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the-wild-wolves-around-you · 2 years

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hear those bells ring: chapter 7 (a bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: We learn why Bakugo's been avoiding Reader... and then the two go on a date that's not a date if you ask Bakugo.

(I also jokingly told my best friend that this chapter was unofficially titled "Going on Dates and Giving Kirishima Heart Attacks: GTA Edition lmao)

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Adult language. Small CW/TW: Reader does get briefly catcalled (but Bakugo obviously comes to her defense... expeditiously lol)

A/N: Had a lot of fun with this chapter! Hope you enjoy <3

Also question - Do y’all still want the tumblr links to the previous chaps down below?

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 3 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 4 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 5 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 6 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo felt like he’d been run over by a semi-truck, tossed into a pool of agonizing, burning, red-hot lava, and then dunked into the Arctic sea all within the span of an hour.

That fucking villain. Setting up bombs in the subway for after his inevitable capture. The goddamn coward. Bakugo would have been able to save everyone stuck in the rubble, if Kirishima hadn’t seen the blinking red light amongst the wreckage and stopped him, wasting precious time. The blond had been sure he could get in and out before the bomb went off, but his partner had grabbed his arm, dug his foot in, and refused to budge while he tried to call for a bomb squad. They’d argued, but then Bakugo had suddenly heard a rapid beeping, and he’d barely had enough time to grab the redhead and fly them both down the tunnel, at the last moment using his quirk to throw Kirishima further ahead of him. But he’d still been too close when the bomb detonated, which instantly blew out his eardrums and lodged the fucking rebar in his arm.

Bakugo was no stranger to pain, but every time the metal rod moved a fucking inch, it was like lightning was shooting through every nerve in his arm. Coupled with suddenly not being able to hear again unless people were shouting, he was pissed the fuck off.

But then you’d come stumbling into his room, into his life yet again, even though he had done his best to ignore you this week.

And now, here you were. Collapsed in his lap on the toilet.

Your breath was ragged in his ear as you sat folded against his chest, tremors running along your body. He had instinctively wrapped his hands around your waist to keep you from falling backward and cracking your head on the bathroom floor, but now he didn’t know if he should move them or not, and he unfortunately no longer had the pain in his arm to distract him.

In fact, he felt little to no pain at all. His back was sore from where the debris struck him when the bomb went off, and he could still feel some cuts stinging in various places, but he’d felt worse after training sessions at UA. The bone deep exhaustion that had been weighing him down since he’d crawled out of the collapsed tunnel had also abated by several degrees, and newfound energy flowed through his veins.

Your energy.

Goddamn it.

He flicked his eyes down to look at you but couldn’t see much besides the top of your head. Your breathing had evened out somewhat, and so had your shaking, but your face felt cold and clammy where it was resting against his bare shoulder.

“Hey,” he grunted, jostling you gently, and the toilet groaned beneath him, not meant for the weight of both of you. “Hey, Stitches. You still alive?”

“Still… alive.” Your breath tickled across his clavicle, and goosebumps erupted across his chest. Then he felt the tickle of your eyelashes fluttering against his shoulder, and you suddenly went stiff. “O-Oh. U-Um, sorry, I didn’t— let me just…”

You tried to reel back and stand up at the same time, but Bakugo felt your knees tremble along the outside of his, and this time he caught you around the hips before you tipped backwards off his lap.

“Just hold on a fuckin’ second,” he grumbled, turning his head to the side so your hair didn’t tickle his nose. “At least catch your goddamn breath before you go splitting your skull open. There’s enough damn blood in here.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you sat tense atop his thighs, like you were trying to keep some of your weight off him.

“I told you to stop apologizing.” He scowled at the tiled wall and abruptly shifted his hands when he realized one of his fingers was touching your bare hip through the holes in your pants.

“… sorry.” It was no more than a whisper, and he felt more than heard you start to take deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. The pattern was so rhythmic and soothing, the blond felt himself start to relax, until the next words fell out of your mouth. “Just give me a minute, and then I’ll leave you alone, Bakugo.”

The added “-sama” hit him like a slap, and he winced as he suddenly remembered something you’d previously said.

Then I’ll leave you alone, and you can go back to hating me.

Fuck, had he been that transparent? He’d managed to just avoid you altogether for the most part, sticking to the main floor of the agency while he was at work and then going straight home afterwards. The only time he’d run into you was at the elevator yesterday, and he knew he had been a little rude, but his mind had suddenly gone blank when he met your eyes because he just knew you were going to ask questions he didn’t want to answer. He’d hoped he just came off as busy, but now he realized he’d just been a “dick,” like you previously called him out about.

“Alright… I think I’m okay,” you suddenly said and drew him out of his thoughts, and he blinked to find you slowly rising out of his lap, using the sink counter to balance yourself. “I’ll, um, just go and let Kirishima know you’re al—”

“I don’t hate you.”

Bakugo didn’t know who was more surprised by his words, you or him.

You blinked at him as you froze, half crouched over his lap. “What?”

The blond mentally cursed himself, but he wasn’t a coward, and he always meant what he said.

“I said, I don’t hate you,” he repeated. “Earlier, you—”

“I remember.” You were the one to cut him off his time, but you didn’t sound angry. A small crease in your brow belayed your confusion, and you cocked your head at him as you fully rose to a standing position and took a step back.

“Yeah, well, I told you to not be putting words in my mouth,” he grunted, looking away from your calculating expression. But he didn’t like you staring down at him, so he quickly pushed himself to his feet. The tile floor was a fucking mess under his boots, slick in some spots and tacky in others, but at least he wasn’t still adding to the puddles of crimson.

He turned to the sink and flipped the cold water on, scrubbing at his hands and sides to get the majority of dust and blood off and give him something to do. You were silent behind him, so silent he thought you’d left to go find Shitty Hair, but he had said his piece, corrected your assumption, so it wasn’t like he cared—

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

He froze with the sink still running at full blast, and then he glanced over his shoulder to see you still standing in the doorway. Your face, although splattered with flecks of dust and blood, was carefully neutral. It seemed you’d been working on your poker face.

For a brief second, he considered lying, but no, Katsuki Bakugo didn’t lie, didn’t run away like a coward.

“Because I didn’t want to see you,” he said truthfully.

A minute flinch rippled across your features, but you quickly tried to cover it up.

“Was there… a particular reason?” you asked after a long moment. “Was it something I said on Monday? In the laundry room?”

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line and turned off the sink. He wasn’t going to lie, but he also didn’t want to explain himself. Even he knew he sounded stupid.

You fidgeted in the silence, waiting for his response, and when none came, you started to ramble.

“So, it was something I said. I— for the life of me, I didn’t mean to offend you in any way. I’ve been trying to remember anything I could have— but truly, it was never my intention to offend you. Maybe I misused a word? I’ve been speaking Japanese since I was little, and I studied it in college, but regional dialects can sometimes be tricky, and I’m still adjusting—”

“Fucking shit, take a breath, Stitches,” Bakugo muttered, and you snapped your mouth shut with an audible click before inhaling sharply through your nose. But your face was still begging, pleading, with him to explain, and the blond suddenly couldn’t look at you, so he turned back to the sink and stared down into the bowl. “I— You didn’t offend me. I’m not so weak that stupid words are going to hurt me.”

“Then… why didn’t you want to see me? The whole reason you brought me to the agency was to use my quirk.”

“I brought you to the agency because I had to,” he said, still without looking at you. “The law requires that we pay for the damages and accommodate you until they’re fixed, so that’s what we’re doing. But I’ve decided I don’t need your quirk anymore. So you’re free to fuck around for the next few weeks until your building’s fixed, and then you’ll be on your merry goddamn way.”

“You… don’t need my quirk anymore.” Your tone was bewildered, and he could just picture your expression behind his back.

“No,” he ground out and tightened his fingers around the edges of the sink. “So, like I said before, get the fu—”

“Why?”

The question drew him up short, derailed the anger he was trying to build up. He darted a look at you over his shoulder, but you didn’t even give him time to think of a response before you were barreling on.

“Why?” you repeated with a furrowed brow. “What changed? Did you find another healer?”

“What?” Bakugo scoffed. “No. I’m not about to go blabbing my weaknesses to everyone and their goddamn mother.”

“So… you didn’t find a healer, or a doctor, and I’m assuming you didn’t request some type of assisted gear like hearing aids,” you said, and when Bakugo just scowled, you pressed your lips together. “Then I don’t understand why you don’t want me to use my quirk on you anymore. I—”

“Because I’m not a fuckin’ monster,” the blond snapped and whirled around to face you completely. “Alright? I’m not going to make torturing you a goddamn habit every time I get off patrol.”

Your eyes widened as your lips parted in surprise, but then your expression grew very shrewd, studying him.

“You’ve been avoiding me because you didn’t want to torture me? Is that what you’re saying?” You spoke very clearly, enunciating each word, and Bakugo did not appreciate being treated like a fucking child.

“I’m the one who’s going deaf, Stitches, not you,” he sneered. “You heard what I fuckin’ said.”

“Yes, I heard what you said.” You nodded calmly. “But I’m trying to figure out what you mean. The only torture you’ve put me through is trying to make me read your mind.”

Bakugo scowled fiercely at you, tightening his hands into fists at his sides. You were going to make him say it, weren’t you?

“You didn’t tell me how your goddamn quirk worked that night on the rooftop,” he spat, and you blinked in confusion at the non sequitur.

“Well, we didn’t have a lot of time, and you didn’t ask,” you said as you cocked an eyebrow at him. “You just told me I was going to help you, and since I knew you could very much ruin my life by turning me into the proper authorities, I thought I didn’t have much choice in my response at the time.”

Bakugo flinched, a tendril of guilt snaking through his chest, writhing and uncomfortable.

“Well,” he muttered as the anger started to drain out of him, and he averted his gaze so he didn’t have to look at you. “If I’d known your quirk made you feel the same pain you’re trying to heal, I wouldn’t have said shit.”

This was it. The reason he’d been avoiding you.

After you had explained how your quirk worked, he thought it just seemed… wrong somehow to literally steal your energy and hurt you in the process. Bakugo was injured often— not terribly, usually, he’d just had a string of bad luck lately— but he knew that you wouldn’t settle for just fixing his ears if he was actively bleeding. Just look at what happened tonight. And even if he could convince you to just fix up his ears, he had no way of knowing if that would fuck you up down the line. You said yourself that you hadn’t used your quirk for much more than smaller scrapes and accidents, so what if there was some kind of delayed backlash that you suffered from after healing his ears— which apparently were supposed to be so much more complicated according to shithead doctors— over and over? Recovery Girl always said healing came at a price…

He just didn’t want your blood on his hands, metaphorically. Especially since you weren’t even a pro. You were a civilian, a seamstress for fuck’s sake. You literally didn’t sign up for this, so he wasn’t going to force you.

An endless stretch of silence grew between the two of you, and Bakugo hoped you would just fucking leave already.

“I’m still failing to see how you’ve tortured me,” you finally said, breaking the silence and dashing his hopes. “The way you ‘asked’ for my help wasn’t exactly nice, but it’s not like you put an actual gun to my head and made me use my quirk on you 24/7. Hell, I basically had to fight you to save your arm just now. You also already promised you wouldn’t get me deported or imprisoned, and you seem like a man of your word. So, I’m not seeing the problem here.”

What… the fuck? Was there a screw loose in your brain?

“You’re telling me you enjoyed feeling like your arm was dipped in magma just now?” Bakugo shot back. “You liked feeling every bone shard wiggle back into place, every shredded nerve restitched?”

Because he certainly fucking didn’t.

“Well, no.” You frowned. “I’m not an actual masochist, despite the jokes you make. But I know the fallbacks of my own quirk, and I made the decision to use it to help you. Just like I made the same decision to save your life the night you crashed into my apartment. I’m not very strong, or talented, but I… I like using my quirk, I like helping people, in spite of the temporary pain it causes, no matter how bad. And someone as talented and powerful as you probably doesn’t understand, but I thought I would never be able to use my quirk for anything meaningful, purposeful. For a long time, I thought this power was wasted on someone like me. So, when you, one of Japan’s best heroes, asked for my help, I thought…”

Here, you trailed off and bit your lip, and Bakugo realized he was leaning forward, seemingly hanging on your every word.

“You thought what?” he muttered.

“I thought… I was finally going to be useful,” you sighed as you wrapped your arms around yourself, glancing away from him. “And maybe that’s selfish. You were looking for someone to help you, and I was looking to feel better about myself. But I thought my actions would at least level out to a net good, if I could actually help you retain your hearing. Still, regardless of my selfish intentions, I did want to help you, Bakugo. I… still do. Not because you forced me, not because you have some leverage over me, but because you have a problem, and I have the ability to fix it in some capacity. So, you really don’t have to worry about ‘torturing’ me. It’s my decision when and how I want to use my quirk, and I want to use it to help you. If… you’ll still let me.”

Your eyes darted back to his, hesitant and hopeful, and Bakugo floundered.

He hadn’t expected this, you fighting back now that he was trying to release you. And he hadn’t considered your perspective. You’d been right. As someone with a powerful quirk and, more importantly, the skill to wield it, he had never even considered what it would be like to not use his power regularly. To not be allowed to use his power. Even though you had tried to laugh it off, he’d heard the regret in your voice when you mentioned failing the hero course entrance exam, and he didn’t know why becoming a doctor hadn’t worked out, but he could tell you regretted that, too.

But you’d apparently been trying to overcome your shortcomings, taking on patients in the back of your shop, breaking the law to do the right thing, despite the pain and fatigue it must cause you.

You were a lot braver and stronger than he, or yourself, gave you credit for.

And now he kind of looked like an idiot.

“Tch.” Bakugo clicked his tongue as his face warmed up, and he turned and marched over to the top half of his soiled hero suit, still balled up and bloody in the corner of the bathroom. “Whatever, you’re obviously too stubborn to listen to common sense, and like you said, I can’t tell you what to do with your own damn quirk, so do whatever the hell you want.”

“So… you’ll still let me be your healer while I’m here? And you’ll stop avoiding me like the plague?”

“Yes, fine, fuck,” he muttered, his cheeks still hot, but when he straightened up and turned back to face you, a mile-wide grin was stretched across your mouth.

“Good,” you said, still smiling. “I’m glad.”

Your words and warm smile made him feel funny, and his reflexive urge was to snap at you, make you leave, but he was suddenly too tired to be angry. And maybe a small part of him— a very, very small part of him— thought that you didn’t deserve his anger after everything you’d done.

But anger, or at least annoyance, was how he addressed everyone, so he didn’t exactly know what to say to you.

“Masochist,” was what he finally settled on, but his tone was softer, less barbed, and your smile only grew.

“Stitches the Masochist,” you mused, tapping a finger against your chin. “That actually sounds like a pretty cool villain name.”

“The day you become a villain is the day I eat Shitty Hair’s boots,” Bakugo said as he dropped the top of his torn and bloodied hero suit. It was ruined, he’d have to get a new one, so he just left it there and stepped across the massacre that was the bathroom floor on his way to the door.

“Why Kirishima’s boots?” You frowned, backing up into the adjacent room to let him out.

“Have you fuckin’ smelled those things?” he scoffed. “They’d raise the goddamn dead. But that’s how sure I am that you and your bleeding heart won’t ever become a villain.”

You opened your mouth, looking like you were going to argue, but then you deflated with a sigh.

“Yeah, I can’t even come up with a good comeback,” you muttered. “I’ll probably think of it tomorrow.”

Your petulant tone and pouting face actually startled a snort of laughter out of him, and you snapped your head up with wide eyes. Bakugo quickly composed himself and cast his gaze around the room for a distraction, settling on the tray of food on the desk.

“What’s this?” he grunted, striding forward. He thought he remembered you mentioning food earlier.

“Hmm? Oh, that,” you said when he came to a stop in front of the desk. “That’s just some miso soup and crispy rice squares. I was making myself a snack before, uh, Kirishima stopped by and told me what happened, so I thought you might want some food.”

He’d been an ass to you all week, and your first thought had been to bring him food?

Bakugo stared down at the bowl of soup for a long moment before he picked it up and brought it to his mouth.

“W-Wait!” You stumbled forward, reaching out for him. “It’s probably cold by now, I can—”

“Too late,” the blond said as he finished draining the bowl, licking his lips before he dropped it onto the tray and picked up the rice squares.

He noticed an orange drizzle of chili oil on them, and could taste that you’d added some to the miso, and he wondered if you had remembered him saying he liked spicy food.

Then he quickly shook the idiotic thoughts away and shoved the rice into his mouth.

They were cold, just like the soup had been, but the rice was pleasantly crunchy and spicy in turns, and when they were gone, he wished there were more. He’d have to make himself some the next time he cooked.

Your cooking wasn’t half bad, though. Not that he would say anything like that to your face.

“Wow, you must have been hungry,” he heard you murmur, and he looked over to find you frowning at him. “Are you still hungry? There isn’t more miso right now, and I used the last of the leftover rice, but there are still some things left in the fridge down the hall. I could—”

“Nah,” he cut you off, marching over to the wardrobe in the corner. “I’m gonna go out and grab something to eat.”

Unfortunately, the wardrobe was empty except for some extra towels, so Bakugo grabbed two, spun on heel, and made his way to the door.

“Go… out?” you echoed, anxiously following in his wake. “I don’t think—”

“Take your shoes off,” he interrupted as he yanked open the door and tossed the two towels over the threshold.

“What?” You paused and blinked at him.

“Your slippers,” he grunted, jerking his chin at your feet. “They’re soaked in blood, and you’re just squishing out puddles with every step. So, take off your socks and slippers, and wipe your feet on the towel before going into the hallway.”

To demonstrate, he dragged the soles of his combat boots over one of the white towels, leaving crimson smears in his wake. He didn’t particularly give a shit, but he knew Kirishima would be on his ass for making more of a mess than necessary, and he didn’t want to deal with a lecture about trailing blood down the hall.

“Okay…” you said before doing as you were instructed, and a few moments later, you tentatively held your dripping socks and slippers away from your body and looked back at him. “Alright, what do I do with them?”

“Just toss ‘em in the fuckin’ corner, I dunno,” he huffed before he deemed his boots clean enough and stomped into the hallway. “One of the interns is gonna have to come by and clean up anyways.”

He stalked off down the hall, away from the elevators, past your door, and to one of the other empty rooms on this floor. The sidekicks and interns were always leaving their shit behind, extra clothes, phone chargers, some of them even brought special pillows and blankets from home. Bakugo usually didn’t give a shit what the extras did, but he hoped they would be of use to him right now.

His pants were still dusty and splattered with blood, but the fabric was pitch black, so it hid most of the mess well. Unfortunately, the top of his uniform had been torn to shit, so he needed a new shirt. He kept his own extra clothes downstairs in the locker room, but he would have to walk through the main lobby to get there, and Shitty Hair would definitely spot him. Then the blond would have to listen to his partner bitch and moan about how worried he’d been. Not to mention, if he went down there shirtless, he wouldn’t be able to explain how he was suddenly healed now, not without throwing you under the bus, and Bakugo was just really not in the fucking mood for any of that crap right now. He was hungry and looking to burn off this amped up energy flowing through his veins, so he needed to grab a shirt, and his keys, and sneak out of the building without being caught.

Thankfully, there were clothes in the wardrobe of this room, so he blindly grabbed what felt like a t-shirt before he closed the closet back up.

“Bakugo!” you suddenly hissed from the hall, and he turned to find you leaning against the doorjamb as you panted for breath. There were also bags under your eyes that he didn’t think had been there before you healed them, and your brow gleamed with sweat in the low light of the hallway.

“You should head to bed, Stitches,” he grunted as he walked back out of the room, pulling the shirt on over his head.

“No, I… is that your shirt?” You straightened up with a furrowed brow when he brushed past you.

Bakugo immediately knew he looked ridiculous. He could feel how tight the shirt was across his chest and shoulders, and when he glanced down, he could see it was also too short, revealing a strip of his stomach between the bottom hem and the tops of his pants.

“Obviously not,” he scoffed, his cheeks warming up again. “But I don’t have time to grab my own shit.”

Then his eyes flicked over your body as an idea came to him, and he held out his hand.

“Give me your sweatshirt.”

You gaped at him, fisting a hand in the material at your chest as a flush crawled across your face.

“W-What?” you stuttered. “No, t-this is mine.”

“I’ll fuckin’ return it to you,” he shot back. “Washed and everything since it’s covered in blood. Or I’ll get you a damn new one, in the same size since you like to be cozy or whathefuckever. So, come on, hand it over.”

“I… I can’t,” you said, dropping your gaze, and even in the dim light of the hall, he could see your cheeks were bright red.

“Why the fuck not?” He scowled.

You muttered something under your breath, and his scowl only deepened.

“What? Speak up. I told you I hate muttering.”

You let out a long sigh before you lifted your head, and voice, but you still refused to look at him.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath it.”

Bakugo blinked at you, once, twice, and then felt heat flood through his whole body. “What the hell, Stitches?”

You were naked. Under his merch hoodie. His eyes flicked unbidden to the orange X across your chest, meant to look like part of his hero suit, but he immediately forced his gaze back up to your face.

“I’ve been using it as pajamas,” you huffed, stomping your foot indignantly. “It gets cold up here! Besides, I don’t think you should be going anywhere right now anyway. You just—”

“If I wanted to hear another lecture, I’d go find Shitty Hair,” he cut you off and rolled his eyes. “And I’m not asking your permission to leave. I’m going to get some food, one way or another. Now, are you going to go back in your room, change, give me the hoodie, and go to bed? Or are you going to change and come with me?”

The anger drained from your face abruptly, like a plug being pulled, replaced by surprise.

Bakugo was surprised himself. He didn’t know why he’d asked you to come. He had planned to just take the hoodie and order you to go to bed. But that had slipped out instead.

You were still staring at him like he’d grown a second head, so he quickly tried to cover up.

“I-I mean, you’re just gonna fuckin’ pace and worry in your room until you break, go find Kirishima, and rat on me, so at least if you come with me, you know I haven’t dropped dead. And… you need food anyway, too, right? After using your quirk. I’m just being goddamn practical.”

You stared at him silently as he fumbled over himself, and Bakugo blamed the chaotic bullshit of this fucked up night for throwing him out of sorts.

Just when he was going to completely retract his statement and storm off, you finally spoke up.

“Alright,” you said slowly, eyes scanning over his face like you were trying to find something. “Give me a moment to change. But don’t go anywhere without me.”

“You think I want to go down looking like this?” he growled and gestured to his ridiculously tight shirt. “Just hurry up.”

Your gaze flicked down to his torso before darting away, and your cheeks were still pink as you turned and quickly hobbled on bare feet back to your room.

When the door closed behind you, Bakugo exhaled sharply before he ran a hand through his hair, cringing at the grit and dirt he encountered. He needed a shower, but that could wait an hour.

The blond spent the next two minutes and thirty seconds leaning against the wall opposite your room, and he was just considering banging on your door when it cracked open.

“About time,” he muttered as he shoved himself away from the wall.

“Sorry,” you said, your favorite word, but you closed the door behind you and held out a mass of black fabric. “Here.”

He took the hoodie, and it was still warm from your body against his fingertips. He violently shoved the thought away as he yanked the sweatshirt on, and he also blatantly ignored the way it smelled like you.

“Thanks,” he grunted and glanced back at you, and he noticed you’d swapped out your ratty pants for jeans, and the hoodie for a dark green pullover sweater. Your previously bare feet were now covered by sensible tennis shoes, and it looked like you had splashed your face and hair with water, too.

“Did I miss any blood or anything?” you asked as your hand rose to your cheek.

“You’re fine. Come on, let’s go.” He turned and strode down the hall to the elevators, smacking the button until he could hear the car approaching. It was a small thing, but just being able to hear that quiet whirring noise calmed him down a little, and his thoughts cleared as the elevator dinged.

He crossed his fingers and hoped no one was on the other side of the doors, and when they pulled open, the empty car answered his prayers. You followed him into the elevator, and then Bakugo pressed the button for the bottom floor.

“When the doors open, we need to run for the door.” The plan was already formulating in his mind as the elevator jerked into motion around him. “Shitty Hair will probably have everyone in the conference room, but in case there’s stragglers, duck down low and make a beeline for the entrance.”

“Is all this really necessary?” you asked, your eyes anxiously tracking the descending floors. “You could just tell Kirishima where you’re going—”

A sudden chime announced the car’s arrival on the ground floor, and Bakugo didn’t have time for your hesitations.

“Nope, come on.” He made a grab for your wrist but ended up with your hand, but then the doors were sliding open, and he had to act.

The blond crouched down and pulled you along with him. The front doors were to the left and a little behind the elevators, but they were directly across from his and Kirishima’s glass-walled offices, so that’s where his eyes jumped first. Thankfully, the offices, and the bull pen, were almost entirely empty. There were three interns or sidekicks— he didn’t know or care— sitting at one of the desks and reading over something, but they were all faced in the opposite direction.

Now was his chance.

He quickly but silently made his way along the edge of the bull pen, tugging you behind him. He made it to the reception desk in a matter of moments, and he dropped your hand as he yanked open a drawer and started rummaging inside.

“What are you looking for?” you hissed, and in his peripherals, he could see you looking nervously at the desk of extras halfway across the room.

“My keys,” he grunted, right before his fingers closed around the familiar fob. “Got it. Let’s—”

“Hey, guys?” Kirishima’s voice suddenly rang out across the main floor. “Have you finished your reports? I just wanted to… hey…”

Bakugo snapped upright to see his partner on the other side of the main floor, standing in front of the hallway that led to the conference room off to the right of his office. The towering redhead was squinting in the blond’s direction, and Bakugo saw the instant his friend realized what he was seeing.

“Bakugo! What the hell are you doing?” Kirishima immediately started to jog forward, the extras whirling around in their seats, and Bakugo knew he was out of time.

“That’s our cue, Stitches,” he grunted as he came out from behind the desk, grabbed your hand again, and lunged for the door.

You gasped wordlessly as you stumbled after him, and now Kirishima was yelling both of your names as Bakugo came out onto the street and sprinted towards his car. Thankfully, it was only several spots down from the entrance, so he hit the key fob to unlock the doors, pushed you toward the passenger side, and then jumped clear over the roof.

Fuck, either your quirk was super damn powerful, or he was running on pure adrenaline, because that felt too easy.

“Get in!” he shouted as he wrenched open the driver’s door and threw himself into the seat.

You were just falling in through your own door when he slammed the keys in the ignition and cranked the engine, and he glanced in the rearview just in time to see Kirishima shoving past the front doors and turning towards the blond’s car.

“Hold on!” Bakugo threw the car in gear and stomped down on the gas pedal, and the tires squealed against the asphalt as they sought traction.

“Wai— AH!” you yelped as you were slammed back in your seat, just barely getting the door closed before the car shot away from the curb like a bullet from the barrel of the gun.

“Bakugoooooo!” Kirishima’s voice trailed off as Bakugo sped down the street, and the blond glanced in the rearview again to see his partner standing in the middle of the road while throwing his hands up in the air.

He’d get an earful about this later, but that was a Future Bakugo problem.

Thankfully, since it was past midnight, there weren’t many people out, so Bakugo was able to reach the end of the road, turn left, and delve deeper into downtown in under a minute.

The car was silent save the growl of the engine and the sound of him shifting gears, and once he reached a red light, he glanced over at you in the passenger seat.

You were wide-eyed, gripping both the handle on the door and the center console, and your breathing was shallow as you half-hovered over your seat. Then you seemed to sense his gaze on you, because you slowly turned and met his eyes, and the two of you stared at each other unblinkingly for a long moment.

Bakugo expected you to start yelling or scolding him any second now, but what you did next shocked him.

You laughed.

It started off small at first, just some tremors in your abdomen, climbing up to the line of your shoulders. But then you started huffing air out of your nose as your lips twitched, and a moment later you were laughing— no, giggling— pressing one of your hands against your face to try and smother the noise but failing desperately. Your eyes glinted in the red light coming in through the windshield, and the unrestrained glee in them was totally disarming.

One side of Bakugo’s mouth jerked up, then the other, and before he could stop himself, he was laughing along with you. Not hysterically or anything, but a deep chuckle that rumbled out of his chest and provided a bass to your high-pitched giggles.

The two of you continued to laugh for a minute before you suddenly started shaking your head.

“No, no,” you gasped for breath, trying to recompose yourself but unable to keep the smile off your mouth. “No, this isn’t funny. Kirishima is probably so confused and concerned!”

“Oh, come on, Stitches, you can’t lie and say that wasn’t fun,” Bakugo snickered. “Besides, Shitty Hair saw me run out of there, so he at least knows I’m not dying. He’ll be fine for an hour.”

You pressed your still trembling lips into a thin line. “Well… maybe it was kind of fun.”

He smirked, triumphant, but then the light turned green, and he switched his attention to the road again.

“Put on your seatbelt,” he said as he shifted gears and pulled forward. “I don’t need to be getting a ticket.”

“You’re one to talk,” you laughed but did as he said. “You’re not even wearing yours.”

“I’m a pro hero,” the blond scoffed.

“So you won’t go flying through the windshield if we crash?” He could see your arched eyebrow and judging expression out the corner of his eye. “I’m sure a police officer will believe that.”

“Maybe I should have left your ass at the agency,” Bakugo said without any real heat, but he held the steering wheel with one hand as he grabbed his seatbelt with the other and clicked it into place.

Just so he wouldn’t have to listen to you bitch anymore, of course.

You smiled in his peripherals but didn’t say anything, and silence descended over the car. But unlike the other silences Bakugo had experienced tonight, this one felt… comfortable, almost. Easy. He didn’t feel the need to fill it, and for once you didn’t either, your typical nervous babble replaced by a quiet smile as you gazed out the window at the lights of downtown.

Bakugo ripped his gaze away from you and told himself to focus. He’d come out here for a reason.

After thinking about the current time and what places would still be open right now, he made a right at the next street and continued straight for several blocks, Unlike the last time you were in the car, you kept your questions to yourself, only sitting up straight when he parked down the road from a bar he’d gone to a few times with Shitty Hair. The bar wasn’t all that special, too loud and crowded most nights for his taste. But a food vendor always set up shop on the corner just to tempt drunken patrons to spend more money on hot, oily food.

“Can I, um, come with you?” you spoke up as he turned off the car.

Bakugo turned to look at you in the passenger seat, and you flushed as you fiddled with the sleeves of your sweater.

“I know we probably aren’t staying, but I just, uh, haven’t been to this part of town yet, and the shops and the bars on this road look cool, so I just wanted to see them a little closer,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “A-And besides, I’m supposed to be making sure you don’t drop dead, right?”

The blond rolled his eyes. “That’s more like my job, given how many times you trip over your own damn feet. But whatever. You can come if you want. Just don’t go passing out on me and eating asphalt.”

“Deal,” you said with a tentative smile, backlight by the yellow streetlights coming in through the window behind you.

Bakugo grunted wordlessly before he started climbing out of the car, and by the time he came around the hood, you were standing on the curb with your hands clasped in front of you.

“Wow, so you can get out of a car on your own without bloodshed,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Shut up,” you muttered, and the tips of your ears went pink, sticking out the sides of your hair. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“This way.” He turned and strode off down the block, feeling his shoulders tighten as he saw the small crowd milling around on the sidewalk between him and the food cart on the corner. The group of about thirty people was a mix of sober extras waiting to get into the bar, and already wasted extras who had stepped outside for some air or a smoke. They congregated in groups scattered across both sides of the sidewalk, and they were all talking and laughing loudly over the music spilling from the bar entrance.

Bakugo tugged up the hood of his sweatshirt— your sweatshirt, he was reminded when he got another whiff of your scent— and put on his meanest scowl as he started to stomp his way through the crowd.

“Move it,” he grunted as a drunken idiot stumbled backwards and into him.

“Whaa— why don’t you move it, huh?” The staggering moron blinked up at him through bloodshot eyes, and Bakugo just rolled his own before he shoved the guy out of his way and continued forward.

And he would have just keep going, if he didn’t hear the fucker’s next words.

“Heyyyy, where’re you goin’, sweetheart? Lookin’ so fine in that green sweater. Wanna show me what’s underneath it?”

“O-Oh, I’m just trying to get through here,” Bakugo heard you stutter. “If you could just—”

“Awww, no, come on,” the man whined, and the blond turned to see the bastard trying to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Why don’t you come inside, and I’ll buy you a drink? Then we can get to know each other! My name’s—”

“She doesn’t give a fuck what your name is,” Bakugo snapped, and he suddenly found himself holding the bastard’s wrist in an ironclad grip. He hadn’t even felt himself move, let alone cross the several yards of sidewalk that had previously been between you and him.

But at least this fucker hadn’t touched you… because he smelled disgusting, of course, that’s it.

“What the fu— you again?” the drunk grunted as he tried to wrench his arm away, but Bakugo’s fingers were like steel. “Let me go, asshole. I’m just tryna buy the lady a drink. What are ya, her boyfriend?”

“None of your goddamn business,” the blond sneered. “Go buy yourself a drink and fuck off.”

“Come on, dude, if she’s not yours, she’s free game, and I call dibs.” The man tried to tug himself free again and leered in your direction. “Ain’t that right, baby?”

Bakugo scowled and then slapped his free hand, palm first, against the dickhead’s face.

“You have two seconds to get the fuck out of my face,” Bakugo growled as his palm started to glow orange, the residual heat making the brow beneath his fingers sweat. “Or I’m going to blow yours off.”

The man’s eyes widened behind the web of the blond’s fingers, and he immediately started to panic, flailing, so Bakugo let him go. The idiot fell right back on his ass and gaped up at the blond before he scrambled onto his feet, and he scurried off into the bar like the pathetic rat he was.

You were staring at him wide eyed, but so were some of the other people gathered on the sidewalk, so Bakugo ducked his head, grabbed your hand, and tugged you away from the crowd.

The two of you were silent as he led the rest of the way down the block, and thankfully there were less and less people in his goddamn way. By the time he reached the food cart on the corner, there were only two people ahead of him in line, and they seemed to be getting their food quickly.

“Um… Bakugo?”

“What?” he grunted, a little more roughly than he intended, and he glanced down at you.

“I-I, uh, just wanted to say thanks for… back there.” Your gaze met his for an instant before darting away. “And you can, um, let go of my hand now.”

Bakugo’s eyes dropped to see his large hand cupped around yours, your dainty fingers dwarfed in comparison.

He dropped your hand like it was on fire and immediately wiped his palm against his pants. His palm had still been sweaty from summoning up his quirk. He hoped you hadn’t felt it. Then he wondered why the fuck he cared at all.

Thankfully, he was saved from the embarrassment of having to respond by the food vendor calling him forward.

“Yeah, I’ll take four orders of takoyaki and two sweet potatoes,” Bakugo muttered.

The vendor nodded and gave the price before he started plating up the orders.

Bakugo reached into his pocket, frowned, and then started patting himself down. A moment later, a string of curses left his mouth.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I— fuck,” he growled and dragged a hand through his still gritty hair. “I forgot I was wearing my suit pants. My wallet’s in my goddamn locker back at the agency.”

“Oh.” You blinked before you pulled you phone out. “That’s okay, I can get it.”

“I don’t need you buying my shit for me.” He scowled, embarrassed, but you just rolled your eyes at him.

“Technically, you’re still buying,” you said, flashing the credit card that you took out of the wallet attached to your phone. “It’s your card, so don’t get y-your panties in a bunch, Dynamight.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes, having recognized you were throwing his own words back at him, but he couldn’t help the way his lips twitched.

“You almost had it there, Stitches,” he taunted. “After you build up a little more confidence, I can even teach ya some swear words.”

You rolled your eyes again, but then the vendor was holding out a bag of food, so you traded him the bag for the card. After you had paid, you smiled and bowed to the vendor before stepping off to the side.

“I’ll take that,” Bakugo grunted, plucking the bag from your hands. Then he paused and glanced at the crowded sidewalk further down the street, and after a moment of thinking about it but not really, he shifted the food into his right hand as he held his left out towards you. “Come on. It’ll be quicker if I don’t have to save your ass again.”

You stared at him, then at his hand, but before Bakugo could huff with impatience, your palm slid against his, and he reflexively closed his long fingers over yours.

“Fuck, you’re cold,” he hissed in an effort to not think about how soft your skin was against his scars and callouses.

“Sor— um, I mean my fingers are always like that,” you said, but he caught how you didn’t apologize this time.

“Need to get you some goddamn mittens,” he grumbled before he started marching forward, tugging you with him.

The crowd on the sidewalk parted for him easily enough this time, flattening themselves along the walls of the buildings or stepping off the curb and into the street. Bakugo kept his head ducked under his hood, but a smirk pulled at his lips as he saw one extra trip over his feet while scrambling out of the way.

Once the two of you reached the car, the blond unlocked it, opened your door, and placed the food in your lap once you’d sat down. Then he closed your door and glared off in the direction of the crowd one last time before he went around to the driver’s side.

“Open that shit up,” Bakugo grunted as he got in the car, started it, and threw on his seatbelt. “I’m starving.”

“Uh, what about your leather seats?” you asked, carefully setting the bag between your feet and then buckling your own seatbelt.

“Just try not to spill shit,” he said and pulled away from the curb.

“Alright… what do you want first?” You bent over and started rummaging through the bag.

“Takoyaki. I got like four damn boxes, so just open one.”

You did as he instructed, and the smell of warm, fried seafood filled the car.

Both of your stomachs growled in near unison, and you chuckled as you picked up one of the skewers and held it out to him.

“Great stomachs think alike,” you said, and Bakugo suppressed a smile at your corny joke, swiping the takoyaki from you.

While the car coasted down an empty street, the blond tore into one of the four bread balls on the skewer. The batter was fluffy and still hot from the fryer, stuffed full of grilled octopus and green onion, and he ravenously tore through the whole rod in under a minute.

He leaned over and tossed the empty skewer into the bag at your feet, and then glanced at you to ask for another one, but he drew up short when he noticed your cheeks were bulging out of your face like a chipmunks. Your eyes were closed as you chewed happily, sighing out of your nose, but then your eyes opened, and you jumped when you noticed his stare.

“S-Sorry,” you mumbled around your mouthful, discarding your own empty skewer in the bag as you swallowed hurriedly. “I’m just… a little hungry.”

“Why do you think I got four damn boxes?” he huffed as he turned his attention back to the road and held out a hand. “I don’t give a shit how many you eat, just give me some.”

Another skewer was placed in his palm a moment later, and then the car was quiet save the sounds of chewing.

“Hey, Bakugo?” you asked almost ten minutes later. The two of you had already gone through all the takoyaki, and you were currently nibbling on your foil-wrapped sweet potato.

“What?” he grunted around his own potato, holding the steering wheel in his left hand while he ate with his right.

“Where are we going?”

“Dunno,” he said as he took another aimless turn. But he could feel you staring at him, could feel the follow up questions waiting to fall out of your mouth, so he beat you to it. “Sometimes, I just feel like driving. ‘Specially at night. Don’t know if you dumped too much energy into me or what, but I was feeling amped up, so I just wanted to drive and eat before I have to deal with Shitty Hair and after action reports and all that bullshit. That alright with you, Stitches?”

His red eyes snapped over to you in the passenger seat, and you froze midbite around your potato.

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed past your mouthful, bobbing your head, and Bakugo watched a strand of hair fall into your eyes.

He was struck with the sudden and stupid urge to move it, but he just turned back to the road, pressing a little harder on the gas pedal since he was nearing the outskirts of town.

Then he turned onto the highway that looped back around the edge of the city, and it was quiet for several more minutes. He finished his potato in that time, balled the foil up, and tossed it in the bag at your feet. You were still nibbling on yours, only half finished, and he could see a hint of your reflection as you stared out your window.

“Oh, wow,” you murmured as the highway turned into a bridge.

“What?” Bakugo asked, glancing over at you.

“Nothing, it’s just the moon looks so pretty on the ocean,” you said, the phantom of your smile reflecting back at him in the glass. “I’ve lived here for almost a year and still haven’t gone to the beach.”

“Seriously?” he snorted. “It’s like a ten minute drive from most parts of the city.”

“I know,” you sighed as you reached out and traced the line of the horizon against the glass. “I was so excited about it when I moved here, too. The ocean wasn’t very close to where I grew up in America, so I was planning on going to the beach every weekend once I moved here. But, well, settling in took a while, and then I’ve just been so busy with the shop and my… afterhours work. I kept telling myself I would go next weekend, then the next, but it just hasn’t happened. Yet anyways. But I’ll make it there someday.”

You covered up your wistful smile with a nervous laugh when you realized he was staring at you, and the car reached the other side of the bridge, the ocean falling out of sight. Then you stared down into your lap, fiddling with the foil around your potato, and Bakugo could see the side of your face was pink.

The blond didn’t say anything, but after a moment, he flicked on the blinker and started to exit the highway. He could see you peeking at him out of the corner of your eye, but you didn’t say anything as he began winding down side roads again.

Until he came around a corner five minutes later, and the sea suddenly spread out across the foreground, glinting white with the reflection of the moon.

“Oh,” you gasped quietly, awe lighting up your features, but then you gasped again, more sharply this time, snapping your head to stare at him. “I-I didn’t mean you had to take me right now—”

“Shut up.” Bakugo rolled his eyes as he continued driving forward, aiming for one of the currently empty parking lots that butted up against the shore. “I never have to do anything. But I need to stretch my legs anyway, so…”

He trailed off, because the lie sounded flimsy, even to him. Well, it wasn’t a full lie. The food was starting to settle in his stomach and making him a little sleepy, so he did need to wake up a bit.

But truthfully, you had stitched his arm back together even when he was snapping at you like a wild dog, so maybe he wanted to do something to make it up to you.

He tried telling himself it was just because he was working on his image, trying to be a people-person like fucking Deku, like his PR manager had been begging him to be for years. But he also logically knew that, at this hour of the early morning, there was no one else around to see his so-called “good deed,” so who was he really doing this for?

He purposefully avoided answering this question by whipping the car into a parking spot, killing the engine with a flick of his wrist. He didn’t look at you as he opened the door and slid out of the car, but he could hear your scrambling with your seatbelt and then stumbling out onto the sandy asphalt a moment later.

Bakugo locked the car and then just started stomping forward, towards the water. The parking lot gave way to sand, and his boots sank deeply into the soft material. He scowled at the thought of having to now get sand out of his hero suit along with the blood and everything else, but he was distracted from his irritation by your stepping past him with this awe-struck look on your face.

“It’s so… big,” you breathed, and he noticed you were holding your socks and sneakers in one hand, your toes curling into the pale sand. A snappy comment sat on the tip of his tongue— something about of course it was big, the definition of “ocean” was literally big fucking body of water— but your soft smile gave him pause, and he turned to stare at the lapping waves.

“Well, do you just want to look at it, or what?” he asked, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie— your hoodie— and hunching against the brisk wind.

“Definitely not.” You grinned and then started walking forward, picking your way over the small dunes.

Bakugo stayed a few feet behind you, mostly making sure that you didn’t break an ankle, but you made it all the way to the waterline without falling on your face. He watched as you set your shoes just outside the reach of the lapping tide, and then you tentatively walked into the surf.

“Oh, shit!” you gasped in English as the presumably icy water washed over your toes, and you danced back a few steps. Then you started laughing as the wind whipped your hair around you, and Bakugo just stared at how you were silhouetted against the sea and stars. The moon was almost if not completely full tonight, so the full strength of its light reflected off the waves, making it just bright enough that he could see your smile as you turned to face him. “Do you want to join me, Bakugo?”

He noticed that you hadn’t added any honorific to his name that time. Then he cursed himself for noticing.

“Hell no,” he scoffed on reflex to your question. “I know that shit’s cold.”

“Yeah, but it feels nice,” you said, laughter still tinging your words. Then your smile took on a slightly mischievous tilt, and you kicked your leg up, water droplets glittering through the air before they fell to the sand. “Or are you too chicken?”

He immediately scowled, narrowing his eyes at you. He knew you were baiting him, but he also couldn’t take that shit lying down.

He wasn’t a bitch. He could handle some cold water.

“Gonna eat your words, Stitches,” he said as he bent down and started yanking on the laces of his boots. He ripped them off a few moments later, followed by his socks, and a slight shiver raced up his spine just from the cold sand.

But he quickly schooled his expression into a hard mask as he rolled up his pants, and then he marched forward, coming to a stop a few feet away from you just as the next wave hit. He bit the back of his tongue to keep from gasping at the cold, but you must have seen the minute flinch on his face, because you started laughing again.

“Shut up,” he gritted out, digging his toes into the wet sand as he faced you. “I fuckin’ got in, didn’t I?”

“You did,” you giggled, and your face was flushed from both the cold and your laughter. “But I can still see you shivering.”

Bakugo stared at you, and then, while keeping his face perfectly blank, he raised his left arm toward the ocean, aimed his palm several yards away, and fired off a single shot of his quirk, making sure his output was as low as he could get it.

The tiny explosion was muffled by the water so it was barely louder than the waves, but it was still large enough to cause icy droplets to explode up and rain down on the two of you.

You yelped, trying to cover your head, but the damage was done. He hadn’t soaked you, merely a splash, but your hair stuck to your face, and water dripped off your chin as you gaped at him.

Totally worth the icy water sliding down the nape of his own neck.

“Who’s shivering?” Bakugo smirked, and before you could retaliate, he turned on heel and walked back out of the water.

He returned to where the both of you had left your shoes, but he saw you were still standing in the surf, shaking your head. Then you turned to partially face the ocean, your profile standing out in stark relief against the waves, and he thought he saw you smiling before you turned your face fully away.

You seemed to want to stand in the water a little longer, and Bakugo wasn’t in a rush to go back to the agency and get lectured, so he plopped down on the sand next to his boots. He was already fucking dirty anyway. What was a little more sand?

He brought one of his knees up and balanced his arm atop it. His toes wiggled down into the sand, and even though it was still cold… it did kind of feel good.

His eyes flicked back to you, watching as you walked in the shallows, and every time the tide went out, you bent down to examine the sand, seemingly interested in some kind of shells or sea life.

Bakugo was surprised he felt… well, not shitty. The mission earlier had been shitty, loosing people had been shitty, getting metal punched through his arm had been extra shitty, but this… this was almost nice.

And Bakugo didn’t think anything was nice.

But you seemed to be getting over your awkward, shy stuttering, and you were even quipping back at him here at there. You seemed more… relaxed around him now, and Bakugo had to admit you didn’t have like, a terrible personality. You were way too nice and accommodating— he’d seen how much food you’d bought the damn extras back at the agency— but he had to admit your quirk was pretty strong, and you were obviously intelligent, knowing at least two languages and owning your own business. But even more than that, something about just your presence was calming, soothing even, like the sound of the surf lapping against the shore right now. He found he didn’t hate it, maybe even in fact--

Bakugo blinked as his mind ground to a halt, a record scratch ringing through his mind. What the fuck was he thinking?

Unbidden, Kirishima’s voice suddenly rang through the blond’s thoughts.

Well, doesn’t she look pretty?

His red eyes returned to you without his permission, and he stared at you as you stood there, with the sea up to your knees, studying something in your cupped palms as the breeze swirled your hair around you.

An answer came to mind immediately, and it was one he did not like.

He didn’t do this, do feelings. His hero work kept him too busy, he didn’t have time for a “relationship.” If he needed to get laid, he could just so out to the bars and find someone for a night. Hell, Kirishima was dragging him out to Dunceface’s party tomorrow— or today, rather, since it was close to two in the morning now. But Bakugo could find someone there to help scratch that itch, and then he’d be fine, he’d be…

You suddenly let out a startled peal of laughter, and he watched as you danced from side to side in the shallows, probably startled by some fish.

He hadn’t noticed before, but your laughter sounded nice, too…

“Fuck,” he cursed as he flopped back onto the sand, staring up at the stars. He was too tired for this shit. He needed some whiskey and to sleep for twenty-four hours, and then he could start thinking straight.

Hell, for all he knew, this was a side effect of your quirk, since your power seemed to “connect” you somehow to your patients.

Yeah. That was it. Just your quirk making him feel this way.

Satisfied, the blond let his eyes drift closed, and he was just starting to doze off when he sensed you standing over him.

“Bakugo?”

“Hn?” he grunted without opening his eyes.

You were silent for a long moment, but then he both heard and felt you sit down next to him. He peeked open an eye just in time to see you lie down a couple of feet to his right, but he closed it against when he saw you turn your head in his direction.

“Are you awake?” you whispered.

“No, I’m sleep talking,” he grumbled. “Course I’m fuckin’ awake. I’m just restin’ my eyes before we drive back to the agency. That alright with you, Stitches?”

“Mmhmm,” you said, and he squinted open an eye again to see you staring up at the sky, expression soft and happy in the moonlight.

Bakugo squeezed both his eyes tightly shut and told himself to stop noticing stupid shit.

It was quiet for a minute save the sound of the waves and wind, but then you broke it again.

“Thank you, Bakugo,” you murmured, sans honorific once again. “This was… really nice. Besides the whole you bleeding out thing, I had a good time tonight.”

The blond felt his cheeks warm up at the genuine sincerity in your voice, but he refused to answer, lapsing into silence and hoping you’ll think he dozed off. He would just pretend to be asleep for a few minutes, and then he’d drive the two of you back.

The waves and wind continued to mutter and whisper in the background, and Bakugo felt himself starting to relax into the sand.

Just a few more minutes…

89 notes · View notes

quest3837a · 9 months

Text

Kirbious

A Eleven year old boy named Toby Watson reported dead. They were playing on their DS. And the game was Kirby super star ultra. They're heart was ripped out and inpaled and their ribs exposed through their chest. And their eyes were bloodshot red and blood drained through their eyesockets and blood stained on the DS screen.

Soon, As I get home from school. As I go to my room. A mysterious DS came card is on my bed. As I grab it. It's Kirby Super Star Ultra,

But the first K is backwards. As I then grab my DS and put the game in without caring where it came from. I boot my game and start playing. As I play. The nice tune in the intro is normal. Nothing suspicious,

And as I go on files. There's already a file called "Kirbious 606"

As I stare at it for a good minute.

"That sounds like Morbious.." I say. Then I click on that file for fun. Then I see a red screen flashing red and pink very fast. It hurts my eyes and then it goes to the game menu.

"What the Flip-hat??"

I yell, as then. I go play on Spring breeze.

And when I play. The game is nothing but fine, until as I play mid game. A black figure follows me. It looks exactly like kirby. But he is pure black instead of his happy pink tone. And his stubby toes are bloodshot red and his eyes are flashy red. And he then follows my character throughout the game. Until I get to the final boss (took 3-5 hours)

As I fight Mark soul, he stopped followed me. He looked rather. Scared. He runs away

"Coward!" I yell at the dark Kirby, as I then finally beat Mark soul,

Instead of his normal scream be makes when he gets cut in half. He makes a literal girl screech as if the person who made it was actually dying. I jumped out of my chair and tried to turn my volume down the best I could. It scares me to death. My heart still racing. Then the game goes black for 10 minutes.

As I sip my soda through my McDonald's straw a horrifying jumpscare of a realistic Black Kirby up-close with gritted teeth and thin bloodshot red eyes staring deep into my soul, and scares me. I instantly close my DS and throw it in my trashcan without thinking and hide in my blankets. After a minute ot two. I grab the game and try to play again.

And as the intro comes. It shoes the same thing. But instead of it saying

"Kirby super star ultra"

It just says "Kirbious 606"

With the dark kirby in the screen instead of Kirby, and it really hit me.

This game is cursed..

I tried to turn it off. But the ds itself wouldn't budge.

Now this is damn shit cursed.

As then the screen turned black.

And tiny words came on screen.

And it allowed me to talk back..

Kirbious: hello dear..

Michael: uhh new phone who dis?

Kirbious: ah yes. Well some call me. The black figure. Or perhaps dark kirby.. or maybe.. Kirbious.

Michael: what do you want from me?

Kirbious: I used to be like you.

Michael: humam..?

Kirbious: correct.

Then a image appeared in my head,

Of a boy with black hair with a bowlcut

Pale skin And overalls. And he had his legs chopped off and left to die next to a tree. And he was holding a Kirby super star ultra ds card.

And my head ached,

Kirbious: well-

Do u perhaps know why u can't stop playing..?

Michael: ...

Kirbious: I've made it so whoever plays. Can never stop. Their too addicted to it. And then. That's when I come in..

Michael: what did you doo to Toby??

Kirbious: I took their soul..

Michael: what the hell are you..?

Kirbious: give me your soul..

And the game itself crashed and static sounds were

playing even if the volume was off. And then drilling sounds began. It wasn't from outside. The neighbors

weren't doing yard work. It was from the game. Even if the sound was off. And then a rythem of screams began and I accidentally

through my ds down the stairs and a blue screen turned

on and white words I couldn't see and beeping sounds. My mom ran in

"Michael Lawrence! Why the hell did you throw your ds down the stairs??"

She demanded.

I then ran down to grab it. "Sorry. It er.. slipped out of my hands!" I quickly told.

"Nope. I'm talking it from you for the day,"

She took it and put it high on a shelf.

Then on my computer I had then searched about the image that appeared in my head. And I found a article. "A boy who had served legs and left to die"

As I clicked on it. It showed the image of the boy in a hospital. His name was

"Clen K. Mitchell" and he was only Eleven. Like Toby, and it occurred around August 2013. And then it said the killer was unknown. And he had died.

But why was he holding a Kirby super star ultra ds card in the image that was in my head. And is this boy Kirbious..

At midnight I got out of bed and climbed the shelf and took the ds and ran back And hid

under my blanket and played the game. As then. The scary intro played. But then. Kirbious had then became a playable character. As I played as him instead of Kirby. He was faster. He ran instead of walking. And then when

I tried to inhale a waddle doo. He inhaled the whole game. And it was just a black screen. And words with bloodshot text

"Give me your soul"

And then Kirbious's hand came through the screen and ripped into my chest and dug in to grab my Soul.

As I thrashed and screamed. He then ripped it out and the my chest hole sprayed blood everywhere and all over the screen.

Author: unknown

#creepypasta #creepypasta stories #horror #lost episodes #kirby #kirby super star

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cathartidie · 2 years

Text

Grey's Anatomy AU for @dcves (thank u jen for letting me be stupid) (TW medical stuff, injury) LAST ONE OF THE MEME WEEK FOLKS.

Dr. Young puts them on scut.

Roje doesn't care much for Dr. Young, but he's got a year of experience over them and that means a lot when you're at the bottom of the surgical food chain. Roje grits his teeth. Does what he's told. Waits for the day that he doesn't have to answer to him anymore. It's not their fault they know his father. That he likes them better than he liked the person his son became. Dr. Young probably knows that too. But it hasn't helped his near constant irritation with Roje in the slightest.

That's fine. Roje likes scut. Scut is quiet. No one dies. They sit in a room with one of the coma patients ( Roje likes to keep them company) and they sort through files. Machines whirr and beep. Outside, it rains.

A hospital, they've learned, is like a big organism. It's nothing but interlocking moving parts and the only way to survive it is to learn how it works. Scut is good for that kind of thing. You can learn a lot about a person from how they do their paperwork.

Take this chart for example. It opens with Dr. Young's neat, cramped writing. Blue pen, he carries one in his pocket at all times. He pressed so hard into the paper at points that he nearly ripped it. That's how Roje knows even before he flips the page that he was seeing this patient with Dr. Lykaois. The next two forms are filled out in almost illegible scrawl. Dr. Lykaois writes so fast at times that the pen simply leaves the paper and doesn't come back down. There's blood on the corner of the page. He hadn't even bothered to take off his gloves. If Roje’s being honest, he’s lucky the man even bothered to chart at all. They carefully transcribe what they can read into a new page. The other one gets set aside to be shredded and dumped into a biohazard bin.

Transcription is necessary seeing as half the doctors at this hospital never actually learned to write, just cut. Some don’t have the luxury of time to sit and write neat, organized patient notes. They end up having to rewrite about half the charts from Dr. Ahn on any given day. She is probably the coolest resident and person Roje’s ever met. She's already aiming to specialize as a trauma surgeon and unlike Dr. Lykaois, there's an excuse for the rushed quality of her notes and little spatters of blood throughout. She rotates through the trauma bay every week. Stitching people back together faster than they can come apart. In one of her notes, she’s stuck a post-it on an order for an x-ray she'd signed off on for Dr. Young. He's suspicious a patient might have a compound fracture they hadn't detected the first time around. "No shit dumbass," it says. "Try not to start killing this one until I'm there to clean up your mess."

When Roje re-orders the file, he leaves the note. Dr. Young will be mad with him when he sees it but he's always mad at Roje. At least now it'll be for a real reason.

The next chart is clearly Dr. Stagg's. Roje knows that before they've even opened it up. As their top cardiothoracic attending, he's got a way of playing around with hearts. Roje’s not one for gossip, but he's pretty sure he can tell who Dr. Stagg’s currently with just by the smell of his notes. Dr. Partridge's perfume here. Nurse Frei's aftershave there. The whole file is odious. Dr. Stagg has been busy. The ripped page in the next file comes as no surprise then. It's Dr. Sydin’s patient. The date on the ripped page is the same day that Dr. Stagg and Nurse Frei came spilling out of a supply closet mid-something. No one can really agree on whether or not it was a fight or sex. Dr. Calderon has a running bet going. Roje abstained. He’s fairly sure it was both.

They smooth over the rip, carefully piecing the page back together with tape the same way they might suture an incision. When they find a blot in the bottom corner of the next page, a circle of blurred ink that looks like something wet fell there just as Dr. Sydin was writing, well, they rewrite the whole thing and replace it.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Roje looks up. They smile. “Hi Thea.” “Young’s got you on scut again?”

“I mentioned one of his father’s procedures during rounds.”

“Ah, that’ll do it,” Thea steps into the room, eyeing the stack of files. “You’ve been busy. I’m almost kind of jealous. They’ve got me with Azevedo again.”

“Isa’s nice,” Roje says, patiently. The words come out almost on automatic now. They’ve said this at least a dozen times before.

Thea nods, mouthing along to what he says next. “If I give her a chance, yeah, yeah. I know. Doesn’t mean I’m interested in extending an olive branch Roje.”

Roje nods. The second thing they learned at this hospital is that sometimes, people just like to hate each other. There’s nothing to be done about that. “Anyway,” Thea goes on. “I came here for a reason.” She steps inside the room fully, laying a hand across the file. “Müller needs a pair of hands.” “What?” Roje says slowly, brightening a little at the mention of Dr. Müller. He’s one of the few residents that’s been known to let interns do more than suction.

“Lykaois mishandled a scalpel. Stabbed him in the hand. He needs someone to help him with resettings and relocations. He said he’s looking for someone with strong hands, for when they have to pop the bones back into place.”

Roje closes the file they’re working on. They stand up.

“I’d get moving if I were you. I heard Badr’s on the prowl. Nurse Rasmus put him on it. Fei's out for blood too."

That’s got Roje moving. Badr and Fei are notorious for their ability to scoop the best cases out from even the most cautious intern. If they want this case, they'll have to be fast. "I thought Rasmus was on peds?" They ask, shrugging on their white coat. "I did too, but they've got a way of getting around here." Roje nods, mouth thinning. No one's quite sure why Lili has such a soft spot for Badr. All the other interns know is that it gives him a leg up on getting to the best open cases first. When nurse Rasmus had officially transferred over to peds full time last month, the entire locker room had let out a collective breath of relief. They lied a little before, about scut. They do enjoy it, really. It’s easy, calm work. But they love surgery so much more. Why else would they be here at Beast-Crow Memorial Hospital? "Don't worry," Thea says, smirking. "When Fei asked me where Müller was I gave her the wrong floor. Told Badr she already got the job when he came asking. They'll be busy for a couple minutes sorting that out."

"Did you tell the others?" Thea rolls her eyes. "Pan's on plastics again. Rachel decided to follow her for the day so she could...do that thing she does with Dr. Nour and Eres, well I'm pretty sure he thinks ortho's beneath him." Her nose wrinkles. "Unless he gets to watch Stagg repair someone's beating heart I don't think he'll be interested." "You're not going to try for yourself?" Thea grins a little, fingers tapping at the plastic cover of a chart. "I would, but I've got a bunch of scut to do." "Thea," Roje says. Thea waves them off. "You basically saved my life last month when you helped with that trauma case under Ahn. Kept Azevedo off my back too. I owe you." "No you don't. I did that because I'm your friend." "And I'm doing this because you're mine," Thea says, flipping open a chart. "Go." They hug her then. A quick wrap of arms around her shoulders. “Thank you. Love you. See you at home.”

Thea snorts, watching as they start their long run down the hall. "I know."

#drabble #meme #sorry for the grey's shonda got me by the short hairs on this one #no grammarly check we die like men

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

Jolly Rancher - JJ Maybank

Request: Hey! Do you think you could do an imagine where the reader is Sarah’s twin and all the pogues are at a party or on the boat and her blood sugar drops really low (she has type one diabetes) and her pump keeps beeping. She is mid passing out, not feeling good and rafe has her Insulin so little bit of big brother rafe worried about his little sister and JJ and her not being together yet but he was super worried about her (like all of the pogues tbh). Thanks xxxx I really love your writing 🥺 every time you post something it makes my day

A/N: I did moderate research for this because the only person I actually know with diabetes is a cousin I don’t speak to.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

In hindsight, taking the Druthers out in the bay for a party after sunset wasn’t exactly the best idea you and Sarah had ever come up with. And yeah, technically, taking the boat out would have been totally fine and acceptable but none of you had considered bringing anything but alcohol with you. Six pogues (two honorary) on a yacht in the middle of the bay with just alcohol and weed. It was a bad combination in any version of the world but especially in this one, where you’d been pregaming white claw because you were finally, finally, gonna tell JJ how you felt about him.

The crush had been a saga ongoing since you had first discovered JJ Maybank, which coincided with discovering that boys, while terrible, were incredibly attractive. And sometimes...not too terrible. John B had started working for your family the summer before highschool and at the same time JJ started to pop up. Around the Druthers when John B was cleaning the boat, in a neighbor’s yard mowing the grass or cleaning the pool. And then at the Island Club. By then you’d started hanging out with Kiara and her friends and JJ wasn’t just some cute guy who was friends with John B.

“Honey,” Kiara laughed, reaching for the can of Naturdays in your hand, “I think you need to slow down.”

“I’m fine.” You promised, knee jerking rapidly as you gulped the rest of the drink down before Kiara could take it from you.

You weren’t a heavy drinker. The last time you’d gotten drunk was in ninth grade, at a house party on the cut with Kiara. You’d guzzled down one too many Pabst trying to act cool in front of JJ and had ended up in the hospital in diabetic shock. Once everyone was sure you weren’t going to die, your father had laid into you about how irresponsible you were and how you had acted like a child. It was embarrassing, mostly because you were still saddled to a hospital bed and your friends were standing in the hallway, well within ear shot of Ward.

After that, you stayed away from anything more than two drinks at a party and you always kept your insulin with you. Except, apparently, for tonight. You’d gotten yourself worked up over confessing your feelings to JJ and the possibility of rejection that you were well on the way to drunk. And your insulin was in your backpack, in Rafe’s truck.

“You’re not fine.” Kiara laughed, “you’re like, buzzing.”

“Buzzing,” you offered her a dopey smile as you leaned forward, whirling your pointer finger around as you made buzzing noises and tried to poke her.

“What the hell?” She swatted your hand away, “are you sure you’re okay?”

The commotion was enough to get Sarah’s attention and she turned away from John B to look over at the two of you. “You’re like vibrating babe,” Sarah said, “you’re really jittery.”

“Fine, I’m fine...I’m all good.” You promised, bracing your hand on Sarah’s shoulder as you went to stand up. You missed your footing, tripping over the air and hitting the deck before either Kiara or Sarah could catch you.

“Oh my god!” Kiara got down on her knees next to you and helped you sit up, leaning partially against her. She pushed your shirt up so that she could check your pump and noticed realized it had been going off. “Hey, do you have like...something to boost her blood sugar? I think it’s dropping really low, I can’t really read this?”

“It’s definitely low.” You replied, hands shaking as you checked your pump, “yeah...too much...too much alcohol.”

“Where’s your insulin?” Sarah asked, crouching down so she could try to meet your eyes, “hey, look at me, where’s your insulin?”

You hummed, a little too long before finally looking at Sarah, “uh, Rafe’s...shit, Rafe’s truck.”

“Are you kidding me? Fuck!” Sarah cursed, getting up to grab her phone so she could call him, “John B, can you take us back?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, heading for the ladder.

“Here!” JJ pushed through Pope and Kiara, spilling the contents of his backpack onto the deck beside you. Amongst a change of clothes, some pilfered pens, his wallet, house keys, weed, a stick of deodorant, and a travel toothbrush, was a bag of jolly ranchers. He grabbed a green one out and unwrapped it, holding it out to you, “here, it’ll make you feel better.”

“You have a bag of jolly ranchers in your backpack?” Kiara asked incredulously.

“Of course,” JJ replied, “if her sugar drops she said one jolly rancher usually does the trick.”

It was a stupid thing to smile about, especially since you were currently using Kiara to hold yourself up and sucking on green apple jolly rancher, but you couldn’t help it. You had mentioned that ages ago, the first time you went out with the pogues after your drunken night turned ER visit, as you sat on the dock next to JJ. You had doubted he’d even cared and been embarrassed afterward for just rambling on about yourself but he remembered.

“You remembered,” you said as JJ sat beside you, letting you lean on his shoulder as the yacht headed back to the dock.

Sarah had gotten a hold of Rafe quicker than she expected. He was already talking when he answered the phone, telling her that he was on the way back from Topper’s. According to Rafe he turned his truck immediately, that was what he told you later, when you were feeling more like yourself again. That he’d realized your backpack was still sitting on the passenger seat and he did a u-turn right there in the middle of the street. You weren’t sure that was totally true, your older brother’s pension for dramatics and your family’s obsession with treating you like a baby.

Usually, it felt stifling but right now you were feeling pretty shitty about yourself. The jolly rancher did exactly what it was supposed to, boosting your blood sugar enough that you were beginning to feel better.

“What were thinking?” Rafe called the minute he boarded the Druthers, “you know alcohol makes your blood sugar drop!”

“I know, I know!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. You’d moved from the floor to the couch, JJ leaving your side the minute your brother ran up the jetty. “I’m not a kid Rafe,” you muttered, grabbing your backpack from him.

“Really? Cause you left your bag in my truck and you’re out here drinking your ass off.” He snapped.

“She’s okay,” Sarah urged.

“What if she wasn’t?”

“I am! And I’m right here!” You huffed, “Rafe, thank you and I know you were worried but I’m okay.”

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to be dad here...but you can’t take risks like that, you know better.”

“I’m fine!” You slung your backpack over your shoulder and pushed passed Rafe, climbing down the ladder to the jetty. You’d apologize later, for now you were irritable and embarrassed and you just wanted to be back in your room, locked in where no one could see you and remind you how horrible this entire night was. The only decent thing that had happened was JJ but the more you let yourself psychoanalyze everything that happened the more you were positive that the pogues just saw you as a kid too. Like you couldn’t take care of yourself. Like you hadn’t been for the last ten years, since you were diagnosed.

The Druthers said docked but you couldn’t tell from your bedroom window if everyone had gone home or if they were still hanging out and partying. You thought about texting Sarah but she would just tell you to come back down to the dock and stop pouting in your bedroom. You did your usual checks, to make sure your blood sugar had gone back up, and changed into comfier clothes. Even scrubbing off your makeup...you’d let this shitty feeling die before you saw anyone again.

Or at least, that was the plan. As you were sitting in bed though, a knock at your window startled you. Not just a tap but a full-on knock. You climbed out of bed and went to the window, laughing when you saw JJ standing on the small balcony off your room.

“What are you doing here?” You mouthed, reaching for the lock so you could open the window.

He pointed to his ear and then shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t hear you.”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed the window open and sat on the sill, “What are you doing here JJ?” You were trying your best to calm your racing heart, the last thing you needed was to go into cardiac arrest in front of him too.

“You left the party.”

“Not exactly in a partying mood...I was being stupid tonight.”

He sat down on the windowsill beside you, facing out toward the backyard but turning to look at you, “hey, I’m stupid every night.”

“You know what I mean,” you laughed, “I’m so careful...I haven’t had a night that bad in a long time.”

“Why weren’t you? Careful, tonight, I mean.” He asked.

“It’s stupid.” You put your hands on your knees and looked away from him. You’d hyped yourself up to crashing lows and now he wanted you to tell him why? “You should go back to the party.”

“Not really in the mood...can you believe it?” He laughed like it was nothing but you could hear the heaviness in his voice.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault...I just meant. If you’re up here, I don’t really feel like hanging out down there.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and looked over at him, feeling just the slightest catch in your throat. For a second you thought this night was going to get even worse and you’d throw up...but instead you just started talking, words falling out with no control, “I pregamed with Sarah before we even got on the Druthers cause I told her I was gonna tell you tonight that I liked you but I was so nervous that you would tell me you didn’t wanna date me so I just kept drinking...” you said. You realized a moment later what the implication was, “not that its on you that my sugars dropped...or like, not that you have to say you like me just cause I almost passed out.”

“What if I do like you though?”

“You do?” You asked, shifting more toward him, “seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously...why do you think I came all the way up here? Or carry around jolly ranchers? I like you...I’d do anything for you.” He replied.

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you leaned closer to him, “oh well, now it’s definitely your fault.”

He laughed, “let me make it up to you.”

You nodded, standing up and climbing back through the window before holding your hand out for him. JJ was quick to his feet, taking your hand and pushing the window closed as he followed you further into your room.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx fic #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #collecting stories imagine

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1kook · 4 years

Text

attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v wc; 4.6k

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #jjk♡#jeon jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts jungkook #mine

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bakubub · 3 years

Text

In which Racer!Kuroo is your roommate and you finally learn more about him...

Warnings: Mentions of loss of loved one, disregard for own life, swearing, innuendos and implied nsfw (but sfw overall), fem!reader with she/her pronouns.

A/N: Idek what this is. Its literally a 4.6 k mixture of fluff, angst and comfort... I rewrote this like 4 times :,) being a perfectionist is so,,, tiring.

This takes part shortly after this, you can definitely read this without reading the 'part 1' if you will, since they don't depend on one another.

Art belongs to @aikk00 ,, and yes I am still in love with it :D

I stumble out of the lecture hall, my eyes so heavy I bump into about 3 other students and mumble my apologies until I fully wake up and snap out of my daze.

Walking down the stairs and making my way to the bus stop, I watch in horror as the bus I was supposed to be in drives off, going fast for once in its damn life as if mocking me.

Inhaling sharply through my nose, I manage to keep my composure and sit down at the bus stop, telling myself the next bus will be here in a bit.

It's fine. It's fine. I slept through the lecture, and I still have to catch up on 4 subjects and make dinner, but at least the house is clean and I'm caught up in that one subject I picked up for this exact reason.

It's fine. It's going to be just fi-

The rumble of a loud engine breaks my shitty but somewhat effective self-reassurance motto and I open my eyes to see a black and red sports car going 60 km/h in a 30 zone, effectively getting mine and everyone else's attention.

I watched in horror for the second time today as this time it stopped right in front of the bus stop. No, no, no, no.

No.

Please no.

He rolls down the passenger window with that ridiculous hair and a shit-eating grin, as he nods towards the seat, revving his engine.

I look away, pretending he's not looking directly at me and that I don't live with the guy, which I immediately regretted when he beeped the fucking horn.

What did I do to deserve this humiliation?

I hastily put my head down as he beeped it again, giving up and rushing towards his insufferable car, getting into the passenger seat and slumping in my seat to keep my head down low.

"What is wrong with you? What are you even doing here?" I hiss, my glaring up at him from my awkward, folded position.

He laughs, and when I hear the sound of a photo being taken in the split second I looked away to readjust my bag, I sit up straight, watching him continue speeding as he stuffs his phone into his pocket.

"Are. You. Trying. To. Kill. Me?!" I ask, my voice little less than a screech as I slap his arm with each word.

"Ow, ow, I just came to pick my roomie up! I sensed you needed a ride, and this is the thanks I get?" he asks, that smirk I have come to hate returning to grace his features.

I glare at him, but a small, sleep-deprived part of my brain is distracted by his appearance. A tight black tee adorning his built figure, his biceps are on display as he drives with one hand, the other resting on the gear shift. The air from his rolled down window is ruffling his hair this way and that, and I find myself wanting to run my hands through the raven strands, just as I had when I washed his hair that one time...

"Wait- how the fuck did you know I didn't have a ride?" I ask incredulously, my reaction time clearly delayed but here nonetheless.

I narrow my eyes as he hesitates before he answers, "I just knew, ok? It's not like it’s astrodynamics, not that I can't figure that out too."

"Kuroo, what the hell is astrodynamics? Are you like, spying on me or something?" I ask, pretending to look out the window so as to not get distracted by his appearance once more.

"What do you common folk call it? Rocket science?" He says, once again exceeding the speed limit.

"If I'm a commoner, does that make you a peasant? Also, stop going so fast, I feel sick and I do not feel like dying today."

He rolls his eyes in response as he slows down by a smidgen, the speed meter barely even moving. "Seriously, you may have no consideration for yourself, but I still have a lot of things to achieve with my damn life so slow the fuck down." My words finally reach the rational part in him and he slows down considerably, now going within the speed limit.

Taking a deep breath, I rest my elbow on my door and look out the window, my mind flooding with thoughts about Kuroo's reckless driving and how it can all go sour with one delayed reaction.

Before I know it, we're rolling up to our apartment building, driving into his private garage only the penthouse owners get to use.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, filling the silence in the car.

"It's ok. I just... I want you to be safe. I know its hard, but... just try," I say quietly, unable to look at him.

"That's what he said," he says hastily before rushing out of the car before I can hit him.

Getting out of the vehicle myself, I send a murderous look his way and run after his retreating form.

A small part of me is grateful that he's acting like his usual unbearable self again, but the rest of me is just mad at his relentless sex jokes.

He hits the elevator button before I can get there and I watch the doors close, his smirk practically shining through the crack of the closing doors. I jam my foot in the middle at the last possible second, and smile victoriously as I get into the metal box and slap his arm once again.

"Ooh, do it harder," he practically moans, and my eyes just about pop out of their sockets in embarrassment as my face flushes a deep red.

"Oh shut up," I mutter, turning around and waiting patiently for the doors to open on the top floor. I hear him snicker and then the sound of a photo being taken, turning around sharply. I yell in defiance and throw my bag on the floor as I jump onto him in an attempt to grab his phone out of his hand and delete the probably unflattering photo.

I straddle his back and reach for the phone he easily holds out of my reach. Leaning across his shoulder in a feeble attempt to reach it, my feet are hooked around his chest and my other hand is using his shoulder as a brace. He's laughing hard at this point, and I'm screaming at him to give me the damn phone. Neither of us notice the elevator doors opening nor the small woman standing at the threshold staring at us in shock and amusement.

"Kuroo Tetsuro! You let that poor girl down this instant, young man!"

We both froze at the authoritative voice, slowly turning to look at a small dark haired woman with a straight shoulder length cut and narrow gold eyes that were glaring at the man under me.

"MUM!" He exclaims, setting me down and running to hug and kiss the woman, his mum apparently. "What are you doing here?" I hear him ask as I straighten myself out, fixing my jumper and tucking my hair behind my ears, picking up my bag off the floor and quickly following them out of the elevator.

"What, a mother needs an excuse to come visit her boys? Where's Kenma?" She asks, looking in the elevator again as if to check if she missed him.

"Oh, he's at his own place. Apparently he has a booked in session with this famous gamer today. Did he say he'd be here?" Kuroo asks, letting go of the woman and leaning on the wall.

"No, I didn't tell anyone I was coming to visit. Never mind that, who's this pretty young lady here, hmm?" She asks, raising a perfectly shaped brow as she walks towards me, the click of her heels echoing in the lobby of the penthouse.

I smiled down at her, since she was considerably shorter than even me, and introduced myself. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Kuroo." I say, bowing.

"Oh no, no, none of that. You can call me mum too, hmm?" She says, gesturing me up from my bow and pulling me down for a tight hug.

"Oh, um, actually, me and Kuroo aren't-"

"We’ll talk more comfortably inside, no? Tetsuro, is your plan to let me stand here all day?” She asks, letting me go and turning around to look at Kuroo.

Kuroo leaps into action, taking his mum's bag and unlocking the door, helping her out of her heels and leading her into the spotless penthouse.

It was all I could do to nod in response, closing the door behind us and walking down into the kitchen to prepare a meal.

It’s crazy how much I don’t know about this guy. He’d never mentioned his mother before, and briefly mentioned that he has a sister, whether older or younger I have no idea. Kenma, however, I know well. The guy was here all the time when I first started living here, but recently I've seen him less and less. Which is a shame, considering we actually got along quite well, with sharing eye rolls and bonding over our mutual love of Minecraft.

I don't notice silent footsteps following me until Kuroo's Mother says "now, why's a beautiful girl like yourself slaving away in the kitchen? Does that boy make u do all the cooking and cleaning like some mid-century housewife?"

I poke my head out of the fridge, smiling at her fair assumptions, "no, no, it's not like that at all. I actually-"

"Uh, mum! You know I'm incompetent with this stuff. This place would be a mess if she wasn't here to run things! Plus, she loves to cook and finds cleaning therapeutic. Hey, her words not mine," Kuroo quickly jumps in, putting his hands up defensively when she looks at him with a raised brow.

Looks like he doesn't want his mother to know of our little arrangement.

"Right. He's just so hopeless, I can't trust him to do anything," I add on, sending her a smile as I prepare the fish he likes.

"You're making grilled mackerel for dinner?! Oh that's gonna hit the fu- the fun spot," he says, saving himself at the last second.

I hold back a snort as I take out a pan, "open the window, fish boy. It's about to stink here and I can't be bothered with Mrs. Suzuki coming all the way upstairs just to complain about the fish smell, and then complaining that she had to come up here in the first place. God, I hope she isn't sitting on the balcony today," I ramble, trying to see her balcony from outside the window, but fail because of the private location.

Damn these amazing architects.

I hear his mum chuckle at my rambling as she begins to take out ingredients for a salad. "Oh, you don't have to help, please sit and make yourself comfortable," I say, moving towards her to take the lettuce out of her hands.

"No, no, I'd like to pitch in. Now what kind of mother-in-law would I be to let you do everything yourself?" She asks, holding the lettuce away from me and walking over to the sink.

I stare at the back of her head, a flush creeping up my neck, "m-mother-in-law?!" I ask incredulously, glancing over at Kuroo who looked suspiciously... Smug. I look away quickly when he meets my eyes, and I hastily hyper-focus on the fish in front of me, placing it on the heated pan, causing sizzling and popping to fill the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry darling, I don't mean to be overbearing. Tetsuro introduced you as his girlfriend, so I thought things were getting serious since he actually allowed us to meet one another. You see, he’s never introduced me to a girl before, so you can imagine my excitement. I can stop if you're uncomfortable-"

I cut her off, feeling even more embarrassed as I realise the role I am to play in Kuroo's life when his mother is around. I mean, it makes sense, he can't exactly just admit he took a random girl into his house.

"I, um, no really it's fine, I understand" I say, my voice small as I flip the fish.

She lets out a delighted laugh and pulls me down into a hug once more. The smile on my face is genuine as my embarrassment melts away, the bright smile of this woman comforting me.

"So, how did you guys meet?" She asks, chopping up the ingredients for her salad on the bench while I'm at the stove, Kuroo leaning on his elbows on the bench.

"At uni," I answer at the same time as Kuroo states, "at a party."

We both look at each other with wide eyes, and I clear my throat to clarify, "at a uni party. A classmate of ours hosted one and we met each other there."

"I see, so the old boozed up one night stand turned into quite a domestic relationship hmm?" she suggests, wiggling her eyebrows at Kuroo.

"What? No, no, I would never! A one night stand? Booze? Please, what kind of man do you take me for?" Kuroo complains, looking offended.

I turn around towards the stove and roll my eyes. I've heard the rumours around campus, practically every girl in my lecture hall can testify to at least making out with the man. He really puts up a façade for his mum.

I hear the doorbell ring, and quickly take the fish off the stove to go answer it as Kuroo bickers with his mother about how innocent he really is.

"Hello? Who is it?" I ask, pressing the buzzer.

"Uh, hello? Is this Tetsu's place?" A deep voice answers. I look at the camera, seeing Kenma and a bunch of men about Kuroo's age looking confused. The one who answered is a guy with a blond mohawk and piercings adorning both ears.

"Yes, just give me a second," I reply. "Kuroo, I think Kenma and the rest of your friends are here? Should I let 'em up?" I shout out.

"Yeah let 'em in," he calls back. I press another button, letting them into the lobby.

I need to make more food.

Quickly taking out my frozen dumplings I stocked up for emergency dinners for days I couldn't be bothered to make anything better, I whip up a quick sauce, thinking I could split the fish and put it in the middle of the table so everyone can take their share.

"I do apologise darling, I let my Kenma know that I came to visit and he must have told the boys. I think they've all come to see me," Kuroo's mum confesses.

"You must be a very loved woman if they came all this way to see you. And it's no worries really, I'm always prepared for guests," I say, putting her at ease.

She beams at me as the door is banged loudly.

Kuroo mutters something about “rude assholes'' as he goes to open the door, a group of tall men making their way through the threshold.

"Hiya cap'ain," the mohawk guy says, patting Kuroo on the back. A tall, light brown haired man was next to greet him, then proceeded to exclaim "MUMMA KOZUME!!" and practically jumped onto the poor woman.

Wait, did he just say Kozume? Isn't Kenma's surname Kozume?

"Hey mum," Kenma greets, kneeling down to hug Kuroo's mum.

Who's mum is this lady?! I swear to god I'm going to go crazy.

"Hello hello everyone," A massive grey haired guy says, kissing Kuroo's mum on the cheek and hugging Kuroo.

The last guy to greet them is a tan guy with a buzz cut, and he does the same as his friend before.

"So Kuroo, when di'ja get yourself a girl, huh?" The grey haired guy asks, looking offended that he didn't know before now.

I raise my eyebrows as Kuroo just smiles guiltily. He introduces me to his friends and I wave hello, as they all begin to introduce themselves.

The grey haired guy says his name is Lev and that he's half Russian. A weird detail to include but interesting I guess.

The light brown haired man introduces himself as Yaku, and says that he was Kuroo's senpai back in high school.

"Yeah a demon senpai," Kuroo mutters in reply. My smile quickly turns into a grimace as Yaku jumps on him and they both start brawling on the floor, making a loud ruckus. A loud thumping can be heard from downstairs as Mrs. Suzuki starts to lose her mind and continues to bang the handle of her broom to her ceiling.

"Ugh, you morons upset Mrs. Suzuki! She's going to talk my ear off next time I see her..." I complain, grabbing a cushion and throwing it at the boys.

They flinch at my anger and quickly get up, muttering a quick apology. My glare softens as mohawk introduces himself as Yamamoto, and the tan guy says his name is Kai whilst vigorously shaking my hand.

"It's very nice meeting all of you. Dinner will be ready in a bit so please just make yourselves comfortable," I announce, making my way back into the kitchen.

The boys, all sporting grins, make their way to the living room and sit on the couches, man-spreading and slouching all over the place, one person taking up the usual spot for two.

I sigh, focusing on the dumplings in front of me.

I stiffen as I feel large hands on my waist, and a presence behind me. Visibly relaxing once I realise it's Kuroo, I turn around, his hands still resting on my hips, and his face nestled in the crook of my neck.

"Please just go along with it. We have to act like a couple if they're going to believe us," he mutters, his hot breath causing shivers to run up my spine.

I simply nod, instinctively placing my arms around his neck and running my fingers through his hair, something I've wanted to do since that day.

He groans into my neck, and I find myself holding my breath as I continue my hand movements.

"OI LOVEBIRDS! MUM SAYS THE DUMPLINGS ARE GONNA FUCKIN' STICK! Ow! Oh, sorry," I snatched my hands back from Kuroo, pushing his chest, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

What the fuck am I doing?!

I turn around back to the stove, mixing the dumplings in the boiling water as my thoughts race.

That felt too real, too much like a real relationship.

And way too addicting, apparently, since I already miss his close proximity.

The warmth on my waist disappears as I hear Kuroo running back into the living room.

"SHUT UP YOU MORON, THE DUMPLINGS ARE FINE!" I hear him scream, and then a loud thud as he presumably tackles whoever yelled at us to the ground.

I sigh as I hear Mrs. Suzuki's muffled thuds from downstairs in record time.

"You know I'm going to have to make Mrs. Suzuki some kind of apology cake because you boys can't sit down and act like adults," I complained, my arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on my face.

Lev and Yamamoto are on the floor playing some kind of Connect 4 game I've never seen before, while Kai looks to be having a deep conversation with Kuroo's mum, who is perched on the single arm chair like the queen she is.

Kenma is hogging the tv playing some kind of video game on Kuroo's ps5 (which I've hogged on more than one occasion), and Kuroo on the other hand has Yaku in a headlock.

He immediately lets go and apologises, and so does Yaku, who even bows in his regret.

I roll my eyes and shake my head at his mum, who just laughs, and I make my way back into the kitchen, setting food on the table and calling them in to eat.

After dinner, I find myself showered in compliments and not a bite of dinner leftover for tomorrow's lunch. Damn I'm good.

I served up cake I had already prepared from earlier along with fruits I washed and set on plates, and watched as that was eaten and finished before I even sat down. Kuroo's mum scolded the boys for poor manners, and they all apologised. Well, all except Kuroo, who just wiggled his pierced brows and winked at me.

I sit down on the floor next to the couch, since it was all occupied, and hear a dissatisfied sound coming from Kuroo's mum.

"Now, now, sweetheart. You don't have to be shy around me, just go on and take your usual seat next to Tetsuro," she says, nudging her head in Kuroo's direction, where the only vacant spot was literally his lap.

I look at her with wide eyes, even Kuroo seems taken aback by her suggestion, and all the boys are immaturely ‘oohing’ loudly as they laugh and make fun of us.

Kuroo makes a gesture for me to come next to him, so I hold back my heavy sigh, try my best to hide the flush on my face, and walk towards him, awkwardly perching on his knee.

He chuckles as he grabs my waist and pulls me flush towards his chest, my butt in the corner of the couch and my legs resting diagonally over his, so that my head is directly in the crook of his neck.

I hate to say it, but this is actually really damn comfortable.

Conversation has started up again, but it becomes secondary to the beat of his heart right under my ear, and my eyes start to get heavy as his scent and warmth lull me to a comfort that is beyond being awake and alert.

---

Kuroo's POV

"What a cute girl she is, Tetsu. I'm so glad you've found her. And now that you've got her, you better. Not. Let. Go." She says, slapping me on the arm with each word of her last sentence.

What is it with women and slapping me?

"Ok, ok, I know mum, I won't stuff this up. I promise," I respond, smiling at her.

"Ok, well, I'm staying over at Kenma's house. Ah, no objections. You've already got your hands full, and I don't want to be in the way of young love. Plus, I'd rather listen to Kenma's midnight streams than you two in the middle of the night," she says, not accepting my objections and giving me a knowing look. My face warms to what she's insinuating, and I mutter a quick, "it's not like that," as I duck my head into Y/n's shoulder.

By this time the boys have all left, Kenma's downstairs waiting in his car for his mum to come, but she insisted on staying back for a few minutes to talk to me.

Y/n fell asleep a while ago now, still nestled on my lap, her head on my shoulder and her figure keeping me warm.

"I know exactly how it is, my darling. I've seen how you two act, pretending to be in a relationship just so we don't ask any uncomfortable questions. I won't meddle in your life, I never did, Tetsuro. But I will give you advice I expect you to consider. Don't let her go. Neither of you were pretending about your feelings towards each other, let me tell you that much." She says, knowingly looking at me.

I look up in alarm, which quickly morphs into a nervous laugh. She's good, I'll give her that much.

But, can Y/n really mirror my feelings?

"Ok darling, better not leave Kenma waiting any longer. I'll visit again tomorrow, or you can come over to Kenma's, whichever you prefer as long as she comes along too. I want to get to know my future daughter-in-law better!!"

With that, the woman who took me in and treated me like her own left my home.

I look down at my roommate, taking in the way her lashes are long enough to brush against her face, the way her brows are just a tad bit asymmetrical, the stroke of her nose and the bend of her cupid's bow.

I can't help but bring my hand up to caress the side of her face, content to stay here forever.

Mum would've loved her.

This thought broke the dam that held back my tears since middle school, and as they fell down my face I couldn't help but think of my own mother, coming in and hugging her, making her famous pie that I can't remember the taste of anymore. A sob racks my figure and I all of a sudden find a pair of e/c eyes staring up at me, my tears having dampened some parts of her face.

Wordlessly, she straightens herself and wraps her arms around my neck, running her fingers through the back of my head, stroking down towards my nape and up again. I cry into her shoulder, tears that I've bottled up, emotions I've ignored because I've had my dad, my grandparents and the Kozume's. Later, I even had the team, and they all followed me to the racing gig, a place where I can express my emotions through the reckless driving that could claim my life any second. I should have been grateful. Instead, the pain of her absence never ceased.

I clutch the back of her sweatshirt as I cry and cry and cry, eventually tiring myself out and running out of tears.

With dry sobs still racking my body every few minutes, she finally leans back, cupping my face in her gentle hands.

"What's the matter, Kuroo?" She whispers, looking up at me with tears shining in her own eyes. "You can tell me anything, or you can say nothing at all. Either way, I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you," she says, touching her forehead to mine and closing her eyes. She stays here for a moment before moving to get up and drag me up too.

"Come on, let's get you into your pjs and into bed. It's getting late."

---

Your POV

Now in his usual shorts and singlet, I drag him to his massive bed, opening the neatly made bed and gently sit him down.

His hazel eyes follow me as I go to close the curtains, his lashes still wet from the countless tears he shed, his body still hiccupping with dry sobs.

Once I've put his blankets around him, I go to leave, muttering a goodnight as I leave.

"Y/n," I hear before I close the door. I peek my head in, "please stay."

Without a pause to think about his request, and already in my own pyjamas, I go next to him and crawl into his open arm as if I've been doing it every night, snuggling into his shoulder once more and wrapping my arm around his chest.

After a few moments of silence, he begins to speak in a raspy tone, "she's not my real mum. She's Kenma's mum, and I've... I've called her mum since I was around 7," he takes a deep breath before continuing. "I moved in with my dad and grandparents next door to the Kozumes when I was 6. I was nervous and shy back then. You wouldn't even recognise me because of the 180 turn my personality's taken. Kenma was even more social than I was. He was my first friend, and when I got him into volleyball and we met Coach Nekomata. That man inspired me to be the man I am today, and was the main reason why I joined the volleyball team in high school, and made friends with the guys. He did what my mum should've, supported me and gave me the confidence to live my life," he says, his voice cracking with the last word. I hug him tighter, knowing not to say anything as of yet.

"I just wish... I wish she didn't go. I wish she could've met you, Y/n. She would've loved you even more than Kenma's mum does," he confesses with a chuckle, sniffling and turning towards me to look me in the eyes.

"She would've seen the way I was around you. The different man I become. You make me a better person, Y/n. I find myself wanting to be better for you. I could never thank you enough for that. Please, never leave. Just stay with me, and I'll always be here for you," he says, repeating the same words I said to him earlier.

I can't help the smile from taking over my features and I lean in to kiss his nose, his eyes, his cheeks and finally I press my lips against his, something I have been wanting to do for a very long time.

"I will, Kuroo Tetsuro. I'll always stay with you."

A/n: So, I don't actually know if his mum passed away or if she left them, so I kind of just,, did both ?

Taglist: @3daa & @itsgiorgiaz

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

#racer!kuroo #haikyuu x reader #haikyufics #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyu imagines #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurou #haikyu angst #haikyuu drabbles #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu au #kuroo angst #kuroo comfort #kuroo fluff #kuroo au

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metalheddie · 3 years

Note

bestie!!! what about spence and reader having a date where they go to the book store and they give a challenge to one another to pick the other a book and then get coffee and got to the park and read the books???

hi bestie!! ok so i got a little carried away with this one!! but here u go!

wc: 1.2k

It was a warm summer day at the beginning of June, Spencer had just arrived home from a case the night before. He was just so happy to be home to y/n. His darling girl, as he lovingly called her. They were laying in bed, Spencer awake and gazing at y/n with so much adoration, he didn’t know if he could expel it quick enough. Y/n was still sleeping peacefully. Her arms wrapped around his waist loosely and breathing light and steady.

He looked at the clock to see it was almost 10 am. He didn’t want to wake his sleeping girlfriend but knew as soon as she woke up she’d want coffee. He slipped out of her arms successfully and padded lightly to the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee. He opened the cabinet to get out some mugs. He pulled out Y/n’s favorite one. It was pink and heart-shaped. He brought out his favorite mug as well, the one Penelope gave him about a month ago. It looked plain and simple on the outside, but when you looked inside there was a little frog on the bottom. The coffee machine beeped and he poured each of them a glass.

He hadn’t heard y/n get up and make her way towards him because he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist and pull him gently backward. She rested her head on his back and kissed him through his shirt. It was an intimate moment that he wanted to last forever. He finished pouring the coffee and handed the mug to her.

“Where would I be without you, my good doctor?” she said sweetly.

“Probably still asleep and making your own coffee…” He teased while pouring creamer in hers and a metric ton of sugar into his own.

Y/n giggled at that. He was cheeky and she loved it. They made their way to the living room to enjoy each other’s company and the sweet coffee they’d made.

----

Half an hour later with coffee finished and mid-morning cuddles had y/n says with a smile,

“We should do something”

“Like what?” Spencer asks. He had no idea what she would pull out of that wonderful brain of hers.

“I propose a challenge…” She sat up still keeping intense eye contact with him. “We should go to the bookstore and try to pick out each other’s books, and if you end up liking it, the other person wins!”

“And if you don’t? What’s the penalty?” he feeds into her fun game. “Utter shame and disappointment” she responds with a Spencer Smile, shaking her head, making him laugh.

“Alright if you want to, let’s go!” She excitedly grabs his hand and drags him to the bedroom to start getting ready.

----

After getting ready, Y/n comes out in an emerald green skirt that flows to her calves and a mocha brown button-up (one of Spencer’s she stole most likely) that she tied up to beat the heat. She added a layered gold necklace and rings plus a cream-colored bandana to keep her flyaways out of her face.

Spencer was sitting on the couch waiting for her wearing some dark brown corduroys, a beige button-down, and a vintage green and brown argyle sweater vest, and of course a pair of mismatched socks and his iconic converse. He had swapped out his contacts for his glasses today as well.

When Y/n saw him she thought he looked like a sexy 70’s professor. He looked up at her from the book he was re-reading. A large smile broke out on his face and he said

“We’re matching!” He looked like a kid in a candy shop for the first time.

“I know! And it wasn’t even planned,” y/n said with a giggle. “Promise we can take pictures later? I just wouldn’t want this outfit to go to waste!” she twirled and posed, making him chuckle. He loved her so much, and the feelings were mutual.

With that, they left the apartment and went to the small bookshop near their apartment, right next to a family-owned coffee house. They stepped inside and were engulfed with the scent of french vanilla and old books. They looked at each other playfully and split up to find each other's books.

Y/n heads straight to the Classic Literature section. She looks for Edgar Allen Poe because she knows he would read his work all the time if he could. His copy of The Complete Tales of Edgar Allen Poe was stolen last year in Florida and he never found the time to replace it. She searched and searched and almost gave up when suddenly, the cover caught her eye sitting on top of a stack of “go-backs”. She quickly grabbed it and held it tightly to her chest, as if it would grow legs and try to run away.

On the other side of the store, Spencer was rummaging through a box of vintage books that looked like they haven’t been touched in years. Y/n had mentioned only once how much she’d loved the original Grimms Brothers fairytales. She had seemed really interested in them at the time so he figured she’d appreciate some of the stories in physical form. He got to the bottom of the box and was so disappointed until he shoved that last book over to find a green and gold cover with the title The Complete Grimms Fairytales. He smiled wide and held it against his chest spine down so when Y/n eventually found him she wouldn’t see it.

They both arrived at the checkout at the same time and narrowed their eyes at each other playfully, trying to suppress their smiles. They parted ways as two cashiers started checking people out. They both got them gift wrapped as to not spoil the surprise.

Once they were checked out and together again they grabbed hands and started walking home. Y/n noticed the coffee house and said,

“Why don’t we read here?” She pointed at the cafe and looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Why not?” Spencer said while pulling her into his side and kissing the top of her head.

They ordered and took their drinks and headed into the outside patio area. They looked at each other in anticipation while they opened their respective bags. Y/n got to hers first and gasped. Spencer looked at her with worry thinking he’d done something wrong. She had the biggest smile plastered on her face as she practically vibrated with excitement.

“Eeee! I can’t believe you found a copy! And in such good condition too! Oh my god, Spence!” She jumped out of her seat and gave him a bone-crushing hug. He laughed at her child-like glee and hugged her back. “Ok now open yours!” she said while sitting back down clutching her book.

“Ok ok slow down” he chuckled. He took his sweet time unwrapping the book just to see her get worked up. She sat there whining and complaining about how slow he was until she heard the sound of the crackling paper stop. Spencer stared at the book for a full minute without saying a word. Y/n was worried thinking he didn’t like it when suddenly he looked into her eyes with such adoration and love that she thought she would disintegrate into a puddle right there. He stood up and wrapped y/n up with his long arms and stuffed his head into her neck and whispered,

“I love you Y/n”.

She gazed into his hazel eyes and whispered back “I love you too”

Fin~

#grace!#maddie.writes #maddies fics <3 #maddie.answers #maddie loves their moots #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid request #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #fic request <3 #boldlyreblog

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fandom-imagines-stuff · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can you write a piece where Glaz got in the hospital because of injury on his duty and a f!reader (who's a doctor or a nurse) looking after him after operation? Thanks in advance. ❤️

Imagine

"He's still losing a lot of blood! He might not make it!" Your colleague shouted, as you put a lot of pressure on the wounded soldier. "No, he will survive!" You shouted back. Your hands covered in blood, sweat dripping from your face as you watched the monitor. The soldier suddenly grabbed your arm with all the strength he got left. "Am I dead? Are you an angel?" The fast beeping of the monitor had come to a halt and switched to a continuous sound. The straight green line indicated that they indeed lost the patient.

Upon waking up, your brain replays the last few scenes of your nightmare. "Doctor, he is finally awake." A nurse came into the on-call room to give you the good news. The muscles of your face relaxed, releasing the tension of these past days. "I am glad," You stretched your muscles, before getting up from the couch. "I will be there in a minute."

Glaz raised his head and his eyes rolled as if the whole world was spinning too fast for him to take in. The bandages didn't make moving any easier. As he tried to sit up, you came rushing by his side. "Don't move yet. You need to rest." You put your hand gently on his shoulder and the other one on his chest to help him lay back down. After a few grunts and the coughing that came thick and fast, he was back in a comfortable position. "Where am I? What is going on?" Glaz couldn't remember much from his last duty. The terrorists got him real good. Thankfully, his teammates rushed him to the hospital. Who were still waiting outside for some good news.

You asked the nurses to leave you two alone. You sat down on a chair next to him and started explaining carefully what had happened when they brought you in. When Glaz finally looked up to meet your eyes, you stopped mid-sentence. "So.. u-uum-" your words got caught in your throat. You hadn't realised that blue could be such hot fire until you saw those eyes. Glaz raised an eyebrow, getting confused by your face expression. "So, my friends are outside waiting for me to wake up? Can you let them in? I need to know the entire story. Not knowing what happened is hurting my head." Glaz closed his eyes and faced away from you.

"You still need to rest. The nurse will bring you some liquid food to eat later. Just lay down and try to relax." You got up and took a deep breath. You felt the same strong grip on your wrist. Just like in your dream. "You are that angel who saved me, aren't you?" Glaz turned his head back, now facing you again. Those eyes fixed you in all the best ways. His smile was warmer than the gentle sun. That strong hold he got on you was oh so gentle at the same time. "Thank you." He finally said.

"You don't have to worry about anything. I will take care of you." You said with much confidence in your voice. Glaz let out a laugh, mixed with a cough now and then. "What's so funny?" Your question amused him even more. "No one has ever told me that. It is usually me telling other people that. It is a part of my job to make them feel safe. Not the other way around. I found it cute." His smirk made your head spin in the best way possible. It was starting to get unbearable hot again.

"I will tell your friends to wait a bit longer before they can see you." You turned around to get some fresh air. As you grabbed the door handle, you heard Glaz softly say:

"Thank you, my angel."

#glaz x reader #r6s glaz #r6s #rainbow six x reader #rainbowsixsiege #rainbow 6 siege #doctor x reader #game #ubisoft #fanfiction

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sneezyminniejo · 2 years

Note

since u do p1harmony requests, could u do an emeto jongseob with keeho trying to be comforting?

Here it is, hope you enjoy

TW emeto

Too Sick

Jongseob had woken up and it was a little too quiet in the dorm. He glanced at his phone just long enough to find out that it was mid morning and all of his hyungs should be wide awake before the light from his phone began to give him a headache. That’s not right. He already had a headache, he just hadn’t been awake enough to notice it yet.

He got out of bed and went to the kitchen to get himself some food before having to leave for practice. He rubbed at his stomach, which started to feel a bit uncomfortable. As he perused the various options for food, Jongseob realized that he wasn’t all that hungry. He decided on a banana even though his body was telling him not to eat anything.

All of the older members had individual practice earlier that morning, so the only sounds in the dorm were the humming of any electronics and Jongseob trying to eat his meager breakfast. The youngest member only got about half way done with the banana when his body began to reject it. He lightly gagged a couple of times, his body giving him a warning to get to a toilet. He set the unfinished banana on the table and hurried to the bathroom and kneeling in front of the toilet, just in time to productively gag and throw up what he had just eaten.

Jongseob sat in front of the toilet for several minutes, his stomach still twisting and turning. It was as if it still needed to empty itself, but wasn’t quite ready yet. Having gotten bored of waiting in front of the toilet, Jongseob grabbed the sick bucket they keep under the sink and moved to the living room and turned on the tv. His headache hadn’t really lessened, but he just didn’t want to be alone in the dorm in silence. He had left his phone in his room on silent and had forgotten about group dance practice. His mind was much too preoccupied with stomach to remember such things.

At the practice room, the members were beginning to get a little worried. Jongseob was half an hour late, and he’s normally quite punctual.

“Hyung, he’s still not picking up.” Jiung said after dialing the youngest’s number for a seventh time in a row.

Keeho sighed. The dance instructor was getting impatient, and as leader Keeho needed to make a decision. As luck would have it, right as the dance instructor was about to speak, Keeho’s phone beeped with a notification. The leader glanced at his phone, hoping that it might be the missing member. But, no luck.

“I’m going to quick head back to the dorm and see what’s taking Jongseob so long.” Keeho told the instructor. Luckily, today’s practice was going to be more focused on refining already established choreography as opposed to learning all new moves, so the instructor wasn’t too irritated about it. Keeho quickly told the others where he was going before leaving the building.

When Keeho entered the dorm, the first thing he noticed was the tv being on. He frowned, not wanting to lecture the maknae about missing practice so he could watch tv.

“Jongseob, dance practice started half an hour ago. Why aren’t you picking up your ph-” Keeho was cut off by the sound of retching as he walked into the living room and was greeted to the sight of Jongseob vomiting into the sick bucket. Keeho quickly texted Taeyang about the situation and told him to just have dance practice continue without them. He then went over to check on the maknae.

However, as soon as he sat down next to Jongseob, Keeho realized that he didn’t really know what to do in this kind of situation. He had never needed to comfort someone who was actively sick. None of the members had gotten stomach bugs or anything since the group was formed, so he was a bit out of his element.

He ultimately decided to awkwardly pat the younger’s back until the vomiting spell passed, then placed his hand on the sickie’s forehead, not the slightest bit surprised at the warmth he could feel. “Aish, Seobie, how long have you been sick?”

“Don’t know, hyung. I woke up feeling a little off then threw up when I tried to have breakfast. My stomach hasn’t really settled since.” Jongseob burped into his fist as he leaned back against the couch. He then draped one of his arms over his stomach and groaned in discomfort.

After a minute of just sitting somewhat awkwardly, Keeho stood up and left the room. He returned a few moments later with a thermometer and medicine. He put the thermometer in the younger’s ear and waited another moment for it to beep.

“Your temp isn’t concerningly high but it’s still higher than I’m comfortable with. Do you think you could stomach some food and medicine?” Keeho asked, completely forgetting that Jongseob had told him that his stomach had been upset all morning. He had also apparently forgotten that he had walked in on the maknae throwing up.

“Hyung, I couldn’t even keep a banana down. I don't think I’m going to keep anything down right now.” As if to prove a point, Jongseob retched harshly, bringing his body forward over the sick bucket. After a couple moments of nothing happening beyond the single retch, Jongseob leaned against the couch again “I just want to not feel sick.” Keeho nodded. Not entirely sure what to do, he typed something into his phone.

“Naver says that a lukewarm bath might make you feel a bit better, so I’m going to run you a bath.” Keeho left Jongseob’s side again and he heard the sound of the bath being run a moment later. He stood up and gingerly walked towards the bathroom, slightly hunched over and holding his middle.

The bath seemed to help a little bit. In the sense that he didn’t feel as gross. However Jongseob’s stomach was still very much in knots. Although, it did feel a little but calmer.

Jeongseob moved back to the couch, and Keeho wasn’t there. But Jongseob could hear noises coming from the kitchen, so he assumed that the older was making himself some food.

A few minutes later, Keeho returned carrying two bowls. “ I made some jook. I know that you don’t really feel like eating, but you should try. Worst case is your body has something to throw up next time.” Jongseob looked hesitant, but took the offered bowl of jook and began taking small bites.

Jongseob managed to eat about half of the bowl before his stomach was telling him no more. He placed the bowl on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “I’m tired, hyung.” Jongseob said as he began to reposition himself. Keeho nodded as he stood up to put the dishes away. When Keeho returned, Jongseob was already knocked out. Not surprising since he had likely used up all his energy being sick multiple times. The leader quickly went into Jongseob’s room to grab the blanket of his bed, and found the sickie’s phone in the process. He grabbed it as well then went back to the living room to keep an eye on the sick maknae.

Jongsoeb slept for a couple of hours. Waking up with his stomach feeling rather angry. He pivoted his body so that his head was hopefully over the bucket and gagged a couple of times before a stream of liquid came out of his mouth.

Keeho was startled out of the game he was playing on his phone when Jongseob started puking. He quickly got up and grabbed the bucket while he helped Jongseob move to a sitting position. He spent about a minute puking before he slumped against Keeho.

Jongseob felt the thermometer get placed in his ear, Keeho hummed at the number. “Your fever’s down a bit. That’s good. However, you’re sitting out of practice for the rest of the week, or until you’re better..” At the mention of practice, Jongseob’s eyes widened. “Hyung, I’m so sorry. I forgot about practice. You’re not mad at me are you?” Keeho shook his head. “When I thought you had overslept or were just playing hooky, I was a bit mad. But I can’t be mad at you for being sick. Although next time, if possible, try to remember to text one of us so we don’t get so worried.” Jongseob nodded his head then relaxed against Keeho again.

The others returned to the dorm a while later while Keeho was making dinner for everyone. They all checked in with Jongseob to see if he was feeling okay. Naturally the response was a head shake, then saying that Keeho had done a pretty good job caring for him.

The following day, Jongseob found out that Keeho had also cleared his schedule to care for him. Jongseob tried multiple times to get Keeho to go in so that there would only be one person behind instead of two. But Keeho wasn’t listening. Secretly Jongseob was glad that he wouldn’t be alone at the dorm while sick, so he ultimately put up with it. Admittedly the oldest member was very awkward about how to deal with the puking, but they managed.

By the end of the week, Jongseob was feeling much better and had gotten cleared to resume schedules

#sickfic #emeto #p1harmony

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babypinkhearts · 3 years

Note

omg can u maybe do something ANGSTY for ash x reader? like maybe they were friends and she’s in love with him but after he gets stabbed he’s like “you have to help me get back to eiji” and even though she’s in love with him she just wants to see him happy?

SPOILERS FOR BANANA FISH AHEAD!

YES! this made me kinda sad whilst writing, but i hope it turned out well! ash deserves the world.

thank you for your request! this is my first work for banana fish :)

pairing: ash lynx + reader

warning: angst!

the television on the wall quietly played a cartoon, the color illuminating the dark room.

with tired eyes, you watched.

for days, you hadn’t gotten one good night of sleep.

you couldn’t.

it felt impossible.

you were clearly fatigued - but you were unable to rest.

it was frustrating.

the bags under your eyes were prominent. your friends had expressed their concern.

yet, you simply brushed them off.

you couldn’t prioritize yourself right now.

your entire attention was directed at one person.

“is it night already?”

you slowly turned your head.

he sat up from the bed - you didn’t miss the wince on his face.

gently smiling, you nodded.

“yeah, but i think you slept longer than you wanted to.”

ash sighed, closing his eyes momentarily.

“it was meant to be a nap.” he mumbled, rubbing his face with one hand.

you turned away from him, shaking your head.

“it’s good you’re getting rest.” you assured. “the sooner you heal, the sooner you’re out of here.”

he stayed quiet.

you knew he hated this.

ash despised showing any signs of vulnerability.

yet, here he was.

an iv punctured into the middle of his arm.

the heart moniter beside him beeping quietly.

he was dressed in a hospital gown - you imagined that his wound was patched below.

it was clear he was still in pain.

but, he refrained from complaining.

“i guess you’re right.” ash sighed, following your gaze as his attention directed toward the cartoon playing.

it had been two days since ash’s surgery.

everything had gone well - he was on the road to recovery.

though, the whole experience had taken a toll on you.

ash was the person you were closest to.

your other half.

and as much as you wanted to avoid it-

the person you loved.

it was impossible not to fall for the blonde.

under the much-needed facade of a strong and dangerous leader - he was gentle. kind. caring.

he was perfect.

ash lynx was ethereal.

he had been through hell, and yet here he was.

fighting through everything.

staying alive.

and most importantly-

not giving up.

you loved him infinitely.

to the point where it hurt.

confessing was at the back of your list.

you couldn’t.

it’d be a burden.

watching him now, with an absent look in his eyes...

he seemed lost.

almost as if he wasn’t in the room with you.

to be fair - that expression was regular for him.

he always seemed to be in thought.

either about the past or future - you couldn’t tell.

all you knew was that he wasn’t thinking about the present.

you were a mid second away from expressing your concern, though his quiet voice stopped you from opening your mouth.

you tilted your head at him.

his pleading green eyes looked to you.

and for once, he seemed desperate.

“y/n...”

you sat up, furrowing your brows at his sudden change of attitude.

you gently took his hand in yours.

his invincible demeanor was cracking.

your hopeful heart pounded across your chest.

what would he say?

nodding in confirmation that you had heard him, you silently urged him to continue.

the atmosphere in the room had grown warm.

the sound of the tv was consciously blocked in your head.

your full focus was on ash.

“i have to get back...”

confused, you awaited the rest of his sentence.

your other hand clutched the bar of the bed tightly.

thoughts swarmed through your head at light speed.

you mentally scolded yourself for even thinking of possible outcomes.

ash took a deep breath.

you found yourself holding yours.

and just this once -

you had later wished you weren’t so attentive.

“please, help me see eiji again.”

your grip along the cold metal bar loosened.

you retracted your hand.

and in almost embarrassment, you found yourself cowering away from the blonde.

of course.

immediately, you plastered a gentle close-eyed smile on.

you ignored the painful ache in your chest.

“ash, that’s always been part of the plan.”

your right hand was shaking.

the black-haired boy now came to mind.

eiji okumura’s mere presence felt like a break from the hectic life you lived.

it was effortless.

you adored him.

whether you would accept or not-

the two boys needed each other.

“it was?”

ash’s bright green eyes glowed bright.

the color seemed more lively.

energy had swept back into him.

you nodded, leaning back against your chair.

you almost wanted to cry by watching the look on his face.

it was like a thousand lights had turned on at once.

but it made you happy.

the pure joy on his face - it was addicting because it was so rare.

through the ache in your chest, you found yourself smiling.

“eiji is prohibited from coming back to america for now. it’s his parent’s wishes.” you explained, reaching out a hesitant hand to caress ash’s hair.

it felt silky.

the strands were soft against your fingertips, and you almost felt your breathing stop as ash leaned into your touch.

you paused.

“so - you’ll have to be the one to go to him.”

it took every ounce of you to stop your voice from wavering.

you had gotten gun-shot wounds - yet it didn’t compare to the pain you were feeling at that moment.

you respected ash’s wishes.

you loved him more than life itself.

as long as you’d have him by your side - it’s all that really mattered to you.

he was your other half.

if the feelings weren’t mutual-

it was okay for you.

that night, you left the hospital with your arms wrapped around your body.

it was a weak attempt in trying to comfort youself.

as soon as you had gone through the exit, it felt like an invitation to start your tears.

you had no one to talk to.

the one person that was there wasn’t even aware that they were the issue.

you felt hopeless.

he doesn’t know.

you kept telling yourself.

he can’t help it, it’s not his fault.

it was true.

arriving at your apartment, you sat at your desk.

it was the early hours of the morning.

three or four - you hadn’t checked.

for a while, you stared at the keyboard of your open laptop.

up until you mustered the courage to start typing.

it’s for him.

the clicking of the keys worsened the pain in your chest.

it’s for him.

you headed back to visit ash later that day.

it’s for him.

upon your greeting, you handed him an envelope.

it’s for him.

you watched with a bittersweet smile as tears adorned his eyes.

it’s for him.

the plane ticket to japan sat across his lap, the printed words in dark black ink.

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silverrstarrr · 3 years

Text

Normal girl (2)

Note: i just edit this chapter a bit and added more dialog. Someone messaged me and helped me out with a few things, thank you!

Chapter 2:

Walking side by side down the stairs, you took a sip of your coffee and place your herd of keys the side of your book bag. yume was scrolling through her phone on tik tok, drinking from her coconut Carmel ice coffee. You didn't understand why she was drinking ice coffee in mid February, it was cold. It was surprising their wasn't any snow.

Grinning like an idiot, she shaked your shoulder, positioning her phone in front of you–you both watched the tik tok. You didn't laugh at first only smiling, yume kept gesturing you to keep watching, waiting for the punchline. Finally it came up and you both started laughing, you slowly shaked your head placing your hand over your mouth.

"NOOO, nooo. That was so wrong, yall are going to hellll" you whined out.

Yume wiped the tears from her face and continued down the last step. She opened up the door and slid out, you trialing behind her. You both proceeded to walk down the street, where all the park cars were out.

"We riding in rich today girlie, jump in," she lifted up her arm that held her drink, her other reached into her purse and grabbed her car keys.

"I thought we were gonna walk there? It's only 10 minutes." You headed towards her car as she unlocked it and sat in the driver's seat. She had a 2018 dark Grey Nissan altima. You remember her having this ever since junior year, you recalled her talking about getting a newer model since this one was old. Like girl what? Old your ass, if the car still functioning there ain't no problem. White people shit, man.

"Well, it's the first day of sweet college life," she dragged out the last few words, adding a sarcastic tone. Yume tossed her bag in the backseat through the open space from the front, She dropped her drink in the little cup holder as well. Catching up with her, you open the backseat's door and chucked your bag in there–immediately closing it after. You pull the passengers door open and sat down, closing it behind you. Yume did the same–letting out a large sigh as she used her long sleeve to rub her legs, which were freezing.

"Bruh, you were just cold. Shouldn't have wore that skirt knowing it was this cold. Your mother would be disappointed," you moved your head side ways, pretending to be disappointed. You dropped your dunkin' drink in the other cup holder next to hers.

"Y/n, shut upp." Rolling her eyes jokingly, She grabbed the buckled next to her seat and puts it on. You placed your seat belt on too. Automatically, her phone connected to the car, you check over at the screen in the middle. It had the time, the degrees outside and all that other fancy things.

"Wanna play something?" she inserted the keys into the ignition and started the car.

"Yeah, I'll type it in,"

You grabbed her phone, showing the screen to her to unlock it, automatically recognizing her face– the lock screen slid up, revealing all her apps. You went to spotify and played "C U Girl" by Steve lacy.

"OKAAYYY, MS. INDIE TIK TOKER." Yume said nodding her, jamming to song. It was only going to be a 5 minute drive, or 7 if you guys couldn't find parking. She swerved to the left, leaving her parking space and pulling off. You whipped out your phone and paused your music, rapidly switching to snapchat–you heard yume's loud singing.

"I WANNA SEE YOU GUURRLL, I WANNA PLEASE YOU GIRL....GO AHEAD AND BE YOUR GIRL," This girl was jamming her out heart out, steve lacy was her favorite along with Brent faiyaz and many others.

In response, you started cackling as you hit the record button—swiftly turning over it to the driver. Her black ponytail moving as she sang and motioning her head in all different directions. Eyeing towards your direction she sees the phone and leans towards the camera flashing a smile, moving her head side to side—still singing through the lyrics. Yume returned back to the road as she lightly taps the steering, avoiding the horn of course.

Once the quick little vid was done, you added a caption,

"I swear if we crash😭😭💕"

Your thumb jolted between posting it on your private or public. You decided to post on the public story because why not? The song was over pretty quickly as the next one played.

"Who knew white people had rhythm?!" It was obviously sarcasm. You knew she was half Asian but it was fun always calling out her white side.

"Naaahh, white people don't have any rhythm. What you saw there was my miki matsubara pop out". She eases down her breaks– the traffic light turns red. Miki Matsubara? Oh yeah, it's that woman who sung "stay with me". It was a good song, you were obsessed with the chorus mostly.

You giggled a bit at her remark, you checked your socials once again.

"If this light doesn-" Yume sentence was cut off by the light turning green. She pressed her foot on the gas and carried on with attending class.

~~~

Pulling up to the parking lot, yume leaned towards her wheel, searching for a place to park. She slowly went down each isle searching for a vacant lot she could snag. You had your drink in between your lips, you took the last sip and shook the plastic cup trying to get a little more. All you heard was ice rattling against one another, dropping the cup back in the holder. You peer out the window looking at the campus, there were a ton of kids, like a lot. Anxiety began spiking up through your veins, this really is the college life, huh? Maria University. It was a school for literally anything, it was one of the biggest universities in the country as well being highly diverse. Yume would be allll the way on the other side of campus while you're slightly in the middle.

"Uggghhh! I regret not leaving earlier, I don't see any open slots." She whined. This was her 2nd time driving around the parking lot looking for a space.

"I said we should walk but nahhh, you wanted to be lazy and take the car." You rolled your eyes as yume, exaggerating, throwing your hands in the air. But you weren't going to be late on the first day. As the generous queen you are, you aided your roomie with looking a space to park. After analyzing for a few moments, you spotted a space and immediately tapped at the window, pointing towards it. Yume car swerved to the left, sliding right into the parking. Taking her keys out the hole, she grabbed her drink and headed out.

"No leaving trash in my car, miss L/n!"

You grabbed your plastic cup and opened the passenger door.

"Yes ma'am," you opened the backseat and grabbed the two bags and closed the door. Beep yume locked her car. She was sipping her coffee but gave a bitter expression when her sweet drink was watered down because of the ice. You looked at your phone, checking the time:

8:38 am

Monday, February 18th

38m ago

Kittykiller27, prettygirlnene liked your photo

45m ago

[Andyhas]: CRONA BECK started following you and 48 others.

Your phone was blowing up from insta notifications. It was time for class and you weren't sure how long it'll even take you to find your classroom. Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you handed yume her own, which she grabbed. You both were speed walking, despite her coffee being ruined she still continued to drink it. It was for the caffeine you guessed. Reaching the sidewalks, it was time to part ways. Yume turned her face towards yours pouting.

"We're leaving each other nooww," she stuck out her bottom lip staring at you. You grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to you. Her arms slithered around your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder–giving you a warm hug. You returned the hug by grunting and holding her tightly.

She started giggling and patted your back a few times, you released your grip and she started to jog in the other direction while looking back, waving at you. You waved back hollering a "BYEEEE!" A trash can was next to you so you dumped your empty dunkin' there.

It was now time for your own adventure, to find this damn classroom. You click the play button on your phone's lock screen, "baby powder by Jenevieve began playing. (Play the song whores👩🏾‍💻)

Walking downwards to the left side of campus, you searched for a pair of doors to go inside of. At this moment, you regretted not going to orientation. That day you were busy setting up your website for your makeup line. You haven't released any products yet, but you had plentiful of ideas and themes you wanted to do. Since it was black history month, maybe you'll drop something as simple as a face cream to help clear and brighten up the skin. But you discarded that thought because you weren't anywhere near ready to start your own small business. Plus, you had bigger things to worry about.

Standing in front of double doors, you grab the handles and pulled it back, you stepped inside while students behind you did the same. You came in slowly, admiring the interior. It was hella spacy with paintings and photos hanging along the walls. Students were roaming the hallways going back and forth from classrooms. Most of the students seemed to be in some sort of costume, or they were dressed fairly well like they were models. You didn't know the directions to your designated class, so you took up the courage to ask someone. You turned to search for someone who didn't seem busy, since most people were rushing to class. Finally you laid eyes on q girl leaning against the wall, typing on her phone. She had long pink acrylic nails, her blonde hair tied into a low ponytail, which complimented her pale skin tone. She had a gold nose piercing on the right nostril.

She seemed nice enough, so you decided to approach her.

"Um excuse me, do you know where Mr. Fargo's class is at?"

The blonde girl averted her eyes from her phone, now focusing on you.

"I'm not really sure—um, I believe it's down that way." She pointed to the right of her.

"Mr. Fargo, he's teaches cosmetic right?"

"Yeah," you replied

"Then I think it should be down there." She scrunched her face in a confusing manner, meaning not to take her word for granted. But you couldn't care less, it was worth a try.

"Ight, thank you." You bid her goodbye. Oop. You accidentally switched your lingo. You were used to speaking in AAVE but you knew how to change your tone and wordplay around others who weren't African American. The girl didn't seen to notice so you just continued down the hall.

"Down... here right..? Yeah this is the way," you murmured to yourself while you strut down the hall. Then turned left as the lady told you. You were now at a hall with multiple doors. Out of all them, you forget the most important, class started in five minutes. You looked to the left as your braids swayed with your movement, then searched to the right. You walked down the hallway, stopping at the fifth door on the left. You were hesitant with grabbing the door, you didn't want to make a fool of yourself walking into the wrong room as all eyes are on you. You pulled out your phone and texted yume.

(I did a different message format just in the previous was confusing)

colonizer but times 2🧑🏻‍🦲

I'm so lost, this is embarrassing.

Lost? What happened

Idk where my class is

& its starting in a few

You don't know where?? Bruh

Ask someone, im sure they'll help you

I did...but she didn't tell me

which class it was😭 all.

she said was "down the hall"

BYEE LMAOO

Uhh

Just open the door you think it is😋

UH- HUH🧏🏾‍♀️ YOU SETTING ME

UP FOR FAILURE.

Imagine going into the wrong class and

all you see are eyes 👁👁

Girl, half of the people won't even see you again on campus👩🏻‍🏫

If you don't recognize the teacher, try to ask a student close to the door for direction

Okay, im blaming you if I make a fool.

outta myself 😟

Read at 8:43 am

(Play quicksand by SZA rq 👩🏾‍💻)

You decided to take your roomie's advice and pick a class, which you already did.

You dropped your phone back into your jacket pocket and swung open the door–you were prepared for the stares. The classroom was vacant, not even a teacher in sight. Just a bunch of stools and white pull down screens. You saw a few cameras standing in front of these screens. "Was this the photography class or sum?" You mumbled to yourself.

And well, eyes were on you but it wasn't a herd as you expected, just one. Sitting on one of the stools in front of the door, was pale skin boy with long brown hair. It rested at his shoulders, some of it covering his face even. He seemed around 6ft, or 6 ft 2? You couldn't really tell since he was sitting.

He had on some black jeans with a black long sleeve sweatshirt as well with a beige greenish short sleeve unbutton shirt rested on top of it– a long golden key necklace dangled from his chest. His hands were sitting between his lap, you noticed sliver rings on them.(his outfit for people who need help visualizing) The teal eyed boy was also rocking black & white air Jordan 1 retro, literally the same as you.

You screamed internally at how fine this man looked and he had shoe gang? Uggghh. Class been started and you were going to be late on your first because this OBVIOUSLY wasn't your class. You decided to break the awkward silence and speak,

"Hey, um, is this Mr. Fargos class?" You stepped more into the classroom for the brunette male to hear you.

"Wrong one, babe. His class is in a totally different building." A different building?! You wanted to die right there and then, especially after hearing him laugh after his statement. Not just the wrong class but the wrong building? Bye–you're so stupid. His eyes scanned your body, his eyes lingered a bit longer at your shoes–it seems he noticed. A smirk appeared on his lips after finishing his quick outfit interrogation–wait, did he just call you-? I-, yes he did. You tried your best to hide your smile and not react.

"O-ooo, I got it. Thanks" Eren released a small chuckled seeing your reaction, he could tell you were caught up with the little pet name.

"I'll walk you over there." He got off his stool and walked towards your direction.

"I-, nah it's good, I got it." You said in defense not wanting to bother him. He didn't respond and just passed by you, exiting the classroom. He held onto the door, looking at you.

"You coming or no?" He was so nonchalant with it everything. You smiled a bit and walked out the class alongside with him. He released his grip once you were out and started trialing behind you.

You paused for a moment because you didn't know where you were going. You turned back to look at him, he caught on and let out an "ah". He quickly got in front of you as you proceeded behind him.

"So," he said.

"What?" You replied. Why did he start a sentence and not finish it? Was he expecting you to start the conversation, weirdo. You just wanted to get to class l.

"Oo, sassy are we?" He raised a brow.

"What—? boy, say what you wanna say."

Once again, he let out a chuckle, flashing you a small. God, was his laugh attractive.

"You're into makeup and stuff?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I'm into 'makeup and stuff' " You said the last few words in the mocking tone, referring to what he called cosmology.

"That's good, at least I'll be seeing you often."

"Often? Oh, are you in that major also?" You said.

"No...Do you really not know anything?" He made you feel dumb by his response. How were you suppose to know what he meant? You clicked your teeth and started walking ahead. You pushed back the door that lead to another hallway and walked towards the end to push the second door that lead to another building.

The brunette boy watched as you left him behind in the dirt, waiting for the moment you'll turn the wrong corner—so he could tease you about it then correct you.

It wasn't too long till you reached your destination, you both stopped in front of the class's door.

"Well, see you. I hope you don't make snarky remarks to every girl you meet."

"Nah, only you princess." He had a smirk on his face, ooo! You wanted to wipe it off.

You glanced at him and his eyes were already on you, you broke eye contact and reached for the handle.

"Wait–" you whipped your heard back.

"Yeah?"

He cleared his throat

"Name's Eren," you let out a small giggle, did he really just stop you to say his name? Puhleasee. Hearing your laugh, his face brightened up and kept his eyes on you.

"Okay, Eren~. Thank you for walking me, I gotten get to class now."

You opened the door and stepped inside. Eren didn't even get a chance to ask your name. Luckily for him, your major mingled a lot with his own, he could only hope to see you again around campus.

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

Authors note: UGHHH, I STAYED UP ALL NIGHT FOR THIS just to pass out a few hours before school started. 🥲 I wasn't even paying attention in English and math class, but hope yall enjoyed <3.

Pt 3

#x reader #attack on titan #eren headcanons #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager #anime #eren yeager x y/n #eren x black reader #eren yeager x you #aot x black reader #eren jeager #eren jaeger x reader #connie springer #aot season 4 #eren smut #fanfic #anime fanfic

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