#seriously though i did not expect part one to blow up like it did | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

melancholyhigh · 8 months

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RECKLESS.

ft. rookie!leon x lieutenant!reader

synopsis. after leon was careless on a mission, you ask him to pay you a visit to your office.

content. 3.0k words. smut. age gap, power imbalance, delulu leon, subby leon, masturbation, praise kink, office sex, handjob, blowjob, edging, dacryphilia.

note. mb guys, i'll post dilf leon a little later. sub leon is my favourite leon.

masterlist. i love feedback! :3

Tough love. That’s what Leon liked to call it when you’re scolding him. He’s got sympathetic looks from his coworkers each time you drag him away to chastise him, but he doesn’t take it to heart — you want the best for him.

They always say how he ‘gets it worse,’ and they don’t understand how he takes it. But it’s different when you reprimand him in comparison to his colleagues. You pull him aside to lecture him, never in the presence of others. It’s so much more intimate. Unlike his fellow officers, where you nearly publicly humiliate them, he gets special treatment.

Leon likes to think he’s your favourite. He knows he’s your favourite.

When he was the newest recruit, he thought nothing of your ways. You probably did it to all the rookies, but after a few weeks in, he realised you only ever did it to him.

At first, you thought Leon was just like the others. He was inexperienced and expected much more than this field could accomplish.

You were strict, that was much. The older officers knew of your demeanour when they had first been there. You weren’t cruel to rookies. They’re new officers. It’s their first time at the department, and you’ve been here longer than you’d like to admit. You couldn’t be too harsh on them, but you weren’t the gentle parenting kind either.

Something about Leon ticked you off, though. You didn’t know what exactly did. When he messed up, you had to tell him off, and, at first, it was worse than what you’d usually say to the other recruits. You felt that he should’ve known better. You weren’t ever this particular with rookies, and you’re shocked that Leon hasn’t even transferred yet. You felt guilty to the point you apologised to him.

So when you pull him aside from the others, they expect you to be worse than you usually are, sparing Leon from the embarrassment, and to an extent, you are. In reality, you’re softer to him. Even if it’s not noticeable — you can tell. You do it so your reputation stays intact. You’re mortified by how gentle you are to him, contradicting your usual attitude towards the other older officers. It’s obvious enough that Chris notices.

Even though you are rough to Leon, sometimes you’re not as intimidating. Other times when he’s been playing the ass, you’re worse than usual.

When he forgets his papers, you’re easy on him. He’s hard-working, people forget. A slap on the wrist. If anyone else forgets them? You’re on their ass immediately. It’s part of the job. How can one be so forgetful?

You try to reason with yourself that Leon’s more responsible than the others. And you’re not wrong. But you feel uneasy knowing there is an underlying reason why you treat him differently.

He acts thoughtless during patrols? You’re oddly silent, more silent than usual, and it scares the entire department. They usually chalk it up to a patrol gone seriously awry, and it’s not entirely wrong to assume that. But you’re less of a threat when shit blows up in your face to uncontrollable forces rather than when things do not go as smoothly because of an avoidable mishap.

You’re residing in your office right now. If you were to face Kennedy right now, you’d do something you’d regret. He almost botched the arrest. You and a few officers patrolled an area known for its high crime rate where a recent robbery occurred at a nearby convenience store, and you and your team were investigating the area.

During a conversation with the store’s owners, your squad found the suspect armed with a handgun. As you’re about to take action, just your luck, when Leon S. Kennedy handled the situation. He disobeyed your orders, whether verbally or not, when he dealt with the thief. You were appalled because he knew better than that. Maybe it was adrenaline or stupidity, but the situation could’ve gone south.

Back at the department, you ventured to your office, ignoring Kennedy in the guise of paperwork. You tried to do paperwork, but the image of Leon with a bullet wound, unable to be the officer he used to be or even dead, continues to flash in your mind.

Was it normal to have such a sense of despair at the thought of losing a coworker? Not to this extent. For Christ's sake, he had a bulletproof vest on. Why were you even thinking about that? You never thought about your other colleagues in such a manner.

Did you find him attractive? Of course, you had eyes — he was as cute as a button. Not that you’d admit that. Did you like Kennedy more than you lead on? Well, shit. You’re starting to overthink everything. You knew how fond he was of you, like a puppy, following you and obeying your every command. You probably liked that too much.

Sighing, you lean back on the soft cushioning of your office chair, the leather squeaking under your weight. You had to do something about this revelation, don’t you?

–-

Leon has been anticipating visiting your office once again. He’s disappointed with the silent treatment he’s been receiving from you lately. You had brushed him off initially, giving him a stern, “Don’t pull that shit again, Kennedy,” before dismissing him entirely.

He wasn’t reckless on purpose to hear you reprimanding him. Not that he likes it or anything, but he prefers you being angry to blatantly disregarding him. He wished you’d do something. Punish him for all he cares.

Leon furiously clicks his pen, unable to focus on his papers. He wishes you’d pay attention to him. He reminisces on the time you shared at the bar. It seems to be on his mind more often lately.

After a tough case, some officers decided to head to a bar and invited him to tag along. He was relatively new, so he took the opportunity while he could. The others relentlessly begged for you to join them — to loosen up. You weren’t keen on the idea at first but you eventually gave in. You clearly adored your squad, and it wasn’t as subtle as you thought.

Leon tried not to get too drunk. He did not want to embarrass himself in front of others, limiting his alcohol intake. You seem not too fond of getting drunk, bourbon in your hand, watered down by the ice.

You were sat next to him, making quips and chuckling at inside jokes that the older cops say. He felt excluded, quietly sipping on his drink as he listened quietly. After another round, they started to filter out, leaving essentially you and him alone. There were others, but they were too intoxicated, waiting for their spouse to pick them up.

The buzz picks up its pace the longer he’s in the bar. He’s minding his business, and you’re with him. He takes a peek at you. You’re sat there with a look of contemplation. After a few moments, your voice slices through the noise that fills the packed room.

“Hey, Leon,” you said, turning to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. It was the only time he heard you call him by his first name, granted he only saw you at the department. He had looked at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry for being too hard on you. I know it’s probably a lot, but I do it ‘cause I care, ya know? I’ll ease up on ya.”

His cold lieutenant, who he hadn’t heard speak an entire sentence since you joined them for drinks, was talking to him, not just that, apologising to him. Your palm on his shoulder feels warm, giving him a reassuring squeeze before you drop your hand.

“It’s fine. You’re just doin’ your job, Lt.” His face gets redder at the prospect of you caring about him. God, you were so close, a rare smile blooming on your pretty lips. He’s quivering like a leaf and hopes you think it’s the alcohol.

“I’m gonna head home. Need a drive?” You had finished your drink, standing up and putting on your jacket.

He shook his head, “No, I’ll be okay.”

He regrets not accepting the offer. He ended up taking a cab home, wondering how it’d play out if he had agreed to let you carry him home instead.

The same night, at home, he remembers your hand on his shoulder and the words you had said to him. He felt fuzzy, and he was sure he was mostly sober. He needed a cold shower, leading him to think not-so-professional thoughts about you, arousal blocking his senses.

Up against the cool bathroom wall, he tugs on his aching dick, wishing it was your hand instead, teasing him. He thought about what you’d do to him, making him cry as you whispered how much of a good boy he was, just like you’d tell him he did a good job after a tough assignment.

He came, his fingers coated in his sticky seeds, grimacing at the sight. He had taken an extra cold shower, pondering if he regretted climaxing to the thought of his boss.

He didn’t.

–-

Leon groans in annoyance, scratching off another word he spelt wrong. He wonders if you still remember the night at the bar. It wasn’t anything remarkable, but it solidified the burning fact that you actively care for him.

Leaning back on his chair, he decides to take a quick break. However, it was cut short as you entered the room. Your eyes are on him, and he immediately begins to work on his papers. He didn’t need another reason for you to disregard him.

“Kennedy, meet me in my office. Now,” you say. Your voice is cold, and you’re glaring at him. The officers in the room are giving him a look filled with pity. He doesn’t care, preferring your attention over their sympathy. It’s the longest sentence you’ve said to him since you reached the department.

As you walk to your office, Leon follows like an obedient puppy. He hears the gossip of his coworkers behind him once they think he’s out of shot. He ignores their words and trails behind you, anticipation filling his system as well as another emotion that only you can make him feel.

Once in your office, Leon closes the door behind him with shaky hands. He’s trying his best not to smile, biting his lip. You didn’t forget about him.

“Lock the door,” you sighed. Your command confuses Leon, but he obliges, twisting the lock on the door. You’re leaning up against your wooden desk, arms crossed. You refused to look at him, but your acknowledgement of him was enough. He’ll take what he can get.

“Come closer,” you beckon, your voice low as you look at him. He nervously walks closer to you, almost tripping over his own feet. He prays you didn’t see that. Leon coughs awkwardly, a few inches away from you, leaving enough room for Jesus.

“You know why I brought you in here, officer?” You questioned, voice laced with authority. Leon is stunned at your response. Usually, you get it over within a few minutes, leaving him to finish his papers with a dazed smile, not entertaining pointless questions.

“U– uh, because I disobeyed your orders?” Staring at the floor, he doesn’t want to see your reaction. He really fucked up this time if you’re dragging it out like this.

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. Humming softly, you reply, “Yes. You’re a smart boy, Leon. Shouldn’t you know better?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, lieutenant,” he answers quickly, straightening his posture. Fuck, you’re calling him by his first name all of a sudden.

“I should punish you,” You mention, catching him off guard. He stares at you with doe eyes, pink lips parted as if he didn’t hear you correctly. The sentence wasn’t inherently wrong, but the tone you said made his body heat up.

You grab his belt, softly tugging him closer to you. He stumbles, pressing himself against your warm body, lips brushing against yours. He’s stunned, unable to form a coherent thought, watching you grin at the sight of him.

“I think you’d like that too much,” you chuckle, admiring how wrecked Leon was. You didn’t even get to the fun part yet. You bump noses together as you get nearer to his face.

“Is this okay, darlin’?”

“God, yes, please.”

You capture his lips softly with your own, and he whimpers quietly. Your lips move in sync with his. It’s slow and soft, and you’re testing the waters with him. If he knew he’d be making out with you in your office, he’d buy some mints. His hands move to grip your waist, squeezing eagerly to get more of you.

You break away, heavily breathing as you try to catch your breath. Leon’s chest flushed to yours, and his lips slick with your combined spit. He subtly grinds his bulge against your thigh, eyes snapped shut. The kiss was so much better than he imagined. He still can’t fathom that this is real, that you’re real.

“Can I touch you, pretty boy?” you ask, fidgeting with his belt buckle. His head reels. You think he’s pretty? He’s heard others say it but thought nothing of it. It’s different when it comes to you.

He nods mindlessly, “Yeah, t– touch me.”

Slowly, you unbuckle his pants, watching it fall to the ground. He’s in his boxers, precum darkening the light-coloured fabric. You run your fingers along his prominent erection through the cloth. A soft moan escapes Leon as you tease the tip.

He watches with hooded eyes as you trail your hand from his tummy to the waistline of his boxers, tugging them down. His cock is fully erect, flushed pink to the head and dribbling precum down his shaft. Wrapping your digits around his throbbing dick, you slowly stroke him, kissing his neck and nipping the sensitive flesh.

You use the excess precum dribbling down his cock as a lubricant, picking up your pace. Leon’s desperate moans fill the room, as well as the lewd noise of you jerking his aching cock. Your other hand wraps around his taut waist, bringing him closer to you. You whisper filthy words and praises into his ear, your pace on his member insistent.

When he’s about to climax, you stop your movement, cruelly laughing as Leon whines at the loss of your touch. He desperately bucks his hips into your enclosed hands, but it’s not enough. He looks at you with glossy eyes and fluttering lashes.

“This a punishment, darling. You’re not going t’cum that easily,” you tease, slowly stroking his shaft once more, thumbing the sensitive head of his cock. Leon furrows his brows, frustrated. Leon knew he could’ve avoided this if he was good for you, but then again, would have you been giving him a handjob if he wasn’t so bad.

You continue to bring him close to completion, only to take it away at the last second. He doesn’t know how many times you’ve ruined his chances of coming undone, but he knows you’re cruel. Tears streamed down his face, leaving a red, irritated trail behind on his skin.

“Oh, you look so pretty when you cry, darlin’.” you coo, his cock still in your fist as you continue to stroke him after ruining another orgasm. He throws his head back, and you’re nuzzling into the junction of his neck, leaving bite marks on the flushed skin.

“Please, please, let me cum. I– I'll be your good boy,” he hiccups, rutting his hips into your palm.

“Mhm, okay, baby. I think you deserve it.”

You take your hand off his needy dick and give him a sloppy kiss on his lips. He observes you through watery eyes as you get on your knees in front of him, your hands gripping the back of his thighs. Fuck, he couldn’t believe it. His lieutenant was on their knees for him, about to make him cum with their mouth.

He whimpers when you drag your tongue along the shaft, tracing the veins that lead to the base. You moan softly at the taste, kissing the tip before taking him entirely into your mouth. He couldn't help but buck into your warm mouth.

He wasn’t going to last long, he was already so sensitive from you jerking him off. His ruined orgasms only add to it. He props himself on your mahogany desk, the wood digging into his back. Eyes rolling to the back of his head when you hallow your cheeks and take more of him down your throat.

“Ugh, Fuck,” he cries when you moan around his dick, his eyes squeeze shut. A wet gag leaves you as the spongy tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and your grip on the back of his thighs tightens, leaving indents in the soft flesh.

“‘M so close,” he whines, thrusting feverishly into your mouth, the desk shaking with each move. Drool slips past your lips as you stare up at him through your lashes clumped together by tears, silently permitting him to climax, his tummy clenching at the sight. To see you in such a manner, you, who’s always professional, on your knees in front of him, choking on this swollen cock. It’s something that’s only ever occurred in his wildest dreams.

He whimpers loudly, hand clasping over his mouth to hide his embarrassing moans as he finishes down your throat. You pull away from his softening cock, coughing, wiping the spit and cum accumulated on your face. You stand up on wobbly knees, gripping Leon’s bicep to balance yourself.

Once Leon gathers himself, he kisses you, filled with passion, his arms encircling your waist, moaning into your mouth. He’s giddy, peppering kisses all over your cheeks and puffy lips. You really do like him, don’t you? You just gave him the orgasm of his lifetime in your office. It’d only be fair to help you out, too.

“Can I return the favour, Lt.?”

#idk anything about policing #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon smut #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #resident evil #re2 #leon x you #re2 x reader #re2 x you #smut #re4 x reader #re4 #re4 smut #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #✩‧₊˚ fics

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retroellie · 4 months

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NSFW Alphabet w/ Spencer Reid

Summary: NSFW alphabet w/ spenice poo

A/N: Ovbiosuly i have to introduce a new character with an NSFW alphabet... it's become my thing yall I know. Also, i wanted this one to be like spencer in the earlier seasons because I'm a whore for him then.

Warnings: NSFW, BDSM, pegging, loss of virginity, Sub!Spencer Reid

Word count: 3.8K

A= Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Dr Spencer Reid is a sweetheart and we all know this, so obviously he's going to be the sweetest boy after. The first couple of times y'all have sex, he's kind of awkward afterward... like he feels weird about the fact he was just inside of you and now he has to talk to you like nothing happened. Eventually, he warms up to it and gets better at taking care of you. Now he always makes sure he has a soft rag and some water in his nightstand so when you stay over he doesn't have to get up. To be completely honest though, he's the one who needs the aftercare...

B=body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

He likes your boobs, like really likes your boobs. He likes them because they're just so versatile, you know? Like he can lay his head on them while you read to him, he can stick his dick in between them, he can suck on them... I mean, what more can this boy need?!?!? Mostly he likes how he can still see them when you guys are in public, maybe not in their entirety but he loves when you wear low-cut shirts. You do it on purpose sometimes, just to see him squirm in his seat while trying to go over statistics on a case. But overall, Spencer just really likes your body. It's just one of those things that Spencer doesn't have to think about or understand, it was just so easy to fall in love with it.

Spencer doesn't really like his body, I feel like he's a very insecure person. He thinks he's too scrawny, too thin, and extremely out of shape. You try to tell him that he's perfect but he can't get over his insecurities. If he did have to choose, it would be his mouth, if he's good for anything... it's for talking and giving mind-blowing head.

C=Cum (anything to do with cum)

Spencer has the worst pull-out game ever, I mean seriously. It's mostly because he just loves cumming with you. The way he'll be deep inside you, literally inside your guts... then he just releases it all into you and watches as your face controls into pure pleasure. He loses all control when you cums, his vision goes white and the only thing he can think of is how pretty you look on his cock.

You had to go on birth control because you couldn't deny Spencer Reid of his favorite thing to do, plus he went on this rant about how birth control is better than condoms because condoms can break blah blah blah. You knew it was simply because he wanted to cum inside you... and it felt way better without a condom.

D=dirty secret

Spencer Reid loves to research things alright... so obviously he has watched massive amounts of porn for research purposes. At first, he tried to tell himself it was for profiling purposes, he needed to know what every kink was so he was able to apply it when needed... well, then it turned into more of his own interest. He wanted to know what he liked, especially when he met you. I mean he's watched almost everything, BDSM, humiliation, sadism, choking, slapping, even pissing. A lot of those things he found he didn't enjoy, but he's honestly found some stuff that makes his face heat up at the thought of it. What's even weirder about this is that Spencer has never jacked off to any of it, to him... it is completely for research.

E=experience (How experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You were his first and he hopes you are his last :). He hasn't even really kissed anyone before you. However, as said above, Spencer has done a lot of research so he definitely knows what he's doing. But porn is completely different than the real thing so he was confused that it didn't go how he expected it to go. What's really nice about Spencer is that he has an eidetic memory, so if something makes your toes curl once... he can do it over and over and over again the exact same way which honestly makes him seem so much more experienced than he actually is.

F=Favorite position

He loves it when you ride him. Not only does he get the perfect view of your boobs and your face, but he loves letting you take control. I feel like Spencer is a bottom so he enjoys the feeling of you towering over him, taking everything you need, and controlling if he gets to cum or not.

He also loves taking you from the back but not in the way you would think. He likes being able to lean against something and you do all the work, like you thrust yourself back on him. He likes that so when you get too tried or frustrated, he can help you fuck yourself on him. Also, I feel like Spencer would like to be experimental with positions, especially since he knows almost all of them from his extensive research. So he tries to switch it up and try new positions every once in a while.

G= Goofy (Are they serious at the moment or are they humorous?)

Everything spencer does is goofy as fuck, so sex is not a serious thing for yall. You can't do anything without spencer shooting out some statistics which makes you laugh, cause his dick could be down your throat and he'd talk about how "43% percent of women say they like giving oral more than receiving it." Sometimes you have to show his face between your own legs to get him to shut up. In short, spencer has to be serious all day at the BAU, so coming home and having to seriously fuck you is just not something he wants to do. He's gonna have some fun with it.

H= Hair (How groomed are they down there?)

Spencer is a bit of a germaphobe, he doesn't like to shake people's hands for god sake. He is definitely either clean-shaven or very well-groomed. He makes sure to clean his junk thoroughly, again with the whole bacteria and germ blah blah... You get it, he just feels more clean if he's groomed well down there.

As for you, I feel like he's gonna care if you're shaved down there or not. I mean he's obviously still going to eat your pussy even if you haven't shaved, but he does prefer you to be groomed down there. Again it's a germaphobe thing for him, but like I said... it's not the thing that determines if he'll fuck you or not.

I=Intimacy

This boy is touch starved as fuck. He usually doesn't like touch, he's scared of it if I'm being honest. So when you came along and touched him in every way possible... he craves it now. He wants to be close to you at all times when he's reading, on a case, or showering. He wants to be touching you in some way. Sex is intimate as well, especially since you were his first time. Losing his virginity was a huge thing for him, so the intimate part was important to him.

He loves the cringey romance things, I mean like buying you flowers or going on expensive dinners every anniversary or birthday. He only ever got his romance beliefs from old romance books and cheesy romance movies. He sure did know how to make you feel like a princess.

J= Jack off (Masturbation headcanons)

Spencer never really masturbated much before he met you, he never really felt that way either. Like being horny was something that he never felt, never got hard, or had a wet dream. Even while doing his research, he never popped a boner... not even once! That was until he met you, now a bus could go by and he is stiff. He can only jack off to the thought of you though, he only needs his mind and his hand to get him off when you aren't there.

I also think he likes to watch you masturbate, he's a little creep like that. Obviously, you'd know he was there, but he likes for you to pretend he's not there. He loves watching you tease yourself, moaning his name while he sits in a chair in the corner of the room. It gives him a small power rush, knowing he's getting you off without even touching you.

K= Kinks

Alright, he has quite a bit... he's a little dirty dog once you get him going. He definitely has a mommy kink definitely, I mean he has mommy issues so it is inevitable for the word mommy to slip out during sex. He says shit like "You make me feel so good mommy..." or "Can I cum mommy?" In his most pathetic voice as he whimpers so loud.

He's a kinky little fucker, to name a few...Prasing, bondage, role-playing, orgasm control, Voyeurism, humiliation. The list goes on and on. He was so embarrassed to bring them up to you starting off, he felt wrong for liking these things. You basically had to fuck it out of him but when he did, he felt so comfortable with you. Sex gets rough and a bit chaotic, but it was for you guys and you guys only so it didn't really matter. As long as you two were both comfortable and enjoying it, it didn't really matter.

L= Location (favorite place to do it)

This is where Spencer Reid lacks alright. He likes to be in his own bed when doing it, I mean he can't really afford to be too adventurous in this area. He's an FBI agent... he can't get caught doing it anywhere else. That's not to say y'all haven't done it in other places, the hotels he stays at on cases have been a regular thing for you guys, but he just doesn't feel safe doing it anywhere else but his own home.

M= Motivation (What turns them on?)

Like I said earlier, he never really got turned on before you. He always thought there was something wrong with him when it came to sex, but girl... you opened a floodgate to him. What turns him on the most is when he thinks of you. Especially if he sees something, let's say he sees a desk... he can't help but imagine bending you over it. It's just you, when you creep up on his mind randomly... he turns into putty.

He also gets so flustered and turned up to the max when you humiliate him in public, like teasing him in front of the team. He gets so sexually frustrated, hearing you joke about him in front of Morgan or teasing him with Garcia about how smart he is... especially calling him "pretty boy"... just gets him going.

N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do/ turn offs)

As an agent of the BAU, constantly around murder and gore and pure violence... Spencer is really picky about violence in the bedroom. He wants sex to be light and fun, not dark. He doesn't mind degrading or hitting... but he wants to keep it at a minimum. I mean he sees it all day, every day. So he'd just rather keep it upbeat in the bedroom, he'd much rather praise you than anything else.

That is a gray area for him, however there is something that he will never do. He hates bodily fluids, so spit and blood... etc. is just off the table for him. Not only is he around it all day, but he doesn't like the germs and bacteria it comes with.

O= Oral (Giving or receiving, skill etc.)

This man could go down on you for hours, I mean... hours. Like I feel like this man jumps up and down when you let him eat you out. This man will attempt to tease you but he gets so eager when he eats your pussy, so he always ends up letting you cum the second your orgasm comes. His favorite after-work activity is to come to the hotel or your shared apartment, pull your panties down, and eat you out like a hungry man. Not to get all psychological (I'm telling y'all I have been watching too much criminal minds lately) but I feel like it's definitely a control thing. I mean his entire life has been out of his control, his entire career is about fighting for control... so the only time he feels somewhat in control is when he goes down on you.

Spencer Reid obviously enjoys receiving as well, I mean what man doesn't like getting some head? He finds you so pretty on your knees, trying desperately to get him off which doesn't take too long for him when you're like this. Spencer just prefers giving simply because he wants to make you feel good, I mean he so desperately wants to make you feel good. Plus he's really good at it, I mean really good...

P= pace (are they fast or rough? slow or sensual?)

As said before, Spencer is eager. He is extremely fast with it, I mean to the point you have to tell him to slow down sometimes because he's going crazy. "Slow down Spence.." You moan into the pillows as your face down, ass up. "Sorry... it... you... fuck... you just feel so good" He stutters out, probably the only time spencer reid gets twisted up with his words is when he fucks you. You would have to be the one to go slow with it, you want him to feel the love in the act. You want him to understand sex doesn't have to be a scientific act, it isn't just for procreation or for the orgasm... it can be an act of love.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies)

He probably loves them more than eating you out, actually.. I wouldn't go that far. It's a close second to it. He's a busy man, always on a case or trying to finish a book. They are especially good when y'all are traveling for cases like y'all only have 8 minutes before you have to get back to work... he can make you both cum 3 times in 4. He loves long drawn-out ones too, he likes making you feel good for hours but they are rare occurrences simply because he's always getting called into the office. So honestly quickies are how y'all survive.

R= Risk (Are they okay with experimenting? do they take risks?)

He loves experimenting! Like I said before, he has done his research and he probably made a list of things he would like to try with you. He had to get comfortable first to be able to experiment, it was a long process of breaking Dr. Spencer Reid out of his shell. But now it feels like you guys are always trying new things, I mean like every time you guys have sex... Spencer asks if he can do something new to you.

As for risks, he is not for risks. If it genuinely is risky, causing harm to either one of you or something that will cause Morgan to tease him every day for?? It's off the table like I said before... His entire job is about risks, he just wants your guy's sex life to be healthy and normal.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Spencer can go all night. Let's be honest, it's how he stays fit. Like I said, Spencer gets horny quickly so after every orgasm he has... he's already hard again. I feel like the most rounds y'all have gone is like 8 or 9, it was all in the course of 3 hours too. Again it's a rare occurrence for you guys to have long drawn-out sessions, it mostly happens when spencer has the day off or after a case and y'all spend the day in the city the case was in. When days like this do come, spencer goes crazy and full-on out. He'll light the candles, he'll have a tub of lube, he'll have bottles of water for you guys because he knows y'all will need lots of water after.

I feel like Spencer doesn't last very long, maybe 5 minutes but like I said... he gets hard really fast and he'll edge himself over and over again just so he can make you feel good. I feel like you also help him build up his tolerance, so he slowly starts to last longer and longer. When y'all first started having sex, he couldn't last over 2 minutes... let's be honest now y'all.

T= Toys (do they have toys and who do they use them on?)

ooooh, this is a fun one because spencer reid loves experimenting, so toys are definitely something he likes. He's really into vibrators, especially when you let him watch you masturbate... he just loves watching you tease yourself with it. However, when you use vibrators on him... makes him weak in the knees, for obvious reasons but also because of the sensation of the vibrating and then your hands or pussy?!? He can't help but cum every single time without fail.

Alright y'all I know, spencer reid likes to be pegged. He went completely feral when you bought it for the first time, he begged you to destroy him with the strap. He is a bottom, he likes to be dominated... It goes without saying that he likes to be pegged. You do this thing though, where you're taking him from the back and you use a vibrator to hold his cock. You have him screaming with that move you do.

As for other toys, I feel like he has a pair of handcuffs or bondage toys laying around.

U= Unfair (how much do they tease?)

He doesn't do much teasing but you do, you tease him so much that he is begging to be fucked by the time you guys are alone. He's used to being teased by literally everyone in his life, but something about your teasing... no matter if sexual or not, never fails to make him all flustered.

His teasing isn't really teasing, to him it is but every time he tries teasing you, you end up getting so confused. He'd be like, "You look good in that shirt, it would look way better off though... You know statistically, women in shirts...". Just a very Reid thing to do. You always feed on his teasing though, you want to make him feel good about himself so you just smile and nod.

V= Volume (How loud are they?)

This mf is loud as fuck. Sometimes you have to push his face into the pillows or make him bite down on your panties because he's just so loud. He doesn't moan either, he whimpers and whines. There's a time when you love making him whimper, you encourage it actually. You love seeing his red, flustered face as he whines for you to let him cum. Then there are times, like in hotels, that you have to keep him quiet. Unfortunately, Spencer Reid doesn't do quiet. You shoving your wet panties in his mouth is a regular thing in those times, he can't complain because he loves the taste.

He is also very vocal, he loves praising and being praised. He will whimper out "Fuck... make me feel good.." or "wanna cum in you.." You always cave into his wants, I mean his little whimpers are so cute how can you not?

W- Wild card (Random headcanons)

We all know that spencer reid loves books and statistics, so he will definitely multitask when fucking you. He loves when he's at his desk at home and you come in, wearing nothing but one of his sweaters. You'll crawl down on your knees and suck him off under the desk. You force him to do work as you make him cum, over and over and over. He also likes it when you cockwarm him, asking him questions about the case and if he messes up or stutters... you snap your hips down and make him whine. One time, when you were riding him in his office chair... he was reading a book, like an old literature book. "Are you reading right now?" You asked him, confused because like what? and he replied. "yeah... it's okay, you can keep going. I'll be done in a minute." He smiled so innocently, you wanted to fuck him harder after that.

Also, he uses his statistics to make you feel good, he read in a college textbook about female anatomy that girls like their nipples played with during sex so he tried it on you. You had no idea you liked that until Spencer Reid started pinching them. He'll also tell you the statistics while doing it, which I think is kinda funny. "Statistically, 76% of women have never stimulated they're g-spot," He says as he thrusts up, hitting yours perfectly.

X= X-ray (What’s going on in their pants)

Spencer Reid is a very scrawny and skinny man, so I know he is packing. He's probably a little over average, not too much but enough to make you nervous if you'll be able to take it all. He has a very pretty dick too, very well-groomed and very clean. He doesn't have much girth too, but honestly, size doesn't matter.

Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive)

Very high sex drive, that's why quickies are so important to him. He didn't really understand Morgan's obsession with women at first until he actually had sex... now he always wants to be inside of you. He begs a lot too, if he's horny... all he will do is beg and plead for you to touch him. "Spencer we just got here, settle down." You scold him as he tries to get you to the private bathroom. "Please y/n... you look so pretty in your dress and... it's making my stomach hurt." Eventually, spencers whining gets you all hot and heavy, and you end up fucking him in the bathroom.

Z= ZZZ (How quick do they fall asleep after?)

Spencer passes out after his balls are empty and he is worn out from everything. Like I guess anyone would be exhausted after 7 to 9 rounds of desperately trying to get off. Not only but he has a very mentally and physically exhausting job, so he's out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #matthew gray gubler

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terrarain · 8 months

Text

seasons of love

characters: todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, takami keigo

summary: four seasons, four guys. different drabbles based on the season.

notes: reader's pronouns unspecified, swearing, it's entirely fluff! mentions of a reader with a pollen allergy in keigo's, some possessiveness in bakugou's for like one line, ticklish reader in shinsou's

word count: 4.5k

ˏˋ°•*⁀☂️ spring; takami keigo

Keigo didn't see much appeal in the rainy showers that May would bring. The rain had an unpleasant tendency to wash away traces of villain activity; it was a criminal's best friend. Activity in the streets were always lower when it was raining. People weren't as alert.

So he doesn't really get it when you're tugging at his sleeve with a cute pout that. As he stares at your jutted out lip, he has the oddest desire to bite it.

"Please. It'll be fun."

"Alright, consider me convinced, birdie."

All you had to do was say please with wide eyes and pouty lips and he was done for. Keigo's sure that Miruko would laugh her ass off at how easily Keigo acquiesced to all of your requests. Good thing for him, then, that the rabbit hero was nowhere to be seen.

And so that's the explanation behind why Keigo, the number two hero Hawks who was currently on a break, is currently walking next to you. In one hand, he's holding a well-loved umbrella and his other hand...

Golden eyes linger on the free hand at your side, swinging forward and back as you practically skip along the rain-washed sidewalk.

The hand that's not holding the umbrella twitches.

"You really like the rain."

"It's the best part about spring."

The beaming smile that you send his way makes Keigo feel all melty inside with affection. A part of him is glad that his wings have been reduced to just a few feathers at the moment. He has a feeling that, if his wings had been full, they'd be puffing up an embarrassing amount right about now.

He cocks his head to the side slightly. "Not the flowers?"

"The flowers are nice, too. But they make my allergies act up and those aren't much fun."

Keigo recalls memories of you in past springs, nose all runny and red, eyes slightly teary.

"But you're cute when you're sniffling," he teases, trying for a flirty smile. You just roll your eyes playfully.

"You won't be saying that when I'm constantly blowing snot into tissues."

You'd still be cute in his eyes. He's seen you a snotty mess before, when you got sick one time, and Keigo couldn't help but think that you looked stunning.

"You look beautiful all the time."

"Yeah, yeah, you flirt," you laugh, unconvinced.

Shit, he thinks distantly. I'm down real bad.

Keigo hadn't been saying that just to flatter you. He really did think that you were the most beautiful person he's ever laid eyes upon. Anybody who said otherwise was just wrong. They'd have to be blind to not recognize your beauty.

"Seriously," he insists. A flush takes over your cheeks, faint but still there. Keigo smiles to himself.

"Anyways," you fluster, walking a bit faster. He quickens his pace as well, careful to make sure that the umbrella that he was sharing with you was still covering you. He could feel his shoulder getting a little wet, but he didn't really care.

"So," Keigo drawls, one bushy brow raised. "Didja drag me out into the rain just so we could walk? I know I'm irresistible," an eyeroll from you, "...and that you want to spend more time with me, but we could just hang out at your apartment like usual."

"You're such a homebody," you muse. "Who knew that the flashy, number two winged hero Hawks is a shut-in."

"Hey," he says, not all that offended. "Your place s'real comfy."

And nobody expects anything of him when he's in the comfort of your well-lived in home. He's just Takami Keigo in private, cracking jokes and play-wrestling with you. Just another average joe who's hanging out with the love of his life a friend.

" 'sides," Keigo continues, looking over to you quickly. "I'm out here with you, aren't I? Even though I have no clue what you're up to."

"Oh, I never told you, huh?" you muse. The look in your eyes is playful, almost childlike.

"What schemes are you cooking up in that pretty little head of yours?" he questions, eyes slightly narrowed. He moves up a bit more to walk next to you when he sees a car approaching from behind. There's no puddles for the car to splash the two of you with, but better safe than sorry.

"You said that you've never played in the rain," is your non-answer.

Keigo does faintly recall telling you this. It had been a while ago, if he's remembering things correctly. You were working your magic in the kitchen while he was sitting at the counter as he watched when he had let this bit of information slip.

Ah, he realizes. "That's what all this fuss is about?"

"You're missing out," you insist when you hear his perplexed tone. "Right now, it's raining. And you're on break. So... now's a great time to take you out."

Keigo almost makes a joke about you taking him out in a different context — for a date.

The joke doesn't come. Instead, he just says: "Chickadee, I've flown through the rain. You're actin' like this is my first rodeo out in the rain."

You let out a little (cute) frustrated huff, eyes narrowing. Your arms cross as you speak. "Put the umbrella aside. We're going puddle jumping."

Keigo cocks a brow in questioning, "Uh, you sure? You'll get—"

"—wet?" you interrupt him as you bring the hood of your raincoat over your head. "That's what the coats are for."

"If you say so," he says, giving up easily enough as he brings the hood of his own raincoat up before closing the umbrella. Keigo really can't say no to you.

The two of you stand there under the rain. It's not particularly harsh, but it's definitely not a light drizzle, either. A scarlet red feather flies up to carry the umbrella that he sets to the side.

"So, what now, professor?" Keigo says, grinning. "Please do teach me about the joys of rainy weather."

"Gladly," you say as you offer him a hand. It only takes a nanosecond before his hand is in yours, his gaze expectant. The raindrops that fall onto the exposed skin are cool.

You tug at his hand, gentle, and he follows behind you like a lost puppy. Keigo finds himself feeling glad that there's nobody out at the moment — that there's nobody to disturb this moment between the two of you.

"Just gotta find..." you trail off, eyes scanning up ahead for something. Eventually, your aimless wandering becomes directed as you let out a small 'aha!'.

You're leading him towards a recently formed, sizeable puddle on the sidewalk.

"Are we going to—"

"Yes."

"Chickadee, we'll be soaked."

"Didn't take you to be such a party pooper," you tease, stopping right at the edge of the puddle as you look over to him.

Keigo gasps, offended. "Me? A party pooper? Why, I oughta—"

You don't wait for him to finish that sentence, jumping into the puddle in front of him with a lot more force than he thinks is necessary. The water comes up and out of reflex, his arms rise in a futile defense against the liquid.

"You were saying?"

"You are so cheeky," Keigo says fondly before he joins you in the puddle, jumping into the rainwater just as a child would.

He hears you let out a little squeal as water flies up towards you and Keigo grins, kicking some water at you as a form of payback.

"That's cold," you giggle, eyes bright.

"I said it'd be cold earlier while you were trying to drag me out," Keigo replies, letting you tug him out of the puddle as you begin searching for another puddle to jump into.

"Worth it," you declare.

He tilts his head curiously. "You're having that much fun?"

Your reply catches him off guard and he almost stumbles.

"It got you smiling again," you say easily, turning around a corner. Your face lights up when you see another untouched puddle. "Not one of those safe smiles. A smile smile."

"A smile smile," he echoes with vague amusement. His heart is fluttering and his cheeks are warming. Keigo, pointedly, does not acknowledge it. "Your descriptions could use some work."

"Oh, please, you get the point," you grin. "Now, come and help me ruin our jackets and boots more, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," Keigo says, joining you in your adventures into the puddle of water while he thinks,

Maybe the rain isn't all bad after all.

ˏˋ°•*⁀☀️ summer; todoroki shouto

"Thank you! Come back again!"

Shouto one perfectly-shaped brow slightly as he glances over to you. You're waving to the person leaving with a sunny smile. In the sky, the sun had already started lowering.

"Are you doing this again tomorrow?" he questions. The hand that's waving stills momentarily before dropping back down to the table of the stand he sat at with you.

You lick your lips. On the table, you're twisting your fingers - Shouto recognizes it as one of your nervous habits.

"Um... well, you don't have to, if you don't want to."

Shouto shifts, gaze briefly flickering over to the bucket of icecream surrounded in his ice. He repeats his question, slightly reworded this time.

"Do you want to do this again tomorrow?"

Your eyes, Shouto thinks as he returns your stare, are something that he could gaze at for hours upon hours on end.

"I do," you admit, lips upturned in a shy smile. "Are you... free tomorrow?"

Shouto's hums as he leans forward a little towards you, chin in the palm of his hand. The darkening of your cheeks makes the smile on his face grow a touch wider. "I am, indeed, free tomorrow. I presume you will be enlisting my assistance as a personal cooler again?"

The little laugh that slips through your lips is light and breathless as you nod. "Mmhm. Really, thanks again for this, Todoroki."

"It's no problem," he says, and it really isn't. Although the request had been an odd one, he didn't particularly mind.

The request in question had been related to ice cream carts - which, to his understanding, are portable stands that sell ice cream. You had told him that you'd wanted to run one - but didn't have the money to rent one out. Shouto had been on the verge of offering to rent one for you when you had eagerly tugged him over to a makeshift stand.

"So, I decided to make my own!" you had told him a few hours ago. Your previously eager smile had turned sheepish when you made a request. "But I don't really have anything to keep the ice cream cool in the heat, so I.. I was wondering if you would be willing to be a cooler? You'll get half of the money the stand makes!"

Shouto would've provided his assistance regardless of whether or not you were paying him. He had said as much, but you insisted on paying him anyways.

"You're really sure you don't have anything else to do?" you question, frowning in concern. "It can't be that fun for you, sitting around at a table in the heat for most of the day."

"The heat doesn't really affect me," he says smoothly, smiling warmly as he looks at you. "And I think it's quite enjoyable. You're very good company."

"Oh-" you clear your throat, all flushed cheeks and giddy smiles. "You're good company, too, Todoroki."

His lips downturn. "Shouto."

The look you send him can only be described as bewildered.

"Call me Shouto," he clarifies. "We are close enough for you to refer to me as such, no?"

He tilts his head when you stare at him with wide eyes.

"Then - you can call me by my given name, too," you say shyly. When he says your name out loud, you nod slightly. "That's me!"

You then shuffle a little, turning to reach for the bag of ice cream cones. He watches with rapt attention as you scrape out the last remaining bits of ice cream in the bucket and drop it onto the cone. He retracts the ice he had around the bucket, seeing as there was no ice cream left to keep cool.

"You should have it." you say after watching him. When he looks at you, you're holding the cone out for him.

Shouto shakes his head. "It's alright. You can have it."

"Shouto," you huff. "Really, you should have it instead. You've been entertaining my whims 'n whatnot the entire day, so.."

The usage of his name has him hesitating; he wonders if you'll say his name again if he keeps refusing. The small pout on your face discourages him from that, though, and he decides to opt for a compromise.

He leans in to take a bite of the ice cream in front of you. Vanilla melts a little on his tongue before he swallows the bite, the coolness of the treat lingering. When Shouto pulls back, he observes your flustered expression with some amusement.

"There," he says simply. "I've had my fill. You can have the rest."

You open your mouth to protest and he just raises a brow in a silent question. He seems to conveyed his message well, because you bring the cone to your lips and take a small bite as you look away from him. Shouto gently pokes at your flushed cheeks, eliciting a giggle.

The smile on his face is fond. Shouto doesn't really have a favourite season - he didn't see a reason to have a favourite.

But, as the sun sets in the distance, last few rays of sunlight framing you in a picturesque scene as you finish off the ice cream cone in your hand - Shouto thinks that if he had to pick one season as his favourite, it would be summer.

ˏˋ°•*⁀🍁 autumn; bakugou katsuki

Katsuki doesn't indulge people. He doesn't entertain their whims. He gives absolutely zero fucks about the desires of other people.

(A lie, sort of. Katsuki is just a little soft towards his closest friends and he lets himself get dragged into their antics sometimes. But he would never openly admit that.)

That's what he says. That's what he told you, more or less, when you had thrown his coat at him and pushed him out the door of the dormitory. Which he let you do because he's particularly soft towards you.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud," you tease him with a playful grin. His expressions sours even further, which earns him the action of you poking him in the forehead with one finger. "You'll get wrinkles early if you keep frowning so hard."

"Stuff it," he says heatedly as he swats your hand away. It's an action that he immediately regrets, but his body doesn't relax in the slightest.

You don't seem to mind, laughing good-naturedly, which pisses him the fuck off because you should mind. He treats you so roughly and it's unwarranted, he thinks. Katsuki knows that he's an asshole and he knows he's far from being a nice person.

You should be treated kindly. Should be hanging out with someone just as bright and sunny as you.

But at the same time, he doesn't want you to do that. It's an unreasonable possessiveness, he thinks, because you're not even his. You don't belong to anyone.

Katsuki has no idea why you still hang out with him.

You're all soft touches, kind smiles, playful quips — and he's rough around the edges. He's a horrible person and he's done fucked up shit in the past that he regrets so, so deeply and he doesn't get you. Or any of the things he feels for you.

You're more resilient than he would've ever thought — because while you were all soft and shit, you knew when to stand up for yourself and you never let yourself be pushed around. You're firm with him and handle yourself well around him. Something about you, terrifyingly enough, disarms him.

His classmates — friends, they call themselves — are also weirdly eager to be around him, just like you. They actively insert themselves into his life and include him in their playful banter.

But you hang out with him the most. Some people have commented on it, in the past. He had just replied to them with a dark glare.

"Alright, this is a good spot!"

Katsuki cocks his head to the side, brows still furrowed. "Hah? Whaddya mean?"

The two of you are standing in a fairly open space, a few ways away from the dormitories. It's a clear part of campus with several trees hanging overhead.

"Pretty, isn't it?" you say, not answering his question at all. Your gaze is directed upwards, so he follows. Golden yellows, crimson reds, vibrant oranges act as a natural ceiling. Bits of the blue sky are peeking through.

"The fuck we standing here for?" he asks, all gruff as he looks back at you.

In one smooth motion, you pull out two rakes and what the fuck.

"Where the hell were you hiding those?"

"Trade secret," is your playful response as you press a rake to his chest. He grabs it out of reflex more than anything. "Less questioning, more raking."

"Hah? What's this shit even for?"

There's a glint in your eyes as you reply.

"Raking leaves," you state the obvious and he rolls his eyes. "We're making leaf piles to jump in."

"That shit's for kids," he grumbles, unmoving as he watches you fly around the leaf-covered ground, starting up a small pile of multi-coloured leaves.

"You're basically just a big baby," you coo and his glare sharpen. You don't seem to react because you're somehow never affected. "So I don't see the problem."

"That's—" he flounders, eventually deciding on a snarl. "Listen up. I'm not fucking making fucking dumb piles of fucking leaves just so you can fucking jump into them."

"Is fuck the only swear you know?" you question. You're teasing him.

He glowers.

"This is unfortunate," you sigh dramatically. He watches you carefully as you pause, looking down at the pile of leaves at your feet with a forlorn expression. "I didn't think that the Bakugou Katsuki would be so terrified of a few leaves. Guess I need to go get someone stronger to help me out."

Katsuki knows that you're trying to get him to rake leaves. He knows that you're poking at his ego and it's ridiculous because there's absolutely no reason for him to get competitive over a few fuc- shitty leaves. It's dumb, really—

"Fuck you," he spits as he starts raking up a pile of his own at record pace. Katsuki misses the painfully soft smile on your face, more focused on making his pile bigger than yours.

For a few minutes, it's just the sound of two students romping around and the scraping of the steel rakes against the ground that fills the air. Eventually, Katsuki comes to a halt when there's no more leaves in the immediate vicinity. He considers going out further to get more leaves for his pile.

"Damn," you whistle and his chest swells a little in pride at your impressed voice. "That is a big pile of leaves. I surrender."

"Ha. Did you think you could beat me to begin with?"

You snort, hand wrapping around his wrist. He can feel the sweat forming on the palms of his hands and he thinks that, if the lightning dumbass was around, he'd be making so much fun of Katsuki for the sweaty hands.

Katsuki has a few swears lined up, but none of them manage to leave his mouth because you're tugging him along.

Straight towards his pile of leaves.

(He could probably plant his feet firmly in the ground, making all of your attempts at moving him around futile.)

(He doesn't.)

Katsuki is stumbling into the mountain of leaves along with you as you destroy all of his hard work with a jump.

He's a little worried that you'll hit your head against something and before he knows it, one of his hands are resting against the back of your head as the two of you lay down on the ground.

The smile on your face makes him feel all soft and gooey and shit inside.

"Look," you say, and he glances up at the sky briefly as per your request. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Leaves are fluttering down gently around the two of you, warm tones unique only to autumn painting the air. It really is a sight to behold, he thinks, as he looks at your content expression.

The leaves eventually settle and you take it as your cue to stand back up. Katsuki looks at the hand that had been previously cradling the back of your head before he stands up roughly a second after you.

There's a golden leaf in your hair.

Without thinking, he reaches out slowly to pluck the leaf from your hair in one, easy motion.

"..Bakugou?"

"You had a leaf in your hair," he grumbles, flicking it off to the side. "Dumbass."

"That's mean," you say, but the smile resting upon your face with darkened cheeks makes him feel like you aren't so offended. Katsuki thinks he likes the way you look when blushing. "Round two?"

"Your pile is still there," he huffs. "Whaddya mean by round two?"

"But it's small," you lament, gazing upon your small pile of leaves. It definitely pales in comparison to the tower of leaves that Katsuki had cooked up earlier. "It'll be a lot more fun if it's bigger. Let's collect all of the leaves up into one big pile."

"This is dumb," he says, lips turning upwards in a slight smile.

"But it's fun!" you beam.

"...Whatever," he breathes out, turning away brusquely to hide his growing smile.

Katsuki's chest feels warm as he shoves a small bunch of leaves into the growing leaf pile.

ˏˋ°•*⁀❄️ winter; shinsou hitoshi

"Fuck, don't go in there. Are you a dumbass?"

Hitoshi shifts slightly. "Probably."

In all honesty, Hitoshi has no idea what's going on in the horror movie that you had put on.

There's some screaming, probably some ghosts or something - was the movie a ghost movie? He couldn't remember - which was all very cool. Probably. But he's more interested in you.

His best friend. That he's fallen irrevocably in love with.

You take a sip from your mug of hot cocoa, eyes watching the laptop screen with rapt attention. There's some sort of noise that comes from the screen that draws his own attention over. A rather ghastly, pale creature shows up behind the movie's protagonist.

"I told you so," you mutter, like the protagonist could hear you.

"Damn, someone doesn't leave the house," Hitoshi comments off-handedly, referring to the unnaturally pale, spindly creature currently chasing after the main character.

That draws a snort from you. A sound that has him wanting to poke at you so he can hear it again.

"Like you're one to talk, 'Toshi."

Now that has him actually poking at your sides. He takes the hot cocoa out of your hand and sets it down on his desk before he starts jabbing his fingers into your sides.

You break down into a mess of airy giggles as you try to pry his hands off of you and he grins.

"Hey. My complexion is way better than that thing."

"I don't know," comes your drawl once he stops tickling you, gazing up at him with an impish grin. "When was the last time you left the house and touched some grass?"

"There's no grass to touch," Hitoshi says, getting off of you to gesture at his window. Outside, a flurry of white storms on. "There's a fucking snowstorm. Its been snowing like crazy the last few weeks. Any grass out there is long-gone."

"Sounds like excuses to me," you chirp, settling back into your sitting position on his bed. He can't help but note that you're a lot closer this time. If he moves as much as an inch, his legs would bump into yours.

Hitoshi counts to three to calm himself down.

His heart beats thunderously against his chest anyways.

"Oh, she's definitely dead," you say, interrupting his thoughts. He raises a brow and turns his attention to the screen of your laptop.

Sure enough, there's a gory mess of fake blood and organs and a lot of screaming from the girl.

"You don't say," he drawls as the screams die down. You smack his arm playfully.

"Hush."

"Technically, you're the one who keeps initiating conversation," he snarks.

The smile on your face grows and he allows himself to think that you're smiling at him fondly. "Smartass."

"You know it and you love it."

Silence.

Hitoshi panics. What did he say, again? He definitely said the l-word. He hadn't been thinking. What did you think? You had suddenly gone silent and-

"That, I do," is your whispered response.

His body locks up and he just stares at you, but you aren't looking at him. Your gaze is resolutely fixed on the screen, acting all nonchalant - but he catches the darkened hue of your cheeks.

He smiles softly and turns his attention over to the screen, half-watching.

The scene had moved on from the girl's death. There was some arguing amongst people in a dingy little room. The only safe room in the house, if he recalled correctly.

Something to his side shifts and then he feels a warmth pressed up against him. His reaction is immediate, head snapping over to you.

"It's cold," is all you offer for an explanation, drawing the shared blanket closer to you.

The heating system had broken down a while ago, so the two of you had opted to share a blanket. It was a large blanket — big enough for two people to share without ever having to touch the other. He figures it could probably fit three.

Hitoshi continues to stare.

"You're always warm," you clear your throat, pulling your end of the blanket up around you to hide your flushed cheeks.

"What am I, your personal heater?" he manages to joke, trying to ignore the heat creeping up the back of his neck.

"Yes," you declare simply.

He rolls his eyes fondly. Boldly, he slowly snakes an arm around your waist to pull you closer against him.

For the body heat, he clarifies to himself.

There's no protest from your end, so he assumes he's in the clear. If anything, you're snuggling up against him and fuck if it isn't the cutest thing ever. It's getting harder to resist the urge to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"We should do this more."

Your voice comes out quiet, tentative. Hitoshi licks his lips as he hums nervously.

"What, cuddling?" he says, half-joking.

"Yes," you say, completely serious.

Oh, fuck me.

"It's not annoying, is it?" you question, a bit of hesitation flickering about in your gaze.

"No," Hitoshi replies immediately, arm around your waist tightening a little. "Nah, 's fine."

The hum he hears from you is happy as you turn your attention back to the movie. The horror movie you had put on was just background noise to Hitoshi as he relaxes into you.

And if the two of you don't move from your positions long after the movie ends, well — that's only for you and him to know.

a/n: still not super comfy with how i write bakugou gAH i want to do the boy some justice bc he's got a lot going on,,, hopefully i'll get it with time

#shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto #rainywriting

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pedgito · 2 years

Note

i need a shower smut with eddie munson

not even a want anymore its a NEED

author’s note: …yeah, this is just…probably one of the dirties things i’ve written in a while. i laugh every time i write smut because it feels so ridiculous, but i really liked how it came together, so enjoy!

cw: 18+ (no minors allowed, seriously), dom/sub undertones (if you squint), fem!reader, brattiness (from reader but it’s very toned down, i promise), unprotected sex, oral (f&m receiving), p in v sex, ect.

word count: 2k

Eddie never asked because it felt silly, but when you would sneak in behind the shower curtain after a long, grueling day—he could breathe a little easier. You could wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing him tight, and he would relax against you, rubbing the tips of his fingers against your own where they were connected around his stomach. It wasn’t always about sex, or the need to let out all the pent up frustrations from the day—sometimes all Eddie needed was a place to feel safe, free of any worry, surrounding himself in the love you showered him with. It wasn’t something you expected from him initially, though he was always willing to show his love for you—in an endless amount of displays of affection, Eddie had no shame.

But, he never expected any in return; part of him not sure if he even deserved it. Fortunately, Eddie learned quickly that wasn’t the case. It was the little things—holding hands in the grocery store, wrapping your arms around his waist as you waited in line for a movie, running your fingers through his hair as he sat between your legs every evening, coming up with another ridiculous campaign to play out with his friends. Eddie loved to be showered in love, he was the biggest sap you’d ever met—the mind-blowing sex was just a bonus.

“Been waiting for this all day, baby.” He sighs, his hair wetting from the stream of the shower, water cascading off his head and around you like a curtain. “Thinking ‘bout that dirty mouth of yours.”

“Yeah?” Your voice sultry and sweet, hands coming up to push Eddie’s hair out of his face. He smiled under your gaze, his own hands rising to assist you. “Tell me all about it.”

He huffs out a small laugh, watching the way your eyes traveled his naked body, just as eager as he was. “Thought about that pretty little mouth on my dick.” His thumbs drags against your lips, catching onto the bottom one with the edge of his ring. You couldn’t help but think about how ridiculous it was that he never took them off, even for a shower.

“Pretty and dirty?” You tease, hands sliding down his slick chest, tracing over the tattoo on his chest.

“Fucking filthy, actually.” His hand grips your chin gently, lips jutting forward at the motion, mouth parted slightly. “Gonna let me fuck that mouth?”

You nod impishly, hand already ascending toward Eddie’s dick. It wasn’t a surprise that he was already half hard, riled up from both the touching and just seeing you. He sighs out at the first touch, like he’s been waiting years for this—it would never fail to make your insides flutter, the way he cherished these moments so much.

༊*·˚

Eddie reaches over you for the shampoo bottle as you settle on your knees against the porcelain, spread out to keep you from slipping. You gave him a look, eyebrows knitting together.

“What? I can multitask.” He squirts a generous amount of product in his hand and lathers it into his hair—he wasn’t lying, but you weren’t going to make it easy.

You tugged at him gently, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock, self-satisfied at the way he curses above you. It doesn’t take much to get Eddie worked up, but your mouth around his dick—that’s what did him in. Your head dips down, tongue dragging from the base of his shaft and upward, before your mouth is closing around, cheeks hollowed out as you swallow him down in one quick motion. Eddie would never get tired of that, knowing his body—your body, so well, that you knew exactly how much you could take.

And you would take everything if you could.

“Fuuuuck.” It’s long and drawn out, his hand bracing against the wall, the other twisting in your at the root, pulling your head back and off of him. “It’s gonna be like that?” You couldn’t take him seriously, not with the ridiculous amount of soap covering his face.

“Uh huh,” You nod, pulling away from the resistance of his grip, “Now, stop interrupting me.” And the groan that follows as your mouth closes around him, hands reaching what your mouth couldn't—well, it was heavenly.

You pull back, thumb tracing his slit at the tip of his cock, a mixture of spit and water creating a slippery mess, the glide of your hand like velvet as you jerked him off. “Such a little brat.” Eddie groans, hand still gripping your hair. “Trying to make me come before I even get the chance to fuck you? That’s cruel.”

“So don’t,” It’s a challenge, and Eddie is willing to tackle it, “and maybe then, I’ll let you fuck me.”

Eddie scoffs, half amused at your attitude, but frustrated at how badly he wanted it. He’d come all over your face if he could, but the idea of burying himself inside you was much more enticing. You waste no time in returning your attention to his dick, letting his hand guide you deep, nose brushing the trimmed bush of curls at his base, his tip nudging the back of your throat. You gagged, feeling his hand loosen slightly. A quick shake of your head gives him all the assurance he needs, pulling your head back roughly before forcing you to swallow him back down, welcoming the way he used you for his own pleasure, pliant to him and only him.

Part of you remembers how shy Eddie used to be—forcing himself to keep quiet, both with his sounds and words, too afraid he’d say something would offend you or you would poke fun at how loud he tended to be. But that Eddie was long gone, moaning out unabashedly above you. “Gotta stop—fuck, want to—wanna go down on you, baby.”

Except you really don’t want to, leaning back in to kiss the tip of his dick, hands wrapping around his thighs. Eddie’s having none of it, though—pulling your face back in the same manner as earlier, chin bound in his grip, but tighter this time.

“Did you hear me?” Eddie’s voice is firm, rough—and he’s staring right into your eyes, that darkened gaze sending a flurry of tingles down your spine. “You’re really asking for it tonight, aren’t you?”

You shrug sheepishly, priding yourself off of the fact that he was so riled up—Eddie enjoyed the back and forth game as much as you did, the brattier you acted, the more Eddie felt free of inhibition, falling into the role that you both needed.

“Up.” He nods, releasing his grip on your face and helping you up, but it doesn’t take long before he’s got you crowded up against the tile wall, cold biting into your back. His hand trails up the back of your calf, your thigh, before he’s lifting your leg over his shoulder and spreading you wide open for him.

Eddie bites at the inside of your thigh, sucking hard at the skin there, the smallest of bruises beginning to form. “Now who’s wasting time?” You perk up, hand buried deep in his wet curls.

“Shut up.” His tone is playful, but the way he’s gripping your thighs tells a different story, his nose bumping against your clit as he drags a finger through your folds, gathering up a sheen of wetness on his finger, before prodding at your entrance, slowly pushing his fingertip past that threshold. He’s had enough time to learn your body and know what makes you tick, which is why he likes to drag things out so much—it’s torture to you, but for Eddie, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up.

He pulls the finger away and toward your clit, making slow, precise circles against the sensitive bud—really, really dragging it out, what an asshole. He leans forward, swiping his tongue through your folds, dipping inside of you teasingly. It wasn’t the same as his fingers or him, but it still had your back arching away from the tile in delectation, the hot heat of his mouth like fire against your sensitive cunt.

You squeal softly, desperately canting your hips upward in an attempt to grind against his mouth, feel his tongue delve deeper, but he pulls back. “Stay still.” His voice is soft, but demanding, not leaving room for any argument.

“Baby, please—“ You sound pathetic, so worked up by a few minutes of his mouth that you couldn’t take it any longer, “want you inside me.”

Eddie pulls back, staring up from where he was knelt below you, leg still slung around his shoulder. “What was that?” You knew damn well he heard you, his expression coy and sweet. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Eddie, come on,” You pant, yanking gently at his hair. He smirks, a small noise of amusement slipping its way past his lips. “Stop being like that.”

“You’re making a lot of demands, sweetheart.” He notes, finally giving your leg a break, setting down gently against the edge of the tub as he stood, crowding you in even further. “You think you deserve it?”

You nod slowly, neck craned slightly to look up at him. His hand comes up, wiping across your face in a quick, but light slap. It didn’t startle you—it was nothing new; you and Eddie had very clear, set boundaries with one another, he knew you could take it.

“Answer me.” He’s rubbing at the tender spot with the pad of his thumb, his expression a stark difference from the tone in his voice. He always looked at you so soft, like you’d break—not that easy, you always told him. “Don’t act so shy now.”

“Yes—yes, I do.” You say softly, hand reaching for his waist to pull him closer, provide any kind of contact or relief, desperate to feel his skin against your own. “Please, baby.”

“So pretty when you beg.” His voice is quiet, admiring the way your lip juts out slightly. He leans forward, kissing you slowly, tongue slipping inside and tangling with your own. “Turn.”

You had no qualms, immediately twisting your body around, allowing Eddie to maneuver you how he pleased. “Bend—more, there you go.” He instructs, hand running along the slope of your back, giving him the perfect view of your ass. He squeezes gently, hand reaching down to guide his dick against your cunt, slipping through your folds.

You push back, barely, but it’s just enough to have him slipping inside, both of you sighing in relief. “So good—feels so fuckin’ good.” You moan, making a feeble attempt to move your hips, but Eddie has a tight grip, keeping them still.

“Shit—you gotta stop squeezing me, don’t want to come that quick, sweetheart.” His hips are slow, but steady—a gentle rhythm as he thrust into you, careful not to tip over the edge too quickly—not that he was very far off.

“Sorry—can’t help myself.” You giggle softly, meeting his hips eagerly, hands pressed against the wall to keep you upright. You whine out at a particular jolt of his hips, his fingers tightening around your hips. “Harder.”

His hand comes around to wrap around your front, squeezing at one of your breasts—it pulls you backwards, back flat against his chest. “Gonna come,” He breathes out, hips snapping relentlessly now, “want me to pull out?”

Always a gentleman—you try not to laugh at the absurdity of it all, that somehow within these private moments of existential pleasure, he still managed to keep you based in reality.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And he does, hips stuttering to a slow stop as he reaches his tipping point, spilling inside of you—his hand is desperately reaching around you, rubbing at the sensitive nub between your legs, gasping as you came, quick and hard—you barely had time to realize it, the euphoric feeling overwhelming your body, skin warm and flushed against his own. He grunts softly, jaw clenching as he lets the few seconds of aftershocks run through his system, before finally pulling out.

༊*·˚

“We gotta start making that a weekly thing.” Eddie comments after a few minutes of silence, allowing you two to finally continue your shower, though you mostly lean against Eddie for the rest of the duration. He didn’t mind.

“We’ll see.” You tease, reaching up on your tiptoes to peck him on the lips. “As long as you behave.”

“Me—Me, behave?” Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically, failing to hide the smile that creeps onto his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

It definitely becomes a weekly thing.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #my writing #1kfic

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sirenologyyy · 4 months

Text

MODERN ATWOW BAND HEADCANONS !

✹ summary : in which i'm slowly crawling back to my avatar hyperfixation and i decided to make a band au!except I'm right (or not take this with a grain of salt hehe) and I frl can't see them playing any other roles

✹ author's note : let this not flop in eywa we pray 🙏 and yes, Daisy Jones and the Six is my favorite book, how did you guess?

✹ warnings : mentions of bleeding, scabs, swearing obv

It all started one balmy afternoon when Lo'ak and Spider were blowing off their biochemistry homework lying down on the floor staring at the cieling fan undeviatingly oscillate above them. Then, Lo'ak suddenly sits up from his spot causing Spider to look at him.

"What's up?" Asked Spider.

Lo'ak looks at him, a newfound determination in his wide eyes. "Dude, what if we start a band."

Spider frowns. "A band?"

"No, but hear me out for a second." says Lo'ak bristling in his spot as Spider sits up.

Although wary, Spider hums. "Alright."

"Think about it, school's almost over, we barely know anybody in this town, are we seriously gunna hangout in the beach all summer trying to make friends?"

Spider chuckles. "I think I'm missing the point where that's a bad idea."

"Spider, come on bro- look at us, we're losers alright? We're practically throwaway fish to the kids at school- but if we start a band, who knows how many people'll wanna be a part of it, we'll score a couple of life long friends AND it'll be our one solid excuse not to be at home" Lo'ak's riposte was proving to make sense, with a toothy smile to cap it off, but of course Spider- considering he was two years Lo'ak's senior had to pop his bubble with the pragmatic pin of reality.

"I don't know dude, it sounds kinda lame." Spider replies hesitantly, propping himself up by his elbows. "We've been trying to start a band since 7th grade, we always end up calling it quits on the 3rd week."

"This time it'll be different."

Spider scoffs. "Uh-huh? How "

Lo'ak nudges his right shoulder upwards. "We'll ask Neteyam to help."

Spider shoots him yet another look. "If he doesn't want to help?"

"We make do," Lo'ak shrugs. "What's wrong with a two man band?"

"Almost everything." Spider snorts.

★ lo'ak ──────── electric guitar

when they used to live back in high camp, he found an old silvertone in their attic that used to belong to jake during his marine days along with scores of 70's rock bands' songs on yellowing paper fraying at the edges and folds.

He spent 3 months learning a song with 4 chords by ear and performed it at the school talent show

When he got into 6th grade he did not only beg, for an electric guitar he GROVELED. He suddenly wanted to do all the chores in the house, he suddenly got C's instead of D's in tests, it was terrifying because who the hell WAS this and what did they do to the real Lo'ak???

Jake and Neytiri didn't give him one until he was 13. Jake just picked him up from school one day and all of a sudden just asked: you wanna get that electric guitar?

LO'AK WAS OVER THE GODDAMN MOON.

got a classic red stratocaster.

The first song he ever learned to play on the guitar was buddy holly by weezer...

Come on you guys what were you expecting

likes picking at his finger scabs and does it until neteyam or tsireya tells him off.

has multiple guitar picks but always uses this specific one he made into a necklace and wears it everywhere.

THEN PROCEEDS TO LOSE SAID GUITAR PICKS

tuk keeps hiding them around the house waiting for lo'ak to lose his mind.

he can play any song by ear, just watch.

plays around with riffs more often than not.

★ neteyam ──────── back up vocalist / lyricist

never even wanted to join the band but was bullied into joining (kiri joined when he said he wouldn't just to spite him)

has perfect pitch (are we surprised though)

YOU'D SNEEZE AND BITCH ASS CAN FIGURE OUT WHAT NOTE IT'S AT.

uses it to nitpick Lo'ak when he's straying from the original pitch.

lo'ak will then threaten to cave his face in with his capo.

his favorite artists are frank ocean and kendrick lamar.

no one in his entire school woulda guessed he could sing. Nobody.

was made to sing in family events... (iykyk)

loves musicals. his favorite's Hamilton...

Jake and Neytiri took him to see Hamilton once in New York when he was 11, he's never been the same since.

HAS MAJOR FUCKING STAGE FRIGHT I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. HE WILL NOT GO ON STAGE UNTIL YOU SMACK HIM IN THE HEAD SO HARD HIS BRAIN RESETS AND SUDDENLY HAS THE BALLS TO FACE THE AUDIENCE.

Once he's out there though he totally changes, he gets more confident, when he's really feeling it then his braids start flying everywhere... it's becoming an issue really, he might take someone's eye out with how solid his hair beads are...

hurled his guts out one time before they had to perform at the end of year school fair.

★ kiri ──────── pianist

there are always four types of gays. English Teacher Gays, Art Teacher Gays, History Teacher Gays, and Music Teacher Gays.

Kiri was definitely the last one.

lo'ak got her a shirt that says "key master" with her face horribly photoshopped onto the keys of a piano.

she burned it the night she got it.

til this day lo'ak never knew what happened to it.

Suki Waterhouse as Karen Sirko in the DJATS live action? Brain chemistry = altered

Stevie Nick's and Lindsey Buckingham's performance of Silver Spring in Fleetwood Mac's Reunion concern in 1997? = Roman Empire.

was in the school choir and would play the piano in their choir director's stead.

has been playing the piano for 9 years but always gets confused when asked to play a flat or a sharp (it takes her 4 tries to figure out where C minor is)

her favorite piece to play is over the waves by juventino rosas.

when she wants to show jake a new piece she's been working on, by the first minute he's out like a fucking light. SHE'S JUST THAT GOOD.

also when she wants to play a piece with too many chords she never wanted to play it in the first place.

once she messes up she's definitely one of those people who spams the keys.

one time when she was playing a piece her fingers cramped mid-song and she freaked out.

★ spider ──────── drums

his dad's military friends taught him how to play the drums.

lo'ak dared him he couldn't do a drumroll for an hour.

spider did it in two and a half but stopped cuz he got hungry LMAO.

impresses kiri with various drumstick spins, it dosen't impress her.

practically worshipped that one vine of those two kids.

was definitely one of those kids that played with overturned pots and pans and pretended it was a drum set (it annoyed the hell outta norm)

once lost his drum sticks and used chopsticks (ps. they weren't the same)

scribbled their band logo on his bass drum and was very proud of it.

INSISTED they would call themselves "the seven skxawngs"

nobody listened to him.

when they held auditions for their drummer he went "You guys know I can play the drums right?"

has never watched whiplash.

uploads drum covers on his tiktok account with 70 followers.

makes dumb jokes if the others can't figure out a certain chord or note he'd go "guys maybe it's at H!"

the most chillest person in the band though frl.

somehow always manages to pull??? The amount of game this man has solely just because he's the drummer is wild.

they once performed at an event with 50 people and Spider was wearing addidas slides the entire time and nobody noticed.

★ tsireya ──────── main vocals/lyricist

When I tell you this kid can SING SHE CAN SING.

frl the real life ariel I swear evrrytime she opens her mouth everyone's wishing on her downfall because she's such a talented singer, her vibratro is so measured, her runs are so clean, she's just so UGHHHH.

is such a theatre kid oh Lord.

was made to sing at family events too (it's practically a canon event atp guys.)

has a special journal where she writes her song lyrics that she takes with her everywhere (give her 5 minutes and she can write a song with just her hand as paper and eyeliner as a pen.)

joined in singing competitions when she was a kid and when she was 10 joined a televised singing competition and managed to make it to the semi-finals.

it's why she's the lead singer of the band anyway.

she always has pearls threaded into her hair every time they perform and it's been her signature look ever since.

her voice is fucking angelic ya'll istg.

is a soprano. enough said.

is amazing at reading sheet music.

she and neteyam wrote 3 original songs that the band performs everytime they get a gig.

aside from singing she can play piano and violin too.

she's a fucking wordsmith too like she's so eloquent and knows all these big words and she's good at expressing her pent up emotions through songwriting.

the literal it girl. Everyone in their band gained more popularity ever since they opened for a popular band from L.A. but everyone in their high-school knows her name. Everyone.

her vocal control is amazing.

she really knows how to liven up a crowd.

★ aonung ──────── rhythm guitar

has been playing guitar since he was 7.

took up guitaring because his dad introduced him and tsireya to playing instruments at a young age.

collects guitar straps.

neteyam's always on his ass about if what he's playing sounds right or not (50% of the time he's not)

it isn't practice without neteyam and aonung almost throwing hands at least thrice.

almost always smokes while practicing.

oddly enough only has one guitar pick and he hasn't lost it yet unlike lo'ak who buys new guitar picks every other month.

obsessed with black nailpolish, you won't see him go on stage without black nails istg.

he didn't even audition for the band. He was just always there at the Sully residence to pick Tsireya up from practice until one day Tsireya told him to come inside the house, when he did he finds out they needed someone for rhythm guitar and that Tsireya let it slip that Aonung knew how to play.

he's been a part of the band ever since.

he's just incredibly good with his fingers, enough said.

after the first time they performed their first gig at some girl's house party, he, rotxo, and lo'ak got high on the rooftop of Aonung's house (yk until Lo'ak slipped and started dangling from the gutters and fell into the pool)

his outfits always eat every time they perform.

james hetfield the goat.

always experimenting with new riffs and runs and adds them to the songs mid-performance and without any warning (just to piss neteyam off)

★ rotxo ──────── bass guitar

the glue and heart of the band frl.

the sweetest basist you'll ever meet.

his family actually owns a popular guitar shop in Awa'atlu, he first started playing the guitar at the ripe age of 5.

Bro is a prodigy but dosen't want to admit it.

aonung bought his first guitar at rotxo's family's shop, they hit it off ever since.

Always brings his baked goods to practices (then kiri devours the entire tray when you aren't looking)

actually fucked up his audition for the band but then Lo'ak found him sobbing in a janitors closet and gave him a second shot at an audition with just Lo'ak and Spider and he was able to redeem himself.

(really only auditioned cuz he played bass, they were finding a bassist, and not because kiri sully was their pianist)

is an introvert but he's so fucking funny that you wouldn't suspect it.

can perform riffs in his sleep (no he actually does though it freaks aonung out when he spends the night in his place.)

kiri made him a resin guitar pick with fragments of coral from the beach when they had their first date.

has a "maturing is realizing bass is the superior instrument" tshirt.

one time wore finger condoms so his scabs wouldn't re-open and bleed all over his guitar 😔

loves playing deftones on the bass.

has chronic "guitar face"

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bunnie-online · 7 months

Text

just ask. {A.S.}

juuuuust thinking about (modern!)anakin being your boy bsf (and roommate) catching you coming home from a verrrry disappointing dick appointment

part two

warnings: MINORS DNI 18+, suggestive, possibly ooc ani, fem reader

it was 1 am, you fully expected Anakin to be asleep, doing this 'walk of shame' in front of him would be exactly that... shameful. you has just had one of the WORST hookups of your life with some dude you met off tinder a couple of days ago, he was alllll talk. the definition of 'sounds to good to be true'

he didn't know ANYTHING about the female anatomy, like seriously, he basically dry humped you and rolled over. lame.

you unlocked the door of your shared apartment, opening and closing the door as quietly as possible, as not to wake Anakin. to your surprise he came walking into the living room with a mug in his hand. he was in his usual pajamas, blue and black plaid sweatpants and topless. you tried not to stare but your gazes always seem to linger when it comes to Anakin. "Hey! Thought you'd be home tomorrow?" he tilted his head in that adorably innocent way he always does. his mannerisms never matched his face, or body for that matter.

"Ah noo" you chuckle and cast your gaze downward. "Oh? Your date didn't go well?" he asked again this time raising his eyebrows with the word 'date'. he might look and sometimes act innocent but Anakin was far from it, he knew what your intentions were for the night. "Ugh, not at all." you roll your eyes and set your bag down by the door. "This dude was soooo lame." you whine.

"Aw, poor thing" Anakin says in a joking tone. "C'mere, I made some tea" he offers. "Since when do you drink tea?" you laugh "I like to pamper myself from time to time!" he said feigning offense, clasping his hand over his heart in a classically Anakin fashion.

"Tell me what happened." he sits in the bar stool at the kitchen island after handing you a cup of tea. "Ani, I don't know, it's embarrassing." your face turns pink. "Please I know about the thing you did in middle school. I think I can handle this" he laugh at you cringing from that horrid memory from your pre-teen years. "Oh you know you can't bring that up all willy-nilly Anakin!" you swat at him. his beautiful laughter filled the air

"Okay so I was going to hook up with this guy-" you start. "Shocker." Anakin smirks, interrupting you "one, rude. two, shut up. three, anyyywayys, I was going to go hook up with him and it sounded sooo promising because, damn can he talk himself up. He was so good with his words! And we get down to it and dude lasts like, two minuets! Anakin, I wish I was joking.." you bury your head in your hands out of frustration (mostly sexual). "That's the third guy this month! Like can men just be honest if they're mediocre at sex?!"

Anakin chuckles. "Blows my mind that there are guys out there who're putting up false advertisements for dick." you toss your head back and laugh "false advertisements is CRAZY" you laugh harder and Anakin joins you. "Did I lie?!" he jokes again, earning another laugh from you. "You got a point" you agree with him.

"Seriously though, that's a shame. I'd never lie like that." he takes another sip of his tea. Your mind starts swirling with questions. 'what does he mean by that?' 'I wonder what he's like in bed?' 'he has to be huge, right?' "Like honestly that's so fucked up." his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. "This sounds personal for you, what're you doing? Handing out trash dick or what?" you laugh. he chuckles again. "Hah, no. But if I was, I'd at least be honest about it."

your eyes widen but you regain composure quickly. "Oh? And what makes you so confident?" you smirk at him, wanting a rise out of him. "Well, I'm sure some of the girls weren't crying because I was dishing out bad dick." he smirks. "Wow you sure are cocky." you say with fake confidence hoping he wouldn't double down. your hopes were crushed when he stood up. he made his way behind you, placing both of his arms around you, resting his hands on the counter trapping you. he leaned close to your ear. "You know, you don't have to act out for me to prove it to you. You can just ask." his voice completely changed. you have never heard Anakin speak in such a low, sultry tone. you noticeably shivered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i highhhh key wanna finish this tomorrow bc it's midnight and i'm SLEEPY

~bunnie

#anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker imagine #smut #smut writing #bunnie online!#bunnie after dark #unfinished

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artiststarme · 1 year

Text

Pain's An Old Friend

Based on a prompt from @nburkhardt! I hope it met your expectations. Let me know what you guys think in the comments!

Now with a second and third part!

~*~*~*~

Steve was no stranger to hiding his own injuries. Growing up in the home that he did, it was practically second nature to hide unsavory things from people in order to protect the Harrington image. From a young age, he would go to school with his mom’s concealer painted high on his cheekbone to cover the evidence of his father’s anger. He’d hide his pain during practice when he sprained a ligament so his coach wouldn’t pull him from the Friday night game. He was well used to hiding his pain in front of people that could weaponize it.

After joining the Party though, Steve started to lower his guards. He’d speak freely about past injuries and slightly more loosely about his current ailments. He was still the babysitter though, the guy that the kids looked toward to protect them. He couldn’t be fully transparent about his migraines or the constant blurriness in his left eye.

One day though when the kids needed a ride to the arcade on Steve’s day off, he had to be honest with them. His brain felt like it was trying to escape the confines of his skull and his vision pulsated with every heartbeat.

“Hey, I’m sorry guys but I can’t today. My head is killing me so I need to just relax and wait for it to blow over. How about you guys ask Eddie? He got off at 4 today so I’m sure he could give you a ride.”

Dustin, Lucas, and Will were satisfied with his explanation. They wished him well, volunteered their moms to come drop off soup to him later, and got back on their bikes. Mike though was visibly annoyed. He hung back after the others and turned to face Steve with a glare.

“Seriously, Steve. You can’t do one thing to help us? It’s not even that far out of your way!”

“Dude, I already told you I have a headache. I’m not driving anywhere,” Steve tried to explain. He didn't know why Mike was so mad. Yeah, they’d wasted time biking to Steve’s house instead of directly to the arcade but it only added an additional five minutes to their commute. It would only take them about ten minutes to get there on their bikes, a completely reasonable distance.

“A headache? You know how pathetic that is? There’s people that are dying, Steve. And you’re complaining that your head hurts a little bit. You’re just useless!” Mike hissed at him.

And wasn’t that a surprise. He and Mike still weren’t on great terms, obviously, but he liked to think that they were making progress. To find out that they were still in the same position as they had been all those years ago when Steve was Nancy’s asshole boyfriend and Mike was her bratty little brother, was gut wrenching.

“Fine, I’ll give you assholes a ride. Let’s go guys. Leave the bikes, you can pick them up tomorrow. Come on, before I change my mind.”

The drive to the arcade was uneventful. They all made it to the arcade in one piece and no one said thank you aside from Will, as per usual.

The ride home however was a different story. The sun had started to set and Steve’s headache had devolved into a migraine. His vision was tunneling and he could hardly keep his eyes open against the pain in his head. He was taking one of the back roads home and was almost there when a shadow passed in front of his car. Steve’s left fender hit the being before he could turn the wheel and when he did, he steered the Beemer directly into a tree on the side of the road.

Steve’s head slammed into the steering wheel, hard enough to lacerate his temple and spill blood all over the driver’s side dash. Thankfully, he didn’t lose consciousness and his migraine wasn’t significantly worse than before so he was reasonably sure that he didn’t have another concussion, at least not a severe one.

Now, a normal person might walk to the nearest house and call the police or an ambulance. Steve though, was not normal. He picked up his keys, wallet, and sunglasses, and walked all the way home. It wasn’t too far, a mile at most but with his head hurting the way it did, it felt like forever. He would call Thatcher Tire tomorrow morning and get the Beemer towed then he would call his dad to beg him to cover the damages and everything would be fine. But the second Steve got back to his house, he laid on the couch and took a nap. He’d worry about everything else the next day.

~*~*~*~

Steve had forgotten that he made plans with Robin for today. He woke up to manic rambling that he was too tired to follow and his best friend pulling at his arms.

“Go ‘way,” he mumbled when she once again jostled him.

“Steve, wake up! What the hell did you do? You have blood all over your head and you weren’t responsive. You were supposed to come over to my house to pick me up so we could make cupcakes and watch movies! I walked over when you didn’t show and I had to walk in to find you dying on your sofa! What the fuck, Steve?!”

“Not dying and please stop yelling, my head hurts.”

“I’m sure it does, Steve! Your entire forehead is black and blue and there’s blood everywhere. Oh my god, I might actually throw up. Stay alert, I’m going to go throw up then I’m going to call Eddie for a ride since neither one of us has the cash to pay for an ambulance. Stay conscious or I will hurl all over you,” she promised.

True to her word, she went and threw up in the kitchen, grabbed some ice for his head, and then used the living room phone to call Eddie.

“Hey Mr. Munson, is Eddie there? It’s Robin Buckley… I know but I don’t have a license yet, I’m poor… Touché, Mr. Munson… Okay, great! I’ll see him soon then!”

She hung up the phone and returned to Steve's side. “Okay, he’s on his way so we just have to wait. We’re both going to give you a long talk about taking better care of yourself and not damaging any more brain cells, got it?”

He tried to nod at her but the miniscule movement only caused his vision to white-out and his eyes slammed shut. The last thing he heard was Robin screeching at him to wake up before everything went black.

~*~*~*~

When his eyes opened next, Steve was in a bare hospital room with both of his hands restrained. No, people were holding them. Upon further investigation, he noticed that Eddie was sleeping at his right side with his hands wrapped around Steve’s wrist and Robin was at his left with her fingertips pressed over his pulse point.

With both of his friends there, the feeling of security almost willed him back to sleep once again. But then he heard loud yelling coming from outside of his hospital room.

“Where is Steve Harrington?! I got a call about another head injury, is he alright? I will not calm down, that’s my kid and none of you goddamn idiots will tell me anything about him! Where is he?”

The door flung open to reveal Chief Jim Hopper in all of his furious glory. All of his anger melted into worry when his eyes met Steve’s.

“Hey Hop,” Steve told him with a small smile.

“Do not ‘hey Hop’ me. What the hell, kid? First I get a panicked call from Robin that you’re in the hospital again, then I get a call from Callahan that he found your car bent around a tree, and then I find out that I’m your emergency contact.” His eyes still held a hint of panic but now they looked tired too as if the events of today had aged him several years.

“Okay, it’s not bent around the tree. Callahan’s a fucking liar and I keep telling you so! I lightly bumped the tree. Lightly! Everything worked out fine! It’s all good, Hop.”

“Are you not hearing me? Do we have to get your hearing checked too?” Hopper laughed sardonically and threw his hands up exasperatedly. “Steve, you gave all of us heart attacks because you didn’t tell us that you had been in a car accident! And you could’ve died going to sleep like that with a concussion! You know better.”

“Look, in my defense, I didn’t know it was a concussion. And what else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t drive myself to the hospital,” It made sense to Steve but apparently not to Hopper or the now-awake Eddie.

“Steve-” Eddie whispered in confusion but Hopper’s screaming cut him off.

“You should’ve called someone! Me, Munson, Wayne, hell even Joyce! Wha-the-fu-goddam-ahh!” He stammered with feeling. “Why were you even driving in the first place? You were at home!”

“The kids wanted to go to the arcade and when I told them I couldn’t, Mike said that people had bigger problems than headaches. And he was right. I just wanted to do something useful and then it hit me all at once when I was driving home,” Steve shook his head. He should’ve taken a nap or something instead of giving them a ride then they wouldn’t be in this position right now.

“Of course it was Mike. It’s always Mike fucking Wheeler,” Hopper scoffed under his breath. His profound annoyance towards the kid continued. “Steve, you can’t listen to that bitch-ass kid! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Next time, call me and I’ll handle it.”

“Okay, well I will remember that for next time. Next time I have a migraine, I won’t give the kids a ride and I won’t crash my car lightly into a tree. Alright, when are they releasing me? I just want to go home and go back to normal,” Steve said.

Hopper and Eddie shared a look before Eddie woke Robin and lugged her from the room. Watching that display, he knew he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear and he didn’t.

Hopper chuckled humorlessly, “I’m detaining you. You’re coming home with me when they release you.”

“‘Detaining me’? For what? I didn’t do anything,” Steve asked him in confusion.

“For acting like a dumbass. You’re going to recover back at my place, Harrington. El and I are going to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m not going to-” Hopper cut him off with a yell that made him jump.

“You’re detained, Harrington! No more arguments!”

“Hop, that’s kidnapping!” He proclaimed in outrage.

“You’re not a kid, it’s fine,” Hopper brushed him off.

“What- that’s not even, you can’t just force me to accept your help!”

“Watch me!” Hopper said indignantly. This was ridiculous, despite the evidence, Steve was more than capable of taking care of himself. He was an adult, dammit!

“Hopper, you can’t just hold me against my will. I-I have rights!”

“Yeah? File a complaint. I’m the chief of police and I’m basically your dad so I’m going to take care of you whether you like it or not. Now, are you going to accept this so I can let your friends in and we can all eat Jello or are you going to keep arguing with me?”

Steve looked at him blankly for a moment before he yielded. “Jesus Christ, fine. You win.”

“I know kid, I always do.” He patted Steve’s foot and opened the door for Eddie and Robin to slink back in. “Alright, you better have gotten orange or I’ll kick you both back out.”

Steve had a lot to learn about accepting help and being forthcoming about his injuries. But with his dad, his boyfriend, and his best friend by his side, he had no doubt that he'd get there eventually. He didn't have any other choice.

Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @anzelsilver @ghosttotheparty @jestyzesty @gregre369 @mysticcrownshipper

#Hopper does indeed keep him captive at the Byers house for two weeks #Steve is over it day two and almost wishes he could go back to a life without parents #Hopper also makes Steve and Eddie keep the door open three inches and that's not working for anyone #I don't know what he hit and neither does he #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #will byers #chief hopper #officer callahan

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darlingmbappe · 1 year

Text

The Loneliest [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]

Summary: The transition period after calling off your engagement has broken both you and Kylian. He needs to have you back, but you can’t handle having your heart broken again.

Warnings: pure angst, heartbroken reader, heartbroken Kylian, cussing, lots of crying. I switched perspectives between the reader and Kylian. — English is not my first language —

Kylian had racked up quite a large amount late fees the following month after your breakup. He never used to have issues going to sleep at night or waking up to go to training before this, but he just let himself scroll through his camera roll for hours on end.

He would emerge himself in that reality, smiling, giggling whenever your digital image did something goofy. He remembered which outfits he helped you pick out, fixating his thoughts on the ‘K’ necklace that he gave you shining around your neck in every frame. Then, due to the fault of a notification or a car alarm going off, he would snap back into the reality of his new life.

These are just memories now. He wouldn’t be able to take your picture again, hear your grainy morning voice, make your coffee so perfectly that you’d hum in gratitude.

Achraf knew about the breakup, but Kylian asked him to keep it hush since he didn’t feel like talking about it most of the time. Some nights, though, he finds himself on the phone with his mother without thinking about the fact that it’s past 2 o’clock in the morning. She (of course) picks up every time, being there for her little boy with a broken heart, her own heart breaking with the thought of you not coming around anymore.

Today, he made it to training just on time, barely smiling at the PSG camera crew that follows them around. Usually if somethings bothering him, football is his medicine. He goes out, distracts himself by making goals and perfect tackles, but it wasn’t until you were gone that he realized he needed you there to bring it all together. He hated how codependent he had become, sometimes subconsciously wishing he’d never met you at all. Maybe then his heart wouldn’t feel like it was being ripped out piece by piece.

“Okay, seriously?” Glatier grunted, blowing the whistle after Kylian had missed yet another easy goal. “Kylian!” He called over. Kylian cussed under his breath and jogged over to the frustrated coach, his teammates just as frustrated with him for his performance recently. “What the hell is going on with you? Where’s your head at?!”

Kylian looked at his feet, hands resting on his hips. “Sorry, coach.”

“No, not ‘sorry’, Kylian. You’ve been somewhere else for weeks. I need you to explain yourself before we start benching you.”

Kylian bit his cheek, still focused on the pitch under his feet, begging his body to suck the lingering tears back in. He looked up at his awaiting coach, nodding. “There’s no excuse, coach. I’m right here, I’ll do better.”

Glatier looks at him apprehensively, expecting to hear how the pass wasn’t placed right or some other bullshit that Kylian used to blame his shortcomings on, but notes that something is definitely off with the star player. “Alright, then.” He says, keeping eye contact, blowing the whistle twice, sending everyone to do a different drill.

Kylian sniffles as he runs back toward his team, Hakimi pats him on the back upon seeing his glossy eyes.

You had been a mess yourself, occupying yourself with your own job. Coworkers started calling you a hard ass once you decided to take charge of the group meetings, having to have control of something ever since your love life vanished. They were also oblivious to the fact of you and Kylians breakup, feeling as if the news was better off left to his PR team.

You’d settled nicely into the hotel life, enjoying complimentary breakfasts and free valet parking, but finally found a move-in ready apartment close to the office. It’d been a nightmare having your entire life packed into your car, taking up every ounce of room you had in there. There were times you convinced yourself that you were fine, but realized it was just a lie every night when you popped a sleeping pill and craved looking into Kylians eyes. You resorted back to his Instagram so often, clicking the same post every time.

The night you left, Kylian posted something for your birthday. At first, you ignored the notification, deleting the app altogether. That lasted about an hour. You redownloaded it once your curiosity took control of your body, having to know what the hell your newly-ex fiancé tagged you in. You assumed at some point he’d take it down, but it’s been thirty four days and it’s still the last thing on his feed.

You laid in the neatly made hotel bed, your fingers doing their own thing, rereading his caption until you heard your heart crack — like it did every time you found yourself here.

@k.mbappe: To the love of my life; you’re the best things that’s ever happened to me. Sometimes I can’t even believe how lucky I got. Getting to know you and getting to love you was the biggest privilege of my whole life. I hope this year gives you everything you need. I will love you always. — Ky.

You think back to the night that photo was taken a lot. It was at Neymar’s New Years Eve party, a few months before he proposed. Kylians hand was permanently attached to your waist. He looked at you every time something funny was said, wanting to laugh with you. He bragged about your accomplishments to everyone there — as if anyone in the room wasn’t more impressive than you, seeing models and athletes around every corner. At some point, you’d lost him and the clock was ticking down, five minutes until midnight. As you turned down a hallway, you heard his voice coming from one of the rooms.

“She’s the one.” Kylian stated, a giggle following right after. You never meant to eavesdrop on him but now you had to — back pressed against the wall as you tipped your ear closer to the open door.

“Man, she’s awesome.” Neymar’s voice responded.

“I know. I can’t ever stop smiling.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s creepy.” They both laugh, you bit your lip to keep yourself from squealing. Neymar continues. “You deserve someone great like her.”

Kylian pauses, you wait for him to say something. “What if I fuck it up?”

You feel your heart tug at his insecurity, but stop yourself from running in there and kissing him until the silly thought leaves his head. “You won’t. I can tell that she loves you a lot. Just, show her how you feel about her every day and you can’t fuck it up.”

The lull in the conversation gives you time to skip into the room. They both look at you and smile, Kylians eyes shining with love as you make your way to sit on his lap by the window.

“There you are.” You kiss his crinkled cheek. “Been looking for you. It’s almost midnight.”

He hums and pulls you closer to him.

“Aww!” Neymar teases in an exaggerated tone, standing from his place and whips out his phone, snapping a candid picture of the two of you. “What a cute couple.”

You quickly closed the app, throwing your phone far away from you on the bed.

“Fuck that.” You cried, stuffing your face in the mattress to collect your tears. You were so angry at him, but you wanted to talk to him. Slap him. Kiss him. Make him regret everything.

Your feelings have never been so crossed in your life. Of course you knew ending your relationship would be hard, but not debilitating. You didn’t expect to have to find new ways to not think about Kylian. How are you going to do this forever? Will this crippling coldness ever leave you alone? The signs all point to Kylian, but you don’t even know if he’ll be up to talking.

Blocking his number was an easy decision. While you were confident that you made the right move at the time, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. You reached back and grabbed your phone, settling down and wiping any remaining tears from your face.

The amount of times you’ve unblocked Kylian probably has broken some sort of record. You’ve been to really low places in the past few weeks, but the fake it ‘till you make it mantra somehow found it’s way into your system, hearing it buzzing in your ears like an annoying fruit fly.

Clicking the unblock button was simple. Trying to find something to say was beyond difficult.

You typed and backspaced and typed and backspaced until you were ripping your hair out. It was either too weird or too forward, but all of it was too scary.

Almost half an hour had passed, still trying to manage some sort of communication with him. Everything felt wrong, maybe today wasn’t the day. Just as you were about to reblock him, your phone buzzed.

Kylian: hello?

Shit. Of course he decided to text you right when you unblock him.

While you were freaking out about this turn of events, Kylian was holding his breath. When he saw the three dots appearing and disappearing on his phone screen over and over again, he felt like he struck gold. He just needed some way back into your life. And although small, this was an opportunity he couldn’t ditch out on.

You stared at the message, trying to take deep breaths. You should be chill. You’d texted Kylian a gazillion times in your life, but considering the circumstances, panic seemed fitting.

“Okay, (Y/N). Pull it together.” You mumbled to yourself, clearing your throat.

(Y/N): hi

You sent the message quick with no time to think twice. You facepalmed, now overthinking those two little letters. You waited impatiently for his reply. He was taking too long for your liking, but the time displayed at the top of your screen hadn’t moved. Not even a minute passed before he said something back.

Kylian: so you decided to unblock me?

Kylian: how are you?

He didn’t give you a chance to really respond to his first question, so it was easy to ignore it. But the second question had much more weight behind it.

How are you? Really?

You were tempted to type back ‘like my soul was sucked out and repeatedly backed over by a semi truck full of loaded diapers’, but that seemed like a bit much.

(Y/N): I’ve definitely been better.

You waited again, wondering if you should ask him how he’s doing, too. You saw the typing bubbles, but they disappeared. Once, twice, three times until he finally messaged back.

Kylian: did you want to talk?

You sighed, throwing your head back and staring at the ceiling. Fuck. Why did he have to ask that? Of course you wanted to talk — but this seems like the beginning of a very slippery slope. Going back to him was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to take him back and hug him and kiss his stupidly plump lips until you couldn’t anymore.

At the same time, you’re so vulnerable right now. You knew that taking him back this quickly would definitely cause an issue; whether it just be second guessing yourself or realizing you were wrong, and leaving him twice was something your heart absolutely could not handle.

Kylian: im sorry if that was too forward

You didn’t realize how long you were lost in thought for. You looked down at the message taunting you in your lap, sighing.

You: no, it’s fine.

You: when are you free?

You didn’t know it, but Kylian, Hakimi, and Ramos all jumped up and cheered when you sent that message. They shook his shoulders around in excitement, all too invested in the young couples relationship.

“Vamos!” Screamed Ramos, hugging the group.

“Okay, okay, shut up!” Kylians smile wrinkled his eyes shut for the first time in forever, sitting back down on the training bench.

Ramos happened to walked by when Kylian was crying to Hakimi, which Kylian was super embarrassed about, but Ramos was a genuinely good friend of the two of you, so now he felt personally affected by this breakup.

“Come on, quickly. What do I say?”

“That you are free tonight. Dios mío.” Ramos tusked like it was the most obvious thing in the world… and it was.

Kylian: tonight after training?

Kylian: I can pick you up, we can go get some dinner?

(Y/N): how about I just meet you at the training center?

There was no way you’d allow for this to be a date. If you let him wine and dine you, your heart would melt into a puddle that spelled out his name.

Kylian: perfect, cant wait

Kylian: I’ll see you later

You smiled down at your phone, putting a thumbs up to his last message and shut it off. Allowing your smile to finally spread across you face, you breathed out a giant huff that weighed down your lungs.

The happiness passed quickly, your mind remembering the way he was before. Aloof, distracted, snappy… You we’re still holding onto the old Kylian. The one that took you on spontaneous picnics, the one who would pull over on the side of the highway on his way home and hand-pick you a bouquet because the wildflowers looked pretty, the one that never forgot to kiss you goodnight, even if he was already asleep when you crawled in next to him.

The expectations for tonight were all over the place. Your mind raced with the possibilities of how it would end. Would you lower you walls for him again? Are you even capable of that? He hurt you down to your core, his actions broke you down into an insecure shell of yourself.

The end of the day came, and by now, the word had spread to the rest of the team about the breakup. Glatier patted Kylian on the back in sympathy, giving him a wise coach speach about life and love — one that didn’t really help Kylian. It was actually rather confusing. Nonetheless, he thanked his elder, mentally noting it’s best if he just sticks to coaching football.

Neymar was shaken by the news, having taken a liking to you early on in your relationship with Kylian. When he asked Kylian what was bothering him so much lately, he breathed out a heavy, “nooo!”. Comforting his teammate felt nostalgic for them both because their own relationship went through a sort of breakup at one point.

Kylian felt the end of the day inching closer and closer. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he saw you. It was important for him that he doesn’t say anything to scare you away. He wants you to see that he’s sorry and that he’s ready to prove it to you. He wants to make you laugh, make you remember that he is capable of making you happy again.

Kylian smelled better right now than he ever did after practice. He scrubbed like a maniac, fixing his hair with precision, shaving and applying after shave. He finished off with some cologne that Verratti suggested, a cool jacket that Kimpembe let him borrow. He drew the line when Sergio came for his eyebrows with tweezers, doing a nervous final check in the full length mirror. Breathing deep, he opens up his messages.

Kylian: im almost done :)

Kylian: let me know when ur here

He watched the screen, waiting for you to respond with anything. The three dots popped up again, halting his breathing when your message appeared.

(Y/N): I’m here. Come meet me by the maintenance entrance.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was rushing out of the locker room with anticipation taking over his veins, his knuckles turning white against the material of his duffle bag. He felt like he was going to throw up from nerves, but the good kind of nerves — the kind he has before an important match.

Where you were meeting him was his little hidden area. The maintenance crew got an upgraded break room with a patio, so no one ever came out this way, leaving the picnic tables open for when he needed a sneaky break. He brought you out here multiple times when you came and visited, always insisting on making out before he would go back inside.

This door always got stuck. He remembers having to shoulder it every time. He prepared himself, stepping back before lunging his body forward. Next thing he knows, he’s landed on the cold cement, letting out a loud “oof” when he went down.

“Oh my god!” He heard your sweet voice from a distance, looking up and seeing you, sideways from his position. The wind was already knocked out of him, but wow, watching you running in his direction took his breath way. “Are you okay?”

He got himself up when you approached him, he brushed himself off cooly. “When the hell did they oil that door?” Kylian points.

You stare at him before you let a small laugh bubble out, immediately getting Kylian to join in. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed by his less than cool entrance, but mentally checks off the make her laugh box in his head.

Damn, he looks good, you thought to yourself. You kept it at bay, but you noticed how he cleaned up extra nice, tugging at your heartstrings. You can’t lie, you also spent way too long on your appearance.

“Hello,” he smiles, raking his eyes adoringly over your frame. He didn’t even notice himself inching closer to you, but you did. It made you hot under the collar just being around him again. You’d been away from him longer than a month before, but this was hard.

You gulp. “Hi.”

He set his duffle bag down on the picnic table. You had his full attention, every word he’s wanted to say to you just on the tip of his tongue. You made your way over to the bench and slowly sat down, him following suit, sitting a little closer than you wanted him to.

You scooted away slightly. “Let’s talk.” You say. He nods, turning his body toward you. “I have to be at work soon so I can’t stay long.”

His leg bounces. “Can I start?”

“Okay.”

His gaze locked on your delicate hands, wanting nothing more then to hold them tightly. He breathed deep, his nerves felt electric in his veins. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I fucked up and realized it too late. I should have noticed, but I didn’t. And I’m so sorry for that. For everything.” His words were slow and gentle, his eyes not knowing where to look as they bounced from your eyes to you hands to your lips, then back to your eyes again. “I’m miserable without you. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, (Y/N).”

You sigh. “I miss you too, Kylian. Believe me, this hasn’t been easy for me, either. But, I’m not here to get back together with you. I can’t let myself do that.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You really wished you planned this talk out better because right now, you were letting your emotions run on autopilot. Yet, you kept your logical side steady on the breaks in case your heart decided it needed his comfort more than it needed peace. “Because, Kylian. I just can’t.”

You felt the anger inside of you rising to the surface. You stood up and began pacing. Kylian stood too, but his feet were frozen in place.

“You know, I didn’t even know you still loved me until I was leaving?” You stated, facing his ashamed demeanor. He opened his mouth to respond but you didn’t let him. “You made me feel like shit. For months. You drove this… this weird insecurity in me that was never there before. I couldn’t even talk to you about it because you’d just spin it on me. Do you know how shitty that feels?”

His head hung low, guilt overriding his every sense. For whatever reason, he had high expectations for how this was going to go, and it’s already not at all how he thought. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. You never deserved that.”

“You’re fucking right, I didnt.” You snapped, brows knit tightly in anger. “Why did you change? What happened? What did I do to you that made you so angry at me?”

Kylian opened and closed his mouth, stuttering. “I…” Seeing the tears gloss your eyes brought his own forward, but he bit them back. “… I don’t know. Nothing, you did nothing wrong.”

You stared at him, sighing. You ran a hand over your cheeks once you felt some stray tears run down your face. Nodding, you sat back down, Kylian cautiously joined you further down the bench. His elbows were on his knees, eyes facing the pavement. Silence used to be comfortable with Kylian. You two could sit together for hours and not say a word, and it would feel so natural. Now, the air was thick with tension, every depressing emotion running full speed inside your loud mind.

“You remember that benefit dinner we went to in November? The one held by that super rich Fortune 500 guy?” You asked softly, breaking the silence. “That week was when I started doubting if we were even good together anymore. You hadn’t payed attention to me, touched me, listened to me in weeks. I thought it was me. That I was somehow fucking up everything we had.” Kylian listened through the sound of his pounding heart, not daring to look up. He could hear in your voice how deeply upset you were, he couldn’t take the look on your face. “I tried talking to you about it that morning. I was going to ask if you wanted to take a break… have some time to ourselves. Instead, you just turned it into a fight about me leaving the dishwasher open, or some shit like that. I ended up apologizing to you.” You chuckled, but it really wasn’t funny.

Kylian remembered, having been stressed about his difficult new physical therapy sessions. He took out his frustrations on you unfairly, but he didn’t realize that he was doing that until it was too late.

You continued. “I dressed up so nice for you that night. I wore that gorgeous blue dress you got for me, heels that absolutely killed my feet, I got my hair and makeup done by real professionals… I thought maybe I could at least get you to want me again. But, all night long, you pretty much ignored me. You only smiled at me when other people were around and you didn’t want to look like a dick. I loved it, though. It felt like the old days, when you would actually smile when I was around.”

His lip quivered, still not being able to lift his head toward you. You wanted to keep going, but knew what you were going to say next was going to hurt him and it was never about getting even. You didn’t want to put him through what he made you feel. Reluctantly, you knew you had to tell him. You had to do it for you.

“That whole night, you kind of ignored me. I had the thought that you wouldn’t even notice if I disappeared… so I did. I was on the balcony for like, an hour. All by myself. Watching you from the outside to see if you started looking for me, and you never did.” You paused to take a breath, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t think I would ever tell you this, but what do I have to lose, right?” He looked up, eyes red. You looked away. “It wasn’t on purpose, but… that night, Erling Haaland and I had a great time.” You locked eyes with him when he shifted, his whole demeanor changing from apologetic to full protection mode.

“What? What do you mean?” He attempted to keep his voice clear of obvious anger, but you knew him too well.

“No, no. Not like that.” You clarified. “He came out there for a breather and saw me. I don’t think he knew who I was or that we were together—”

“Bullshit.” He mumbled, but you ignored him.

“We just laughed and talked about the last season. Nothing happened, I wouldn’t do that to you.” You weren’t going to mention how he asked for your number at the end of the night because that would send him into a spiral. “Look, I’m not telling you this to be cruel, or anything, but it’s just an example of how alone I felt… that I would spend an entire night talking with Erling Haaland of all people. He payed more attention to me that night than you did for months. It made me remember how much fun we used to have. It made me realize that you might not be that person for me anymore.” Your voice wobbled and Kylian squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his tears back in with a sharp and deep breath.

He couldn’t believe you never told him about this, but reminded himself that he wouldn’t let you. He was too cold, too defensive.

“I promise you, (Y/N) — even if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get you back.” He swore through his wavering voice, still attempting to hold back his cries. You saw his twitching face, surfacing your own emotions.

You couldnt hold it back anymore, placing your face in your palms, letting the sobs go freely. “You’re a stupid fucking dickhead, Mbappé.” It was vulgar, but it’s just what shot out of your mouth.

Kylian knew he deserved that and more, just nodding at the new nickname, beginning to let himself cry as well. “I’m gonna change. If you let me show you, I’ll never stop proving to you how much I love you.” He grabbed your hand, tightly grasping it and kissing your knuckles.

“I think…” you sniffle, watching Kylian as he squeezed your hand in his, resting it on his face. “I think I need more time, Kylian.”

Immediately he nods, scooting closer to you. “We have time, baby. I’ll wait for you to be ready. I don’t care how long it takes.”

You and Kylian continue to cry, together. This kind of vulnerability is what you’ve been craving from him, this is the kind you had before.

“Kylian, I can’t handle having my heart broken again.” You choke. He holds you close now, forehead resting on the side of your head.

“I won’t ever be that person again.” He promised, sniffling. “I’ve never hurt this badly before. I’m not putting either of us through this torture again.”

You nod, wiping your tears and trying to calm down a little before standing up, leaving Kylian sitting alone on the bench.

“If I’m even going to entertain the idea of getting back together… we’re starting over completely. Right from the start.” You point, feeling yourself stop crying and using your sleeve to get rid of any proof that you were an absolute trainwreck.

He nods, standing up. “Okay. I can do that.” It looks like a burst of good energy just shot it’s way into his body, but the nervous demeanor stood above it, cautiously watching your every move.

“This doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. I need to know it’s the right decision. It’s too hard.”

“Of course. I’ll do anything.” You can tell Kylian is holding back from hugging you by the way his feet tap toward you, his body swaying in your direction.

You look him over, breathing in the crisp air. “Okay.” You check your watch, noticing you’ll be late if you don’t leave in the next five minutes. “I have to go now.” You say, nodding an awkward goodbye to Kylian; hugging felt like it would be weird… a handshake even weirder.

“Wait.” He stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and quickly pulling it back. “Am I allowed to ask you on a date now?”

You chuckle, a real one this time. “Um. Let’s wait a couple of weeks. I need some more time to process all of this. Besides, I’m moving on Friday so I’ll be pretty busy unpacking, so…”

He’s taken aback, quirking an eyebrow and trying to not looked too freaked out. “Wait… moving? Where?”

“Some place I found. It’s fine… close to the office.” You honestly didn’t love it, but it was cute. It had character. “The hotel life was getting too expensive.”

“Let me pay for that–”

“No. Non-couples don’t do that.” You say, checking the time again, walking backwards toward you car. “Look, I really have to go. Wait for me to text you, alright?”

He nods, watching your figure disappear in the dark parking lot. “I will.”

He didn’t take his eyes off your car until it was out of his sight, turning back the way he came in.

The time has come for him to cheer, celebrate, tell all of his friends… but he won’t. He might’ve managed his way back into your life, but he’s nowhere near out of the woods yet. Everyone knows how embarrassing early celebrations are, especially when they they miss the goal in the end. He’s not making that mistake. He’s just grateful for the new opportunity to prove to you that it’ll be worth it… that he’s worth it. You’ll be treated better than ever… as soon as you’re comfortable with him again.

So, no celebration for Kylian Mbappé… not counting the giddy grin and small fist pump he did when he was alone in his car.

He couldn’t stop himself. He really couldn’t.

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television-overload · 2 months

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The Walls That Tell Our Stories

Post-ep for 21x02 "The Stories We Leave Behind"

What I think we all want to imagine happened after the doors closed on that elevator at the end of the episode.

Word Count: 1,365

Read on AO3

No sooner had the elevator doors opened, than a fiery ball of energy came slamming into his legs.

"Daddy! Daddy!" the little girl yelled, grabbing onto his hand and pulling. "Take a picture of me with the orange wall!" She yanked him forward, already showing signs of that strength she and her mother both shared.

Tony laughed, casting a glance at McGee.

"Sorry, she's heard a lot about these orange walls," he explained, fishing his cell phone out of his coat pocket and dutifully opening the camera app.

He knelt down, holding the phone up so she was in frame.

"Alright, Tali, say, 'NCIS!'" he said, and Tali repeated it, finishing with a big toothy smile and a wild pose she must have learned from her friends at school.

Once he'd taken a couple photos, he clicked the image gallery to check them, holding the phone out to show Tali.

"How's that?" he asked, waiting for her approval.

"Perfect!" she answered. "Now one at your desk!"

Before he could stop her, she darted off to the part of the bullpen he had called home for so many years. It looked a little different now, various personal items stashed on the desks and even some plants making it feel more homey, but it was still the same place.

"Honey, that's not my desk anymore, it's Uncle Tim's," he reminded her. It hadn't been his in a long time, and it was crazy to think of all that had changed since then.

A pouty lip came out, and McGee chuckled. There was a lot of Ziva in her, that was true, but when it came to her personality, she was just so Tony.

"It's okay," he said, giving Tali the go-ahead to sit in his chair. “That was your dad's desk long before it was mine.”

She ran around the edge of it, plopping unceremoniously into the swivel chair and looking around interestedly at everything.

“Dad, did they have computers back when you worked here?”

Tony felt her words like a blow to the chest, and he feigned having the wind knocked out of him. How old did she think he was? He could practically feel the gray hairs sprouting from his head.

“Do you want me to take your picture or not?” he asked, shaking his head, hiding his amusement behind squinted eyes.

She smiled for the camera, then did a few poses pretending she was working.

"How many kids do you know who's number one bucket list item is to visit the headquarters of a government agency?" DiNozzo joked as he snapped a couple more photos.

Tali had been begging them for years, but it had never been a good time. They’d needed some space to learn how to be a family when Ziva finally came home. And though they wished it had been under better circumstances, at least now they could show their daughter all the places she'd heard about in their stories.

McGee smirked, watching the energetic daughter of his two best friends as she clacked away at his keyboard.

"I'd expect nothing less from your kid, Tony."

After a moment, Tali looked up, an inquisitive look on her face.

"Which one was Ima's?" she asked, spinning her chair back and forth.

He knelt down in front of her, resting his arms on the edge of the desk, his chin atop his folded hands.

"Which one do you think made it easiest to stare at her all day with heart eyes, Tali-girl?"

She giggled, pausing so she could inspect her options, taking the task very seriously. She tapped her chin in thought.

"That one!" she said, brightening up and pointing to the desk directly across from his.

He grinned, thinking back to all the times he'd sat there thinking about her mother.

"Bingo!"

"Can I–?"

"Have a picture over there?" he finished, already knowing what she was going to say. "Ask Agent Knight if it's okay."

Jessica Knight was standing near the elevator with Palmer, and it didn't take long for Tali to get her permission. She ran back the short distance, looking triumphant in her return.

"Hey, where is your Ima anyway?" Tony asked as she sat down behind the desk.

"Here!" her familiar voice sounded, echoing in the largely empty bullpen. The door to the women's restroom closed behind her. "Your child is pushing on my bladder. I swear I cannot make it more than an hour without having to pee, these days."

As she approached, Tony tucked her under his arm, glancing around at the walls that held so many of their stories. This was the building that built them. Tali owed her existence to these ugly orange walls and the people that dwelled in them.

"Our daughter has been playing tourist and hitting all the great photo spots," Tony informed her, brows raised sarcastically.

Ziva turned to look at Tali, seated where she used to sit now more than a decade ago.

"I see that," she said, her lips pulled back in a smile. "Did you tell her about the time we were stuck in the elevator?"

Tony grinned. "Oh yeah, she liked that one."

"Ima, when can we go see the lab?" Tali asked eagerly, interrupting them.

Ziva looked up and saw Jimmy approaching, and she knew there wasn't time right now. She separated herself from Tony, gently tousling Tali's wavy hair. "Another time, baby, I think it's time to head over to the funeral."

Tali nodded, glancing down at her shoes.

"I'm gonna miss Grandducky," she said sadly, playing absentmindedly with an eraser she found on the desk.

"So will we," Tony said, swallowing back emotion. "Aren't you glad he came to visit us during his book tour last year? That was pretty special, huh?"

The littlest DiNozzo nodded again, cheeks widening in a smile. "He was the first to know about my baby brother!" she said, remembering it fondly.

At that, Jimmy looked to Tony and Ziva in mock indignation. "Hey, you told him before any of the rest of us?" he said.

Tony laughed, patting the autopsy gremlin on the shoulder in consolation. "He guessed pretty quick. I think if he'd visited a few weeks earlier, he would have been the one to break the news to us!"

Ducky’s globetrotting semi-retirement had been a blessing to them all. They cherished the few times they'd been able to meet up in recent years, remaining close despite the long distance. He was a part of their family; it was only right that their daughter know him and love him too. They were fortunate for the time they did have together.

Ziva glanced at the clock and sighed, placing a hand on Tony's chest, silently telling him they probably needed to get going. He nodded in response, checking that he had his phone and wallet still before taking her hand in his.

"Alright, well, we can keep sharing memories on the way. Tali? You ready to go?"

"We'll be back, right?"

"Of course," Tony answered. "We've barely scratched the surface here! I still have to take you to interrogation to figure out what happened to that batch of cookies Ima made last week ." He tickled her sides, causing her to erupt in giggles and run ahead of them toward the elevator. They followed, hand in hand, with Jimmy and McGee right behind.

"Squeeze in!" Palmer said, the entire group filling the elevator with little room to spare. The others would be meeting them at the cathedral for the service, everyone who knew and loved Ducky, there to say their final goodbyes.

As the doors closed, Tony leaned down and pressed his lips to Ziva's, his hand resting on her lower back to pull her closer.

"Ugh, guys, really?" McGee complained exaggeratedly, screwing up his face in a look of disgust. Tali put her hands in front of her mouth to hide her giggles.

Ziva looked up at Tony like he was the only other person in the elevator, and he beamed proudly, unashamed and unapologetic.

He squeezed her sides playfully, tucking his face into her shoulder and breathing her in.

"I've always wanted to do that in here."

-.-.-

Tag List (if you want to be tagged when I post Tiva stuff, let me know and I'll add you!): @benedettabeby @earanemith @happygirl-0408 @hopeless-nostalgiac @indestinatus @loudlooks @mrsmungus @nicolem194 @putthekettleon @slippery-soapbox @tivafanfic @tivajunkie @tonysziva

Gonna go out on a limb and also tag @wanna-be-bold @pro-bee @delicatefalice @harmandmac @benditlikepress @irish-trish idk who else I've seen active lately but yeah

#i really wanted to work in other characters but i spent too much time on this as it is #ncis #tiva #ziva david #tony dinozzo #my fanfiction #tony x ziva #tiva fanfiction #ncis fanfiction #tali dinozzo #ncis spoilers #21x02 #the stories we leave behind #if you got tagged in this twice im sorry tumblr is acting up

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cringefuckass · 3 months

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Here’s the first draft of the first chapter of that lute and adam focused fic. i have like two weeks before i can make an ao3 account, the invitation queue is LONG. so here’s this for now, i’ll probably revamp it a bit and maybe work on further chapters between now and getting a new account

Hell is not something you ever expect. When you don’t believe in an afterlife you don’t tend to see it coming when you end up there, and when you do believe in an afterlife you only see yourself going up. Never down, never to the fire and brimstone. When you only arrive once a year to exterminate the population of hell you also don’t normally predict to see yourself ending up there permanently as a resident, yet Adam and Lute have found themselves in this exact predicament. Perhaps rebelling against the Princess of Hell and her newfound proven system of redemption sounds like a sure-fire way to get there on paper, but hindsight is 20/20.

“This fuckin’ blows, man,” said Adam, kicking rocks as Lute walked behind him at a respectable distance. “How was I supposed to know Sera was bein’ that serious? One demon glowing white and going up doesn’t seem like a good enough fuckin’ reason to change everything!” He threw his arms up in an exasperated manner, barely aware of his surroundings.

“I agree, sir.” Lute replied, though she was aware he wasn’t looking for a reply. A small statement to fill the silence in between his own words was all he needed as he ranted and raved at the injustice he had been served.

“I mean, seriously, I’m not just some guy they pulled off the streets, I’m fuckin’ Adam, the original! Throwing me down here like I’m NOTHING. Can you fuckin’ believe the balls that must have took?” Lute nodded along as they walked to nowhere. They were aimless down here, walking for walkings sake, and Lute didn’t have the energy to question it. She might not be talking nearly as much as the original man, but she agreed with his statements. He was a leader, a man of virtue, and she was his right hand Exorcist. She thought it was some kind of abhorrent mistake that either of them should be here in this hole in the ground, let alone both of them. Theirs was a presence that demanded respect and honour but here they were, amongst the sinners. Speaking of which, there was a considerable lack of sinners out with them. Was it night? Was Hell always dark or was this their equivalent of nightfall? Lute wasn’t sure. Maybe, she smiled to herself, they were scared. Their wings, her mask and weapon gone, and it was still enough to send the demons away, shaking in their wakes. This was almost certainly not the case, but a bit of fantasy didn’t hurt to cope with the… unfortunate situation she found herself in.

“And you know what, hot stuff, don’t think I don’t blame you for your part in this bullshit,” Adam interrupted Lutes thought process. It took her a moment to realise his implication.

“Excuse me?” She stopped keeping his pace and came to a halt.

“You heard me! You’re supposed to be the one who keeps me under check, it’s apart of why you’re kept around! That and the badass kill count you rack up.” Adam paused his own walking when he realised she wasn’t at his side, though that quickly changed as she appeared in front of his face in less than a second, her hand gripping the collar of his white robe pulling him down to her eye level.

“My job is to do as you say, not babysit you.” Her voice was low and steady. “If I thought my loyalty was misplaced I’d have left you to it. Do not,” she spat, “blame me for your own idiotic ideas. All I did was support my superior.” With a flick of her wrist she let go of his collar, making him stumble before regaining his stance. For a five foot-nothing bitch she sure could throw him around like he was nothing. He wasn’t to going to think about that too much.

“okay, okay, calm your tits.” Adam crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to seem nonchalant after having his ass handed to him in less than five sentences. It had been his idea. He was the one who convinced Lute to join him in going against Sera’s acceptance of the princesses plans. Granted, she hadn’t needed much convincing at all, he was more than aware of her own distaste to the sudden change. Looking down at her he felt compelled to ask why she was still here at all. He fucked up, and now he had gotten them both cast down to the blazing abyss. “So like, why are you tailing my dick down here still?”

Lute allowed herself a moment before replying. “I have my loyalties. Just because we no longer look over an army doesn’t mean you’re not still my commanding officer.” A pause. “And just because you fucked up doesn’t mean I’d abandon my post.” He could almost say he was thankful that despite everything she was still here instead of leaving him to wallow like he definitely would have if not for her eyes on him forcing him to keep himself up. If there was ever a time to attempt to open up and try to show his appreciation for her sticking around it would be now. It was the perfect opportunity to express a level of gratitude he has never and probably will never show to a woman again.

“Wow… forget big dick energy, I must have humongous dick energy to still have someone this loyal in Hell! Ha!”

#hazbin hotel #lute x adam #lute hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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trutrustories · 6 months

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STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 3: 1893

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE EPISODE 2 HERE

Episode 3, here we go:

22) matching suits part 2 anyone, who work on those costumes: I want to kiss you all!

23) Another exhibition of touches:

the challange name is: "how close we can get, before we sink into each other"

24) "And they lived happily ever after..." They had some lokius fan in the editing room, I´m telling ya! This retro movie style transition... THAT is my roman empire...

like seriously? what is the purpose of this? I can´t wrap my head around it. someone just thought that it is really crucial to end this scene with two of them in a circle. OK.

but WHY?

It was LITTERALY used only once! (I´m sorry, but as someone, who works as an editor, this just driving me crazy 🤒🫠)

25) Loki and Mobius enjoying popcorn:

I have several things to say here:

ever heard about when one person is "forced" to have fun for the first time, and to try new things by the other person, and he´s protesting and is all about work and serious matters, but secretly loves it and is visibly relaxed and happy? - Because I´m sure this is some bloody romantic comedy trope, that everyone have seen about hundred times!

"Oh look, you have a piece of food on the chin, let me just…"

I know I already said this somewhere, but, this is the moment, where in my language suddenly (completely randomly) switched from formal way of speaking to each other to intimate way of speaking to each other. (I´m Czech, btw, and I have no idea, what happened in that recording studio but it had to be interesting)

26) Also... Bickering like married couple (part 3)

27) "You know sometimes I forget, that you are one of them... Blows my mind!"

Mobius being Loki´s fan.

Also yeas. Loki is one of them. God. And Mobius is a small, normal dude. JUST A HUMAN. Analyst, even! And they´re eating popcorn together.... also Loki will do whatever Mobius wishes

28) another "let´s be as close as we physically can" challange

Loki can´t keep only eye on him. he needs hands, because reasons

29) Mobius supporting Loki in using magic...

... or I should say Loki using Magic, whenever Mobius wishes, because...

"Will you handle this please?" "Gently!"

And on top of that... not him, explaining, what just happened, to the public, by: "The amazing Loki, everyone! He´ll be here all week! 🥳🥳🥳"

who the heck asked, Mobius? stop showing off with your magical boyfriend

30) Victor/Ravonna - the most transparent mirror ever:

THIS scene? Are you kidding? Ravonna running towards Victor: "Mr Timley! are you okay? And Mobius running practicly at the same time towards Loki with: You allright?" and both helping their man up on their feet?! IN SYNC! this is too much.

WTF

31) THE BIKE THIS. this is the most GREENLY green point, I can think of. Someone had to have this vision. This idea. And put it in to screenplay. Someone had to find the bike. Someone was shooting this. Camera is moving around them. And they were all like GREAT idea, let´s have them riding tandem bike while chasing Ravonna and Timely, that makes complete sense! (even when we have Loki chasing Brad USING MAGIC one episode back) anyway... ever heard about "let´s do this crazy stupid thing - absolutely not - and then they do the thing" trope?

32) Loki going with Mobius, not even thinking about it anymore.

And to think, that I was expecting something like S01E03 (Lamentis episode)! Once again, I wasn´t prepared for amount of Lokius content I was actually served. What a surprise! 🤯

#loki #loki spoilers #loki and mobius #lokius #mobius m mobius #owen wilson #tom hiddleston #loki s2 spoilers #loki season 2

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rebeccalouisaferguson · 14 days

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Rebecca Ferguson is defending her recent revelation about a negative experience on one set, even though it earned strong reactions from some of her former co-stars.

Recently, while doing press for Dune: Part Two, Ferguson opened up about an uncomfortable experience she had with an unnamed fellow actor. She accused the actor of screaming at and degrading her in front of the whole cast and crew. She said during a podcast interview, “This person would literally look at me in front of the whole crew and say ‘You call yourself an actor?’, ‘This is what I have to work with?’, and ‘What the f**** is this?” Unfortunately, due to the actor’s placement as #1 on the call sheet, she felt forced to work with them and recounted the difficulty of having no one stand up for her. However, she soon found the strength to stand up for herself and told the actor off.

Ferguson chose not to identify the actor in the incident, as the story’s focus was highlighting a significant moment in her career where she vouched for herself and stood up against mistreatment. Understandably, though, the internet was outraged on her behalf and sought to find out who the actor was. There was some harmless internet sleuthing going on, which was more about users showing their support for Ferguson than an actual witch hunt. Yet some of her past co-stars took the sleuthing quite seriously.

Rebecca Ferguson reveals her co-stars’ reactions to her statement

While appearing on The Jess Cagle Show on SiriusXM, Ferguson opened up about the reaction to her story. She hadn’t expected the story to blow up the way it did. While she acknowledged that she “kind of enjoyed the grab,” the internet sleuthing, and attention, she reiterated that the point of her interview was never about trying to find the “idiot” actor. She stated:

But the point of the interview wasn’t about finding the person — of course, people will be interested. But I was excited about the question, which was a very good question by [Josh Smith]. Because the point was: Is there a point in your career where you were treated in a way where you changed your decision on — this is how I formulated it in myself — where you want change, or you will not accept it? And it was such a clear moment for me working with this person.

However, she goes on to detail how others in the industry weren’t very supportive of her telling her story. Ferguson revealed that some of her former co-stars were scared they would be mistaken for the perpetrator in her story. Some even went as far as to call and ask her, “‘You understand what you’ve done, right?”

Ferguson had the perfect response, acknowledging that their feelings weren’t really her responsibility. She stated, “And I was like, ‘Oh my God. No, I didn’t think.’ I mean, it’s not my responsibility, to be honest. I don’t really care. You know, ‘You’re great, but my story is my story, and if you’re a good person, then don’t worry about it.’”

Ferguson makes an excellent point, reiterating that she’s going to tell her story regardless of her former co-stars’ reactions. After all, if they are truly good people who didn’t do what she accused the mystery actor of, what do they have to be afraid of? It’s very refreshing to see her defending her right to tell her story, as it is all too common for people to make a woman’s story all about themselves or a man. Women are often pushed to apologize or struck with silencing attempts and misogynistic rants for speaking their truth. They are constantly expected to modify or toss out their stories just because someone’s feelings might be hurt or it might not paint them in the most positive light.

However, as Ferguson pointed out, there’s really no need to coddle or care about those upset by hearing the truth. Her story is her story, and it’s solely about her and a defining moment in her life. If her co-stars were scared by it or wanted to somehow make it about themselves, then that’s their problem and not Ferguson’s responsibility.

#rebecca ferguson #miscellenous #just want to post this pov because i agree completely

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 1 year

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Downfall (pt 1/2)

Hi guys, I’m back after a month hiatus. I meant to make this one part, but tbh I need to break this thing up a little - it’s going to be like 2 very distinct parts, if that makes sense.

Anyway! This is per the usual a male-centric sickfic that features Elijah and Greyson, and it’s a big ol’ contagion dumpster fire. Seriously, if you’re not into contagion this won’t be your thing lol. Elijah is real bad at keeping his germs to himself. It’s based loosely on one of the prompts in my inbox, but nothing from the prompt features in this part (lol, sorry) so I’ll post the prompt at the end of the next part. Thank you to whoever is sending prompts!! I love and am inspired by all of them.

Next part will hopefully be up tomorrow or Sunday!

Onward :)

cw: male, colds, fevers, coughing, contagion, some mess

Downfall

“No fuckin’ way you’re sick again.”

Elijah rolled his eyes from behind a tissue and flipped Greyson off. “I don’t wandt to talk about it,” he said, collapsing into his rolling chair next to the chef and blowing his nose. “hhGTSHH-uhh! Snfr. And also,” Elijah tossed the tissue in the trashcan and looked pointedly at Greyson. “You stay the fugck away from mbe.”

Greyson recoiled and barked out a shocked chuckle. “Stay the fuck away from you? What, did you have a dream I tried to stab you or something?” He shuffled through their shared cabinet of medicines and plopped the dayquil and ibuprofen in front of his boss. “Or do you think I gave you this, your fourth cold in less than three months? Because I,” Greyson placed a hand on his own chest languidly, “have an amazing immune system.”

“Oh Jesus fuckigg Christ,” Elijah groaned, snapping open the bottle of dayquil and chugging.

“Well, congrats, Grey. You just fucked yourse – hhINGSTZUE! Snf. Yourself.” Elijah pulled more tissues from the box on their shared desk and blew his nose again while Greyson laughed.

“You’re so goddamn dramatic,” Greyson said, sitting back in his chair and watching his boss try to collect himself. “I would’ve loved to have met you in middle school.”

“Fuck off,” Elijah said, pressing his fingers deep into his aching eye sockets. Greyson, taking pity on him, pushed the ibuprofen towards the GM. “Thangks,” Elijah said, taking a few with a sip of an old water cup sitting next to the computer. He turned back to Greyson, his look no longer one of bemusement. “I’mb serious, though. Dond’t combe any closer than where you’re at right now.”

“I wish you were less cryptic sometimes. It’s like working with a troll that guards a bridge and won’t speak to you clearly unless you solve his riddles three.”

Elijah sighed and unzipped his jacket. “Grey, we have that wedding this weekend.”

“And?” Greyson asked holding his hands palms-up, expectant.

“And,” Elijah said, turning to cough into his sleeve, away from Greyson. “Mbatt cannot handle a fifty-persond, special mendu wedding on his own, Grey. He’s great, but he isn’t ready for that.” Elijah gave Greyson a look as if to say ‘are you getting it now?’, but Greyson was still bald-faced. Elijah sighed again.

“If you get sigck, we’re fucked,” he stated simply. “So you have to stay away fromb – hhNGSTH-ue! GTSH! Hhuuh...huhIGSTZHUE!” Elijah crumpled towards the wall to sneeze into his sleeve. He felt Greyson push the tissue box over to his side of the desk, and held out the hand not currently tending to his nose to stop the chef.

“Alright, alright, relax,” Greyson said, sitting back in his chair while Elijah pulled some tissues out and cleaned himself up. When he sat back up, he gave Greyson a watery glare.

“I’ll relax whend this week is over,” Elijah growled. “For ndow, just stay away. Okay? You cand help mbe out by leaving mbe alone and ndot getting sick. It’s our first wedding ever, Greyson, and I really wandt us to be able to do mbore. So it has to be perfect.”

“I’m sure the people getting married would describe ‘perfect wedding’ as ‘general manager of restaurant we’re getting married at sneezes through the ceremony’,” Greyson teased, standing and putting on his chef’s coat over his t-shirt. Elijah flipped the chef off, noncommittal.

“It’s only Mbonday,” Elijah said. “I’ll be good by Saturday.” He gave Greyson another very pointed look before the chef walked into the kitchen to begin the day’s prep. “You better be, too.”

“Oh, please, boss,” Greyson said, strolling out of the office and towards the prep table. “Like I said; my immune system is incredible.”

***

9:13AM

mornin, boss. just checking to make sure ur among the living.

10:42AM

hellooooo, lij, u good?

11:24AM

where r u??????

Greyson looked down at his phone for the tenth time in as many minutes; Elijah had read his texts, but hadn’t answered any of them. He tapped his foot impatiently and stared at the computer screen until he heard the ding of a new text.

11:36AM

Not coming in today. Sleeping off this plague so I’m 100% for the weekend. Did you need something from me?

The chef raised an eyebrow at his phone before typing out a response.

11:37AM

oh! k, nope im all good. feel better, if u need i can drop some soup or smthn off to u??

11:38AM

I’m alright. Thx. Text me if the numbers jump up, I’ll come in for service for anything over 100 covers.

Greyson clicked his phone off without responding; he wouldn’t text Elijah even if the covers jumped to eight million. If that man was taking a sick day, he obviously needed it.

Although he was surprised, Greyson couldn’t say he didn’t think his boss needed this sick day; Elijah had basically huddled in the office all day yesterday, only to be roused for the rush around 7PM. After an hour or so of table touching, he’d retreated back to his chair to cough and sneeze in peace.

“Christ, boss, where the hell did you pick this shit up?” Greyson had asked around 8 when he’d come into the office to do some paperwork post-rush. He’d leaned towards the GM to place a hand on his pale face, only to be rudely waved off.

“Dond’t touch mbe,” Elijah had croaked. “I’mb ndot risking you getting sick.”

Greyson had rolled his eyes. “Lij, please,” he said, “I haven’t caught any of your other thirty colds you’ve had this year, why would this be THE ONE?”

Elijah just shook his head, clearly too exhausted to answer. “Just trust mbe,” he said. “We ndeed you to be here for this wedding. I cand barely stand, Grey,” Elijah said; a rare moment of vulnerability. “Just give mbe the peace of mbind of you staying healthy.”

The chef sighed through his nose and took a step back. “Alright, boss,” he said, putting his hands up in defeat. “I won’t touch you. Just…I mean, just like, stay there. I’ll drive you home as soon as the guys are done cleaning.”

And that was exactly what he did. At ten, Greyson was waving to Elijah as the ill man trudged up the steps to his building, wondering how the hell he was going to make it all the way to the twentieth floor. By midnight, Elijah had stopped responding to his texts making sure he was alive, and now here he was, wondering who the hell this creature that slept in and took sick days was, and what it had done with his boss.

Greyson shoved his phone into his pocket and headed back into the kitchen. To his shock, Mark was standing at the prep table, obviously looking for him.

“The hell are you doing in my kitchen?” Greyson joked, clapping a hand on Mark’s back. The other man didn’t move, so Greyson walked around to face him. “Helloooo, earth to Mar -”

“HNGSTZHUE!” Mark, obviously unprepared for Greyson’s appearance, didn’t have time to raise his elbow all the way to his face. Greyson winced and attempted to step back, but the deed was done; he lifted a hand to his face and wiped the floor manager’s sneeze from his eyebrow.

“Oh shidt, Greysond, Chef, I’mb so sor – hh’TSHHzue! HhNGSTTZUE!” Mark managed to cover those with his sleeve, along with a crackling cough that went on entirely too long for anyone’s comfort.

“Yikes,” Greyson said, leading the floor manager into his office and easing him into Elijah’s chair. “Elijah got you good, man,” he joked, handing Mark the nearly-depleted box of tissues Elijah had left on the desk yesterday. Mark took one and held it in his hand, looking at Greyson miserably.

“I’mb so sorry Greyson, I didn’t mbean to sndeeze on you, Christ Elijah’s going to kill mbe,” Mark said, swiping the tissue under his nose and sniffling. Greyson chuckled at the younger man.

“I hope you mean you’re going to kill him for getting you sick,” he said, opening the medicine drawer for Mark’s perusal. Mark shook his head, not even bothering to look at the medicine.

“Ndo,” he said. “He’s beend like completely nuts about you ndot getting this… whatever, before the wedding. That’s why he isn’t here, he texted mbe this morning and asked if I could handle the floor on my own. He said he’s afraid he’s going to cough on you or something and the whole wedding will be ruined.” Mark looked up then, devastated. “But ndow it’s for ndothing, because I’m the one who’s going to get you sick.”

Greyson slowly raised an eyebrow at Mark, then placed a kind hand on his knee. “Mark,” he said, “I say this with all the love in my heart: Elijah is a weirdo. He gets an idea in his head that something bad is going to happen and then it becomes inevitable in his mind. Trust me when I say that I have a great immune system, and I’m going to be fine. Okay?”

Mark nodded miserably and Greyson patted his knee again. “Good man,” he said. “Now, the real question is did you tell Elijah that you’re also sick as a dog?” Mark gave the chef an apologetic look, which Greyson knew meant no. Greyson pulled a hand down his face and sighed.

“Okay,” he said, digging through the medicine drawer. “Well. Take some of whatever strikes your fancy in here. I’m going to go have the hostess close the books for the night.”

Mark nodded, obviously exhausted. Greyson stopped himself halfway out the door to turn to the floor manager again. “And, uh...let’s not mention this to Elijah.”

Mark attempted a laugh. “Sure thing, Chef,” he said, swigging some dayquil. “We’re definitely ond the sambe page there.”

***

By ten PM, Greyson was more ready for a drink than anyone in the history of the world.

“Mark, go home!” he yelled through the kitchen doors when he heard the manager succumb to yet another coughing fit. “I’ll finish the damn paperwork, just gooooo.”

Mark slunk through the kitchen doors, shivering and sniffling, and barely acknowledged Greyson when he grabbed his coat and headed for the back doors.

“And don’t you fuckin’ dare come in tomorrow!” Greyson called as Mark gave a weak little wave goodbye behind his head. “I’ll tell Elijah you’re one foot in the grave.” Mark gave a thumbs up without looking back and pushed through the back doors, so only Greyson and his sous chef remained.

“Christ, he sounds like shit,” Greyson murmured, pulling a hand down his face. He turned to Matt, who was seated in Elijah’s chair looking through the schedule on the computer. “How’re you holding up?”

“Mmm, fine, Chef,” Matt said, scrolling through the document. Greyson could’ve been hearing things, but he swore Matt gave a liquid little sniffle afterward. He whipped his head towards his sous, eyes crazed.

“No,” he said, vehement. “Absolutely the fuck not.”

“It’s ndothing, Chef,” Matt said, still not looking away from the computer. Greyson audibly groaned and put both hands over his eyes, a weak attempt to escape the hell that was the pestilence Elijah had bestowed upon them all.

“Fuck, Matt,” Greyson muttered, sitting back up. “Okay, you go home. Now. I’ll finish your shit, too.”

“I’mb okay, Chef, really,” Matt said, pawing at his nose in an attempt to clear it. “I promi – ITSZH-ue!”

“Matt, oh my God, go,” Greyson said, exasperated. Matt flinched and nodded, logging off the computer and grabbing his jacket.

“I’ll be good by tomorrow, boss, I prombise,” Matt said, stifling a painful-sounding cough into his fist. Greyson gave him a look with eyes so wide that one started to twitch. Matt held up his hands and backed off. “Sorry,” he said.

“Matt, full offense, if you don’t get the hell out of this restaurant in the next three seconds, I’m going to drop kick you,” Greyson said, pointing towards the back door. “Go.”

Finally, Matt did as he was told and slipped out the back door, leaving Greyson to put his heavy head in his hands. Only one thing left to do.

Greyson picked up his cell phone from the desk and dialed his most-dialed contact.

“Hey, boss,” he said when Elijah picked up. “We, uh… we have a bit of an issue.”

#snz #snzfic #snz fic #sickfic #m cold #male cold #male snz #snez #sniction #snz kink #coldfic #snz fet #whiskeyswriting #contagion

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karatekels · 7 months

Note

A request with KK3 Terry please and make it as dark/non-con as possible! But OFC always make changes if you have to cause I’d enjoy it no matter what.

I thought of Daniel who warns reader to not go see Terry again cause he actually caught on that she likes him. (I thought this happens right after the events where Miyagi fought Terry & Kreese). She’s shocked to hear about it since she did come to trust Terry and even look up to him. But she listens to her friend (at first). I thought that later she’d get into a dangerous situation at night close by the dojo where a group of men follow her and her first instinct is to go to the dojo in hope of Terry, even after Daniel’s warning. She’s obviously scared and is already imagining the worst things in her head. Thankfully Terry’s there to save her in the last moment and even offers to take care of her since she seems so shaken by it. What she didn’t expect is that it’ll get only worse with him and he expects some kind of “reward” from her for always treating her so nicely, even “going out of his way” to save her, and simply bc he’s had enough of waiting 👀 Make sure to make him cruel enough when he forces himself on her and that he even says smth like “Maybe you should’ve listened to Danny-boy.” (implying that he was there, hiding & watching when Daniel informed her about it). She gives in partway. She knows she doesn’t stand a chance anyway. Also make him throw some comments at her maybe about how pathetic she is, but that he still wants her and only her and she’ll always be his (or whatever else comes to ur mind). And that even when she enjoyed it by the end, she still feels dirty and used. Somewhat empty even and heartbroken. Your goal: Make me cry a bit for her okay

We are starting out the month living up to the title of Dark Desires October with this one! Today also marks the 1 year anniversary of this blog, so HOORAY!

This will be in two parts, and the actual non-con will happen in the next part (though there is attempted sexual assault in this chapter as well). If that’s not something you want to read, I would recommend sitting this one out!

For the rest of you degenerates who are still here… I hope you enjoy.

TW: attempted assault; assault; attempted sexual assault; attempted rape; violence; will lead to non-con in part 2

---

Unjust Reward: Chapter 1

---

At 10:02 in the morning, an insistent knocking starts at your front door. You giggle quietly, calmly finishing putting your shoes on. Your neighbour and friend (it was weird, calling a 17 year-old a friend when you were in your early twenties, but it was true), Daniel LaRusso, had called late last night, leaving a message on your answering machine. He had sounded panicked, saying that he needed to talk to you as soon as possible and would be coming over in the morning. Calling and leaving your own message, you had amended that to 10AM today.

It wasn’t that you weren’t taking whatever Danny was worried about seriously, but the kid had a tendency to be overdramatic and blow things out of proportion. You weren’t sure if it was a guy thing, a kid thing, or a karate thing, but Daniel always seemed to be on edge about some situation or another.

Grabbing your bag and your sunglasses, you head for the front door, opening it suddenly and catching Daniel’s fist half-raised in the air. You see the cuts and bruising on his knuckles, and hope that they weren’t from pounding on the door. He had been training very intensely with Terry Silver, a new sensei that had come to the Valley a couple of weeks ago, so it was probably from that.

Sensei Terry Silver…

You were kind of crazy about him.

He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome; nearly six and a half feet tall and strong, with long black hair and bright blue eyes. He had a wicked smile and positively oozed charm, to the point that you were frequently tongue-tied in his presence. Terry was very hands-on with his training, based on what you’d seen when you’d come by the dojo to meet Daniel after a training session. You’d found yourself jealous of the boy on more than one occasion, watching Terry’s hands adjust his hips and help him stretch.

“Calm down, Danny! Where’s the fire?” you joke, looking at him with a smile that he doesn’t return. Instead, he grabs your wrist, urgently tugging you towards him.

“Come on, Y/N – we need to talk, it’s important!” he hisses, looking like he’s seen a ghost.

“Should we go inside?” you ask, holding your front door ajar, but he shakes his head.

“No, we gotta find somewhere he doesn’t know about; he’s got eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Who does?” He just shakes his head, refusing to answer you, and you’re starting to get really worried about whatever it is that’s bothering him. You close and lock the door, letting him drag you down the street by the arm. You don’t see how anywhere outside could be more private than your own home, especially seeing as he was likely drawing attention by tugging at your wrist like this, but you knew how difficult it was to talk Daniel out of something when he had set his mind to it.

After a few blocks, you head into a local park, finding an unoccupied bench in a clearing. He gestures for you to sit but doesn’t join you on the bench, instead pacing back and forth in front of you and looking around intently.

“Okay, we should be safe to talk here; we can see if anyone tries to listen in.”

“Daniel, what is going on?” you demand, mildly frustrated by all of the theatrics but mostly concerned about what the source of his panic was.

“It’s Mr. Silver.”

“Is something wrong with Terry? Is he hurt?” you ask, your heart racing at the thought. Terry was big, and strong, and a professional martial artist; if something had hurt him, then it was definitely something to be feared. But Daniel shakes his head.

“No, he’s not hurt; he’s the problem. He’s dangerous!”

“Danny, he’s helping you train for the tournament. Was he just being hard on you?” you ask soothingly, feeling relieved. This was closer to what you had anticipated: Daniel blowing something out of proportion.

“No, listen!” he cries, though he’s trying to keep his voice down. He sounds like that dangerous mix of angry and scared that caused men to be unpredictable, and it has you nervous. “Y/N, I… I can tell that you like Mr. Silver a lot,” he says knowingly, and you blush, feeling like you were being told about ‘the birds and the bees’ by a kid. Had you been that obvious about your feelings for Terry?

“Please don’t go see him again. He’s not good for you; he’s not good for anyone. Listen…”

Daniel’s eyes are wide and scared, and you feel yourself shiver as he describes what had happened at the Cobra Kai dojo last night. Terry had made up everything; Kreese dying, being a down-on-his-luck sensei, wanting to train Danny so he could protect himself… The whole thing had been a nest of lies, part of a plan to get revenge on a teenager for winning a karate tournament.

It was ridiculous; it was insane. It was unbelievable… wasn’t it?

You think back to your own experiences with Terry. You’d been completely speechless the first time he’d come over and spoken to you while Daniel had been changing into his regular clothes. He had looked at you with such intensity, even if he had given you a charming smile the whole time. You’d tried to make small talk with him, and despite how awkward you felt around him, something about him kept drawing you in day after day. It was like you were addicted to the discomfort, the nervousness that you felt around him. He was like one of those Venus flytraps; he looked dangerous, but was still so alluring that prey found itself coming closer anyway, until the trap snapped shut.

As much as you didn’t want to believe it, you could see Terry as someone dangerous, hiding beneath a façade. And, if Mr. Miyagi had fought him, then this wasn’t just Daniel being overdramatic. This was serious.

Your heart clenches once, painfully; you didn’t really know Terry that well, sure. But you had really wanted to. It was like saying goodbye to a relationship that had never really begun, and as this had been the first time you had really felt strongly for someone as an adult, it hurt all the more.

But you had no reason to not believe Daniel’s words, and you would not be a fly caught in a trap.

“Danny, I… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry he hurt you, and I’m sorry I didn’t see him for what he was. I’m so glad that you’re alright,” you say, letting out a sigh of relief. Daniel was such a small kid, and Terry was a big guy – if he had wanted to, he could’ve really hurt the boy, or worse.

“Please tell me you won’t go see him again,” he begs, and you can hear the fear in his voice. Poor kid; this had really done a number on him.

“I won’t, Danny. I promise. But there’s still something I don’t understand: why couldn’t you have told me this in my apartment?”

“Oh. That.” Daniel says morosely, pulling out a few pages of a magazine out of his jeans pocket and handing them to you.

Smoothing them out, you see that the man being written about in the article is… Terry. But, instead of the humble, down-to-earth man you’d come to (sort-of) know, he was photographed in expensive-looking suits and (in your opinion) gaudy jewelry.

“He’s not some broke guy; he’s a billionaire. And Mike Barnes? Snake, and Dennis? He’s working with them; actually, they’re working for him.”

“He hired a bunch of teenaged goons to attack you?! You and Jessica?!” you shriek, glad that the girl had gone home to Ohio. What kind of monster paid people to harass children?!

“He’s got people everywhere, and he’s a good liar, and he’s a war vet, like Kreese was… is.” Clearly, that man’s death being a hoax was taking some time for the boy to adjust to in his head. “My uncle told me that guys that fought in Vietnam, a lot of them are… messed up.”

You nod sharply, pressing your mouth into a thin line. Terry was dangerous in many ways: a martial artist, a large man, a billionaire with infinite resources… mix in PTSD from the War and he had the potential to be a real monster. You shudder again.

“You’re right, Daniel. We should both stay away from him.”

Daniel’s head snaps up as the sound of a branch snapping comes from the treeline. Before you can reach out to stop him, he sprints towards the source of the noise with a yell, tearing through trees as if he expects Terry or one of his goons to be hiding among the leaves.

“Daniel, stop!” you cry out, quickly moving over to him and dragging him away from the trees. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you lock eyes with him. “There’s no one there, okay? And this is a park, in the middle of the day; no one is going to hurt us here.”

His chest is heaving as he tries to take deep, calming breaths, but he’s still very much on edge. Eventually, his shoulders slump, and you feel like you can let him go without him charging off to fight something.

“Listen to me, Daniel. Terry is probably very dangerous; you’re right about that. He isn’t someone that you can fight against and win. And I’m not saying that because you’re not a great fighter,” you say when he opens his mouth to protest, “I’m saying it because he isn’t going to play by the rules. You could get hurt, or worse. You have to promise me you’ll stay away from him, and keep yourself safe.”

“B-But, what if he –” he stutters, and you interrupt him, knowing just how to nip his desire to play hero in the bud.

“He might not stop at you, Daniel,” you point out, clenching your hands into fists to keep your body from trembling at the thought. “He could go after Mr. Miyagi, or me, or anyone. Best to not let him get to you; he’s like a ticking time bomb, and we don’t know what could set him off. Promise me you’ll stay out of trouble; stay with Mr. Miyagi as often as you can. I’m sure he’ll ease up after the tournament.”

Daniel’s forehead creases, and there’s a stubborn look in his eye, but he relents after a moment.

“Okay, fine. And you’ll stay safe too, right?”

“Yes, Danny – I promise. I won’t go near him or that dojo again.”

Daniel lets out a sigh of relief, and insists on accompanying you to the grocery store on your walk home.

“Daniel, you may be taking this a bit too far,” you tease as he helps you carry your things.

“Gotta keep you safe,” he huffs, having insisted on taking the heavier items.

“If anything, this is making me less safe, Daniel. After all, I’m not the karate champion; he’s not after me! You're just putting a target on my back,” you joke, but the boy seems insistent on taking this very seriously. You suppose that that’s better than the alternative.

He walks you to your door, ignoring your protests.

“Thank you, Daniel.” You’re grateful for the help, and the concern, but you had never been someone who liked relying on the support of others. “Now, please don’t do anything silly like risk yourself trying to stand guard, alright? I’m going to be fine.” You’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“Fine, fine. I’ll give you a call tonight though, alright?” Daniel insists, and you agree, parting ways for the day as you seal yourself in your apartment.

---

You spend the afternoon cleaning the apartment and watching TV, trying not to dwell on what Daniel had told you. You make sure to double-check that every window is locked as you move from room to room, cleaning thoroughly; it was a good way to work off all of this nervous energy.

The fact that Daniel didn’t think you were safe to talk in your own apartment has you on edge. Terry didn’t know where you lived – even if Daniel had told him you used to be neighbours in the now-demolished apartment building, he shouldn’t know where you lived now. And even if he did, it’s not like he could get inside… right?

By the time you’ve eaten dinner and done the dishes, you’re feeling more comfortable in your home again, and decide to relax further by running yourself a nice bath. You sink into the hot water and bubbles, letting the tension from the day escape you, closing your eyes…

The phone rings from the other room, startling you. You glare through the doorway at the offending noise. Daniel had said he was going to call you, but surely you could just call him back when you were out of the bath.

You decide to let the phone ring out, and hear your voice on the answering machine, telling the caller to leave a message after the ‘beep.’ The machine beeps, and there’s silence for a long moment.

“Hello, Y/N.”

The bath water suddenly feels ice cold. That wasn’t Danny.

“It’s Terry Silver.”

He didn’t need to introduce himself; you’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“You haven’t come by the dojo in a few days; I’ve missed seeing that pretty face. You know that we have a lot to talk about, and we should. You know where to find me.”

The message ends there, and you curl into a ball in the tub, resting your forehead on your knees as you force yourself to take deep, steady breaths. Your body is covered in goosebumps, though the water is still steaming.

Why was Terry calling you? Why was he acting like everything was fine? If you two had a lot to talk about, then he had assumed that Daniel had told you what he’d done, and should know that you wouldn’t want to talk to him about it. So was he just calling to scare you?

Taking a deep breath, you force your body to move, pulling the stopper out of the drain and standing up; there was no way you’d be able to enjoy the bath now. You dry off and head to your bedroom, rooting around your dresser for your winter pyjamas – you were freezing, despite the hot bath and it being the middle of the summer. Maybe some tea would help…

You walk into the kitchen and set the kettle to boil. Selecting a sleepy time teabag from your collection, you open the cupboard and grab a mug, moving back to the stove.

The phone rings again and you yelp, dropping your cup on the floor where it shatters. Ignoring the mess for the moment, you reach over and move the kettle off the element before gingerly hopping onto the counter, not wanting to get glass on your bare feet. Sitting next to the phone now, you find that you can’t move away from it as it continues to ring. Would it be him again?

The machine plays your voice again, the beep sounding ominous. You hold your breath, your gaze locked on the answering machine.

“Y/N?! Are you –”

You scramble to pick up the phone, feeling overwhelmed with relief.

“Hey Danny! Yes, I’m fine,” you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you pick up?” he demands, clearly worried that you’re not taking this seriously enough.

“I wanted to make sure it was you first, and not Terry calling.” Well, that was true, at least…

“Oh. That’s… that’s a really smart idea,” Daniel says, sounding appeased. “So, everything was normal today?”

“Yeah, I guess, all things considered…” You would not be telling him about Terry calling; it was exactly the type of thing that would have him camping out outside your front door, determined to protect you.

“And everything is alright with you and Mr. Miyagi? No goons ruining the shop or stealing the bonsais?”

“Yeah, nothing happened today. But we can’t let our guard down!”

You hum in agreement; you don’t think you’ll be letting your guard down any time soon.

You agree to check in with Daniel regularly over the next few days; there was only a week or so before the tournament, and hopefully all of this would blow over after that.

You sleep fitfully with the bedroom light on, though you’re not sure how exactly this makes you feel safer.

***

You’re on your way home from work a few days later, hopping off the bus at the stop closest to your house. It was late, and the streets were pretty much deserted in Reseda at this time of night. Your car was in the shop, and you forgot how much longer it took to get home by bus. But it was only a twenty minute walk or so to your apartment, so you aren’t worried.

That is, you weren’t worried until five minutes or so into your trek home.

A low whistle comes from behind you, and you jump, turning to look back even though you know you shouldn’t. A group of four men are following you, maybe fifty feet away. They’d been very quiet up to this point, but now that you’ve spotted them they are getting more rowdy, laughing and shoving each other.

“Look at that; she stopped when you whistled! What a well-trained, pretty little thing,” one of them comments, pitching his voice to carry over to you.

You turn back around, picking up your pace as quickly as you can without breaking into a run, scanning the area for a sign of someone else nearby who might be able to help. You hear the men laugh behind you, and they sound a lot closer.

“Where are you going, beautiful?”

“Why don’t you come have a drink with us; we’ll show you a good time!”

You come up to an intersection, and still, no one else is around. You have a decision to make. It was eight blocks to Daniel and Mr. Miyagi, six blocks to your apartment or… three blocks to the Cobra Kai dojo.

You veer right, sprinting down the street towards the dojo, tears blurring your vision, your heart racing as your feet pound the pavement; you hear one of them shout and can hear them coming after you. Even if Terry hated Daniel, even if he hated you, there was no way he was enough of a monster to stand by and let these men attack you. Please, let him still be there…

You’ve made it two blocks, but you can hear them getting closer, and even with the adrenaline pumping through you, you’re quickly starting to get tired, your breath burning in your throat. You try to push yourself further, you’re almost there… and you roll your ankle, making you stumble to the ground with a yelp.

You make to scramble to your feet, the skin on your palms and your knees burning as the night air hits the fresh scrapes, but quickly find yourself surrounded by the men.

“Poor thing, did you hurt yourself?” one asks mockingly, smirking down at you.

“Come with me, baby. I’ll take real good care of you,” leers another, making to grab your arm.

“Stay away from me,” you say weakly, your voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. It feels like your throat is closing up; you can’t scream, you can barely breathe.

One comes behind you, forcing his hands underneath your arms to pull you to your feet, and something about him touching you sets you off. You kick back with your leg, hitting him in the knee, making him let go of you; you send an elbow into his stomach and he lets out a pained grunt.

You move to run again – you were only a few doors away from the dojo – but a hand fists in your hair and shoves you over to a slab of raised concrete that housed a few plants. The hand at the back of your head pushes you down, bending you over the concrete, and you hit your head hard on the rough concrete, right on your browbone above one of your eyes and making you cry out with pain.

You’re pulled up by your hair again with a whimper, the man holding you pressing himself against your back.

“I’m sorry, gorgeous – did I hurt you?” he asks, his tone patronizing. “Here, let’s give that pretty little head of yours a softer spot to rest.”

He bends you over the concrete again, this time pushing you face first in the dirt. The men howl and jeer at your position, goading the other man as he holds both your wrists behind your back in his free hand. He grinds his hips against your butt, and you realize with a sickening feeling that he’s hard.

“Please, please don’t!” you beg, trying to make yourself heard as your voice is muffled by the dirt.

“Let me at her first,” growls a man from the side. “The little bitch deserves what’s coming to her for attacking me.”

Your pleas are completely drowned out as the men start to argue, closing in on you as you’re pinned down, their hands grabbing at your clothes. You can’t see, you can’t move, and your heart is thudding so loudly in your ears that you can barely hear.

And then one of them screams.

You’re paralyzed with fear, even as the man holding you down releases you, and you hear the sounds of fighting all around you as you slowly manage to push yourself off the dirt, curling into a ball on the ground. You know you should run away, but you just can’t.

After what seems like forever, you hear footsteps approaching you in the now silent night. Burying your face further in your knees, your whole body trembles.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name startles you enough to look up, and your eyes meet the familiar blue of Terry’s. Even crouched down on the ground next to you, you still have to crane your neck to look up at him. You breathe a sigh of relief; your intuition had been right. Terry had saved you.

“T-Terry?” you stammer, quickly moving from feeling numb to feeling very overwhelmed. “Oh G-God, Terry! They… they…” Your face crumples as you let out an anguished sob, curling up into a ball again and hiding your face.

You feel his large, warm hand touch your upper arm, trying to offer you comfort without startling you.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” he murmurs soothingly. “Why don’t you come inside? I’ve got a first-aid kit, I’ll help patch you up. That’s quite a gash on your forehead.”

You whimper, but force yourself to nod, and he gently helps you to your feet. Looking around, you see two of the men collapsed on the sidewalk, the other two nowhere to be found. Still, the sight of them has you trembling so hard you’re worried you’ll fall over.

“Ssshh, it’s alright. They can’t hurt you anymore. Can you walk?”

You bob your head jerkily and move to walk the short distance to the dojo, but you stumble almost immediately. Before you even come close to hitting the ground, Terry has caught you, sweeping you up into his arms and carrying you bridal style over to Cobra Kai. He doesn’t put you down once you reach the front door, merely shifting you so that he has a free hand to open the door and taking you inside.

Walking past the large training area, Terry takes you to a back office, somewhere you’ve never been before. He sets you down on a cot – you knew that he had stayed somewhat regularly in the dojo, or at least, that’s what he’d told you – and orders you to stay put, leaving you alone in the room.

You sit up, leaning against the wall, trying not to cry. This has put you in a very awkward and potentially dangerous situation; just because Terry had saved you from a terrible fate didn’t mean that everything you now knew about him stopped being true. He was still unpredictable, unstable, violent… and possibly very upset with you.

You had to get out of there.

Before you even manage to climb off the bed, Terry is back, looming in the doorway with an armful of things. You freeze, and he comes around to the side of the cot, kneeling in front of you.

“I locked the doors, just to be safe. No one can get in here, I promise,” he reassures you in a soothing voice as he looks through the first-aid kit. You feel yourself start to relax despite your better judgement. Looking at the ground, you see that in addition to the first-aid kit he’s brought over the top of a karate gi, an empty bowl, a bottle of water, and a small towel.

“What’s all that for?” you ask quietly, your voice cracking as you speak. Terry looks up at your face before following your gaze to the objects on the floor.

“You have dirt all over your face; I want to make sure to clean you up so that your cut doesn’t get infected,” he replies calmly, filling the bowl with the water and dipping the towel to get it damp. “And the gi is for you; I thought you might be cold, especially if you go into shock.”

He picks it up, tossing it around your shoulders and loosely tying it at your waist. You slip your arms into the sleeves; it’s far too large for you, and as you take in a deep breath you notice that it smells like Terry. This must be one of his. Despite your better judgement, the scent has you relaxing slightly.

“It looks good on you,” he comments with a comforting smile, and you feel yourself blush. You force yourself to remember what Daniel had told you; you can’t let your guard down around him.

He lifts the damp towel to your face, and your eyes flutter closed as he wipes the dirt and blood away. The cloth presses against your cut and you let out a whimper that makes Terry murmur an apology. He was being so gentle with you.

Once he’s finished with the towel, you open your eyes, and his face is much closer to yours than you had anticipated it being. He takes your chin in his hand, staring at your face intently, and your whole body is rigid with tension.

“I don’t think you need stitches,” he informs you quietly after a moment. “A bandage will be fine. I’ll need to disinfect it, and that will probably hurt a bit, okay?”

You hesitate, again finding it difficult to speak, but eventually give him a nod.

“Lay down.”

“What? Why?” you ask, leaning away from him as you start to panic. He shushes you again, but it’s less comforting than the last time he did it.

“I don’t want the disinfectant getting in your eye is all,” he coos, his hands gentle but firm as he guides your body to the side and lays you on your back on the bed. You force yourself to take deep breaths.

“Oh. Sorry,” you mutter the apology, hoping you haven’t offended him for some reason.

“It’s a perfectly reasonable reaction,” he murmurs, rifling through the first-aid kit. “You just had a traumatic experience, after all,” he adds after a moment. “Okay, this is gonna sting. Do you want to squeeze my hand?” he asks, offering it to you.

You set your mouth in a firm line, your body tense in anticipation of the pain, and grab fistfuls of the blanket beneath you in both hands. Terry doesn’t seem at all bothered by your rejection, leaning over you and applying the cold gel to your wound. It stings terribly, and you bite your lip, clenching your eyes shut and trying not to make a noise.

You force your eyes open after a long moment of silence, and see that Terry’s eyes are still on your face, watching your reaction with an intense expression. Something in your belly clenches.

He looks away, choosing a bandage and applying it over your eye, though you think he presses down on it more firmly than necessary.

“There,” he says softly, surveying his work; he’s still holding your head in his hands. “All better.”

He’s doing it again – using that weird, magnetic pull he has to draw you in, make you feel… well, definitely not safe, but like you want to stay on this dangerous precipice with him.

“Thank you,” you say, speaking more loudly than necessary as you move to climb off the bed, intentionally disrupting the intimate atmosphere. You had to get away from him before he sunk his claws into you; in some ways, he felt more dangerous than the men he had saved you from.

“Y/N, wait,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder and keeping you in place.

“I have to get home, I–”

“I’ve missed you.”

You freeze at his words, staring straight ahead at his chest.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You force yourself to breathe again – when did it get so difficult?

“You know why,” you whisper after a long moment, still refusing to look at him. Suddenly, the gi top that had just felt so warm and comforting feels like a straightjacket, and your fingers move to untie it and take it off. You feel his gaze track the motion, but he doesn’t stop you.

“I haven’t done anything to you, Y/N.”

“You’ve been lying to me ever since I met you, Terry!” you snap, your wariness disappearing for a moment.

“I have not,” he growls, setting off alarm bells in your head. “I’ve never lied to you. I’ve never hurt you. I just saved your ass, for fuck’s sake!”

“What about Danny? What about Mike and Snake and–”

Terry’s hand covers your mouth suddenly. You fall silent as a jolt of desire like electricity courses through you. You hate the feeling with every fibre of your being.

“I never lied to him either, and I certainly never hurt him. He just didn’t bother asking the right questions.”

“You’re trying to get out of this on a technicality?” you say once you’ve pried his hand off of your face. He shrugs, an amused smile twisting his lips.

“I’m very good at what I do, Y/N. I have my reasons to make sure LaRusso loses the tournament, and I feel very justified in the training methods I’ve used. I don’t see what any of that has to do with you, though.”

“You’re messing with a kid!”

“Please. He’s practically an adult, and he’s certainly old enough to face the consequences of his actions. But be honest – that’s not why you’re scared of me, sweetheart. What’s the real problem you have with me?”

You’re quiet, biting your lip as you contemplate how to begin to answer his question.

“I know what it is,” he croons, his voice almost musical as he stands over you, moving to brace himself with his hands on either side of you. You lean back as his face gets dangerously close to yours. “You’re scared of what you feel when you look at me, isn’t that right? Scared of what you know you want, thinking about me as you lay awake at night?”

Your heart is beating in your throat, your face heating up.

“I… No, I…”

“Ssshhh,” Terry whispers, closing the distance between your faces once more. You can’t move, you can’t think, you can’t breathe. “It’s okay that you’re scared, babygirl. Let me show you what you really want…”

Cradling your head in his hands gently, he pulls you close, kissing you with a passion and a bruising force that is anything but gentle. You brain seems to short-circuit from the intensity of the kiss, and for a brief moment you’re kissing him back; the desire overwhelming you as he stokes it into a burning flame with his lips and tongue. You force yourself to fight through the dizziness, your head spinning.

“Mmhn… Terry… NO!” you say firmly, shoving him in the chest. He moves back a couple of steps, his head cocked as he looks down at you. The moonlight streams in from the window behind him, his eyes glinting brightly at you. He doesn’t seem upset with you.

He also doesn’t seem deterred.

“Don’t fight this, doll. I’ve seen the way you look at me; I know you want it,” he purrs in a husky voice, smirking at you as he slowly approaches the bed once more.

He couldn’t do this… He wouldn’t do this… He had just saved you from those men trying to do this exact thing!

“No, Terry,” you insist, climbing off the side of the bed, your eyes fixed on him. “I don’t want this. Please stay away from me,” you beg, backing through the doorway. The last thing you see is his mouth twisting into a predatory grin that makes you turn and run.

Scrambling, you make your way to the front of the dojo and go to tug the door open.

It doesn’t budge.

“Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?” you hear Terry sing menacingly from the office; the sound of it sends shivers down your spine. He laughs maniacally, like a hyena, before appearing in the doorway, calm as can be. “Double-sided locking system; I thought we might be needing it.”

A sense of dread roots you to the spot, and you feel your teeth chattering.

“You… you planned this?” you say, your voice barely more than a high-pitched whisper, but the sound carries through the silence of the dojo.

“I have far more than just Barnes, Dennis and Snake at my disposal,” he says, giving you a cruel smile. “Those guys were more than happy to go after you for free; I mostly paid them to let me kick their asses without them bitching about it or giving me away.”

“Why?!” you ask frustratedly. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you knew that if Terry had wanted to get you here, he could have done so himself, without needing to stage an attack. This was madness.

“I wanted to see if you’d come to me for help, even knowing what Danny-Boy told you. And you did!” he says, sounding delighted, like he’s praising a child for picking up their toys. He slowly approaches you, and you try to maintain the distance between you, but it’s no use. He’s bigger, he knows what he’s doing, and you’re terrified.

“Guess you shoulda listened to Danny-Boy, huh?”

---

Part 2

#terry silver #thomas ian griffith #terry silver x reader #karate kid #kk3 #the karate kid 3 #smut #thanks for the ask!#keep the requests coming #dark desires october

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astralaffairs · 1 year

Text

voltaire to versace 04 | thomas jefferson

title: voltaire to versace 04

pairing: professor!thomas jefferson x reader

words: 7.4k

warnings: this one is chill just like sexual tension. sorry ive been gone for two years lol

desc: from francis bacon to foucault, descartes to dante, your political philosophy seminar doesn’t promise to be a blowout — and yet, one mysterious stranger and a risqué evening later, your burberry-clad professor gives you the feeling it won’t be quite the snoozefest you’d expected.

tags: @lunariasilver @tinywhim @nyxie75 @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @checkurwindow @katierpblogg @cubedtriangle @lunariasilver @lexylovesfandoms @fanfic-addict-98 @stephyra17 @notebookgirl30 @exorcisms-with-elmo @kmsmedine @itshaileyn @honeyand-roses @laic2299 @id-do-it-for-free-babe @luckyfriesss @golddiggs-x @drreamhugs @sillyteecup @notebookgirl30 @marvelouslyemily @checkurwindow— let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

SHE STILL FINISHED grading the first round of essays for Thomas, but she dropped them off at the faculty mailboxes that Sunday afternoon — she couldn't face him at that point. On Monday, she gravitated back to her seat at the rear of his lecture hall. She did the same on Wednesday.

Her responses to his emails and his texts were short and to-the-point. He needed her to grade the recent papers from his International Security class? Sure, but she was busy during his office hours; any chance he could leave them in his mailbox so she could pick them up the next morning? Thanks, that'd be great. He wanted her to work with him on laying out the rubric for an essay? No problem. She'd set up a shared Google Doc right away.

It was a week after Y/N had last spoken to Thomas that Dolley was over his apartment that weekend with James. She was smug when she came home to Y/N.

"Thomas is looking for you," she said mildly, and Y/N glanced up from her laptop on the couch with a skeptical gaze.

"And what, exactly, makes you say that?"

"He asked me to tell you."

Y/N's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, seriously?"

"Mhm." Dolley's smile was self-pleased. "He was home when I was over, and he said he needed to talk to you."

"Thanks for letting me know." Y/N's voice was tense as she looked back to the paper she was writing, and Dolley took a seat beside her with a glass of water.

"Can I ask why that might be?"

"No clue."

"So are you going to talk to him?"

"I have class with him Monday. I'll see him then."

"Y/N." She gave her a deadpanned look, and Y/N looked tired when she met her eyes. "Did something happen? You haven't mentioned his name even once all this week."

"No, everything's fine," Y/N assured her, but Dolley looked less than convinced.

"Then why do you look so unhappy right now, dear?"

"What? I don't," she replied defensively, and Dolley raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"How daft do you think I am?" she asked, folding her arms after she put her glass on their coffee table. "You can deny wanting to sleep with him all you'd like, but I know how much you like Thomas. It isn't exactly subtle. So what happened with you two?"

Y/N sighed, rubbing the side of her nose. "It's not really that big of a deal. I'm probably blowing it out of proportion, but he drove me home from the party at their apartment last weekend, and..."

"And?"

"And I came onto him." She was wincing at even the memory. "I was drunk, though, and he knew that, but it was so stupid. I'm still kind of mortified, so I've been dodging his attempts to talk to me. I don't know how I'm supposed to face him."

Dolley took a deep breath, eyeing Y/N where she sat with her head in her hands, her laptop closed on her lap. "Well, he clearly wants you to talk to him, so I'm sure he didn't think it was quite so bad."

"But I'm gonna be an anxious wreck the next time I have to talk to him," she groaned.

"You're his TA and his student," Dolley pointed out. "You can't avoid him forever."

"I'm not trying to," Y/N said. "But… y'know. I can still put it off for a little while. Midterms are only a week away, and then it's spring break. If I can make it that far, I don't have to talk to him until fourth quarter."

"You're being ridiculous."

“I’m being practical,” she replied, “besides, it’s only two weeks till break. The only time I’m gonna need to talk to him is when I turn in my midterm.”

Dolley snorted. “I’d wish you luck, but this one’s a lost cause, dear.”

————————————

IN THE END, Dolley was right. He hardly let her get away with it for more than a week.

"Y/N, can I have a word?"

She cringed.

It was 6 PM on Wednesday; the rest of her class was filing out of the lecture hall, but she paused where she stood in the row second to last. She'd already turned to leave. She shifted on her feet as she turned to Thomas, pulled her bag further up her shoulder, but when she saw him standing at the front of the room, arms folded and brow creased as he watched her, she couldn't meet his eyes.

Her classmates shot her curious looks as they left — Thomas never asked students to stay after class. If something was wrong, he sent them emails, he asked them to come to his office hours, he’d even used Twitter messages to reach people before, but he never publicly asked someone to hang back. She’d learned that it was against his ethos as a professor; he’d told her a story or two of his college days that made her understand why.

However, as much attention as this anomaly in his behavior drew, she had a feeling she knew why he wanted a word with her. She slumped back into her chair beside the aisle until everyone else was gone, and finally, the door fell shut, echoed through the hall, and she approached Thomas's desk with a looming sense of dread. He glanced up from packing his bag.

"Hey."

"Hey." Her voice was hesitant. "You couldn't have just approached me after the class got out?"

"In my defense," he started, "you haven't been makin' yourself all that easy to find. Everything okay lately?"

He was watching her expectantly, an eyebrow raised, and she folded her arms. "Yeah. Just fine."

"Then lemme rephrase that." Then, he turned fully toward her, his bag pulled shut and pushed aside. He frowned. "Why've you been avoiding me?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "What? I'm not."

"Yes, you are." The words left no room for negotiation, and she sighed. "And I mean, 's your prerogative. You've still been comin' through as a TA, so I'm not about to try and criticize you, but can I at least get an explanation?"

He looked pretty frustrated for someone who wasn't about to try and criticize her.

"You're not that oblivious," she said. "I have a feeling you know why."

Several moments passed in a tense silence. He was eyeing her tentatively, unmoving, and she couldn't meet his scrutinizing gaze, shifting on her feet. Finally, he sighed.

"The party?"

"Got it in one."

To her surprise, he let out a dry huff of laughter. "To be honest, I'm surprised you even remember that."

"I kinda wish I didn't."

Thomas offered her a reluctant smile. "I hear that. But..." He hesitated. "Which part of that night’s still bothering you?”

Y/N furrowed her brow, looking back up toward him. "Seriously?”

She figured it was obvious. Trying to seduce your professor while well-past drunk seemed like a clear, egregious issue, and she wasn’t quite sure why he was playing dumb.

"After all that time you spent avoidin’ me, you've gotta know what I'm talkin' about. C'mon." She stared at him blankly for another moment, and finally, he sighed. "Nevermind. I'm sorry about what happened then. We don't have to keep discussin' it if you don't wanna."

"No, hang on, what are you sorry for?" she asked, disbelief clear in her voice, and he raised an eyebrow. She hesitated before she went on, "I... I'm sorry for coming onto you like that. It was really stupid, and I know I crossed a line, but that's all my own fault; I don't—"

"You were drunk. Don't feel bad about it," he said reasonably. She was searching his apologetic expression as he spoke; she couldn't fathom why he looked guilty. Had something happened that she didn't remember?

"But why are you apologizing?" she asked softly, creasing her forehead. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I got real close to doin' something I shouldn't, though," he said, carding a hand through his curls. "I shouldn't have let it get that far. 'Specially not when you were drunk. I got too close to crossing that line."

"Too close to..." Y/N repeated, trailing off with her brow furrowed, but that was when it hit her. Had she not been so mortified by her own actions, she realized, she'd have been dwelling instead on the way his hands had tightened around her waist, how he'd pulled her into himself with a bruising grip when she tugged at his hair. That evening, she'd convinced herself he was going to spend the night. "Oh."

"Yeah." He swallowed hard, hands tucked into his pockets. "So, 'm sorry. I should've shut that down, and I get why you've been keepin' your distance."

"No, no, relax." She dismissed his apology with a flippant wave of her hand. "I was in the wrong. You were trying to be considerate."

"You're givin' me too much credit," he sighed, and a flicker of a smile graced her lips.

"I wouldn't say that," she argued, and she hesitated, cocked a brow before adding, "Unless, of course, you had an ulterior motive for insisting on taking me home in the middle of the night?"

His eyes widened. "Oh! Jesus, no, I swear, I didn't— I wouldn't..." As an amused grin split Y/N's controlled expression, though, he trailed off, squinting at her. "You're just messin' with me, aren't you?"

“Maybe,” she answered mildly, giving an innocent shrug. He scowled. “But, really, Thomas, it’s fine. We can forget it ever happened, okay?”

He watched her warily as she offered him a tense smile. He wasn't sure it was fine, and quite frankly, he knew he'd have a hard time forgetting it ever happened — he felt like there was more left to say.

But as his pause stretched on, as she raised her eyebrows at his uncharacteristic silence, he didn't have the words.

"You sure?" was all he finally said.

"Yeah."

“Alright.” He eyed her for another moment, wary, before he pulled his bag up onto his shoulder. "That’s good. I… guess I'll see you around. Good luck with midterms, Y/N."

She didn't miss the final, unreadable once-over he gave her before starting up the stairs out of the lecture hall. She didn't go after him.

————————————————

WHAT FOLLOWED WAS midterms week, which came and went without much pomp or circumstance. She didn't see much of Thomas that week after finishing with his test, which was more intentional than she’d like to have admitted. On Friday night, she finished grading the papers he'd delegated to her, but she just left them in his mailbox.

When Saturday afternoon rolled around, she was perched on the couch in her apartment flipping through the same Netflix suggestions she'd been seeing for the past hour. She'd had an incredibly relaxed day, and she assumed it would stay as such until Dolley came bursting in with a wide grin.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Where are you coming from looking so excited?"

"James's."

"Ah." No further questions were necessary, but when Dolley circled around to stand right between Y/N and the television, it was clear something more was up — something Y/N had no interest in finding out about. "Do you mind? I was watching that."

"Oh, please. No, you weren't," Dolley scoffed, but her eyes were alight despite her contrived annoyance.

"Well, I was going to," Y/N grumbled, and Dolley could only smile.

"You're going to want to hear what I have to say."

"Am I?"

"Certainly." Y/N raised an expectant brow when Dolley took a step closer to her. "Spring break just started."

"What else is new?"

"James's family has a home in the Outer Banks."

"Good for him." Y/N's responses were short as she tried to lean around Dolley, scrolling through the 'New to Netflix' category. Dolley groaned, rolled her eyes. Y/N's noises of protest went entirely ignored as Dolley pulled her remote from her hand, and she deadpanned as Dolley rested her hands on her shoulders, sitting down to straddle her lap on the couch. "Seriously?" Y/N whined.

"And we are going to the Outer Banks for spring break."

"I'm sorry, what?" She let out a dry laugh at the conviction in Dolley's voice. "Alright, maybe you're going to the Outer Banks over break, but last I checked, James and I aren't exactly on the level of road trip buddies."

"Please consider it. He told me I could invite you."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Yeah, because he likes you. Not because he wants me there."

"Oh, what does it matter?" she whined. "An invitation is an invitation. James just doesn't know you yet. I'm sure he'll come to love you."

"I don't care," Y/N groaned, shoving her off, and Dolley rolled off to sit beside her on the couch with a huff. "As much as I love you, I refuse to let your infatuation with James take over my social life."

"What social life?" Dolley scoffed. "I've already taken it over. Now I'm just adding James."

"Hey, I have other friends," Y/N said, but Dolley gave her a disbelieving look.

"Your professors and your study groups don't count."

"There's also the kid I see every day in the library," Y/N defended. "He's the only other one on the sixth floor."

"Do you even know his name?"

She hesitated. "That's not relevant."

"Darling," Dolley groaned, shifting onto her side to face Y/N. "Just come with me. It'll be fun. And I'm sure James is bringing Thomas; after all, they're roommates."

"That doesn't add to the appeal, Doll." Y/N wasn’t sure she trusted herself on a vacation spent with him in the Outer Banks, sleeping in the same house as him, trying not to stare at him shirtless on the beach. "I let you drag me to their apartment for a night, and it ended up sucking. I'm not gonna subject myself to that for a whole week."

"Ten days," Dolley corrected her.

"That's worse." Y/N’s huff was heavy, and as she raked a hand through her hair, Dolley wore a pout. “Besides, I can’t. I have that scholarship dinner thing, remember? I have to wine and dine all the donors.”

Dolley wrinkled her nose. “I forgot about those. I’ve always thought they were exploitative.”

“Oh, they are,” Y/N agreed, “but they’re giving me too much money for me to be able to complain. I can be their little academic Miss America for a night as long as they keep paying my tuition.”

Dolley hummed in acquiescence as Y/N returned to scrolling through her suggested shows on Netflix. “So it’s like a beauty pageant, but instead of hair extensions, you bring your resume.”

“Feels more like a strip club. I had to go to two at my old school, and it’s just putting on a show to get rich, wrinkled old men to throw us a few bucks. May as well wear a g-string and try to find myself a sugar daddy.”

“Mmh, let me know if any of your DILFs have pretty sons, alright?”

Y/N gave Dolley a skeptical look. “You’ve already got James; leave the rich legacy boys for me.”

“Sharing is caring.”

———————————————

ULTIMATELY, DOLLEY WENT to the Outer Banks without her. She left the next morning (but apparently couldn't leave without giving Y/N a serious tongue-lashing). And from there, Y/N was left to fend for herself.

The first couple days were fine. She ate the remainder of the groceries in the apartment. She watched seven seasons of Grey's Anatomy before deciding she hated all the characters. She cleaned out the fridge. She drank Dolley's nice red wine (with no plans to replace it). She organized her sock drawer.

Alright, so maybe she was going a little stir-crazy in Dolley's absence. So much for her having a social life outside of that apartment.

However, she didn't leave until she was clean out of food, bourbon, and episodes of SVU.

She was just around the corner from the nice CVS, though, so when she left, she didn't particularly expect to have any reason to look her best — if any of her classmates saw her in her pajama pants, it was far from her greatest concern.

She emerged with two white plastic bags, both stretching around the edges of the fruits of her pseudo-grocery run; the fact that she hadn't bought anything with nearly the nutritional value of actual fruit was beside the point. Regardless, she was feeling rather self-satisfied as she turned onto the sidewalk headed back to her apartment, arms weighed down with junk food, holding her CVS rewards card in the corner of her mouth, lips pressed into a thin line as she tried to re-organize her wallet — but apparently, she was too preoccupied to realize what was immediately in front of her as she took the next left.

"Woah, there."

She screeched as she ran directly into the man on the other side of the corner. As she stumbled backward, not managing to spare herself from falling on her ass, two of her grocery bags went tumbling to the ground; three split right through the bottom of the plastic, and as her pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream rolled to the feet of her accidental assailant, she let out a defeated groan.

She dropped her shoulders with an angry huff, and when the man before her leaned down to pick up the ice cream she'd spent the past week working up the energy to leave the house for, her gaze followed it up as he rose.

"Mint chip? Really?" When she caught sight of Thomas's amused expression, the exhaustion on her shoulders only compounded. He'd clearly been out running; he ran a hand through his curls, wiped the sweat from his brow as he popped out one of his earbuds. "You've got some awful taste, there."

"Of course, it's you," she grumbled. "Because I couldn't have been bulldozed by some stranger to, at least, spare myself the humiliation."

His smile was entertained as she dusted herself off, sparing what she could of her CVS haul, tucking her rewards card into her wallet and her pack of razor heads into her purse before she stood. "I think this belongs to you?"

"Yeah, yeah." The annoyance was clear in her voice when she looked up to see his outstretched hand, offering her back the ice cream, but (although she took the pint back immediately, as her priorities were still in order) that wasn't where her gaze stopped, instead trailing up his arm to his heaving (bare) chest and the earbuds hanging loosely from one of his ears. Her breath caught in her throat.

Sweat trailed down his torso to his abs, glistening in the mid-morning sunlight and drawing her eyes down to the waist of his sweatpants where they hung low on his hips. Her stare was only broken when he pulled his headphones out, wrapping them around his hand and yanking her gaze back up to his arms. The shift didn't help; instead, she couldn't break her wide-eyed, gawking stare from his biceps.

"Y/N?"

She was jolted back to earth with a start at the sound of his voice as he stuffed his earbuds into his pocket. His grin was broad, and her cheeks were on fire. "Shit, sorry, I, um—"

"Relax, it's fine," he said, tucking his phone in his pocket. "Need a hand with your, uh..." He picked up her extra-large jar of Nutella, "groceries?"

As he watched her expectantly, she swallowed hard, shaking her head with a tense smile. "No, no, that's fine," she assured him. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your run. I can manage."

He quirked a brow. "You sure? You're gonna have a hell of a time carryin' all of these on your own."

"I don't live far."

"I know," he said, and as she did her best to collect all her goods from the pavement around them, he did the same, "but there's no way you can get these all back by hand."

"I'll be alright," she said, her words taking on an undertone of annoyance (although it was ultimately born of her unease). Thomas didn't look so convinced.

"C'mon, just lemme help you out?" he reasoned with her, and as she tried to pull her purse shut around her two bags of mini tacos, balancing a package of laundry detergent pods on her lifted knee, she couldn't put up too much resistance. "You 'n I both know you need it."

Y/N pursed her lips. "Fine. Thank you."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Call me crazy, but you don't sound too grateful, now."

"Let's just go."

Though it took them a moment longer, between them, they did manage to balance all of her quasi-groceries in their arms, and Y/N nodded in the direction Thomas had been coming from. "My apartment is back this way."

"Yeah, I remember."

"Still?"

He shrugged. "I'm good with directions. And I've taken you back there twice, now."

"Right.” Against her will, the memories from those two separate nights began to surface in her mind, and she could feel her cheeks heating up. “How could I forget?”

Her tone was dry, uncomfortable, but to her relief, Thomas laughed it off.

"Someone's feelin' hostile today, huh?" he commented. Although she rolled her eyes, her face was burning; his presence had her on edge, reacting to even the smallest of his movements, and she was still trying to shake off how mortified she was from having run into him in the first place.

"Sorry. I'm just tired." He raised an eyebrow. "My sleep schedule's been all over the place without Dolley around to nag me about it."

"Oh, yeah, she's outta town with James, huh?" She hummed in confirmation. “Why didn’t you end up goin’ with ‘em? James told me he invited you.”

She huffed out a dry laugh. “Yeah, he invited me as an extension of Dolley because he wanted her there. I’m much happier alone in my apartment than stuck in the Outer Banks with people I hardly know.”

“Yeah, you ‘n me both.”

Y/N furrowed her brow. “I thought these were your friends that were going.”

He shrugged. “James ended up bringin’ a lotta grad students I’ve never met. Some undergrads in there, too. Would’ve been a shitty ten days, ‘specially once he let me know you weren’t comin’.”

“‘Especially once you knew I wasn’t coming’?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, don’t get ahead of yourself,” he replied. “I stayed behind ‘cause I knew I could pawn more papers off on you to grade.”

“Well, that is part of my charm,” she said frankly, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“That and the pajamas you’re always wearin’ around campus?”

“Oh, come on, I’ve seen you when I was wearing pajamas once. That’s it.”

He hummed skeptically, and she glanced up at him as they walked. “I know you’re no math major, but addin’ today to the day you stormed into my office makes two days, not one.”

“Today doesn’t count,” she argued. “The plan was to go to CVS, go back home, and interact with nobody. Besides, you’re not even wearing a shirt, so it’s not like you have any room to judge.”

“At least you know that I own shirts, though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you only own pajamas, sweetheart. Didn’t think I had to spell it out for you,” he said matter-of-factly, casting her a sidelong glance, and while his expression was playful, she could feel her cheeks flush.

“Oh, shut up; you know that isn’t true,” she defended. “Just because I’m partial to my sweatpants doesn’t mean I can’t dress up when need be. I have nice clothes.”

He eyed her skeptically. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

————————————

IT TOOK THE pair of them just a few minutes to reach Y/N’s apartment building, but it took several more for them to actually make it up to her apartment. Trying to get the door unlocked without dropping anything was a fiasco — it ended in one of her mini Coke cans rolling down the hall, no doubt fated to explode the minute she opened it, and a bag of pizza rolls splitting open at the corner when she dropped it. Thomas had little sympathy for her complaints about them being exposed to carpet germs.

"Thank you for all the help." Y/N turned to Thomas with a sheepish smile when she finally put her groceries down. "Sorry for ruining your workout."

"Don't mention it." He dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand after he put the rest of her things down into the pile she'd started. "After all, you're tiring enough that it doesn't make a difference."

"Shut up." Despite her scowl, he snickered, and she rolled her eyes as she went to open her fridge. "I should put everything away so it doesn't go bad, but is there anything I can get you as a 'thank you'? A drink? Something to eat?"

"This just your way of askin' me to stay longer?" He raised a teasing eyebrow, but when she turned to him, her eyes were wide.

“Oh! No, no, I didn’t mean… I mean, you don’t have to, I just—”

“Woah, relax.” His voice held a trace of a laugh at the panic that was slowly dissipating from her gaze. “I was kiddin’, alright? Didn’t mean to rattle you like that.”

“I’m not rattled,” she defended, closing her fridge, and she could feel her cheeks heating up as he eyed her with disbelief. “I just felt like I owed you something for all the help. I know I kinda derailed your day."

"I told you, it wasn't a problem," he said mildly. “But, y’know, if you wanna pay me back, I’ve got a whole lot more papers that need gradin’.”

Her groan made him laugh. “God, please don’t make me regret becoming your TA. I have better things to do with my spring break.”

“Like what?”

“Like eating all the ice cream I just bought?” she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, and he rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, if I give you the rubric, you really can’t multitask?”

She sighed. “Yeah, alright, if you really need the help. I’ll come to pick them up sometime this week if that works for you?”

“That’s just fine. I wasn’t plannin’ on going into my office, though, so you’ll have to swing by my apartment.” Her most vivid memories of the last time she’d been at his place flashed in her mind’s eye. “That okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She cleared her throat when she realized how long her moment of hesitation had been. He creased his brow. “Just tell me what time you’ll be home. I won’t have any scheduling conflicts.”

“What, you don’t have any big parties on the calendar?” he asked, cracking a lopsided grin, and she let out the lightest of laughs, the sound quiet and forced. “You aren’t gonna find yourself gettin’ arrested when a professor calls the cops on your rager?”

“Nah, not this time,” she said. Her smile was stiff, and he pursed his lips as he watched her continue unpacking her groceries, bending down to tuck various packages into different cupboards.

“Good to know,” he replied. In the pause that followed, Y/N was aware of every twitch of every muscle in her body; she could feel his eyes on her as she moved through her space. “I’ll text you when I sort ‘em out, then.”

“Cool.” Her mouth was dry. She didn’t look his way.

“Alright.” The hum of the fridge had never sounded louder. They could hear footsteps on an adjacent floor of the building and the soft buzz of their AC unit. Y/N swallowed. His next words were cautious. “So, should I, uh, head on out, then?”

Her eyebrows jumped. When she turned her head to look at him, she realized he hadn’t moved from his spot. She shrugged hesitantly.

“I mean, it’s your call.” His gaze flitted away from her when she met his eyes. “If you have somewhere to be, I don’t wanna keep you. I can finish putting my food away.”

“Wouldn't wanna overstay my welcome is all. I dunno if I should be spendin’ any more time in your apartment than I need to.” His expression was nonchalant, uncaring, but his shoulders were tense. She could see the tendons in his upper arms twitching, and it was only then that she was reminded that he was, in fact, very shirtless in her kitchen.

He glanced back at her with tentative eyes.

“That might be smart.” She stood up to her full height, looking down at the counter before her. “It’s getting kinda late anyway. You should probably head back before it gets dark.”

It was nowhere near sundown, but the message was certainly received, and Thomas nodded. “‘Course. I’ll see myself out.”

“Thanks for the help with the groceries,” Y/N said softly, and he smiled.

“Anytime,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

———————————————

“WHAT CLASS GOT a multiple choice midterm?” The indignance in Y/N’s voice made Thomas laugh.

“The freshmen.”

They were at Thomas’s apartment. Dolley and James would still be gone on their road trip for five more days, though, and that left them living alone about a block away from each other. Y/N wasn’t sure she knew where they stood, but when she went to pick up the midterms Thomas needed her to grade, he first had to walk her through the rubric. Then she started asking questions, and they both ended up sitting; then Thomas returned to sipping his coffee, and Y/N started leafing through one of the papers with a pen, and it only made sense for her to stay.

At least, that was how she justified it to herself as she reached the end of her second hour parked on his couch.

“I swear to god, you coddle those freshmen,” she said, twirling her pen absentmindedly as she went through the answer key. She scowled. “And they’re still getting, like, 25% off.”

“See? I’ve gotta coddle ‘em,” he defended. “If I make that class any harder, I’m gonna have a full class of Fs on my record. Won’t be gettin’ tenure, that’s for sure.”

“If you treated them like they were competent, maybe they’d be forced to learn,” she suggested, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. When you finish grading ‘em, d’you mind calculating the curve for me?”

“This is curved?” Her tone bordered on genuine annoyance, but her dramatic reaction was only entertaining Thomas. “I’m gonna need another cup of coffee to get through this.”

“Now, this feels exploitive.”

“You don’t even pay me to TA,” she pointed out. “With the bullshit I put up with, you owe me a drink from that fancy espresso machine you have tucked away.”

“Aw, c’mon, is workin’ with me really so bad, sweetheart?” He plastered on a pout, but the casual term of endearment made her pulse jump. It didn’t feel so natural to hear him call her that anymore.

"Don't get me started," she said, but she knew how shaky she sounded. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice (and if he did, he didn't mention it).

“Alright, alright. I was just headed to get myself another, anyway.” He acquiesced easily, and she was all but relieved when he left the room, taking both their mugs with him.

She wanted there to be a way for her to shake off any of the nerves he always seemed to leave her with. It wasn’t right; it wasn’t fair — he was her professor. He used terms of endearment without a second thought. She needed to stop overthinking it, especially given that she’d heard him call both Maria and Angelica “darling” and “honey” on more than one occasion. “Sweetheart” seemed to be reserved for her, though.

Stop thinking like that.

She cringed as the observation surfaced. She knew she was reading into it, and her mind was running a mile a minute to try and replace the idea with something else, any kind of distraction. She decided to chalk it all up to the caffeine she’d been consuming en masse.

So maybe another latte wasn’t the greatest idea. She pushed herself off of his couch with a grunt.

All she wanted was a glass of water, so she didn't expect that there'd be any problem with her just barging into his kitchen since she was already at his place.

But she'd just turned into the kitchen's doorway, and Thomas wouldn't have minded it if she hadn't turned with the worst timing imaginable.

"Oh, fuck." She felt the coffee scalding her skin before she processed what'd happened. Her grimace was involuntary and pronounced as she stumbled away from him, pulling the back of her shirt as far away from her body as she could. "Shit, shit, shit, that's hot."

"Jesus, are you alright?" It wasn't until a split second later that she turned to see Thomas standing behind her, mortified and frantically going to set down his mugs so he could go to check on her.

But she only shook her head, doing her best to regulate her breathing, control her expression despite the searing pain across her upper back. “Shit, I—” Her voice broke off as she swallowed hard, far from concerned with being a considerate guest when she pushed past him into his kitchen. Thomas was frozen to the spot, watching her rush to the sink and frantically yanking off the nozzle of his sink to run cold water over her shoulder blade (she’d never been more grateful for his bougie interior design). Her focus was nowhere near him.

She had no clue how to treat a burn. However, she didn’t think twice before tearing her shirt off — it was searing her skin.

Her tunnel vision may have blinded her to the larger context of her panic (and for good reason, all things considered), but Thomas was stunned as he watched her strip off her button-down in the middle of his kitchen, run it under water to use it as a rag. She tucked it under her left bra strap so that she could press the cold cloth directly against the burn.

Thomas was gawking. When Y/N caught her breath, turning to him, she met his eyes, and— well, actually, she didn’t meet his eyes. His gaze was focused a good ten inches below her eyes, and she chose to conclude that he was staring at her chest because he was concerned about having burnt her with coffee. The fact that not even a drop of the scalding coffee had touched her chest was a nonissue.

“Do you know anything about treating burns?”

“Not…” He cleared his throat, redirecting his stare up to where her eyes actually were. “Not much. I— Holy shit, are you alright? God… lemme Google it. Hang on.” She tried to catch her breath as Thomas pulled out his phone, and the first thing he said was, “Alright, says you’ve gotta get rid of any clothes over the burn.” He glanced back up at her. “Looks like you’ve got that covered, though.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out for myself. Thanks.” Her tone was dry.

“Right.” Thomas cleared his throat. “You wanna use my shower to run it under cold water, then?”

She nodded frantically, grimacing as she pulled her damp shirt out from under her bra strap, holding that as far from her skin as she could without her bra coming off. “Please.”

It took just about all of Thomas’s willpower to keep his gaze north of her collarbones as he showed her where the bathroom was and told her how to work the shower. If any god happened to be real, he was fairly sure he was being tested that afternoon — and all because he didn’t feel like calculating the curve on his midterms. He could safely say that this was far more difficult.

He gave her a towel and some of his spare clothes to change into, but when she dug the Neosporin out of his medicine cabinet, he heard her call his name.

He knocked on the bathroom door. “Everything alright in there?”

“Yeah, I just…” Her voice was muffled as she trailed off. “I can’t reach the burn.”

“Oh.” He swallowed audibly, although Y/N was far enough that she couldn’t hear it. “D’you… need help?”

“Please.” Her voice was hesitant and nervous.

“Can… can I come in?”

“Yeah, just hang on a second.” There was a pause. Y/N didn't meet his eyes when she came to open the door; she held a towel over her bra-clad chest, one of the straps having slipped off the side of her left shoulder. "I, er… can't reach my back to bandage it. Can you… ?"

Thomas's eyes widened. "Oh, um, yeah. Yeah, I've got it."

"Thanks," she said quietly, and when she turned to the sink, passing him the ointment and gauze as she faced the mirror, she kept her hand towel held over her front. "Sorry about… all this."

"Why're you sorry?" The amusement in his voice eased the tension in her shoulders. "Sorry for gettin' coffee spilled on you? Sorry for havin' skin on your back?"

"Sorry for having burnable skin on my back," she corrected him, and he laughed.

"Yeah, alright, good point. If you weren't so damn flammable we wouldn't have this issue," he teased, but he pursed his lips. "In all seriousness, this one's on me. Wasn't watching where I was goin'; I was the one that ran right into you, not the other way around."

"Yeah, but I was in the way," Y/N pushed back, and Thomas raised a skeptical eyebrow, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

"You've gotta stop apologizing for things, sweetheart. Especially things that I think we both know weren't your fault." How frankly he spoke made her sigh, and in that moment, it felt as if she was back in the entrance of her apartment, clinging to him as he tried to keep himself from pulling her closer. She swallowed her pang of guilt. “Lemme know if this hurts, yeah?”

“Okay.” Her voice was small.

Neither of them spoke as he dabbed ointment onto her wound, and his gentle touch had a warmth filling her skin that had nothing to do with the burn. He stood within inches behind her. The air in his bathroom was tense; both of them were aware of every movement the other made, every brush of their skin against one another, and it took every ounce of her willpower to keep her eyes down, to keep from staring at him in the mirror. She glanced up to see him knitting his brow, concern in his gaze.

He placed the ointment back onto his sink, instead unraveling the gauze he held in his other hand.

"Pass me the medical tape?" The sound of his voice made her look up, meeting his eyes in the mirror. It took her a moment to process his words, but when she did, she broke his gaze immediately, clearing her throat and nodding as she reached for it and handed it back to him.

Her skin tingled as he laid the gauze softly over her wound, doing his best to give her skin room to breathe. She shivered as he taped it down by the sides. "Alright."

"You're done?"

He nodded and although his touch was tentative as he pressed the tape down to her back, it was firm. "Yeah, that should hold. Looks good."

"Okay," she said quietly, giving him a small smile. "Thank you."

When he finished, she expected him to take a step back, to let himself out of the bathroom so she could get dressed, and so she turned to him, anticipating that he'd move out of the way and she could retrieve her clothes from the bathroom floor. However, it was at the same time that she turned that he leaned forward to put the gauze back on the edge of the sink behind the ointment. They moved in synchrony, but it wasn't the synchrony either expected.

They were both far, far too afraid to move, then.

Thomas's hand was on the side of the sink, now to her right as she faced him, and with him leaning into her, between his arm beside her and the rest of his body in front of her, Y/N didn't have much of anywhere to go. Thomas, however, could've moved. He should've moved, too, and he knew that well. But when she turned to him, he found his face mere inches from hers. His nose brushed against her cheek, and with her having used his shower, with her wearing his spare clothes, he could smell the traces of his woody cologne mixing with a sugared scent he couldn't describe as anything other than her. She swallowed hard.

This felt familiar to both of them, by then. The proximity between them was all but second nature with how much time they spent together, with all the late hours in his office or her apartment. But this atmosphere was charged.

Every interaction between them had been measured and meticulous for months — while they had both been pushing boundaries, neither dared to cross them. But this? Neither of them had meant for this to happen. Neither had meant to make it so easy for them to simply fall into each other, but something about it seemed so natural, almost fateful.

Thomas was exercising every last drop of his willpower as he looked down at Y/N's wide eyes, her wet hair, her (his) pajama pants that were far too long for her. He tucked one of her damp locks behind her ear.

"We can't do this." Y/N's words were cautionary as Thomas's eyes wandered to her lips, but there was no feeling behind them. She didn't want him to stop.

"I know." His thumb traced her jaw, and he made no move to step away. He did know that what he was doing was wrong, but with how caught up he was in everything that was her, he was having trouble remembering why. "So stop me before I do something stupid."

She couldn't take a breath. Her voice was trembling.

"I don't think I want to."

He was hesitant to lean in toward her, but when he shifted forward, she met him halfway with every bit as much trepidation, and this kiss was nothing like the night they met. His touch was careful. His lips were slow, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. He held her as if his gentle touch would negate all the implications of their actions, all the damage this might cause.

Because this didn't feel like the illicit affair that Y/N knew it to be. This was Thomas, her friend, her coworker, her fleeting one-night stand, and she held him against her in an embrace like that of a lover, her arms looped around his neck as the side of her nose brushed against his. This was easy. This was natural.

But this was her professor.

"Stop." She pulled away from him, a hand on his chest as she struggled to catch her breath, and Thomas's gaze didn't read as dejection or hurt, but instead it came with an air of concern. The silence that followed her single word was excruciating.

"Y/N?" His voice was hoarse, but it was heavy with guilt. She didn't meet his eyes.

"I… I'm sorry, Thomas. I really…" She trailed off as he took a wary step back; she let out a breath of relief when he was no longer boxing her in against the counter, his hips no longer pinning hers back. "I need to go. I'm sorry."

She left the bathroom in a rush, grabbing her shirt from the floor and pulling it back over her head without a second thought. When she took off, he didn’t try to stop her.

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