#that head bang scene still cracks me up

[shewroteaworld]

I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't

Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.

Word count: approx. 3,200

TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals

(Y/N/N): Your nickname

Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!

“Does anybody have more water?”

“Where is the damn ambulance?”

Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open. 

Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair. 

“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning, 

“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”

Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die? 

“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked. 

You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid,  couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.

 “What I do?” You whined. 

“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”

“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.” 

You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.

“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.

Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to. 

Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously.  The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.

Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.

“No!” You exclaimed.

“Honey–” Morgan tried. 

You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip. 

“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.

“She needs water.” JJ countered.

“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”

Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.  

You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?

Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.” 

Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.

“(Y/N), relax.”

“Honey, please–”

“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard. 

***

Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations. 

He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list. 

But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world. 

Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.

Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.

When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.

You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat. 

He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay. 

“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.

“We’re trying, she—”

“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.

Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness. 

“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face. 

“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said. 

Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”

“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice. 

“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.

Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered. 

“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”

“This was for her to drink.”

“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.” 

Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”

Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass. 

“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline. 

“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.

Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly. 

Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”

“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.

Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further. 

“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”

“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.

Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”

“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”

The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious. 

Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.

Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”

“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident. 

“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.” 

“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.

You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was  parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.” 

Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.

He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.

“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”

The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid. 

“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict. 

“I can’t…I don’t know.”

“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”

“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.

Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs. 

One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.

After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again. 

“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”

He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”

***

Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update. 

“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded. 

“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked. 

Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”

“Can I see her?” Spencer asked. 

“Yes. Only two at a time, please.” 

Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.

The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.

Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station. 

You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior. 

So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends. 

He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.

***

When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.

Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back. 

“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked. 

He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.

“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”

You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”

He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.

There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital. 

His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore. 

He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–

“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”

“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.

“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.

Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health. 

“What hurts?”

“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.” 

He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people. 

“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button. 

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”

The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case. 

“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”

You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body. 

In Morgan's words, he’s down bad. 

“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway. 

Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.

“Um…”

Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”

You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”

“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.

“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.” 

“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further. 

He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.

You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”

“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.

“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.

“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.

“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”

Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling. 

“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.

“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said. 

Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.

He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall. 

“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”

Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”

Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”

You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end. 

And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.

There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness. 

Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”

“And who says you don't make her happy?”

“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.

Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.

“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.

Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.” 

“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.

Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”

Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.” 

Rossi left Reid staring at his back. 

For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue. 

But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.

But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.

And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.

And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.

Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)

Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)

Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.

Forever grateful,

shewroteaworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

[haeryna]

the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

#haerinwrites #jjk x reader #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jjk angst #jjk fluff #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #i'm actually maki with the fucking finally #i love friends to lovers !!

[skirter01]

AU: Dukes got a strange new teacher, Jason has a weird neighbour, Dick helped a poor civillian with two broken legs, and Tim's got a bad feeling about the knew Wayne Enterprises employee. Who knew they'd turn out to be the same person? Or... Dannys stuck in Gotham, how, why, when? To be confirmed, although, he's positive its something to do with a certain time-turning asshole. But now he's got bats on his tail and a serious case of the munchies. Good thing Sam and Tucker learned early on to slap a tracker on his phone.

----

Smol Teaser

Dick stumbled forwards, chain rattling around his foot as it pulled taunt. He hit the deck.

“No!”

Duke closed his eyes – and for a moment, he wondered what it would’ve been like if he’d just stayed home like he’d planned to – as Danny descended, mouth split into a feral smile and scythe in motion.

Then, “Bang!”

Dukes’ ears screamed as something exploded, a sonic boom erupting somewhere to his right. A fiery green blast flashed through the air, smacking into Danny like a sledgehammer and sending him hurtling into the concrete pillar in a blast of dust and debris.

Duke took in a sharp breath, eyes fettering over where the teacher landed. His eyes locked on Dick, who was staring over his shoulder from his place on the floor.

“Ha! Bullseye!” Duke startled at the voice and whipped to his right. “I am literally a God.”

Had he been transported to Men in Black right now? Because there was no other explanation for what this was right now. The owner of the voice was a young African American, with neat cornrows and dressed in a suit straight out of MIB, save for the sunglasses which were substituted for a slick pair of black framed glasses.

With a huff, the newcomer hefted an enormous smoking bazooka to rest between his shoulder blade and collarbone. He looked over the room with a grin. “Worry not ladies, knight with shining armour reporting for duty.” He proclaimed with a cheeky grin and a wink, patting the weapon’s steel side fondly, “No, need to thank me. Just doing my job.”

There was a click, and the stranger froze, “Who in the hell are you?” Jason growled through his modulator, stepping out of the shadows to the left of new guy, pistol aimed for a head shot.

The stranger’s eyes slid, acknowledging Jason’s gun from his peripheral. “Sure…” He drawled cautiously, ‘shoot the man with the bazooka. Do it.”

Jason pulled out his second gun. Head titling in challenge.

New guy grinned. “Geez, calm your tits. Names Foley, Tucker Foley.” He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a badge. “FBI”

The FBI?

Jason lowered his pistols. “The fuck is the FBI doing in Gotham?” Duke would like to know the same thing.

Tucker shrugged, “Shits and gigs” he said, dropping the bazooka from his shoulder, and catching its nose on his foot before he propped it up against the closest wall. He swivelled, jabbing a finger over at the downed spectre. “Mostly that troublemaker though. Do you mind if I–actually, why am I even asking you?” He stalked over to the cracked concrete pillar and jabbed at foot at Dukes downed teacher, shifting his lifeless body “Oi, Danny.”

Duke didn’t know how to break the news. “Um, Mr. Foley? He’s not–Well, he was killed by something, we don’t know what exactly. I don’t think he’s–yeah…Sorry.” Ever so eloquently put.

Tucker raised a brow, “Are you trying to tell me he’s dead?”

Duke resisted the urge to point out that this Tucker guy did actually shoot him into the wall with a bazooka. He was dead before anyway, but still.

“Obviously,” Jason grumbled, crossing his arms. “Some occult thing.”

“Right.” Tucker’s face twisted into a slight frown, and he nudged the body again. “Danny, stop foxing and get up.”

There was a groan and Duke took an involuntary step back.  

Tucker prodded Danny again. “C’mon, up and at ‘em.”

“5 more minutes.” Danny rolled over onto his side. “M’kay?”

Dick’s mouth was wide open at the scene. “Are you serious right now?”

Danny popped his head up, hair and face covered in dust, his eyes narrowed. “You’d think coming at them with a scythe would scare them off, right Tuck?”

“I told you it wasn’t going to work.” A feminine voice came from the doorway, and a woman stepped into the room. “But please, feel free to be disappointed.” She was dressed in back cargo pants, and a cropped purple tee, dark hair neatly braided down her back. She leaned against the door, “You missed our anniversary.” She said pointedly towards Danny.

Danny dropped his head back to the floor. “Can we go back to when I was just a lifeless corpse?”

Tucker gwuaffed. “You’re already a lifeless corpse, there’s nothing to go back to, stupid."

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #batfam #dp writing prompts #danny fenton is a little shit #jason todd #dp #dannyfenton #duke thomas #dick grayson #tim drake #tucker foley #sam manson

[dyaz-stories]

anywhere else is hollow || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: mostly fluff, some angst because it's sweet home, sharing a bed.

first one-shot · previous one-shot

A/N: Third entrance for @neohumanmonster's fandom event! The prompt was: Peaceful Pillowtalk. For context, reader and Hyun-Su were in high school together, reader was only there for a year before going to another high school, and therefore has no knowledge of the bullying which hyun-su was a victim of. this one-shot can be read independently (there's nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts), but I do recommend reading them for context.

Hyun-Su stays over at your place quite often now. Long gone are the days when he would drop by for no more than a couple of hours and flee the scene, as though he was scared that you spending time with him would make you despise him. Now he helps you out around the house, and, when he offers, the two of you go out on ‘dates’ around the city. It still makes you nervous, being out in the open, but Hyun-Su doesn’t hesitate anymore to take your hand in his and guide you through the empty streets.

When you’re both in your apartment, you can almost tell yourself you’re two college students living together. Almost. If it wasn’t for your blinds being always drawn to ensure no monsters could see you from outside, or your parents’ former room being turned into a laboratory by your dad before his disappearance, the illusion would be close to perfect. You do like the thought of it. Imagining you and Hyun-Su, sharing a place in a world where the Apocalypse hadn’t happened… It would be sweet.

That being said, despite your developing relationship, that you still haven’t put words on, Hyun-Su keeps sleeping on the sofa. You’d prepared a blanket and a pillow, ‘just in case’, in the very beginning, and that is where he still collapses every night. You’ve been waiting, hoping he would ask for another— arrangement, but he hasn’t said anything, and now you’re wondering if you should.

It isn’t always easy, being the one taking all the steps in the relationship. Makes you wonder if you’re pushing too much, too fast, makes you wonder how much he wants it. And yet, if he does want it but doesn’t dare to ask, how stupid would it be to lose that much time, when you never know how long you have?

“Um, Hyun-Su?” you say that night, as you’re about to leave for your room. He looks up at you with these beautiful dark eyes of his. “I was just thinking— you know you don’t have to sleep here, right?”

He blinks at you.

“Do you— are you asking me to leave?” he asks, and you immediately want to slap yourself. A few months ago, you think he’d have been half-way to the door already. Now, he sounds cautious and a little worried, but he doesn’t seem to have jumped to conclusions just yet.

“No,” you sigh, resisting the urge to bang your head against the door frame because, yeah, it makes sense he’d interpret it like that. “No, I just meant you could, uh—” you glance towards your room. “Just meant you have other options. Here. If you— if you want to.”

You don’t know why you’re so nervous all of sudden. You think a part of you cannot forget how beloved Hyun-Su was in high school, while you were— no one. If the world wasn’t ending, you don’t think he would have looked at you twice. So, sometimes, you wonder if he wants you the same way you want him. It doesn’t help that he doesn’t initiate much of your more intimate moments, and isn’t much of a talker in general.

Hyun-Su’s eyes slowly move to the open door to your room, then move back to you, going wide.

“Are you—” His voice cracks. “Are you sure?”

You nod, not really trusting yourself with words right now. You don’t want to sound desperate for affection, but you also don’t want, even for a second, to make it sound like it’s something you’re nonchalant about.

“Okay,” Hyun-Su mumbles. “Okay.”

He gets up from the couch, walks over to the door, where you’re still standing. You’re both quiet when you take his hand in yours and pull him towards the bed. It feels awkward, but you don’t have enough experience with this sort of thing to tell if that’s how it’s supposed to be.

For a while, you just stay laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, with Hyun-Su doing the same thing next to you. The atmosphere feels heavy, your whole body warm and tingling. This is all just so new to you. There have been lots of moments between the two of you, mostly spontaneous, just doing what felt right in the moment. This is different, probably because you asked, and you’re not sure what to do with it.

After a while, you roll over on your side, looking at Hyun-Su’s profile, until he turns his head to look at you. You press your lips together. Your mind is going into overdrive, trying to figure something to say — what do you even say in these circumstances? You’re drawing a blank. At least until Hyun-Su raises a hand and his fingers start slowly tracing your cheekbone, then your jaw.

You feel your breath catching in your throat, and your lips part as you do your best to keep yourself perfectly still. It’s like you’re finally being approached by a shy cat that you’re trying not to scare away.

Gently, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asks, soft voice echoing in the dark.

Afraid of what? Of him? Of someone who touches you like you’re made of porcelain?

“No,” you answer.

For a while, there’s just the sound of the two of you breathing, and the feeling of his hand on your cheek.

“What if I hurt you?” he asks finally, voice weak and fragile.

“You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

You swallow. You know he can feel it.

“Yes, I do,” you whisper, and you genuinely believe it to be true.

Hyun-Su’s hand stills. You hear him breathe out, before there’s the sound of rustling and then the feeling of his lips on yours. As usual with him, the kiss is brief and soft, a simple press of his lips against your own. What follows isn’t usual, though, the way he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his chest, so he can put his chin on top of your head. It has your heart beating erratically, even if it’s not the first time he’s that close to you.

It’s just that that happens mostly when the two of you are kissing. The fact that he’s seeking that kind of closeness without that happening is a whole other kind of intimacy, one that almost makes you shiver.

“Is that okay too?” he checks. “You— said I didn’t need to ask, but…”

“It’s more than okay,” you answer, closing one arm around him however you can. “And I meant it when I said that.”

“I—” A sigh. “I don’t want to impose on you. Sometimes I— I feel like I need you too much.”

It becomes hard to breathe all of a sudden. Hyun-Su isn’t one for that kind of confession, not usually, but you desperately want to hear more. He keeps talking, and you feel his voice rumble through his chest and through you, while he plays with your hair distractedly.

“You’re so— independent. You look like you’re doing so well on your own, here. But it physically hurts to be away from you,” he mumbles into your hair. “But I— know what I am. I never want you to think you can’t— can’t push me away because you’re scared of that— that part of me.”

Your eyes sting, and you hold him a little tighter against you.

“I know who you are, too, Hyun-Su. And I don’t want to push you away.”

“Not now,” he admits. “But if one day—”

“Hyun-Su,” you call softly, trying to get his attention back on you instead of this distant, nebulous future. You live in a world where you may not know tomorrow, where a simple infection could be the end, not to mention the ever looming threat of monsterization taking you over. “I want you here. With me. I promise.”

Finally, you seem to be getting through to him. He relaxes into you, and his breathing turns deeper, more even.

“This feels nice,” he whispers after a while, and you smile against his skin.

“It does.”

You drift into sleep not long after that, you think, and for the first time in forever, you don’t wake throughout the night, startled by the smallest sound.

You just feel safe.

i hope you liked this one! i love developing reader and hyun-su's relationship through small steps, but just to let you know, we're getting closer to some smut taking place 👀 i hope people won't feel let down by that. i do think it would be out of character to write something super intense for them at that point so don't expect anything hardcore, but the 'porn with feelings' tag on ao3 is my shit so if you like that you might find something to enjoy in there! okay i think i'm done with this lil ramble.

Comments, whether here, in the tags or in a reblog, are greatly appreciated! interactions really motivate me and keep me writing :)

#hyun su x reader #cha hyun su x reader #sweet home #sweet home netflix #cha hyun su #sweet home x reader #sweet home season 2 #cha hyunsoo #cha hyunsoo x reader #hyunsoo x reader #sweet home imagine #sweet home fanfic #my writing

[barleyo]

Don’t Be Sorry.

(Miguel O’Hara X Fem! Reader) SMUT

A/N: (Cross-posted on my Ao3) This is a little longer than what I normally write, but for Miguel? I had to go all out. I hope you all enjoy, feel free to point out any errors, or to send in requests through my inbox.

“Jesus fucking Christ, another one? Come on now, you know this shit doesn’t grow on trees,” Miguel said, quickly picking up pieces of glass off of the floor. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop it,” (Y/N) said while using her hands to cover her warm face, embarrassed from being berated in front of her coworkers. 

By now, she should be used to it, seeing as her clumsiness preceded her around the lab. Most beakers dropped, scales broken, or test tubes shattered could be traced back to her, resulting in a semi-public reprimanding by Miguel. While her messes were frequent, her working results were impeccable, and so she was kept on at Alchemax.

“Don’t be sorry, be better.” Miguel tossed the broken flask pieces into a disposal container and pulled his gloves off, throwing them on the nearest lab table. “It’s every day with you, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean to make a mess–”

“Well, you always seem to, huh?” He grabbed a mop and sighed at the blue puddle on the bright, white floor. “Just look at that. Ah, how you’re still employed, I know not.”

“Please,” she said, eyes widening, “you’re embarrassing me, I said I was sorry.”

“You are sorry, aren’t you? Well, I’m sorry you can’t get your shit together.” His teeth bared and his hands tightened around the mop’s handle.

“Here,” she gripped the handle of the mop, trying to force it out of his hands, hands much bigger and stronger than her own, “let me clean it, please.”

“You know what? No. I'm gonna clean it, because at this point, I don’t even know if I could trust you to do something as simple as that. Now go finish your work before I get you sent home for the day, or do you need me to do that for you too?” 

(Y/N) grimaced and shook her head. Walking back to her workstation, she couldn’t help but catch the amused faces of her coworkers, unsympathetic to her embarrassment. She sat down at her table, taking care to be as productive and precise as possible, not wishing to cause another scene. 

She briefly peered over to Miguel’s station, only to find him doing the same. Their eyes met: his fierce and cold, hers timid and apologetic. He scoffed, looking away from her.

~~~

(Y/N) stood in the empty break room, waiting for the old coffee maker to finish brewing. While she was in the break room, it was not break-time. It was the end of the day, and most of her coworkers would have been at home already, but she couldn’t bring herself to return to her own just yet. She still had work to finish, and whether she had to stay in the lab all night or not, she was planning to finish it all, and then some.

Standing by the counter, she pushed herself up and sat on the counter, dangling her legs over the edge, kicking her feet. Hearing the dripping of the pot cease, she angled her torso around, opened the cabinet and looked for her mug. Blindly feeling around, she pulled one out. It was plain and white, and not her own. She placed it beside her and felt around again, failing to find hers. 

“I wonder if I could just use this one?” she asked herself, holding it in front of her face, inspecting it for dust and cracks. In seeing neither, she decided to borrow it. (Y/N) poured a quarter of the pot’s liquid into the mug and sipped it gently, leaning her head back on the cabinet door. After emptying her cup, she slid down off of the counter and stood up, refilling it with her back to the door.

The break room door slammed open while she was pouring. The sound of the door banging made her flinch and spill coffee over her hand. 

“Ouch!” She quickly turned around while gripping her burned hand. Her face paled at an unimpressed standing Miguel in the doorway, making his way over to her.

“Make another mess?” He eyed the stream of coffee leaking from the countertop to the floor. 

“Yeah, I’m–” she hissed, feeling him snatch her hand and inspect it, “I’m sorry, Mr. O’Hara.”

“(Y/N),” he let go of her hand and walked past her, grabbing the tipped over mug, “this is mine.” He grabbed it and traced the new chip in the ceramic cup.

(Y/N) looked over and sighed, “I’m sorry, I’ll buy you another one, it was just the only one I could find, and I didn’t think it belonged to anyone.” 

“Why are you such a moron?” he asked flatly.

“I’m sorry?” (Y/N) questioned, thinking she didn’t hear him correctly.

“I’m sorry,” he mocked, slamming his cup down on the counter, walking over to her. “Is that all you can say? You’re always fucking sorry, (Y/N) but you’re never better and I’m fucking sick of it.” 

“I’m–”

“Shut up. Don’t you dare say it again, I don’t want your apologies, pendeja.” Miguel stood over her, dwarfing her in stature and volume. “It’s everyday, something new with you, and who deals with it? Me. Who cleans up after you? Me. Well, guess what? Not anymore, I'm done.” He jabbed his finger at her and opened his mouth to start speaking again before hearing her sniff loudly. 

Her chest rose and heaved quickly as she tried to even her breathing. (Y/N) looked up at Miguel towering over her with her glossy eyes and nodded her head, feeling the hit, sticky tears from her eyes starting to fall. Miguel stepped back from her, his face twisted in discomfort.

“I—I know,” she choked out, “I’ve really been trying, but I keep messing up. I just want to be helpful, I've been doing my best, and I know– I know it’s not enough but,” she gasped, frantically catching her breath, “I’m sorry.” (Y/N) slid to the floor, head-to-knees.

Miguel sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair. He joined her on the floor, pulling her arms off of her legs and lifting her head up. 

“Now you wanna cry? Grow up, princesa, I’m not here to baby you,” he wiped the tears from her cheeks with the rough pads of his thumbs. He leaned closer to her face, hesitating before pushing his lips against hers. 

His lips felt rough against hers, but she leaned into the kiss anyways, savoring the taste of him in her mouth. He acted insistently, but gently, in locking lips with (Y/N), raising his arm to cradle the back of her head, angling it to deepen their kiss.

“You feel better now?” Miguel pulled away, still cupping her face. His eyes had an empty, pained look, like he was looking right past her, but his words were soft as silk, strikingly different from how he normally spoke to her. 

“More,” she sighed while saying this, making her incoherent.

“¿Qué? What did you say?”

(Y/N) grabbed his large forearm as it stretched beside her face and held it, clinging on, and looked up at him. She pushed her face back into his with a heated fever. Miguel closed his eyes and reopened the kiss, assuming the lead and pushing his tongue past (Y/N)’s lips. She widened her mouth, leaving him to access it with free reign as she played second fiddle to him, speeding up when he did, slowing down when he decided to. 

He pushed her forward, forcing her back to the floor while he cradled her head. He slipped his knee in between her wet thighs, grinding it down onto her cunt through her pants. Pulling his tongue out of her mouth, Miguel placed both of his hands beside each side of her head, leaning over her fully, supporting his weight on just his hands and his stray knee rubbing her. 

“Why did you stop?” she asked breathlessly, unsatisfied by the emptiness in her mouth, the feeling of her lonely tongue bothered her. 

He ignored her and jerked his knee roughly, catching her clit perfectly. She gasped and closed her eyes again. (Y/N) felt her legs start to tighten and her hips start to buck against the pressure Miguel used on her. “Stop moving.” He removed his knee and replaced it with his fingers that slipped through the band of her panties under her pants. 

Her slick coated his fingers as he rubbed tight, strong circles over her clit. Her nails dug into his bicep, leaving small, crescent marks over the skin, and her teeth bit her bottom lip, pricking blood.

“W–wait, ‘m gonna cum,” she moaned and clenched her fists, feeling her walls clench in sweet, sweet pleasure. She hiccupped, trying to calm her shaking legs while Miguel pulled his soaked fingers out of her pants. She sat up shakily and crawled on her knees over to the now standing Miguel, reaching at his pants. “Let me–”

He pulled her hand away from his pants, holding her wrist in the air. “No, (Y/N), I can’t do this,” he sighed. “Just… get cleaned up and go home okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” He dropped her limp wrist and walked out of the break room, not looking back. 

“Miguel?” she called out, barely above a whisper. 

~~~

(Y/N)’s hands shook as she held the test tube. Her palms were sweaty, and her arms were tired as she tried to finish out the day. After her escape with Miguel the other night, she hadn’t the energy to complete all the work she planned on doing. She doubled her load and pushed through with not one mistake or accident, until she reached her final assignment. 

Miguel’s nostrils flared as he swept up yet another pill of sharded glass. She had pushed a rack of test tubes onto the floor just as she had started her work. Tossing the broom into the corner of the lab, Miguel came up behind her, and grabbed her wrists, holding her hands like she was a puppet. 

Leaning down to her ear, he whispered, “Since you can’t seem to do anything right by yourself, I’ll help you, princesa.” 

He gripped her wrists tightly, pulling her hands over to a rag on her lab table. He pushed her hand down and made her pick it up and wipe down a spill on the table. (Y/N) felt the eyes of her coworkers on her and heard their amused chatter. 

“See, not so hard, huh? Now, what if you had spilled something corrosive or worse?” he asked. “You need to get it together and be more careful,” he said, moving her hand back and forth to clean the mess. 

“Sorry,” she mewled.

Pulling her back, he followed the spill to the floor, bending her over to wipe it up. His hips were angled against hers, rubbing himself against her ass every time he moved her small hand. Their merged bodies were covered by the workstation. He leaned into her neck, breathing onto it with a warm exhalation. 

“I thought about yesterday,” he groaned into his ear, “and I think, you should stay later today. Do you understand?”

She nodded fervently, melting into his words. 

“Thought so, now, if you’ll excuse me,” he stood up and turned around. “I think you can finish the rest yourself, (Y/N),” he said in his normal, harsh tone.

“Yes, sir, I can.” She stood up on her weak legs. 

~~~

“That’s it, take it right in your little hand,” he groaned as she ran her hand over the thick, sticky shaft of his cock. She massaged his tip with the palm of her hand, rubbing the glob of precum leaking out.

Pressing a small kiss to the tip, she slowly starts to swallow his cock, hollowing out her cheeks to suction the length. The salty taste of his skin and his precum mixed with her saliva, and her slobber dripped down his shaft as she bobbed her head up and down over it. She pulled off briefly, licking up the spit bubbles she left on the tip.

Miguel pushed his foot between her legs while she kneeled on the floor. (Y/N) brought her weight down on his foot, grinding down on the toe of his shoe. 

“Look at that, you’re so pathetic, baby,” he stifled a moan, catching it in his throat while he spoke. “There you go, keep humping my foot like the little dog you are.” He gripped her hair, forcing himself further down her throat. “Fuck, you gonna cum on my shoes? Yeah, baby, you gonna shine my shoes with your cum?”

Tears gathered at (Y/N)’s eyes, streaming down her cheeks while Miguel fucked her throat, slowly, but rough. Pulling his dick out, Miguel slapped his fat tip on her tongue, humming as she looked up at him with her wet, glossy eyes. 

“I’m close, Miguel, ‘m–” she sped up, bumping her bare cunt on his shoe, wrapping her arms around his muscular leg. She came, her juices pumping out onto his black shoe, dripping down onto the cold floor. 

Miguel gently kicked her off his leg, shaking her off onto the floor on her back, pulling his pants back up. He sat in between her legs, face hovering above her pulsing hole. He ran his tongue over her cunt, licking a thick stripe starting at her hole and ending at her swollen clit. Her legs tried to close at the feeling, but he gripped her thigh, holding her legs open forcefully.

“Don’t you dare close your legs on me, this pussy belongs to me, and I’ll see it if I damn well want to.”

Spreading her lips, he delivered a sharp smack to her clit. Her throat constricted with a choked moan.

“A-ah!” She gasped. “That hurt, Miguel.”

“Oh, did it?” He brought his hand down again, stinging her pussy. “Good.” He places his head between her thighs again, following up her pain with wet, raw pleasure. His tongue danced through her folds, honing in on her slick, pulsing bud, stopping to suck on it periodically.

He stares up at her from her cunt, slurping and moaning into her heat to watch her face warm up. 

“Oh my god,” she moans, gripping his hair with her tight fist, “don’t stop, please, ‘m almost there.”

He pulled off quickly just to send another smack on her clit, sending her over the edge. Her legs clenched over his shoulders, locking him in between her legs while she rode out her orgasm. Her legs finally released him, and Miguel brought her to his lips. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and tangled his tongue with his, tongue fucking her with her juices coating his mouth. 

“You see how good you taste, pequeña puta? Just like heaven,” he moaned into her mouth, swapping his spit into it.

She arched into his body, craving friction against his bulging erection. “Please? I need it now, I–”  

“What? Use your words, what do you want me to do to you?”

She reached down and palmed his dick through his pants. “I need you to put it in me.”

Miguel smirked, pulling his cock back out of his pants in compliance. “God, I’m going to stretch you out so bad, princesa.” He teased the tip into her entrance, inching his hips in and out, preparing (Y/N) with shallow thrusts. 

She grumbled feeling her pussy stretch to accommodate his cock’s size. The burn from the tearing was nothing compared to the bliss of being full with his dick, however, so she gritted her teeth and rocked in tandem with his thrusting.   

“Ready?” He leaned to her ear, licking the shell.

She nodded.

Miguel picks up his pace, bottoming out into her cunt, prodding against her cervix’s tip. He props himself to his knees, tilting (Y/N) to her slide. Holding her leg to the side, he started slamming into her hole, hearing the loud, wet squelches fill his ears. 

“Listen to that, sounds like a whore’s pussy,” he said and chuckled, pounding into her at a consistent pace.

(Y/N) shook her head, dizzy with ecstasy.

“No, you’re not a whore?”

“No, ‘m not…”

He grinned, sharp teeth showing. “Then why,” he deepened his strokes, bumping into her g-spot with each thrust, “are you moaning like one?”

A loud cry reverberated in her chest, escaping from her open mouth.  

“That’s what I thought. My desperate little princess crying out like a slut,” he groaned as his balls tightened, “like a horny slut.”

“Yes, ‘m a slut,” she whined. Her pussy walls spasmed over Miguel’s dick, clenching and unclenching madly. 

“Fuck..”

His eyes shut as he released his load deep into her pussy. He pulled and watched it pool out of her hole. He slid his fingers around in the mess and collected their juices, popping his fingers into his mouth. 

He fell beside her on the floor and grabbed her shoulder, turning her shaking form to look at him. “Such a messy girl,” he sighed, “floor’s all dirty now.”

“I’m sorry, Miguel,” she felt him litter kisses onto her neck

“Don’t be sorry, mi vida.”.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman across the spiderverse #Smut #SMUT FIC #Smutty smut smut #barleyxnighteye #fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #enemies to lovers #semi-public sex

[tosomeonessomeone]

Let me teach you.

words・8k /pairings・Lee know x reader / genres・fluff, humor / warnings・ none

In a dimly lit meeting room at JYP Entertainment, Stray Kids gathered for a crucial discussion about the possibility of expanding their promotions into English-speaking markets. JYP, wearing a serious expression, addressed the group.

"Stray Kids, as we contemplate reaching international audiences, it's imperative to tackle the language barrier," JYP began, his gaze focused on the members. "Particularly, we need to address Minho's English proficiency."

Minho couldn't help but let out a subtle, resigned sigh. He knew what was coming.

"I've decided to bring in an English teacher for the group," JYP continued, sensing the mixed reactions in the room. "Enhancing your language skills is crucial for effective communication during promotions."

Minho, with a touch of sarcasm, muttered, "Great. Just what I always wanted - English classes."

The comment elicited a few chuckles from the members, and even JYP couldn't help but crack a small smile.

Bang Chan, exchanging a quick glance with Felix, whispered, "Looks like our Korean-English dictionary days are over."

Felix, smirking, replied, "Guess we're free from the classes."

JYP, sensing the humor in the room, redirected the focus. "Minho, it's essential for the team. This will help us connect better with international audiences."

Minho, rolling his eyes, mumbled, "Fantastic. I feel like I'm going to die."

Hyunjin, unable to contain his laughter, chimed in, "Minho, you won't die. It's just English class."

As the room filled with laughter, JYP made an announcement, "Now, Bang Chan and Felix, I'm exempting you from the classes. You'll serve as personal support to help others if needed."

Bang Chan, sharing a smirk with Felix, remarked, "Looks like we're still the language bridge."

Felix, grinning, added, "Lucky us."

The laughter continued, but Minho couldn't shake the feeling that the impending English lessons were unavoidable. As the group bantered, the decision to hire an English teacher marked the beginning of a new chapter for Stray Kids in the global music scene.

As you walk into the JYP Entertainment building, the receptionist directs you to Mr. Park's office. Nervously, you approach, and to your surprise, he stands up, extends a hand, and warmly greets you.

JYP: Welcome! We're thrilled to have you on board. I've heard great things about your work in linguistics.

You: Thank you, Mr. Park. I'm excited to contribute.

JYP leads you down a corridor, sharing stories about Stray Kids and the global impact they hope to achieve. He stops in front of a door, opens it, and gestures for you to enter.

JYP: This will be your classroom. We've set it up with everything you requested.

You step inside, and your eyes widen. The room is spacious, neatly arranged desks facing a large whiteboard. There's even a shelf stocked with books.

You: Oh, this is perfect. Thank you so much.

JYP: Anything you need, don't hesitate to ask. We want you to feel comfortable.

As you settle in, JYP leaves you to organize your materials. Later, a staff member brings in a stack of books you requested, and you're impressed by the efficiency.

You spend some time arranging the room to your liking, imagining the upcoming English lessons with Stray Kids. The door opens, and JYP pokes his head in.

JYP: How's everything coming along?

You: It's fantastic, thank you. I appreciate the support and the resources provided.

JYP: Great to hear. We believe in giving you the tools you need to succeed.

He leaves you to finalize your preparations, and as you look around the classroom, a sense of excitement and anticipation fills the air. This is the beginning of a unique journey, and you can't wait to share your linguistic expertise with Stray Kids.

*your pov* 

As I stepped into the classroom that JYP Entertainment had prepared for my English classes with Stray Kids, I couldn't help but be amazed. The room was well-lit, spacious, and equipped with all the resources I needed – a teacher's dream come true.

I looked at the neatly arranged desks, the large whiteboard, and the shelf stocked with books. It felt like the perfect environment to foster effective learning. The attention to detail showed the commitment of JYP to make this experience worthwhile for both me and Stray Kids.

Despite the excitement, a subtle nervousness lingered in the background. Meeting idols was an entirely different ball game compared to my interactions with university professors. I chuckled to myself, finding it amusing how I, usually composed and confident among colleagues, felt a twinge of nervousness at the prospect of working with Stray Kids.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that they were just individuals passionate about music, like any other students I had taught. Yet, the thought of sharing a classroom with idols who had achieved international fame made my heart race a bit.

As I went through the lesson plans and materials, the nervous energy slowly transformed into a mix of anticipation and curiosity. I wondered how our dynamic would unfold in this unique educational setting. Regardless of the initial jitters, I was determined to make the English classes not only educational but also an enjoyable experience for Stray Kids. After all, language learning should be as dynamic and exciting as their music.

As I stood in the impeccably prepared classroom, my nervousness was exacerbated by the thought that perhaps my outfit was a tad too much for the occasion. I looked down at my tailored dark brown high-waist pants, the cream turtleneck elegantly tucked in, paired with dark brown ankle boots – a complete ensemble that leaned heavily into the dark academia aesthetic.

My round glasses, chosen for their practicality, unintentionally contributed to the whole 'bookish' vibe. I couldn't help but chuckle nervously at the irony. Amongst idols who often wore stylish and trendy outfits, I felt like I had walked into the scene of a classic literature lecture rather than an English class with Stray Kids.

Taking a moment to compose myself, I reminded myself that professionalism was key, regardless of my own self-perceived fashion choices. As I prepared for the arrival of Stray Kids, I hoped my nervousness would soon be overshadowed by the excitement of the teaching journey ahead.

*Stray kids pov* 

Lost in your thoughts, you were adjusting the materials on the desk when the door swung open. One by one, the members of Stray Kids walked into the classroom, each bringing a burst of energy that seemed to fill the room.

Hyunjin's playful banter echoed through the room as he took a seat, while Bang Chan entered with a calm confidence, giving you a reassuring nod. Seungmin and Jeongin followed suit, completing the ensemble. As they settled into their seats, you realized that the nervousness that had gripped you earlier was slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of eagerness to begin this unique educational journey with Stray Kids. 

As each member of Stray Kids filed into the classroom, their eyes widened in surprise at the sight of such a young academic teacher. You, with your tailored dark academia outfit and round glasses, exuded a sense of youthful sophistication that left the boys momentarily taken aback.

Felix couldn't help but flash a friendly smile, instantly charmed by your presence. Changbin, usually composed, found himself subtly impressed by the elegant coordination of your outfit. Hyunjin, known for his keen sense of style, couldn't help but appreciate the aesthetic appeal you brought to the classroom.

As the members settled into their seats, Minho, in particular, struggled to hide his surprise. He felt a mixture of awe and anxiety, not only at the youthful appearance of the teacher but also at the realization that he was about to dive into English classes—a subject that had always been a bit challenging for him.

Seated at his desk, Minho stole glances, attempting to process the unexpected combination of a young academic instructor who, besides being knowledgeable, also possessed an undeniable beauty. He pondered how such an elegant presence would navigate the dynamics of teaching Stray Kids, especially when language proficiency was at the core.

While the boys were captivated by your appearance, there was an underlying sense of curiosity about how the upcoming English classes would unfold. As the initial surprise settled, they couldn't help but wonder how this unique blend of youth, beauty, and academic prowess would shape their language learning journey.

*end of povs*

You stand at the front of the class, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. Clearing your throat, you begin, "Hello everyone. My name is [Your Name], I'm 29 years old, and I'm from [Your Birthplace]. Professionally, I work in linguistics."

You can feel their eyes on you, and a few polite smiles greet your introduction. It's your turn to guide them through this language journey.

"Now, let's practice introducing ourselves. How about we start with Bang Chan? Can you tell us your name, age, where you're from, and what you do?" you prompt.

Bang Chan, with a confident smile, responds, "Sure. I'm Bang Chan, 26 years old, from Sydney, Australia. I'm the leader of Stray Kids."

You nod in approval, impressed by his fluency. Then, turning to Felix, you ask, "And how about you, Felix?"

Felix, grinning, says, "I'm Felix, 23, from Sydney too. I'm a rapper and dancer in Stray Kids."

You can't help but appreciate their smooth English. "Great job, both of you. Now, even though you two are already fluent, I appreciate you being here for moral support. It'll be helpful for everyone."

Bang Chan nods, "Absolutely, we're here to help however we can."

You guided the introductions smoothly, starting with Chanbin, who confidently stated his role as the main rapper in Stray Kids.

"Sure thing. I'm Chanbin, 24 years old, from South Korea. I'm the main rapper in Stray Kids," he announced with assurance.

Then, Hyunjin, the lead dancer, followed suit with a friendly introduction.

"Hey, I'm Hyunjin, 23, also from South Korea. I'm the lead dancer," Hyunjin greeted with a warm smile.

When it came to Minho's turn, his nervousness was palpable as he stuttered through his introduction, mentioning his roles in both rapping and singing.

"Um, I'm Minho, 25, from South Korea too. I, uh, rap and sing," Minho nervously expressed, his words stumbling slightly.

Despite his unease, you praised Minho's effort before moving on to I.N, the maknae and lead vocalist, who greeted the group with a warm smile.

"Hi, I'm I.N, 22, from South Korea as well. I'm the maknae and lead vocalist," I.N introduced himself cheerfully.

Seungmin chimed in next, his voice steady and confident. “I’m Seungmin, 22, from South Korea. I’m the main vocalist,” he introduced himself smoothly.

Han followed, his tone calm and collected. “I’m Han, 22, also from South Korea. I’m the main rapper and producer,” he stated with a nod.

With the introductions completed, Bang Chan raised his hand slightly, seeking your attention.

"Can I ask you something, [Your Name]?" Bang Chan inquired.

"Of course, Bang Chan. What's on your mind?" you responded, curious about his question.

Bang Chan, looking intrigued, remarked, "You seem really knowledgeable about linguistics. Why did you decide to study it?"

Explaining your passion for language, especially phonetics and phonology, you shared how understanding sound production and linguistic patterns fascinated you. As you delved deeper into the subject during your undergraduate studies, your interest only grew stronger.

Impressed, Bang Chan nodded, acknowledging the depth of your interest. "That's really cool. I can see how that knowledge would be valuable for teaching English," he remarked.

"Absolutely," you replied with enthusiasm. "It's my pleasure to share what I've learned and make language learning enjoyable for everyone."

As the English classes progressed, you couldn't help but notice a stark contrast in the language abilities of the Stray Kids members. While most of them exhibited decent English skills, one stood out – Lee Minho. Despite his efforts, Minho struggled with English more noticeably than the others.

Throughout the first couple of weeks, you worked hard to foster a friendly and supportive environment in the classroom. The other members responded positively, forming a fellowship that made the learning process enjoyable. However, Minho remained distant, his struggles with English creating a barrier between him and the rest of the group, including you.

As the end of another class approached, you made a decision. It was time to address the elephant in the room and reach out to Minho. Taking a deep breath, you approached him as the others filed out of the classroom.

"Minho, can I have a word with you?" you asked gently, noticing the hint of apprehension in his eyes.

Minho nodded, his expression a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"So, I've been thinking" you began, your tone gentle yet earnest. "I understand that English might be challenging for you, and I want to support you in the best way possible."

Minho listened intently, his expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"I believe that with some extra attention and tailored guidance, we can make significant progress in your English proficiency" you continued, offering him a reassuring smile. "Would you be open to having extra classes where we can focus more on your individual learning needs?"

Minho hesitated for a moment, processing your suggestion. Then, with a nod, he replied, "I think that could really help. Thank you for offering."

You felt a surge of relief and determination knowing that Minho was willing to take the extra step to improve his English skills. Together, you discussed a schedule for the additional classes, ensuring that they would fit seamlessly into his routine without overwhelming him.

With a sense of purpose and optimism, you left the conversation knowing that you had taken a significant step toward helping Minho unlock his full potential in English. As you prepared for the extra classes, you were filled with determination to support him every step of the way on his language learning journey.

After several weeks of dedicating extra time to Minho's English improvement, you realized that traditional methods weren't fully engaging him. Determined to find a way to connect with him, you decided to bring a different approach to the table.

As you entered the classroom, Lino, your lovely cat, nestled comfortably in your arms. Today, you planned to make him the main topic of conversation, knowing that Minho had a fondness for cats and hoping to bridge a connection between him and the subject matter.

"Good morning, Minho" you greeted warmly as you set Lino down on the desk. "Today, we have a special guest joining us."

Minho's eyes lit up with surprise and curiosity as he looked at the fluffy feline.

"Meet Lino" you continued, patting the cat's head gently. "He's here to help us practice English today."

Minho's gaze shifted between you and the cat, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Did you know," you began, "that Lino's name sounds a lot like your stage name?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of Minho's lips as he considered the connection.

"Oh, I’m honored.” he smiled.

Encouraged by his response, you delved into a discussion about cats, weaving in English vocabulary related to pets and animals. Minho's engagement grew with each topic you introduced, his confidence in speaking English gradually blossoming in the comfortable and familiar context of his love for cats.

As you conducted the English class, your cat, Lino, decided to make his presence known in an unexpected way – by gravitating towards Minho more than you, much to your amusement.

Minho chuckled as Lino curled up beside him, earning an affectionate scratch behind the ears. "Lino likes me." he remarked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You laughed, nodding in agreement. "Seems like it! He must sense that you're a cat person."

Minho smiled, his demeanor relaxed and comfortable as he continued to stroke Lino's fur. "I am," he admitted. "I have three cats back home – Soon, Dong, and Dori."

"Three cats? That's wonderful." you replied, genuinely intrigued. "What are they like?"

Minho's face lit up as he began to describe each of his furry companions, his English still a bit basic but improving with each sentence. "Soon is playful, always chasing after toys. Dong is more laid-back, loves cuddling. And Dori, well, Dori is the mischievous one, always getting into trouble."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you listened to Minho speak about his cats. Despite the occasional mix of Korean and basic English constructions, his enthusiasm and willingness to communicate in English were clear signs of progress.

"That's amazing, Minho." you remarked, unable to hide the happiness in your voice. "Your English is really improving. Keep up the great work!"

Minho's smile widened, a sense of pride evident in his expression. "Thank you" he said sincerely. "I'm trying my best."

As time passed and the English classes continued, you found yourself forming a beautiful friendship with Minho that went beyond the classroom. He became more comfortable around you, showing his playful and "crazy" side, which only deepened your bond.

"You're such a goofball, Minnie," you teased, using the secret nickname you had created for him.

Grinning, Minho leaned closer. "And you are too serious, pumpkin " he replied, using the adorable nickname he had bestowed upon you.

The nickname exchange became a cherished secret between the two of you, a symbol of the special bond you shared. Whenever you were alone inside the class, you would affectionately refer to each other as pumpkin and Minnie, a reminder of the friendship that had blossomed between you.

As the days went by, the other members of Stray Kids continued to address you as "[Your Name] Noona," a term of endearment that filled you with warmth and affection. But it was the secret nicknames shared between you and Minho that held a special place in your heart, a testament to the unique connection you had forged through laughter, learning, and friendship.

As the members of Stray Kids gathered in the practice room, their attention gravitated towards the budding connection between you and Minho during the English classes. Whispers and curious glances circulated among them as they observed the growing closeness.

Hyunjin leaned in, breaking the silence with a whisper, "Have you guys noticed how [Your Name] Noona and Minho have been getting along lately?"

Felix nodded in agreement. "Yeah, they seem really comfortable around each other."

Chanbin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And did you hear those secret nicknames they were using? 'Pumpkin' and 'Minnie'?"

Seungmin chuckled softly. "It's like they have their own little world."

Bang Chan smiled, acknowledging the connection. "They do seem to have a special bond. It's nice to see."

Han nodded in agreement. "They're always laughing and joking together. It's obvious there's something more than just friendship."

I.N's curiosity peaked. "Do you think they're dating?"

Bang Chan shrugged thoughtfully. "It's hard to say, but there's definitely a connection between them."

Hyunjin grinned mischievously. "I bet they're secretly planning romantic dinners and long walks on the beach."

Felix rolled his eyes playfully. "Hyunjin, don't be ridiculous."

Chanbin interjected with a thoughtful tone. "Whatever it is, they seem happy together. And that's all that matters."

As the conversation continued, the members couldn't shake the feeling that there was indeed something special brewing between you and Minho. Whether it was a budding romance or simply a deep and meaningful friendship, one thing was for certain – the bond between you and Minho was undeniable, and it brought warmth and joy to everyone around you.

One day as the scorching sun beat down relentlessly, you braved the extreme heatwave to attend the English class with Stray Kids. Determined to maintain your signature vintage and classy style despite the weather, you opted for a mid-length summer dress with a vintage flair. The dress flowed gracefully around you, its light fabric providing a semblance of relief against the oppressive heat.

Paired with your favorite classy flats, you embraced the academia aesthetic that you adored. The outfit exuded elegance and sophistication, a reflection of your personal style and commitment to looking your best even in the sweltering heat.

As you stepped into the classroom, a surge of relief swept over you at the sight of the functioning air conditioning, offering a welcome escape from the oppressive heat outside. With a contented sigh, you began organizing the books for today's planned competition, your heart brimming with anticipation.

Minutes ticked by, and one by one, the members of Stray Kids trickled into the classroom. Their eyes were drawn to your radiant presence, accentuated by the soft glow of the classroom lights. They couldn't help but admire you, their internal thoughts filled with awe and appreciation.

"Wow, [Your Name] looks stunning today," Felix remarked.

"She always does. It's like she stepped out of a fashion magazine," Hyunjin chimed in.

Chanbin nodded in agreement, adding, "She's got that vintage charm down pat."

As the members settled into their seats, their attention shifted to Minho. They couldn't help but notice the subtle change in his demeanor, his eyes lingering on you with a mixture of admiration and something deeper.

"Hey, Minho, you alright?" Bang Chan noticed, sensing Minho's reaction.

"Yeah, you seem kinda lost in thought there," Han observed.

Minho struggled to contain the flood of emotions swirling within him. With each glance at you, his heart threatened to burst from his chest, overwhelmed by the depth of his affection for you.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... lost in thought," Minho managed to reply, his voice barely above a whisper.

Throughout the English class, Minho's thoughts remained consumed by you. Your presence filled the room with warmth and light, illuminating his heart in ways he never thought possible. And as he stole glances at you throughout the class, he couldn't help but wonder if you felt the same way too.

As the class progressed and the competition ensued, Minho's initial hesitance and uncertainty gave way to a remarkable transformation. With a newfound determination shining in his eyes, he threw himself into the challenges with gusto, fueled by a desire to impress you and the rest of the group.

"Whoa, look at Minho go! He's on fire today." Felix exclaimed, amazed by Minho's focus.

"I've never seen him this focused before," Hyunjin added, nodding in agreement.

"He's really giving it his all," Chanbin chimed in, impressed by Minho's dedication.

By the end of the class, Minho had surpassed all expectations, leaving everyone astounded by his remarkable progress. As the applause filled the room, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for Minho and his incredible achievement. His determination to impress you had not gone unnoticed, and you were filled with admiration for his unwavering commitment to growth and self-improvement.

As the English class with Stray Kids drew to a close, you bid farewell to each member with a warm smile and words of encouragement. The energy of the competition still lingered in the air, filling the room with excitement and camaraderie.

"Great job today, everyone! See you next time." you called out, your voice brimming with genuine pride and affection.

As the members began to file out of the classroom, you turned your attention to the scattered books and materials on the desks. With a sigh, you began the task of organizing the mess, your focus solely on restoring order to the room.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice Minho lingering behind, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of admiration and something deeper. He watched as you worked diligently, your movements graceful and purposeful.

"Let me help you." Minho's voice broke through the silence, his words soft and sincere as he extended his hands to assist you with the books.

Startled, you looked up, your eyes meeting Minho's with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. You hadn't expected him to stay behind, let alone offer to help you.

"Thank you." you replied, your voice filled with genuine appreciation as you handed him a stack of books. As your hands brushed against each other, a jolt of electricity coursed through both of you.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as you shared a fleeting yet electrifying connection. In that instant, the world around you faded away, leaving only the gentle flutter of your hearts echoing in the silence.

As you worked together in comfortable silence, the warmth of your shared presence enveloped you, creating a sense of intimacy and connection that transcended words.

As you worked together to tidy up the classroom, Minho broke the silence with a soft voice filled with genuine warmth and gratitude.

"You know, [Your Name], I just wanted to say... I felt amazing with my English today," Minho confessed, his eyes shining with a sense of accomplishment.

You turned to him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you listened to his heartfelt words.

"That's wonderful to hear, Minho," you replied, your voice filled with genuine happiness for him. "You did an incredible job today."

Minho's smile widened, a sense of pride radiating from him as he reflected on his progress. "And I just wanted to say how happy I am to have you as my teacher. Your support and encouragement mean a lot to me."

Your heart swelled with warmth at Minho's heartfelt words. You had seen his dedication and determination firsthand, and knowing that you had played a part in his journey filled you with a sense of fulfillment.

"Thank you, Minho," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. "It's a pleasure to teach you, and I'm so proud of how far you've come."

As the final touches were made to organize the classroom, a comfortable silence settled between you and Minho. With everything in order, you walked over to your desk to gather your belongings, signaling the end of another successful class.

Minho, having said his goodbyes, turned around to face you, his expression holding a hint of hesitation. The atmosphere shifted subtly as he began to speak, his words carrying a genuine sincerity.

"Actually... I know this might not be appropriate because of our student/teacher relation, but... hmm... you look stunning. You even made me feel shy," Minho admitted, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of admiration and a touch of bashfulness.

Your cheeks flushed with a combination of surprise and warmth at Minho's unexpected compliment. The sincerity in his words and the vulnerability in his demeanor created a moment that lingered in the air.

"Thank you, Minho," you replied with a genuine smile, appreciating the honesty and courage in his words. "I'm glad you feel that way. It's always nice to receive a compliment."

When Minho offers to help you with your bag, you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him. Despite the lingering awareness of your student/teacher relationship, the genuine connection between you feels undeniable.

“Thank you, Minho. That would be wonderful,” you reply with a grateful smile, accepting his offer with genuine appreciation.

Together, you make your way to the basement where your car awaits. As you walk, Minho engages you in conversation, his genuine curiosity shining through.

“So, how’s Lino doing?” Minho asks, his voice filled with warmth as he inquires about your beloved cat. “I bet he misses you when you’re away.”

A smile tugs at your lips at the mention of Lino, your heart warmed by Minho’s genuine interest in your life outside of the classroom.

“He’s doing well, thank you for asking,” you reply, your voice soft with affection. “I miss him too when I’m away. He’s like family to me.”

As you reach your car, Minho gently hands your bag to you, his actions filled with a quiet sense of care and consideration.

“Thank you, Minho. I really appreciate your help,” you say, your voice filled with gratitude as you turn to face him.

“It’s my pleasure, [Your Name],” Minho replies, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine.

As you settle your bag into the car, you turn to Minho with a warm smile. The connection between you feels palpable, the air tinged with unspoken sentiments.

“If you ever feel comfortable, Minho, you’re more than welcome to come over and see Lino whenever you want,” you offer, your words carrying a subtle invitation that extends beyond the realm of the feline companion.

Minho’s gaze meets yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. You both know that the mention of Lino is a mere pretext, a way to create an opportunity for you to spend time together outside the confines of the classroom.

“That sounds great, [Your Name]. I’d love to see Lino again,” Minho replies, his words holding a deeper resonance that hints at the shared understanding between you.

As you close the car door, there lingers a charged atmosphere, an acknowledgment of the unspoken connection that has blossomed between you. The invitation to visit Lino becomes a bridge, inviting Minho into your world in a way that goes beyond the boundaries of your official roles.

As you part ways, a sense of anticipation hangs in the air—a promise of shared moments yet to unfold, where the presence of Lino would be a mere backdrop to the deeper connection growing between you and Minho.

Couple days later, as you correct Minho’s homework during your extra class session, you can’t help but marvel at his progress. His determination and dedication to improving his English skills are evident in every assignment he completes.

Lost in your thoughts, you are surprised when Minho places a piece of paper on top of the question you are correcting. With a curious smile, you pick up the note and read the handwritten message in English, noticing a few adorable mistakes that only add to its charm.

The note, written with a touch of nervousness and sincerity, asks if you are free on Friday evening and if you’d like to watch a movie at your place. Minho’s excuse about missing your cat brings a smile to your face, knowing full well that he has three cats of his own at home.

Chuckling softly to yourself, you can’t deny the warmth that fills your heart at Minho’s sweet gesture. With a pen in hand, you write a response on the back of the note, asking him what he would like to have for dinner on Friday evening.

As you hand the note back to Minho, your eyes meet, and a shared understanding passes between you. In that moment, you feel a sense of excitement and anticipation for the upcoming Friday evening—a chance to spend time with Minho outside the confines of the classroom, where your shared connection could blossom in the comfort of familiarity and friendship.

As Minho receives your response to his note, he can't help but feel a rush of excitement and anticipation. Your willingness to spend time with him outside of the classroom fills him with a sense of joy and warmth that he can't contain.

As he reads your reply, a smile spreads across his face, the corners of his lips lifting with genuine happiness. It's a chance for both of you to spend quality time together, to share a meal, and enjoy each other's company in a relaxed and comfortable setting.

"Can I cook for you?" Minho asks, his voice tinged with a hint of shyness as he meets your gaze.

Your eyes sparkle with warmth and affection as you look at him, your response filled with sincerity and kindness.

"Only if you let me help you,” you reply, your words carrying a sense of fondness.

With a nod and a smile, Minho accepts your offer, knowing that your movie night will be filled with laughter, good food, and the warmth of your growing bond. As you make plans for your evening together, Minho can't help but feel grateful for the chance to spend time with someone as special as you, and he looks forward to creating memories that you'll cherish for years to come.

As the days pass leading up to the supposed movie night with you, Minho finds himself on the receiving end of relentless teasing from the members of Stray Kids. It seems that his attempt to keep his plans a secret has failed miserably, much to his dismay.

Chanbin: "Ooh, Minho's got a hot date!"

Felix: "What movie are you gonna watch, Minho? Romantic comedy or action-packed thriller?"

Hyunjin: "Don't forget the popcorn and tissues, Minho. It's gonna be a tearjerker!"

The teasing only intensifies as the days go by, with each member finding new ways to poke fun at Minho's supposed date night. Despite his attempts to brush off their remarks with a good-natured smile, Minho can't help but feel a pang of embarrassment at the attention.

Han: "Minho, you better dress to impress!"

Seungmin: "Yeah, don't forget to bring flowers!"

I.N: "And make sure you don't spill the popcorn all over her!"

With each passing comment, Minho's cheeks flush with embarrassment, his attempts to deflect their teasing met with little success. It seems that the members of Stray Kids are determined to make sure he doesn't live down his supposed date night anytime soon.

Despite the embarrassment, Minho can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his friends' playful banter. Their teasing may be relentless, but it's also a reminder of the close bond they share—a bond that brings laughter and joy to even the most embarrassing moments. And as the days pass, Minho finds himself looking forward to his movie night with you, knowing that even if the members of Stray Kids continue to tease him mercilessly, he'll always have their support and friendship to fall back on.

The day of the much-anticipated movie night with Minho arrives, and you can't contain the nervous energy coursing through your veins. Despite your efforts to maintain composure, the excitement and anticipation bubble within you, manifesting in a flurry of nervous gestures and rapid thoughts.

After much deliberation, you settle on a more casual and comfortable outfit for the evening—a simple yet stylish ensemble that exudes effortless charm. As you stand before the mirror, adjusting your attire and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes through the apartment.

Heart pounding with anticipation, you hurry to the door, your pulse quickening with each step. With trembling hands, you turn the doorknob and swing the door open, your eyes widening in surprise and delight at the sight before you.

There stands Minho, resplendent in a casual yet impeccably stylish outfit that perfectly complements his features. His warm smile illuminates his face as he holds out a small bouquet of white lilies—the very flowers you mentioned months ago in one of your classes.

Speechless with astonishment and gratitude, you can hardly believe your eyes. The gesture is thoughtful and heartfelt, a testament to the depth of Minho's kindness and consideration.

"Oh, Minho... I can't believe you remembered," you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine emotion as you accept the bouquet with trembling hands.

Minho's smile widens at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity. "I wanted tonight to be special," he replies, his words carrying a sincerity that touches you to the core.

In that moment, as you stand together in the doorway, the weight of your shared connection hangs heavy in the air. It's a gesture of thoughtfulness and affection that speaks volumes, a silent promise of the memories yet to be made and the bond that will only grow stronger with time.

With a grateful smile, you step aside, inviting Minho into your home and into your heart. As you embark on your movie night together, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation for the moments yet to come—a night filled with laughter, companionship, and the blossoming of something beautiful between you.

As Minho stepped into [Your Name]'s cozy apartment, he was greeted by the enthusiastic welcome of Lino, who came running towards him with a playful meow, rubbing himself against Minho's legs.

Minho chuckled at Lino's antics, reaching down to scratch the cat behind the ears. "Hey there, buddy. Looks like we're already becoming fast friends," he remarked, his voice filled with amusement.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of Minho bonding with Lino. "He definitely likes you more than me," you quipped, a hint of playful sarcasm in your tone.

Minho laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Seems like it," he replied, his attention momentarily diverted by the playful antics of the furry feline.

Meanwhile, you headed to the kitchen to find a water vase for the bouquet of white lilies Minho had brought. As you rummaged through the cabinets, Minho took a moment to glance around the small apartment, his curiosity piqued by the glimpses of your personality scattered throughout the space.

The apartment was a reflection of you and your unique style, filled with charming décor and personal touches that spoke volumes about your interests and passions. From the vintage photographs adorning the walls to the eclectic mix of furniture, every corner of the apartment exuded warmth and character.

In the background, the soulful strains of blues music filled the air, adding a touch of ambiance to the cozy atmosphere. Minho couldn't help but nod his head to the rhythm, appreciating the soothing melody that filled the room.

You returned from the kitchen, a water vase in hand, and placed the lilies on the small dining table. "There we go, a perfect spot for them," you remarked, a smile of satisfaction gracing your lips as you admired the bouquet.

Minho nodded in agreement, his eyes lingering on the delicate flowers. "They look beautiful," he commented, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

As the evening unfolded in your cozy apartment, the aroma of freshly cut lilies mingled with the savory scents wafting from the kitchen, filling the air with a tantalizing promise of the meal to come.

Turning to Minho with a warm smile, you inquired, "Are you hungry? I can whip up something simple if you'd like."

Minho's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he followed you into the kitchen, his curiosity piqued by the array of cooking equipment adorning the countertops.

To his surprise, the kitchen was a treasure trove of culinary delights, stocked with an impressive array of pots, pans, and utensils—a testament to your love for cooking.

"You have quite the collection here," Minho remarked, his voice filled with genuine admiration as he surveyed the assortment of cooking tools.

You grinned, a glimmer of pride in your eyes. "I love to cook," you admitted, your voice tinged with enthusiasm. "It's one of my favorite hobbies."

As you two set to work preparing the ingredients for your meal, Minho found himself drawn to your infectious energy and passion for cooking. With each passing moment, your laughter filled the air, mingling with the sound of sizzling vegetables and bubbling pots.

In a playful gesture, Minho deliberately brushed his hand against yours whenever the opportunity arose, savoring the fleeting connection between you.

But it was when you suggested you cut the vegetables together that Minho's heart skipped a beat. As you stood side by side at the kitchen counter, Minho felt a surge of warmth and affection wash over him.

With a gentle smile, Minho wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your hands intertwined as you guided the knife through the crisp vegetables, your movements synchronized in perfect harmony.

As you continued to cook together, your laughter echoed through the kitchen, filling the air with a sense of joy and companionship that neither of you could deny. And in that shared moment of togetherness, Minho and you knew that you had found something special.

As the aroma of your culinary creation fills the air, you and Minho step back from the stove, your shared masterpiece laid out before you. With a sense of accomplishment and anticipation, you set about preparing the table for your meal.

Minho's hands move with purpose as he arranges the plates and utensils, his movements deliberate yet filled with a subtle grace. With each placement, he ensures that your seats are positioned side by side, a silent invitation for closeness and companionship.

You couldn't help but notice Minho's thoughtful gestures, the unspoken warmth and affection evident in his actions. As you settle into your seats, the table bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, you feel a sense of gratitude for the growing bond between you.

As you begin to enjoy your meal, you feel a surge of warmth and affection for Minho, a desire to share the joy of your culinary creation with him in a more intimate way.

"Minho," you call softly, your voice filled with tenderness and warmth, "try this dish. It's one of my favorites."

With a gentle smile, you offer Minho a spoonful of the delicious food, your eyes sparkling with anticipation. As he accepts the bite, your fingers brush against each other in a fleeting yet electrifying touch, sending a jolt of warmth coursing through both of you.

Minho savors the flavors, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and affection. In that moment, as you share a meal together, your connection deepens, your hearts entwined in a silent dance of possibility and hope.

In the soft glow of candlelight, as you share the remnants of your meal and the warmth of each other's company, you and Minho find yourselves engaged in an intimate dialogue, each revelation deepening the connection between you.

"You know, Minho, I've always admired your passion for dance," you begin, your voice soft with admiration. "It's incredible how you express yourself through movement."

A gentle smile graces Minho's lips, his eyes alight with appreciation. "Thank you, [Your Name]. Dance has always been my way of connecting with the world, of expressing emotions that words alone can't capture."

As you exchange stories and share moments, you can't help but feel a sense of wonder at Minho's dedication to his craft, his commitment to his art shining through in every word.

"And you, [Your Name], your love for books—it's truly inspiring," Minho remarks, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "The way you talk about literature, about the worlds and characters within those pages, it's like you're sharing a piece of your soul with me."

You smile, touched by Minho's words. "Books have always been my sanctuary, my escape into other worlds," you admit, your eyes shining with passion. "There's something magical about losing yourself in the pages of a good book."

As you continue to share your passions and discoveries, you find common ground in unexpected places—a shared love of picnics beneath the open sky, the simple joy of being at home in the company of your beloved cats.

"I've always loved picnics," Minho confesses, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "There's something so liberating about being outdoors, surrounded by nature's beauty."

You nod in agreement, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "I couldn't agree more. There's a sense of peace and tranquility that comes with being out in nature, away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life."

In that moment, as you bask in the warmth of each other's presence, you and Minho discover a world of shared interests and passions—a world where your hearts can intertwine and your souls can soar.

As the soft strains of your favorite slow song fill the air, a sense of warmth and familiarity envelops the room, casting a spell of enchantment over the evening.

Caught up in the melody, you find yourself humming along, the gentle rhythm stirring memories and emotions within your soul. Across the room, Minho's eyes light up with recognition, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he catches the familiar tune.

With a playful twinkle in his eyes, Minho rises from his seat, extending a hand towards you with a silent invitation to dance. "May I have this dance?" he asks, his voice soft with warmth and affection.

You chuckle softly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone. "I don't know how to dance," you admit, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

But Minho's smile remains unwavering, his gaze filled with unwavering determination. "Then let me teach you," he replies, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "Just like you taught me English."

With a mixture of trepidation and excitement, you place your hand in Minho's, allowing him to lead you to the center of the room. As you begin to sway to the gentle rhythm of the music, Minho guides you with grace and patience, his movements fluid and effortless.

With each step, each gentle turn, you feel yourself surrendering to the music, to the warmth of Minho's embrace. In his arms, you find a sense of security and belonging, a place where your fears and insecurities melt away.

As you dance, your laughter mingles with the music, filling the air with a sense of joy and companionship. In that intimate moment, you realize that dancing isn't just about following the steps—it's about surrendering to the rhythm of the heart, about embracing the beauty of the moment and the connection shared between two souls.

In the hushed embrace of the evening, as you and Minho sway gently to the rhythm of the music, a sense of serenity settles over you like a comforting blanket. In the soft glow of candlelight, your eyes meet, the warmth of your gaze speaking volumes of the unspoken bond between you.

As the music fades into the background, a comfortable silence envelops you, the air tinged with anticipation and longing. In that fleeting moment, Minho's voice breaks the silence, a whisper so soft it is almost lost amidst the gentle cadence of the night.

"May I?" he breathes, his words barely audible yet filled with an unmistakable yearning.

Your heart flutters at his question, your smile a reflection of the affection that fills your soul. With a nod and a smile, you whisper back, your voice barely a whisper yet resonating with the depth of your emotions.

"Please," you reply, your heart racing with anticipation.

In that tender moment, Minho closes the distance between you, his touch as gentle as a summer breeze. With a tenderness that speaks of a thousand unspoken words, he presses his lips against yours, a sweet caress that ignites a spark within your souls.

In that stolen moment of intimacy, time seems to stand still as you lose yourselves in the sweetness of the kiss. In Minho's embrace, you feel a sense of belonging, a connection that transcends words and speaks directly to the depths of your heart.

As the evening unfolds in the warmth of your apartment, filled with laughter, shared moments, and tender embraces, the movie you had planned to watch fades into the background, forgotten amidst the magic of your connection.

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #minho stray kids #stray kids minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids lee minho #lee know stray kids #lee know x reader #lee know #lee minho stray kids #skz minho #lee minho x reader #minho imagines #minho #lee minho smut #stray kids angst #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x you #stray kids scenarios #Spotify

[my--moon]

hello!! i saw that your requests were open and I just love the way you write!! i was wondering if you’d be willing to do a Leo Valdez x fem!reader? just something like Piper was trying to play matchmaker between the two, but they’re already in a relationship and she just doesn’t know?? no pressure tho!! All my love to you, honey 😘😘😘

❝ Matchmaking! Whoops... ❞

Pairing; Leo Valdez X Fem!Reader (Child of Demeter) Warning; Curse words, mentions of sickles (the weapon) implied smut, make out, getting caught, I think that's it tbh. (N/N) = Nickname A/N; Aunty Juno has taken your order! One fanfic comin' right up, sweetie!

Total badass. Pretty hair. User of Demeter's sickles. Has literally cut the throat of a monster for laying a finger on her friends.

Ugh, what didn't (Y/N) have?

A boyfriend!

Actually, nobody knew about (Y/N)'s love life. So, Piper assumed that she was single. And no person that hot should be single. (Unless you're on the ace/aro spectrum, then be single and rich if you want, babes)

Piper Mclean set out on a mission to get (Y/N) with someone. And who better than that be but with Valdez?

You see, Leo was flirty. And (Y/N) didn't react to flirts or acts of seduction. Making her nearly impossible for Piper or any of her siblings to charm. But Leo, however, got her to giggle.

The short Latino got the badass child of the earth to giggle with a flirt. Oh. My. Gods.

When Piper saw this, her jaw dropped. She immediately made it her job to get those two together.

She explained the plan to Annabeth and Hazel, Annabeth agreed that they would be compatible. Hazel however was just snickering to herself the entire time. Like she knew something.

It was a foolproof plan! Make them get as close to each other as possible. And then make them talk. Piper was confident in her plan. So she put it too work.

She made the two pair up during any quests, made them sit by each other whenever she could. She also might've on purposely broke one of (Y/N)'s sickles to make her ask Leo for help.

Annabeth and Hazel whispered to each other: “Should we tell her..?”

“No, let her live in her delusions for a second before they tell her.” The Pluto daughter replied. The two girls nodded and watched carefully at the scene of Piper planning out how to get the two together.

“Where could they be?” Piper muttered to herself.

After a quest, (Y/N) and Leo and been missing for an hour or so. The pair had just... Disappeared.

The steps of Piper's boots echoed throughout the halls, an occasional noise from the outside world hummed through the cracks.

Then there was a small thump. Like a thump against a door. Like something accidentally bumped into it.

Piper perked up at the noise. “Hm?” She hummed inquisitively. She slowly walked up to the door, and reached for the handle.

Just before she grabbed the doorknob, she heard a whisper of 'shhh' and 'hold still'. What in Hades name?

The child of Aphrodite was curious no doubt. So she did what anyone would do!

The door flung wide open. Piper's jaw dropped.

The sight was of Leo and (Y/N). Leo's hand holding her thigh up with a strong grip, (Y/N)'s arms loosely wrapped around his neck. His top two buttons undone, and her high waisted jeans resting at her hips.

Leo's face was covered in glossy kiss marks and (Y/N)'s head was tilted back for her neck to be reached better. The two stared back at Piper with wide eyes.

“Hi.” (Y/N) broke the silence.

Piper didn't respond, just stared back at them with bulging eyes and a opened mouth. “...Hi..?”

Leo's expression was the same as (Y/N)'s. Deer caught in headlights eyes and mouth closed tight. He grabbed the doorknob from Piper and shut the door on Piper's face.

The door shut tight and the lock was heard clicking in place.

Piper was flabbergasted. She didn't process it all in the moment, so when she did—her ability to talk finally came back and she gasped.

“Wait, hold on! You've hooking up and none of you told me?!” She said, banging back on the door.

The couple in the closet said perfectly silent and perfectly still. Neither of them threatened to breathe.

Piper gave up trying to get them out of the locked closet and raced over to Annabeth's room.

Annabeth opened the door and Hazel was lying on her bed while Percy was sitting on a beanbag by her desk. “Hey, what's up?”

Piper walked in and closed the door behind her. “Okay, I usually don't gossip around people who aren't apart of the girls—”

Percy shrugged, before grabbing a jacket and placing it on his head. “Pretend I'm a girl.” He said, which made Hazel giggle and Annabeth roll her eyes.

Piper chuckled before speaking again. “Okay, you will NOT believe what I just saw.”

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #hoo #leo valdez fluff #hazel levesque #heroes of olympus #jason grace #reyna avila ramirez arellano #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez fanart #leo valdez x oc #leo valdez x reader #hoo fanfic #hoo boys #pjo boys #nico di angelo #pjo hoo toa #hoo incorrect quotes #hoo leo #hoo percy #hoo fanart #hoo boy #hazel hoo #Frank Zhang #annabeth chase x you #annabeth chase #pjo spoilers #percy jackson show

[dashitsxx]

gentlewoman | maki zenin x fem!reader

summary. In a world of boys, she's a gentleman.

genre. fluff. sfw.

word count. 1.2k

warnings. none

notes. dedicated to @theprismyyy! thank you for your request, i certainly enjoyed gushing over maki completely in this, i added some elements to make it fluffier, hehe. i do apologize for the late post, huhu but have a great day love! <3

You quietly enter the library, the smell of books hits your nose. It wasn't a disturbing smell rather it was a relief to the mind. You inhaled deeply as you spot a certain dark green hair at the front desk, talking to the librarian. But before you even got to wave, she had her eyes on you, a huge grin evident on her face. She ushered a gesture, signalling you to come to her, which you followed happily.

Once you were near her, you bumped her shoulder purposely with a playful smile. Maki returned a joking glare at you as she chuckled quietly before grabbing a soft hold of your wrist as she led you to where she was staying. When you got to your table, you placed your bag on the table as Maki gently pulled your chair behind you to let comfortably sit.

A red rush flowered your cheeks as you opened your mouth, "Thank you, Maki." You sit down as you pull out your notes to study a material. Maki walked around the table as she sat in front of you, doing the same.

Then, pure silence emerges between the two of you, just a serene atmosphere embracing the air. As you glide your fingers over your written keynotes in ink, you slowly shift your eyes to Maki.

There she was; her face contorted in a focused gaze as she moved her lips, muttering the different forms of words. Her bangs slightly covered some parts of her face that you couldn't deny that she looked calming to look at, especially since the orange-yellow light of the afternoon sun softly hit her skin, blending perfectly in color. She was shining in the sun, always was.

The corner of your lips curled slightly at the scene before you, and then you return your attention to the material.

After half an hour, Maki decided to take a rest from taking notes as she was about to call your name, she halted herself. There you are; arms folded on the table to act as a pillow for your head as your eyes are closed, your eyelashes fluttering your skin.

What a sleepyhead, she thought.

A small smile formed on Maki's lips as she noticed that strands of your hair were blocking your face then formed into a small frown. It looked like it was annoying you. She lets out a small puff.

She pulled her body up and reached her arm out to yours. Her hand was centimetres away from your face as she carefully brushed the hair off your face. While she brushed, her hand came in contact with your skin and upon contact, she felt an electrifying feeling erupting in her chest. It startled her, but she didn't retract her hand back.

The smile was still on her face, eyes soft. She silently watched you as she propped her elbow and placed her chin on her palm, appreciating the scene before her.

You stretched your arms as you felt some bone cracks, releasing tension. Maki followed you behind as she adjusted her shoulder bag. You narrowed your eyes before turning away. "You didn't wake me up, you bonehead." You frown.

Maki let out an entertained laugh, which made you turn your head at her and glare. The librarian shushed towards your direction. Maki slapped a hand over her mouth, but the shaking of her shoulders didn't even try to hide it. You only rolled your eyes as you walked forward, leaving her behind.

"Y/N! Wait, I am sorry, I didn't wake you up... you looked really peaceful. Just didn't want to disturb you. Come on, I'll bring your things and walk you to the dorm."

You only pouted and gave your little bag to her because you knew Maki would keep pestering you insisting that she carry your things, which eventually led you to give up. You didn't mind it at all. In fact, you love her actions.

Maki went ahead of you as she opened the entrance door, "After you." She gently says. You blush slightly and skip towards the exit, Maki following in pursuit.

While on the way to your dorm, waves of laughter and teasing were voiced out between the two of you, delving into topics that concern teachers, homeworks, and schoolmates. The both of you showed clearly the happiness you both emit when together.

Everyone knows the feelings you harbor for each other—it was actually annoying the shit out of them as they wonder when you two will finally be together. But maybe both of you were just waiting for the right time.

Each step you both make echoes through the halls as joyful voices bounce down the wall. Arms brushed against each other so slightly, yet it made you feel butterflies flutter in your stomach. It will definitely be an interaction you'll think about for how many weeks.

Once you arrived at your door, you took out your key and unlocked your door. You turn around as Maki hands you your bag, "Thank you for carrying it, you really didn't have to."

She shakes her head, giving you a playful grin, "I wanted to."

A light red tone flushes your cheeks. Then, silence suddenly bores between the both of you. Shifting bodies and fiddling fingers were the actions you were giving.

"Maki-"

"Y/N-"

A surprised expression crossed your faces before bursting into peals of laughter. It formed tears between your eyelids as you wiped them, "What were you gonna say, Maki?"

She massages her stomach to ache the laughing pain, "No, no, no, you go first."

"No, you first."

"No, you."

You gave a death glare at Maki who suddenly put her hands up in defense then let them down as she clasped her hands behind her. It is something she does when she is nervous, In fact, she is very nervous to the point she might hurl. Yet, she shakes the thought. Maki was silent for moments.

You patiently wait for her to speak up as you stare at her intently, this makes even her more sweat until she inhales deeply to prepare herself. She tries to keep eye contact with you before opening her mouth, "I was wondering if you'd like to..." She trailed off.

Yet you had the same movement, just waiting. This made Maki's palm sweat even more, "If you'd like to go on a dat-"

"I would love to." You cut her off, shocking Maki with your quick response.

She finally sets her eyes on yours, which displayed sparks of anticipation and excitement, this made her grin widely at your reaction. She tries to resist the curls on the corner of her lips. A red tone softly paints her cheeks.

"I would love to, Maki. Text me the details." You repeat as much as you want to jump around in exhilaration, you prevented from doing so. You didn't want to overwhelm Maki.

Maki decides to go back to her dorm which was actually four doors away from you as both of you forbade your goodbyes. Maki was certainly in the heads of clouds, happy with your answer. However, before she was two steps away from your door, she recalled something.

"Y/N!" Maki calls your name.

You peeked out from the door and raised an eyebrow.

Makit tilts her head slightly and opens her mouth, "What were you going to say a while ago?"

A furrow on your eyebrows formed, wondering what she was saying until it clicked. A mischievous smile formed on your mouth, your eyes squinting slightly as you placed a finger on your lips.

"Secret."

all dividers are from @cafekitsune, thank you <33

#dashitsxx #maki fluff #maki x reader #jjk maki #maki zenin #dashitsxx.dream #dashitsxx.gentlewoman #dashitsxx.gw #dashitsxx.maki #zenin maki #maki zenin x reader #jjk maki zenin #jjk zenin maki

[wlfpet]

Abby choking reader with her biceps!

AN; Sorry this took so long, its been killing me for fucking ever and I got stumped. Somehow I found a way to write something I could be a little bit proud of, so I hope ya'll like it!

content tags: Asphyxiation (2 in a combat context, one in an erotic context. r! receiving all three times,) fingering (r!receiving,) cunnilingus (r!receiving,) a normally degrading pet name used in a sexual context, abby is kind of mean in the beginning but warm sup at the end, reader is one of like a billion orphans that live in the tlouverse, sadge. mediocre action scenes. breast play (r!receiving,) abby gives r slurp and she didn't even pull her pants down

wc: 6.4k (woah...)

proofread?: i've rewritten this 4 times and never want to see it again.

The forest was dark and cold, wind whipping around you, through you, as you traversed deeper into darkness. It was getting dark, your radio had died a long time ago, and it had been hours since you had seen a WLF stronghold, or a stationary transceiver to call for help on. Your assignment was entry-level, sweep the grounds in WLF territory for any raider camps or pockets of traveling scars, but you were separated from your squad, and now, without any way to communicate with them, you had to find your own way back to the FOB before nightfall. You were turned around, in scar territory, alone; following the moon, sidearm drawn in your trembling hands. There was a ringing in your ears, cut only by the bumping of your anxious heart; pitifully, you wouldn’t be able to hear the cracking of rustling leaves and snapping twigs underfoot over the sound of your own fear.

There was a great cry as a shadow swung into your vision. You missed the blow narrowly, sliding backward as a body lurched into your vision. It rushed you, taking you by surprise, causing you to stumble as your pistol arm shot up wildly in the tight grip of your attacker. There wasn’t enough time for reaction, and before you knew it, you were carrying their weight. The two of you were thrashing, a bloody tug of war through the bushes and debris, you were fighting, the way that one fights before they die. It was a tornado of bodies, a cacophony of screams the clatter of a gun hitting the floor, and then the blackness of being blind as your head slammed into the trunk of a tree. Thick blood and spit shot from your mouth as you crumpled to the forest floor with a heavy thud, seeing stars. 

You fought unconsciousness as you tried to regain your footing, but your assailant was too fast, grabbing by the collar of your jacket and dragging you across the tractionless, muddy ground. You were chest to the ground, pressed down with the full weight of two people as a hand fisted through your hair, holding your face to the dirt as you struggled with the last of your remaining power. 

“Fuck– no, get the fuck off of me–!” You screamed, thrashing wildly on the ground, your torso pinned. An arm hooked around your throat.  Your hand slapped wildly at the ground, looking for something, anything that could grant you escape. There was nothing; but as your fingers inched out, there was your gun. Before you could sweep it into your grasp, pressure bulged against your eyes, crushing your throat, tightening the skin of your face. Hands flew up, spurred on by true survival instinct to claw at the scar’s flesh, but the leather of your brown utility gloves only pawed weakly at the clothed bicep. Your lips pulled into a grimace, blood rushing to your brain as you fell in and out of consciousness. Like sick irony, there was nothing; but then, pressed to your temple was the cold metal of your sidearm. Your eyes squeezed closed, anticipating the bang.

“This is the part where you’d end up getting your brains blown out with your own pistol, rook.” The arm currently strangling you loosened, freeing you from its grapple. The disembodied voice- no, it was very bodied, actually, and still laying across you- jostled your temple with the dummy gun, exploding in mock recoil as a sardonic ‘–pchew!’ blew against your ear. It lifted away from you and you finally had the space to expand your chest more than a couple of inches. You rolled over onto your back, drawing a deep, reactionary breath, soothing the throbbing skin of your neck with a hand. 

The woman towering over you in the darkness grimaced, unimpressed, leaning her weight against the tree trunk she had just used to nearly brain you. Anderson was your training captain; ruthless, built like an ox, and the top soldier out of anyone in the WLF, right hand to the Big Man, and you fucking hated her. 

She was an unforgiving mentor; running you on drills long after everyone went home, failing you, hard, and was dedicated to kicking your ass for real every time you had a sparring match. This, in fact, was your third field scenario attempt with Anderson, and they never got better; the first time, throwing dirt into your face and ‘slitting your throat,’ then it was ‘shooting’ you in your abdomen and finishing you off with another to the chest, and now? Taken out after getting ambushed in a dark forest and having your head blasted open. She’d suck her teeth, cracking the vertebrae in her neck with a terse, ‘that’s how it is in the field, kid’’ as you walked behind her, winded. 

“That… wasn’t a pass, was it?” You choked out, scooching yourself across the wet mud to sit up, drawing harsh, ragged breaths. 

Anderson wrenched up a brow at you, unimpressed. “You really need to be told that wasn’t a pass?” 

The matter-of-fact tone she took left you dumbstruck, crushed, burning from the inside out of embarrassment, the heat nesting in your cheeks mingling from the stinging pain from the fight. You were humiliated and more importantly, you knew she was right. That you had shit the bed, going 0 and 3.  You wouldn’t be getting promoted to assignments, and if you kept dragging your feet, you’d be reassigned. But you could convince her, you had to convince her. “But everyone else from my class made mistakes, and they– they still passed!” You tried to seem firm and level-headed, but your throat got tight all of a sudden, and your voice was whiny like a child’s. 

“Doesn’t really matter to me. I don’t train everyone else from your class.” She blew out flippantly, not even meeting your eyes, barely giving your pleas the time of day. It was her job to push you past your limits, to see how far from your comfort zone you were willing to go. To see how badly you could be beaten before you talked, how long they could torture you with guns or knives or burns before you gave in. But right now? She was more irritated than anything, and the truth she was biting her tongue on was that you were a completely lost cause. 

Anderson cut the distance between the two of you and leaned in, closer than ever, towering over you like it was easy, looking at you as if she was seeing you from the inside out. Her smirk faded, falling to her barely-masked anger as she kneaded together her lips. Your eyes brimmed with tears as hers filled with indignation, annoyance, like you were an itch she couldn’t scratch; perpetually pissing her off. “You don’t have a clue in the fucking world, do you? The reality of what they do in the open city you’re in such a rush to get out to? What they’ll do to a wolf, out there?” 

You did know, or at least you had heard stories. It was all common;  rookies overhearing what deployed soldiers would bring back from their rotation, then telephoning it back in the barracks before lights out. The stories were always the same, scouting duos going out deep into the unclaimed territory, never to come back. It was no man’s land. it was suicide. After some days, they would stop calling into WLF frequencies. After some weeks, a new unit would be sent behind them, stumbling upon the bloated, swinging bodies. it would take another three days for recovery to get them back to the FOB, they would get buried in a large plot of land at the back of the stadium, reserved only for soldiers. It was nothing special, but the ones that were too high up would just stay there. Sometimes, it would keep you up at night, honest. You looked at your feet, almost submissively, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to leak. She was right, you fucked up, you kept fucking up. You forced your tiny voice to speak. “I’m sorry, I ju–”

“This a fucking joke to you, YLN?”

You looked into her eyes, she was tired of you. Tired of your constant excuses, how you never seemed to improve, how everything you did wrong ended up coming down on her shoulders. You had gotten bounced around from training class to training class on account of repeated failures, and at some point, they threw you at Anderson’s feet. She protested, she didn’t do fucking charity work but of course, the task manager gave a bullshit excuse, saying that was the direct orders from the big man himself, that if anyone could “fix” you, it was her. You were always fucking around, lackadaisical, terrible at your job. Always cornering her before the end of evaluations, begging for a good word, begging for extra credit. They called you ’tornado’  because you kept busting your ass during physical drills, which turned into ‘twitch’ because you couldn’t stop your gun hand from shaking during on-field drills. You were picky, even, complaining about the smell of the barracks on your first day in training camp. 

Your mouth was open, gobsmacked, tripping on syllables, tongue dry all of the sudden, too dry, and you tried to blink back the wetness in your eyes before it dampened your cheeks. You couldn’t say anything because there was nothing to say. “No, I just– no, this, this is really serious to me. It’s really important to me.”

 “But you want me to pass you? So that you can get your whole squad killed? So that they can ship your bagged-up body to the morgue? Fine, then. I’ll pass you. See? ‘You passed,’ easy– since we just like bullshitting each other.” The woman deadpanned, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, muscles bobbing under her skin, eyes dangerous, fed up. The harsh words had you simmering over with a quiet rage; at yourself, for fucking up from the beginning, and at your coach, for always being so hard on you. 

“You’re not ready, kid, and I don’t think I can help you, either. Want my advice? There are a lot of other jobs they’ll give you at the stadium, but whatever it is here that you think you’re cut out for– you’re not.” She spoke through a tight jaw, and you could almost imagine sadness in her voice, but that couldn’t be right. She turned on her heels, heading back to the jeep the two of you rode out on, not waiting for you to follow behind her. 

–

If she was nothing else, Abigail Anderson was a woman of her word. You had gone to pick up your evaluation records early in the morning, while the stadium was still quiet and everyone in the barracks was still asleep. It had become an odd kind of spectator sport to see how many consecutive fails you could rack up from mentor to mentor. In turn, it had become your ritual to collect your papers and make them disappear before anyone could ask. Your hands were heavy as you cracked open the envelope, opened it, and gazed over the lettering. There was a boxed-in ‘Instructor: A. ANDERSON’ in the top corner, and your face burned remembering the cold lecture that brought you nearly to tears. 

whatever it is here that you think you’re cut out for– you’re not.

You hated her for it. For always being on your ass, for making everything so damned difficult.  But you were disappointed in yourself for thinking that it would be easy in the first place. Disappointed that years passed by, watching from the sidelines as literal teenagers were deployed before you. Deep down, you knew she was right, that you should give up; but your eyes widened when you saw it. 

INTERIM FIELD EVALUATION: PASS. 

She did it to spite you but you didn’t fucking care, it was one step closer out of the program. You paced around, giggling to yourself; if anyone was up to see you, they’d think you were fucking insane. But no one was awake, and you’d be back in bed before all rise, so it didn’t matter. so you pressed the paper to your chest, as though you could absorb it through your skin. Fucking pass; you could lay down on the floor and die right here. You had to look at it one more time, just to make sure you weren’t dreaming. So you did, eyes flying all across the paper, your first pass in months; no, years and all you had to do was cry a bit. Wonder if Anderson would let it slide all the way to deployment. 

Then you saw it. 

CADET TRANSFER REQUEST

CADET #549226 

From A. ANDERSON

To  V. CHUNG

Fuck.

–

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Chung will give you all the passes you want.” You were towering over Anderson, who lay flat on the weight bench, adjusting the bar of weights over her head, angling and curling herself in preparation. She didn’t meet your eyes, only looking over a second in irritation as she saw you burst into the then-empty gym. You had planned to give her a piece of your mind, or at least beg and plead. It wasn’t working. She was flippant in the way that she always was, how she could reduce all of your feelings to petty quips and take the air completely out of your sails at once. She lifted the bar, barely any effort showing up as a kink in her brow, pressing it to her chest and then dropping it back down onto the stand jutting out from either side. Her muscles rippled, a thin mask of sweat dusting over her and twinkling in the light

that was a soldier, and she reminded you of everything that you weren’t. 

“It’s not just about the passes. Everyone just–” against your will, a lump formed in your throat, and you turned to the side so that she wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you cry. “Everyone just fucking gives up on me.” You weren’t a stranger to being passed around, but it was something new that hurt; a unique level of disappointment at everything, at yourself, that made the tears pool and run down your face. Trained by the best of the best, and you still couldn’t hack it. 

It really was a dead-end for you. 

Everyone knew the jokes and the rumours of the cadet that just couldn’t make it, but nobody could pinpoint just why, no matter how hard life kicked you, you wouldn’t give up. 

Being a child in a QZ was hard. None of you were happy, or living particularly well, but you had your family, and small joys, Until it all fell down, until FEDRA abandoned one post for another and you were left, a child, at the mercy of the world. You blew around, another fringe society, another QZ. Those fell too, and the only thing you could remember some nights was that everyone was gone now, and it was just you. That was when you joined the WLF. Because you wanted to save the world because it was your only choice.

 You tried to work hard, waking up extra early to run drills, trying to build up your form or your reflexes against all odds. You were like a fish, the way you could hold your breath underwater. Your pistol hand still shook from the chronic anxiety of the life you had lived before, but you could take your sidearm apart and put it back together faster than anyone else. But nobody ever noticed those things, just your fuck ups. Nobody saw you, just saw twitch, or tornado, just a compendium of everything you couldn’t be.

If you couldn’t do anything else, then maybe the suffering you went wasn’t worth it. Maybe what happened to you was just common. You *had* to be a hero.

Or die a martyr. 

The words rolled out before you could stop them, and you were blubbering, tears rolling down your face, a thick coating of snot and drool coating your lips and chin as you sunk down, crying. Your hands fisted that damned form, crumpling it, and it rippled and burst under your fingers. This really was pathetic of you, groveling and begging at the feet of a woman who didn’t care, and deep down you were still planning your strategy of how to exit this room now that you firmly couldn’t play it off. You couldn’t face her anymore, or anyone, for that matter because Anderson would definitely talk. Your only option was to defect, ride out at dawn with nothing but the clothes on your back, no, dig a hole in the stadium and live there, with nothing but a straw in your mouth for breathing, no, shit idea, maybe you should just swan dive off the high side of the FOB and save yourself all the trouble, no, mayb–

“Kid.”

And you were still talking, like a dumbass. “–and i know i fucked up but– if you could give me one more chance i just need one more chance you don’t understand how much this means to me how important this is to me– please i’ll do anything and i get it if you just want me to get the hell out of your way but i just thought i just thought i could i just really really”

“Kid, stop talking,” Anderson was holding your hands gently in her own. Looking up at you from her now seated position. There was still the ever-so-slight crook of indignation in her brow, but she was speaking to you, gently, leniently. She felt bad, and there was a black spot of shame growing on her back from how she had treated you.

She was remorseful, and there was a dark spot of shame growing on her conscience for how she had treated you. She was hard on you because you were just going through the motions and cutting corners a lot of the time, but there was a determination that hadn’t yet been broken down and you were dogged, like she was once; and deep down, she did have a soft spot for your annoying ass. 

“I’ll help you. I’ll help you out” Anderson spit out, watching a spark ignite in your watery eyes. Before you got too excited, she put her hand up, holding all of your hopes in midair for just a moment. “But– fuck, stop crying. Thought I was gonna have to get you on a damn psych watch.” 

You nodded jerkily, exposed once again in front of her, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your thermal shirt, a windy inhale passing through your nose and dislodging the mucus in your throat. “Shit– fuck, fuck. Sorry.” 

Anderson stood from the bench, barely giving you time to react before she angled into a striking position, feet shoulder-width apart, planted firmly on the rubber floor. Her fists were clenched, muscles working in her arms and making her look ten times bigger as she stalked around you, chin down, scanning for an open. “What are you waiting for,” she chided, cracking her neck to the side. It was weird, like she was trying to… encourage you? “Scenario three, from last week– remember?”

Then she advanced, walking you backwards into an empty space in the room, striking at your head before you had a chance to react. You swooped down, diving under her extended arm to barely miss the shot that probably would’ve knocked you out. 

“Put your hands up, rook– they’re not gonna wait for you.” Anderson grunted and slammed down with locked elbows; this was your in– and you charged, albeit off balance to make the first connection, a glancing blow to her chin. The two of you fought around the room, exchanging blows and blocks, kicks and punches. Somehow, you had managed your way into her blindspot and swung to try and land a grapple around her neck with an impassioned “I got you!”

It was then, like a flash of light that your arm was intercepted and you were turned over onto your knees, Anderson crouched beside you squeezing your neck in a submission hold. Her bicep pressed into your throat, that ragged pressure that tightened every muscle in your body and turned on that sheer animal instinct to survive. You clawed above you, nails catching on the flesh of her exposed chest.

“You don’t have to announce it, its not a damn movie.” She spoke, trailing off into a whisper. It was all over, you did it again, miraculously continuing your 0-for-infinity losing streak. 

But she let you go, and it was crazy but you swore that her hand lingered in your hair for a second as she stepped away. You laid on the ground, heaving. Anderson looked over you, looking at the rapidly darkening red welts on your throat, bruises on bruises layered from yesterday night. In the back of her mind, she could hear laughter, a conversation over drinks while her team was on recess.

“You’re fuckin’ brutal on the kid, Anderson. Trying to kill her?” Chung laughed, taking a heavy swig from his beer. A hand clapped against her shoulder from behind, swaying her from side to side, sloshing liquid out of her cup and onto the wooden table they were gathered around. Before she could protest Manny’s voice cut through the raucous laughter ringing off the walls. 

“Bet you two shift swaps that Abs makes YLN drop out of the program before deployment!” He cried, drunk off his ass, jabbing his finger in any general direction before loosening his spider monkey-like grip. Abby’s back burned, her jaw clenching unconsciously with thinly veiled anger, they were her friends, but fuck these guys, honestly.  She forced a coy smile, becoming the face of drunken jest. 

“You guys fucking done?” She tried to conceal the sound of her discomfort with a laugh, but it was tight and terse and frankly, after years together anyone at the roundtable could pick up on her unconscious cues. 

“What, Abs, going soft on us? Or maybe… you’re tryna’ catch another type of body– huh? huh?”

—

She watched you, fisting your hands together on the floor in a quiet sort of frustration. Tears threatened to pool in your eyes but you blinked them back, cutting your eye at her for a split second and then looking away. It was embarrassing, of course, but at this point, you were defeated. Anderson sat down beside you, hooking her hand under your arm and lifting you to sit upright. 

“Anderson I–”

“–just, Abby.” She whispered, palming your knee, trying her best to commit to her insurmountable task: being comforting. The woman watched as your face tensed up and then went slack as you dug teeth into your bottom lip, looking off into nothing. “It’s not going to matter more, just because you die. You know that, right?” You didn’t speak. Nails ran skittishly against your shirt as you ran your hands up and down your arms, trying to self-soothe, unable to hide your grimace. 

“Yeah.” You nodded slowly, as though you were trying to stave off your own denial. “Yeah.”

The hand on your knee became firmer, heavier as it stroked over your skin, her thumb rubbing a small circle where it began to meet your thigh. “I was serious– when I was talking about other jobs, you know? You can just live a good life, and that can be enough. There’s nothing waiting for you outside of the wall, kid.”

 If it were anyone else, you could’ve been angry, you would’ve lashed out; but it was coming from someplace real, one of the only times you had ever seen Anderson– Abby, be anything more than a cold, stony prick. She had been stern with you because she saw herself in that tiny rage you had, the anger just below the surface that she could see in your eyes right at this moment. Because when you’re that driven about anything, the only certain thing to look forward to is a darkness that keeps on coming. It was the hard realisation, and you swallowed heavy. “Guess not.”

There was a vulnerability in the air, and before you knew it, you were leaning into her touch, pressing your body to hers, side to side. Your superior didn’t move, didn’t keen away or tell you off, just sat there, never stopping the motion of her hand. It was a long silence between the two of you, but then she stopped, began to stand, and like your body wasn’t yours you grabbed her arm, willing her to stay without a single spoken word. There was this weird, small flash on her face that you couldn’t place, until she just nodded, using her strength to lift you to your feet as well. 

“Coming?” Was all that she said, and you nodded. Yeah. 

–

It was what you had always wanted, the big luxury box in the sky. It was as though you could see everything from your place at the window of Abby’s room, the barracks, where everyone was still sleeping tucked in the corner behind the greenhouse, the sun slowly overtaking the dark sky, the very tops of the skyscraper tucked into the clouds, the FOB, overlooking everything ominously.

 “It’s all yours?” you asked, no higher than a murmur as you looked through the parted curtains. 

“And Manny’s,” Abby dropped her bag in the corner of the room, using her foot to kick it under her bedframe. “On an overnight, though. So it’s just me. One of the many perks you have to look forward to if you become a top soldier.” 

“Fat chance.” You quipped bitterly.

There were footsteps behind you, but you didn’t think much of it as you closed the curtain. You turned away from the window and in a second the two of you were together, the blonde placing a hand on the small of your back and taking your mouth into hers. It was as though you were covered in white light, how everything became so blinding, so warm, extremely surreal in a way you couldn’t place. You’d wake up in your bunk, you were sure of it. Had to wake up in your bunk. But as the wet of her tongue played over your lips, you thought, maybe you didn’t want to wake up. You could dream forever and that would be fine.

“You know, you’re really hard on yourself, rookie.” The taller woman breathed, pulling away to speak. “Wouldn’t be a good mentor if I didn’t give you a morale adjustment.”

You moaned, leaning into it, the thickness of her thigh now ghosting against the spread of your legs. Her hand came up to run fingers gently through your hair, thumbing away the thin layer of sweat that formed on the nape of your neck. Her cockiness did something to you, and it was as though you couldn’t get enough skin to touch as you gripped her bicep deeper, feeling the muscle bulge with her effort. Her tongue disappeared into your mouth, swirling against yours, depositing the slick of her saliva down your throat. It was heavy and wet, built up like her own body, and it dominated yours easily, just like she had done in the gym. 

“You with me?” She peppered a soft kiss, groaning as she took a fistful of your thigh, heaving it up to lock against her waist, the seam of your pants unwittingly pressing into your crotch through now-dampened panties. She pulled from you and you wanted to chase her, a deprived whine ringing out of your throat before you could stop it. Unbeknownst to you, the noise sent a shockwave to Abby’s clit, and she could feel her channel begin to slicken. Fuck, you were pretty. Her eyes narrowed, looking over your features. This should be against her ethical code, probably against proper conduct guidelines, but she wanted you so bad it was infuriating. She heard Chung’s voice again. 

…tryna’ catch another type of body?

Oh, fuck you, man. 

You nodded, and a frown overcame her. “Needa hear you, kid.” You looked down, pressed your face into her chest, kneading fingers into her open grey sweatshirt. It was embarrassing to say, and a part of her wished that she was as bad as you had always said she was, that she would just… do whatever this is and not make you vocalise how much you wanted her. The pit of shame in your stomach got deeper, but she soothed a thumb over your brow and it was like you melted. “We don’t have to do anything if you d–”

“I’m here. I’m with you.”

There it was; the confirmation, the greenlight she needed to lift you up, both legs under her strong hands now, and carry you to the two pushed-together twin mattresses of her bed. She looked down at you, laying on your back, blown-out watery eyes squinted as she lifted your shirt up just a hair to reveal the plush skin beneath. “Fuckin’ hell.” She whispered to nobody specific, running a thumb against your torso. 

Abby met your eye, asking, and you nodded. She exposed you easily, lifting your shirt up and leaving you in just a bra from the waist up. Deft fingers locked under the straps and she pulled her hands down, mouth agape as your breasts spilled forward. If she believed, she would’ve compared the sight to viewing the kingdom of heaven for the first time, singing angels and all. A calloused hand trailed up to palm one, a thumb rolling across the pliant bulb of your nipple, the sensation causing it to rapidly harden to a stiff point. She took it, rolling it between two fingers and her thumb as she leaned in, taking the other in her mouth and grazing it between her teeth. A ragged breath was forced through your lips as you tried to regain your spinning consciousness. 

“Fuck, nghh– Abby, fuck.” You moaned out, delirious. The double stimulation didn’t stop, and instead, Abby slid her jaw forward, biting one nipple firmly and gripping the other between two knuckles to pull, and you cried out. She sucked as though she was nursing, the slopping popping noises of her mouth filling the air in tandem with your moans and whimpers.

“Goddamned gorgeous, you know that?” She groaned, slapping your free tit with her hand lightly before walking her fingers down to your belt loop. With one hand she slipped down your sweatpants to your ankles, leaving you in nothing but light, stained briefs. Your cunt had soaked pathetically through the fabric, clit standing at attention. You were so wet that the thin cloth was practically see-through, the rouge of your cunt catching Abby’s eye. Through your underwear, a calloused thumb toggled your clit, ripping a half-sob from your body. 

It was as though you were an overflowing spring of endlessly pure water, how the wet spot grew and grew. You fucked your hips upwards, trying desperately to rock harder into the new assailant, but Abby lifted her thumb away, depriving you of the sensation. It was so much, everything was spinning; your head, the room, your soul out of your body. Your cunt clenched around air as she drew designs on your thigh with a finger absentmindedly. 

“Gotta be patient, little.” She didn’t look up, but there was a smirk on her face and a smile in her voice as brought her thumb back down. “Gonna take care of you, don’t worry.”  

Her finger ghosted over the wet spot in your underwear and you twitched unconsciously. The blonde captured a thin sheen of your drip between two fingers, stretching the line back and forth. “So fuckin’ excited for me.” She pressed her nose down into your crotch, and you closed your thighs reflexively. Fine by her. She took a deep inhale of your pussy, and lathed at the wet liquid with her tongue. The rough texture of the fabric dragged over your clit, bringing the little red bulb to a fever pitch, as she sucked and slurped through it, catching salty-sweetness in her mouth. Her tongue pathed its way to your covered clit, flattening roughly over the sensitive bundle. The dual stimulation was driving you mad; the hard abrasion of wet panties slipping between your cuntlips, in and out of your hole as she licked and prodded, and the firm muscle of her tongue kneading at the pliant flesh. 

Like she was showing off a party trick, Abby maneuvered her tongue, skillfully weaving it inside of your underwear to taste your ambrosia from the tap. Rough hands grabbed hold of your ass, palming and gripping as she pushed your thighs up and over to situate your feet over your head in the perfect position where your gooey pussy was squished together, oozing directly into her mouth. You kicked the sweatpants the rest of the way gone, and they flew into the corner of the room, never to be seen again. There was a groan like an animal, and you weren’t sure which of the two of you was the source as Abby tore your panties open, the two halves drooping weakly, and pressed your feet next to your ears. She devoured you with newfound vigor, catching a second wind the moment your walls clenched around her tongue, fucking you in and out as hard and deep as possible.

“Abby! Shit, shit, more. Please.” You whimpered, looking down to see where her disappearing nose bumped against your clit over and over again. She wanted you to fuck her face, grinding her head back and forth so that her lips massaged yours, her tongue searched for every spot, and her nose abused your sloppy nub, driving you crazy with sensation over sensation. You were coming over the bend fast, too fast, and everything flashed white and black in spades as your body trembled. Again, her thumb came up to drum against your clit, and your orgasm tore you in two, red hot. Your juices siphoned into the blonde’s waiting mouth, and she drank from you like an oasis. 

Her body came over, you, shrouding you in darkness and the rolled over to lay flat on the bed, scooting over to plant her feet on the very edge. You were still trembling, still drooling from the slit in your legs that was happily prepped and used. The throbbing shook your whole body as you tried to catch your breath, and Abby’s arm jutted out, pulling you across the bed and onto her, chest to back. She hooked her knees through yours, and you could feel the force holding you open to give full exposure to your greedy hole. She licked a hot stripe up your neck and you whimpered, biting your lip. She pulled it free with your thumb, replacing it with a finger that she fucked in and out of your hot mouth. “Wonder where this is going, huh?” She angled her knees down, spreading you further, your pussylips slipping apart, cool air running against your clit. “Gotta see if it’s just your hand, or if you have a twitchy pussy too, baby.”

The moniker that usually filled you with red shame was now engulfing you with hot-pink lust, your cunny leaking down onto the bed. You were dumb and fuck-drunk as Abby pushed one of her thick fingers into you, slowly at first in order to get you used to the stretch of the tight ring. She curled her knuckle to press against your g-spot and you saw stars. She sped up her filthy pace, the sloppy sounds of your wet cunt reverberating in the air. Then, it was instant, her strong, rippling arm coming around to clench your neck again, palm rubbing your head gently. Abby added another finger, palm smearing your clit harshly as she fucked you deep, pace quickening. Her fingers scissored back and forth as she closed her elbow tighter, cutting off your breath and inviting the pressure you were by now so used to. You couldn’t tell her you were on the verge of cumming, a red-hot fire in your stomach burning hotter and faster as the plowed through your juices. 

You were suctioning her fingers, barely letting them slip from your folds. She pulled them out nearly all the way and drilled back in, tiny splashes of liquid raining down on the mattress. You ground your hips as best you could in the compromising position, chasing your orgasm, so close to your own personal bliss that you started panting like a whore with no concern. Abby pressed open-mouthed kisses to your cheeks, to your lips, the taste of you still on her and mingling with your own saliva. You were dizzy, be it the pleasure, the slowly depleting oxygen in your lungs, or the fact that your mentor was currently palm-deep in your pussy, but you couldn’t keep your composure. 

Your walls clenched around her, and you could hear her muttering in your ear. ‘such a tight pussy, Twitch, baby. Such a good pussy.’ And it was like you were summoned, cunt spasming as you came hard and messy, squirt shooting from you and sprinkling loudly through the ground. She fucked you through it, releasing your throat as your vision blurred, not letting you close your legs and bringing her free hand down to rub your clit in tandem. You tried to buck away from her to no avail, your cunt clenching wildly, juices bubbling over, lips red and sore from the sustained abuse. Tears rolled down your face as you took hungry breaths, your deprived lungs fighting for all of the air they could get. 

The two of you lay together, panting, hearts beating against the other, and Abby pulled her palm away from the throbbing expanse of your swollen, used cunt. She unhooked your thighs, and the pressure of closing your legs again sent a ripple into your pussy that made you whimper something fierce. There was a long, pregnant silence, and then you spoke up, cheekily. 

“So are you going to still swap me?”

“Not sure… it’s, whadotheycallit–? A conflict of interest.” She said, turning over and throwing a heavy arm over your chest, rubbing your bicep absentmindedly.

“But I’ll tell you what, champ; I’ll make sure to put a special training session on my schedule whenever you’re up for it. If you’re up for it.”

#abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson ff #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby smut #abby tlou smut #abby anderson x you #abby x fem!reader #tlou smut #tiki writes #time to go lay my ass to sleep

[guessm0del]

Little Red Riding Hood

Chapter Three: A New Friend

Summary: Living a life of caution for as long as she can remember, Y/N has never stayed too long in one place, always moving from town to town in hopes to hide her identity. With the Hunters Moon coming, she knows she must be extra careful, as the local culture resides heavily in the hunting of her kind. One night, when a cloaked figure unveils her secret and narrowly escapes, Y/N finds herself in a desperate situation: kill or be killed. With no face to go by, she must now search through the townsfolk before the stranger can spread the truth about her. But the task proves more than difficult when she realises her only lead is a long, crimson cloak.

Genre: horror, fantasy, little red riding hood retelling

Warnings:cursing, stalking, death, heavy smut (in later chapters)

Pairing: redridinghood!Jungwon x femwolf!reader

chapter one here

chapter two here

chapter four here

Doubt clouds my mind as I shake my head and take a step away from the door.

You’re being paranoid.

I force my hand to still and bring it to the large stretch of timber before me, knocking three times with firm affirmation.

No answer.

I press my ear to the door again, checking for any signs of noise or movement.

I hear none. Blood running cold, my hands anxiously tug at the handle, cursing in frustration as I realise it’s been locked from the inside. I feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Another scream. My mind paints a picture of a frightened old lady cowering against her kitchen sink as she shrinks from her attacker.

I start banging now, waiting for any small sign that’s she’s alright and that my mind is playing tricks on me, but it’s no use, Mary has the thickest door in all of Avion. She has my paranoia to thank for that. I hear some shuffling from inside, but still, no one opens the door. My hands twist anxiously through my hair, pulling at my fringe with such force I’m sure I feel some hair ripping out.

Backing away from the door, I give myself a moment before kicking it with all my strength and sending it toppling over to the floor.

Small muffles of noise come from the kitchen and I slow in my steps, reaching a hand underneath my dress and grabbing at the small dagger tucked in my leg strap. I hear Mary groan in pain, and while the sound pulls at my heart, I can’t help but feel thankful at the discovery that she’s still alive.

I cast a glance to the glass cabinet facing her kitchen, cursing at the blurred stains that obstruct my view.

If Helena were here, she’d tell me to walk away. To leave this cottage and Mary with it. “This is the way,” she’d remind me, “don’t let petty sentiment deter your duty to the pack.”

She has a point, though I hate to admit. My affection for Mary brings me little benefits. If I continue the way I’m going, it will only make it harder for whats to come. In the end, they must all die.

Mary is no exception.

Footsteps echo across the floor and I listen intently, ears catching the sound of the back door swinging open and shut. Her attacker has left. Whether this move is meant to be brief or not, I’m unsure, but I have to make haste of what little time I have regardless. Swinging around the corner without hesitation, I grip my knife tightly and prepare to confront a messy scene.

Mary sits hunched over the kitchen floor, breathing in small hushed breaths. Blood trickles down her left arm and rejoins in a pool of patterns on the floor. Fragments of glass litter the floor and I observe the cracked vase sitting on the kitchen counter.

Mary doesn’t notice my presence, too busy hunching over her leg to hear my footsteps approach.

“Mary….” I speak softly, afraid of startling her. The glass begins to crunch beneath my boots, the sound sending uneasy quivers up my spine. “Mary.” Growing impatient as I crouch down before her, I gently lift her head to look at me, and I can’t help but smile when her sweet face comes into view.

Mary turned eighty five last Spring. Her hearing comes in little flecks of focus now, which explains why she wouldn’t have heard me banging at the door.

“Y/N,” she smiles up at me, giving my cheek a small pinch before cocking her head sideways. “I didn’t know you were coming today?”

I have to stop myself from laughing. Mary asked me yesterday to bring some flowers on my visit. As I said, eighty five.

I give her hair a pat and go to help her up. “I decided to visit because I missed you too much.” I lie through my teeth, “though I wasn’t aware you’d get yourself into so much trouble before I came.” Before I can help her stand, she gently swats my hands away, pointing at the small chunk of glass hanging out of from underneath her foot. The shard seems wedged deep enough to have cut nerves. Jesus, that’s gotta hurt.

If I had of come sooner, her attacker would of been faced with me, not a weak, elderly lady whom, quite literally, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Before I can move any further, the sound of the back door swinging open echoes through the house.

My hands reach for my dagger and I instinctively move in front of Mary. Shit.

Hurried footsteps rush through the living room and I have to stop myself from gripping the dagger too tight. He’s coming back. While my human form is strong , I am still constricted to the same strength as any other mortal girl from Avion.

Before I can lunge forward, Mary reaches a small hand up to tug at my dress. Glancing down, I watch in confusion as she shakes her head with an amused smile. Before I can protest, a young man rounds the corner, brushing past me as he juggles an assortment of first aid items and crouches down before Mary.

“Damn little lady, you seriously need to clear out that shack. Couldn’t see a damn thing.” He huffs, hands frantically sorting between jars. He picks one up and starts applying the herbal paste to her wound.

Mary reaches out a hand, brushing it against the strangers face before roughly grabbing at his cheek. Watching on in utter confusion, I glance between the two, trying to figure out their relationship.

Is he a young friend like me?

Is he family?

From what I was aware, Mary didn’t have any family in Avion.

He lets out a pained groan and tosses her a frown. “I wonder who you got that impatience from.” She laughs, brushing his hair back into place and motioning to her arm.

His frown melts into a cheeky smile. “Oh I think we both know who I got it from.”

She returns his smile. “Hurry up with those bandages, boy. I’ll bleed out at this rate with all this yapping.”

To an onlooker, the exchange would make the two out to be a pair of angry old siblings.

If it weren’t for the obviously enormous age gap, I know I’d certainly think so too.

The two murmur quietly amongst themselves, both impervious to my presence as I stand awkwardly a few feet away.

The young man stands, carefully brushing the glass to the side with a broom. Mary pouts, gazing at her once gorgeous vase now littered in little pieces across the floor. He catches her sad gaze mid sweep, giving her hair a soft pat. “Don’t worry, I’ll go into town tomorrow and get you a new one.”

She shakes her head, eyes glossing over. “It’s ok, it’s not something that can be replaced anyway. It was one of a kind.” Though I can only see his back, I catch the way the boys shoulders tense from her words.

The awkwardness becomes so overwhelming to the point where I don’t know whether to join in or leave.

The stranger helps Mary to her feet, brushing the glass from her apron with gentle motions. “You and your glassware. I tell you if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you cared more about your vases than you do me.”

Mary props herself against a chair, cradling her foot as he rushes to fetch her some water. “And don’t you forget it!” She shouts as the back door swings open and shut once more. “Oh my….” She gasps, finally realising I’ve been standing there all along. Laughing awkwardly, I smile to try and ease the tension between us.

“You didn’t tell me you had a visitor.” I smile through gritted teeth, trying not to let my frustration seep through. If I had of known, maybe I wouldn’t of rushed in here like hell on wheels. Before she can answer, the young man enters once more, this time stopping mid step as he notices Mary’s warm gaze pointed in the opposite direction.

Pointed at me.

The next few seconds slow in their course, a cold bite of nerves eat at my neck as the stranger slowly turns to face me, his features finally coming into view. Within seconds his eyes have found mine, and I have to remind myself how to breathe.

Face an attractive blur, the young beau bares soft ebony eyes with raven strands of hair that fall across smooth fair skin. It’s only when Mary clears her throat at my long silence that I come to a most uncomfortable discovery.

He’s the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.

Mary, amused, smiles from her kitchen corner, no doubt expectant of my surprised reaction. “Gets it from his father.” She laughs, gesturing towards her guest.

I throw her a confused glance, “Gets what?” I feign ignorance, but I can tell she doesn’t buy it.

“His looks, you silly girl.”

But the two of us aren’t listening anymore, standing in silence as Mary’s voice echoes through the space between us. I wait for him to respond to her taunts, but he doesn’t seem to find them amusing, in fact, he doesn’t pay them any mind at all.

He remains frozen from across the counter, eyes wide with something I can’t quite place. It’s then that he backs away, putting as much distance between us as he can. A shard of glass sticks upright from the floor behind him, and I open my mouth to warn him, but it’s too late.

The shard cuts through his boot, wedging itself into skin. The sound is so disturbing that we can hear as it squelches through flesh.

Mary stops laughing.

We both look up at him, waiting for him to double over in pain, but the boy pays his foot no heed, his pretty eyes trained on me as though I’m the only thing in the world that could hurt him.

Does he…..?

The cold nerves come back. My left hand, still clutching its dagger, instinctively tightens its grasp around the hilt.

He…….recognises me.

But that’s just the thing, though.

I don’t recognise him.

There’s no way….

“Jungwon!” Mary’s voice manages to break his daze and, after what feels like a lifetime, he finally shifts his gaze away.

So he has a name.

Jungwon.

“Look at your foot! Oh my goodness!” Mary bustles over to the mix of herbal pastes, grabbing the biggest jar and forcing him onto a stool.

She kneels to take off his boot, only for him to stand abruptly and move away. “Jungwon…”

I let my lips melt into an all too familiar smile, turning to the elderly lady who’s now kneels at his side. “Mary, you silly goose…” Feigning a laugh, I shake my head at her, “I thought you were getting beaten to death. You should’ve told me if you had another guest, I could’ve come another time.” She tries to make her way over but I’m quick to intercept and force her onto a chair. “Don’t even try, you need rest.”

She opens her mouth to protest but gives up just as easily.

“You’re right my dear, I’m sorry. It must’ve slipped my mind that you were visiting today. And just to be clear, if we ever were in such a situation, I’d be the one doing the beating, not the other way around. This idiot couldn’t hurt a fly.”

I smile at her humour. “Sure thing.”

“Ah, how silly of me! It would seem I’ve forgotten to properly introduce you.” She gestures to her guest and then back to me, as if to beckon us closer. “This is my grandson, Jungwon.”

My eyes fly to him. Grandson.

“Jungwon, say hello. This is Y/N, a friend of mine from town.” But her words don’t seem to comfort him. If anything, they appear to make him more anxious.

He gives me an awkward bow, eventually meeting my gaze with a great deal of hesitation.

My eyes dart down to the kitchen corner on his left, to the knife that sits idle by its board. His hand itches a few inches from it.

He doesn’t trust me.

Smart boy.

I laugh, giving him my warmest smile as I step forward, addressing Mary. “I wasn’t aware you had family in Avion.” I offer him a hand as I wait for her response.

He doesn’t take it.

“Jungwon is visiting from Borth, where him and his mother live. He visits every Winter, which is why you haven’t met him before.”

Ah. Of course.

I wasn’t here last Winter.

Mary bustles around the kitchen with her small limp, sweeping glass from corner to corner. She takes notice of her grandson avoiding my hand. “Jungwon! Don’t be rude!” She turns to me with a smirk. “Don’t mind him my dear, he’s just a shy idiot. Gets that from his father too.”

After a great deal of hesitation, Jungwon reaches his hand across, flinching when our fingers touch. His hands are warm and soft, a stark contrast to mine. Our hands meet with haste and just as quickly, he pulls his away, retreating completely until he’s backed against the kitchen counter.

I give a small bow to Mary. “Well then, I best be heading off. It was a pleasure meeting you Jungwon.” He doesn’t respond, instead bowing as he stares at the floor. Mary smacks the back of his head. “Walk her back to town boy.” He whips his head to her, his gaze pleading. I smile.

“A kind gesture. But I’ll be quite alright by myself.”

“Nonsense!” She shrieks, pushing Jungwon out the door and throwing him a coat. “The woods aren’t safe for a young beauty like you! Don’t worry, Jungwon wants to take you anyway.” I glance to the boy by her side.

His expression tells me otherwise, but he remains silent.

She gives him a sly nudge, bringing his ear down for her whispers. “Maybe you’ll make a new friend.” The boy remains silent, only nodding anxiously as a response.

“Really,” I laugh, pressing my hands to hers, “I’ll be fine. Besides I’m sure you’ll get him working on the door soon enough.” We look down to the door laying across her floor, it’s hinges torn awkwardly from the wall. “Sorry about that by the way. I got a bit impatient.”

“Oh I’ll get him working alright. When he gets back.” She murmurs, pushing Jungwon through the doorway and bidding us farewell. Jungwon leads the way, staring at the ground with fake fascination as if to distract himself. I don’t even have to turn back to know Mary’s probably waving warmly from her porch. She never goes back inside until she’s sure I’m sent off safely. Smiling, I turn around to bid her one last goodbye, but by the time my eyes catch sight of her little cottage trailing behind in the distance, she’s long gone.

————-

JESEUS!!!!! I’m so sorry to all my readers who were waiting for this one lmao it took me months just to publish one damn chapter! GOOD NEWS THO I’ve already written about 70% of chapter 5 so I’d say that’ll published at the end of this week sometime. I’ll let y’all know🙏 ps to that one anon who keeps sending rude ass demands and questions about why I’m “taking forever” if you keep sending them I’m gonna scrap this entire story just to annoy u 😘

If you want to join taglist, let me know😚

Taglist:

@ramenoil @moonmoongi @chlorinecake @denleave1088 @cha0thicpisces @w3bqrl @yu-yin-04 @rizzhee

#jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #zb1 smut

[ms--lobotomy]

Don’t do energy drinks at 3 pm, lest you end up like me and can’t sleep. Thanks @kit-williams for the writer’s inspiration thing. 😊

Summary: One of your Iron Hands minis inexplicably disappears. Conversely, there is a very big Iron Hand man at your door. Uh oh

Word Count: 1216

Content Warnings: Attempted violence, a guilty pleasure trope of mine, uhhh that’s probably all?

A half-smile crossed your face as you put down the last mini and wrung the Mephiston Red off of your paintbrush. Finished. You admired your handiwork, turning him around in your hands a little bit. He was the only one of his brothers without a helmet, but half of his face was covered by metal implements anyways. Painting an Iron Hands space marine (Iron Hand?) was no small order. The brush you’d bought specifically to paint them was still too big, so you’d cut off some of the bristles. And it still frayed, blotching paint where it wasn’t supposed to go. But you’d covered it up well enough that you couldn’t notice most of it. Even though he was one of five of your first minis, he was perfect.

You looked out of the window of your apartment, a little studio think a ways away from anything meaningful. It was dark… kind of. Streetlights lit the scene with no concern for light pollution and cars still travelled outside, sometimes stuck behind a light and sometimes rushing past. Occasionally someone would blare music (and not normally music you liked.) The sound would reach your window, sometimes even piercing your headphones. No matter. It wasn’t happening now.

You opened your phone and checked the time, idly wondering if anyone had sent you anything. 1 AM. The only notification was from Instagram. “Top reels in the United States!” it declared. Lovely. You yawned as you reached for your medication, popping the pills down your throat. You grabbed first for your paint water, then for your water bottle to wash them down. You wasted no time in getting to bed, letting sleep consume you.

You woke up to a loud bang bang bang on the door. Someone with a deep, rumbling voice called out something in a language you didn’t understand, a language you couldn’t even put a name to. You tumbled out of bed, pulled on a sweatshirt and looked out of the window. Still dark. After that, you went to look at the peephole. And then your heart skipped a beat.

You beheld a man tall enough that he had to crouch slightly, and even then his head scraped the ceiling. Half of his face was replaced by mechanical implements, three red lenses where his left eye should be. The right side of his face was scarred and tattered, with a dark brown eye that looked human enough. There was a short chop of black hair on his head. You looked at his armor. There were the mistakes on the armor, blotches of white and little lumps where it was layered on too thickly.

He banged on the door again, causing it to shake. Before weighing your options, you cracked the door open. “Hello?” you’d asked groggily, wiping your eye with your hand.

Before you could process anything, he pushed past you as if you were nothing but a large weed. Your heart beat in your chest and you instinctively reached for the light. Your eyes widened as you processed that there was an intruder in your apartment, and he was large. You watched him scan the room. As he reached for your drawers, you felt your mouth open up. “If you’re here to steal from me, I regret to inform you that I don’t have much,” you yawned. Your eyes darted towards the congregation on your desk, next to your less expensive paints and brushes. “Please don’t take my minis, though. I worked really hard on th—“

He made a beeline for the minis, and your heart skipped a beat as you noticed that there were only four on the table. All of them had their little helmets intact. He examined them carefully, only touching the bases as he picked them up and put them back down.

He was harmless so far, but an intruder nonetheless. You looked for a weapon while he was turned away. You hadn’t much in your apartment; the most dangerous thing in your vicinity was a mechanical pencil laying near your feet. You picked it up. Better than nothing. You began looking for a weakness in his armor, a chink in the metal that surrounded him. Could you reach the back of his neck..? There was only one way to find out.

As you jumped, he snapped back around, a detached look in his eye. The pencil deflected off of his armor and he grabbed you, stepping back into the desk a little bit to steady himself. The desk gave way a little bit, creaking against the faux wood of the floor. His armor was cold and rough against your skin. And he was so large against you, larger than anyone of your own kind. He said something in that language of his before he set you down, steadying you on your feet before he let go.

You watched him look over the mess that was your desk. He picked up a months-old painting done on some scrap paper—something that wasn’t too great by your standards, really—and looked at it for a few moments before gingerly placing it back where it was. Your eyelids slid down slightly. He had no intention of harming you or your apartment.

As his attention slid to your paint water, you chuckled. “What happened to ‘hello?’” you asked, your tone much lighter than it had been.

He turned around, extending a hand. “Hutri,” he said.

You blinked, before taking it. Your face went warm as his hand engulfed yours. You said your name quietly, hoping that Hutri was his name and not an expression in his native language. He repeated it before chuckling, his hand falling from yours. You half wanted to guide your hand to his, but you didn’t know how to do so naturally.

“I guess you really don’t have anywhere to go,” you said quietly. You surveyed your room. There wasn’t even a beanbag chair for you to sleep on. Your bed was made for a baseline human, but it could probably support him if he tried hard enough. You pointed at the bed. “You can take the bed,” you said. “I don’t know where you came from, but you probably need to rest.”

He looked down at you, then at the bed. He began to remove his armor, and you looked away, feeling your face go warm again. He said something, but you hadn’t a clue what it meant. Once you stopped hearing armor fall to the ground (and stopped praying for your downstairs neighbors) you turned around to see him in his body glove. Augmentations still poked out, making themselves known through little convexities popping up from underneath it. He climbed into the twin bed with ease, curling up on it so he could fit. And he left a little bit of room on the side. He beckoned you over wordlessly, pressing himself against the cold wall.

“I’ve had enough sleep,” you muttered, feeling your face warming again. Truth be told, you hadn’t curled up with someone like that in a long while. You missed feeling the warmth of someone close by, feeling their chest rise and fall against you. You looked at him, the right half of his face staring at you expressionlessly.

“Alright, just let me turn the lights off.”

#warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #iron hands x reader #reader insert #iron hands #oc x reader #warhammer lobotomy

[rubyreduji]

HI JJ!!!!!!!!!!!! HAPPY 3K!!!!!! im sorry it took so long to send an ask <\3 BUT I WAS WONDERING 💭 if i could req a short bff!vernon fluff drabble? where he’s kinda nervous about confessing or something silly like that 😅 it literally can be a short 200 word scene, idc!!! I LAUV U SAUR MUCH AND U DESERVE EVERYTHING GOOD!! im so proud of u, ur so wonderful <33333

— sleepover event now over!! 🧸️

summary: vernon knows you two will be best friends no matter what, so why is it so hard to tell you he likes you?

tags: fluff, best friend!au, gn reader wc: 1.4k an: hi star sar thank you for the request this is so cute :((( (also a great break from smut adjskla) ily. side note why is this man so hard to find photos for

Vernon doesn’t think he’s ever sweat this much in his life.

His whole body is hot as his heartbeat quickens in his chest, the rumbling of the organ banging against his ribcage deafening in his ears. His hands shake as he glances at you across the table.

You look cute today, but then again you look cute everyday. You did your hair up for today and even slid some rings on your fingers before leaving your house. You look over and notice Vernon staring so you shoot him a smile. It takes Vernon a second too long to process this and smile back.

Shit, he has got to calm down. If nothing else but to stop sweating, because it is not an attractive look on him.

“Nonie,” you say, startling him slightly. “You’ve barely touched your ice cream.” You nod at the cup of chocolate ice cream melting in front of him, only a few bites taken out of it. You on the other hand have half of your cone gone.

“Oh,” Vernon mutters, staring down at the bowl as well. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? You’re the one who paid.” You take another lick of your cone. “What’s wrong? You’ve been off since I picked you up.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Vernon lies, his voice cracking a bit in the middle. You narrow your eyes at him before flicking your eyes to his ears.

“You’re lying,” you say matter of factly. “Your ears only get red when you’re lying. Or when you’re nervous.”

Vernon doesn’t want to tell you he’s both nervous and lying, so he instead lies even more. “You’re right, sorry. I think my stomach is just upsetting me a bit. I ate something weird for lunch.” It’s really only half a lie, because his stomach is in complete knots right now, you just don’t need to know why.

Well, you do. That’s the whole point of this outing. But Vernon can’t tell you just yet, not like this.

“Oh no,” you frown at Vernon, deeming him to be sincere enough. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“No!” Vernon shouts, causing a few glares to be shot his way from the other ice cream parlor tenants. You also stare at him curiously. “Sorry I just, no, I’ll be okay. I want to spend time with you.”

You laugh easily, the light sound gliding through the air and forcing Vernon’s heart to clench. “We see each other every day.”

“That’s different,” Vernon says, ducking his head. “This is just us, without any obligations or other people to bother us.”

In Vernon’s opinion you’re too popular, too many people vying for your attention, him included. That’s why he does his best to spend time with you like this, doing whatever you want to do, because all that matters to Vernon is being able to be with you, your full attention on him.

“I do agree it’s nice when it’s just us,” you say, smiling at your best friend. “How about this? I’ll finish my ice cream and then we can go walk around the shops, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Vernon says.

It doesn’t take long for you to finish your ice cream, and even though Vernon is anti-food waste, his stomach absolutely would not be able to keep the sugary confection down even if he tried. As soon as you step out of the ice cream parlor your hand finds Vernon’s, grasping at him to tug him along with you.

Though the act of holding hands isn’t new to you two, the feel of your warm hand against his still makes Vernon’s mouth go dry. He can’t focus on what you’re saying to him, too busy trying to figure out if you can feel how clammy his hand is.

Even if you can feel it, you don’t mention it, pulling Vernon along as you ramble on about life and things you see in the shop windows and how the weather is just perfect today for being outside. The whole time Vernon makes small comments, letting you know he’s listening. Every so often he steals glances at you, watching as your face lights up as you talk about whatever topic comes to your mind. The sun glows against your skin, like it was made to shine for you, but maybe Vernon’s just a bit biased.

Vernon isn’t sure when he fell in love with you, but isn’t that how it always is?

You two have been best friends for years now, after an unassigned assigned seat stealing incident in the 10th grade. It wasn’t instantaneous, you two shared some mutual friends and would hang out casually after class, and then before Vernon knew it you two were together nearly every day of the week. You two would go shopping on weekends or go to each other’s houses to study on school nights. You two unknowingly integrated so seamlessly into each other’s lives to the point where his mother calls you “hun” and your father calls him “son”. 

Going off to college didn’t change that, and now you two are living in the same city once again, pursuing your dreams together. And somewhere in all of that Vernon just…happened to fall in love with you. Somewhere between late night grocery trips and early morning sunrise watching and crying through final exams and cuddling during movie nights and taking pottery classes because you think it’ll be fun and yeah, Vernon really should have seen this coming.

He knows it’s cliche, but he isn’t that upset about it, because now he gets to be in love with you, his favorite person in the world. The only issue now is telling you that. The thing that’s been bothering him the whole day.

In reality, even if you don’t reciprocate him back, it’s not going to change anything. Vernon knows you two will stay best friends and will continue to hold hands while walking through stores and eat burgers together at two am, but maybe that’s what scares Vernon the most. The idea that you won’t like him back and he will never be able to get over you because how could he when you let him lay his head on your lap while late night talking or when you invite him over to dinner just to make sure he’s actually eating something that’s not chewy noodles and burnt toast.

He can’t not tell you though, because what if you do like him back, and it’s perfect and amazing and Vernon gets his happily ever after. So he has to tell you.

You’re looking at something in a window of an antique shop when Vernon starts to feel that suffocating feeling again, the sun suddenly becoming a bit too hot as his heart starts to race in his chest. He wants to spend everyday with you like this. He wants to call you his and you to call him yours.

“Vernon?” You’re his best friend. “Are you okay?” What if something bad happens? “Hey!” What if something good happens?

“I LIKE YOU!” Vernon shouts, the words spilling from his lips like he physically can’t keep them in anymore. His breathing stills as he stares at you, the only sound he hears being the hammering of his heart trying to escape his chest.

You start to giggle, your face lighting up in glee as you smack his shoulder. “You’re a dumbass, you know that? That’s what’s been stressing you out all day?” Vernon can only nod slightly. “I like you too, stupid. I thought you knew that.”

Like a weight being lifted off Vernon’s chest, he can finally breathe again. “How was I supposed to know that?!”

“You’re my best friend, I thought we knew everything about each other. I certainly knew you liked me.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Vernon whines. 

“Why didn’t you?” You shoot back.

“I just did!” Vernon counters and you start to giggle once more. You tug at Vernon’s hand, pulling him closer to you to lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek. Vernon feels his face heat up.

“And I’m glad you did.”

“But that means you have to plan the first date,” Vernon tells you. You gasp.

“That is not what that means! You confessed first, so you plan the date.”

“Like you don’t have a million date ideas already planned out,” Vernon retorts and you huff.

“Fine, I’ll plan the first date, but I better now hear any complaints.”

Vernon just grins and wraps his arms around you. “If it’s you? There’s nothing in the world I could complain about.”

It’s your turn to become flustered, sputtering out a “whatever.”

Vernon laughs and presses a kiss to your head. Of course he had nothing to worry about, after all, it’s you.

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#hansol vernon chwe #vernon #vernon fluff #vernon fanfic #vernon x reader #vernon x gn reader #gn reader #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #rru.fics #rru.requests #rru.moots #sar!! #★ sfw #rru.writes

[sopiao]

Soap and Gaz that likes to play with and style your hair (>_o)*

At first it started when Soap noticed how you always kept one or two hair ties on your wrist. Whenever your in the middle of missions you’d tie your hair up, away from your face. Or to keep your neck cool from the heat.

But sometimes you’d forget to take a hair tie and end up irritated with the wind blowing hair in your face. Huffing and groaning whenever hair poked your eye or got in your mouth. Soap tapped your shoulder to get your attention.

When you turned around Soap had his arm up, showing that he kept a hair tie for you. How sweet!! But before you could open your mouth to thank him he spoke, looking slightly hesitant but in a curious way.

“Can I do it for you?” Soap asked, worried that he sounded silly or weird for asking. Of course, you had no problem with it so you nodded and faced your back to him. He slid the band over his fingers and started to bunch your hair into one place.

Soap tried his best to try and get your hair into a low ponytail so he would mess up in the middle of it and would get frustrated. Gaz noticed this and decided to step in, noticing how wrong he was doing it.

“Let me do it. Your getting it all uneven” He sighed, Soap stepping aside, feeling slightly embarrassed and defeated. Gaz was surprisingly very swift and clean when tying your hair together. He didn’t pull too hard or leave any pieces of hair out.

“I could’ve done it” Soap grumbled.

“I was just warmin’ up” He made up an excuse, which sounded much more stupider when it left his mouth. Making the two of you chuckle and Gaz roll his eyes.

—

After that, they both started to play with your hair more frequently. Whenever you sit between the two they’d both take a lock of hair and start to braid it. Gaz actually knew how to style hair very well. He knew all of the different types of braids, how to do it, and the most popular hair styles for youngens your age. But regardless, he still likes to just play around.

Once during free hour, they both sat at either side of you. Gaz was guiding his comrade at how to do a french braid, while he simultaneously braided his side. You ended up with french braid pigtails, a little wonky and uneven but still pretty.

Soap remembered something, the idea popping in his head after he looked over his and Gaz’s work, and ran outside. Both you and your comrade looked at each other slightly confused but also in amusement. When he came back he had a handful of small flowers. Where the hell did he even get that? Maybe plants that grew between the cracks of the cement.

You felt like Rapunzel in that scene where the town children braided and put flowers in her hair when the two soldiers started to decorate your hair in flowers and colorful petal.

“What the hell?”

They all turned to see Ghost walking into the common room. Seeing two hard and assertive men playing with their teammates hair like they was an American Girl Doll.

—

For the curly hairs, Soap’s favorite hairstyle to play around with his low pig tails, he likes how fluffy they look and how overall pleasant it is to look at when he’s finished. He likes keeping hair in the front, like your bangs (if you have :3) and the face framing strands.

Although sometimes you’d let out a little ‘ow’ when he accidentally snags a lock when he’s combing his fingers through your hair.

His favorite it accessory to add to your hair is still flowers, but he likes to mix it up sometimes, with small crystals or gems. Even after every hairstyle he does, or Gaz helps him with, he ends up always twirling one strand around his finger.

Gaz on the other hand likes a more bolder style. The half up-half down, top buns. He likes how flowy and busy it looks, not too boring or too much. But he also really likes just a high bun or ponytail with face framing pieces. He likes how beachy and casual it looks.

Gaz does the same thing that Soap does, playing with a single lock. At first just to mess with you, but now he does it unconsciously, feels the need to keep his hands busy.

#call of duty modern warfare #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x you #soap mw2 #soap x reader #cod soap #soap headcanons #john soap mactavish #john soap headcannons #cod gaz #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader #gaz headcanons #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz headcannons #cod men #cod men headcannons #cod modern warfare #task 141 #task 141 shark

[ordon-pumpkin]

Remembering (Alt Title: Apollo Gives The Best Hugs)

A short (2280 word) fanfic set after The Sun and The Star. (Tags: Hurt/Comfort, fluff, Solangelo, Apollo being a good parent)

Note: I read The Sun and The Star and I spent most of it hoping for a scene like this at the end to explain the whole Will forgetting about Apollo returning thing. Since the book seems to have… er forgotten. Quite a disappointing oversight but that’s what fix-it fics are for. So, here’s what I envisioned happening. From Apollo’s POV because I miss it. 💛

//////////////////

My son and his boyfriend had embarked on a dangerous quest. One that left me worried. I respected their choices, even if their journey was one I wished they wouldn’t take. The life of a demigod was riddled with danger, quests, and things unfathomable to a regular mortal. Yet, it was commonplace for them. It felt as though my relationship will Will as his father had barely begun. Now, he had journeyed far from me. My heart ached at the thought of losing him.

While they were away I continually checked Camp Half-Blood. After several unsuccessful visits the dread started to grow. Until one day I showed up only to see a head full of messy blonde hair running towards the infirmary for supplies.

Will!

My son.

My beautiful son!

Tears welled up in my eyes. He had survived! I could sense pain coming from him and see bandages and scratches across his form. He was drained from being away from the sun for too long. But the injuries were, thankfully, minor. I turned to look where he had come from. I saw Chiron and Dionysus talking with Nico. He too was pretty banged up, but all things considered he looked well. I thought I saw shadows shift near him. Perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me. Though, with a child of Hades who knew for certain?

Will had disappeared into the infirmary. I approached the doorway and leaned against the frame. My son grabbed supplies; fresh bandages and ointments. He paused to look down at a bandage wrapped around himself. It had bled partially though. The bandage needed to be changed, but of course Will would put Nico’s needs first. I shook my head and blinked away the tears in my eyes. He was incredible. My son.

“Don’t neglect your own wounds. What good is a doctor if they are fighting off infections?” I said simply. “You know… I could help with this.”

Will’s back remained turned to me as he filled a bag with anything he might need. He was focused and determined. “Thanks, but I’ve got it. I heal fast anyway.”

I hummed in amusement at the reply. “Oh, I’m sure you do.”

He froze.

Then, slowly, he turned around. The expression on his face was difficult to read, as if a million things were going through his mind. After a moment, he reached his hand up to run his fingers into his curly blonde hair. He sat down hard on one of the infirmary beds. A look of shock on his features. 

“Dad?” His eyes were watery. “Oh gods.”

“Will?” I approached him as if he were a frightened animal that might run away at any moment. I didn’t want to scare him away, not when I finally knew he was safe. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Will’s voice cracked.

“Sorry?! Whatever for?” I took another step in his direction. “My son! A hero that survived Tartarus! I’ll admit I was worried. But I knew if anyone could succeed it was you and Nico!”

A light blush dusted his cheeks at the praise, but he still appeared to be struggling. 

“When I was down there… I forgot.” Will began before stopping himself. His head tilted away from me as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“What did you forget?” Again, I found myself concerned.

He looked down at his hand and picked at the sheet covering the bed. “I forgot you came back.”

The words left me speechless.

“When I was down there. I-I guess it messed with my head. I thought you went off to fight Python, became a god again and that was it. That you never came back. That I’d be lucky to ever see you again at all. I remember now. You’ve visited. We’ve sat around the fire together. But when I was down there I really thought you never did.”

A gasp escaped my lips. Will turned to look at me. His words felt like a knife to my chest. Because there was a time when I thought that’s how it would be. Finish my trials, become a god again, everything back to how it was before. It wasn’t what I wanted now. My experiences as Lester had changed me. Still, the Underworld had caused Will to forget that I had returned to him. 

I couldn’t help but think that such a thing was exactly what I deserved.

“You were…far from the sun.” I felt the heavy weight of shame cover me like a cloak. “The Underworld didn’t even have to do much to make you believe that I left for good. It’s what you rightfully should have expected based on my track record. I hadn’t been there for you like I should have in the past. It only seems fitting that you would think I returned to godhood and abandoned you.

Fists clenched at my sides, not angry with him, but certainly with myself.

“Will…” My eyes met his again and I hoped he could feel the sincerity in my words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He studied me briefly. His eyes darted from mine to my hands, then my slumped shoulders, the tension in my neck. Will’s eyes were those of a physician looking for signs in the body language of a patient. Then his demeanor shifted, the studious look melting away. Finally, those same eyes rolled at me. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards into a smirk. “Stop that.”

“Excuse me?”

“I feel bad for forgetting. Even if it was temporary.” My son got up and walked towards me. I could see that his eyes were now watery, matching my own. “But you haven’t. You haven’t forgotten what you promised!”

I swallowed and the tears spilled. He was right. Jason’s sacrifice. My promise to remember what it was like to be human. How could I ever forget? The experiences I had as Lester, they changed me. Being around my children reminded me of the person I had become, who I wanted to be. I was determined to remember. Though it didn’t mean I still couldn’t be ashamed of my absence in the past.

“I haven’t forgotten, but I certainly couldn’t blame you or your siblings for being upset with me for being so distant before.”

“Seriously, stop it. You are standing in front of me right now!” Will stepped closer to me as he spoke his hands gesturing freely. “You are here checking up on me. Making sure I made it back safely. I’ve been back for less than 5 minutes! How many times have you checked while I was away?

A sheepish smile crept on my face. I wasn’t intending to go from absent parent to helicopter parent. But you try finding out that your kid is heading to Tartarus of all places! Can you blame me for being worried?

“That’s what I thought.” Will rushed forward and wrapped his arms around me. “It means a lot to me. You being here. Checking up on me. Checking in at Camp Half-Blood. It means everything. Thank you, Dad.”

Great. As if I wasn’t already crying! I returned his embrace and began to glow, pouring healing energy into him. I noticed Will glowing as well and felt him breathe out in relief as all of his remaining injuries and aches faded.

His voice was a bit muffled against my chest. “You give really good hugs. You know that?”

“The best in existence, I assure you.” I smiled.

He laughed at that, but made no move to leave the embrace. Which I certainly had no objections to. Will had been away from the sun for too long. I could feel him regaining strength in my arms. He could take all the time he needed.

“Oh.” Another voice came from the doorway. 

I turned towards it to see my son’s boyfriend. 

“Apollo.” Nico’s lips were curved in a subtle smile before he caught himself. He tried to hide by rubbing his hand over his mouth. “You’re here.”

It occurred to me that while in the Underworld Nico may have forgotten I ever returned as well. He did seem pleased to see me, which was quite a win in my eyes. It made me feel as though Will was happy for me to be in his life as well.

“Yes. I am.” I said. Nico was tough, as was Will. I didn’t interfere with their quest, but I didn’t see a need for either of them to be in pain any longer. My voice became stern. “And you are hurt.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” He looked away.

Will scoffed in annoyance. “Always the tough guy.”

“Get over here, future son-in-law, and let me heal you.” It was as much me teasing them as it was sincere.

“DAD!” Will groaned.

I laughed in return. To be fair, I wanted to be there for my kids. But maybe the idea of embarrassing them from time to time was an added benefit.

To my surprise, Nico approached. Exhaustion was evident on his face. These two had been through a lot together and apparently the idea of feeling better was more appealing than keeping up a tough guy appearance. 

He stopped within arms reach of us, eyes squinting. “Never mind. I can’t say I’m the biggest hugger anyway and you two are a little…bright.”

I dimmed the glow and noticed Will doing the same. I reached out the arm that wasn’t around Will. “Let me help you, Nico. Please? Those injuries can leave you sore and achey for weeks, much longer if I wasn’t sure Will would be healing you. He needs to rest as well. It’s the least I can do.”

The son of Hades reached up his hand to brush along some partially healed gashes on his face. “Okay, but can you leave these?”

“Whatever for? Is there a deep meaning behind them.”

“No Dad, he just likes the look.” Will looked up at me. “And so do I.”

“Ah! It does go with his aesthetic!” I understood. They certainly suited him. “They will remain I assure you.”

Nico blinked at me before shrugging and allowing me to wrap an arm around him. In a moment I could feel him breathing easier. It’s likely that the boy didn’t realize how tense and sore his entire body was outside of the nicks, scrapes, and bruises until that pain subsided. 

When I felt that the wounds were healed I loosened my embrace. 

I looked into Will’s eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

Then I turned to Nico. “BOTH of you.”

Nico nodded appreciatively and stepped back, while Will wrapped his arms around me again and squeezed quickly. “Thanks Dad. It means a lot.”

He walked over to where he had been gathering supplies. 

“I guess I won’t be needing these after all.” He took off his own old soiled bandages, revealing no remaining cuts underneath, and disposed of them.

Nico stretched and rolled his shoulders. No doubt realizing just how banged up he had been before. He tried to be discreet in checking to see if his facial scars were still there, which I found to be amusing. They were fully scars now, and they did compliment his look. 

Behind him something caught my eye. Shadows moving in the doorway. Which must have been what I had seen near Nico earlier.

“Uh. Nico, your kids are here.” Will crossed his arms with a smirk.

“Kids?” I raised an eyebrow.

Nico sighed. “Not exactly. They are demons made from my emotions.”

“He calls them Cocoa Puffs.” Will offered like that explained everything.

Considering the many so-called impossible things I’ve seen in my thousands of years, I didn’t bother prying too much. Perhaps one day Will and Nico would recount their adventure to Tartarus but it would be on their terms if they wanted to share the details with me. “And are these ‘Cocoa Puffs’ friendly?”

“Yeah, they’re friendly.” Will replied. 

I crouched down and made sure I wasn’t emitting light. If these shadowy creatures were important to my son and Nico then I would not wish to hurt them even if on accident. Our natures were not all that compatible but I wanted to try. Darkness and light didn’t need to be enemies. One approached cautiously and I reached out a hand. The contact reminded me of interacting with other spirits, but these creatures didn’t seem menacing. In their own strange way, they were kind of cute. 

“Ah. Hello there little ones.” I suppose what I was doing was petting them, or some variation of the action. They seemed to find this acceptable.

Nico watched the interaction cautiously. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, not in a threatening manner. It was more likely a reflex brought on by his desire to protect them from danger. I was the sun god, they were darkness. I couldn’t blame him for his concern. Will walked to Nico and brushed his hand against his free one. Their fingers intertwined and Will squeezed. Nico turned to him with a soft smile. The other hand fell from the sword. They seemed to be having a silent conversation. About me, I assumed, which made me quite curious. But the fact that the son of Hades was actually smiling was more than enough for me to recognize that it couldn’t have been a bad one.

After a bit of interacting with several of the Cocoa Puffs I stood and tapped my finger to my chin. “So these are Nico’s children?”

Nico huffed in annoyance as he’d already offered an alternate name.

I continued anyway in a sing-song voice. “So I’m sure that Will has adopted them! Which makes them basically myyy grandchildren!”

“Daaaaad!” Will rubbed his free hand down his face. He was blushing. Though Nico and I both noticed something else. 

“You’re glowing again.” Nico teased and elbowed his boyfriend lightly.

“I can’t help it! Is it not enough to just blush when I’m embarrassed?!?!” He glared at me.

I laughed. His pout was adorable. “Would it make you feel better to know that I do that too sometimes?”

“What? Really?!” Amusement danced in Will’s bright eyes.

“Yep. Your Aunt Artemis finds it entertaining.” I rolled my eyes. “I adore my sister, truly, but we are indeed siblings and often interact well… as you’d expect for siblings to do. She’s always finding ways to embarrass me to get that reaction.”

Will laughed loudly at the notion and it was like music to my ears. “Actually, that does make me feel better.”

After that we headed to the dining pavilion to meet with Chiron for dinner. The boys trailed behind me, but I heard their hushed conversation. 

“I’m not usually much of a hugger, but I feel a million times better. Didn’t even realize how sore I was before.” Nico whispered.

“Well, he is the god of healing.” Will pointed out. “I feel a lot better too. Not surprising that he gives good hugs all things considered.”

“Healing hugs.” Nico teased. “No wonder he has a care bear for a son.”

“Oh shut it!” Will snapped, but it was quickly followed by laughter.

Nico’s voice dropped even lower to barely a whisper. “I’m glad he’s here. You worried me down there. I knew the sun would help, but having your dad here is even better. It seems to be speeding up your recovery a lot. I know how much this means to you.”

There was no audible response from Will, but I could feel the warmth of his smile. Which was more than enough to make me have to wipe away a tear that had yet again escaped my eye. I wasn’t sure I deserved to feel as welcome as I did.

What is it about kindness? It’s a melody that overwhelms me. One I never want to take for granted.

////////////

Now, I don’t speak as the god of prophesy when I call Nico my future son-in-law. 

It is for them to decide their future. 

I do speak as someone who sees the love Will and Nico have for each other.

I do speak as someone who knows it takes a lot to go through Tartarus together.

I do speak as a dad who wants, more than anything, to see his children happy.

#Apollo #Trials of Apollo #Solangelo #Dadpollo #nico di angelo #Will Solace #Cabin 7 #lester papadopoulos #riordanverse #toa #the sun and the star #the sun and the star spoilers #fanfic #ordonpumpkin writes #tsats

[mandos-mind-trick]

Grey

Summary: After a tragedy leaves you scarred, you're afraid of what your soulmate might think. He's just glad you're alive.

Pairing: Jesse x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW smut, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, first time sex, lots of discussion of scars and body dysphoria, reader is very insecure, reader is disabled and scarred, some pretty intense scenes, angst, panic attacks, PTSD, reader is injured in an explosion, war, violence, some brief gore, reader has nightmares. This one's kinda heavy, but it has a happy ending, Jesse is an absolute sweetie, may make you giggle and kick your feet.

A/N: Just kidding, you're getting two in one day. This one is pretty intense and has some pretty heavy subject matter. Please heed the warnings as it deals with some sensitive subject matter. There is a happy ending I promise. It's just a bit rough to get there. Jesse is a body positive king in this one and we love him for that.

Special thanks to @star-trekker-0013 for giving me the idea for this particular soulmate link. I decided to give it to someone else, but I still wanted to use it.

MASTERLIST

It happens fast. 

You’d gone to work that morning after watching news report after news report about the war. It’s been waging for over a year now, and it’s not slowing down any. It seems like every day there’s news of an attack, another planet being devastated, more and more people dying. Your planet has remained largely unscathed, but you know that’s no guarantee it’s going to stay that way. 

There were warning systems in place, protocols for if an invasion or an attack happens. What to do to give yourself the best chance of survival, because the best you can do is hope you’re lucky enough to survive. 

Even the best laid plans can’t protect against something no one sees coming. 

You’re sitting at your desk, typing away as usual when everything goes red. The bang is loud, eardrums popping as you’re thrown from your chair. It’s the shock that keeps it from being worse than it is as your body hits the far wall with a crack. 

You’re dizzy, the world spinning around you as you lay there. You can’t move. Pain is burning through your side, your left arm completely numb. You can’t move it. All you can hear is a ringing in your ears, your vision red and black spots. Breathing hurts. Your chest is burning, every breath like agony. 

You turn your head slowly, looking over to your left. Where your desk, and several others had been, is a giant hole in the side of the building. Smoke is billowing from the hole, choking you as you try to breathe. You’re stuck, unable to move even if you wanted to. 

War has come to your planet finally, and you’re stuck in the middle of it. 

***

Jesse doesn’t think much about his soulmate. 

Or, he tries not to. 

Since he can remember, he’s heard stories about soulmates. They never spoke about them freely, but in the few precious moments they were alone, in the freshers or tucked away in the barracks, the clones spoke about their soulmate links. Marks, dreams, color blindness, writing on the skin, all sorts of ways links may be formed. 

Of course, from early on they knew attempting to contact soulmates, or engaging in the links was forbidden. If anyone was found to have initiated the link, they would be forced to reject their soulmate. If they refused, they would be decommissioned. 

They also knew, if they were careful enough, they didn’t have to follow this rule. 

Most of them didn’t. 

It wasn’t fair to them, or to their soulmates, most of whom had been waiting a long time for their links to show up. 

Jesse doesn’t know what his link is. 

That doesn’t mean much, as there’s plenty of links that are invisible until they happen, or you actually meet your soulmate. He’d heard of a trooper once that had teleported to his soulmate. Disappeared right in the middle of a training exercise. They never found him. 

He’s glad they didn’t. 

When the war starts, he has far less downtime to think about his soulmate, but still he finds the thoughts plaguing his mind. Who are they? Where are they? When will they meet? How will they meet? How will he know? 

The war keeps him busy, but not busy enough. 

It’s just over a year into the war when he finally gets his answers. 

They’d just finished another campaign, resting on the short journey to the next one. He’d been restless all night, something in the back of his mind keeping him from settling. He can’t pinpoint what it is, what it could be. He feels on edge, like he’s waiting for something to happen. 

Maybe he needs to jog around the ship, or do something to help settle his nerves. He climbs from his bunk, heading back into the fresher to splash some water on his face. 

The artificial lights flicker on when he enters, and he heads to one of the sinks, looking in the mirror. 

A shout of surprise leaves his lips and he stumbles back. He looks down, tugging off the top half of his blacks. His entire left arm is grey. Fingers to shoulder, every inch of his skin is a dull grey color. There’s more grey across the left side of his chest, splattering outward towards the center of his chest, and down onto his abdomen. There’s a long line of grey stretching from his chest up his neck, and splits into two lines at his jaw up to his cheek. 

He lifts a shaky hand, touching the two lines. It’s still his skin. It feels no different than the tanned skin around it. 

The door swishes open, Rex standing there in his blacks with a blaster in hand. Of course his shout would have woken his lightly sleeping brothers. 

“Rex...” He croaks out, his hands shaking. “What’s happening?” 

“Jesse,” Rex says, taking a step forward. “I think you’ve found your soulmate link.” 

Rex puts a hand on his shoulder, easing him down onto the floor. He’s panicking, the dread that had been in the back of his mind suddenly overwhelming. His soulmate link? His skin suddenly turning grey is his soulmate link? 

“Whenever your soulmate gets an injury, it shows up on your skin as a grey mark.” Rex explains. “And any injury you have, would show up on them.” 

“Rex...” Jesse croaks out, the panic not easing any. 

An injury like this isn’t something you just walk away from. He knows it, his brothers know it. He’s seen injuries like this before, and most of them didn’t make it. 

“Easy.” Rex puts a hand on his back. “They’re not dead. You would know if they were. You can’t do anything right now. Just breathe and trust that wherever they are, they’re getting help as we speak.” 

***

You’re choking. The smoke is thick, making your eyes burn. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been. 

The pain is horrible, burning through your shoulder and side. Your right arm is throbbing and your legs have gone numb. You’re stuck in an uncomfortable position, but you can’t move at all. 

You’ve tried screaming for help. You’ve been screaming for help, yet nothing. No one knows you’re here. No one knows you’re still alive. 

No one’s coming. 

You jolt awake, sitting up in bed. You try to breathe, putting a hand on your chest to try and ease the ache there. There’s no smoke. The air is clean and clear. You’re in bed, safe in your temporary home on Coruscant. 

You had been saved. 

Someone had come. 

It had all been just bad luck on your part. The attack on your planet had come out of nowhere. You had been at work, at your desk when it started, right in the path of the first bomb that had been dropped on the city. It had hit a few floors below, and blew upwards just feet from your desk. You had been far enough away to avoid instant death, but too close to come out unscathed. 

Getting thrown by the force of the explosion had saved you a lot, but had broken your right arm when you’d hit the wall. Your left side, which had been facing the explosion wasn’t so lucky. Your left arm had been severely burned, along with part of your shoulder and chest. Pieces of shrapnel had lacerated your neck and face, and down along your abdomen, many more buried in your flesh. 

Almost two days you laid there, thinking no one was coming. No one was going to save you. 

Then they appeared. 

Like angels in white coming through the smoke. You’re sure they spoke to you, but your ears had still been ringing, ear-drums perforated from the proximity to the explosion. Moving had been excruciating, even on the stretcher, every step towards freedom was like another explosion hitting you. 

You had cried when the rebreather was placed on your face, when the rush of cool, clean air hit you. You remember the green stripe on the helmet of the medic that had injected the pain medicine. He’d held your right hand as you slipped into unconsciousness. 

You’d woken up some time later in a medical facility. You were sticky from bacta, a long soak in a bacta tank, the medical droid had explained. Your broken bones and most of the lacerations had healed. Your left arm, however, had been beyond repair. From your shoulder joint to your fingers, the left arm was gone. 

They’d been kind enough to replace it with a cybernetic one. 

You’d spent a lot of time afterwards, staring at yourself in the mirror. Covered in scars on the left side, leaving your skin warped and streaked with lines. Most of them would never heal beyond what they were. Even repeated bacta treatments wasn’t guaranteed to help any. Some damage was too great, even for the miracle of bacta. 

You try not to let it bother you. 

Your home, your job, your entire life had been wiped out by the droid army that invaded your planet. Most of the inhabitants of the city that survived were brought to Coruscant as refugees, and put up in communal housing while the Senate endlessly debated what to do.

You’d met a few of the Senators that had pushed for the aid and assistance, chosen practically out of the crowd when you landed with a couple others. After all, who better to show just how ugly the war they sit and debate over truly is than someone like you? Someone who lost everything, including body parts. 

It’s only been a few weeks, but you’ve slowly been adjusting to your new life. Your temporary home is more of a hostel, and you share the room with three other women who had been displaced by the destruction of your planet. A couple of them already had jobs on Coruscant, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that yet. You barely left the room, much less the hostel. 

The hostel provides food, and there was a donation center on the first floor for clothes and other necessities. It’s nothing like your life previously, but you’re still alive so that counts for something, right? 

You spend your day as you usually do, back and forth between the room and the dining hall. You clean a bit, in exchange for your lack of ambition to do much else. You think of it as good practice to get used to your cybernetic arm. You often used it as an excuse to get out of doing things. Lingering pain, the adjustment to a new limb. 

The adjustment hadn’t been very hard. The cybernetic limb worked just as well as your flesh one had. In fact, you sometimes forget about it, until you glance at the grey steel and get reminded that it’s not in fact your actual arm. 

Of course, the cosmetic side of things was a bit different. Cybernetics aren’t that abnormal. Plenty of beings have them for one reason or another. Some even get them as enhancements. You’ve never considered yourself a vain person, or someone who cares about their looks, but still, people stare. They stare more now. 

That’s partly why you’ve avoided going out. 

You don’t want people to stare. You don’t want people to ask. 

You’re scared of meeting your soulmate. What will they think? Of course, they already know. You shared a link with your soulmate that left a mark on your skin for every injury. You’re littered in grey marks where your soulmate has been cut and injured. The first ones hadn’t shown up until much later in your life than you would expect them to. You hadn’t thought much of it, maybe your soulmate was just that careful. Then more and more had shown up, increasing in number over the last few years. With the war, though, it wasn’t hard to figure out that maybe your soulmate was involved somehow, or perhaps they had been a victim of an attack like you. 

It gives you hope that your soulmate might not look at you in disgust and want to reject you because you’re scarred and broken. 

***

“We’re going out.” 

One of your roommates drops a bag on the end of your bed. You’d been enjoying the quiet while the other three were out, reading a holonovel on your datapad. 

You hadn’t known this particular girl before, but you were both from the same planet. She was one of the types to make everyone her friend, regardless of if they wanted to be or not. She had made it her personal mission to help you, despite your obvious disagreement. Her entire apartment building had been destroyed in the attack, but she had been lucky enough to be away from home when it happened. While she could understand some of the loss, she couldn’t understand it all. 

“We’re going to 79’s.” She says, beginning to unload the bag onto your bed. “And you’re coming with us. 

“The clone bar?” You ask in disbelief. You know about the clone bar a few levels down, a favorite spot for members of the GAR to visit on shore leave. Some of the girls frequented there, but you hadn’t seen the appeal. 

“Yeah,” She says, holding up a dress, obviously brand new. “You should get out, get some air, and what better place than a bar filled with trained soldiers?” 

You swallow thickly, turning back to the datapad. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Come on,” She says, sitting next to you. “You have to go out eventually, and besides, maybe that medic will be there. You know, the one you talked about? Maybe you can finally thank him in person.” 

You know she’s not going to take no for an answer. Maybe going out will be good for you. If nothing else, you can turn around and sneak out while she’s not looking and return home. It might even get her to leave you alone for a while. 

Your shoulders slump, knowing what you have to say. Even if you really don’t want to. 

***

79s is busy with several battalions on leave at once. 

You’re instantly overwhelmed as you weave your way towards the bar with your roommate. So many bodies, so many people all in one place. 

You tug nervously at the sleeve of your dress, glancing nervously around the bar. You’re glad she was at least considerate enough to buy a dress with long sleeves. It’s a bit shorter than you would have liked, but your arms are covered. You need to get a job so you can start saving up to get synthetic skin put on your cybernetic arm. Then maybe you won’t feel so awful about it. 

You begin to panic a bit as your roommate loses her grip on your hand, disappearing into the crowd. You feel as if the small grip you had on sanity has fled, the bodies around you suddenly seeming to close in around you. It’s getting hard to breathe, smoke filling your lungs. You’re choking on it, imobile and unable to get away from it. 

You’re stumbling through the crowd before you even realize it, desperately trying to get back to the door. You push through a group of clones coming in, mumbling apologies as you nearly tumble into the night air. 

You stumble away from the door, away from the groups milling about in front of the bar. You find a secluded corner, pressing your back against the wall. You’re gasping for air, pressing a hand into your chest like it might keep your heart from beating straight through the mangled scar-tissue. 

“Excuse me?” 

A soft voice pulls you from the racing thoughts in your mind. You snap your head to the side, wide eyed and probably looking like a frightened wild animal. 

It’s a clone, unmistakably, that’s followed you. You wonder if he’s one of the ones you bumped into in your desperate escape coming to berate you for bumping into him. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, taking half a step closer. 

You can see his face clearly now. He’s bald, but has a bit of a five o’clock shadow across his cheeks. There’s a Republic cog tattooed across his head and face on the left side, and below it two grey lines running down his neck until they disappear under his armor. You recognize those marks. 

They’re exact replicas of the scars on your face. 

You continue to stare at him wide eyed. You had considered once that your soulmate could be a clone, but you hadn’t thought that much about it. 

And here he is, your soulmate, watching you have a panic attack outside a bar. 

“Are you alright?” He repeats, taking a step closer. “I saw you running out of there.” 

“T-Too much.” You stutter out, trying to get air into your lungs. You’re not breathing smoke. You’re breathing dirty city air. 

A sympathetic look flashes across his face for a moment. “I get it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it that full. It’s not usually this busy.” 

“I haven’t been out in public in months.” You say, slowly getting your breathing to calm down. “And my roommate has the genius idea to bring me to a bar.” 

“I know someplace quieter. A little cafe not far from here. Unless you’d rather go home. I wouldn’t blame you.” 

You look at him for a long while. Here’s your soulmate, right in front of you. You’re close enough to touch. He’s offering to get you out of here, go somewhere quiet. 

Or go home. 

You can tell what he wants you to say. You should. You may never see him again. You may never get a chance to talk to him before he ships out again. Next time, he may be the one in the explosion. He’s a clone soldier. He could easily die at any point.

So could you. 

You nod slowly, your heart still pounding in your chest. “Y-Yeah. Somewhere quiet would be nice.” 

The corner of his mouth turns up in a smile. “Okay. This way.” 

He leads you away from the bar, his hand hovering against your back as you steady yourself. You’re glad to be away from the crowds, even the people wandering become less and less as he leads you down a level. 

“My name’s Jesse.” He says, leading you towards a small cafe. “Lieutenant of the 501st.” 

You tell him your name, and your current status as a refugee. Much less exciting than him. 

“That’s how it happened, then.” He says as you sit in a back corner booth with steaming cups of caf. “The injuries.” 

You swallow nervously. “My home planet was attacked. We didn’t have any warning.” 

“You don’t have to tell me the story if you don’t want to.” He says. “Not if it’s still an open wound.” 

You nod, taking a sip of the caf. “I still have nightmares about it. What if no one had come looking? What if no one found me?” 

“I thought the worst when it first showed up.” He says. “I’ve seen injuries like that many times. I’ve seen many die from them too. I kept waiting and waiting for the inevitable, the pain of losing your soulmate.” He grins at you. “I doubted your strength, and I was proven wrong.” 

“I don’t know if I’d call it strength.” You say, looking down at your cybernetic hand hidden under the table. 

“You’re a survivor.” He says. “Sometimes that’s harder than dying.” He slips his gloves off his left hand completely grey. “Can I see it?” He slides his hand across the table. 

You hesitate for a moment. What if he thinks it’s ugly? What if he thinks less of you because of it? What if he rejects you right here, right now? 

“Lots of my brothers have cybernetics.” He says. “Losing limbs is a hazard of the profession.” He smiles at his own joke. “Always better to lose a limb than a life.” 

Of course he’s probably seen quite a few cybernetics. When you’re at risk of injuries and constantly being blown up, it’s bound to happen eventually.

You take a breath, slowly lifting your arm onto the table, sliding it into his waiting hand. He closes his fingers around it, the touch feeling exactly like if he had been touching your skin. 

“It’s not a bad one.” He says, looking it over. 

You shrug. “The Republic paid for it. Can’t complain about a free arm.” 

He chuckles quietly at your statement, pulling up your sleeve a little to run his fingers across the wrist joint. “Are you going to get synthetic skin?” 

You nod. “I’d like to eventually.” 

He releases your hand, leaning back in his seat a bit. “I think it looks good either way. Makes you look badass.” 

Your cheeks warm a bit at his compliment, and you let your hand fall back down into your lap. 

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.” He says, his eyes soft as he stares at you. “Most people aren’t going to care. They’re too worried about their own lives to pay much attention to anyone else.” He leans forward again, resting his elbows on the table. “I certainly don’t care. I’ve seen a lot of ugly things, and a cybernetic arm and some scars is so far from the top of that list.” 

Your face heats up even more, your gaze dropping bashfully. It’s been so very long since someone complimented you so honestly. 

You spend the night talking and getting to know one another in the cafe. You stay out until early morning, until Jesse has to get ready to return to GAR headquarters to ship out. He walks you back to the hostel, holding your hand in his. You kissed his cheek right over the grey marks before he left. He gave you the number to his private comm, promising to talk and let you know when he’d be on shore leave next. 

You head back up to your room, a smile on your face. You can’t stop smiling, feeling something other than distress and numbness for the first time in a long time. 

***

The weeks go by since your fateful outing. You go out and manage to find yourself a job, a quiet job with little contact with people. It doesn’t pay much, but it’s a start to things. 

You manage to save up enough to find an apartment. It’s a few levels further down than you would have liked, but you’re ready for your own space again. You’re ready to be alone. Well, not totally alone. 

You talk as much as you can with Jesse. He’s busy, understandably, but every little moment you get, you’re sending messages back and forth. He had warned you about the need for secrecy. You thought it wasn’t fair, but that’s not something you can change. You just take advantage of the little time you get, and plan for the next time he gets shore leave. 

It comes quicker than you thought it might. 

You’ve sent him your address, waiting for him to arrive. As much as you’d wanted to go and meet him, you knew it was too risky. He’d have to come to you to try and keep things as inconspicuous as possible. His brothers, and even his General didn’t care, but others in the GAR were not so lenient. 

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest at the knock on the door. You check through the viewer before pushing the button to slide it open. 

“Miss me, mesh’la?” He grins, leaning against the doorway with a bouquet of flowers. 

You grab him by the chestplate, pulling him inside. The door closes, sealing you into the semi-private apartment. The walls were thin, but most of your neighbors were gone during the evening. 

“These are for you.” He says, handing you the bouquet. 

“They’re beautiful.” You say, taking them. You head to the small kitchen, grabbing a cup to use as a vase. 

“Nice place.” He says, looking around. 

You snort. “It’s okay. It works for now.” 

He smiles as you place the flowers on your small table. You step up to him, reaching up to cup his cheek with your cybernetic hand. He presses his own hand against it, kissing the metal palm. 

“No synthetic skin yet?” He asks. 

You shrug. “I guess it’s not really been a priority recently. I kinda like it this way. Makes me look dangerous.” 

He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You lean your head against his chest. “How long do you have?” 

“A couple days this time. General Skywalker has some Jedi business he has to take care of.” He kisses the top of your head. “You can have me the whole time.” 

You smile up at him. “Good.” 

You spent the evening relaxing with takeout and watching holofilms on your datapad. Jesse removed most of his armor, leaving him in his blacks. You rest against his strong chest, quickly getting distracted by him. You knew he was big and strong, but you hadn’t thought he was this big. A broad chest and thick thighs. You want to press yourself as close to him as you can. 

You want to feel all of him. 

“You okay?” He asks as you shift against him once more. 

“Yeah.” You say, pressing your face against his chest. “Just missed you.” 

He smiles down at you, tilting your face up. “I missed you too. I’ve been feeling it, ever since that night. The bond, it’s been driving me crazy.” 

You trail your hand down his chest, feeling along his pecs. “Would it be weird if we...” 

“No.” He leans closer to you. “I think that’s what we’re supposed to do.” 

You lean up, meeting him halfway, pressing your lips against his. They’re slightly chapped, but gentle as he kisses you. His hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, holding you. 

You hum as his tongue invades your mouth. He tastes like the desert you had finished not too long ago. His hand slides down to your hip, starting to move under your shirt but you grab it, pulling away. 

You hadn’t thought about this, nerves starting to bubble up. You’ll have to get naked. You’ll have to reveal the scars. Sure, he had said he doesn’t care, but he’s never actually seen them. What if he changes his mind? You’re not sure you can handle it if he changes his mind. 

“What is it?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. “What’s wrong?” 

You wring your hands nervously, avoiding his gaze. “I-I just...” You trail off, biting your lip. 

“Talk to me.” He says, brushing your hair back. “Is this too fast? You can change your mind at any time. I’ll stop.” 

“No, no.” You shake your head. “I just...no one’s...seen me since, well, no one’s ever seen me like that. But...no one’s seen me since...” You gesture at your left side. 

A knowing look crosses his face. “Mesh’la, it’s alright. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you want to keep your clothes on, that’s fine.” 

Tears prick your vision. He’s so good. He’s so sweet and kind and understanding. What had you done for fate to bless you with someone like this? 

“I want you to be comfortable.” He kisses your hand. “Do you want to keep your shirt on?” 

You do want him to see you. You do want him to know, you do want him to see what he’s getting into. You want to know before you commit fully if he’s going to reject you. 

You take a deep breath before shaking your head. “No, I-I do want you to...just...I’m scared you’re going to reject me because of it.” 

He stares at you in shock for a few moments before pulling you into his arms. “Hey, I’m not going to reject you at all, okay? You’re the best thing that’s happened to me and the thought of losing you terrifies me. It terrified me before I even knew you. I don’t care if you’re covered in scars or hair or weird tattoos. You’re alive and you’re here with me now. That’s all that matters. I mean, look at me. I have a cog on my face.” 

You can’t help but laugh. It was true dedication to tattoo the Republic’s symbol on his face. It was endearing too, though. If he’s that dedicated and loyal to the Republic despite all its faults, despite how it’s treated him and his brothers...why are you worried a scar might turn him away from his soulmate? 

“Here,” He stands offering his hand. 

You take it, letting him pull you up. 

He leads you to your bedroom, shutting the door. He closes the curtains before sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s just you and me. No one else.” He tugs his shirt over his head, revealing his sculpted chest, marred by the grey spots where your scars are on your skin. You can also see his scars, little marks in spots where his armor left him uncovered, and larger ones from training. You have all of them on your own skin, little grey marks representing him. 

You shift nervously as he stares at you, hands curling around the bottom of your shirt. He had said he wouldn’t reject you because of it. You trust him. He hasn’t betrayed you yet. You slowly peel your shirt over your head, keeping your gaze down as you reveal yourself to him. 

He’s still for a moment before he’s reaching towards you and you let him maneuver you in front of him. His fingers trail over the skin, feeling every bump and ridge of the uneven scarring. His hands drop to your hips as he leans up, pressing a kiss to the very top of the scar on your cheek. 

You hold still as he kisses every inch of the scar, working his way from your cheek, down your neck and chest. He shifts off the bed, kneeling in front of you as he kisses your side and your stomach, down to your hip where the scarring ends. He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your stomach. 

“I’m so glad you’re alive.” He breathes, kissing your stomach. “You have no idea...I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you. What I’d do...if you weren’t here.” He stands up, keeping his arms around you. His skin is warm where it’s pressed against yours. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.” 

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him closer. He’s so big and warm, enveloping you in him as he holds you. 

You stay like that for a long time, just kissing and holding each other. So many unspoken things flow between you. It’s as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. He really doesn’t care about the way you look, about your scars or your cybernetic arm. 

You feel a bit silly. Why would he care? A battle-hardened soldier who’s seen horrors you can’t even imagine balking at a scar? You suppose it could be believable, but Jesse isn’t like that. He’s not like that at all. He’d rather have you alive, no matter what you look like, than have you gone. He’s already lost so much. He shouldn’t have to lose you too. 

Jesse’s hands slide down your waist, gripping the backs of your thighs. He lifts you easily, turning and dropping onto the bed with you. You laugh as your back hits the mattress, the frame squeaking a bit in protest. 

“Your neighbors are going to hate us.” He says, rolling on top of you. 

“Thankfully most of them aren’t home.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I live around a bunch of night owls.” 

“Good.” He says, leaning down to kiss you again. “I can make you scream as loud as I want.” 

You shiver in anticipation at his words. 

His lips blaze a trail down your body, his fingers making quick work of your pants and underwear. He looks at your face as he parts your thighs, slotting himself between them. His gaze drops downward, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he stares at your glistening folds. 

“Already excited for me?” He says, trailing his thumb along your slit. 

You nod, watching him. “Have been for a while.” 

“You should have said something sooner.” He says, laying himself down. “We could have been doing this instead.” 

He leans forward, licking at your clit. You gasp at the sensation, lifting your head to stare at him. He meets your gaze, sucking and licking your clit. He shifts slightly and you feel a probing at your entrance, one of his fingers working into you. You moan at the sensation, your body alive just from his touch. 

Your very nerves feel alight as he eats you out, working a second finger into you to prepare you. It’s almost too much, but at the same time you’ve never felt more grounded. You know if you fall, he’ll catch you. 

“Jesse,” You moan, hands gripping the sheets. “Feels so good. Don’t stop!” 

You can feel it building, everything rushing through you all at once. Your fingers have never made you feel like this before. You know it’s the connection, the bond between you. You were made for this, you were created to be perfect together. Two halves of the same soul. This is where you’re meant to be. 

You cum with a cry of his name, body writhing as he works you through your orgasm. He finally pulls away, face and fingers wet with your release. You’re breathing heavily, staring up at him. 

“You alright?” He asks, stroking your thighs. 

You nod, finally gaining enough control over your body to release the sheets from your fists. “Yeah. Better than alright.” 

He grins. “Good.” 

Your gaze drops down his body to the prominent bulge in his blacks. 

“You sure?” He asks, following your gaze. 

You nod, licking your lips. “Yeah.” 

He stands from the bed to peel his blacks off, his hard cock springing free. He climbs back on the bed, wrapping a hand around his length. He’s thick and long, your eyes widening a bit. You didn’t think he’d be that big. 

“That’s not gonna fit.” You say. 

He laughs. “I’ll go slow. Just tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop, alright?” 

You nod, bracing yourself. 

He smooths his hands up your legs, rubbing at the muscle. “Relax. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You do your best, wincing a bit as he lines up, pressing the head in. He pauses, laying his body against yours. He wraps his arms around you, holding you as he slowly works his way in. He peppers your face with kisses, only moving when you tell him to. It burns, the stretch, but the more you relax, the easier he slips inside. 

He stops once he’s fully seated, still holding you. You feel so stretched around him, so full of him. He breathes against your neck, pressing soft kisses every so often. The burn begins to lessen, your body relaxing more and more around him. You shift your hips a little, his cock moving inside you. 

“Jesse?” You gasp, clinging to his shoulders. 

He grunts against your neck, pushing himself up to his elbows above you. 

“Move.” You gasp, shifting your hips again. 

He slowly begins to pull out of you before sliding back in. You stare up at him, holding his gaze as he thrusts in and out of you, deepening the movement every time. He grunts quietly as he moves, dragging his hips against yours. 

Your eyes roll back in pleasure, your quiet moans gradually getting louder. He watches your face, shifting his hips just slightly to angle his thrusts differently. You let out a loud shriek of his name, your legs tightening around his waist. He smirks, continuing to hit that spot. You tremble under him, that heat building once more inside you. 

Your nails dig into his shoulders as his hips brush against your clit, the sensation too much. You cum with a scream of his name, arching off the bed. He works you through your orgasm, your tight pussy dragging his orgasm out of him with a loud moan. He spills inside of you, stilling his hips. 

You both stay there for a few moments, breathing heavily. You open your eyes, staring up at his face. He’s looking at you with such love and adoration you almost can’t handle it. 

He slips his arms under you, rolling you both over so you’re laying against his chest. You share soft kisses, eventually moving the blankets over your bodies as you rest for a moment. You’re glad he has a couple days off this time, knowing full well you’re likely not going to leave this bed. 

You do have one thing you have to do, one burning question you need to ask. 

“Jesse, how did you know how to do all that?” You ask purely out of curiosity. You don’t really care if he’s had other girls before you. You know you’re the only one he needs now. 

He looks a little sheepish. “My brother Fives has quite the collection of, uh, holofilms. I may have grabbed his datapad accidentally at one point during this last deployment. I wanted to make sure, in case things happened, I wasn’t fumbling around like an idiot.” 

You stare at him, open mouthed for a moment. “I wouldn’t have cared if you didn’t know what you were doing.” You lay your head back on his chest. “But remind me to thank Fives later.” 

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You love his laugh. You’re never going to get tired of hearing it. “He’ll be thrilled to meet you. All of them will.” 

“Good. I want to meet all of them.” 

“All of them?” He asks. “There’s probably over a million now.” 

“That’s fine.” You say, yawning. “I’ve got time.” 

He chuckles, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Love you.” 

You smile sleepily, snuggling against his chest. “Love you too.” 

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons,  @ladytano420, @spicy-clones, @dangraccoon, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @stunkbiggu

#star wars #star wars fic #clone wars #clone wars fic #clone trooper jesse x reader #clone jesse x reader #clones

[neteyamyawne]

Hi, lovely! Would you be willing to write an angst Jake x Na'vi!Reader set during WOW? Maybe she's pregnant with their fifth and gets injured during the final battle?

🪷 — Nisoaia

୭ ˚. Pairing : JakeSully x fem!Navi!reader

୭ ˚. Summary : After moving to Awa'atlu, Quaritch still didn't leave the Sully's alone, hunting them down just when you are pregnant with your new babe.

୭ ˚. Warning : angst, burning , gunfire, pregnancy , being shot, blood, fluff end

୭ ˚. Word count : 2.6k not proof read

୭ ˚. Note : "word" - dialogue

୭ ˚. Glossary : [Y/i/n] - your ikran name, [Tawtute] - sky people/humans.

He was back, again, we left the forest for this and he still came back, the worst possible outcome were reeling through my mind, the tawtute burning other clans for information and lo'ak bonding with payakan on top of it makes me wanna bang my head against a wall, Jake got upset with him, everything has been a complete and utter mess right now, but Ronal took some tension off me letting me know that it was all fine as tonowari was really upset with lo'ak as well but he had forgiven him but just wants lo'ak to be careful next time, Ronal and me became good friends after a while, first we weren't as close but as her's and my pregnancy progressed we kept everything aside and started anew, she helped me through everything as did i helped her, we weren't so far apart in our pregnancies either, mostly spending our time with each other.

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My heart broke as i saw scene before me, Ronal hugged her now dead spirit sister and her babe that was killed with her, tonowari just floated beside her comforting her, i leaned onto Jake, tears escaping my own eyes and buried my head into his shoulder while he rubbed my thigh, Jake had tears of his own but held back, this was happening because of him, quatrich was after him and would go to any level to get to him, he took my hand in his own rubbing his thumb down my knuckles, he swam forward to take a look around the tulkun that's when he saw the tracker, blinking away…

Everyone gathered in the war tent, screaming and crying out for the loss of the spirit sister of their tsahik, i stood besides Jake, he was trying his best to make them understand that going to war won't do them any good and could be catastrophic but they weren't in the state of mind to understand as Ronal came forward "you live with us and still do not understand our way!" I walked in front of Jake stopping her from doing anything, he looked around at the enraged people and said the next best thing he could think of "listen to me! You want the tulkuns safe? Then go tell them that if they see this shot at them then let me know, i will come and deactivate it" everyone looked at eachother, hesitation evident in the air and i spoke "go, tell them, tell them to be safe" all of them nodded giving one look at their leaders before sprinting towards the sea to inform their spirit brothers and sisters, i sigh, Jake came down from the elevated rock standing besides me as he slipped his arm across my waist, tonowari and Ronal still stood in front of us, we gave them our condolence and apology and walked out.

I sat near the fire watching it crackle and pop every now and then, Jake sat next to me his hands brushing up and down my back when lo'ak's voice cracked into my ear piece and i looked at my mate with wide eyes and i heard lo'ak say "dad, a tulkun is marked, we are near the three brothers rock, trying to take out the tracker" worry filled me as i spoke "who are with you?", "Everyone, even tsireya and ao'nung" with that we bolted towards ronal's and tonowari's mauri "get out of there, stay back! We are coming" i say as we burst through their mauri opening and Jake started "quick the kids are in danger, your kids are there as well, c'mon we have to go" they both go to work and i turned around and ran with Jake to our mauri to pick up our weapons, picking up my bow and arrows i send a prayer for protection to eywa but Jake stopped me putting a hand on my swollen stomach "you should stay ba-" before he could finish i said "my kids are in danger jake, i won't sit back!" He just nodded knowing full well there was no debating this, we walked out and i call for my ikran and Jake climbed on his tsurak.

Flying above the metkayina soldiers, i looked at the demon ship as they held lo'ak , tuk and tsireya hostage near the railing, my blood boiled all i wanted was to kill that demon again, i killed him once i can kill him again, i was about to dive down when a voice rang, that cold dreadful voice which i never wanted to hear ever again " if you want your son alive then come here, Alone, Jake sully, I'm sure you wouldnt want that to happen would'ya?" His chuckle made me nauseous, he had a gun pointed to lo'ak's head and another one of the demons had gun pointed towards tsireya as well, i saw Jake hesitate to lower his gun but did it anyways and slowly floated forward, he's gonna give himself up, without wasting another minute i flied forward silently hovering above the ship, seeing my chance to swoop in, i didn't have to wait fo too long as payakan burst out slamming onto the ship tilting it down and taking my chance i dived down shooting down any remaining soldiers with my arrows, i saw some machines break the water surface and i immediately turned around and tried to shoot them, some demons inside the ships were killed but some escaped beneath the water, dropping onto one of the decks on the other side of the ship, disconnecting the bond, i slowly walked inside, tip toeing my way in, two soldiers ran inn and i shot one of them down the other looked around bewildered shooting his gun blindly but not long enough before he was dead too…

On the opposite side neteyam got up on the deck cutting through the cuffs as he freed tsireya and tuk finally getting to lo'ak, he chuckled bending down ruffling his brothers hair "who's my mighty warrior?" Lo'ak just rolled his eyes, his brother pulled him towards the edge so they can dive inn but lo'ak stopped turning around "we have to save spider!" Neteyam hesitated but caved inn following behind him, taking spider from the lab, silently they walked towards to moon pool, dropping down and immediately attacking the nearest humans they ran towards the pool but fell back as gunfire rang, lo'ak took down one of the soldiers picking his gun pointing in different directions, neteyam just rolled his eyes taking the gun from him scoffing, lo'ak groaned but stayed behind neteyam as he shot the men in front of him "GO! go! Now!" He yelled at them, lo'ak and spider dived in the pool leaving neteyam behind, the bullets ran out from his gun without thinking he ran forward and fell into the pool…

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I ran forward diving inn as those demons shoot me from the ship, i felt a pain zap through my right shoulder, swimming away the best i could i broke the water surface taking inn deep breaths, looking around as i saw y/i/n, calling out to him/her and mounting with much difficulty i took flight.

Getting down onto were most of my family stood, a body was lying on it, my heart stopped and i forgot my pain in that moment as i stumbled from my ikran, my eyes only trying to focus on that body as i fell to the ground beside it, neteyam Lying there unmoving, the world stopped as a blood curdling scream left my throat, the pain was taking over me as i pulled him to me, but my limbs fail me and i fell on my back, black spots appearing in my vision.

Jake held me and put pressure on my wound as blood poured out of my shoulder, the bullet was still embedded inside and it felt like my shoulder was on fire, he flipped me over checking my back "it's okay, it's okay, stay with me, don't close your eyes baby, look at me"  everything was getting blurry as i fought to keep my eyes open, focusing on Jake i felt someone take my hand "mom please don't close your eyes" lo'ak gasped out, there was movement a lot of movement, i felt my body being picked up, the strain against my shoulder too great as i screamed, trying to muffle myself but failing miserably, i don't know what was going on but i kept my eyes open, i felt someone speak the voice was familiar maybe it was Ronal? How much time has passed? but my brain didn't decipher it for me but the person that voice came from digged a finger into the bullet hole nimbly removing the bullet while i screamed, something wet and sticky was applied to it as it stung the entirety time, i gasped for air, i already had a gash running down my chest due to those demons on the ship and i fell unconscious, i fluttered my eyes open my, eyesight somewhat clear as i shot up, looking around Jake sat besides me pulling me into a hug, he puts both his hands on my cheeks as he says "you have to stay strong, look at me, breath! Breath! Strong heart" patting my chest, my thoughts were only on neteyam, i looked at him but he wasn't there, i looked at Jake confused he was there before what was happening? My heart was being crushed second by second and Jake just shook his head, i didn't want to believe it but i gathered whatever strength that was left in me as i looked at the dying sunset, i felt the bandages on my shoulder and torso shift and sting but didn't care, all i could see right now is red, blood red, blood of only one person..

I jumped down my ikran, gently rolling down shooting down any soldiers in sight, hitting and ripping anyone in sight i made my way forward,it was a while before i got to the other side of the port deck that connected to the moon pool were that bastard kept my girls locked, my vision becoming red by second as i waited for my chance to pounce, i saw spider crawling from another side, he Haven't noticed me yet and i knew what i had to do as i waited for the opportunity, Jake stood there tuk was  near the ship with tsireya, while quaritch held a knife to kiri's throat and i did not hesitate to jump out of my hiding place, grabbing spider in one swipe as i brought my own knife to his throat and looked at the father of the boy i was holding "a son for a son" and hissed at him, he just chuckled dryly "he's nothing to me, he's not my son" and i tilted my head,  bringing the knife in my hand even closer to his neck drawing blood now, kiri screamed but was silenced as quaritch tugged at her braid, i knew what i had to do "is that so?" I said bringing my knife up with a yell as I brought it down just inches away from spider's chest. He yelled to stop,  a smirk forming on my face as he lets kiri go "let him go now!" I did as he said, not turning my back on him. I backed out towards kiri , tuk, i turned around for Jake but i saw him talking with that demon "ma' Jake!" But he didn't turn back and the only thing i heard him say was "let's get this done" as he dived for quaritch and fought tooth and nail, pivoting i ushered kiri and tuk sending a prayer to eywa for Jake, we got to a shallow part of the ship, i put tuk in front of me but before i can see her foot slip and i caught her but her hand slipped from mine due to the force of water, i got in with her, as we both fell in a cabin like square i hissed pressing myself into the wall putting my hands on the bump of my stomach, this was taking a toll on me but i got back on my feet as i called for tuk, i heard her voice calling back treading forward i saw her smaller figure swimming to me, holding her in my arms i kissed her head and told her to go forward, tumbling through doors and rooms we were now trapped in this tunnel like area with no exit, i sigh taking deep breath to calm myself and pulling tuk closer to me, she buried her head in my neck with a muffled "mom I'm scared" my heart broke but i was scared too for her, for Jake, for myself, rubbing her back i said "shh it's gonna be okay, we're gonna be fine! Okay? Just calm down and breathe slowly, with me, sweetheart" i tried my best but the water was filling in, pulling tuk as much as i can towards me, i chanted a prayer to eywa, we stood there for a while, the space to breath was getting smaller and smaller just when i lost all hope to get out a shimmering light flooded the now dark way, i saw small luminous fishes swam towards us and saw kiri's head pop in, swimming towards us i gave her the biggest hug i could muster, giving me the creature that helped to breath underwater we all swam towards the exit, finally coming out of the ship floating upward and breaking the water, i looked around everywhere until i saw payakan with Jake and lo'ak on his fin, i couldn't help as i called out "Ma' Jake! Ma' Jake" his eyes turned towards us, pulling me into him as I hugged him tightly. We all hugged each other finally everything was over…..or was it? 

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I sat beside neteyam his breathing even, he was shot in his arm but due to blood loss he went unconscious, when i arrived at the rock i passed out thinking he died, everyone in that moment thought he died as well when tsireya took him back to the healing mauri while Ronal came around to patch me up, i had lost a significant amount of blood as well but adrenaline kept me awake for so long, the moment we touched the beach i fell into Jake's arms and was brought to the healers tent, now everyone was fine, neteyam was fine, my family was fine, i sigh as i brush the stray hairs from 'teyam's face to the sides, i opted to stay by his side as Jake went to talk to Ronal and tonowari about our departure so we won't be threat to them anymore, i was startled when i felt a presence next to me, Jake chuckled leaning in and kissing my cheek his arm automatically wrapping around my back and stomach, i leaned onto his chest looking up at him i asked "what did they say? When are we moving?" He just smiled shaking his head " we aren't going anywhere, they have decided to give us the permission to live here as long as we want" my eyes widened but felt happy they have finally accepted us, sighing i just nodding, he kissed my forehead once more, Happiness is simple it's in small things that you think won't mean much, but those moments are the ones that get you through life…..

A/n : i didn't want to kill neteyam but i had to make it seem as if he died 😂 sorry for that, he is safe and sound until quaritch decides he needs to come back 😂 i think the requests are over so if anyone wants to request please do 💚

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