#but instead I’ve sat here in silence for thirty minutes

[mollysolo]

I’m Here, Right Here

Pairing: Steve Harrington X gn!Reader

Summary: Steve comforts you after a rough day.

Warnings: Mentions of the reader crying, being upset + tired + overworked, one curse word

Word Count: 1.3k

a/n: i hope y’all like this ! also, feel free to send any requests you have for steve (or anyone i else i write for) to my inbox !

the gif below does not belong to me

The very second you got home that evening, you went straight into the bedroom in you and Steve’s apartment and laid down. And once your head hit your pillow, you finally felt safe enough to let the tears that you had been holding back for the past thirty minutes fall.

In this moment, you were kind of glad that Steve wasn’t here to see you cry. And while you knew that it wasn’t a bad thing to cry, it was still something you’d rather do alone.

This week had been the absolute worst. Mostly because your boss had put even more work onto your already heavy workload. According to him, a bunch of people had recently quit and until replacements were hired, you would have to do their work.

You were only five days into this new workload and you were already extremely exhausted. And today was the breaking point, your boss had told you that you would have to present at a convention next week, alone.

You hadn’t told Steve about this new workload at all because you knew how much he worried about you and this was something you wanted to deal with on your own. Besides, you had kind of hoped that if you did all this work, that maybe you’d be promoted.

But you knew Steve would find out eventually, he was supposed to be home from work in just twenty minutes after all.

And the longer you cried, the more you wanted Steve to come home. You wanted him to comfort you, take care of you, make you feel like everything was going to be alright. Like he always did when you were feeling shitty.

————————————

Just thirty minutes or so after you had initially started crying, you heard Steve open the front door. You tried to silence or at least muffle your cries by placing one of your hands over your mouth and nose, but it was no use. So you let your hand drop down to the bed, a deep frown appearing on your face as Steve started to walk further into your apartment.

He was about to call out for you when he heard the sound of your cries coming from the bedroom, prompting him to quickly set his things down and go to you. He felt panicked as he made his way to where you were. He wondered what happened and who or what caused your tears.

The second he entered the bedroom and his eyes met your sad face, his heart broke. He hated seeing you this way, it tore him up inside. But you never needed to know that.

“Oh, baby.” he quietly said as he walked over to your side of the bed and his knees crashed into the plush carpet below him.

He began to softly hold your face in one his hands while he leaned over and kissed some of your tears away, making a subtle smile appear on your face. You already felt a little better now that Steve was home.

“What’s wrong?” he asked you while he stroked your wet cheek with his thumb, pure worry in his eyes and in his voice.

You slowly sat up and he let his hand fall from your face, opting to hold one of your hands instead. You knew you had to tell Steve what was happening, you couldn’t keep pretending like everything was okay.

You took a deep breath then started to speak, “I didn’t want you to worry, so I’ve been keeping this to myself. But there’s something I need to tell you.” you said, your eyes hesitantly looking over to meet his.

“What is it, (y/n)?” he asked while he slowly stood up, now feeling the urgent need to hold you.

You took the time Steve was using to pick you up so that he could hold you in your bed to muster up the courage to tell him everything.

“Some of my co-workers recently quit and my boss is making me take on their work loads until he hires replacements. This has been going on for five days now and I’m just so tired, Steve.” you told him, pressing your forehead into his shoulder towards the end of your explanation.

While Steve listened to what you had to say, he held you tighter in his arms, wanting you to feel safe, comforted and comfortable.

“Do you want me to talk to your boss? He shouldn’t be doing this to you. It’s not fair.” Steve sternly said, his eyebrows a little furrowed.

“No, you don’t need to talk to talk to him, Stevie. And I know it’s unfair but there’s some part of me that hopes that he’ll promote me for doing all of this extra work.” you replied as you removed your head from his shoulder, making him aware of more of your feelings.

Steve nodded, he understood what you meant. He understood what it was like to pretend you’re fine with overworking yourself in hopes of your boss appreciating you more. And like you had done for him, he was going to help you get through this.

He gently cupped your face in his hands then kissed the rest of your tears away, not stopping until he reached your lips. He then looked directly into your eyes, an idea on his mind.

“What if we use the next 5 days as a staycation?” he suggested while he raised one of his eyebrows.

Your face contorted with worry right away, “But what if my boss fires me? I don’t want to loose my job and I don’t want you to loose yours either.” you answered, your eyebrows now furrowing, making you look sadder.

He softly shushed you as he brought you closer to him and laid down, your head now resting on his warm chest, “Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll take care of everything. You need to rest, let me take care of you.” he said while he began to gently trace circles into your back.

You let out a shaky deep breath at the sound of that, you knew Steve was right, “Okay.” you softly replied, not having any energy left to fight him on this.

By this point your tears had stopped and you now felt a lot better, like Steve had lifted a weight off of your shoulders. You could finally let yourself relax for the first time this entire week.

You both were extremely glad that you were able to be there for each other whenever you needed one another.

“I’ll be here for you every step of the way, alright?” he whispered against your temple before pressing a kiss there, making you smile.

“I know, Stevie. Thank you.” you said, thinking of the time you had made that promise to Steve when he was overworking himself almost nine months ago.

And while the two of you continued to cuddle, Steve thought of a plan for the rest of the evening, “I have another plan.” he told you, causing you to perk up.

“Oh, you do?” you jokingly teased, one of your eyebrows raised like his had been not too long ago.

He laughed at your actions, happy to see your personality peaking out again, “Yes, actually.” he said, speaking with a sarcastic tone and a bright smile on his face, “I was thinking we could maybe take a nap together then order some takeout for dinner. How does that sound?” he suggested to you, his smile a bit fainter now but still there.

“That sounds perfect.” you say in response, happily snuggling back into Steve while you spoke.

He let out a quiet chuckle through his nose and held you tightly in his arms once more, “I’m here, right here for you and I always will be, I promise.” he quietly said, making your cheeks heat up at the feeling of his lips moving against your skin.

“And I’ll always be here for you, Stevie.” you told him in response as he smiled once again, not wanting him to feel like this support was one sided.

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[toxic3mmy]

being like all bratty ( i think that’s the word) and all to Quackity and he ends up fucking the shit out of you?

ummm yes??? this sounds sooooo hot teehee, thx for the request!!

[it turned out a little more loving than rough sex.. oops??]

prompt: you and alex have a project due and he keeps slacking off until he’s had enough of your bratty attitude

warnings: nsfw! smut smutty smuttt!

it was finally 7:30 pm. alex said he would meet you at the college library to finish up your project after work and you had been waiting on him there for almost an hour now. the good thing was that you were alone and had time to focus on your part of the slideshow.

you had about two slides left when you heard a huge thud on the table you were sat at. you looked up and saw alex smiling sheepishly at you.

“sup nerd, you almost done with our project?” he said as he sat back in his chair and kicked his feet up to rest on the table

you rolled your eyes and said with an annoyed face,

“yeah right, come on let’s get this over with already” you grumbled

“actually, shit… i forgot my laptop” alex said while looking through his backpack. he looked up at you and asked

“mind if i go get it? i’m pretty sure i left it at my house and it’s not far from here” he didn’t even wait for me to respond, already collecting his things to go

“wait, maybe we should just do the project at yours… they close the library in thirty minutes anyways” you said, feeling even more annoyed than before because now you were going to be forced to be alone with alex

“cool, let’s go” he walked out of the school and to his car in the parking lot

you felt a bit uncomfortable and nervous as you got into his passenger seat. you weren’t sure why but his very existence got so deep under your skin that it really pissed you off. maybe it was his arrogant personality or maybe it was the way every girl at your college drooled over him, or maybe it was both. the truth is, you also felt an attraction for alex but you refused to be like every other brainless bimbo at school. you liked to think that you actually had taste when it came to guys.

your thoughts were interrupted by alex parking his car and getting out, having you follow him. he unlocked the door to his house and let you in. he got comfortable and led you into an office like room where you assumed he did his homework and probably his streaming. he had a huge desk with a pc setup as well as note taking materials next to the pc. there was also a small couch and that’s where you decided to put your backpack.

“here, i’ll go get a chair for you to sit next to me” alex broke the silence between you too. you nodded silently and took all your notes out to finally finish this project.

“sit” he said as he placed another office chair next to his fancy gamer chair

you chuckled to yourself

“what?” he asked, genuinely confused

“oh nothing… just realized you have a gamer chair.. it’s so uwu of you” you teased him and laughed even louder

“says the one that dresses like an e girl with all those fishnets and eyeliner” he said mockingly

“don’t even! i know you’re not judging my clothing choices when you legit always look like adam sandler plus that stupid beanie you never take off”

“can you shut up? we have a project to work on” alex said in a sarcastic manner

you didn’t say anything in response to him. instead, you went over what you had finished with your part of the project. you then kept talking about some ways for alex to tie his part into yours so that it would all flow seamlessly. you were pointing out certain topics in your textbook when you look up to see alex typing away on his phone.

“dude… are you serious? i was over here talking to the fucking wall i guess! were you seriously not listening to me?”

he simply put a finger up as if telling you to wait for him to finish texting. you waited impatiently and after a few minutes, he finally put down his phone.

“my bad, i have this thing i’ve been working on with team members for our twitch.. but uh yeah of course i heard everything you said.” he lied and it made anger begin to boil up inside of you.

“how much do you even have done?” you asked, trying to calm yourself down

“oh uh.. i have all my pictures set up in the powerpoint” he said as if it were something to be proud about

you grit your teeth together as you realized what he meant by that

“you haven’t even started on your section?? i cannot believe you…” you groaned really annoyed now

“yes i have started! it’s not my fault that i need to do work stuff in my free time” he said as he messed with a pen on his desk

“ohhh, you have a twitch event that you’ve been working on for weeks? aw thats so cool, yeah i seriously don’t give a fuck. you had all semester and you don’t even care! it’s our senior year and uni is something that we need to take seriously i mean this counts towards our final! i don’t want to have to fucking repeat this class just because you’re a careless arrogant selfish piece of shit!”

“woah woah, what the fuck is your issue?!” he began to lose his cool, sitting up and facing towards you as he raised his voice

“you’re my problem! like dude i get that you play your little video games on stream and that seems to be what you worry about most but i actually want to get a good career and i actually care about my grades! unlike you! you think that just because everyone likes you, you’ll get everything handed to you. well sorry to burst your bubble but clicking and clacking on your keyboard all day long isn’t going to prepare you for the real world!”

“who the fuck do you think you are? you have no right to say any of this to me, are you kidding?” alex was now standing up and towering over you

“look… i just had a bad day okay? i worked really early this morning and i honestly would much rather be in bed right now than arguing with you i mean, we’re not even getting any work done! god this is pointless..” you sighed, running your hands through your hair as you felt afraid to look alex in his eyes

“i worked today too, ya know. but you don’t see me being so prissy and uptight about a damn project that won’t even matter in a year.”

“yeah well im sure my work was way more productive and hard than you playing dumb computer games all day”

“listen you little brat, you have no right to tell me anything about my career choices. and for the record, my dumb little twitch job is making me more money each month than youd ever see after years of whatever boring fucking corporate job you get into” alex said, holding you tightly by your t shirt

“yeah fucking right. you’re just a lazy idiot! all you had to do was finish a few slides and we’d be through here and you can’t even do that. i’m leaving, thanks for nothing” you spit out angrily as you hastily began to pack your things to leave

alex was silently in deep thought. as you reached the door, he tugged your backpack back and off of your shoulder. he grabbed you rather harshly and your back was pushed up against his bedroom door.

“you’re not going anywhere. you think you can just walk out of here after insulting me and being a shitty little brat?!”

“what?..” you asked quietly

“you heard me y/n, you’re being a fucking brat.. and brats should be treated the way they deserve” he spoke hotly against your lips before leaning forward and kissing you

you weren’t prepared for him to kiss you so sweetly. you practically melted against his lips. you kissed back until he whimpered and brought you back to reality.

“ugh! get off of me, asshole!” you pushed his chest roughly but before you could make any other move, he caught your arm

“i know you want me y/n, i see the way you look at me. you and every other girl at school are just so thirsty for me huh? look at these tiny skirts you always wear.. you’re just asking for it” he smirked as his fingers danced up your thigh and touched your skirt

“ha! i don’t want you. unlike the girls at school, i have a brain and i sure as fuck would never touch you” you lied to his face

you gasped and felt your face go red as his hand was now touching the fabric of your panties

“then why are you soaking wet for me?” he chuckled as he pulled your panties aside and played with your wet folds

he walked you towards his bed, sitting you down as he hovered over you.

“i fucking hate you!” you angrily smashed your lips to his.

your tongue slid across his lips, asking for entrance. alex greedily let your tongue slide against his. your hands tangled in his hair and tugged harshly as he continued to touch you.

“i hate you too, you fucking brat. now be a good girl and taked this top off for me” his lips connected with yours as you shakily unbuttoned your school top and threw it aside.

you reached out and began to unzip his pants just enough to release his hardened cock. he moaned at the contact and continued to play with your slick heat as you started to move your hands up and down his dick.

he pulled away from the kiss and pulled your hair in a ponytail with one hand and held your palm upwards with his other.

“spit” he demanded and you did what he asked

he then moved your wet hand to his cock and let go of your hair. he went back to rubbing your throbbing clit. you moved your hand and he was practically thrusting into your touch.

“alex… please” you whispered and tried to lead his leaking dick to your pussy but alex stopped you

“aw come on y/n, you can do better than that. you just love to yap and insult me, don’t you, you little brat? why don’t you put that pretty little mouth of yours to good use and beg for me. beg me to fuck you”

at this point, you needed him so badly and you didn’t care how desperate you looked as you complied with his demands.

“please alex, i need you so badly. please just fuck me and i promise to be nicer to you. im so wet for you..” you moaned out as his fingers finally stopped teasing you and entered your quivering hole

“tell me you want me.. tell me y/n” he said in a lustful voice, his fingers curling deeper into you. his lips attached to one of your hard nipples, deliciously tracing circles with the tip of his tongue

“oh fuck.. i n-need you, i want you alex! i’ve wanted you since i first saw you! i hate you so much but i want you to fuck me, please!” you were rutting against his hand needing more

he laughed as he was amused and feeling very satisfied with your response. he stopped touching you completely and undressed himself. he then reached out and stripped you of your shirt and panties, leaving the two of you completely naked.

“you’re so fucking sexy” he said, looking at you hungrily

“get on your hands and knees, show me that pretty ass”

you did what he asked needing him inside of you now. he groaned at the sight of your round ass on view for him. as he pushed himself inside of you, you arched your back from pleasure. he began to move slowly as you adjusted to the stretch. the second you started moaning, he grabbed your hips and mercilessly pounded into you.

“fuck! you’re so tight y/n” his hand made harsh contact with a loud smack on your ass

you fucked back onto his cock, feeling so overcome with pleasure

“a-alex, ‘m so close” you whimpered

he stopped fucking into you and sat up in his bed. he gently tugged you towards him, motioning to sit on his lap

“come ride me, sweetheart” he said huskily and of course, you obliged

you sat on his dick, feeling every inch of him fill you up. you were in complete bliss as you began to ride him slowly. alex leaned forward and hugged you to his body as he kissed your lips. you fought his tongue with yours for dominance as the two of you rocked together in a sweet rhythm.

“you feel so good… so so good alexis” you whispered in broken sobs

“yeah, baby girl? aw just look at you. you’re so needy for me aren’t you?”

you rocked your hips, grinding his cock into you. he was so deep inside of you and you couldn’t help but want more. he hit just the right spot inside of your needy cunt and you moaned loudly. your back arched as you threw your head back in pure bliss. alex kissed up your neck as he had full access. he pulled you closer to him, tucking your hair behind your ear gently

“you’re so beautiful y/n, i could do this forever. would you like that? would you like to be my fuck toy? i could use you whenever i please, yeah? tell me how good i feel, hermosa” he said as he looked into your eyes.

“you feel incredible.. you’re making me feel things i’ve never felt before.. please use me whenever” you said breathlessly

“such a good girl” alex praised, kissing you ever so gently as you continued to move at the same pace together

“a-alex, i’m so close”

“cum with me y/n, cum with me” he whimpered, letting out the sweetest whines and speeding his hips to meet yours

he held your hips still as he fucked into you faster and faster, chasing both of your highs

with loud gasps and moan, you both climax together.

alex slows his pace to a stop and you both catch your breath.

“y/n…?”

“yeah?” you breathe out, finally getting off of alex and laying down next to him

“i finished my part of the project yesterday, i just wanted to mess with you” he grinned and you smacked him playfully

“alex! you ass!”

“hey.. it worked out well for us didn’t it?” he smiled innocently

“come on, let’s shower. im all sweaty” alex says, pulling you up and towards his shower

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader

[lattenha]

when he’s jealous — P1HARMONY!maknae line

what are the maknae’s like when they’re jealous? ft. maknae line!p1harmony x gn!reader genre! jealousy, fluff w/c! 1302

a/n: sorry this took sooo long! way overdue :( in the midst of a burnout from summer courses i’ve also been stressing about going back to college for my second year. i kind of rushed jongseob’s and idk if you would consider soul’s as a ‘jealousy’ thing. this is the best i could do for now >_<

intak

both you and intak started off as individualists on social media filming choreography videos of yourselves. from kpop covers to tiktok challenges to freestyles, you name it. now, the two of you were dancing together after being scouted and auditioning for a local dance crew in your area. joining a team was the least of your expectations. for a while you were convinced that you’d have to continue your hobby as a soloist, but becoming a part of a second family was beyond your thinking.

it was another long day of filming. you sat on the edge of the sidewalk downing a bottle of water and wiping at the sweat gathering on your forehead.

“here, use this instead. it’s clean,” you looked up to see intak with his arm outstretched offering you a fresh towel. you thanked him with a shy smile and dabbed at your skin, sighing softly. intak sat next to you, mirroring your expression and taking a swig of water from his own bottle.

“you did good today. well, i mean like, you always dance… good.” he rubbed the nape of his neck awkwardly, mentally cursing himself for probably looking stupid just trying to spark a casual convo.

you giggled, “thank you, you did really good today as well.”

a beat of silence passes. intak purses his lips in a thin line while racking through his brain to think of something to say. just as he’s about to open his mouth someone has already beaten him to it.

“hey,” neither you nor intak recognizes this person and to say you’re caught off guard would be an understatement. “i saw you dancing and just wanted to say you’re like really cute.” the stranger has you blushing at the compliment. it doesn’t sit well with intak. he grits his teeth, subconsciously clenching his jaw to bite back from intervening.

“i hope this isn’t weird and i’ll totally respect your privacy but i was wondering if…” they look off to the side. intak’s eyes narrow at their nervous demeanor. “could i get your num—“

the brunette pushes himself off the curb of the sidewalk and without thinking— as if his mind completely went on autopilot— intak grabs your wrist. pulling you to your feet while almost stumbling into his arms. “sorry we gotta go record one more take for the video.” before you could even think to retort or apologize to the person, you’re being dragged behind intak with his back faced to you.

your cheeks are burning once again, this time for a completely different reason— and it’s not because of the stranger from before.

soul

joining school clubs were never your forte, but when your best friend forced you to sign up for one so she “wouldn’t be alone,” you had no other choice but to comply and simply go along with her pleas. knowing her, she’d never let you hear the end of it unless she successfully got her way; spoiled as always.

what you didn’t expect was the mandatory participation for every club meeting or event that was organized. along with the after school hour meetings that everyone had to attend.

it was thirty minutes past five. you’ve been on campus since eight in the morning and now you’re currently stuck having to help the club prepare signs for the festival tomorrow. your friend left an hour ago for a family dinner. since then you’ve been painting letters on poster boards with riki and shota as the faint sound of music playing from the speaker fills the quiet void of the classroom.

“ah shoot,” you curse out a string of profanities under your breath. riki looks up from the corner of his poorly done paint strokes in an attempt to ‘design’ the poster. a splash of blue from who knows where and who knows how it got there creates a stain on your skirt. in the most obvious spot, may i add.

you audibly groan and this time shota’s eyes are focused on you too. he immediately recognizes the new dash of color on your school uniform, confirming that the stain is indeed evident. “i literally just bought this skirt recently and now there’s paint on it.”

“here,” riki grabs a nearby paper towel and in an attempt tries to help you wipe away most of the paint. to both his and your dismay, it only worsens the stain, seeping further into the material of your skirt. “ah— i’m so sorry y/n!”

“it’s o-okay,” you chuckle nervously.

shota rummages through his bag to find his handkerchief and leaves quietly as the two of you hastily tend to the paint on your skirt. he runs the cloth under water, ringing it out to a damp level, and returns to the corner of the classroom. he kneels next to you, dabbing at the stain. a dark, wet spot accumulates on your skirt and shota uses a dry paper towel to blot the water the best that he can.

it works, just a tiny bit, better than what riki could come up with and erased most of the disaster. “oh my god, thanks sho-chan.” you sigh in relief. hopefully the washing machine back home can take care of the rest.

shota nods and smiles softly to himself knowing that he was of help… unlike some people.

jongseob

it’s lunchtime when jongseob visits your class. you’re sitting next to the window at your desk eating the food your mom packed while listening to seventeen’s discography. jongseob taps your shoulder, startling you in the process of doing so and you flinch ever so slightly. the red head smiles with a mischievous grin at your reaction.

you roll your eyes and pull out the right side of your earbuds. “what’s up? did you eat already?”

jongseob tugs the chair nearest to him in arm’s length and drags it next to your side, making himself comfortable on the stiff wooden seat. “yup, already ate lunch for the day.” you nod, signaling that you were listening and continue to eat.

the all-too-familiar intro to rock with you begins playing. tempted by the catchy melody of the song you subconsciously hum to yourself while bobbing your head along to the beat.

“whacha listening to?” jongseob reaches for your phone and you almost scream at him not to when his hand comes into view. he looks at you confused when you snatch it away from him. “why can’t i see?” he pouts.

you shake your head furiously, cheeks filled with rice as you furrow your eyebrows. you swallow the food stored in your mouth and reply to jongseob’s question with a dry answer. “because,”

“because what? you got something embarrassing on there?”

you try to mask the guilt on your face to his question. it’s not that it’s embarrassing per se, but you rather not have someone other than you to look at your phone. specifically your lockscreen. a picture of your bias to be precise. a picture that may or not have been edited that you photoshopped yourself into to make it look like you were in the photo with said bias.

“i bet it’s not that bad—“ jongseob extends his arm to grab your phone. when you attempt to hold him back your pair of chopsticks go flying onto the ground, clattering due to the metal material, and you’re practically scrambling to pick up your utensils. by the time you slide back into your seat with fuming cheeks you look to jongseob for a reaction.

his expression is unreadable that it spikes your anxiety. what could he be possibly thinking?

the red head snickers and you turn to him with a quirked eyebrow. “what? what is it?”

“nothing,” jongseob sets your phone back in its previous spot and lets out a bitter laugh. “i just think we could recreate that picture much better than your silly little edit.”

#cgi-aenergy #p1harmony #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony scenarios #hwang intak #intak x reader #intak imagines #soul x reader #shota x reader #haku shota #shota imagines #jongseob x reader #jongseob imagines #p1h jongseob #kpop imagines

[evilwickedme]

The +1 is one of Bruce's love interests asking his kids for permission

So this ask is referring to my tags on this post by @darsky17 where various slash pairings for the batkids try to bribe Bruce into giving them their blessing to marry his kids and I said this would be a cute 5+1 if I could think of a plus one and I love this so much !!!

Anyway I wrote it

before we get married, I need to get permission from Batman

also on ao3 here

1

Bruce has never seen Wally West this nervous – or at the very least, he’s never known him to sit in his nervousness for this long. It’s been a solid minute of sitting in absolute silence in his office in Wayne Manor, and he can’t help but wonder why he’s been called into this meeting by the Flash.

“Wally,” he gruffs, hoping it’ll prompt the kid to say something. Well, kid – neither he nor Dick were really kids anymore, were they, approaching thirty as they were. They were settling down, and Bruce was feeling more and more his age nowadays.

Wally releases a nervous laugh. “Bruce.”

Bruce sighs. “If you’re not going to tell me why you’ve asked me here, I do have business to attend to.”

“No, wait!” Wally says, blushing. “Oh, I don’t know how to say this.”

Bruce was very careful not to let his frustration show. He was aware that he could be… intimidating, when he wasn’t in control of his expressions.

Wally grabs a pen and random piece of paper from his desk as quick as – well – the Flash, and scribbles something on the back of it, before handing it back to Bruce.

Can I marry your son? is scribbled in nigh-illegible handwriting on the back of it.

Bruce breathes a sigh of relief. Is this what this all was about? “Is that all?”

Wally nods once.

“Of course, Wally,” Bruce says, to Wally’s visible relief. “I honestly am a little surprised you even asked. The two of you have known each other for over a decade, and I’ve trusted you with my life in the field.”

“Yeah, but now you’re trusting me with your son,” Wally says.

“And now I’m trusting you with my son,” Bruce agrees. “For the rest of your lives, hopefully.”

2

Bruce comes home to absolute chaos. It’s a full house for Thanksgiving tonight, but he didn’t expect most of the guests to arrive until much later – and he’s still a little surprised whenever these particular guests arrive at all, although it’s always a pleasant one.

“Jason,” Bruce sighs, “why is Damian threatening Lian with his katana?”

Lian Harper, a very bright seven year old who also happened to be Jason’s partner’s daughter, was currently holding onto Titus for dear life as Jason and Roy Harper – said partner of Jason’s – worked together to keep Damian from slicing her to pieces.

“Miss Lian made a comment regarding keeping Titus to herself,” Alfred provides. “Master Damian took it badly.”

“He’s cute!” Lian yells.

“He’s not yours!” Damian yells back, struggling to get past Jason’s bulk.

“Damian!” Bruce snaps. “Lian isn’t taking Titus, and even if she was, it will never be appropriate for you to threaten a seven year old with your katana!”

“Yeah, you tell ‘im,” Jason says.

“Why are you here, Jason?” Bruce says wearily, instead of dealing with Jason’s unnecessary tone. Damian, luckily, finally backs off and is guided away by Alfred, who Bruce sends a quick grateful look towards. “Not that I don’t want to see you, we just weren’t expecting anyone until three at the earliest.”

“Actually, it was because of me,” says a sheepish Roy. “I didn’t expect it to get so dramatic, 

but I needed to have a quick word with you before everybody else arrives.”

Jason just shrugs when Bruce looks at him. “If it were up to me, this conversation wouldn’t be happening, just go talk to him.”

“Uh,” Bruce says. Then he suggests, “Shall we go downstairs?”

“This is an upstairs conversation,” Jason says confidently. “Come on, I’ll go get Lian something to eat in the kitchen, you can talk in the lounge or something.”

Lounge it was.

The two of them sat down facing each other, and Roy immediately started speaking. “I want to marry Jason.”

Bruce blinks.

“We’ve talked about it, and it’s what’s best. I’ve been a stabilizing influence in his life, and Lian is attached to him now. He wants to adopt her. And we’ve been living together for two years now, it just seems like the next logical step. And he’d never admit it, but he loves when shit’s traditional and whatnot, so before I can buy the ring and actually propose I’m asking you for his hand. But if you say no we’re never showing up to Thanksgiving ever again.”

Bruce has managed to blink twice more before Roy finishes his speech.

He’s experiencing the most bizarre sense of de ja vu. It was somehow both more complicated and a lot simpler with Wally and Dick than it is with Roy and Jason.

“Say something,” Roy says, a smidgen of nervousness creeping into his voice.

“You love him?”

Because the thing is, Bruce knew there was a physical aspect to Jason and Roy’s partnership, and he’d suspected there was more to it, that there were feelings involved as well. But they’d never acted like a couple. So he just… has to be sure.

Roy visibly relaxes. “Is that all?”

Bruce nods.

“Yeah, Bruce,” he says. “I love him. I’ve been loving him. I’ll keep on loving him, too. As long as he’ll have me. Wouldn’t marry him otherwise.”

“Then yes,” Bruce says.

Roy nods once, then gets up, wiping his hands on the front of pants as if from sweat. He couldn’t have possibly been actually worried about Bruce’s answer, had he?

“I’m going to go find my daughter and future husband, then,” he says.

3

It’s a quiet night in the middle of the week when Spoiler unexpectedly joins Batman on a roof during patrol.

He’s surveilling the warehouse below for any suspicious activity.

There has, so far, not been any suspicious activity.

Steph makes some small talk, which passes half an hour just fine. He asks her about her classes, and if she’s getting enough sleep. She assures him she doesn’t have any Thursday morning classes, which wasn’t what he’d been asking, but also wasn’t not what he’d been asking.

After a while, though, the night goes quiet. Bruce is pretty sure Steph joined him specifically to say whatever it is that she’s getting ready to say right now, so he doesn’t interrupt. That, and he’s never been particularly chatty.

“I know I’m not your daughter,” Steph says.

Bruce recoils. “That – ”

“No, wait, that came out wrong,” Steph says quickly. “I don’t mean that – ugh. Okay. Let’s start over, can we start over?”

Bruce waits, knowing she’ll take that for the permission to continue that it is.

“I’m in love with your daughter,” she says. “I have been for a while. And I’m not saying it’s coming up any time soon, but I guess what I was wondering is… how you would feel if I was part of your family. For real, I mean.”

“Spoiler,” Bruce says.

“I’m not asking you to be my dad,” Steph continues as if uninterrupted.

“Spoiler, I,” Bruce says, and this time waits for Steph to make sure she’s done. Once convinced, he continues, “I know I’ve been… less than perfect, with you especially. But I hope it’s never been in doubt that I. I want the best for my children. And that blood or not, I. I love you, like one of my children. And I would be eternally grateful to have you as a member of my family.”

Steph says nothing, just looks at the warehouse Bruce has been neglecting. Bruce waits for her to respond, but eventually looks back at the warehouse as well. Nothing new.

She pounces on him, hugging him from the side as tight as she can. “Thank you,” she says wetly, then, before he can make a decision on what to do with his arms, she darts away. “I’ll see you around, Batman. Also, I’m pretty sure the operation in this warehouse cleared out last week, Oracle said something about it last time I talked to her.”

Batman doesn’t swear, but he comes close to it right then.

4&5

Spending a weekend at the Kent farm sounded a lot more pleasant in theory than it ended up being. There was no room, for one, so Jon and Damian and Kon and Tim had both doubled up, while Bruce ended up on the couch, having had to fight the Kents for the privilege of not replacing them in their own beds.

“You wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep if I did,” Bruce points out. “It’s fine.”

And it would’ve been. If it weren’t for the fact that farm sleeping schedules were entirely antithetical to his own. Batman was the Night Incarnate, and Bruce often ended up in bed at four, five, or even six am.

Jonathan and Martha Kent were up at sunrise, and Clark joined them to help, and Bruce could not sleep through the racket the two of them were pulling in the kitchen while also having the audacity to stage whisper, as if that was any quieter than speaking.

So he was understandably cranky when a scant two hours later, at the abominably early hour of seven am, he was awoken by the two Kent boys’ fight.

“I’ll be the first!”

“No, I’ll be the first, you’re literally twelve!”

“Age is only a number!”

“Where the hell did you even hear that?”

“What is going on?”

Oh good, Lois has joined whatever this is. Bruce gives up any semblance of sleep.

“Oh, um.”

“Jon and I were just…”

“They were,” a yawn punctuates Tim’s introduction to the conversation. Bruce gets off the couch. “They were fighting over which one of them would get to marry a Wayne.”

“Tt. Ridiculous. It’s clearly Jon.”

“I’m not fighting with you over this. I’m going back to bed. Don’t fight with your twelve year old brother about stupid shit, Kon.”

“But Tim,” Kon whines.

Bruce arrives at the scene of the crime – the hallway at the top of the stairs. The conversation immediately stops dead.

“You can both marry my sons, assuming they are an appropriate age and not already married to someone else, in this hypothetical future marriage proposal,” Bruce says. “But only if, and I do mean only if, I get some damn sleep between now and then.”

Jon and Kon both look properly chastened. Tim, who was also arguing for sleep, looks vindicated, while Damian chooses, as was to be expected, to hide his embarrassment, and Lois has never been scared of Bruce in her life, which is one of the main reasons he likes her.

“Come on, cranky pants, you can use Clark’s bed now that we’re all awake,” she tells him.

Her practical, hands on approach to solving problem was another reason, of course.

+1

There were so many kids in this house nowadays. But only six of them were, legally, Bruce’s. So Selina approaches those six first.

“Dick, Jason,” she says, “Tim, Duke, Cass, Damian. Thank you so much for coming.”

“Selina,” Jason says, sounding amused. “Thanks for the role call. Are we here for a specific reason, or?”

“Hmm, well,” Selina says. Then she shows her hand – literally.

Tim whistles. “That one’s much nicer than the last one. Assuming you didn’t steal it?”

“That’s fair,” she says. “No, I didn’t steal it. He asked, again. And I said yes, again.”

“This is going to be a disaster,” Jason says gleefully.

Dick hits his arm. “Don’t be like that, Jay,” he says, “you’ve been living in married bliss for like, four years. Maybe something rubbed off on him.”

“Tt. As if Father has anything to learn from Todd,” Damian says snootily. Selina resists the urge to scratch him between the ears like a slightly hissy cat.

“Well, maybe not nothing,” Selina says. “He made quite a convincing case that we could make it work this time. And I want to.”

“You do?” Duke asks, suspicious. Also fair.

“I promise,” Selina swears. “Is that okay by all of you?”

“Cass?” Tim asks.

“Truth,” Cass says simply.

Tim shrugs. “Good enough for me.”

Dick smiles at her.

Damian tuts, but it’s almost friendly.

Duke nods.

Jason shrugs. “If he wants to try again, we’re not going to stop him.”

Selina smiles. She knows that this really is – acceptance.

“Thank you,” she says. “I can’t wait to be a part of this family.”

#birdflash #jayroy #timkon #stephcass #damijon #batcat #dc fic #dc #this my fic #ask #resplendent-ragamuffin #batfamily #this took me an hour please don't expect it to be good #gail speaks

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Shingeki no kuroshitsuji

AcarAtorchAdeath

Summary:

Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaelis find themselves inside a strange place people refer to as Wall Maria. They want to get back to England, but asking around people seem to have never heard of such a place. The only way to get even close to getting outside the wall is to join the scout regiment.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1

The young noble sat at his desk in boredom. That day had been tedious and outright boring. Ciel Phantomhive rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and put his fist to his cheek. He stared blankly at the room before him without blinking. His eyes fluttered then closed. and what felt like three seconds,could have been thirty minutes. He shot up out of his seat with wide eyes. Someone had touched his shoulder. He looked to his left and Sebastian stood leaning over, now wide eyed at the sudden movement of his young master.

But not so young anymore… Ciel’s seventeenth birthday had come and gone just like a flash. His relationship with Elizabeth had ended terribly after her sudden death. Now the whole of England waiting and watching his every move, to see who he would pick for a bride to be. Yes, this time he had to pick. Ciel had no other family.

“Sir…” Sebastian stood straight and put his hand over his chest. “We must depart for the funeral, master.” He said in a low tone. Almost sad? No… Sebastian didn’t have those sort of emotions…. did he?

“right…” Ciel said hesitantly, and stepped out from behind his desk and headed for the door. Sebastian was right beside him to open the door for him. But Ciel didn’t notice, and reached for the nob. But stopped when Sebastian opened it instead. “Right…” He said again. The rest of the way there was silence. No talking whatsoever. Not to, nor at the funeral. When people tried to comfort him, he blankly stared at the grass, or the headstone of his beloved Lizzy.

After it was all over, Sebastian and Ciel headed back to the manor. Ciel was tired, depressed. He had seemed to be always lost in thought, or… depressed.

“Sir.” Sebastian said from behind him. Ciel turned, and just as he faced his butler, the demon slammed his hand onto a wall directly behind Ciel’s head. Sebastian leaned in close and glared. “Sir, if i may… you have been silent, emotionless, and stubborn. I know that your fiance died and it’s very saddening…” That hurt to hear, “but, you are used to it!” That was true. Even if he wanted to deny all of it. He couldn't part from the truth.

“Get off of me.” Ciel pushed Sebastian away, and started to walk swiftly to his study.

The hallways seem to be getting longer, every step the walls stretched and changed. Soon the walls were buildings, the lamps turned to people crowding the streets.

“what? where… where the hell is this?” Ciel whispered to himself. “Sebastian.” he called. Sebastian appeared next to Ciel, confusedly looking around. “where are we?” Ciel asked looking around.

“I’m not sure, master.” He said. Ciel grabbed a passing man’s arm and almost as soon as he did, the man yanked his arm away and continued to walk.

“Rude…” Ciel muttered under his breath. A tall man in a short light brown jacket walked by, he had a strange symbol on the back of it. it looked like a shield with roses on it. The man wore strange belts that wrapped around his body. The strangest part was the metallic boxes hooked to his hips.

“Excuse me, sir.” Sebastian got his attention, “ you look like you know your way around. Could i ask where we are?” The man looked confused and just stood there staring at Ciel and Sebastian.

“This is wall Maria…. What are a few rich folk doing here?” He asked.

“Wall Maria? I’ve never heard of such a place.” Ciel said louder than he thought.

“HA! never heard of it? Where have you been living, under a rock?” The man laughed. After he stopped laughing he started to walk away. Ciel was frustrated.

“I have never heard such a thing as ‘wall Maria’, how did we get here is the question.” Sebastian said, he put his index finger to his chin in thought.

A whistling sound came from behind the two. Ciel looked up and almost as soon as he did, a woman shot across the sky, seeming to be cheering. “Dinner time!” She yelled.

“follow her.” Ciel ordered. “Take me with you.” Sebastian picked his maser up and jumped after the flying girl.

They followed the girl until she stopped and went into a building. Sebastian set Ciel down and they both walked into the same building the girl did. When they walked in, they had a different symbol on their jackets than the man they saw earlier. It looked more like angelic wings.

The group of people sat around tables eating disgusting looking food. A tall man walked up to them, “Hello, may I help you?” His voice was smooth as cream. He stood straight, his blonde hair slicked back.

“I am trying to find out where I am. I was in my manor in London, and the next thing i know i’m here.” Ciel said.

“London?” He chuckled, “never heard of such a place.” Now people around them started to stare.

“Really… London… England?” Still the man looked confused. Ciel groaned.

“Right well little boy, you should get back to your mother before she starts to worry.” He chuckled again.

Ciel was angry now. He grabbed the collar of the mans shirt and pulled his face close to him, “I would if I could. Now you're going to tell me where i really am, and how i’m supposed to get out of the wall over there,” Ciel pointed angrily. Two people fromt the closest table stood protectively.

Ciel let go of his shirt and stood straight, waiting for an answer. “Civilians are not allowed outside of the wall, boy. Now i don’t know about this London place your talking about, but you my dear boy are looking for trouble.” The two men who stood sat down slowly, but still glared at the two newcomers.

A shorter man appeared next to the taller one. He seemed to have a glare, his dark eyes were scary and intimidating.

The short man spoke. “Erwin.” He said in a low deep voice, surprising for such a short man. “Go relax, you have too much on your plate as it is, I’ll take care of these two.” The man who now had a name glared and turned to walk away, hesitated, then left. “Hello, I’m captain Levi Ackerman.” He said formally, no expression at all.

“Hello, I’m Ciel Phantomhive, and this is my butler.” Ciel returned. “Now can I ask you what the hell this place is?”

“You are in Wall Maria. There are three walls. Wall Maria, Wall Rose, and Wall Sina. We are the outer wall. six years ago titans broke through Shiganshina District.”

“Titans?”

“Giant humanoid creatures that have a taste for human blood.” He said it so calmly, it didn't faze him one bit.

“right well I really don’t care about the history of this wretched place, I want to know how I can get back to England.”

He didn't listen to him, “About one hundred ten years ago, those giants started to appear, and the human race had gone almost extinct. Inside these walls are the only humans alive on this planet. So getting out of this wall is impossible for you. The only way you could ever dream of going outside this wall, is if you join the scout regiment.”

Chapter 2

Notes:

Just so you know, not this chapter but future chapters, will have people in it that have died in the first season of the anime. (I won't say who, so don't worry)

Scout regiment?” Ciel questioned. Levi really didn't have much emotion. It seemed to Ciel that he had a permanent frown on his face…

“Yes, scout regiment.” He sounded annoyed, as if Ciel should have known what it was. “The survey corp lay down their lives to fight for humanity. We venture outside the walls into titan territory.”

“I want to join.” Ciel almost shouted.

“Master, don’t be hasty.” Sebastian objected.

The captain scanned Ciel from foot to head, still no expression, but his eyes said he was in thought. Levi then circled Ciel like a hawk about to dive for its prey. "You seem to be promising. HEY BRAT!" He yelled across the room at a young looking man, maybe a little older than Ciel himself.

"Sir!" The boy stood and saluted, quite an odd salute. His left hand hooked behind his back, as the right, curled in a fist across his left chest.

"You are to train these two privately and swiftly."

The boy wavered in his salute, hesitated in answering. "Uh- ye- yes sir!"

"Right, good luck to you" Levi said, and walked back to a table and sat.

The boy the captain referred to as "brat" walked swiftly to the newcomers. "Hello," he smiled, "I'm Eren Yaeger. I guess I'll be training you two for the military police then?"

Ciel hesitated for an answer, but his butler spoke first "No... the scout regiment."

Eren seemed almost shocked, he stood wide eyed. "H-have you ever seen a titan?" He then asked.

"No. I hardly know what they are." Ciel answered. He looked even more shocked.

"Then what is your goal in joining the regiment?"

"To find my way home to England." He answered.

“What’s England?” Eren asked confused. He certainly had a lot of questions, annoying ones.

“Not what, where. It’s in Europe, I must hope you know where Europe is.”

Eren’s eyes went wide with fascination, and concern, and excitement. “you’ve been outside the walls?!” He almost jumped for joy. “I have been inside these walls forever, that is until I joined the scout regiment. But I have never got the chance to travel. My friend Armin says there are vast bodies of water, with salt in them, and giant mountains that nobody has ever climbed to the top of.” off to the side the girl they saw before was holding her hand in a fist and tapping her index finger to her thumb.

Ciel looked at her, “What are you doing?” He asked.

“I’m trying to find Eren’s off button!” She said. Ciel almost burst out laughing.

Eren glared at her, “ha ha ha… very funny Sasha.” He then turned to Sebastian and asked, “So, is this your dad or something?”

Sebastian smiled and held back a laugh. Ciel’s eyes went wide, “NO, DEFINITELY NOT!”

“Wow, sorry… Just askin’. Then who is he?”

“He’s my butler.” Ciel said matter of factly.

“Damn rich people.” Came a sneer from a table behind them.

“Right…” Eren said slowly, “Well let’s get started. Follow me.” The two followed Eren outside the building. He too, was wearing the strange boxes hooked to his hips. He unsheathed two strange shaped blades. Suddenly, a grappling hook fired from each of the metallic boxes and slammed into the side of a building in front of them, a line of air came from the back, and as it did, Eren shot from the ground to the top of the building. “Come o- oh right….” He shouted from the top of the building. “Sorry I’ll come back down and we will walk.”

“No stay there!” Sebastian shouted. He picked Ciel up and launched himself next to Eren.

“Wow, nice! You’ll do awesome once you get the hang of the 3DM gear.”

When they stopped, they stopped at an open area, with cabins and other various contraptions. “Alright, lets start with balance. You need excellent balance to be able to use the gear.” Eren said, tapping the metallic box at his hip. They followed Eren to a small cabin, when they went inside, Eren dug around in a box and pulled out….belts? “These are part of your 3D gear, they help with the balance. I’ll give you two a minute to put them on.” Eren smiled and walked out.

“What in the name of sanity is this? It’s like a saddle!” Ciel said then looked at Sebastian, who already had it on. “How the he-?”

“It’s quite simple really.” Sebastian smiled.

After a few moments of wrestling the belts on, Ciel finally got it on. As the two walked out, a girl was standing next to Eren helping him with a contraption. It consisted of three legs meeting at the top, almost like a Native American teepee, but without cloth on it.

“Right. Lets start.” Eren smiled, “Who wants to go first? how ‘bout you cell.”

Ciel hesitated, “It’s Ciel…”

“Okay, Ciel, stand here,” Eren pointed to the middle, below the three legs. “I’ll strap you up, and I’ll spin this lever, you will rise so your feet are not touching the ground. Try to balance yourself however you can, doesn't matter how. Good luck.” He then walked over to a lever and started to spin it. Ciel stood straight, but ready. As soon as his feet lifted, he fell.

Eren quickly retracted the lever, and stepped toward Ciel. “You okay?”

Ciel rubbed his forehead, “Yes… I’m fine.”

“Sorry, it’s harder than it looks. Well, lets try again.” Ciel stood and parted his legs into a better stance. Eren twisted the lever once again, and Ciel’s feet lifted. His balance wavered, then held still. His hands were in front of him and his feet lifted a little. “Wow, awesome! your doing it!” Eren said excitedly.

Sebastian stood away from Eren and Ciel, watching his master. “So.” a soft voice came from beside him, “Where are you from?”

Sebastian looked to his left and saw a girl with short, black hair. A red scarf wrapped around her neck, her black eyes calm, watching Eren.

“You love him?” Sebastian asked ignoring her question.

“eh-” She looked at him suddenly, worried. “Well… of course he’s my brother.”

Sebastian smiled, “More than brotherly love I see.”

“Don’t you love someone?” She then asked.

“Yes.” His smile softened, and he stared at Ciel, “I have someone to protect is all.”

The girl smiled, “Having someone to protect… That’s a good ally to have.”

After a few minutes, Eren unhooked Ciel from the contraption. “Hey butler! It’s your turn.” Sebastian walked over to Eren, and stood in the center of the three legs. Eren hooked the tall butler to it, and walked over to the lever. “You hear what I said to Ciel right?”

“Yes.” Sebastian answered.

“Good. let’s start.” Eren twisted the lever, he twisted and twisted, finally Sebastian's feet lifted. He balanced perfectly, he didn't have to change positions to keep it from wiggling. He stayed completely still.

Eren look astonished at the sight of the first timer balancing so well. “You’re a natural!” He said excitedly.

“what’s your name?” asked the girl to Ciel.

“It’s Ciel.” He said, and looked at her. She was beautiful, her eyes were calm and caring. Her black hair shimmered in the sunlight, and slight breeze. “What’s yours?” He asked.

“Mikasa Ackerman.” She said confidently. She was just slightly taller than Ciel, but not by much. Ackerman? Ackerman… That name sounded familiar. An image of the short man, with no expression flashed across Ciel’s mind.

“Are you by chance related by that captain guy?”

She breathed a laugh and said, “No… We have the same last name, but that’s it. No blood relation.

After they were done, Eren brought them back to the building they were at before. They had done a lot of training and Ciel was tired, and hungry. “Hungry?” Eren asked, as if reading his mind. “It’s about supper time, so…. we’re going to the mess hall.” Ciel was relieved. He could literally eat anything.

When they got there, nobody sat at the tables, only one girl. The girl they called Sasha waved at Eren and Mikasa to sit with her. “Come sit with us.” Mikasa said to Ciel and Sebastian.

Eren had given them uniforms just like the rest of them. Sebastian had pinned the Phantomhive crest, that he wore on his usual suit, onto his uniform jacket, he had also kept his black tie on.

Someone burst through the door, “We’ve got trouble! Where’s the corporal?” It was a girl, her golden blonde hair was short. “Eren! Mikasa!” she was out of breath. “A titan…. it… it… wandered through the wall!” Almost as soon as he said it, the two stood from the table and ran with the girl outside.

“Let’s follow.” Ciel said to Sebastian. They followed them. They didn’t yet have the 3D gear, but Sebastian would have to be quick enough. Sebastian picked Ciel up and set him on his shoulder.

They ran along the rooftops following the three people. They stopped, and three stood at the edge of a rooftop staring at something. They were calm. “We've got a fifteen meter.”

“shit! Are the guards at the gate drunk?!” Eren swore.

Ciel looked in the distance.

“What the hell is that?”

Chapter 3

Notes:

WARNING!!!!!

This has spoilers!!!!!!! do not read if you haven't gotten through at least chapter 50 of the Manga! or unless you already know about the colossal and armored titan!

hope you like this chapter.

and sorry for the lateness. I have been very busy this summer.

Chapter Text

“That my boy… Is a titan.”

“Commander Smith!” The three said in unison. They saluted the odd salute, then went back to watching the titan.

“Are there more?” Asked Erwin. There was only one giant, no more in sight.

“No sir.” Said the blonde girl.

“Thank you Armin, I could already tell.” Said Erwin, oddly. The girl looked at him in disarray.

“Hey girl…” Sebastian said in his deep voice. “You seem like a smart one.” He was obviously trying to charm her. “Can you tell me more about these so called ‘titans?’”

Mikasa and Eren started to laugh, they laughed harder and harder. Armin looked angry, but Sebastian and Ciel didn’t know why. His face turned bright red, his hands clenched at his sides.

Eren came around to Armin’s side, “I think quick introductions are in order,” he giggled, “This is my best friend Armin, he’s my main man, and the smartest guy in the corp.”

“Yes, get it? I’m a dude!” He said with clenched teeth, his face was beat red.

Ciel stood wide eyed. “My sincerest apologies, sir.” Sebastian apologized.

“And these two…” Eren continued pointing at Ciel and Sebastian, “are Ciel, and Sebastian, from… Uhh, from… Where are you two from again ?”

“London, England… European continent.” Ciel told them.

Suddenly Armin’s face went from anger, to curiosity. “Europe?” His excitement was screaming to come out, but something was holding him back. He cleared his throat, “Um, right, well we need to deal with the matter at hand. Somehow a titan has roamed inside the wall. The question is… How?”

“My theory is their all pissed drunk, whoever is guarding it.” Eren interrupted Armin’s train of thought.

“Are you all just going to sand around baffled by the fact it got in, or are you going to kill it?” A rich deep voice came from behind them, Levi. He walked up to them, pushing past Ciel, not acknowledging his existence. “Come on brat, kill the damn thing!”

Eren glared at the captain and said, “Yes sir!” Two grappling hooks shot from his 3DM gear. He flew with such grace it was hard to tell he was being pulled by two lines. Soon Eren looked like a dot flying around, and suddenly the giant fell. Screaming came from that direction, but soon subsided.

As soon as Eren got back Levi flew toward the gate of the wall. Ciel ordered Sebastian to take him there. And when they got to where Levi was, there was a man kneeling on the ground, Levi standing in front of the man, looking down. Drops of blood fell from the man’s mouth, coughing.

“Please, please! we didn’t mean to!” The man pleaded. Other than wings on his uniform, they were roses.

“You’re pissed drunk over here, with the gate wide open! I could have you executed for this!” Levi said angrily. He then kicked the man that was still on the ground. “And you two!” He pointed to two men in the shadows. “Since he is too busy choking on his own blood, would you care to enlighten us?”

“Hey man… we were juss havin’ a good time, ya know?” Their speech was slurred with drunkenness.

“I’m surprised they weren't the first to get killed.” Eren said walking up from behind Ciel. “Captain, give ‘em a break. It was just one titan.” Levi turned and glared at Eren. He looked back at the drunk men, sneered, and walked away.

“One titan? One Titan! Yes, it was “just” one titan, then it’ll be two, then a whole herd of ‘em will be trampling through eating everyone!” He then walked away angrily, kicking a small rock at the man on the ground still spitting up blood.

A girl with light ginger hair ran up to Levi smiling. “Captain! How are things?” Levi’s expression stayed the same, but his eyes seemed to light up. She was just as tall as Levi, she was cute too.

The captain sighed, “Well... I think Erwin needs to talk to Pixis.”

Erwin walked up to Levi, he was almost two heads taller than him, “So, how did it go?” He snarked. He was smiling down at him.

“Piss off you big ass tree.” He said, “Go talk to Pixis about their punishment, for all I care they should be beheaded.”

The sun was setting, and little pieces of cotton were floating through the air. The sky shone with a beautiful orange, yellow, and red hue. and coming in right behind it was the night sky. The full moon shone with brilliance. Ciel breathed a sigh, and looked at Sebastian who was looking up at the sky. “How did we get here?” Ciel then asked, to no one in particular.

“A crack in dimensions.” He said casually. Ciel looked at him with his eyebrows drawn in.

“What?” He said startled. “That’s impossible Sebastian, and you know it.” He said with an awkward smile.

“It’s true, and I know I’m right. We demons use them all the time to jump from dimension, to dimension. It is much easier than traveling long distances.”

“Have you ever traveled to this one?” Ciel asked. Ceil then took his eyepatch off, it had gotten dirty, and some dirt was getting into his eye. He cleaned it as Sebastian talked.

“No, I haven’t ever gone to this one, and I don’t think any of us would, it’s a mess, and I doubt any people here have very good souls, they have all been tormented with fear. Which i personally like, especially that short captain.” He said with a smile. “But other demons don’t like tormented souls.” Ciel rolled his eyes as he finished cleaning his eyepatch, and put it back on.

Eren walked up to the two with a tired look, he yawned, “Alright, I’ll show you where you two will be sleeping.” He motioned to them with a wave of his hand to follow him, and the two followed behind him.

Sebastian whispered to Ciel as they walked, “The town’s architecture looks very familiar.” He looked around with squinted eyes in thought, then he smiled and said, “Ah, I remember, it looks like some towns in Germany.”

Ciel looked up at him, “So maybe we are in Europe.” He whispered back. They were tall buildings, and they all looked about the same, except for a few tall bell towers. They were filled with nicks and holes from 3DM gear grappling hooks. And it looked as if most of the houses were deserted. “Eren, why are some of the houses around here deserted?” Ciel asked.

Eren didn’t look back, and still kept walking. “Well, about a year before you came, inside these walls, it was overrun by titans.” They then passed a dark spot that spattered across a wall. “Many people died, and a lot of them escaped.” He motioned to the dark spatter. Ciel stared at it as the passed. “It was an awful time, but we took it back, and that’s what really matters.” He stopped at a row of smaller houses. “That is where you will be sleeping, you will be with Reiner and Bertholdt. They are pretty nice guys.” Eren then handed them a blankets.

They opened to the door to the bunker, two men were sitting at the table in the middle of the room, whispering to each other. “Hey Reiner, hey Bertholdt.” Eren greeted them with a smile. “These are your new bunk mates. The tall one is Sebastian, and the one with the eyepatch is Ciel.” He introduced.

Sebastian smiled, but Ciel just stared at them. Reiner stood, then held out his hand to greet them. Ciel stared at his hand, but did not take it. Reiner smiled, “Ah, not the shaking hands type are yah. Well alright, hello I’m Reiner.” He pointed to Bertholdt, “and that nervous wreck is Bertholdt.” He said cheerfully. Bertholdt chuckled nervously, and half smiled.

“Well,” Eren started, “I’ll leave you to it then. Have a good night.” then he left. The four of them stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds. Ciel went over to one of the beds and put his blanket on it.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Sebastien finally said.

“So,” Reiner said, “What brings you two, to the Survey Corps?”

Ciel then spoke, “We are trying to get home.” Ciel took off the uniform jacket and hung it up next to his bed.

Reiner chuckled, “Home? heh, sorry to break it to yah, but outside these walls is a living hell. The earth is covered in titans.” Reiner sat back down in the chair at the table.

“We’re not worried about that.” Ciel said, looking at Sebastian.

“Not worried? You aren’t worried about titans?” He snorted a laugh, “you couldn’t last a day outside the walls. Even for us it’s difficult. Trust me, there is more to us then the eye can see.”

“Than the normal eye?” Sebastian said, “Well trust me when I say, I don’t have normal eyes.” He smirked. Bertholdt seemed more nervous than before, and he kept silent.

Reiner smiled, “Really… Then what can you tell about us?” He asked.

“Well…” Sebastien started, “ You both are very strong, very brave, and…” He paused.

“And what?” Reiner asked eagerly.

“I know that you have the ability to turn into one of those Titan creatures.” He closed his eyes and gave a devilish smile.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! i hope you liked it! i would love your input on this.

REMEMBER: I do NOT own shingeki no kyojin or kuroshitsuji.

AND PLEASE SUBSCRIBE!!!

#black butler fanfiction

[luvjjongtae]

It Started with a Drink - Ch. 4

Pairing: Lee Taemin x Kim Jonghyun.

AU info: (US) High School AU.

Genre: Fluff, Pining

Other tags and warnings: Underage drinking, Misunderstandings and miscommunication, House party, Teen Romance, Teen Angst, Jealousy, Two idiots basically

Summary: Taemin’s crush on his best friend Jonghyun comes to head at a high school house party. If only Taemin didn’t drink so much…

Total Word Count: 21k (divided into 5 chapters)

READ CHAPTER 1, CHAPTER 2, CHAPTER 3, CHAPTER 5 HERE

“Prom’s next week? Your school does it so early.”

Taemin glanced at Minho lounging in the back of the car, his seatbelt off so that he could lay down horizontally across all the seats, his new favorite position after a week or so of driving to school with Taemin and Jonghyun. Taemin always thought he did that to fall asleep, but every time he checked on him, his eyes were bright and awake, chatting up at the ceiling nonstop. They never drove in silence anymore.

“Guess we do things differently on the East Coast,” Jonghyun said with a yawn. Taemin felt a twinge of guilt, remembering that he had asked Jonghyun to take them thirty minutes earlier than usual for office hours with Taemin’s math teacher. He had a test on integrals coming up and he wanted to at least pass, even if by a small margin. “It’s always in April for us.”

“Are you going with anyone?” Minho asked the ceiling nonchalantly. “No one’s going to want to go with me, I just got here,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh.

Taemin’s chest tightened as he waited for Jonghyun’s answer. He would tell him if someone asked him to go prom right? Or if had asked someone? Taemin's felt his stomach drop at that thought.“No one, right now,” Jonghyun said after a moment of staring at the red light in front of them. Taemin could breathe again.

“You, Taemin?” Minho asked.

“No one.” Did he say that too quickly? Clearing his throat, he added, “It’s more fun to go with friends anyway. From what I’ve heard.”

“Well as long as we all don’t have dates that is,” Minho laughed. “Also, I keep getting lost on the way to the gym. Your school is a gigantic maze.”

Grateful for the change in topic, Taemin’s shoulders drooped in relief and he carried on chatting casually with Minho in the car, while Jonghyun mainly stayed silent as usual. When they arrived at school, Taemin sped off without Minho or Jonghyun, waving them a quick goodbye so that he could make it to his office hours appointment in time. And he spent most of the day without Jonghyun, catching up with Minho instead in the morning who shadowed him in all his classes. But Taemin knew he’d see Jonghyun for lunch in the cafeteria. They’d been eating lunch together since elementary.

“Usual spot?” Minho asked him in the lunch line, dragging his tray along to pick up a good glob of mashed potatoes. Taemin nodded, keeping an eye on his own tray and the food he wanted. “Okay, I’ll meet you there. I need to talk to the soccer captain real quick.”

“Sure, no rush,” Taemin assured him. He finished up in the line and dodged litter and a few stray basketballs left on the cafeteria floor as he headed towards his and Jonghyun’s usual table.

But there was that guy again—the one from the coffee shop. Talking to Jonghyun, his leg propped up on the chair across, casually leaning towards him. Taemin noticed from this angle that he had a scar on one eyebrow. They were smiling, laughing together. Taemin frowned at the sight in front of him but knew that he had to get over himself. If he could expand his circle of friends, so could Jonghyun, right? Taemin took a deep breath and forced his feet to the seat right beside Jonghyun, setting his tray down onto the table with a noticeable clang. “Hey.”

“Taemin!” Jonghyun smiled at him, reaching over to ruffle up his hair once Taemin had sat down. “How were your office hours?”

“Fine.” Taemin stabbed the plastic straw of his apple juice through the carton, sucking on it aggressively after he sat down. Jonghyun’s expression shifted into something like concern as he looked at Taemin. He cringed at himself internally for being so easy to read, so he swallowed his apple juice and looked up at the guy at their table to force out as naturally as possible, “Hi. I’m Taemin.”

“Hey, I’m Kibum,” the guy responded, taking his foot off the chair finally but deciding to sit in the chair across from both Jonghyun and Taemin. “I think I saw you at the showcase.”

“That’s where we met,” Jonghyun said for Taemin, who resisted the urge to respond with an obnoxious, “I know.”

Instead, Taemin shot Kibum his most genuine, welcoming smile. “Wasn’t Jonghyun amazing?”

Jonghyun blushed and shook his head, opening his mouth to say something humble before Kibum cut in, “He was spectacular. I told him so that night.”

Taemin felt his stomach open up but kept his expression as neutral as possible as he agreed, “Mm.”

“Well, I gotta go now,” Kibum said standing up and glancing back, probably at his own usual lunch table. Taemin could hear someone faintly calling “Kibum!” from across the cafeteria. “Nice to meet you, Taemin. And Jjong, don’t forget about tomorrow.” Then he turned and left, leaving Taemin confused and Jonghyun blushing.

Taemin didn’t know what to start with. Jjong? Tomorrow? Instead what came out was, “He was annoying.”

Jonghyun gave him a strange look. “How come? He was just complimenting me.”

Taemin didn’t know how to respond, staring down at his food instead. After a few painful moments, “I don’t know. His vibe.”

Jonghyun just rolled his eyes and nudged Taemin playfully. “First impressions aren’t everything, you know.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“He asked me to join his band.”

“Huh?” Taemin blinked up at Jonghyun. “He has a band? Did you say yes?”

“He helps manage it, he said. Costumes and stuff,” Jonghyun said nonchalantly, biting into his homemade sandwich. His mom always packed his food for him, sometimes even leaving something extra for Taemin. “I said I’d check it out first. That’s where I’m going tomorrow after school.”

“Oh.” Taemin refocused on his food, trying to fill his stomach, but it tasted like nothing as he chewed it over and stuffed his mouth. After forcing himself to swallow, he asked the question he already knew the answer to, “So you can’t take me home tomorrow?”

Jonghyun hesitated. “The practice is right after school. I’ll miss it if I don’t go straight away.” Whatever he saw on Taemin’s face made him reach forward with a smile and pinch Taemin’s stuffed cheek with a t’sk. “The bus isn’t too bad. And it’s just one day.”

“Not if you agree to join.”

He shouldn’t have said that. Jonghyun’s smile faltered and he said, “Or you can wait for me, I guess." He waggled his brows at Taemin and cooed playfully, “Spend some extra time with Minho at school. Or Clara…”

“Yeah, I guess.” Taemin was being so selfish. It was literally just one day. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Don’t worry about me, Jonghyun. I’ll catch up on some homework in the library or something.”

“Are you sure? I can always tell Kibum no if you need me–”

“No,” Taemin said firmly. “Seriously, it’s okay.” Nudging Jonghyun back playfully to ease the mood, he added, “Let me know if the band is any good. Don’t join if they’re trash.”

Jonghyun’s warm smile returned, bright as ever. “I’ll let you know if my ears bleed.”

Then Taemin steeled himself and said quickly, “By the way, Clara and I are just friends.”

“Oh?” Jonghyun put down his fork, looking at Taemin intently. “The date didn’t go well?”

“More like I didn’t even like her to begin with,” Taemin chuckled, the kind that said it wasn’t actually funny. “It didn’t even sting.”

“Oh, okay. Well that’s good,” Jonghyun said. After a pause, he reached over again and ruffled up Taemin’s hair, leaving it an even bigger mess. Taemin should just give up on brushing it in the mornings at this point. “So then why do you look so sad?”

“I’m not.” Taemin slurped up the remains of his apple juice and stood up to clean his tray. “Worried about my math test,” he lied.

But Jonghyun bought it. Or at least pretended to. “You’ll do fine. They always curve those, remember?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Taemin said again. He was always guessing.

He wasn’t sure of anything.

That Friday, Taemin pushed his way through the hall to the library after the bell. Since Minho went to practice with the soccer team, he was alone, setting his books down on a free table as he watched others pick theirs up and leave.

It was also quiet. Too quiet for Taemin, who didn’t want to listen to his own thoughts that bounced around so loud and obnoxiously in his own head. He pulled out his headphones and blasted a playlist Jonghyun had made for him. It’s to study, okay? It’ll help you focus, promise me you’ll use it~

Taemin shook his head, trying to not think of Jonghyun for once in his life. But everything led back to him. The pencil in his hand, stolen from his desk on a late night while studying for finals. His organized math binder lying flat on the desk, because you can’t neglect your notes like this, Taeminnie. The first song he sang at the showcase ringing in his ears.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes aggressively so that he saw spots and colors in his vision when he opened them again. Once they cleared, he blinked and noticed someone across from his spot at the table. Jinki.

“Do you mind if I study here with you?”

Taemin nodded, pushing some of his things out of the way to make more space for Jinki who pulled out his own fat textbook and a binder full of notes.

“I never see you here,” Jinki said. Taemin barely heard him over his headphones, which Jinki definitely noticed. But here he was, still talking to him. So Taemin pulled his headphones down.

“I usually study at home. Or at Jonghyun’s,” he said.

“Ah,” Jinki said with a nod as if that answered all his questions.

But the silence was too weird for Taemin, even in a library. Plus Jinki was looking at him all funny as if he wanted him to talk more. That he’d listen. So Taemin talked. “He couldn’t take me home today.”

“I was half expecting him to show up right now,” Jinki laughed softly, conscious of the school librarian organizing books a few tables away. “You two are attached at the hip every time I see you.”

“He’s checking out a band. They asked him to join.” His voice sounded clipped and annoyed, even to his own ears. He tried to soften it. “It happed at the showcase actually.”

“Ohh,” Jinki simply said. After a moment, “And you don’t want him to?”

“It’s not that,” Taemin said quickly. God, he was so childish. Feeling some heat rush up his face, he said, “He should join if he wants to.” But Jinki didn’t respond, just looked at Taemin some more, same pensive, waiting look on his face. So Taemin continued, “I just hope the band isn’t trash.”

Finally, Jinki spoke. “If he does decide to join, it’ll only be a summer thing. With college starting in the fall and all.”

Taemin groaned loudly, running a hand through his hair in frustration and tugging on whatever he found until it hurt. “Don’t even remind me about you guys graduating.”

“It’s going to happen, Taemin.”

“I know it is, you don’t have to keep telling me,” Taemin snapped back.

But Jinki’s voice remained gentle. “You shouldn’t keep waiting. It’s just hurting you.”

Taemin’s heart sped up again. “What do you mean waiting?”

“For Jonghyun.”

“It’s not like that,” Taemin said immediately. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so just stop.” He moved to put his headphones back on, ready to tune Jinki out completely and ignore him.

“Taemin, I think he likes you back.”

He froze, dropping his headphones back down onto his neck. “You– what? Really?”

Jinki looked at him with sympathy, and for a second, Taemin wanted to slap it away. But then Jinki said, “You don’t see the way he looks at you. Or talks about you at work.”

“Has he–” Taemin started, feeling his voice crack at how dry his throat had become. He tried again. “Has he said something?”

Jinki shook his head. “That’s not my place to tell, Taemin.”

Taemin groaned loudly again and threw his head down onto his arms on the table, earning him a “shh!” from the librarian. He lowered his voice to say, “Jinki, help me. I’m going insane. He’s so confusing.” Then, in an even lower whisper, “And I’m a fucking mess. I always say the wrong thing, and I can’t even be okay with him going to check out a band with some guy.” He let out a quieter groan again into his arms, feeling his hot breath hit his face back.

“Ask him to prom.”

Taemin lifted his head up, peeking up at Jinki over his arms. “What if he thinks it's just as friends?” Then another, horrible thought entered Taemin’s head. “Or if he says no?”

“The only way you’ll know is if you ask him,” Jinki said wisely.

“But what if I ruin everything?”

“You won’t.”

But what if he did? Taemin didn’t want to ask Jinki again, realizing that he hadn’t touched his notes the entire time he had been talking to Taemin and Taemin was just distracting him. So he just burrowed his face further into his arms. “Fine, I’ll ask him, and if interprets it as just friends, or-" Taemin took another breath. "Or if he says no, then I’ll know. And hopefully, my heart gets the hint to give up.”

“Taemin, you should be clearer–”

“I don’t want to lose him, Jinki,” Taemin cut in, lifting his head again so he could look Jinki straight in the eyes. “That would be worse than him joining a stupid band or going to college.”

Jinki pursed his lips but didn’t say anything else, just nodded. Taemin was thankful when after another long look at Taemin, Jinki just sighed and turned a page in his textbook, pulling out a highlighter to start on some homework. Taemin put his headphones back on again, letting the song that Jonghyun sang better than the original fade into the background as math symbols filled his mind.

The next time Taemin saw Jonghyun, it was in Jonghyun’s bedroom. Taemin laid flat on the floor and stared up at his ceiling, listening to whatever Jonghyun was playing from his record player he’d spent two years saving up for.

Taemin’s stomach twisted and twisted until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to ask Jonghyun to prom in front of Minho, and Minho was always with them now. So that Saturday afternoon, Taemin made up an excuse that he needed Jonghyun’s help on homework and showed up at his house unannounced. Jonghyun’s mom opened the door and ushered him inside, asking if he wanted anything to drink and if he’d prefer pasta or pizza for dinner, and Jonghyun’s sister squeezed him into a tight hug and said she’d missed his adorable face, all before Jonghyun came bounding down the stairs, surprise in his eyes.

“Taemin?”

Taemin just grunted in response. The floor was really comfortable. And if his stomach twisted in on itself enough maybe it’ll shrivel all of him up with it so that he could disappear into the floor and out of Jonghyun’s heavy gaze above him.

“Did you really just come to lay on my floor?” Jonghyun asked. He leaned forward on the edge of his bed, his laptop and notebook strewn across it. He was probably in the middle of writing a song when Taemin interrupted. “Is Minho being that annoying?”

“No,” Taemin whined, rolling over onto his side, his back to Jonghyun’s bed. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” A pause, then Jonghyun’s bed groaned loudly as he sunk down onto the floor next to Taemin, sitting cross-legged by his head. He stroked Taemin’s hair lightly and asked gently, warmly, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me, Taeminnie.”

Taemin’s heart hurt so much he felt like he could die. Here was Jonghyun, petting his hair, asking him to tell him what’s wrong – when it’s him. But it’s not even his fault. He can’t hate Jonghyun for it when It’s Taemin’s and his stupid heart’s fault for falling for his best friend when it could ruin everything and–

“Go to prom with me.”

It slipped out. Shit. When he realized, his stomach twisted impossibly tighter, and he curled in on himself on the hard wooden floor, feeling Jonghyun’s hand on his head freeze, waiting for his response.

After an eternity, Jonghyun said slowly, “Taemin, Kibum already asked me.”

Oh. Kibum already asked him.

“I’m really sorry. If you had just asked me before–” Jonghyun continued helplessly in this rush, his hand gone from Taemin’s head.

“It’s fine, Jonghyun,” Taemin forced out. He pulled himself off the floor, sitting across from Jonghyun but looking everywhere but at him. He settled on the floor, studying the pattern of the wooden planks beneath them. Then asked what he already knew, “He asked you yesterday?”

Jonghyun nodded. Taemin didn’t need to look up to know. Jonghyun continued talking again, apologizing in this awful voice that said he knew Taemin felt hurt, “Taeminnie, I would’ve gone with you but I already promised Kibum, since he asked me first. We can hang out together the whole night, though. And I’ll buy you coffee for a week.” He smiled at him, trying to bring out the same smile in Taemin.

But it didn’t work. Not when Taemin waited too long and wasted his chance, like Jinki said. “I hope you guys have fun.” It took everything to say that, and Taemin collapsed back onto the floor face-up, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

“We’re just going as friends.”

Taemin shut his eyes tightly, blocking out the light. He hated the part of himself that jumped when Jonghyun said that, filled with a tiny sliver of renewed hope. He was hopeless, that’s what. He was utterly hopeless. “Seems fun.”

“Taemin, are you mad?” Taemin kept his eyes shut, but then he felt a gentle push of his shoulders on the floor. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, Jonghyun. I swear.” That was the truth. This feeling sinking inside of him like a heavy stone at the pit of his stomach wasn’t anger. But Taemin couldn’t figure it out either, just knew that it kept sinking and sinking, pulling him down deeper until–

“Okay,” Jonghyun said, lying down on the floor with Taemin, pressed together side by side. Taemin went hot, acutely aware of every place that they were touching. “I hate when you’re mad at me. Especially because you bottle it up and don’t say anything for ages.”

At least he was good at hiding his feelings. Which would be especially useful now, what with Jonghyun reaching over to pinch Taemin’s cheek, their sides still pressed close together. The smart and perhaps petty part of Taemin bubbled up then, saying quickly, “I’ll go with Minho. As friends too.”

Jonghyun’s hand fell from his cheek. After another eternity he answered, “That sounds like a fun night.”

Taemin glanced over at Jonghyun. He stared back up at the ceiling but when he noticed Taemin’s eyes on him, turned to look back at Taemin, holding his gaze. He was caught and couldn’t look away, entranced by his deep brown eyes. They were so close that Taemin could feel Jonghyun’s breath on his face when he said softly, “I just want you to have fun, Taemin. That’s all I want.”

Taemin closed his eyes and turned away.

--END OF CHAPTER--

READ CH 5 HERE

#shinee #shinee fic #kpop fic #shinee fanfic #fluff #angst #kpop fluff #kim jonghyun #pining #high school au #lee taemin #jongtae #jongtae fluff

[alotofpockets]

I've got you | Yelena Belova x Reader | Part 1

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: When you break up with your girlfriend she get's violent, you run out and end up at your best friend Natasha's house, but are met with Yelena.

Word count: 1177

Warnings: breakup, unhealthy relationship (shortly mentioned), slight violence (hitting) and I think that's it.

A/n: Welcome to a new mini series, I'm thinking it will be four or five parts. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You were waiting for your girlfriend on the couch of your shared apartment. Today was the day, you’ve been working on what to say, you had to end this relationship. All it did was make you unhappy.

Finally you heard the front door being unlocked. You asked your girlfriend Kelly to come sit with you and told her that you weren’t happy anymore and that you wanted to break up. Instead of talking to you about it she got up and started yelling. You got up too, trying to calm her down. That didn’t work. Instead of calming down Kelly just punched you in the face.

That was the last straw, you ran for the door, grabbed your coat and left.

You ended up at your best friend’s house. You knocked on the door with tears streaming down your face. The door opened, it wasn’t Nat, but her sister standing in the doorway. You quickly wiped your tears away. You had met Yelena before, but you didn’t really know the girl.

“Uhm hi Yelena, is Nat home?” you asked, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. “No, sorry. She left on a mission, she should be back tomorrow morning. Is everything okay, do you want to come in?” The blonde asked opening the door further, definitely noticing your bloodshot eyes.

You walked in and plopped down on the couch, you kicked your shoes off and brought your legs up to your chest. Now Yelena definitely knew something was not okay. She walked over to you and put a hand on your shoulder, you flinched at the contact. Yelena pulled her hand away and quickly apologized.

She got up to make you some tea. Noticing how you were shivering on the couch. You had walked all the way from your apartment to Natasha’s, which was about a thirty minute walk, and it was really cold outside. She came back with two cups, gave you one and sat down next to you with her own.

The two of you sat in silence sipping your teas. Tears brimming in your unfocussed eyes. Yelena wanted to know what was hurting you, but didn’t want to intrude. Once you finished your tea, you put the cup down on the table.

“I-I couldn’t take it anymore” you said softly, tears now rolling down your cheeks “and then she just hit me” you cried out, leaning into Yelena needing the comfort. Yelena wrapped her arms around you, holding you tight “you’re safe now y/n, I’ve got you”. You cried into her arms, Yelena rubbing your back.

Once you felt a bit better you detached yourself from Yelena “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, we barely know each other” you say. “Hey look at me, you have nothing to be sorry about” Yelena ensures.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” you nod and tell her about how you had been unhappy in your relationship for a while now and how you wanted to break up. How you told Kelly and how she responded. You told her how you ran out because you were scared that she might hurt you again. And that you didn’t dare to go back. “oh no, you’re staying here. I know it’s not my place, but I’m sure my sister would say the same thing.” she said “Tomorrow Nat and I are coming with you to pick up your stuff.” You look at her with an appreciative smile “thank you Yelena.”

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” the blonde asked, you shook your head. I could make us some spaghetti, I think we have all the ingredients” she offered. “Spaghetti sounds good.”

While Yelena was making dinner you excused yourself to go wash your face in the bathroom. You came back wearing on of Natasha’s hoodies as you were still a bit cold.

You had dinner with Yelena, getting to know each other. It turned out the two of you had quite a lot in common. She told you she was staying with her sister for a couple of months, since the lease on her apartment was suddenly ended by her landlord. When dinner was finished you helped with the dishes.

“Do you want to watch that movie you talked about?” Yelena asked. You smiled and said yes. You had told Yelena about your comfort movie. The two of you settled on the couch, underneath a big blanket. Yelena started Netflix and put on Pitch Perfect. After finishing the first movie, Yelena started the second one. You started to feel tired and rested your head on Yelena’s shoulder. You dozed off pretty quickly after that.

Yelena wrapped an protective arm around your shoulder as she continued to watch the movie. She fell asleep before the movie ended as well.

The next morning around seven Natasha walks into her apartment, hearing loud noises coming from the living room. It sounded like a movie. She frowns, her sister isn’t much of a morning person so why would she be watching a movie at seven in the morning?

She walks into the living room to investigate. There she finds the both of you asleep under the big blanket with a movie still playing on the screen.

She grabs the remote and turns off the tv, since nobody is watching and the sound was way too loud. The absence of sound awakens Yelena. When she sees her sister with a confused look on her face, she gently takes her arm away from you. Placing you against the back of the couch, careful to not wake you up.

Yelena nudges Natasha to walk over to the kitchen with her. “What’s going on?” Natasha asks, still confused. As far as she knew you and Yelena had only met once shortly, so why were you here and cuddled up with her sister?

“She came here last night looking for you. She broke up with Kelly and when she did Kelly hit her.” Yelena explained. Natasha’s blood started to boil “is she okay?” Yelena nodded “yeah but she’s scared to go back, so I told her she could stay here and that you and I would go with her to get her stuff today.”

“Thank you for being there for her Yel” Natasha said with a smile.

You woke up from the chatter in the other room. You got up and followed the sound. When you entered the kitchen your eyes met with Nat’s, she walks up to you and gives you a tight hug. “Yelena told me what happened. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, are you okay?” She asks. “Yeah, I’m okay. And it’s alright, Yelena kept me company.”

“We’ll get your stuff and then you will never have to see her again, I promise.” Nat reassures you. “I know you want to kill her for hurting me, but don’t you dare get all assassin on her okay. I never want to see her again, but not like that.” You say in a serious tone, knowing your best friend all too well.

Main taglist:

@yellowvxbes​ ~ @xxromanoffxx​ ~ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​

Yelena x reader taglist:

@ailenepuff​

Please let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my works! :)

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[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

[obae-me]

A Taste of Your Own Medicine

Author’s Note: I finally did it! One of my bigger projects finished! And this is the most ambitious thing I’ve posted in a while! It’ll be my biggest post for sure! I truly, truly hope you guys enjoy this. I hope this sickfic can make you feel a bit better during these times. (*slaps fic* This bad boy can fit so many cuddles in it). Thank you all for your encouragement and support, it’s honestly what helped me get this finished! Also, I swear I’ve been over this thing more than thirty times to try and catch mistakes, but it’s a lot so if I missed mistakes I apologize. 

Word Count: 18,300

Warnings: Blood, Medication Use, Vomiting, I’m not a doctor in any way shape or form, so please don’t take any of this as a personal guide. 

As Always, Read Safely, And Please Enjoy!

Lucifer, then Satan and Mammon. After that came Beel and Belphie, followed up by Levi. Lastly Asmo. All of them, every single one, had fallen ill. Try as they may, none of them had been safe, and you’d been the main one working to nurse them back to health despite you knowing nothing about caring for demons. It had been...what was the right word? Grueling? No. Enjoyable? Well you couldn’t quite say that either. It had its ups and downs. Working for about a month straight on little sleep wasn’t exactly a dream job, but the affection and actions you’d seen were priceless. The pictures on your phone and the memories in your head would keep your heart warm for the rest of your life, but you could go no further. You were done. Done with being a nurse. Done with restless nights. Done with this illness. 

The House of Lamentation had finally begun to feel normal again, normal except for your persistent fatigue accompanied by strange shifts in your body temperature. It started off small at first, you had hardly noticed. Unfortunately, it had grown rather rapidly, impeding your day-to-day life. The fuzzy thoughts in the back of your mind knew that something was unnatural. Your body shouldn’t feel like this. Yet, afraid of facing the truth, or hoping you were just overreacting, you insisted that just sleeping it off would bring you back to normal. 

Only... you should’ve known. You should’ve seen the signs. The sneezing, the breathlessness you felt with the simplest of things, the discomfort settling in your bones. What were you going to do? Well, you figured the best thing to do was move onward, acting like nothing was amiss. Fake it till you make it. Whatever it was would go away on its own, it had to. 

But it wouldn’t, and as much as they would refuse to admit it, each demonic member of the household had grown fond of being fussed over by you. Tugging you in all directions, demanding constant attention, wearing your energy down to dust. Although, if you were being entirely honest, they tended to do that regardless. However, after being treated so specially, their neediness grew tenfold. Thus, without giving yourself a break, every morning you ended up feeling worse than the day before, and it was only going downhill from there. Perhaps you should’ve told them, nipping it in the bud before it had a change to blossom into something terrible. In retrospect, that should’ve been the obvious path to take. Yet, driven by some desire you couldn’t place, you pushed yourself so far past the breaking point that your own body had to stop you. 

Waking up to your alarm in the early hours of this particular morning was more difficult than you’d like to admit. Removing the blankets might as well have been pushing stones off your body. Your limbs felt stiff, gravity’s pull was stronger than it should’ve been, and moving forward was like pushing through waves of molasses. However, you went forward, still fooled under some grand delusion that you’d feel better once you freshened up. Gathering up a change of clothes and a towel for your morning shower, you stumbled out of your room. Getting to the bathroom had been a blur, the only thing you could recall was consistently leaning your weight against the wall to keep your legs steady. You’d met no one in your path, assuming they must’ve all already been in the dining hall, the faint smell of breakfast foods flooding the hallways. It made your stomach churn. 

Before anyone could see you in this downright pathetic state, you entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. You took a moment to catch your breath and press your forehead against the cold wood of the door. It felt amazing against your skin. But you couldn’t linger, you had to get ready for RAD. As you turned, you came up to the sink, settling your items on the side of the bowl. It was then you saw your face in the mirror for the first time that morning. Biting your lip, you splashed some water on your face, hoping it would wash away some of the hints of sickness-- the not-sickness...you weren’t sick. Right? You couldn’t have caught the demon illness, right? Was it possible? Your head was throbbing, the heart in your chest pounding in panic. What were you going to do? You couldn’t miss classes, you couldn’t let anyone know, you couldn’t be a burden. Brush your teeth, you thought. Get ready, play it off. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. Stop overreacting. 

Showering felt nice, it was the only thing so far that let you feel some peace. The steamy hot water released some of the tension in your temples and lungs. Although, the intense heat made you lightheaded, and a single little misstep in the shower had you almost plummet to the floor. Shaking, gasping for air, desperately attempting to cling to the slick stone wall, you slowly sat on the wet tiles, leaning your body back so the stream of water landed directly on your chest. The comfort almost coaxed you back into sleep, but before you could fall into slumber, you jolted. How long had you been in there? Five minutes? Half an hour? You could forget about washing your head today. Crawling out of the shower, the frigid air burnt the inside of your nose, shuddering you with a few sneezes. Not good. You rushed to dry yourself off and pull your uniform on. Before you headed down to the dining hall, you blew your nose, shook your head, and prepared yourself to sound as normal as possible. Somehow you managed not to stumble down the stairs, something you were thankful for. Maybe it wasn’t as severe as you thought it was. 

Arguing could be heard past the hall doors. That wasn’t too rare, it’d become tradition almost, to the point where being met with an unclamorous silence was somewhat threatening. What was it this time? Mammon stealing something? Beel eating something? Belphie not doing something? 

It was hard to comprehend the words, but you could make out the important pieces. “I bought that for ya, so it… … … that I took it back!” Mammon growled. 

“Once you… … …  it was mine!” Asmo shrieked. “It wasn’t yours to sell … … … buy it in the first place!” 

Ah, so it was another Mammon related issue, you didn’t need to be a hardcore gambler to win that bet. Raised voices didn’t do any good for your head, the pressure in your eardrums throbbing. You stayed silent as you slid inside, or at least you tried to stay silent. Instead, you accidently made your presence prominent as you shut the doors too harshly behind you. Heads turned all at once, your knees threatening to turn to jelly under the gaze. 

“Is something the matter, MC?” Lucifer asked, the first one able to sense something wrong. He always knew. You were never able to hide anything from him. However, the fact that you’d been able to play things off in his presence up till now settled a sort of twisted pride inside you. You blamed Pride himself for his bad influence. Lowering his cup from his lips, he raised an eyebrow. 

You mustered up a usual grin. “Just...tired,” you lied. Had your throat always been this sore? And was it the table full of warm food, or was it terribly hot in here? Not the healing sort of temperature either, but rather the sticky suffocating heat that formed waves in your vision. Or maybe the room was swirling on its own? Tugging at the collar of your shirt, you took a single step forward, attempting to walk again. You lowered your head, turning away from the eldest, remaining as inconspicuous as possible for fear he’d take one good look at you and expose your troubles. Lucifer was not convinced, shifting his gaze between his morning cup of coffee and your strange stature. For the time being, he dropped his questions, lying in wait for you to exude any signs that you were lying. 

Doing your best not to trip up, you eventually sat down at the dining table, a spot left open for you between Belphie--who was sitting up asleep--and Asmo. The demon of lust luckily didn’t seem to notice your weaker state, continuing on his tirade against his older brother. “Mammon, I swear to whatever forces may be listening that if you don’t get it back I will ruin you, you hear me?!” 

“Yeah yeah, you can try!” Mammon scoffed. 

Asmo spoke again, his words blocked out by the sudden ringing in your ears, the shrill noise spurring on pain behind your eyes. As you bit the inside of your cheek, you squeezed your eyes closed till the painful sound faded away. Only, opening them back up now seemed to make everything worse. The light was harsh, far too harsh, blinding rays striking off every reflective surface. Your vision started to swim, blurring the features of those around you. Squinting, you groaned a bit to yourself before lifting a utensil from the table, attempting to eat some of the breakfast in front of you before anyone became suspicious. Every bite sank heavily to the bottom of your stomach. 

“Will the two of you be quiet, for sin’s sake?!” Satan boomed, his wrath peeking through his composure as his brothers started to take their spat too far, interrupting what should’ve been a quiet morning. Although, when had that ever happened? Magic spilling from their fingertips, demon forms exposed, Mammon and Asmo were each ready to brawl it out at any moment. The ruckus finally managed to stir Belphie who was visibly irritated. 

The miniscule amount of food you had eaten started to already stir sickeningly within you. The sweltering heat you had felt before stripped away in a moment, a frightening chill creeping over your body. Before you could think, you got to your feet, breathless, heart pounding as an overwhelming presence of something agonizing forced you to move. Getting up too quickly caused the whole world to rock, your head doing somersaults. Lucifer obviously was now convinced everything was far from fine as you swayed on your own two feet, the legs of his chair screeching against the hardwood floor as he stood. Everyone in the room quickly went quiet, all eyes on you as you fumbled. The weight of their attention seemed to push you further over the edge. “It’s...I’m…” You needed to move, to be anywhere but here, so you staggered a few steps away from the group. 

You heard the thud before you felt it, not quite comprehending what it meant to feel the floor fall out from beneath you as the world shifted sideways. The area became a chorus of shouts as seven demons called out your name. You didn’t fully blackout. Your consciousness was too stubborn to be snuffed out like that, but you couldn’t fully talk or move either. 

A pair of arms wrapped around you, bringing you close to their body. Despite being right next to you, somehow everything still felt so far away, like you were experiencing everything secondhand. The smoothness of leather touched your cheek before the glove was supposedly discarded, cold skin touching your face. “They’re burning up,” Lucifer announced, the undertones of his voice just barely wavering, or perhaps your sense of sound was just as skewed as your sight had been. He flipped his hand over, his knuckles brushing against your forehead. You tried opening your eyes to look at him, but it was next to impossible. 

“MC?! Hey, what’s with you?!” Mammon shouted, two hands squeezing your shoulders. The panic in his words was apparent. “What’s wrong with them?!”

“I think they’re sick,” Belphie chimed. 

Satan sounded distant, but his voice still drifted to your ears. “Should I alert Simeon and Solomon?” 

Without warning, you sensed yourself being lifted off the floor, the sudden movement jerking the last strands of your consciousness back as you lurched into a black weightlessness. You swam through the fog, trying to pick back up the voices in the room. 

“...the human world to get a few things,” someone spoke. As you shifted your body, the people went silent, but not for long. 

“They’re awake!” 

“Thank heavens…” 

“Oi, everyone get off ‘em!” 

Somehow, you found the energy to open your eyes. There were no arms holding you and the dining room was far gone. You were now in bed, in your room, surrounded by demons, angels, and the only other human in the Devildom. The confusion of the blank spot in your memory shot panic through your nerves, not to mention it was uncomfortable to be stared down like this. “What…?” You gasped, trying to sit up in bed. A washcloth slid off your forehead and down your face. Someone’s gentle hands guided you back into a lying position, taking the rag and putting it back in its place. 

Lucifer had a chair pulled up to your bedside, lines popping up between his eyebrows in worry. He finished pressing you back up against your pillow, pulling the blankets back over your chest. “Don’t move too much,” he ordered, his words harsh but his eyes soft. “You collapsed in the dining hall.” 

Well, that part you could recall. They must’ve brought you here. Despite it only feeling like a second, you must’ve been out long enough for the other exchange students to arrive. “Is-” You interrupted yourself with some coughs, quickly turning your head into your pillow. Even just speaking left your lungs weak, but you had a question. “Is it…? 

“It’s not what the brothers had if that’s what you’re asking,” Solomon nodded. “You as a human couldn’t catch that particular illness. Although if you had, you probably wouldn’t survive. So lucky you, right?” Levi nearly dropped to his knees at that prospect, eyes wide with fear, as if he wasn’t convinced that you were lucky at all. You had to admit, you felt far from it. Many of the other siblings shot the sorcerer a dirty glare, everyone’s nerves strangely on edge. Solomon closed his eyes and laughed a bit. “Aha, but like I said, it’s a very mortal disease. Just a cold or the case of the flu from what I can tell.” 

“Just?” Mammon growled, barking out his opinions like an angry guard dog. “They’re lying here looking like they're two seconds away from pushin’ up daisies and you make guesses? You’ve been acting so calm and treating this like it ain’t that serious! And to be honest, it’s kinda tickin’ me off!” He took a few serious steps towards Solomon, shoulders squared, ready to fight. Luke ducked behind Simeon’s body for protection, but there was no need. Before he took things too far, Mammon growled and resumed his brisk pace around your room. 

“I hate to agree with him,” Asmo started, “But Mammon’s right.” The fourth-born frowned, some of his outward sparkle dulled with concern. Every hint of his and Mammon’s dispute had faded away. “This isn’t a joke! You have to do something, Solomon! Save them!” Asmo flung himself over the sorcerer begging and pleading, reacting as if you were on your deathbed. Mammon pushed a haughty breath of air between his teeth, turning on his heels to sit beside you on the bed. His nervous energy could hardly be contained, erratically adjusting the blanket over your body as one of his legs bounced up and down rapidly. 

Solomon shook his head, brushing Asmo off of him. “I was simply trying to lighten the mood.” You caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watched these powerful demons on the brink of falling to pieces. “If treated properly, it shouldn't be fatal. Plenty of monitoring and rest and the body should heal on its own. Of course if it worsens or persists, then a doctor might be required, but we can cross that bridge when we get to it. Although, like I was saying, it would be best if I went to the human world to at least get some proper medicine. We wouldn’t want our MC here to suffer the full brunt of the symptoms, and I doubt the remedies here would have a desired effect.” 

With that, Lucifer sighed, lifting his chin to address the sorcerer. “I shall accompany you to the human world. We’ll get what we need and come right back, understood?” 

Either the demon of pride’s stern glare wasn’t at its peak today or Solomon was generally unaffected. The sorcerer looked past him and right at you with a grin on his face. “He gets rather overbearing when it comes to you doesn’t he?” 

“We’re leaving,” Lucifer huffed, his arms wide to shepherd everyone out of your room. Several of his siblings cried out in protest. “Everyone out! The last thing MC needs is the bunch of you bothering them.” The only one he didn’t tug along was Simeon, the angel turning down the light and approaching you as soon as everyone had gone. 

A short laugh rumbled in his throat. “They sure do care about you a lot,” he smiled. He took Mammon’s previous spot on the bed by you, settled by your hip. He discovered the bump in the blanket that served as your arm under the covers. Slowly, he ran his hand up and down over it. “What a terrible thing for you to be this sick.” It wasn’t often the angel frowned, but in this case he appeared deeply troubled, as if he was taking your pain as his own. “I can help you fall asleep if you’d like me to. Solomon warned me against using too much magic against your weakened immune system, but I should be able to let you sleep peacefully.” He waited for a response, not moving forward with anything till you nodded your head slowly. Golden light rushed to the ends of his fingers, the soft skin of his fingertips brushing against your eyelids to close them. A shudder ran down your spine, your own body tingling, and you wondered if it was his magic or simply just the tender gesture. “Rest well, MC,” Simeon whispered. “Feel better.” And then just like he suggested, your mind quickly got swept along into a blissful sleep. 

Angelic magic or not, it didn’t seem to hold back the fever for long. Even in your dreams, all you could feel was frigid fire. Your nerves were fried, unable to tell if you were freezing to death or boiling. And the dreams...the images flashing in your mind of threats you couldn’t understand, dangers that filled you with panic. Someone was uttering words to you that you couldn't understand. All you could do was try to run, try to escape. Everything about you was screaming. 

Through the mist of sickness, you could finally make out the voice. “...gotta...can’t...help…” After a few moments of the whimpering and the distress, you were alarmed to figure out it was the sound of your own voice. But you couldn’t even feel yourself saying the words. 

“I’m here,” another person muttered past the darkness. “It’s alright…” The stranger shushed, trying to sound sweet to cover up the panic in their tone. “The one time I need that pompous jerk around and he’s gone. Figures.” You could hear a few pages being turned, a frustrated click of a tongue followed after. “Why didn’t I look this up before? Why wasn’t I prepared?” The anger from the other being in the room seemed to affect you. You thrashed a little, kicking your feet as if it would help push off the suffocating agony. Two hands clamped down on your shoulders, pinning you to the bed. “Calm down...Please calm down...I need to calm down.” Once you went back to being mostly still, more pages were turned. “Have the afflicted wear light clothing. I can do that.” A weight was shed off of you as the blanket pulled back. Air struck your sweat covered skin, sending chills down your body. You began to tremble. The front of your RAD uniform was tugged at, someone working at the buttons to shed the outer layer off your body. 

“...won’t...s...sor...is…hah…” Your speech was broken, and even if you knew what you wanted to say, your mouth wouldn’t let you. Someone took your hands, lifting your arm to let gravity help assist in removing the sleeve. You could feel it slip before fully crashing against the bed like a dead weight, free of the thick uniform fabric. The same was done with the other arm. Then a hand supported the back of your neck, lifting your upper body just enough until the extra layer was yanked out from under you. Removing the jacket had been like opening an oven. Heat from your body suddenly escaped into the room, no longer trapped behind unnecessary insulation. Even in your rather deranged state, you could feel your shirt sticking to your skin. Now you seemed to be shuddering harder.

“Hydration...medication...Curses, Lucifer, get back here...Nothing...there’s nothing here!” The individual grunted in a growl of vexation, a frantic flutter of paper soaring further away before something heavy struck the ground far from you. You managed to stop moaning, switching to feverish panting. Your company tutted at you again, stroking the top of your head tenderly. “Can you even hear me at all? Breathe, MC, breathe.” It’s embarrassing to admit it took you much longer than you would’ve liked to remember how to control your breathing. Once you took some deeper inhales, you heard your caretaker sigh in relief. “Good…Well, not good, but better.” 

Reality had sunken in almost completely now, just covered with a thin layer of dreamy haze. You cracked your eyes open, a mess of blonde hair and worried green eyes looking down at you. “S-Sa...tan,” you murmured. 

His hand stroked your head a few more times before grabbing the wet rag again and dotting it across your face. The energy you needed to retain consciousness was quickly fading. Satan’s hands grasped your face. “Hold on!  Look at me again, come on.” With every ounce of power you had left, you lifted your eyelids as much as you could. Still half-lidded, you only caught glimpses of his green sweater as he slid one hand under your back, lifting you up gently. Your head bobbed down, chin against your chest as Satan settled your back against your headboard. Gentle fingers lifted your head, some plastic brought to your lips. “You have to stay hydrated, drink just a little.” You wrapped your lips around the straw, sucking water into your body until you felt like you were going to be sick again. Satan moved to put the cup back down, and in that time he made the mistake of letting you go. Gravity tugged your body down, nearly slipping out of bed, threatening to fall to the floor. Thankfully, the demon of wrath was there to catch you. Head resting against his shoulder, you breathily let out a ‘thank you’ that was probably closer to a slurred series of sounds rather than a statement. 

His arms wrapped tightly around you. “Don...lea…ve...”

Then everything went black again. 

When consciousness flooded back to your mind, you had no idea how long it had been. Turning to your other side, you rubbed your head against the pillow. Everything was still much too warm. You slipped an arm under your heavy headrest, hoping to get to the cooler side. Your pillow twitched. Your pillow...was moving? Up. Down. Slow. Rising with steady breaths. You woke up, shifting enough in your spot to alert the person in your bed. Placing a book to the side, Satan rubbed one of your shoulders. Taking a moment to realize what position you were in, you felt your stomach flop once you came to the conclusion that you were lying against Satan’s legs, clinging to his clothes, hand against his lower back, head resting against his stomach. “You alright?” Satan wondered, pressing a hand to your forehead. You didn’t need to speak for him to know the answer. Not really. “I’ll admit, you had me worried for a while there.” He sat up fully, your head sliding back to your pillow--your actual pillow. You quickly retracted your death grip on him, hugging your arms close to your body. If there could be any more heat in your cheeks, there would be. 

Shame creeped into your bones. “S...sorry.” 

His expression brightened a small amount, pleased with the fact that you could speak mostly clearly now, even if your voice did sound ragged. He pulled the blanket back over your shoulders and up near your chin. “Don’t worry about that, just worry about feeling better.” He twisted his body, grabbing something off your nightstand again. “Here, have some more water. Everything I’ve read says that you need to stay hydrated at all times.” You dug your elbow into the mattress, lifting your head enough to not choke as you drank. As Satan lowered the glass, you noticed it was almost completely empty. You didn’t remember drinking that much. Exactly how delusional had you been earlier? How much had you forgotten? You downed the rest of the drink in small sips, lying back down when you were done. 

“Did…” You squeaked. “Did I do anything…” 

“Weird?” Satan finished your sentence for you. “So you don’t remember all of it, I take it?” You shook your head. “You started moaning, hyperventilating. Once you calmed down a bit you collapsed on me and refused to let me go. I figured since I was going to monitor you anyway I would…” A small blush formed on his cheeks. “Hold you till Lucifer got home.”

You looked away from his face, still a bit self conscious. You decided to change the subject. “He’s still gone?” 

Satan’s lips almost curled into a little snarl. “Yes. I have no idea why he’s decided to take his sweet time to-” He cut himself off short, clearing his throat and removing any traces of rage. “Don’t worry about him, I’m sure he’ll be home soon with the medicine.” You felt the top of your head being pet again, tempting you to close your eyes. “Until then, is there anything I can get for you?” You shook your head once more, allowing yourself to indulge in your impulses, moving closer to his body. Despite seeming mostly unaffected by the intimacy earlier, he took in a short sharp breath, lifting his head to the side to hide part of his face. His hand was near your face, tauntingly close, reminding you of how chill his skin was and how good it felt to have him stroke your head. You closed your eyes, bringing your head forward enough to bump against his wrist. A stifled gasp rang through the air before he took a deep breath. “It’s unfortunate that you had to be this sick to…” His sentence trailed off, his hand that you’d ran into pressed against your burning cheeks before brushing against your hair, running down the length of locks before starting again. “Conserve your energy,” he whispered. “Go back to bed.” 

“... … how are they?”

“...still feverish… …sleeping for a long time…” 

“I’ll take over… … get some rest.” 

Soft voices somehow roused you from your deep sleep, the final click of your door leaving you awake. You flitted your eyes open, immediately upset with how dry and crusty they felt. It didn’t help you feel any better when you noticed Lucifer by your bed, busy observing a small cardboard container. He was quick to notice you move, turning his head towards you as you wiped the grime from your eyes with the back of your finger. How embarrassing. Having to be sick, weak, vulnerable, positively distasteful, and in front of the people you thought highly of no less. Memories of Satan flooded back into your mind. Would they all think less of you after this? For how low you’d fallen? For how weak you were? You couldn’t let that happen. What had happened with Satan couldn’t be helped, but from here on out you would do your best to be independent. You adjusted to sit up. 

“What did I say about moving too much?” He scolded, his hand outstretched to settle you back down. You swept his gesture away, sitting up fully and focusing on the item in his hand. A regular box of human world medicine. You reached out for it, and despite being annoyed you’d swatted him away, he handed it to you. The tones of his voice casually shifted from his typical strict nature to low and sweet. “Is...this the one you need?” You glanced it over. Gel pills, daytime and nighttime ones, for cold and flu symptoms. You nodded. He seemed relieved. “It doesn’t happen often, but I was glad for Solomon’s help in picking the proper medicines,” he admitted. “Who knew humans needed so many medications? And you even have entire shops dedicated to them.” He shook his head as a deep frown formed on his face as if he just realized how fragile and complicated human bodies could be. You sighed, agreeing with him in your mind. You were thankful he managed to bring this back though, for as much as you hated proving he was right, you desperately wanted the medicine to ease your aching symptoms. You tried prying the flap open, annoyed when it refused to tear apart. From out of the corner of your eye, you swore you spotted the smallest smirk cross over Lucifer’s face. “Would you like some help?” You grumbled, turning your torso away from him as you attempted again to open the simple package. In slight sadistic fashion, he simply observed you struggle for another few minutes before you tore the box open. Even just working on that had you nearly breathless, but you scrounged up a little triumphant grin. Pulling out one of the bubble sheets, you settled the box back in your lap which Lucifer quickly picked up, returning to read the details printed on the back. “No more than four doses a day,” he announced. “You can take two of those pills now and then wait for four hours before you can take any more.” He read all that out with the confidence of a doctor who knew exactly what he was prescribing. “I want you to check in with me before you decide to take more, understood?” 

You desperately wanted to be snippy about it, but the energy for defense was long gone. Plus, you knew that he needed to have his hands on the reins at all times, and his stubbornness was especially bad when it was a situation he had no control over. “Okay,” you squeaked, pressing your thumb tightly against the foil backing until the pills were free. Dumping them out into your palm, you sighed to yourself once you spotted the empty glass of water from earlier. You’d have to go refill it. 

As soon as you pushed the blankets back and swung your legs out of bed to stand up, Lucifer tightly gripped your shoulders. Normally, he would’ve reacted before the thought even crossed your mind, but your actions must’ve stunned him more than usual. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

Wincing a little, you cleared your throat before you spoke. “I need water.” You tried to get back up, but your weakened strength was no match against Lucifer’s, and he was hardly trying. 

“Then let me get some for you.” Your lips parted to utter out a rebuttal but he’d have none of it. He grasped your ankles, pulling your legs back into bed and folding the covers back over the lower half of your body. He pointed a gloved finger at you. “You’re not to move.” He plucked the empty glass off the tabletop, striding out of your door before you could even try to argue. A low groan rumbled in your chest, your lungs convulsing out a few more coughs. By the time you got your breathing managed again, the demon of pride was back in your room, handing you a fresh glass of water. A deeper frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched ripples form in the liquid as your hand shook. Attempting to stabilize your hold only seemed to make it worse. He reached out, his intention to help you drink. Before he could, you popped both pills in your mouth and grasped at the cup with both hands as you brought the rim to your lips, watching his arm fall dejectedly back to his sides. Even the smooth gel coating went down rough, feeling more like two sharp stones scraping the inside of your esophagus. With your nose more stopped up than usual, by the time you were done drinking you were gasping for air, resulting in coughs again, hard enough to nearly make you gag. Lucifer took the cup from you before you could drop it, settling it on your nightstand. You were bowled over, tears streaming from your eyes. Rare panic crossed over Lucifer’s face, rubbing your back till the coughing fit came to an end. He took a deep inhale once it was over. Then he placed his touch over your forehead again, his thumb gently rubbing against your temple. When he retracted, you nearly let a little moan betray your feelings. You’re supposed to be independent, you reminded yourself. Lucifer shifted in his seat a bit, brandishing another item from his pockets. “We got one of these things as well,” he explained, taking the little item between his fingers and squinting to better study it. “He said it would be useful in monitoring your temperature, but...he failed to explain how it worked.” 

If you were feeling even just a bit better, you would’ve laughed. Lucifer took the thermometer and pointed the end towards your forehead, his eyebrows raised as he waited for something to happen, only to scowl when nothing did. You let a similar cocky expression coat your face as he was the one to struggle with something so simple this time. If only he knew he had the right idea but the wrong type. He’d gotten one of the older fashioned versions. “This kind goes under my tongue,” you explained. 

“Really?” He hummed. “How strange. Seems...messy.” He held the end close to your mouth, his face showing no signs of amusement this time as he waited. You hesitated, your heart beating faster at the emotions swelling in your chest. Independent, independent, independent, you repeated in your mind. Only, you’d caught him in a very impatient mood. With his other hand, he cupped it around your chin, carefully pulling your jaw down till he could slip the end of the thermometer under your tongue. You pressed your lips back together, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. The small device beeped once it got its reading. Lucifer pulled it out and brought it back towards him. “101.4” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair before settling the thermometer down, attempting to guide your body back down in a lying position. 

You stopped him, grabbing his wrist, eyes focusing on anything other than his face. “You don’t...have to do this.” 

He entertained you, fully capable of pushing you down should he desire it, but he let you keep him in your grasp. His eyes narrowed. “What thing in particular are you talking about?” 

Taking as deep of a breath your lungs would allow, you corrected yourself. “You don’t have to take care of me, I mean.” Words strained and cracking, they did little to convince the demon. “I’m well enough to take care of myself. Trust me, I’ve done it plenty before.” 

Distrustful and discouraged, he stiffened, tugging his wrist away. “Be that as it may, while you are down here you are my responsibility. It is part of my duty to ensure you are safe and well looked after. Do you expect me to just walk away from my role?” 

You’ll admit, it wasn’t very rational, but something other than the fever in you burned. “I’m not an assignment to be written off, Lucifer.” 

“You know I didn’t mean that.” His crimson eyes looked down at you for a moment, the air silent between you save for the faint rattling in your chest. Eventually, he spoke back up, the previous forbidding expression gave way to a small smile. He closed his eyes and chuckled a little, taking you aback. “When did you ever get so prideful? Is it too bold to assume it’s my doing?” Then his hand moved forward, unbothered by your past attempt to push him away. He brushed sticky strands of hair away from your face. “If you truly don’t want me here, I will leave.” Your chest seemed to flutter at his words. It wasn’t that you...didn’t want him there. It was that you did. Almost too much. If there was anything you didn’t want, it was to be a hindrance. You knew how busy Lucifer was. His trip to the human world had probably already doubled his workload, and if you were right they’d all  skipped classes for your sake, and- “MC.” He cupped your face, the look on his face told you that he knew everything you were thinking. “Not worrying about anything else, not overthinking it, do you want me here, yes or no? A simple question and two simple options.” 

“I…” You knew the answer, and he did too, trying to hold back his amusement until he could hear the answer for himself. “If...you...want to.” 

He shook his head in a defeated way. “You’re incorrigible, you know that don’t you?” With your acceptance, he took your shoulders, letting you lie down. He took the rag that had fallen off to the side, gently brushing it across your face. Under your eyes, over your cheekbones, under your chin. Then he leaned forward, his upper body resting against your bed, his head propped up under one of his hands. He gazed at you, tracing your jawline with his knuckle. The skin across his cheeks turned a light pink. “Of course I want to be with you. Not a moment goes by that I don’t desire to be at your side.” 

The fast acting medicine and the fact that you’d been so distracted by his peaceful touch, you’d totally missed what he’d told you. “Hm?” You sleepily hummed, too focused on how close his body was to yours. 

“Nothing,” he mused, making sure you were secure under the covers. “I’ll tell you once you’ve recovered. Sleep now.” 

The muscles in your body slowly woke you up, screaming at you to change positions after having slept like a stone for Diavolo-knows how long. Eyes still closed, sleep still foggy on your mind, you turned over in bed. However, even with the smallest amount of alertness you possessed, you were very aware of how...generally upsetting your body felt. Soon it was all you could focus on, forcing you awake. Groaning, mourning the comfort of sleep, you slowly stretched out your weary legs. Your feet pressed against a foreign lump in your bed. 

Mammon shot up, uncurling himself from the foot of your bed as he apparently woke up from a nap. “MC!” He crawled forward, placing both of his hands on the side of your face. “How ya feeling?” His sudden energy left you a bit winded, still trying to comprehend him caressing your face so tenderly. He let his arms drop to your shoulders. You shifted under his gaze, shaking your head. 

“Like garbage…” Hot, sweaty, gross, you felt uncomfortable in your own skin. Mammon frowned, his blue eyes wide and shimmery. He resembled a puppy for just a second, observing your face for any sort of hope that by some miracle you’d fully recovered. When he saw you were still the worst for wear, he sighed, grabbing the covers around you and tucking it against your legs. Only, the blanket wasn’t one that you owned. Running your hands over the fabric, you noticed that this was one of Lucifer’s blankets. It was lighter and cooler than the blanket you had on before. You took in the rest of your room for a moment, noticing more than one thing out of place. Mammon had been resting on one of Belphie’s pillows, one of his new expensive ones. In fact the pillow you had been sleeping on was replaced with one of Sloth’s. On your nightstand, near your box of medicine and a box of tissues was a little diffuser, one you recognized as Asmo’s. A small plume of steam flushed out of the top, a mild comforting scent spreading throughout the space. A book that wasn’t yours, a replica of some sword draped over your table, and a number of other things that had never been between your walls before were littered here and there. You tilted your head. “Where did these things come from?” You wondered.

Mammon lowered his eyelids, his hands on his hips as he settled into a more comfortable seating position beside you. “Listen, my hands get grabby sometimes when I get anxious.” 

You simply blinked at him. “You were worried?” 

His sincere expression changed as he frowned, pink touching his cheeks as he shook his head. “W-well of course! Lucifer would make sure I never saw a lick of Grimm again if something happened to you…” His voice turned to a lower mumble. “And what, you thought I wouldn’t be worried after watching you take a spill like that? Had me thinking you’d bit the dust for a second!” His eyes flickered around the room as if he was making sure you two were truly alone. Then he leaned past you, fluffing up the pillow you had been laying on. As he straightened, he pressed his hand against your forehead, his body temperature much warmer than Lucifer’s. “Never make me that worried again, yeah? I...You see...Just don’t, okay?” 

You hummed an affirming tone, nodding, a small smile creeping across your mouth. Then after the moment had passed, you shifted in your spot. You felt disgusting even after all that effort to take a shower this morning. Lucifer did say not to move too much, but right now you wanted to be clean more than anything. Pushing back the blankets encouraged a similar reaction to Lucifer’s earlier. 

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?!” Mammon scurried to his feet, standing in front of you with his arms wide to block you from moving, even though you had yet to even leave the bed. “Bed rest means staying in bed last I checked!” 

“Please, Mammon, I just want to take a shower, I’m grimy and gross. I feel like an over-steamed dumpling.” 

“Don’t let Beel hear you say that.” You managed to stand up, but your sense of balance left much to be desired. On instinct you ended up grabbing Mammon’s shoulders to keep from falling over. “Alright, nuh uh, you can barely move! What if you end up falling and cracking that head of yours open, huh?” Your mind was brought back to your morning mishap and near tumble in the shower from before. “You’re lucky you didn’t injure yourself too badly earlier!” 

Your eyes widened. “H-how did you know about that? I don’t remember telling anyone.” 

His eyebrows raised. “I’m talking about the dining hall, dummy. But now that you’ve let that little detail slip there’s not any chance I’ll let you go now! No way.” He put one arm under yours to keep you steady, ready to keep you back in bed for good. 

Gathering up what little energy you had, you took several deep breaths, gently pushing yourself away from his body until you were standing on your own, just barely stable. “Mammon, please?” It had been your goal up until now to look as far from pathetic as possible, yet now you poured all that into your expression, eyes pleading, head tilted a bit to the side. 

He squirmed. “Tch, you think you can do whatever you want just by giving me some puppy-eyes? Who do you think I am?”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I bet Asmo would let me take a shower. Maybe I should call him and have him take care of me instead.” 

“Asmo?! I...you...fine! But I’m c-coming with you, to make sure you stay safe and all.” 

You lowered your eyes at him. “You can stay outside the bathroom.” 

“I’m not payin’ for a busted door if I need to break in. I’m going inside! I’ll just turn around or somthin’.” 

He stared you down with a nature stubborn enough to match your own. In your state now, you had little time to squabble. “Fine.” You started walking, leaning against bits of furniture to keep you steady. Acting rather gentlemanly, Mammon rushed ahead of you to open your door. Once he did, he took your arm tucked against his in a sort of escorting fashion. Saying nothing, you both took steady silent steps to the bathroom. You were immensely pleased to find it unoccupied, leaving Mammon’s side to step in. Like he promised he would, he followed you inside, shutting the door before his cheeks turned dark with embarrassment. He turned, parking himself in a corner with his face to the wall. 

“I-I’ll be right here in case something happens, alright?” For him to come this far for you was...The added heat rushing through your body only caused you to feel worse, so you flicked on the water to heat up as you stripped. As you were taking off your pants, balancing on one leg, you teetered to the side, nearly falling. The tub right next to you served as your saving grace. You panted, cursing at yourself for being so clumsy. “You alright?!” Mammon clasped his hands over his face before turning around. “MC?” Riddled with nervous anxiety, he danced back and forth on his feet. 

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. Just barely. You planted your foot against the fabric of your pants, tugging your other leg out. “Just keep looking at that wall.” You questioned the idea of him being in here at first, but now you were beginning to have little trust in yourself. What if you did collapse, locked, exposed inside an empty room till someone came looking for you? You shuddered. Climbing into the shower, you pulled the curtains across the rod until you were completely concealed. You let out a breath of relief as the steam once again cleared up your airways, the pressure building up in your head loosening. Shutting your eyes, you let the water wash over you, cleaning off the sticky sweat that had clung to your body. You simply stood there for a few moments, appreciating the serenity. Then you figured it would be best to get yourself clean while you had the capacity to. Reaching down for the soaps you used, you washed your hair and vigorously scrubbed down your body, envisioning all the germs swirling down the drain. Although by the time you were done, you became aware of the fact that you might’ve made the water a bit too hot, and you might’ve once again pushed yourself a little too far. Nausea came along with the dizziness, the floor losing it’s feeling of solidity. After you turned the water off, you tore the shower curtain back, stepping onto the bathroom mat. 

“You done?” Mammon asked. Right now, all you could do was grunt in response. The small burst of energy you possessed had plummeted. You bypassed the towels and straight for your clothes. Only, the clothes you had been wearing previously were gone. On cue, Mammon explained. “Oh I got you some pajamas. Not good to be lying in those same clothes all day, besides, I got you something comfier.” Folded up on the floor by the tub were a comfortable pair of your pajamas. Pushing aside your humiliation, you picked up the “pajamas” he’d picked out for you. One of your shorts and...one of his t-shirts. It was one he had bought on a whim, much like most of his other purchases. Merch from an action movie you and him had watched in the theaters a while ago. He loved this thing. You could only stare at it for a few seconds. Mammon was right, these would be much nicer to sleep in. 

With a meek voice you started slipping into the new outfit, still dripping. “T-thank you.” You had hardly finished poking your head through the shirt before your knees began to tremble. Your head felt foggy, your mind threatening to slip. “M-Mammon,” you gulped, your voice shaking. 

He spun around, eyes squeezed shut. “What? What is it? Are you bleeding? Are you hurt? Are you dressed? Can I look?” As soon as you ‘mm-hm’ed he flashed his eyes open, took in the sight of your shuddering frame before hurrying over to you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head for a moment, the world disappearing as you plummeted to the floor. You woke up in his arms hardly a few seconds after your fainting spell. Held tightly against his body, he wrapped his limbs around you, supporting you to keep you upright. “Hey, hey!” His voice shook as he squeezed you. “MC!” 

“ ‘s too...hot.” 

“Stupid human…” He muttered, his rugged tone falling short. “And you’re still drenched! Are you trying to make yourself even worse?” When his sharp remarks were met with your silence, he pulled you closer. “Ah...Really not good, huh?” He asked softly, one of his hands rubbing your back. You could only slowly shake your head. “Let’s get you back to bed, eh?” He brushed some damp hair away from your face before he dragged you out the door, his distress growing ever more visible the more you seemed to slump harder against him. It felt like an eternity inching back to your room, flopping facedown onto your bed as soon as it was in your sights. The mattress bobbed up and down, the movement surprisingly soothing, almost lulling your body to a light sleep right then and there. “Alright, come on. It’ll do you no good to fall asleep like that.” Mammon helped lift you up, letting you settle your head against his body, arms wrapped around his neck as he worked to get you back under the covers. He tucked you in, moving about the room nervously the less responsive you became. Shutting your eyes to conserve some energy, you listened to him curse under his breath, grumbling to himself about “fragile humans”. At some point, a dry fabric came into contact with the top of your head. You were pushed slightly to make some space for him to sit down. He adjusted you till your head was in his lap, the fabric massaging against your wet hair. “Stupid human…” He repeated, softly scrubbing the towel against your scalp. “Why’d you have to go and get yourself sick, huh?” 

“...didn’t...mean to...I’m sorry…” 

The motions across your head stopped, then you felt the back of his hand stroke against your cheek. “Now don’t sound like that...Do you know how much it hurts me to see ya like this?” He paused and then resumed ensuring your hair was as dry as he could get it. “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be right here for you till you feel better, alright?” His voice sounded strained. “So ya better get better…” You cracked your eyes open, pushing yourself up. “What’re you doing? I-“ He quickly cut himself off as soon as you settled yourself between his legs, head against his chest. You could hear his throat casually gasp for breath. His nose came down to nestle against the top of your head, his arms dropping the towel, instead wrapping around your body. “Don’t do this for anyone but me, ya hear? Only I...only I want to take care of you like this.” He pulled the blanket up around the both of you, his soft breaths growing deeper and deeper. Eventually you both fell asleep. 

Your mind was flooded with more fever dreams, clips and scenes of moments your conscious mind wouldn’t even know how to explain. It blurred the line between what was real and what was simply your imagination, so in the moment, when you were disturbed from your sleep, you didn’t even react. Your body was moved, flipped over, weightless, moved from the soft surface you were on to something firmer. You could only process it for a mere second before you were plunged back into a nonsensical plot your frayed mind came up with. After what felt like some time, you were just barely awoken again when harsh and hushed whispers buzzed in your ears. 

“They shouldn’t be down here!” 

“So cute! I mean, poor thing.” 

“Are they still asleep?”

“Take them back.” 

Once you realized that this was real, you slowly became aware of more things around you. As tired numbness left your limbs, you felt your arms pinned against your body, something around you constricted your movement. Panic struck you for only just a second, feeling that your blanket was simply wrapped around your body. You figured in your restless state you must’ve trapped yourself inside it. An involuntary groan escaped your mouth as you squirmed a little, moving your feet in an attempt to feel an escape. 

Something outside of you moved you, tugging you tighter against something firm, a pressure rubbing circles into your back. It soothed you enough to keep you from struggling, but you were steadily waking up. The “wall” you were against vibrated as a deep voice rumbled out of it. “I just thought...it wouldn’t feel like a family dinner without them.” Your body was adjusted again, lifted to be propped up against what you now understood was a torso. One strong arm kept you still, draped against your back. 

“S-surely you can’t hold them and eat at the same time, Beel,” someone muttered. “Why don’t you let your big bro hold em?” 

The body holding you tightened around you, shielding you. “No.” 

“Don’t underestimate him.” 

“Should we wake them up?” 

“Don’t humans heal faster when they sleep?”

Someone else let out an exhausted breath. “Fine, but they’re to be put back in bed once you’re done.” 

The chest your head was against hummed with satisfaction. “Got it.” Soon, quiet but eager eating noises could be heard outside your muffled prison. If you connected the dots correctly, you were resting against Beel who had brought you down to dinner while you had been asleep. Was this a brief glance into what Belphie felt like? Albeit with more comfort and less...pain. Although he’d probably beg to differ. Right now, you couldn’t even pinpoint where the source of your suffering was coming from. It just seemed to be...all over, even down to the tips of your fingers. Even if you had wanted to move, you didn’t have the energy for it, so despite being almost wide awake at this point, you stayed in place. You tried to focus on anything else to keep your mind off the aching. Beel’s heart sounded like a distant drum. Burying your face closer against his body, you let out a small whimper, focusing on the melodic thumping of his healthy heart. You could even hear the pace speed up as your cheek pressed up against him. 

“Beel, you alright?” 

The sound of eating stopped, and a clink of something metallic against glass sounded before a second arm enveloped you, a hand settled at the back of your head. “I’ll eat in a little bit,” Beel whispered. 

“In a--” 

“Shhhh! Shut up, Mammon!” 

“I mean…” The voice returned to barely audible. “Whadda sayin’ ‘in a bit’? You’re not sick again are ya?” Beel didn’t grace anyone with a response. You were gently squeezed in his hug, a weight coming down on top of your head, presumably his chin. The hand behind your head moved to the space between your shoulder blades, moving up and down in rhythmic strokes along your spine. It was uncanny, you thought, how he almost immediately knew how desperate you were for some comfort. Or maybe he was just perceptive like that. If anyone would be, it would be Beel. 

“How are they feeling?” Someone asked. 

Cooler air poured against your face as the space left for you to breathe was made wider. Light from the dining hall illuminated outside your eyelids. Beel’s hand pressed against your forehead, moving down to cup your cheeks. Out of everyone, he always ran the warmest, bordering on nearly being a walking furnace. And yet even he moaned in unease, his stomach groaning alongside him in worry. “Still too hot,” he announced. You allowed yourself to flicker your eyes open, looking up at him just as he moved his hand away. Both his eyebrows raised in surprise before he quickly frowned. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.” You figured that now that everyone knew you were up, it would be time to move. Sitting up straighter in your spot, you wiggled one of your arms out of your cocoon, pulling the fabric of your blanket off your head, letting it settle around your waist. You rubbed spots out from your vision, blinking as you soaked in the sight of the room. 

Asmo politely dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, settling it back in his lap before addressing you with the sweetest pair of eyes. “Good evening, darling! How’re you feeling?” 

You had half of a mind to try to play the “I’m fine” card, but with your fit with Satan and fainting scare with Mammon, it would be no use to even try to pretend you were fine. So you didn’t see the harm in being honest. “Like I’ve been to hell and back.” 

“You are in hell,” Belphie quipped. 

“You know what I mean.” You turned your head and glanced up, your heart pounding more prominently when you once again realized just how big Beel was compared to you, an otherworldly size. Sweeping away your embarrassment, you started tugging at the blanket to free your legs, moving to leave his lap. “Sorry, Beel.” 

His hand grabbed one of your wrists. “What do you mean?” He tugged at you, repositioning you firmer in his lap. “You didn’t do anything.” His beautiful amethyst irises stared right into yours. “I wanted you here. Meals aren’t the same without you.” He pat the top of your head, letting his fingers scratch gently into your scalp. In most situations, you’d find your open vulnerability to be embarrassing, but right now you couldn’t care less. You leaned back into him, nestling your nose into his chest, using his body to block out the light. Beel gripped the blanket and pulled it back up to settle around your shoulders. 

“Speaking of meals,” Lucifer started. “It’s about time MC had something to eat.” 

Satan spoke up. “Do we even have anything decent enough for sick humans to have?” The brothers went back and forth for a while, bringing recommendations hypothetically to the table about what would be best for you. 

“Belphie knows the most about humans, what do you think?” Beel wondered. 

A lone monotone hum rang out for a moment. “I think it was stew or something like that.” 

A strange bout of irritation drilled in you. You turned your head, addressing the group. “You know you could just ask the human right here. I might be sick but I’m not completely helpless.” 

Brusque tones usually granted you grating glares, but even Lucifer seemed to give you a pass. “So?” The eldest questioned. “Tell us what you need and we can get it for you.” 

Something about that knocked the rebellious wind out of you. You lowered your head a bit and sighed. “Don’t even worry about it, I’m not hungry anyway.” A bold statement to claim whilst sitting in the lap of Gluttony. 

Shaking you lightly, Beel squinted at you. “You’ve barely eaten all day.” The expression on his face turned Lucifer levels of stern. It wasn’t an appearance he took too often. Even now you knew this was a losing battle. A flash of a memory popped up in your mind, one of when Beel had been sick. You pressed your lips together into a thin line. 

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Beel--” 

“MC. Eat.” His flat tone trembled throughout his body, sending a shudder through you. Lucifer was always strict, so it never caught you off guard, not anymore. But when Beel got this way it pierced through everyone in the room. As if they’d been the one commanded, everyone took a single bite of their meal. 

You gave in, your stature shrinking. “Fine...something light then. Soup’s fine. I’ll go get some…” 

Beel’s arms wrapped around you again, keeping you to him. “No you won’t. Levi.” 

The third-born almost yelped, sinking down into his seat before stuttering. “S-sure, I-I’ll get it…” As he headed to the kitchen you could hear him grumble. “Of course he had to pick me. Why me? It’s always me…” You felt a bit sorry for the otaku as he slunk away. In fact you almost felt sorry for everyone in the room. Even just alluding to the skip of a meal had Beel suddenly tense, on alert. He had you held against him in a guarded manner, his torso bent forward to lean over what he could of yours. He didn’t settle back down till Levi came back in a handful of minutes later, resting a bowl of soup in front of you. It was of human origins you assumed, it looked like regular chicken noodle. The aroma had bits of nostalgia bubble within you. And now that it was here, you hated to admit that you actually were hungry. 

You reached over to try to grab a spoon, falling just a bit short of the table’s edge. Beel’s arms were admittedly much longer than yours, not needing to sit as close as you usually did. Beel grasped a clean utensil for you, getting a decent portion of stock in it’s dip. He held his other hand under the spoon to make sure he didn’t spill any, then he brought it over to you. Did you try to deny it? Maybe a little, but Beel’s spine-chilling glower had you reconsider. You opened your mouth and let him feed you. The hot broth slid down your sore throat easily, relieving some of the pain. As it warmed you up from the inside, Beel finally went back to smiling, everyone breathing in relief. “See, doesn’t it make you feel better?” Beel brought a new spoonful to your lips. 

You swallowed again and admittedly nodded. “A bit.” 

Out of the blue, Beel brought his face down, planting a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Some of his siblings gasped, but if the demon of gluttony heard it, he pretended he hadn’t. His free hand went back to rubbing your back, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t nice, the many sensations driving some of the pain from your mind. “Good,” Beel beamed. “Remember, your body needs fuel to keep going.” 

“I know…” The parallel between now and when he had been sick was almost perfect. Beel took the bowl in his hands, bringing it over to settle in your lap, keeping it steady in his hold. “Isn’t it hot?” You asked, worried he’d burn his skin. 

“Not to me,” he assured you. 

You sighed, taking the spoon from him so you could eat yourself. “Thank you for always looking out for me, Beel.”

You expected him to be pleased, but he quickly turned downcast. “I couldn’t protect you from this.” Heart breaking, all you could do was stare down into your lap, watching the broth gently swirl in the bowl. This had mostly been your fault. If you had done something just a bit differently, maybe…

“No, Beel, that wasn’t your fault,” Belphie spoke up, pushing his plate with his leftovers on it closer to his twin to finish. “Besides, it’s your job now to take care of MC now more than ever, right?” 

Beel turned his head away from the food, peering down at you in his lap. He nodded once, bringing his head down to press his forehead to yours. “You’re right. Sick or not, I’ll always watch over them.” 

After dinner, Beel carried you back up to bed, reluctant to let you be free of his arms, but he managed. After giving you one last once-over and another little kiss to your temple, he hurried back down to the dining hall. After all, he was far from having his fill of food. Lucifer had followed the two of you inside, taking your temperature once more. 100.7, still higher than he’d prefer it to be, but glad to discover it had gone down even if just by a hair. He allowed you to take some medicine and urged you to get some more rest. Flicking the light off, he wished you sweet dreams before he left, torn away from you by work he couldn’t ignore. Although, even with the comfort of your bed and the satisfying feeling of something warm in your belly, for the first time, slumber eluded you. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired--exhaustion might as well have been your permanent state at this point--but shutting your mind off, drifting away into peaceful bliss didn’t seem like an option right now. 

You spent a few hours on your D.D.D. scrolling through posts and web-pages, anything to keep you occupied. Although, that eventually bored you after a while. You sat up, trying to not let the loneliness of your empty room consume you. Had everyone gone to bed already? Had you already gotten used to falling asleep with someone beside you? That couldn’t be the case, right? You slowly got out from under your covers, padding over to the door. Maybe if you walked around the House of Lamentation enough, you’d be able to go to bed. You were feeling a bit better, capable of moving around on your own at the very least. You entered the empty hallway, the midnight moon rays creeping across the rug settled across the stone floor. The branches outside the windows cast twisted shadows across the corridor. Some people might’ve found it dreadful, but whether it was your own stranger tastes or the fact that you’d been down here so long, you found it to be serene in a mystical sort of way. 

Drifting through the halls like a weary ghost patrolling the perimeter, you wandered past each of the brother’s rooms. The house was surprisingly still. Before you knew it, you ended up in the music room. Shifting your feet towards the gorgeous ebony piano, your fingers brushed lightly over the ivory keys. Pushing down a low B, the note reverberated through the room, your skin tingling at the broken silence. It quenched some of your boredom. So you pushed another one, the lowest note this time, the deep tone rumbling through you. 

“Having fun are we?” 

You jumped, every hair across your body standing up on end. Swirling around, you met a pair of ruby eyes in the shadows. A string of curses left your lips. “What in hell’s name are you doing, Lucifer? Nearly scared me to death…” You pressed a hand to your beating chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You sunk to your knees, the wind knocked out of you. 

He stepped further into the light, arms crossed, almost fuming. “I could ask you the same question. Once again I have to wonder, what are you doing out of bed? Are you that determined not to recover, is that it?” Hair slightly messy, well-tailored pajamas barely creased, you figured he must’ve just gotten out of bed, possibly disturbed before he could fall asleep. It would explain the death glare he was giving you. 

“I...couldn’t sleep,” you answered truthfully, followed by an innocent little shrug. 

With two fingers, he pinched at the bridge of his nose. “And so Levi just let you waltz around on your own?” 

You tilted your head. “Levi?” 

Something dawned on him with your confused question. A terrifying smile arched over his face, the corners twitching as the small amount of light in the room was snuffed out by his menacing aura. “Leviathan…” Yelping at the sudden movement, Lucifer hoisted you over one of his shoulders, gliding across the floor at a ridiculous pace until he was in front of Levi’s room. You wiggled, beating a gentle fist against Lucifer’s back. 

“Let me down!” 

He let you slide off of him, settling you back on your feet, but he quickly grasped one of your hands to keep you to his side. Despite his furious demeanor, he gently knocked on the door, waiting for approximately two seconds before knocking harder. “Levi!”

You heard the otaku approach his door before he swung it open. “What?! I’m in the middle of a very important raid! What could you possibly need--” The entrance to the room cracked open, Levi sticking his head out before all the color drained from his face. The tangerine hue of his eyes flickering from you to his older brother, the demon with paper-thin patience. Levi gulped, the little bump in his throat bobbing.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I inform you that you would be keeping an eye on MC tonight?” The higher lilt in his question was laced with hostility. “Or maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” You felt a pang of guilt for the demon of envy. 

“Lucifer,” you urged, tugging at his hand which kept you in a vice grip. “I’ll go back to bed, it’s not an issue.” He was ready to blow a gasket, the weariness of dealing with work and keeping his brother’s shenanigans at bay without your assistance clearly was affecting him. Who knew he’d come to depend on you this much? You reached up, rubbing his shoulder with the sweetest look you could come up with. “Please, don’t be angry.” 

Shutting his eyes, squeezing your hand, he gave himself time to breathe. “MC, rest. Levi, take care of them. And no, I’m not asking.” The dark circles under Lucifer’s eyes almost seemed to run blacker, his irises duller than they should’ve been. 

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” you comforted him. “Go get some sleep yourself.” 

His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. “The sick shouldn't be fussing over the hale and whole, you know, but I will. I shall see you tomorrow.” He brought your hand up, kissing it before he let it go. “And, Levi.” The demon of envy flinched, hoping that he’d been forgotten. “I’ll see you tomorrow as well.” 

Levi hung his head low as his older brother walked away, preemptively sniffling at his possible doom. “...and my raid is ruined…T-this is just the worst.” You were a bit sorry for Levi for being thrown at you like this, but you couldn’t help but wonder in the back of your mind if he...had forgotten about you. You watched the outline of Lucifer disappear into the darkness before you shivered. The temperature inside the house was dropping. “Huh?” Levi snapped out of his pitiful thoughts. “Are you-are you cold?” 

“A little…” 

“O-oh, I guess...maybe...Would it be alright if you stayed in my room tonight?” His stance shifted behind his door, anxiously moving his gaze around to keep from making direct eye contact with you. 

Sighing, you nodded. After all, with the adrenaline crash, you doubted you had energy left to walk back to your room. “Sure.” 

He let you in, shutting the door behind you and locking it with a magical charm to keep the riff-raff out. He scurried over to his tub-bed, pulling out some random plush collectibles, and letting them rest against the floor for now. He spun on his feet for a moment, taking in his room before bringing his thumb up to bite on the nail of it. “Y-you can stay anywhere, I have some blankets I guess...Gah! Why did Lucifer have to make me watch you?” The heart in your chest sank a bit, and you lowered your head, a small “oh” leaving your lips. Clutching his hair, Levi immediately regretted what he said. “No! No no no no, that’s-that’s not what I-I-I--” He stuttered for a good while, unable to grasp proper control of his tongue. “Wait, wait!” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he picked up one last Ruri-Chan plush from the bed, covering part of his face with it. “I just...I don’t remember the last time I took care of someone sick…Knowing me, I-I’ll somehow make you worse! What-what if I’m forced to make a split second decision that could be the-the difference between life and death?! I’ll end up killing you! Living the rest of my life in isolated drunken regret!” 

He quickly spiraled down a slippery slope of what-ifs, a dramatic fantasy playing out before him where he’d been cast out of the Devildom as your murderer, a disgusting vagabond, living on wildberries and wildlife with naught but his loneliness and shadow to keep him company. His rising anxiety was making him hyperventilate. You had to come over to him, gently take his shoulders and shake him slightly, dragging him back to reality. “Levi, I highly, highly doubt it will come to that. When Lucifer means ‘take care of me’ he mostly means making sure I have what I need.” You gave the sides of his arms a little rub. 

“But I don’t know what you need!” 

“Well, what I need right now is for you to calm down, first off,” you told him, dropping your hands back to your sides, gripping the end of the tub. Climbing into his bed had never really been an issue before, but hoisting yourself over the edge proved difficult a task. You felt his shaky hands come under your arms, hoisting you enough till you could sink yourself into his nest of pillows. You grinned, thanking him as you reached up to rub the top of his head. “See? Stuff like that, nothing too difficult. Fetch quests and escort missions. Easy mode. I’ll be here, just do your own thing.” 

That seemed to ease him enough. He gripped one of his blankets and pulled it over you, moving back over to his desk. Muttering about the raid, he clacked at the keys, his mood steadily improving the more he lost himself in the world of gaming. You felt at the fabric of your pants, remembering with a small moan that they didn’t have pockets...meaning you’d left your D.D.D. in your room. Figures, you thought. So, in your last ditch effort to stay entertained, you moved Levi’s pillows around, making a small wall to prop yourself against, peering over the top of the basin to stare at his screen. You watched his character move around, fighting random enemies. He was completely absorbed, lightly talking to himself as he moved along, humming the victory theme anytime a quest was completed. At one point, he was paying too much attention to a beautifully fleshed out character model to notice what they were telling him, information that he needed to know but missed out on. After that, he was sent towards a boss that ended up instantly killing him when it finished charging up its “claymore of chaos’ move. Levi tried one more time, then three more times, and then about twenty. “What the heck?! How am I supposed to beat you?!” Levi finally shouted, pushing himself slightly away from his desk. 

Speaking up for the first time in a few hours, you shared with him the information he missed. “You’re supposed to use your Mystical Missile spell.” 

He jumped, almost falling out of his chair. “I thought you were asleep!” 

“I still can’t sleep…I don’t know why.” You pulled your blanket tighter around you, peeking at him from your spot. A blush ran over his cheeks, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Oh...Really? Mystical Missile? But it’s a trashy beginner spell.” 

“That NPC lady said it would work, I dunno.” You shrugged. “Try it out, it can’t hurt.” 

So he did, removing one of his high level skills to equip the basic one. Severely doubting success, he entered the boss arena again. It was admittedly tense, keeping you both on the edge of your seat. Once “claymore of chaos” was building, Levi let the spell fly towards him. The boss staggered, a crack forming in it’s armor. “It worked!” He shouted, yelping as a new flurry of enemy spells flew towards his character.  If it was entertainment you were looking for, you found it, cheering him on as he hunched over, focused on his every move. Once it went down, you both whooped and cheered. It had been a bit too much for your lungs, dissolving into some coughs. Levi rushed to his feet, rubbing your back. “You okay?” 

You nodded, letting your body shudder with a few more hacks till it was done. Voice more hoarse than before, you still smiled at him. “You did it!” 

A laugh bubbled out of him. “Victory! Dun dun dun! Legendary item acquired!” Then his expression fell for a second. “Have you just been sitting there, watching me the whole time?” You nodded. He gripped one of his hoodie sleeves. “Would you rather do something...together?” 

You brightened. “Sure!” 

Giddy, he hurried over to the computer, picking up his loot before saving the game, closing the program. “If you’re in the mood for watching something, how about this new anime I found? I’m only a few episodes in, but I can start over! It’s called ‘I Transferred To A New School, But Everyone There Is Part Of The Elite, So I Have To Try And Keep Up With My Classmates Despite Me Being Normal, But I Accidentally Fooled The School Into Thinking I’m A Long Lost Heir To A Forgotten Throne’.” 

Blinking, you stared at him. “You lost me at Elite.” Why the Devildom had anime with titles the length of chapters, you’d never know. 

“It’s good! I promise!” He shifted his monitor so you could see it from your spot easier, turning the anime on with an elated aura, much nicer than the gloom-and-doom one from earlier. This was the Levi you loved to see, the one you tried to cherish as much as you could. He sat in his chair, scooting back till he was beside you so you could watch it together. It was a cute anime, something mostly a slice of life, a normal main character in a school setting surrounded by powerful beings, the plot moved forward with magical shenanigans...something about it sounded familiar. One of the episodes showed the main character fallen ill under some strange circumstance, their roommate they stayed with flustered but determined to take care of them. The friend--and obvious love interest--asked if he could hold the protagonist’s hand. Levi made a little noise. “MC, c-can I hold your hand? I mean, if that’s super weird don’t even listen to me because who would even want to hold hands with me anyway and--” 

“Sure,” you smiled, reaching your hand out from the blanket a little. 

He hesitated for a second and then took it, resuming to watch the show. Much to your amusement, any move the character made, he made as well, taking it as if it were some sort of guide. He brushed the hair from your face, made sure the blanket was tucked gently around you, ensured you were comfortable. Then, the friend in the show made a bold move, snuggling next to the main character as they both fell asleep. Levi went stiff, becoming extremely flustered. You had to admit, the concept was...enticing, and you almost leapt at any opportunity to tease envy. You tugged at his hand, making him look at you with your arms outstretched. If this had been an anime, he would’ve collapsed, his soul flying from his mouth. But even Levi couldn’t resist the temptation. He stepped into his bed, slowly, warily at first. He let you take him into your arms, wrapping his own body around you as you both squeezed together in the tub. “I...I...This is...a dream…” 

You chuckled, settling your head on his chest, feeling his motoring heart pound in his chest. “Let’s watch some more, Levi.” Only, you hardly remembered anything after that. For shortly after he curled against you, the strange barrier keeping you awake completely collapsed. He had draped the blanket over you both, fidgeting with the hair at the nape of your neck. You must’ve turned your head against him, comforted enough by his presence to fall asleep.

“Medicine?” 

“Right here.” 

“Water?” 

“You brought me like a gallon’s worth.” 

“D.D.D.?” 

“You can see it in my hands.” 

Lucifer went down the list, the actual written list he’d come up. You sat in bed, trying hard not to blush and squirm under the many gazes in your room this morning. “Extra blankets?” 

“I have everything and anything needed to last an entire week in solitary!” You shook your head, a little irate at each of them, but appreciating their concern all the same. Icepacks, blankets, snacks, water, bandages, and many other things were brought in your room in preparation. “You all are only going to a Student Council meeting, not off on some lengthy business trip.” 

“Absolutely right!” Asmo shouted, sitting next to you in bed, hugging you to him and caressing your cheek against his. “It’s some stupid meeting anyway, which means one of us can stay can’t we?” 

Every member of the household was already shouting reasons why they and they alone should have the opportunity to stay with you. Lucifer’s little vein above his eyebrow throbbed. “Enough!” The room went silent. “As much as I would love to permit myself to stay home,” he cleared his throat, “not a single one of us can miss today’s meeting. Which is why I’m taking every precaution. EDP?” 

You gently pushed Asmo off of you, raising an eyebrow. The demon of lust pouted, stroking your head instead. “What’s an EDP?” You asked. 

“An EDP is a short term we use for an Emergency Defense Pillar,” Satan explained. “A popular and fairly new little device in the Devildom, especially for lesser magic users or those who aren’t trained in combat.” 

“I’m still at a loss,” you admitted. “Is it like a baton or something?” 

Rummaging around in his pockets, Mammon brandished a small black object. It was cylindrical, about as big as a lighter, a glowing red button on the side. “I brought it! Now, let me teach you, human. If you’re being chased or cornered, this handy lil’ doodad is going to be essential if you wanna escape. You just push this little button here, and--” 

Lucifer’s chest tightened. “Mammon, don’t!” 

The second born pressed the button, his mistake just now clicking in his mind, chucking it a bit in front of him. Asmo grabbed you and tucked you against his chest, pushing your back to the wall while he shielded you with his body. Every other brother hit the floor, jumping away from the object. A huge pillar of fire sprouted from the object, swirling blue flames emitting intense heat as well as a roaring sound. It nearly burnt your eyes. Asmo tucked your head into his shoulder, waiting until the fire was suddenly sucked back into the small container, rattling against the floor. Your protector pulled away from you, letting you stare at the pitch black circle burnt into your ceiling and floor, a round chunk taken out of your carpet, some fibers still flickering. Lucifer came over and snuffed out the singed pieces with his shoe, the vein in his head more prominent. He was about to shout but you beat him to it. “That’s absolutely unnecessary! In what scenario would I need to use that?! Is there even a safety on that thing?!” 

A little sheepish, Mammon picked himself back up off the floor. “Well, you’ve gotten the best visual example you can get. You’re welcome.” 

“I don’t want it, someone take it with them,” you groaned. “What if I end up accidentally getting flame-broiled in my sleep?”  

Beel closed his eyes. “Flame-broiled hell bats…” 

Lucifer bent down and picked up the EDP from the floor. “Perhaps this is a bit too dangerous.” 

“Glad we can see eye to eye on that one…” You tapped the screen of your D.D.D., noticing that the time to the meeting was rapidly approaching. “You guys have fifteen minutes! Stop worrying about me and get out of here!” 

Many wide-eyed demons scrambled to get out your door, knowing that the punishment for being late was not something they wanted to risk. Even Lucifer was rushed, booking it out of your room. Then he popped his head in. “You’ll call if anything happens?” 

“Yes.” 

He left again, the door shutting. It burst back open, his overprotective nature coming to light. “You have your alerts on, right?” 

You chuckled, you couldn’t prevent yourself from doing so. “Yes, mother hen, now go!” He growled, but this time left for good, the uproar from the group slowly fading away. Once more, you shook your head, staring at the charcoal colored circle against your ceiling. “They’re insane,” you stated aloud. 

“Truly,” someone replied. You yelped, chucking the closest pillow at the sudden voice. Solomon caught it, laughing. “Sorry for startling you. The demons are gone, I’m assuming?” He walked back over, handing you your plushy ammo. 

“They just left. Why are you here?” You took the pillow from him, settling it in your lap as you crossed your legs over your mattress. 

He pulled an upset face. “Why do you sound so suspicious? I’m here to check up on you. I had to make sure those demons were taking care of you properly.” He grabbed a chair from your table, scooting up by the bedside. He spotted the hard-to-miss burns and sighed. “Maybe I should’ve gotten here sooner. Oh well, an easy fix. Spirits of twine and stone, turn back the time to whence this matter was well known, heed the Sorcerer Solomon!” Flowing restorative magic rushed over the floor and ceiling, soaking into the atoms, leaving it as perfect as it had been earlier. Actually, almost better than how it had been before. Not even the smell of burning remained. In a small flourish, he stretched out his hands. “Ta-da.” 

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “And the brothers have been taking care of me just fine. I don’t have a fever anymore.” 

He reached his hand out, thumb brushing across your face, he hummed to himself before pulling you gently, pressing his lips to your forehead. You gasped a little, covering your mouth as your face burned. He sat back, nodding. “You feel much better.” He caught your expression, trying to stifle a smirk. “Hm? I was simply taking your temperature.” 

Composing yourself, you tightly gripped the pillow in your hands. “Kinda an old method, don’t you think?” 

“I prefer traditional practices,” he shared. “But that wasn’t the main reason I came over.” 

“Oh?” You’ll admit, at first the EDP had seemed utterly ridiculous, but in this dreaded scenario, you almost wished to have it in your hands. Solomon pushed back his cloak, reaching behind his back and pulling out a fresh steaming plate of food. Already you felt sweat bead across your face. “A-ah, how nice of Simeon to make me something.” It was more of a personal wish, although you knew that it wasn’t going to be the case. 

“Not Simeon, actually. I made it!” He beamed, completely oblivious. “How long has it been since you’ve had a home-cooked human meal?” 

“N-not too long ago actually, and-I-um-the brothers made sure to feed me before they left so-” 

“Surely you can have a few bites, right?” He pleaded. “I made sure to add all kinds of ingredients I know have some healing properties, so I’m sure it’ll enhance the flavor. Here, no need to waste extra energy, let me feed you. Say ah.” 

“MC!” The sound of someone frantically calling your name in the distance slowly brought you to. “MC!” Something snapped as you moved, pain coursing through your entire body. You opened your eyes, not able to see much through the leaves. Wait...leaves? The smell of earth and roses rushed to your nose. That and the thorns trapping you and piercing you were enough to tell you what you needed to know. You were somehow entangled in a rose bush. The voice sounded again, closer this time. “MC, where are you?!” 

Audio recognition kicked in, able to place the voice. Tilting your head back, you put all the power you could into your shout. “Belphie!” There was silence for a while, and white hot panic settled in your stomach...or maybe that was. Oh that was right…

Suddenly the leaves were pulled back, Belphie’s head staring down at you. “This is new for you.” 

You tried to move, but your clothes were stuck in the thorn’s clutches, not to mention any movement you made drove the bush’s claws deeper into your skin. “I…I think I’m stuck.” 

“Wow, that really sucks for you.” 

“Belphie!” You tried sitting up, a sharp pain in your cheek causing you to hiss, drawing in breath through your teeth. Something drifted down your cheek, the taste of bitter copper coming across your lips. Blood. “P-please help me.”

“I was only joking. Don’t move, you’ll make things worse.” He tugged at some of the branches, the disruption poking you some more. Tugging at your sleeve, he detangled your shoulder, working on your lower arm next. 

“Ow, ow, ooooow,” you whined. 

“Don’t be such a baby.” Leaning down a bit too far, one of the thorns pricked him right in the thumb. He cursed, threatening to leave you alone once you laughed. “You’re really scratched up…” He frowned as he gestured to many thin red scratches across your body. You whimpered again, reaching up at him to tug you free. Sloth kicked in, his impatience to take his time fluttered away. He basically flattened the bush with his feet, breaking the twigs stuck to you with his hands. His arms wrapped around your torso, tugging you up, the sound of some fabric tearing as he did. He sighed, taking you a few steps away from the bush before letting you slide past his arms, flopping to the soil. He came down to kneel beside you, grabbing thorns and leaves out of your hair, rubbing a thumb over the small wound on your cheek. “When you wonder why we worry about leaving you alone, this is why. How long have you been napping in bushes?” 

“I…” A sudden chill overtook you, your stomach and the food...you remembered the food Solomon had fed you. The taste...torture. You could feel it in your throat. 

“MC?” You pushed Belphie away, scrambling on your hands and knees to another unfortunate set of flora. Without nitty gritty details, let’s just say your body had the smart idea to not keep Solomon’s food in you any longer. Trembling, you coughed up the last of it, cold sweat dripping down your face. Belphie’s hands touched your back. “You’re not going to be sick on me, are you?” You didn’t respond to him, trying to catch your breath. He mumbled, pulling you into his lap. Covered in dirt and sweat, you curled into him, shivering. Then the both of you watched in slight horror as all the plants planted around your...expulsed poison all wilted at once, almost crumbling to dust. “Wicked father of demons…” Belphie breathed. “What the hell did you eat?” 

You only needed to utter one word for him to understand everything entirely. “Solomon…” 

“Dear Diavolo…I’m lucky to have found you alive.” He whipped his head around. “He’s not still here is he?” 

You shook your head, rubbing at the saliva on your lips. “I don’t remember...I don’t remember leaving my room…I don’t remember…” 

Working hard to get to his feet, he lifted you along with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs against his body, groaning into him. “Alright, I guess we’re doing this now.” He held onto you, sidestepping past the destroyed flora and towards the house. “I’m just telling you this now though, if Solomon is still here, I will leave you.” 

Reaching up his neck, you grasped tightly onto some of his hairs. “I will drag you down with me.” 

“Confident words for someone I’m carrying like a baby,” he snickered, but he let the witty back and forth drop as he entered the house. For a moment, he stood still, taking in the air of the place. “I think we’re good,” he announced, but continuing to take wary steps up the stairs. He picked up the pace in the hallways, sneaking away towards the familiar spiral staircase that led it’s way up to the attic. The doors he pushed open were heavy in more ways than one. Quietly shutting it behind the two of you, he headed over to the bed. A jolting ticklish pain raced down your body as Belphie jabbed his fingers against your waist. “Off, parasite.” You relinquished your grasp as fast as you could, flopping onto the attic mattress. You crawled up, sliding under the covers, planting your face into the nearest pillow. Right when you thought you were recovering, you were back to being bed-ridden. Belphie left you alone in silence for a minute. When he came back, you had to take a moment to realize he had ever been gone. He was stealthy like that. He dropped a small first-aid kit as well as a bottle of water on the blanket. “Come here.” 

“But I-” 

“But I,” he mocked. “But I don’t care. I need to look after some of those scratches.” Huffing, you dramatically threw the blanket to the side, coming over to sit in front of him. Taking the water bottle in hand, you gratefully moved to take a hearty swig to wash down some of the acid. Belphie grabbed it from you before you could. “Not for drinking.” He twisted the cap off and pulled out a small clean washcloth from his pockets. He pressed the fabric against the opening and tilted the bottle up, getting the rag slightly wet. He then pressed it against your cheek. “We don’t want these infected.” Slowly, he dabbed at each of your shallow scratches, making sure they were clear of dirt. Once he was done with that, he shoved the remaining water at you. 

“I don’t want your rag water.” 

“Fine.” 

But the acidity in your mouth was grating against your teeth. You snatched the bottle from him, swallowing some grateful gulps to cease the gentle burning. Belphie had a mild cocky expression, wiping away the blood. Closing an eye due to slight stinging, you watched his concentrated face. “So…” You started, watching him soon open the box and remove a small tube of medicated ointment. “Why’re you home?” 

Squeezing a small amount of the clear gel on the tip of his finger, he started applying it to your cleaned wounds. “Oh, I snuck out of the meeting.” 

“Belphie!” 

“What?” He took one hand, grabbing your face for a second, squishing your cheeks, mimicking the way your lips pursed. You shook him off, trying to keep yourself from being flustered. “Can you blame me? All I could think about was you...nice and warm in bed...and I was sleepy.” He let out a large yawn. “Still sleepy.” 

“Well…” You paused for a second, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m glad you did.” 

He stopped for a second, looking into your eyes. “Hm? Say that again?” 

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you furled your eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“Are you suuuure?” He drawled. “Cus it sounded like you missed me.” One look at your embarrassed face sent him laughing. He poked at your ribs, tickling your sides, singing the words. “You missed me, you missed me.” 

Burying your face in your hands, you kicked him a little. “Stop it!” 

“Fine,” he smirked. “Anyway, I think you’re mostly taken care of. Most of these have dried and scabbed over. They weren’t very deep anyway.” He lifted your arm, turning it to make sure he’d treated you completely. “So now we can do what I came here for!” It was his first excited expression in a while. He jumped into you, grabbing you by the waist against the bed. Both your heads hit the pillows, the blanket following shortly after. Already you could feel his face against your back. A happy hum of his buzzed into your skin, his hands rubbing against your stomach. Pouting a little, you realized that with Belphie stuck to you like this, you weren't going anywhere soon, so you shifted to get comfortable. You relaxed with a heavy sigh. “You know…” Belphie drowsily muttered. “I...missed...you too…” 

“MC! My poor precious MC! I’m never ever leaving you alone again!” Asmo wailed, clinging to you like if he let you go you’d suddenly die. “I can’t believe Belphie did this to you!” 

Speaking up from the corner, Belphie scoffed. “I actually helped them, just so everyone knows.” Back in your room, each of the demon brothers had returned from the meeting, having found you and Belphie after a while in the attic. Of course, your small wounds, Belphie’s absence, and the strange destruction of a segment of the garden was called into question. 

“And my plants!” Asmo shrieked. “They were such a lovely background for my Devilgram posts! They’re ruined!” 

“I’m so-” you tried to apologize, but Asmo pressed a gentle finger against your lips. 

“Shush! I don’t blame you a single bit, my darling. It’s all these ruffians!” He kissed your cheek in spots around your little wound. 

“Hey! Solomon’s the person responsible, not us!” Mammon shouted. 

Lucifer’s weariness was especially noticeable today. You wondered what he had to put up with at the meeting. “At the very least, we’re glad you’re safe, MC. Knowing what Solomon’s cuisine is capable of…” He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I’m heading to my office...try not to burn the house down,” he sighed, exiting quietly. 

You tilted your head. “Is he okay?” You asked. 

“When Belphie left, let’s just say Diavolo wasn’t exactly pleased,” Satan explained, a wicked grin stretching his lips wide. “So in exchange he agreed to be Diavolo’s personal servant tomorrow. I hope our Demon Lord has some entertaining things in store.” 

Belphie’s face brightened. “Did I do that? Whoops.” Hardly a glimmer of remorse in him. 

“You guys owe it to him at least to try and make it a calm night,” you urged, hoping to ease some of the shenanigans already being plotted in their minds. 

Mammon shook his head. “Why do we gotta owe him anything? If he’s out for the count tonight, I can hit the casinos without a problem!” He came over rubbing your head. “Give me some of that luck, yeah?” You doubted you had any, but he bounded out the door. 

“Belphie, I’ve got a little idea I’d like to try, but I need an extra set of hands. Care to join me?” Satan curled a little finger around his chin, mischief making his green eyes glow wild. 

Belphie chuckled. “Ab-so-lutely.” With devilish grins, they both sniggered, malevolent whispers drifting between them as they left. 

A rumbling growl echoed through the room. If this had been anywhere else, you would’ve been terrified. But this was the Devildom, and you knew Beel’s stomach when you heard it. “Oh...I’m sorry, MC, but I’m starving. I’ll see you in a bit.” He came over, trying to give you a hug despite Asmo still holding onto you for dear life. He ended up hugging both of you anyway. With more than a little speed, he also left your room, probably heading straight for the kitchen. 

A high pitched ‘bling’ reached your ears. Levi pulled out his D.D.D.. “Oh! The new patch for Sorcerer’s Scrolls has been released! I gotta go!” He moved to run but stopped in his tracks before he got too far. “Do you wanna...watch more of that show tonight?” 

“Sure, Levi,” you smiled, watching him sprint out of the room, a joyful spring in his step. Although, once everyone had left, you couldn’t help but lower your head, patting Asmo’s wrist. “You can leave too, Asmo, you don’t have to stay with me.” 

He made an overly dramatic gasp. “But I do! Don’t sound so sad!” Pulling a bit away from you, he let his cheeks turn a bit pink. “And to be completely honest, I’ve been dying to get some alone time with you.” He squirmed a little bit, but then jumped to his feet. “So! You just sit there and let Nurse Asmo take care of everything, ‘kay ‘kay?” Is that why he had brought that large bag with him when he came in? It was a peach-colored tote bag, settled on your table, a fluffy pink pom-pom clipped to one of the handles. He bounded towards it, rummaging around, looking for something important.

A little--well a lot--guarded against potential Asmo intentions, you tried craning your head to see if you could look inside, but no dice. The end of your nose tickled again as it had the past few days. Grabbing another tissue from your bedside, you tried to blow your nose as quietly as possible. Your poor nostrils were so dry by this point it was bordering on painful. You sniffled, reaching over to squirt some hand sanitizer in your hands. “I thought you hated being around sick people,” you told him. 

“You’re the only exception! Besides,” he grabbed out a familiar tool, one you had no idea how he got his hands on it. A stethoscope. “I want to use all these goodies Solomon got me!” 

The name still almost sent a shudder down your spine. “Solomon? Why?” 

Practically skipping back over, he sat beside you on the bed, strangely excited about this. “Aren’t bodies fascinating?” He touched his own skin, dragging his hand down his neck. “I love to know what makes this perfect body run! And you have absolutely no idea how desperately I’ve longed to know how yours does too!” Taking a good look at him, you could sense that he was truly and undeniably curious as to how your mortal body differed from his. Or possibly just craving a closer look into you altogether. Of course, you still had to close your eyes and deeply sigh. How many times would Solomon be the source of general chaos? Asmo took the end to the stethoscope, looking at it strangely. “Tell me, dear, how does this work?” You let out a light chuckle, and he looked at you curiously. “Don’t make fun of me, that’s just mean!” 

“I’m not! I’m not, I promise, it’s just…” He resembled that of a little kid right now, a rare sort of innocence about him. Here he was, a demon of many millennia, and he just wanted to play doctor for a bit. “Never mind.” Brushing off your thoughts, you took the binaurals, putting the earpieces in his ears. One of his hands gently clutched the diaphragm, so you wrapped your own hand around his, guiding the end of the stethoscope to your chest. 

Listening it to a moment, you could watch the gentle awe cross over his face. “T-that’s you.” 

You brought a hand up to cover your mouth. “Yes, Asmo, that’s me. What, you didn’t think I had a heartbeat?” 

“No, I knew! It’s just…” He closed his eyes, going silent. You didn’t want to disturb his moment, but you felt a sneeze coming on. Grabbing another tissue, you covered your nose, tilted your head down towards your lap, and sneezed. Moaning a bit, you blew your nose again, hard enough to make your ears pop. Sitting up, you chucked your used kleenex into the trash. You were about to apologize, but then the glee drained from Asmo’s face. He brought his hands up to his mouth and shrieked. 

“What?! What’s wrong?!” As soon as you had asked, the answer presented itself towards you. Warmth dripped down your lips, forcing you to close your mouth as fast as you could. 

“Blood! You’re bleeding! Hold on!” Lurching towards the tissues, Asmo pulled five out at a time, pressing it against your face. You pinched your nose, pressuring your hand against the bundle of kleenex. “Look at all this! No, no, no, no, you’ll be alright, darling.” Your gut instinct was to tilt your head up, but Asmo placed his hand on the top of your head, tilting it slightly forward. “Oh, don’t do that, you’ll end up swallowing it. Stay there, I’ll be right back.” He got up sprinting, leaving you alone with the smell and taste of blood. When he came back, he had a cold wet rag in his hands. “Here, use this instead. Give me those,” he softly ordered, tugging at the already blood soaked tissues. You took the rag in your hands, using that to stop the flow instead. He pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back. “Poor thing, it’s just non-stop problems for you right now, isn’t it?” You let him hold you, tilting your head against his as you waited for the blood to stop.  Slowly, he brought his hand up to pet the back of your head, giggling a bit to himself when the action made you shiver. 

After a bit of time, you tore away from him, cautiously removing the rag. You touched just above your lip, sighing in relief when it had stopped. “That was unexpected.” 

Stealing the cloth from you, he started wiping the excess blood off your face. “About gave me a heart attack!” With his free hand, he cupped the side of your face. 

A little idea crossed your mind. “Heart attack, huh? Better check that out.” Reaching for the stethoscope, you cleaned the earpieces before putting them in, pressing the small round medical disc to his chest. It was a bit stunning, you had to admit, how loud it sounded. In the human world before, any mentions of demons or angels were always in an ethereal sense. Whether you believed in them or not, you never really thought about them having hearts. Were they even similar to yours? At least...the drumming beating sound of life was the same. 

He finished up cleaning you off, tilting his head and grinning. “Well?” 

“Undeniably alive...and I’m very grateful for it.” 

He squealed, flopping onto you, pushing you both down onto the bed. Every hint that he had been frightened before was gone. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?! Come here, you!” He littered kisses over your face, sending you into a little flurry of embarrassed titters. 

“Asmo…” 

“Isn’t it a human saying that they can kiss the pain away?” He pecked his lips over your eyelids. “Well, you better prepare yourself...I won’t stop kissing your perfect little face till you feel better!”

The bedroom door violently swung open, the handle nearly making a dent in the wall. Demons poured in, nearly falling over each other. They were all in demon forms, ready to tackle more danger. When they noticed that Asmo was fawning over you, they all puffed up, jealous and irritated. “We heard you scream and thought something happened!” Lucifer roared. Kinda late, weren’t they?

“Hey, why’re you getting all kissy with MC?!” Mammon jumped onto the mattress, trying to pry you from his brother’s arms. 

“Don’t you think I deserve to be embracing them?” Satan attempted to push them both aside. Before you knew it, your room was a small war-arena, everyone climbing on the bed. You were squished between them, passed between different hands. Then something wobbled, the sound of wood and metal groaning before a loud snap pierced your ears. The bed hit the floor, a poof of dust causing you to cough. Your bedframe lay scattered in broken pieces across the ground. 

“My...bed…” You ran a hand through your hair, pinned under the doggy-pile of demon lords. You looked between each of them with stern looks, each of them blushing in embarrassment over their actions. “Well...I guess it means I’ll be using someone else’s bed for the foreseeable future.” 

All at once, their faces lit up, and at the same time they all shouted the same thing. “Me!”

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #tw blood #tw medication #tw vomit

[ushidoux]

Power Struggle - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: You’re set up on a blind date with a man who might just be your match.  (~5.1k words)

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, blind date, exhibitionism, public sex

A/N: Part of @cherrytenko​’s CEO collab! Surprisingly this is possibly the longest fic I’ve written as a oneshot and it’s a little softer than I expected it to be but please enjoy!

---

It’s about half past 6pm when you add the final touch to your makeup, a smear of matte lipstick (Rouge Hermes #48, to be exact), to your lips.

It’s not often that you’re able to leave work early but your mother and father had called you from overseas in the late afternoon, interrupting their own third honeymoon, to remind you of your final meeting for the day - 

A date.

“I know you hate these things, but just go! You might like what you see,” your mother insisted over video chat, her voice muffled by the sound of wind whipping past her as she and your father cruised along on a shaky speedboat they’d purchased just for the day. You weren’t completely sure where they were, only vaguely aware that they were somewhere around Jeju Island, and not exactly sure why they still had phone service, but you weren’t going to ask too many questions.

“No obligation!” Your father adds, just out of view and yelling slightly. 

Sure, never any obligations.

As you smack your lips in the mirror to smooth out the lip color, giving yourself a brief once-over to decide whether or not you feel the need to adjust your hair or if you will wear falsies or not, you frown ever so slightly, then let out a sigh.

You hate this. 

This is the third “meeting” they’ve arranged for you this month, and they’d been at this for almost six months overall by now. This search for a ‘suitable husband’ was getting stale -  not to mention, time-consuming - and you weren’t sure you would be willing to appease your parents any longer.

In fact, you weren’t exactly sure you were interested in a partner anymore. The clock would hit thirty any moment now, and the math of falling in love, getting married, having kids, and still heading a successful company no longer seemed to be adding up. You didn’t know how exactly to tell your sweet parents who were the picture of domestic bliss that they’d probably have to give up on the idea of grandchildren, and consider raising puppies instead.

Regardless, for the time being, you could still bother to meet this stranger for dinner.

There’s a clasp seal envelope atop your dresser - a portfolio that had been left on your desk by your father’s assistant at the beginning of the week - that still seems entirely too formal for the process. This is matchmaking, not a job application, was the first thought that came to mind once you realized the envelope held a set of photos, a resume and an admittedly curt but formally written statement reminiscent of a cover letter.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the signature at the bottom of the letter read in an extremely neat script. He must be particularly organized and detail-oriented.

There were two pictures, one that looked almost like a passport photo and the other much more relaxed, where he was dressed casually in a t-shirt and pressed jeans, standing with his arms crossed beside a redheaded man whose smile was wide and infectious, his arm around his neck. You wondered if he picked those photos himself. 

You’d perused the first photo much more carefully because you could see more of his face. He’s quite handsome, you’d admitted, the faintest warmth in your cheeks, but he seemed awfully uptight. For one, the look on his face was very neutral, not bothering to smile. He was clean shaven and his hair was close cropped at the edges, a woody brown that paired well with serious olive eyes. You wondered if he ever laughed out loud, and what he looked like when he did.

The taxi driver is prompt and waiting outside of the high-rise in which you live by the time you make your way down the elevator. The click of your heels is loud on the tile as you make your way past the revolving doors. As you slip into the back of the car, you wonder if you’re dressed too professionally. You may have forgone the women’s pantsuit, but you’re still wearing a feminine pantsuit-esque ensemble in a creamy beige - pink would have seemed too ditzy, white would have seemed a bit too innocent (not to mention risky) and yellow too juvenile.

You’re not sure why you’re thinking so hard about this, but really years of paying attention to your appearance in public, not being taken seriously because you’re pretty and young and your personality is more bubbly than bossy puts you on your guard, especially when it comes to first impressions.

The location appears to be an upscale sushi restaurant, the type that you have to call ahead for months to get a reservation unless you have some kind of special arrangement with the owner. A staff member checks you in and brings you to the back to a private room, and as you pass through the dimly lit hallway, clutching your purse a little too securely, a scene from a yakuza movie comes to mind.

“Your room, madam,” the young man nods and motions you to enter a room that is brightly lit enough that it is almost blinding, large and round as though you were in a fishbowl yourself. You look up and notice that even the ceiling is curved. Elaborate paintings hang off the wall. 

He’s not here.

You glance at the attendant and he raises his eyebrows as though he is expecting you to say something. You must look surprised, and continue to look so as you remove your shoes to sit at one of the thin mattresses set before the low table.

You wish you’d worn stockings perhaps, tucking your bare feet beneath you in a casual seiza position. You can’t recall the last time you’ve been this traditional/formal, and the thought of a man you barely know already knowing what your feet look like bare bothers you just a bit. 

The attendant pours water and then tea for two wordlessly and slips out of the room. 

Your heart pounds once you’re finally alone. Why is this so intense? 

You fidget nervously with the thin silver necklace you are wearing, looking for a menu. There is none so far. Just square plates, both chopsticks and forks (odd for sushi, you think), and a steaming cup of tea set right next to a sweltering crystal glass of ice cold water. Opposites.

For a fleeting moment, you actually wonder for once if this man will like you. 

“My apologies, Ms. ___.”

You’re startled by a rich voice, a tiny gasp revealing that you’re more spooked than you realize, and your eyes shift towards the direction of the sound to see what looks like your date finally arriving in a hurry. 

You instinctively readjust yourself onto your knees to look formal, then realize you should probably stand instead, but before you can get up he waves you to sit back down, now settling down himself across from you.

“I had intended to arrive early but quite a few things happened at the company to make that unfeasible.”

He said this while removing a suit jacket in a way that was in no way intended to be sexy, not at all, then let out what sounded like a single, semi-nervous chuckle. 

Wordlessly, you replied with a nod, transfixed as you compared photography to reality. The photos didn’t do him justice, not at all. The suit jacket was picked up quickly by a waiter who you had forgotten was still in the room.

Ushijima extended an arm to you across the table, intending to shake your hand.

“Did you wait long?” He asks as you shakily take his hand for a handshake that consumes your hand almost entirely in his large one.

You shake your head, then embarrassed when you realize you aren’t using your voice, and add, “No, I didn’t wait long...”

“Are you hungry?” He replies, quickly. Your instinct is to say no, no you didn’t need anything, especially not from him, but you are pretty sure your stomach would growl loudly any minute now, and you’d only look like a fool. 

Ushijima glances at the waiter, who finally hands the two of you menus.

“Please order anything you like.”

You look down, swallowing hard again, and for a moment it is difficult to focus on the unnecessarily elaborate handwriting on the menu.

Something about him already grates on your nerves and you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. You could forgive people for being late, and you were used to people being a little forward, but something about the way he was both familiar and unfamiliar in the way he spoke to you seemed to veer into patronizing behavior. 

Why wasn’t he nervous? Every man you’d sat across from in the past half a year had just a little waver in their voice when they spoke to you at some point, even those who had started off boasting their fancy degrees and their villas and their large bank accounts. 

But he sits perfectly still, all broad shoulders, gently wafting cologne, and a gaze that is both disconcerting and impartial, so you don’t know what to think. 

When you look up from the menu to him, his eyes are still heavily focused on you, and you can’t really fault him. There’s nothing else to look at in this room, after all.

You take this opportunity to tease him. No man has ever intimidated you before and this one is no different.

“Are you going to order anything? I barely saw you look at the menu.” Your voice is light and coquettish and it implies, all you’re doing is staring at me.

“I already know my order. I’ve been here enough times,” he replies, immune to the playfulness in your voice. You watch him roll up his sleeves as he answers, and take note of the shape of his hands as he takes a sip of tea.

Maybe you’re the one staring.

“Would you like a recommendation?” He offers as he sets the cup down. 

You shake your head no, and wonder again why you’re making gestures instead of talking. He smiles as though he can read your mind.

Once the waiter takes your orders and leaves the room, you’re left in silence, facing your would-be partner. It’s a stalemate of sorts and you lose, asking the first personal question.

But you ask it semi-clinically, refusing to lose the upper hand. You’re not sure why there’s an upper hand, but there is, and it will be yours.

“I read a little about your company before arriving. You gave me quite a few details, which I appreciated,” you state, turning your head to the side politely to take a sip of tea yourself. “You’ve done very well for yourself as CEO,” you add.

His eyes don’t crinkle from the flattery. “My employees do great work at all levels so it’s only natural that there would be positive growth,” he replies matter-of-factly.

You smile politely, but this answer doesn’t give you very much information about him. He’s shifting the success away from him, you remark, however he accepts the compliment as though expected. Is this genuine humility or arrogance?

You lean very slightly forward, just enough to see if he’ll take the opportunity to glance down your blouse, as other suitors have invariably done. He doesn’t, and you proceed to ask the next question.

“What do you do outside of work?”

His eyebrows raise, and you wonder if it’s because he realizes you are pretending you didn’t read that section on his application, but he answers anyway.

“I don’t have very much free time, as you are probably aware, but I garden and paint. And of course, I like to keep fit through team sports.”

A quick look at him makes that last part quite clear. You clear your throat slightly and then it is silent again. It’s not exactly an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not comfortable either.

Just as you wonder why he isn’t asking you any questions, he suddenly speaks up.

“Pardon me if this sounds inappropriate, but you’re beautiful. Why would you need a matchmaking service?”

You’re taken aback, and while your brain is scrambling for understanding of what his intentions are, he adjusts his sitting position so that he’s cross-legged with both hands on his knees and lets out a sigh before continuing.

“You’re also accomplished and clearly articulate. I don’t imagine you’d have trouble finding a partner through more organic means.”

It seems like there are a million butterflies that suddenly inhabit the small space in the pit of your stomach. Again, you’re at a loss for words, something that is rare for someone as opinionated and cordially fierce as you.

Should you be offended? It’s almost as though he’s asking what’s wrong with you?

He asks frankly, “Why a blind date?”

You want to ask him the same question, but you hear the waiter return and you fall silent, letting the butterflies in your stomach die down.

---

“I-is this the first time - ah - you’ve done this?”

You’re no longer laid out on the tatami like you were just an hour earlier, Ushijima nibbling on your lower lip and your collarbones instead of the overpriced, high-quality fish that sat atop your table, but now laid under him, spread eagle save for the hands you use to hold on to his shoulders as he slowly and deliberately thrusts inside you. 

Your voice is breathy and catches in your throat every time he moves, but you have to know. How often has he ended up like this?

The heat that fills your whole body now isn’t just from the shame of letting a stranger fondle your body in an upscale restaurant, it’s because Ushijima somehow knows exactly where and how to touch you, as though he’s always known. His fingers have traveled your body like a hiker on a well-beaten path, from the softness behind your earlobes to your squishy center and back, and now have settled into a hold that is firm yet gentle on your hips. 

When he replies “no” with immense honesty, his mouth sinks into the crook of your neck and he goes just deep enough that you don’t have time to factor this new information into your impression of him.

So instead you savor the thickness that fills you and the strength that holds you close, the soft grunts that fill your ears before they get drowned out by your equally loud whimpers and moans.

---

You don’t spend the night, partially out of shame that Ushijima bedded you so quickly and partially because you have a full schedule for the next morning. The parting of ways is brief and awkward and you seem to feel it more acutely than he does.

“I enjoyed our time, Miss ___,” he offers. You’ve dressed up faster than he has so you find yourself unwittingly ogling at the expanse of his sculpted chest and the flex of his muscles as he redresses. You’re almost sad to see him cover up.

You nod and walk out of the room, trying your best to hide the fact that your legs feel far too wobbly to be walking on these heels.

---

“Miss ____?”

Your eyes widen as you realize you’ve been daydreaming through a meeting with the board of trustees and now the wrinkled old men who hated the fact that your father thrust you into leadership you “didn’t deserve” are staring at you with disgruntled expressions.

“Oh, um,” you think quickly, recalling where the presentation left off and glancing quickly at the notes you’d jotted down on a notepad before wondering why Ushijima hadn’t called or texted since you met two weeks ago.

“Um?” The most senior of the group repeats, and your stomach turns for a moment before you steel yourself. He bares his teeth every time he’s displeased with you and you get the impression of an ancient and disgruntled wolf. 

You clear your throat loudly, and settle back in your chair, crossing your legs and your arms over your chest.

“I have some disagreements with the current approach, but I’ll start with the pertinent positives,” you start.

---

“Was the sex at least good?”

Your best friend from high school glances at you briefly, as you face forward on the Peloton you are riding side by side with her. She’s much less out of shape than you are given that she also is your personal trainer and thus rides hers effortlessly, taking some time to wait for you to respond.

You begrudgingly say yes.

“Wow, for once someone dropped you before you could drop them!” She teases in a sing-song voice. You would slap her on the shoulder if she was close enough and if you weren’t out of breath. It stings just a little bit that you’ve heard nothing from him nor the matchmaking company and don’t have a good response to tell your parents aside from I guess we didn’t click.

“He’s missing out, though.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you huff, and cycle faster. No hard feelings.

---

Scratch that, there were absolutely going to be hard feelings now that he was not just fucking with you but also with your livelihood.

Admittedly, it was strange that despite the fact that your companies had never crossed paths until now despite working in the same consumer domain but this was unacceptable.

You’d opened an email that had just slipped into your peripheral vision as you worked on reviewing a couple of interns’ executive summaries, only to find that Ushijima might have just royally fucked you over.

A curt email from a crucial business partner read,

We apologize but we’ve decided to move forward with Ushijima Industries instead. I understand that this is last minute, but we believe that it will be mutually beneficial to discontinue our relationship at this point in time.

Your blood boiled. What the fuck was this?

Your phone rang, one of your team leaders calling immediately and likely looking at the email at the same time you were. He apologized profusely.

“What happened?”

“It seems like they just showed up and offered twice as much as we offered them last minute.”

This bastard. Then in a moment of horror, you wondered if this was your fault, if you had blabbed a little while slightly tipsy off of sake, and revealed that you had this acquisition in the works.

Voice smaller now, you asked, “So we can’t do anything to woo them back?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just have to make sure our other deal doesn’t fall through,” the slightly frantic man answered, the sounds of keyboard keys clicking rapidly heard in the background of the call. 

“Okay, thank you for your hard work,” you stated. “I’ll see what I can do,” you replied with a click. 

Maybe calling someone who’d ghosted you as you drove home, fuming and irritated, wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to confront him somehow. The idea of being bested in more ways than one was too much to bear.

The phone rang once, twice, then three times, and you were getting angrier with every tone through the car speaker. You hung up in frustration.

How embarrassing.

You made it home still irritated, indulging yourself in a relaxing bath to quell your anger. By the time you had soaked for close to an hour, you were mad at yourself for reacting impulsively and now having your number in his phone as a missed call… if he recognized it anyway.

It turns out he did.

“Ms. ___, did you call me earlier? I wasn’t able to make it to the phone in time.”

His voice was even lower on the phone, a slightly gravelly quality making you wonder if he’d actually been napping or just had a smoke. You couldn’t imagine him doing either of these things.

“What kind of game are you playing, Mr. Ushijima?”

There was a bit of hesitation on the phone, and you let out a sardonic laugh once he replied, as expected, “What?”

“How did you know about that deal other than what I told you?”

He paused again, and you too, stood still, a towel wrapped around your still dripping body.

“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he then said, carefully. “I, uh… assume you were calling about something else.”

You grit your teeth. What the fuck else? The fact that he sounded genuinely confused only served to aggravate you further.

“Did you or did you not use the information I gave you to intercept my deal with MNY?”

Finally the lightbulb went on.

“Oh, that was you. Hm.”

If you’d been talking in person, you probably would have slapped him at this point. Or at least considered it.

“I didn’t know you were our competitor in that aspect. I… probably would have reconsidered if I had known.”

“Excuse me?”

That tone of over-familiarity, patronizing… the care when you’re not supposed to care was back and you realized you regretted this phone call. 

“How would it be any different? Are you implying that you’d let me win?”

“No, of course not, I…” He trailed off. “Would you like to come over to my apartment and talk? I can give you my address, I would rather talk in person.”

Why? So I can get over there and end up fucking you again?

“I respectfully decline,” you answered curtly, and hung up, tossing your phone onto your bed and letting out an aggravated sigh. 

---

The next morning, you leave an early executive meeting only to find that your office had been overrun with flowers between the hours of 7 to 8 am.

There are yellow roses, stating admiration, spilling out of an oversized bouquet on your desk and a separate bouquet of light red carnations and white camellias that imply that he finds you ‘adorable’. A white card is placed in the yellow bouquet, and on it is written Ushijima’s neat script - you realize it’s from him before you even finish reading the note.

I would like to see you again. Please accept my call around 6 pm.

Respectfully, 

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Your hands hover over the wastebasket in your room with the flowers in your arms, but instead you sigh, and stuff them behind you on your shelf. At least you won’t have to see them while you work, but they’re pretty. They’re clearly bought from a floral shop, but you recall that he had said he gardened in his free time.

Ushijima calls promptly at 6 pm and you let it ring twice before deciding to block his number just as he’s calling. Something about the action is satisfying. 

You can’t be won over with a couple of flowers and kind words. Women aren’t as easily swayed as he may think.

---

It’s another Friday, and surprisingly you haven’t been contacted for a blind date, whether it’s by your parents or the matchmaking service they’ve subscribed you to.

Maybe they’d gotten the message after you’d been ghosted that you were tired of this game. Maybe they were giving you a break. Maybe they’d run out of potential suitors. You were surprised, but not upset.

Ushijima had truly gotten under your skin.

After blocking his call, there were no more attempts at contact for the rest of the week. The only thing left to consider was that if you ever crossed paths in your careers, you would pay him back for snatching your investor. 

And snatching your dignity in the process.

It was about 4 pm and most of the employees were wrapping up their tasks for the day. You usually aimed to have everyone out by 5, especially on Friday so this was boding well. 

“Hey, Madam President, are you okay with an add-on?” You hear your secretary call from outside your door.

“Oh, I mean, I guess but-”

She’s already letting Ushijima through the door.

You smile sweetly, maintaining professional behavior as best you can, while your secretary leads him to an armchair across from you, up until she exits, your expression souring the moment she closes the door.

“Mr. Ushijima, what are you doing in my office?”

He’s settled into the chair so comfortably that it feels as though you’re in his office, not your own. He’s dressed more casually than he was at the restaurant, no suit jacket, just a brown V-neck sweater over a dress shirt that almost seems too tight and a pair of chinos. He’s also wearing a pair of glasses, which is new. 

You hate that he looks good.

“Apologizing and requesting your company.”

He looks at you sincerely, his hands clasped together in his lap. You narrow your eyes.

“Please leave.”

He actually frowns, and the small action actually surprises you. 

“Do you actually want me to leave or are you still upset about the investor? Because if it’s that, we can make an arrangement-”

“No, I’m upset because you did that after not following up after our one night stand!” You finally blurt out, then bite your lip realizing you might have said too much.

“I… got busy.”

“Busy screwing me over?” You quip.

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture.

“I didn’t call because I thought you didn’t like me.”

You’re a little stunned by this reply, then decide you don’t believe him. What was there not to like? At least at that point he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Why would you think that?”

His hands leave his hair again and rest on his knees. You notice it seems like a default position for him. 

“I’ve been referred to as ‘stiff’. It’s great at work but not great for relationships.”

Ushijima’s brutal honesty is again sending you for a loop. You raise an eyebrow, bidding him to continue. Your arms uncross and you rest your elbows on the table.

“So…?”

“So usually by the time I’ve had sex with someone, it’s all they’re after. And since you didn’t call, I assumed even the sex wasn’t good.”

You unwittingly burst into laughter. Here was this successful, attractive man with a perfect pedigree who was insecure about how good he was in bed?

His eyebrows furrow, and you recollect yourself, realizing that this is a bit cruel.

“You could have sent a text,” you murmur.

“I’m bad at starting conversations.”

You stifle another laugh. “So you just don’t?” You tease. It’s gently mocking but mostly incredulous. It seems that he’s the opposite of the confident man he appears to be.

“That’s why I got excited when you called but then you were upset.”

You purse your lips.

“I promise I didn’t intend to put you in a bad situation,” Ushijima insists.

You sigh, then offer him a small smile. “Are you normally this persistent?”

He glances at the flowers that are only partially hidden from view, which makes your face warm up bashfully, and then looks right back at you.

“No. I just like you.”

Again with the directness, a confidence that is effortless, even when he’s not confident at all.

You don’t want to melt but you do. So instead you rise and clear your desk, stuffing a few items into your handbag as you prepare to leave. He watches, unsure of what you’re up to, sitting still as you walk around towards him and place your hand lightly on his shoulder.

Your body faces the door, but you turn to the side to look at him and grin.

“I’m done with work for today. Take me out.”

---

A couple months later...

“Fuck, you’re - ah - they’re gonna know, I-” Your voice morphs into a mewl instead once his ring finger reaches just the right spot; you’re squirming as much as possible under his touch but he has you laid back on your work desk with both ankles rested on his shoulders and his weight leaning onto you to essentially keep you in place.

“Move your hands,” Ushijima whispers in a hushed tone, leaning in to kiss between your breasts as he readjusts your legs atop him. His pants are down and his cock is already up and ready, the base and swollen balls rubbing against your wet cunt that you are desperately trying to protect from his intrusion. You know there’s absolutely no way you’ll stay quiet when he’s pounding the shit out of you, he likes it entirely too rough, and the walls are thin. You don’t listen, continuing to reach for his hands to swat them away from you.

There’s a part of you that is almost certain that at the very least your secretary knows that every time Ushijima comes for a ‘meeting’, it really is just to fuck the shit out of you before you leave together for the evening, or to relax you right before you once again have to defend your dad’s establishment of you as Company President.

This isn’t a good look.

“I-I can’t…” you whine.

“You can,” he assures you.

He gently kisses your face before prying your hands out of the way and keeping them pinned up against you with one hand and guiding his trajectory with the other before sinking inside of you. You moan at the breach of your privates and he quickly presses his lips to yours to swallow the sound.

Once he’s bottomed out, he rolls his hips, and soon you start to see white once you climax, clenching and cumming around him.

“T-Toshi!” You moan his name, and he clasps a large hand around your mouth before continuing, picking up the pace as he fucks you through your orgasm. He can’t deny that he likes the fact that you’re noisy, that the fact that the heavy desk he’s fucking you against is making a squeaky noise that suggests he’s really putting some force behind these strokes, and that if anyone could see the two of you now, it could be an issue for both of your corporations. Misconduct, they would call it.

He doesn’t care and while you act like you do, you don’t really care either. 

When he lets go of your wrists to use the edge of the desk as leverage and tilts backwards, you scream in pleasure, a terribly obvious sound, and it’s enough to have him tip over and spill into you with a groan. He collapses onto you and the two of you almost slip onto the floor, but don’t; you wrap your arms around him. 

Your hair is disheveled and so is his, and your legs are sticky with sweat and cum. You sigh, letting him soften inside you and stroke his hair.

“You’re getting me in trouble,” you murmur, and he lets out a breathy laugh.

“We don’t really have to answer to anyone, do we?” He replies with a smirk, and pecks you one more time on the lips.

He’s right - only you two are a match for each other.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ceo!ushijima x reader #ceo collab #ushijima wakatoshi smut #ushijima smut #haikyuu smut #not sfw #fic: power struggle #mae.writing #hqintheclub

[fruitcoops]

Night Changes

This isn't based on an ask, but I've had some early-Cap ideas brewing and think about the first time the team heard him laugh a lot. His and James' friendship is so sweet in SW--the beginning of it must have been such a shock to them both. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

So maybe James had bitten off more than he could chew. It wasn’t the first time, to be sure, but coaxing (read: drag kicking and screaming) his new teammate out of the carefully-constructed mosaic of scowls that made up his entire personality was proving to be a little more challenging than he previously expected. With most rookies, all it took was some elbow grease and overenthusiastic inclusion in group events to get them to open up—with his brand-new soon-to-be best friend, he had to handle things a little more delicately.

Sirius Black was a puzzle wrapped up in one of those freaky code-breaking machines from World War Two Lily liked to talk about. He was one of the best hockey players James had ever seen, but off the ice he seemed to shut down. The intense focus on his face smoothed out into almost perfect neutrality, and in the four months since he joined the Lions, he had never once smiled for real in front of the team. He sat in his stall and padded up in silence, then went out and kicked ass before following Pascal home like a living shadow.

Naturally, James took it as a personal mission to pry Sirius Black’s closed-off persona open like a stubborn oyster. He tried including Sirius in group events—the rookie went along with a quiet “yeah, sure”, but sat at the table and nursed a single drink for the entire night. He tried getting into friendly banter with him on the ice, but it was like Sirius had never joked with anyone in his life. Hell, he even tried finding him a girlfriend, which tanked harder than the goddamn Titanic.

“Rookie!” James shouted down the hallway.

Sirius jumped and turned around, obviously confused. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” James laughed, jogging over to toss an arm over his shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Not much.”

He waited for Sirius to continue, then rolled his eyes and gave him a friendly shake. “C’mon, man, how was your weekend? Has Dumo coerced you into being a stay-at-home babysitter yet?”

Sirius’ frown deepened. “What? I come with him to practice every day.”

Change tactics, change tactics— “Got any plans for Friday?”

James knew the answer, of course; it was always no or not yet or a simple shake of the head. If he was a less observant man, he would have assumed Sirius didn’t actually want to hang out with the team. But the longing looks toward their easy rhythm and the way he always tilted himself toward locker room conversations told a different story. “None yet,” Sirius said with a shrug.

James gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Good, ‘cause I’m having a party at my place and you’re not allowed to miss it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to be there, duh.” The bewilderment didn’t fade from Sirius’ face, but beneath it—well, maybe James was just seeing things, but he looked almost hopeful. He ruffled Sirius’ hair and headed for the locker room. “Friday at five, rookie! I’ll be waiting!”

--

The week passed in a slog of practices and cold weather. Sirius clammed up more and more as the party drew closer, but James didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered between the rest of them like he was analyzing a play. He would make one hell of a captain someday, if he could just relax a little.

“Hey, rookie, want a ride?” he asked when the big day finally arrived.

“Don’t you want to go home and set up first?” Sirius’ brow furrowed. For an eighteen-year-old kid, he was awfully thoughtful. James couldn’t wait to see him let loose a little. “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“It’s a yes or no question,” he teased, poking the bit of exposed shoulder through the widening hole in Sirius’ under armor.

“I…” He faltered, then the corner of his mouth twitched up. It was the closest thing James had seen to a smile from him yet. One point for Potter. “Sure, Pots. Thanks.”

“No problem. Meet me at my car in five or so, yeah?”

“D’accord.”

“Oho, fancy French,” James laughed, turning back to unlace his skates.

It wasn’t until thirty seconds after Sirius left the room that he remembered he never told the rookie what his car looked like. Horrible, terrible visions of the poor guy wandering around the parking lot—or, god forbid, thinking James had left without him—flashed through his mind. It would undo everything he had been working so hard to build.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath as he shoved his gear into his duffel with reckless abandon and hurried out of the locker room. His legs would be stiff from trying to run so soon after a grueling drill practice, but it was worth it to save his friend. “Rookie? Hey, Sirius, you still here?”

There was no response. James cursed again and made a beeline for the door to the parking lot. Please, God, don’t let him get lost. I need him to trust me.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he panted as he burst out onto the half-frozen concrete.

Sirius looked up from his phone with a strange expression. “Are you okay?”

“Thought I lost you for a sec.”

“You said to meet at your car, yes?” He glanced between James and the car in sudden worry.

“Yeah, yes, absolutely, I just—” He made an aborted gesture and dug his keys out of his pocket. “I realized I forgot to tell you which one is mine.”

Sirius blinked at him. “I know what your car looks like.”

“How?”

“Because you drive it here every single day and you gave me a ride three weeks ago.”

‘Dumbass’ went unsaid, but James could feel it hanging in the air. He coughed lightly. “Right. Anyway, you can toss your bag wherever and hop in the passenger seat. My place isn’t far from here.”

Sirius took his duffel as he unlocked the car and settled both in the trunk with more care than James’ poor, battered bag had ever seen in its life. That was another thing that confused him about Sirius Black—he was so careful. He walked quietly for someone so tall, and each movement seemed pre-planned.

Each movement, that is, until he tried to get in the car. “Uh, Pots?”

“That’s m—oh.” James covered his mouth to stifle his laughter as Sirius tried to fold himself into the passenger seat and failed miserably. “I’m sorry, my girlfriend was sitting there last. Uh, there’s a lever on your right—yeah, there, just give it a pull and—”

With a harsh ka-chunk, the seat slid all the way back. Both men froze. It took everything in James’ power not to burst out laughing at the deer-in-headlights shock on Sirius’ face.

“Yep, that one,” he managed. “Nice job.”

They drove in relative quiet—James chattered on about weekend plans and hummed to the radio while Sirius watched out the window with the occasional monosyllable response. It took James a bit by surprise how comfortable he was, even without a steady stream of banter. Sirius might have been stubborn and silent and determined to foil all James’ plans at getting him to socialize, but he was calming to be near, like an anchor on unsteady water. Despite his overall quiet air, he was obviously paying attention to every word that left James’ mouth.

“You’re a good guy, y’know that?” he said as they turned onto his street. Sirius glanced over in surprise. “Most people tune me out within, like, five minutes.”

“I’m a good listener.”

James opened his mouth to respond, then paused. “Was that—Sirius Black, was that a joke?”

Something akin to mischief—mischief!—crossed his face. “Maybe.”

“Were you roasting me?” James gaped at him. “Oh my god. The guys are never gonna believe this.”

“Probably not.”

“You sick bastard. They won’t believe me.”

“You can give it a shot,” Sirius said with a shrug as the engine turned off. Pieces began to connect in James’ head as he stared, incredulous, at the rookie he thought would never even crack a smile. Four months of work had not been wasted, as he had feared; every joke, every one-sided conversation, and every attempt to get Sirius involved had been seen and heard and taken to heart. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Sirius actively agree to something unless James asked personally.

“We’re friends,” he said aloud, too surprised and too happy to hold it in. Not friends in the way James was with the rest of their loud, over-the-top teammates, but friends all the same.

“Well, yeah,” Sirius said as if it was obvious.

James unbuckled his seatbelt and socked him lightly on the shoulder, barely suppressing a shriek of excitement. “Love you, man. Grab your shit, we’ve got a party to set up.”

----------------

As much as it pained James to say it, having someone around who was six-foot-three was a huge help. There was no blow to his pride as he dragged Lily’s stepstool out; no grudging acceptance that he simply couldn’t reach those last two inches on the wall. Instead, he could foist any and all responsibility on his brand-new best friend in the whole wide world and focus on the things that mattered, like putting anything breakable or important far away from the grubby hands of his inebriated teammates.

His success was still ringing in his ears when the guests finally arrived—throughout the evening, James rode the high of accomplishing his mission to pull Sirius Black into his tight-knit circle. Every minute of those four months was worth it.

Midnight came and went, and by one-thirty in the morning James’ cramped living room was packed with tipsy hockey players in a vague imitation of a circle. “Non, non, I’ve gotta good one,” Dumo said, hiccupping. The room fell quiet as he leaned forward. “What do you call a body of water with a chicken in it?”

“What?” Kasey whispered, starry-eyed like a kid at Christmas.

“A swimming pool.”

The room stayed quiet, and then someone started to laugh. Slowly, they all turned to the source of the noise, and James felt a ripple of shock roll through the team as Sirius snorted. “It’s a swimming pool,” he said around a smile, his accent thick from three drinks. He had a nice laugh; James could get used to hearing it. “Like—poule, like chicken?”

His whole face was alight with happiness. James wasn’t sure whether to cry or cheer. That’s what I’ve been waiting for, he thought. That look, right there. Sirius fit in among the group like a missing piece of their puzzle, snickering away as if he hadn’t been stoically silent a day in his life. His laugh was downright bubbly.

“I don’t think they get it,” Dumo said into the rim of his cup.

Sirius shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “D’accord, so—so ‘chicken’ in French is poule, yeah? So a chicken in a body of water is a swimming poule. Do you get it now?”

A few oh’s of understanding washed over them, but several people continued to stare. “Too drink for this,” Sergei grumbled, though James could see the smile pulling at his mouth as Sirius turned to him with bright eyes.

“But it’s funny!” Sirius protested, so earnest it made James’ heart hurt.

“I think it’s funny, rookie,” he assured him with a clumsy pat on the arm. “And it’s my house, so I say Dumo gets a point this round.”

Kasey hiccupped. “Hey, anyone who makes the rookie laugh gets points in my book. No offense, dude.”

“None taken,” Sirius said, though his cheeks were pink.

James nudged him with his shoulder as Talker started a knock-knock joke. “It’s okay,” he said under his breath.

Sirius picked at the label on his cup. “I know I haven’t been very social,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” James insisted. “It always takes rookies a while to warm up, so we’re just glad you’re happy. I’m glad my best friend is having a good time at my party.”

A heavy silence fell between them as Sirius looked over, eyebrows raised. “Best friend?”

“What, like you didn’t see this coming?” James slung an arm over his shoulder. “Yes, you French-Canadian nerd, you’re my best friend. And that means I’m your best friend, and there’s no take-backsies.”

“What the hell is a take-backsie?” Sirius laughed. “Did you make that up?”

James grinned. He had the feeling this was the beginning of an excellent friendship.

#sirius black #james potter #pascal dumais #kasey winter #sergei ivanov #thomas walker #rookie #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #pre-cap #friendship

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 125.3 Accidental Bonding (Part 3)

You can start at Part One, if you'd like.)

"Piss off, Malfoy," Jenkins snarled from across the room at the end of the training exercise, drawing Harry's attention from the conversation he was having with Ron. "You are such an arsehole. You think you're so clever, so much better than us," he shoved Malfoy's shoulders, "but you're just a slimy Dark Lord worshiper-"

"Oy!" Harry shouted, darting forward and physically putting his body between Jenkins and Malfoy, "Don't talk to him like that."

"I'll talk to that fu-"

"You need to back down," Harry growled, his body thrumming with energy, fingers tingling with the urge to punch Jenkins in the face, his magic racing hot and bright under his skin.

Malfoy put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Don't," he said. "He's not worth it."

He glared at the other man for a moment before taking a step toward the locker room.

"Oh, I get it," Jenkins sneered, "some people are so possessive of their pets. He's letting you fuck him now, so-"

Harry spun around so fast that Jenkins didn't have a moment to see what was about to happen as Harry's fist connected with his jaw. "Watch your mouth," he growled, low in his throat. "We aren't sleeping together but even if we were that wouldn't change the fact that he is twice the auror you will ever be." He took another step closer, "He's smarter, faster, and has better instincts. And everyone knows that your pathetic attempts to belittle him are out of jealousy. So you can fuck off before you make an even bigger arse of yourself."

"Alright," Ron said, holding out his hands between them. "That's enough."

Jenkins spat blood at Harry's feet but had the good sense not to say anything more as he left and slammed the door behind him.

Harry turned to see Malfoy storming away from him. "Malfoy," he shouted but the other man threw him a two fingered salute and stalked off.

"What the hell?" Harry grumbled.

(Read more below the cut)

Ron shrugged, "Beats me, mate." He slapped him on the shoulder, "but I wouldn't want to be going home with him. He looked pissed."

-------------

Regrettably Ron was right, Malfoy was pissed. Harry couldn't understand it and the other man wouldn't say a word to him about it.

They went home and Malfoy shut himself in the bedroom without a word, leaving Harry standing completely confused in the living room. "What the hell?" he repeated.

Hands on his hips, he stared off after the other man and replayed what he'd said to Jenkins for the fiftieth time, trying to figure out what had made Malfoy so mad.

Giving up on trying to puzzle it out seemed like the only course of action so he headed into the kitchen and started dinner. In the past week and a half, Draco had cooked, they'd cooked together, or ordered take out. Harry hadn't cooked anything on his own since he's arrived and honestly, he was glad for the chance to cooking now.

He chopped up an onion, diced a carrot, chopped up a stalk of celery, and minced several cloves of garlic. Then he turned to the stove and heated a frying pan, pouring in some olive oil before tossing in the veggies and letting them cook down while he chopped up lettuce for a salad.

After about ten minutes, he added the ground beef, salt, and pepper into the frying pan and uncorked a bottle of Merlot, pouring himself a generous glass and dumping a few ounces in with the beef and veg.

He cast a simple spell to keep the spoon stirring while the beef browned and he turned to cut up tomatoes and onions for the salad and made a simple vinaigrette. When the beef was brown and fragrant, he added in tomato paste, diced tomatoes, basil, oregano, and a dash of nutmeg before stirring it all together.

With a pleased hum, he put the lid on the pot and cast a spell that would condense the simmering time to about thirty minutes instead of three hours.

While the sauce cooked down he baked brownies, tossed the salad, and prepped the water and spaghetti. Boiling the spaghetti, cutting the brownies, and plating everything was easy after that. Harry topped the bowls of bolongese with freshly grated Parmesan and basil.

Then, after a moment of debate, he decided to bring dinner to Malfoy instead of the other way around and laid out their salads, bowls of bolognese, glasses of wine, and brownies onto a tray. He levitated it down the hall and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Malfoy called, sounding bored and detached and Harry had to take a steadying breath to tamp down the irritation that tone of voice invoked before opening the door.

"Made dinner," he said casually.

Malfoy turned his head from where he was laying on the bed, idly catching a snitch and releasing it. He sat up, his blonde hair trailing behind him, "It smells good."

"You don't need to sound surprised," Harry teased.

Malfoy opened his mouth to protest but Harry continued as he set the tray in the middle of the bed.

"I'm just kidding," he assured quickly.

"Do you really think that it's wise to consume red wine and pasta on a white bed?" Malfoy asked, one eyebrow arched at him as he climbed onto the bed across the tray from Malfoy.

"It'll be fine," Harry assured as he picked up his salad bowl and speared a tomato. "We're wizards, we'll magic it away if we must."

Malfoy hummed but picked up his own salad. "Thank you."

He shrugged a shoulder, "No problem. I like to cook, actually."

"Do you?" Malfoy asked curiously.

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Once we left Hogwarts and I was living on my own, I was eating out all the time and it wasn't doing me any favors. So I learned how to make some simple things that taste good." He tilted his head, "What about you? You're not a bad cook."

His cheeks turned a light pink and he cleared his throat, "That's Granger's doing actually."

"Sorry?"

He sighed, "She made a really good case about house elves. I didn't want to be who my parents wanted me to be so when I moved out and joined the aurors, I basically shunned anything that whiffs of pureblood bullshit. It has no place here," he said gesturing to his home with his fork.

Harry blinked, "That's amazing."

"Shut up."

"No, I'm serious," Harry said. "You're amazing and I had no idea."

"Stop," Malfoy said. "Please, it's not-"

"Is that what earlier was about?"

Malfoy stilled, "Excuse me?"

"Is that why you were upset?" he asked. "You thought that I was taking the piss?"

"I thought that you have an insufferable hero complex that makes me want to vomit," he growled.

"You're a hedgehog," Harry said, finally understanding.

Malfoy froze, "Who told you that?"

"Told me what?" Harry asked.

"That my patronus is a hedgehog," he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry laughed and Malfoy flushed cherry red, his eyes narrowed. "No, sorry," Harry said holding out a hand, "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing because I had no idea, honestly!"

"Then what made you say it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Just," he paused and took a bite of bolognese as he searched for the right words, "When you start to feel vulnerable or like someone is going to hurt you, you curl into this defensive ball that will stab at someone no matter what they say or do."

"I-"

"You are genuinely one of the best aurors in our class," Harry said earnestly, steering the conversation to something more tangible that they were less like to fight over. "I was serious."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "You're just saying that because the bond-"

He shook his head, "I've always thought that," he protested. "It's annoying as fuck because it always seems like everything comes so easily to you. I used to complain about it to Ron all the time."

"Says you," Malfoy protested. "You're always doing everything right; throwing yourself into danger to protect people." He shook his head, "By all accounts, what you do shouldn't work but it does. You're a good auror, Potter."

Harry swallowed, "Thanks, Malfoy. That means a lot coming from you."

"Yes, well," he said as he took a sip of wine, "Don't let it go to your head."

Harry chuckled and they took a few bites in companionable silence before Draco started to talk again.

"You didn't have to come to my rescue with Jenkins, you know."

He waved the thought away, "He's an arse. We've had it out before."

"I'm just saying," he argued, "I was fine. Honestly what he was saying wasn't even that bad."

"Not that bad?!" Harry yelped. "He-"

Malfoy shook his head, "It's the bond, Potter, don't you see that? Jenkins has said a lot worse, other trainees have said a lot worse, and you've never felt the need to jump in and defend my honor before."

Harry frowned.

"You're being swayed by what the bond wants you to feel about me."

"I'm not sure you're right," he said. "Because you shouldn't be treated like that at work. No one should be treated like that."

"Be that as it may-"

"I'm just saying, even if the bond brought it to my attention, I would have done that for anyone. If he'd been saying shite like that to Ron, I would have decked him, too."

Malfoy looked like he was going to argue with him, before visibly changing his mind, "You do have a wand, you know. There's no need to resort to brute force."

Harry shrugged, "But there's just something so satisfying about punching someone."

A laughed forced it's way up Malfoy's throat and Harry grinned at him. Shaking his head, Malfoy replied, "You're ridiculous. And this is good, by the way," he added, pointing to his pasta with his fork.

"Good," Harry said with a pleased little smile.

The conversation turned lighter as they bickered about the training exercises and the best approach, but the bickering held none of the animosity it had a week and a half before.

And Harry couldn't help but wonder how much of this was the bond's doing and how much was simply him.

-----------------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry #ficlet #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #enemies to friends #slow burn apparently #see you in part 4 tomorrow #domestic #cooking

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Imagine helping Legolas deal with a sprained ankle

It was all your fault, so Legolas would say.

“If you hadn’t had been so reckless, I wouldn’t have had to jump down from the boulder to assist you with the orc,” he’d complain regularly, from his position forcibly laying down in his sleeping pack with an elevated foot.

Whenever he’d try to rise again to bicker louder with you, a tending Aragorn would push him down again with a hand to his chest.

It was funny the first few days, you couldn’t lie, but now? Well, now it was just sad.

Legolas prided himself on his athletic ability, that much was obvious to you and the rest of the Fellowship early into your journey.

He’d regularly prance ahead like a young foal, or walk across snow with a smug smirk on his face. He was the strongest member there, and never let anyone forget it. This is also why he took injury the worst out of everyone.

It wasn’t, in all actuality, technically your fault. You needed help with an orc, yes, but Legolas timing his jump wrong and spraining his ankle had nothing to do with you.

Alas, he was gaining cabin fever from his immobilised state, therefore anger was bubbling in his chest—directed at you. You didn’t take it personally, but it was starting to wear down on you.

The walks through the days were slower, as Legolas would limp along with a homemade walking stick, fashioned out of a long branch.

Whenever he’d notice you or someone else looking at him over his shoulder, as he bared his teeth in wincing hurt, he’d quickly glare and push on harder.

You’d softly shake your head, but look away regardless.

It was unnatural to see an elf in such a state, like roses freezing over. Even more so, it was unnatural to see Legolas so grumpy. He was quite light-hearted at the beginning of the journey—you remember making a mental note that he’d probably be one of the best to hang around with due to so.

Alas, his sprained ankle and no doubt self-inflicted embarrassment brought the deeply rooted competitiveness out within him.

You were all sat around a fire tonight (save for Boromir and Gimli, who were off scouting the area), like many other evenings—laughing and pulling rabbit meat off of a skewer.

Legolas was a few yards away, pouting in his sleeping bag. You had brought his food to him a few minutes earlier, but he turned you away and claimed he wasn’t hungry.

“You’ll need sustenance to heal, little elf,” you laughed, trying to humour him.

All you received was a gruff grunt, and, “Don’t tell me how elves heal—I’m quite aware of my own race, thank you very much.”

You heard Pippin hissing through a wince, and bared your own teeth in cringe as you turned on your heel and headed back towards the campfire.

“Pay him no mind,” Aragorn said, leaning across to you. “Elves, especially the Mirkwood strain, are very prideful folk. He’ll come to his senses once his foot heals.”

“I can’t imagine it’ll heal anytime soon if he keeps pushing himself every day like he’s doing,” you pointed out.

Aragorn sighed. “That is entirely Thranduil’s blood coming out in him.”

“Remind me to never step foot in Mirkwood then,” you grinned.

Aragorn gave a toothy smile back, and bonked his skewer with yours in a “cheers to that” motion.

You could feel Legolas’ eyes burning into the back of your head, but paid it no mind. You didn’t dare glance over your shoulder, lest Mordor freeze over.

The rest of the camp continued on in low chatter, that is until Boromir and Gimli came rushing back—completely out of breath.

“What is it?” Aragorn asked right away.

“Orc scouts,” Boromir answered, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Thirty, give or take, approaching from the west.”

The camp looked around at each other quickly in fright, before Aragorn jumped into action. Rising to his feet, he grabbed his sword and dictated everyone else to do the same.

“We’ll meet them half way and use the element of surprise,” he said.

Legolas began rising to his own feet, though, a great deal of strained effort was noticeable on his end.

“I’m coming, I just need to get my bow,” Legolas announced, barely able to move the foot resting on a sleeping pack.

“No, not you, mellon nîn,” said Aragorn, upholding a hand and motioning for Legolas to lay down again. “Please, stay behind. Though your valiance is admirable, you will only get in the way of this fight. Rest, and fight when your ankle heals.”

Legolas’ face contorted in hurt, and you imagined this was the first time the athletic prince had ever been sidelined.

You all stood around in misplaced guilt, fiddling with your swords and avoiding eye contact with Legolas.

Finally, the elf’s jaw set, and he forcibly fell back down into sheets—turning over and pulling the covers up over his shoulder.

“We can’t leave him vulnerable,” Sam pointed out, whispering quietly as to not anger Legolas further. However, you could see his pointed ears twitching back, and knew he heard every gut-punching word.

Aragorn nodded, and turned his eyes to you. The hobbits had to stay under the protection of Aragorn, and leaving Frodo and the Ring out of sight and alone behind in the camp simply wasn’t an option.

Aragorn gestured between you and Legolas discreetly. Understanding his words, you dropped your shoulders and sighed.

“I’ll stay back and tend to the camp,” you announced.

The rest of the Fellowship gave you an apologetic look, before running off into the forest towards the orcs.

You were soon left with the silence of the camp, save for the angered breathing of Legolas and the crackling of the dimming fire.

Stood there unsure of what to do in the awkward space, you continued fiddling with the pommel of your sword, and looked at Legolas.

His back was rising and falling quickly—clearly infuriated with the whole situation. You felt bad for him, you really did, but you were still unsure of how to approach him.

Looking down to the fire again, you saw untouched skewers of meat, and arrived at a resolution.

With the food in hand, you walked over to the prince. He could hear you coming, and with every crunch of your boots on the foliage, his eyes twitched.

Sitting down beside his back, you placed a hand on the broad of his shoulder and shook him gently. “The rabbit smells really good, and has that beautiful, slightly charred smoky taste. Seems a waste to not eat it, no?”

“Not hungry,” Legolas grumbled.

“You need to heal your ankle, Legolas,” you said again, this time sterner. “You need to ea—”

“Not. Hungry.”

Thinning your lips, you shook your head down at Legolas in disappointment. “Legolas, I know you’re upset with me regarding your ankle, but holding a grudge isn’t going to—”

He swiftly turned over in his pack, and stared at the dimming fire.

“We need more firewood,” he said, glaring at the dying flames.

You followed his line of sight, and noticed he was indeed right. However, you recalled the orcs and what Aragorn expected of you.

“We’ll just have to wait for the others. I can’t leave the camp to fetch more, and I definitely can’t leave you vulnerable to—”

“Ugh! I’ll do it myself!” Legolas exclaimed. He rose swiftly and tried limping out into the woods with clenched fists and squared shoulders.

“Legolas!” you called, quickly grabbing your sword and cursing under your breath. “Wait! You shouldn’t be on that ankle!”

But he was already marching on.

Heading a few strides out into the forest, Legolas went farther and farther to find the best firewood. You ran behind him, surprised he could go so far for someone who was injured.

“Wait!” you yelled again, finally jumping out in front of him. “Go back to sleep, Legolas. Now.”

He merely glared at you, and stepped around your form—pushing on.

Groaning in frustration, you turned around and pulled on his shoulder. “I’m serious, Legolas! There are orcs out here at the moment, and I need to stay by the camp!”

“Then you can go back,” Legolas growled, forcibly shoving your hand off of his shoulder. “I don’t need to be babysat by you.”

“No,” you agreed, “but you do need my help with your ankle!”

Grabbing the bottom of his cloak, you started pulling him back towards the camp.

“Let go!” he shouted, digging his one good heel into the ground and pulling his cape back—initiating a tug of war between you both.

“No!” you denied, pulling the cloak again. “You’re coming back with me, and that’s final!”

“NO!” Pull. “I’m helping by getting firewood!”

Yank. “You’re not helping at all! You’re putting me in a tough situation instead!”

“It’s not your problem!” Tug.

“Yes, it is!” you exclaimed, pulling the cloak one more time. “It is my problem, because you’ve become a HUGE problem for the entire Fellowship!”

Upon pulling one last time, Legolas lost his footing and tripped, causing you both to fall down.

You each groaned in pain as your backs were sprawled across the foliage. Legolas was the first to sit up, but immediately yelped in pain as he did so.

He held his ankle tight, and bared his teeth as to stop himself from crying out.

“It’s worse,” he whispered, avoiding your eyes. “My ankle—I think I hurt it more.”

You stared at Legolas in horror, as he clutched said sore ankle. You sat up next to him, and ran a finger along it.

He jolted immediately, and fought back another cry by biting down on his bottom lip.

“Dammit, Legolas…” you cursed, furrowing your brows and shaking your head. “Why couldn’t you have just listened to me? You need to rest.”

Upon glaring up at him, you were taken aback, for there were unshed tears in the elf’s eyes. He was clearly holding himself back from letting them fall, as he sniffled and studied his ankle.

“Legolas?” you called softly, reaching a hand up and gently directing his chin to face you. “What’s going on with you?”

Letting the first tear fall, and swallowing the lump in his throat, Legolas spoke up in a quiet voice—finally unbottling his emotions.

“I’m supposed to be the athlete,” he said, studying your eyes before looking down again. “I was always the best in training. I’ve pushed myself through rain, mud and more, because I’ve always been the best. And now? Now I can’t even fetch firewood for my friends...”

Sympathy overtook your eyes, as you suddenly understood the elf.

“You still are the best here, Legolas,” you promised, trying to catch his eyes as he averted them. “A sprained ankle means nothing in the grand scheme of it. You are, without a doubt, the strongest one of us here. None of us think differently of you simply because you’re hurt.”

“But I feel so useless!” he exclaimed, letting a few more tears fall. “My friends are out there right now pulling their own weight against the orcs, and I’m stuck here crying on the ground because I can’t even walk.”

“But you will walk again,” you assured him, turning his chin once more. “And when that day comes—which isn’t too far off, mind you—those orcs will wish they hadn’t ever left Mordor.”

You laughed brightly for a moment in afterthought, earning a smile from Legolas.

“What?” he asked gently.

“Do you remember how you took that cave troll down in Moria?” you chuckled again, thinking of the memory. “You scaled atop the darn thing and shot two arrows into its brain!”

“Three…” Legolas sheepishly corrected, now grinning in a shy way.

“Three,” you annulled, grinning back up at him. “Trust me, Legolas. Your friends think nothing less of you than pure amazing talent. Don’t let it eat away at you.”

Legolas nodded to himself for a moment, before another sheepish grin formed on his lips. “Speaking of eating…are there any of those rabbit meat skewers still left back at camp?”

You smiled warmly, and helped him up.

He tentatively accepted your aid, and slowly wrapped an arm over your shoulder, as you helped him limp back to camp.

“C’mon, athlete. Let’s get you some food.”

#Legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas x reader imagine #legolas x you #lotr x reader #lotr x y/n #lotr x you #the lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings x y/n #lord of the rings #lotrdaily #lotr movies #the hobbit #elves #hobbit #legolas #silmarillion #mirkwood #lotr shitpost #legolas greenleaf #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #lotr Legolas imagine #Legolas imagine #Tolkien imagine #fellowship x reader #fellowship x y/n #fellowship x you #the fellowship of the ring

[kkusuka]

if you write for maki can you do smut prompts 8,11,13? and oh my god CONGRATS ON THE 2K YAYYAY I LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK YOU DESERVE IT ALL ❤️❤️

“Be a good girl/boy for mommy/daddy.” “You can take it, you’ve done it before.” “Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby”

Maki Zen’in x Reader

genre: smut 

words: 1.3k 

Cw: fem! Anatomy (gn! Pronouns of course!), Mommy- kink, Strap-on’s, technical girl on girl (you both have vagina’s), degrading because that’s how that works, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, cunnilingus, tongue fucking, and squirting 

Fem Dom Maki? Yes. Dom! Maki fucking reader with a strap-on becuase we’re all her good little whores. Yes.  (I'm sorry if this isn't what you want but this is what I got)

a/n: for the first prompt I'm not going to put girl/boy because I’m not sure which one you want, and I’d rather try to keep this gender-neutral.  This is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, and now my place in hell is official.

You knew better than to test Maki when she’s in a mood. 

Maybe if you’d just listen to your own advice for once you wouldn’t be tied up to your bedpost while Maki ignores all of your inquiries. You could guess that she’d left you there for thirty minutes at this point and she’d been going through draws leaving the room for minutes at a time. 

“Was flirting with Mai all that worth it?” her eerily calm voice rang through the silence, reminding you of what you had done to land yourself here in the first place.  

It was a small lapse of judgment, something you told yourself you’d never do. But Maki had a streak of making you want to do anything but what she tells you. So when she told you not to go anywhere near her sister after treating you like a kid for five minutes, the second she left you alone Mai was yours. 

If you could imagine, Maki was livid when she returned to you fawning over Mai and her ‘cute’ haircut, Maki wanted to gag. She knew you just wanted to be a brat, so she let you for an entire hour before she’d finally had enough. 

And now, she was standing about your confined body. Slim fingers run along the back of your thigh ending at the back of your knee. In one quick move your legs were spread, pussy open to her critical gaze. 

“Wet already? Be good for mommy, it's the least you could do.” her apathetic voice rang past your whimpers. She sat along the edge of the bed, gaze never wavering from the wet spot growing on your panties. 

“You know exactly what happens to ungrateful sluts, so why in your right mind would you directly contradict what I told you, I will never know. Whores get punished for this kind of behavior, though I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She knew exactly what to say to make you putty in her hands. 

Locking her fingers on the underside of your panties she slid them down the length of your legs at a maddening pace. She was purposely making you restless, you hated when she did this, she always took her pettiness seriously. 

Before you knew it, a finger was circling your clit and a persistent buzzing filled the room.  You realized what was happening when her wand met with your dripping folds, her snarl, growing wider. 

“Mai can’t do this for you, only I can,” she growled, rearranging herself to kneel before you, reaching one hand to undo her lace bra, “I’m the only one who can satisfy this cunt, I’ve ruined you for anyone else, haven't I?”  

Lolling your head back at her words, immediately regretting it as she rips it all away from you, reaching to grab your jaw forcing your focus back onto her, “Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby” 

Eagerly nodding, a small beg for her to continue leaves your lips, instead she sits back on her heels admiring how sloppy your cunt had become from her previous assault. 

“W-wait, Ma-” you stuttered out watching as she rose a hand to her uncovered breasts rolling a nipple to your dripping pussy. Embarrassed by her mocking moans, mimicking your earlier begs for her hands. 

“Stop being so desperate, if you want to cum you can do it yourself, Doll.” You can’t, your hands are tied and the only thing you could do was try and rub your hips into the sheets. Somehow you were able to make contact while Maki mocked you attempting to make yourself cum. 

“You want help? Does my desperate little whore need their Mommy to help them? I think they do, their poor little clit is throbbing! Makes me want to suck it like a lollipop!”  God, you hoped she would, and it seems correct as she leaned over nuzzling her nose into your slick folds. 

Finally making due on her words she wraps her lips around your engorged clit giving it a long suck before letting go with a loud ‘pop’. Then running her tongue, collecting all the slick that collected beneath your lips. Obnoxiously slurping your essence, reattaching her lips to your clit, a hand pressing your hips to the sheets.  

After pulling away for a breath, she dove back in shoving her tongue into your quivering hole, effectively fucking you on her tongue. Attempting to tug out of your restraints, you see stars letting your orgasm overcome you. 

Letting you ride out your high, Maki pulls away, lips covered in wetness, smirking as she admires her work. Eyes tilting up when she sees the tears running along your cheek, and the drool covering your chin. 

Letting you sit in your post-orgasmic glaze for a bit longer, she rises from her position, grabbing a large black bag from the bottom of your joined closet. Coming back to your senses you see the black straps she ties snuggly against her hips. 

Ties that connect to the white 8-inch dragon dildo she bought for occasions specifically like this. Seeing it reminds you of all the times you’d fallen apart around the plastic. Assuming her previous position between your legs, she runs the tip along your slick folds. 

On the third she pushed the tip into your stretched hole, the feeling was painful as it was over 3 inches in girth.  You were overly sensitive from your previous orgasm making the lardy painful experience multiply tenfold. 

“Wait! Stop it! It-it hurts!” you writhe, trying to escape from the monster attempting to enter your cavern. She doesn't even entertain your bagging, instead, taking your hips forcing you further onto her strap. 

“You can take it, you’ve done it before,” she commands as another inch stretches your pulsing walls. She stops finally when she’s stopped by your cervix, pushing your legs to press against your chest forcing you into the mating press. 

Maki leans towards you, face looming over yours, pressing her chest to yours, pulling out to the tip before pulling your hips fully into hers. Settling into a steady pace, silently listening to your sloppy pussy suck in her dildo and your whoreish moans-- a far cry from your pleas to stop. 

“Listen,” she commands, staying silent for half a second, “that's Mommy's pussy crying for her dildo. Listen to yourself, only I can fuck you dumb. Your dripping cunt is mine!” every word accompanied by an even harsher thrust, slamming into your depths. 

Leaning back she placed your legs over her shoulders and hand reaching for your clit, eyes trained on your bouncing breasts. Letting your orgasm build into something far bigger than the previous.  

“Cum for me, whore.” with her command you flutter around her strap, spraying cum all over your lower bodies and soaking the sheets under where you lay. 

Plopping onto your heaving chest, she kisses a hickey into the valley between your breasts before coming up, “Only Mommy can make you squirt, remember that.” 

#maki zenin #maki x reader #maki smut #maki x reader smut #maki zenin x reader #maki zenin x reader smut #maki zenin smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #i’m going to hell #my oh my #oh dear i’ve done it this time

[narcolini]

through the phone

güero x gender neutral reader, 966 words, just a bit of angst baybeee

prompt: ‘I wish I met you sooner.’

a/n: thanku to @ashlingnarcos for personally scraping me off the writer’s block and making my first ever narcos fic a güero one :’)

Güero clears his throat. It cracks through the receiver, sharp, angular. Makes you sit straighter though you don’t remember slouching. The edge of the seat bites into your skin with the adjustment, digs at the back of your knees like it hates you for being there. As if you’re any happier about it. This isn’t what you had in mind when they said you could visit, at last, two tables either side of a glass wall. It isn’t the reunion you’d naively hoped for. You’d been pleased to see him, of course; to see that he hadn’t changed, hadn’t given up on himself yet, but the novelty had worn off fast. Disappeared with every minute you couldn’t touch him, every word you had to force through this fucking handset. They may as well have put a television in front of you. Sat you down, hit play, and watched you wither.

He’s looking across at you now like he’s waiting for something, an answer, a question, more words to offer besides how dull it is here. How monotonous, how far from home. You almost break to ask what it is that he wants, but then he speaks again into the static. There’s a half-second delay before it arrives by your ear.

‘I wish I met you sooner,’ he says. 

You smile but it doesn’t settle. It hangs awkwardly across your cheeks, tilts down before it’s finished lifting. It’d be a nice thought if it wasn’t tainted with finality. Sooner, he said, before the end, he means.

‘Well, things wouldn’t be the same if you had,’ you tell him. He’d have been married, for starters. Still a husband, a father, a man with real power. He wouldn’t have looked twice at you then. ‘I don’t think I’d have liked you in your thirties. I’ve seen the photos.’

He sighs. It’s weighted like a yawn. ‘You’re a bad liar.’ 

‘No worse than you.’

He shrugs, tilts his head away and back again. ‘How long do we have left?’

‘Trying to get rid of me already?’ The joke doesn’t land, it deflects off him—off the glass between you—like hail. Stings in the same fleeting way. ‘No time limit.’ You readjust your grip on the phone and laugh to fill the quiet. ‘Fuck, I paid the guard enough to leave us alone for days.’ 

His face sours at that, dark brows pinching together. You wish you could smooth them back into place with your thumb, watch his face melt under your touch. ‘Don’t waste your money, amor.’

‘I’m not.’

‘It won’t be there forever.’

‘I’m not wasting anything,’ you insist. ‘What’s the point in it just sitting there?’  

You hadn’t spent much of your own money since meeting him—his choice, not yours— so why hold onto it now? Why not return the gesture while it still counts?

‘You have to live off something,’ he schools. ‘Things will be different now.’

‘I know, Héctor, I’m not stupid.’ 

Money can always be made but time can’t be scraped back in the same way. All the minutes you lose to arguing, complaining, staring at each other in silence, can’t be grown in the desert, or funnelled back into your pockets with desperate hands. It drips away from you both, seeps into the concrete beneath. You’d empty your bank entirely if it meant you could keep that from happening.

‘I was fine before you, jefe.’ If you could, you’d knock his foot under the desk or pinch the dip in his chin. Instead, you settle for a smile, a tilt of your head. ‘So don’t worry too much, hm?’

‘You’re right,’ he sighs again, drags a palm down his face, ‘sorry. I hate this.’

You do too. It’s making you talk to each-other like strangers.

‘It’s not so bad,’ you lie, ‘better than just the phone. At least we see each other now.’

It barely nicks the surface, hardly soothes the ache, you know, but he takes it anyway. He nods in a placating way, then stretches, forcing a breath deep enough to pull the shirt taught across his chest. ‘Tell me then,’ he decides afterwards, ‘about home.’ He leans onto his elbows, settling himself just inches from the glass. ‘What am I missing?’

Your hand goes out instinctively, finger trailing the line of his forearm on the opposite side. It’s cold where it should be warm; not soft, not him, but scratched like someone had tried to claw their way through. ‘Well,’ you start slowly, ‘the estate agent thinks we have a buyer. But Catalina told me the couple have pulled out of three other properties already.’

‘Catalina?’ His eyebrow raises slightly. ‘She’s back in town?’

‘Every now and then.’ You smile. ‘I think she feels sorry for me, she shows up with food and wine like you’ve died.’

He laughs, well, exhales through his nose. It fogs the glass momentarily. ‘Well, what else does she say about this couple? They want a bigger pool, or what?’

So you tell him that she knows they’re picky about tiling, and then you tell him what your mother had cooked last Sunday, and what your youngest brother has decided to go to school for. You tell him which clothes of his you’ve taken to wearing, which you’ve considered selling so he can’t have them once he’s out. You tell him about the movies you’ve seen, and the ones you haven’t—because he’d like them too—and eventually it’s like you’re elsewhere entirely. Like you’re sitting in a cantina, heads ducked together, eating off the same plate. Talking like you’d not seen each other in days, when really it had been barely an hour. A minute. Speaking to each other like you always have. ‘What else,’ he says, then and now, ‘what else?’

#hector palma x reader #güero x reader #narcos mexico #narcos mexico fanfic #narcos mexico imagine #shaking and crying as i hit post #also kills me that i cant add a gif to this because the guero crumbs are CRUMBING #anyway hope u like it! love u

[cacoetheswriting]

library hours [reimagined] - spencer reid

warnings: age gap, professor / student, maybe a swear word or two, a lil tension, but mainly a fluffy first interaction word count: 1.7k summary: a late night at the university library leads to reader meeting a certain handsome professor.

a/n: this is a reimagined / rewritten version of this fic. for those interested, the original centres around baby!spencer. both fics start off pretty much the same, what differs is the interaction between spencer and reader.

-

There was something you always enjoyed about the going to the library.

Perhaps it was the way every single person that walked through the threshold had a purpose. A mission to complete. Perhaps it was the quiet. The solace you felt sitting alone in a corner researching various topics, for class and for recreational purposes.

The university library had quickly become your second home. A location you frequented more than your own dorm room. It wasn’t always to study, no. You people watched. Doodled. Even napped there from time to time. The place brought you peace, and by the time you senior year rolled around, you saw the librarians more than your college friends.

The university library was also the place where you first met a certain handsome professor, doctor - which in time became the main reason why you liked it so much.

Lights were slowly being turned off section by section. A vacuum came to life in one of the aisles. People started to scramble from their seats - shoving their things into their backpacks, throwing out empty coffee cups into the overflowing bins, checking out books they might still use that evening.

All signs indicating it was time to go.

Dolly, one of the librarians, ushered towards you. Her jacket draped over her shoulders, her bag in hand. She gave you the usual spiel of how you can stay until the janitor is finished cleaning, to which you politely nodded along. She wished you a pleasant night, and with a “see you tomorrow” she hurried out the door.

Once she was out of sight, you groaned under your breath and ran your fingers through your hair. You had an assignment due tomorrow, one you started hours ago and only managed to formulate three total sentences. Your gut was telling you there was no way you were going to finish now, especially since you had about thirty minutes until you would have to leave.

Leaning back in your chair, you fluttered your eyes closed in an attempt to collect your thoughts. The tranquil feeling didn’t last long however, as you were abruptly brought back to reality by someone loudly clearing their throat. You immediately sat back up and quickly scanned the space for the source of the interruption.

A tall brunette man stood a few tables away, his hands slowly sliding into the pockets of his pants. He was definitely older, by how much you couldn't quite tell. But, you definitely took notice of how handsome he was.

“The library is closed for the night.” He stated, the tone of his voice calm yet stern.

“I have permission to be here.” You retorted with as much confidence as you could muster, but the mysterious man didn't seem impressed with your answer. With an arched brow, he took a firm step in your direction.

“From who?” He challenged, as if he was waiting to catch you in a lie.

You folded your arms across your chest, unwilling to give in to whatever game he was playing. “Dolly, the librarian. I could call her if you don't believe me?”

The brunette didn’t respond. Instead, his lips twirled slightly upwards into a sly smirk and with the way he was now looking at you, you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You only hoped he didn't see the faint pink blush now present on your facial features.

“May I?” The man asked after a brief moment of silence, pointing to to the chair beside yours. You found yourself nodding, before quickly turning your attention away from him, and back to the book in front of you.

While he made himself comfortable, his leg brushed against yours. The sudden close contact sent a jolt down your spine and you shivered. A small act he definitely noticed.

“You’re not some sort of killer, are you? You’re not here to murder me?” You asked, tilting your head to once again look at the man. Shaking his head, he let out a wholehearted chuckle.

“No, I’m definitely not a murder.” He reassured.

“Definitely? That's over selling it, don't you think? It’s exactly the kind of thing a murder would say.” You teased in response, gaining a little bit of your courage back. He didn't reply. The smirk on his face widened just a little and he eyed you silently, as if you were a treasure map he was desperate to solve.

The two of you stared at one another for what felt like eternity. There was something amicable about the seconds that passed as you looked into his hazel eyes. Something harmonious. Friendly. Strong.

When you finally broke contact and proceeded to return to working on your assignment, you could still feel his gaze burning into the side of your head. In any other situation, with any other stranger, the feeling would have made you uncomfortable. Scared even. But there was something quite thrilling about the mysterious brunette sitting beside you.

“I’m a profiler.” He said after another moment of comfortable silence. “I work for the FBI as part of their Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He added as you glanced up at him from your notes, intrigue gracing your facial features. The statement was to make you feel safer in his presence - not that it was needed since you already felt strangely guarded around him.

You smiled, dropping your pen and shifting in your chair to face him completely. “So, agent, what are you doing at a university library on a Thursday night? Did the bad guys take a break?”

“Doctor.” He calmly corrected.

“What?”

“It’s doctor, not agent.” He said, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “I have PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering.”

The smug look on his face earned him a playful eye roll. “You don’t happen to have a PhD in History under your belt, do you, doctor? Because that would be very helpful right about now.”

“No, but I do have an eidetic memory and can read twenty-thousand words per minute.” He declared and you gaped at him in disbelief, mouth parting ever so slightly in shock.

Great, you thought, as if he wasn't intimidating enough.

“You could have just said you were a superhero.” You joked before leaning in towards him ever so slightly. The faint whiff of his cologne caught you off a little off guard, and you took a mental note to never again settle for someone that only used body spray. “Don’t worry, I’m really good with secrets. I won’t tell anyone.” You whispered and gently pressed your index finger to your lips.

The comment caused the handsome doctor to throw his head back in a whole-hearted laugh. He placed a hand on his stomach as you slowly shifted back to your previous position, chewing down on the inside of your cheek down to stop yourself from commenting on how good he looked.

“Am I going to get an answer to my previous question?” You asked once the laughter died down, your assignment long forgotten.

“I teach here.”

The statement earned him another eye roll. “Seriously? Is there anything you don't or can't do?”

It was his turn to lean in. He rested his elbows on his knees and intertwined his fingers together, his hazel eyes never leaving yours. The air hitched in your lungs at his proximity. You felt as if every single cell in your body was shaking.

“Well, us superheroes, we like to stay busy.” He whispered, his cool minty breath hitting you in the process, sending a shiver down your spine.

You cleared your throat, a timid smile appearing on your face. “There uhm, there’s this diner not far from here. It’s twenty-four hours meaning they won’t kick us out. Would you like to come with me? We can have coffee?”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved back in his seat and ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. You bit down on your bottom lip, wondering what was going through his mind. Wondering if perhaps you had overstepped some sort of boundary since he was a professor and you were a student.

But, it was just coffee. Nothing more. That wasn't so bad... Right?

“Coffee sounds nice.” He responded with a smile, after what felt like forever.

Outside, there wasn’t a cloud in the night sky making the million stars shine all that brighter. They looked like perfect sugar granules spilled on a dark surface, accompanied by the glowing moonlight.

The breathtaking sight was accompanied by street lamps. They illuminated the path while you walked side by side, almost in sync. Shoulders faintly brushing against one another.

“How long have you been a profiler?” You asked, looking ahead. The wind blew lightly through your hair causing your brunette companion to turn his head and observe you quietly. A smile crept up on his lips.

“I joined when I was twenty-two.” He answered. You glanced up at him for a brief moment - that wasn't much younger than you now. The look in his eyes suggested he knew that’s what you were thinking.

“Do you like it? Or do you prefer teaching?”

He licked his lips, thinking. As he furrowed his brows together, you noticed the unobtrusive age lines defining his handsome features. Each individual crease telling a different story, and you found yourself hoping you would one day be lucky enough to hear them.

“Every job has its pros and cons.” The brunette man stated eventually, lightly shrugging his shoulders.

You couldn't help but let out a soft giggle at his answer. “Okay professor, now you just sound conventional.”

He chuckled, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his pants. “I’ve been called many things in my life, miss. Conventional was never one of them.”

“It’s Y/N. My name, uhm, my name is Y/N.”

You both stopped once you introduced yourself, simultaneously turning in your spots, so that you were facing each other completely.

“Y/N...” He tested your name on his tongue, and a smile embellished your features because for some reason it sounded incredibly striking coming out of his lips.

“It suits you.” He retorted and the blood rushed to your face. Now, he definitely noticed the blush, you thought. He didn’t comment on it however. Instead, he proceeded to introduce himself, “My name is Spencer. Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

-

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @willowrose99

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #professor spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #professor reid #prof reid