#romance is about paling around...fucking about...killing time and hanging out

[bumblingbabooshka]

read ur tuvok x neelix fic. how does it feel to Fully Understand romance

HEHEHE this ask made me laugh. Uhhhhm it feels great. I'm gonna try to fully understand math next.

#im getting the hang of adding but subtracting?? I just got all these numbers - where're they going??? #Q&A #kind anon #romance is about paling around...fucking about...killing time and hanging out #it's about little things that mean so much #I love writing romance where people can banter - that's how you know it's real #strict person & little weirdo is forever #especially if it's revealed that strict person is also kind of a weirdo (this IS the case with Tuvok) #ppl say 'why does Neelix call Tuvok Mr.Vulcan? does he know it's not his name?' yes...it's a nickname bc Neelix is CUTE....!! #love is stored in the: cooking for someone who usually cooks for others #love is stored in the family men with no families.... #Neelix's crush on Tuvok is so canon to me even if he never reciprocates it'd still be true it's integral to his character #Tuvok & Neelix holding hands and in the center is the words 'getting little digs in'

[whoretan]

ARK 45 | 01

Summary: Actions have consequences and when your boss Jimin lets you know you'll be working undercover at ARK 45 for no other than Jeon Jungkook, you feel as though you've gotten yourself into something that will eventually get you killed.

WC: 4.4k

Play me while you read.

Pairing: Club Owner/Mafia!Jungkook, Hitman!Reader

Genre: Dark Romance, Angst and Smut (Eventual)

Chapters: 1 (ur here) | 2

Warning: undercover working as stripper, reader has done some fucked up things and will witness much worse, graphic and explicit themes, trauma is ur new best friend, people will die and there is a lot of betrayal, but at least it'll have some good porn, right?, reader is badass tho

“Do you work here?”

Your eyes lul over from the desktop to a redhead with a face full of freckles. Pretty? Sure. Dumb as hell? Apparently. 

Your eyebrows knit at the question, unsure if she really asked you that, given the fact that you’re sitting at the receptionist's desk. You can’t help the amused tug of your lips when you say, “What does it look like, cupcake?” 

Redhead apparently does not appreciate your question because her nose immediately scrunches as she scowls. With a huff and a roll of her dark brown eyes, she points to the ‘Employee’s Only’ door to your right. Your brows lift and you look behind at the black doors then back to her. 

“Is Jimin in today?” 

Now, you’re intrigued. You plant your chin on your palm, which rests on the surface of the glass desk, and grin, “And how do you know Jimin works here?” 

Her face flashes and the red hue of her cheek instantly pale. Looks like Jimin didn’t give Little Miss Sunshine the notice that she shouldn’t be here without an appointment, asking stupid questions that could get her killed. 

“I-“ 

You cut Redhead off because it looks like she’s about to cry and you’re not in the mood to listen to her whining. Besides, it’s ten in the morning and you clocked in an hour ago for fucks sake. 

Lifting your pointer finger toward Redhead, you grab the receiver to your right and press number one— Jimin’s office. 

It rings once, before a familiar deep voice answers, “I’m listening.” 

“There’s a pretty Redhead standing right in front of me asking to see you, isn’t that interesting?” 

Jimin sighs, mumbles a few explicit words, and finally says, “Bring her to my office.” 

Looks like Redhead does know Jimin.

Your grin grows wider, and when you meet Redhead's gaze she suddenly spins around. You hang up on your Boss with a murmur and by the time you place the phone back into its original spot, Redhead’s gripping the handle to the exit. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

 Your words hold no malice, but the message is there. She will regret walking out now that she’s made her presence known. Now that you’ve seen her face. 

Redhead halts, body unmoving for a solid few seconds before retreating from the glass. When she turns back to face you, her cheeks burn a bright red which matches her hair delightfully. Her lip quirks inward as she sucks on it using her teeth, and you somewhat feel bad. 

Her fuck up will either result in her miraculously walking out of the office, or not. Simple. Once you walk her through the doors, she’s no longer your problem. 

Yet, you can’t help but feel intrigued. Why would a girl like her come here? What made her grow the balls to show up to a place like this alone and unannounced? She knows Jimin, but so do the hundreds of others that flock to his side like insects.

“What’s your name?” The question leaves your lips before you can stop the wandering thought. 

Her gaze lingers on yours, she releases her bottom lip and looks to the carpet. “Miranda Ricci.” 

Instinctively, your finger taps the glass, long nails clicking against the surface at the familiar name. She’s here about Richard Ricci, the man you killed four days ago. An old, sleazy fuck that’d been meddling with Jimin’s shipments in the Terrero Region. The shit-bag had it coming. 

Jimin even had the courtesy of sending you out a month prior as a warning. Senior Ricci had too much pride though, and it was exhilarating draining every ounce of it out of his body.

You wonder if she knows her best friend ratted Daddy out to Jimin. 

Not like she’d ever find about that. 

So, like any good secretary would, you stand from your desk, and motion toward the black door. As Miranda approaches you, you place your hand on the small of her back and lean in, “Don’t say anything that’ll get you killed, darling.” 

She tenses under your hold indicating your message was heard loud and clear. 

“So?” You ask as you push open one of the double doors leading to Jimin’s office. 

About two minutes ago, Redhead ran out of the black door with tears streaming down her freckled face. She didn’t even bother to spare you a glance on her way out. 

Jimin’s sat at his desk with his head bent over the top of his chair. 

He groans.

Someone’s unhappy. But then again, if the daughter of a crime boss you ordered to have murdered came into your office you’d be irritated too. 

“She’ll do it.” 

You plop onto one of the leather couches in the middle of his obnoxiously large office and scarf down the Dunkin Donut’s jelly-filled donut you Uber’d. 

“So what’s the problem?” 

Swallowing down the drier-than-expected donut, you peer over to Jimin who’s lifted his head to look at you. There’s a twinge of concern etched on his pretty face and your stomach flips because when Jimin’s concerned, there’s a fucking problem. 

Jimin’s eyes blaze and he crosses his feet in front of him. “She wants to know who killed her father.”

Well, that could be a potential problem.

You tilt your head and smile, pretending like the statement doesn’t phase you in the slightest. 

“You think she’ll try to have me killed?”

Jimin breaks his gaze, looking over toward his shelves of books. He’s deep in thought, most likely weighing out the options you two have. If it’s worth the potential risk of admitting that his secretary killed her father, or simply lying. Either way, Redhead will convince her brother to get rid of all of the shipments coming from Terrero. 

“I do.” 

You can’t help but glare at Jimin. Even though the answer is expected, hearing the words leave his mouth leaves you grinding your teeth. 

You’d kill the bitch before she even gets the chance to tell her brother who’d murdered their sweet little Daddy, hell— you’ll drop off a letter with every single fucking detail. 

“I need you to spy on them.” 

Your eyes turn to slits, and you bite at the inside of your cheek. Spy on one of the most influential Mob families in New York? They have undercover agents, security, and influence from every fucking corner to alley. It’s like Jimin wants you to die.

“More importantly, on Jungkook.” 

The sound of Jungkook’s name piques your interest. The stepson of Richard Ricci. Jungkook’s biological mother married Richard after immigrating from Korea, who’d given his stepson half of his businesses, letting him run drug transactions disguised in form of clubs. 

The corner of Jimin’s lip tugs upward and you chuckle because he’s challenging you. Pushing you past what could very well be your limits. What might just finally get you killed. 

You lick your lips, tasting the sweetness left over from the donut. You suck on your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to stop the smile from forming on your face. “And how exactly do you want me to do that?” 

Jimin’s mischievous eyes hold yours. You’re not going to like his answer and he knows it.

He runs a fingertip over his bottom lip as he assesses his words, their weight, and how you’ll react. 

“You’ll work at ARK 45.” 

You snort, then puff out a breath, completely baffled, “You want me to work at his strip club?” 

“I need you to,” he says flatly. 

“And if he recognizes my face?” 

He glares at you because the question is stupid and you almost turn away from embarrassment because you’re being irrational.

“No one knows your face, Viper.” 

Your eyes hold his, clenching your jaw, and the air crackles between you both. 

Jimin rarely uses the name, like it’s been forbidden from his tongue. But it reminds you of who you are. Not a receptionist, but a weapon which he yields at will. 

You blink and your Boss’s eyes flash with sympathy, as though you’d gotten yourself into something that will eventually kill you. 

You swallow, tear your gaze away, and walk from the couch without another look back. You don’t want to think about what will come out of this. 

ARK 45 pulses with slow-paced, sensual music. The walls drum with vibration and the street thuds beneath your stilettos with each passing beat. You inhale sharply, taking in the red hue illuminating from the grand windows fifty floors above you. 

“Name?” The bouncer asks, giving you one solid look from head to toe. 

You peer at the man who’s holding a clipboard with what you guess is a list of names. Jungkook doesn’t like strangers entering his territory. He thrives on keeping his enemies under his radar. 

The bouncer wears black-rimmed sunglasses regardless of the fact that it’s well past midnight and the dragon tattoo snaking its way up from his nail into the shadows beneath his shirt convinces you he does more than just play security. He’s attractive even with the grays in his beard and the wrinkles around his mouth that give his age away. 

“Joanna Webb,” you lie, providing him with the name Jimin fabricated for you.

He nods and quickly flips through the pages, skimming down the list of what feels like ten thousand names. He then grabs the pen that's lodged into his ear and presses it between his lips, leaving the cap between the folds. He writes something down and nods towards the two glass doors. 

With a quick thanks, you push past him and head toward the entrance. The two doors are completely transparent, except for the large black handles, the left with a number four and the right with a five. 

The first floor of ARK 45 serves as a receptionist area, and if it wasn’t for the three grand chandeliers that hang from the ceiling that conceal the painted ARK 45 in red bold letters, you’d mistake it for any other lobby of an overpriced hotel. 

The real action comes fifty floors above, where the core of ARK 45 sits. 

The bar turned Strip Club after ten is Jungkook’s main event. What draws people into the ARK 45 is its enticing women and mysterious owner. 

To everyday people, Jeon Jungkook is a young multi-millionaire who built his clubbing empire without using the aid of his Daddy. A single bachelor that has girls from all backgrounds coming to try out for a position at his club, for a single glimpse of him.  

To others— people like you and Jimin— Jungkook is a pest. A menace with a presence too large for the entirety of New York. Killing his father was a pinch in his ass, nothing more. Truthfully, he’s probably happy the fucker is dead. 

Jimin had you kill Richard as a warning to Jungkook. 

Because Jungkook runs the shipments from Terrero, not his father. 

Because Jungkook decided to keep them running even after Jimin warned him not to. 

Jungkook will kill you after he finds out you slaughtered his father. Not because he loved Daddy dearest, but because you ruptured his ego, his pride, and tested his territory. 

He’ll kill you as a warning to others to not fuck with the Jeon name. 

Luckily for you, no one bats an eye at Jimin’s secretary. Which makes your job eerily easier. 

You saunter toward the elevators and press the metal button to your left, it glows red as the elevator hauls down to you. The elevator doors slide open, revealing an empty box with mirrors on all sides. 

Momentarily, you take a good look at the red cocktail dress Jimin had delivered to your apartment. The way it clings to all your curves, hugs your body in the right corners without making it feel like you’re suffocating beneath the cotton. He knows what kind of man Jungkook is, what he likes on women, and what he doesn’t. The attached note of, “Wear this, and nothing else. Love, Jimin” confirmed your assumption. 

The doors begin to slide inward before you’d stepped in and with a quickened step you squeeze past the closing doors and heave a sigh. You glance at the columns of numbers and linger on the ‘P.O’ at the very top, the button to Jungkook’s office. 

Which is most definitely guarded by security. 

Huffing, you press the number fifty and watch it erupt with light. The elevator thuds and then proceeds up. You watch the numbers increase, from one to ten, twenty, thirty, forty, till the elevator dings and the wave of music hits you like a tsunami. 

It’s louder— way louder— than outside and your ears pop as you step out of the elevator. ARK 45 is well known for its exclusivity. The walls are painted a dark brown, and the booths are designed into the walls, making the space feel intimate. The stage is in the center of the room, with a single spotlight shining down on it and an array of diamonds and jewels hanging from threads. Every booth has a girl assigned to it, and VIP has two girls with a separate area on a loft to the corner of the club. Attached to the loft are booths that hang from different areas in the upper walls, giving its special guests a view unlike any other.

It’s packed to the brim with men hungrily eyeing the workers, their exposed breasts, and petite frames. The sensual rhythm pumps through your ears and as you make way through the floor your heels vibrate. It smells like vanilla with a hinge of musk which is predominantly radiating from the men. 

You scope the area, and your eyes fall onto a dip in the wall where the mirror in the walls deflects the booming lights ever so slightly. There are two-way mirrors on the upstairs floor. 

Men like Jungkook need control— crave it, and you can bet your life that his office is located at the very top, overlooking the guests as if he were God. 

Below one of the panels lights pulses a red ‘LADIES ONLY’ sign. 

You make your way through the main floor, avoiding the lingering gazes from the men sitting at the tables which are scattered throughout the floor. The last thing you need right now is to draw attention to yourself, unwanted attention specifically.

Without much thought, you push the door open and are met with girls sitting at vanities fixing their makeup, hair, or outfits. Some are half naked, or entirely, while others wear burlesque type of outfits, big feathers and all. 

Blinking, your eyes adjust to the white light that contrasts the dark red in the main area of the club. You stand there like an idiot, but they pay you no mind, too enticed in the music and the atmosphere of the club to worry about someone entering the dressing room. 

“You’re late.”

You spin and an older woman with brown hair and red lipstick scowls in your direction. 

Here goes nothing.

“I need to speak to Jungkook,” you say.

Her lips purse and she eyes your silhouette before sighing, “You have fifteen before you need to be on the stage.” 

You nod and she points in a direction to the right. With another turn, you walk away and head toward another door. After pushing through, there’s a staircase and two more doors with white letters that read “Showers” and “Lockers”. 

Stairs it is. 

You look over your shoulder and peek through the circular hole before booking it up the stairs. 

Confused, and completely lost you feel a tinge of disgust in your sloppiness. 

You’re not thinking properly. You stormed into the dressing room, lied and now you’re standing at the edge of a door that you don’t even know leads to Jungkook’s office. 

Your hand hovers over the wood, and you’re unsure if you should knock or walk the fuck away.

Jimin sent you to the Lion’s Den and you’re lost for the first time in your life. 

You kill. That’s your job. To kill, mercilessly and selfishly.  Not to play dress-up and dance on a pole for the same men you torture daily. 

You turn away, ready to walk down the stairs and out of the club when you remember Miranda. She’s searching for you, so is Jungkook, and when they find you they’ll end you. They’ll do everything in their power to make sure the Viper hangs from a noose outside of ARK 45. 

Are you willing to risk everything you’ve worked so hard for because the Jeon’s need their ego fed? 

You wipe the perspiration from your forehead. When you look at your hand, you glimpse at the cut beneath your thumb, the one Richard managed before you slit his throat. Your temples pound in sync with your increasing heartbeat.

To hell with Miranda and Jungkook.

With a wicked turn, you gouge at the handles and force the doors open. Swinging in full force as a bull would, you’re prepared to meet the gaze of Jeon Jungkook but you’re met with nothing. 

It’s empty. 

You look around the over-the-top luxurious office. It’s ridiculous, with a 180-degree view of the dance floor, the fucker can see everything happening downstairs. It has a large lounge area with a fully stocked bar and leather stools that line up the front of the conference table area. You even notice a hallway with a private bathroom and an extra door. 

You step forward, nearing the desk by the wall. 

You’ll kill him. 

“What are you doing in my office?”

Your heart thumps against your chest with the speed of light and it almost hurts. Breathe, Jesus fucking Christ breathe. You’re the Viper. You’re used to situations where you’re caught off guard, where you risk your life for the “greater good” as Jimin jokes. 

So why the fuck are you paralyzed?

You turn and you see the Grim Reaper himself. 

The man—undoubtedly Jeon Jungkook is tall, well built, and dark. 

He’s wearing a black suit, perfectly tailored. It compliments the tan accompanying his throat and tattooed hands. His black hair, shorter in the front with longer ends frames the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen.

Jungkook’s dark eyes are narrowed to slits. His straight brows, the small bump to his nose, and the flawless curve of his lips are all enhanced by the metal ring pierced into its corners. 

His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail. But his features remain motionless, and in all your years you’d never seen such coldness in a human face. 

You’re staring at him open-mouthed, frozen in horror as if you hadn’t murdered his father a week ago and enjoyed every fucking second of it. His mere presence has reduced you to a shell of who you truly are. 

It feels like twenty minutes have passed. The silence ticks by, and he cocks an eyebrow up, amused by your reaction.

Finally your voice rasps out, “Job. I’m here for a job.” 

“You’re here for a job?” He questions as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever been asked. 

“Is that a problem?” Your voice rises, the edge of hysteria sharp as barded wire. 

He tucks his hands into his pockets and laughs, perfectly straight teeth on full display. His laugh echos tauntingly in your head and your patience hangs on a loose thread. 

“I don’t just hire anyone, sweetheart. My girls are top of the fucking top,” he muses. 

You blink.

“I am the top of the top.” The words are out of your mouth before you could stop them, instantly wishing you could reach out and take them back. 

The last time you danced publicly was ten years or so ago. At a Christmas Recital, your parents forced you to participate in. And the last time you stepped foot into a Strip Club was when you had to lodge a knife between the owner's eyes.

Jungkook takes a small step forward and as if you’re the same poles of a magnet, you take one step back. 

He removes one hand from his pocket and a glint of amusement stirs in his eyes as if you’d just performed a trick that entertained him. Your stomach churns and you can’t stomach the sinking feeling that you did not want to be Jeon Jungkook’s personal entertainment for the night. And an even stronger feeling that you already are. 

Jimin said this would be easy. Walk in, shake your ass a little here and there and you’d get the job. Yet here you are standing a mere foot away from the one man he said to stay away from completely engulfed by his presence. 

“What’s your name, darling?” 

You gulp, and the name Jimin gave you runs in mismatched pairs in your brain. Jocelyn? Jaclyn? Jacky? Think. 

An odd thumping begins in your chest as Jungkook’s gaze falls down onto your body once again. Joan, Joanelle, Joanna. 

Joanna. 

It’s Joanna. 

“Joanna.” The name is foreign on your tongue, but, Jungkook’s face remains emotionless. 

His eyes narrow on your stilettos. “And you think I’d hire you, Joanna?” He drawls the last syllable of the name and his heavy gaze travels upward eventually meeting yours. 

Your eyes burn from the intensity. How can the face of an angel have the eyes of a blackhole? 

 Too afraid to tear away from the darkness pulling you toward him. You nod, slowly.

“Dance for me.”

You stare at him, probably looking dumbfounded as hell. He nods his head toward the chairs beside you. 

“I-“

“You want the job, don’t you? How else would you get it besides impressing me?” A frightening smirk lifts his lips and he approaches you. 

His dress shoes are heavy against the wooden panels of the floor and you’re cemented to the floor. Unable to move an inch. 

You’ll have to dance for him. 

Your heart pounds so loudly you think it’ll rip from your ribcage. 

You don’t even know if you can dance. 

Something caresses your skin and when you stare at the finger, Jungkook’s seated in the chair directly beside you. During your daze, he must’ve turned on the speakers because a Weeknd song you recognize vibrates the room, consuming you. 

Imma care for you, you, you… 

Your eyes fix on Jungkook once more, on his cold, malicious and painfully beautiful face. 

Jungkook’s head cocks to the side and so does a strand of his hair, following the axis of his body with haunting motion. Every instinct in your body is keeping to run away from him, fuck Jimin’s plans and reap his rath as punishment later.

But Jungkook’s hand envelopes your wrist and you swallow the saliva that’s gathered in your mouth and step in front of him. 

You make it look like it’s magic. 

Jungkook’s hand slides from your wrist to the top of the armrest. His dark eyes remained locked with yours and in your life, you’ve never been as frozen as you are right now. It has everything to do with his cold touch, face, and demeanor. This must be what it feels like to have your soul ripped out by the Grim Reaper. 

He’s going to eat you alive. 

Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you… 

Your heart soars with explosive fireworks when Jungkook opens his legs, giving you the access to his lap. 

He’s expecting a lap dance. 

As if noticing your hesitation, he says, “You can always suck my cock.“

Your finger twitches and the unnerving ease in his manner of speech sends your throat into anaphylaxis. 

You have to dance.

I’m never confused. 

You shake your head, and inch into the space between Jungkook’s legs. You’ll kill Jimin for this, rip his balls out and serve them on a platter. Right now though, you have to dance. 

Hey, hey. I’m so used to being used. 

You spin around, because if you have to look into those scorching eyes for another moment you’ll surely pass out. It’s easier facing his desk, facing a blank wall. 

So I love when you call unexpected, cause I hate when the moments expected. 

Using your heels as leverage, you sway your to the rhythm of The Weeknd’s voice. His soft words coursing your ears, guiding you through this torture. 

Your hands find their way to the back of your thighs, grazing the exposed skin ever so slightly before proceeding to your ass. You linger at the shell of your asscheeks, and you use your index fingers to carve out the shape of them. 

 So imma care for you, you, you… 

There’s warmth on your hip, and you try to steady your breath after realizing Jungkook’s using his hands to guide your hips lower and lower. You allow him because rationality is out of the window at this point, you lost it the second you stepped foot into this cell. 

Cause girl you’re perfect, always worth it, and you deserve it, the way you work it.

It’s like your ass collides with a wall. Jungkook’s hard muscles tense beneath you and you grind yourself into him. Into the darkness that’s consuming you from every possible angle.

 The warmth of Jungkook’s body sends shivers down your spine, and the way both of his hands are now gripping your hips, ushering you to glide back and forth on his erect cock. You’re grinding against him, feeling the thick swell of his cock pressed between your clothed ass. 

“Get off,” he growls into your ear.

The trance you’d put yourself in lifts and you blink repeatedly as Jungkook pulls you off his lap. 

When you’re back onto your feet, you spin and Jungkook’s eyes blaze darker than you’d ever seen them. 

He was— is hard. 

What’s the problem? 

The sweet melody of The Weeknd comes to a close and you finally take notice of the remote on the armrest. 

Jungkook stands and there’s no space between you now. His face is inches from yours, bodies so close that his heat and yours radiate in one continuous loop, feeding the tornado brewing. 

He wets his lips, his features dissolving the lust present seconds ago.

“I don’t hire whores.” 

And with those words, he pushes past you and walks the fuck away. 

Next Part.

#jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook bts #bts jungkook #dark romance #bts x you #bts x reader #bts fanfic #slow burn #ark 45 #jungkook angst #jungkook x you #jungkook au #jungkook mafia #jungkook gang #wooop woop

[unholyhelbig]

Loved your latest Natasha fic, the way you wrote her is super cute, can't wait for part two to see how the feelings come into play

[A/N: Sorry this took so damn long, life has been so hectic. Thank you! I'm still getting the hang of writing her, but recently had the pleasure of watching Black Widow again. Cheers!]

Dt 🕸: @143bc @kacka84 @littlebluestone @ohmy-godyes

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You Had One Job Pt.2 | Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Rain choked the gutters in the small neighborhood. It rested on the outskirts of main street, strung with golden bulbs and small thrift stores that had flipped their signs around and counted the registers. The earth smelled fresh and damp and pressed against the cab of the van as it pulled in across the street from a small split-level home painted powder blue.

The sky had dwindled to a milky orange, pink clouds that had once been gray. Your eyes tracked the horizon and then the drops of water that fought for dominance on the windshield. Anywhere was better than Natasha’s fuming gaze. When the widow was angry, and right now was a prime example of that anger, it was better to remain silent.

You knew your place among the Avengers and always had.

There was an heir of usefulness to you that Nick Fury had found inspiring. For a long while, you were considered the new kid, fresh meat for Tony to poke fun at and for Bruce to smooth out with his soft-hearted charm. It had taken a full year for you to consider the group of heroes your family, or as close as you could get to one.

Natasha was like a mysterious family friend who grunted out most of her responses. She had looks that could, and would, kill. You often turned into a bumbling mess around her. If she hadn’t thought you were incompetent before, she most certainly did now.

She pulled the van as close as it could go to the curb, positioning it with precision. The both of you could see through the window of the home, its golden light paling the grass. The clerk from the coffee shop was setting the table for one, and something about the gesture made your stomach clench. You frowned and pulled your attention away.

“Hypothetically,” You began, voice small “I fucked up.”

“There is no hypothetical about it. What if she contacted someone on the way over here? Set off some type of silent alarm to Hydra? Would you like me to continue? Because I can.”

You glowered at her “No. I’ve got it.”

Natasha seemed satisfied with your own level of self-guilt in the matter. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, scrunching her nose. It was funny to you, that a super-spy would have a tell. But then again, maybe even that had been calculated.

Watching the former S.H.I.E.L.D scientist enjoy a single piece of salmon over white rice suddenly became more enthralling to you. She read a paperback that looked like a romance novel. You couldn’t’ make it out, but it was certainly more entertaining than the classic that rested, bookmarked, on the dash.

“What’s with the necklace?”

Natasha spoke for the first time in over an hour. The sun had finally decided to set, and the scientist had moved to wash her dishes, swaying her hips to a tune that no one but her could hear. It was oh so domestic, and oh so lonely.

You furrowed your brow and glanced her way. There was no malice behind her words or her expression. In fact, it looked curious and soft, and nearly apologetic. Her tone was laced with something that you had heard only with Clint, and only once.

Your fingers had subconsciously moved to the shield, thumb pushing against the metal tip of the shield. The grooves glowed a crimson that caught the streetlamps and reflected against Nat’s stare. She had turned in her seat, knees raised to her chest and chin resting upon them.

“You never take it off.”

Natasha’s grasp had been wound upon the chain mere hours ago, her breath shallow and quiet and pressed so subtly against the crook of your neck. Goosebumps rose close to your skin at the memory, at the yearning for the same type of touch that you swallowed back down- a problem for another time, another moment where her anger wouldn’t fume.

“Do you know how my powers work? How I got them?”

She shook her head, eyes becoming less hard than they had been. She kept a steady gaze on their target, who flitted around her kitchen behind your shoulder. There was never a baseline conversation between the two of you. You knew how she took her coffee in the morning, and that her guilty pleasure was a bowl of sugary cereal in the evenings after a particularly bad day. But never this- never the red room, never the experiments, never the origins.

“My mother worked as the curator for the Smithsonian. When we were younger, we would travel the world. I accompanied her to digs, to conventions, you name it. It embedded curiosity into me that I never seemed to satiate. I think she regretted that later in life, taking me everywhere, showing me everything.”

Natasha swallowed hard and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them close, watching you carefully.

“There was a shipment from Brazil. They came in these large wooden crates packed with straw. My mother’s task was to catalog, and mine was to watch. I wandered and came across a simple mahogany box. I dropped it.”

“What was inside?” She whispered, eyes darting from the house to you, tender and careful.

“Terrigen. Terrigen crystals that shattered against the floor and filled the room with this… this purple gas within seconds. Everything smelled sweet and warm and like” you laughed wetly “Kind of like a coffee shop. That’s the last thing I remember before everything went black.”

You ran your fingers over the side of the shield now, the metal cold and smooth against your palm.

“I came to in the hospital, hooked up to every machine imaginable. They wore these alien-like suits for their own protection, kept me in a quarantine cell to run tests for weeks, and through it all they didn’t tell me what had happened to my mother. If she was alive, what I had breathed in and swallowed. It altered my DNA, my physical chemistry, my everything.”

“And your mother?”

“Wasn’t as lucky as me.” You worked your fingers through your hair. The rain had stopped pounding against the tin roof in its rhythmic fashion. “The necklace was a gift from my grandfather on my 18th birthday. Vibranium from the mines he cleared in his own research. I use it when I need it.”

You were a lot smarter than you looked. Natasha’s own expression mirrored the sentiment. You had grown up around scientists, astrophysicists, archivists. Knowledge was hailed within your household, but you determined when to utilize it.

A silence fell over the car once more. The scientist had retired to the living room, the dull glow of the television had replaced orange and gold. Her night was mundane, safe and routine, and domestic.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think you’re incompetent.”

You knitted your eyebrows together and glanced her way. She looked like a curious child, all of the sudden. Not the woman who had the strange and venomous bite to her. Even in her sleep, Natasha would frown, disturbed by something she couldn’t protect herself from. Memories, maybe.

“I’m just a girl.” She said, curling further into herself “One that was molded and trained to kill, but all the same, I am just a girl. I’ve always resented those with powers. It just seemed so easy. To wake up one day without Mother Russia in your ear. Strong and undeterred. But you…”

She took in a shaky breath. You were afraid to move. This was the most vulnerable you had ever seen her or any of the Avengers. You lived together, trained together, breathed each other in, but each one of you had been guarded for good reason.

“Everyone has their own demons, Zaika. I came to that realization a long time ago. I’ve been unfair.”

You gave her a small smile, “I don’t think unfair is the right word. I think you have a crush.”

“You are infuriating.”

“I’m charming. If anything, this stake-out proves it.”

Natasha mumbled something in Russian that you were content not deciphering because she said it with a smile.

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x female Reader #Marvel Au

[scuttling]

If I Should Linger

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,” you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.

“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.

“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.

“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”

“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?

“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.

“That’s gross, Jay.”

“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”

“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”

“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”

“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.

“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.

“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.

“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”

“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.

“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.

“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.

“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.

“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.

He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.

To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.

You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.

“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.

“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.

“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.

“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.

Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”

“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”

“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.

“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”

“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.

“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.

“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.

“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”

“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.

“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.

“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.

He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.

“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.

“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“Did Derek put you up to it?”

“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Old and uptight?”

“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”

“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.

“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.

“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”

“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”

“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.

“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.

Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.

J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.

Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P

J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.

You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.

He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”

“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.

“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.

You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)

“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.

“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.

You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.

Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.

After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.

It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.

“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.

“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.

God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.

“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.

You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.

You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…

Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.

“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.

You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.

He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”

There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.

You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”

Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.

“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”

“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”

“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”

“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.

“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.

Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.

Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.

You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.

“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”

“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.

“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”

You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.

“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.

Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.

That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.

You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.

But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.

You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”

“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.

“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.

He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.

“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.

“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.

“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jay, I didn’t—”

“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.

“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.

“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”

“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.

“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.

“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.

“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.

You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.

“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.

“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.

“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.

“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”

“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.

You’re going to go get your old man.

When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.

“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.

“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”

You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.

“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”

“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.

“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.

J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.

That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #prompt #request

[fanmoose12]

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 7/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

The city he had chosen to stay in was terrible.

It was noisy, it was crowdy, and the constant heat was making Levi go insane.

And while the city’s loudness and the amount of people in it made it easier for him to blend in, get lost in plain sight and all that bullshit, the heat— the fucking heat, gods, it was killing him.

Levi didn’t like cold weather, despised all the layer of clothes he had to put on just to get to the nearest supermarket and buy instant noodles, he hated the snow with passion he carried since his childhood, he thought that winter was the worst season of them all.

Oh, how wrong he was.

The heat was making his skin crawl. Even in just tank top and shorts, he felt too hot. Drinking cold water, taking cold showers, none of it helped. Levi turned the air conditioning in his room on maximum, but the motel he was staying at was shitty, his room was shitty, and, as a result, the air conditioning was shitty too.

Levi was sick of it. His skin was constantly clammy and sticky, he couldn’t sleep at night, there was never enough air around him, and walking around the city during the daytime made him seriously consider whether he was actually a vampire.

The sun… could it really burn so much? It didn’t used to be so unbearable before.

But apart from that… Levi was starting to accommodate to his new life.

Leaving his hometown behind, he decided to let go of his previous habits too. He got himself a job - not a respectable, but at least an honest one.

Being a janitor in a shitty bar after spending most of his life as a thief was almost… therapeutic.

The vomit on the walls and piss on the floors were enraging him to the point of seeing red and sometimes he wanted to break a leg of every asshole who didn’t know when they had enough and went to make a mess in the toilet, but… working there was therapeutic nevertheless. And a definite improvement too.

At least, his life wasn’t in danger anymore and he didn’t have to run away from police.

Although, he wouldn’t mind running away from a certain police officer. Perhaps, this time he would let her catch him. Perhaps, then his heart would stop clenching in pain every time he thought about Hange.

Perhaps, then he’d be able to let go.

He tried letting go, forgetting about Hange, just as he tried to put behind his life of crime. Unfortunately, putting Hange behind proved to be that much harder.

Some nights, when the heat was especially bad, he felt especially lonely and the shitty whiskey at the shitty bar he was working at didn’t do the trick, he’d snuck a look at how Hange was doing. He’d open his phone, scroll through a news feed. If he’d get lucky, there would a recording of some press conference with Hange at the center of it all.

Apparently, she was doing well. Her shoulder was almost healed, although sometimes she still winced, when gesticulating too frantically. But the paleness in her face that was present when he had visited her at the hospital was long gone, and at the few press conferences that allowed Levi to catch a glimpse of her, Hange’s cheeks were adorned by healthy, rosy blush. Her hair was just as wild, just as messy, and her voice carried the same inspiring conviction.

Whether Hange found out the truth about him or not, he didn’t know, but she had moved past Ackermans’ case and during the time Levi was getting used to his new life she alredy solved two robberies.

She was working on a new case now, something about a young girl who had mysteriously vanished. Levi didn’t bother to find out the details, the name Krista Lenz meant nothing to him, but nevertheless, he wished that Hange would succeed. She deserved that, her quick wit and determination were meant to be recognized and celebrated.

That bright, happy smile on her face, the one she was sporting during the conference that discussed one of the solved robberies, it suited Hange so much. Levi wished she’d wear it more often.

He wished he’d see it more often, but well… some things just weren’t meant to be.

Strangely so, Kenny didn’t contact him even once. No obnoxious phone call, no mysterious messages or weird gifts. There was no sign of him for almost two months, and Levi would have started worrying, would have tried to contact the man himself, if… if Kenny wasn’t Kenny.

His uncle was like a cockroach, Levi was one hundred percent sure that nothing and no one could cause him any harm. And if there was someone who actually could do this, Kenny would have harmed them back, ten times worse.

Still, the thoughts about Kenny lingered at the back of his mind, and memories about Hange did the same irritating thing. It made Levi feel awfully nostalgic sometimes, borderline melancholic. And fairly quickly he found out there was nothing he could do about it. No amount of whiskey or dirty toilets could chase that sadness away. That sadness was a new part of his new life.

Maybe, it was better than always living on the edge.

Luckily, he didn’t feel so lonely all the time, his colleagues at the bar made sure of that.

And while his boss, a bald, gross man called Shadis definitely wasn’t a joy to have around, two others – a barmaid named Sasha and waiter Connie were so much better.

They were annoying in their own right, of course. Sasha had a weird obsession with food, Connie’s sense of humor left much to be desired, and together both of them were so damn loud, but for brats who barely stepped into adulthood, they provided a fairly enjoyable company.

They let Levi take his mind off certain things, and they kept him from falling into the abyss of loneliness and depression.

They also opened up the side of him that Levi wasn’t even aware of.

Connie had once mentioned in a passing that his mother had died years ago, and whatever happened to Sasha’s family, she wasn’t living with them anymore, sharing a small flat with Connie and another guy, Jean.

In Levi’s humble, unbiased opinion, Jean was a self-centered, pompous jerk. He wasn’t working in the bar with his two friends, and instead had involved himself in some shady shit with a local gang, which apparently terrified the whole neighborhood. Levi wanted to tell the boy that he was a fucking idiot, if he thought that messing with criminals was a good idea, but he doubted that Jean would listen. Luckily, Jean wasn’t around too often and visited the bar only, when he was miserable about some girl he had a crush on, or whenever he wished to get drunk for free.

It was a good thing that Levi barely interacted with Jean. The boy was so annoying. And also – too damn tall.

He didn’t hear about any other friends of theirs, and as far as Levi was aware, there was no actual adult watching over Sasha and Connie, so… he kinda, unwillingly, of course, took that task upon himself.

Obviously, he made sure to remain discreet. He didn’t want the brats to know that he cared, because he didn’t, naturally.

He claimed that he simply cooked too much food and the leftovers would go to waste, if he didn’t give them away, when he brought them pasta or soup. He mentioned his insomnia and pretended that long walks helped him sleep better, when Sasha and Connie went home after midnight. He lied about having experience in bartending when Sasha got stomach flu. He said that he was just accidentally passing by their apartment, when later that day he visited to check on her.

The brats were too dense to notice his subtle attempts anyway, or so Levi hoped. They had never brought it up, and that had to mean something, right?

And that time when Connie tried to fix Levi’s air conditioning, or when Sasha brought a whole jar of his favorite tea, or all those evenings when he felt blue and homesick and they helped him clean the bar and took him out to dinner, surely it was nothing more than a coincidence.

The brats had their moments, Levi had to admit, and sometimes their presence was almost pleasant.

But sometimes they made him wish they shut their mouths and never opened them again.

Right now, that desire was more prevalent than ever.

“Say, Mister Levi,” Levi hated when they called him that, it made him sound even older than he actually was. He told them to stop it, many times. But the brats didn’t care. He slowly raised his eyes to show that he was listening. As soon as he did, Sasha put a fist underneath her chin, forgetting about the important task of cleaning the glasses to stare at him curiously. “Do you have someone?”

“Someone?” he had an inkling of what Sasha was asking him about, but he didn’t wish to discuss that with the damned brats. He didn’t wish to discuss that topic with no one, ever. Because… there was nothing to discuss.

“Yep, someone!” Connie chimed in. “Like, hm, a significant other?”

“A beloved!” Sasha agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

Levi felt the migraine coming. “I don’t have any kind of someone,” he gritted. “And I never did.”

“Really?” Sasha tilted her head to the side, looking so skeptical that Levi was ready to get offended. Was he not convincing enough? “I thought you do. It’s just that sometimes—”

“When you think no one is looking!” Connie swiftly added.

“Your face seems so much softer, and your scowl almost disappears, and you look—”

“Just like Jean when he thinks about Mikasa.”

Who the fuck was Mikasa? And what face was Jean making? Levi couldn’t be making the same one, could he?

“But if you say there is no one,” Sasha sighed, returning to her task of cleaning glasses. Wearing the same sad face as she did, Connie went back to gathering dishes from the tables. “Then I guess we’re wrong.”

Damn right, they were. There was no one, and whatever face they thought he was making, it couldn’t possibly be related to a certain police officer from the other side of the world.

“And if there is no one you have to think about,” Sasha winked, like she was seeing right through him. “Then let me make you a drink. It’s a new recipe I found, it involves tequila, vodka and—”

Levi raised a hand to cut her off. “Just surprise me.”

Sasha nodded and went to work. She frequently let Levi taste her new cocktails. He was the perfect man for it – he didn’t get drunk too fast, and he was the only Sasha’s friend who tasted something better than cheap whiskey or a beer from a local supermarket. He also never shied away from telling her when the drink was fucking awful.

Sasha hummed as she mixed the drink, some song Levi vaguely recognized from the radio. She was smiling too, she did that frequently, and something about her, be it the ponytail that jumped up and down when she was excited, or her easy-going, cheerful personality reminded him of Hange.

These days, lots of things reminded him about Hange. There were days when almost everything reminded him of Hange. It seemed like today was exactly a day like that.

“You’re making that same face again,” Sasha whispered, as she handed him the drink.

Levi scowled, glaring at the girl, as he put the glass up to his lips. He finished it in one go. “It tastes like shit,” he told her. “Put it on the menu.”

Sasha beamed, refilling his glass. “Knew you’d like it.”

“By the way, boss,” Levi wasn’t their boss, as far as he was aware, their actual boss was getting drunk in his office, all the while mumbling incomprehensible gibberish about some Carla. But Levi had to admit, being called boss was so much better than the godforsaken mister Levi. "Are you free tonight?"

Levi was free every day and every night, when he wasn’t working in the bar with Connie and Sasha. It wasn’t like he had any friends or even acquaintances beside two brats. However, saying it out loud would make him look even more pathetic that he actually was. So Levi shrugged, and said, as nonchalantly as possible, “Depends.”

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” Connie asked, looking at him with a smile so hopeful that Levi was ready to say yes right that instant. God, they already had him wrapped around their fingers. How embarrassing. At least, Kenny wasn’t here to witness it. He’d have a laugh of his life, if he found that Levi was adopted by two teenagers. “Jean is away on a trip, so we’d be glad to have some company.”

“He went to see his family?”

From the way Sasha bit her lip and Connie refused to meet his eye, Levi knew – their friend didn’t go on a simple trip. He sighed, taking a sip from his glass and letting the bitter liquid burn his throat. Admittedly, it was none of his business. He shouldn’t care about it, he wasn’t their father, for god’s sake. But… a friendly piece of advice wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Your friend plays with fire. And if he continues doing so—”

“Jean knows what he is doing,” Connie crossed hands on his chest defensively. “He is smart.”

Levi couldn’t help but scoff. “Just being smart is not enough. There will always be someone smarter.”

“Jean knows what he is doing,” Connie repeated stubbornly. “He’ll be fine.”

Maybe, he will, maybe, he won’t. At the end of the day, Levi had no say about it. He might call them brats, but they were already adults. They were allowed to do as they wished. They were bound to make some mistakes.

“Tell him to be more careful. Otherwise, you’ll suffer too.”

Levi left it at that, not wanting to antagonize Sasha and Connie any further. Besides, it was time to open the bar, or the drunkards all across the block would start banging on their doors. Worse than that, Shadis might come out of his office too. His sour face was the last thing Levi wished to see.

“Let’s get to work,” he nodded to the kids, and took his drink to the dark corner of the room, where he usually spend his shifts, waiting until the patrons start making a mess he’d have to clean.

Surprisingly, the evening came and went, but there was no mess for him to deal with. No one vomited, no one shitted all over the toilets. No one spilled their beer on the floor, or even a table. Were their patrons starting to learn how act like people, and not pigs? Or were they so well-behaved because it was just the beginning of a week? Or did the heat finally get to them and turn them just as slow and tired as Levi himself felt?

However, the weather was more merciful that day. The temperature was still high, too high for Levi’s taste, but just after the sunset the wind was starting to pick up, the storm slowly brewing. During the smoke break outside the bar, Levi could see the lightening, illuminating the far edge of the sky. The rain was in the air, and he allowed his lips to curl up in a pleased smile. Perhaps, he’d finally be able to sleep through the whole night and not toss and turn, feeling like the bed turned into a scorching pan.

When he went back inside, the bar was almost empty, just a few regulars left, nursing their half-finished drinks.

“Do you want to have pizza or sushi?” Sasha asked, as he started sweeping the floor. “We can order both if you wish.”

Levi rolled his eyes with a disgusted tsk. “Eating so much takeout is unhealthy. Let’s finish here and go to supermarket. I’ll cook you something decent.”

Connie yelled a loud yahoo, while Sasha squeezed him in a suffocating hug. The heartwarming moment was cut short, when the door to the bar was thrown open with a loud bang.

It let inside the gush of wind and drops of freezing rain. With a broom still in his hands, Levi turned sharply to the door, ready to rip the unlucky drunkard a new one, the bar had closed almost an hour ago, the sign was right there for everyone to see.

All harsh words died on the way between his throat and his tongue. Levi froze on the spot, and in the silence that followed the lightning strike was as sudden as a gunshot.

Sasha’s distressed cry and Connie’s shocked sob put him out of the stupor.

Throwing the broom away, Levi moved, catching the falling, bloodied boy into his arms.

“Jean!” Sasha was the first one of the two to snap out of it. She ran to Levi, with trembling hands lifting up her friend’s face.

“What the fuck had happened?” Connie kneeled next to them, his eyes wide and scared as he stared at Jean.

Jean looked awful, there was no way around it. His cheeks and jaw were bruised, his right eye was already swollen, and his light brown hair had too much red in it.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, too weak and injured to offer something more than a shaking whisper. “I’m sorry, I’ve fucked up, I didn’t know where to run and now they’re coming here, I didn’t mean to do this, I didn’t think, I—”

He could continue that nonessential ramble for the rest of the night. But if they, whoever those they were, were truly coming, Jean and his friends didn’t have that much time. Carefully, Levi lifted Jean’s arm, wincing when he saw that the boy’s shirt was bloodied too, and threw it over Connie’s shoulder. Then he took the key from the back pocket of his shorts and thrusted it into Sasha’s palm.

“Take him to my room in the motel.”

“And you?”

Levi pushed the hair away from his face, already hating himself for his next words. Kenny was right, he cared too much, and it was his biggest weakness, one that would probably get him killed one day. Perhaps, that day had already arrived.

“I’ll stay here and buy you some time.”

“No!” Jean protested, frantically grabbing Levi by the elbow. “It’s my fuck up, you shouldn’t get involved, you don’t know—”

“I do know. And unlike you, I can actually take care of myself.”

Perhaps, he was too harsh, but it was necessary. Jean had fucked up, and whatever he had done, he had to own that mistake and learn from it. That was the only way he would survive through another one of his mistakes.

“Hurry up,” he told Sasha and Connie. “I’ll meet you as soon as I’m finished.”

Thankfully, they didn’t try to argue. Connie wished him luck and Sasha made him promise to come back, and that was it.

As soon as they had left, Levi hopped behind the bar counter to pour himself a shot of whiskey. He lighted up a cigarette, waiting for the front door to swing open and Jean’s persecutors to arrive. Hopefully, they’d do it without guns blazing.

He was just finishing the first glass and was thinking of getting himself a second one, when the mighty kick almost as loud as the thunder outside pushed the door open. Three men tumbled inside a second later, their faces transformed by fury into caricature masks.

“Where is that son of a bitch?” roared one in the middle, their leader, Levi assumed.

Levi was in no hurry to answer. He took the last drag of the cigarette, meticulously put it down against the surface of an ashtray. Then looked at the men in front of him. “The bar is closed. There is no one here but me.”

“Stop fucking with us!” the asshole on the left shouted. “We saw him run inside!”

“If that fucker isn’t here, perhaps we should look around for his friends,” the third man offered. “I know they’re working here.”

So there was no way around it? Levi sighed, walking from beyond the counter. “Just so you know,” approaching the men, he cracked his knuckles. “I don’t condone violence.”

One of the thugs started laughing, the other two immediately followed. Levi didn’t expect any other reaction. The men were burly, large, they definitely weren’t smart.

“What are you going to do to us, midget? Do you seriously think you can beat us up?”

The insult was followed by a punch, a careless, blundering one. Levi effortlessly dodged it, delivering a vicious kick to the stomach of his attacker. The man - who upon the close inspection had yellow teeth and reeked of cheap alcohol – staggered. He caught himself at the last second, holding onto nearest table with white-knuckled desperation. Levi hit again, this time with his knee. With a gasp that turned into a groan, the man fell onto the ground.

Luckily, he stayed there, and Levi turned his attention to the other two.

The one who stood at the left attacked instantly, aiming his enormous fist at Levi’s jaw. There was an unfinished bottle of whiskey on the counter right behind him, and Levi grabbed it, smashing it against the man’s head. The resulting sound was loud, almost deafening. Levi tried to forget about the mess of spilled whiskey on the floor and let himself enjoy that pleasant sound for another moment.

That was a slight miscalculation on his part, because the last man apparently was armed with knife, and he swung it without hesitation. Levi jumped to the side, but wasn’t quick enough. The knife’s edge kissed his cheek, leaving a smear of blood behind it. A mere second later, the knife was in the air once again. Levi was ready for it this time, but as he prepared to take a swift step back, his ankle refused to budge. He looked down to see that one of the defeated men was back in the game, still laying on a floor, but holding Levi in one place. Levi quickly dealt with him, using another leg to kick the man’s head. It took him no more than a moment, but it was enough for him to lose sight of his last attacker. Whatever plan of retaliation Levi had, he lost it, when the knife embedded in his forearm, making him hiss and cuss. Irritated, he roughly grabbed the hand that held the knife, twisting the arm at the wrist.

There was a loud crack, then the even louder scream.

Not too elegant, but, at least, it did the job.

Yanking the knife out of his arm, Levi threw it away, allowing it to clutter on the ground.

“Get the fuck out of here!” he snarled at the men, who weren’t laughing anymore. On the contrary, their faces were panicked, frightened. They pathetically scrambled to their feet, pushing each other to get outside as fast as possible. “And don’t come back!” Levi shouted to their backs.

When the door fell closed, Levi slumped back against the counter. The spot on his cheek was tingling unpleasantly, his arm was hurting like a bitch, and the whole bar had turned into a mess – the shards of glass and spilled whiskey were all over the floor. The blood from his arm was creating a small puddle too.

Levi viciously cursed and grabbed a towel, making a make-shift bandage. It had to do for the time being.

One mess was dealt with, and now another was awaiting him. He’d be lucky if the dirty floor would be the biggest of his troubles tonight.

But somehow, Levi knew that it was just the beginning.

***

Levi never considered himself to be a philosophic kind of person, he never pondered on the meaning of things, never felt the desire to look at the problem at hand from all possible angles, never reflected on his feelings and emotions.

He did however notice that the small room he had rented in a shitty motel at the edge of the city never felt to him like home. It was a place to live, it had a bed to sleep, it held some of his belongings, but it wasn’t a home, it didn’t provoke in him the feeling of belonging that he found inside the walls of his and Kenny’s old apartment.

He spent a little more than two months, living in that shithole, and never once he thought – I’m home, never once he felt – I belong right here.

But something very similar was blooming in his chest, when he passed the threshold of his shitty motel room and fell right into the arms of Connie and Sasha.

Sasha started cleaning his wounds right away, while Connie rushed to get the new bandages for his bloodied arm.

“You should have been more careful,” Sasha chided, and, fuck, he really got adopted by a couple of kids just like that.

“We could have dealt with this ourselves,” Connie said, and then, after a little pause, added, “Probably.”

Levi hummed and resisted the urge to ruffle the hair on their heads. He didn’t have that much affection for the little shits. Probably.

Just as they finished, Jean appeared, unsteadily walking out of the bathroom. He stopped not long after, leaning against the doorframe. Patched up and cleaned, he still didn’t look like his usual, confident and complacent self. Now he reminded Levi of a puppy who was thoroughly and viciously kicked. His hair was now clean of blood, but the shirt was still covered in red patches. Levi would have offered him one of his own t-shirts, but… on Jean’s lanky body it’d look more like a crop top. Or a child’s shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Jean murmured, not meeting Levi’s eyes. “I didn’t know it’d lead to this.”

Yeah, they almost never know. Levi sighed, there was no point in scolding boy any further. He had realized his fuck up already, his buddies from the gang made sure of that.

“What the hell happened?” Levi asked, his back turned to Jean, as he went to prepare the tea for all of them. It would help to soothe some of Jean’s injuries, and it would also help to relieve Levi of the building tension in his shoulders.

“I… wasn’t quite ready for this life, I guess,” Jean sat down on a bed, covering his face with hands. “There is a guy I’ve been working with, he stole some drugs he was supposed to sell, and other gang members found out and decided to punish him, make an example out of him, but that guy… he was my friend, sort of? We hanged out a lot, and I just couldn’t see him get hurt like that…”

“Oh my god!” Sasha’s hands flew to her face and her mouth opened wide. “Did you get beat up because you tried to protect Marco?”

Connie snorted. “I see you’re getting over Mikasa pretty quickly.”

Behind his hands, Jean’s face started to gain color. “I just helped a guy out.”

“And didn’t even ask for a kiss after the heroic rescue?” Sasha teased.

“There wasn’t much time for kisses after the whole gang started running after us.”

“You poor thing,” Connie patted Jean’s head, sharing a mischievous look with Sasha. “Didn’t even get a kiss for all the trouble.”

The two boys started to bicker, and Levi watched the scene, feeling the pounding inside his head increase. It’d be a long, long night. The one he’d have to spend sleeping on a floor, because there were three brats in his room and only one queen-sized bed.

He raised a hand, putting a stop to the argument that was starting to raise in volume.

“Is the other guy alright?” he asked Jean, as he handed him a cup, filled with steaming tea.

Jean accepted the drink with a grateful nod, but didn’t answer the question right away, staring inside the cup thoughtfully. “He managed to get out of the city. The assholes that beat me up caught me just after he got on a bus.”

Well, that was certainly good news. The only one they received since the beginning of this evening.

“You have to run away too, preferably for quite some time. Those guys won’t forget about you so easily. Do you have a place where you can hide?”

“Well…” frowning, Jean rubbed his neck, “My parents have a summer house…”

“Excellent, does anyone know about it?”

“No, not even these idiots,” Jean answered, pointing at Sasha and Connie.

“Then take these idiots, because your gangster pals know, where all of you live and work,” Levi grumbled. “And get out of here first thing in the morning. Spend a few months in the countryside, wait until this shitty storm is over.”

“And what about you? Now they know about you too.”

What about him… good question. And a very easy one to answer. He’d have to change cities again, luckily, he already had some experience with that. Sure, it was an inconvenience, but… better than live his life and have to constantly look over his shoulder, or die in some dirty alleyway. Perhaps, he’d be able to return some day, when the tensions were long over.

“I’ll leave the city,” he told them. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You had to run away before?” Connie asked, awe written all over his face. “So cool!”

“And you beat up all these guys for us!” Sasha agreed, adoration shining in her gaze.

“You aren’t just a janitor, eh?” Jean stared at him with narrowed eyes.

Levi saved from answering by a loud shrill of the phone.

Everyone in the room tensed, Levi felt his heart pounding inside his chest, a relentless boom, boom, boom. He wet his lips, his throat suddenly too dry, and stood up.

“No!” Jean grabbed his arm, stopping Levi from picking up the phone. Levi understood his panic, it was the middle of the night, who in their right mind would call him at this time? Who would call him period, all the people Levi knew in this city were sitting next to him. Unless, it was Shadis who got out of his drunken stupor and decided to have a friendly chat with a janitor from his bar?

And if it wasn’t Shadis, then…

Acutely feeling his every heartbeat, Levi pulled his arm out of Jean’s grasp. Swallowing that persisting lump inside his throat down, he put his hand on a phone handle. Slowly, holding in his breath, he lifted the phone and put it to his ear.

“Is your name even Levi? Or was that another lie, you asshole?”

That voice. Her voice. Levi helplessly fell back in the armchair behind him.

“H-hange?” the crack in his voice was heard and analyzed by a bunch of kids, who now all stood beside him. Levi waved them away, drowning out the intrigued murmuring, and focused on a person on the other side of the line.

“You still remember my name, I’m flattered, Ackerman,” ah, so she found out. Not surprising in the slightest, but disappointing nevertheless. But how did she find out? And when? And why she was calling now? And how she managed to obtain the number of a motel he was staying at? So many questions, Levi wanted to ask them all at once. He didn’t even know where to start. “And just a piece of friendly advice, next time you go into hiding, don’t go around asking police officers on a date.”

Well, that was one question answered. Only one hundred remained.

“Are you going to arrest me now?”

“No, unfortunately,” Hange bitterly replied. “I need you, Ackerman. For work,” she added, before Levi could get any ideas and just before his heart started racing like crazy. “Take the first flight back to city, if you don’t want me to drag you out of there by force. I’ll be waiting for you in the airport.”

Hange was going to end the call, Levi could practically see her finger hover over the button. Before she did, he cried out, “Wait!” and then, much more calmly he added, “What do you need me for?”

“Your uncle went missing. I need you to help me find him.”

The line went dead immediately after that. It took Levi another moment to pull himself together.

Kenny was… missing? Kenny, his ruthless, unstoppable uncle? And Hange was looking for him? Too much was unknown, too much was unclear, too much was yet to be explained.

One thing for sure, he wouldn’t find the answers here. Well, one problem was solved then, he didn’t have to change cities anymore. He’d just have to return home.

“So.”

Just a short word, but so much meaning was put in it. With a feeling of dread, Levi turned to face Sasha. He shuddered at the sight of her wide, shit-eating smile.

“Hange, hm?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair.

“Hange is your someone, right?” Connie excitedly exclaimed. “Your Mikasa?”

“Hange is his Marco,” Sasha corrected, earning a vicious curse and a middle finger from Jean. “I guess it’s all over with Mikasa.”

It was all over with Hange too. There was nothing with Hange to begin with. And there would be nothing, because apparently she hated him now. For a good reason too.

Fuck. Kenny, Hange, the brats, they all caused Levi a massive headache. And there was no running away from it, they’d find him whenever he ran.

Perhaps, it meant that he had to stop running. And come back home.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he told the kids. “A long journey is ahead of you. And ahead of me too.”

“You’re leaving? To your Hange?”

“Hange is not my someone, I’m just leaving,” Levi grunted, turning off the light. “Go to sleep before I knock you all out.”

Thankfully, they listened and got on a bed without a word of complain.

“It’s good that your Hange found you,” Sasha mumbled, already sleepy. “Maybe, now you won’t be so sad anymore.”

Sasha seemed to fall asleep immediately after, not waiting for Levi’s answer. Or, perhaps, she wasn’t interested in it.

Soon Connie was out as well, and even Jean, after a few of tosses, turns and more than a dozen pained groans managed to settle in comfortably and fall into deep slumber.

Levi didn’t get so lucky, the thoughts about what tomorrow would bring swirling in his mind and keeping him awake.

But, well… at least his melancholy and homesickness wouldn’t be a problem anymore. After two months of being away, he was going home at last.

Strangely, the prospect didn’t seem that thrilling.

#remember when i said that sasha and connie are my literal favorites? yeah it's a chapter dedicated to that #levihan

[andypantsx3]

if i could keep cool | 4

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

There was no other word for it. Todoroki was a menace.

Though his schedule seemed to return to something approximating normal, he was still in the apartment often enough that you began to anticipate him being there. Even when he wasn’t, however, he made life difficult enough for you by leaving behind gifts, with progressively more disappointed notes if you didn’t take them. You didn’t know how it was possible to convey that flat tone in the shape of his letters, but you could practically hear it as you read them over.

Worse, he seemed to know exactly which of your weak points to exploit to get you to want the gifts--leaving you several more books, a bag of the really nice coffee beans from the coffee shop you’d told him about, and a sinfully soft scarf as the weather turned colder. When you continued to ignore the insane amount of money he seemed to think passed for a tip, fresh vegetables started cropping up on the countertops with notes that said things like I’m not going to eat these, if you don’t take them they will be wasted to guilt you into compliance.

A month into it, an entire grocery order started showing up every Thursday shift. My refrigerator is full so don’t try to stuff any of this in there, his note commanded.

He was a master of manipulation, it seemed, and to what end you didn’t know. You made mental notes to not mention any further likes during your conversations, but when he was there, Todoroki’s conversation was so easy and so natural, he continued to pull all the details out of you with ease.

So things you really, really liked kept turning up. And as you talked to him, Todoroki was turning into a thing that you really, really liked as well.

It was overwhelming.

The final straw was a Friday afternoon when you hit up the fancy coffee shop just outside campus. You walked in with the extra money you’d saved up not buying your own groceries, and the vague idea that you would get a head start on an upcoming paper. And then, the barista very obviously glanced between you and a sheet of paper taped to a corner of the register, and refused to let you pay for your order.

“Your order is free!” she chirped cheerfully.

You stared. “What?”

“It’s already taken care of!” she said, and immediately, a cloud of suspicion settled over you.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked.

She smiled. “The occasion is someone already paid for you!”

You glanced around the coffee shop, but you could find nothing but a few unfamiliar students purusing books or churning out work on their respective laptops. You turned back to her.

“And if I were to walk into this coffee shop tomorrow, would the occasion also be that someone already paid for me?”

She nodded. “Yes! All your future orders are paid for, please come as often as you like!”

You gaped at her, and she cheerfully stuffed your coffee into your hands. Then you glared down at the white paper cup accusingly, and it stared back at you, looking like one half of a certain menace’s hair color.

Oh, he was in for it.

You stalked over to a table and whipped out your cell phone, shooting off a message so fast your fingers practically burned.

todoroki what the hell

To your surprise, you received a reply almost immediately.

It’s Shouto.

Like hell it was.

first names are for friends, not psychopaths. did you really pay for all of my future orders at the coffee shop?

Is this your first time there this month? he answered. Where do you usually go?

You stared at your phone. He’d done this a month ago? Also, no way you were telling him your budget spot where you picked up lukewarm bean water when you couldn’t afford four dollar americanos. The last thing you needed was for him to buy them out, too.

You got to your feet, marching back over to the barista.

She smiled. “Back for something else?”

“Yeah, how do I cancel the all my orders are paid for thing?” you asked. “Can you just delete whatever info he left you and charge me from now on?”

She looked you up and down. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

She stared, then leaned in to whisper. “You do know who paid for all your orders, right? Are you actually sure you want to cancel?”

A migraine started in your temples. Had Todoroki actually come in here himself to give his information? Was he trying to get you caught up in the secret lover bullshit that was still swirling in the media?

“I’m extra sure,” you smiled, then went back to your table, satisfied.

No sooner than you had dug out your laptop, though, when your phone buzzed. You looked down at the name on the screen and paled. Todoroki was way easier to deal with via text when you couldn’t hear that low, smooth tone directly in your ear. His face and his voice were absolutely fucking mind-melting, and it would be hard to maintain your stubborn stance even in the face of just one.

Still, though, this was the last straw.

“How many times do I have to tell you that friendship is free?” you hissed quietly as you picked up.

“They told me you tried to cancel,” he said flatly, and your head whipped up to glare at the barista accusingly. She smiled.

“Todoroki--”

“Shouto,” he said.

“Fine, Shouto,” you said, “It’s been a month and maybe I let you get the wrong idea by accepting all of the vegetables and everything, but this ends here. I told you that it doesn’t cost anything to be friends with me, and you had better stop apologizing. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but--”

“Then do,” he said simply.

“What?”

“Then just appreciate it,” he answered. His voice was somehow even lower on the phone and a shiver went down your spine, despite your frustration with him. “Just accept them. Why is it so bad if a friend gives you things?”

God, he was such a rich boy, wasn’t he?

“Shouto, I do appreciate it,” you said. “But I don’t need any of that. And I know that you know this isn’t necessary--I highly doubt that you are buying Midoriya all of his weekly coffees or draping Bakugou in soft scarves. All you need to be friends with me is to just hang out, the same way you do them.”

Shouto was quiet a moment. “Hang out,” he finally said, slowly, like he was tasting the words in his mouth. Then, “Are you free right now?”

“W-what?” you managed.

“You don’t have class right now, right? Your last lecture just let out.”

You were surprised that he remembered your class schedule. Just how much had you told him?

“Uh, yeah?” you asked.

“Good, stay where you are. We’re hanging out,” he pronounced the words like they were foreign on his tongue, then hung up.

You stared down at your phone in shock. He wanted to hang out with you? Like, outside of his apartment?

There was no arguing the two of you got along relatively well, now that the threat of your crazy fandom and the weight of his mistake no longer hung over your relationship. You talked easily enough the one or two times you saw him during any given week. But so far your interactions had been somewhat limited, confined to the familiar space of his apartment and limited to the time that you had to be there. You texted a little outside of that, but you’d never just casually hung out.

Then the weight of his words really hit you. He was coming here? To the coffee shop? In full view of your entire campus? Was he insane?

You ran through a mental checklist of things in your bag that could be used to disguise him but came up short. You didn’t know exactly what he planned to look like when he put in an appearance here, but you were not interested in fanning the flames of the secret lover garbage that was still all over twitter and splashed across the glossy pages of the magazines at the grocery store.

You shot to your feet and threw your bag over your shoulder, then ran out the door, dashing for the campus shop that sat just outside the student center. You blew through the door and dove straight for the apparel section, grabbing the least heinous hat that looked like it would cover most of Shouto’s distinctive hairstyle while also drawing the least amount of attention to its wearer. You also helped yourself to a plain pair of sunglasses that would probably be kind of inappropriate in the fall weather, but would go a long way in hiding his eyes and that scar.

Why did he insist on having so many distinguishing features? Would it kill him to have dark hair and dark eyes like most of the rest of the earth’s population?

You threw the items and a wad of bills down on the register counter, then paused. A few small, slightly-wilted looking bouquets of flowers sprouted from buckets just beside the register in the colors of your university. You didn’t know what the colors or type of the flowers were supposed to mean, and they probably didn’t give off exactly the message you wanted to send, but Shouto had gotten you flowers as the first gift he’d ever given you…

You grabbed the least wilted looking bunch and threw them on top of the other items.

The cashier rang you up with all the urgency of a sloth, and you tapped your foot nervously as you waited. How was Shouto getting here? How long would it take him? Would he be at the coffee shop already?

You stuffed the flowers into your bag, then launched yourself out of the campus shop like a rocket, catching that mop of red and white hair just outside the entrance to the coffee shop. You put on a burst of speed and managed to jam the baseball cap down over his head before he pulled open the door. He turned to you in surprise.

“Y/N,” he said.

“Yes, hi, hello,” you managed while also trying to ram the sunglasses onto his face.

He let out a small huff of amusement. “What are you doing?”

“What you should have done before coming here, you absolute wackjob,” you said, finally managing to slip the shades over his high-bridged nose without poking his eyes out.

Shouto let you manhandle him to your liking, until his face and hair were mostly hidden under your university merchandise.

“Okay, you should be good now,” you said, looking him over. He still stood out, honestly, too tall and outrageously handsome, even covered up as he was. The sweater and well-fitting jeans he’d chosen would still draw anyone’s gaze straight to his trim figure, but it would have to do.

“We can’t go inside, though, you’ll look too shady with the cap and glasses,” you said. “We need to go somewhere outdoors.”

He stared down at you, one eyebrow lifted over the top of his sunglasses. “It’s fall.”

You thought for a moment.

“How do you feel about izakaya?” you asked. “There’s a street-side one not far from here that’s mostly outdoors. They’re good, and I think they’re still open.”

He nodded. “Do you go there often?”

You eyed him. “Oh no. If I tell you places I go, you apparently buy them out. The whole point of you being here is to prove that buying me things is stupid when we can just hang out.”

The corner of his mouth twitched like he was being told a joke you couldn’t hear. “Lead the way, then,” he said evenly.

You pulled him down a few blocks, expertly navigating your way through the winding city streets. You would never admit as much to him, but this place was one of your faves for good beer and cheap yakitori, and you could probably easily find your way both blindfolded and drunk. Shouto followed you easily, a tall, silent warmth at your back.

There were few people at the izakaya when you arrived, considering it was still a little early for dinner, and no one gave the two of you a second glance when you pulled back the curtains and helped yourselves to pair of stools in the corner of the stall.

“Okay, you have to get a beer and yakitori first," you said. "You can do whatever you want after, but the first round has to be that. Just trust me.”

“No vegetables?” Shouto asked.

You laughed. “I know that’s my brand. And there are good veggie side dishes. But there is nothing like fresh, warm, cheap yakitori and a really good beer, especially on a cool fall day like this. I know what I’m talking about.”

A soft smile pulled at his mouth. “So you do come here often.”

You stared up at him accusingly. “If you dare throw a single dollar at them, you’re in huge trouble. I know where you live.”

He smiled down at you. It was easier to notice how boyish his grin was when the rest of his face was hidden by his sunglasses, and heat flared in your cheeks. He was just so damn good looking.

It suddenly dawned on you how forward you’d been with him, sending him sassy texts and putting your hands all over him when you were attempting to stuff him into your university swag. Your relationship had progressed somewhat since that first book he’d bribed you with, but honestly, this was completely new ground for you.

Your face burned hotter. You’d been so, so inexcusably forward. Had you lost your mind?

Shouto seemed to be thinking about the hat as well. “So, do I look like a student at your university?”

You looked him up and down. Aside from your school’s name emblazoned across his baseball cap, he looked nothing like a student, too put together in his dark sweater and jeans that probably cost more than your monthly rent. You wondered if he’d even been within ten feet of an instant ramen cup in his entire life.

“Uh, no,” you said. “You look like someone forced you to wear a hat they panic purchased and it just so happened to be the least horrible one available.”

A smile played about his mouth again. “What were the other options?”

You grinned. “It was this one or a proud dad of a college grad cap.”

He let out a small huff of amusement. You smiled, then leaned forward as the man at the counter came over to take your order, making sure to cut Shouto off before he could attempt any rich boy tricks. You put in an order for two beers and what was probably a concerning amount of yakitori, then turned back to Shouto and almost fell off your stool when he was much closer than you’d expected.

“Do you have a teleportation quirk I don’t know about?” you asked, internally panicking at his proximity. He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of him and catch the scent of his cologne, light and fresh and disturbingly good.

He smiled that boyish smile again and your heart suddenly forgot how to do its job, freezing in your chest. “It’s cold.”

You rolled your eyes. “You have a fire quirk.”

You felt the air grow a little warmer around the two of you. “I meant for you,” he said.

You were torn between relaxing into the sudden warmth and freezing up in embarrassment. It was beginning to dawn on you just how attentive and thoughtful he always was, and you wondered vaguely if the gift giving was actually just a really extreme manifestation of that personality trait. Maybe being an awkward rich boy with a weird way of making friends was just part of the issue.

Your heartbeat suddenly kicked into overdrive. He was already so overwhelming to look at, incredibly brave, such a good listener, and way too easy to talk to. You did not need to pile on other endearing qualities to the frankly alarming number of things feeding into what was quickly becoming the fattest crush of your lifetime. Did he have to be so good all the time?

A hand suddenly reached out, pulling you closer so that you were practically fused to his left side. You stiffened, resisting the urge to curl into the warmth pouring off of him in thick waves.

Not good, this was so not good.

“Uh, you don’t have to do that,” you said, tongue thick, like you were speaking through a mouthful of applesauce. “I’m wearing the scarf you got me.”

Shouto tilted his head, and though you couldn’t see his expression behind the sunglasses, something like satisfaction curled the corner of his mouth. “Good,” he said in his deep tone, “but this will help too.”

“Really, you’re my friend not my personal space heater,” you insisted, trying to squirm away from him. “You don’t need to do this.”

He flared hotter, and a strong arm went around the back of your chair, halting your escape. “I don’t mind,” he said.

God it was like he didn’t even know what effect he had on people. People, of course, being cleaning ladies with twitters full of zoomed in pictures of his abs. It was not good for your health to be this close to him, couldn’t he just let you sit ten thousand miles away from him where both of you would be a little safer?

The izakaya owner interrupted this train of thought, pushing two beers and a plateful of yakitori between the two of you.

You instantly seized on the distraction, bringing a beer to your mouth to give you a couple moments for your brain to turn on again. It was refreshingly cold, and the flavor was nostalgic, tasting like breaks after class with friends and late nights stumbling back after several rounds of karaoke and drinking. You wondered now if, in the future, you would taste it and think back to the one time you’d hung out with Shouto Todoroki.

“It’s good,” Shouto said, looking at you over the rim of his own beer.

You smiled. “I told you.”

Then you shoved a stick of yakitori at him. “Now eat this and tell me I was right about it too.”

His fingers slid along yours as he took the stick from you, calloused and warm. “...You were right about this too,” he said after managing a bite.

You felt yourself puff up. “Of course I was.”

He smiled and helped himself to the rest. With the food and drink absorbing some of your attention, you were able to calm down somewhat, and the conversation returned to normal, you doing your best to forget about the sinfully warm arm curled around your back.

Here, too, Shouto was absurdly easy to talk to, the new venue doing nothing to dull his charm or the easy way that he pulled information out of you with a few, short, well-placed questions. Over the course of a few hours, you worked your way through a few beers and several more side dishes, the conversation never letting up. Shouto was just as intelligent and thoughtful as ever, and he made you laugh with a couple of unexpectedly short tempered comments. Even the discovery that he was not as princely as he usually seemed just fanned the flames of your crush.

It was only when the people around you began to shuffle off of their stools and pack up that you realized how late it had grown, and that you’d spent the entire evening hanging out and talking.

Shouto helped you off your stool when you stumbled a little, the number of beers you’d consumed suddenly making themselves known. “You’re more of a lightweight than I would have guessed by the conversation,” he teased.

You looked up into his face, realizing that he’d shed the sunglasses at some point during your conversation and you hadn’t noticed. Had anyone else noticed? No one had come over asking for an autograph. Maybe he was so unexpected at a place like this that the hat had been enough of a disguise.

You blinked, realized you’d been staring. “Nonsense, I’m a pro. I’ve put in many more beers at this place.”

Then your eyes narrowed at the slow movement his hand was making along the counter, what looked suspiciously like a stack of bills underneath. That little shit.

“Are you trying to distract me?” you demanded, grabbing his hand and stuffing the money back into it. “This is on me. I haven’t paid for groceries in weeks, thanks to somebody.”

Shouto smirked, looking strangely pleased with himself. His hand curled around yours, and his other came up to take your free hand. It was only when he’d transferred both of your wrists into one large palm that you realized what he was doing, plopping down a handful of bills on the counter quickly with his free hand, then pulling your backpack over your shoulder and tugging you away from the izakaya before you could make a scene. You’d been thoroughly outmaneuvered.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, steering you back out into the street. “Give me your address.”

“Shouto,” you whined, “this whole evening was supposed to be about proving you don’t need to spend money to be my friend. We were supposed to hang out.”

“We did hang out,” he pointed out, looking down at you from under the rim of that ridiculous baseball cap. “Your point was very much made.”

It was a testament to how tipsy you were, probably, that this warmed you. You forgot your annoyance with him almost immediately. “Really?”

He huffed a laugh. “Really. Now give me your address so I can take you home.”

You did and he plugged it into his phone. Then he led you along with one hand curled around yours. You spent the whole walk musing on how warm his fingers were in yours, how much larger his hands seemed than yours. Why was even his stupid hand so nice?

It was only as Shouto walked you to the door of your apartment that you remembered the last thing you’d gotten for him in the campus store. You quickly unzipped your backpack, shoving the bouquet of flowers at him.

“For you,” you said, pressing them into his chest. “You got me those flowers. These ones aren’t as nice, but I thought that you should have some too.”

He stared down at you, something strange glinting in his eyes. “You got me flowers.”

“Do you not like them?” you asked nervously. Was it weird to give a guy flowers? It was probably weird…

“I like them,” he declared, and a genuine smile flickered across his mouth. His eyes looked a little brighter, and his gaze was growing more intent by the second. “Now, you should probably get inside before I forget my manners.”

Forget his manners? You stared up at him in confusion.

He looked down at you for a long moment, and then he was suddenly very close, his face dipping down to yours.

“Get inside,” he said quietly, voice deeper than you’d ever heard it. “Please.”

You nodded, swallowing. You had just enough presence of mind to turn and unlock your door. Shouto guided you gently inside with a hand on your back, and then stepped back outside, smiling.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he said.

You waved. “See you on Tuesday.”

You watched him make his way back down the street, only closing your door when you saw him turn the corner and disappear out of sight. Then you sank down against the door frame, heart feeling like it was going to beat straight out of your chest.

Shouto was the most overwhelming man on this earth. You were in such big trouble.

#shouto todoroki x reader #bnha #todoroki x reader #fanfic #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #shouto todoroki

[dadsbongos]

Greetings! I got this idea for danganronpa AU where Nagito is like ghost "living" (or haunting idk-) his old house and the reader moves into that house and they slowly became closer and yk<3

hi i love this concept :)

Request for: Nagito Komaeda Warnings: nagito’s backstory, slight religious overtones, we breach minor ghost-fucker territory (but no actual ghost-fucking), no-killing game au also ~~~

The house itself was rather nice. Nothing too luxurious for who the previous owner was aside from the obnoxiously fancy chandelier hanging in the den.

The realtor was hesitant to explain that the reason it was selling so comically cheap was, in fact, due to the belief of a ghost. Not just any, however. It was the previous owner’s ghost.

People who even stepped into the house could feel his chilling touch. Hear quiet, shaky whispers in the night. The fireplace would crackle and burst to life at strange times with nobody near it. Visitors and almost-buyers alike would thrust their warnings to stay away upon anybody who so much as looked at the home.

But that didn’t matter much - a house was a house and it’s not like the ghost was malicious from description. Just… annoying. Perhaps a little eerie, but again, not harmful. Everybody escaped without physical injury. So, why not buy it?

Maybe the ghost just needed a friend? Death was probably a lonely time.

Bought on Tuesday. Moved in Wednesday. Finished unpacking… still pending.

It’s not like (Y/n) had anybody to impress anyways. She’d made the move for a fresh start; new faces, new stories.

The bumps began on Friday.

Sometimes they were taps. Sometimes crashes followed by the gentle rapping against the walls, as if to apologize for the loud noise.

She’d stayed through the month, undeterred by any of the ghosts’ activities.

Then the happenings seemed a little more… intimate.

A photo slowly sliding out from beneath the fridge, at first.

Three people in frame. From left to right, there was a figure with shoulder-length pink hair and a smile to make the heavens jealous - then white hair to rival a cloud-marshmallow love child, skin sickly pale and body wastingly thin - finally, brown hair with an ahoge sticking out like an antenna and posture that almost made him taller than the one in the middle. Well, not really, but attempting counted, right? 

“Which one’s you?” she asked the air, whether she was too tired, or simply didn’t care enough, to be embarrassed was irrelevant. 

A single droplet of water, from a leak she didn’t know existed until this very moment, fell from the ceiling before splotching over the face of the one in the middle.

“White hair, heavy eye bags?”

There was no response, but she took it as a yes anyway. What a pretty, pretty face. In a tragic way.

Because he did look rather ill. Frail build and purple hues under his eyes. Pretty but suffering - it made her feel bad. Of course, she already knew he was dead, but even so - suffering should always inspire empathy rather than romance.

And again, he was dead, so the likelihood of a romance between them anyway was slim to none. None. Unless she suddenly dropped dead, there would be no sweet kisses in the morning or gentle hugs from behind as one of them makes dinner. Maybe when she died, he’d be available for a ghostly date while the house gets put back on the market.

(Y/n) chuckled at the sudden thought of lightning cracking into her home, despite the sunny weather, and striking her dead where she stood. Ridiculous, but God liked ridiculous things.

The sudden thought hit her - what if that old photo was old old? Maybe he was eighty when he died and she just subconsciously signed herself up for a date with an elderly ghost?

Shaking her head, (Y/n) scolded herself for the thought. She’d already be dead by then, it wouldn’t matter what age he was...

Then, it was the scribbling on spare papers. Always specifically spares. Double copies she had put in recycling. Scraps. Even on the backs of paper-esque trash. It was an oddly considerate move for a ghost, though to be fair, she’d never met a ghost before and couldn’t tell if it was out-of-place or not for them.

The words always appeared when she was out of the room. Leaving to grab something and coming back to find the out-dated schedule for work out of recycling and on her desk with crayon sprawled over it. 

Hi 

Eloquently said, in her opinion.

“Hi?” she looked around the room, “Can you not talk? I thought people said they heard whispers…”

A bang in the other room drew her out. When there was nothing out of place, she returned to her desk only to be met with more words.

I’m Nagito Komaeda :)

“Dodging the question, huh?”

The process repeated. Bang. Nothing out of the ordinary. Return. New words.

Sorry :(

“Don’t apologize,” (Y/n) shrugged off before moving to her computer, “I’m just gonna look you up.”

A series of bangs - now that she truly listened, it sounded like a fist pounding to the drywall - resonated through the home. She did not get up nor did she pause her actions of Googling the man known as Nagito Komaeda. 

Until a piece of paper flew in from the open door.

Bad idea

“Probably, yeah,” she huffed, moving back to her computer.

Nagito Komaeda, born April 28th, first popped up as the sole survivor in an old plane hijacking report. Both parents, all plane staff, and the hijackers left dead after the plane crash caused by a meteor strike. Then he came up as a survivor of an old serial kidnapper/killer. Then as a boy who’d inherited the entirety of his parents’ fortune and won a large sum from a lottery ticket he’d found in the trash bag he was stuffed in by his kidnapper. Then as a Hope’s Peak graduate under the title Ultimate Lucky Student.

Finally, as a 25-year-old man who’d miraculously survived ten years post-diagnosis with frontotemporal dementia and advanced lymphoma before his death.

“Holy shit,” she nearly choked on her own shock, “You weren’t boring, that’s for sure.”

Another paper, this time written in marker as if he could sense that she didn’t wish to get up. Another strangely considerate move.

Thanks 

You’re not creeped out?

“I mean, it’s more sad than creepy,” her eyes scanned over a single line in the article once again.

“Nagito Komaeda, after all his fortunes and misfortunes alike, died at age 25, after ten years of illness, surrounded by friends who took the place of family. Out of respect, no interviews were conducted, but anybody, anyone at all even from a quick glance, could tell - Nagito Komaeda will surely be missed.” 

Her eyes watered slightly as she clicked out of the Togami Publications, laughing at the pure awkwardness of her situation, “Oh my God, that’s really fucking sad. I’m sorry your life sucked.”

Another paper.

It’s fine

I was just wasting space anyway :)

“No, you were- “ she gestured to her computer screen before covering her eyes in shame of her tears, “You meant so much to your friends.”

She expected memorial posts, maybe not as many as there were, but she saw them coming. What she didn’t see coming, however, was that each and every one would be dearly heartfelt - not a single one was disingenuous or vague in the slightest. She also didn’t see herself crying by the end of her little search.

But there she was.

Something light floated into her lap. A tissue.

“Oh my fucking God,” (Y/n) choked up again, picking up the tissue with a small smile, “Stop, you’re a ghost, you’re supposed to be scary and making me leave, not helping me dry my tears…”

Another paper atop the slowly growing pile.

Was that a ghostphobic remark?

“Oh, I’m keeping that one,” she stood, sniffling as she wiped away her tears, and picked up the last paper, nodding to herself as she muttered, “Yep. This one’s going on the wall.”

~~

Nagito stopped whispering because people ran when he did. His voice was always hideous, he didn’t to be reminded. Besides, (Y/n) seemed to prefer the paper method - she hung up her favorites along the walls of her office and if a visitor teased her about it she would ignore them. It was admirable, how their grins and giggles rolled off her back like water droplets over a duck.

He wished he could be like that.

Could have been.

He still had trouble with that.

Has.

Nagito looks up from his spot at the kitchen table where (Y/n) was cooking for herself. She seemed so at-peace in this house, and he’s glad for that. He never liked living alone and everyone else seemed to hate having him there. Not that he blamed them much.

Even so, he much prefers (Y/n) over any past guest as his living counterpart of the house.

She even leaves chairs open for him at the table; he smiles widely at the thought, patting his thighs and kicking out his legs in his seat- just like now!

She’d pulled out the chair upon entering the kitchen before calling out for him that she’d be cooking. She even knew he liked watching her cook!

It was selfish of him to crave so much attention, but in the end, Nagito was already dead so… did it really matter when he indulged in his wants more than he should?

Divine punishment isn’t real and he likes being around her, so why should he bother hiding himself away in the attic?

(Y/n) moved around the house with little to no liveliness, it made him chuckle. Her shoulders drooped and footsteps heavy, it was fun. To feel like he wasn’t alone.

He hoped she felt the same. That he was a friend… or, undead companion?

He hoped she would stay and not move out.

He hoped they could be real friends one day… if it’s not too much to ask, that once she dies, she’ll meet him. The real him. 

That would be heaven.

#nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #anon chatter :) #x reader #oh to have a polite nagito ghost you can pull out chairs for and look up his tragic backstory

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Six

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: nsfw sort of?? barely

***

Cassian is going to kill Nesta.

He’s never met a woman so stubborn that she would rather throw herself under a bus than accept help from others.

“What happened to your rants about universal healthcare and redistributing wealth?” He gestures furiously between the two of them while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “I’m trying to redistribute the wealth!”

She scoffs from the passenger seat. “Nice try, comrade. I’m not letting you dangle your wallet over me while I live with you for free. It’s disgusting and manipulative.”

Cassian wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “Why do you automatically assume I’m trying to manipulate you?” he says incredulously.

“You don’t get to pay for my things,” she snaps. “They’re mine.”

“I know you’re already broke from that MRI—”

“That’s none of your business.”

They pull up to one of the university buildings. “Oh, great argument.” Cassian brings the truck to a stop. “Are you gonna use that one in court?”

Nesta buttons her blue blazer and furiously grabs her things, not saying a word.

“What are you thinking now?” Cassian pokes, the hardness dissolved from his voice a little.

She shoves the passenger door open. “How much longer it’s going to take to get my car fucking fixed,” she bites, hopping out of the truck and slamming the door shut on Cassian’s face.

Clenching his jaw, he watches her walk sharply for the building, tension ratcheting her figure. Impossible woman.

She does look damn good in a pantsuit, though.

***

Nesta has to take deep breaths before she enters the mock courtroom, refusing to let Cassian get to her head right now.

It's not his offering to pay for her endometriosis treatment that pisses her off, but it's that he won't take no for an answer. She wishes he could just let her dig herself into a hole of debt and despair like millions of Americans already do every day. She wishes he wouldn't demand an explanation from her every time she screams and cries about getting her way.

Later. Her mind clears through an imaginary filter. You’ll deal with him later.

Now, she has a case to win.

Nesta strides into the courtroom with her file of documents and takes the speaker’s bench, her opponent already seated on the other side of the aisle. Emerie Nikolis is five feet nine inches of Mediterranean goddess, and the only student at Prythian Law who’s been able to challenge Nesta for her spot at the top of the class. Not that she’s succeeded.

Nesta’s never been up against another woman for a moot court, though, and it adds a buzz to her nerves. Men always come into the courtroom with too much confidence and not enough research, and from there Nesta can steadily dismantle their arguments until they’re left spluttering. From Emerie’s cutting hawk eyes, Nesta knows she doesn’t function like that.

As student judges file in and head for their seats, Nesta leans over and mutters to Emerie, “Good luck defending the side that represents everything morally corrupt with this country.”

Emerie brushes back her ponytail and smiles mockingly at Nesta. “You mean the side that powerful white men have chosen since the beginning of time? I won’t need luck.”

Nesta scowls at the panel of student judges. They are all white men.

“You’re lucky I enjoy a challenge,” she hisses, and sits back in her seat as they start calling oyez.

***

Cassian doesn’t mean to fall asleep.

He’s cleaning up around the house while Nesta is gone, and ends up finding a worn paperback trapped between the leather cushions of the couch. Pulling it out, he takes one look at the cover and nearly chokes. A half-undressed man graces the cover in regency-era clothes, his flowy shirt unbuttoned to reveal toned abs. A woman with golden curls clutches onto him passionately, only dressed in a corset and underskirt.

A slow smirk spreads over his face and he snickers. He didn't know people read these anymore. A glance at the back of the book proves his point: published in 1999, a true vintage piece.

Plopping onto the couch and laying back, he opens the paperback. If Nesta doesn't want him reading her books, she shouldn't leave them lying around the place.

Flipping to a random page, he frowns when it isn't a smut scene. Boring. He keeps flipping until he finds one, and props his feet onto the armrest to get comfortable. Now what exactly does Nesta Archeron get off to?

Over an hour and a hundred pages of surprisingly tender romance later, his aching eyes finally slip closed. The open book falls onto his face, and the scent of faded ink follows him into sleep.

Cassian is in a dim candle-lit room. Foiled wallpaper and overstuffed furniture decorates the space, and there, by the small window, she waits.

She turns her head to speak over her shoulder, “You came.”

“I did.” The line comes to him naturally.

Without turning around, her hands reach up for her hair. She starts removing pins from her updo, golden curls falling apart one by one. Once the last pin drops, she finally turns around.

Gleaming locks now frame her soft face and shoulders; her pale breasts rise and fall above the low curve of her thin nightgown. Under the candlelight, she looks freshly forged and porcelain-like at the same time.

“Could you help me?” Nesta says.

Cassian is stuck in his spot, unable to move. He's never seen Nesta like this: so heavenly, but so different.

“Cassian?” she asks again.

“Oh,” he stutters, “um— what do you need?”

She steps closer. “You.” His breathing stops. Nesta slips her slender hands up his arms, to his shoulders. She's holding him close. “I need you to tell me something.”

“Anything.”

Her breath fans over his face. “Do you want me?”

Cassian is very still.

“Do you want me like I want you, Cassian?” she repeats, pressing closer to him. He can feel her nipples through the wispy fabric of her gown.

“Yes,” he breathes shakily. He doesn't know which hurts more: wanting Nesta or being wanted by her.

“Have you been very lonely, Cassian?” She drags her hands back down his arms, finding his hands and placing them on her shoulders. “Is that why you like having me around so much, because you’ve been lonely?”

This Nesta knows him… a little too well. His breath hitches as his hands, directed by Nesta’s hands, slowly pushes down the sleeves of her nightgown. In a flash, the fabric has dropped to her waist, baring her unblemished chest and stomach. Before Cassian can even absorb what's happening, her arms are winding around his neck again, and now she's pressing entreating kisses into the crook of his neck.

“Tell me,” she mutters onto his skin. “Do I make you feel heard, or am I just a pretty face to you?”

“Nes—Nesta.” Cassian tries to swallow air.

She smells so good. She feels so good, and she's not even doing anything to him, just holding him.

“Heard,” he gasps when she goes for the buttons of his shirt, her mouth finding his chest. “You make me feel heard. I like it when we talk and you listen to me. Nobody listens to me.”

She pulls away from him, mouth shining. He just now realizes how jarring the gilded ringlets of her hair are.

“That’s so good,” Nesta purrs, reaching up to clasp his face. Her hands feel thin and rough, like paper. “You’re so good.” She reaches in, her lips chasing his, and—

Awareness seeps into the corners of Cassian’s reality, and his eyes peel open. He blinks between two different worlds until he finally realizes— it was a dream.

Of course it was a dream. Nesta doesn't have blonde hair or curls. And her skin isn't porcelain smooth, but dotted with freckles and moles. And yet, the arousal stirred in him is very much real, evident by the ache in his dick. Fuck.

A throat clears softly and Cassian jumps. The romance book is still on his face, he notices, and his world is darkened by the rough pages. Batting it away, confused, he fully awakens when he sees who’s in front of him.

She’s still in her pantsuit from this morning, but her hair is undone and her cheeks carry a rare flush. Her clothes are rumpled.

“Nesta.” He scrambles upright, painfully aware that he was just dreaming about her half-naked. He carefully arranges his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between his legs. “You’re back,” he says casually. Taking notice of the blackness outside the windows, he becomes concerned. “You’ve been out this whole time? Oh God, I was supposed to pick you up—”

“No, no,” she says quickly. “Didn’t you see my texts? I went out with some people from moot court.”

Cassian widens his eyes. He’s never heard her mention any friends from school, much less leave the cabin to hang out with other people.

“I totally kicked this girl’s ass in the Title IX case I was telling you about,” Nesta goes on, “and she wanted to take me out for afternoon drinks, and some other guys ended up tagging along too…” She twists a piece of hair around her finger, the experience sounding as brand new to her as Cassian suspects it is. “And yeah, then she got me a cab.”

He raises a brow and leans back. “You willingly let someone else pay for you? Wow, you really are drunk.”

The smile blossoming on her mouth drops and the cold veneer returns. “So you go through my stuff while I’m gone?” she scolds. “How many times are we going to have the boundaries conversation?”

Cassian picks up the paperback still on the couch. “Oh, this? This was just a little light reading. You know, since I share my Netflix and Prime with you, I figured you could share your period-piece smut with me.” He fans through the pages, trying to find the spot he left off on. “I didn’t even know people read physical romance books anymore. That’s like me keeping VHS tapes of porn instead of using my phone.”

Nesta stomps over and snatches the book out of his hands. “It’s not like I enjoy owning books with ugly covers,” she hisses. “I get headaches reading e-books. And this is a classic.” She carefully wipes at the cover as if Cassian got dirt all over it.

Cassian tries to snatch it back. “I wasn’t done with it,” he grits. “Nesta, give it back.”

“I’m glad we brought up boundaries,” she says instead. “Because we need to talk about this morning.” Shoving the book into her pants waistband, she peels off her blazer and takes a seat on the coffee table in front of Cassian.

Cassian blinks, gripped by the authority in her movements. Nesta pokes a finger at his chest. “What you said bothered me all day. Nearly ruined my night. So I’m telling you now, I’m not taking your money for anything, ever. And if you bring up the topic again, I’m moving out.” She sounds dead serious.

He’s not afraid of her. “I’m bringing up the topic now,” he pushes back, his tone hard. “As someone who considers you a friend, I don’t like to see my friends struggling.”

Nesta blinks, and maybe finally accepts that she can’t fight her way out of this, because she drops her finger. “I can’t be financially dependent on a man, Cassian,” she admits, refusing to look away from him. “I’ve done it before, and it’s no way to live life. I don’t care how nice you are; I’m not taking your money. And you can’t make me.” She doesn’t shout or hiss that last part. It’s said with a quiet strength, and it makes Cassian want to concede everything. If this is about her ex-boyfriend, then he doesn’t want to be anything like him.

But it doesn’t change the fact that her health is still on the line. “What if you don’t take my money?” he says quickly. “What if I make you work for it?”

Law school doesn’t allow for part-time jobs on the side, and Nesta’s been scraping by with scholarships and leftover money from her father’s will. The suffering is worth it now, she told Cassian once, if she’s at a law firm the year after next with a starting salary of 100K.

Nesta purses her lips, skeptical. “What kind of work?”

“You can be a legal consultant for Night Court.”

“Do I look qualified to be a legal consultant?” She’s glaring now.

“Well, it’s either that or you get to be my personal assistant.” Nesta looks even more outraged at that, and Cassian holds up his hands. “I respect your need to stay independent,” he says, “but you can’t convince me that a handout or two is worse than going broke.” Cassian himself would be dead right now without all the handouts he got over the course of his life. “Please, Nesta,” he says quietly. “Think about it for me. And if you still hate it, I’ll never bother you about it again.” Even though it would kill him.

Nesta stares at him, the gears in her brain visibly turning. Finally— “Rhysand’s company does run on handouts anyway,” she mutters, glancing away. “What’s one more?”

Before Cassian can drop to his knees and thank her, she whips her head back to him. “But I want to do real work, Cassian. Not the pretense of work while I get a fat paycheck.”

He bursts into a grin and grabs her arms. “I’m gonna work you so hard.” He kisses her hard on the cheek.

Nesta makes a choking noise and starts coughing, and Cassian realizes how that sounded. “Did I say something wrong?” he plays innocent.

Nesta’s face is red for reasons other than alcohol now, but she covers it up by shoving Cassian hard enough to send him into the couch cushions. “Asshole.” She pulls her book out of her waistband and throws it at Cassian’s chest. “Have your romance back, I’m going to bed.”

“Hey— wait, it's six p.m. What about the puzzle?” he calls after her. She ignores him and keeps walking.

“Fine,” he says to her back, “but don't go to sleep with your contacts in again; you're gonna hurt yourself.”

As she reaches the stairs, he adds, “I’m proud of you for the moot court, by the way. I’m telling everybody you're the smartest person I know.”

Nesta pauses briefly at that, before saying, “Goodnight, Cassian,” and continuing up to her room.

Later that night, Cassian does want to tell everybody that Nesta is the smartest person he knows. She's the smartest, coolest, and wittiest person he knows, full stop, with killer looks and a criminally underrated personality. But something is holding him back from sharing his feelings with the rest of the world.

It's the same feeling that's had him avoiding Feyre these last few weeks. The unspoken knowledge that not everybody sees Nesta the way Cassian does, paired with the fierce desire to protect her from any sort of criticism.

He doesn't have any definitive proof to justify his feelings, but he knows he can't stop thinking about Nesta. He knows his friends will take notice of the change in his behavior eventually, so in a fit of restlessness, he reaches for his phone to test a theory.

Scrolling through his contacts, Cassian eventually settles on Mor. She's close to Feyre and Cassian both, has an inclination to gossip, and she’s never interacted with Nesta. Perfect.

Cassian: what do you think of Nesta?

He's straightforward with her the way he always is, the way she always is with him.

Mor answers quickly without question: didn’t she let feyre work her ass off at age 14 while she sat around and did nothing?

Mor: she sounds like a bitch and i have yet to see anything to the contrary.

Mor: she has very nice eyes though

Mor: if u know what i mean ( . )( . )

Cassian wishes he hadn’t even asked. He doesn’t even know how to reply to that, so he’s about to turn his phone off when another message from Mor comes in.

Mor: why do you ask? how are things going with you two?

Cassian sighs deeply, not in the mood to start a fight with one of his best friends. He never told Feyre about taking Nesta to the doctor, or the following MRI and diagnosis. The last time he had a real conversation with Feyre was the first night of Nesta’s period, when he was worried sick over how to take care of her.

“What should I do, Feyre? She's crying herself sick upstairs and all I have is this stupid hot towel.”

“You don't have to do that,” she sighed tiredly over the phone. “Nesta goes through this every month. She’ll survive. Don’t get yourself worked up over nothing.”

That was when he decided he was calling a doctor no matter what.

And now… He’s confused and upset and he doesn't know why. Instead of arguing with Mor, he texts back, it’s nothing. A second later, he adds, but she's not a bitch.

He wants to say more, but texting Mor an essay on why she’s wrong for judging Nesta without knowing her would make him look crazy, among other things. He doesn’t know why he has to clarify that Nesta isn’t a bitch in the first place.

Either way, Cassian’s theory was proven correct.

He decides not to mention Nesta to his friends anymore.

***

Nesta lays in bed, thinking about the absolute day she’s had.

If getting drunk with Emerie Nikolis and Eris Vanserra at two in the afternoon wasn’t enough, stumbling back home to find Cassian like that finished her off for good. Her cheek has been tingling for hours.

She remembers how this housing agreement between them first started: I need you to know you can enforce whatever rules and boundaries you want while you’re here.

Nesta huffs a laugh. Boundaries are for strangers. Cassian seems content to poke and tug at Nesta’s boundaries whenever he wants, and Nesta… is okay with this. A mere month ago, this would have been her worst nightmare— living with a man who pushes her on every decision, who never does what she wants but somehow always knows what she needs.

But now they're friends, and Nesta is slowly learning that the rules are different with friends. Not everything has to be spelled out, because Cassian will understand what she's trying to say anyway. Not everything that is unknown has to be scary, because Cassian is never scary.

He’s allowed to read her books because he won’t make fun of them. He's allowed to know about her personal health matters because he won’t tell anybody else. And apparently, he’s allowed to give her a job so she doesn’t go broke trying to afford endo treatment.

These are the new rules.

She’s ridiculously glad that she told Lorene she won’t be coming back to the apartment for a few weeks. She doesn't know what she'll do after then, but for now she is okay.

***

a/n: hello i love writing cassian pov and learning more about him so much :) also thinking about having cassian call nesta 'baby' when they get together more often than 'sweetheart' just bc i think it would be a good look on him. pls share ur opinion.

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies

#a favor #ncssianwrites #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fic #nessian au

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 12

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kax/female!Reader

Summary: a prison heist

Note: so 2 things, 1 - the song is this chapter is ‘Bulletproof Heart’ by My Chemical Romance and 2 - finally a kiss!  maybe not exactly the kiss thats expected but its where they’re at for now

Taglist: @mcntsee​ @amwitherspoon​

              Kaz was able to catch sight of the carriage as it was pulling out of the gate.  He and Mal took off running after it, Kaz screaming Y/N’s name.  He dropped the cane, running as fast as he could, desperate to catch her.  Mal dropped back before Kaz did, bending over panting.  Kaz kept running, ignoring the hellacious pain in his bad leg.  He ran until his leg gave out on him and he landed face first in the frosted grass.  He screamed out his rage, punching the hard ground as he sat up.  Mal came over and tried to help him stand but Kaz pulled away, collapsing to his hands and knees, retching on the grass.  He wasn’t sure if it was because he was disgusted at the touch of another or if he was disgusted at himself for doing this to her.  When they got to the prison if someone recognized her and sent word to the Darkling he would come for her.  He would try to use her and if he couldn’t, he would kill her. Kaz finally got to his feet and accepted his cane from Mal.  

              “I’m going after her,” he said, starting to limp back to camp.  

              “I know, we can’t send a squad, we’d never get in, but, maybe a few thieves could get in,” Mal responded.  “I’ll gather some supplies and go track the carriage, make sure of their destination.  If it is Sarkoff’s prison we have a few people in there, we can send 3 more at the guard changing at the end of the month but not before then.  Get planning.”  

              “The end of the month?  She could be dead by then!” Kaz said.  Mal stopped.

              “You need to calm down and think with your head Brekker, you know that she wouldn’t want you running in there half-assed and getting yourself killed.  Come up with 2 other team members and a plan and we will get you in there and you will get her back here safe.  I know you will,” he said.  Mal walked off then towards his own tent while Kaz went to find the Dregs.  

              He found his crew around a table eating and he fell to sit on a bench.  They all looked at him and paled.  They had probably never seen him like this.  He was wet from the frost, bloody from his fall, and looked murderous.  

              “What happened?” Jesper asked.  

              “The fucking Dime Lions took her, prison in the south…” he started.

              “Sarkoff’s?” Inej asked.  Kaz nodded.  

              “I need a team, I need to get her back.  If the Darkling finds out she’s there he will kill her, I cannot lose someone else I love, I can’t lose her like I lost…my brother…I can’t” Kaz said, eyes glazing over, memories washing over him.  He knew he must terrifying them.  He was Kaz Brekker, he kept his calm no matter what, if he lost his head that meant the end of the world and for Kaz this very much felt like the end of the world.  

              “I’ve been there as a guard to keep an eye on things,” Inej said.  “I can help with the plan, we will get papers for the guard transfer at the end of the month. We need one more person to go with us.” Jesper stepped forward.

              “Y/N is my best friend now, sorry everyone else here, so like hell I’m not going to break her out of prison,” he said.  Inej nodded.

              “Kaz, can you keep your head to do this?  Get it together,” Inej said.  Kaz took a breath and closed his eyes.  When they opened he was alright again, the old Kaz was back and he was ready to formulate their plan.

              Y/N sure how long she had actually been in this prison, every day was exactly the same.  They days were spent with her hands cuffed to the ceiling and beatings were given when she wouldn’t reveal anything about the resistance.  If she did say anything she sent them on wild goose chases and those beatings were especially savage.  In the evening they paraded her out on a stage, cuffed at the hands and feet, pelting her with fruit and trying to get her to sing.  Someone had revealed she liked to write songs and it became a daily occurrence to mock her into singing.  

              She saw the full moon one night through the small cell window and knew it must be the beginning of the month.  New guards, lovely, more people to torment her and mock her.  She sighed as the evening drew near, straining to breath after the strangling someone had give her earlier.  She missed Kaz, every night she dreamed about him, just holding his hand or being in the stream again, in the day she went over every interaction they had had since they met nearly six months ago.  How did she go from being alone and feeling trapped to being in love and free in six months?  She marveled at what Kaz had done for her and she hoped one day she would see him again.

              The evening guard entered her cell, laughing about the upcoming ‘performance’ she was going to give.  They uncuffed her from the ceiling and led her out to the rec hall.  They entered and tossed her on the set of boxes they made as a ‘stage’ and started hooting and hollering at her.  She was looking towards the guards’ room where the keys were hanging desperately trying to think of a way to get to them.  There was always a guard in there on duty and one standing by the door as watch.  With the cuffs she couldn’t hope to get past them both and she sighed.  She was knocked over suddenly by a metal cup thrown at her shoulder.  She pushed herself up on her knees and looked towards the door that led to the cells and there he was.  Kaz.  Their eyes met and she nearly cried in relief.  Jesper and Inej flanked him, all three dressed like guards, Inej whispering to him and motioning towards the guards’ room.  He looked intently at her and she realized they needed a distraction to lure the guard at the door away, just for a minute.  She nodded and slowly stood.  

              “You want a song you fuckers?” she yelled out at the guards.  They all stopped, now waiting for what she would do next, thinking they had finally wore her down into performing something.  This would be good, if she was willing to embarrass herself like this maybe she would start giving them information.

              “Sing bitch!” one guard yelled and they laughed.  She took a deep breath and opened her mouth.

“Gravity don't mean too much to me I'm who I've got to be These pigs are after me, after you

Run away like it was yesterday And we could run away If we could run away Run away from here”

           The guard by the door laughed as she started singing and called into the room, probably telling the other guard he was leaving to join the others.  He stepped forward into the fray of people who were yelling at her, calling out the most heinous things they could think of.  But she wasn’t listening.  This was the song she wrote for Kaz and right now she was singing for him and no one else.  

“I gotta bulletproof heart You gotta hollow point smile”

           Inej had been meant to stand guard at the door but as soon as Kaz heard that line he stopped and stared at Y/N.  This was the song she was working on, for him.  He looked to Inej who seemed to understand that something was going on right now.

           “Stand guard, I’ll be able to search for her keys faster,” she said, leaving him at the door.  Kaz stood and listened at the song continued, waiting impatiently as Jesper dispatched the guard and Inej found what she needed.  After about a minute they both reappeared and started working back to the door to the cells. Y/N really turned up the energy to keep the guards distracted.  Jepser and Inej slipped out first and Kaz took one more Y/N before they disappeared into the hall.  

           “You two find the laundry room and make sure we can get out that way as planned,” Kaz said.  “I’ll wait by her cell until after the lights out bed check and then get her.”  They all nodded and went their separate ways.

           Kaz settled himself in an alcove by her cell, just big enough for a couple people to fit in, and waited.  After about an hour she was brought back to the cell and chained again to the ceiling. Kaz felt his blood raging in his veins. She looked thinner, dirty, she had been beaten and he wanted to kill everyone who had hurt her in the last month. The guards left and he still had to wait.  Finally, the guards called lights out down the corridor and checked her cell before walking by.  After they disappeared through the door Kaz slipped out and opened her cell.  She looked up at and he could tell she was relieved to see him but still terrified.  He hurried over and undid her cuffs.  She collapsed to the ground and he offered her his hand.  Once she was up they headed out of the cell and he locked it again.  They were shooting down hallways towards the laundry room when he heard guards coming.  They were still in the cells and there was alcoves like the one by hers around so he gently pushed her to the wall of one and stood silently in front of her, facing the wall.  In the dark hopefully the black guards’ uniform would keep them shadowed there.  He noticed then that she was completely flat against the wall, hands pressed to it hard, holding her breath so that he body didn’t touch his.  He looked down at her, marveling at how she was bruised, bloody, and scared, but she still was conscious of him and his needs.  He could see that she was shaking a little, scared of being caught and he knew he needed calm her down somehow, any noise she made may draw attention to them.  He looked at her and did the only thing he could think of, something he had wanted to do for a long time actually.  He leaned forward silently and pressed his lips to her forehead.   Y/N instantly stilled.

             Kas Brekker was kissing her.   Y/N felt his lips on her forehead, only for a few moments, but it was enough to draw her focus to just that feeling.  His lips had been soft and warm, something she didn’t expect from him, but she shouldn’t be surprised, he wasn’t as hard and cold as he seemed to everyone else. She froze in place, reminiscing and storing the memory of his kiss inside her heart.  It was just enough time for the guards to leave the corridor and for them to move again.  They arrived at the laundry room where Jesper was waiting.  

           “Where’s Inej?” Kaz asked while Y/N hugged Jesper.  She was so happy to see her friend again, and so grateful they had come for her.

           “She went through the vent to open the guards’ door on the other side,” he said.

           “People tried to sneak out of the laundry room all the time, they added a second room to check for escapees,” Y/N explained, voice hoarse.  She looked at Kaz and saw that he was upset by her appearance.  She smiled at him, completely forgetting how much her face hurt from the bruising.  He was with her again and that was all she needed right now.  

           Inej soon opened the door to the laundry room and then to the outside. They were able to slide through a gate that had been opened for them, closing and locking it again as they jumped into a waiting carriage that Mal was driving.  He took off into the night back to the encampment.   Y/N didn’t mean to but she was so tired from her experience that she instantly fell asleep the moment she was safe, head falling to Kaz’s shoulder.

           Kaz felt her head on his shoulder and was shocked to find that he didn’t feel much.  The feeling of something being off was less this time, he barely noticed it.  What he felt was relief, and complete.  For the whole month she had been gone he had spent every moment feeling like something was missing.  It was a similar feeling to how he felt after he had climbed on the docks and left Jordie behind.  It had taken years for that feeling to go away and he didn’t want to relive it again. Inej and Jesper looked surprised that he was letting her lean to him.

           “Are you alright?” Inej asked.  He nodded.

           “I know you noticed that something’s wrong with me,” Kaz said.  “With her, its not as bad.”  

           “And maybe love is the reason whyyyy,” Jesper sang out, mimicking the love song that Y/N had sang on their first night at camp.  Kaz glared at him but couldn’t completely hide the amusement from his eyes.  

           “You know she is the only safe from my cane Jesper,” he said, grabbing it from the seat where he’d left it and thumping Jesper in the shoulder with it.

           “That’s just rude,” his friend said, lifting his arm and letting it fall useless to his side.  “Its going to take forever for it to start working again.”  Inej laughed and Kaz smirked a little, leaning his head back on the seat and feeling at peace for the time.

#six of crows #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz x reader #kazbrekker #kaz #unexpected allies series

[marvelmenlover]

Loki (smut)

warning: actual fucking, cursing

Anger. Sadness. Betrayal. All those emotions ran through your veins when you found out Thor cheated on you. You had felt like someone had stabbed you in the heart. Over and over again. But now you felt numb. You had just screamed and yelled at him just about a couple hours ago. Now you sat on the couch, staring mindlessly at the flashing lights on the TV. Whatever though. Fuck Thor. You didn't need him. Taking another sip of your wine, you cuddled closer to the fluffy blanket wrapping your body . Sighing, you tried to convince yourself not to kill him. I mean...you weren't actually considering it. Right?

No of course not.

Still though.

Were you not enough? I mean, hell, you were the whole package. Beautiful, smart, witty, and not to mention, a fucking Avenger. You saved lives. Did he want more? He tried to claim to you he was drunk, and that girl didn't mean anything to him. He begged and even shed a tear asking for you to forgive him. With red eyes, tear stained cheeks, and a broken heart, you said no. And you didn't regret it.

No one else knew. Made sense though, everyone was at a huge gala. Everyone expect Loki and Thor. Thor mumbled an excuse as he headed towards his bedroom when Tony questioned why he wasn't joining him. Loki just rolled his eyes and said they were stupid. You also said you had work to do. So now you were alone. Expect for the fact Loki and Thor were here. But Thor holed himself into his room, and you made sure you were as far away as possible from him. You weren't sure about Loki.

Tugging at your silk top, your body shivered. You moved closer to the blazing fireplace, letting the crackles and snaps drown out the TV. Then Loki walked in. You quickly turned your head. He entered the kitchen and started to rummage the cabinets.

"Looking for a snack?" You questioned as you leaned back into the couch.

"Yes. If only Tony didn't stock up with junk" he replied. You chuckled lightly, knowing Tony kinda had a sweet tooth.

"Why didn't you go the gala?" he asked after taking a sip of water. Leaning against the counter, you could barely see his abs through his thin shirt.

"Busy."

"Doing what? Seems like your sitting around, doing nothing" he shot back, raising an eyebrow. Your cheeks slightly flushed red, knowing he had caught you.

"I-uh- already finished my work. I'm taking a break now" you mumbled under your breath, praying he wouldn't ask more questions.

"Oh ok." He flopped onto the couch and grabbed the remote.

"Hey!" You exclaimed.

"What? I wanna change it. This crap is so boring." He replied as he flipped through a couple of shows.

"Fine. But I'm not watching any romance shit"

"Wouldn't dream of it darling" he said, shooting you a small smirk. Your cheeks flushed red slightly at the gesture. Shifting your body, you tried to become comfortable. You kinda forgot he was right next to you.

"Stop moving!" He complained. You rolled your eyes as you then purposely hit him in the leg with your foot.

"Suck it up. You'll get over it" you smirked back

Your shoulder were now barely brushing each other. He turned to face you. You looked back, and gazed into his pale, blue eyes. Was it just you, or was he kinda turning you on? The warm glow of the fire only did him justice, and that fucking voice of his. It was deep and smooth as silk, and you could listen to it forever. Wait. What was wrong with you?! This was Thor's brother. He's probably the same asshole. Then again, he's adopted... Wait no. This is crazy. You quickly snapped out of your thoughts as he broke the silence.

"Make me" he uttered softly, the sensuality of his voice making you wet.

"Maybe I will" you whispered back. Without thinking, you quickly latched your lips onto his. He instantly kissed you back, sucking and biting on your lip. You let out a quiet moan into his mouth as he pushed your back onto the couch.

"So fucking pretty" he murmured as he caressed your cheek gently. He kissed you again with passion and lust. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, you arched your back a little, pressing into his body. He grabbed your hips, pushed them down, and held them in place.

"And you're all mine" he purred as looked into your eyes again. You had gone crazy with lust. Lips swollen, panting softly, and hanging your mouth open, you waited for him to do something. Loki didn't waste any time.

He swiftly took off your top and pajama bottoms. He dug his hand into your panties and lazily stroked your pussy. With his other hand, he groped your breast softy.

He chuckled lightly under his breath.

"You're so wet for me darling" he whispered into your ear as you closed your eyes, feeling your body get hot. Then he took off your panties and lowered himself until his was facing your pussy. Knowing what was going to happen next, you could feel your core throb even more, if that was even possible. Giving you a quick glance, he buried his face into your pussy. Automatically, you arched your back and moaned loudly. He knew what was he doing. He circled your clit with his tongue skillfully as he suckled on the bundle of nerves. Haziness passed through your mind as your thoughts disappeared. He then plunged his tongue into your vagina, and you grasped at his hair. Tugging at his locks, he continued to fuck you with his tongue, lapping up all of you.

"FUCK" you screamed as he sucked even more. Stars danced in your head as you felt heat burn in your pussy. You orgasmed as he watched you moan and pant.

"Good girl" he said in a low voice. Towering over you once again, he took off your clothes and his. Once you were both naked, you made eye contact with his cock. It was huge, even bigger than Thor. It was sinfully thick and leaked with precum. You moaned a little thinking about how you would feel with him inside of you. Thankfully, you didn't have to resort to your imagination. Loki flipped you so your stomach was on the couch. He then thrusted into with so much force you squeezed your eyes shut and moaned. He continually plunged into you. Over and over and over again. He eventually snaked a hand to your clit and rapidly circled it. You were a mess. He filled you up so perfectly, stretching you in all the right places. Plus, he hit that sweet, sensitive spot constantly. Something Thor was never able to do. He groaned into your ears as he railed you even harder. He glided his glistening cock into your sweet pussy so much you thought were in heaven. You whimpered and moaned so loud, but you just couldn't control it.

"Say my name" he growled through his soft moans.

"Loki" you moaned, without even thinking.

"Louder" he said, thrusting into you even faster.

"LOKI FUCK" you howled as you orgasmed again. Both of you came at the same time. Now you were officially in heaven. You just felt so fucking good.

Loki and you both sat up on the couch, panting softly.

"Well that was-" he said.

"Yeah" you replied quietly.

There was nothing except your breathing and the ongoing voices coming from the TV. Then there was stomping. Loud stomping.

You didn't even process what was happening until Thor walked in. Looking at the scene, he dropped his mouth in astonishment.

"WHAT THE HELL Y/N" he thundered, anger blazing in his eyes.

"Relax brother" Loki swiftly replied, smirking back into the couch.

"Relax? Relax?! That's my-" Thor started.

"Your what? Your girlfriend? Not anymore she isn't" Loki said, throwing an arm around you.

Thor almost burst in fury.

You turned to look at Loki, confused.

"How did you know we broke up?" You questioned.

"Y/n, darling, I'm a god. I know everything." Loki winked.

#loki smut #loki x y/n #loki #smut #fucking

[fakeloveaskblog]

Janus, have you and Remus hung out other then when you go to fake therapy? You should ask him out? Keep it open, maybe not outright ask him for a date but to hang out!

(Words: 2140)

Janus: "Oh you know me anon. I am so totally known for asking people to hang out. Yes me and Remus have been eeeverywhere together /s No we have never hung out.......But I suppose you have been very wise so far. So I shall try and go ut of my comfort zone and ask him he would like to spend time together"

They were in that same spot they always stood after the fake therapy. Where they were supposed to part ways. Remus had his phone out, checking the bus times. Janus knew he had to say something now or else yet another week would pass and he would never have the courage to ask.

"Do ehm is you- fuck-" Janus wanted to smash his head open on a rock. He was a idiotic mess who couldn't even say a simple sentence.

"What?" Remus looked at him with a smile. Jan swore he had specifically practiced that smile so it made him melt internally every single time.

"Do you maybe possibly have anything to do today?"

"Oh yeah all booked up with exorcising demons out of old ladies' houses. you know how it is!" He let out a short screechy laugh "Come on Snakey y'know I don't have a job or any plans on robbing banks right now. Of course I'm free!"

"Noted. Then I am totally not asking you to perhaps do something like going to the movies?"

Remus' eyes widened and he shone up into a huge toothy smile "YES!" He grabbed Janus' hand while flapping with his other hand "You gotta be psychic or something! I've been wanting to see this movie made by a director I'm hyperfixating on but I didn't wanna go alone and my sister is still out of town SO this is great!!"

He didn't waste another second. He dragged Janus with him as he began to very quickly walk while continuing to stim.

All Janus could do was stare at their hands. Their palms pressed against each other. His love's thumb brushing up and down his skin. He had never been happier over forgetting his gloves at home.

His cheeks stayed rosy red the entire walk. It was like walking on air. He didn't even realize Remus was still speaking until they got the cinema.

"-And that's why I thought it would have been better if the hamster had died!" He concluded.

".............Fascinating" Janus replied hoping it was a good answer.

"I know right!"

He looked down and realized they were still holding hands. His happy expression instantly dropped as he let go of Janus like he was made of fire.

"Oh fuck buckets! I should have asked if you were okay with like ehhh touch beforehand! Now you're gonna cut my head off!" Remus gasped out.

"Indeed, I do now hate you and I have already hired an assassin to kill you" Janus replied sarcasticly "It's okay, I promise"

Remus let out a breathe of relief in the most cartoon balloon leaking air way possible. "Neat!"

It was 3 pm on a Thursday so there weren't any people in line. Remus didn't even give his friend a chance to pay for his own ticket. He also got a big ass popcorn and a bag of eyeball candies.

He dumped the snacks into the arms of Janus as his eyes caught on a poster on the wall advertising another movie. He jumped up and down while pointing at it, like the excitement was too much to be contained in his body.

"It's my sister! She told me she would be in this one!" The poster didn't show the actresse's face since she had on a cloke to look dark and myserious (tm) "That's her I swear on the last human tooth I have!"

"I believe you. You could be her perfect stunt double"

Remus shoot his arms out "That's what I've been saying too!!! You really are a psychic! Being a stunt double is literally the dream job! I get to pretend to be killed in so many ways! I get to jump off of buildings!! Sadly she mostly does dramas and romances and all that boring stuff"

"Well I for one would love seeing you get stabbed on film" He held his hand over his heart as he said it.

"Omg snakey!! Thank you!! Means a lot!"

He had that wide smile on his lips again. Janus wished he was able to make him smile like that every day.

"Oh the movie is starting soon! Ahhhh exciting! Horror really is the best genre!"

Janus paled "Horror?"

"Yeah! I told you all about the movie on the way here remember? You're okay with horror right?"

"O-Of course! I have watched halloween alien on elm street like 5 times!" He lied.

Remus chuckled "Sure sounds like it"

They went into the screening room. Ads were running on the big screen. They were the only ones there. Remus found their seats right at the back in a corner. He sat down and triumphantly put his feet on the seat in front of him.

"Look at that snakey! We've got the whole room to ourselves! Only...."

His eyes suddenly stopped and shifted to stare out into air. His happy expression slowly disappeared leaving a hollow look on his face. He moved his legs up to his chest and sat completely still.

".....Only us......"

Janus slumped down in the seat next to his. Remus leaned away in his seat so he was further from his friend.

"Indeed. I could poison you and no one would be here to stop me. But I won't...yet" He hoped a joke would make his love lighten up again.

Remus forced a halfhearted smile "Sure that"

The movie started. Janus was already stress eating popcorn from fear by the time the first scene had ended. Which only made him even more stressed over making Remus think he was a fat gluttonous disgusting mess! Which he was! But he didn't want him to know that!!

Whenever he glanced over to Remus he looked just the same, As if the movie was fucking mamma mia or something.

He didn't want to seem unclassy and close his eyes like a 5 year old so he tried to comb his hair in front of his eyes instead. He couldn't stop his racing heartbeat or his unsteady hands though. He didn't do well to loud sounds. Or screaming voices.

He jumped in his chair at an extra gory scare. The popcorn landed all over his body. His cheeks went red enough to be mistaken for a ladybug.

Remus glanced over at him "You don't have to hide that you're scared y'know. The audience reaction is like half the fun"

"Me? Scared? I haven't felt scared since I buried a body in 1967! This is just how I show my appreciation for movies!" He blurted out the lie in a panic.

His love threw his head back as he let out a loud laugh. He couldn't stop as he buried his head in his hands. His shoulders moved in rhytm to his giggles. It seemed to calm his nerves a bit.

"Holy shit snakey that was such a horrible lie! You're such a dork! I say that with affection I promise"

Janus couldn't help but chuckle along "Dork actually means something really dirty. I know since I was practically married to my dictionary when I was youn-"

"WHALE PENIS! I know!! You're the first one who also knows!"

"I suppose that means we're soulmates now" Janus couldn't help but say it.

"Penis soulmates!"

Janus sighed "Yes"

In the movie a man's torso was ripped from his body. Remus flapped his hands. Janus let out a quiet whimper.

"I could infodump a bit if that would make you less scared"

Janus leaned closer to respond but Remus instantly flinched back. He made sure to keep keeping his distance "I would love to hear"

He shone up into a smile. It wasn't quite as carefree and happy as the other ones but it was still his smile and Janus had caused it. It made him feel warm.

He started rambling about the director's other movies and how the themes tied in with this movie. About how the director had studied to be a doctor so he know enough about biology to make all of the gore extra realistic. About how the movie soundtrack's added to the scare even though they were often silly. All while stimming. Sometimes he went quiet to focus on the film while Janus curled in on himself and closed his eyes.

Honestly Janus could have heard him go on for hours but sadly the movie eventually ended. And they eventually got out of the cinema. And eventually the snacks the shared while sitting on a bench outside also ended. And the conversation died out.

It was only around 5 pm but the sky had already started to darken. The streetlamps were getting lit one by one, and a few people were standing in line for the next movie. Janus feared having to say goodbye.

Luckily he didn't have to as Remus quietly asked "Could you like follow me home? The apartement is only 15 minutes and a minor murder spree away"

"Of course!" He replied a bit too excitedly.

He made sure to not walk too close as to not make him flinch again. Remus started to subconsciously hymm on a song after some time of silence. Janus couldn't stop feeling over the moon at the fact that he was hanging out with someone! And he seemed to like him!! And he was in love with him no less!!!

"Snakey I think I gotta admit something kinda dorky-"

"Is it the murder in 1967? We've all been there"

"Actually it was in 1987. Okay but really.....The only friends I've ever really had has been my sister and my ex, and some online friends here and there I guess but we lost contact really quickly. What I mean is that I'm really rusty on this whole friend thing and I'm just glad that you don't get annoyed by my infodumping or stimming or....or the whole me!"

Janus' eyes widened and he slowly let up into a laugh "Oh! Oh I have been so worried for nothing then! I've never had any friends, at all! This was literally the first time I ever went to a movie with another person! We're the same!"

Remus giggled "We really are penis soulmates!"

"I am begging you to not let that become a thing"

"Too late! It already is! We're both friendless dorks you motherfucker!! Of course we're penis soulmates!"

Janus sighed "I am suddenly so glad we are close to your place so I can get away from you.....That was a lie"

Remus lightly punched his shoulder "Better be. Or else I'd have to kidnap you!"

He stopped in front of a series of building of obviously quite glamorous apartements. Janus was honestly starting to wonder if he had a sugar daddy and or sold drugs. Or else he had no idea how he could afford all of this.

They stopped right in front of the entrance. Remus crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Janus fiddled with his sleeves. Neither of them wanted to say goodbye.

Janus shuly glanced at his love's face. His birtmarks which he so wanted to press kisses to. His fluffy hair he would love to nuzzle into. His full lips which he thought about running his finger over every time he looked at them. He was beautiful. Just beautiful.

"Sooo....I guess I will either see you in hell or in fake therapy next week?" Remus asked.

"For sure"

He awkwardly opened the door "Well I will see you then then!" He did fingerguns "Bye penis soulmate!"

Janus rolled his eyes while waving "Bye.....phallus companion!"

The door closed and he was left in the silence. It took a few second and then

"YES! OH I did it! I survived! Aphrodite would be so proud of me!!"

Janus had to sit down. He was going to explode. He couldn't stop moving his hands around. He was going to pass out. He had never been happier. He deserved a whole soup bowl of ice cream.

He took off his beanie to drag his hand through his hair. He felt breathless from happiness as he stared up at the sky. He had never felt more in love.

He looked at where he imagined you would stand if you had a corporeal body.

"So I suppose your advice worked quite well. It did sound like he wanted to hang out again...So anon....or whatever voice that is in my head that asks me things......Do you have any suggestions on what we should do on our next hangout?"

#remus sanders #sanders sides #janus sanders #dukeceit #demus #ask #its 3 am #im gonna go sleep #mini fic

[jessikahathaway]

Crimson Grail VI

Hi Guys!

Hope you’re all having a great day!

Here’s the next chapter of Crimson Grail. (If you want the scoop it has more chapters on AO3.org DreamingCompanion is the name there if you want to find me. Just in case you wanted the latest on this story. But I will still be posting it here too.) TL;DR It’s posted on AO3 too. With more chapters. 

Pairing: Min Yoongi X Reader

Genre: Pirate!AU, Fantasy, Romance, Adventure

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Descriptions of Violence.

Yoongi bolted across the docks, heading right for the spot where something had fallen in the water. Jumping aboard Allistar’s ship Yoongi saw the men gathered over on the other side, near the railing. 

Pulling his pistol he cocked it and aimed directly at Allistar’s head.

“Bring her up, right now,” Yoongi said, placing his finger on the trigger.

Allistar paled as he saw Yoongi before him.

“W-What do you mean?” 

“Bring my wife up this instant before I blow your brains across the deck,” Yoongi warned. 

“I haven’t the faintest idea of what you mean?” Allistar said, feigning ignorance. 

“Captain!” Jin’s voice echoed through the cavern.

“Take this, don’t lose it,” Yoongi said to him, hanging over his effects. 

“Sir it’s been at least three minutes-”

“Don’t lose them!” Yoongi shouted, heading down the deck and towards the top.

Jumping in swiftly he landed in the cold water. The icy liquid ran over his body, soaking through his clothes and making him want to shiver, but he knew that he had to save you. There would be no other alternative. 

The salt stung his eyes as he looked for you. Panicking he looked around for your hair against the reefs under the ships. Looking for the swirling tendrils of your locks he finally found you, and he swam deeper. His lungs already hurt from the effort, but he wouldn’t give up. 

Wrapping his arms around your chilled frame he tried to pull you up, when he realized that you had rocks strapped to your feet. He mentally screamed in rage at the stupid young man who had just tried to murder his wife. 

Pulling out his knife he brought it to your restraints and cut you loose. 

Planting his feet firmly on the bottom he pushed you to the top, following closely behind you. 

As the pair of you breached the surface, Yoongi grabbed your waist and pulled you to the dock. Greaves was there, waiting for the two of you with bated breath. 

“Captain!” He said, reaching down.

“Get her up,” Yoongi said, pushing you into his arms. 

Greaves hauled you up onto the wooden surface of the dock, laying you on your back. Yoongi pulled himself up and out of the water with the ease of a lithe cat, settling beside you.

“Do you know how to resuscitate her?” Greaves asked.

“Don’t look,” Yoongi demanded, taking his knife and cutting your corset off of you shortly thereafter. 

Once it was removed he checked your breathing. You weren’t, to say the least. Your lips were blue from the chill of the water and lack of oxygen. Quickly Yoongi started pushing just below your breasts. He did this quickly and with precision, not alleviating for a moment.

Jin came running down the dock soon after Yoongi began. 

“Captain! The men have Allistar and his trapped. They await your orders sir,” Jin said, looking down at the gruesome scene before him. Yoongi was trying desperately to bring you back, but the more he tried the less you seemed to respond. 

It broke his heart that someone so kind and generous was going to be dead because of something as stupid as wanting power over the other. It disgusted Jin for the first time. 

Being a pirate disgusted him.

Jin kneeled down beside his captain, taking his shoulders in his hands. 

“Captain,” he said.

But Yoongi didn’t stop, he kept pushing and pushing, hoping that you’d come back. You had to, he’d barely gotten to know you. But he knew that he didn’t mind waking up with you beside him. Having you to talk to in the morning. The way you blushed when his stare lingered a moment too long. 

And the way you’d jump into action to save his own life. 

“Captain,” Jin said again.

But Yoongi refused to listen.

“Come on, come on, come on,” he repeated as he forced his weight down on you. 

“Yoongi!” Jin yelled. 

Everyone froze at the utterance of their captain’s name. 

“Stop, she’s gone,” Jin croaked, holding back his own tears. 

“No,” Yoongi whispered. 

“Come on, let’s go. I’ll have the men gather her up, you need to rest,” Jin said, placing a jacket over Yoongi’s shoulders. 

“Give me my pistol,” Yoongi demanded.

“That’s not a good-”

“Give me the fucking pistol now!” Yoongi growled. 

Jin quickly handed the weapon over without more protest. 

Taking it Yoongi ran up the deck, headed toward Allistar. 

“Where are you? You son of a bitch!” Yoongi yelled, climbing the deck until he was level. Then he shot into the air, making everyone jump. Yoongi glowered at the crowd in front of him. 

“Captain!” Jin shouted, but it sounded so far away to Yoongi now. 

You were dead and this bastard had to pay. 

“Come out here you scared little wretch!” Yoongi said, reloading his pistol.

The crowd didn’t part and Yoongi called his men off, bringing them behind him while he walked along the deck of the ship, trailing his nails along the weathered wood brought him an unusual calm as he looked around at the captain.

“Tell me, at what point did you think it would be a good idea to take something valuable away from me? Hmm? Did you forget who you were dealing with?” Yoongi asked, getting closer and closer with each question.

“Captain Min listen to me,” Allistar said, backing up against the railing. His men doing little to protect him.

“Listen to you? Are you insane? Do you hear yourself right now?” Yoongi asked. “You truly are as naive as they say you are. But at what point did you think that messing with me, and the people that I care about was in any way a good idea?”

“Captain Min, she was plotting against you! She planned to murder you and take the Grail for herself! I was only helping a fellow Pirate Lord,” Allistar pleaded.

Yoongi full on laughed. Heart wrenching laughter that brought a tear to his eye. Tears that didn’t stop. 

“I have lost so much, Allistar. So much in my life. That’s what this life gets you. Sure there’s bountiful booze and treasure to gaze upon. And the glory of having your name on the tongues of several common folk. But here, tonight? You made the worst mistake of your life. You took something from the wrong person, and I’m here to make sure that you pay for every inch of it with your life.” Yoongi said, aiming the gun directly at Allistar’s head. 

“Please,” Allistar said.

“Please what?” Yoongi continued, sounding soft. But his eyes betrayed his facade. Yoongi was angry. Truly and deeply angry for the first time in a long while. And he wasn’t too sure what was going to happen now. He wanted to murder Allistar. It would be justified, he’d killed you. He went against the code, and now he could pay with his life for it.

“Please, spare me. Do you want me to beg?” He asked, raising a brow.

Yoongi scoffed and looked at the young male practically groveling at his feet.

“Have you no shame boy? You made a mistake, and now you must pay for it with your life. Pirate’s life, mate,” Yoongi concluded.

He cocked the gun in place and set his target.

Everything was still. 

Until.

“Y-Yoongi don’t,” a weak voice croaked from behind him. 

Spinning around Yoongi saw you, cloaked in Jin’s coat and standing on the deck on shaky legs. 

“Y-Y/N?” He said, looking at you in disbelief.

“Yoongi, don’t hurt him,” you said, collapsing onto the deck. Quickly, Yoongi made his way over to you, collecting you in his arms and wrapping you up in Jin’s jacket. 

“Oh my Goddess, you’re alive. Y/N,” Yoongi said, placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

“I continued trying to bring her back when you left,” Greaves said.

“Thank you Greaves,” Yoongi said, rubbing your shoulders to warm you up.

“Do-on’t hurt him Yoongi,” you mumbled, trying to stay conscious. 

“But Y/N, he-”

“He’s young and stupid. Let him learn from this instead of murdering him for it,” you said, exhausted.

“As you wish, Y/N. Allistar?” He said, turning and giving the man an icy glare.

“Y-Yes?”

“If you ever come near my wife again, I don’t care how much you beg, you’re a dead man. Understand?” 

“Yes,” he said, slumping over and landing on the deck on his knees. 

Yoongi nodded in finality, picking you up and starting to walk off the deck. 

Jin followed closely after, fussing over you and Yoongi both. The entire crew followed closely behind Yoongi and yourself, making sure no one came close to you. 

“Yoongi? Can I sleep now?” You yawned, cuddling up to him and his warmth. 

“Yes dear, sleep. You need it,” he said.

And with that you drifted off into the blackness...

—

You woke up a few hours later, a chill running through you. Yoongi was asleep on the other side of the bed, back facing you as he slept. You smiled and simply grabbed another blanket that was at the foot of the bed and pulled it over you, cuddling back down into the sheets when-

“Y/N,” Yoongi said, facing you now.

“Yoongi!” You yelped, jumping up. You hissed in discomfort as your shoulder whined in protest at the sudden movement.

“Are you alright?” He asked, shuffling closer to you.

You nodded slowly, rubbing your aching muscles to ease the pain. He sighed and pushed your hands away, moving your shirt down and looking at the bullet wound himself. You blushed and looked away, trying not to seem childish in your actions.

“It doesn’t look infected. It was a clean shot, through and through but it might’ve chipped something in there. Do you want something for it?”

You shook your head, simply rubbing it some more. “No, it’s not so bad. Just hurts with sudden movement,” you explained.

“Alright,” Yoongi said, leaning back down on the bed.

You mimicked the behavior, about ready to fall asleep once more when Yoongi spoke up again. 

“Y/N?”

You turned your head towards him, looking at his soft expression in the moonlight. 

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking at the bruise purpling on your cheek. 

“Yes, I’m alright. How about you?”

“I’m... nervous,” he said carefully.

“About?” You continued.

“This... Us...” he whispered softly.

“What about us?” You asked.

“Well ever since that day everyone’s been calling us husband and wife and I, well... I haven’t properly asked you and you haven’t actually said yes. There’s been no ceremony and I feel like I should at least ask you what you want before-”

“Yoongi, are you asking me to marry you?” You gaped. 

“I think that’s what I’m trying to do, but I’m not sure,” he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“Well. Ask me properly then,” you said, sitting up in bed and smiling. Yoongi sat up as well, moving forward to take your hands.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded. Coming forward you brought Yoongi into a hug. He smelt like the sea and something else. You weren’t sure what it was, but it brought you comfort. He patted you back softly and when the two of you broke apart, you gazed at him.

“Something else troubles me,” Yoongi said, playing with his fingers.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I don’t know you very well. I know you’re stubborn and you are clever. But I don’t know much else besides that. But I do know how frightened I was when I thought you’d died. I-um... Well let’s not go there but, tell me something about yourself that no one else knows. And I’ll do the same to you,” he offered.

You mulled it over in your head for a moment before thinking there was no harm in letting your future husband get to know you. Thinking a little longer you came up with your answer. “I’m a terrible swimmer,” you confessed. 

“Are you really?” Yoongi asked, looking at you with concern.

“I can keep my head above the water and that’s about it,” you said, blushing.

“That’s not a good trait for someone who is at sea often,” he mentioned.

“That’s why I don’t make it common knowledge,” you said flippantly. 

“Alright, fair enough,” Yoongi said.

“And you? What’s something that no one else knows about you?” You asked.

“I love dogs,” Yoongi announced.

“You what?” You giggled.

“I love dogs. When I was younger we had a dog named Holly and I loved him. To pieces I did.”

“Aw that’s sweet,” you said, smiling at him.

“But there’s no room for a dog aboard a pirate ship so I haven’t had one since. Probably never will again. But, I love the creatures. They’re loyal, and loving without restraint. I want to show that kind of honesty with myself,” he said.

“Well, never say never. Maybe we could get a dog someday.”

Yoongi smiled at that. “Maybe we could,” he agreed, “but it’s late. You need your rest. Lie back,” he said, grabbing a blanket and pulling it over your form. You snuggled deep into the scratchy wool, letting the comforting sensation overwhelm you. 

Just as you were about to fall asleep you felt a small kiss being pressed to your head. “Goodnight Y/N, sweet dreams.”

—

During the night, you were tossing and turning...

You felt a strong hand on your shoulder. Jolting you moved to see Yoongi, staring at you softly. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, pushing himself up on his elbow to look down at you. 

“Y-Yeah, just can’t seem to get comfortable,” you answered, brushing your hair from out of your face. You looked at Yoongi with a gentle gaze.

“How can I help?” he asked, scooting closer to you.

“I... Um-uh,” you whispered, Yoongi suddenly seeming almost too close.

“Y/N...” his eyes trailed down to your lips.

“Yoongi?” you questioned. He leaned forward slowly, waiting for you to reject him. It didn’t happen. You allowed him to connect his lips to yours, making your body run with electricity. You didn’t have any idea what had gotten into Yoongi, you had no idea that he felt this way. But you weren’t going to stop him when it felt so right.

Pulling back you rested your head against his. “What’s this all about?” you asked. 

“I don’t know what’s come over me, but I can’t hold myself back... Y-you’ve made a mess of me, and I don’t know what to do.” 

“Yoongi,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry, I-I’ll stop,” he said, moving to turn over. 

“No!” you yelped. 

“Y/N?” he said. Hope filled his eyes as he looked at you with a new found hunger. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded. 

Yoongi rushed forward and placed his lips against yours. You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Yoongi smiled against your mouth as well, making it a little difficult to kiss him.

“Don’t smile so much, can’t kiss you properly,” you giggled. 

“Sorry, I can’t help but smile when I’m with you,” he said, wrapping his hands around your waist. God your blood was on fire, you couldn’t help the whine that came from your lips. 

“Yoongi,” you whimpered, pushing your chest against his desperately. 

“I hear you dove, I hear you,” he said, encouraging you to lie down on your back. 

“But Yoongi,” you whispered.

“Are you alright? Did I go too far?” he asked, worry crossing his features. 

“No, it’s alright, just... hurry,” you said, thighs rubbing together out of discomfort. 

“I want to take my time with you, dove. I want you whimpering my name as I make you come undone again and again beneath these sheets,” he said, smiling brightly.

“Yoongi, it’s-it’s my first... I’ve never,” you said before he placed his fingers on your lips. 

“That’s alright, I’ll show you. You’ll be safe, I’ll take care of you,” he said, interlocking his fingers with yours. 

“I trust you...” you said.

Yoongi looked down, eyes growing dark. 

“That is your first mistake,” he growled, launching forward and pressing his thumbs into your throat. 

Fear struck down your spine at the man. Someone you’ve never been fearful of, until now.

“Y-Yoon-gi!” you gasped out, pushing against his strong arms. You tried, wriggling your legs, fighting tooth and nail, but it was no use. 

Yoongi was crying as he looked down at you. 

“I’m so sorry, but they’ll never let you live,” he cried.

—

You awoke to an empty bed. You grabbed at your throat, still feeling the haunting touch of the one you wanted so badly. It made you feel uneasy in the room, everything undisturbed. Yoongi’s clothes were missing, he was probably on deck ordering the men about.

But everything was normal, the room looking like it did when you’d gone to bed. 

You decided it would be best if you got up and shook the odd dream off, not letting it affect you and your day. Although you couldn’t help the soft sensation of someone’s lips draping against yours for a moment, before it disappeared completely.

Gathering your clothes up, there came a knock at the door. 

“Who is it?” you asked. Walking up to the door you listened through the wood.

“It’s me,” Yoongi’s voice echoed through.

“One moment, let me get changed!” you said, turning away from the door before you heard it open anyways.

“We don’t have time! Tobias’ ship has been spotted near the Painted Shell Isles,” he said, barging in.

“Yoongi!” you yelped, holding your clothes over your scantily clad body.

“Oh-um, sorry, we-we can talk through the door,” he said, shutting it quickly.

You rolled your eyes before beginning to dress.

“Where did the information of Tobias come from?” you asked, pulling a stocking up your leg.

“Scarlett, she heard the news on a dock in Yocleptes. A former crew member of his that was disgruntled divulged in another sailor and one of Scarlett’s crew over heard. So naturally, they told her and now she’s back in Shipwreck cove to gather a few of us to go after him,” he said.

“Who will be joining her?” you questioned.

“Us, Jimin and Allistar will be joining her on this, the rest will be trying to get more information on the Heart of the Ocean, and what kind of danger we’re in,” Yoongi answered. 

“Yoongi, if Tobias truly does have the Heart of the Ocean, what kind of danger would we be in?”

“I think you already know, Y/N. A man with that kind of power, the nasty beast of the Kraken at his side, we’re looking at someone very threatening. He could very easily control the entirety of the seven seas,” he said, concern dripping into his tone. 

“We can stop him, can’t we Yoongi?”

“I hope so, Y/N, I hope so.”

--

It’s difficult to find Yoongi for the rest of the day. 

Whether he was in the cabin and needed privacy or was plain just not around. You were wandering around shipwreck cove, just getting used to the surroundings. Some of the stuff here was extremely old, to the point where you were curious when it came from. 

You found a cutlass on the inside of one of the halls, picking it up you marveled at the craftsmanship. It was beautifully made, well balanced and just the right size for you.

“That was me mother’s cutlass.”

You gasped and dropped the sword, and it nicked a finger on the way down.You yelped in discomfort, holding your finger in your mouth. But then it was you realized you weren’t alone. Turning around slowly you found Swallowtail, looking at you with a passive look.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you said, hurrying to pick it up to hand it back over.

Suddenly, a clang rang throughout the air. He had drawn his own sword against you. Looking at him you wondered if he knew what he was doing, or if this was another test from yet another Pirate Lord. Allistar nearly tried killing you, now Swallowtail seemed to be... challenging you?

“Don’t be sorry, be ready,” he said, taking a swipe at your cheek. You ducked backwards, sword coming up to block the blow. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, incredulous at his actions.

“Testing out to see if Yoongi’s bride is really worth all the talk. Allistar certainly gave you a run for your money, but now... it’s my turn,” he said, bringing his sword up again to take a swipe at your already injured shoulder. 

“I don’t want to fight you,” you said, blocking the blow once more.

“Then get ready to die,” he said, striking with force towards your knees. 

Blocking his sword you lifted up and pushed his blade away from yourself, easing back into old habits was difficult if you haven’t practiced. But sword fighting was in your blood with your father having to fend off petty thieves and sometimes even pirates. Interesting that you would throw your lot in with them, even possibly marry one. But your father knew the fascination with treasure, the longing for freedom on the sea.

Although it was no time for reminiscing, it was time for action. 

You moved forward, food first to give yourself power behind the movement. You struck for his shoulder as well, trying to give a show of power. He parried your move, swinging the blades down away from his body much like you had done earlier. 

“You have some fire in those veins, I can see it, just how to get it out of ye is the question,” he snickered. 

You breathed, trying to keep a level head. If you got angry, you’d get sloppy, and that could cost you big time. You had to be calm about this. As if your life wasn’t on the line. 

His next move was a thrust for your stomach, something that could really do some damage if you hadn’t moved back when you did. This man wasn’t playing around, he genuinely wanted to test you, try see if you were all bark and no bite. Although that should’ve occurred to you a little earlier, maybe when he brought the sword out. But it didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was showing you weren’t some arm piece for Yoongi. You were able to hold your own and do what needed to be done without a man standing guard over you. 

“We don’t have to fight you know,” you tried to reason, throwing a jab at his ribcage.

“Apparently, my dear,” he crossed his blade with yours, drawing it down until the very tips were touching. “We do.”

He threw his blade over his head and brought it down as if to cut you in half with it. But you blocked the slower movement easily, sliding his blade away with a flick of your wrist. The confidence was coming back, the sureness in your steps. It was feeling familiar again, to hold the blade in your hand.

“What will you do when my husband gets here?” you said, teasing him.

“Well, perhaps he’d like to join in?” he laughed, throwing another slash your way. Another block, the sword moving away from your body. 

“You’ll be sorry you messed with me,” you said, pushing forward and cutting with ferocity. He moved out of the way just in time, your blade hitting the wood behind him. 

“Why? Gonna sick yer husband on me?” he taunted.

“I’ll do worse,” you smirked, “making you regret the day you ever decided it was a good idea to mess with me.”

“Lass, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but, you don’t scare me,” he said, swiping forward. You heard the whistling of the metal ringing through the air. It made your blood sing, the feeling of fighting again. Fiercely moving a blade in your hands. 

“You underestimate me,” you said, “I’ll make you regret it.”

He laughed, hearty and strong. “I’d like to see you try.”

Moving forward you struck harshly against his blade, making your teeth ring in your skull. He seemed unfazed by your aggressive attack. Swallowtail moved once more, as if he were dancing with you. Together the pair of you charged at one another, swords coming together in a loud clang. You were a breath apart, looking at each other through crossed blades. 

“You have great spirit Lass, I’ll give you that,” he said, pushing you harshly backwards, making you crash into the wood of the wall. You winced, feeling the splinters cutting into your skin. But you didn’t stop. It was a matter of your pride at this point. You didn’t care about what he said, you just wanted to win.

“You don’t know me,” you said, growling. 

“Don’t be that way lassy,” he said, mocking a hurt tone.

Suddenly, he was at your throat, sword pressing into the soft flesh there. You gasped in shock, your blade held limply at your side. 

“Sorry lassy, nothing personal, strictly business,” he said, pushing the blade in harder. 

You felt a warm trickle of blood going down your throat. 

Before you could cry out, a blade was held against his neck as well.

“Yoongi,” you whispered. 

“Now, Swallowtail, this is no way to treat a lady,” he said, smirking.

“Ah, we were just practicing,” Swallowtail smiled, moving away from you.

“Yes, practicing includes pushing so hard my wife bleeds?” Yoongi asked.

“Don’t act like you haven’t spilt a little blood in the name of practice Yoongi,” he scoffed.

“Step away, Swallowtail,” he said, pushing his sword a little harder. 

“Aw, I was just looking for a little fun,” Swallowtail complained.

“I won’t ask again, Swallowtail,” Yoongi warmed.

The man stood, putting his hands up in a mock surrender. Yoongi didn’t dare move his sword from his throat. You stood up, placing your hand against your throat, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Now, if I see you come near my wife again, there will be hell to pay,” Yoongi said.

“You can’t threaten everyone who comes near her, Yoongi. Sooner or later, something is going to happen. Because she’s the bride of a pirate. You think this life saved her? You’re wrong, all you’ve done is sealed her death,” Swallowtail laughed.

“I-I,” Yoongi stuttered. 

“That’s not true, Yoongi. Come on, let’s go,” you urged, putting your hand on his arm. He listened, turning around and putting you in front of him before walking you down the hallway.

Yoongi was physically upset as you approached the Grail.

“Don’t let him get to you,” you encouraged.

“I’m not, don’t assume me to be so feeble minded,” he growled.

“Yoongi I wasn’t-”

“I need a drink,” he complained, rubbing his forehead. Jin approached the pair of you, looking confused.

“Where have you two been?” he asked, curious. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Yoongi said, brushing him off, moving to walk towards the stairs. Jin looked at Yoongi’s retreating form with a confused look on his face. 

“It’s a long story,” you said, moving to head below deck.

“We’re leaving in the morning to sail for Tobias,” he said, looking at you.

“We are?” you asked, remembering that Yoongi had told you earlier in the day that Tobias had been spotted. Somewhere near the Painted Shell Isles.

“Yes, the Captain said we’d be leaving at day-break. You should get some rest, you look tired,” Jin said, patting your shoulder before heading off to round up the crew. No doubt to get them ready for the next day.

With a sigh you decided you’d sleep somewhere else for the night. Not sure if Yoongi really wanted to be bothered right now. There were a few rooms in the keep you could no doubt sleep in for the night. But the recent interaction with Swallowtail made you a little wary to leave the ship.

Something told you you weren’t going to get any sleep tonight.

Wandering towards the stern of the ship you gathered yourself and sat down at the corner of the deck. But soon enough, with the gentle rocking of the ship and the low hum of the men beneath the decks, you were lulled into sleep.

#Jessika Hathaway #Ficswithluv #Min Yoongi #Min Yoongi X Reader #Yoongi #Suga #Suga X Reader #Yoongi X reader #BTS #Bangtan #Bangtan Fanfiction #BTS fanfiction #Bts smut #Yoongi smut #Yoongi Pirate #Pirate AU #BTS Pirate AU #BTS Pirate

[imacrowcawcaw]

A Lover With A Red Hot Thong -- Duzzy -- Ch. 1

Author (as known on various sites): luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Wattpad and Deviantart, lady lover - Rockfic, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping blog, @gretavanfleetconfessions

Fandom: Guns n Roses

Pairings: Duff McKagan/Izzy Stradlin (Duzzy)

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, like extreme fluff, attempted humor, airports, Duff has anxiety, Izzy is really good at comforting him, cuddling, sharing a bed, romance, dates, friends to lovers, adorable giggly boys, kissing

Summary: Duff dressed like a stripper from Arkansas that had discovered the Sex Pistols last week, drank more vodka in a month than most people did in a year, baked amazing blackberry streudals, sang Prince in the shower, and made out with his friends when he was lonely. Izzy was pretty sure that he was in love with him. Something certainly comes out of it when they end up spending a rather romantic week (totally not a honeymoon) in New Orleans because somebody (the very Duff of his longings) always loses their passport.

Taglist: @brianmaysclog @love-n-my-heart-4-n-army-apart @1800endmeplease @tymeconsuming @satans-helper @ageofkiszka @karrotkate @therealswanqueen @mountainofthesunn @onlyan-angel @lantern-inthenight @love-philautia @ubernoxa @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies (reminder that I just remade my taglist and organized it as best as I could, but if you either don’t want to be tagged in something (like GNR) or want to be added, just let me know!)

Author's Notes (aka disclaimers): 

1 - Don't own the people or places 

2 - It's a combination of real and made up (to my knowledge) places for this story. Don't use this as a fucking tour guide, I've never been to New Orleans and I don't have memories of anywhere east of Lake Tahoe

3 - The timeline of this is also completely made up. I like to bend reality to my will because I am a lazy writer

4 - I tried my hand at writing a character with anxiety. I'm trying my best with the info online and my own experiences, but please let me know if something is wildly inaccurate and detracts from the story 

5 - I mean no disrespect to the band. I try my best to be a humorous writer, and I think that I have a pretty healthy view of them, seeing both the good and poking fun at the bad. Some of this might come off as mean, but I’m not really trying to be. I just want people to laugh

6 - Trying that thing where I port my WIPs to get motivated. We’ll see if this works!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday, September 15, 6:46 AM, New Orleans Louis Armstrong National Airport 

"Duff, what exactly do you mean you don't have your passport?" Axl spit, breathing hard in an effort to diffuse combustion. He was not exactly the happiest camper this early in the morning, especially when some people's forgetfulness interrupted the sleep he had planned on getting as soon as they boarded the plane.

The man being questioned gazed at Axl nervously through wide, panicked eyes. 

"I don't know, man! Er- I mean, yeah I don't have it... I'm pretty sure the last time I saw it was at the hotel when we checked in. I'm sorry! We just got up so early and it was still dark and I kind of have a hangover from last night so I just shoved my stuff in my bag and went downstairs so we wouldn't be late, but now we're going to be late shit I'm sorry I don't-" 

"Hey, hey. Duff, it's okay, just breathe," Izzy soothed, speaking his first words of the day besides a 'fuck off' to Steven, who'd been tasked with waking him up. He settled a coffee-cup-warm, pale hand on Duff's shoulder and turned to speak to Axl.

"It's fine, Bill, we'll figure it out. None of us function well in the morning, do you have your snakeskin belt, hmm?" He asked, knowing that the beloved item was still hanging from a lamp in the hotel room they had checked out of at 4 AM.

Axl's mouth shut with a clack as he glared at Izzy and his damned know it all face. He huffed out a breath and made a big show of rolling his eyes and changing his expression to one of fond exasperation.

"Fine, then, you can figure it out. Don't expect any help from us, though!" 

Izzy snorted at his friend's drama and his statement; Steven was currently trying to convince an off duty captain to let him fly his plane, Axl was Axl, and Slash was still dead to the world behind his hair -- very helpful.

"Okay, well, we'll meet you there as soon as we can. Enjoy your flight, don't become members of the mile high club without us," Izzy replied, pulling Duff up and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

They walked away, arms brushing with every step, to the sound of Axl screaming at them to bring back his belt, and the disgruntled looks of other early morning airport commuters whom they ignored. Izzy followed the overhead signs back to a check in desk with Duff in tow, hoping that everything would work out and that they could be in Amsterdam with the rest of the guys by nightfall.

No such luck, of course.

"I'm sorry," the lady said with a completely uncaring smile, "but the next flight to Amsterdam, commercial or private, isn't until next tuesday. I can book two tickets for you, Mr. Stradlin, but there's nothing more I can do." 

Izzy sighed, but nodded. He sorted through bills in his wallet, mocking the lady in his head all the while. 'I'm sorry, but your daughter is going to die from a wrench to the eye socket. I can give you a bandaid, but there's nothing more I can do.'

Duff, though, having woken up on the walk over, was looking closer to an anxiety attack than the mild annoyance Izzy was feeling. 

He quickly excused them and grabbed Duff's wrist, pulling him a few feet away for the false illusion of privacy to calm him down.

"Shh, shh, take a deep breath," Izzy whispered, hands gripping Duff's shoulders to force them to look straight in each other's eyes. "Everything will be alright. We'll find your passport, hang out in the city for a while, then go meet up with the guys. Easy, no problems. Relax babe, just try to relax and breathe."

Duff tried to steady his breathing as he clung to Izzy, pulling the man into a hug. He wasn't sure what he would do if Iz wasn't here -- his friend was usually the only one who could stop his incoming anxiety like that.

They stood there for several minutes; Duff regaining a normal breathing pattern, and Izzy slowly rubbing his back. As they pulled away from each other, Duff spotted a hippo in Mardi Gras attire glaring at them in disgust. He smirked rather weakly, still a bit shaken and queasy from his panic but back on the track to his usual self.

"Hey, Iz, it looks like we have an audience, and he's not very pleased."

Izzy grinned back at him, relieved that the Duff he knew was still kicking. Besides, this was their favorite game. 

Every once in a while, the boys were subjected to odd stares and the occasional slur. Usually, it was just for dressing like Dolly Parton while shoplifting, but occasionally, it was because they got pretty close. Sometimes they were drunk, sometimes they were just talking to each other or hugging, sometimes because they were blatantly trying to piss off as many people as possible (sometimes the "people" included Axl).

Izzy moved his hands from Duff's shoulder blades, one wrapping tight around his waist and the other getting a firm grip on his delectable ass. 

Duff snorted and cupped Izzy's face in his large hands, angling him upwards slightly so that they could lean their foreheads together. He bit his lip to stop from giggling, and Izzy brushed his own mouth against him for a split second, getting a quick hint of teeth and coffee-breathe.

Out of the corner of his eye, Izzy saw the man visibly shudder, his beady eyes grimacing. 

A fake blond, middle aged woman Izzy assumed was his wife laid one hand on his polo shirt, as if in an effort to calm him down. It had the opposite effect. The man grunted and skewered his mouth to the side, squinting even more as if a giant rainbow spotlight was being blasted into his eyes.

Izzy smirked, though it was barely noticeable against Duff's mouth. 

Duff murmured something about 'making a scene', but Izzy knew he was referring to their audience and not themselves. Neither of them cared who saw this, though if it was printed in any magazines Axl might try to suplex them out of a window. "Try" being the key word -- the little red terror was too chicken to actually try that with Izzy, and too short to get enough leverage on Duff. 

Somewhere behind him, Izzy heard the woman whine, "Oh, Charles!" like she was getting the worst rimjob of her life. 

"It's disgusting, Carol! I won't stand for it!" 

"Time to get going?" Duff whispered, pulling back an inch.

Izzy gave him one last searing kiss and an extra probing squeeze to the ass then nodded, breaking away. They quickly picked up their suitcases and high tailed it out of the building, leaving dust, stares, and a purple and green, mouth breathing, homophobic fatman in their wake. 

Duff laughed as they came to a stop in the middle of a group of Japanese tourists. They all turned to look at him as he barked, panted, barked, and then wheezed with his hands on his knees.

Izzy was looking at Duff too, a rare - though not as much as some people would think - smile on his lips. He patted his friend on the back and pulled out a cigarette, then offered one to Duff. It would make the wheezing worse, but a smoker cares none about that. 

They lit up from Izzy's lighter as the tour grouped streamed past them, completely nonplussed at the disgruntled - or awed, recognizing - stares they received. Once they had the stretch of sidewalk to themselves, Duff stacked their suitcases one atop the other and sat down while Izzy hailed a cab. His long arms soon garnered them a ride and they hopped into the sedan after tossing their bags into the trunk. 

It was blue, with a peeling leather interior and a hand stenciled logo on either window; the usual black and white checkers ran a wobbly circle around the outside of the car. The driver glared at them from underneath bushy brows as they smoked their cigarettes, and Izzy smiled at him politely, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, until he finished and put out his cig on the door's plastic. 

Duff's mind was in some far off place and he didn't notice any interactions taking place. Izzy wondered if he was thinking about how to find his passport, or what to do in the city, or about girls -- or, the bleach blonde head rolling onto his shoulder could have been asleep. The snores more or less confirmed it. 

"Where to?" The driver asked after a minute. 

“Marriott on Jackson,” Izzy answered, turning his torso minutely to get more comfortable.

Etta James’ smoky vocals floated out of the speakers, half of the tone quality getting lost in the maze of beads hanging down from the cab ceiling in a curtain between driver and passengers. Izzy sighed and shifted; the leather creaked; Duff snorted and drool ran down his arm. He smiled down at the man asleep on him and brushed some hair back from his sticky mouth, fingers slowly tracing Duff’s jawline. 

Michael Andrew Mckagan was a unique specimen, that was for sure. He was laid back and welcoming, yet had enough energy to rival Popcorn, at times. He was loving and affectionate to his friends, and scathingly rude to those that hurt them. Duff dressed like a stripper from Arkansas that had discovered the Sex Pistols last week, drank more vodka in a month than most people did in a year, baked amazing blackberry streudals, sang Prince in the shower, and made out with his friends when he was lonely. Izzy was pretty sure that he was in love with him.

The engine of the cab coughed, and suddenly the vehicle was rolling to a stop outside the hotel they had left only an hour or so ago. Izzy gently shook Duff awake and went to pay the man while Duff got their bags back out of the trunk. 

“That will be forty dollars,” the man said, staring Izzy down from beneath his fuzzy caterpillar. Interestingly enough, that was the only facial hair he had; perhaps he’d shaved off his mustache and glued it, hair by hair, onto his brow bone. 

“Really? It was half that to get to the airport two hours ago. What’s your game, man? You think you can scam us?”

Izzy didn’t like being scammed. It was damn near impossible to get one up on him - let alone very rare someone even dared to try - so this guy was about to get it if he thought he could. 

“You ruined my interior. Smells like smoke. I need to clean it now. I know you have the money,” the man glared, narrowing his eyes. The caterpillar hunched down too, like it was trying to curl up on itself to avoid getting eaten by a hawk-nosed Stradlin. 

“Is that so?” Izzy snorted, fishing out another cigarette just for the hell of watching the man get angrier. 

“Here, forty dollars. C’mon Iz, let’s go.”

Duff handed the man a fold of two twenties with a sigh, his other hand subtly resting on Izzy’s lower back for a moment before removing itself again. He wanted to fight it - there was no way that guy should be getting away with charging them double price, fuck that! - but Duff was tired and the money was already handed over. Izzy knew that physical signal from Dff, too, the hand on the back: it meant “leave it”. 

With a final huff and a not so subtle bird, Izzy grabbed his carpet bag from where Duff had lain it on the asphalt and followed his tall friend through the hotel’s front entrance, cigarette dangling from his mouth all the while. 

They made their way over to the front desk, explained the situation, and then they were back inside the mirrored elevator armed with the suite’s key card, going up like they had never left in the first place. 

“Hmm, wonder what it would be like to make love in this elevator?” Duff mused, staring upwards at his reflection in the ceiling. 

Issy followed the bold line of his profile, from Adam's apple to nose to messy hair, before he finally glanced at the ceiling, too. 

“Interesting, certainly. I’ve done it in front of a mirror, but not in a whole box of them.”

“Yeah. Hey, we should come back here and incorporate this into our next video!” Duff exclaimed, grinning at him. 

“Izzy snorted. “What, you wanna come back here a third time? This place got like a magical draw or some shit?”

They both cracked up.

#duzzy #duff mckagan #izzy stradlin #duff x izzy #gnr #guns n roses #gnr fic #guns n roses fanfic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #lulucrowproductions #fluff #friends to lovers #humor

[nymphigeon]

From me, to you || 02

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 2.4k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): swearing, crime, a sex club, mentions of murder, blood, mentions of hybrid abuse.

♤ A/N: Due to some complications I had to reupload it, sorry!

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you'll give it to him.

Series masterlist

01 02 03

After looking through the room for quite a while and bombarding Blair with more questions I decide to leave and get some air. A metallic smell, which was already present when I first arrived, had doubled it’s noticeability over time. That room became impossible to breathe in as a result. I’m not one to leave my work unfinished, but if I don’t get out I’ll die of blood poisoning, if that’s even a thing.

Looking out through the door of the club, it’s not hard to see that is has stopped raining. The blurriness the raindrops caused has completely disappeared along with all the flashing that was going on earlier. The reporters must have been told to get the fuck out or get arrested. I’m lucky, this gives me chance to step outside. To be completely honest, I would be lying if I said that it’s just to clear my head. For work related reasons it’s a good idea to always look around the crime scene as well, so that’s what I’m doing. Killing two birds with one stone.

I nod to the officers as I pass by and climb under the barricade tape to the outside. The smell of rain fills my nostrils as I walk in and out of alleyways around the area. Nothing interesting is found. No knife in a trash can, no paw prints of a shifted hybrid, nothing. How long has it stopped raining? If any traces were left outside the rain will have probably washed them away. I sigh as I give up on finding anything. I should just focus on finding them with the information I have now. We can always send out a sketch of the guy from what the employees told us.

The walkie talkie on my hip buzzes, indicating that different officers are trying to communicate with each other. It bothers me. Nothing of importance to me is said, but if I turn it off just to miss something I should know, my supervisor will kill me. She isn’t someone you’d want to mess with. Her authority has grown to her head, she’ll do whatever it takes to get her way.

A can standing right up on the sidewalk grabs my attention. The way it’s neatly placed at the side annoys me, someone deliberately left it there, ignoring the trash can standing right across the street. I pick it up and cross the street, standing a few feet away from the bin to practice my aim. Might as well use the opportunity right?

The can hitting the metal inside of the bin resonates through the silent and empty street. Even before the sound has had a chance to die down, a loud whimper replaces it, followed by hurried footsteps running away from me. Not so empty as I thought.

“Hello?” I give whoever is still close some time to reply. They don’t. Guessing the direction the sound came from proves difficult, but somewhere I made a right turn. Ending up behind a closed playground I didn’t even notice was in the vicinity, I pry myself through a hole in the fence protecting it. There isn’t much the fence is protecting as it looks like this place has been abandoned for a while. Broken slides and worn down ropes hanging from metal bars is basically all this old playground consist of.

The crunching of my shoes on sand elicits another pained whimper from the creature. Not wanting to scare them, I try to talk them out of their hiding place first. “Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?” No response. “I just want to help you.” Again, no response.

Having no other choice, I decide to search for them instead. I can’t though, not when they sound so desperate. As soon as I step a bit further into the sand a frantic voice stops me. “No, no, please…” Immediately backing up two steps, I almost crash into the fence behind me. “Okay, okay I won’t come closer.”

Not wanting to sit on the wet sand, I to squat down, sitting on my heels. “Whenever you’re ready you can come out okay? I won’t hurt you.” Remembering the walkie talkie on my hip, I turn it off. If there’s a good reason for me missing something important, they won’t get angry right? Thinking about the worst case scenario isn’t a good idea at this moment.

15 minutes pass. So far neither of us have moved. Now and then I’ll slightly adjust my position to let them know I’m still here waiting. At some point they must have started to get a teensy more comfortable, as a pair of eyes unexpectantly make themselves known from behind one of the play towers. His dark yellow coloured eyes almost hide themselves under the bangs hanging from his head. Two big striped cat shaped ears lay flat on top. A tiger hybrid. Extremely rare and thus extremely valuable. There is absolutely no way someone just left a gold mine here like that.

I slowly bring up my hand to wave at the scared, but curious pair of eyes. They look me up and down a few times, probably trying to figure out if I’m really trustworthy. “Police?” The boy almost whispers. Or well, definitely an adult actually. I suddenly remember about the uniform I’m wearing. I smile at him and nod. “Yeah, something like that. Look..” With careful movements I point to the badge on my top. Not exactly that one of a police officer, close enough.

The hybrid stares for a few seconds before revealing his entire head. Part of his striped tail briefly comes into view when he does. “That way..” He points in a direction somewhere behind him. I follow his finger, but don’t find anything there. The fence at the other side limits my vision of the other side.

Sensing my confusion the tiger does his best to elaborate. “He went that way… Bad guy.” He brings his hand back to his chest, feeling too exposed having it point out. Something in my head clicks. The hybrid is wearing a hoodie. “Wait, you’re the hybrid? The one he was going to sell?” Hoping he won’t dash as soon as I move, I stand up. I’m in shape, nevertheless squatting for a long time still hurts. The hybrid nods hesitantly. “New owner.. also not nice” He whispers as he curls in on himself more.

“Will you let me come closer?” The hybrid shakes his head. “No, no, I didn't do anything... I didn't do anything..” He's absolutely terrified. Having witnessed two murders I can't blame him. Perhaps he thinks it's partly his fault. Did he attack them? “I know sweetheart, nobody is accusing you of anything. We just want to help, you won't go back to him anymore.”

When I was younger I worked with kids a lot. Trying the same technique as that I used at that time to calm them down appears to work. The hybrid stays quiet for a while, before lifting his hand, just sticking his pinkie out. “Promise?” Cute. I can't help the smile forming on my lips. Mimicking him I lift both my hands, interlocking my little fingers together. “Promise.”

A promise was all he needed, as the hybrid reluctantly reveals himself from behind the tower. I won’t gasp, I shouldn’t be surprised, yet I am. Wrapped around his neck like it’s trying to suffocate him, a dark, old looking collar is situated. A torn leash dangles from the black, belt-like item. Clearly, it’s evident a struggle has occurred.

What’s most worrying is the blood that’s decorating his left hand. His clothes are drenched in a liquid I can’t identify from simply looking at it, instead it’s better to use my nose. The familiar metallic smell radiating of the cloths is not a clue to be ignored. The red substance has already mostly dried on his hand, pieces flaking off as he rubs his hands together.

“Oh dear are you hurt?” I ask, concern evident in my voice. I get ready to grab my phone, if he has a gash underneath I need to call an ambulance whether he likes it or not. Shaking his head, he takes a few steps forward. “Not mine.” I visibly relax at his answer, nodding. I don't ask any further. There will be time for that later.

“I'm Y/F/N Y/L/N. You can call me whatever feels comfortable for you.” Earning his trust is my priority for now. This could be a breakthrough in the investigation. “Taehyung.” The hybrid boy gives me a name, progress. Understanding that he will want to keep his distance I move through the fence first, move away a bit, and then wait for him to come through.

The walkie talkie vibrates as it turns on. I can’t have anyone disturbing the peace, quickly letting my colleagues know I’ll be busy and will explain why eventually. Not giving anyone time to react, I turn the device back off. As expected, Taehyung wants to know where we’re going.

“Do you want to meet the other people I’m working with?” He looks pale, weak and tired. The last meal he has eaten most likely isn’t in the timespan of ‘recently’. The last time he had a good full night of sleep? I wonder if he even knows what that means.

Taehyung has his arms securely wrapped around himself, protecting himself from any potential danger. There is none, but if you’ve been treated like a pile of dirt everything looks like it’ll hurt you. I know I can’t do anything aside from give him time. I wish it wasn’t like that.

“No..” That’s what I thought. Giving him a once over I determine that it’s best to get a professional to take a look at him first. “You know how I said I want to help you?” He nods. “I want to bring you to someone who will make sure you’re healthy. You can trust them, they won’t do anything you don’t like.” I cross my fingers behind my back. Not because I am lying, but because I’m hoping he agrees to the idea.

He’s doubtful about it at first, neither refusing or agreeing to go with me. “I promised.” By showing him the smallest finger on my hand, I’m hoping to convince him. Taehyung takes a few steps forward. Usually if a wild cat hybrid comes at you, you should probably run if you don’t want to end up as their lunch. Yes, there are reported cases of wild hybrids eating humans as disgusting as it sounds. I don’t though, I don’t move an inch. He lifts his hand and gently locks his pinkie around mine, checking my face to gauge my reaction. Smiling seems to give him reassurance, as he gives me a small smile back and nods. “Okay.”

I eventually convince Taehyung to wait by the fence so I can go get my car. There is no way he won’t panic with all the officers around. As I near my car, Blair calls out my name and runs over. “What happened? Did you find anything?” She mentions to what I said over the walkie talkie earlier.

I answer her quickly as I open and enter my car, not yet closing the door. “Found a scared, abused hybrid who witnessed, or maybe even committed, two murders and almost got sold an hour ago.” Blair’s eyes widen as she takes in the information. “You found the hybrid? Why? How? Where is it?”

My insides cringe at her calling Taehyung ‘it’, but I don’t have time to call her out now. Using my hand, I wave her off. Go do something more useful. “I’ll explain everything later.” Is all I say before I slam my door closed and drive off to the hybrid.

Taehyung is still standing where I left him a few minutes ago. I park my car in front of him and get out. The moment I step out he comes running over. “Doing okay?” He nods and smiles. I open the door to the passenger side for him and only close it when he sits comfortably. Once I’m in the other side of the car I google for the nearest hybrid friendly hospital.

There is one 20 minutes away, outside of town. Making sure Taehyung is okay one last time, I offer him a fruit bar I had laying in my bag. He tilts his head and point at himself. “For me?” His confusion startles me. “There is no one else here yes?” He takes the bar from me and stares at it, turning it around a few times. Inspecting the wrapper, sniffing it a bit, weighing the bar in his hands.

“I can eat this?” He asks again. “Yeah you must be hungry right? Please, eat it. I’ll get you something better later.” I take the bar from his hands to open the wrapper. While discarding the wrapper in my pocket I make a mental note to throw it away later. I give the bar back to the hybrid who doesn’t seem to understand it’s for him. “I can really eat this? Just like that?”

I notice a small smile making its way on his face after he has sniffed the bar a few more times. “Enjoy it.” He takes a small bite and looks at me. Once he is sure the action didn’t anger me he takes a bigger bite. “Thank you, I like it.” Following me allowing myself to watch him eat a bit longer, I start the car and make my way to the hospital.

You know, it’s a sentence I have heard often, ‘Without the dark there is no light’. Or maybe you’d rather use ‘Without sour there is no sweet’. What exactly are you trying to tell me? Should I be hurt just so that I can be happy? Does that mean it’s a good thing I’ve never known love? Surviving of the scraps the abusers feed me, so that I can reach the end of the tunnel. It’s a lie, there is no end for me.

I don’t deserve the praise because I’ll never learn how not to behave. Obviously the way to learn is to be broken beyond repair. We can’t have anything nice, I’ll never know how to appreciate it anyway.

Leave me alone, I still need to figure out how to feel content on my own. Don’t come closer, I still need to find a way to be delighted with distance between us. Stop talking, I still need to discover how to be joyful while silence surrounds me. Oh, how you’d wish I would comply.

I’ll stab a sword in your heart so I can grasp the concept of adoring you. I’ll make you scream so I can master treasuring your laugh. I’ll kill you so I can perceive how to value your life.

Taglist

@suhappysuho​ @intellectualxprincess​

#bangtanarmynet #plotsofpastel #bts #bts scenario #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts taehyung #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid fanfic #bts taehyung x reader #taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung hybrid au #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop hybrid au

[emily-strange]

Sparks Fly

So anyone that’s interested in my writing knows that I’ve currently got two RDR2 fics on the go. Those will still be continued! 

But for the moment I have this shortish Billy Butcher x original female character story that I just have to get out of my head.

I’m not convinced it’ll be any good haha but I’m gonna give it a good go. I’ll be playing around with the timeline a bit and I’m undecided whether I’ll take it to the end of Season 1 or not....I have nothing against Becca but this is a “romance” story for Billy and my OC. Either way though Becca will *never* be mentioned in a negative way. I feel for that woman.

Anyway if you’re still interested! 😂 Here’s Chapter 1!

Please let me know what you think xx

PS. Thank you so much @billybutchersbabe​ for helping me brainstorm and work out the mess in my brain! 😂🙏🏻

Chapter 1

Pairing: Billy Butcher x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, Violence 

...........................................................

Breathe, Emmy thought, just breathe.

In, out. In, out.

Put one foot in front of the other.

Left, right. Left, right.

She’d never seen so many people. Only on TV. She didn’t even know where she was walking, only that she hoped when she finally collapsed it’d be far enough away.

Emmy did the math in her head, she had about $15 left. Would that pay for somewhere to sleep? Shelters, those are a thing in big cities right? She’d seen that on TV as well….

As she dodges every passer-by, she keeps her head down and hood up. She’s not sure if New York would even get news reports from her insignificant little town but she doesn’t want to risk being recognised. Every glance or look her way threatens to send Emmy into a panic as she fiddles with the torn-up matchbook in her hoodie pocket. Her very old backpack is light on her shoulders as it barely contains anything.

After walking for what feels like days, Emmy finally stopped and took in her surroundings. Big, blinding buildings and dirty sidewalks.  

But, in the distance, smoke.

Before it could even register, Emmy’s feet took her towards the gathering of people one block over who were all congregated to watch a street vendors cart go up in flames. People were throwing buckets of water onto the blaze which was very quickly moving to engulf neighbouring cars.

People are panicking. A man gets too close and the arm of his jacket catches fire. As everyone yells and shouts, Emmy moves slowly through the crowd. Getting closer and closer to the heat. Heat which doesn’t bother her at all.

This is probably what a sauna feels like, she thinks to herself.

Thankfully, in all the panic, no one notices when she removes her hands from her pockets and reaches towards the flames.

Well she thinks no one notices….

As soon as the flames begin to die, Emmy’s feet are lifted from the ground. Before she has time to shout, she’s thrown onto a hard alley floor which smells horrendously like urine.

She tries to scramble to her feet, her backpack hanging low on her arms but she goes flying once again as a fist….or possibly a boot…..collides with her stomach. Emmy gasps for breath on the floor while holding her stomach. She doesn’t dare look up but can see three pairs of legs in front of her.

“What’ve we got ‘ere then lads?” one of the men says while he rips the hood down off of Emmy’s head. Taking a chunk of hair with it. Emmy knows it should have hurt more than it does but the pain in her stomach and the blood running down her face from the fall, are the only things she can properly register.

“Why it’sa little girl! Lookie here.” The same man says and Emmy dares a glimpse up at him and the others. Behind the man who’s currently sneering at her stands a younger one who seems closer to her age. The third guy stands off to the side with his arms crossed.

When the first man goes to land another blow, the younger jumps in quickly.

“Hey, hey! We don’t know if she did anything…..I didn’t see. Did you see? MM did you!?” he glances over to who she can only assume is “MM” who simply answers, “Naw I didn’t see nothin’. Butcher you sure?”

Emmy recoils as “Butcher” lunges forward and picks her off of the floor by fistfuls of hoodie. He smacks her back into the wall, freeing the backpack from her limp arms and shaking the almost-used matchbook from her pocket. When Butcher looks down at his feet and sees the matchbook he gives the others a toothy smirk and throws Emmy back to the ground.

“Look man, I didn’t see her start no fire. But if you’re gonna do somethin, do it now, we gotta go.” MM says.

“Hey! S’not everyday we find ourselves a wannabe Lamplighter. She may know somethin.” Butcher says as he throws Emmy’s backpack towards them, “Hughie have a gander in there.”

MM grumbles under his breath and looks out of the alley to see if anyone’s taking any notice of them. However the fire, which still sizzles, is keeping attention away from them and Emmy. As Butcher picks her back up, Emmy feels vomit rising up into her mouth and doesn’t even try to avoiding hitting him in the chest with it. Butcher looks at his chest for a second before muttering a “are you fuckin kidding me?” and slamming her round again to be held on the wall.

“There’s nothing but, but clothes in here. And like, ten bucks. Butcher I think she’s homeless.” Hughie says somewhat timidly, looking like he could bolt at any moment.

Butcher looks at Emmy and takes in her appearance. She’s clearly mid 20’s, 25+ if he had to guess and she’s pale. Extremely pale. Making the blood and bruises forming on her face that much more distinctive. He tips her lolling head back and makes note of older cuts and bruises around her eyes. Those he did not do. His split second of curiosity is fleeting before he’s back to business.

“Now why don’t you tell us what ya have against pretzels? Or is it the corndogs you dislike so much?” Butcher mocks as the others hover behind him.

Emmy opens her mouth to speak but finds it difficult, causing Butcher to scoff, “Come on now luv, I know ya small but even you should be able ta take a beating.”

She puts her hands on the arms of his jacket to try and feel a bit more stable and pushes the words out past the pain.

“I….can’t….can’t start…..fires…..” she heaves and begins to cough. She wheezes as she takes in another breath, “I…was...putting it out.”

Emmy see’s the very minor tell of confusion on Billy’s face and that’s only because she’s so close to it right now. His eyelashes are so long….

“Hey, look at this.” Hughie says from behind Butcher and brings his phone in front Emmy’s face. Butcher watches a shaky video of the fire blazing with some teenage boys, behind the camera, laughing and cheering, “It’s all over twitter. Apparently cops already have the, the guys who started it. Just some dumb kids.”

Hughie steps back with MM and Butcher sighs before dropping Emmy to the ground, “Alright. Well. Guess it’s ya lucky day.”

“You can’t just leave her like this!” Hughie implores, causing MM to groan.

“What you wanna play nurse maid?” Butcher bites back and makes a move to leave the alley.

“No but we need to at least get her to the hospital!” Hughie replies and moves to crouch in front of Emmy who gasps, “No!”.

Butcher gestures to Emmy and holds his arms out wide in a winning stance.

“See! Supe don’t wanna be coddled so,” he makes a popping sound with his mouth and gestures out of the alley with his thumb “let’s get back ta business.”

Hughie ignores Butcher and kneels in front of Emmy who, while holding her stomach with one arm, reaches out for the matchbook with the other. She gets herself onto her knees with the help of Hughie.

“Look, we can get you some help.” MM says, clearly ignoring Butcher’s order as well, causing the man to groan a string of low “fucks”.

Doubled over, Emmy fiddles with the matchbook in her hands. Maybe this is where it’s supposed to end, she thinks. Maybe she was never really meant to escape…..but she’ll be damned if she’s made to go back.

“They’ll find me….” She says loud enough for the three men to hear, still struggling through her injuries, “if you take me to a hospital….they’ll find me…..”

Butcher, who’d been tapping his foot in aggravation, becomes intrigued enough to stop and turn back to the others.

“And who’re ‘they’?” he asks.

Emmy stops fidgeting and looks up at Butcher at the end of the alley. Her defeated face crumples into tears and she wipes the wet, bloodied mess onto the back of her sleeve.

She shakes her head and turns to him saying quietly, “Just finish what you started.”

“’scuse me?” Butcher asks without betraying a hint of his actual thoughts or feelings. He does however glance his eyes down to the match Emmy is holding near the broken book, “Hughie, get up” Butcher says evenly without moving his position at all. Hughie relents and moves over to stand with MM who watches the exchange between Butcher and the young woman silently.

“Please….I….just finish it. You want to. I know you do….you hate me….I don’t know why, but you do” Emmy strikes the match against the book causing a small flame. She cusps her hand over the flame, taking it from the match into the palm of her hand.

Butcher, unfazed by her ability slowly stalks his way over to where she’s huddled on the floor.

“Whatca doin there Sparky?” Butcher asks while Hughie and MM back off.

Emmy shakes her head as more tears fall, causing the fire to splutter and shrink in size. She returns her free hand to her stomach and tries to square her shoulders. Butcher recognises her attempt to try and seem resolute but also has to laugh. She obviously doesn’t know Billy Butcher.

The flame in her hand grows again to the size of a baseball, cracking and sending splinters of fire off in different directions. Almost like a fiery electric current.

“Just…end it…I….I don’t want to hurt you. But I will” Emmy wheezes and Butcher continues his slow approach, ignoring the sound of his name from the other two men.

“You’ll hurt me…if I don’t kill ya?” Butcher asks and Emmy sniffs and nods. Butcher looks to the others, nods and shrugs like it’s the most reasonable request in the world.

The last thing Emmy see’s is a large black boot in front of her face before everything goes dark.

#The Boys #the boys tv #billy butcher #billy butcher smut #billy butcher x oc #karl urban

[fanmoose12]

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 8/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Petra was walking down a street with a slight spring in her step. Today would be a good day, she could feel it. Entering the precinct, she was filled with a sense of giddy trepidation.

She couldn't wait to see Levi. Last night's events seemed like a dream to her. Meeting detective Hange, almost getting into a fight with her and then watching her reunite with Levi - she couldn't quite believe that it actually happened. But it did, and now Petra wondered if the change in Levi would be visible.

Would he drop the gloomy, irritated facade? Would she see him smile?

Ah, Petra was so excited!

She was so excited, so lost in her world that she didn't pay much attention to her surroundings. So when her forehead collided with someone else's, she got quite a surprise.

Petra jumped back, immediately apologizing. She lifted her eyes and met the icy stare of her partner.

She gulped. So he didn't drop the gloomy facade.

"Good morning!" she squealed, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment. Levi continued to bore his eyes into her, and Petra fidgeted, unsure of what to do and not knowing the reason for his anger.

She watched him beneath her eyelashes - Levi's face was pale with dark circles under his eyes. His shoulders were hunched and his posture was tense. Petra's eyebrows knitted together, it was all wrong.

She could explain the circles under his eyes, Levi met his long lost partner after two years of separation, of course, he didn't get much sleep last night. There was probably a lot they needed to discuss, and maybe... They did other things too. But why was Levi so frustrated now? Did something happen between him and detective Hange? Did they have a fight?

"I was waiting for you," Levi said finally. "Put your things in the office and come to the forensics department. I'll be there."

And just like that, Levi was gone. Petra stared after him, confused and bewildered. He reunited with his beloved partner just yesterday, wasn't he happy about it?

She didn't have the time to ponder about it, though. Whatever was the reason for Levi's tenseness, she didn't wish to anger him anymore. And so she needed to hurry. Petra whirled around, heading to the elevators. Walking inside, she pushed the needed button with a heavy sigh. It looked like another long day was ahead of her. 

***

When Petra entered the forensics department, Levi was the only one there. He was standing in the middle of the room, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in deep thought, as he studied the stack of papers in his hands.

"Hey," Petra called timidly, gripping the side of the door tightly. "Where is everyone else?"

"Moblit and Nifa are busy in the dissection room," he answered without looking up. "They'll be here soon."

"Alright," Petra softly stepped inside. "Did you find something in there?" she gestured to the papers.

"Nothing that could give us a definite clue," Levi said, obviously annoyed by this fact. "The victim was dragged, just like the first time. The drug was injected into her neck, though, and not administered orally."

"Maybe, the killer was in a hurry?" Petra suggested.

"Possibly," Levi nodded. "Maybe, he didn't have the time to woo her like the last victim. Maybe, he needed to kill her that night because— oh," his eyes widened and he froze for a second, gripping the papers tighter. "It makes sense now," he whispered.

"What does?" Petra frowned, confused.

"Nothing," Levi shook his head. "Something Hange told me. I need to check it first. There is another thing, though."

"What?" Petra leaned closer, looking at papers behind Levi's shoulder.

"The jacket, there is a trace of Hange's DNA."

"So? You already identified it yesterday."

"Hange’s DNA is not the only one they found," Levi took out small package. "Here, look at this.”  

Petra snatched the package from his hands, curiously looking it over. She was quite disappointed to realize that inside was just a single hair.

"Isn't it..." she squinted a bit. The hair was brown. "Doesn't it belong to detective Hange?"

"No, hers is slightly different. The color is richer. And this one curls at the end."

"Alright," Petra had no choice but to agree. Apparently, she was talking with an expert, with someone who had spent a lot of his time staring at detective Hange's hair.

"Besides, it was confirmed that this hair doesn't belong to her. Obviously, it's from the killer."

Tall man with curly brown hair, Petra suddenly remembered. So the witness was right after all?

"Zeke most probably isn't the killer," Levi announced after a few seconds of tense silence. "Hange says there is no way he could be involved."

"And you believe it?" Petra asked carefully.

Levi hung his head. "I'm not sure. On one hand, no else has the motive for these killings. On the other, Hange is sure it's not him."

"How is she, by the way? Was everything alright last night?" Petra's gaze shifted from one corner of the room to another, unable to meet Levi's eyes. Fighting with her nervousness, she wriggled her hands behind her and continued. "You just seem a bit tense today, and I couldn't help but wonder why. I, well, maybe I just expected you to be a little bit happier. Yesterday you've found out that your beloved is actually alive so—"

The papers fell from Levi's hands. Petra shut her mouth immediately, eyes snapping to her partner's face. They stared at each other for a long moment, the heavy silence hanging over the room. The strained atmosphere was destroyed by Levi's quiet curse.

"What the fuck Petra?" he crouched down, frantically gathering the papers. "We— four eyes and I are not—" he closed his eyes, scowling. "We are not lovers, for Christ's sake! How could you even think about it?"

"You... are not?" Petra stared down at him, her mouth agape. There was no way she could read the signs wrong. It was obvious!

"Of course we are not!" Levi snapped. "How did you come up with nonsense?"

Well, where Petra should even begin?

"You care so much about her!" she decided to start with the most obvious clue.

Levi raised an eyebrow, looking up at Petra from his position on the floor. "Don't you care about your friends?"

"Of course, I do," she huffed, resisting the urge to stomp her feet in frustration. Levi wasn't seriously trying to use the friend's card. She saw them yesterday, their relationship was obviously much more than simply platonic.

"You grieved for her for two years!"

"Just like any close friend would do," Levi replied. He rose up, fixing his tie and giving Petra an unimpressed look.

She wasn't going to give up so easily, though. There should be something, something Levi wouldn't be able to deny.

And then she remembered.

"The witness!" she pointed her finger at Levi's chest. "The concierge at detective Hange's old place, he recognized you! So you shared an apartment with her!"

"Don't be absurd," Levi waved her off, still completely unfazed. "I just visited her a lot. Hange could never wake up in time for work, so I used to visit her place to wake her up. Sometimes I came to make her dinner or clean that junkyard she called her home, that's all."

That's all? Levi woke her up in the mornings, they frequently had dinners together and he helped to clean her apartment? And they weren't in a relationship? She couldn't wrap her head around it. She saw them together, what they felt for each other was undeniable. Could they not see it?

"But—" she stuttered, unsure how to follow up.

Levi sighed. "Even if the subject was quite questionable, your dedication is admiring, detective," he patted her shoulder, walking past her. "However, your deduction was wrong."

It was not and she knew it. Petra knew she was right. She could do nothing, though. If Levi himself didn't notice his true feelings, she wasn't the one who could make him see. He had another partner for that.

"If you have any questions regarding the case," Levi said when he was already in the doorway. "Wait for Moblit and Nifa. If you need me, I'll be in Erwin's office."

"Ah, okay," Petra answered feebly, watching the door close after him.

A moment later, however, another door opened. Nifa and Moblit walked inside.

"Petra!" Nifa squealed, hurriedly taking off the protective goggles and gloves. "How was your date? Did you enjoy it? Did he like your look? Did you two kiss? Did—"

"Nifa," Moblit smiled forcefully and squeezed her shoulder. "Take a breath and pay attention," he nodded at the papers in Petra's hands. "Detective Ral obviously didn't come here to discuss her personal life."

"Ah, yes," Petra finally snapped out of her stupor. "I did come here for work purposes, but," she laid the papers down on the nearest table. "I have a question too. It's kind of personal?"

"Oh?" Nifa pressed hands against her chest, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Spill it already."

And well, how should she begin? The straight approach was the easiest one, she decided.

"What is the nature of relationship between Levi and detective Zoe? Levi just told me they aren't lovers but is it really true? I mean, they're so..." she bit her lip, thinking. The word close didn't quite cut it.

Nifa interrupted her musings, clasping her shoulder with a grin. "Ah, frustrated much with their relationship? Welcome to the club, dear," she announced chirpily.

"Wait," Moblit raised an arm, coming to stand directly in front of Petra. He loomed over her, his hazel eyes boring into her with unusual seriousness. "You discussed this with detective Levi? And why did you talk about detective Hange as though she is..." his voice cracked on the last word. Moblit closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "As though she is still alive?"

"Oh," Petra cast her eyes down, thinking. She forgot that Levi wasn't the only who cared about Hange. Should she tell them? Or should she keep it a secret? Levi said that he trusted the guys from forensics department, but how much? Would trust them with the secret of his partner?

In the end, it was the pain and misery in Moblit's eyes that pushed Petra to make a decision.

"The thing is..." she cleared her throat, not knowing where to look - at Moblit's nervous expression or at Nifa's confused one? "Detective Zoe is actually, well, she's alive."

"What?" Nifa's hands flew to her face.

Moblit squeezed the edge of the nearest table, using it as his support. "What..." he began quietly, uncertainly. "What are you talking about?"

"She survived the explosion,” Petra explained softly. “I've met her last night. In our office."

"You've never seen her though," Nifa frowned. "How can you be sure it's really detective Hange?

"Well," Petra's lips curved into a faint smile. "Levi had seen her too, so..."

"Oh," Nifa breathed out.

Meanwhile, Moblit sat heavily on the chair, covering his eyes with a palm.

“I don’t know how exactly she survived,” Petra added. “But she’s alive.”

Silence fell over the room. It lasted for a few more minutes, and then Nifa cried out in joy, lifting her hands in the air.

"Detective Hange is alive!" she exclaimed it with the biggest smile. "We should celebrate! Moblit, make us tea! And bring my apple pie!"

Despite his shaken state, Moblit was on his feet instantly, ready to fulfill Nifa's request.

"Thank you for telling us," he whispered to Petra, giving her a quick hug. "It means so much to me."

"Sure," Petra patted his back awkwardly.

"Right," Moblit took a step back, letting her go. "Now, the tea."

"So," Nifa sat down, putting hands under her chin. "How our detective Hange is doing? Does she still look so cool?"

"I don't know..." Petra scratched the back of her head. "She has a patch over her left eye now, though."

"Ah," Nifa sighed dreamily. "So she looks even cooler now."

"Don't mind her," Moblit advised, as he put the tray with tea and pie on the table in front of them. Petra thanked him and joined Nifa. "She just used to have the biggest of crushes on detective Hange."

"Oi, shut up," Nifa smacked his arm. "As if you're that different from me."

"I don't have a crush on Hange," he denied, glaring at Nifa. "I just admire her a lot. Platonically."

"Oh, sure," Nifa huffed. "Should I tell Petra about that time when you invited Hange on a date, Mr. Platonic Admiration?"

"It wasn't a date," Moblit said stubbornly. "I just had a spare ticket to a very interesting science exhibition, and I knew Hange likes this stuff, so I decided to take her with me."

"Tell her," Nifa nudged, sending a piece of pie in her mouth. "Tell Petra what happened next."

Moblit sighed. "She agreed to come with me."

"And?" Nifa prompted further, smiling slyly.

He turned his face away. "And then she showed up together with detective Ackerman."

"Oh," Petra rubbed Moblit's back soothingly. "It must have been rough."

"It was okay," he forced a smile. "Besides, Nifa here," he pointed his fork at her with a smug look. "Used to have a crush on both of them."

"So what?" Nifa shrugged. "I don't deny it. They both look very good and have you ever seen them in action? Once I watched them spar with each other in the gym. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"Eugh,” Moblit cringed. "However," he turned to Petra. "You should have seen how she tried to flirt with them. It was hilarious. And a bit awkward, since none of them really noticed her attempts."

"Yeah," Nifa agreed solemnly. "As smart as they are, they are so oblivious," she shook her head. "They're too focused on each other."

"So," Petra gripped the cup tighter in her hands. "It's true? They aren't a thing?"

Nifa laughed. "They're most definitely a thing. They just don't know about it."

"Oh."

"But, since detective Hange is alive, they have time to figure it out," Moblit smiled encouragingly. Then the smile vanished from his face, as he fixed Nifa with a strict gaze. "We, however, don't have the time. Finish your tea and get up. We still have a lot work."

"Yes, dad," Nifa whined.

"I need to get going as well," Petra smiled, finishing her tea. "Thanks for the conversation and for the snacks, but Moblit is right. The work doesn't wait. I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye!" Nifa waved her hand. "We'll be waiting for you to come back!"

Petra waved back and then headed to the door, still smiling softly.

 ***

On her way to the office, at the opposite end of the hallway, Petra saw a familiar figure. Her first instinct was to run and hide. To her dismay, however, he already noticed her.

"Detective Ral!" Sannes called, hurrying to get to her.

As he came closer, Petra noticed that he wasn't alone - a young, dark-haired man was trudging after him. Petra didn't recognize him. Was he not from the precinct?

"I haven't seen you yesterday," he said, as he finally caught up with her.

"Had been busy with a case," Petra mumbled, staring at Sannes' companion. He wasn't a part of the police, she was sure of it. His clothes - buggy shirt and ripped jeans - further confirmed her suspicion. Who was he then? And why was he making her feel so uneasy?

"A case?" Sannes' companion asked, flashing Petra an awfully smug grin. "You're talking about the recent murders, right? I've heard they're pretty gruesome," even as he said this, the smile didn't leave his face. Petra's skin prickled in alarm. There was something about this man - she couldn't quite pinpoint what exactly - but something about him was disturbing. Her guts feelings were screaming, telling her to get away from him.

"Do you have a suspect already?" he continued, oblivious to her discomfort. Before Petra could even start thinking what to reply, the man beat her to it. "I've heard Zeke Yeager is the culprit, is it true?"

"It's not," Sannes interfered, the smile on his face wavered, turning into a grimace. He grasped the elbow of his companion, his grip so tight Petra wondered if it would leave bruises. "Forgive him, Ral. He's a new intern, and there is much he has to learn."

"For example, he should know that Zeke Yeager had been dead for two years," Petra offered with innocent expression.

"Um, yeah," Sannes nodded. He avoided looking her in the eyes, and watching him squirm, Petra internally cheered.

"Anyway, we should go, I was just finishing giving him a tour around the precinct."

"Good luck," she smiled. "Hope you'll enjoy your new workplace, intern," she added, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.

The intern glared at her, breathing heavily. He obviously wanted to say something, but the grip Sannes had on his elbow and the death looks he had been sending him, persuaded him to keep his mouth shut. Sannes gave him a rough shove, pushing him in another direction.

"See you, Ral," he said and walked away.

Petra watched them go, the cogs turning in her head. How could this man know about Zeke? Except from her, Levi and Captain Erwin, no one could know that he's considered a suspect. No one could know that he's considered alive. Then how did Sannes find out? How did this man find out? Who was he? Why did he make her feel so nervous? And where did she—

Oh.

Petra finally remembered. The witness testimony. The tall man with dark curly hair. He fitted the description perfectly. Could it really be him? Why would Sannes conspire with a killer, though? And why would he ask after Zeke? Could it be that—

No, Petra rejected the idea even before it was fully formed in her mind. It was too outlandish, ridiculous.

However... Her gut was telling her otherwise. She needed to check it. And she already knew how to get closer to the truth. It wasn't a good plan, stupid even, Levi would never agree to it. Luckily, Petra knew someone, who could help.

She turned around, heading into another wing of the precinct.

She needed to find Oluo.

 ***

"Erwin?" Levi called, knocking on the door of his office. "It's me, Levi. Are you in here? Can I come in?"

"Wait for a bit please!" Erwin shouted behind the door. "I'm busy."

"Asshole," Levi muttered, leaning against the wall. "First calls me here and now he's busy."

Just as he prepared to glare at the door before Erwin finishes with whatever he was doing, his phone started vibrating in the back pocket of his pants. He took it out, staring at the screen. He received a message. From unknown number. Frowning in confusion, he opened the message.

Still alive and kicking. Don't worry shorty :D

Levi huffed. He didn’t worry. He was just slightly curious about her wellbeing. Before he could start typing his response, two new messages appeared.

don't give erwin shit btw. He kept it a secret because i asked him to.

don't you dare punch him, levi. I will know. And I won't be pleased about it.

Levi rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar annoyance stir inside him. The annoyance he hadn't felt for two years. He bit down a smile, typing a quick reply. 

Just as he was finishing, the door to Erwin's office opened. Nile Dawk, the captain of special enforcement unit, and Dot Pixis, the captain of property and crime scene unit, walked out.

Dawk looked grim as he pushed past Levi, not sparring him a glance. Pixis, however, was as cheerful as always.

"Good day, detective," he said, clasping Levi's shoulder. "How are you doing?"

"Great," Levi pushed himself off the wall. "Excuse me, Captain, but I need—"

"Of course," Pixis winked. "Have a nice, productive shift!"

"Sure," Levi mumbled, giving him a weird look.

"What the fuck was that about?" he asked Erwin as soon as he closed the door to his office. "Since when you're buddies with Pixis and Dawk?"

“It’s important to maintain a friendly relationship with other units.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Levi plopped down onto a chair in front of Erwin’s desk. “What are you planning this time?”

Erwin turned his face to the side, hiding a smile. “It’s too early to tell.”

“Whatever,” Levi mumbled, sitting back in the chair. If Erwin wanted to keep his secrets, so be it. He didn’t give a shit.

No, Levi instantly corrected himself. There was one secret that he did give a shit about. And Erwin kept it from him purposefully.

“Don’t you dare punch him,” the voice in his head reminded him. Of course, it was Hange’s.

The temptation to defy her was big, but he'd try to keep it together. For her sake.

"So?" Levi crossed hands on his chest. "What did you call me here for?"

"Ah, yes," Erwin got to his feet, reaching the cupboard next to his desk and taking two cups from it. "I wanted to ask how you're doing," he started making tea for them, facing away from Levi. "It was a difficult day for you."

"That it was," Levi agreed, boring his eyes into Erwin's back. "But it got better. I met someone. An old friend."

"Oh?"

He continued watching Erwin, waiting for his reaction.

"Yeah, four-eyes said hello."

Erwin froze. Just for a second, but he did.

"Levi, I'm sorr—"

"No," Levi said harshly. "No, you're not."

To his credit, Erwin didn't try to protest. He carefully put the teacups on the desk and then sat back in his chair.

"For how long?" Levi asked. "For how long did you know?"

Erwin sighed. "For almost a year."

Fuck. Levi gripped the arms of a chair so tightly the old wood creaked. He wanted to kick the desk in front of him. Wanted to take that damn teacup and smash it against the wall. How could they? How could they hide it from him for so long?

"You know how much I care for her," he began, his voice calm despite the emotions swirling inside of him. "You knew how much I grieved, how much I've missed her. And you let me suffer."

"I know that you feel betrayed, Levi. I know that you're angry," Levi scoffed. Angry? That was an understatement. He was fucking furious. "But you must understand - I couldn't tell you."

"And why the fuck not?"

"Hange asked me."

"But why? Why did she ask you to keep it from me?"

Erwin's eyes softened. "You know why, Levi. You know why she wanted to keep you away. You wouldn’t let her go. And you wouldn't have let her follow through with her plan."

"So you agree with that idiotic plan?"

"No," Erwin answered firmly. "I want to get Zeke as much as she does. But I'm not going to sacrifice Hange's life to do it."

Levi exhaled. He didn't even know it, but he was afraid to hear Erwin's answer. He was afraid that he lost an ally in the battle against Hange's stubbornness and martyr complex.

"So you have another plan?"

"Yes," Erwin nodded.

"And Hange doesn't know about it?"

"Not yet."

"That's why you're conspiring with Pixis and Dawk, right?" Levi guessed.

"Like I said," Erwin clenched his jaw, determination shining in his gaze. "I'm working on it."

After hearing this, most of the tension left Levi's body. He slumped in the chair, reaching out for his teacup.

"That's it?" Erwin raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to even punch me?"

Levi made a face. "Hange asked me to spare you."

Well, she didn't ask, but ordered him. Obviously, Erwin didn't need to know that.

"Ah, I should thank her then," Erwin chuckled. "She saved my life after all."

"Don't be so dramatic," Levi rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't have punched you that hard. Maybe, just broke your nose or jaw."

"Yeah," Erwin winced, rubbing his nose. "I'm glad we could avoid that."

Levi was glad too. If he really broke Erwin's nose, it would be such a mess. There'd be so much blood, and he'd have to clean it all by himself. Yeah, good thing they avoided it.

"Something still bothers you," Erwin noted, lifting the cup to his lips. "Care to share it with me?"

As always, Erwin was right. There was something that he couldn't stop thinking about. It plagued him ever since that kiss Hange planted on his cheek. And it began tormenting him after his morning conversation with Petra.

"Do Hange and I look like a couple?"

Erwin choked, coughing and spluttering tea all around his table. Levi tsked, rushing to Erwin's side to clasp his back a few times.

"What the fuck Levi?" he croaked out in between his coughs. "You can't just ask things like that."

"What?" Levi frowned. "It was a simple question. Petra mentioned it today. She thought, no, she was convinced that Hange and I," Levi cringed a little. "That we are romantically involved."

"Well," Erwin straightened in his seat, wiping his face with a handkerchief. "She's not the only one who thinks about you two that way."

"What?" Levi's eyes widened. "Who is it?" he demanded.

Erwin smiled. "Pretty much everyone at the precinct thought you were dating."

"But we— we did not," Levi protested helplessly.

"I know," Erwin comforted him. "Why does it bother you, though? It's just gossip, you were never the one to care what people say behind your back."

"And I still don't. I just— something happened last night," Levi closed his eyes for a second, recalling that small moment. "Hange— she kissed me. On a cheek!" he clarified, seeing Erwin's shocked expression. "You know four-eyes, she doesn't know what personal space is, but— it made me feel, I don't know, warm inside? I wanted her to do it again," he paused, taking a breath. This convention was making him feel so damn embarrassed, but he already started it. May as well finish it. "I remembered then, that warm feeling. It appeared frequently before you know," he shook his head. "Hange's death or whatever the fuck it was, but I was too busy then to stop and think about it. And after Hange was gone, I didn't really want to think about it. So, what do you think, Erwin? Could it be—"

"I don't know," Erwin said earnestly. "I'm not an expert in relationship, Levi. Especially, em, that kind of relationship, but... You have time. Hange's back, and I'll make sure, do my damnedest to make sure that she's back for good. You can figure it out together."

"Together, huh," Levi repeated. He liked the sound of it.

After all, that's when Hange and he were at their best. When they were together.

 ***

Back from the dead for less than a day and already getting on my nerves, four-eyes?

Staring down at the phone, Hange grinned. As she thought about his grumpy face, the grin grew wider.

"What are you smiling at?"

Hange quickly put the phone back into the pocket of Levi's coat. She looked up and saw Pieck and Porco stare back at her.

"Just a text," she said, shoving hands deep into the coat's pockets.

"A text?" Pieck arched an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've got yourself a date or something."

"I don't have a date or something," Hange mimicked Pieck’s voice, earning a glare from her. "Just a friend."

Pieck continued to watch her with narrowed eyes. Hange looked back, still grinning.

"Is it a new coat?" Porco asked, interrupting their staring contest. "It's nice."

"You've got the wrong size," Pieck commented. "It's too small on you."

"Ah," Hange scratched the back of her head. "It was the last one."

"Hm," Pieck finally looked away. "We should go. The faster we deal with the job, the better."

"Aw, you don't want to spend more time with me, Pieck?" Hange nudged her in the side. "And here I thought we were becoming friends..."

Pieck sighed, shifting her gaze to Porco. "Bye, Pock. Talk to you later."

Then she started walking and Hange had no choice but to follow.

"So," she began, falling into step with her. "What Zeke wants us to do?"

"Check some of the local businesses, demand the protection money, threaten if they refuse. The usual stuff."

Hange let out a barely audible sigh. She hated this kind of work the most. Looking into the pleading faces of helpless owners, taking from them more than they could give - it was the worst. She still had to do it, though. She had to keep her cover. At least, today Floch wasn't her companion. Pieck, as sarcastic as she was, was a much, much preferred partner.

"You're spacing out again," Pieck's bored voice brought Hange back to present.

"Huh? I'm not."

"You've been doing it a lot today,” Pieck continued, ignoring her protest. “And you... you look happy. I don't think I've ever seen you smile so brightly before. Let's take a turn here," not giving Hange the chance to answer, Pieck grabbed her elbow, stirring her a bit to the left. "It's a shortcut."

"You really don't want spend more time with me than absolutely necessary," Hange noted with a grin. "Don't you enjoy our friendly banter?"

"I do," Pieck said, making Hange whip her head to stare at her. There was a small, bittersweet smile on her pretty face. "Truth be told, I'm going to miss it."

Blinking a few times, surprised by Pieck's words, Hange chuckled. "You're making it sound like I'm going away soon..."

"Don't you?"

Hange stopped abruptly.

"What are you trying to say, Pieck?" she asked, carefully observing her companion.

"I may not be as smart as you Hange,” Pieck huffed. “But I'm not dumb. I notice things too. Zeke's worst nightmare came to life, didn’t it? Your memories, they came back?"

"I—"

"And that means we're screwed, right? You'll take revenge on Zeke and us for lying to you."

"How?" Hange whispered, shocked by Pieck's perception. And here she thought she was so smart, so careful. "How did you find out?"

"It's in your eyes. Well, eye," Pieck sent her a sympathetic look. "It was confused before, lost. Now there is nothing but determination in your gaze."

"You've been staring at me a lot, Pieck," Hange teased, trying to clear the tense atmosphere. And mask her nervousness.

"That's my job."

"Does Zeke know?"

"No," Pieck started walking again, looking straight ahead. "And he won't know. Not from me at least."

"What?" Hange ran to catch up to her. "Why won't you tell him?"

"Because I understand," Pieck replied simply. "Because Zeke ruined your life, lied to you again and again, using your skills and intelligence. Because if I were in your place, I'd be filled with rage and desire to make him pay."

"I..." Hange swallowed a lump in her throat. "Thank you, Pieck. When— when shit hits the fan, I won't involve you. You'll be able to escape, I promise."

"Oi," Pieck smacked her arm. "I didn't tell you this because I wanted to get on your good side, weirdo."

"I know," Hange smiled. "I was going to do it anyway. You..." she faltered, pressing fingers to the patch on her face. "You've been there for me. You've helped me. You could have gotten in trouble with Zeke for that, but you still decided to help me. I won't forget that."

"Don't involve Porco," Pieck blurted out. "I know I'm asking for too much, but—"

"I get it," Hange cut her off. "Your safety won't mean a thing, if he's not safe too."

"I— yes," Pieck nodded. "You really get it."

More than you know, Hange thought, as an image of a certain scowling midget appeared in her mind.

"For how long have you known?" Hange she asked Pieck casually. "About me getting my memories back?"

"Almost a year."

So she figured her out almost instantly. Not bad, Hange decided with a weird sense of pride.

"And Zeke? He still hasn't caught up?"

That was weird. Zeke was exceptionally smart. Could it really be that he still didn't know?

"Maybe, he suspects it. But I think he doesn't want to believe it."

"How come?" Hange frowned. She was utterly confused. She always thought that if Zeke were ever to find out about her memory coming back, he'd deal with her instantly.

"Because he needs you. Don't sell yourself short, Hange," Pieck scolded. "You're valuable to us. More than you actually realize. You've been two years with us, and during this time we managed to keep ourselves completely below police's radar. Our profits raised, our gang became bigger and we found ourselves new allies. And all of it because of you."

Hange lowered her head, completely flustered. It was a while since anyone had praised her so. There was another thing she needed to know, though. She promised Levi she’d look into his case. And she needed to be sure. If Pieck was right and Zeke actually valued her, then...

"You said Zeke needs me, right? Would he listen to me? Does he value my opinion?"

Pieck knitted her eyebrows together. "Something happened," she didn’t ask, simply stated it. Hange was impressed with her more and more.

"Yes," Hange nodded. "While you and Zeke were on your trip abroad, two women were murdered."

"So? A lot of people die in this city."

Hange shook her head. "Not like this. The way these women were killed - it's obvious that someone is trying to set Zeke up," Hange didn't give to shits about Zeke, anyone who tried to get him behind bars was a friend. But they've taken two innocent lives. And they hurt Levi. She wouldn't let them get away with that. "If I tell him about it—"

"You'll have to tell him the truth then. About your memory coming back. It won't end well, Hange," Pieck warned.

"I know," If Zeke will find out about it, it'd destroy all of her carefully constructed plans. She was willing to take that chance, though. Her revenge could wait. "I won't be facing him alone. I— I'm planning on bringing backup."

"Backup?" Pieck repeated incredulously. "You'll have to find someone good, someone who would be able to make him reconsider killing you on a spot. Someone who can actually scare Zeke."

"Don't worry," Hange grinned. "I know just the guy."

And taking out her phone, she typed a short message.

Hey partner, wish to remember the good old days?

#what? me FINALLY posting a new chapter? it's more likely than you think :) #also i know that literally NOTHING happens in this chapter and they all just talk BUT #in the next one there will be more action #ANYWAY #feedback is appreciated <333 #levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi x hange #rivahan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #petra ral