they could do anything worse."

He takes in a sharp breath. You can almost feel the way his jaw clenches. "Anything worse? They put their hands on you?" he whispers bitterly. "Shouldn't have happened at all. I should have been with you earlier."

"Just some bruises from when they dragged me into that room. But I know you wouldn't have let it happen if you knew. Of course I know that, Simon," you say softly, sitting up just slightly. You don't know when your tears stopped. It's just your throbbing head and the runny nose left. "Simon, you were so protective of me. You cared so much—I know you would have stopped them if you knew. But you didn't know."

Dirty blond hair and his scruffy neck is all you're met with. He doesn't even look your way. And then he's suddenly on his feet, towering over your figure on the floor.

"You're still bleeding. Need to fix it."

You can't answer. Don't even have the opportunity to—Simon's hands sneak under yours arms and lift you up to a stand before you can open your mouth again.

"Simon..."

He keeps quiet. It's that brooding thing where he overthinks. Did it when you were together too. A lot. Simon carries a lot of guilt around, steals it from others and guards it safely within himself. You don't really know how he bears it all.

The sofa sinks underneath your weight as he slowly loosens his hold around your waist, placing you so gently onto the cushions. Might as well be made of glass to him. But then you think that it must be exactly how he views you right now—a delicate, frail thing who needs protection from any and every threat. You have already amassed cracks during the years, during the day even, and just one push will leave you to splinter.

Once again he kneels before you. This time you don't find it frustratingly hot. Now it's soft, a little sad even. There's a frown so deep in between his eyebrows you fear it might become permanent this time.

You don't say anything as you let him clean your wound. Maybe you hiss a little once the alcohol touches the broken skin, but make no move to protest. Simon might need this more than you. Okay, you don't want to die from an infection, but you could have done this with a lot less grace. You would have ten minutes ago.

"I still am, you know," he mutters after many, many minutes of silence. He's wrapping a bandage around your leg.

"What?" you breathe out softly, looking down at his concentrated frown.

"Protective of you," he answers. "I still care. Even if we're not together." Simon gulps, stops for just a second in his work.

"You are?"

His eyebrows rise for a second, corners of his lips threatening to tug upwards. "Didn't see me earlier in the lobby? I was gonna curse you out real fucking good. For my office."

"But you didn't."

"No. I couldn't, not when I saw that you were crying." His hand suddenly stops, resting on your good knee, before he looks up at you. "Why the hell were you crying, Y/n?"

Instantly you close off again, glancing away to escape that concerned expression that makes his eyes so dark and soft. It's an irresistible thing.

"Please, love. I need to—I need to make it better."

You pretend to ignore that Simon just called you love. Instead you focus on the fact that he's trying to compensate for that December night. For all the years you had a broken heart without knowing the reason why.

"Just...something that brought back some bad memories, that's all. Unpleasant encounter." It's practically mumbled, your answer, and you know Simon always hated when you mumbled. Wanted to hear your pretty voice loud and clear, he used to tell you.

His ever present frown grows impossibly deeper. Simon is speculating with himself, it's clear on his expression.

"With someone at work? Who bothered you, Y/n? Who the fuck made you cry?" he seethes, running his hand over his mouth as if to keep himself from saying something worse.

You shake your head. Your instinct tells you to dismiss it, say that it's fine. But maybe you shouldn't, for once. Just tell him that Shepherd actually said something that was far from okay. He was in the wrong. You shouldn't be the one to suffer in silence anymore.

"There was this—you know the man who always wears a Rolex and has the corner office? Shepherd?" you say meekly.

Simon's jaw clenches, but still his hand on your thigh is so gentle. "What the fuck did he do?"

"He...I ran into him on my way home. Collided right into his chest." You swallow air, looking down at the point of contact between you and Simon. "And he caught me. Didn't let go when I tried to go away. And he had this look in his eyes. Was so close, too. I couldn't breathe."

"Fucking hell," Simon groans.

"He said he just wanted to talk...but then he started commenting on my dresses. That he'd watched me 'strut around', as if I purposely put on a show for him, or something. Told me to come into his office on Monday and wear something nice so he would have something sweet to look at. I had to beg him to let me go."

"He the reason you've been clutching your arm the whole night?" Simon asks tensely, nodding down to where the bruise hides underneath your sweater.

You didn't even notice you did that. But it's sore when you move it. The answer to his question comes from your uneasy glance up at him that makes him close his eyes. You think it's to contain something—to calm down.

"He won't get fucking near you again, Y/n."

You gulp, blinking. "But he works there...he's one of my superiors."

"No. The fuck he isn't. He's not stepping a foot inside that building again."

"What?"

"Price will have him fucking murdered for even looking at you funny. Been looking for an excuse to get rid of him for years, and this...I'm so sorry, love. You shouldn't have to put up with that."

You shake your head, looking down to the point where Simon still has the bloodied cotton pressed against your knee.

"You would do that for me?" you ask softly, almost a whisper.

"Do fucking anything for you, Y/n. Would have even during all these years that I was too bloody stupid to reach out." With his hand on your thigh, he shakes your leg gently, enough to make you look him in the eye again. "You were my girl, you know? Swore I'd protect you from every fucker who even looked at you wrong, and not only did I fail at saving you from those fucking worthless pieces of shit who laid their hands on you, but I didn't protect you from myself. Will never forgive myself for that."

Simon's words makes your lower lip tremble again, and you let out something akin to a whimper and sigh before speaking.

"None of that is your fault," you say. "Even though I would've appreciated if you talked to me before just leaving back then, I understand why you didn't. If it was the other way around and I thought you were out with three girls, I would've been crushed. Wouldn't be able to look at you again without breaking into sobs."

He raises his eyebrows, shaking his head. It's clear that he doesn't take your words to heart, but there's still something in your statement that registers within him.

"You never told me that you cared for me that much." Simon clears his throat, as if the words are a lump stuck in his airways.

You sigh. You know it's true—you held back on saying those three words for months, thinking that the time had to be right and he couldn't possibly feel as strongly as you did. Then he broke up with you and you never got the chance.

"I wanted to. I wanted to tell you everyday, but I was scared that you wouldn't say it back."

Simon scoffs. "For fuck's sake, Y/n. I loved the shit out of you. Thought everyone could see that from the way I trailed after you like a lovesick puppy."

A bittersweet chuckle comes from your lips, shaking your head to yourself. Blinking away tears stuck in your eyelashes. "I should've told you sooner." It's a decibel away from a whisper.

Simon looks at you as if what will come out of your mouth is the most important thing in the world.

"I think I...I still feel that for you. A little bit," you admit. "It's pathetic that I'm still hung up on you after so many years, but it's hard, Simon. Seeing you everyday and not act like we used to."

"Don't you think I haven't wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck you every single day these past two weeks?" Simon seethes. "I've jerked off in the bathroom outside my office more times than I can count and literally cried like a pathetic jerk in Johnny's arms the first day you started work 'cause I was still so fucking hurt that you didn't love me as much as I loved you. I'm a grown ass man, Y/n, and it was years ago. That's how much you meant to me."

"You cried?" you ask breathily, your head empty except his words echoing. Bend you over my desk.

"I've sobbed like a fucking fool countless times over you. The weekend after I saw you—after I thought that I saw you with them—I went back to my mum's house and wailed like a baby into her chest." Simon chuckles, a bittersweet expression on his face.

"I'm sorry."

"No. None of that shit. I caused it. Should've just asked you instead of taking off. Wasn't man enough for you back then. I'm the one who needs to apologize."

You bite down on your lower lip, doing something akin to a nod as you glance away, out of the window.

"And now?" you ask. "Are you man enough now?"

"Careful, love..." Simon says, his voice strained.   "Don't give me hope."

"Hope for what?"

"You know damn fucking well what I'm hoping for," he answers gruffly. You gulp, lips parting to release a shallow breath. His brown eyes are nearly black, pupils blown wide from the intensity of his gaze. You know that look.

"Simon, you know I feel the same. You know it." It's nearly a whisper, what comes out of your mouth. Leaning forward just slightly, closer to his face where he's kneeling on the floor. "I already told you earlier that I still—"

Your back is pressed against the cushions of the couch as Simon surges up from his place on the floor. Calloused, tattooed hands grip your face gently as those pink lips you've dreamed about for the past two weeks devour yours desperately. Shuts you up real good.

"I've missed you so fucking much," Simon growls, a certain ferocity in his voice that makes him sound like a beast bowing only for his woman. He kisses you again. "Please. Please let me show you how fucking good I can be to you."

There's no real point in acting as if his words isn't the best thing you've ever heard. You're already panting and preening for him, so acting as if the answer will be anything but yes is futile. You nod furiously, holding onto his wrists.

"Yes. Please, Simon. Yes," you answer breathily, desperately.

The grunt coming from his chest makes your thighs clench together, resonating deeply within your core as the memories of how his touch felt all those years ago spark up every last nerv-ending in your body. Before you even know it, Simon has his large hands on your waist, lifting you up from the couch and sitting down himself. Your thighs straddling his, face to face and chest to chest.

"Ow. Simon, my knee," you say with a chuckle, leaning back enough to keep the pressure off your wounded leg.

"Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry, love. Are you alright?" he asks, an instantly guilty expression on his face. Didn't seem to pick up on the laugh from your lips. He looks like someone just kicked a puppy in front of him.

"I'm just fine, Si." Your hands come up to his face, feeling the stubble on his cheeks underneath your fingertips. "Maybe we shouldn't sit like this, though."

"We don't have to do this tonight. I'll wait for as long as you want me to," he tells you, pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of your wrist. It almost makes you cry. He always did that back in uni.

"I'll literally fucking burst if I don't have you inside me within the next ten minutes. We'll work around it. I don't care."

Simon chuckles. A sound that comes from deep within his chest, rumbling and warm and so familiar. It festers within you and sprouts, spreading safety and comfort through your blood. Makes you smile, genuinely. He stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands holding onto your thighs.

The bed sinks down underneath your weight as he lowers you down on the sheets, so careful to not touch your now patched up knee.

"Just as desperate for me now as you were then, huh?" Simon teases, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as his massive frame hovers above yours.

God, your body remembers. It remembers him so well, surrendering to his rough, deep voice as it whispers into your ear. It's an instant thing you feel—safety and simultaneously giddiness. You giggle like a goddamn schoolgirl with a crush, sneaking your arms around Simon's broad shoulders as you nod.

"Mhm, I am," you admit. Without shame. "I've really missed you, Simon. I really have." Your words are softer than before, void of the teasing tone they previously held.

He sighs. Presses his chapped lips to the corner of your mouth, slowly moving down to your jawline, neck. Simon is the toughest, biggest man you know. Curses like a sailor and can snap you in half. But oh, he's so gentle with you. When he wants to, at least. You remember those nights when desperation overtook him, clothes ripping and the breath fucked out of you. And you loved those nights just as much as the ones where he would just trace his lips over your skin for an hour before even touching your by then sickeningly wet folds.

But after years and years of separation and an emotionally wrecking fight that finally led to reunion, gentleness and patience isn't high on your list right now. You want to rip his clothes off and taste him again and feel him inside of you and kiss him even more and touch every inch of his skin. Though, Simon keeps trailing his mouth down your neck, hand inching underneath the hem of your sweatshirt as he hums. The sound makes you giggle. Fucking hell you've missed him.

"Something funny, love?" Simon asks, raising a challenging eyebrow as he lifts his head from your skin.

"Just that sound. Been thinking it about it sometimes."

"Thinking about it, huh?" he probes, pushing your sweatshirt over your head, forcing you to raise your arms. A deep groan comes from his lips as the lace of your bra is revealed to him, the fabric delicate enough to show the outline of your nipple. "Oh, fucking hell. You tryin' to make me come in my goddamn pants, yeah? It's not nice."

"I didn't know you'd see my bra when I put it on this morning, Simon," you chuckle, gaze flickering down to see his frankly hungry gaze.

"Didn't put it on for someone else to see it, did you?" he asks, something akin to doubt in his eyes. Or maybe not doubt, but nervousness.

"No. There's no one else," you admit. "Haven't...been many others since you."

"Not for me either. No one is like you. Tried, but it was bloody useless. Fucking nothing is better than my sweet girl when she's wrapped around my cock."

His statement confuses you for just a second before his hand sneaks it's way underneath your pyjama shorts, cupping your pussy and feeling the embarrassing wetness already soaking your underwear.

"Let me taste you, love," he pleads. You're already squirming, bucking your hips against his hand in search for friction. All you can do to answer is nod, and the second after, your shorts are thrown to your bedroom floor.

"C'mon, sweet girl. Been without you for fucking years. You can give me one more. Just one more," he tells you, pumping his fingers into you deliriously, possessed by the squelching sound your slick and his digits emit.

It's been thirty five fucking minutes of Simon making you come on his tongue and his fingers and then his tongue again. He's currently on his second round of fingering the living breath out of you. You had forgotten how thick his fingers were, and now with those added years of use, more calluses and lines and wrinkles? You haven't been able to utter a full sentence in a good while.

"Holy..." Your head is thrown back onto the pillow, back arching as if you were in a porn video, thighs clamping down on his hand.

"That's my girl. There we go, there we go,” he mutters, in a trance by the sound of it and his lustful stare.

You have to push his hand away after almost a minute of him drawing out your orgasm by lazily continuing to pump his fingers into you, whining when it becomes too much.

“Insatiable fucker,” you mumble as you lay spent on top of the sheets, chest heaving and a light sheen of sweat on your skin.

And he hasn’t even been inside you yet.

Simon chuckles, that deep rumble that almost sounds like it scratches his insides in some way. A wet, shameless kiss is pressed to your thigh, before he stands up to his full length again. His poor knees must be aching after having been pressed into the floor for so long.

“Missed her. Can’t blame a bloke for wanting to spend time with his missus after such a long time, eh?” Simon teases, making you roll your eyes fondly.

“Just c’mere,” you sigh, smiling up at Simon again, the same way you did at 20. Or maybe not the exact same. Things have changed, you have changed. Simon has sure as hell changed. But it’s better. A deeper affection, a deeper understanding.

The blond giant climbs onto the bed, over you, hovering like a wolf ready to pounce yet a gentleness in his hold that draws away the sense of threat. His thumb cups your cheek, brushes over the skin under your eye. And then he kisses you, softly, something you didn’t he know he was capable of. Back then, it was always passion, urgency. Playful, desperate. This is longing.

You sigh against his lips, feeling his chapped skin and the stubble on his chin. It nearly brings tears to your eyes, the way you have this man over you again. It’s been so long and he’s dozens of pounds heavier with muscle, more tattoos on his skin and scars on his body. But he’s still Simon. And he’s yours.

“Condom? Please for the love of god tell me you have a condom,” he pleads, growls with need against the crook of your neck.

“In the drawer,” you giggle, stretching your arm out in its direction.

He wastes no time. His urgency makes him clumsy, makes you laugh even more, as he tries to tear the wrapper open with his teeth and fails. Gives you a warning glare that does no good job at hiding his fond amusement, while resorting to opening it with his hands like a normal person.

Simon’s hands close around the back of your thighs, pulling your legs up until they press against your stomach. His tip brushes against your wet folds, but his gaze is on your face.

“Ready for me, sweet girl?” he asks, the deep timber of his voice sending literal shivers through you.

You nod.

“Words.”

“Yes, Simon. Please. Wan’ you inside me,” you plead.

“Mhm, know you do, sweetheart.”

It’s all the warning you get before he grabs a hold of his cock, coating it in your slick, before guiding it towards your dripping hole. Your breath catches in your throat, a whine of discomfort coming from your lips as his thick girth presses into you inch by agonizing inch. And yet it’s so good. Fucking hell, you’ve missed it.

“Holy fuck, I forgot—“ you say, not needing to finish the sentence for him to know the sentiment. You forgot how big he was.

"God you're..." Simon growls, keeping still as he bottoms out, savoring the feeling of your walls stretching around his thick cock once again. "You feel even fucking better. How the fuck did I go without her all these years?"

Tears prickle the corners of your eyes. Don’t know if it’s from the sting, the longing, the pleasure. You’re still all pliant and sensitive from the multiple orgasms he drew out of your earlier.

Simon starts to move, rolling his hips slowly into you. Letting you feel every ridge and vein of his cock sliding against your walls, drawing rumbles from his chest.

“Not gonna leave this pretty pussy again, no. ‘S all mine. Needa’ apologize for keeping her lonely for so many years,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. The corners of your lips tug upwards.

“Simon,” you whisper, hands entangled into his hair. He tilts his head upwards, looking up at your face. “Fuck me.”

A pleased smirk grows on his face, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so, huh?” he asks, squeezing your thigh, before snapping his hips into yours.

“Oh, fuck…”

Your pathetic bed creaks as Simon bullies his cock into you, the filthy sound of your slick being pushed inside of you filling the room along with the grunts and whines from your mouths.

It’s like a switch turned on in his head when you told him to fuck you, because it’s nearly animalistic. There’s no class or precision in his sloppy thrusts, just desperation.

“Fuck, so sorry, love, but I’m gonna come,” Simon tells you, clenching his jaw tightly with restraint. His large fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he holds them up, his heavy weight flush against you to keep you in a mating press. Despite his words, there’s no shame in them. Just an apology. He wishes he could savor this, but it’s futile. His cock wants something else.

“It’s…it’s okay,” you manage to get out between his thrusts, a smile on your face while his movements grow increasingly sloppy and hurried. “Come for me, baby. It’s okay.”

“So fucking perfect,” he growls, while his thumb finds its way to rub tight circles on your clit. Damn it if he doesn’t make you come one more time. He needs to feel you clenching down on his cock like that. “Gonna make you come again, baby, I promise.”

Your hands paw at his broad back, digging into the chiseled muscles while your thighs wrap around him, bringing him in deeper.

It’s with his face buried into the crook of your neck that he comes with a snarl, heavy breaths likened to the ones belonging to a beast blown right into your ear. Despite his movements stilling, his softening length remains inside of you while his fingers flicker your nub deliriously.

“Uh-huh, I see you, I see you.” He grins, taking note of the bucking of your hips, the way your thighs attempt to press together as they squeeze around his waist.

“Simon,” you whimper, and that’s all it takes for him to press down a little harder, do it a little faster. You let go, mouth falling open in a soundless gasp.

“There it is. Look so beautiful when you come on my cock,” he tells you, and you swear you feel him harden again inside of you.

But when you come down from the high, laying there spent and panting, he pulls out so gently. Presses a kiss to the swell of your neck before climbing off the bed and discarding the condom in the bathroom.

“Simon, can you get me a towel?” you ask tiredly, watching his naked figure through the open door.

“Was already on it,” he tells you, stretching his arm out through the spring with the towel in hand, drawing a chuckle from your lips. “Have to take care of my woman. Can’t leave her all messy from taking my cock like the sweet girl she is.”

“You’re so crude,” you say through giggles, Simon walking back into your bedroom.

“Only around you, love,” he answers, kneeling on the bed to dry you off.

“That’s a lie. A big fat lie.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The soft fabric drags against your skin, soaking up the trails of your wetness coating your inner thighs and your folds. So meticulous, careful with each movement. Neat-freak.

“I love you.”

His head tilts up, brown eyes keeping you still under his gaze. And then he smiles. Skin by his eyes crinkling, white teeth showcased, towel discarded onto the floor. He covers your body with his, arms sneaking around your waist to roll you on top of him.

“I love you, sweet girl. ‘S probably gonna be the death of me, but like hell if I’m gonna do anything else than love you,” he whispers, dragging the duvet over your bodies.

Your body goes soft, pliant, in his hold. Comfortable silence fills the non-existing space between you, his breathing the only thing you can hear. Your eyes almost shutter closed when Simon speaks up again.

"I am so fucking you in my office on Monday," Simon tells you, chin on top of your head, your cheek on his chest. You can't see his face, but you know there's a boyish grin on his lips.

You just chuckle tiredly.

"Mr. Price would literally kill the both of us if he found out."

"Tough luck, love. I'm having you on my desk. End of discussion," he teases, squeezing your hip gently.

"You're insatiable."

"And you're beautiful. And sexy, and gorgeous, and entirely fucking mine," he whispers, growls, into your ear. "So we're christening my office on Monday, yeah?"

"You're taking the blame if Price walks in."

"Gladly. By Monday afternoon, nobody in our office will have any doubts about who I belong to."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Future Mr. Y/l/n Riley. You better fucking believe,” he says. “Just gonna get Shepherd fired and gauge his eyes out first.”

“Simon.”

“Yes. Nobody fucks with my woman.”

TAGLIST: @keendreamnight @xxkay15xx @evie-119 @darkravenqueen98 @naxxsstuff @sirens-and-moonflowers @narcoticv3nus @igotmajordaddyissues @fallenkitten @darling006 @iloveloveeducks @accio-serotonin

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Like Real People Do: Chapter 1

You are the new girl at Hawkins High for your junior year. As a stereotypical "goody goody", you've been focused on friends, studies, and getting into college...so when you become friends with Eddie Munson, it completely throws a wrench in your system. But, sometimes, that can be a very, very good thing. (slow burn strangers to friends to lovers)

This is "Like Real People Do: Chapter 1"

Pairings: Eddie x AFAB reader (for continuity sake, you will have a name because I truly hate writing "y/n" it gives me hives, but it won't be prevalent enough to be distracting)

Warnings: swearing. every chapter will have their own warnings - eventually, their will be fluff, angst, smut. THIS ENTIRE SERIES IS 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2.64k

A/N: My Eddie obsession will never leave me, apparently lol. Some of the plot will be out of order from the show - I'm not quite sure if I want to incorporate the Upside Down stuff just yet. Graphic made by me, I do not give permission for it (or this series) to be shared without my knowledge.

The end-of-summer breeze was light, running through the open window of your car. You had your arm extended out the driver window, lightly tapping the outside of the door as you drove slowly down the road where Hawkins High School was located. The closer you got, the more the butterflies fluttered in your stomach, bouncing off of the walls and causing you to breathe out shaky breaths every 10 seconds (approximately).

Bananarama’s “Venus” was playing through the speaker of the sound system in your car – normally, you’d be singing along, your toes tapping along to the beat. But instead, you felt like you were driving into something awful – a battle, or a funeral, perhaps.

Which, if you think about it, is probably the exact opposite place that you should be listening to Bananarama’s “Venus”.

As you turned the corner, you saw kids from both the high school and close by middle school mingling outside, in the parking lot. It seemed that everyone – except for you – had First Day of School™ smiles plastered on their faces, which only added to your growing pit of nerves. Slowly, you maneuvered into your assigned parking spot – lucky 31 – and parked the car, rolling up the window and turning down the music. You let out a shaky breath and gripped the steering wheel so hard, your knuckles turned white.

“It is your first day of school,” You reminded yourself, trying hard not to look at the people walking around your car abstinent-mindedly, chatting to their friends about what they did over summer vacation. You felt a pang of sadness as you yearned for your best friends back home – this past summer was the first summer in high school you three didn’t work together at the local Dairy Queen, and even though you hated that job, you missed them so much sometimes your heart hurt.

Shaking the sadness out of your quickly, you looked ahead and started again, “It’s your first day of school. It is your first day of school – you are not about to enter a Roman Coliseum to fight a caged tiger.” Accidentally, you made eye contact with a boy walking past the car, who squinted his eyes at you in confusion.

Although you feel like you’re surrounded by caged tigers… You thought, expelling another shaky breath. Were you sure that boy wasn’t a caged tiger? Because he sure was making you feel like it.

“It’s your first day of school,” You whispered again, checking your watch. 10 minutes until you had to meet the principal in their office to get the grand tour and your class schedule. “It’s your first day of school, and you’re going to kick ass. It’s nothing to be scared of.” You watched another person make a face at you while they walked by.

Okay, time to stop talking to yourself in the car.

You grabbed your backpack and opened the door, your knees feeling slightly like Jello. Locking the door behind you, you made your way through the front door of the building. According to the packet that came in the mail a few week’s prior, the principal’s office was almost directly next to the entrance, to the right.

Turning to the right, you saw the front office, with the sign “Hawkins High Front Office” plastered at the top of the doorway.

Okay. That wasn’t so hard.

Progress.

You stepped in, stepping into the small line that had already formed at the receptionist’s desk. Taking in your surroundings, you heard multiple phones ringing, and multiple conversations happening at once.

School wasn’t hard for you – in fact, you actually loved school. Known as a Goody-Goody at your last school, you were interested in homework, and getting good grades. In your junior year and on the fast track to a big university, possibly on the East Coast, you wanted to study psychology to become a therapist.

So, school definitely wasn’t hard for you. What was hard was moving to a new state due to your dad’s new job, and having to start school smack dab in the middle of your high school career. Being 550 miles away from everything you had ever known was tough – doing it at 17-years-old was even worse.

“Miss?” The receptionist said, pulling you back to reality. You snapped your head forward and saw that she was smiling politely, but definitely impatiently. You blushed as you stepped forward, being next in line. “How can I help you?” She asked as you stepped up. She had thick glasses and lipstick had already stained her teeth, even though it was only 7:00 in the morning. She tapped her pencil against the desk as she waited for your response.

“Oh, hi,” You said, subconsciously running your tongue over your teeth, “Um, today is my first day…I transferred in. And I was told to be here now to meet with the principal –”

“Brooke Henway?” The receptionist interrupted. You nodded. Quickly, she waved her hand as if to say come on, “This way. Principal Higgins is in his office and will be waiting for you. Have a great first day.” She knocked on a door marked “Principal Higgins” on a gold plaque, the entire sentence a monotone run-on. Offering a strained smile to you, she scooted back to her desk, shouting, “WHO’S NEXT?!”

You sighed heavily and re-adjusted your backpack, shoving your hands in your jeans pockets. Rocking on your heels, you reminded yourself that no matter how large and scary it felt, this was just a high school, and not a Roman Coliseum.

This was going to be a long year.

Shutting the door to your locker, you felt exhausted. The first day of school wasn’t bad – people here were actually pretty nice, and it seemed like you would be able to keep up in your classes fairly easy. But a first day of school would be tiring anyway…adding on that it was a first day at a new school, and you were downright asleep with your eyes open.

You were just about to make your way to your car – home at last! – when all of the sudden, what sounded like a heard of buffalo made its way down the seemingly empty hallway. You turned to face the noise at the end of the hallway, and a group of rowdy boys turned the corner, laughing and shouting about something that made them so excited, they seemed to be breaking the sound barrier. Something told you hang back a second, so you decided to wait until they passed to head out to the parking lot.

The group consisted of what seemed like various grades – definitely a few freshmen, but some seemed older. A few were wearing shirts that boasted “HELLFIRE CLUB” on them, and they seemed like a rag-tag group. One boy with longer, curly, brown hair and a leather jacket, made eye contact with you while he was smiling at one of the younger looking boys. For a split second, you both maintained eye contact as the group passed by you, and you felt a little jolt in your tummy.

Okay…he’s kinda hot. You thought, a smiling threatening to break through on your lips. Even though he wasn’t technically smiling at you, he seemed nice.

Or, at least funny since he was making the rest of the boys around him howl with laughter.

As soon as they passed, Long Curly Hair Boy shoved his hand in his back pocket, causing whatever was in there to tip out, scattering on the ground. They sounded plastic by the sound of the pink pink! noise they made as they fell on the linoleum, but they group didn’t hear over their conversation. You stepped to them, snatching them in your hand.

Looking down at them, they seemed like dice, except there was way too many sides. Inquisitively, you investigated them, turning them over with your finger. The dice themselves were a cool, swirly black and maroon color, while the numbers on them were a metallic gold.

Suddenly, you remembered these cool, weird dice were not, in fact, yours.

“Hey! Excuse me?” You shouted, jogging to catch up with the group. At first, they didn’t hear you, so you shouted again. “Heyyyyy! Hey!”

Almost as one organism, they all turned at the same time (and weirdly, in the same direction). Long Curly Hair Boy had his arm around two of the younger guys – Smaller Long Curly Hair Boy, and Tall And Lanky Looking Boy – affectionately. You locked eyes again and he widened his smile.

“Yesssss? Can I help you?” He asked in a playful tone. You extended your hand, flattening your palm to show off the dice.

“You dropped these.”

He looked at the dice and one of the boys whistled. Quickly looking back up to you with appreciation, he quickly took the dice and put them in his back pocket, “Geeze, thanks. Can’t believe I would’ve left those. They were custom made…” He looked back at you and tiled his head, “…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

You smiled, “Because you haven’t. I’m new…moved here this summer. Today was my first day,” You offered, but then remembered that today was everyone’s first day, “Well I mean, like here. In Hawkins.”

Long Curly Hair Boy chuckled and nodded, “No, I got what you meant. Well, welcome to the exotic and exciting Hawkins, Indiana! I’m Eddie,” He introduced the rest of the gang (Smaller Long Curly Hair Boy was actually named Dustin, and Tall and Lanky Looking Boy was actually named Mike).

“I’m Brooke,” You said after they were done. There was a moment of silence after pleasantries were exchanged and you raised your eyebrows, “Welp…I better get home. Even though it’s only the first day, I have like, 100 pages of reading for English, so…” You jabbed your thumb in the direction of the parking lot, your voice trailing off.

“Right, right. Well, we better go too…” Eddie started, crossing and uncrossing his arms, “Thanks again for saving my butt with my dice back there…and see you around.” He smiled again and the group said their goodbyes, walking away collectively as one organism again. You chuckled watching them leave.

Teenage boys are so fucking weird.

You headed out to the parking lot and got into your car. As you turned the radio up and rolled down your window, you found yourself smiling.

Yeah…maybe the first day wasn’t so bad.

Something about the new girl had thrown Eddie’s head for a minor tailspin.

Sure, he had only talked to her for like, 30 seconds. And sure, it wasn’t flirty by any means. But there was something about her…was it her smile? Or the way her hair was shining in the afternoon sunlight? Or maybe it was, even with such little conversation, Eddie could tell she was really nice – a “kind soul” was what he had heard it described as.

Jesus Christ, he knew this girl for all of two minutes and he was already waxing poetic.

Thankfully, he was able to shake the thoughts of her off as he focused back on the main thing he should be focusing on after the first day of school.

His new Dungeons and Dragons campaign.

Quickly scribbling ideas down, he worked through some new thoughts he had conjured up in third period. Smiling as he did so – he had a feeling Henderson would love the new direction he was taking it – he bobbed his head to the Iron Maiden tape playing in his stereo next to him. Thankful for the new, freshmen recruits he had met earlier in the summer, he hadn’t been so excited for a campaign in a long time – and this Friday, they were going to have their first, official Hellfire meeting of the school year.

“EDDIE,” Wayne screamed over his music, knocking on his door, “PHONE FOR YOU.”

“THANKS.” Eddie replied, not looking up as he shut the music off. He snagged the phone in his room out of its cradle, “Y-ello?”

“So she was really hot, right?” Dustin’s voice rang through the phone and Eddie heard Wayne’s chuckle as he hung up the other phone in the kitchen. Embarrassed, Eddie rolled his eyes, even though Dustin couldn’t see him.

“What?”

“I said, ‘she was really hot, right’?”

“No, Dustin, I heard you, but what the hell are you talking about?”

“The new girl!” Dustin groaned, “The new girl is pretty cute! You know exactly who I’m talking about!”

“Dustin…” Eddie sighed, rubbing his forehead in between his eyebrows, “I don’t even remember her name -”

“Yes, you do.”

Yes, I do.

“Whatever. Point is, who cares?”

“Who cares?! Us…we should care!” Dustin sounded exhausted already, “She’s a new girl – a new, hot, girl – and she was nice to us! On the first day! Do you know what that means?!”

“…no?”

“It means, genius, that we could get our high school credibility up! She doesn’t know that we’re the freaks of the school – yet – and she was nice to us! That combo means that we could have a pretty girl as a friend, thus making us cool!”

“Dustin…” Eddie winced internally at the word “freak”, “I don’t care about my credibility in this dumb town.”

“Well, it’ll make our lives easier! My whole life, I was thrown into lockers because I’m a nerd with new teeth basically every other year…if we have pretty, nice girl as a friend, that could change! We’ll still be nerds -”

“But with a pretty, nice friend?” Eddie finished, basically checking out of the conversation.

“Exactly!” Dustin shouted excited.

“Okay, Henderson, I’m going to hang up the phone now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ugh, okay fine. But just think about it, okay?!”

“Yeah, sure, bye.” Eddie rushed to hang up the phone, the idea of talking any more about Brooke making him sweat a little bit. He sighed, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders, before he turned his stereo on again.

But even with the pen in his hand, and music playing in his room, Eddie still couldn’t concentrate on his campaign, and tried shake the thought of you. He didn’t need to have a “nice, pretty friend” because he truly didn’t care, but it would be nice to have you as a friend.

Or at least, he thought.

Maybe “this will be my year” would take on a whole new meaning now.

---

A/N: thanks so much for reading, y’all! I have Eddie Munson brainrot right now, so even though I have oneshots AND another multi-chapter fic I’m working on, I guess my brain also decided I needed to write this one too lol. As always, your likes, reblogs, and comments mean the world to me, so they’re greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think!

[byuljoonie]

Cozy // Ksj

You hate me, because you want me…

pairing: seokjin x fem!reader

genre: one shot, coworkers to lovers, slice of life, fluff, slow burn, boyfriend material, smut, desperation, fierce seokjin

word count: 6.7k

warnings: size kink, slight age gap, smut, extreme dirty talk, unsafe sẽx (oopsie), spit play, fingers, missionary, stomach bulge (he’s huge), begging, slight exhibitionism (in office), dom!seokjin sub!reader, degradation, dumbification, a little gaslighting, masochism, fake business mumbo jumbo

note: surprise shawty !!! I didn’t know when I was coming back but boom here I am…with the gift of a seokjin smut that I worked hard on for y’all♡. Yes this is another Beyoncé inspired one shot and definitely not the last lol. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes. I hope everyone is doing alright, especially with what’s going on these days. Playlists in bio, masterlist in bio, and have a great week ily! -dubu

You walked into the small coffee shop, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping your nose as you approached the counter. You flashed a warm smile at your favorite barista, Jimin, he was busy preparing drinks.

"Hey, Y/N! How's your day going love?" Jimin asked sweetly. He was writing names on cups near the cash register, preparing them for their awaiting owners. You smiled, happy to hear his cheerful voice on this hectic morning.

"Well, it's my first day at the new job, and I'm feeling a bit anxious,” you said nervously fiddling with the coin pouch in your wallet.

"I wouldn’t be too worried, Y/N. You know how long I could ramble about you. You're going to do an amazing job, just be yourself!"

“Thanks, Jimin. I really needed the pep talk and maybe a shot,” you said teasingly, grabbing your latte from his delicate hand. As you turned to head towards the door, Jimin suddenly stopped you.

"Wait, Y/N, before you go, I have to say that your outfit today is on point. You look fantastic,” Jimin said giving your body another unapologetic once over.

You blushed and thanked him again before continuing your exit. But your attention was momentarily diverted, and you accidentally bumped into a tall and incredibly handsome man, Seokjin. He was staring at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have been more careful. Are you okay?" He asked charmingly.

You froze briefly, bracing yourself as his large hand rested on your waist. "It's okay, I'm fine. And, um, yes, I'm okay. Thank you,” you stuttered out anxiously, skin igniting at his touch.

"You have a captivating smile, beautiful. I hope your day gets better, though I think mine has unexpectedly reached its peak,” he flirted shamelessly. You couldn't help but blush even more, feeling a rush of mixed emotions as you realized you needed to leave.

“I’m sorry I have to go!” You said hurriedly, pushing past the gorgeous stranger. Unfortunately for Seokjin, his quick wit was no match for your hasty fleet. His phone sat idle in his hand, waiting for the entry of your name and number.

Your heels clicked against the pavement, the sound distracting you the entire 20-minute walk to work. The massive HYYH sign greeted you as you approached the tall building. The sleek silver letters glistened in the sunlight.

You sipped the rest of your drink, his face flashing through your mind as the lukewarm liquid made you wince in distaste. You wondered if the coffee shop was a symbol of unrecognized opportunity, maybe he would go back tomorrow.

It was your first time seeing Seokjin, he had the kind of smile that felt like the universe was sharing a secret with you. You set in your mind to frequent the coffee shop until you met again.

As you walked into the building, you were greeted by a towering, skyscraper that seemed to touch the clouds. The lobby was a bustling hub of activity, with professionals in sharp suits and clean attire briskly moving about. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, mingling with the subtle smell of fresh flowers placed strategically around the space.

The gentle hum of conversation and the soft clicking of heels against polished marble floors filled the air. You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and excitement as you took in the sight of the place. The glass walls offered an impressive view of the city skyline and the bustling streets below.

You approached the secretary's desk, where a well-dressed woman with a warm smile was multitasking like a pro. Her computer screen displayed a meticulously organized calendar, while she coolly juggled incoming calls and managed appointments.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves, then stepped forward with a smile. “Good morning, I'm Y/N Y/L/N, the new hire. I'm here to meet Mr. Min, it’s nice to meet you."

“Oh hello, I'm Sara Mr. Min’s secretary. He's been looking forward to your arrival. Just give me a moment to let him know you're here."

You nodded and glanced around at everyone going about their work. You felt a mix of excitement and anticipation.

Sara excused herself, holding up a finger as she made a call. You turned to have a seat across from her desk, your bag lightly tapping your hip as you walked.

“Good Morning! My name is Jung Hoseok and you’ll be shadowing me this morning. I assume you’re Y/N?” He smiled nicely.

You stood up quickly, almost toppling over to the floor. Hoseok let out an airy chuckle, grabbing your hand to help. He wore a black suit, no tie, with a crisp white button-down beneath his pressed blazer.

A colorful Murakami pin sat on his left collar, the shiny gold plating complimenting his tan skin. He towered over you, seeming no taller than 5’10. You shook his hand awkwardly, embarrassed at your primary school behavior.

“Hi, yes I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” You said softly, handing him a homemade muffin neatly wrapped from your bag. “I made a small batch of Blueberry muffins for my colleagues, I hope you’re not allergic,” you said smiling gracefully.

His face lit up with delight. He happily took the muffin from your waiting hands, walking you over to his desk to set it down. He thanked you once more before he began the tour. He briefed you on what a typical day at the office would entail for you.

Your primary responsibility is to enter and organize data into the company's systems. Hoseok provides you with detailed instructions on the specific data formats and procedures the company uses.

Due to your degree in philosophy, you will occasionally take on duties in the office library. This includes cataloging, organizing, and assisting workers in finding relevant resources for their research and projects.

Your new coworkers warmed up to you early, your soft smile and warm eyes captivating everyone. You passed out your muffins as you passed by desks, calmly introducing yourself in contrast to your shaking hands.

Hoseok completes the tour by leading you back to the outside of Mr.Min’s office. “Our boss is Min Yoongi, he inherited the company from his father a few years back. The corporate music world was ready to chew down another young bachelor, but Yoongi was different,” Hoseok said appreciatively.

You were intrigued at the mention of him. “He’s strict when it comes to his work and production, but the environment is so organic his predictions are always right,” Hoseok said gesturing for you to stand near the waiting area.

“The former COO and business partner of Mr.Min is also around today. He stepped down from his stressful position as COO, but Yoongi refused to let him leave the company completely.” Hoseok finished, stumbling over which name he should use to address the boss.

“I would warn you though he’s office eye candy, well alongside me,” Hoseok said cockily, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear like a prince. You giggled at his brazen behavior, loving the interactions so far.

Suddenly a deep laugh rumbled from your boss’s office, footsteps grew closer before the large door swung open. In his well-tailored suit, Yoongi looked sharp and polished. The suit, likely straight from the designer, fit him perfectly, draping smoothly over his slender frame. The color of the suit complimented his complexion.

His hair is parted slightly to the side and falls near his face. The jet-black shade is stylishly arranged. He locked eyes with Hoseok, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Good morning again Mr.Min, your new hire is here. This is Y/N,” Hoseok said lightly, smoothing a hand over his suit front. You approached Yoongi cautiously, trying not to trip over your heels.

“Ah, welcome to the company Y/N, I assume Hoseok has already shown you your duties and you’re ready to work?” Yoongi asked firmly, eyeing you suspiciously. Your hands began to perspire, his intense gaze made you uncomfortable.

He let out a dry laugh, his gummy smile peeking through slightly. Hoseok laughed along with him, urging you to do the same during your first impression. You forced out a soft laugh, almost choking on your saliva.

“Hey if my jokes aren’t funny you don’t have to laugh, but I know they are,” Yoongi stated playfully smirking at you. You let out a visible sigh of relief, finding his dry tone funnier than the joke itself.

“Thank you for the opportunity sir, I look forward to working for you,” you said reaching out to shake his hand. The handshake was firm and secure, his touch lingering on yours.

“Hurry the hell out of my office!” Yoongi said loudly, a few stifled laughs being heard from colleagues in earshot.

“I was tying my shoe, do you want me to trip and break my back Min Yoongi? Damn-“ Seokjin complained as he emerged from the office, locking eyes with you immediately.

You both froze in shock, Seokjin swallowing his sentence before he could finish another thought. You eyed him wearily, drinking in his dominant appearance.

“Yeah, this is Y/N. Today is her first day bird brain.” Yoongi said teasing his taller counterpart. Seokjin studied every ounce of you, staring at the way your skirt hugged your hips. He couldn’t pull his attention away from you, he felt his chest tighten.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir, I hope we can get along well,” you said monotonously, offering a small smile as you shook his large hand.

“Call me Seokjin, see you around,” Seokjin said to you dismissively. You were partially stunned but kept your composure. He turned back to Yoongi engaging in conversation like you’ve faded from existence.

Hoseok excused the two of you from the conversation, walking you over to your new desk by the far side of the office floor, unbeknownst to you right next to Seokjin’s office.

“Alright, this is your desk! It’s honestly the best spot in the office, near the restrooms and out of sight of Yoongi.” Hoseok said while peaking over the cubicles to see Yoongi walking out with Jin.

“He seems great, even Seokjin,” you said lying through your teeth. You felt betrayed by destiny, the handsome stranger you intended on meeting turned out to be a total jerk. Oh and best friends with your new boss!

“Mm yeah, Jin couldn’t take his eyes off of you, weird,” Hoseok said smirking coyly. You squinted your eyes at him, silently threatening him to not get any ideas. He raised his hands in mock surrender, bidding you a farewell to attend to his assignments for the day.

Your first day was going great, you finished your first assignment already, and time seemed to be passing expeditiously. A few of your coworkers stopped by your desk to chat and thank you for the delicious muffins.

Although, to your dismay, Seokjin’s office was in perfect view of your cubicle. You’d tense up anytime you passed each other, his cologne filling your senses. He barely paid you attention, though he’d look annoyed anytime a colleague would stop at your desk to speak.

After lunch Yoongi held a small conference for your division of the company, letting Seokjin highlight the main points of the meeting.

“Ms.Y/L/N, what do you think?” Yoongi asked politely, wanting to hear your honest feedback on Seokjin’s idea.

You chose your words carefully, not wanting to offend him in any way. You agreed with his idea but ultimately determined your way was the better route to take. Yoongi agreed, asking your colleagues if they had any questions.

Seokjin cocked an eyebrow at you, wondering where your sudden confidence to challenge him came from. He began to protest, telling Yoongi to think it over before he proceeded.

“I’ll think about it but don’t be surprised at the results tomorrow Seokjin,” Yoongi said patting Jin on the shoulder and walking out of the conference room.

Your team files out quickly chatting amongst themselves, some even congratulating you on your effort. You picked up your laptop and tea heading towards the door before anyone else could bother you.

“Good job Y/N,” Seokjin said sourly, softening his expression when he noticed how tired you looked. Your anxiety had dissipated as the day went on, but your brief importance in the meeting sent your nerves through the roof.

He hated how reactive you made him, he wiped the sweat from his brow. Staring you down in a trance, he wondered what things could have been if you stayed longer in the coffee shop this morning.

“Thank you, sir,” you said quietly turning back to walk out of the room. A disappointed sigh escaped Seokjin’s lips.

＊＊＊

The office rings with the steady rhythm of keyboards and the soft murmur of hushed conversations. A month has swept by, leaving in its wake the familiar aura of routine, yet within this unchanging space, friendships have blossomed.

As the youngest member of your team, bad jokes and unserious drama have become your daily life. Laughter usually echoes through the office as your colleagues playfully tease you.

However, you’re the one who calls the taxis for everyone and makes sure the tables are in one piece after a night out. Your motherly instincts are a drastic contrast to your underlying needs.

Amidst the chaos, a peculiar dynamic unfurls with Seokjin. A palpable, fiery tension simmers beneath the surface, not so lost on the perceptive eyes of Yoongi and a select few coworkers.

Meetings transform into arenas for silent battles, where staring contests serve as the unspoken language of competition. Projects become a canvas for rivalry, with each of you silently dying for the unspoken title of office princess.

You sat quietly in the library, deciding to stay behind and read on your lunch break. Nobody frequented the library besides you, Hoseok, and another colleague you’ve grown accustomed to, Taehyung.

The dim strip lights presented a low humming sound in the quiet space. The door opened and closed every so often, but you didn’t bother to look up from your novel.

The buzz of your phone pulled you from your haze. You had a message from Yoongi telling you to come to his office immediately. “Why?” You accidentally whine out loud. “Why me?”

You eventually pull yourself out of your chair, forcing a small smile on your face as you make your way to his office. You fixed your outfit in the reflection of a passing window before knocking on Yoongi’s door.

He promptly called you in, telling you to close the door behind you. You notice Seokjin sitting cross-legged in a perfectly fitted Dior suit. The grey color looked deliciously tight on his shoulders.

You could easily handle a meeting with Yoongi, but sitting next to the older man that makes your palms sweat is a different story. You pulled your skirt down a final time before sitting in the chair furthest from Jin. The both of you now facing Yoongi and his ceiling-to-floor windows.

“I’m sorry sir but may I ask why he’s here?” You say hesitantly, perspiring palms opposing your challenging question. Seokjin scoffed at your starting words.

“Believe me I’m just as confused as you sweetheart,” Seokjin said bitterly, grabbing a pen from his suit pocket to twirl in his nibble fingers. You narrowed your eyes at him, turning your attention back to a smirking Yoongi.

“Well, as you know Y/N there’s a new position opening and I know a few people are interested. I’ve been thinking of ways to go about filling the leadership position. You do seem to be qualified, but so is Mr.Kim.” Yoongi said trailing off his sentence, waiting for your reaction.

You sat there bamboozled, why would Seokjin go after the job when he already has a high-paying leadership position? You try to push the thoughts away, but you can’t help but think he was trying to outdo you.

“I‘ve decided to give you a project, but unfortunately for you two, you’ll be working on it together. That way I can determine who will get the leadership position. Disperse the roles yourself and try not to hurt each other.” Yoongi said cheerfully handing you both a thick, crème colored folder.

Your blood runs cold, and you begin to shift uncomfortably in your chair. “Sir, with all due respect, I think it would be best if we work separately. That way we can both prove our best efforts without stepping on each other's toes,” you said gritting your teeth firmly.

Seokjin sat quietly, Yoongi’s gaze unmoved by your attempts to sway him. He shook his head and muttered a “nonsense,” in your direction.

“Y/N clearly doesn’t want to work with me, she’s not a team player. I’d say I’m fit for the role Min.” Seokjin said smugly, piercing the dense air.

You shoot dangers in his direction, anger seething behind your once warm eyes. Yoongi cleared his throat, apprehensively looking between you both.

You took a deep breath and counted to 5 in your head. Your mild ego got the best of you, you refused to let the handsome asshole win.

“You know what, I’ll do it. I just think it’ll look bad on Mr.Kim’s part when I undoubtedly get the position,” you say letting out a benevolent sigh. Flipping through the folder in your manicured hands.

“That’s the attitude I like to see, good luck to you both,” Yoongi said dismissing you from his office.

You leave the office first, waiting behind to talk to Seokjin. He emerged from Yoongi’s office momentarily after you. He tensed at your presence, ready to rebuttal the words you had aimed at him.

“I’ll meet you near your office after work to exchange information, I have to go back to work in the library,” you said kindly, staring up into his brown eyes. He nodded in agreement, walking away without a word.

＊＊＊

You stood by your desk, waiting for Seokjin to leave his office for the evening. You were usually the last two in the building besides the friendly security officer Jungkook. He was around your age, boyish, and beyond strong.

He would walk you to the door at the end of every shift, comfortable silence filling the space between the two of you. You told him you’d be staying later tonight to work on something.

Seokjin’s door creaks open slightly, the light flickering off before his tall frame emerges from the shadows. He looked gorgeous, even tiredness looked good on him.

“Sorry if I took too long, I had to make some calls.” He said walking up to you with a few long strides. You unconsciously stumbled back until your ass touch the corner of your desk. He smirked at you knowingly.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asks, a small chuckle slipping from his pink lips. He reached into his pocket, presenting his open phone to you and cocking his head to the side.

“You gonna put your number in?” He said coolly, presenting his other hand awaiting your phone. You didn’t speak, afraid of how weak you’d sound at the moment.

You bite your bottom lip, covering the once-forming pout. You grabbed his phone and quickly put your number and full name in.

“Why so professional, princess? I thought our reign as quiet enemies was over since we’re partners now.” He said, a faux pout playing on his lips. You took your phone back laughing at the name he entered for himself.

“Mr.Handsome?” You questioned immediately, throwing your phone into your handbag. You shook your head at him, loving the lines near his smiling eyes.

“I think Hoseok would take offense to that. He said he’s office eye candy.” You said smirking up at Jin. He laughed loudly, filling the quiet office floor.

“Oh we’ll see about that,” he said rolling his eyes and putting his phone away. “Alright I’ll leave you alone, you want me to walk you down?” He asked politely, shocking you slightly.

“No it’s okay, I think I can manage. I’ll call a taxi right now since it’s too late to walk home.” You said pulling your phone out to call a cab.

“A taxi at this time of night? That’s dangerous, I’ll give you a ride home.” Seokjin said, staring down at you softly.

You nod and murmur a quick thank you. You trailed him as he called you with a soft “come on.” His long legs were no match for your slow walking. He turned around and waited for you to catch up to him, presenting his arm to you.

You latched on nervously, swallowing down a whimper at the feel of his muscles. The walk to the car was short, he had a special parking spot for his car near the elevators. The lights were red and the engine roaring as he walked around to open the door for you.

“Thank you, sir,” you said getting in so he could close the door. You heard him laugh as he walked around to get in his vehicle.

“Call me Jin, Y/N. I don’t bite unless you want me to.” He said winking at you and then pulling out of the parking garage.

“Are you flirting with me, Seokjin?” You asked playfully, telling him where you lived. He hummed, glancing over at you for a second.

The ride to your place was quiet but tense. You both kept secretly looking at each other, praying the other would say something first. The moonlight shined through the windows, illuminating his dewy skin.

“We’re here, Y/N.” He says staring at you intensely. You didn’t notice because of your obvious staring at him.

“Oh, thank you again Seokjin.” You said nervously, “I’ll contact you tomorrow for the assignment.” Before he could say anything else, you made your way inside your apartment building.

The next morning you wake up to a text from Seokjin. The message entails his suggestions for working together.

You planned to meet the following weekend at his place. Working separately and then coming together to mend the final results.

You spent the next week working vigorously to come out on top. You find yourself entangled in a web of conflicting emotions, grappling with the frustration of your lingering crush on Seokjin.

The week unfolds with a constant replay of his past insufferable behavior, each memory stoking the flames of anger within.

Questions swirl in your mind: Why is he suddenly trying to befriend you? Is it a ploy to manipulate the joint project? The uncertainty of his motives adds a layer of complexity to your thoughts.

You search through your clothes, silently cursing yourself for not doing laundry sooner. You had to settle on a thong that easily showed on your hips in your joggers.

An oversized black T-shirt is the only shirt available too. You prayed you didn’t look too casual for your work date. You called a cab to Seokjin’s place, grabbing your coat before running to your elevator.

The drive to his place was shorter than expected. He stayed 15 minutes from you, in a taller modern high-rise.

You tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, but the closer you got to his door the more they persisted.

You knocked firmly, lifting your bag over your shoulder, not realizing it’s pulled your shirt up. Exposing your hip and panties peaking over your pants.

The door swung open a few minutes later, and a very handsome seokjin standing at attention with a warm smile.

He takes in your appearance, eyes widening at how beautiful you look. It took him a few seconds to finally meet your gaze again.

“Hi, princess come in.” He says motioning for you to walk in.

“Princess?” You question breathlessly, taking your shoes off upon entry to his apartment.

“Sorry, you look beautiful today. Couldn’t help myself.” He admits, guiding you over to his comfortable couch.

“Hmm, I like your place. It’s gorgeous.�� You say switching the subject calmly.

“Thank you, I like classy but cute things.” He grabs his laptop from the coffee table, typing in a password to gain access.

“Let’s get started?” He asked nicely. Noticeably scooting closer to you on the couch. You nod in agreement ready to work and ignore your increasing heartbeat.

As you find yourself working together, observing the once confident demeanor now replaced by a sense of shared vulnerability, a silent revelation dawns upon you.

Seokjin heard your stomach growl and suggested he buy you guys lunch. You clapped happily at the thought of food causing Seokjin to smile at you.

“I’ve wanted to eat at this place for weeks. Now I’ve finally got a good reason!” He said excitedly placing your orders on his phone.

“It seems that I’m the reason for a lot of your happiness this week,” you say teasingly, poking at his cheek.

He tenses for a second, hoping you won’t notice his momentary lapse of judgment. You felt the shift in his demeanor and decided to back off.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come sit closer to me.” He said, patting the space next to him. You moved back next to him, staring down at your lap.

“Did I say something wrong, Jin?” You asked nervously. Glancing at him as he never moved his eyes from you.

“No, no of course not. Sometimes I just get nervous around you, Y/N.” He confessed truthfully. “Yes even at my age.” He playfully smiled at you, causing you to laugh.

“You’re only like 5 years my senior, but why are you nervous around me?” You asked confused, moving closer to him.

“Because you’re beautiful.” He crooned, closing the last gap between you on the couch.

“Jin, I-“Before you could finish your sentence a knock was heard on the door. The food had arrived.

The subtle shifts in his behavior, the intense stares, the conflicting emotions – it all aligns. Seokjin's suffering alongside you hints at something deeper.

Could it be that he harbors feelings for you, perhaps even more intense than your own? The realization unfolds within your mind, casting a new light on the complexities of your relationship and prompting a wave of thoughts.

You and Seokjin ate at his dining table, casual conversation flowing around. He told dad jokes that were beyond bad, but your sides hurt with laughter.

You finished your work quickly after lunch, ecstatic that you completed the project a few days before the deadline.

As you pack up, Seokjin surprises you by insisting on driving you home. The car ride is a mix of comfort and tension, his intense gaze leaving you both on edge.

In his eyes, there's a subtle shift, a hint of something more than annoyance—lust, perhaps? As you reach your destination, you hastily thank him, excusing yourself before your emotions escalate.

Once inside, you send a quick text expressing gratitude, hinting at a future meeting at the office. Seokjin's response is unexpectedly cool, almost as if he's retracted the emotions that briefly surfaced. You went to bed confused and slightly hurt at his reaction.

Presentation day arrives, and both of you excel. However, Seokjin abruptly leaves the office right after, claiming illness. You went on with your day, spending it mostly in the library. Trying to distract yourself from your probing thoughts.

The following day, he arrives late, a difference from his usual punctuality. To your surprise, Yoongi announces that you and Seokjin will share the lead position.

Nerves hang intensely between you and Seokjin. He mostly hides in his office, only emerging briefly, not even sparing you his once-secret glances. The atmosphere is charged, and the not-so-secret glances now make the air thick with unspoken emotions.

Despite the festive atmosphere, your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Seokjin, the way he smiled, his laugh, everything about him.

Hoseok approached you with a mischievous grin. "Why so serious? It's YOUR party, Y/N! You need to loosen up a bit." He handed you a drink, urging you to take a sip.

The warmth of the liquid courage spread through you, emboldening your resolve. Feeling a surge of determination, you decided to act on your feelings for Seokjin. The office felt like a maze as you navigated through the lively crowd, making your way to the stairwell.

Two flights up, you stumbled slightly but pressed on. You couldn’t take the elevator you didn’t need any distractions. The door to Seokjin's office stood before you, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself. Knocking lightly, you entered, finding him engrossed in his work.

“Y/N? Are you okay princess?” He questioned, turning off his computer and giving you his undivided attention.

"Seokjin," you began, your words slightly slurred. "I've been thinking...can we talk?” You asked finally, the nickname sending a chill down your spine.

He eyes you inquisitively before agreeing. He stands up to pull out the chair across from his desk, motioning for you to have a seat. You walk forward slowly loving the way his eyes follow your every movement.

In the dress you once hated to admit you wore for him, you felt beautiful in your tipsy state. Seokjin takes a few steps back, leaning on his desk. He crossed his legs pulling up his white button-down sleeves over his taut arms.

He coughs suddenly, raising an eyebrow at you for ogling him so freely.

“Well, um we worked great together on the assignment,” you began nervously.

As you delve into the details of the successful project collaboration, you pay close attention to his expressions. Seokjin, maintaining a professional demeanor, acknowledges your points but insists it was purely professional.

Frustration seeps through as you scoff at his denial, sensing the unspoken tension beneath the surface. Slowly, you rise from your chair, your eyes locked onto his, his bulge inches from your face for a few seconds too long.

A silent challenge was exchanged in the room. The towering presence of Seokjin adds an extra layer of intensity to the confrontation as you refuse to back down, daring him to acknowledge the unspoken truth that lingers between you two.

“Don’t lie to yourself, Jinnie. You hate me because you want me.” You say placing a hand on his chest, testing him.

Seokjin, a mix of shock and curiosity in his expression, puts his hand on your waist. "I want you?” He says staring down at you darkly.

He placed his hand under your chin, licking his lips in devilish delight. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N. The thought of you in my arms drives me wild. You feel this, baby?” He cooed, and he guided your hand down his body. Stopping your hand over his hardening cock.

“You see how you make me feel, hmm?” He began lowly, “You were all talking a minute ago, what happened?” He asked pressing his lips to your cheek.

You felt like putty in his hands, his warm breath fanning over your glowing skin. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, you swallowed a whimper in response.

“Please, sir,” you whispered pathetically. You squirm in his strong grip, clenching around nothing.

He pulled away from you looking down at you. “Use. Your. Words. Princess.” He said punctuating every word by pulling your face closer to his, leaving you mere inches apart.

“Want you to touch me please, Jin.” You begged breathing becoming erratic.

“Good girl,” he said, pulling you in for a long-awaited kiss. His pillow-soft lips felt like heaven. You moaned into the kiss, pushing up on the tips of your toes to deepen the kiss.

He turned you around, pushing your back against the desk. He leaned down putting all of his weight on you.

“Before we go any further, I want you to know I can’t control myself any longer Y/N. I can’t be decent, I’ve needed you far too long.” He confessed breathlessly.

“Well don’t be decent, sir.” You said tugging him by his collar to pull him into another passionate kiss.

You feel his hand sneak beneath your dress, searching for your panties. His fingers hover over your core, pulling away from your kiss.

“No panties? Such a dirty slut” He growls placing his hands on your hips and hoisting you up onto his large desk. He pushed you down, pulling your dress up to expose your already wet pussy to the cold office air.

You nod and mutter a quiet “just for you.”

He taps on your lips with his index and pointer fingering, humming at you to open up. You do as you’re told, parting your lips for him without hesitation.

“You’re so perfect for me, pretty girl. Got such a pretty pussy,” he said bracing his other hand beside your exposed hips.

He smiled down at you sweetly, pulling his fingers from your mouth and depositing them into his mouth.

“There’s not a single part of you that I wouldn’t taste, I’m gonna ruin you,” he murmurs around his fingers.

He unbuckled his belt in one swift motion, pulling his cock out in desperation. You looked at him in shock, his size making you grow afraid. You’ve had big, but never this girth.

He pumped himself slowly, moaning at the tight grip he had on his cock. The head was pink and leaking, you looked down the length of your body, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Can’t wait to stretch this tight cunt,” he said rubbing his palm along your pussy. “wanna make you limp to the car, baby.”

You whined at his touch, anticipation building as he runs his tip through your folds, then along your crying slit.

“Fuck—Jin,” you groaned out, enjoying the delicious pain of his tip probing your slit. He pushed your legs apart further.

“You’re so big, can’t take it,” you choked out pathetically, almost screaming as he slowly pushed into you.

“Gonna make you take it,” he grunts, stilling when he’s halfway inside you.

“Just breathe, princess. You’re being so good for me.” He groans into your neck, leaving sloppy wet love bites behind.

You wrap your arms around his neck, breathing heavily as he finally fills you up. You feel his hand sneaking its way down your body, rubbing small circles on your clit.

You clench around him in response, legs starting to ache as he weighs down on you.

“That’s it, hold on baby,” he croons, still not moving.

“P-please, Jinnie. Need you to fuck me so bad” you cry into his neck.

He lifts himself slightly, looking down to take in your thoroughly wrecked appearance. He groans at the sight before him.

“Fuck- you’re so tight,” he moans quietly trying to keep his composure. “We have to be quiet, baby. Don’t want you to lose your job now do we?” He asks smirking at you.

“Don’t care, just need you to move please,” you say breathlessly.

He pulls his hips back, not giving you a chance to react before he snaps forward again. Watching your face as he fills you up.

Your back arches off the desk, wet noises and grunts filling his office space as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Been wanting to defile you for so long. Need to fuck the brat out of you darling” he groans, desperate to feel you around him with every thrust.

“Look at you, so small and precious,” he moans in your ear. “You like taking my cock like this, hmm?” He coos, leaving a kiss on your earlobe before he rams back into you.

The desk shakes vigorously, your hips stuttering upwards as he presses down on your tummy. He growls at the feeling, loving how you trust him enough to let him invade you in such a professional setting.

“Gonna cum-fuck jinnie,” you moan loudly, a whimper slipping from his lips as you constrict around him.

He slows his pace, still fucking you roughly as tears begin to fall from your eyes.

“Such a good girl, cum for me princess” his hand slips down your front, rubbing your clit sloppily.

With a song of his name slipping from your lips, you feel your orgasm rip through you. Pussy pulsing around his cock continuously.

He moans loudly, feeling your cum coat his cock. He places a hand on both of your hips, squeezing as he fucks into you.

His eyes squeeze shut in pleasure, hips moving in a broken rhythm as he comes undone. He opens his eyes momentarily to watch your face as hot strips of his cum fill you.

“Fuck—you look sinful right now, Y/N.” He groans, hands leaving behind bruises as he squeezes your hips.

You feel his cum leaking from you as he fucks sloppily into your ruined cunt. Breathing heavily before he finally stops moving.

You shiver when he leaves you empty, feeling dirty as you lay on his desk. His work is completely forgotten, papers crumbled under your bodies and some even tossed to the floor.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling.” He whispers, leaving a kiss on your lips. You wriggle beneath him, giggling into the kiss before pushing him away.

“We should go home..” you say pushing your dress down, your tipsy state completely dissipated. He nods in agreement, grabbing his handkerchief from his pocket to help clean you both up.

“Trying to take me home already? I want dinner first” he teases as he picks you up from his desk. Letting you hang on to him to steady yourself.

You laughed into his chest, wincing as you walked over to fix your reflection in his mirror.

“I’m sorry, princess. Was I too rough?” He asked concernedly, rushing over to hold you up by the waist.

“I’m perfect, Jinnie.” You said leaning into his touch, staring at your reflections in the mirror.

As you and Seokjin stealthily exit his office, trying to keep your composure, you inadvertently collide with two of your perceptive coworkers, Lisa and Taehyung.

They exchange knowing glances as you nervously explain, "Oh, hey! We were just leaving, I don’t feel good. I think I drank too much.”

Lisa smirks and teases, "You don’t feel good, huh? Seokjin offering to take you home seems awful NICE of him." Taehyung joins in, saying, "Yeah, we've seen the way you two look at each other. Just spill it already!"

You chuckle awkwardly, attempting to downplay the situation. "Nah, it's nothing like that. I'm just feeling a bit under the weather, and Seokjin insisted on being a good colleague, offering me a ride home."

Lisa raises an eyebrow, her expression saying she's not entirely convinced. "Sure, sure. Well, take care, both of you," she says with a sly grin, and they continue on their way.

Once out of earshot, Seokjin laughs opening the door to his sleek car, a low hum of the engine filling the air. You slide into the passenger seat, exchanging a glance with him.

“So much for being inconspicuous, huh?” He asks playfully, resting his large hand on your thigh as he turns into your building's parking lot.

“I blame you for just standing smugly behind me. Where’s your COO attitude?” You say laughing at his remarks.

“Hey! I’m an ex-COO. I’m merely an office worker infatuated with my junior.” Seokjin admits casually, stepping out of the vehicle to open the door for you.

Your heart fluttered at his words, a small smile now gracing your lips. The walk to your apartment is shortened due to your in-unit elevator.

You place your things down telling Seokjin to follow you to the room. You welcome him to get comfortable on your bed while you shower.

“Can’t I join you, beautiful?” He asks pulling you down onto his lap. You smile up at the older man, nodding in response.

“You know, Y/N.” He started lovingly, “I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I’ve wanted you for so long. The first night you stayed at my place, I already knew I wanted you to be mine.” He confessed to you.

“I would sit in the library on my breaks, just to spend quiet time with you. Mostly sneaking glances at you while you sat cutely absorbed in whatever novel you’re reading.”

“May I take you on a proper date, darling?” He questioned smoothly, running a hand down your cheek.

“Yes, if you promise to be mine.”

[agirlwithdemonblood]

The Celebrity Next Door: Chapter 5 - Crossroads of Feelings

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Chapter Summary: A little drinking and bonding has never hurt anyone right... Right?

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

It's been two weeks since I went to Jensen's for coffee, and since then, we've been growing closer. We meet up every few days for coffee and casual conversations about anything and everything, and the chemistry was defiantly building, with long gazes and subtle touches every so often, it felt like a slow burn.

I often spot Jensen walking down the street with his kids, and when he sees me, he waves, and I wave back. It was nice seeing him out and about, looking lighter and happier than when I first met him. It's all very neighbourly. Katie, his daughter, sometimes stops by when I'm checking the mail just to say hello. These small interactions have become a regular part of my routine.

But over the past few days, I've noticed less of Jensen. He'd wave when he saw me outside, but once he was back indoors, it felt like he vanished.

Well, not from my mind. Thoughts of him seemed to occupy my every moment, replaying his words and the way he said my name. It was frustrating because I found myself missing him. I didn't like being home without his presence nearby.

I started lingering longer at the office, arriving at 7:00 am and leaving at 6:00 pm. Even at home, I fought to keep myself busy with calls and contracts, trying to distract myself, to not depend on him, but nothing seemed enough.

I hated the affect he had on me already.

Today flew by faster than I wanted, and before I knew it, I was driving back to my quiet house as I did every evening. As much as I was starting to love my new life in LA, I missed having friends. I missed having people to talk to, to laugh with. Making friends here felt near impossible to me, and I didn't know where to begin.

Pulling into the driveway, I froze when I saw Jensen sitting on my porch, a bottle of wine in hand. What a nice surprise.

I smiled and stepped out of my car, making my way towards him. When he saw me, he stood up and greeted me warmly. "Y/N.. Any chance you'd like to have a drink?"

I laughed and nodded, moving to unlock my door and invite him inside. He looked around the house with genuine interest, as if he's never seen a house before, which warmed my heart.

"Wow, this place is beautiful." he commented.

I chuckled and shook my head at his compliment. "Jensen, you don't have to be polite. Compared to your house, this is just an apartment."

He shrugged with a smile. "Maybe, but mine doesn't feel like home. It's just walls and windows. Yours, though, it has this Y/N vibe all around."

"A Y/N vibe?" I repeated, amused. "I like that."

Grabbing the wine glasses, I returned to Jensen, noticing him studying a photograph on my wall. "This is cute. Who are all these people?"

I moved closer, the way his breathing hitched making me smile, "That's my dad, my mom, my sister Christina, and my other sister Stephanie, and of course me in the middle."

He smiled widely and nodded, "What a beautiful family."

Though it was a simple compliment, it meant the world to me. The word beautiful has never really been used to describe me, or my life.

"Thank you, Jensen. I haven't talked to them much since moving here, so it's been tough. But this picture always brings a smile to my face."

He frowned slightly, sipping his wine as he took another glance at the photo. "Why don't you visit them? Or have a housewarming party and invite them here?"

I laughed sadly as we moved to the couch, Jensen sitting beside me. "My parents aren't in the best financial situation so taking a flight would be hard on them, plus driving is like 41 hours so that's out."

His expression softened, eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that surprised me.

"My dad does odd jobs like painting and electric work," I explained, "My mom works at a local diner. They manage, but money's always tight. Even though their divorced, they still live together because neither one of them can move out. That's partly why I moved here, hoping to send them money to help out each month."

His expression was different than I've seen before, his eyes filled with admiration and tenderness, his usual charm replaced by a heartfelt sincerity that caught me off guard.

He was silent, and I started to feel like I said something wrong. I quickly gulped the rest of my drink and stood up from my spot, "I'm sorry, that was probably too much information. I didn't mean to turn this into a pity party."

His hand gently gripped mine, shaking himself out of his trance. "No, not at all. It's just... surprising to hear is all."

"Why?" I questioned, sitting back down beside him.

His hand remained on my arm, gaze locked on mine. "You're different from people around here. Kind, generous. I feel like people here are constantly expecting things; but you give. Like when you came to my place about Katie and the broken window, I half expected you to dance home thinking about a huge payday. That's how people usually are."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "I hate that. My parents never asked for money, and neither have I. When my window broke, I went straight to my boss to make sure you wouldn't have to pay."

He smirked, squeezing my hand. "Was it covered, though? You said it was."

I bit my lip nervously as my gaze dropped, "Doesn't really matter, right? It's fixed."

"Please tell me?" He asked softly.

I sighed and brought my gaze to his, smiling nervously. "It wasn't fully covered, actually. To file a claim, I needed your information. But I didn't know if many people knew you lived here, and I didn't want to expose you over a broken window."

Confusion flickered across Jensen's face as he looked down, his hand still holding mine. "But you didn't even know me. Why protect me, put me ahead of yourself?"

"It didn't matter who you were." I replied softly. "I wouldn't have asked for money. I only came to your house to make sure Katie got home safely; everything else was a surprise."

He froze, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of passion and affection, his gaze drifting to my lips. His hand slowly moved to my cheek, causing my breath to hitch. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine, hands tangled in my hair.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer as we lost ourselves in each other. His knee moved between my legs and I shivered. He groaned against my lips when I scratched his back.

It felt like we were falling apart together, all our defences crumbling around us. We breathed each other in, falling into each other.

But then everything changed.

He pulled away from me unexpectedly, his expression filled with shock and fear as he looked down at me. "Shit, I... I'm sorry." he whispered.

Confusion and hurt blended in my chest. "You don't need to apologize."

He stood quickly, helping me to my feet and moving towards the door with regret in his eyes. "That wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't want that to happen."

His words hit me like a slap in the face, my heart sinking into my stomach, breath catching in my throat. "Oh... right. It was a mistake."

He halted, guilt engraved on his face. "Oh... no, Y/N, that's not—"

Forcing a smile, I opened the door for him, holding back tears threatening to spill over. "It's okay, Jensen. I should go to bed anyway. Have a good night, okay?"

He froze, shame evident on his face, trying to meet my eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

I felt embarrassed for assuming we were on the same page, that there was something between us. Now, I was left with a broken heart and a bruised ego, wondering how I could ever face him after this.

Jensen walked away from Y/N's house with a knot of anxiety in his stomach. Guilt weighed heavily on him as he replayed the evening in his mind. He cared about her deeply, but it wasn't supposed to happen like that. He wanted to kick himself for not handing the situation better, for hurting someone who had been nothing but kind to him.

Back home, he paced the living room, unable to shake the feeling of regret. He knew he had hurt her, and the thought pained him. Y/N was special to him, different from anyone he had met since his divorce. She was genuine, caring and he felt a connection he hadn't felt in a very long time. Yet, that very connection scared him.

He ran his hand through his hair, and sighed. He couldn't stop thinking about her, her warmth, her smile, and the way she had opened up with him in a way that nobody had since his life became a whirlwind of schedules and public apperances.

He grabbed his phone several times, fingers hovering over her contacting, wanting desperately to reach out and apologize, but each time, he hesitated, unsure of what to say or if she even wanted to hear from him.

As he got into bed, he made the decision to give her some time and than make things right. He wanted to explain everything, apologize for how he handled the situation and for hurting her, hoping that when he did, she would understand but the fear of losing her was anxiety inducing, he didn't want to lose the one person who made him feel alive again.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 6 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[final-bae-stination]

Thunder And The Rain (Ian McKinley)

Prompt: The reader is scared of the thunder and Ian tries to calm them down during a particularly heavy storm.

Author's Note: This does kind of go WAY out of the "Final Destination" universe, because I like to think, even though it was proven different, they could've beat Death at the end, and Wendy, Kevin, Julie, and Ian survived, so...we're going with that.

Third Person POV Ian hated life, or what passed for it. Somehow, Wendy did it. She beat Death, and in three years, nothing's happened to him, Wendy, Julie, or Kevin. Sure, they were all still extremely paranoid, but who wasn't anymore, after the shit they'd lived through, but barely? The truth was, he missed Erin, but Y/N took care of that.

After he left Build It after Erin's death, he'd been struggling for a job. Nothing seemed interesting. And then, surprisingly, he found one: the pound. He liked animals more than people, that was a fact. Sure, he tolerated Wendy and the others, but it wasn't a necessary kind of like. And, of course, he still hated Wendy for killing Erin (though he was sure that part was fading a little--he literally went shopping with her two weeks ago). He liked to work at the pound, which doubled as an animal rescue and vet clinic. And then he met you.

You were there, just starting a week after him, and he saw immediately that you were drawn to (favorite animal). He could see it: they were cute. Hard to resist. Made sense. What didn't make sense was you talking. To him. A lot. Alone, too. Like, okay, he knew he looked weird, all Gothic and whatnot, and that he was...weird, sure. But you didn't seem to notice that. You talked to him like a normal person, and try as he might not to, he liked that. You didn't treat him differently because he was different.

It was very, very slow, but you both started catching feelings, he'd asked you out, and one thing led to here: you, on your sofa in you and Ian's apartment, watching TV. You and Ian had gotten together four months ago, and he'd finally opened up, telling you everything, from his past to Erin, and things in between, the trauma dumping: the roller coaster accident, the near death experiences, losing Erin, watching the others die, the whole Death thing. You never once doubted he was serious or anything but crazy, because he had a look on his face, talking about it, that wasn't fake.

Now, you've not told him a lot, either, particularly your fear of storms, especially thunder. You felt it was childish, even though there were a million adults with the same fear. It's just...Ian seemed so fearless after everything, and you wanted to be that way for him, so you never told him your fears (you did admit spiders and snakes scared you, though).

As you're watching TV (Ian was at work), you heard the rain, and then the ominous rumble. You tensed, hand on the remote. Another boom, slow and heavy. Shit, you thought. Please not now, Ian's almost home! But the storm, obviously, did not listen, increasing the peals of thunder until you were shivering under your blanket, trying to turn the TV up to block it out. But then the lights flickered, and went out. You gasped, feeling panic clawing its way up your throat, through your veins. Is this how he felt? You ask yourself randomly. Is this what Ian felt, wondering when he'd die, and what from, and how? You shook your head. In the dark, that wasn't helping. Something slammed, and you jumped, heart pounding. You wanted to call out but were too scared. You flinched as thunder roared, lightning shooting across the sky.

"Babe?" A voice calls, and oh, you wanted to start bawling in relief. He finds you on the couch, under your blanket, shaking. "Shit, babe, what's wrong?!" He throws his coat, not even glancing at where it lands, and rushes over, kneeling at your side on the floor. "Babe. Hey." He says, his fingers under your chin as you hide. "Baby, what's wrong?" "It's nothing." You try to say, but he's not having it. Before he can speak, thunder booms, and you squeal, throwing yourself in his arms. He barely catches you, letting out a soft "oof" as he holds you in his lap, feeling you shake. "Baby...is it the thunder?" He asks, and your silence confirms it. "Oh, babe." He breathes, rubbing your back with one hand, the other in your hair.

"I know, it's dumb," You whisper into his red shirt. "No, no, it's not dumb, baby." He says soothingly. "There's a fuck ton of people that're scared, too." He tries to assure. You shake your head, "I feel like a child." You whine. He chuckles, "Well, that's why I'm here. 'Cuz I can protect you, right?" A pause. "Right. I love you, Ian." His breath catches. That was the first time you'd said that. "I love you, Y/N." He whispers. "Why don't we go to bed, yeah? I can throw on a movie or something on my computer." "I'd like that," You blush, and he carries you to the room, setting you on the bed. You pick out The Avengers, and you both curl up to watch it. Here and there, one of the peals of thunder makes you flinch, but with Ian beside you, it's really not that bad.

[autisticpombo]

Ouzziy fic recs OFMD

Yesterday was share your fav fics day over at adopt our flag. So here are my favorite ouizzy fics (most are slow burns) in two main categories:

1. A harmless and fun time; All of these are comedies or just cute. Full of pranks and entertaining silly plots.

Two Truths And...-M After Izzy and Frenchie both start messing with the captain the whole crew competes in making Stede believe the most absurd mythical sea creatures and myths they can.

Laughed my ass off with this one and the slow burn is just right.

A Man After Midnight-M Izzy is a hitman getting tired of his job after his partner's mysterious disappearance. Frenchie is a thief that won't leave him alone.

Lots of fun crime cliches and flirting in this one. They got Izzy's grumpy energy and Frenchie's silliness perfectly. There is a bit of angst and it ends on a cliff hanger but still a fun ride.

Warnings from the Bottom of My Heart- M Izzy and Frenchie a newly formed loving relationship. But as the rest of the crew find out Izzy quickly realizes he'll have to have a 'talk' with Frenchie's friends.

This one is not a slow burn both Izzy and Frenchie are in a relationship, the absurdity comes from the various 'talks' Izzy has with the crew about Frenchie. I found myself getting excited to read who Iz would be threatened by chapter after chapter. A fun take on a lot of the crew.

A Date To The Future-T Frenchie and Izzy are dating Iz just hasn't realized it yet.

This one is adorable, with plenty of cute moments and flustered Izzy. And there is also a fun take on what Izzy would be like as a captain after the crew splits. (No kraken era but still a bit of angst)

2. Fics that changed my life; finally we have the fics that release dates became my new favorite days of the week and started up past 1 am reading

In the myre of who we were- M Frenchie doesn't know how long this can last. Sooner or later Blackbread is going to get them all killed. He'll need to figure out a way out with Jim and who else he can.

Before season 2 take, beautifully done. Still haven't been able to find another fic that shows Ed's kraken era mood swings so accurately. Frenchie and Izzy's relationship is complex. Frenchie believes all the crew of the revenge are dead so he hates Izzy. Yet they still become close in a lovely slow burn. Not to mention a wonderfully silly yet possible take on captain Stede.

Open Water-M "Frenchie has been having dreams his whole life. They're hazy and indistinct, but the clearest ones are of death. He takes comfort in them, in knowing pieces of what's to come, and having forewarning to try and stop the worst of it.

But then, in the midst of his life becoming a nightmare, he starts dreaming the death of the person he blames for it all. But he's given a glimpse of that man's humanity, and faces a problem. Every time he stops the death he dreams, it's followed by a new version.

Why can't he stop Izzy Hands from dying?"

Yep Frenchie can see the future in this one. This fic blew my mind. With its unique premise creating so many interesting interactions not to mention a whole other level of tension. My favorite part of this fic is its world building and background for Frenchie. With every chapter starting with a moment from the past before the Revenge.

Lycidas-E If you haven't read this yet DO. Izzy is embraced by the whole crew during this fics kraken era. They all bond in a unique and interesting way. Their take on Frenchie is still one of my favs. The happy ending tag isn't a lie it's beautiful but my god do they make you sweat. The tension is so thick in this fic Roach could carve it out of the air and make a three layer wedding cake out of it!

Trigger warning: toxic Edizzy and the bloody life of a pirate (the explicit scene is in one of the final chapters and is easy to skip if that's not your thing)

#i have so many more #if people like this post I'll add my fav modern UA takes on ouizzy #the brain rot is real #ouizzy brain rot

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - fifty-seven | good point

You looked at the changes Hongjoong made to the Google Calendar as you came into work, waving hello to Mina quickly as you walked. Because Doyun had turned out to be both a problem and a creep, you were going to be out of the studio a lot in the next week; which you hated because you were going to miss out on valuable recording studio knowledge that you’d have to wait for another time to get. Instead, you were going to be coming in sometimes on the weekends, so you could work on the transcription, since your job wasn’t exactly 9-5. . Motherfucking Lee Doyun. At the very least, you were going to be around for the next round of Jongho’s recording sessions, so that was going to be fun.

But there was something that bothered you: you wondered if you should have thanked Yunho for what he did when Doyun tried to get you in the recording booth with him. He really didn’t have to do that. He’s not even an employee of the studio itself and Maddox could have done it, but Yunho reacted so quickly. The Yunho you knew as a kid was like that too, always ready to help anyone in a tough situation. He had sprung to your defense multiple times, gallant but funny at the same time… but you weren’t friends now and you weren’t even being nice to him.

You supposed you could at least thank him.

As you exited the elevator, you almost walked into someone: Yunho.

Speak of the tiger and he shall appear. 

“Ah! Sorry!” He reacted, and tried to see if you were okay but at the same time not touching you.

“I’m fine.”

Your eyes darted to him as you both stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“Um…”

He looked at you. “I’m sorry--”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“I-- am I in your way?” He wasn’t taking up that much space in the hallway, but he moved just the same so you could walk past him.

“What? No. I wanted to thank you for helping me with Doyun.”

“Oh… I--”

“I know that you’re the kind of person who’d do that for anyone, but I wanted to thank you just the same.”

He looked at you for a moment and smiled a small smile. “Yeah, I’d do that for anyone. You know me.”

You stood in silence for a few moments.

“I wanted to thank you while I could since Hongjoong is changing my schedule so I won’t be around him.” You nodded. “Let’s get into the studio.” You moved to walk there.

“Did--” He started.

You stopped and turned to face him.

“Is that all Hongjoong is doing about it? Changing your schedule?”

“No. He said he was going to the CEO about what to do, but he wanted to make sure he couldn’t bother me in the meantime.”

He nodded. “That’s good.”

You nodded. “Yeah, he’s a pretty good sunbae.”

He nodded again.

Another moment of silence as he looked like maybe he wanted to say something.

“Well, let’s go to the studio.” You said and gestured for him to walk next to you.

The two of you walked to the studio together, and he opened the door for you once you got there.

Hongjoong and Maddox looked surprised at this, expression enhanced by the slow closing of the door.

“We need to get that door fixed,” Hongjoong mumbled to himself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it suddenly.”

“Well, uh-- you’re both here. We can start.” Maddox said

You nodded and sat next to Maddox, who stood and helped Yunho into the booth.

Yunho left an hour ago after his, happily brief, recording session and Hongjoong’s watch beeped a notification.

He looked up at you. “You have to get out of here, Doyun will be here soon.”

You scoffed. “Are you sure you don’t mean he’ll be here in another two hours?”

He smiled. “I don’t doubt that’s a possibility, but I spoke to his manager and he seems to think he can get him here for the time I give them.”

You nodded and packed up your things. “Then I guess that’s my cue to leave.”

He watched you for a moment. “Maybe take the elevators on the other side of the building today, just to be safe.”

You nodded. “Good idea.” You put your bag on and smiled like an idiot. “Boy, do I sure love sneaking around at work.”

He exhaled a laugh. “Hopefully it won’t be for too long.”

You nodded. “Thanks again, for fixing the schedule.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m your sunbae and the project head; I have to act like it, no?”

You nodded again. “Those who wear the crown should bear the crown.”

He raised an eyebrow at you and smiled wryly.

You smiled. “See you next time.”

“See you.”

A few hours later, Doyun was midway through his recording and Hongjoong was up to his umpteenth deep breath with how aggravating he was being. Finally, they were able to wrap up for the night.

Maddox and Hongjoong walked back into the studio after talking to Doyun’s manager in the hall, having run into him on the way back from the bathroom.

Doyun was picking up a dry-erase marker from the floor. Maddox furrowed his brow at him.

“I turned too fast and it fell.”

He nodded.

“Alright, Doyun,” his manager said. “Let’s get you home.”

Doyun nodded and walked out of the room leaving his manager to pick up his bags. His manager sighed and collected everything.

“See you tomorrow.”

Hongjoong and Maddox nodded. As the door closed behind him, they both sighed.

Maddox rubbed his eyes. “How, how, can someone be as… as…”

“Annoying?” Hongjoong asked as he put his stuff in his bag.

“God, if I were a more violent person I’d want to hit him.”

He chuckled. “I think that’s about the angriest I’ve ever seen you, hyung.”

Maddox sighed as he put his stuff away. “He’s the worst person we’ve had to work with so far… and we’ve worked with the most popular groups at this label! How does he, an actor, think he’s better than, than… ugh!”

“I know, bud.” Hongjoong looked up from what he was doing to check the whiteboard schedule. Did he remember to write the preliminary meeting with Ans:wer earlier?

“What’d the CEO say?”

“Huh? Oh, he’s going to talk to Satbyeol about what t/n told us, and possibly a few other people to get a better idea of what’s going on… did you change the schedule?”

Maddox walked over to look at the board as well. “You know I’d never touch it.”

Hongjoong gestured at what concerned him before taking out his phone and checking the last picture he took of the board.

“What?” Maddox asked as he moved closer. “I thought you had made sure that t/n and Doyun wouldn’t be in the studio at the same time.”

“I did.” He found the last picture and zoomed into the day that he knew shouldn’t have t/n’s name on it since it had Doyun’s. “Ha.”

He showed Maddox.

“Oh shit... he changed the board.”

“Looks like he did.”

Hongjoong was annoyed. Maddox had known him for years and though Hongjoong didn’t always say he was annoyed, it was obvious in the way he would sometimes take a moment to process something before he made his move. His quiet did nothing to obscure his anger as he stared straight at the changed day, his brows furrowed together and he frowned. 

He took a step back and took a picture of the board with his phone.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Emailing the one I wrote and this new one to the CEO.”

Maddox nodded, tsk-ing. “Did he really think you wouldn’t notice? Like, I know he’s rude and creepy and like… basically the kind of person someone would use as inspiration for a villain, but I didn’t think he was dumb too.”

Hongjoong was already busy typing the email and attaching the pictures. “Is it possible for someone be rude and creepy and not be stupid?”

“Good point.”

  previous | main cast | masterlist | next

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@luvvvx • @iamthehotdemon • @hrts4hanniehae • @rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy •

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

HERE, KITTY, KITTY (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnilingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I decided to drop the last five chapters to this story at once cuz I'll be EXTREMELY busy with my summer job & I'm also working on a new fic. Thank you all so, so, soooo much for the love on this story! I had so much fun writing it. I'll be writing some brand new shit soon! Stay safe! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*********

TWENTY-TWO.

As May turns into June, the first week is rainy, cloudy, and depressing–the perfect weather for how you feel on the inside. 

You sit in your office now, dressed in a silk black blouse and slacks that make your ass look like it’s the finest one in the world.

However, you don’t take pleasure in that or the fact that today has been pretty slow. You haven’t had any student traffic or other responsibilities, so you’ve had time to sit around, eat snacks, and nap if you want to. 

But you don’t. Instead, you busy yourself with building your schedule for next week. You sit at your desk with your planner, writing down any errands you have to run or meetings you’ll have to attend. An unopened bottle of iced coffee sits next to you–the one thing that will keep you running until lunch comes in an hour.

Outside your window, the cherry blossom trees tremble slightly as the storm wind rushes through along with the pitter-patter of rain. You hope that it won’t be like this when you leave today. You just hate water. 

A knock on your door stops you short of writing down that you’ll have to make a grocery run next Saturday morning. Nemuri stands there in a slim navy blue dress that fills out her curves and her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. For the past week, she has been visiting you with snacks, drinks, and encouragement. Though you appreciate it, it hasn’t been working much to turn your frown upside down.

“Hey, you,” she gently coos. “Mic and I are goin’ out tonight to the Hot Spot if you wanted to join us. Rumi and You will be there too.” 

The sound of a night with the pros drinking and dancing doesn’t sound the least bit appealing to you…which definitely means something is wrong. Usually, you’d jump at the chance to spend a Friday night out, but even the idea of putting on your sexiest attire and dancing the night away makes you tired. 

“I’m good, ‘Muri,” you reply, giving her a reassuring smile. “I need to work on my schedule for next week anyway. I’ve got a lot to do.” 

Nemuri nods, but you see the disappointment in her eyes. You advert your eyes from her face, instead looking back down at your calendar where you scribble down “do laundry” for Sunday. You hear her come into the room, her heels clicking as she does. “Mic and I have been missing you,” she softly says. “You’ve been MIA for a minute now.” 

You don’t say anything. You cap your pen and push your calendar away before taking out a manilla folder for student reports. At the end of every month, you’re required to jot down notes on students’ progress for their teachers and parents, just to let them know how they’re doing.

Nemuri leans against your desk, frowning as you uncap your pen to begin writing on Bakugou Katsuki’s report. “You’ve been working hard for the past week, honey. Why don’t you take a break?” 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head. “These student reports aren’t gonna write themselves, Nemuri. Not to mention I have parent and staff meetings next week and…” You stop talking, something in you telling you to do so. You look up at Nemuri who is wearing a saddened expression on her gorgeous face. “What?” you sigh, already knowing the answer. 

“Have you talked to Aizawa lately?” she timidly asks you. You scoff to yourself. She already knows the answer to that: no. You haven't even seen the man. You’re starting to think he was just a figment of your imagination with how quickly he seemed to disappear from school. You barely see him in the hallways, elevators, or cafeteria. He hasn't called, but neither have you. After how much you’ve hurt him, you doubt he wants to speak to you. 

And you can’t blame him. With how long you've been lying to him and Eri, you know he never wants to see you again. You don’t even want to see yourself. Every day you wake up and look in the mirror to get yourself ready for the day, you desperately want to shield your face from view. It is the face of a liar. The face of someone who is deceiving and selfish. You barely want anyone to see you at school anymore. You just want to crawl into a hole and never come out. 

You reach for your iced coffee and proceed to try and open the bottle, your fingers grappling with the cap that seems to be stuck. “No,” you reply, not meaning to sound so tight, but you can’t help it. “Why are you even askin’ me that? You know Aizawa and I haven’t spoken since that night he found out about the cat thing.”

And God, does it hurt. All you want to do is hear his luscious voice or see his gorgeous face. All you want is him, and Eri. Those two have completely stolen your heart. But you know you fucked that up. 

Nemuri silently watches you struggle to open your coffee. “He misses you, you know,” she softly says. “I’ve seen him lately and he’s not at all the same as before when you were with him.” Your heart leaps at her words, but they only do so much to make you feel less like a fucking loser. You can miss someone and still know how horrible they are. You’re sure that is how Aizawa feels for you. He may miss you, but you know for a fact that he goes out of his way to call or see you. And you deserve that. 

“Is this what you came in here for?” you demand, glaring up at your friend. “To make me feel bad about what happened? Well, I already do. I feel humiliated and stupid for what I’ve done, but this is the price I have to pay for lying to him.” You grunt in frustration, your wrist straining to open the bottle. “Goddammit, this cap won’t loosen!” you hiss. 

After another short turn of your wrist, the cap finally loosens and pops off the bottle before skidding across the floor with a metal clink! Both of you stare in silence at the cap for a moment, breathing heavily at the short but loud sound and the intensity of the situation. Finally, Nemuri breaks. Soft, sputtering breaths exit her mouth as she begins to cry and you stare up at her in shock. “I’m sorry!” she softly sobs. “This is all my fault. I never should’ve said anything! Now you and Shouta are miserable all because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut!” 

She covers her face with her manicured hands, her shoulders shaking. Your heart breaks at the sight of your best friend crying on your behalf. Especially since none of this is her fault. “Nemuri,” you sigh, guilt flaring inside of you. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t be taking my anger at myself out on you.” 

You get up from your seat and move to wrap your arms tight around her. She hugs you back, her tears soaking your blouse. “None of this is your fault,” you comfortingly say. “It’s all mine. I should’ve told Shouta the truth right from the jump, but instead, I was selfish.” You pull away slightly to give her a view of your downtrodden eyes. “I haven’t been doing that well this past week either,” you confess, already choking up. 

Nemuri’s brows knit in worry. “Have you been going out at night?” she asks, her voice low as if the walls have ears. You shake your head as the tears you’ve been holding back for so long begin to well in your eyes. “Not at all,” you answer, your voice breaking. “I have no motivation to do that anymore.” 

Even now your Night Claw fit sits under your bed, untouched and unworn for over a week. You moved it from your hiding place behind the dumpster, not seeing the need in keeping it hidden or outside since you haven’t been in the streets lately. You ignore police sirens at night and anything that comes up on your crime app. You have no interest or energy in catering to your city anymore, especially since the main reason one of its prominent pro heroes was down in action is because of you.

And then poor Eri…how is she handling all of this? First her dad is hurt, and now her furry friend disappears for good? 

You crumble right then, tears dripping down your face that destroy your mascara. “I just miss him so much, Nemuri,” you sob. Nemuri nods, encouraging you to continue to spill your guts to her. “But I can’t bring myself to call him or visit or–”  

“Ah, Ms. L/N!” You both jump, whipping around to see Nezu standing in the doorway. The small smile that plays on his face fades when he glances at your faces. “Oh…am I interrupting something?” 

“U-Uh…” Nemuri quickly snatches some tissues from your desk, handing you some. “Of course not, Principal Nezu,” she replies, respectfully bowing to him and using that advantage to dab at her eyes. “I was just asking Ms. L/N about a particular student I had in here today.” You don’t respond, instead silently wiping the tears off your face. You make a mental note to touch up your makeup later. 

“Oh!” Nezu exclaims in realization. “Well, in that case, I apologize for the random visit, Ms. L/N. I just wanted to check up on you and see how you’re enjoying UA so far.” You blink at him, your brain slowly processing his words. “O-Oh!” you stammer, clearing your throat. You plaster on a smile despite still feeling like shit. "Well, please come in.” 

As Nezu thanks you and walks in on his little legs, Nemuri tip-toes to your office door. “I’ll see you at lunch,” she mouths to you before quickly exiting your office, shutting the door on her way out.

You stand there awkwardly, feeling like a hot spotlight has been put on you as you stand with your boss in your office. “Would you like something to drink, sir?” you ask, presenting to him your mini fridge. 

“No, thank you,” he chuckles. “And please, feel free to sit. I just want us to have a chat. You’ve been such a great asset to UA for the time you’ve been here, especially to the students.”

You take a seat behind your desk as he hops up into the chair across from you. “Thank you, sir! It’s been a great and rewarding experience working here with the staff and students. I love what I do.” And you’re not BSing. You truly love your job despite your personal problems right now. 

Nezu seems to know this too. “I can tell,” he hums appreciatively. “Which is why I decided to visit because I can tell you’ve been looking pretty low lately.”

His smile fades and your stomach drops into your ass. “I’ve noticed it as have others. Though you’re still here and consistent with your work, you’ve been acting differently. You’re usually so upbeat and refreshed, but for the past two weeks, you’ve seemed…down. If it’s too personal, please feel free to tell me so.” 

Your shoulders slump and all you feel is shame. So now even your boss notices your change in demeanor. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you sigh, internally exhausted. “I’ve just been going through some…personal battles. I’m trying hard to fight them though, so please don’t worry about me.” You plaster on a fake smile that Nezu sees right through. 

“Oh, but I do, Y/N,” he says matter-of-factly. “I don’t think you understand just how needed you are here. The students need someone kind and nurturing like you to talk to about their issues with. The teachers need you too. They can only handle so much! Your personality is such a breath of fresh air too. It’s influenced me, the students, and the other staff members…especially Aizawa.” 

“A-Aizawa?” you softly stammer, your heart fluttering. “I don’t–” 

“I’ve never seen him so upbeat,” Nezu continues wistfully. “He’s almost an entirely different person with you here. He’s happier; more…energetic. I’d imagine he is very grateful for what you did for him and Eri.” His black eyes gleam with something unreadable but it makes your stomach flip flop nervously. “I-I’m sorry, sir, but I don't think I understand.” 

He is more than happy to enlighten you. “Word around campus is that you attacked the villain Toyoma when he broke into Aizawa’s dorm. People are saying you were already in the room and quite literally tore Toyoma’s face off. I know because I saw it for myself.” He leans in as if afraid someone might hear. “I also know about your, uh…night job.” 

You swear you could die right now. Of course, your boss knows that you’re Night Claw. And of course, he’s going to fire you now. You’re going to lose everything. You grip the underside of your desk, your claws digging into the wood.

Nezu just smiles. “You don’t have to look so scared, Y/N,” he chuckles. “I’m not upset. Do you know how many of our kids here have done the same thing? Besides, you’ve proven to me that you’re not a threat and still an incredible staff member with how you continue to handle the students’ problems.” 

He leans over the desk to pat your hand, almost as a friend would. “We need more people like you here, Y/N. People whose bright personalities rub off on others. Please don’t ever lose that.” His eyes twinkle with generosity and kindness–two things you feel as if you don’t deserve. “Sir…” You don’t know what to say. You can’t believe this is happening. You’re not going to get fired? 

“I know things may seem hard right now, but if you ever need a hand, we’re all here for you. Just continue to do your best and I’ll take care of the rest, okay?” He winks at you, an encouraging smile on his furry face. “Keep up the good work!” 

You feel as if you just won an award with how bright his smile is. Your claws retract and you release your death grip on your desk. “Thank you, sir,” you softly say, afraid that you may cry in front of your boss. 

“Of course!” he chortles. “Now off to lunch for me! Enjoy the rest of your day!” He hops off of the chair and waves to you as he exits your office. “You as well, sir!” you call, a giggle in your voice when he shuts the door behind him. 

When you sit back in your seat, you feel better than you have for days after getting that praise buff from your boss. It is exactly what you need to put you into a good headspace, just enough to tell Nemuri that you’ll be taking your lunch alone today. You need some time in the fresh air to clear your head and find comfort in yourself while you gather the courage to finally talk to Aizawa. 

So you decide to go for a walk downtown for a bite to eat. You’ve heard of a sandwich shop there that is extremely popular plus one of your favorite cafes being a choice. The air is clean and warm, and the sky is blue when you lace on your sneakers and take your walk.

As you make it downtown, people are out and about enjoying the mid-afternoon weather, jogging, walking their dogs, and sitting at tables under cute little umbrellas as they enjoy their meals outside. When you make it to your favorite cafe, deciding to go for some coffee and pastries as your lunch, the outside eatery is already set up with customers enjoying their coffee in peace under the sun. 

As you make your way to the door, your hand reaches to pull it open, and you hear the sound of pounding footsteps behind you. You turn, jumping back just in time as someone comes zooming down the street, running at full speed.

“Jesus,” you hiss to yourself, glaring at the woman. She is in casual clothes–no activewear at all for the type of activity she’s doing. You pass it off as some kind of running club or her possibly being on some shit. 

But as you go to reach for the door again, another person runs by. Then another. And another. What grabs your attention is their attire: some wearing work clothes; others not even wearing sneakers but still running like their lives depend on it. You and the customers sitting by you stare at them in confusion, baffled by the change in atmosphere. “Da hell?” you mutter, confused. 

You get the answer to your confusion when a man wearing office attire runs by, panic and fear all over his face. “Everyone, run!” he hollers. “There’s a villain five blocks away from here! He’s destroying everything!” As if on cue, the sound of rattling cuts through the air, and a burst of water explodes from a sewer down the street, causing a car alarm to go off. As the water shoots into the air like a bullet, the people that were initially sitting and enjoying themselves beside you leave their posts, following the running people up the street. 

But you don’t. Despite your fur prickling and your ears pointing backward in alarm, you walk straight toward the danger zone. Even when you see more people running your way until you’re nearly trapped in a sea of escaping civilians. You press yourself against nearby buildings and inch deeper and deeper into the city. As you do, the destruction surrounding you gets worse–all you see are cars flipped over, cracked pavement, and water gushing from sewers and broken pipes. Your sneakers become soaked, ruining your stockings. 

The water problem only gets worse when you finally come to the city square and see the bullshit awaiting you. A sea of people and police cars surround a giant, quirk-made whirlpool that protrudes from a sewer in the middle of the street and towers over everyone and everything. From where you stand you can see that someone is, in fact, holding the whirlpool together themselves. A man floats in the middle of the whirlpool like a centerpiece, his limbs and locs streams of water that suck up water from the street, making his creation bigger and stronger. 

In front of you, the police have their guns drawn, some trying to keep the civilians at bay while the rest attempt to get a good angle of the whirlpool. The one closest to you urgently screams into his walkie-talkie, distress in his eyes. “I need backup!” he hollers. “I repeat: I need backup! We’re running out of officers and there’s only so many pros who can handle this asshole!” 

‘Pros?’ you think. So far, you haven’t seen any single pro here. But as someone from behind you pushes you deeper into the crowd, you get closer to the whirlpool.

There, in the watery depths of the whirlpool, are eight officers and several pros you know and recognize: Houndog; Vlad; Mirko; Mt. Lady (out of her giant form); Midnight; and Present Mic.

With that many pros in his trap, you know this villain isn’t someone to fuck around with too lightly. You barely have time to process where this dude even came from when someone is landing in front of you and the other civilians, startling you when his boots hit the pavement. 

You know who it is even before you see his long, black hair and hear the excited screams of the crowd. He turns, giving you a view of him looking oh-so-yummy in his hero gear, goggles, and scarves as the afternoon sun turns his black strands of hair into spun gold. You can’t help it. You immediately begin to push through the crowd until you finally slip through, ignoring the officers who yell at you to stop.

“Miss, you can’t go through there!” one of them yells, but you ignore them, too focused on getting the pro in front of you to pay attention to you. 

“Shouta!” you shout, cringing at the squelching sound of your wet sneakers in the street. It is completely flooded, ruining your shoes and sloshing against the hem of your skirt. Aizawa immediately turns around, his eyes widening behind his goggles at the sight of you.

“Y/N?” he asks, baffled. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You winch slightly at the harshness of his tone, but you won’t let it slow you down. You probably would’ve reacted the same way.

“I was out for lunch and saw all these people running,” you reply before nodding at the whirlpool and the man at the heart of it. “What is he?” you breathlessly ask, still taken aback by how large and powerful the whirlpool is. 

Aizawa glares at the villain. “Says his name is Aqua Master or somethin' like that. He’s been wreaking havoc with his water quirk all afternoon now. So far, he has over eight officers and several of our pros in there.”

He pauses to take off his goggles and pinch his sinuses, his eyebrows creased. The stress of the situation is written all across his handsome face. And with no other pros here yet, he’s the only one here to stop this Aqua Master bitch. 

“Let me help,” you interject. He stares at you like you just told him you’re pregnant with his baby. “You just told me you’re losing people and I’m sure it’ll take a while before you get backup. I can help the civilians evacuate or–“ 

“Absolutely not,” he firmly replies, his expression a hard glare that makes you flush. “This is way too dangerous for you and you don’t have enough training.”

You go to argue against this, but you’re interrupted by the sudden water-formed hand that juts out of the whirlpool and scoops up a nearby truck to toss at an oncoming cop car miles down the street. The cop car immediately swerves out of the way only to crash into a street pole and totally ruin the front of it.

Aizawa raises his eyebrows at you as if to say, ‘see what I mean?’ 

But you’re not backing down. You don’t care how dangerous this mission is. Toyoma’s mission was dangerous too and you ended up saving Aizawa’s life. ”You let me come with you to get Toyoma,” you sharply argue.

Aizawa rolls his eyes at your attempt at arguing with him. “Yeah, and you almost ended up off a damn building splattered on the pavement.” Your ears droop in hurt at his jab. Though he is right, he doesn’t even know the kind of trauma you faced from that. The nightmares you still have dangling off of that building and the nothingness in Toyota’s eyes.

He must see that he went too far because his expression softens. He sighs, running a tired hand over his face. “Listen,” he says, his voice hushed, “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.” He steps away from you and puts his goggles back on, preparing for action. “Just stay in your line, alright? I’ve got this.” 

As he wraps his scarves around a nearby traffic light, he is nearly taken out by a blur of red that zooms between you and him. “Jesus, Hawks, watch it!” he angrily shouts, gripping his scarves.

You look up, finding Hawks perched on the same traffic light Aizawa has his scarves wrapped around. He raises his goggles over his unruly, blonde hair, his red wings looking fluffy and soft to the touch. “Sorry, Eraser!” he huffs, looking irritated by the villain and his BS. “I’m dodging this shit as best as I can, but this bitch won’t quit throwing these cars at me!” 

The hairs on your body suddenly rise at the sense of something coming. Your eyes flit to the whirlpool where you find a giant, watery hand reaching for Aizawa.

“Eraser, watch out!” you yell, but your voice is carried away by the sound of police sirens and rushing water. Hawks manages to escape by flapping away, but Aizawa isn’t as lucky. You have no choice but to watch as Aizawa’s scarves are yanked off of the traffic light by the hand and he is pulled into the rough currents of the whirlpool. 

“Oh, shit!” Hawks gasps, staring in awe as his coworker is pulled into the whirlpool just like that. “I’ve gotcha, Eraser! Just try and hold your breath!”

He flaps away into the blue sky above, flying above the whirlpool’s opening. There is no way he could get in there without getting stuck too, you realize. The cops won’t be able to get to the villain either without shooting someone. It’s way too risky to fire a bullet into that whirlpool. 

This fight needs someone else…something else. Something tinier. And you know just the thing that can work.

Without another thought, you push your way through the crowd again and you’re spit back out into the clean, cut grass of the city square’s park. It isn’t that far from the villain, but enough to hide away from him and his quirk behind the bushes and trees situated here.

You look up and find Hawks perched in a tree, squatting on the thickest branch there. He stares at the villain in determination, obviously trying to come up with a plan until the other pros get here. 

You decide to help him out. Hoisting your foot up on the tree trunk, you grasp the lowest branch and pull yourself up until you have enough leverage to hoist yourself up on the branch. You do the same to the others above you until you are finally on a branch at the same level as Hawks, kneeling behind him.

“Hawks!” you hiss, startling him so much that his wings ruffle. He turns around, squinting confusedly at you. “Who the hell are you?” he questions. 

You begin to introduce yourself, but you’re cut off by the sudden heat that nearly singes your eyelashes off coming from behind you. You turn, finding yourself facing the Endeavor, decked out in his hero gear and sporting his aflame moon boots. Your stomach flips in panic at the sight of him. He truly is an intimidating person.

“Endeavor!” Hawks shouts as if he’s seeing an old friend. "You showed up! Is anybody else showin’ up soon? Please tell me Gang Orca is comin’.” 

Endeavor ignores him, his green eyes cutting across to you. “Who the hell is this?” he grumbles, scowling at you. You swallow hard, almost afraid to speak, but you won’t let this man catch you slipping. He’s just a human. A person.

“Night Claw,” you reply, giving him a friendly smile despite his hardened stare. “Listen, I don’t mean to interrupt your fight, but you’re never gonna get to that guy if it’s just the two of you. He’s too powerful and he already has one too many pros held up in his trap.” 

Endeavor’s stare only gets more intimidating. “So what do you suggest we do?” he cooly asks. “All of sudden, you’re gonna tell us how to do our job?” 

“Hold up, Enji,” Hawks says, Endeavor’s jaw setting at the mention of his birth name. “Let’s hear her out.” 

You raise your chin and square your shoulders, refusing to be spoken to by the pro. “To jog your memory, I’m the same vigilante who stopped that bank robbery and did your fuckin’ job before any of you could get there. I had them all tied up and ready to be arrested except for one.”

Endeavor’s eyes widen an inch at the harshness of your tone––and the balls you’ve got to talk to him in such a way. Hawks snaps his fingers in recognition. “Yeah, now I remember you!” he happily chirps. “That was you? Damn, girl, you must got some serious skills.” 

“Yes, and I know how to use them on this one.” You nod at the whirlpool that seems to have gotten bigger. It’s now towering over the tree you’re perched in.

“If we can get close enough, we’d need something sharp to destroy that whirlpool, and I’ve got just the thing.” You flash your claws at them, earning a chuckle from the winged hero. “Hawks, I’ll need you to fly me up over the whirlpool so I can jump inside. Endeavor, you’d distract him with your quirk. Maybe turn the water up too hot for him so he doesn’t notice me.” 

Your plan dawns across Hawks’ face. “Ohhh, I see. It could work and at this point, we’re out of options since some of our best are MIA.” He turns to the Endeavor, stroking the stubble on his chin. “What do ya think, Endeavor?” 

Endeavor’s forest-green eyes continue to stare you down, making you increasingly uncomfortable. “You’re a vigilante?” he acerbically asks you. Though your stomach flips in panic at being found out, you nod. “So you’re saying you’re not a trained, professional pro hero? You don’t have a license?”

Again, you nod, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “I have every right to turn you in to the police,” Endeavor growls, his eyes hot with disgust. “And if you continue to stand in the way of my job, I will. Stay in your lane, little girl.” With those words hanging in the air, he floats off toward the whirlpool, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. 

Hawks sighs heavily, looking at you apologetically. “Sorry about him. He’s a hothead, as I’m sure you’ve got already.”

But you’re not upset by Endeavor’s words. If anything, they only make you want to snag this villain even more. “I don’t give a fuck about what he says or if I’m arrested,” you determinedly growl as you begin to climb down the tree. “I’m helping my friends whether with help or not.” 

Hawks watches you go, his expression unreadable. “You’re friends with Eraserhead?” he curiously asks. You nod, grunting as you lower yourself down each tree branch. “And Midnight and Present Mic. We work together at UA.” Hawks quirks an eyebrow at this newfound information. “You a teacher?” 

“Counselor,” you correct him before getting back on the subject. “Those three are very special to me and I didn’t fully appreciate how much they had my back until now. I’ve been terrible to all of them, so now I have to make up for my stupid decisions.” When you’re finally at the last branch, you let your legs dangle for a moment before jumping down, hitting a squat once on the grass. 

When you look up, you squeak in surprise at Hawks now towering over you instead of sitting in the tree. He reaches a gloved hand down for yours, his golden eyes friendly.

“Then I’ll help you out,” he says with a quirk at the corner of his mouth. “That’s the best declaration of friendship if I’ve ever heard one before.” Your heart leaps for joy, relieved that you have help. With a grateful smile, you take Hawks’ hand and allow him to help you rise to your feet. 

After a moment of getting situated and Hawks advising you to “take a breath ‘cause it’s a bumpy ride”, you find yourself flying in the air with Hawks’ arms securely wrapped around your midsection as he zooms towards the whirlpool. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest and your eyes water as the wind hits them, causing you to blink rapidly.

The crowd of people you once stood in looks like ants now. The cop cars, trees, and buildings surrounding the area appear to be no more than miniature toys with how high up you are. But no matter how afraid you are, you don't dare move or change your mind. Not when your friends need you. 

“Higher, Hawks!” you shout among the wind in your ears. “I need to be directly above it! Damn, can’t your wings go any faster?” Hawks grunts above you, his wings straining against your body weight. “I’mma try but shit, you ain’t exactly light as feather, furry.” 

You don’t need to hear anything else. With one slow inhale, you shift into your feline form in Hawks’ arms. When he realizes that he is now holding a tiny, black cat instead of a whole person, he loses his shit. “Holy shit!” he laughs. “Talk about a quirk!”

Now having an easier time flying, he flaps his wings up to the very top of the whirlpool until he is hovering above it. Down below is the hole traveling down into the depths of Aqua Master’s creation, along with your friends and the other innocents trapped in the watery grave. 

“I’m as high as I can go,” Hawks grunts above you. “It’s all on you now, furry.”

Without a warning, he releases you and drops you down into the whirlpool, but you’re ready. Inhaling deeply, you shift back into your human as soon as you sink into the water. It is not as dark as you envisioned, but clear enough that you can see the dozens of bodies the villain collected––including Aizawa. He is farther at the bottom, his scarves and hair floating around him like seaweed. 

Anger floods within you as you swim towards Aqua Master who is still front and center in his whirlpool. When he senses you, he turns towards you, his locs floating around his head in streams of water. He scowls at you, probably wondering how you got in here.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks, his voice rough and clear as day. You don’t give him a proper introduction. Instead, you charge at him and wrap your limbs around him, pushing him against the wall of the whirlpool. 

With one hand outstretched, you extract your claws and slash at the whirlpool’s wall. The little tears are enough to send the entire whirlpool to hell. Water begins to pool out of the tears until the liquid monstrosity is no more. Instead, it begins to pool into the streets, flooding them even more. The crowd below you moves back as bodies, including yourself and the villain, tumble down out of the whirlpool.

You feel like a fish out of water as you tumble onto the street with Aqua Master below you, your limbs still wrapped around him. You gulp down air and cough violently at the water in your lungs, soaked to the bone. Now you hate water even more now. You doubt you’ll be able to properly shower after this without having this come back to you.

You’re so involved with trying to breathe normally that you barely see Aqua Master’s next attack until he’s throwing you off of him. With a grunt, you hit the ground on your back, but you don’t have enough time to react. 

The villain is now standing above you, his limbs and hair now in physical form. He presses his foot into your chest, causing your windpipe to close up and your body to fight to breathe. You gasp and choke around his foot which continues to push into your chest, making it much harder to breathe.

“Now you’ve gone and done it, bitch,” he snarls. "You really thought you was doin’ somethin’ tryin’ to fight me. Now you’ll die just like the rest of these stupid ass people.” He then kneels above you, trapping you beneath his body, and loops his hands around your neck. 

“No!” you choke only to be silenced by a sudden wall of water encasing your head. You try to scream, but only air bubbles escape your mouth. “Have fun swimmin’ with the fishes, bitch,” the villain growls, his stare cold and deadly. 

This is the second time you’ve faced death by a villain, you realize. You can’t help but wonder how is it for actual pros to face something like this? To constantly be on the brink of death and not wondering if there’s an alternative career path they could take?

Your head suddenly becomes light and your eyes flutter, all thoughts and questions jumbled. Your lungs begin to burn and you know that it is only a matter of time until death takes you… 

Only it never does. The water surrounding your head disperses and you gasp in air, desperate for it. Aqua Master is now lying on his side, completely knocked out with Nemuri standing over him. She, too, is soaking wet, her mascara running and curls ruined, but she is still a knockout. You breathe a sigh of relief, mostly at her being okay rather than being saved by her quirk.

“Y/N!” she gasps, stepping over the villain’s body to kneel before you. “What are you doing here? Are you hurt? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” 

Mic also comes to your aid, his sunglasses off and looking like a wet cat. He offers his hands for both you and Nemuri, pulling you to your feet. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he says in a stern tone that you’ve never heard from him before. “Y/N, that was very dangerous what you just did.” Nemuri nods, glaring daggers at your stupid decision. 

But you just can't feel embarrassed. Seeing them standing there, still caring for you despite your bullshit, is all the confirmation you need to know that you did the right thing. You throw yourself at them and wrap your arms tight around them, squeezing their bodies to yours.

“I’m sorry,” you softly say, on the brink of tears. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’m just so happy you’re safe.” After a moment of silence, the two hug you back and Mic comfortingly strokes your hair. “Thanks to you and your crazy self,” Nemuri sighs, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

As laugh and pull away, giddy with joy and the feeling of accomplishing something impossible. But all of that giddiness fades when you see Aizawa lying face up yards away from you, his eyes closed and chest not moving. “Shouta!” you shout, immediately racing for him. Fear floods inside of you.

‘No…please, no. Don’t take him from Eri.’ 

You kneel beside Aizawa, scooping the back of his head into your hand. “Shouta, can you hear me?” you softly ask, your eyes flicking wildly across his face for any kind of sign of life. As if God hears you, Aizawa’s eyelids twitch once and a tiny groan leaves his lips. “Oh, thank God,” you sob, your thumb stroking his wet cheek. 

His eyes then slowly open, revealing two charcoal irises that stare in a daze into yours. “Y-Y/N?” he croaks out. “Why did you…did you…”

He searches your face for an answer, even being soaking wet and nearly facing death. You shake your head, still gently stroking his cheek. “I know you told me to leave, but I couldn’t,” you sob. "I’m sorry I’m so stubborn. I just couldn't face the thought of you being in danger.” 

Slowly, Aizawa sits up, grunting as he does. You move away from him to allow him space to breathe and move, but all he does is stare at you in awe, his plump lips parted. “Y/N, I–“ 

“Get your hands off of him!” The roar of Endeavor’s voice causes you to scramble away from Aizawa, your ears back and tail poofy with fear. You turn, finding Endeavor standing there with several police officers, a glare on his face.

“I specifically told you to stay out of the way and you didn’t listen to me,” he chastises you as if you’re his daughter. “Chief, that’s her. That Night Claw girl who has been prancing around without a license or a degree as a pro for months now!” 

The middle-aged, bald man standing beside him in a police chief uniform looks from the pro to you, his expression unreadable but still scaring the absolute shit out of you.

This is it––you’re going to get arrested. You’re going to lose your job. No one can help you now; not Aizawa, Nezu, or Mic and Nemuri who come to your aid. Not even Hawks who swoops down to land between you and Endeavor. “Enji, what are you doing?” he demands. “This girl just saved half of your coworkers’ lives!” 

“And yet she doesn’t have a license to practice saving lives, does she?” Endeavor snaps. Aizawa suddenly steps in front of you, blocking you from Endeavor’s angry eyes glaring into your soul.

“She works at UA, Enji,” he growls, his rage barely being contained. “She’s a counselor. The kids there have enough problems already that some of us professors can’t handle. She’s needed there, and I’m not gonna let you take that away from them or her.” 

Endeavor's eyes turn into sharp slits that target Aizawa, making your stomach flip in panic as if they’re about to fight. “And I’m not going to have anyone make a mockery out of being a pro hero,” he snarls. “People go through so much stress training and studying to get a license and degree to be a hero. People risk their lives every day to protect this damn city.” 

“And so did she!” Nemuri argues, her face red with rage. “If you got your head out of your ass, you would’ve seen what we did for all of us!”

Endeavor opens his mouth to rage on, but a sharp whistle sound cuts through the air, silencing all of you. The police chief drops a whistle from his mouth and stares you down, intimidating but not as fearful as Endeavor’s stare is. He eyes you up and down, sizing you up. 

“So it’s you?” he asks, not at all sounding angry. “You’re the reason street crime has been going down?” 

All eyes flick to yours, waiting to see if you’ll deny it or stand in your truth. Because you don’t want to lie anymore, because you want to be the best person you can be, you step from behind Aizawa’s big, tall body, presenting yourself to the chief. “I’d like to hope so, sir,” you softly reply. 

The chief suddenly looks apologetic and you know what’s coming next. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “You have my full respect for your work and what you’ve done today, but…”

He digs into his pocket, revealing a ring of silver cuffs that have your gut twisting with fear. “Under the law, I can’t–“ 

He is interrupted by a sudden flash of a camera. Dozens of news cameras and microphones begin to surround you, pushing through to get to the pros. A newswoman dressed in her finest dress waves from behind two police officers, a microphone in her hand.

“Endeavor!” she shouts. “Eraserhead! Over here!” She shoves through the cops along with her own cameraman. Your heart leaps at the idea of being on TV, your face on every screen across Japan and possibly even further than that. 

Once the woman is through, she practically shoves the microphone into Aizawa’s face while the camera on the cameraman’s shoulder targets him with the aftermath of Aqua Master’s attack in the background. “Can you tell us anything about the villain you stopped today?” the newswoman asks feverishly. "Who was he? How did you stop him?” 

Despite his soaked and tired state, Aizawa doesn’t refuse to answer––or to give you your props. “It wasn’t either of us,” he replies. “While we put in work, it was really her.”

He nods at you standing like a deer frozen in headlights beside him. Your eyes trail over the cameras suddenly in your face and all of the eyes of the crowd on you making you feel like a hot spotlight is on you. You don’t know what to do. Your mind is completely blank. 

“Hey, miss!” the newswoman says, her microphone now directed at you. “What is your name? Are you a new professional hero?”

You’re silent, your mouth dry and nervous sweat collecting under your pits. Your eyes shift to the chief, wondering if he’ll slap the cuffs on you if you say anything at all. But to your shock, the chief has slipped the cuffs back into his pocket. All he does is give you a nod. One nod that says everything to you. 

You smile, your body flooded with joy, relief, and pride. So you turn to the newswoman and the other microphones that have begun to sneak toward your face. You lean down, speaking into the one nearest to your mouth.

“My name is Y/N L/N,” you proudly say. “I’m the vigilante known as Night Claw. Now I have to get back to work.” 

With a smile at the cameras and at a very angry Endeavor, you walk away from the news crews, cameras, police, and crowd of civilians that cheer you on as you strut past in your soaked sneakers. As you do, a Mercedes Benz stops beside you and out hops Gang Orca looking haggard in his tie and dress slacks. 

“Alright, I’m here,” he sighs. “I’m so sorry about my lateness. Traffic was horrible and…”

He stops, his eyes trailing over the chaotic sight in front of him. “Uh…am I late?” he asks, looking hesitant to know the answer.

You put a hand on the whale’s back, patting it. “Nothing you need to worry about, Mr. Orca, sir,” you reply with a smile. He gapes at you before you walk past him, heading back toward UA.

“Was that Y/N?” you hear Orca ask, baffled. “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?” 

You don't turn around, not even to check on Aizawa. Your first job is done. Now you have another to take care of. 

**********

When you walk into Koa’s Purrr Palace that day, it is right after work ends and into the evening after you’ve run your errands. 

The little cat cafe is clean and tidy when you walk in, causing the bell overhead to jingle at your arrival. The floors are polished, the tables are cleaned, and the entire room smells like lavender which can only mean that closing time is soon. There is also the lingering scent of coffee and sugar in the air. 

An old woman–the same old woman who saved your life that fateful night–is just walking from behind the counter with a bottle of pine saw and a rag when she sees you.

“Oh, good evening!” she brightly greets you, a smile on her face that creates crinkles by her eyes.

You return the smile, standing awkwardly near the door. It’s so strange to be back here after so long. “Hi,” you timidly say. "I’m sorry it’s so late.” 

Koa, the old woman and the owner of this cute little establishment waves a passive hand, scoffing. “Nonsense! It isn't too late to visit unless the closed sign goes up.”

She puts the pine saw and rag down on a nearby table where a bouquet of cut yellow roses sits. “So how can I help you, dear?” she asks, her kindness making you feel like a little girl.

You clutch your purse in front of you. “I’d like to adopt a cat, please,” you reply. “Not for me, but for someone else as a gift. They love cats.”

Your stomach flips for some reason as you say this, probably because you’re actually going through with this random ass idea that you came up with right as you arrived at UA. You don’t know if Aizawa will even want another pet after what you put him through, but you have to at least try. 

Koa puts a hand on her heart, practically swooning at your request. “Well, how sweet of you!” she coos. “Any particular breed they like?” She begins to walk you over to the front counter where a few cages of kittens and cats sit, most of them asleep. 

“No, they’re pretty open to whatever,” you answer, knowing damn well you’re just spitting BS because you have no idea what kind of cat breed Aizawa likes. “Just a cat that is very friendly, affectionate, and isn’t too keen on the outside.” 

“Well, I’m sure we can find you the perfect one that checks all of those boxes.” Koa motions to the cages presented in the front for the picking. “Let me just check the back to see if we have any cats left. We’ve had so many adoptions ever since Eraserhead visited here. Such a doll, he is, but quite stoic.”

Your heart leaps and your cheeks flush at the mention of Aizawa, especially the way Koa describes him. ‘He is definitely a doll,’ you think, smiling to yourself. 

Koa leaves you to your own devices as she goes into the back, humming as she does. Your eyes begin to roam over the many felines in their cage condos, most of them asleep. You feel an overload of cuteness from the different cat breeds you see snuggled up in their cat beds or with each other: tabbies; Persians; ragdolls; calicos…

Your eyes stop when you land on one calico in particular.

It is small, still a kitten, and the only one not sleeping. Instead, it is playing with a little ball that hangs from a string in its cage, its tiny paws flashing with claws that it knows how to use.

You are not just enchanted by its cuteness but its pattern. It is an unusual but beautiful swirl of browns, whites, and tans that almost appears a shade of pink. Its nose is tiny and pink, its eyes two big jades that seem so full of innocence.

What stands out to you about this kitten, other than its pattern and cuteness, is the tiny scar that lies under its left eye. It is small and white as if something knicked its fur at some point. Reminds you of someone you know well.

You move closer to the cage, careful not to startle the tiny thing. “Sps-sps,” you whisper. The kitten’s head whips towards you, its ears perked up.

“Hello,” you coo. “What’s your name?”

The kitten softly mews at you, answering you back. You push your finger through one of the cage holes, allowing the kitten to sniff you. Deciding it likes you, it presses its head against your finger and begins to purr. 

“Oh, so you met our new addition!” Koa smiles at you, returning to her post. “We brought her in about a week ago. She’s still a kitten, but was probably the runt of her siblings due to her small size and pattern so her mother possibly abandoned her. When one of my employees found her, she was lying under some bushes near her apartment complex, eating some food someone left her.” 

Your heart breaks at the poor little kitten's story as she continues to run her nose against your finger. “She’s extremely friendly and playful,” Koa giggles. “She's awfully tiny though. I was afraid to pick her up when I first saw her. It’s clear she’s been through some rough patches however long she was alone, but she’s still so kind. Such a sweetheart.” She presses her hand against the cage, earning the kitten’s affection and purrs. 

Your heart breaks even more for the poor animal. She’s so touch-starved and in need of love from a good owner. You’ve never been more certain that Aizawa and Eri would be great owners for her.

“You said she could’ve possibly been abandoned for her pattern?” you ask Koa, earning a solemn nod. “How is that even possible? She looks like one of those Neapolitan ice cream swirls.” 

And then, like a lightbulb flickering on in your brain, a name comes to you: “Nea,” you coo. “Little Nea.”

As if liking that choice, the kitten slowly blinks at you, a tiny mew leaving her mouth. You turn to Koa, already taking your credit card out of your purse. “I’ll take her.” 

That late night, after returning home with little Nea and leaving her to lay in your bed, you enter your clean, neat bedroom and bend down to look under your bed.

There, a chest sits, untouched for weeks now. You pull it out and open it, revealing your Night Claw outfit, still sleek and clean. You’re so glad you decided to place it in the chest instead of keeping it in the duffle bag you’ve often stored it in. Thank God you’re thinking differently now. 

You pull your mask out of the chest, smiling fondly at it. “Hi again, baby,” you whisper. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you. Let’s make up right here, right now.” 

Without another word, you place your mask on your face and suit up. Your suit, still fierce and sexy, still fits like a glove no matter how much time has gone by.

And as you stand in the mirror with the window wide open for your exit, feeling like a brand new woman, you know that you’ve been forgiven. 

[the-dragon-grasp]

What's up? - Spring 2024 Recap

Hello everyone!

Summer has already started! It’s time for me to take a look at what we’ve done on The Dragon Grasp Project over the past quarter and share it with you all.

Development

We’ve been continuing the work on the video game prototype that started earlier this year. Two more developers joined us since, bringing the team to currently three developers helping us on the project in their free time. Every feature we implement helps us figure out its actual relevance in game and how to adapt, move forward, or even move away from it. It's taking shape step by step, with features regarding dialogue and exploration being worked on as well.

Art

We’ve been working on reference sheets for the characters featured in the prototype. Our monthly supporters on Ko-fi have been granted access to one of them! These documents will help us brief 3D artists to get original models to use in the build. In April, I’ve also publicly released one of our first concept artworks to illustrate TDG’s mood. We have been using this one for a while for pitching: it features three of our characters exploring the woods and discovering two monsters facing one another. You can see it below! If you are interested in knowing more about it, I shared on our Ko-fi page a detailed commentary on this artwork.

Writing & Game design

We received more feedback on our worldbuilding and story concepts mid-March thanks to a first pass of sensitivity reading. After that, I’ve been focusing writing work for The Dragon Grasp Project on the dialogue scenes and other texts appearing on-screen in the prototype. Since my pace depends on the work our developers can achieve in the time they can give to the project, I’ve also been considering how to use my writing abilities to make the studio go forward. Do you remember the transmedia projects I mentioned during the last recap? Since May, I’ve been rethinking them into a smaller scope game project (so, another game, different from The Dragon Grasp Project), reliant more on writing, visual and audio art, and less demanding in development work and gameplay. Or at least, something I hope to be able to develop myself!

I’ve also worked on an updated version of the TTRPG version I use for playtesting. It was played early June! I was able to organize a playtest event and have 4 players test it thanks to the alumni network of my school.

Events

During these past months, we also spent a good chunk of time working in preparation for pitching at physical business events (including designing and making business cards!). Our main event this year was Game Camp 2024, which I attended last week. It was a wonderful time to meet plenty of video game professionals from every corner of France and beyond, attend quality talks on a wide range of topics, and gather first impressions on the work we've been doing. It's my second time attending this event, after going there last year when I was just out of my last job and had yet to create Better With Dragons. I’m once again thankful such an event can exist, and I’m looking forward to returning next year!

Outro

The Dragon Grasp Project's preproduction has been going on steadily, and the feedback we received has been very heartwarming. I'm hopeful working on and releasing the "smaller scope project" I mentioned would help us in several departments, if only to "put something out there" and start testing some waters. Hopefully I'll have more to share about this one with you in the next recap!

To wrap this recap up, I wanted to share a few words about the political climate in France over the past month. Our French collaborators and myself have been working through a stressful time. You can see on our last post on this page that we recently joined a call to stand against the rise of the far right, to show that video game professionals have power to call people to action. The slow rise of the far right and, alongside it, the normalization of hateful discourse in our society both impact our morals negatively and show us we do an important work, motivating us to continue: against hate and fear, we need more experiences standing for love and understanding.

Take care,

-Drad

[karume-everything-else]

Flufftober Day 24: Coffee Date

Reader x Sir Nighteye (Mirai Sasaki) [BNHA]

Nighteye looked up to the knocking on his office door frame. To his knowledge, he was the only one in his office and yet...

"You need a break sweetie." You waltzed right in and leaned on the desk, "Pro-Hero or no, you're still human and need rest."

"[Name], please. How did you...?"

"Get in the building? Know where you'd be? Know that you haven't been home since Monday?"

Your rapid fire ends to his questions had him checking the calendar for the first time all week. Then guiltily...

"I'm sorry, but my work..."

"Is very important and I can't just up and leave whenever. As a Pro-Hero I have a duty to protect the people of the city, as my predecessor All Might before me." You paused, "Right?"

Nighteye turned back towards his computer. Trying to ignore the worsening guilt weighing him down. He knew you were just worried about his personal health but, well. He was a Pro-Hero.

"You won't be able to help anyone by working yourself to death ya know."

You stood up, no point arguing past this. Mirai rarely listened to you anyways. Not when he was convinced that his job was literally running like this for days on end.

Before you could leave the agency building, you heard footsteps behind you. Either he was coming with, or he wanted to make you promise to be careful. Nighteye wouldn't admit to it, but he hated you leaving such a silence behind you.

When you didn't even slow down in stepping out the door, Mirai practically sprinted to catch up. Hastily wrapping his scarf and tucking it in the front of his shirt.

"[Name], please wait." You turned just outside the door, head tilted, "Would you like to join me for some coffee? The least I could do is walk you home as well."

Probably the closest he would ever get to saying 'you were right', but at least he would leave his office for a little. And maybe he would relax enough to eat something that isn't fast food or from a convenience store.

Mirai slipped his hand around yours, leaning so only you could hear him whisper, "I'm sorry for making you worry. I know I have a bad habit of neglecting my health... and I appreciate you doing your best to look after me."

You just nuzzled his shoulder, glad something was getting through to him.

[stillblues]

hi all! i'm shin (he/him, 21+) and i'm excited to be bringing adagio actor/model jung yohan to this group! i haven't written in a hot minute and have really had to dust off my brain the past few weeks, but i'm looking forward to getting back into things with you all. :-) anyway, more about yohan under the cut! and as always, drop a like or message if you'd like to plot~ (discord can be given if you prefer to plot there).

quick nav: private profile, career page.

( * background

born in daejeon, south korea (nov 24 1995) but was basically raised in the countryside by his grandmother while mom worked in the city.

his grandmother was the one to kickstart his dreams to be onscreen, always watching tv dramas and reality shows with him every evening.

the family moved up to seoul together when he was done with high school, which is where he was scouted into a midtier company as an idol trainee.

didn't know anything about performing and it showed. but for the lack of talent, he made up for with a crazy work ethic, and he showed major improvements during his training period.

in 2015, he debuted in a 7-member boy group that flopped hard. after just one comeback, the group disbanded may 2017.

the rest of the year was spent in one massive slump, taking part time jobs and some small modeling gigs as a site model to make ends meet while wondering wtf he was going to do with his life.

got a casting call for an "idol revival" show (similar to "the unit") and ended up joining the show with 2 of his former group members. the show helped push him back into the spotlight as a charismatic leader figure who was great at catching screen time and votes. he made it to the final episode, but didn't quite make the cut for the final lineup of the group.

following another heartbreak, he really didn't know what to expect his life to throw at him next, so a contract with adagio was a happy surprise.

a couple shoot with a senior model under adagio catapulted him back into the spotlight, and he's been garnering opportunities and attention since.

his slow crawl to success has honestly only just started, even though it's been 8 years since his first official debut. he's trying not to let the lost time get to him in case he falls back into another slump, but as soon as work slows down a little, he can't help but feel like he's fading again. (we'll see what evil ways i have planned to get him the attention he wants so bad...)

( * personality

yohan is the picturesque "adagio actor/model standard 3000 max." he's likable, focused on his work, doesn't create any issues, and keeps his distance from the public in a way that shelters his image (think cha eunwoo but way less popular).

has intense focus when he has something to do, but it's mostly because he gets easily distracted if he's not putting his all into the task at hand.

hates to feel stuck, so he's always finding ways to seek out something new to experience. new food, new feelings, new friends, new lovers; he'll try anything once.

he doesn't exactly feel very approachable when he's off the clock, but once you get him started, he'll talk your ear off.

a people pleaser. he hates to assume so he'll ask a lot of questions or just seem clueless in personal situations until he knows exactly what the other party wants. (has accidentally rejected many advances in this manner...)

just kind of a work-obsessed idiot who feels like time is running out fast for him and knows he'll have a breakdown the moment he has a second to think. :-\

( * connections

just some general ideas for plots i'm interested in exploring for yohan!

bonding over failure; people who have also been in past groups/occupations/paths and things didn't work out for whatever reason, which became the common ground for your friendship to build off of.

drinking buddy; he's been indulging a little more often these days.

adventurers; he's always trying to experience something new and exciting, and you're the person he tends to rope into his plans.

good old pr friends; maybe you actually are friends, but it definitely started as a way to build reputations and post nice instagram pics.

actor/model friends!

a musician friend; he doesn't miss his idol days much, but he can still appreciate a good song or a long karaoke session. will probably think you're the coolest person in the world if you play instruments.

past relationships, flings, crushes; he probably let you down too nicely, whether that came as a relief or something to be pissed about for you.

someone who pulled away; whether you wanted to be friends or something more, the way he's just so nice to everyone had you cutting ties before anything could happen. it just rubbed you the wrong way.

a lingering crush; he's way too old to be blushing but you just know exactly what to say and do to stir up new feelings.

an enemy or that one ex; for the angst. maybe you disappeared when he needed you most.

[fixa-ryeter]

hello. uh. this is the Mob and Ritsu writing i mentioned. it's like 2000 words but i'm just pasting it all here bc i don't have ao3 or anything AFBHBFD so uh. yeah. <3

edit: I just fixed the formatting on mobile i am SO SORRY I WAS ON PC

Mob watched as his blond disciple dragged Serizawa out of the door to his office after bidding their farewells; heard Reigen’s loud laughing and Serizawa’s exasperated chuckling fade out as they walked down the pavement downstairs. The buzzing fluorescent light was suddenly stark against the silence left behind. Mob put his face in his hands, hips resting against the edge of his desk.

He sighed.

He seemed to do that a lot.

Even more so than usual, noted Reigen earlier that day, who promptly asked him if Tsubomi from across the street had rejected him (he hadn’t even asked her). Serizawa was staring at him again, out of curiosity, but this wasn’t something he could share with them.

Last week. Thankfully none of his employees had been involved, seeing as it wasn’t an actual job. He would have hated for them to witness that experience. That…... that awful feeling, one that stabbed him in the chest and suffocated him before the burst of energy erupted from his core. He saw something, something that he could never remember before. He saw his little brother, he saw the high-schoolers who had picked on them when they were little children; he…... he saw the blur of a spirit—his own, he was sure now—something that had blasted the high-schoolers away, something that blew his brother into the brick wall and—

What was that feeling? Guilt? It didn’t feel quite right. It wasn’t anger, or hate, not exactly fear either……

Rejection?

Mob shuddered and took a deep breath of air, but not much of it seemed to reach his lungs. Then he took another. And another. Slow, dragging, pushing back the familiar nasally watering in his eyes that never seemed to spill over.

All those years he’d spent not remembering. He’d been thinking about it for the whole week now; he didn’t recognize the spirit in the lost memory. He knew it was himself, somehow, because who else could it have been?

He wanted to say no. Say that it might have been someone else. But he just knew.

He was the one who had hurt his little brother all those years ago.

He had been lied to. Mob was never the brightest in school, but he wasn’t outright stupid, he should’ve made that connection long ago. His little brother said that he didn’t remember what happened either—of course he remembered, of course he remembered what had happened, so why did he lie to him?

The urge to call his brother arose once again. His fingers twitched for his cell phone, but did not reach for it. His brother had blocked his number years ago. He hadn’t seen his brother or talked to him for years; he saw his brother around online, of course, what with his building career in the music industry. As much as it hurt to be left in the dust without any preamble, he had decided to respect his little brother’s decision. He never made contact. He never interacted with any of his content, either. Maybe he was protecting himself in the meantime, too, but he couldn't be sure.

But now he understood why his little brother had cut him out from his life. It was for the better, perhaps. But he would not just let it be without a long, long overdue apology first. And after a week of being a coward, Mob was finally ready to grab his keys and head for the address he knew, just before his brother decided not to talk to him anymore. He was grasping at thin straws here.

It was the longest drive of his life. His throat had threatened to close in on itself five too many times on the journey, but with each stop at a traffic light Mob had taken a swig of water to keep it at bay. He only knew to keep driving, because he couldn’t think of what else to do. All that filled his mind was air; it was practically nothing, per se, but it occupied the space and didn’t leave room for anything else.

So he drove.

Then he arrived at the apartment block, parked his car, and walked up to the building, only to rediscover that his little brother had moved away. Then he walked back to the car, got in, and commenced the second longest drive of his life as thoughts began to seep, little by little, back into his head.

There was a cacophony banging against his skull by the time he’d gotten back to his office—he had meant to go straight home but blanked on that idea, too. He dragged his feet up the steps, one, by one, by one, by another.

His boot-clad foot stopped on the last step, in front of the ill-placed wall in front of the stairs. A pin-drop silence drowned out the noise in his head. A familiar aura, an aura that he hadn’t felt in years, one that filled him with nostalgic confusion and disbelief washed over him. He was suddenly hesitant to side-step the wall. But he couldn’t just stay there forever. His boots felt more like lead on his feet than ever as he hoisted himself up the last ledge and forced himself to walk toward his office door, toward a face that had become heavier with fatigue since the last time he saw it years ago.

He forced his lips to move, to address the man who stood before him even as the name turned to ash in his mouth.

"Ritsu…?"

————————————————————————

Cups of tea stood steaming on the coffee table as the brothers sat on either side of it. You could see the resemblance in their faces: the matching eyebags, the way their gazes fixated on the floor—though that was just an effort to avoid each others’ eyes—their faces both pale from nervousness.

“Thanks for the tea,” said Ritsu awkwardly. His voice was higher than he would’ve liked it to be, a bit of a waver beneath a voice crack. Mob could only nod in response, before:

“How did you find me?”

“Your business is more famous than you think, Shigeo. Nii-san.” The honorific was stale and foreign, something that seemed to take extra effort for Ritsu’s mouth to enunciate, and for Mob’s ears to take in. It didn’t feel wrong, but it didn’t feel right, either. It was confusing.

Ritsu did not like Mob’s silence.

“Sorry. If you don’t want me to call you that-”

“No. Nonono, no, use it. Please.”

“Okay.”

Ritsu allowed himself a sweeping gaze over the setup of his brother’s office, his gaze resting momentarily on a pinned photo of Mob and two middle-schoolers before they continued on their trajectory to land on his brother’s face, which looked as blank as ever.

“Nii-san…”

“Ritsu, you lied to me.” It wasn’t an accusation. It was a statement. “The… incident, I mean you probably don’t want to think about it but I—I’m sorry, Ritsu. I know I hurt you. Sorry probably doesn’t cut it but I’m sorry.” It was clear that those were all the words Mob knew how to say, and he couldn’t wait to get them out.

Ritsu could only stare at his brother. He was confused, to say the least. Because Ritsu was the one who came to apologise, and yet his brother was saying sorry, sorry for something he said he couldn’t remember. His own apology fizzled out in his throat. Did Mob remember after all? Did he lie, too, for all those years?

“You remembered?”

“Last week.” The older brother’s words were slow, deliberate, since now he realised that it sounded like he remembered and just didn’t bother to say anything about it for years. “I didn’t remember until then. It’s… complicated.”

Ritsu once again felt the urge to apologise, because unlike himself, Mob was a terrible actor and a worse liar. He had to be telling the truth. And even if Mob was lying, it just put them in the same boat.

“It’s okay. Well it’s—not, okay, like- I’m trying to be okay.”

Then Ritsu remembered his brother needed things told to him straight, because Mob’s dismayed look of confusion almost made him laugh.

“I don’t blame you, Nii-san, it’s not your fault, you know. I just- I-I just couldn’t—didn’t know how to- you know, deal with what happened. I’m sorry for leaving you in the dark for so long and I- cutting you off was a pretty dick move.”

“I get why you did it now.”

“Yeah, no, but still. I’m, uh, getting help for it now.”

“Good.” Even after years of estrangement, Ritsu still recognised the proud little glimmer in Mob’s eyes. “You… I’m. Happy. That you’re getting help.”

Mob put his thumb between his teeth after the words left his lips, chewing anxiously as he crossed a leg over another. “I’m sorry, Ritsu, I really am. I didn’t know. I would’ve done something to make things better if I did.”

As nice as it was to receive an apology, the following guilt that weighed a tonne in Ritsu’s gut wasn’t so nice.

“You weren’t conscious, Nii-san, stop apologising. You couldn’t do anything about it.”

“I wasn’t?”

Ritsu nodded. “None of it — none of this is your fault. It’s me, I need to make things better—I’m telling you I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart and that’s what I came here for.” Usually he would’ve cringed, sounding so cheesy, but his brother deserved a heartfelt apology.

“Ritsu…” Mob stared at his lap, at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to tell him he understood, that he didn’t have to feel bad for it all, that he was the victim of it and wasn’t supposed to be the one to shoulder all the guilt.

“Do you,” Ritsu whispered—when Mob looked up, Ritsu’s eyes were glistening and his lips were trembling— “forgive me?”

Mob watched a tear run down his face, then another, and suddenly he wanted to cry, too. Even after all these years it pained him to see Ritsu cry, it hurt to see Ritsu hurting.

He reached across the coffee table to brush his hand against Ritsu’s.

“Yes.”

A cascade of tears dripped from Ritsu’s eyes, but the corners of his lips lifted into a tired smile, a watery chuckle turning into a cough.

“Thank you, so much-“ Ritsu choked on a sob, and Mob hastily pushed the now lukewarm tea toward Ritsu, frowning.

“Ritsu, I don’t have to forgive you, you did nothing wrong.”

“B-but—"

“Ritsu, listen to me, sometimes you would flinch when I got too close to you.”

Where was he going with this?

“I know why now, Ritsu, you were scared. And stayed scared. We make mistakes when we’re scared. I don’t blame you.” I blame me, Mob thought guiltily. He knew he shouldn’t. Because if he did, then Ritsu would feel bad, so he didn’t say it out loud.

So he said instead, “drink your tea”, and took his own cup to drink in demonstration.

Ritsu, who had been blubbering the entire time, did the same, gripping the cup between his hands. He could feel Mob’s guilt writhing in his aura. Like a timid snake. He was trying to hide it, so Ritsu decided he wouldn’t say anything. Even now in silence, they were both fighting their own demons, and Ritsu dearly wished they could have helped each other in their battles earlier. The time for apologies was over, for now, or the conversation wouldn’t progress.

“Nii-san,” Ritsu began slowly, “I’m still your brother, right?”

“Only if you want to be.”

“I just want to feel like your little brother again.” Ritsu wiped at his eyes, a deep, shuddering inhale through his nose holding his tears back. “I miss you.”

“I want my little brother back,” Mob agreed, and Ritsu, abashed, rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No,” Ritsu lied, then stood up rapidly, arms reaching out, but then he faltered.

“You hate hugs.”

“I hate hugs,” Mob confirmed slowly, but stood up and wrapped his arms around Ritsu. “But I don’t mind family.”

Ritsu hugged back tightly with a relieved sigh. There was a ridiculous height difference, and Ritsu was worried that he would crush his brother, but Mob squeezed tighter, and Ritsu stopped worrying. He stopped worrying about the untouched, unresolved, untouched things, because they could work through them now, with time, with each other.

They would learn how to be brothers again.

[ckygetsjobs]

Just one dance?

Brandon Dicamillo x reader

A/N: part 2 of all I wanted fic I made a few days ago. Screaming and crying over this… kinda based off this song a little.

You were looking for new job opportunities after your previous employer had fallen through and they had to quit the business. You weren’t sure exactly what you were doing, it had been rough, but you hadn’t gotten any better by any means, if anything your heart ached more. But you were an adult, you had to face real life, stop living in the past, and what could of been, and live in the moment. 

When you woke up the next day, you made breakfast for the first time in who knows how long, reading the paper and sipping on hot chocolate that was cheap and had little marshmallows. You had another job interview at a local diner in your small down. The one everyone went to, at least when you still had a friend group. Every other day someone was getting kicked out for something, you even got kicked out before, because one of the workers found you and dico having sex in the bathroom. 

You still were allowed back, well kind of. Bam bribed one of them to keep their mouth shut in exchange for an autograph or something? You were unsure of the exact details but it had you and Dico laughing for weeks. You really hated Bam cleaning up the mess or whatever but how extra happy Dico was when you got to go back was worth it. He wasn’t that excited about the building itself or whatever, he was overjoyed because of the thing Bam did to get you guys back and not kicked out indefinitely. 

You smiled, how much ease you had back then, even if you gotten into fights a lot because Dico was a fucking idiot who always said the wrong thing or something smartass. He always got caught up in bar fights or fights out in an alley. You were always cheering him on, telling him to kick his opponent’s ass. Ryan would be so close to you, you were touching arms, and just laughing because of how stupid he was being. Raab would be on the other side of Ryan cheering him on as Novak was either naked a little bit away, or somehow getting his ass caught in the fight. 

When you got done with the interview you stayed and ate lunch there, you wouldn’t get your results on how you did for probably another few days at least. As you were sipping on the drink of your choice, waiting on your food to arrive when the sound of someone’s voice caught your ear. It couldn’t be… you hadn’t heard that voice in years…. and it sounded deeper. But you knew in your heart it was him, and you prepared yourself for an awkward conversation you were sure he’d leave because that’s what he did before. 

You aren’t sure exactly what he was saying, it was hard to hear over the music and the noise of the people conversing. You caught some things he had said, but they weren’t relevant and didn’t really matter, at least not to you. When he had gotten up for whatever reason, you assumed it was to hunt down the waiter or to use the bathroom. He seen you while he was walking to his destination. He was star struck, like he couldn’t believe it was you. He just stared wide eyed and embarrassed…. and you knew that met he wasn’t comfortable around you and you assumed he’d react that way of course. It would have been a bigger surprise if he reacted a different way, but it he didn’t, and now he was right in front of your fucking face and you didn’t know what to say to him, even after pining after his fucking ass this long, god you were stupid.

You told him to sit down, you don’t know why, because it only made it more awkward than it was when he was standing there, but you weren’t really in control anymore. You were also too shocked, just as he was, to say anything. Then you felt a touch, a soft graze that hardly felt real, like a dream, like you just finally woken up, that or you were living a fantasy. “You really are real,” he whispered, his finger still touching your face and slowing lowered his hand, staring in awe like you were a famous painting just out of reach or the really old composer, Beethoven, that he really liked.

You had never been in a position like this before, the biggest opportunity of your life, and you were wasting it by staring at his eyes and dumbass cap, he looked exactly the same since the last time you saw him. You weren’t sure who made the move first, you didn’t care, but your hands were clasped together and he was rubbing his fingers against yours. “And you are too,” you answered back, sighing in relief, like you forgot he was real, like you felt like you dreamed up everything. He seemed to feel the same way, but when you said that, his face turned up just a little, he wasn’t smiling, but he was a little more comfortable than he was before.

Then he looked behind him and seen the beaten up jukebox that was in the corner, obviously looking it’s age. He stood up and held out a hand to you “just one dance,” he asked. You didn’t say a word, you just took it, and that’s the only thing he needed, he didn’t need words. The song playing was a classic, probably something Dico was extremely into, he always knew about the classics. You just stood up next to the booth next to him, nobody was really seated next to the both of you, so it was just you guys. He put his arms in their respected spots, and started slow dancing, neither of you were great at it, but that didn’t matter. That was the fun of it, you were both so bad it was hilarious. It was a fucking laugh for the two of you. 

There was one time where Dico skipped out on the school dance and told you beforehand, and you agreed with his idea. He wanted to build a fort instead, and he was great at building them. You thought he was joking at first but then the way his eyes lit up when you showed up at his house and he shown you all his shitty drawn blueprints, you could tell he wasn’t. That was one of the instances that made you fall deeper in love with him, him skipping out on some stupid typical teenage outing in favor of fun things he actually enjoyed. He didn’t get pressured by stuff other classmates were doing, he was living the moment. He always did, it just took you longer to be able to do so, but he was here again, dancing with you, holding you, smiling at you as you stepped on his feet a few times. 

You were so caught up in the moment you didn’t even realize when he had stopped dancing, he was getting ready to say something, “can I kiss you,” he asked, you just nodded and his lips were against yours, urgently and hungrily. You had been waiting on this moment, practically every day for all these years. And it was better than you remembered, he was better than you remembered. As your lips were moving against his in a messy form you knew he was the missing piece of your life, and he wasn’t getting away easy this time. Especially after he asked you to dance, and he asked to kiss you, he could of just left, he didn’t have to sit down, he didn’t even have to acknowledge you, but he did. You were glad you were in his arms again, and hopefully his heart too, as you smiled and placed your head on his chest, just being in the moment.

[tehmichi]

The Assistant - Chapter 1

Modern Warfare II(2022) AU - Office Romance Pairing: John Price/Original Female character Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Forced Proximity, slow burn (posted on Ao3 with 26 chapters atm with an Explicit rating. More smut incoming)

After securing Hassan and the missiles, Kate and Price form a PMC company. Kate hires Stella to be her new assistant, a bubbly, snarky, and admittedly geeky thirty-four year old who loves to stay busy.

Price can’t stand her because she pushes every single one of his buttons and handles his temperament better than any of the last five assistants he’s gotten fired.

Forced together for two projects thanks to Kate being fed up with his attitude, things slowly start to change.

(this is quite literally my first time in ages posting fanfic on tumblr. pls forgive me for formatting errors)

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Chapter 1 - Just Another Day

Stella stepped into the office with a small smile on her face. She’d been able to get everything done on time to make it to the building just before Laswell. While she’d only had this job for six months, her boss was incredibly likable. Some of the other people who shared her floor were questionable at best. Especially the man Laswell called one of her best friends, former SAS Captain John Price.

Pressing her lips together as she stepped into the elevator, Stella swiped her security card to get access to the top floor. With a quick glance at her watch and seeing that everything was on schedule, she allowed herself a sigh of relief.

“Hold the elevator!” called a gruff accented voice.

“Fuck,” Stella whispered as she pushed the ‘hold door’ button on the elevator. The doors pulled back, revealing Price, holding onto a briefcase and dressed to the nines in his usual work attire. A blue suit that made his eyes stand out. She hated that he looked incredible in everything he wore for work. Made for good eye candy but his attitude definitely needed vast improvements.

“Stella,” he started, realizing who held the elevator for him.

“Price,” she replied, scanning her card again for her floor.

“Still here I see,” he remarked.

“I work here, where else would I be?” Stella replied, internally groaning. She just wanted to get to her floor already. The elevator opened a few floors later, and more people got in. ‘Thank goodness for small favors,’ Stella thought. As the elevator continued, more people shuffled in and out of it until it was just her and Price once more.

Stella fidgeted on her feet, glancing in the opposite direction of where he was. He was a pretentious Brit, and he ranked first on her office shit list quickly…granted, he was the only one on it. Everyone else was great.

“Finally,” Stella mumbled as they arrived. She quickly scrambled out of the elevator and headed to her desk, setting her bag down. Price walked past her, heading into his office without another word. “Thank fuck,” she mumbled as she sat. With a ring of the phone, her day began.

“Good morning,” Kate said as she came in.

“Morning Kate!” Stella chirped up from her desk. “I have your coffee and breakfast scone here for you.”

“You’re such a lifesaver, Stella,” Kate appreciated as she picked up the stuff from Stella’s desk. “How does my schedule look today?”

“Pretty light. You should be able to go home to the wife early,” Stella said with a smile. “You don’t have any client meetings. It’s mostly internal stuff this week concerning budgets, payroll, and the like.”

“Great, I could use a break from all the ass-kissing to retain clients,” Kate said with a small laugh.

“Same here,” Stella said with a smile. “If you need anything, please let me know. I’m already getting some of the interns working on the books you need for the financials presentation.”

“Thank you,” Kate said as she disappeared into her office. With another ring of the phone, Stella was back to work putting out potential internal fires so they wouldn’t get to the boss. Working with this security firm was always a new adventure. After a few hours of work, Stella slipped on one of her wireless earbuds and started to listen to music while she got through some emails and set up future meetings with supervisors on the lower floors. Typical everything.

Price stepped out of his office and continued straight forward to Kate’s. He glanced to see Stella softly listening to music as she worked, her hair up in the usual high ponytail she wore. The elevator pinged open, revealing one of the newer interns. She was a round-faced girl about Stella’s height and looked positively nervous.

“Stella,” she said, cutting the silence in the room. The female looked up at the sound of her name, side-eyeing Price before glancing at the new person.

“Irene, what is it?” Stella asked. Price took this as his cue to step into Kate’s office, softly closing the door behind him.

“Morning, John,” Kate greeted. “What is it?”

“Why is Stella still here?”

“Because she’s an excellent assistant.”

“I don’t like her. She’s mouthy, loud, and-”

“John, you’ve cost me five assistants in two years. I’m not listening to your judgment,” Kate said firmly, refusing to look up from her computer. “She’s on top of things better than the last one, and she actually deals with your temper.”

“Kate,” Price started.

“She bites back, that’s why you don’t like her,” Kate said as she looked away from her computer to Price. He scowled, letting out a frustrated sigh. A knock interrupted him before he could say his next words, the door opening to reveal Stella.

“I’m getting this corrected as we speak, but I thought you’d like to have a look at the preliminary reports. The pages are all woefully out of order,” Stella said as she came over to Kate’s desk and left a binder. Laswell immediately started to leaf through it as Stella kept talking. “I’m looking into who approved this to be printed and prepared this way.”

“These dates don’t line up, this is-”

“Once I have a name, I’ll let you know,” Stella said, turning around and starting to leave.

“Thank you,” Kate said. “Stella?”

“Yes?”

“Can you call in the bistro down the street and put my lunch order early?”

“Of course,” Stella said with a genuine smile. “Do you want me to also order you a smoothie from the-?”

“Yes, that would be great.”

“I’ll let you know when the food is here,” Stella said as she left the office and closed the door behind her.

“She didn’t even ask me if I wanted anything.”

“You hate that restaurant, John. We’ve all heard you complain about it. She stays, you don’t have to deal with her for now. She’s my assistant, not yours,” Kate said in a dismissive tone.

“What do you mean I don’t have to deal with her ‘for now’?” Price asked.

“Exactly what I said. John, I appreciate you, but you need to get the hell out of my office right now.”

“This isn’t over, Laswell.”

“When it comes to Stella, yes it is,” Kate said, focusing back on her computer. Price sighed, storming out of the office. Kate chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. “He’s really not going to like the news I have for him next week,” she mumbled, checking the binder carefully a second time.