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tobesolonely · 3 years

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house hunting

A/n: hello!! I’ve been having a mad case of writers block, so @goldenbluesuit‘s list of prompts was posted just in time! Thank you and i hope you all enjoy!! thank u @harryysstyless and @nationalharryleague for looking this over also :) Love u guyssss!

summary: newly engaged y/n and harry realize they have very different tastes in homes when they begin house hunting!!!

warnings: smut

word count: ~3.3k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

With all the joys that came with being engaged, there was a good deal of logistics that you hadn’t even thought of when you excitedly told Harry, “Duh, of course, I’ll marry you!” just four short months ago. Should you wed in the fall or wait until the spring? Outdoors or indoors? These were things that you and Harry went back and forth about most nights, cuddled in bed next to each other before drifting off to sleep.

Something you were most excited about, though, was finally owning a home with Harry. You practically lived together as it was, seeing that you were at his place most nights. Still, his home wasn’t yours—you were reminded every time you had to grab something forgotten from your apartment. Or when he was away for work and you couldn’t bear to be in his large, empty house by yourself.

So while you already knew each other’s grossest habits, (Harry loved asking you to pop his back pimples) you didn’t yet own a home together. Sadly, house hunting was turning out to be a less-than-joyous task when you and Harry were looking for completely different things.

“I jus’ think we’re cottage-style people… that’s all,'' your fiancé’s hand rests on your thigh while you wait in his car for the real estate agent to arrive. “This one’s nice, yeah, but is it who we are?”

You refrain from rolling your eyes at him. “You’re only saying that because they remind you of home.”

“So? They’re lovely,” he sounds a little defensive, but not mad. Your response to Harry is interrupted as the real estate agent pulls into the driveway.

“Be nice,” you remind him as you open your door to let yourself out. “I understand the Craftsman isn’t your first choice, but she worked hard to find this place for us. At least go into it with an open mind.”

Your fiancé mutters something under his breath, but you know he’ll behave himself––he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Harry’s demeanor immediately changes once the real estate agent is within earshot, turning on his signature English charm. “Thank you for meeting my fiancée and me today. We’re both very excited to check out this lovely home.”

Since you’re privy to the reality of the situation, you can tell he’s laying it on a bit thick, but your agent is loving it. “You’ll both fall in love, I know it,” she begins her ascent up the long driveway and you and Harry follow behind hand-in-hand. “Six bedrooms, eleven bathrooms, and nearly twenty thousand square feet. You can’t beat it.”

Harry seems unphased by the enormous size of the house, but your breath hitches in your throat. Did the two of you actually need this much room? The house appeared to be even bigger than the one Harry owned now––you knew you would hate staying here when he was away for work except this time, you wouldn’t have a quaint apartment and a roommate to go back to when you were feeling lonely.

“H, ‘s kinda big…” you’re trying to speak quietly enough so the real estate agent doesn’t hear you. “I don’t know if I like it.”

“What’s tha’? We haven’t even gotten inside, love,” Harry stops walking to give you his full attention. “You don’t like it?”

“Just the driveway by itself is enormous,” you feel your cheeks growing warm. “I would be too scared to stay here by myself.”

Harry hums in agreement. “Can we have just a moment, please?” He sweetly turns to face the real estate agent who insists you take your time, walking farther up the driveway to give the two of you privacy.

“We’ve not seen the inside, doll. Gotta at least do that,” Harry’s hands run along your bare arms. “‘Member what you jus’ told me? Let’s go into it with an open mind. Don’t have to place an offer on it or anything.”

“Okay…” you’re reluctant and Harry can tell, but neither one of you want to be rude to the real estate agent. “You’re right. I guess it doesn’t hurt to just check it out.”

Harry gives you a dimpled grin. “Y’never know. Might fall in love with it, puppy,” Harry leans in so close that you can feel his breath on your nose. “Besides, think of all the rooms we’d get to have a shag in if we moved in here.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“I hate it.”

“What’s there to hate? Look at how cozy it is.”

“Don’t like the color.”

“It’s nothing to slap a fresh coat of paint on the outside.”

You open your mouth and then close it in defeat. He wasn’t wrong. You let Harry lead you around the perimeter of the house while you wait for your real estate agent to arrive to let you in—Harry’s animatedly talking about all the renovations that can be done to upgrade the house (even stating he could do some of them himself) and deep down you know this is the house you will end up living in.

“So sorry I’m late,” the agent’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “There was an accident on the 405–made traffic a nightmare.”

“No worries at all,” Harry says cheerily. “We’re just excited to get inside and take a look at this place. It’s gorgeous.”

The lady doesn’t even try to hide her surprise. “Really? I agree that it’s a beautiful home, but I thought it would be your last choice given it’s on the smaller side.”

“How many bedrooms?” You change the subject, gazing at the house in front of you. You thought it was rather large, but to each their own.

“Five bedrooms, four and a half bathrooms.”

You glance over at your fiancé, who appeared to be deep in thought—he was most likely calculating if five bedrooms would be enough to host friends and family who came to visit.

“That’s perfect,” he says after a moment, squeezing your hand in excitement. “We’d love to get inside.”

The real estate agent mutters a quiet, “please, follow me” to which you and Harry oblige. She leads you up a gorgeous cobblestone pathway that ends at weathered brick stairs. Harry lightly placed his hands on your waist as you ascended the three steps, knowing you tended to be on the clumsy side.

“Porch is nice, innit?” Harry says to you, lowering his gaze so he’s looking square in your eyes. “I can see us ‘avin a cup of coffee in the mornin’ while lookin’ out at the street.”

Your husband-to-be was trying to sell you on the home more than your real estate agent was––you weren’t mad at it. You simply hum in agreement, not wanting to fully give into Harry just yet.

The real estate agent unlocks the door and ushers the both of you ahead of her, wiping her feet on the mat before entering the home. It was beautiful. The floor plan was open, the living room flowing easily into the kitchen which led into the dining room. Large windows let in plenty of natural sunlight, which you know Harry appreciated.

You listen attentively as the real estate agent gives her typical spiel, informing you about the history of the house (and how all the wood fixtures were original). Harry is long gone, tucked away in some other part of the house, most likely examining the crown molding or something of the sort.

“...because the floor plan is so open, it’s the perfect space for entertaining.”

“So true,” you respond politely, looking around the space. “I was just thinking that. I’m sure Harry would agree... wherever he ran off to.”

“He’s a fan of this one, I take it?” She’s walking again, leading you to the back of the house.

“Oh, definitely. He’s been telling me we’re “cottage people” to warm me up to the idea of moving in here.”

“Is it working?”

You let out a quiet giggle. “Surprisingly, yes.”

“Babe, come look at this bedroom. S’gonna be ours!” Harry calls out to you from deeper in the house and you furrow your brows as you try to determine what room he ducked into.

“Where are you, love?”

“‘M in here!”

You roll your eyes at how Harry did nothing to clarify his exact location for you, but you quickly figure it out, anyway. While the house was large, it was nowhere as big as some places you’ve already looked at which you appreciated.

Once reunited with Harry, he immediately reaches for your hand and pulls you into him. The bedroom you’re now standing in has floor-to-ceiling windows, an adjoining bathroom, and even a fireplace. It was stunning.

“This room is nice,” you say quietly, leaning into his touch. Harry nods.

“S’our room. Can’t you just picture us sleepin’ in here? Relaxin’?” He leans in close to your ear. “Fuckin’?”

A shiver immediately runs through your body at your fiancé’s vulgarity, but you try your best to play off your reaction as you turn to face the real estate agent. “Let’s see the rest of the place, yeah?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

No one warned you about how much work went into actually closing on a home.

It was a long process. You were glad you had Harry, who had financial advisors, to help you close on the deal. You and Harry ended up going with the cottage home, of course, which ultimately was the best choice for what the two of you needed at the moment.

Waiting to move in seemed like it took a lifetime, even though it was only a couple weeks. Your apartment was a mess of boxes and packing tape, and you were glad you had your roommate to help you gather the things you still had left there (since you had basically already moved in with Harry as it was).

When the day finally came to move all your boxes into your new home, you were more than ready to get it over with. You weren’t sure how Harry could remain in such high spirits engaging in such an arduous task (you were honestly feeling quite crabby), so you let Harry deal with the movers lest you accidentally lose your cool and snap at someone. He kept offering to help them move things, feeling guilty for just standing around while they heaved your extensive amount of belongings around, but they kept insisting they were fine. Your fiancé opted to contribute by going to the kitchen and making them lemonade and little sandwiches, instead.

“We have a lot of stuff, don’t we?” Harry glances up at you as you walk into the kitchen, a mischievous look on his face.

“What’s this we? Pretty sure they’re struggling to carry your things around, not mine,” you snake your arms around Harry’s waist. “Maybe we can have a garage sale? Get to know some neighbors too, hmm?”

“Weird to sell Gucci at a garage sale, innit?” Harry cuts a sandwich into four perfect triangles and sets them beside him on a platter he must’ve dug out of some box. You shrug.

“I’m sure you’re not the only person in this neighborhood who can afford Gucci.”

Harry hums in response, continuing to slather spread onto the sandwiches he was making. “Can you go offer these to the movers? Ask ‘em if they want lemonade or water, too.” He tilts his head toward the tray on the other side of the counter and you reach around him to grab it.

“Look at you makin’ everyone snacks and whatnot. So domestic,” you tease, grabbing Harry’s cheek and pinching firmly. “It’s getting me all hot.”

“Yeah?” He questions, going along with your playful pestering. “Y’like it?”

“Fuckin’ love it,” you coo, giving him bedroom eyes. Harry throws his head back, letting out a loud guffaw. You exit the kitchen and go from person to person, kindly offering them sandwiches which they are more than happy to accept.

The movers finish a couple of hours later, your beautiful home still just as beautiful, but now a myriad of boxes and trash bags. The two of you had absolutely no furniture yet, seeing as Harry wanted to buy everything new instead of bringing the furniture from his old home for reasons you were still unsure of.

Harry settled on making the two of you sandwiches for supper, seeing as that was the only food you had in the entire house, and neither one of you felt like running to the store to buy anything else. He pours two tall glasses of lemonade before carefully walking to where you sat cross-legged on the floor of the living room.

“Our new home...,” Harry trails off, looking around the cluttered space. “The first thing that’s ours.”

“I could cry,” you reply, voice slightly shaky. “Like, it’s just so surreal. We can really decorate however we want and celebrate holidays–”

“Gonna fight wif’ each other ‘n love on each other,” he adds. “Grow old with each other... so happy you’re all mine and ‘m all yours.”

Your heart swells at Harry’s words. He can always tell when you’re growing emotional––he knows you better than anyone else, after all––and he quickly moves closer to you, pulling you into his side. Neither one of you says anything, there’s nothing that needs to be said. You opt to bask in each other’s company and the comfortable silence that fills the dim living room. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Harry scoot the food and drinks out of the way before he pulls you fully into his lap.

“I can’t wait for all of it,” you wrap your arms around his neck, sucking lightly on the area where the skin of his jaw trails into his neck. “Can’t wait to have it all with you.”

“Know what ‘m lookin’ forward to the most?” You hum. “Lookin’ forward to the baby makin’.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at Harry’s admission. Sure, you’ve discussed children before––you were getting married! Still, he catches you off-guard.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm,” his hand slowly makes its way underneath your shirt, loving how he already had you squirming under him.

“I’ve got it,” you mumble quietly, moving away from him. You expertly unclasp your bra and fling it out of the way, letting it join the rest of the mess that litters the floor of your home.

“This is really the first place we’re gonna shag in, then?” Harry asks breathlessly, sucking roughly against your collarbone.

You shrug your shoulders before moving to tangle your hands in Harry’s hair. “The entire house is a mess, this is as good a spot as any.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he mutters, trailing his hands down your body until he gets to your bottom. He easily shimmies your tight leggings down your legs, having done this many, many times before. “Gonna help me christen every room in this house, angel?”

“Yeah,” you’re quick to respond. You wish there was more kissing and less talking going on, but your arrogant fiancé loved two things: teasing you, and the sound of his own voice. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Where do ya want that kiss?”

“Get your mind outta the gutter,” you plead, tilting your head to the side so Harry can access your neck easier. “My lips.”

You know what Harry’s going to say before he says it. “Which ones?”

“H, come on,” you whine, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. “Gimmie one.”

Harry finally gives into your requests and presses his lips delicately against yours, humming in pleasure as he feels you sink deeper into the kiss. “I’m messin’ with ya, Y/N. I could never pass on givin’ ya a kiss.”

“I’m glad,” you answer triumphantly, shamelessly stealing another kiss from him.

“Gonna go all the way with me on our living room floor? Dirty girl, you are,” Harry says quietly, gently removing you from his lap. He helps you lay back on the floor, but not before bunching up your leggings for you to use as a pillow.

“All good?”

“Mmm,” you reach up for him, wanting to feel his lips against yours once again. He doesn’t give in so easily—not this time. Harry allows you to take his plump upper lip into your mouth before pulling away just out of your reach. You let out a pitiful whimper which causes Harry to puff out his chest, his ego getting the best of him.

“Gonna make ya feel so good,” he says quietly, rubbing his palm against your core. Your underwear was still on and you knew he was approximately four seconds away from ripping them off.

“I know,” you answer quickly. “I know, H.”

“You sound impatient.”

“I just wanna get on with it.”

Harry sits back on his heels. “What’s tha’ rush? Jus’ us, yeah? Jus’ me?”

“I need it,” you say under your breath. You were usually quite vocal in bed with Harry, but something about the way his gaze fixed on you had butterflies fluttering all-around your stomach.

“What do you need?” Harry taps your bum while he’s saying this, signaling for you to lift yourself slightly off the ground so he can get them around your ankles.

“I need you in me,” you whisper. You knew he knew exactly where you needed him, but you’d stroke his ego a bit if it meant he’d fuck you just how you wanted him to. “Hard. F-fast.”

“I can manage that,” he cheekily replies, giving his hard cock three tugs before pressing himself to your entrance. “Don’t want me to eat ya out or summat?”

“No,” you answer entirely too quickly. “Please just fuck me, H-”

He understands just how needy and desperate you are now and wastes no more time, swiftly entering your tight cunt like he was made just for you. Your body always molded together so perfectly––no one knew you better than he did. When you were really pressed for time, he could get you off in less than five minutes. Although his pace is relentless tonight though, there is no rush.

You felt full in such a way that only Harry could make happen. You let out a loud moan as he moves your leg ever so slightly to angle you in such a way that he knew would hit your spongy walls deep inside of you.

“Y’like it? Like me fuckin’ into ya like this?”

“Love it,” you moan breathlessly, reaching to cradle your tits. Harry raises his eyebrows, pace faltering slightly.

“What are you bein’ so quiet for? S’no one here except us,” he reaches in between your sweaty bodies to flick your clit. “Can feel you clenchin’ ‘round me–are you gonna come, puppy? Come around my cock?”

His teasing is all it takes for you to cum around him, clenching down so tightly that it takes a surprising deal of strength for him to keep moving. Harry follows shortly behind you, letting out an animalistic groan that sounds downright filthy. In that moment, you were glad that there was no one else in the house because if there was, they definitely would’ve heard you and Harry coming down from your respective highs together. He speaks after a moment, chest still heaving.

“One room down, the rest of the house to go.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

as always, please let me know what you thought here!

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 3 years

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A Lick of Paint

Summary: Spencer has no idea his best friend is harboring a secret talent

A/N: This was is one-shot request from a little while ago! I hope you guys enjoy it

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Artist!Reader)

Category: Fluff & Smut

Warnings/Includes: smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding, paint is involved (but it doesn’t go anywhere it shouldn’t), please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 3.6k

Request: “Would u do one where it’s a fem!reader x spencer (smut or fluff what ever feels right) where they’re best friends and the reader is very private and one day spencer comes over to her apartment and sees that she’s a really talented painter/drawer/artist ? Thank u!!”

Masterlist

— —

He didn’t have a crush on her. No way. She was just his best friend, nothing more. Just his best friend who he thought about all the time, his best friend who he knew everything about, who he couldn't wait until tomorrow to see.

They got in from their latest case at half past midnight, he was a night owl, and he knew she was too, so why would she mind him showing up uninvited? He hadn’t seen her in 15 days and he probably could wait one more, but he really didn't want to.

Showing up at her door after 1am with a bottle of wine and some snacks he took a minute to run his fingers through his hair and straighten out his shirt before he knocked on the door. He could hear a rustling from the other side, and he could see the light shifting about beneath the door frame. So she was home, and she was awake, and he was trying to suppress his eager little smile.

“You can’t keep calling over this late Mrs. Warner! I don’t have any of your mail—Spencer!” she says it in a little yelp as she pulls the door completely open. And she's standing in front of him in nothing but an oversized button up shirt, her hair’s all messy around her head and there’s a little pencil tucked behind her ear.

He’s not really sure what’s going on but he’s sure that he likes it.

“Just me” he pulls his lips into a small smile and gives a tiny little wave with his free hand, shaking the bottle of wine in his other. “I hope I’m not intruding, we just got in earlier than I thought we would and I figured you’d still be up”

As he’s explaining she’s shutting the door slightly again, hiding her body behind it just a little. And even if he wasn’t a profiler he’d know she was uncomfortable, so he starts to shake his head.

“You know what, don’t worry about it! I can come back another time— or I can— I can give you some space if you need it? This was a stupid idea anyway, I should go— I’m gonna go!” he knows he sounds stupid, he’s a rambling mess but before he can properly retreat she’s swinging the door open fully again, reaching out for him and just grabbing him by the strap of his satchel.

“No Spencer wait! I’m happy to see you, I really am” she pulls him to the doorway, letting him step inside. “It’s just— messy? And you haven’t seen my apartment like this before” she’s rushing it out once he gets inside, placing her hands on his shoulders to try and spin him around before he can catch a glimpse of the state of her living room.

“Just gimme a second to tidy—”

“Do you— are you an artist?” he’s not even listening to her anymore, he’s completely fixed on the pages and sketchbooks all scattered around her living room. The sofa is pulled back to create space for the huge canvas that’s spread out all over the floor. Paints and brushes all lined up next to it.

“No!” she shakes her head, “Well not really, I just, I draw sometimes, and paint I guess? But it’s just for me” she’s still got her hands on his shoulders, trying to turn him around in spite of the fact that he’s already seen everything she was trying to hide. Or had managed to keep hidden until now.

“You never told me?” he just looks confused now more than anything, but his eyes are still blown wide as he starts to walk towards the area of the room covered in her materials.

“It’s really nothing Spencer, I didn’t want to tell you, because then you’d want to see, and then I wouldn’t want to show you, or I would show you, and then you’d hate it, and you’d just tell me you liked it to be nice, and I can tell when you’re lying Spencer, and I couldn’t handle that. So yeah, I didn’t tell you. But I haven't told anyone.” she’s not looking at him when she speaks anymore, her hands are just wrapped tight around her body protectively. This felt like she was so entirely exposed.

She had only kept two secrets from him all these years. Her art. And her unending infatuation for him. How could she not let him in when he showed up at her front door so excited, and looking so cute in his little sweater with his messy curls.

“Hey” he reaches out, placing a gentle hand on her forearm, coaxing her to unwrap them. So they fall to her sides and she feels even more exposed now. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. If you want me to stand out in the hall while you hide all of this stuff, and then we pretend none of this happened, I’ll get comfy out there right now. But I just need you to know that I love you very much, and I’d support anything you ever choose to do. And I know what I want shouldn't factor in, but for what it’s worth, I would like to see some of your work— It doesn't have to be now! But just, if you ever wanted to show me anything, I’d love to see it.”

She can feel how earnest the words are, and she knew he loved her, but it was always so nice to hear it out loud, coming from those gorgeous pink lips. She wants to speak but the words feel like they’re almost caught in her throat when she looks up at him, she has to force them out.

“I’ll show you” she breathes, “I want to show you”

His eyebrows shoot up as she speaks, “I didn't mean— you don’t have to!” he rushes out as she goes to fetch one of her sketchbooks from the ground, handing it to him.

“I want to, honestly. If someones going to see this stuff, I want it to be you” once the sketchbook’s in his grip and out of her hands completely she walks away from him, going to sit on the ground next to the canvas. Right where she’d been sitting when he knocked on the door earlier.

Neither of them say a word while he goes through it page by page. It doesn't occur to her that she’s not sure which one she handed him until she can hear footsteps approaching her from behind.

When he sits down beside her he’s got the sketchbook open to a double spread and she recognizes it instantly.

“Are these drawings of me?” he asks, and it’s almost a whisper, like he doesn’t want to scare her. But she nods.

“Um, yeah. There’s actually a bunch of you in these sketchbooks. Your bone structure is just— I don't know— it’s nice to look at” his lips curve up in a small smile at that.

“You think I’m nice to look at?” he teases and she rolls her eyes,

“From an artistic perspective, you're interesting” she tries to walk it back.

“So now I’m just interesting?” he asks, a little smug now that he can tell she’s nervous.

“That’s not what I said!” he starts to chuckle then, closing the notebook and placing it down on the ground behind him.

“Relax, I’m messing with you, and for what it’s worth I think you’re nice to look at too. From any perspective” those few words make her forget where she is completely, they make her feel an entirely different kind of worry than the one she’d been experiencing earlier.

“And I love your work. You said you could tell when I was lying, am I lying?” he’s looking straight into her eyes as he speaks, and she can feel the way her heart is palpitating.

“No, you’re, uh, you're telling the truth” she shakes her head, but his eyes stay focused on her.

“What’s going on this canvas then?” he asks with a smile, and she breaks the eye contact so she can grab another one of her notebooks to show him some of the thumbnails she’d drawn for it.

“This is the idea, I think I need to practice it on something smaller though, just to get a feel for it” she explains as she points to the different shapes on the page, but then Spencer gets an idea.

“Use me” he says, and she just looks at him perplexed, “You said I was interesting, use me as your canvas?” he pulls off his cardigan as he speaks, rolling up his shirt sleeves to expose his bare arms.

“Spencer, I meant like, a smaller sheet or something, not your arm!” she’s laughing it off, mostly because being in close contact like that with him would probably break her.

“Well use my back then” he says it like it’s obvious, taking off his tie, then unbuttoning his shirt from the top, getting to the third button before she reaches out to stop him.

“You don’t have to do that” she says it with a laugh, like her heart’s not beating out of her chest from the little glimpse of bare skin she can see through the open part of his shirt.

He looks straight into her eyes as he speaks, “I want to.” the words settle in the air between them and they come to a silent agreement. Her hands falling from his so that he can undo the rest of his buttons, shrugging out of his shirt so that she can see his bare torso.

He sits like that for a second, awaiting instructions.

“Um, you should lie down on your front” she says, gesturing to the canvas laid out on the ground, “Wait!” she calls out as he moves to lie down, “You should probably take off your trousers? I don’t wanna get paint on them or anything”

It’s the truth really, but it still feels silly to say out loud. Luckily he just laughs a little and takes them off, but the little clinking sound his belt makes does something to her breathing.

By the time he’s laying face down on the canvas, his head resting on his folded arms, she’s got her materials all lined up next to her. She kneels down beside him, but as she's about to start it occurs to her that this is the complete wrong angle to start the piece. And she knows where she needs to sit, but she’s got no idea how to ask.

“Spencer— I can’t really— this angle is a bit, um…” she stutters

“Maybe you should sit on me?” he asks, uncharacteristically calm, maybe it was the way her voice kept going up an octave, or how fast her heart had been beating almost this entire time, but something made him realize that he wasn’t the nervous one here for maybe the first time since he’d known her.

“You would— You don't mind?” she asks before even moving, and he smiles to himself.

“How could I?”

With that she climbs in top of him, resting a leg either side of his hips. She’s painfully aware that the only thing separating them now is the thin layer of each of their underwear. But she pushes the thought aside as she gets to work.

Spencer’s quiet and well behaved for most of it, only remarking every now and again when the paint was cold against his skin, or when he had to move just a little. All in all she’s finished within an hour.

“Are you finished?” he asks, his eyes closed, relaxing beneath her as she worked. There was something almost therapeutic about the feeling of the brushstrokes against his skin. But he hadn’t felt one for 3 whole minutes now.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just admiring it” she says, “I’ll take a picture for you” she reaches for her phone, snapping a quick photo. Then she sits up off of him and he misses the weight of her on top of him instantly.

When he sits up she sits down opposite him, handing over the phone so that he can take a look at the painting that adorned his back. He almost couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. The delicate lines, the striking colors, the perfect hands that had painted it.

“This is— I don’t even have the words” he says it in a hushed whisper, “I love it so much” she knows he’s telling the truth again, his eyes don't even look up from the screen to see her reaction, they’re still completely transfixed on the photo. When he does look up he’s smiling.

“Am I telling the truth?” he asks and she nods, but something about her nervous little expression, coupled with her sky-rocketing heart rate gives him the confidence he’s needed for years.

“What if I told that I’ve liked you for a very long time? Would I be telling the truth about that?” his smile is gone, instead it’s replaced with half-lidded eyes and softly parted lips.

For a second she’s not even sure if this is really happening, her eyes trail along his bare torso, taking in the tiny bits of paint that made it down his sides. When her eyes come back up to look in his own, still trained on her she can’t even speak, instead she’s lunging at him, pulling him in by the back of the neck and crashing their lips together.

She parts hers after a moment, allowing Spencer to slip his tongue inside, tangling with her own as his hands fly out to grab her by the waist, pulling her into his lap. When they break apart their chests are heaving, breathing ragged, staring straight into each others eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long” he gasps before his lips are on hers again, hungry and eager.

Her hands start to roam all over his body, soothing over the planes of his skin, digging her fingernails in every now and again, forcing a little moan out of Spencer each time. When he finally grows too impatient his fingers start to work open the buttons on her oversized shirt.

After a minute he’s managed to get them all open and he can pull the shirt apart. As it slouches off of her shoulders he can see her underwear, it’s mismatched and there’s something endearing about it. The fact that neither of them anticipated this. But that was probably for the best, if he knew this is what he was going to do tonight his nerves would’ve gotten the better of him.

His hands are on her immediately, grabbing her breasts over the light cotton fabric, squeezing them gently as he presses his mouth against her neck, planting soft kisses all along it. She takes the time to shrug out of the shirt completely, and his hands snake behind her to unhook her bra and pull it off. Exposing her breasts completely for just a second before his mouth is on them. Cupping one in each hand and placing rough, sloppy kisses all over the soft skin as she moans above him.

“Spencer” she says it with a little gasp as his lips wrap around one of her nipples, just the sound of his name tumbling from her lips was enough to make him hard.

“I need you” she whimpers, and he's gone, bringing one of his hands down between her legs, ghosting over the crotch of her panties to feel the damp patch that had formed there.

“You’re so wet for me” he breathes against her ear, pushing one of his fingers harshly against the fabric, right against her clit, forcing another moan from deep in her chest.

“Fuck, I’ve been wet since I climbed on top of you” she moans, “I was worried you were gonna be able to feel it” she says with a breathy laugh.

“If I’d have been able to feel this,” he says, rubbing small circles over her panties, “then you wouldn’t have gotten to finish that painting”

Once he takes his fingers away she pushes him down by his shoulders, finally straddling the other side of his hips like she’d been thinking about doing for the past hour, or past several years. But he lets out a small yelp of protest.

“The painting!” he says as his back collides with the canvas but she chuckles.

“Fuck the painting” she leans in planting feverish kisses all along the expanse of his neck, sucking and biting in spots so that they’d hopefully leave little bruises later on.

From there they both give up on trying to preserve any of the art on Spencer’s back. Within a matter of minutes it was smeared all along the canvas beneath them. Along with some of the paint one, or both of them, had managed to knock over.

He’s not sure exactly how it happened but at one point he grips her waist and leaves a blue hand print along her skin from the paint he’d managed to put his palm in. When she catches sight of it she just lets out a small laugh.

“I don’t care” she says, when he’s looking up at her with just the smallest hint of worry, “As long as it doesn't get inside me we’re alright”

Before they get too messy she sits up off of him for a minute, taking off her panties and using them to wipe off the little bit of paint that had somehow ended up next to Spencer’s bottom lip. He lets out a small gasp as she traces the fabric along his skin and mutters a tiny, “Good as new” in her sultry sweet voice.

And then her lips are on his again as one of her hands snakes down in-between them to pull at the waistband of his boxers, she gets them down far enough to pull his cock out so that it was right in front of her. He was already achingly hard but something about the size of if in her nimble fingers made him twitch in her grip, leaking from the head with the anticipation.

“God, the things I want to do to you” she gasps as she pumps him up and down in long last strokes, squeezing every now and again as he squirmed underneath her, “But right now I need you inside me Spencer”

With that she rises up on her knees, hovering over him and lining his cock up right between her legs. She takes a second to tease him, running the head through her folds, so that he could feel and hear just how wet she was for him. Once he looks like he can’t take even one more second of the teasing she lowers her hips slowly, sinking down onto his length bit by bit. Right until her hips were flush with his own and he was buried completely inside of her.

They both had to take a minute to savor the feeling. The way she was so wet and warm around him, so tight that he could feel the way she clenched around him.

The way he stretched her out so perfectly, filling her up in a way that made her think they might actually be made for each other.

And then she starts to move, pumping her hips up and down, leaning forward slightly so that she can rest her hands on his flushed chest for support. She starts off slow, almost at a teasing pace, taking him in as deep as she could each time.

“You feel even better than I imagined” he mutters, his hands coming up to grab her hips, leaving another set of handprints in their wake. “So perfect”

She leans down a little further so that she can place a small kiss on his lips.

“God, you do to! Didn’t know it could feel this good” she moans without really thinking about it, and then she realizes it’s the truth. Something about the anticipation made all of this feel so much better than it ever had with anyone else.

With his hands guiding her now, gripping her harshly, she starts to move faster. Working up and down with more force, both of them panting and moaning desperately as they grew closer and closer.

He’d dreamt about it, imagined it, thought about it, more times than he’d care to admit. But seeing her now, on top of him with her lips softly parted, little whines falling out of her as she hit her climax, he realized his mind could never do this justice.

“Fuck! Ah— Spencer, I’m gonna—” her hips slow to almost a stop, working up and down still but with staggered movements as she rides out her high. Thankfully Spencer’s only a second behind her and she can feel the way he's spilling inside of her, filling her up completely. Then she collapses flat onto his chest, both of them are covered in a sheen of sweat that almost makes their bare skin stick together.

“You’re covered in paint you know” is the first thing Spencer says, his fingers tracing along her back.

“You’re one to talk” she jokes, dragging her finger through the streak of red paint that had gotten on his neck somehow.

Then he finally turns his head, looking at the spilled and smeared paint that lay around them on the once bare canvas.

“I thought you needed this canvas for that painting?” he asks, but she just looks up at him with a smile.

“I think this turned out better”

– –

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mediabrainrot · 3 years

Text

Lean On Me (TSDK Ch. 3)

Pairing: Spencer x reader

Season: 2

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Spencer and the reader find out they live in the same building and figure it would just make sense to spend a little extra time with each other because of it. You know. As buds.

Warnings: vaguely sexual hints, honestly mostly just fluff

A/N: it takes me literally SO long to do these and i keep wanting to be like “ill do a more consistent schedule like maybe i have to post once a week! and then i remember i work 12 hrs a day 5 days a week <3. anyways this is the first actually flirty romantic chapter and i’m gonna be annoying and stretch this story out through the entirety of the series & rewrite some eps w u in them so if that’s the kinda thing u like lmk if u wanna be tagged !

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2

Your feet drag across the floor as you begrudgingly make your way to your front door, checking that you have everything with you. You step out into the hallway, making sure the lock clicks into place and jimmying the handle just to be safe, before making your way to the elevator, half-lidded and groggy.

You pull out your phone, checking your messages. One unread, from Reid to the work chat.

On my way.

Capitalized and with a period. You chuckle, he always texts so formally. With one hand clicking at the buttons of your phone, the other presses the elevator down button. You respond as it dings.

me 2

The elevator bell chimes, mechanical doors sliding open, and you hear a familiar text tone ring.

You look up with a furrowed brow, eyes growing wide.

“Spencer?” you gape, trying to process what's in front of you. The tall man looks up from softly smiling down at his phone, and he mirrors your expression when he sees you.

“Y/N?” He feels his heart rate jump, his phone suddenly feeling very heavy and slippery in his hands.

“What are you-?” You began, and he cut you off.

“I live here.” he stutters, and you laugh.

“No way. I live here,” you exclaim. “We live in the same building and didn’t even know?”

The elevator doors begin to slide shut since you’ve just been standing there staring at each other, so Spencer darts his hand out quickly, stopping them from shutting.

“I guess we have.” he laughs. “Why haven’t I seen you yet?” he asks, and you step inside, leaning against the handrail. “I usually don’t leave this early, I’ve still been settling in, but I finally wanted to try and find a good coffee shop,” you explain, and he nods, the elevator slowly lowering you down.

“I always leave this time. We usually leave work at different times too- that’s why we never caught each other.” He says, and the elevator stops again, doors sliding open and letting in a small old woman and her even smaller dog.

“That makes sense- wait, why the fuck-” the woman glances over her shoulder at you, frowning. You lower your voice, and Spencer snickers. “-why do you come to work so early?” you question, and you finally drop to the ground floor, waiting a moment as the old woman steps out.

“I’m a morning person. I like to try and keep my circadian rhythms in check to keep my cognitive abilities at their best.” He says, and you gag jokingly as you both make your way through the lobby and out into the cold morning air.

“Ugh. I hate mornings. I’ll just stick with my shitty cognitive abilities I guess.” you say, and he smiles. You’ve stopped on the sidewalk in front of your building, facing one another.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you at work then,” he says, turning towards the direction of the nearest metro station.

“Wait, uh-” your hand dashes out to his forearm, stopping him. It feels suddenly very warm against his soft overcoat. You pull it away just as quickly, as if you’d burned yourself, once you have his attention. “why don’t you come with me? I’m uh, new here, obviously. You know, show me the good coffee spots.” your voice is timid as you ask. He reaches up and scratches the back of his neck nervously, averting his eyes.

“I uh, don’t actually really go out for coffee very much. I usually just make it at home.” He says and you frown, gasping ever so slightly.

“You’ve lived here for how long? And you don’t have a favorite coffee shop? Alright, that’s enough, we’re both gonna search for the best coffee shop. You need to learn to treat yourself, Doctor.” you push away your nerves as you speak, reaching around that soft wool coat and pulling him towards the nearest cafè.

The heels of your boots click softly as you make your way towards the metro, taking another sip of your coffee.

“So, first impressions, what’s the ranking?” you ask, and Spencer doesn’t answer, because his lips have barely left his drink since it was cool enough for him to sip. It was some sort of caramel-mocha-vanilla-latte sugar overload. He pulls his lips away from the edge of the cup, swallowing quickly.

“Good. Really good. I didn’t know coffee could taste like this.” he says, and you laugh at the whip cream mustache adorning his top lip.

“Here,” you say, pulling a napkin from your bag. You don't even really think about what you're doing, you just reach up and swipe across his top lip, tossing it into a convenient trash can to your left as you walk.

Spencer feels his cheeks warm, overly aware of the paper-thin barrier between his lip and your finger. He couldn’t quite think straight, trying not to trip over his own feet as you approached the metro entrance.

“Spencer? Did you hear me?” you call, and he realizes that you’ve been speaking to him this whole time.

“Huh?” he asks, his lip still tingling.

“I asked if I could taste it- but germs. I forgot, sorry,” you regret, and he realizes you took his silence as his refusal.

“No, no, you can, it’s fine,” he says, surprising himself.

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” you reassure, and he finds himself unexpectedly sure of his answer.

“Seriously,” he swears, holding the still-warm cup out to you. You take it gratefully, leaning on the rails slightly as you walk down the cement stairs and towards the subway system.

“Mmmm…” you hum, a soft smile gracing your cheeks as you hand the coffee back to him. “Like drinking dessert.”

“I know. It’s great.” he grins, swiping his card through the turnstile and pushing through, following close behind.

“Can I try yours then?” He asks, and you walk up towards the terminal, leaning on a large cement column, waiting for your train.

You hold your drink out to him, watching as he wraps his lips around the straw, taking a sip.

“That’s good too. What did you order again?” he asks, trying to ignore the fact that his lips were touching something yours had.

“A mocha, it’s basically just fancy chocolate milk,” you say, and he nods, your train pulling up.

It’s packed, the station is already busy from the morning rush hour. You stay close to Spencer, pushing your way into the cabin. There are no seats left, and barely any standing room, so Spencer squeezes his small frame towards the edge, reaching up and grabbing onto the railing. You cram in next to him, trying to steady your breathing as your fronts press up together. You place your hand on the rail just beside his, and somehow your thumbs brushing against one another makes you shiver more than the fact that you’re entirely crushed against him.

You can feel his heartbeat- fast and uneven, and you think about how he doesn’t like touching, or germs, and that he can’t be enjoying this very much, which is surely why.

The doors slide shut after what feels like forever, and Spencer can’t bring himself to look at you, this is the closest he’s been to anyone in a while.

The ride is quiet now, neither of you finding anything to say. You sway and steady yourselves as the train twists and turns.

It zips around a particularly sharp corner before coming to an unusually abrupt stop. Everyone gasps slightly, the whole cabin shifting at the sudden stop in momentum.

Spencer drops his hand to steady you, clutching onto your arms. He feels you leaning into him, your body weight pressing into his, heavy and warm as he steps his foot back to balance both of you. His heart is pounding, and he’s eyeballing the man in the seat below them who isn’t paying attention, incapable of looking you in the eye, because you're close enough to him that he can feel your breath on his neck.

You’re so soft against him, almost impossibly so, and he tries not to be disappointed when you find your footing again.

Suddenly the distance he had previously thought of as miniscule now feels enormous.

“Okay, okay, I didn’t want to be nosy, but also I do and I am and it’s my job. Did you come in with Spencer this morning?” Penelope asks, and you choke on your sandwich. Emily raises her eyebrows, grinning as she chews.

Other than Spencer, you clicked with Emily and Penelope the quickest. Being the only women in the field, you and Em often bunked together whenever sharing rooms was a necessity, and you bonded about the trials of trying to move up in the FBI around so many men.

Penelope followed soon after, always eager to hear her voice over the phone on a case or be wrapped up in one of her warm hugs when you returned, sharing cute animal photos to decompress from a particularly nasty case.

“I- we- we live in the same building.” you choked out, ears turning red. You glance over at him, still sitting at his desk. He often skipped lunch, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by you.

“You do?” Emily questions with a hand over her still full mouth.

“Yeah. I ran into him in the elevator this morning. I had no idea.”

They both nodded.

“We just figured we might as well commute together… and get coffee.” you cautiously added on, knowing they’d make a bigger deal of it than it was.

“Ooh… We’ll be spending a lot of time with Dr. Reid from here on then?” Garcia nudges, and you roll your eyes.

“Shut up.” you sigh, and she giggles.

You reach for a slice of apple from your lunch, and Emily gasps, reaching her hand out to stop you.

“You can’t eat that!” she exclaims, and you drop it onto your plate, frowning.

“What? What’s wrong with it?” you pick it back up, looking it over. Emily bites her lips, trying to contain her laugh.

“You’ll keep the Doctor away,” she says faux earnestly, and you groan, throwing the piece of fruit at her, she catches it effortlessly, laughing.

“I hate you both.”

You frown as the elevator chimes. Spencer hasn’t noticed, he’s so enthralled in his infodump about the difference between fungus and mushrooms that he hasn’t even noticed. You can’t even remember how you started talking about this, but you weren’t going to complain.

You nudge his arm, snapping him out of his concentrated rant, nodding to the opening doors.

“Your floor,” you say, voice soft and tired, if not a little disappointed to hear his excited ramblings halt.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Right. Sorry.” He stutters, and you smile, shaking your head.

“Don’t be. I like listening to you talk,” you say, and he’s acutely aware of his cheeks flushing, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a smile.

“I’ll uh, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” He steps out past the threshold of the elevator, into the hallway, and you mumble a disheartened goodbye.

The elevator doors begin to slide shut, and almost imperceptibly, you hear a grumble.

Your hand shoots out, stopping the doors from closing.

“Spencer?” You call, and he whips around, eager.

“Yeah?” he asks, raising his brows.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, and he almost laughs.

“I guess, yeah. Why do you ask?”

“I was just… I noticed you didn’t eat lunch, again. And I was gonna make dinner at my place… if you-” he cuts you off, bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously.

“Oh, I- I couldn’t impose. You already bought me coffee this morning, I don’t-”

“Don’t be silly. I never learned how to cook for one anyways. You’d be doing me a favor.” You say, and your hand is still extended, holding the doors ajar, leaning forward ever so slightly.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a timid hope in his voice.

“Completely. I like cooking for others way more than just for myself anyways.” You assure, and he smiles, gripping the strap of his bag and stepping back into the elevator, the doors finally shut with both of you still inside.

“Why do you skip lunch so often anyways…?” you ask, knowing it isn’t always polite to question someone's eating habits.

“I just never think to pack one, and I get so into work that I forget to do anything else.” He says, and you laugh, stepping out as you reach your floor, just one up from his.

“Aren’t you the same guy who told me you like to wake up early to keep your circadian rhythms balanced?” you jab, and he chuckles, shrugging.

“I’m multifaceted,” he says, and you giggle. He always has something quick to say, if you stop and listen for long enough.

“Well, I can help with that I think,” you say, reaching into your bag to grab your keys as you come up to your door. He opens his mouth to ask you what you mean, but he lets out a breathy laugh instead.

“You’re kidding,” he says, and you look over your shoulder and frown.

“What?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“You live directly above me.” He explains, and you push the door open with a laugh.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’ve been dragging furniture all over my place for the last month,” you say, and he watches as you toss your bag onto the couch, reaching down and pulling your heels off.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he quips, though he’s only teasing. He’d been frustrated by the sporadic thudding and scraping coming from above while he tried to read during what little free time he had. But now, picturing you pushing your couch back and forth, rearranging your furniture trying to get the perfect layout, he didn’t feel as annoyed anymore. Not knowing it was you he’d been hearing.

“I’m so sorry, I’m horribly indecisive, it’s a problem.”

You shrug your coat off and hang it on the hook, and he can see genuine remorse in your face. He wants to laugh- this is the same woman he’s seen more than once tackle an unsub without a thought, and here you were, genuinely sorry for interrupting a dork like him while reading.

“Don’t worry about it, really,” he smiles reassuringly, and he sees your shoulders drop a little.

“Do you mind if I change out of my work clothes real quick? I gotta get out of these tights.” you ask, and he nods, sputtering out a weak ‘sure’. He’s trying not to let his eyes drift down your legs at the mention of them, long and full, and he can only imagine soft- though he shouldn’t- imagine what your legs feel like.

“Make yourself at home.” you smile, and you walk over to what he can only assume is your room, shutting the door behind you.

And then he’s alone, in your apartment, and he lets his eyes really scan the place.

It’s identical to his- kitchen, office, living room and bedroom all laid out in the same spots. He wants to peek into the office and see what it looks like, but he refrains. He ducks his head under the strap of his messenger bag, hanging it up on an empty hook next to your coat.

He steps towards the living room, warm and inviting, and it’s skillfully cluttered and decorated for how little time you’ve been here, it looks incredibly lived in. Warm yellows and burgundies and old vintage-looking furniture appears cozy and enticing, beckoning him to lay his head to rest and take a long nap.

He sits down stiffly as if he’s worried he might do something wrong, whatever that could even mean, and nearly jumps when he feels something brush against his leg.

He looks down to see a fluffy black cat staring back up at him with a single, golden eye.

“Oh. Hi.” he addresses, somewhat formally for an animal. It lets out a raspy meow in return, before lifting its paws up to his knees, jumping into his lap.

“Oh- okay. What’s your name?” he says, and it meows again, pushing its head against his hand, which he takes as an invitation to pet it. Up close now, he can see that its left eye is missing, the socket is grown over with fur, healed into a permanent wink.

“That’s nice. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid,” he says smiling. Animals weren’t usually this friendly with him- though he wasn’t sure the last time he even had the chance to pet one.

He hears your door click open, and he turns to see you. He tries to keep his eyes trained on your face, but he’s finding it difficult. You’re wearing satin pajama shorts that show much more of your legs than he’s ever seen at work, and the tiny sliver of your stomach he can see between their waistband and the hem of your cropped t-shirt is enough to make him swallow thickly.

It’s not even that it’s revealing- though that certainly isn’t helping- but the domesticity of it, of the things he’s seeing of you no one else on the team has. Your home, your cat, what you wear when you’re comfortable in your house, making dinner after a long day of work. He feels oddly happy that he’s the only one of them who’s seen it.

“Huh. He’s not usually friendly with very many people other than me.” You say, walking over and reaching out to scratch behind the cat’s ear.

“Oh yeah?” Spencer asks, shaken from his thoughts.

“Yeah. He’s a little asshole to everyone but me most of the time. I guess you’re just special.” you smile, and he knows you’re joking, but he can’t help but beam at the compliment.

“C’mere,” you say, speaking both to the cat and Spencer as you pick him up off of his lap, cradling him like a child, his exceptionally soft fur puffing out between your fingers. “I’ll give him his dinner and then get started on ours,” you say, and Spencer follows you over to your kitchen, where you set the cat down as he takes a seat on the other side of your island.

“What’s his name? I asked, but Cat is one of the few languages I didn’t take in college.” He asks, eyes darting away as you bend over to grab a can of cat food.

“Salem. I told you. I really love fall.” you say, and he grins, watching as Salem eagerly devours his food. Spencer is reminded of just how hungry he is.

“So, it’s boring, but I hope you like pasta,” you say, opening the fridge and scanning the interior before reaching in, pulling out two packages of ground meat and a carton of heavy cream.

“Pasta sounds delicious,” he says, picturing himself filling up on spaghetti and bread. He feels as though he could eat a whole pot.

He watches as you dart around your well-stocked kitchen, pulling out ingredients and spices.

“Can I help at all?” he says, feeling bad just sitting there and watching you, though he’s far from the best cook.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’ve got this,” you reassure, but he shakes his head.

“Seriously, I want to. What can I do?” he insists, and you resign.

“Here, just chop these in half,” you hand him a cutting board, and a large kitchen knife, along with a bowl of freshly rinsed brussel sprouts.

That, he can do.

He watches as you pull your hair down from the tight bun you had it in. He’s seen you with your hair down before, sure, but not like this. You run your fingers through it to detangle it, shaking it out and relaxing your scalp. It falls down in larger, messier waves, puffing up from being tied into a ball all day. He's transfixed by the simplest of acts.

And then you take a scrunchie off your wrist, pulling it back up and letting it fall loosely into a much messier, more comfortable-looking bun, flyaways framing your soft features that he’s more familiar with than he’d like to admit.

“So you’ve been with the BAU for… two, three years now?” you ask, and he nods, watching as you click the speaker on your shelf, soft but upbeat instrumentals playing quietly through the kitchen.

“Two years, seven months, and 23 days.” He says nonchalantly, and you smile.

“How do you store all that information up there? Does it ever, like... make your head hurt?” you ask, and he stops cutting for just a moment, thinking. No ones ever asked him anything like that before, they’ve always either made fun of him or been completely incredulous. Nobody had ever asked him how it… felt.

So he has to think about it for a second, even though he knows the answer.

“Well, our conscious minds can process sixteen bits of information per second. Our unconscious, however, can process eleven million. So I suppose it’s just unconscious. Second nature. I don’t really think about it.” he says, and you chuckle, emptying both the ground pork and beef into a large mixing bowl.

“So to think faster, you just don’t think,” you say, and he snickers too.

“It sounds odd when you put it like that, but, yes.” he smiles a familiar smile that you’ve come to know, tight-lipped with his mouth in almost a straight line, lips curled inward ever so slightly. It’s goofy when you really look at it, but it always makes you smile back.

The night goes on like that, soft and comfortable. Spencer slowly relaxes into his chair, less stiff with each passing moment. Not long after Salem had finished his dinner, he made a grand leap back up and onto Spencer's lap, who pet him fondly for the rest of the time you spend preparing the meal. You break apart one of the meatballs you had cooked, handing it to Spencer and letting him feed it to Salem in little chunks.

The whole house was warm from the oven, the stove, and something else neither of you could quite place. At some point Spencer shed his cardigan and loosened his tie, rolling up his sleeves. Everything smells delicious- like basil and oregano and tomatoes.

You’re giving the pasta one last toss when you say “alright, it’s all done! Soups on,” you smile, and he grins in return, picking up a mismatched plate you’d pulled from the cabinet for him. You each make a plate, pushing Salem off the counter as he tries to go for a meatball sitting atop the spaghetti. Spencer pulls open a drawer that he saw you take utensils out from earlier and grabs you each a set.

You move in familiar silence, the same way you did when you had started working together, falling into a habitual rhythm that you didn't know you had.

As you sat down at the table to eat, it felt like you had been there your whole lives- in that kitchen, in your apartment, next to each other.

Spencer took his first bite, and he closed his eyes, humming happily at the taste.

“Oh my god,” you chuckled, watching as he scarfed down another bite eagerly before he had even finished the first. “Do you two need a room?” you tease, and he opens his eyes, embarrassed.

“It’s uh-” he finishes chewing, swallowing. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve had a home-cooked meal,” he explains, and you giggle a little.

“It’s really not that special,” you say. It really wasn’t- this was your lazy dinner, that you made when you couldn’t be bothered to be more creative. Something you threw together without even really thinking about it because you’d done it so many times.

“Well, it’s really good,” he says, eagerly taking another bite as soon as he finishes speaking. If this wasn’t special to you, he wanted to know what your special food must taste like.

He wonders if he could recreate it at home- he remembered exactly what you had done. Tomato puree, heavy cream, basil, oregano, thyme, salt, pepper, garlic, a little splash of pasta water. You didn’t measure any of it, and yet it came out perfect.

Despite his flawless recounting of what you’d done, he had a feeling he couldn’t do it himself. That there was something special about the fact that you had cooked it, something he couldn’t recreate on his own.

You watched as he ate, and you could see that he was trying his best not to be too eager, but that he was starving. You loved to cook for others, to chop and mix and boil something that could nourish and make them full and happy.

You’d been noticing his skipping lunches for a while now, and each time you’d wanted to break off half of your orange and slide it over to him, to pry him from his files and make him take care of himself, but your nerves always got the better of you, and you had to remind yourself that you didn't know each other very well, even if you felt differently.

Finally, after three full plates had been cleared on Spencer’s side of the table, and the dishes had been cleaned (by Spencer, who had insisted and wouldn’t take no for an answer), he was gathering his things, making his way to the door to head back down to his apartment.

“Thanks for helping me actually finish a dinner for once,” you say, and he laughs.

“No way, thank you. Seriously, it was delicious. I didn't notice how hungry I was.” he says, and his cheeks are tinted a little as he speaks, embarrassed. As if feeding him wasn’t the best thing you’d done all week. You open the door for him, letting him step out.

“I noticed,” you say, and you both stop for a moment. there’s something about you seeing him in a way he hadn’t even noticed in himself that makes you both feel warm.

“Well, uh, come back any time, really,” you say, breaking the silence. He’s stuck in the threshold of your apartment, finding it hard to step into the cold unfamiliar hallway and away from you.

“Hey uh, do you maybe wanna get coffee again tomorrow? On the way to work? I feel like I should return at least a little bit of the favors you did today. My treat.” he says apprehensively, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. You try your best to suppress your smile from splitting your cheeks.

“I’d love that,”

That night, Spencer lays in his bed, on his back, failing to fall asleep. He stares up at the ceiling, listening intently to every creak and groan of his old apartment building. It’s a noise he usually tunes out, but tonight he knows that the thuds and squeaks from the old wood above him are coming from you, and it’s all he can think about. That you’re so close, lingering in his house with the sound of each footstep even when you’re not there, the same way you linger in his mind when you’re not around either.

Little does he know, you're doing the same, a few yards above him, thinking tirelessly of the boy genius sleeping just one floor below.

@measure-in-pain @ilovespencerreidmarryme

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid imagin #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #criminal minds fic #things spencer doesnt know #tsdk ch. 3 #ch. 3 #lean on me

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jeo9n · 3 years

Text

Majesty || JJK

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre : Angst,fluff,smut,King Jungkook

Warnings : angst, future smut, reader is like rlly shy:/, mean jungkook, virgin reader.

this is my first fanfic pls be nice to me🥺 also let me know if i made any mistakes.

Growing up poor was never easy. ever since my siblings and I were younger our mom tried everything to provide a good life for us. Her being a single mom of 3 children and having to work all the time was rough. Nonetheless our mom made sure we had a good childhood. As i grew older i started noticing how hard our mom worked for us. I wanted to start working too so our mom could get a little rest. So I started working at small bakery in our small village even tho I didn’t really liked it there.

My two older brother’s were already married and had a family of their own and had long since moved out. My mom wanted me to get married really bad. She kept on looking for a potential husband for me, but none of them would ever chose me to as their wife. And i was honestly happy about that. The idea of marrying some stranger and leaving my mom behind wasn’t something that I wanted to do. But I knew I had to get married eventually.

There were some news going around that a new mysterious King was looking for a wife. flyers have been passed around for a "potential wife competition“ here and there, who would even attend such a thing? anyway, that’s all that was being talked about in the village young girls being excited for potentially marrying a King and becoming his wife. I honestly felt bad for them. Why would a King even marry a poor girl when he could marry a girl that came from a more wealthier family?

A few days have passed and the day for the competition was becoming nearer and nearer. As i was walking home from the small Bakery that I work at with some baked goods for my mom and I, I could see every mom going crazy for the upcoming day, every mom made sure that their daughter looked the absolute best. In hopes that the King takes interest in one of these girls. As i reached home my mom greeted me with a hug. „how was work?“ she asked „good i brought something to eat“ i said as i handed her the basket i was holding with a smile on my face. She took them and put them on a plate for us to eat. „so have you heard the news?“ she asked „what do you mean? What news?“ I asked her with a confused look on my face „you know what news“ she said while sipping on her tea. „The King is looking for a wife.... and I was wondering since you’re still not married and probably won’t be for a while why don’t you.... participate in the competition?“ she looked at me with a hopeful look on her face „Mom no. I don’t want to participate in such a thing.“ i said while munching on my croissant. „You know Y/n I don’t think it would be a such bad thing, both of your brothers are already married and have a family of their own, don’t you want the same thing?“ she asked. Well, i do want a family... but i want to find my Partner naturally not at a competition with thousands of other girls.

„I don’t even know what he looks like mom for all we know, he could be some old disgusting looking guy that has a fetish for younger girls“ I said with a look of disgust on my face. „Well, yeah, your right“ she said. „But he could also be some good looking guy but if you don’t participate, we’ll never know...“ she said while finishing her cup of tea. Okay maybe she’s right and it won’t be such a bad thing... participating won’t hurt right? Because my mom was right it’s time for me to get married. „ I‘ll think about it okay? Im gonna go head to bed now tho i’m really tired. goodnight mom.“ I said while giving her a kiss on her cheek. „thank you sweetheart.“ I heard her saying as i was walking to my room.

The day of the competition came sooner than i thought it would. My mom kept on bugging me to say yes so I eventually agreed to attending the competition. Ever since then my mom made sure i looked my absolute best. She bought me a long white nice looking dress, made sure that my hair always looked shiny and healthy. And i honestly felt so pretty my dress hugged my figure so nicely and my hair looked so beautiful all thanks to my mom. „You look so beautiful y/n i’ll miss you so much“ she said with tears in her eyes, as if i won’t come back home with her later tonight. „Relax mom it’s not like i’m getting married or something.“ I said while giggling. „Well you might“ she said with a big smile on her face. „I won’t.“ I said while rolling my eyes but she just looked at me with that smile still on her face. „Come on we don’t wanna be late“ she said while grabbing my hand, and leading me to where the competition was gonna be held.

Almost an hour later my mom and I arrived at this huge building. It was one of the biggest building i have ever seen. There were so many pretty flowers surrounding it, I was in awe at the sight that was in front of me. As i was looking around i noticed all the other girls and started feeling a little self conscious... they all looked so pretty with their colorful dresses while I was here wearing a boring white dress. How would I even stand out among all these girls? I doubt the King would even look at me.

An old Man with a smile on his face started approaching us „good evening ladies you all look beautiful i must say.“ He said with a big smile on his face. „ I know the weather is beautiful today but the King would rather have all you girls inside“ he said, while stretching his arm out pointing to the building. „let’s go ladies“ he started walking towards the entrance and we all followed him.

The room itself where the competition was being held wasn’t that big as I thought. But the old man told us it’s because, the King wanted to get a close look at us. So, he chose a smaller room so he could look at all of us more closely. ...I was so nervous my hands were trembling and i kept picking at my nails a habit of mine that i never got rid of. Even tho my mom told me stop many times. All the other girls seemed to be not as nervous as I was. They were all taking to each other, except for me I stayed by myself sat at a table. I didn’t feel like talking, I was way too shy to approach any of them anyway.

30 minutes later the King arrived. The doors to the room have opened, and the King and the older man from earlier started walking inside. There were gasps coming from all the girls, as soon as they saw his face. I was at the back so I wasnt able to see his face yet, but I once I did My eyes widened and my heart started beating faster. He was probably one of the prettiest man I have ever seen. He had a such flawless good looking face. Everything about him was perfect, he was tall, his eyes were pretty, his nose looked pretty, even his dark hair was pretty. It was slicked back with only on strand hanging in his face. Truly flawless. He was stood at the center of the room wearing a white suit with gold details on it. He looked around the room looking at every girl carefully. With the older man right beside him, his eyes wandered around the room and they found mine. I immediately looked away once we made eye contact, I couldn’t bear to look into his eyes. I felt myself blushing. Once I thought he looked away, I looked at him again but he was still looking at me. And I wondered why? Am I not pretty enough? Does he think I don’t belong in a place like this? The older man beside him started coughed and he eventually looked away.

The older man started introducing the King to us. „Ladies this is Jeon Jungkook King of Aramella“ he said. And we all bowed to greet him. „As u all know the King is here today, to find a Wife, that can fulfill his wishes and dreams and stay by his side till the rest of your lives. So, if u think you would be his perfect wife, than please step forward.“ the older man said.

And all the girls immediately stepped forward. Well, except for me. I didn’t have enough confidence in me to step forward.

The Kings eyes wandered around once again. He looked at every girl in front of him that stepped forward. But soon his eyes found mine again and he looked at me with furrowed brows.

„Why aren’t you stepping forward?“ he asked me with a cold tone to his voice. And suddenly everyone turned around to look at me.

stay tuned for part two. ☺️

#bts #jeon jungko #bts smut #bts fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #bts imagines #jungkook fluff #bangtan #armywriterssupport #jungkook imagine #bts x reader #bts imagination #jungkook #open invitation #kingdom au

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pcvensies · 3 years

Text

*.• Si vis amari.

0. prologue.

* dad!satoru x mom!nanamioc x son!megumi ( kinda adopted??? kinda just taken??? ) slowburn, angst!, long fic, found family trope, fluff, funny, idk pls keep reading :(

* word count: 1300.

* in which 18 year old gojo satoru is left in charge of 6 year old fushiguro megumi, with the help of 17 year old nanami suki (oc).

{ HEY SO UH this fic is very self indulgent but i hope it finds some found family bitches like me who needed it. because damn i did, so i wrote it. ik it’s not a reader fic IM SORRY OKAY, i know those are more liked but give suki a chance we truly are all suki. PLEASE DONT LET IT FLOP IT IS A PROJECT V DEAR TO ME. this is a small intro to see if u guys like it or nah. love u <3 }

next part

It was a terrible idea, really. Out of all the terrible ideas Gojo Satoru had had - and there had been plenty of them - this one was definitely the worst of them all. But we are meant to respect the dead’s wishes, right? And a favour asked by a now dead man, even if not much, meant something to him.

Also, he was dying to see the look on the Nanami twins’ faces, especially Kento’s.

The way to their apartment was silent, and awfully awkward, as any try he had made to keep a conversation with that hedgehog of a child had been ignored by the boy. Such a little asshole.

“Can you at least smile a little?”.

Silence.

“Maybe don’t, Nanamin doesn’t either. He may be more receptive to those of his kind…”.

Silence.

Satoru had no patience to deal with any of this anyway, and the small six year old by his side possessed an incredible ability to get on his nerves, even without saying a single word. Can he even speak? Geez, Fushiguro, he thought to himself, crossing his arms over his chest as the elevator started going up.

The small card which read “Nanami” wasn’t far from the elevator, and Gojo’s only thought was how annoying it must be to hear the engine going all day. But they had refused, and had been allowed somehow, to live in the school, so they had brought that upon themselves.

Kento was doing the dishes when the bell rang, and he sighed, shaking the soap from his hands.

His sister, Suki, was in the shower, and she had left him to clean everything from dinner, as always. Don’t get it wrong, she was as responsible as a seventeen year old living by herself in the city could be, but there was something about the dishes that just “grossed her out”.

“BELL RINGING!”, he heard her yell from the shower, and rolled his eyes.

Like he was deaf, or something. However, it made him suspicious that anyone would ring at their door after dinner time, and he gave it a moment of hesitation before walking to the entrance.

“Oh, Nanamiiiinnn, c’mon… I know you’re home. It’s not like you do anything with your life outside of the classes anyway, you can’t trick me!”.

Kento almost turned around in that exact moment, knowing damn well that nothing that had to do with Gojo at that time of the day could be good, but he was a well educated boy. So against his own wishes, he opened the door.

“It’s nine thirty, Gojo”, was his greeting, as he looked at the white haired boy in front of him.

Satoru waved his hand in front of him, like taking importance from it, and looked around the place, eyes searching for the other twin. In the worst scenario, Kento would try to call the police on him. But if Susu was around, she’d be able to talk him out of it.

“Gojo, I’m serious”.

“Are you ever not, dear Nanami?”, the man replied fast, followed with a sigh, “Isn’t Suki home? She could be of use right now, honestly”.

Satoru had to be very fast to get his foot between the door and the wall, or Kento would’ve locked him out for that comment.

The white haired boy apologised with a chuckle, and his eyes finally found the pink streak of hair, almost drowned by a sea of blonde, that covered Suki’s head.

She was tiny, he had realised, much shorter than himself and her twin, the big red sweatshirt she was wearing making her even smaller. Her honey-ish eyes found Gojo’s sight, and the boy sent her a grin.

“Sue, you have finally decided to bless us with your prese-“.

“What have you done this time, Gojo?”, was all he got from her, as she tied her hair and walked to the door, now standing next to her brother, “Need somewhere to hide from Yaga?”.

Kento sighed once again, ready for the bickering battle that was set to start between the two, but to his surprise, Satoru kept quiet about the remark.

He rubbed the back of his neck, almost hesitating to say whatever he wanted to say, and the Nanami’s frowned at his behaviour.

“Alright I think it’ll be easier if I show you”, he finally spoke, and took a long step to the left.

Behind him, a little boy stood. His black hair was a mess, almost covering his eyes, and he was wearing no more than a t-shirt to cover his upper body from the night’s cold.

He looked up at Kento, a serious expression on his face, and then at Suki. He didn’t say a word, and simply looked back down.

Gojo laughed nervously at the silence, watching Kento’s horrified expression contrasting with his twin sister’s curious one.

“It’ll all make sense if you let me-“.

Slam.

Before he could even finish, the door was closed in his face, and both him and the kid gasped at the yelling that came from behind.

“I’m going to call Yaga”.

“Ken stop! Don’t you think that if he could have brought him to Yaga, he wouldn’t have already?! You didn’t even let him explain himself!”.

“Because there’s no good explanation to Gojo Satoru appearing at our house, in the night, with a child! What explanation do you need?!”.

It was a little funny, honestly, to hear Kento lose his temper. Yelling and yelling about how even opening the door had been a bad idea. He should’ve seen it coming, one of Gojo’s terrible ideas.

A sneeze silenced the argument, and Gojo looked down at the kid, who cleaned his nose with the end of Satoru’s sweatshirt.

“Hey, don’t-“.

Again, he was interrupted by the door, this time as it opened, to reveal just the Nanami girl. She sighed deeply, and crouched down in front of the child, giving him a small smile.

“Are you cold, sweetheart?”, she asked softly, hands covered in the sleeves of her clothes, as she rubbed the boy’s naked arms.

The kid nodded hesitantly, looking up at the boy, and Satoru shrugged, walking in as Suki got up and signaled them to.

The girl closed the door behind them, and walked through the dark corridor, coming back a few minutes later with a small Hello Kitty jumper. It was made of white wool, with a small patch of the cat’s face in the middle of the chest.

The boy put it on without looking much at it, covering his cold arms and body with it, and Suki gave Gojo an annoyed look, like lecturing him with her eyes.

They had met a few years ago, when Satoru was a second year and they got accepted in the school. Kento and him were nothing alike, and quite a strange pair, but Suki was much more extroverted and easy going, always replying to Gojo’s remarks with even smarter ones.

They had all grown into each other, as much as the Nanami boy wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“It’s itchy”.

Suki stopped sending angry glares to Satoru to look down at the kid, who kept his sight on his shoes as he scratched his neck. The girl ruffled his hair, chuckling.

“I think what you meant to say there is ‘thank you, Nanami-san’. It’s the only one I have that is your size, kid”, she spoke, and her eyes opened wide as she heard the kid’s stomach growl, “Are you hungry?”.

The kid didn’t reply, he simply nodded his head slowly, and the girl looked up at Satoru again.

“Care to explain, Gojo?”.

n/a. leave some feedback guys i havent written in so long and i am: scared. I AM BEGGING U I NEED EXTERNAL APPROVAL.

— lulu.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji itadori x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #inumaki x reader #yuuta okkotsu #toji x reader #sivisamari.lulu #dad satoru #dad gojo #son megumi #toji fushiguro #gojo x reader #satoru x reader

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writingfeatherduster · 3 years

Note

Hmm a sansby prompt? If you want something slightly more angst filled, maybe have Grillby be the knight in shining armor after someone won’t take no for an answer from Sans? Or maybe just some cute fluff, like cuddling while watching a movie :3

As I like to say in these situations- why not both?

Keep You Safe

Word count: 2667 Summary: When someone won’t take no for an answer, Grillby steps in. Warnings: Sexual assault SERIOUSLY, MIND THE WARNINGS

Sans always hated it when there weren’t any available seats at the bar. It was great that Grillby’s was getting good business these days, but it also meant he’d have to wait a bit to talk to his favorite fire monster, and he couldn’t even watch him while he worked very well. The skeleton caught Grillby’s eye as he came in and gave him a little wave and a wink before making his way towards one of the booths closest to the bar. Grillby gave him a nod and got back to mixing the line of drinks he was working on. Sans couldn’t help but notice that Grillby looked nervous. The skeleton frowned a bit and kept a careful eye on him, praying that a stool at the bar would open up soon so he could help. He was watching the bartender so intently that he barely noticed when another monster came and sat next to him in the booth.

“Well hi there,” the monster said with a toothy grin. Like, really toothy. Because she was a shark monster. She was probably wearing more makeup than clothes, and the look she gave Sans was positively predatory. The skeleton could already see where this was going.

“Lemme stop you right there.” Sans scooted sideways in the booth, putting a bit more distance between himself and the stranger. God, this lady reeked of perfume. “I appreciate it, but I’m not really looking for any’body’ to hand out with right now, heh.”

Sans knew he was hilarious, but he still thought she laughed too hard at that. Instead of backing off, she inched closer to him. “C’mon, cutie, don’t be that way! Besides, you didn’t need to look. I found you first~!”

“Unfortunately,” Sans grumbled. He moved over again, finding his shoulder against the wall. “Really, lady, not interested tonight.”

“You know, you’re really hot, for a guy with no skin.” The shark monster moved in closer, turning towards Sans and putting one hand on the wall next to his head. “Don’t be so cold. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”

With the shark monster leaning over him, it occurred to Sans just how bad this was. He’d teleport out, but he couldn’t focus on a location with this monster’s damn perfume giving him a headache. He was well and truly trapped, hidden by unsuspecting crowds of monsters and a secluded booth. “Answer’s no,” he tried, “Back off.”

She laughed at him again, suddenly slipping a hand under Sans’s shirt. He slapped it away, but she just grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the table, moving in again to rub his ribcage. “You really are just bones and magic, aren’t you? There are so many places I could get inside you, hehe~. Come on skeleton, let me show you some real fun~.”

Sans froze as her hand started to wander downward. This couldn’t be happening. Fuck, no, fuck fuck fuck fuck-

WHOOSH! BANG!

The monster over Sans went still as the bar went silent, eyes wide. There was a dark char mark on the wall above the booth’s table. A few inches to the left, and it would have hit her square in the back. She withdrew her hand and looked behind her, eyes widening further as she paled.

Grillby was standing in front of the booth, and he looked pissed. His fire was burning higher and hotter than Sans had ever seen, the heat radiating off him as his entire body crackled. The glare he fixed the shark monster was murderous, and to make things more frightening, he’d summoned an arc of fireballs over his head, ready for a fight. “Get. Your hands. Off him,” he snarled darkly. His usually warm voice had taken on a dark, steely edge that Sans had never heard from him before. In that moment, the skeleton was fully convinced that Grillby was capable of killing.

The shark monster was quick to comply, scrambling away from Sans and stumbling over themselves as they hastily stood from the booth. “Right! I’ll- um- I’ll be g-going the- ah!”

Grillby grabbed her by her neck, dragging her forward. The shark monster cried out as her moist skin steamed, drying out and threatening to blister. The fire monster paid that no mind. “Oh? And where do you think you’re going?” he asked threateningly. “We’re not done here. I think you and I need to have a little c h a t.” He raised his hand, the fireballs moving in closer. The monster whimpered at their heat, struggling as the grip on her neck tightened.

Ding! You’re blue now!

The shark monster was suddenly pulled down, out of Grillby’s grasp. As soon as she was free, she made a break for the door, terrified. The bartender moved like he was going to pursue her, but a wall of blue bones appeared in front of him, making him stop. Grillby stepped back, glancing towards the booth.

Sans had his hand up, both pupils gone and shaken. “H-hey, Grillbz? Why don’t we just calm down a sec? I’m okay, see? Nothin’ happened, s’all good.”

The fire monster paused, looking back at the door. After a moment, his gaze dropped and the fireballs he summoned disappeared in wisps of smoke. His hands were shaking. He turned back to the booth and walked towards Sans.

“Did she hurt you?” Grillby mumbled, hesitating by the table. All at once, the calm, caring Grillby that Sans knew had come back, eyes full of fearful concern. “I’m so sorry, Sans, I-i didn’t see her come in. I should’ve been keeping a better eye out, I know this booth can be secluded and-”

Sans’s pupils slowly lit up again as he relaxed. “Nah, Grillbz, I’m fine,” he reassured. He let out a shaky sigh as he finally relaxed. “Not gonna lie, that was pretty intense. Never thought I’d ever get to see you so ‘fired’ u- whoa!”

Grillby suddenly pulled Sans out of his seat, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Sans’s hoodie. The monster was shaking all over. He was angry, but when he’d seen Sans cornered, he’d been so scared. The skeleton had insisted he wasn’t hurt, but Grillby found himself summoning small flames of green magic anyway, letting them dance over Sans as they checked for any injury.

Sans huffed fondly, the last of the tension leaving his bones as he returned the embrace. Grillby’s natural scent of smoke was much better than sickeningly sweet perfume. “I’m okay, Grillby, I promise. Maybe we should go somewhere quiet to chill for a sec?”

“Agreed,” Grillby mumbled into his jacket. He pulled back slightly, then suddenly picked Sans up.

Sans squeaked, then laughed. “I can walk, y’know.”

“I know,” was all Grillby said as he carried Sans back into the kitchen, bringing him to the small table in the back corner. Instead of setting him down, Grillby sat in one of the chairs and kept Sans in his lap, never releasing him from that warm, protective embrace. Safe and secluded, he let his guard down a bit, one hand coming up to cup Sans’s cheekbones. “I’m sorry. That- that was unlike me. I just…”

“Hey, I get it.” Sans brought his hand up to cover Grillby’s. “You don’t need to be apologizing. I should be thanking you. If you hadn’t come over she probably would’ve… she…” The full reality of what had nearly happened started to sink in and Sans started trembling. “She probably would’ve… fuck, what the fuck…” Tears started to fill Sans’s eyes as the last of the adrenaline drained from him. “Holy shit, I almost got raped. I almost got raped. What the fuck?”

Grillby pulled Sans close again, rubbing his back soothingly as the skeleton gripped his shirt. “I’ve got you, breathe,” he mumbled gently. There was the breakdown he’d been anticipating. “It’s okay if you need to cry, I’ve got you. We’re alone. You’re safe now.”

That was exactly what Sans needed to hear. He sobbed quietly into Grillby’s shirt, trembling as he tried to process what exactly just happened. What nearly happened. What could have happened, if Grillby hadn’t swooped in and put the fear of whatever God might be out there into that scummy pervert. He slowly became aware that Grillby was humming, the low vibrations soothing in Sans’s skull. The skeleton sniffled and wiped at his eyes. Deep breaths. He was safe. Deep breaths.

“I’m going to close early,” Grillby mumbled gently. “Will you be alright if I leave you here a moment?”

Sans nodded. “Yeah, I-i think I’m good. I’m just gonna go home.”

“No.” Grillby pulled away, meeting Sans’s eyes. “You are in no condition to be using your shortcuts, and I’m not going to let you walk in case that- ...in case it isn’t safe, this time of night. Go ahead and text Papyrus. You’re going to be staying with me this evening. I-if that’s alright,” he amended quickly. The last thing he wanted to do to Sans was force him into something, especially after what had transpired that evening.

Sans didn’t feel forced at all, though. He gave Grillby a weak smile. “That… that sounds nice. Yeah. I wouldn’t mind that. You go close up, I’ll text Papyrus.”

Relief filled the bartender and he stood, careful not to drop Sans as he transferred the skeleton to the chair. “I’ll be right back,” he assured as he straightened up. With that, he walked back out to his restaurant to herd customers out.

Sans had never seen the inside of Grillby’s apartment before. He knew the bartender lived in an apartment above the restaurant, and that the stairs lead directly into the kitchen, but that was about it. It was a little smaller than Sans had anticipated. Most of the space was taken up by the living room, with a cozy-looking couch piled with pillows and a bookshelf that looked ready to collapse under the sheer number of books that had been stacked on it. A small kitchenette was tucked into the corner of the apartment, and it looked like there was only one bedroom and a bathroom down the short hallway. It took Sans no time at all to make himself comfortable on the couch, kicking off his pink slippers and nesting into the cushy throw pillows.

Grillby gave the skeleton a fond smile, taking the comforter off the back of the couch and draping it over Sans’s shoulders. “Would you like me to turn on the television? I don’t have much in the way of movies, but my niece brought me a copy of a human show that I find to be fairly interesting. I mostly watch for the music.”

“Heh, so long as there are jokes in it, I’m down,” Sans replied with a shrug. He would probably fall asleep part of the way through it, but some background noise wouldn’t hurt.

Grillby kneeled next to the television and pulled out a small booklet, flipping through it to find the first disk. “Here we are,” he mumbled to himself as he found the one he wanted, getting everything set up before taking the remote and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. The disk loaded and a colorful title lit up the screen.

Sans tilted his head, mildly interested. “‘Steven Universe’, huh? No offense, but I never pegged you as a guy that’d be into cartoons.”

“It’s an occasional indulgence,” Grillby mumbled with a shrug. Was he blushing?

Sans snickered. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Grillbz. If you like it then it must be a good show. Let’s see what it’s about.”

Grillby smiled a bit, then hit play, relaxing back into the pillows. “I think you’ll like this one. Humans have such interesting concepts of magic…”

Four episodes later, Sans was hooked, watching the screen intently. He had to get himself one of those novelty backpacks. As he watched the protagonists fight evil breakfast foods, he turned to tell Grillby a joke, only to find himself meeting the bartender’s eyes. Grillby blushed and quickly looked back at the screen, but it was too late. He was caught staring.

Sans just chuckled. “Uh, can I help you with somethin’?”

“Sorry,” Grillby huffed, adjusting his glasses. At some point he’d undone his tie, letting it hang loose around his neck. He’d slipped off his shoes and pulled his knees up, hugging a pillow as he sat curled up on the couch. There was something about seeing Grillby this way that made Sans’s soul feel light. It just felt so… domestic, sitting there and watching one of the bartender’s favorite shows together. Grillby cleared his throat, breaking Sans from his thoughts as he continued. “I’m… still worried about you. Are you certain you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” Sans replied automatically, but that didn’t seem to reassure the fire monster at all.

“Sans,” Grillby sighed, reaching for the remote and pausing the show, “Please, be honest with me. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sans took a deep breath and thought about it. After a long moment, he finally answered. “Okay, maybe not,” Sans admitted, “But I’m doing better. This,” he said as he gestured around himself, “Is helping. Like, a lot. I think this is exactly what I needed.”

Grillby nodded a bit, satisfied. “Well, is there anything more I can do for you?”

“I’m good.” Sans shrugged a bit, then took another look at Grillby. The bartender was great at reading Sans, but sometimes he forgot how good Sans had gotten at reading him in return. Grillby was tense, shoulders hitched up slightly as he hugged the pillow like it was going to run away. “Is there something I can do for you?” Sans asked, voice gentling as he did. “That scared the soul out of you, too, didn’t it?”

Grillby looked away again, feeling guilty. “I’m not the one that got harassed, Sans.”

“Nah, just the one who watched his best friend get sexually assaulted,” Sans pointed out. “We were both ‘rattled’, heh. Lemme help you out, too. Somethin’ I can do for ya?”

“Well,” Grillby mumbled, “Can I… is it alright if I hold you again?”

That hadn’t been what Sans was expecting, but he was more than up for it. “Sure. You’re gonna have to let that pillow breathe first, though.”

Grillby chuckled and let the pillow drop to the floor, lowering his knees and shifting so he was reclining at an angle before opening his arms to Sans. Sans crawled over and settled himself in the bartender’s lap, arms wrapped around his torso and head resting on his chest. Grillby pressed play on the remote, starting the show again before letting his arms fall gently over Sans’s back as he held him close. Sans felt the warmth envelope him and sighed, content. “Hey, Grillbz?”

“Hm?” Grillby looked down at him with a tilt of his head. Sans’s soul melted a bit under the gently, caring gaze. God, this monster was going to be the death of him.

“Thank you,” Sans mumbled.

Grillby gave him a small smile, bringing one hand up to briefly cup the back of Sans’s skull. “You’re welcome. So long as I’m here, I’m going to keep you safe. You mean the world to me, Sans.”

And oh, if that didn’t make Sans feel like the luckiest monster alive.

They settled into a comfortable silence, watching the cartoon play on. As the night wore on, Sans found himself starting to doze in Grillby’s arms, yawning as he fought to keep his eye sockets open. “Hey, Grillbz?” he mumbled, “Maybe we should…” He trailed off as he looked up, smiling. Grillby’s head rested against the back of the couch, the fire monster fast asleep. Sans levitated the remote to himself, determined not to wake Grillby as he turned the TV off before cuddling closer and closing his eyes. Who needed beds, anyway?

Grillby was the warmest pillow he could ask for.

I hope you enjoyed this one! If you did like it, why not reblog/leave a comment to let me know your favorite part? As always, thank you for reading!

#dustyfic #undertale #sans #grillby #sans x grillby #undertale sans #undertale grillby #sansby #undertale fic #undertale fanfiction #tw assault

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

Text

jack pendleton

summary: moving into an apartment to get away from your last relationship was fun all fun and games until you met your extremely attractive across-the-hall neighbor, who makes awesome cookies and even better novels.

author!bucky x reader

warnings: no legitimate warnings besides swearing, it kind of moves just a weensie bit fast but i think it’s cute, minimal angst, I WROTE THIS IN ONE DAY and that is a warning tbh so expect mistakes in this hunk a junk-

word count: 6.2k!

Searching for your new apartment was a terribly long and boring process, but even you couldn’t deny that finally moving in was heavenly.

It was the first thing that you did by yourself after having a mutual break up with your boyfriend, and you would be damned if it felt anything but good. He confessed to you that he had fallen in love with a man that he met online. Not only that, but an Italian man that he was teaching English to over a website. He was brave enough to tell you as soon as he realized that he loved the man, so the heartbreak was minimal.

You never told him, but honestly, you sort of respected him for that. So, with your hidden respect and gratitude, you wished him well and knew that you were going to be the one to find a new place.

So there you stood, right in front of your new place with a singular box in your arms, all the others in the smallest U-Haul available to rent that you drove there. You stared at your door for a moment, which read an embroidered C7, and then you fiddled with your keys to unlock it.

You had a lot of work to do.

§§§

By the end of the fourth day, mostly all of your things were put away. You didn’t think you had much to begin with, but unpacking made you realize that you had more than you thought. So with your ambitious mind, you got everything done on your own, even the decorations that you had at your last appointment were on the walls.

By the seventh day, it was starting to feel like home again. And that called for a celebration. You got your purse and your car keys, your mind already in the shopping mall.

As you stepped out of your door, the door directly across from yours opened too. You didn’t pay them much mind besides flashing a smile and turning around to lock your own door, not even looking at whoever it was properly enough to see them. But when you did, you definitely did.

A man with long, brown hair and clear blue eyes was staring at you like a deer in the headlights, and you would have thought that he mistook you for a celebrity if it weren’t for the wrinkle of confusion on his forehead. The first thought that came to your mind was that he was as stiff as a board, and that it was almost comical. The second thought that came to your mind was that this man was very handsome, despite the way that he was looking at you like you had just said the dumbest thing known to man.

“Um, hello,” you said, not even having to be loud because you were just a few feet apart. You were tempted to be a smartass and say something rude about his incessant staring, but instead, you reminded yourself that you were going to have to deal with the consequences of your smart remark later on. Humiliation and awkwardness every time you saw him was not what you wanted. “Have a good day.”

You turned to your left and walked down the stairs, thankful that you lived on the edge of the hall and could just run down some steps to get away from whatever that “encounter” was.

§§§

The mall was utterly packed, but that didn’t matter to you at all. You were there to browse for something that was going to make you even happier after your move, and a few people in line weren’t going to bother you. You went in and out of clothing stores, buying a few things here and there, and then on your way out, you passed by a bookstore.

You liked books, you really did. But you were avoiding that store like the plague. For you to go into a bookstore with so many options available, you knew that the safest route for your budget was to know what you were getting from the second you walked in. You stood in front of it for a second, debating on going in without looking online beforehand or just coming back another day. Your own feet answered the question for you, and then you were entering the huge book store.

The shelves were high and wide and sturdy, dark brown and creating isles. Fantasy, Young Adult, Spiritual, Languages. The genres went as far as you could see. And that meant that if you weren’t wise, you could be buying a book from every aisle.

You counted the number of shelves, seeing that there were almost thirty as far as you knew, and then took out the two dice that you took with you everywhere, for reasons like this. You were indecisive, and two little cubes with black dots on them were as sure as it could get. They were your Decision Dice. They had never steered you wrong before, and today wouldn’t be the day. You were going to roll twice, and if the sum was a number less than ten, then you would multiply it by two, which was your lucky number. You liked to make things difficult.

You saw a woman staring at you with cautious eyes as you bent down and shook your closed hand, and you heard her chuckle when she saw the two little cubes roll out of your palm.

“Four,” you murmured once you saw three dots on one and one on the other. You picked them up and shook your hand again. “Three. That makes seven, and seven times two makes aisle fourteen.” You picked up the dice (that you would never admit came from your grandpa’s set of Yahtzee) and walked past the still laughing woman in the science fiction aisle.

Of course, aisle fourteen was the aisle that you probably had the least business in. Romance. You almost walked away and went for the fifteenth instead, but then what would the point in rolling be? What would stop you from denying the Decision Dice in later situations? You sighed for a second after your own dramatics and looked the shelves up and down, trying to find a title that grabbed you.

You walked up and down the aisle, slowly combing through until you saw a book on the bottom shelf by some Jack Pendleton. You frowned. It wasn’t often that you saw men’s names in the romance section, and when you did, you hardly liked what they wrote. The love interest was always flat or too out there to be believable. The female love interest in men’s books always had to be “not like other girls”, and it was worn out. For some reason, you reached down for it anyway, ready to see what you had already seen a million times before.

What you really ended up seeing shocked you.

It was about a man who served in the army oversees and came back an amputee, and became locked in a love triangle between his physical therapist and his best friend, all the while dealing with his sexuality.

That was a lot of man versus self. You wanted it.

You stood up and without second thought walked to the counter, handing the cashier the book and getting out your credit card.

§§§

You cracked open the book the second you threw your fast food trash away in your trash can. You made yourself comfortable on your little couch and put some light music on in the background, just so that it wouldn’t be completely silent. You didn’t do well with silence at all.

It took all of four pages for Jack Pendleton to surprise you again. His writing style was gorgeous and smooth, and you cold tell that he meant every word that was printed on the pages. His diction was brilliant, his descriptions even better. He didn’t give too much or too little, and you were already falling in love with it.

The main character, Elijah, was likeable but flawed. Within the first thirty pages, you could already sense that he was gaining feelings that he didn’t even know about for his best friend, Will, who wasn’t named until about forty pages at Elijah’ first physical therapy appointment. Will hadn’t even shown up yet.

You had blown through nearly half the book when you realized that it was eleven at night, and that you had work the next morning. You swore to yourself and put a smaller piece of paper in your book this time, looking at it longingly and patting it on the spine before leaving it on the small coffee table.

§§§

Work was horrible. It was boring, and you spent the whole first part of your day with a man who was mad at you specifically because you ran out of a special type of shoe that he needed to wear the next day. The store that you worked at wasn’t even really a shoe store. Then, he asked to see the manager. You were the shift manager. He got so pissed that he threw a hanger at you and stormed out, and all you could do was laugh.

You were so tired of retail, it wasn’t even funny.

You were a little more than a hundred and twenty pages in when there was a knock on your door, and it came right as you were about t flip the page. You resisted the urge to scream, completely and utterly fed up with the public for the day. There was no use in trying to ignore the knocking that already yanked your mind out of the fictional world, and so you left the book on your couch, sticking a piece of paper in it quickly to save your page.

You swung the door open, expecting to find someone who wanted you to fill out a survey or maybe even someone from maintenance making sure that everything was okay with your apartment. You certainly didn’t expect to see your beautiful neighbor with a pie in his gloved hands and a pink flush on his face.

He spoke first. “Hi, I live across the floor,” he pointed towards the door that you knew he lived behind. “I was just coming to bring you a welcoming gift.”

You were stunned. The man who stared you down and didn’t even say a word to you was at your door with what looked like a homemade pie, and wow, was that a turn of events. It was something straight out of that cheesy romance section that you were in at the bookstore. “Wow, thank you. You made that?”

The pink on his cheeks graduated to scarlet. “I-yeah, I did.”

You couldn’t contain the grin that stretched onto your face. “That’s really kind of you, thank you. I’m sure I’ll love it.” You gently took it from his hands and smiled up at him.

“It’s also an apology, for staring at you like that when you were leaving.” You noticed his subtle accent and fought the urge to swoon. He was so adorably shy. “No one’s lived in this one for years, and I didn’t notice you moving in. Kinda scared me.”

“You didn’t see the moving truck?” You asked teasingly.

You saw the small grimace on his face, and your smile faltered. “I don’t really go outside much,” he said vaguely, and you felt that you hit a nerve.

You shrugged with the pie still in your hands, lips turning upwards at him. “It’s okay, I don’t, either.”

You were both smiling now.

“Well, um,” he started to say, and you nodded your head at him, already knowing that he was about to go. “I have to finish something. I’ll see you later?”

“There’s a pretty good chance that you will,” you said, and he gave an awkward wave before turning around and walking away, right into his apartment without another look back. You cursed softly when he shut his door, and you looked down at the pie.

You didn’t even get his name.

§§§

You realized after five days of nothing (and cleaning out the pan of delicious pie by yourself) that you weren’t going to see your neighbor by chance. You hoped that you would, more than you hoped for anything else before. But he was right. He didn’t go outside much. The doors in the building were all so loud that it was nearly impossible not to hear them opening or shutting, and you never heard his once.

You had to do it yourself. Somehow, you needed to figure out how to see him again without it being incredibly weird, but you had a plan. In your eyes, it was pretty foolproof. Your mom’s chicken parmesan could never go wrong, and everyone liked to eat. You went to the grocery store without even having to roll the Decision Dice and got started on it the second you got home.

***

When it was done, there was a thin line of sweat on your forehead. You put a note to yourself in your head that the kitchen got insanely hot when you cooked, and you vowed to remember it next time. You took off your fancy apron and the chef’s hat that you wore for fun when you cooked and set it on the countertop. Now, the hard part came.

How were you supposed to get brave enough to bring a plate over to his place? Were you supposed to hope that he hadn’t eaten yet? Or, were you supposed to let him in to eat? Shit, that sounded too much like a date.

With all those thoughts in mind, you walked up to his door, C6, and knocked on it. You realized last minute that you forgot the plate on the table, so dinner was over at your apartment by default unless you did an awkward dash across the hall. The sound of boots coming towards the door were loud and clear, and then the door opened, barely giving you enough time to swallow your anxieties. You got a panging irrational fear that he wouldn’t remember you, but were relieved when he smiled down at you.

“Hi,” you said, sounding more like a telemarketer than a neighbor. “I made chicken parmesan.” It was silent for a few seconds as you both tried to make sense of what was happening, and you kicked yourself on the inside. “I made a plate for you because um, I wanted to thank you for the pie. It was really good.”

His face lit up, and it was like you were given a new burst of life and hope simultaneously. “Oh, thank you! That’s really sweet, thank you,” he repeated, his words getting slightly jumbled up the more and more he spoke. He was so cute.

You realized that the both of you were just staring at each other, standing with smiles that were increasingly leaning towards more than polite by the second. “I can, uh, bring it to your door if you want.”

“I can come over, if that makes it easier.” Both sentences were spoken at the same time, and it caused you both to apologize once again at the same time. “No, no, I’ll come back with you,” he said when you two finally spoke your own sentences.

You tilted your head. You were sure that he was shy, you could have bet money on him wanting to eat alone. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he gave you a small smile and stepped out of his apartment, and suddenly, you were aware of how he smelled like a bakery. Flower, sugar, apples, cinnamon, the whole nine. Your eyes widened when you smelled more of it when he shut his door. It smelled amazing. You didn’t want to be greedy, but whatever he had in there, you wanted a slice.

Your apartment smelled good, but in the opposite way. It smelled like sauce and spices and chicken, like a good kitchen. You almost laughed when you saw his eyes widen after he caught a whiff. His eyes scanned the table that was already set up for one, and he saw all the food in the middle and only grew more surprised.

“You did all of this yourself?”

You didn’t think it was a big deal. You knew how to plate food and you knew how to cook it fine, but it wasn’t too special, in your opinion. It was second nature because of your mother, but you could always go for a nice compliment. “Yeah, I have fun cooking.”

“It looks amazing,” he said softly, and you smiled at him.

“Let’s hope it tastes as good.”

It felt oddly domestic. You got his plate for him and watched him make his first because he was the guest, and you warned him about touching the hot pan, even though he didn’t seem worried about it with his gloves on. You asked him if he wanted wine, water, or soda, and he got his own glass of water after saying that he felt bad making you do it. By the time you sat down and started twirling your fork in your spaghetti, you were starving.

You heard him take his first bite more than you saw him do it. “Holy-” he put his hand in front of his mouth. “You made this here?”

You laughed. “Mhm.”

“Are you a chef, or something?”

You were flattered. “No, but my mother is,” and man, was she a cook. She could cook anything and make it taste good if you gave her a flame. Always, she had pressured you into knowing how to make a meal, because making a meal meant providing for yourself and everyone else in your family. You watched him cut into a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth, smiling when he gave you the “food look”. “She taught me everything I know.”

“Well, I’m about to call her and thank her,” he joked, and you giggled, twirling your own fork and getting some spaghetti in your mouth. You tilted your head. It was pretty good.

“And what about you? You can bake,” and there he was, all shy again, and you loved it. “Where did you learn?”

“My father’s a baker,” he said, and a slow smile spread across your face.

“Well, would you look at that,” you said, nodding your head in thought. He smiled back.

“Would you look at that.”

For a second, just like the two of you had done many times before, you were stuck in a world where there wasn’t anything else, not even the food. It was just his smile and yours, and the fact that somehow both of you knew that the moment was genuine.

“I’m so sorry, what’s your name?” He blurted, and you frowned.

“My name?” A flame of embarrassment and shame shot through you. You were fawning over a man that you didn’t even know the name of yet. You sister would be disgusted with you. “Oh, have we really not said our names yet?”

“I guess not...” he said, voice trailing off at the end.

“Well, good thing names aren’t that important.”

He gave you an intrigued look. “Names aren’t important?”

“They can be, but sometimes they don’t mean a thing. You can learn so much about someone before learning their name, and when you do, nothing changes what you already know. I cook and I like spending money in book stores, and you bake and stay inside. That doesn’t change after we learn names.”

He looked like he had just reached cloud nine. “You like books?”

“Of course I do,” you said, and your eyes trailed over to the book that was sitting on your couch. “I actually took that little name bit from what I learned from a book, so I won’t take credit for that.”

“What book was so in depth and interested with names?”

“I don’t even think that the main focus was the name, I think it was the opposite. His name didn’t matter because all that mattered were the emotions that came with him.” You took a second to think. “And I also think that saying his name made it real for the main character, so the dude’s name didn’t come up until he was in mid conversation.”

At first, you were worried that you lost him. But you hadn’t. “He was in love with this person?”

“Madly. But he was his best friend.” You were so excited. You were really talking to a man who liked to read? And one who liked to analyze what he read? This must have been heaven. “For a while, all we hear about is how amazing the person is that he fell in love with and about how he struggled with loving him because he was a man. We knew everything about him before his name was even said and before he was even present, and that’s probably what I like most so far about the book.”

Through your rambling, you failed to notice that he was looking more and more panicked. “Um, what’s the book called?”

“Here, I’ll just go get it,” you said, standing up and walking over to your couch, pulling it off and walking over to him. You set the book down, and watched his eyes grow so wide that he looked cartoonish. “Have you read it?”

He blinked at the cover. “Y-yeah, I’ve read it.” He looked at his watch, swore so emptily that you swore it was acting, and then gave you an apologetic look. “Um, I have to go. I’m sorry.”

So, you did scare him off. You hid your frown with a polite smile, and tried to remind yourself that even though it felt like one, it wasn’t a date. It was you paying him back for making you something in his own kitchen. “Oh, alright. I hope you liked it.”

Maybe he heard something in your voice that you didn’t, because he stopped frantically putting his jacket on to look you in the eyes. “It was amazing, I mean that. And it was very sweet, thank you.”

This is crashing and burning. What the hell happened? It was going so well! “Well, I’ll see you later,” you called out, and you watched him wash his own plate with a shocked look on your face. “Thanks,” you whispered, and he nodded at you, a tight smile on his face as he wrapped a gloved hand around the doorknob and left.

***

Maybe you hadn’t scared him away, after all.

You had full intentions of leaving him alone until he came to you, if it was ever even going to happen. You only left for work and debated on finding something simple to bake for him to extend another olive branch, but then you decided that you would let the universe control what happened, if anything was even meant to happen in the first place. There was a knock on your door, and there he was, with a pan of cupcakes that had blue icing perfectly swirled on top.

Alright, so you hadn’t.

He gave you the cutest smile, and you couldn’t help but to give one back. “Hi, I’m Bucky.” You gave him your name, too.

From then on, you two were practically attached at the hip. If you weren’t at work, he was over with you, watching a movie and talking about foreshadowing or how good the book version would have been if it came first. He was also one of the only people you knew who had actually read Tarzan, and you got a kick out of it. You got so close that you even met his little quartet of friends, Steve, Natasha, and Sam, who all liked you after the first meeting. You fit in with them like a glove.

Speaking of... “Why do you wear gloves?” You had asked him one day, and he stiffened up like a board.

“I get cold easily on my hands,” he explained coolly, and you let it go.

There were little things about him that you questioned every time after he went back home. You questioned how he never left his apartment but made enough money to keep it. You asked yourself how he was so busy in there, and what exactly he did. You wondered why he got so funny when you mentioned the book, and how nervous he was to talk about it when you finally finished it. All of those things slightly worried you, but they had nothing on the one, huge thought that loomed over all the others.

You were falling hard and fast for Bucky Barnes. A part of you could admit that you were already on the ground.

If started off slowly. You admired his mind and his smile and the way that his eyes shined when he taught you how to bake a perfect cake without all the fancy, expensive supplies. You loved the way that his cheeks glowed when you complimented him or touched his hair or his nose. You loved that he started calling you “darling” and the way that his Brooklyn accent left out the last letter. You loved the way that things with him already felt so natural, like you cooking dinner and him helping you wash and dry dishes after. You were in for the long haul before you could even reach for the door handle of the speeding car, and you didn’t really want to.

There was a knock on your door out of courtesy, and you called out for him to let himself in. You were way past knocking, but he was polite. You were tapping away at the keys on your laptop, humming to yourself as you looked into Jack Pendleton.

“Watcha doin’, darlin’?” He set down the items you two needed for homemade lasagna and his father’s recipe for some simple pumpkin bread on the counter.

“I’m trying to find more books by Jack Pendleton,” you muttered, sighing when nothing else came up. “I can’t find anything.”

“Why do you like that book so much, anyway?” You were far too into your laptop to hear the tremor in his voice.

“Because it was raw, and real, and it hurt my feelings.”

Oh, and it had. Bucky witnessed the result of you finishing the book first hand. He walked in right as you got the first sob out and looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, but he came to you anyway. How were you supposed to know that the therapist, an equally important person in the main character’s life, was going to pass away not even days after he and Will got their happiness?

You remembered how he held you the whole time, and that for some reason, he whispered a very heartfelt, “I’m sorry.”

“If it hurt you so much, why would you want to read something by him again?”

“It was brilliant, that’s why, cowboy.” You said, looking up and pointing at him with your fancy little stylus. He broke out into a smile at the name, like he always did. You called him that one time because you caught him watching The Longest Ride, and it stuck.

There was a stretched, tense moment as the sound of your typing filled the room. “I don’t think he has anything else out right now, darlin’.”

“And how would you know, rancher?”

He gave you that same deer in headlights stare that he gave you when he first saw you in the hall, only less confused. Then he sighed. “What’s in a name, anyway?”

You rolled your eyes, but you both knew that you were on the edge of laughing. You could never be serious with him. He was just so full of light. “You’re not going to get me quoting Shakespeare right now, I just asked you a dire question.”

He inhaled deeply, his face already boasting a rich scarlet. “How would you feel if I told you that I wrote that book?”

Your world crumbled beneath your feet. You knew he wasn’t lying, because you knew that he had no reason to lie. His aversion to talking about Jack Pendleton and everything surrounding it made you believe what he told you right as you heard it. You gasped, and then saw him grimace. “Bucky, Jack stole your work?”

His face fell. “What?”

“Have you taken legal action yet?”

“No,” he said slowly, and then he took in another deep breath, preparing from something. “I don’t need to, because I am Jack.” He said slowly, a small and guarded smile resting on his face. You noticed that he looked the least comfortable you had ever seen him. “It’s a pen name.”

Different kinds of humiliation were coming in large, mean waves, and you bit your lip to prevent from talking. You had really gushed over a book right in front of the author the whole time? It was so horrible and embarrassing that you couldn’t even stop thinking about it. You felt like an idiot. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop talking?”

There was a quick, hesitant intake of breath between the both of you. “Because I don’t want anyone that I know in real life to know about that.”

You froze. There was no way that he was implying that what was in the book actually happened, right?

He took off both of his gloves, and beneath one of them was a silver appendage, very clearly a prosthetic. He was breathing heavily, like he had just lifted a weight off of his chest that was double his own size. You looked at it with a wild expression of your own, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“Almost everything in that book really happened.” You closed your mouth. “Some things are exaggerated, but nearly everything happened. Elijah is based off of me.”

Oh, fuck. That meant that he was actually bisexual, that he actually fell in love with his best friend, that he actually got his arm amputated after getting a grenade launched at him. His therapist actually died. You had no idea what to say. “I’m so sorry.”

“The main thing that didn’t really happen was the semi-happy ending for Elijah and Will. He and I broke up years ago. This all happened years ago.” Your heart broke again for him. “I put it under a fake name because it’s something very personal to me, but I felt like it should have been shared. Thought that it would maybe help some other kid who was going through it.”

You knew exactly what it was. You had gone through it yourself. If you had read the book when you were much younger, you were sure that you would have been able to find some sort of peace in the turmoil that you caused yourself. Now, you were much better, and you loved the fact that you were part of the LGBT community, but that didn’t mean that the book didn’t mean something to you.

The book was so raw that you should have known that it was real. There wasn’t a word that didn’t mean something, not a sentence that wasn’t thought out. It was such heavy material with realistic ups and down that you caught yourself relating with Elijah, not knowing that the real “Elijah” was right in front of you the whole time.

“But, um, I write science fiction under my real name, though.” You were too busy thinking about how you gushed about someone’s actual life story, and how that someone just so happened to be your super cute neighbor that you fell in love with. You gushed about his terribly sad life story right in front of him. “That’s why I’m always inside. I’m a hermit writer.”

You didn’t even get into the science fiction aspect of the conversation. “I would have never read it in front of you or talked about it in front of you if I knew that, I swear.”

“I know.” He slowly took his jacket off, and then you were seeing his arms in all their glory. It truly was a beautiful prosthetic, and from how much he used his hands, you knew that it was reliable and practical. “I just needed to tell you that.”

You could sense his unease, and it made you feel wrong. It felt like you were taking steps back. “If this is about you being bisexual, I don’t care about that. That would never bother me.”

For the first time since his confession, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “I know. And I know you are, too.”

“Really?”

“I’ve seen the bookshelf in your room. No straight person reads that many books written by and for the community. And you cuff some of your jeans.” You shrugged, a small smirk on your face. He got you there. “I need to tell you something else.”

You didn’t know if you were ready for it, but if he was, then there was no way that you were going to stop him. “Of course, go ahead.”

“First, I should start off with telling you again that all of that,” he pointed towards her computer, “was about eleven years ago. I’m not healing, not recovering, none of that. Yeah, I’m sad about my therapist every once in a while, but I don’t feel anything for the man that Will is based off of anymore. That’s all gone.”

You swore at yourself for feeling butterflies of hope. You squashed them all down and made yourself pay full attention to Bucky, even though your mind was starting to have stupid little fantasies about picnic and stargazing with him. This is what you got for reading romance novels. “Okay, Buck.”

“I’m telling you all of this because I’m pretty sure that I’m in love with you.” Your mouth hung open, and before you could even get a word out, he was all over it again. “I have been for a while now, and I think now is the best time to tell you.” There was a pause for you to cut in, but you couldn’t form a word. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way or if you’re weirded out by my story-”

“I love you too.” You blurted, watching his face become shocked. “I’ve been dying to tell you that, you know?”

He sputtered, trying his hardest to form a coherent sentence. “Now I know.”

You felt a smile slide onto your face as both of your racing hearts stilled to a normal, content rate. In that moment, you swore that if someone came and checked, that your heartbeats were alternating, taking energy from each other to make one long beat. You just, clicked.

“It- none of that bothers you at all?”

“If anything, I feel bad. I feel like I intruded.”

He scoffed. “You didn’t intrude, Y/N, I’m the one who published it.”

“I’m going to hug you now,” you warned, and then you two met each other half way. Your face was in his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. You smiled when you felt him gently brush your forehead with his lips, and all felt right.

You stood there together for what felt like forever but two seconds all the same, swaying a bit subconsciously. “Are you- are you sure about being okay with all of this? I know it’s a lot. And I just kind of sprung it on you.”

There he was. The shy Bucky. You knew that he could be insecure, and you knew that he was insecure about being that way. But luckily, you felt for him so much that you could assure him for the rest of both of your days with no complaints. If it took a thousand times a day for Bucky Barnes to know that you loved him and Jack Pendleton and Elijah Harris, you would do it two thousand times.

“Out of all the books in the store, I unknowingly chose yours.” Your voice was shaky, but you meant every word you said and were about to say. “And out of all the people in the world, I intentionally, without doubt choose you.”

***

If someone had asked you three years ago where you thought you were going to be in life in the same amount of time, you would have told them that you were probably still going to be working in retail. That wasn’t the case at all.

Your mother gave you a loan when Bucky persuaded you to take your talent and passion for cooking and turn it into a business. You had a medium sized restaurant that you let your mother in on, and you cooked side by side often times. It felt just like it did when you were back in the kitchen of your childhood home, but now you were getting paid for it, quite a bit.

Across the street from your restaurant was a bookstore that held a number of books that were written by Bucky yourself, but your favorite by far was the cook book that was technically a baking book, full of all of the recipes that he felt like giving away.

You didn’t expect any of that to happen within three years, at all. But what you hoped to happen most of all did, and it was proven by the simple diamond on your finger that Bucky had given you. You wanted him to think that you were surprised when he popped the question, but you weren’t.

After all, you could see the outline of the box that he carried for three weeks straight.

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #my fics #bucky one shot

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

hi nat it's the avdol anon again 😳 i noticed that ur requests were open and uh... you might know why i'm here. feel free to take this in any direction u want but i was wondering if afab reader could get a tarot/palm line reading by avdol which foreshadows their quickly budding romance. this is just an idea but i think it's cute! tysm for reading <3

prediction - avdol x reader (2k)

warnings: none! neutral reader, neutral pronouns. sfw.

It is your third time stepping foot in Muhammad Avdol’s little fortune-telling shop, and your heart is beating faster and more nervously than it ever has before. The first time, you had come with a friend who had not stopped chattering on about how they’d heard that this man was the real deal, they had friends who he’d been able to tell the life story of from just a glance at a tarot card spread. You had been sceptical but humoured them, agreeing to come with them to get a glimpse of this mysterious character who would so easily be able to read one’s past. It would have been dangerous, you reassure yourself, to send your friend alone to a strange new place.

Avdol himself had looked at you and smiled and you had been hit by how warm he was. You’d assumed he’d look like a charlatan, a snake-oil salesman – but his hands had seemed genuine as he’d shook yours, his thumb warm as it brushed your wrist, a curious expression on his handsome face before he’d turned to your friend.

His shop smelt like burning incense, draped in rich warm shades of red and ochre, comforting as he poured you both a cup of tea. If he’d been perturbed that your friend had brought with them an audience, he did not show it; merely motioned for the two of you to sit as he shuffled a well-worn pack of tarot cards.

You had expected the same vague kind of allusions as you’d heard so many people make before – broad statements that, if thought about, could be connected to anything in one’s life if the listener was desperate to do so. You’d expected his dark eyes to be sharp as he searched your friend for weakness, as he picked up on various little tremors of their face and voice and twisted them into something like cleverness.

But his voice had been unwavering and calm as he’d said names straight off the bat, as he’d confidently recounted incidents in their life in not quite elaborate detail, but in enough detail for you and your friend both to understand that he was the real deal. As he’d predicted moments in the future, his brow furrowing as he gave advice as to paths that should be taken carefully and paths that should be embarked upon with wild fervour and excitement.

He’d taken their money with a small smile, before he’d turned to you and said;

“And you?”

The thought of your future spelt out by him suddenly seemed terrifying. You had shaken your head, backing away – and he had given you that curious look again, like he saw something inside of you that you’d never noticed yourself.

“Maybe next time I see you,” he’d said, and you’d followed your friend out of the room with a dizziness that you couldn’t quite explain.

He had not said ‘if I see you’. In Muhammad Avdol’s mind, the two of you meeting again was a fated occurrence. You had told yourself that you would not allow that to happen, to afraid of all of the things that could happen to you and hadn’t yet.

Of course, you go back. Your friend is desperate to see him again, after some advice that he gave them leads to a promotion at work. They want to thank him, and ask him advice for an upcoming business trip that will take them out of Egypt for six months – when you hesitantly shake your head and bite your lip, they pout at you.

“Please?” They wheedle. “I won’t see you again for half a year, this is our chance to do something together before I leave--”

And because you love your friends, you agree, and you step foot in the comforting, homely little fortune-telling shop for the second time in your life.

Avdol does not look up from the table.

“I already poured you tea,” he says. “Please, take a seat.”

Something about the atmosphere of the shop is at once terrifying and comforting to you; like a place you’ve been a hundred times in your dreams. Your fingers trace the delicate gold embroidery of the table cloth as Avdol listens to your friend’s ardent thanks. It’s pretty; constellations on dark midnight blue velvet.

“Do you like it?” You’re snapped from the daydream by Avdol. He’s looking at you, his face unreadable. “I made it myself.”

“Oh,” you say, heat rushing to your face. “Y-yes. It’s beautiful. So delicate. It must have taken a long time--”

“I like projects,” he says to you. “Small work you have to take your time over. It’s satisfying to see it turn into something beautiful at the end.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you. “Watch out for your own constellation, habibi.”

You don’t know what he means, but your friend is tugging you out of the door before the two of you outstay your welcome, chattering on about all of the advice that Avdol has given them about making the most of their six months in a foreign country. When you round the corner and Avdol’s little shop is no longer in sight, she gives you an elbow to the ribs.

“I think he likes you,” she says, and you go all over hot and bothered at the thought of it. There’s something about him that frays at the edges of your consciousness – you have never felt quite so safely ensconced in anything as you feel within the warm incense-laden air of his rooms. But him liking you is ridiculous. And you don’t believe in anything so nebulous as fortune-telling.

You do some spring cleaning that weekend. In the very corner of your wardrobe, almost falling into a gap between the floor of it and the chipboard of the back, is a necklace that your mother gave you for your eighteenth birthday. It’s not precious; it was a silly little gift picked up for pennies in a market to go inside your birthday card, cheap metal. It’s a representation of the constellation you were born under.

Your heart beats too fast in your chest as you put it on.

And that’s the series of events that leads you to be stepping foot in Muhammad Avdol’s fortune telling shop ten minutes before he’s due to close. The lights are already off, but Avdol is sat by his table with a book in his hand and looks up as the bell over his front door rings, a smile splitting his face.

“I was expecting you earlier,” he says. Your hands fly up to the necklace, twisting it between thumb and forefinger. “Ah. I’m glad you heeded the warning.”

“How did you know?” You ask him, your throat dry as you take the seat that he points to opposite him. There is already a steaming teacup in front of it; you know it will be steeped exactly how you like it, will have two spoonfuls of sugar in it, will be your favourite blend. Avdol has seemed to know that since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“The universe works in whatever way it wills,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his own tea. The teacup he has put in front of you is patterned with your favourite flower. “You wanted me to read your palm, didn’t you?”

You nod. You do not ask him how he knows what you came here for. Too many coincidences have lead you to this point, and with Avdol so close to you and you finally alone with him you are beginning to wonder if your scepticism has been misplaced. He holds his hand out over the finely embroidered velvet cloth – you realise that your own birth constellation is exactly beneath it.

Up close, he’s so handsome you can barely breathe. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, his skin reflecting the flickering candlelight beautifully. His hands are warm and dry; well-kept, as you place your own in it palm-up.

“You’re soft,” he says – which is not the most professional thing for him to say, you don’t think, but your breath catches in your throat anyway. “Let me see.”

He gently traces your life line. He murmurs something about your family, about your past, about your driving force and your career – all of it true, all of it right. His finger dances over it as he tells you to be wary of people offering you chances that are too good to be true.

Head line. Fate line. His fingers are so warm, he holds you so gently – you imagine what he would feel like holding your hand as a lover and chastise yourself in your head. Everything he says to you about your past is true. Everything he says about your personality, about how you value certain things and about how you are feeling right at that very moment is true. You can barely breathe as his index finger brushes along your heart line.

“Ah,” he murmurs, soft. He coughs. You swear you see his cheeks change colour, just a little, but you don’t know how to react to it. “This is interesting.”

“I-is that a good thing?” You ask him, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Perhaps,” he says. There’s a rigidity to him that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“What . . . what does it say?” You ask. “What does it mean? Am I going to meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger?”

“Not a stranger,” he says. He swallows, and for the first time you see Avdol looking a little nervous. “And I think perhaps it would be remiss for someone like me to call him handsome.” You look curiously at him, but his eyes are focused on your smaller palm. It feels so right, being held like this. “Your heart line. Well. It says you were wary of this person at first, that you did not quite believe everything they were saying – but that something about them seemed to draw you in even so, like a magnetic pull. It says . . .” He seems more awkward than you’ve ever seen him, and certainly more awkward than you’ve ever heard anyone describe an encounter with him. “It says you should trust your instincts. And if you want to make a move . . . well. It seems to think today is as good a day as any.”

Your eyebrows scrunch as you think about what he could mean. You haven’t had any thoughts about anyone like that, recently. There’s nobody in your life. Hell, Avdol is the first man you’ve touched like this in the past week--

And a lightbulb goes off over your head.

It explains the way that you feel in his shop, the way that your heart seems to beat just a little bit quicker around him. It explains the constellations and the teacup and the way the two of you keep not quite meeting one another’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Avdol says. “This is unprofessional, I should be closing up shop right now--”

He goes to drop your hand, but you breathe in soft and sure as you whisper with a dry voice;

“Wait.”

He looks at you from under thick dark lashes. The whole of outer space feels like it’s contained within his eyes; dark constellations, secrets you can only wish you understood. You take a deep breath to gather all of your courage up within you. You think of Avdol warning you about things offered that seem too good to be true, but you push back the anxiety.

“Would you like to get something to eat, sometime? I’d ask about something to drink, but . . . I don’t think anything will measure up to the tea.”

Avdol looks at you. His eyes linger over your face; the cross between trepidation and hopefulness. They flicker back down to your palm. The small smile he gives you in return to yours is just as shaky as your own.

“Yes,” he says, quietly. “I would love to.”

#writing #jjba #avdol x reader #muhammad avdol #jojo's bizarre adventure #muhammad avdol x reader #jojo fluff #avdol fluff #neutral reader #Anonymous

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terramous · 3 years

Text

i'm in over my head

an incredibly belated birthday present for my love @silvarafael !! thank u jamie i love you so so so much and i'm so grateful to be your friend!! title from: the palace - father john misty word count: 9.6k beta'd by: @marjansmarwani bthb - seizures warnings: vomiting AO3

“Here’s your uniform. It’s ready to go when you are,” Carlos declared as he wandered back into the bedroom. He had a soft smile on his face as he set the folded uniform down on the corner of the bed.

“Thanks, babe,” TK said as he dragged a hand down his face. It took him a little longer to gather up the energy he needed than usual. It was probably courtesy of the month he’d spent on medical leave while recovering from his concussion. He wasn’t used to surfacing before noon anymore, aside from when Carlos would press a kiss to his forehead before leaving for his morning shifts.

In reality, he was excited to get back to work after so much time spent at home recovering. He had been going stir-crazy since he was well enough to get down Carlos’ stairs by himself and it’d been three weeks since then. As much as he liked spending all of Carlos’ time off curled up together and without a shortage of affection, he was going to lose his mind if he spent any more time cooped up.

Carlos stepped closer to TK and brought a hand up to cup his boyfriend’s jaw as he connected their lips in a soft kiss. “How’re you feeling?”

“Pretty good.”

Being met with worried brown eyes pulling apart every detail of his demeanour was something TK had come to expect in his daily life and those looks had only become more frequent over the past month.

“Are you sure? How’s your head?” Carlos asked, running his hand through TK’s hair until it came to rest on the back of his neck and he began running his thumb over TK’s skin. It had become a comforting gesture they often shared when TK was plagued by the most horrific headaches during his recovery. It never soothed the pain but it made him feel less alone.

He’d gotten used to the constant low-level pain behind his eyes, it was nothing to worry about at this point, so he omitted mentioning that to Carlos. It would only serve to make his boyfriend worry when he really didn’t need to.

TK was fine. He was on the road to fully recovering from his concussion, he was finally going to get his life back.

Even though he was only scheduled for a six-hour shift today. It was incredibly short, pitifully so, but he had to take it easy.

Carlos didn’t even have a shift today, he was just spending lunch with his family at his Tia Lucy’s and would be able to pick TK up the second he was done at the firestation. It wasn’t like he was immediately being thrown into the deep end with a 24-hour shift, Carlos really didn’t need to worry so much.

“You know I love this shirt on you,” TK said as he smoothed down Carlos’ collar and trailed his fingers down the seam along Carlos’ shoulder.

Carlos leant forward to share another kiss with TK. He spoke as they parted, “you love every shirt on me.”

“I also love every shirt off of you,” TK whispered, following the kiss as Carlos drew backwards.

“I know you do, but you have to get dressed.” Carlos stood up from the bed and intercepted TK’s needy grab to draw him back into the bed with a firm poke of TK’s nose. “You have work.”

“I could call in and say that my head hurts, then you could spend the day in bed with me. Your Tia Lucy loves me, she’ll forgive you.”

“No, she’ll forgive you. You’re her favourite,” Carlos clarified with an accusatory point in TK’s direction. “You also say that as if your father wouldn’t order a wellness check and call me every fifteen minutes to make sure you’re not dying.”

“Ugh. He’s the worst.”

“I know sweetheart,” Carlos said, giving TK another chaste kiss before he quickly snuck away. “I’m going to sort out some breakfast so you can get changed.”

“You’re the worst,” TK protested with a pout.

Carlos poked his head back through the door and shot TK a smile. “You love me anyway.”

TK tossed a pillow at Carlos but it collided with the doorframe as Carlos disappeared down the hallway. “That’s debatable!”

He watched as Carlos disappeared through the door and down the stairs before he took a deep breath and glanced at his waiting uniform. It was just clothing, it should feel like a big deal.

And yet it did.

Grabbing the folded shirt on the end of the bed and pulling it into his lap, TK couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of anxiety in his chest as he ran his thumb over the patch with his name on the front.

This was his job, he loved it, he lived to help, but that didn’t keep him from feeling nervous about getting back in the game after a month. It didn’t help that his last shift ended with being held hostage on the wrong end of a gun and given a concussion.

He could do this. He just needed to be thrown back in the deep end.

Shrugging off one of Carlos’ old hoodies that he liked to sleep in, TK took a careful breath and mentally prepared himself for the shift ahead. He didn’t know why he was so nervous but something about the familiar weight of his uniform draped over his shoulders somehow made it feel more official.

The buttons seemed to be smaller and more stubborn than he remembered. He fumbled with them but just couldn’t seem to get his fingers to work properly. Never before had it been this difficult to dress himself. How many times had he done this exact thing without a second thought?

Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes. He just wanted things to go back to normal, but he couldn’t even put on his own shirt. Fuck.

He clutched at the material of his shirt, bunching the edges up in his trembling, useless hands as he stared down at the offending buttons through tearfilled eyes. He was so focused on the indignity and frustration of it all that he didn’t hear the footsteps outside the door until Carlos’s voice drifted in.

“Hey, food’s ready- what’s wrong?” Carlos asked. TK didn’t look up but Carlos’ hands were holding his in a matter of seconds.

“I can’t do it.”

Carlos squeezed TK’s hands softly in a way that was meant to be reassuring. “What can’t you do, sweetheart?”

“These stupid buttons!” TK huffed, unable to stop the fresh round of hot tears running down his face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Carlos said, already moving to do up TK’s buttons in a matter of seconds. He smoothed down TK’s uniform, before carefully tilting his boyfriend’s head up to meet his gaze. “You know you don’t have to work today if you’re not ready. No one is going to judge you for taking a little more time off.”

“No offense, but if I’m stuck here for even one more day I am going to start climbing the walls.”

“None taken. Do you want something to eat?”

“Actually, can I just take it with me?”

Carlos’ eyebrows knit together at that as he eyed TK cautiously. He was clearly worried. “Sure. Are you nauseous? Do you want to take another day off?”

TK waved away his concern. “I’m fine. I just don’t want to be late.”

“Okay…” Carlos didn’t look convinced but he gave TK a quick kiss. It was just a second or two but it took all of TK’s strength to not seize Carlos by his collar and pull him down onto the bed.

Carlos knew this, of course, and smiled at TK before pulling away. “Finish getting dressed and we’ll get on our way soon. I’m sure you can manage that, but just call out if you need me.”

“I always need you.”

“You’re such a dork,” Carlos chuckled as he stepped out of their bedroom, blowing TK a kiss as he left.

TK lifted his hand to catch the kiss, gingerly curling his fingers into his palm. He turned back to his uniform and took a few seconds to let go of his anxiety. He could do this. The buttons were just a minor setback.

Truly, the buttons appeared to be the hardest thing. Not that TK was entirely sure why, but getting dressed the rest of the way proved itself to be a lot easier.

He’d even managed to brush his teeth and make his way halfway down the stairs before Carlos called out to him.

“Who’s this handsome paramedic in my house? I don’t remember calling 911.”

TK just rolled his eyes as he hopped down the rest of the staircase. As soon as his feet hit the floor he stood there with his arms open, giving Carlos a pointed look.

He tapped his foot impatiently as Carlos wandered over and wrapped his arms around TK’s waist, picking him up and walking towards the door.

“This is not what I had in mind!” TK grumbled until Carlos set him down. Slung over Carlos’ shoulder was TK’s duffle bag that plonked heavily on the ground at the same time as TK’s socked feet reconnected.

Before TK could say anything, Carlos was kneeling down and grabbing TK’s boots.

“I can put my own shoes on,” TK protested as Carlos manhandled his feet into the boots.

“You can’t even tie your laces properly, you still do the double-loop. It’ll go faster if I do it.”

TK knew it was a ploy to make sure he didn’t have to deal with the fiddly task of tying his laces. But he’d never tell Carlos that he had caught on.

I only took Carlos a few seconds before he was standing up again and pushing the front door open with a lovesick grin on his face. “You ready to go?”

“Definitely,” TK said with a nod.

TK froze as he stepped out of the front door. The sun was definitely brighter this morning than he was expecting, and a little more than his head was prepared for. But he could handle it.

“You good, babe?” Carlos asked. TK opened his eyes to see Carlos worriedly looking over the top of the car door instead of climbing into the driver’s seat. He really was going to worry about TK all day, wasn’t he?

TK nodded, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

Taking a deep breath, TK gave Carlos a smile. “It’ll be fine, Carlos.”

Walking into the firehouse felt like coming home after a long day. He wasn’t aware he could miss his workplace so much, at least until he spent a month basically confined to Carlos’ condo.

No one was around when TK wandered in, which he could probably chalk up to the missing ladder truck. That was until he spotted the one, the only, Nancy Gillian. She had her legs draped over the arm of the couch and her phone glued to her face, the blue light from the screen reflecting on her skin.

“He’s alive!” Nancy cheered as she looked up from her phone, all but throwing it aside as she kicked her legs up and in a few short strides, wrapped TK up in a bone-crushing hug.

This was definitely weird. TK had never even been hugged by Tommy, let alone the paramedic with whom he had not had the smoothest sailings with in terms of their relationship.

“I missed you, jerk.”

It took TK a few seconds before he was returning her embrace. “I missed you too.”

Almost instantly, Nancy let TK go and turned her back to him. “Did you hear that, Tommy? I told you I could get him to be sappy within five minutes!”

Tommy stepped into view and clicked the button on her stopwatch, making it beep. “2.38. That’s got to be a record.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a record. Or that you were both scheming against me on my first day back,” TK said, his gaze shifting between his fellow paramedics.

“C’mon, it was the perfect scheming opportunity. Marjan and Paul helped with the plan,” Nancy explained.

TK rolled his eyes. “Of course they did. I wouldn’t expect anything less from them.”

Nancy looked around before crossing her arms across her chest, looking somewhere between disappointed and bored. “They had hoped that they were gonna be here to witness it though.”

“Speaking of, why aren’t you guys on the call with them?”

“Medical wasn’t needed, so we’ve just been waiting for you to show up. They’ll be back soon, though,” Tommy said with a shrug.

“And Judd will probably never put you down again in your lifetime,” Nancy chipped in.

TK couldn’t help but to chuckle at the mental image of Judd carting him around for the rest of his life. He certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

Judd was, after all, always threatening to wrap TK up in bubble wrap or never let him do anything unsupervised ever again. TK definitely considered it to be an overreaction and a tad over-protective but everyone else seemed to disagree with him every time he brought it up.

He followed Nancy back to the couch where they both sat down and TK prepared for the onslaught of questions about his well being.

Nancy turned her calculating gaze on TK. “How’s your head?”

“Good.”

“Any dizziness?”

“Nope.”

“Sensitivity to light?”

“I told you, Nancy, I’m fine. Just happy to be back at work.”

“She’ll never admit it, but she missed you,” Tommy said.

“I did not,” Nancy hissed, shooting a glare in Tommy’s direction.

“She’s lying. We all missed you.”

TK turned to see Paul standing behind him. Paul smiled and ruffled TK’s hair. “How are you doing?”

“If one more person asks me that I’m going to smack them.”

“Don’t hit me,” Paul said, raising his hands with his palms towards TK in surrender.

“Give me one good reason,” TK said, raising his hand in an empty threat.

Paul eyed him carefully. “You need someone to protect you from Judd when he realises that you’re here.”

“True,” TK said, lowering his hand so that it rested in his lap. Judd’s big brother role that he had adopted was definitely a lot to deal with at times, but TK enjoyed the affection.

“Strand!” Judd’s distinct voice called, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.

Paul mouthed him a quick ‘good luck’ before TK was wrapped up in a tight embrace.

Pitifully trying to shove away Judd’s arms, TK struggled to wriggle out of his hold. “I need to breathe, Judd.”

As soon as his boots hit the ground, TK rolled his shoulders back and shook out his arms as he bounced on his feet. It was good to be back.

It’d been a good day, mostly minor calls so far, a fainting, a typical rest home visit, and a compound fracture from an unfortunate shortcut down two flights of stairs. But this was exciting, he was back in the heat of it now.

“Look less excited to be at a car accident, Strand,” Nancy scolded as she jabbed her elbow into TK’s ribs.

“It’s not my fault. I’ve been on house arrest for a month, I’ve missed this.”

“And we’ve missed you, but make sure to listen to your body and not push your limits today. You’re supposed to be being eased back into this,” Tommy said carefully as she placed her hands on TK’s shoulders to hold him still.

TK nodded. “Got it. Take it easy, tap out if there’s any issues. I got it.”

Tommy offered him a satisfied smile before she turned to the scene. “Alright, TK, you take the kid that got flung, Nancy and I will check on the driver.”

“On it, Cap,” TK said with a sharp nod, adjusting the strap of his medical bag on his shoulder.

He could do this, he could see the kid sprawled on the road with a few firefighters by his side. This was straightforward, just TK and no hassle of waiting for the team to free his patient.

It was simple, something he couldn’t mess up on his first day back. He knew that this was Tommy’s way of including him without potentially jeopardizing anything.

“What have we got here?” TK asked as he knelt down on the opposite side of the patient, meeting Paul’s gaze briefly.

“Kid got thrown, don’t think he lost consciousness but he doesn’t seem to be in a chatty mood,” Paul offered.

“That’s alright, I got it from here. Why don’t you go do firefighter-y things?”

“Ooh, he’s a paramedic and now he’s too good for us firefighters,” Paul mocked as he gave TK’s shoulder a firm shove.

“Blah, blah, blah. Screw you, Strickland.”

“Let me know when you’re free!” Paul called with his hands cupped around his mouth as he jogged backwards towards the rest of the team.

TK couldn’t help the smile on his face as he shook his head. It was good to be back. He’d certainly missed everyone more than he cared to admit. He turned his attention back to his patient. As far as TK could tell, Paul had gotten as far as a cervical collar and not much else.

“Hey, I’m TK. I’m a paramedic. Can you tell me your name?”

“Andy,” the kid groaned, his face scrunched up in what TK assumed was pain. There was road rash visible on Andy’s face, blood from his nose and a laceration on his forehead sticking his long black hair to his skin.

“Hi Andy. I’m going to help you as best I can. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I’m-” Andy paused, seeming to need a moment to think about it. “I’m not sure.”

TK tensed for a moment before shaking out any visual reaction to the information he was gathering. He had to be professional, and being professional meant keeping his patient calm at all costs. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you know if you lost consciousness at any point?”

“I don’t think so?”

TK pulled the edge of his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on it to ease his nerves. This wasn’t good. “Do you know where you are?”

“The middle of the road.” Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Tuesday?”

TK shook his head. “It’s Saturday.”

“Nice.” Andy cracked a small smile. “I love the weekend.”

TK fished his penlight out of his pocket and turned it on in one fluid motion. It was muscle memory, but it felt good to be back. He ran it over Andy’s eyes, his mind whirling as he processed what he was seeing.

Tensing up a little as he realised the severity of the seemingly insignificant head wound. “Pupils are irregular and response is delayed.”

“That’s bad isn’t it?” Andy asked, his voice climbing in pitch with what was undoubtedly fear. It was always fear.

“Don’t worry about that right now.” TK clicked off the light and held his penlight parallel with Andy’s face. “Can you follow my light?”

He watched Andy’s eyes trailing the sideways movement of the light carefully.

Clicking his tongue, TK slipped the penlight back into his pocket. “I can’t make a diagnosis here but you might have a concussion.”

“How bad is that?”

“Oh, it’s not gonna be pleasant. I just spent a month on medical leave for a concussion of my own. Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

“Ouch?”

TK nodded, suppressing a grimace as he tried to ignore the stabbing pain making itself known behind his right eye. Now really wasn’t the best time for a headache. “Ouch.”

“I’m going to slide my hands under you to check for any bleeding that I can’t see. Is that okay with you?”

Andy nodded slightly, his movement restricted by the collar. Clearly his probable concussion protested the attempted motion as Andy quickly let out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Yeah, that won’t be a good idea for a while,” TK hummed as he began sliding his gloved hands under Andy, watching carefully for the familiar smear of red that would let him figure out why Andy was getting so pale.

But there was no blood.

In any other instance, TK would be relieved to find no evidence of bleeding, but with the growing lack of colour in Andy’s skin and the way that TK confirmed with a single touch that his skin was also colder than it should be, there was no relief from the lack of a visible bleed. It was almost definitely internal and there wasn’t a lot that TK could do about that.

Sucking his teeth, TK mentally ran over his course of action. It didn’t involve a lot of steps so he could handle it on his own. There was no need to bring in the cavalry.

“Okay, I’m going to give you an IV,” TK said as he dug around in his med kit. “It won’t solve anything but it’ll make you feel a whole of a lot better.”

“That sounds good.”

TK had the bag of saline, the needle—he even triple-checked the gauge—, the catheter and a few alcohol pads laid out before him. This was an IV, he’d done it a million times, he could do it in his sleep.

That was until he tried to open the alcohol pad and couldn’t seem to get his fingers to cooperate. It was the button fiasco all over again. TK was starting to get really sick of this.

Brushing it off and deciding to blame the alcohol pad as faulty, TK quickly tried another. And another. And another.

The alcohol pads weren’t faulty, he was.

Taking a breath as he closed his eyes, TK willed his hands to stop shaking. This wasn’t the end of the world, he could handle it.

“Hey, Gillian, can you give me a hand?” TK called over his shoulder and tried to ignore how unsure his voice sounded.

“Sure!” She called back. It was only a few seconds before Nancy was kneeling on the other side of Andy, her own med kit with her. “What do you need?”

With a careful inhale, TK asked the question he knew was only going to raise a million more. “Can you run a line for me?”

Nancy looked like she wanted to ask, but she stayed silent and set up the IV with quick ease.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nancy said. TK could tell that she was trying to seem casual, but her voice was firm. This was going to find it’s way back to Tommy and she was going to bench him. So much for a good first say back. “I’m gonna go see if there’s an available gurney.”

“That'd be great, thanks Nancy,” TK said with an uneasy smile. He was grateful but he knew that once this interaction was over, he was going to be benched. Carlos would be called to come and pick him up from the station and he’d be back on medical leave for the foreseeable future.

Nancy left and TK turned back to Andy who was eyeing him curiously, his brown eyes seeming to trail after TK’s every movement.

“Are you alright?” TK asked, scanning Andy for any sign of an injury that he may have missed.

“Did you know that you’re really pretty?”

TK froze for a second, he probably looked like he was buffering. Concussed teenagers are one thing. Apparently concussed teens flirting with him were the same thing. TK had to consciously remind himself to reply to Andy instead of just kneeling there looking like a stunned mullet. “It has been said.”

“No, I mean like, so pretty.”

TK rocked back on his heels slightly, lifting his head to look in the direction of the rest of the crew. Silently begging Nancy to return. “Andy, I’m flattered, but you’re like twelve.”

“I’m fifteen,” Andy said.

“I rest my case. You’re a minor and I already have a boyfriend.”

“It’s not my lucky day, I guess.”

TK could help a smile as he shook his head, ignoring the low-level pounding in his making itself known. “No. No, it is not.”

As soon as Andy was unloaded from the ambulance and Nancy and Tommy followed his gurney inside the hospital, TK climbed into the passenger’s seat of the ambulance to wait for them.

His body was so heavy, he really couldn’t fathom staying on his feet any longer. He wasn’t used to all this work. Maybe diving back into the deep end wasn’t the best plan.

If he was still a firefighter, he’d have been put on light duty. He’d be working reception, checking inventory or cleaning all day but he’d be doing something. Light duty wasn’t much of a function when he was a paramedic.

This was the closest he could get, he didn’t get to drive or work on anything that wasn’t minor. And still, he was feeling the toll.

Curling in on himself, TK massaged his temples. Of course his head had to hurt.

TK could feel the pressure in his head climbing. The little sharp pains morphed into a constant throbbing as it got harder and harder to bear having his eyes open. It was only going to get worse from here.

But he just needed to hold it together for the rest of the day. Or until they could get back to the station.

If they got back he could sleep off the worst of it, or look pitiful enough for Tommy to send him home. He didn’t want to go home but he wanted to stop feeling like he couldn’t do his job.

He could hear the distinct sound of doors opening and closing as Tommy and Nancy returned but he didn’t look at them.

“Good work out there, team. It’s been too empty just as the two of us, it’s good to have you back, TK,” Tommy said as TK felt the ambulance start up with the familiar hum of the engine.

“It’s good to be back.”

Nancy had pulled out of the hospital and back onto the road by the time Tommy spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about the IV, TK?”

“Not really,” TK said. He knew what Tommy was going to say, he was bound to be benched.

“Just say the word and you can go home. No one is mad, or disappointed, or anything. If you need more time off, that’s okay.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“The offer is always there if you feel the need to take it.”

TK let out a short laugh. It sounded kind of like he was being strangled. “I won’t, but okay.”

They lapsed into silence, the atmosphere suddenly having become so much more awkward.

After a few minutes and most of their journey back to the station the pressure in TK’s head decided to spike and suddenly everything was making a fresh wave of pain hit him.

Groaning softy, TK pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched his eyes shut to block out the light. He really needed the throbbing in his head to ease up or at least not get worse before they got back to the station and he could down a few advil to take the edge off.

Over his recovery period he had gotten used to the pattern of his migraines, the way the pain would linger for an hour or two and steadily get worse until it skyrocketed and Carlos had to hold him while he sobbed and tried to ride out the pain. By that point there wasn’t much either of them could do except to make their way up to the bedroom and hope that TK could sleep it off.

He couldn’t begin to even imagine how many hours Carlos had spent sitting on the bed next to him in the dark, rubbing his hand soothingly across TK’s back, silently begging for the pain to stop. TK knew how much it killed Carlos to see him hurting, as well as how he’d kept quiet about it but he could never really hide these things from his boyfriend. Carlos’ eyes were so full of emotion, they were a dead giveaway every time.

It’d been almost a week and a half since he’d had a migraine, his neurologist even said it was a good indicator that he was on the tail end of his recovery. However, in usual TK Strand style, good things never lasted.

As he opened his eyes, TK had to suppress his urge to curse. Everything was like he was looking through an out of focus camera, the haziness only slight in the centre of his vision but his peripheral vision was barely decipherable.

The taillights of the car in front of them seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat and the midday sun was making the simple act of keeping his eyes open borderline-unbearable as pain laced its way through his skull.

This was bad.

He closed his eyes and leant his head back until it collided softly with the seat. At least he was expecting the dizziness and nausea as they washed over him.

“You alright, Strand?” Nancy asked, undoubtedly having given him a quick once-over when he got quiet.

TK nodded, biting his tongue as he felt like he was going to regret having lunch. He tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out very weak and not at all as casual as he had hoped. “Yeah, just tired. I’m not used to being awake for so long without taking a nap.”

“Feel free to lie down for a bit when we get back to the station. I don’t want you overdoing it, you hear me?” Tommy chimed from her seat in the back.

“I’ll be fine, Cap. Just need to readjust to working life.”

TK could hear Tommy shift in her seat, probably so she was sure that he was listening to her. “You sustained a traumatic brain injury after getting kidnapped on the job, I think you’re entitled to as many naps on the clock as you can take.”

“I’ll be fine. I just want you to treat me like you would any other day. You guys got kidnapped too, I don’t need any special treatment.”

“You’re not special, we just don’t want to waste half an hour giving you a ride up to the ER because you overdid it and didn’t tell anyone,” Nancy said.

“I wouldn’t do that,” TK objected, not even bothering to open his eyes and give Nancy a displeased look.

He didn’t even have the energy to roll his eyes as his coworkers laughed.

Tommy was the first to speak, “sure, kid. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The laughter dissolved after a short while, Nancy and Tommy making amicable conversation as TK tried to hold himself together around every turn and slightly too-abrupt brake.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. It seemed like the fire station was further away than it had ever been before, he wasn’t going to make it until then.

Taking a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, he couldn’t quell the nausea.

“Nancy, pull over,” he groaned.

“What?”

“Pull over.”

“I’m not going to pull over, TK. We’re almost at the station.”

“Nancy Gillian, I swear to god, pull this ambulance over.”

Nancy gave in, probably noticing the serious edge to TK’s voice or probably the fact that he had undoubtedly gone very pale in the passenger’s seat. “Okay, okay. Pulling over now.”

TK couldn’t fly out the door any faster once the ambulance came to a halt. He knew that Nancy and Tommy had a million questions that he wasn’t answering, but he was too preoccupied sinking to his knees and throwing up in the gutter.

This wasn’t going to go down in history as one of TK Strand’s finest moments, that’s for sure.

He didn’t notice anything aside from the throbbing in his head and the sting of bile in his throat until there was a hand rubbing his back. It was Nancy, he knew that without her even saying anything. Her cherry scented shampoo, although usually pleasant, made his stomach twist.

“‘M sorry,” TK whined as he took a moment to catch his breath before the nausea came back with a vengeance and he was once again emptying his guts.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“No, I bet you don’t.” That was Tommy. She had a very soothing energy that would usually make him feel better but he was too preoccupied retching and only now noticing how much he was shaking.

“I’m-” TK drew in a trembling breath. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

“It’s just,” TK waved a hand in the vague direction of his head, “concussion.”

Tommy was running her hand through his hair now, like his mother always used to do when he was sick as a kid, it was a very comforting gesture. He was going to die with the secret that her comfort made him want to cry, ignoring the fact that he definitely already wanted to cry. “Yeah, I think you’re gonna need some more time off.”

“No.”

He could almost hear Nancy rolling her eyes. “Yeah, Bud, I don’t think you have a choice in the matter.”

“If this stays between us I don’t have to go back on medical leave.”

Nancy scoffed. “This can stay between us if you can stand up and walk back to the ambulance on your own.”

“That’s easy. I can do that.”

“Go for gold, kid,” Tommy said as she retracted her steadying hold on him. TK didn’t quite realise how little of a part he was playing in keeping himself upright until that moment.

Steeling himself with a deep breath and wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, TK rocked back onto his heels, ready to push himself onto his feet.

And careened backwards almost instantly, a head rush rolling over him.

TK would never be able to express his gratitude for Tommy and Nancy catching him in that moment. He leant heavily on Tommy as he closed his eyes willing everything to stop spinning. The earth wasn’t supposed to tilt like this.

Nancy gave TK a gentle pat on his back. “Yeah, you’re going back on medical leave.”

She was just met with a groan, TK couldn’t find the energy to argue, and he was almost certain that if he opened his mouth he’d be sick again.

“Do you want to ride in the gurney back to the station?” Tommy asked softly, brushing his sweaty hair away from where it clung to his forehead.

“Please, no,” he whimpered, resting his head fully on Tommy’s shoulder. He was never going to live this down.

“Hey, champ. Just sit tight and we’ll give you a hand.”

TK waved her off. “No- No, I’m good.”

Ignoring how much he fumbled, TK eventually managed to wrestle his way out of his seatbelt and opened the door. He ended up bracing himself almost entirely on the doorframe as he struggled to his feet and tried to step down.

His foot missed its purchase and he was falling for a moment or two, his brain didn’t even realise it was happening until Tommy and Nancy appeared seemingly out of nowhere to catch him.

“Easy there,” Tommy said as TK relinquished his part in holding himself up. His legs felt like the bones had been stripped from them at this point, he had no hope of bearing his own weight.

TK couldn’t help the whine he let out at the sound of Judd’s voice. “Whoa, what happened?”

“Can you guys help get him to the couch?” Tommy asked, dodging the question as she slung one of TK’s arms over her shoulders.

Judd’s arm looped around TK’s torso should have made him feel better and more supporter but he could only let out a pitiful groan as every slight shift made the room spin.

“Don’t worry, we gotcha.”

“I don’t,” TK grumbled as he let himself be dragged around until he was settled down onto something soft. He knew that it was a long enough walk from the ambulance bay to the common area or the bunk room for TK to know they had definitely gained the attention of most of the firehouse at this point.

“You’re looking very green, kid.”

As much as TK appreciated Judd’s concern and assistance getting to wherever he was currently situated - he couldn’t find the will to open his eyes to the bright lights of the station - but the signature deep Southern drawl was grating against his eardrums.

“He looked greener when he abandoned his guts in the middle of the street,” Nancy chimed. It was a very snarky statement but her words had no bite. TK imagined that this was probably how she had spoken to him on the night of the kidnapping when he was freshly concussed. He honestly couldn’t recall anything more than a few flashes from that night.

“He’s shakin’ like a leaf.”

“Yeah.” That was Paul’s voice now, coming from somewhere behind or to the side of TK. He wasn’t entirely sure anymore. “Shouldn’t he go to the hospital? This doesn’t look good at all.”

TK could almost see Tommy shrug. “If he doesn’t improve with some rest, or gets worse, there’s a ride to the ER with his name on it.”

“No,” TK groaned. “No hospitals.”

“Bud, I love ya, but this looks pretty bad.”

The voices were beginning to get harder to tell apart, everyone’s words blending together into one big indecipherable mess by the time they reached TK’s ears but he knew that was Judd.

TK stiffened as his stomach lurched. He opened his mouth to speak but a small trash can was swiftly shoved into his arms just in time for him to throw up yet again. He whimpered between heaves of what was just bile at this point, his insides cramping painfully.

“Carlos is on his way.”

Was everyone here? TK assumed his dad would be there considering he was puking his guts out on his first day back, but there were already too many other people seeing him in his current state. The idea of Carlos coming, however, made TK feel a lot better.

He’d probably feel bad about interrupting Carlos’ time with his family later but right now, all TK cared about was having Carlos next to him again.

He didn’t even realise he was crying until someone was wiping his tears away. It was that gesture that prompted TK to open his eyes. To near-complete darkness.

It only took him a few seconds to piece together that he was in the bunk room surrounded by his colleagues while he held onto a rubbish bin with a white-knuckle grip. As if on cue, he folded over the edge of the bin again and retched while someone continued rubbing his back.

The hand was definitely bigger than Tommy or Nancy’s, so maybe it was Judd? Or Paul? TK didn’t particularly care at this point. He was just glad that he wasn’t alone.

Every time he managed to lift his head for more than a minute at a time, Tommy was right there with a glass of water, trying to coerce him into drinking some of it.

“You need to drink something,” Tommy said firmly as she once again put the glass in his face.

Even the idea of drinking water made TK’s insides twist, he didn’t particularly feel like throwing up cold water anytime soon. “No thanks.”

“I wasn’t asking. You’re going to drink this water or you’re going to get an IV.”

“An IV sounds great.”

“Drink the water, TK.”

He didn’t have the energy to fight her so he slowly sipped the water while Tommy held the edge of the glass to his lips.

The feeling of cold water on his irritated throat was better than he’d ever admit, but he only got a few seconds of relief before he pushed the glass away and the water came back up.

“Yeah, this has ‘hospital’ written all over it,” Tommy said.

“No hospital,” TK groaned, trying to glare at Tommy through the tears gathered in his eyes. “Need Carlos.”

“I’m here.” There were hurried footsteps and a familiar presence slotting in next to TK as arms wrapped around him. TK could cry. He buried his face in Carlos’ shoulder while Carlos ran his hand between TK’s shoulder blades. “I’m here, baby.”

TK couldn’t help the fresh wave of tears that soaked into Carlos’ shirt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. How are you feeling?”

“Bad. Awful. I left the thesaurus at home.”

“You’re doing great.”

“Sorry for ruining lunch,” TK mumbled into Carlos’ shoulder, his voice muffled by the fabric.

Carlos brought a hand up to play with TK’s hair at that. “Shh, no. You didn’t ruin anything. We’re all just very worried about you and want you to feel better.”

“I wanna feel better.”

“I know, baby.”

“Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. Everyone understands,” Carlos said as he pressed a kiss to the top of TK’s head. “Are you going to let Tommy take you to the hospital now?”

TK just whined and clung tighter to Carlos. He didn’t want to let go.

“I’m not gonna leave. I’m going to be right next to you the entire time,” Carlos promised, pressing a few more soft kisses to TK’s hair.

“Is that my cue to get the gurney?”

TK wasn’t entirely sure who spoke but he just sighed and nodded into Carlos’ shirt.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” TK could only imagine the smile Carlos was giving, he could hear it in his boyfriend’s voice.

Being with Carlos brought him comfort and he was so exhausted from the toll this episode had taken on his body that he was content to just rest his entire weight against Carlos.

Carlos accepted his presence entirely. He ran his palm along TK’s spine in a comforting gesture. TK could almost fall asleep there if he didn’t feel so awful.

He had no idea how much time had elapsed by the time something changed. Everyone was pretty silent for the most part, aside from the occasional clicking of the door opening and closing as people came and went.

And then he felt the shift. Like a tectonic plate moving underfoot, the exhaustion morphed into a sensation he was all too familiar with.

Panic.

Something bad was about to happen.

TK rested his palm on his chest, right over where he could feel his heart racing as it got harder to draw in a deep breath. That wasn’t a usual symptom when his head was acting up. “Ooh, I feel weird.”

Carlos stiffened under him at that. “What do you mean?”

He looked over at where Marjan and Paul were pretending not to be looking over at him every few seconds, only to realise he couldn’t really see them all that clearly. “I kinda feel like I’m about to have a panic attack, but my vision is going weird. That doesn’t usually happen.

“Are you okay? Do I need to get Captain Vega?”

“I think-” TK’s sentence was cut off as he paused to take a breath, willing away the dizziness that had made a spectacular comeback. “I need to lie down.”

“Alright, okay,” Carlo said, helping to ease TK down until he was lying on his side and Carlos could run a hand through his hair. “Just hang tight and we’ll see what Captain Vega says, okay?” Carlos asked in a soft voice, running his hand through TK’s hair.

TK nodded, “Okay.”

As quickly as things had gotten weird, they got weirder. There was another wave of dizziness and a weird taste in his mouth as his body seemed to have a mind of its own. There were a couple involuntary jerks of his hands and legs, as much as TK tried to hold his limbs still it just seemed to get worse.

“Tommy!” Carlos called, his voice cracking.

“Go get Tommy,” someone said before there was another set of hands touching him and the sound of panicked footsteps moving further away. When they spoke again TK could identify the voice as being his father’s. “TK? TK, can you hear me?”

TK wanted to nod, to confirm that he could hear them, that he didn’t know what was happening.

He was scared.

TK could feel himself slipping as the jerking got worse. He wanted to tell Carlos not to worry but he wasn’t in control anymore. His jaw clenched firm as his head jolted back a few times. He was shaking now, like he’d been electrocuted, and Carlos was looking more and more scared with each passing second.

“Shit.” Tommy’s voice reached his ears ripe with alarm as TK felt even more hands on him. “He’s seizing!”

And TK slipped.

The darkness was only brief, in what seemed like just a few moments he was blinking up at Carlos again. As if he’d fallen asleep for a minute or two.

“Hey there,” Carlos said with a soft smile. Looking up at his boyfriend, TK could clearly see the tears gathered in Carlos’ wide, worried eyes.

“Hi,” TK breathed as he pieced together all he could remember. There was a gap between lying down and talking to Carlos and waking up in the same place that he wasn’t entirely sure of. It was a void. All he knew was that his head definitely hurt more now, but everyone aside from Tommy and Carlos had cleared the room. “What happened?”

“You had a seizure.” That was definitely Tommy speaking, even though TK couldn’t see her. She was somewhere out of his line of sight and he was too preoccupied with studying Carlos’ worried expression to look away. It definitely made a lot more sense now why Carlos downright terrified.

It also made sense why no one else was around. Tommy would have known that he didn’t want anyone gawking at him when he came to. “Thanks.”

“For?” Tommy asked.

“Sending everyone out.”

“Don’t worry about it. I figured you didn’t need anyone other than me or your boy right now.” Tommy gave TK’s thigh a pat before leaving his side. “I’m going to go see if Nancy’s got the gurney sorted, okay?”

TK just hummed as Tommy walked away. He didn’t particularly care much about what was going on, he just reached out for Carlos until he could curl his finger around his boyfriend’s wrist.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a soft voice, not failing to notice the way Carlos jumped a little.

“What do you mean?” Carlos’ eyebrows knit together in confusion as he visibly tried to decode those three words, as if he was going to come up with a reason he could understand for why TK would ask him that. “I’m fine. I should be asking you that.”

“You’re scared, I can tell.”

“Of course I’m scared. You don’t have to worry about me, though.”

“I’m still going to worry, I care about you.”

“Care about yourself for once. You just had a seizure!” Carlos’ voice cracked on the last word as he covered his mouth with his free hand. He was crying. TK couldn’t see it but he knew. He could feel the way Carlos trembled and hear how his breaths were rough and staggered as he tried to swallow his sobs.

“I know. But I’m gonna go to the hospital and they’re gonna fix me up, you don’t have to worry. I don’t even feel that bad anymore, I’m just really tired and my head hurts. I just wanna make sure you’re okay, ‘Los.”

He heard Carlos take another deep, steadying breath before a familiar hand found its way into his hair. “TK-” he started, voice moderately steadier than before, but he was interrupted by the arrival of TK’s team and the gurney.

“Up you go, Strand,” Tommy instructed lightly as Carlos shifted gears, pulling the hand out of his hair and instead reaching around to help him up.

“I don’t need help,” TK objected as he slowly eased himself to his feet, bracing his entire weight on Carlos as his boyfriend helped to lift him.

“Yeah, you do. It’s okay,” Tommy said as she grabbed his legs and moved them so that they were on the gurney with him. “No one is mad at you.”

“I never said that.”

Carlos pressed a careful kiss to TK’s temple before brushing a hand through his boyfriend’s sweaty hair as he placed the other on TK’s side. “You were thinking it.”

“I’m getting déjà vu,” TK groaned. This situation of his worried boyfriend hovering over him while his head was unbearably painful was beginning to be a recurring event in his life.

“I think they call that nausea and dehydration,” Carlos offered, a small smile curling up the corner of his lips.

TK closed his eyes and sighed. “I hate you.”

“Why? I’m lovely.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” TK mumbled as he tried to suppress a groan at the jostling motion the gurney made as he was loaded into the ambulance. Carlos was quick to follow him though, eagerly scooping up TK’s hand in his own.

"I'm dying," TK grumbled, his face buried in his pillow. He’d been trying to fall asleep for the past however many hours he’d been cooped up in the ER. But everything was too bright, too loud, and his head hurt so badly. Every squeak of sneakers or beep from his IV pump seemed to serve only to exacerbate his pain. He was even cooped up under a spare blanket and Carlos’ jacket as his sweat was just making him colder in the frigid hospital air.

TK could tell by Carlos’ silence that he was trying to suppress a laugh before he said anything. "You're not dying, babe."

"If I'm not dying, why does my head hurt so bad?"

"Because you're an idiot who doesn’t tell anyone when he’s struggling."

TK just groaned in response. "I don't think this level of pain should be legal."

"Unfortunately, I don't think I can arrest your brain."

"Then what's the point of having a cop boyfriend?”

“I’m not sure. Personally, I choose to date endearing idiots who are determined to give me grey hair.”

TK just huffed and shot his boyfriend a glare. “You suck.”

“I know.”

Their banter dissolved into silence. TK knew Carlos was trying to stay as quiet as possible, that any sound would aggravate TK’s pain, and he was grateful for that.

"My head hurts," TK whimpered, reaching out clumsily until his fingers connected with Carlos' arm. His grip wasn't firm, but he pulled Carlos closer anyways, as if his boyfriend wasn't mere inches away at most times and always eager to be closer.

Carlos ran his fingers through TK's hair, carefully so as to not jostle his head. "I know sweetheart, I'm sorry."

In a flash, the nausea came rolling back with a vengeance and TK only had a few seconds to prop himself up on his elbows.

Carlos was quick to shove an emesis bag under TK’s face as he shuddered under the force of his body dry heaving until he had to taste his own bile for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

When TK finally rolled back onto the bed, panting from the toll the day had taken on his body, Carlos gagged. “That’s disgusting. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Give me a break.” TK grumbled, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. He was exhausted and he just wanted everything to be over. “I’m in the hospital.”

“This chain of events was entirely your fault, you don’t get pity.”

“I deserve pity.”

“Maybe you do.”

“I want to take a shower, I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“You can when we get home.” Carlos said, taking TK’s hand in his own, careful not to mess with the IV as he pressed a few short kisses to TK’s knuckles. “Unfortunately that’s going to be a little while away. They’re probably going to want to do a bunch of scans.”

TK groaned, rolling towards Carlos until his face was buried in the thin hospital pillow. “I hate scans.”

“I know, baby.” Carlos tapped his fingers on the railing of the bed a few times before he spoke again. “You know they’re necessary though.”

“I don’t care. They suck.”

“Just try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll wake you up when the doctor gets here.”

TK went to nod but thought better of it. Instead he sighed and sank further into the pillow, “I’m sorry.”

Though TK couldn’t see him he could practically hear the frown in Carlos’s voice. “Sorry?” he asked, “For what?”

“For worrying you,” TK started, “for not being able to make it through a day at work. For not being able to do anything. For being useless.”

“Hey,” Carlos responded firmly, “You are not useless. You are hurt and still recovering. None of this is your fault TK, none of it.”

“Still,” TK pressed on, “you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“And niether should you, but here we are. We’re in this together babe, no matter what.”

TK lifted his head off of the pillow to look at Carlos who was giving him a soft smile. He looked so hopeful TK could hardly stand it, but he appreciated it all the same. “I think I love you,” he said wearily before plopping his head back into the pillow, the sounds of Carlos’s fond chuckle chasing him.

“Well I know I love you,” Carlos assured him, rubbing a comforting hand down his back. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The resident tapped the end of his pen on his clipboard before looking back up at TK. "This could just be post-concussion syndrome but I'm going to page your neurologist given your medical history to see how she thinks your treatment should go."

Carlos looked confused as he turned to the doctor. "What would his medical history have to do with it?"

TK sighed. He’d had this conversation with his neurologist a month ago. The risk of this concussion exacerbating any symptoms from previous injuries that could have had an affect on his brain. "Overdoses. Getting shot. They're worried about permanent brain damage."

“That sounds serious. Why haven’t you brought that up before?”

TK shrugged. “I thought we’d cross that bridge if and when we got to it. No use worrying you about something that no one can control.”

“I’m going to order a CT scan and see whether or not your neurologist wants more tests when she gets here,” the doctor explained before heading back into the main body of the ER.

One CT scan became an MRI, and many more tests and scans. After many hours it was determined that no, TK’s condition hadn’t worsened. It just hadn’t gotten better.

His neurologist had determined that it was likely post-concussion syndrome and discharged him with a few referrals and a prescription for a bunch of new medication that would hopefully ease his symptoms.

Carlos offered him a soft and reassuring smile as he pulled a hoodie over TK’s head.

TK didn’t even bother to put his arms in the sleeves as he gave Carlos a pout. “I want to go home.”

TK was used to Carlos’ sixth sense at this point. He should have expected that Carlos would hear him sniffle from all the way downstairs and race up to check on him.

Before TK could even get his thoughts in order, his face was sandwiched between Carlos’ hands as thumbs wiped the tears from his cheeks. He loved Carlos’ eyes, he loved getting lost in their depth, but he didn’t love the way they only ever seemed to look at him with worry nowadays.

“What’s wrong? What hurts?” Carlos asked in a soft voice. He was worried. He always was.

TK closed his eyes and let a few more tears slip free as he drew in a shaky breath. “My head.”

“Get back in bed, sweetheart.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what, TK?”

“This,” TK said, gesturing towards his head. “It’s been five months and it’s not getting any better. I’m sick of being in pain all the time, I’m sick of not being able to work, I’m sick of being a burden on you.”

“Hey,” Carlos breathed, tilting TK’s head up so they were looking at each other. “You’re not a burden. You’re never a burden.”

“I keep making you cancel plans to take care of me. We don’t do anything anymore, you just look at me like I’m going to fall apart if there’s a loud noise or if i go from a dark room into a bright one. Just because my life is ruined, it doesn’t mean that yours has to be too.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like this, but I promise you that I’m never going to want to be anywhere as much as I always want to be by your side. I love you, TK. I don’t care how long this recovery process takes, I’m not going to love you any less.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Never,” Carlos said firmly. “I’m always going to be here to love you. I’m gonna go downstairs and bring up your meds and something to eat, then we can spend the day in bed and try the date tomorrow if you’re up to it.”

TK nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Carlos pressed a kiss to TK’s temple before disappearing back downstairs.

When he returned, Carlos handed TK a handful of assorted pills and a smoothie before sliding under the covers and wrapping his arm around TK’s waist.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“You mean the world to me and I’ll never let you forget that.”

#bad things happen bingo #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #writing*#userjillian #userkimmy #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #userjillybean #uservickytoria #userac

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djxrxn · 3 years

Text

more cuddle headcanons

everyone really liked the cuddle hcs for the main three bucket boys, (which is right here!!), and i wanted to try out some characters that i would like to write for in the future. this post is all star wars characters, i’ll make a different post later on with the pascal characters !!

also, the phasma fic is taking A Bit Longer because it’s going to be a pretty big fic (it’s currently at 5.1 k and i still have a lot to work on). school also just started, so please bear with me!! i will have it up as soon as possible, in the meantime, i’ll post some smaller projects like this!! enjoy!!

warnings: cursing, some mentions of sexual content

w/c: about 2.1k

cobb vanth

i honestly think an argument can be made that cobb vanth is one of the most partner-material guys in the galaxy far far away. he’s very personable, he’s overall pretty warm - he’s an expert in affectionate, sweet shit. he’s always bringing up cuddling together or curling up in the corner of the cantina of Mos Pelgo, you’re not gonna have to strong arm him for love at all!

i think cobb likes to lay on you - like he’ll lay his head on your tummy or in your lap. play with his hair, scratch his head, maybe sing your marshal a little song !! i dont see him falling asleep, but if YOU’RE tired, he’ll absolutely do the same thing for you - you can lay on him, and he’ll sing little tune and you can drift off to sleep.

little spoon, don’t EVEN try to argue, this man is the little spoon, please hold him, wrap your arms around him, he loves it !! he’ll lay his head on your chest, or lean his head back to give you little kisses and wink at you.

very fine with pda, actually speaking of kisses, will steal them all DAY long. you’re trying to work on the speeder bike that’s been busted for months?? cobb is gonna be hanging around your work station, waitin for the perfect moment to give you a little peck on the cheek. (). i dont even think he’s a like “cuddly partner,” i think he’s just super friendly, and if he’s in a relationship, he’s gonna want to be hanging around you and getting a bunch of affection. and AGAIN no toxic masculinity here - there’s no shame or like embarrassment when you want to hold hands or kiss in public, like he’s all for it!

okay i- this is not necessarily sexual, but okay hear me out. i live somewhere super hot, and the best way to be is inside, in the dark, fan on high and as little clothes as possible. so i think for somewhere like mos pelgo, if he’s got some down time at home, he’s absolutely stripping down to as few layers as possible (if at all). so you know, dont be surprised if you’re hanging out at his place, and he walks around in like his (underwear), it’s just really hot and he has to wear a lot of layers, he’s sweating

bo katan kryze

fuck you, i like bo

this will be a short section just because she is not very cuddly at all, and in general, is pretty cold and icy. i don’t know if she doesn’t like affection and pda if she’s just not interested, or if she’s extremely defensive and really wants to push that she’s a stone cold badass and has no weaknesses.

if you manage to get bo to sort of slow down and relax, and she is in a relationship with you, she’ll show affection in like acts and services, specifically when it comes to your safety. like she’ll run extra patrols and will do everything in her power to make sure you are never in danger. the most cuddly she gets is when you sleep next to her every night, and even then you both have like Your Own Space when sleeping. listen, there’s probably a lot of depth in bo katan, and how much she’s lost (a lot of it sort of her own fault), and how much she wants to regain and take back, and the lengths she is willing to go to, and like listen we all have weak moments, like obviously she’s gonna wanna have your head in her lap SOMETIMES. but she’s also a top and SHe’s BuSY so you know.

koska reeves & axe wolves

i’m combining these two here in one section, wow

FUCK YOU, I LIKE AXE. out of all three of the like Mandalore mandalorians, i think he’s the most like affectionate. i think once you win him over, and show you’re not gonna ghost him or like idk try to kill him, i think he’s pretty casual. you can lay on him, and he’s cool with laying on you. he’s not really embarrassed with pda - he’s not like Against it completely, but he likes a quick kiss here and there. very sweet boy, very kind and gentle, he will flirt with you even after you get together, like its a constant stream of like cheesy pick up lines and one liners, he’s very dorky. just a dumb nerd, why are y’all so MEAN to him smh embarrassing

koska…,..,.,..,.., what a WOMAN. i think she’s like halfway between axe and bo in terms of affection in a relationship. like i think you have to build up a lot of trust, and establish a like respect between the two of you, but like she has no problem with letting you lounge around and curl up with her. i also think she’s gonna be protective, but honestly that’s a mando thing. they care about the people who care about them. i don;t think she gives a single fuck, so if you want to makeout in public, or even just want to hold her hand because your nervous, she absolutely wil let you like she does not seem the kind to like deny/reject you, you know? anyways i am in love with koska, sasha banks i am free every day i love u queen we stan

fennec shand

the one the ONLY. the most exciting thing about fennec is that she literally doesn’t give a fuck, so pda?? yeah, if you like fennec’s hand on your waist and her tongue down your throat and don’t mind other people around, shes super down with giving you some love in public. that’s not to saw she’s down with like fucking in public or in front of people, shes just not ashamed of her relationship and cares more about you than what other people think of you two.

big spoon!! lay in her arms, let her cradle you and take care of you!! i think she also really enjoys you laying your head in her lap (i have another drabble about this here) but that way she can trace your face, or play with your hair if you like your hair played with, or even just kiss your nose.

you two normally lounge around in boba’s palace. there’s some sofas and lounge areas in the throne room that you two curl up on, but there’s a balcony on one of the upper levels that’s your favorite spot. you can lay next to her and enjoy her affections while the stars slowly drag themselves into the night sky. you’re away from prying eyes, and you can discuss your future with her and where you both might travel tom if you can sneak away for a few days. she’ll tell you all of the gossip of the crime world and all of the people boba and her have to sort through to establish the new king of the underbelly of the galaxy. its your and hers spot!! just a place to vibe and cuddle in peace.

fennec doesn’t really sleep. she’s a mapper, rather than her like conking out for nine hours at a time. she doesn’t mind if you like sleep, you can sleep on her anytime !! lay your head on her shoulder, or on her chest — she‘ll keep you safe while you drift off to sleep.

maul

maul is pretty grumpy, i have a cuddly drabble with him you can read here, but for the most part i think maul is the standard grumpy guy who doesn’t mind curling up with his s/o when they want to !! there are gonna be times where he’s not interested in touch or physical contact — maul has days that he needs space and time, whether he’s processing and meditating on past events, or if he’s just in need of maul-time. the best thing to do in those days is wait for him to sort of open the proverbial door to let you back in, or to wait until he crawls into your lap or into your bed to rest.

he normally won’t refuse affections, but i the mornings he wakes up and all he can think about is your skin against his, or how sweet your eyes are, he’s not letting you do ANYTHINg. he wants your head on his CHEST he wants you in his ARM you are CUDDLING RIGHT NOW

i don’t really see maul being a little spoon (yes i do, i’m pretty tall so everyone is a little spoon if you’re under 5’11) BUT i think maul likes to hold you against his chest, and to wrap his arms around you. theres a protective element too. everything has been taken from maul, and he likes knowing your safe in his arms. if u DO catch his being a little spoon, he’s gonna be grumpy and very snickety with you.

i don’t know how much you’’ be going out and about with maul, but pda just from a safety perspective is gonna be a soft know. if you’re in public with him, he’ll always be around you — maybe his hand will rest on your lower back or shoulder, or maybe a few of his fingers will curl around yours. just don’t expect to be making out in public, your relationship is taken very seriously by maul, and he’ll want to be careful and err on the side of caution.

maul likes it when you kiss him. he likes it when you pepper kisses all over his cheeks and along his jaw, he likes when you trace his marks and tattoos and place little kisses on his chest. something sweet and warm blooms in his chest when you reach over to pull his hand over so you can kiss his knuckles. its a gentle affection that no one has ever wanted to give maul. he sort of gives you the cold shoulder after the first few kisses, but he quickly is addicted with the unconditional love and attention and affection you give him.

obi wan

okay here me out, so jedis are not allowed like attachments, so i don’t thing like Legally Officially you can cuddle with obi wan oh no sad BUT. that is not to say, if maybe, idk, there’s only one seat left on the star destroyer home, or only one BED while you too are on a very important jedi MISSION, well i mean. it’s not obi wan’s fault if you two end up cursing up, right? i mean, it is a little chilly on this planet, so it’s smart to stay together. for warmth.

you’re gonna end up with your legs tangled, your arms around his neck, your hands tangled in his mullet — hes warmer than you expected, he radiates heat. maybe it’s how strong he is in the force, or if he’s just a warm body (or even if beneath the cool exterior, his blood runs hot) but you won’t need a ton of blankets if you have him.

big spoon, a lot of like Vanilla Top energy from him. like i think if you do end up spooning or fucking, it’s gonna be simple. kenobi’s knowledge of sex and relationships is going to be very limited, and his experience is gonna be pretty limited as well. he knows the like most Basic position, the most Basic way to get you both off. if you continue with your relationship and trust each other more, and you can teach him a few tricks, he’ll warm up to the idea of you being a big spoon and maybe even topping.

obviously no pda, but when you’re around him, his sort of Presence makes itself more known to you, like you Feel him more than you would other people, even if he’s a few rooms away, you Know he’s near by you. it’s nothing sharp or crazy explicit in terms of like I FEEL HIS AURA AND SHIT like it’s just something gentleman reassuring and it’s all Him. little moments with him — meeting his eye across the room, your hands bumping into his, his hands lingering on you when he passes for just a moment longer than they should — it’s all you have with obi, and you cherish them so deeply. obi wan is gonna think about your affection long after you leave him — it’s an emotional thing for him. it’s the one point of contact and affection, and as much as you think about obi wan and your little moments, obi wan thinks about them more.

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hoekageyama · 4 years

Text

cmfrt

yaku morisuke x reader

warnings: nsfw, smut, uhhhh grey sweatpants (ik im sorry ew)

wc: ~3k

a/n: hi hi! this is my first piece, so pls go easy on me ._. this started off as something fluffy bc my desire for yaku content is thru the roof (as it should be), but ofc i got off the rails and went the soft smut route lmao oops. anyway, i hope u enjoy!

~ also! please don’t consume this content if you are not of age, thnx <3 ~

You and Yaku had been best friends for years. Having gone to the same middle school and practically being next door neighbors. Needless to say, you spent a lot of time together; you two were pretty much attached at the hip. So when Yaku told you that he’d also be going to Nekoma for high school, you were pretty excited but not really surprised.

Throughout high school, the two of you spent as much time together as possible, proving to be difficult at times with every ounce of Yaku’s free time being devoured by volleyball and the endless amounts of studying that was required for prepping for uni. All that aside, the two of you always found time for each other. Whether it be little lunch dates on the weekends, small study sessions in the library, or even facetime hangouts when you were both exhausted and too lazy to actually meet up face to face.

It felt like any other Friday when you and Yaku met up in the early morning to walk to school together. “Y/n, did you finish that history report yet? I’m almost done, but I need someone to review it so I don’t look like an idiot when I present on it.” Yaku ran a hand through his light brown hair and looked over to your slightly shorter form.

You turn to Yaku, noticing how his cheeks were slightly flushed due to the cold wind blowing directly in your faces. “Just about. I just need to finish my conclusion, but it shouldn’t take me too long to power through it. Also, yeah, I can take a look at it. No worries.” You turn away after answering the boy, and continue on your walk, thinking that was the end of that conversation. You can feel his gaze on you suddenly, leaving your cheeks to tint to that familiar shade of red. “Thanks. Also… are you free tonight?” he asks with slight notes of hesitation in his voice. You glance at him through the side of your eye noticing his fidgeting hands. “Yea, I’m free. What’s up?”

Without looking at you or answering, he slows his pace until he’s stopped. Standing and gazing out at the trees that lined the roads, watching as the Maple leaves are shed from their branches, showing the first true signs of winter. You stop alongside him and nudge him slightly with your elbow, “Why’d you ask so suddenly, Mori? Something up?”

He jumps slightly being pulled from his thoughts. He glances over at you, “Oh, uh, no reason really. I was just wondering if you’d wanna come over tonight to study and hangout. We can chill and watch movies like the old times. I have the house to myself and all so…” When you see his raised eyebrow and sly smirk grace his features, you feel your face heat up slightly.

You turn to him giggling, “Oooooh, Mori! I didn’t know you could be such a flirt!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and forces you to start walking again. “If that’s what you call flirting, then the guys you talk to must be braindead.” He pulls you a little closer into his chest, laughing along with you now. You nuzzle your head into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, “Of course I’ll come. As long as you treat me to some takeout tonight.” He nods and smiles, looking at your slightly smaller form clinging to his for warmth. “Deal. We can stop by the store on our walk home, and I’ll get you whatever ya want.” You only nod in agreement, leaving the two of you to walk the rest of the way in a comfortable silence.

As the day moved on, you found yourself getting a bit anxious for your hangout with your best friend. It’s not like you haven’t slept over at his house before. In fact, you and Yaku practically slept at each other’s houses every weekend for as long as you can remember. But what was so different now? Oh yeah, that’s right. It’s because now you were painfully aware of your burning crush on the mighty libero.

The final bell signaling the day’s end rings as you make your way through the double doors of Nekoma. Making your way towards the gym, you see Kuroo and Kai standing by the entrance chatting. “Yo Tets! Kai! You guys seen Mori anywhere?” The two both wave in greeting as you move closer to the duo. “Yea, I think he’s getting changed right now. Should be out in a bit.” Kai states. “You two still aren’t dating yet? You guys act like you're married already.” says Kuroo, rustling your hair. “Oh shut uuuuup already.” you hear Yaku groan from inside the gym. “You’re so worried about our relationship when you can barely hold a conversation with a girl without looking like a nerd.” Yaku scoffs, punching Kuroo’s arm.

The four of you eventually split off into your own groups, making your way home for the weekend. The walk home doesn’t take very long. It’s filled with Yaku telling you about Kuroo’s horrible chemistry pickup lines and complaining about the test you both had coming up. Midway through, you both stopped at the store, picking out ample snacks for your movie night and some dinner for later.

Upon finally trudging through the icy winds, you arrive at Yaku’s house. He unlocks the door, but steps aside to let you in first. “What a gentleman!” you say jokingly as he laughs from your reaction. You slide your shoes off at the door and make a beeline straight for Yaku’s bedroom, plastic bag filled with goodies in hand. Yaku lets out a happy sigh and soon follows suit.

Once in Yaku’s room, you lie face down on his bed groaning. “What’s wrong now, princess?” he asks as he closes the door. Plopping down on the bed next to you with two juice pouches already in hand he nudges you gently to sit up. “I completely forgot to stop by my house to pick up clothes for tonight. All I have in my bag are gym clothes.” you sigh in exasperation as you take the pouch from his cold hands.

“Oh stop. You know you can always just use some of my clothes.” he shrugs while taking a sip of his juice. “I mean.. You’ve done it before. It’s not that big of a deal. I- if you’re ok with it, that is.” he says looking over to you, waiting for your response. You nod in response moving to lie in his lap.

If you didn’t know Yaku well enough, you wouldn’t have noticed the way he tenses slightly, ears the tiniest bit redder than they were moments ago braving the cold of the outside world. “Well then, get me something comfy because I need to get out of this skirt asap!” you say brushing down the edges of your skirt, putting them into place. “I’ll say..” he mumbles. You barely heard it, but it makes your cheeks grow a little red.

After you both finish your drink, you see him disappear into his closet only to emerge moments later with two sets of clothes in hand. He tosses a black t-shirt and a pair of red shorts to you on the bed. Both of which, landing right on top of your face. “I’ll go shower up first since I don’t take ages like some people.” he says with a smirk as he reaches the door.

You giggle hearing his mocking tone “Ok that was one time! And to be fair, it was all your fault. My hair smelled like Yakuult for days after!” He blushes slightly remembering the incident, but chooses to only shake his head laughing to himself as he continues his pursuit for the bathroom.

You lie in his bed scrolling through some app on your phone when you hear the door open. Yaku returns, toweling off his lightly dampened hair, clad in just a pair of grey sweatpants that seem to barely hand onto his waist. You feel your thighs press together tightly as he throws a hoodie on, turning to see your flustered state. “What? Am I too hot for ya?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “Oh shut up!” you groan, rushing passed him and right out the door. You quickly hop into the shower once in the bathroom to cool off your burning cheeks, praying that you can keep it together for the rest of the night.

Soon enough, you’re all dry, dressed, and heading for Yaku’s room. As you close the door, you see Yaku sitting at his desk running his fingers through his hair. Yaku had been working on his history paper while you were in the shower, and it seems he isn’t making much progress. You grab your back and move to sit by him, brushing against his leg with your own on the way down. He feels a shiver rush down his spine at the sudden delicate touch. “You ok, Mor?” you ask when you see him nodding profusely in response. “Yeah just can’t get this paper done. It’s like my mind is racing, but I can’t focus.” You rub his back and lean over to view his paper in front of him. The way you’re positioned isn’t helping Yaku’s brain one bit.

Yaku places a hand on your lower back, ogling at the way your back arches naturally reacting to his touch. He smooths out the back of your shirt, admiring the swell of your ass. He flushes a bit, feeling a dull throb and a tightness beginning to form in his sweatpants, when he notices how short you made the shorts after rolling the waistband up a few times to ensure they’d fit.

You subconsciously rub your thighs together a little while reading through his history report. You hoped that Yaku wouldn’t notice, but unlucky for you he did. He continued rubbing your back, slightly lowering his hand little by little until you felt his rough hand caress your ass. You turned around to look at him, but were met with eyes glazed over in lust. “Hey Mor, you ok?” you ask confused. “I’m fine, baby. Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” he says as he drops his hand into his lap in an attempt to conceal the bulge that began growing in his sweats. You shake your head giggling, moving back to your original position next to him. “Nah it’s all good, babe. Just…” you lose all train of thought you possibly had when you glance down and notice the outline of something in his sweatpants. “Hey, y/n, listen. I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen, I promise. I- I just think you look really good in my clothes…. Sorry.” he quickly spits out.

He began shuffling to get up from you when you reach out and clamp a hand around his wrist. “Why are you apologizing, babe? I should probably be the one apologizing. Especially when you’ve made me like this.” you say bashfully, leading his hand to the wet spot that was now visible in the red shorts you wore. He groaned upon feeling the dampness. “What’s all this, princess? Why so wet already?” he coos into your ear, continuing to rub his rough hands against your clothed core.

After building up the courage to get this far, you threw all caution to the wind. “You, Mori. Fuck! I want you to touch me, please.” you let out a little moan as you palmed him through his sweats. You could tell just how hard he was through his pants. “Fuck, baby, I’ll do whatever you want. Just please let me fuck you.” he groans when you press a little harder onto his hardened cock.

Everything that happened next was a blur. Lips smashed together, tongues dancing, teeth clashing every now and then. You finally part lips, gasping for air as he tugs his hoodie off over his head. You follow suit, removing your shirt and shorts, leaving you standing nearly bare in between his legs as he lounged in his desk chair.

His eyes never leave yours as he unhooks your bra, allowing it to fall to the floor with a thud. His hands smooth over your breasts, rolling and pinching a nipple in between the rough pads of his fingers. He places open mouthed kisses from your jawline down to the swell of your breasts. Leaning back to take in the view once more he groans, saying, “You’re so beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these from me all this time.” you only moan as he moves in to nip at one of your pert nipples. Your hands immediately reach for his light brown locks and begin to tug in response to the stimulation.

His hands move to your lower body pulling off your lace underwear until they drop to the floor. You kick them aside before he grips your hips tightly. “Mo- Mori please, let me ride your cock.” you say through moans as he lightly trails a finger through your soaked folds. He removes his mouth from your chest with a lewd popping sound. He stands up to pull his sweats lower and sits back down in his seat. You take a moment to ogle at the sight before you. His cock, painfully hard, dripping precum from the swollen head. You grab his shoulders and move in to kiss him as his grip returns to your hips.

He hoists you up onto his lap, making you straddle the length in his lap. When your wet core makes contact with the length below you, you let out a lewd moan and grind in his lap. He hisses at the contact and tightens his grip on you to stop you from moving. “Patience, princess.” he groans out as you finally stop your ministrations. He lifts you slightly, aligning himself with your hole before looking up to you for approval. You simply nod your head and lower yourself onto his cock little by little. It isn’t too above average in length, but damn did he make up for it in girth.

You both hiss at the feeling of him being sheathed completely inside your tight cunt, neither of you moving to allow for you both to regain some composure. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight!” he groans, “Just let me know when you want to start moving.” You only nod your head, savoring the delicious stretch in your core.

As soon as you regain your bearings, you look up to him with glazed eyes, “Mori, mo- move please.” He attaches your mouth to his and gently lifts you, gripping your ass tightly. Before long, he let you take control. The pace you set is slow at first while you kiss him tenderly, running a hand through his hair, tugging gently every so often. His cock hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you, causing you to erupt in another lewd moan of his name. You feel him twitch inside you, he speeds up the pace a bit bringing your ass down harder each time he lifts you.

Before long you feel that familiar heat in your core building inside you. “Ah fuck, I’m c- close” you moan out as he snaps his hips up to meet yours. The sound of his balls slapping your ass is nearly enough to set you off, but when he reaches a hand down to place sloppy circles around your clit. The coil of heat building up finally snaps, and you’re thrown head first into the bliss of ecstasy.

Yaku groans feeling you tighten around his length. He continues fucking you through your high, and his pace begins to get sloppy before he pulls out frantically. Before he can ask you, you get on your knees in front of him and take him into your mouth. He hisses at the feeling of your tongue gliding over his swollen head and throws his head back in pleasure. With one hand in your hair, he pulls you lower onto his cock as he bursts ribbons of heat down the back of your throat.

After removing himself from your mouth and tucking himself back into his sweats, he pulls you back into his lap. He places a gentle kiss on your lips, holding you tightly in his arms. “Mori, I’m cooooooold.” you whine into his shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed, huh?”

He moves you onto his bed and quickly disappears to the bathroom. You see him return with a damp washcloth and a cup of water in hand. You let him clean you off as you look around the room for your clothes. “I’ll get you some new clothes ok? Just relax and drink your water while I put these washing.” he says, motioning to the pile of clothes on the floor. He hands you some garments and you quickly get dressed as he moves about the house.

He later returns, only to see you waiting for him with the takeout you had gotten earlier. He plops down beside on the bed for the second time tonight and pulls you into a hasty kiss. “You’re mine, right? I love you so much. I’ve dreamt of this for years. Please stay with me.” he says as he looks deep into your e/c eyes, while cupping your cheeks with his hands. “How can I say no?” you giggle, smashing your lips into his once more before chowing down on your takeout meals. The rest of the night is spent with the two of you cuddled up watching terrible rom-coms. The history report, long forgotten. That can wait for tomorrow.

- again, i’m so sorry at how trashy this is written lmaodfadfj

- if u did read it tho, tysm! ily & maybe send me some suggestions on what to write next. i’m down for whatever rlly. i’m trying to write more often so this is kinda just a warm up for now.

#yaku #yaku morisuke #yaku x yn #yaku x reader #yaku morisuke x reader #yaku morisuke x yn #yaku smut #yaku morisuke smut #all these tags make my head hurt #hoekageyama #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x yn #yaku.txt #hq.txt #hq_xx.txt #maddlibs

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combat-wombatus · 3 years

Note

Mirio "Would you Mind if I kissed you" please and thank you!

guess who’s back on their bs :’)

i have finished!! a fic!!

giving myself a pat on the back bc this

i deleted and rewrote the ending to this one like so. many. times.

anyways i love u for requesting!! *mwah* ❤️ here u go! (i hope it isn’t too trash adskljfhsadlkjh)

24: “Would you mind if I kissed you?” Character: Togata Mirio

It was a quiet day at the Nighteye Hero Agency. The streets were unusually tranquil, especially for the usually bustling city of Tokyo.

Considering that it was New Year’s Eve, the streets should’ve been packed, crowded with people and people-watchers alike, those who were traveling to a specific destination and those who were aimlessly wandering through the city. But this year, it was all different.

Quarantine restrictions had some people on edge. Those who were social butterflies craved human interaction, desperately talking with friends online and hoping to regain a semblance of their previously vibrant social lives. Those who weren’t, well, they didn’t mind it much, as long as they weren’t stuck at home with their nosy families day after day. As for today, most people were just glad that this hellish year was over. They didn’t have the ability to revel in the coming of a new decade, nor did they really wish to. They just hoped that, finally, the next year would be as uneventful as possible.

Most people breathed a sigh of relief at the empty streets and noiseless festivities.

You were not most people.

As a sidekick working in one of the most respected agencies in the city, you were worried. You usually had a fairly accurate sense of…well, you would call it intuition. And today, you had a sinking feeling in your gut when you saw the state of the streets.

“Hey,” you called out to Bubble Girl. “Are you sure that there’s been no activity, whatsoever?”

Bubble Girl scrolled through her tablet. “Yes, (Y/H/N). None whatsoever. Lemillion is still patrolling, but he’s checking back in every five minutes, and nothing’s happened so far. Why do you ask?” Her brows furrowed in concern. You didn’t normally ask pointless questions.

“Just…a gut feeling.” You decided to say, not knowing how else to describe it. “I just get the feeling that someone’s planning something big today.”

“Something big…” She frowned in concentration. Suddenly, her face cleared. “(Y/H/N),” she called out. “This intuition of yours…is it limited to bad things, or do you get premonitions of good things too?”

You thought for a moment. “Well…one time when I was smaller, my parents threw a surprise birthday party for me. I had a gut feeling that something was going to go wrong, and then I got really scared when I went home and the lights were all off. I already had my phone dialed to the police, and when they all jumped out from behind the kitchen counter, I fainted. They had to take me to a hospital and I missed my birthday cake.”

Bubble Girl started laughing. “So…was your intuition telling you that you were going to have a surprise party, or was it telling you that you were going to faint and end up in the hospital?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know. Sometimes, I think that my intuition unintentionally causes the bad things to happen because I’m always overcautious. But it’s hard not to be,” you added. “Especially when you’re in this line of work.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I suppose. But…for today, I think that your intuition is trying to tell you that something good is going to happen.”

You frowned. “And why is that?”

“Well…let’s call it my intuition,” Bubble Girl winked.

Hours later, nothing had happened. No bombing, no murders…nothing. You supposed that even criminals needed a holiday once in a while. Still, the uneasy feeling in your gut never faded.

The front door to the agency crashed open. You sprung up in alarm, but relaxed when you saw that it was only Mirio.

“Hello!” He beamed at you. “Happy New Year’s Eve! Sorry about the door,” he added sheepishly. “I may have underestimated my kick.”

Mirio was holding a box in his arms. Slowly replacing the door with his foot, he set the box down on the ground. “Would you mind getting some blankets from the staff room, (Y/N)?”

“Uh, sure. Why?” You were beginning to get suspicious. “Mirio, what’s in that box?”

“N-nothing, (Y/N). I just picked up some supplies for Peder.” Mirio quickly covered the box with his cape.

You were beginning to think that whatever catastrophe you felt was going to happen, it was going to involve the mystery inside that ordinary cardboard box. Quickly heading to the staff room to supply Mirio with some blankets, you bumped into Bubble Girl.

She was holding a large sack of something in her arms, all of which landed on your feet when you crashed into her.

“Crap! I’m so sorry, (Y/H/N),” she apologized profusely. “I should’ve watched where I was going-”

Ignoring her, you were instead busy analyzing the contents of the sack that had spilled onto the ground.

“Bubble Girl, what’s all this?” You directed your gaze towards a bag of what looked to be…dog kibble?

“Oh! Uh, Peder wanted to try a new diet! He says that a nutrition expert suggested some vitamin supplements and such. For his specific constitution, of course.” She hastily scooped up the sack and hurried out to the lobby.

“…Peder’s supplements? In the lobby? She should’ve come up with a better excuse,” you shook your head. By now, your inkling of suspicion had been practically confirmed. You made your way to the staff room and grabbed the two fuzziest blankets you could find.

Heading back towards the lobby, you stopped at the doorway when you heard a strange noise.

“Woof!” The sound echoed through the room again, and you smiled. “Mirio…always doing things like that, aren’t you?” You murmured underneath your breath, leaning on the doorframe.

The man in question was holding out a tennis ball with his left hand, bouncing it up and down, much to the delight of an enthused puppy. Bubble Girl was crouching to the side, filling a dog bowl full of kibble. Your heart warmed at the scene.

“Hey Mirio, I brought the blankets,” you stepped into the room, startling both the puppy and Mirio.

“Thank you, (Y/N)!” Mirio held a hand to his neck, chuckling awkwardly. “Well…this was supposed to be a surprise,” he shrugged. “For New Year’s, you know?”

You giggled at his antics. “Well…it’s nice to know that my intuition can predict happy events too,” you passed the blanket over to him.

Turning to Bubble Girl, you raised your eyebrows at her. “Did you know? Was that why you weren’t worried this morning?”

“Yeah, I did,” she smiled. “I’m glad to know that I was right.”

You looked at the puppy bouncing around on the new blanket fort Mirio had made. “What are you going to name it?” You sat cross-legged on the floor, holding out your hands to fluffy ball of energy. It barked once at you, then leapt right into your arms.

“Well, I was thinking…Milo?” Mirio looked to you, cocking his head sideways. “Do you like it?”

Gently scratching behind the pup’s ears, you snuggled him even closer to your chest. “I love it.” You picked him up by his haunches and held him up to your head. He waggled a little paw in response.

“Welcome to the family, Milo,” you said softly, stroking his soft fur. He nuzzled even deeper into your warmth, resting his soft head atop your shoulder.

“He likes you,” Mirio noted, grinning widely. Shifting his weight to the side, he reached behind your back and shook out the blanket, draping it across your arms.

Bubble Girl took one look at the two of you, muttered an excuse about paperwork, and quickly left the room. You glanced at her hasty retreat with raised eyebrows. That wasn’t entirely normal either.

“So, uh, (Y/N),” Mirio started. He’d moved closer, and his broad shoulder was now pressed against yours. “I…I really like you. As more than a friend.” He blushed, his cheeks turning a rosy hue. “And…I, uh, I want to take you out to lunch sometime. Can I do that?”

You were fairly sure that you had heard him wrong. As your breath hitched in your throat, you turned to face him, eyes wide. “You…you like me? As more than friends?”

Mirio’s lips cracked into his characteristic smile. “Yes, (Y/N). As more than friends.” He confirmed.

A blush rose to your cheeks. “Then it’s good that we feel the same way, right?” You smiled back at him.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s very good.” Leaning closer, he cupped your face with a calloused palm.

“(Y/N) …would you mind if I kissed you?”

You tilted your face up and answered him with a kiss. Your lips met, and it didn’t take much prodding for you to open up to his adventurous tongue. Sighing into his mouth, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Mm…Mirio,” you mumbled against his chest when the two of you had come up for breath.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” Mirio rested his chin atop your head.

“Happy New Year’s.”

Coco’s New Year Celebration 20-21

Masterlist

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txtdiaries · 3 years

Text

Void - Chapter Three

SUMMARY | Amidst your world shattering to pieces, the boy you met long ago manages to fit everything back together again. Also - zombies. Lots and lots of zombies.

PAIRING | Yeonjun X Reader feat. TXT

CATEGORY | apocalypse au, end of the world, survival, angst, romance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, etc.

WORD COUNT | 3.3k

WARNINGS | dark content, swearing, gore, weapon possession, etc.

A/N | So this hasn’t been proofread, but I hope there aren’t too many mistakes and u guys enjoy it anyway. Thanku for reading! <3

SONG REC | Wires - The Neighbourhood

Preview / Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three

The sun is dipping behind the horizon, colors melting against sky as the car rolls along the freeway. The majority of the younger boys are asleep in the car, it is silent, and Yeonjun is stressed out.

Of course, who wouldn’t be? He almost lost his life to something that looked like it walked straight off the set of The Walking Dead. And Yeonjun has never forgotten his weapon - ever. It’s in that moment that he knows.

He has to get rid of the girl sitting in the passenger seat. Soon.

The silence is uncomfortable as he drives. Neither is speaking, and even though he isn’t looking at her, he knows she isn’t asleep.

After a few minutes of the silence ticking along with the minutes, Yeonjun feels like he is going to burst. And then, finally, she speaks.

“Listen… uh- Yanjun-”

“My name is Yeonjun.” The older boy sneers, accent thickening as he enunciates his Korean name, still annoyed. He realizes just how annoyed he always is with her.

“Right, sorry! Yeonjun.” He stays quiet, letting her go on.

“I’m really sorry for what happened back there. I may have overreacted a little bit.”

Yeonjun scoffs as she continues, “And I just want to thank you for saving my life. I really appreciate it.”

The girl sticks her hand out as if he’s not driving, and after he gives it a side glance, she retracks it.

“Maybe we can be friends, you know, work together?”

Yeonjun almost swerves off the freeway at 90 MPH.

“Here’s how this is gonna work...” He searches her eyes for a second, noticing how she sits up straighter. She replies quickly with a, “Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N, this isn’t some fucked up stockholm syndrome situation. I didn’t tie you up and throw you in the back of my Jeep because I thought you were too precious to save, and I definitely didn’t do it because I wanted you with us. I did it because it was the only option, got it?”

The girl blinks at him.

“It was the only option, and at this point you’re just deadweight to us now, okay? We aren’t going to work together, and we sure as hell aren’t going to be friends.”

It’s silent for a lot longer this time, before Yeonjun hears the girl reply back in a whisper, “If I’m just deadweight to you, why did you save me?”

“Jun, where are we?” Soobin grumbles suddenly from the backseat, stirring a bit as he starts to wake up.

“Just about there, Soobin. Go back to sleep.” Yeonjun replies as he pulls off of I-86 and into what seems like the local college town of the area. He decides to ignore the girl’s question as he turns on the radio. Of course, it’s just the low sound of static, but it’s better than listening to her questions again.

The farther Yeonjun drives into the town, the more he starts to notice the tattered college flags hanging from the unlit street lamps, and all of the broken windows in every building they pass. As he drives with caution, Yeonjun can tell how eerily quiet it is, apart from the radio. He spots the girl looking out the window, and decides to do the same, allowing himself to survey their surroundings.

A few home style diners and restaurants dot the blocks they pass, along with small gas stations (probably empty), and a few fast food places as well. The road guides him to a gentle curve, and then he realizes that he’s going in the direction of an underpass. For some insane reason he doesn’t completely understand, the lights along the inside leading to the other side are on, and they guide him to something that is shocking for him to see. The underpass opens back up at the end in a way Yeonjun can only feel like exiting a time machine would be. The tunnel cuts off, barren and with the walking path fences on either side rusted and destroyed.

But that’s not the part Yeonjun is paying attention to.

The buildings are breathtaking. They are old stone, brick, and clearly had been worked on to keep their vintage roots. One of the buildings on the right has huge archway windows on the second floor, which the moon reflects off beautifully. The street lamps are winded with decorative mistletoe, but the ribbons attached are tattered and almost black. Yeonjun sees what used to be bars, restaurants, all different colors. Green, red, and a pretty maroon color. He’s almost sad to see all of this - to get a glimpse of the real world back in front of him.

The farther he drives, the worse it gets. The town is beautiful, and he can only imagine how beautiful it used to be in the world before.

“This is old town.” The girl says softly from the passenger seat as Yeonjun approaches a huge park, even more trees on display and decorative lamps. He almost thinks he sees a fountain before he looks back at the girl.

“What did you say?”

“Old town. Like, downtown. The original one for the city.”

“How…” Yeonjun is surprised the girl knows as his curiosity intensifies.

“I uh… I used to live here. I went to college here.” She clarifies, avoiding his gaze now.

The older boy is even more surprised than he was before. She looked old enough to be in college, but he didn’t even consider it. Someone else having a life before all of this, much like he did. He never considered it until now.

“Up ahead it’ll take you to the fairly decent houses, lots of cops and bankers used to live on this side of town, but the houses will be trashed most likely. The long road past that will take you up the mountain to the super rich houses on top. Those might have some food and supplies, but it’s more dangerous. The high school is to the right, but the college is back around the way we came. Up to you.” She nods, not speaking anymore. Yeonjun is surprised she’s even helping him, but he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Thank you.” He says awkwardly, turning back around the way they came. He figures the college is their best bet. More buildings to search for safety in, and all relatively close to the gas stations.

She says nothing as he makes his way back toward the college.

The drive to the campus is somehow more tense than before, and Yeonjun is grateful when they finally pull into the main parking lot, in front of a building labeled, Museum of Natural History.

“The SUB is up ahead.” The girl speaks flatly, and Yeonjun gives her a confused look.

“Student Union Building. They have an event center inside, super spacious, just incase.” She clarifies, looking at him again.

“Sorry, I just never went to college before this all happened…” He explains, finally parking the Jeep.

The parking lot extends to a walkway that goes under the second floor of the SUB, and Yeonjun finds himself parking there to keep the car hidden. It’s almost like the whole slab of the SUB’s second floor is covering the walkway for a few yards, and then connects to the neighboring Museum’s second floor too. Past the end of it all, he sees a grand cement staircase leading up to the side door of the building. It’s perfect.

He pushes the gearstick into park and finally cuts the engine, sitting silent for a few moments.

The smaller girl is still gazing out the windshield, eyes scanning along the huge quad slowly.

“Is it weird to be back here?” Yeonjun doesn’t know why he asks, but he can clearly see the girl is visibly upset as she has her hands bundled in fists.

Without answering, she unlatches her seatbelt, swings open the door, and steps into the cold. After her feet hit the ground and she slams the door closed, the rest of the boys in the back groggily come to.

“We’re here.” Yeonjun sighs, turning on the upper light and pocketing the keys, “Grab your stuff, we’re setting up camp for the night.”

And then he’s getting out of the car himself, slamming his door and heading for the trunk.

“Hyung look, there’s a giant tiger statue back there!” Kai says with excitement, motioning back through the door they just came in through.

“It’s a Bengal.” Y/N corrects the youngest boy before leading the group farther in the empty building. The inside is pitch black, but the moonlight allows Yeonjun to see their surroundings, just barely.

To their right there is a huge staircase leading to the lowest level of the building, and a long hallway filled with multiple tables and chairs, like a huge eating area. Next to the help desk in front of them, small restaurants are grouped side by side as the window parallel shines even more light on all of the walls. The girl drags them to the left, taking them toward the offices and hallway that lie ahead.

“Fuck.” She says when she finally sees the door. It is bolted shut, with wooden planks and furniture piled against it. There is no way they’re getting in.

“Plan B?” Yeonjun asks annoyingly, making the girl brush past him, feet stomping along the way.

“Shut the fuck up, will you?” She snaps as she drags them back past all the small food places, leading them toward a staircase near the side of the building. Yeonjun can’t help but make another snarky comment at her. Soobin laughs under his breath. The youngest boys look shocked.

“Doesn’t this place have elevators?”

She glares at him when he speaks again, and juts her chin to the elevator along the right wall as they walk into the stairwell, saying nothing as she climbs up the stairs.

The boys all follow her, saying nothing at their interaction.

“Hey, Y/N, do you know where we’re going now?” Soobin speaks up, his voice timid as he catches up to the angry girl.

“Yep. Clearly the elevators don’t work but the top floor is our safest bet. There are tons of big rooms where we’ll be safe in. Unless you guys wanna spend the night in the bowling alley or the movie theater.” She throws in the last options offhandedly, knowing both will just be annoying to settle down for the night.

The two youngests perk up at this though, all voicing their excitement.

“There’s really a bowling alley and a movie theater here? This place was so awesome.”

“It is awesome.” Y/N clarifies, swallowing thickly before she leads the rest of the boys up the remainder of the flights.

Once on the top floor, Yeonjun knows why the girl chose it for their spot. There are dozens of lined rooms down the hall on either of them, and huge windows that show the entire campus and more, the land extending for miles upon miles. He can even see the mountain just off campus, trees swaying in the wind.

“Here you go.” She says, finally shrugging off the backpack she was actually able to retrieve from the trunk, “Home sweet hallway.”

The largest room is to their right, which gives them a view of both doors on either side of the hallway. Yeonjun nods a bit before appointing the group to set up their own sleeping bags and spaces.

The three youngest always stick together, all chatting about whatever is on their mind as they set up their sleeping bags, and Yeonjun notices that Soobin is back to chatting with Y/N easily, saying something he can’t pick up as he starts laying out his sleeping bag as well.

It’s like that for a few minutes, all of the boys laying out their sleeping bags, whipping their blankets in the air to get it into shape before laying it on the thin material of their makeshift bed. Yeonjun honestly cannot wait to sleep. He’s so tired, he doesn’t even think much about the fact that they can’t eat dinner. He hopes they will be able to find some food tomorrow.

“Hey Jun?” Soobin asks, catching the attention of the older boy as he looks up toward him.

“Where is Y/N going to sleep?”

All eyes settle on the girl sitting criss-cross on the floor, shivering lightly with her coat draped over her shoulders. Soobin frowns at Yeonjun before motioning toward her obviously, and the older boy just sighs.

“It’s not my problem Soob-”

“She can sleep in my sleeping bag if she wants.” The younger boy offers, already looking back toward the girl again. Yeonjun feels his heart leap up into his throat. He has to try hard to not eagerly deny the fact that she very much cannot sleep with Soobin.

It’s not that Soobin is a bad guy - quite the opposite actually. And the last thing Yeonjun needs is to hear the girl giggling from Soobin’s goofy antics all night long. No, he will not have that.

“She’ll sleep with me.” Yeonjun says firmly, nodding before he kicks off his shoes and places them next to his flimsy little blanket layers on the ground.

“Not happening.” Y/N finally speaks up, glaring at Yeonjun, “I’d rather get mauled by a zombie.”

“Be my guest then, that is, if you don’t freeze first.”

Yeonjun grins sarcastically at the shivering girl, and even though she is wearing multiple layers, he knows she’lll still be freezing if she doesn’t contain enough heat to get her through the night.

“Jun.” Soobin tries to interject, but the blue-haired boy just glares at him.

“Not a debate, Soobin. Go to sleep.”

The tallest boy looks sadly at the girl, before turning on his back away from her. The rest of the boys do the same, leaving her shivering in silence.

Yeonjun doesn’t know what time it is when he feels movement from his side. His eyes snap open in fear quick enough, though, and he almost reaches for his bat next to him before a soft voice breaks through the darkness.

“Jesus, relax. It’s just me.”

The girl’s teeth are chattering as she crawls under the layers of blankets Yeonjun has above his body, and he doesn’t say anything as the side of her body is suddenly flush against his.

“Thought you’d rather be mauled to death.” He rasps, still half asleep as he nuzzles further into the blanket.

“Shut up, will you?” The girl responds, voice still low so she doesn’t wake the others.

It is quiet for a while, both of them just breathing together. Yeonjun doesn’t know if it’s awkward, but he’s too tired to care. After driving for so long, it starts to take its toll.

“Yeonjun?” The girl says softly, causing the older boy to glance over at her. She sighs before speaking again, “Who were you before all of this?”

The boy blinks at her, mind reeling before he stares up at the tiled ceiling again.

Does he want to do this? Does he really want to open up to the girl who he can’t help but fight with every single second?

He doesn’t have much of a choice as he opens his mouth, and his exhausted body starts speaking honestly.

“I lived in Korea.” He explains, but he doesn’t know why she cares enough to ask. He doesn’t know why he cares enough to explain. He wouldn’t have asked about her, but it’s clear she had other intentions.

“I worked for a company called Big Hit. It’s like a company that trains and creates Idols. Kind of like celebrity performers.”

The girl listens intently to his words, not speaking as he goes on.

“This was our first debut, coming to America. I always dreamed about coming back. I studied in California for a few years when I was younger, but it was always my dream to come back. You know you’ve made it when you make it in America.”

Yeonjun shifts to his side to get more comfortable, and suddenly realizes how close they actually are. He can feel the girl’s breath across his cheeks, and he has to keep himself from pulling away with anxiety.

“I- um… the rest of the boys were in a group with me. We were all idols. But when the virus hit, we got stranded here. Our managers died in a car accident, and we were lucky to make it out alive. We all just want to go back home.”

He doesn’t know why, but somehow he can’t stop. Maybe it’s the way she’s looking at him, listening, or because he hasn’t talked to anyone like this in a long time.

“I loved dancing. I trained as an Idol for years, but it was all worth it because I loved it. Before all of this, I studied really hard, and I enjoyed hip hop the most. It was my favorite to dance to. Just being able to move my body freely to the music, I loved every second of it.”

Yeonjun stops now, not really knowing what else to say. He feels embarrassed, a bit flustered, and he tries to take the attention off of him as he asks, “Who were you before all of this, Y/N?”

The girl is still, eyes glossed over as she bites her lip a bit. Yeonjun can see it’s hard for her to talk about it, but she still does. She still opens up to him, because he did to her.

“I was… I was a student. I worked my ass off at community college to come here, and I got scholarships and grants just to be able to live here on my own. I had a rough time in high school, but college was supposed to change everything for me. I was living alone, trying to make friends, and just attempting to start my life. I came from a small town, where people get trapped like poison. No one comes out of my hometown unless they’re willing to risk everything for it.”

Yeonjun can feel his heart beating steadily against his ribcage as the girl speaks, and he can’t help but feel understood by her. He takes a deep breath to stomp the feeling down.

“I remember I was so excited to finally start. I was studying marketing and creative writing. I loved writing so much, I was so excited to be able to do what I loved. It may not seem like much, this town, but it’s all I had. It was the only chance I had at becoming someone else - someone better.”

She looks over at Yeonjun suddenly, and is surprised when he nods for her to continue.

“I grew up in this state my whole life, and my only goal was to leave. All I ever wanted was to leave.”

The smaller girl can’t help but get choked up, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Yeonjun easily slides the blanket farther over her shoulder, hoping the softness will comfort her a bit.

It takes a bit for her to finish, but once she does, Yeonjun knows she is exhausted.

“So that was it. I made it here, and then the virus stole it all from me. My education, my family. All the hope I had. Just… gone.” She says, eyes now closed as she lies next to him. He doesn’t know what to say, and he truly doesn’t think anything he can say will make her feel any better.

“You should rest.” He whispers to her, hand moving up before he realizes what he’s doing.

Before Yeonjun knows it, he’s wrapping his arm halfway across the girl, holding across her chest in a hug, his hand holding onto her right shoulder gently.

He slightly expects her to swear at him. He also expects her to punch him in the face.

She does neither.

Instead, her breathing evens out, and she falls asleep like that. With her body finally warm next to Yeonjun’s, and a single tear slipping down the side of her cheek.

Yeonjun allows himself to fall into a deep slumber soon after.

After all, tomorrow, they have to get a move on.

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i-need-entertainment · 3 years

Text

My Little Family: Fatgum

*In this Oneshot you, the reader, are Overhaul’s wife but not by choice. You are 22 years old and have a 4 year old son. Let’s just say Overhaul took over at like idk 18. I also may e v e n t u a l l y turn this into a book.*

“Alright, is there anything else I should know?” Fatgum asked as he finished listening to Rappa’s explanation of Overhaul’s true plans. Rappa went quiet for a second, before speaking up. “Yeah, you guys are here for the kid, right?” He asked, looking Fatgum in the eye, and for the first time during this entire encounter was completely serious. Fatgum nodded. “Yeah, we are. Why?” “Because there’s someone else y’gotta get outta here.” Fatgum looked confused for a second. Someone else? But who else could be here? Whoever it is still needs help, and as long as a fight isn’t involved he should be fine. “Who? Our intel only knew about Eri.” Rappa shook his head, “From what I know this was from before Eri. Listen, it doesn’t matter now what matters is you get ‘er outta here.” “I agree, but who is ‘she’?” Rappa sighed and looked at Fatgum once again. “Overhole’s wife. She’s got their kid with her too.” Fatgum was visibly taken a back at Rappa’s statement. He had a wife!? And a kid?! Rappa noticed his confusion and decided to elaborate. “From what I found out he was given her from a Yakuza agreement or something like that. Anyways, he needed a wife and an heir for him to take over so he married her and they had the kid. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you he’s not exactly husband or dad material so you really need to get em out.” Fatgum was even more disgusted with Overhaul than he originally had been. Not only had he done unspeakable things to Eri, but he also kidnapped a woman, forced her to get married and then locked her and their son away! Oh no, not happening. “Where are they?” “I don’t know the specifics, but I know they’re on this level, by the office I think” Just then the cops entered the room and took Rappa and Tengai into custody, also taking an unconscious Kirishima to the ambulance. “You guys go ahead, there’s someone else we gotta get outta here.” The cops nodded and a few went with him, since he couldn’t exactly fight at full capacity anymore. They started down the winding hallways, desperately searching for the woman and her child. *smash* Fatgum looked into the room of the door he had just kicked down. He looked the right and saw a young, beautiful woman sitting in the corner holding a small boy with dark brown hair and golden eyes huddled to her chest.

(insert picture of ‘Kenji Chisaki’)

He walked in and slowly made his way towards her. “Hello Miss, I’m the pro hero Fatgum, we’re here to get you out.” He gave his signature smile and felt his heart flutter when the woman started crying happy tears, while her son perked up at the mention of ‘pro hero Fatgum’. Fatgum smiled, “Can I have your name miss…?” She stood up, considerably shorter than the taller male, still holding the small boy in her arms. “It’s Y/n…Y/n Chisaki.” Fatgum then looked to the small boy, “And what’s your name little man?” The little boy then looked at his mom who nodded and looked shyly back to the hero. “I-It’s Kenji…Kenji Chisaki.” “Well Kenji, Mrs. Chisaki, We’re here to get ya outta here, let’s go.” He held a hand out to the woman who slowly, but gratefully took it. He led them outside where he left them with some cops and went to find Kirishima.

*After the whole fight, we are now in the hospital.*

(Insert picture of hospitalized Fatgum)

“I’m hungry” Fatgum mumbled as he sat in his hospital bed, messy blond hair going every which way. He sighed as he looked around the room. He knew he had to be here, but did he have to be here?! Not only was It boring but he couldn’t even get a decent portion of food! All he really wanted was to go home to his own bed and sleep. Right after food of course. Just then there was a knock at the door. “Come in!” He loudly answered. The door nob turned and in walked a woman with h/l h/c hair, holding a bag in one hand, and the smaller hand of a little boy in the other. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but a little someone,” She smiled as she looked down to the small boy, who shyly looked away. “Wanted to say thank you.” Fatgum smiled widely and looked down to the little boy. “Not at all! I’m glad you stopped by! You two are welcome anytime.” He ruffled the little boys hair and smiled at the woman, taking this moment to realize how beautiful she was. The little boy’s eyes shined with amazement at the hero, who he had always admired. He didn’t have the best upbringing. And even though he’s only four he knew what his father did was bad. He knew because how he treated his mother was bad. Y/n always did her best to shield him from her husband, putting on a fake smile and trying to give her son a chance at a normal childhood. She also did anything she could to stop him from turning into the cold blooded Yakuza leader his father wanted him to be. So, instead of teaching him to hate quirks, she taught him the different types. Instead of training him to hate heroes, she told him about all the different ones. Fatgum had been his favorite. Y/n did everything she could to give her son a better life, and she had also reaped plenty of consequences for it, but if it was for her baby, it would be worth it. So when her son asked if he could see the hero, she reached out to Aizawa who set up the meeting. Kenji shyly looked down to his feet, hands clasped behind his back. “U-uhm…mm.. Thank you…for saving me and mommy.” The boy looked up at him and smiled. Fatgum smiled back patting the young boy on the head, eliciting a small giggle from him. Y/n could feel the tears starting to gather, she couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled like that. Let alone laugh! “It’s not a problem little guy. I’m just glad you and your mommy are safe.” Fatgum looked at Y/n before looking back down to Kenji. Kenji nodded and went back to his mother’s side, lightly grasping her pants leg. Kenji, can you wait outside with the nice Police officer please? Mommy just wants to talk to Mr. Fatgum.” Kenji nodded and waved goodbye to the hero, who happily waved back. “He really likes you. You’re actually his favorite hero, he’s just too shy to say it.” Y/n smiled and lightly giggled. Fatgum’s eyes widened and he felt his face get hotter, he quickly averted his eyes, shyly laughing. “I just wanted to say thank you…I know I already did, but, I just can’t thank you enough for saving my son.” She looked up at him with soft features, and a grateful smile on her face. “It’s really no problem Mrs. Chisaki.” “Y/n, just call me Y/n. I haven’t gotten our names changed yet, but I want to start over.” “That reminds me, what are you doing? Living arrangements and all?” “Well, right now we’re staying at UA in one of the spare teacher’s dorms. They wanted to keep us close by in case one of ka- Overhaul’s men came to find us. It’s not permanent, but until I can find a job it’ll work.” Fatgum thought for a moment. “Hey, have you got your heart set on somethin yet?” She shook her head “No, not many places are interested in hiring the ex-wife of Overhaul. Despite the circumstances.” “If I offered you a job…would you be interested?” Y/n looked at him in shock. “W-wait, really!?” He nodded. “Yup. Everyone deserves a second chance. There’s even a really good day-care Kenji can go to right across from my agency.” “Are you sure?! I don’t want to be a burden-“ “Y/n.” She looked at him, heart beat speeding up at seeing his smile, “I promise you would never be a burden.” Y/n thought for a moment. “Okay. I accept. Thank you!” She leaned forward and hugged him. He was shocked for a moment before his senses kicked in and he hugged back, well with one arm but still. Y/n as soon as she realized what she did jumped back. “Sorry! I didn’t realize! I didn’t hurt you did I?!” He laughed “Don’t be sorry! I hugged back didn’t I? And despite the bandages it’s really not that bad. I think the doctors went overkill.” Y/n lightly laughed and smiled. They both were sitting there, both admiring the other. “O-oh! I almost forgot!” Fatgum watched with curiosity and amusement as the young woman fumbled with her bad before she took out a Tupperware container. She handed it over to him and she encouraged him to open it. He opened the lid revealing home made Takoyaki. His eyes widened and he felt like he could burst into happy tears at the sight in front of him. “I hope they’re okay, it’s been awhile since I got to cook them from scratch.” He took one and ate it, it was amazing! “It’s amazing!!” She laughed, really happy he enjoyed it. “I take it you like them then?” He quickly nodded his head. “Okay then, I can bring you more tomorrow. I just figured you’d like it more than the hospital food.” He looked her dead in the eye and nodded. “Definitely. And only if its no trouble.” “Its not, honest. It was really nice to get back to cooking. It’s a big hobby of mine.” “Well, whenever you need a taste tester, you know where to find me!” He had a dorky grin on his face as he looked at her, and she couldn’t help but grin at how he looked like a little kid at a playground. She broke herself out of her thoughts and decided it was time she and Kenji head home. “Um, I should probably get Kenji home, it’s almost dinner time. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you don’t want to keep the kid out too late. And sure, feel free to stop by whenever! Especially with food as good as this!” She laughed and made her way to the door, waving goodbye and leaving the hospital with Kenji holding her hand, going on and on about the cool hero.

*One year later* (Time skip because I am author and I hold all power~)

Y/n woke up and rolled over onto her side to run off the alarm she had set on her phone. She yawned, sat up and stretched, getting out of bed to start the day. She showered, brushed her teeth, did her hair/make up and got dressed. She wore her usual for work, a silky white button up blouse with jeans and black heels. She finished up getting ready and made her way to her son’s room. The past year has been amazing. Shortly after she started working for Fatgum, she and Kenji moved into a small home, and the BMI hero grew very close to the duo. Fatgum very often ate dinners with them before going to patrol, he spent a lot of time with them often going to the park with them and stuff like that. He even went with Kenji to is father’s day event at school. To most who didn’t know them, they looked like a little family. If only it was made known how much both of them wanted just that. To be a little family. She opened her sons door and walked over to his bed, crouching down. She gently shook him awake, “Kenji, Kenji baby it’s time to get up.” The little boy slowly opened his eyes, rubbing them and sitting up trying to wake up. “Good morning.” Y/n smiled at her sleepy kid. “Morning mommy…do I get to see Tashiro today?” “Yup, you’ll be coming to my office after school today.” He nodded and smiled a sleepy smile up at his mom. “C’mon, lets get you ready for school.” He nodded and got out from his bed, walking over to his little dresser and getting ready. After they both had breakfast and Y/n had made the three of them lunch (she made Fatgum lunch everyday) they both loaded into the car. Y/n dropped Kenji off at school and made her way to the Fatgum agency to start her day. She got in, greeted the receptionist and made her way into the elevator. She was just about to close the doors when, “HEY! WAAAAAIITT!!” She looked up to see a frazzled looking Kirishima swiftly running her way. She swiftly threw her hand in the way, pausing the doors from closing, allowing the young red head to enter. “Thanks Mrs. Chisaki! I thought I was gonna have to take the stairs again!” she smiled and gave him a playful flick on the forehead. “Maaaaybe if you had been here earlier, you wouldn’t have had to run~ And I thought I told you Y/n was fine.” Over the past year, Kirishima and Tamaki had become like her little brothers. They both tried their best to be good friends for her after what she had been through, and they always babysat and looked out for Kenji. Kenji had been having a rough time at school. Ever since the kids and teachers found out whose son he was, he wasn’t treated as kindly as he should have been. One day when he was playing at recess a group of 4th graders had ganged up on him and started to beat him up, only for him to discover his quirk. No one was injured, just scared. But when they realized he not only had the looks, name and quirk of his father, they treated him poorly. Y/n had relentlessly fought the school on this, but they never listened to her. After being called some crude words by the principal a suited up Fatgum made his way down to the school to discuss the boys treatment. Lets just say Kenji was treated much nicer now. “I’m sorry Mrs. Y/n…It’s really unmanly of me to be late isn’t it!” Y/n sighed and shook her head. Unable to hide the smile on her lips. “Everybody had those days Kirishima, just be glad you’re not actually late.” He gave her his signature smile just as the doors opened up. “I’m gonna go get ready, see ya later Mrs. Y/n!” “Bye Kirishima!” Y/n waved and made her way to the staff room to get some coffee and put their lunches in the fridge. Y/n, accompanied by her caffeinated goodness, made her way to Fatgum’s office. She opened the door and went in. Fatgum’s head shot up from his desk, and a big goofy smile adorned his face when he saw who it was that had entered his office. “G’mornin Y/n!” Y/n made her way to the small desk she had in his large office. “Good morning Taishiro! Oh! Before I forget, Kenji wanted to know if you’d be at dinner tonight?” He looked up from his desk, same cheeky smile still on his face, “Just Kenji, Huh?” Y/n rolled her eyes, once again unable to hide the smile that came to her lips. Playing along she leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and crossing her arms. “*sigh* Yeah, I tried to get him to pick someone else, but he just can’t be convinced.” Fatgum let out a hearty chuckle. “I’ll be over tonight, can’t miss out on seeing my favorite bud!” Y/n looked at him, smile still on her face. “Just him?” Fatgum looked back at her, “Not just Kenji.” The two were smiling like love-sick teenagers looking into each other’s eyes. “U-um, can w-we get on w-with patrol n-now…” They both swiftly looked over to see a very embarrassed Tamaki to be sitting on the couch, right where he had been the entire time the two adults had been so obviously flirting. Y/n sat back and buried her nose in paperwork, and Fatgum cleared his voice, popping one last Takoyaki into his mouth. “Yeah I guess we should get going. C’mon Suneater! Lets grab Red and get goin, yeah?” The young man just nodded, giving Y/n a small ‘good bye’ and walking out the door. “I’ll see ya later Y/n.” “See you Later Taishiro.” With one last smile, he left for a long day of saving the city.

~Time skip to after patrol and Kenji is in the office~

Fatgum sighed as he opened the door to his office. Today had been an especially rough day. Not only had he used up all of his stored fat, but he also had to do a bunch of paperwork. He was not looking forward to that. But he was looking forward to seeing his two favorite people. He walked in and immediately heard little feet, looking to his left he watched as Kenji ran up to him and clutched his legs, looking up to him. “Hi Tashiro! How was patrol!” He couldn’t help but to grin at the smiling little boy looking up at him. Over the past year Kenji and Y/n have become more than friends to him. They’ve become his family. He’s grown very attached to the two, and he has every intention of taking care of them for the rest of his life. If only he could tell Y/n how he feels. Maybe then he could be Kenji’s actual dad…and maybe someday he could be Y/n’s husb- “Tashiro!” He snapped out of his trance, glancing down to the boy before picking him up and swinging him around. He then stopped spinning and just held the boy, leaning away so he could talk to him. “Not bad little guy! How was school today?” Kenji sighed looking away, his golden eyes slightly squinting. “…Not good..” Fatgum’s grin fell as he looked at the little boy who was avoiding his gaze. “Hey, what happened?” Kenji looked at Fatgum, Golden eyes filled with shame and sadness. “The kids kept calling me names. They call me ‘Overhaul’ or ‘killer’ and ‘villain’! But I’m not! I’m not any of those things!” Fatgum felt his heart break at the sight of the little boy’s eyes filling with tears. “I-I don’t, don’t want my name. I hate it! I hate him!” He lunged forward in Fatgum’s arms, hugging his neck tightly as he cried into his shoulder, Fatgum only held him tighter. “Hey, hey you’re not any of those things! And you’re definitely not his son, maybe by blood, but if home is what you make it, then family is too! Don’t listen to those kids, you know who you are, you’re a good person Kenji, and you’re turning out into an amazing hero,” Fatgum smiled at him, and helped Kenji wipe some of his tears away. Just then Y/n walked into the office, completed paperwork in her hands. “Hey, what happened?” Y/n had a concerned look on her face as she made her way over to Fatgum and Kenji. Fatgum carefully handed her Kenji and she soothingly rubbed his back trying to help him calm down. “Was it about school today?” Fatgum nodded and Y/n kissed the top of his head whispering a few ‘You’re okay baby’ and ‘it’s okay’ to try and calm him down. “Hey, why don’t we go ahead home for dinner? Then maybe play some games?” Kenji sat up, rubbing his eyes he nodded. “As much as I want to, I have to-“ “Do paperwork?” Y/n said as she held up the already completed paperwork with a cheeky grin. “I had the secretary send it over when you got it. You can thank Tamaki later for telling me. Fatgum let out a long sigh of relief, a big smile gracing his lips. “Man I love you.” His face went red as he said those words. SHOOT. SHE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HEAR THAT!!! Y/n blushed but turned around, setting Kenji on the ground, a ridiculous smile on her face. “Go ahead and get changed, I’ll get the car ready.” She gave him a sincere smile, trying to hide how incredibly happy and flustered she was at his statement. Y/n and Fatgum had been flirting for a while now. They both had a pretty good idea of how the other felt, but neither one wanted to complicate things. One was scared of making her uncomfortable, and the other didn’t want to be a burden for the already hard working hero. But enough was enough. Fatgum was not a ‘sit on the sidelines and wait’ kinda guy. He loved Y/n and Kenji with his whole heart. He couldn’t care less who Kenji’s biological dad was, because he knew if given the choice Kenji would choose him in a heartbeat. Just like Fatgum would choose him and Y/n over his hero agency. Tonight, he was going to tell her his idea. He got changed into his casual clothes (dark wash jeans, white t-shirt with a blue button up, unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up.) and met up with Y/n and Kenji, getting into the car and driving to their house. They got out and headed inside, and while Y/n made some f/f Fatgum played heroes with Kenji. “No fair! I wanna be Fatgum! He’s so cool!” Fatgum teased as he ‘tried to reason’ with the six year old. “mmmmm…” Kenji pretended to think for a moment, “No. I wanna be Fatgum tonight. You can beeeee…” Kenji looked around until he spotted his All Might action figure. “You can be All Might.” Fatgum sighed in fake sadness. “Alright, I guuueesss I can deal with All Might.” Kenji giggled and started running around the room, Fatgum running after him. Y/n stood in the doorway watching as her son played with her crush. She originally came up to say dinner was ready, but after watching this? She couldn’t just stop it! It was too cute! When Fatgum had eventually caught up to Kenji he swung him up on his shoulders, the six-year old’s giggles still hadn’t stopped. “Alright you two, dinners ready.” Both of their ears perked at the sound of dinner, and Kenji scrambled down to go and wash his hands before he took a seat at the table. “Y’know, I think ya might wanna get him into a doctor.” Fatgum said as he made his way over to the doorway. “Oh?” Y/n looked at him with a questioning eyebrow raised. “He’s the one kid on the planet that would pick me over All Might!” Y/n let out a light hearted laugh, “What can I say? He might be a little biased.” Y/n teased. Fatgum shook his head as he laughed. Him and Y/n then made their way down to the dining table. They all took their seats, said a small prayer, and began to eat their food. When they finished Fatgum and Y/n noticed Kenji had been a little antsy in his chair. “Hey bud, you ok? Your squirmin’ quite a bit there!” Kenji looked a little uncomfortable for a bit avoiding both of their gazes before he looked at them both, gaining a little confidence in the loving looks they both were giving to him. “I….I want to change my name….I don’t like having his name….I want…someone else’s..” The last part was quiet so they didn’t really hear it, but they knew he didn’t want ‘Chisaki’ any longer. And to be honest, neither did Y/n. (OOKAY I KnOw that when Y/n and Overhaul divorced then her name could have been changed back to her original name, buuuuut please bear with me, for SOME reason she couldn’t.) “I know, and I’m sorry Kenji, it’s just really hard. We’ll go to the court house tomorrow, okay?” Kenji looked a little hopeful, but he knew it would go like it always did. They would see ‘Chisaki’ and wouldn’t even try to change it. Even seemingly ‘quirkless’ and imprisoned people were still scared of him. Which is exactly why they wanted to change it!! “Wait.” They both looked over to Fatgum who had a serious look on his face. “Kenji, do you think you can wait just a little bit longer?” Kenji looked at him confused but nodded his head nonetheless. Y/n looked at him, still not quite getting what he was implying. “Taishiro…what…what do you mean?” Fatgum turned completely in his chair to face Y/n, taking her hands in his, he looked her straight in the eyes, “I mean, if you can wait just a little bit longer, will you take mine instead?” Y/n felt her heart swell with his words. “Tashiro..w-what do you mean!?” Kenji asked, “I mean, if you’re mom will have me, I want to be your dad Kenji. I want us to be a happy little family.” He smiled at the boy, whose eyes were lit up in hopefulness. He then looked back to see Y/n who was crying happy tears, “Y/n…Will you marry me?” Y/n wiped her eyes and nodded, letting out a laugh as she tried to stop crying. “Yes, yes I will.” Fatgum grasped her in a tight hug and Kenji leaped down from his chair to join the now family hug. “I love you Y/n, Kenji. So, so much!” Y/n smiled and kissed his cheek. And Kenji just buried himself further into his chest. “We love you too daddy!” When Fatgum ran into the Shie Hassaikai base, he expected a fight, blood, tears, and maybe even death. But he never could have expected to come out of it with his whole world. His little family.

#fatgum #taishiro toyomitsu #fatgum x reader #y/n #bnha #bnha x reader

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