still having a bad time which is why im so sporadic on here rn ✌😔

Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood 

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find -  pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight. 

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long. 

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest. 

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…” 

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…” 

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck. 

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

hiii can you please do a 1) Angst with Nat where shes the one saying 'please dont go' because she pushed u away out of fear of either unreciprocated feelings or fear of her feelings for u?? and then there's a happy ending???

"Please don't go."

Warnings: oral, fingering, thigh grinding, hints at overstimulation, rejection, violence and some majorrrr angst

6.8k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Natasha Romanoff was the thing of many people's nightmares. Cunning, stealthy, ruthless. Those were just a few of the things that came to mind when describing Natasha in the field. It was what had earned her the Black Widow name, and rightfully so.

But behind that front was someone very different. It took a long time to find that person. It was hard to gain the trust of an assassin, much less the friendship. You had gotten there eventually, what you found was entirely worth every second of the wait.

Natasha had been your closest friend for as long as you could remember. You trusted her above everyone else and knew the feeling was mutual. A lot of things were with you two.

You came to the same conclusions in missions, spare of the moment and planned. You knew the best ways to comfort one another. You could even read each other like your favourite book when it was impossible for others.

It seemed almost predictable that your feelings for Natasha had been growing for a long time.

She was fiercely protective of the ones she loved. The relationships she developed were ones she held close to her heart and would do anything for. She never said it because she didn't have to.

While not being one for comforting words, Natasha would appear at your side in an instant if she thought you had been hurt in a mission or even training. Everything from checking in on you genuinely from time to time to let you rant about whatever was going on in your head to memorising your order from every kind of take out place made you feel cared for more than she could ever understand.

Maybe that was why you had fallen inlove with her.

"You are single handedly the best partner I have ever had." Natasha sighed as she laid back on her bed with her eyes trained on you. Oh how you wished she meant that in a different context.

"Likewise." You grinned as you poured some more wine into your glass and took a tentative sip.

"You usually work on a team." Natasha pointed out. "You haven't had your fair share of God awful partners yet."

"I can still recognise a good partner." You reminded and glanced down at the glass resting on your crossed legs.

Saying Natasha was good was the understatement of the year. No matter what she seemed to think the redhead was the reason for your success on the mission. All you had done was follow her instructions and reenact everything you had trained.

"Still, that was one of the best missions I've ever been on."

"You make it sound like you enjoyed it." You teased.

"I love my job." Natasha smirked as she took her glass from the bedside table and swirled the liquid around.

"I bet you do, must be easy when you're one of the best." You complimented more easily with the help of the alcohol.

"I like a challenge every now and then." She said as she sat up and tucked her legs under her. She downed the contents of her glass in a second and went to pour some more. Your eyes widened slightly but you accepted when she held the bottle out for you and poured a little more than you would have, finishing the bottle.

"You can challenge yourself in safer ways you know." Even if Natasha was one of the most feared agents on the planet she was still human. You worried about her a lot and tried to voice your opinions on mission files to ensure she did things the safest ways. She was always more set on doing things the most efficient way.

"Like what?" She enquired.

"I don't know, get a hobby." You laughed, hardly joking. A hobby was something everyone on the team needed, there was hardly ever the time.

"A hobby." Nat repeated, playing around with the thought as she said it. "I don't think I have time for that." You hummed understandably. "Do you want one?" She asked as she watched you.

"I barely have time for socialising." You scoffed and sipped on the alcohol.

"You live with us." The redhead pointed out, clearly missing your point.

"For work. When was the last time we had a movie night?" You asked. Natasha thought back to try and pinpoint a date but you kept going. "All of the parties are basically part of the job. Our schedules are all off so we rarely eat dinner together. We never really hang out anymore." You reflected with a pang of sadness.

"We're hanging out now." Natasha pointed out.

"We are." You couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face.

"So let's make the most of it." She said as she reached under her bed to retrieve another bottle. You barely questioned why it was there.

She poured more of the drink into each of your glasses and you clinched them together. You took a sip of yours and Natasha watched you as she raised the glass to her lips then paused for a second.

Her eyes trailed to your lips as you licked them to wipe away the traces of the drink. Your cheeks heated up under her far from subtle gaze and a lazy smirk played across Natasha's lips in her signature way.

It wasn't uncommon for Nat to flirt and tease you, she did it with everyone after all, but that night it seemed like a genuine interest, you just didn't want to fool yourself into thinking that.

You stretched your legs out infront of you simply to do something with yourself as Natasha continued to watch you mirror her position. You were startled when you felt on of her hands grip your calf and pull you up the bed towards her.

She silently took your glass from your hands and placed her glass down on the table with yours.

"What are you doing?" You asked with a smile as you tried to ignore your rapidly beating heart from having her hand on your calf and having the strength to pull you with the one hand just a second ago.

"Making the most of our time together." Natasha said simply as her hand dropped back down to your leg. Her fingers lightly ghosted up your calf again as a small smirk continued to stay on her lips.

You gulped, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry as you watched Natasha's slender fingers wander in a seemingly innocent way.

As if your dumbfounded and blank expression wasn't enough for her, Natasha suddenly sat up more and slowly lifted her leg over yours as she gave you some of the most intense eye contact you had ever experienced and straddled your lap.

You searched her face for anything and all you got was a mischievous smirk; nothing past that, no implication as to what was really happening.

"Cat got your tongue?" She teased as she ran her hands down your bare arms making you visibly shiver.

"I..." You whispered, having no idea what to say in response. Natasha lowered her head to the side of your neck and breathed lightly against the exposed skin, curtsey of the loose bun she had done for you.

"Maybe I should try steal it back." Her lips grazed your sensitive skin as she spoke. All sense escaped you when her lips pressed ever so lightly against your neck.

Her hands moved to your waist to hold you as she planted soft kisses along your neck that started to become less light. Her teeth nipped at your skin making you yelp slightly in surprise. Natasha grinned against you as her hands moved round to your stomach and pushed you down flat on your back on the mattress.

Seeing her straddling your stomach above you with an illegally attractive smirk made something undeniable go straight to your core. You clenched your thighs together subconsciously, not realising how telling the gesture was to Natasha.

She slowly leant down and hovered her face inches above yours as her hands trailed up to your own and pinned them above your head. Your breath was shaky and you just knew your friend could tell from your close proximity.

A million things buzzed around your head. Until you caught sight of an especially bright spec of green in Natasha's eyes and found yourself haulting all your questions. That was when you pushed all of your worries and questions to the side to focus on what was infront of you. Or rather who was ontop of you.

You closed your eyes and lifted your head, finally reciprocating in the way you had wanted to a while. Her lips met yours in an instant and felt even softer against your own than you had ever imagined. Your lips moved in perfect sync that you found yourself getting lost in as well as the taste of Natasha that you thought might stay with you forever.

You gasped and parted your lips when she pinched your inner thigh unexpectedly and was quietened when Natasha's tongue met yours. She sucked on it for a brief moment and grinned into you when she felt you moan.

Her lips left yours and started to kiss across your jaw before you could protest then dipped down to your neck. You tilted your head back to give her further access as you held onto her back and tried to steady your breathing.

While one hand held your waist the other stroked along your bare thigh under your dress. You closed your eyes as you struggled to competly focus on any one of the movements. You especially failed when Nat placed one of her muscular thighs between yours, forcing them apart and pressing down on a sensitive area.

You gasped as you felt her apply pressure to your aching clit with her thigh and bucked your hips against her. She chuckled lowly into your ear and held down your thigh and waist with strength that only feuled your growing arousal.

"Tasha." You moaned when the redhead bit down on your neck. Simultaneously, her hand wandered further up your thigh to explore the wanton part between your legs. She sighed deeply into your neck when her fingers brushed against wet spot on your panties.

You whined lowly when she withdrew her fingers only to flip you onto your front and straddle your back. Her slim fingers held the zip on the back of your dress dress swiftly pulled it down along with the rest of your dress.

Her hands ran along your bare back and she unfastened your bra with ease, throwing it somewhere neither of you cared about. She brought her hands back to you and caressed the exposed skin on your sides and leant down flat against you as her hands cupped your breasts. She kissed your shoulder blades as she started to pinch your strained buds. As much as you enjoyed the way she handled you, you needed attention lower down and was becoming impatient, resorting to rocking yourself against the bed in search of something.

"You're a needy thing, aren't you?" She husked, noticing your actions in an instant.

You whimpered into the bed and was suddenly moved onto your back again and stared up at the redheaded beauty who was taking in the sight of your bare breasts.

"You've got me all worked up too, baby." She said as she pulled her own dress down and flung it across the room. Unlike you, she wasn't wearing a bra under her dress giving you the sight of her perfect set. Your own eyes lowered and your breath hitched at the sight of her bare pussy. For a moment you questioned if she had it all planned, but she was straddling your face before you could think about it anymore.

She certainly wasn't lying when she said she was worked up, she was soaked.

With a burst of confidence, you grabbed the back of her thighs and lowered herself onto your tongue that swiped through her folds. You hummed at the initial taste that enveloped your senses and sucked momentarily on her throbbing clit.

"Fuck." Natasha moaned as she pulled on some loose strands of your hair. You pushed your tongue into her awaiting cunt as far as you could go and retracted it to repeat the motion, all while your best friend grinded down on your face.

"Such a good mouth." She praised as you focused your tongue on her soaking channel.

You brought one of your hands up and rubbed Natasha's clit with your thumb as your tongue started to increase it's pace. The redhead's inner walls started to clamp down on your muscle and you took this with a new vigor.

It didn't take long for her thighs to tighten around your head and for Natasha to ride out her orgasm in desperation as you eagerly lapped up all of her cum until she got off you.

"Suck." She instructed only slightly breathlessly as she held her fingers infront of your mouth. You opened in an instant and licked up the length of her fingers before taking them in your mouth as you kept your eyes trained on Natasha.

"Good girl." She praised with a smirk when she withdrew her fingers. She straddled one of your thighs as her fingers danced down to where you needed them the most.

Her fingers slipped inside your pussy with ease. They slowly edged further until they curled against your sweet spot that made your head drop back against the bed. Natasha repeated the come here motion everytime her fingers returned but her pace remained slow and teasing.

You whined in protest but was shushed by the redhead when she pressed herself into your thigh. You gasped as you felt her slick along your thigh and the small rotations of her hips to grind herself against you.

As the pace of her hips increased so did her fingers that were returning to you at twice the pace. You moaned together as everytime Natasha's fingers hit your special spot she angled herself to brush her clit up against your muscle.

The Russian started to dig herself deeper against you and her movements became much more frantic. Her fingers became rougher and faster, never failing to make your head spin when she angled them perfectly.

"Fuck, Nat!" You moaned as your bucked your hips up against her hand.

Her movements became less coordinated as she chased her release and consequently managed to extend her fingers deeper within you making your walls clamp down harshly.

"You feel so good against my pussy." Nat moaned until she came undone on your thigh soon followed by you.

She spread her arousal across your thigh as she rode out her orgasm and kept her fingers deep inside you making you squirm under her.

Her eyes were still glazed over when she looked back down at you and saw you unsuccessfully trying to move away. An evil glint appeared in her eyes as a smirk played on her lips and she leaned down to hover over you again.

"Oh, malysh, we are no where near done."

*

You woke up to a stream of sunlight flowing into the bedroom and onto the bed. You instinctively went to shield your eyes and turn over but when you did you noticed the body laying peacefully next to you.

You let your eyes adjust and brain start to kick in until you saw the mess of red hair on the pillow next to you. You smiled widely when the memories of the night before began to come back to you.

You were both laying naked in bed with the duvet barely covering you. Natasha had her back to you so you reached out and gently stroked a finger across her shoulder blades. Her shoulders tensed slightly as she gradually woke up and you were reminded of how much you pushed your bodies to the limit. You were feeling kind of sore too.

"Good morning." You greetee with a tired continuous smile and scooched over closer to her only for her to sit up without looking at you.

"Morning." She replied stiffly. You frowned a little in confusion and glanced over at her alarm clock to see how late it is and go to get up too. You had a team meeting that morning that you definetly couldn't miss.

You didn't really know what to say to her when you were finding your clothes. She didn't say anything either but the silence didn't feel right. Not awkward, just not right.

You kept glancing over at her but she never faced you when she was quickly getting changed into clean clothes.

You looked over at the clock again nervously. Half an hour until the meeting. Need to have a shower, clean clothes, breakfast? No, no time. Talk to Natasha?

You really had no clue what to say to the redhead you had spent the night in and it definelty didn't help that your brain hadn't fully kicked in yet.

"So I'll...see you later then?" Smooth, y/n.

"Yeah." Nat said back as she searched for something in her drawers. You nodded and awkwardly pointed to the door and practically ran towards it. The moment you were on the other side of the door you smacked yourself on forehead and started to think about what to say to your best friend.

*

Throughout the whole of the team meeting Natasha didn't look at you once. Even in the most important meetings she would shoot you a smile every so often or kick you lightly if she knew you weren't paying attention. But she never even acknowledged you in that one.

Granted, the mission brief was one of the most important ones the team had ever had while you had been there. It wasn't for a couple of weeks because an operation like that one required a lot of planning, preparing and paperwork to fill out before it had even started.

It was the single biggest Hydra base there was. It was the heart of all Hydra operations and that meant there was a lot to do. All Hydra agents needed to be captured or killed, all data and information they had needed to be taken and the place needed to be destroyed.

The meeting dragged on for a long time and eventually you were all told to leave and continue as normal until the mission. You planned to walk out with Natasha but she had disappeared before you got the chance.

It was like that for the rest of the day. You never saw your friend and everytime you asked someone where she was she was never where they said. It felt like you were going on a wild goose chase for her between training and eating.

Eventually though, you finally found her in the kitchen late in the evening making herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She saw you approaching and tensed up without you noticing as you nervously approached, practising what had decided to say to her over in your head.

"Hey." You smiled, eyes trailing to the snack she had prepared as you remembered the time you lectured her on doing it wrong and corrected her. She had insisted you couldn't make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrong, but always did it your way after that.

"Hi." She said as she cut the sandwich in half and went to make a swift leave.

"I've been looking for you all day." You half laughed as you moved to stand infront of her.

"I've been busy." She replied and went to move around you.

"Yeah." You laughed nervously again as you followed her.

You had never really been one to shoot your shot or make the first move. It was awkward and uncomfortable even if you ended up lucky. You had never wanted to risk screwing everything up.

You could manage the bottled up feelings most of the time. You always chose that over some form of confrontation. Those were just small, passing crushes. Natasha Romanoff was far from that. And given everything that had happened the night before, you were sure you had a chance - more than a chance.

"So last night was great. More than great actually." You corrected as you managed to keep up with her fast strides.

"I'n glad you enjoyed it." She said simply.

"Did...did you?"

"Yes."

"Cool, so um I was thinking- well I was wondering if you would want to go out sometime." You started as you fiddled with your fingers. "I know you're busy so it doesn't have to be right away- or at all of course! Totally up to you, we could just get a drink or a meal." You rambled, going completly off script. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you caught sight of Natasha's room. She stayed silent for a while and you started to suspect you should have kept your mouth shut.

"Look, y/n." Oh God. "Last night wasn't...we were drunk." She started.

"No we weren't." You instantly said and winced at your frantic reply. "I mean we were tipsy at the very most." You corrected and hoped it overruled your desperate comment prior.

"Right, but it wasn't anything serious." Oh fuck. "We were just messing around and celebrating." She said slowly as she reached her door and grabbed the handle, clearly wanting to leave the awkward convosation.

"Oh...yeah of course. I knew that." You lied. "I just thought...yeah never mind- sorry." You rambled again and scratched the back of your neck.

"It's alright." She said looking at her door longingly. "See you tomorrow, y/n." She finally said.

"Yeah, goodnight, Nat." You said back and heard the door shut as soon as you turned around.

Fuck!

*

Natasha was a generally very mature person. That meant she could put aside personal differences for her job and move past disagreements and resolve tension for the sake of the friendships she developed and treasured. It seemed that didn't apply to you.

You understood that the redhead would want space for a few days. Time was the best thing you could give to allow yourself to pick up the pieces of your heart to reassemble eventually and for Natasha move past what you said.

A week past and Natasha still avoided you like the plague.

That drastic change was one you had never prepared yourself to adjust to. You had been so confident that Natasha felt the same way, it was the one time you didn't plan for rejection. That made it even harder. One moment you and Natasha were practically joint at the hip and the next you were rarely in the same room.

Everytime she went into a room and saw you there she made some excuse about forgetting something and didn't return. If it was you who arrived in a room she was already in she would mutter something about being busy and having things to do.

That meant Nat started doing things like training in the evenings or early night just to avoid you. It was a miracle if she ate a meal with the others too. Her whole schedule changed drastically.

The others noticed pretty quickly. All of it. Natasha's strange routine was just as clear as her separation from you. No one really wanted to say anything, thinking that any issues you and Natasha had could be solved by yourselves. But with the mission fast approaching and there being no signs of things returning to normal, Steve decided to talk to you.

You knew it was Steve at your door by the softness of his knock. Everyone on the team could determine who was outside their door by their knock, it didn't seem possible but it was your equivalent of knowing which family member was coming up the stairs.

"Come in, Steve." You called as you flicked through Netflix. It was late in the evening and you were trying to unwind before bed but you were still haunted by the memories of screwing up your friendship with Natasha.

"You alright?" He asked as he closed the door and joined you on the bed that sunk a little under his weight.

"Never better." You said sarcastically before smiling a little at him, you knew he meant well.

"What's going on with you and Nat?" He asked. You paused you mindless scrolling through the TV as you felt the pain in your chest return.

"I messed it up, Steve. I messed it all up." You admitted as you started to shake.

"Hey." He comforted as he saw tears form in your eyes. He put his arms around you and let you lean into him and rest you head on his shoulder.

"I don't know how to fix it." You babbled.

"Fix what?"

"Us. I think she hates me."

"Nat could never hate you." He assured making you cry a little harder.

"She won't go near me." You argued

"What happened?" He asked again patiently.

"She knows. She knows I like her." Steve chuckled softly and continued to hold you.

"Y/n we all know. It doesn't take a spy to work it out." You sniffed with a smile and wiped the tears away as you leant away from him to look at the blonde.

"I asked her out." You said.

"That was a brave thing to do." He defended despite clearly knowing how it turned out for you. You decided to leave out the reason you worked up the balls to do it.

"I don't think she thinks so." Steve sighed as he looked at the TV in consideration.

"Maybe, but she will eventually."

"How long will that be?"

"It's hard to say with Nat, but eventually. You could try talk to her again?" He suggested.

"Have you been missing how she avoids me like I'm her worst nightmare." You deadpanned.

"You let her know you care about her a lot, you're not far off." You thought for a moment about how right Steve was. Nat never did like intimacy, but she never had a problem with it if it was you. "And she may be a spy by we have a security room." He pointed out and you smiled again.

"Okay." You agreed. "Tomorrow." You decided, knowing there was a lot higher chance of you actually going through with it if you had already told Steve you would.

"Okay." He smiled back and stood up from the bed and went to leave.

"Have you talked to her?" You suddenly asked.

"Seems like she's avoiding everyone."

*

You surprised even yourself when you found yourself in the security room the next day in the late evening. It didn't take you long to flick through all the cameras and spot Natasha training with the holograms.

You made your way down to her quickly, trying to figure out at least the outline of what you could say to her. Nothing really came to mind when you tried to piece it together.

When you arrived she was focused on throwing an onslaught of punches at a punching bag that honestly looked like it was on the verge of being torn in half. It made you strongly consider backing out when you saw her like that. You just hoped that state of mind wouldn't come across in your convosation.

"Hey." You croaked making the redhead spin around with her guard still up. "Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." You assured as you took a tentative step towards her.

"You didn't scare me." She defied, annoyance present in her voice.

"I guess if you can be pranked by Clint that many times and not be scared nothing will scare you." You joked in a futile attempt to lighten the mood. It didn't work.

The redhead stayed silent as she adjusted the straps on her gloves. You thought she would pack up her things and leave but she went back to the punching bag and blanked you.

"Are you gonna ignore me forever?" You sighed. She paused her punches for a second before turning to look at you for the first time in over a week.

"I'm not ignoring you."

"We haven't talked in a while." You said, choosing not to argue over the fact that yes she definetly had been ignoring you.

"I've been busy." Her expression was stoic as she looked at you and it made you uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry for making things weird. But we can move past it. I can so you definitely should. Just because you don't want to date me doesn't mean you get to treat me like this, it's not fair on me and its not fair on the team." You breathed deeply when you finished and averted your eyes as you grew more uncomfortable from the confrontation.

"That's just the thing, y/n." Natasha said as she started to take her gloves off. "You're not going to move past it. I know you, and I know you're not going to be over it in a week." You frowned at her blunt response and took a few more steps towards her.

"Get over yourself, Nat." You sighed in frustration. "It's not like I declared that I was inlove with you. And don't forget that you came onto me that night."

"Exactly, y/n. It was one fucking night. It didn't mean anything but you decided to make a big deal out of it." You struggled to push aside the ache that came from her words and the bitter way she delivered them.

"You're never intimate with anyone. So yes when you fucked me and let me fuck you I thought there might be something more to it. It's not a crime to want something more."

Nat's jaw clenched at your words. You had brought in something personal about her and she was inevitably about to put up her walls in the most hurtful way she could. You knew that, but it didn't help you prepare.

"Why can't you accept that you were just a good fuck?" She spat as she glared at you. "Definitely one that I regret." You gulped as you took in the harsh reality of her words.

"Regret?" You whispered.

"Yes, y/n. I regret it. It was a mistake, every fucking bit of it." A mistake?

You didn't say anything in response to that. You were sure that even if you could think of something it would just come out as a squeak. Nat continued to glare at you in a way you couldn't hold. You glanced down at the floor, then the walls, then the punching pad and nodded quickly. You turned around and wandered aimlessly out the room as tears fell silently down your cheeks.

*

Needless to say things didn't get any better after that encounter. The only difference was that you were mutually avoiding each other. It hurt. A lot. You never thought you would avoid Natasha like you were. You never thought she would break your heart either.

The day of the mission didn't change anything. You and Natasha were sat as far away from each other as possible.

Only the anxiety over the mission was able to overpower the tension in the plane.

Steve had gone over the brief once more in full detail on the plane and you replayed all the information in your head until you landed. Once the quinjet had engaged its cloaking tech it landed in an open area in the surrounding forest.

You all left the quinjet in a concentrated silence as you surveyed your surroundings. It didn't take long to find the first patrolling agents in the forest that were swiftly taken out as to not alert anyone else.

The whole team was scattered across the forest from four planes in a circular layout that advanced towards the Hydra base. Even some of the best S.H.I.E.L.D agents had been brought in to assist. Steve was the first to infiltrate the base and in the least subtle way. You could hear the glass smashing and loud grunts in your coms that made you wish, not for the first time, that you could adjust the volume on those things.

You knew your route. You had it memorized clearly in your head and you also knew that some of it overlapped with Natasha's. You spotted her in your peripheral as you turned a corner to shoot at two charging agents. You leant back against the wall to reload and glanced to your left to see Natasha advancing. Stay focused. You reminded yourself.

You took a quick glance behind the corner again before looking back at Natasha who had her gun raised at you with a flightly fearing expression. Your eyes widened and you went to shout at her to stop messing around but she had already fired the gun. You heard a loud grunt and a body collapse to the floor tight behind you. You swivelled around to see a Hydra agent laying in a pool of his own blood with a handgun next to him.

"Thanks." You breathed out and started around the corner. Natasha had to take another left to the supposed data room where she could collect as much as much as could. You had to keep going but felt the sudden urge to ensure that she was safe. You looked over your shoulder as she opened the door and fired two shots before swiftly entering the room with her gun still raised.

You listened out for any more shots and heard none. She's fine. She knows what she's doing. You assured yourself as you went on.

Half an hour later the building had been cleared of all Hydra agents. Many had been captured and were had many hours of interrogation ahead of them while others hadn't been so lucky. It always weighed on you for a while when you killed as many people as you did on that mission. It was hard but it was necessary. It was the job.

The price of freedom is high. You reminded yourself. The price of freedom is high. The price of freedom is h- "Agent Romanoff is down."

"What?!" You spun around to face the building to see the room Natasha was in. It was in the center of the left side because of course you remembered exactly where she was meant to be.

You instinctively started sprinting back to the building when there was a sudden bright orange and yellow light followed by a deafening boom from the exact room Natasha was meant to be in. The explosion was quick but you got a chance to get an estimate of the scale of it and if Natasha was still in there...oh God.

"Has anyone got eyes on Romanoff?!" You demanded as you stared up at the building, finding yourself rooted to the spot.

"I got her." Steve coughed painfully. "I need a medic." He announced as he ran through the building and out the nearest exit with Natasha unconscious in his arms.

Everything else faded into the background when you saw her. The building still needed to be destroyed but you couldn't care less about the mission.

You stayed at Steve's side as he carried the readhead to the plane and laid her down gently on the bench. A medic was already there waiting and was checking Nat's vitals in an instant.

You dropped down to your knees next to her and watched her face for any signs of consciousness. When you couldn't find any you gently took ahold of her hand and laced your fingers together. You took a great deal of comfort in how warm they were and how warm you were determined for them to remain. You would kill Nat if she died on you.

Yes, she had hurt you. But you were pretty sure you were inlove with her.

You didn't let go of Natasha's hand for a long time. You held onto it tightly throughout the entirety of the flight home. You kept your fingers laced together when she was being taken to the medical wing. You held her hand for a while when they had finally settled her into a bed. She looked so peaceful in that state, you hoped it felt like that for her. She was still so beautiful too, even when she had dirt and smoke all over her before you had cleaned it all off.

You only let go when Steve practically dragged you out of the room to get some proper sleep in your bed.

You had been assured by multiple people that Natasha would be fine.

She had already been unconcious when Steve found her and was able to get her out the room before the bomb went off. It still had an impact and threw them both against a wall, but they were okay. She was okay.

You visited the redhead often but never stayed for long. As much as you wanted to, you knew she wouldn't want you there when she woke up. She had made it clear before that you had lost what you had with her, you were sure the mission hadn't changed that.

One day when you approached her room you peered around the door and saw that she was already sat up and looking around. She spotted you at the door instantly.

"Sorry." You apologised and went make a swift leave but stopped in your tracks when she spoke.

"Please don't go." She called out. You slowly turned around to face her and saw a pleading look across her face that you had never seen in her before.

You hesitated for a moment until you timidly made your way to the chair next to her bed. She watched you do so silently and anxiously, like she expected you to run out any second. You honestly thought about it, thinking another lecture was coming.

"You've been out a few days." You told her without meeting her eyes. "I was worried." You mentally scolded yourself for saying it as soon as you did, thinking that wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry." She surprised you by saying.

"It's not your fault, you didn't throw the bomb at yourself." You smiled nervously.

"Not about that." Nat said quietly. "About everything else. I treated you so badly." The regret couldn't have been more clear in her voice. "I was just scared- and that's not an excuse! It's just the truth." She explained nervously. You listened intently as you stared at her duvet.

"I lied when I said it was a mistake. I lied when I said I regretted it. I lied when I said it didn't mean anything. It meant everything to me, y/n." She explained wholeheartedly as tears started to form in her eyes.

For a moment you couldn't quite comprehend what you're seeing or hearing. Natasha was letting down her walls competly. She was being vulnerable to you.

"I care about you so much. More than I've ever let myself care about anyone. I pushed it aside and tried to ignore it for the longest time but that night I caved and I...I don't know I wasn't thinking about anything other than how much I wanted to show you I cared for you. And when I thought I finally figured out a way to do it I couldn't face it after.

"You never did anything wrong, y/n. It was all me. I couldn't face my feelings but I can't stand not being with you. Is there..." She gulped as her hands trembled notably. "Is there any possibility of a second chance?" She whispered almost fearfully. You finally looked up at her and saw the tears running down her cheeks as she gazed at you like you were the only thing of any importance in the world.

You took her shaking hand in both of yours to steady it and yourself as you spoke. "No more running off?" You asked.

"No more running off." She confirmed.

"No more lying to me?"

"No more lying."

"No more being a pussy." You half joked.

"Definelty no more being a pussy." She laughed weakly.

"Okay then. Natasha, would you like to go on a date with me?" You asked with a smile you couldn't hold back.

"It would be my pleasure, y/n." You grinned and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on her lips as you kept ahold of her hands. She smiled against you and when you moved back you saw the glint of happiness in her eyes.

Sure, you had done things in the completly wrong order. And yes, the journey to get there had been far from easy. But you swore that day that you would make sure everything after it was done perfectly.

It was a few weeks later on the night you shared your first 'I love you' that she confessed she had sworn the same thing. And it worked.

Strawberry - Daryl Dixon

Request: Hi love! I adore your daryl dixon works and i was wondering if i would be able to request a scenario where you risk your life to save a baby that you found and daryl’s reaction (you still survive but it was a narrow escape) to your maternal instincts? 

A/N: I think I went a little off course with this one. To be fair, I tried it out three different ways and settled on this so hopefully it’s good. 

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

The atmosphere at camp had taken a relatively negative turn after you’d gotten back from the run with Daryl. It didn’t help that you were injured, cuts so deep on your leg that if Daryl hadn’t vouched for them being caused by barbed wire you were sure Shane would’ve shot you on the spot, convinced you’d been bitten. Hershel had to stitch you up and you could hear Andrea bitching the entire time, voice carrying through the door, that this was all a liability. You, your recklessness, your injury, and, most importantly, the baby that you were holding on your lap for the entirety of Hershel’s work.  

A little girl without a name, she was wearing pink corduroy overalls with strawberries embroidered into them. The run, which should have been routine, had taken you and Daryl further into town. He’d been spending a lot of time looking for Sophia but when Glenn injured his ankle on a run, Rick nominated you and Daryl to head out in search of supplies.  

“When I told you to bring back whatever you could find,” Rick said, watching the baby skeptically, “I didn’t mean a baby.”

She was little more than five months old you guessed, trapped in a car seat in the back of an old Volkswagen that Glenn told you hadn’t been there when he passed through before. “Must’ve been other survivors, travelling through the area.” Everyone seemed to have an opinion on the baby and on your decision to save her, at great personal risk to yourself, but you tuned most of them out. Aside from situationally, most of these people weren’t ones you would ever actually spend time with and you didn’t care if the Andrea’s of the world passed judgement on your personal convictions.  

“How’s she doing?” The only one who had been surprisingly without criticism of your actions was the one person you had expected to admonish you for being reckless. Daryl sat down on the porch steps beside you, crossbow on his lap.  

You had seen the baby trying to outrun a hoard of walkers and get back to Daryl’s bike. She was inside the car, crying, and you had doubled back for her, nearly killing yourself when you caught your leg on a bundle of barbed wire from a downed fence. Daryl had cut it from your leg, part of your jeans ripping off with them as he pulled you and the baby to safety. He’d been the one to bandage you enough to get you back to the farm too, not a word to you the entire time.  

In all honesty, you were waiting for him to be angry. Maybe not yell because you hadn’t really experienced him yelling at you before, but certainly had heard him go at it with Shane a few times. And you expected something, at least a “yer stupid” but so far he hadn’t said anything.  

“Alright,” you shifted the baby in your arms and placed the empty bottle down between you and Daryl, “she finally ate.”

He nodded, glancing over at the baby as you laid her against your chest to burp her. “Yer good with her, ya got any experience with babies then?” He asked, more than you’d talked to him since Merle went missing, presumed dead. Probably more than you had spoken to him before that too.  

“I was the middle kid of nine,” you replied, “babies are pretty much part of my wiring. I always thought I’d have one.”

“Got one now.”

You laughed, maybe the first honest one since you’d wound up in Atlanta. Daryl wasn’t one to joke around and that, partially, had thrown you into the minor fit but, more over, he was right. As judgmental as Lori and Andrea and Shane wanted to be, this baby wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. None of them would as you to do that.  

“I guess I do.” You finally said, “I’m sorry for getting us all mixed up, by the way. I wasn’t trying to jeopardise your safety.”  

“I ain’t some heartless bastard, not gonna ask ya ta leave a kid ta die.” He replied.  

“Still, thought you’d have something to say about it. Everyone else seems to.”  

“Yeah well,” his hands worked to clean the crossbow and he paused his speech for a moment, full concentration on the weapon in his hands. He listened for any sign of footsteps or the possibility of somebody that might overhear the conversation. “Shane woulda just as soon shot ya both in the back.”  

“That’s true.”  

“Everybody’s losing that bit of ‘em...it’s good ya still got it.” He said quietly and you nodded because you understood what he was trying to say. The same thing that had him out there looking for Sophia had propelled you back to the car. And if he had seen the baby first he would’ve done the same thing.  

The baby made a quiet heaving noise before something akin to a giggle and you laid her on your thighs as you reached for the spit blanket that Maggie had given you. Daryl reached a hand over, steadying the baby she didn’t roll off your lap, the infant cooing at him and grabbing at his fingers.  

“I looked through her diaper bag,” you finally said, adjusting her again so she could sit up, facing her out to the yard and letting her look around at everything. She seemed transfixed with Daryl, reaching out for him and clapping her hands together when he gave her his hand back. “There’s no name or anything on it…not even on her tags.”  

“I ain’t good at naming things,” Daryl said, as if sensing that was why you’d brought it up. “Stray cat used to come in our yard ta eat and all I called him was kitty.”  

“Yeah…I’m gonna pass on naming her Baby.” You joked, “just figured since you were there when I found her.”  

“She’s all yours,” he replied hastily though he had set his crossbow aside to play with her. Not going so far as to take her off your lap but keeping her occupied, holding her attention.  

-

You pushed open the door to the jail cell, sliding the curtain out of the way as you slipped inside, surprised to see Daryl sitting on the bed in your tiny room, the baby on his lap. You had put her down for a nap only thirty minutes earlier, heading outside to check the snares with Rick and had come back in to make sure she was alright.

“Beth asked if I’d check on her,” Daryl said, not even looking away from her as you shut the curtain and pulled the chair over. “Said Judith was fussing.”

“Thanks, sorry I was out in the field...guess I shouldn’t be leaving her with everyone else if I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of her.” You joked. Lori was gone now but the admonishment had been from her. That if you so desperately wanted this baby around than you should be the one to care for her.  

“Ain’t just a job for one person.” Daryl replied, “she ain’t hard to take care of anyway.”

“That’s cause she likes you.” You observed. His cheeks flushed and he bowed his head, almost bashful at the thought and you just smiled like you hadn’t noticed his sudden behavior, turning your attention to the baby.  

-

“Frazier,” the little girl rocked back on her bottom, giggling when she met Daryl’s shins and tilting her head back to look up at him. Her knees and the palms of her hands were stained from the grass that she’d been tearing through.  

She smiled, rocking herself forward so that she could clumsily stand up, turning swiftly to face Daryl again as she reached her arms up for him. “Daddy!” The moniker was new, ever since Judith had started talking, calling Rick ‘dada’ when she saw him, Frazier had decided that she, too, required a dad. And, naturally, she had decided that it was Daryl.  

He shouldered the crossbow he was carrying and leaned down to scoop her up, doing his best to ignore the name. You’d suggested that maybe the term would die out as she got a little older but so far it was sticking and, while Daryl made like it bothered him, it didn’t really. Taking care of the baby, who you’d named from your mother’s side of the family, had seemingly brought the two of you closer. Or at least it had created a reason for Daryl to stay close to you. Looking out for the baby, as he always put it.  

“She’s been waiting all day for you.”  

Speak of the devil, he turned toward the house to see you coming out to greet them, still pulling a hoodie on to combat the chill that had settled into Alexandria. In the time between Hershel’s farm and now you had seen a lot of bloodshed, lost a lot of people. For a brief moment in time Daryl had been fairly positive he had lost the both of you too, but you had turned up in the woods outside of Terminus, Frazier right there with you.  

“Ya been keeping watch?” He asked, jostling her slightly and being rewarded when she giggled and nodded her head.  

“Yeah, no naps!”  

“Oh Lord,” he muttered, handing her off to you when you reached out for her.  

“Come on Frazier, let’s get some food?” You offered, carrying her towards the stairs. She twisted in your arms, reaching over your shoulder for Daryl as he followed behind you.  

For all the maternal instincts everyone always said that you had, you thought Daryl was just as protective and acutely aware of Frazier, and now Judith, as you were. He was just less obvious about it. Trying to pass it off as indifference when in actuality you had seen that side of him often and in excess.  

-

Taglist: @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @solllaris @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead 

yan Shigaraki pt. iii

Also known as: MOMMY KINK 

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only, dubcon, mentions of rape, bondage, drugging, kidnapping, blow jobs, cunniliginus, vaginal fingering, mind break, manipulation, prostate milking, switching, mommy kink, DARK FIC 

Word Count: 9307 

Notes: back y’all. this one focuses on that mommy kink everyone has been requesting, so, uh, come get your juice. 

this fic is dedicated to & beta edited by @kugutsuu​. i am but a humble acolyte at her shrine, so if you wanna see some grade A mommy kink, or more Tomura porn, plz, go read her stuff. it is marvelous.

Part III: MOMMY KINK

part i || part ii  

The shower is grimy. Thankfully, most of the stains are old patches of soap scum or neglected bits of grout. You’d asked Tomura once, to clean it, but he’d just chuckled and shoved you into the glass box, saying he’d think about it, if you’re good. 

It’s a pity you haven’t made it back onto the “good,” list.

It’s been three weeks and although Tomura has kept you close, hardly letting you slip from his sight, binding you when he has to leave the confines of his room, he’s clearly sulking in his lingering annoyance. An annoyance that’s firmly directed at you. 

His touches are less frequent and there’s been a decided lack of that early, awed, wonderment and soft persistences. He used to stroke his fingers down your skin when you slept beside him, careful to let you know that he’s being cautious, not wanting to frighten, or worry you. Now, when he flops beside you, he turns his back, curling up, on his side of the mattress, shouldering off your tentative pets.  

He’s distant and you can’t adjust to it.

You reach for the plain sliver of bar soap and work it into your shivering arms, building suds and foam under your fingers. The shower door is fogging up, thick with the wet heat from the spraying water, but you can make out Tomura’s outline. He’s perched on a low stool, one that he’s placed specifically in the tiled room, so he can keep an eye on you, so he can make sure you don’t try to slither away from him again. 

It’s frustrating, the warring closeness and aloofness he’s giving you, and you grumpily slough off the bubbles of soap, watching as they swirl down the rusted drain. You were going to come back, you justify, wetting your hair and hoping there’s enough shampoo left to give it a proper soak. You only wanted to get your cat. It’s not your fault he’d forgotten him, when he’d drugged you and placed you under his power. Sure, you could have told him about the feline, but you just…

You wanted to do it yourself. 

Since he’s taken you, you don’t get to do a lot of things by yourself anymore and you needed to prove...no...that’s not right. You’d wanted to taste the fresh air that night and yank yourself out from under Tomura’s omnipresent thumb. It’s exhausting, being held like this. You know, in his own twisted way, that Tomura loves you and there’s some answering part of you that’s starting to care for him, too, but those feelings don’t make you any less caged. Besides, you sigh, combing the shampoo into your hair, how could you not find yourself slipping into a ragged dependency?   

How were you possibly supposed to prevent those budding needs? After all, took care of you and he fed you, both physically and sexually. God, you’d never had anyone fuck you like he did. You’re almost certain that he’d been a virgin when he fucked you, that first night, but damn, he’d more than made up for his inexperience with a genuine desire to see you satisfied. 

It’s an odd rush of emotions. 

You feel equal parts guilt and anger pressing at you. You didn’t mean for this to happen and it’s not fair he’s still taking it out on you. Besides, you’d only wanted to get your cat that night. You didn’t have grand plans of escape, or reporting Tomura’s undoubted villain status to the police. No, you would have come back. The most you would have risked was sneaking one quiet night's sleep in your old bed, but you would have slunk back to him in the morning, ready to see his outstretched arms and those lovely, fervid, eyes that flashed so much adoration when they rested upon you.

Yes, it had all gone to plan, that is, until he caught you. 

He hadn’t spoken much, since that night, and you missed those early conversations the two of you shared. You know you’ve perturbed him, angered him, hurt him, and it’s starting to feel like there's nothing you can do about it. 

However, while you were kept under strict watch, your rescued cat, on the other hand, has grown into a regal prince, free to strut about the hideout, often weaving under Tomura’s red shoes. Never, never, ever, would you have thought that you’d be jealous of a cat, of your cat. But you can’t help but bristle at the affection Tomura showers down on your feline, and your cat, that damned smug little thing, lapped it all up, purring and fat, content with his new supremacy.

You suck your teeth at the thought and quickly dash your head under the reassuring spray of the shower. When you turn, you catch sight of Tomura’s outline again and a sudden idea pops into your head. Before your failed rescue mission, Tomura had often luxuriated under your touches, almost vibrating some nights, drunk off the pleasure of your stroking hands. Although he’s been detached, maybe...maybe you could bridge that gap, with the right incentive, of course. 

“Um, Tomura?” you call, curling your arms about your chest, shivering as you step from the misting of warm water. 

He grunts, but that hazy silhouette doesn’t shift, solid and unyielding, despite your soft voice. You bite your lip and step closer, pressing yourself against the slick glass, not ready to give up. 

“Can you come here, please?” you try again, infusing honey and light into your tone, hoping it might convince him to turn. 

“What is it?” Tomura grumbles, but you notice him shift and you smile at your tiny victory. 

“I need you, just for a second, if you...please, Tomura?” you’re trailing your fingers over the frosted dips and imperfections of the shower door and you can tell he’s starting to waver. It’s hard for him to pull away when you whine out his name like that. It’s likely a control thing, but that gasping want, that echo of need is something he’s done his best to encourage, liking that he can make you slip into a gooey, broken, state. 

He stands and pads toward the steaming shower and you bite back a grin, pleased he’s maneuvering into place. Once he’s close, you crack the door open and poke your dripping head out, searching for his eyes. Tomura pauses when he catches sight of you, vermillion iries dark, narrowed and suspicious. 

“What?” he asks again, his lips curling, lifting that jagged scar and revealing a line of straight, white, teeth. 

“Can...can you do me a favor?” you question, dragging your tongue across your lower lip, tugging at the plush skin, silently rejoicing when you catch his eyes lowering, following the motion. 

“Depends,” he snaps, his gaze flashing back to yours. You give a soft huff, disappointed that he’s not bending, at least, not yet. 

“Will you, um, take a shower with me?”

Tomura snorts, looking over your sopping hair. “Don’t be stupid, you’re practically done.”

“What if I want to clean you off?”

“You calling me gross?”

“No,” you stammer, aghast and unsure if he’s joking. “I just...I want to do this, for you. You’ve been so good to me, I want to do something nice for you, too.”

“Liar,” Tomura taunts, but he does step closer, leaning one arm on the brass frame and peering over your half concealed form. 

“I’m not lying. I’d really like to– ”

“Not that. You’re lying about me being good to you. Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true. Should I list it out for you? To prove it. Let’s see, I’ve kidnapped you, fucked you, against your will, until all you can do is drool, begging me to stop, and I’m pretty sure that’s fucking called rape. What else? Oh, I’ve drugged you, tied you up for hours, almost killed your cat, ah, and I’ve been ignoring you, doing my fucking best to make you feel like the ungrateful little slut that you are. That enough? Or should I give you some more?”

You roll your shoulders, agitated. “Tomura, that’s not...I don’t want to talk about that. I want– ”

“You want to pretend again. To put on an act and go about the motions. Wait until I’ve lowered my guard and then you’ll fucking– hey– stop!” Tomura bristles when your wet fingers curl around his dark shirt, yanking him toward you and dangerously close to the wet tiles. His nose wrinkles and he tries to bat you away, hands roughly knocking against your pruned skin. 

“Tomura, please. I’m not...I just want to be close to you. Don’t push me away, I’m sorry. I’ve told you that before and I’ll tell you again. You know I didn’t mean– ”

“Didn’t mean to sneak out of a window? You fucking accidentally woke up and thought, good time to make sure he’s out on a meeting, better make the most of this? Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you (Y/N),” Tomura growls, finally succeeding in shaking himself free, glaring down at your damp, wrinkled, brow. 

Sighing, you sulk back into the warmth of the shower, pouting your lips and shaking  your head, dropping tiny flecks of water across Tomura’s dark shirt and bare feet. “You’re really not going to forgive me, huh? Even if I tell you that I’m sorry, even if I ask for you to let me hold you? 

That’s fucking mean, Tomura. You’re such a jerk. A fucking ass. You’re making me feel like some kind of bitch. Yeah, I didn’t ask for you to fucking kidnap me, but what do you want me to do? 

It’s not my fault that...that I like you. That I like when you’re nice to me, that I like when you make me feel so...so good, and, well, wanted. You can’t...what am I supposed to do? At this rate, I’ll just hate you. So, if that’s what you’re...what...what you’re want...oh.”

You’d turned your face, while you snapped and berated him, so the feeling of his hard, bare chest, and the sucking pressure of his lips startles you. When your face lifts to his, his long fingers wrap under your chin, forcing you to look at him. His red gaze ensnares you and your breath catches, granting him the opportunity to shut the glass door behind him and press you against the slippery tiles. His free hand shifts to the temperature gauge and he rolls the heat down, hissing at the sting of the shifting water. 

“Fine,” he smirks, slotting himself against your curves, letting you feel his rising cock and the sharp planes of his muscles. “I’m here. What is this, so called, nice thing you want to do for me?” 

You laugh at his dripping sarcasm and arch into his arms, pleased when he gifts you a quiet shiver. “Turn around,” you smile, your eyes roving over his exposed figure hungrily. Tomura sucks his teeth, but he does as you ask and you reach beside him, slipping the block of bar soap into your palm. You scoot close and dampen the sharp protrusions of his shoulder blades, slicking them with the lukewarm water before pressing the soap over him. Once you get a decent lather built up, you let your fingers dip into his corded sinews, massaging out the rough patches until he’s groaning, a pleased hum radiating from his chest. 

“Does that feel ok?” you ask, watching him tremble when you hit a particularly sensitive spot. Tomura responds by shifting back, cracking his back as he bows into your touch. You smile and cup some water over him, sloshing away the bubbles. Once his back is clean and gleaming, you rub yourself against him, kissing his neck. 

“What’s your plan?” Tomura sighs, his voice hushed. He cranes his neck and you catch a glimpse of one bright eye, watching you, waiting for your response. 

“Plan?” you ask, confused by his meaning. 

“Yeah, you trying to butter me up? You think this is gonna change my mind? If you do something nice for me, I’ll have to repay you? Let my guard down?”

You click your tongue and pull him to you, urging him to turn around, so you can see him properly. “Stop it,” you tut, raising the soap again and repeating the soft circles and easy massages, liking that he’s starting to duck his head, a light flush seeping over his chest and nose. “I want to do this for you. Call me stupid, but it makes me happy to see you relaxed. There’s something nice about your face and...and how you look at me. Besides, you haven’t looked at me like that...since...since before that night.” 

Tomura glances away at the reminder, breaking the hard stare he’d fixed you with, but he takes a shallow step toward you, letting the tips of your nipples glide over his slippery pectorals. You gasp at the sensation, enjoying the sweet tightening that races along your areola, puckering the buds into stiff peaks. 

“Well? Don’t leave the job half finished. Keep going,” Tomura rasps, his hands cupping your lifted wrist and moving the soap over his sternum, before passing it along his abdomen. Nodding, you gulp and work your way down until you have to kneel, your knees digging into the water logged floor. Your head lines up with his half hardened cock and you eye the velvety flesh ravenously. You chance a peek up at him, but he’s still refusing to meet your eyes, his head turned, scowling darkly at the wet tiles. 

“Tomura,” you begin, releasing the bar of soap, letting the rushing water snag it, carrying it toward the pull of the drain. “Why don’t you let me take care of this for you?”

Above you, his jaw sets and you can hear him grinding his teeth, trying to shrug off that deepening red blush. You’re not quite sure why he’s so affected by this, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Your fingers slide up his thighs, nails gently scraping and pressing as you near the apex of his hips, watching him rise under temptation of your proximity. Once you’re grazing along his dark curls, he unconsciously thrusts toward you, a tiny droplet of precum budding out of his slit, gleaming in the light of the bathroom. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” you ask, your heart thumping wildly, unsure where this sudden urge, this need, to have him supplicate himself for you, is coming from. You want him to ask, no, you want him to moan for you as he blushes and pants. Oh, yes. That would look so good on him. “I can help,” you continue, careful to keep your eyes down, not wanting to give yourself away. “It looks...it looks like you need me to take care of you. Just ask me, Tomura. Ask me to..to…”

Tomura’s hand on the back of your head makes you lose your train of thought and you sputter into silence, your eyes lifting to his, waiting. He glares down at you, imperious and chilling. His nostrils flare when you breathe across his leaking tip and his hips shift again, thumping his heavy cock head against your parted lips. 

“Suck,” he commands and immediately, you do your utmost to take him all in, your jaw aching at the familiar weight of him. Tomura groans at the suction and his eyes finally slip closed. You hollow your cheeks and curl your tongue, racing the wet appendage over his thick veins, feeling him pulse and swell. He’s salty and so, so deliciously earthy. Your mind clouds over and all thoughts of making him bend to you fly out the window, content in the happy pleasure of making him spill down your waiting throat. 

******

Later, when you’re both dry and stretched out on his tattered mattress, he turns to you, pressing his face into your arms, sighing happily when you stroke a hand down his hair. It’s been a while, since he’s come to you like this, all contented nuzzles and heavy exhales. Even before your misguided escape, he would rather have you cling to him, than he to you. No, this is a different kind of touch. You curl around him and he begins to slacken in your hold, drifting into the welcoming embrace of sleep. 

As the night passes around you, you revisit those musings you’d had in the shower, when he was doing his best to ignore you as you gently needled him, wanting to hear him ask you for your attention. You’d never thought much on domination, how could you? Half of the time, you were bound or gagged, especially in the early days of your capture. Tomura had always been unrelenting in his control and you hadn’t done much to question his iron backed rule, at least, not until tonight. 

But once you noticed that tight lipped expression and that delightful blush he’d given you? Oh, you wanted something very different from him then. Imagine, you think, a mischievous smirk lifting your lips, just imagine him, gasping and whining, just for you. He’d look so nice, so handsome, like that. 

You’ll have to be cautious and you’ll need to go slow, but fuck, you want to see him beg. Tonight was a good step. You’d slipped back into his good graces and you’d shown that he can trust himself, and you, to let him show you a gentler, more vulnerable side of himself. Now, let’s see if you can get something different from this arrangement. Besides, you reason, if you’re stuck here, you might as well have a little bit of fun. 

******

He’s got you pinned down, his powerful thighs digging into your spread hips, slapping his meaty balls against the wet curve of your ass. His fingers are hovering over your clit, but he’s careful not to touch. He isn’t wanting you to cum, not yet. You can’t breathe when he takes you like this and his lips are close to the hollow of your throat, rising and lowering in time with his jagged thrusts. 

“You’re too quiet tonight,” Tomura rumbles, his tongue dipping out to swipe up some droplets of sweat that have slipped down your chin. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me this is all you can take? I’ve seen you give me more. That’s it, be a good little slut, be my good girl, let me hear you.” 

His thumb slithers to your pulsing bud, slipping under the swollen hood and encouraging that pulpy flesh to throb out, hot and wanting. You gasp and he lifts his head, pressing a rough kiss to the side of your mouth. 

“Almost,” he taunts, positioning his index finger above his thumb, at the top of your clit, trapping it in his hold. The sharp, painfully cloying sensation he sparks makes you arch and his cock slips deeper, the head tapping against that final barrier of your cervix. You hiss at the distant echo of pain and Tomura sighs above you, surging his hips forward and grinding down, scraping his pelvis against yours, watching you tremble around him. 

“You take me so fucking well, (Y/N). Such a pretty little pussy, all wet and open, so flushed and all mine.”

When he tucks back, gliding his length from your weeping cunt, you find your voice and you shiver out a question, hoping, praying, he’ll entertain the idea. “T-Tomura, I...I want to ride you.” 

His brow furrows and he gives you a bewildered look, red eyes flashing over your distant, blissed out, expression. “Huh?”

“I said, I want to r-ride you. I want you on your back so I can...ohh...fuck,” your demand shakes to a halt as he gives you a harsh cant, his cock swelling as your walls flutter around him. 

“What’s wrong with this?” he scoffs, lifting his rubbing fingers and leaving your clit abandoned and aching. You keen at the loss, hips blindly rising, hoping you’ll catch him before he’s too far away. 

“Damn it,” you sulk, missing your target and tilting your chin, meeting his hazy eyes and wrinkling your nose. “There’s nothing wrong with this, I just want you deeper. Fucking you...ah– fucking you, when you’re on your back, will let me take more of you. Come on, just this once? If you don’t like it, I– ”

In the blink of an eye, Tomura wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, slinking under your quivering legs and stretching himself on the sheets. Your fingers scrabble for balance, accidentally scratching down his stomach. He growls at the sudden, trickling, pain but he’s impatient for you to move, so he responds to your unintended hurt by thrusting up, into your heat, leaking some of your copious arousal onto his thighs. 

“This doesn’t feel any different,” he grouses, his eyes glaring up at you before they dodge away, scowling out at his room, already frustrated that he’s given into your request, especially since it’s not looking like he’ll be getting much out of it.  

“Give me a second,” you complain, finally steadying yourself and bracing your knees on the soft mattress. Once you’ve gotten your barings, you rise up, savoring the sting of his thick cock as it’s lifted from you. You roll your hips when you lower yourself and Tomura grunts, minutely curving his back, his lips curling into a pleased grimace. “How’s that?” you ask, preparing to repeat the motion, keeping your legs close and your pussy clenched, exulting in his choked moans. 

“It...it’s ok,” Tomura concedes, a lovely blush beginning to seep over his face. His fingers tremble when they settle on your working hips, urging you to pick up your pace, but you ignore his silent request, circling yourself as you bottom him out, gently teasing him. 

“Awe,” you pout, trailing your hands to him, cupping at his jaw and turning him toward you. His eyes meet yours briefly and he quietly murmurs a few curses, trying to pull his chin from your warm digits. “Just ok?” you continue, letting your legs spread, rutting him into you, squeezing your sopping channel around his length. “I’m hurt. I figured you’d like this. Don’t I feel good? You feel amazing, so fucking hard and oh– Did you like that? Mmm, that felt nice. Tell me what it feels like for you, Tomura. I wanna know.” 

He dips his head back, unable to resist giving you a few sharp thrusts, his hips taking on a mind of their own as he begins to pulse inside you. That blush has bled down his neck and onto his broad chest, sprinkling his skin with a rosy hue. You drag your nails over the redness and he sucks in an unsteady breath, his eyes popping open and fixing you with a dazed stare. 

“Come on,” you taunt, bringing your knees back to the sides of his hips and lifting, rising, until his tip is beginning to slip from your quivering core. He hums at the feeling and the scar on his lip quirks as he gulps down a snarl. “I know, I’ll make a deal with you. Tell me how it feels for you and I’ll give you what you want,” you bargain, jutting your hips back and forth, teasing his swollen cock head until he’s digging bruises into your plush thighs. 

“What...what are you…doing...” Tomura gasps, his head lifting as he attempts to regain some control, his hands gripping you, trying to force you back to him. You click your tongue and lean away, out of his reach. “Don’t be like that. I just want to hear what you think. How can I possibly know if this feels good, if it makes you happy, if you don’t tell me?”

Tomura’s legs curl under you and his head shakes, white hair trailing along his neck, sticking to his damp skin. “I– it...it feels ok, I told you that.”

“Daw, but that’s vague,” you sulk, although you do sink down his straining cock, not quite all the way to his base, but low enough to reward him. Tomura sputters out a hiss when you do and he flops back to the bed, shaking. “Come on Tomura, give me a little more? Please?” you ask, fingers trailing along his stomach, drawing patterns into his slopes and grooves. 

“It feels...warm and it’s wet, so fucking wet, but...it...it hurts...I want more. Give me more. You said you’d take me deeper, not...not...ah– yes...yes…” He’s rasping as you engulf him to his hilt. You use your hands to brace yourself, picking up that cant, spearing him into you and keening when he hits something soft at the front of your pussy. Tomura’s eyes gleam when he notices your trembling and he lifts his legs, planting his feet under you and slamming himself into your undulating cunt. 

Your fingers wander to your clit and you start to roll those heady circles against yourself, oscillating waves of pleasure from your slippery bud. Tomura lets out a long sigh and he shivers as you break, edging yourself along that sharp ledge and falling into the mind numbing ecstasy that waits. As you drip and clench around him, Tomura gives out a weak shout and releases into you, thick bursts of his cum pulsing against your overstimulated and aching walls. 

You fall against him and he clings to you, kissing sloppily at your damp brow. After the heat of your coupling, your skin quickly begins to cool and you burrow into his warmth, careful to keep him tucked inside you, enjoying the softening of his length and the oozing slop that’s leaking from your cunt and onto the sheets. 

“What was that?” Tomura asks, his voice distant, awed.

“What?” you repeat innocently, pleased that these little pushes you’re giving him are working. You like seeing him disheveled and desperate and you want to see more. 

******

 It’s been easier between the two of you, since you’d worked your way back into his trust, but Tomura, being Tomura, still has his darker moments. 

He hasn’t permitted you to leave his room, still bringing you meals and keeping you close, binding you, or locking you in, when he can’t. But the nights are very different. He’s gentle with you again and he likes to duck into your arms, his white head pillowed against your breast. For your part, you’ve done your best to foster those urges, welcoming him and whispering soft words of praise over his bowed head. It’s a quiet lull and you like the shaking kisses he gives you, pleased with your acceptance. 

One evening, however, he comes to you in a blind rage.

Someone’s done something to shake him, to work him into this state, molding him into a walking, talking, callous being of anger and vitriol, but he won’t give you any names, or any particular reason for the sudden wrath. Instead, he opts to shove you down and spread you open, barely slipping his pants over his hips as he tugs his engorged, leaking, cock from the elastic band of his boxers. You’re not prepared for his first thrust and he growls in frustration as he sticks to you, lingering outside of your heat, unable to press forward. 

“Fuck,” he snarls, slicking his tongue over one thumb and lowering it to your clit, frantically rubbing at you, encouraging you to bead some of that glimmering arousal over your lower lips. 

“Tomura...Tomura...wait...I’m...ouch,” you whine, unable to hold still, shrinking from his aggression. “You can’t just shove your dick in me...I’ve gotta– ”

“Shut up,” Tomura grunts, maintaining that rough pressure, pinching at your half risen clit, pulling the hood away and mashing the pad of his thumb over the tiny bud. “I just want to...damn it…why won’t you– This isn’t fucking fair. I thought...I thought you were always ready for me, now? Why bother with you if you can’t give me what I want? Fucking slut, come on. I know you want me. Why won’t you– hey!”

Grateful that he’s neglected to tie you down today, you kick at him, scrabbling away from his belligerent touches. Tomura, displeased, snatches your ankle and tumbles you over, cracking his hand against your newly presented ass, startling a strangled gasp from your lips.

“Stop that,” he scolds, yanking you back and pressing you down, lifting your posterior and running a warm palm down the fleshy curve, soaking in the heat he’s struck from your skin. “I’m going to fuck you, so you might as well get used to that idea. Now, keep still (Y/N).”

“And I told you to hang on,” you grumble, twisting your head around to glower up at him. Shockingly, he pauses, his eyes narrowing as he leans back, lowering his hand to his throbbing length, tugging at himself, relieving some of the pressure that he’s worked up, waiting.  

“Just...what happened? Can’t you at least talk to me, before you try to fuck me inside out? What– ”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Tomura frowns, already pulling you back to him, prepared to line up with your unprepared cunt and shove his way inside you, ready or not. 

“No, wait. But what if– ”

“But what if?” Tomura mimics, unamused with your continued struggles. “My head hurts and I want to feel you. So, stop arguing with me, stop being such a–”

“If you finish that sentence I swear to fucking God, Tomura, I’ll– ”

“What? You’ll what? What are you gonna do? Huh?”

“Ugh, stop being such an ass, Tomura. It’s not like I pissed you off. How would you like it if I did this shit to you?”

“If you fucked me until I couldn’t think anymore? I’d say thank you and not be so– ”

“So let me do that,” you snap, wriggling out of his grip and flipping yourself around, fingers already reaching for his half clothed thighs and pulling yourself up to him. Tomura freezes underneath your touch and his eyes are wide, whisking over your upturned face. 

“You’ve got this, mmm, backwards,” he grouses, unable to resist bucking into you when one of your palms slips over his dripping cock.

“Do I?” you smile, kissing along his jaw, pausing to suck at his earlobe. He gasps at the sensation and his head butts into you, easing you off of that sensitive skin. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise,” you coo. 

He’s quiet for a time and the only sounds you can hear are the wet squelches of your hand, gliding up and down his succulent cock, squeezing when you reach the tip and working some of that dribbling precum over your fingers. You’re about to posit another question when you hear him, breathy and low, rumbling out his answer to your soft seduction. 

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

Oh, fuck yes. You bite back your smile and pull yourself from his neck, meeting his eyes and reveling in that sweet blush he’s gifting you. Your hand keeps up a delicious friction, mollifying his ragged needs, and you study his face, debating your next move. He looks frustrated, but there’s something else hiding behind those vermillion eyes, something that’s curious, avid. 

“Let’s see,” you ponder, already feeling intoxicated off of this new sensation, this burgeoning power he’s bestowing you. “Since you were, oh, so impatient earlier, how about you show me just how wet you want me to be?”

Tomura snorts, rolling his eyes. “You could have just said you wanted me to eat you out.”

“Oh? I’m sorry, was my request unclear about that?” you smart, lifting your fingers away from his cock, pausing to wipe his slick lubrication down his pants. Tomura sucks his teeth at that, but lets the impudence slide. “Well?” you question, laying back and cocking your head at him, spreading your legs, granting him a swift peek at your flushing pussy. “You gonna make me wait all day? Oh, and take your pants off. It’s not fair you always get to keep all the layers on.”

“Why the fuck am I letting you do this, again?” Tomura growls, slipping his long legs out of his stained jeans and tossing them on the floor. His shirt follows and, despite his grumbling, he quickly slots himself between your spread thighs, his nose already dipped and sniffing loudly, inhaling the heady aroma of you dampening curls. 

His fingers thread to your dewy folds and he splits your lips apart, gathering some of the gossamer webs along his fingertips. You give him a pleased hum and he sinks his index finger into you, head lifting so he can watch you arch against the intrusion. “Hey, (Y/N),” he smirks, adding a second finger and v-ing the two, stretching you open, “I asked you a question.”

“Because you wanna see what I’ve got planned for you,” you gasp out, lifting yourself onto your elbows, wanting to observe his teasing explorations. 

“Do I? What makes you think that?”

“You can’t help yourself. Besides, I think you like pleasing me. You like when I tell you nice things or when I say you’re doing a good job.”

“Hmph,” Tomura jeers, shaking his head at your assessment, but he doesn’t comment further, content to silently watch as your cunt swallows his fingers. Your arousal soon coats the digits and begins to drip down his palm and onto his wrist. He’s just about to lean forward, to press those rough lips against you when you tut at him.

“Uh-uh,” you scold, lowering one knee and trapping his hand between your thighs, barring him from you. Tomura flashes a displeased expression your way, but humors you, stilling his movement. “Gotta ask,” you inform him, arching one delicate brow at his redding cheeks. 

“Ask? I thought you said you wanted me to make you wet?” Tomura sneers, his red eyes hardening, like flecked rubies in the darkness of his room. 

“Sure did. So, do you think you’ve done a good enough job? Or are you wanting to do more?”

Tomura’s jaw flops open and he fixes you with a sour look. “What?”

“It’s not that difficult, Tomura. I want to know if this is the best you can do?” 

“Of course it’s not. It’s– ”

“Well then,” you interrupt, lifting your knee again and arching yourself toward him. “Show me. Ask me if you can eat me out.” 

“I’m not– I–” His eyes have drifted from yours and that blush is deepening, seeping over his skin, staining him with his flustered want. Oh, this is working too well, you think, tilting your head at his abashed grumbling. 

“Come on, handsome,” you call, trailing your foot along his lean side, watching him quake and gasp. “Do it for me? Just this once?”

Tomura glances back up at you and he clicks his teeth together, trying to muster his wavering desires. “C-can I eat you out?” 

“Oh, baby. That was so fucking good, thank you. Go on, you earned it.”

In seconds, Tomura’s beet red face is buried between your thighs. His lips latch onto your clit and he starts to suckle at the budding flesh, his saliva leaching from his lips. The warmth of him makes you shiver and your fingers sink into his silvery hair, threading along the strands and scritching at his scalp. His caresses are sloppy and he hunches himself closer, lapping and slurping at you, groaning when you flutter around his imbedded fingers. 

As you’re indulging yourself, whispering soft encouragement over his bowed head, you notice one of his hands drifting toward his straining cock, his fingers twitching as they grasp at the bulbous head, eager to work out some of that simmering pressure. “Stop that!” you snap, startling him, making him lose his grip on you. 

You curl your digits into his hair, yanking him up, straining his neck as you demand his full attention. His eyes are narrowed and gleaming, ire written all over his slicked face. 

“What the f-fuck?” he growls, tongue lapping at the residual threads of your arousal, trying to work steel into his voice.

“I said you could eat me out, not that you could touch yourself,” you retort, tugging at his hair until he’s moaning, his hips unconsciously humping against the bed. “Oh, you like that? Well that doesn’t work at all. Get on your knees.”

“What? I thought that– ”

“Get on your fucking knees, Tomura.”

“Stop telling me what to do you fucking– ah– God.” Your fingers release his hair and before he can stumble out another snarl you’re shoving him back, your hand wrapping around his cock, squeezing and pressing quick jerks over him. 

You let him fall to his back and you loom over him, teeth latching onto his scarred neck, biting and pulling, coaxing a low whine from his throat. Your hand slows and he keeps trying to rut into your palm, his legs trembling as he flounders against the sheets. “You wanna cum? Hmm, do you? You want me to finish you off? Talk to me, Tomura.”

He’s overwrought under your ministrations, his head lowered and his brow furrowed. His eyes keep opening and closing, too disjointed to focus on anything but your touch. He tries to gulp something out, but it’s lost in a smothered groan seconds later. He looks fucking cute, you think, watching him, rutting your hips over his raised knee. Drool starts to fleck out of his mouth and his back bows and arches. He’s practically unhinged, but it’s not enough. He’d never let you get away with not answering a question, so why should he get special treatment?

Your hand slows and he pouts, a long groan leaching from between his clenched teeth. “I asked you a question,” you mime, licking along his cheek, pulling some of that extra saliva he’d frothed out into your waiting mouth. “Do you want me to finish you off? Or should I leave you like this?”

“P-plea...finish me off,” he whispers, his voice rasping. 

“Ooh, was that what I think it was? Baby, did you almost say please? I’d love that so much. Oh fuck, that makes me want to take care of you.” You kiss at his temple and he quakes, his hips rising, trying to force your palm back into that rhythm. 

“I didn’t...I didn’t mean to...just fucking…(Y/N)...” Tomura lets out a reedy whine when you lift your hand from him, letting his cock spring from your grasp, the tip curving toward his stomach, swollen and red. 

“Oh no, you didn’t mean to? That’s not nice, no that’s not fucking nice at all. Especially after I just told you how much I liked that idea.” you lift your sticky fingers to your lips and lick up the last bits of his precum, humming contentedly and lifting your eyes to his. He’s watching you, his eyes hooded and dark. His breaths are coming in low heaves and he’s gritting his teeth, but he hasn’t reached for himself. No, there is a wild look in his eyes and you want to see if you can make it worse.

“Say please and I’ll touch you,” you tell him, your voice lulling, tempting.

He looks away from you and he starts to shake his head, but then you hear him, whisper thin, broken, and oh, so fucking needy, so exquisite. “Please, I-I wanna cum. Touch me, please (Y/N).”

You take him back into your hands, your fingers gentle as they wrap around that velvet skin, careful to build him back up slowly. You rise up on your knees and tilt his chin up, wanting to feel his lips on yours. Tomura sucks in a ragged breath when you tap soft caress to him, his body surging forward, demanding more. You indulge him, letting him slip his rough tongue into your mouth, pressing and dipping until he’s inebriated off the sheer closeness of you. When you pull away he lets out a huff and you stroke a hand down his flushed face. 

“You’re doing so well baby. Do you like it?”

“Y-yes, can...can you g-go faster?” he stammers, his mouth falling open and head tipping back when you acquiesce, picking up speed. He’s starting to sway, his back hunkering forward and backwards, knees spreading, drifting closer and closer to his release. Your thumb traces over his slit and you pull a glistening strand of precum from him, clinging and wet as it dangles across the short distance you’ve created. 

“God, handsome. You’re doing such a good job, I’m so fucking proud of you. I know it’s not easy, but you’re perfect. How does it feel, love? Are you gonna cum for me?”

He moans at your declarations, unable to even gasp the words out, leaning forward and burying his face in your shoulder. His brow is jagged against your smooth skin, but you let him rub himself against you, feeling the heat of his blush and the damp stick of his lips as he tries to catch his breath. 

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll take care of you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Are you ready to cum for me?”

He nods, his head thumping on your neck, another thin strip of drool escaping his open mouth. It trickles down your breast, cooling and prickling your flesh as it passes. You kiss at his lowered brow and he sighs, muttering something that’s too distant for you to hear. 

“Hmm, love? What was that? I can’t hear you,” you tell him, tightening the grip on his slippery cock, feeling those tell-tale flutterings that proceed his release. He’s scalding under your palm and he keeps trying to scoot closer, his hands shaking beside his hips, one of them reaching for you and digging into your side. 

“I-I said...fuck...let me cum, mom...m-mommy, please,” the last two words leave him on a yelp and he pulses in your hand, spurting thick cables of his cum across your lap and his. 

In the lull that follows, Tomura drags you against him, not caring that he’s smearing himself all over you and his chest. He pulls you down and wraps his long arms around you, caging you to him as he regains his breathing. You ignore the wet sticking that he’s rubbing into your lower half and you pull yourself higher, shifting until you can see his face. He’s still flushed and his eyes are clouded, but he lets you kiss at the side of his face. 

A silence stretches over the two of you and you’re unsure what to say. 

You’d liked pushing him and you’d liked how he bent to your demands, but that last comment, that final utterance he’d grunted into your shoulder as he worked himself into a frenzy, well, you’re not sure how you felt about that. Sure, it had made your pussy clench and you’re fairly certain it would only take a quick tweak of your fingers to shatter that burning ache within you, but what exactly have you awakened? Would he even acknowledge it, later after he’s escaped this haze that he’s slipped into? Would he...would he let you do that to him again? 

His drying cum is making your skin pull and you try to shift from his hold, but Tomura keeps clutching you, refusing to budge. 

“I- I just want to clean myself. Can I go to the bathroom? I’ll be– ”

“Don’t go, not yet,” Tomura replies, his tone gravel and forgotten ash. His arms tighten and you chance a quick glance at his turned face, meeting his eyes and absolutely melting. 

His expression is slack and his eyes are wide, with a childlike wonderment, and when you look at him he smiles. “Stay with me?” he asks and you wrap yourself around him, feeling for that familiar beat of his heart as it pulses, steady and strong, under your shaking fingers. 

******

A few days later, Tomura tells you to put on a new, grey, robe and leads you down one of the long walkways, toward one of the closed rooms that sits at the back of the hideout. He opens the door and hot steam pours from the tiled space, bushing against your face and tickling your nose. Inside sits a porcelain, square, ofuro bath. Your eyes lift to his, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s wholly focused on tugging you inside, sliding the door shut and sealing you both in the fresh condensation.

“Leave your robe on that table by the door,” he tells you, already stripping off his dark shirt and lowering his four fingered grip to his belt, clattering the metal under his nails. You shift to obey, carefully folding the soft fabric and waiting for him, shivering against the cool tiles.

Tomura turns to you once he’s finished and regards you silently, his eyes lingering over your face. “Come on,” he rasps, gesturing his head toward the bath. He lets you step in first and once you’ve sunk into the water he wedges himself behind you, hissing against the warmth. Tentatively, you lean your back to his chest and Tomura shifts you over him, slotting his legs alongside your hips. Once you’re both comfortable, you slide your feet to the end of the tub, resting your head close to Tomura’s collarbone, quietly luxuriating in the gentle warmth. 

“So, um, I didn’t even know this room was here. Not that I know a lot about any of the rooms, so I guess that’s a stupid point. Anyway, why did you wanna do this? I mean...I like this, I’m just confused,” you correct, tilting your head up to look at his face. His eyes are closed and his lip is set into a light curve, smirking at your question. 

“Think of it as my way of getting you back for the other night, in the shower,” he rumbles, his voice deep as it reverberates around your ears. 

“Really?” you laugh, trailing your hand over the water, watching the ripples spread and fade. 

“Yeah, haven’t seen you this off balance in weeks,” Tomura teases, resting his chin over your head. 

“Pfft,” you scoff, brushing a bit of water over his chest, “you wish.” 

“I do,” he sighs, bringing his arm down over you, quieting your playful splashes. “I figured you’d like this and you’ve shown me that it’s nice to do things for the people you love.” The mention of the word love makes your heart miss a beat and you try to peek up at his face again, but his chin holds you still. It’s not the first time he’s said it to you. No, he’s said it plenty of times before and in plenty of ways. Sometimes it was a threat, other times it was a calculation, something that was supposed to make you pause, make you second guess yourself, letting a strange, nagging guilt prick along the back of your mind. 

But, there’s something different about this utterance of the endearment.

It’s quiet and it’s spoken with no layering of underlying motives. No, he said it like he...like he meant it, perhaps for the first time. You press back against his slick pectorals and he hums at the weight of you, pleased by your response to his declaration. The water laps at your sides and you snach his arms, wrapping them around you, stroking delicate designs over his wet skin. 

******

“I don’t– I don’t think that’s it,” you pant, your fingers slick. They’re too slippery, really. You can’t get a good grip on him and you keep flicking your eyes up to his, positive he’s gonna to buck you off of him any second.

He’s quiet, his lips set into a white line, but that blush of his, oh, that will never not look nice. When you fumble again he shifts, arching and impatient, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. Why would he?

It was his idea after all.

He’d murmured the request when the water cooled about the two of you. But your chill was forgotten as soon as he rasped the words against your ear, tickling your sensitive skin. When you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, his cock began to swell behind you, prodding and curious. 

As you entered his dark bedroom, he didn’t even give you a moment to breathe, lifting you to him, lips biting, sucking, licking you senseless. Once your knees bumped the mattress he urged you to sit, leaving your side to fish something out of a nearby drawer. He tapped the bottle down on the lone side table, nudging it expectantly and fixing you with a grinning leer. 

You’ve never done anything like this, never thought about it, never...no...no, that’s a lie. You have thought about it before and you’ve heard about it, too. I-It was supposed to feel good, right? 

Now, if you could only do this correctly.

You ball your hand into a fist and bite your lip, take a steadying breath and give him another lidded glance, watching him from the curtain of your eyelashes. “Ready?” you ask, rubbing your thumb and index finger together, trying to warm up the glossy lube. 

Tomura doesn’t grace you with a verbal affirmation, instead he simply nods his head, cascading his white hair over his forehead. Alright, you think, scooting closer and lowering one finger to him, reaching for his cock with your opposite hand. You grip him firmly, coiling your digits and admiring the dribble of precum that greets your pump. Tomura lets out a low exhale and arches again, those fervid eyes falling behind his eyelids. 

While you’re pulling and squeezing him, your trembling finger traces a circle around his puckered asshole, teasing at the muscle, giving him time to adjust. Once you’ve dampened him to your satisfaction, you dip into that warmth and gasp, your other hand faltering, accidentally loosening your hold on his straining length. 

You peek up at him, but his head has fallen back and his broad chest is heaving. Again, he’s not protesting, or demanding that you stop, so you keep going. That first ring of muscle is tight, pinching your intruding digit when you try to sink further. As you wait for him to acclimate to the foreign sensation, you focus on his cock, bending your head over him and giving him a long suck. Your tongue swirls around his tip and you lap at the bubbling, salty, precum that floods your mouth. Again, Tomura stretches and shoves his hips forward, encouraging you, wordlessly telling you to keep going. 

His dick slides from your lips with a wet pop and your hand makes up for the loss, jerking moans from his open lips. You twist your opposite wrist and drive your finger in, plunging the last knuckle past that quivering ring. Flexing the digit, you begin to feel around for a bulge, the one that he asked you to stimulate for him.

He said he wanted to know how it felt and, best of all, he wanted you to push him until he begged you to stop.

It’s hot and sleek inside him and you’re worried that you might miss it. After all, it’s not like...wait...what...is that? There’s something protruding and it feels both hard and soft under your finger pad. Unsure, you stroke over it again and Tomura does something wonderful in response.

When you apply the slightest whisper of pressure his legs curl up, bracing his feet against the sheets and he lets out the breathiest whine. His fingers scrabble beside him, slapping and gripping at the bedding until you’re sure he’s about to decay the whole fucking thing and leave you both blinking on the dusty floor. 

“D-did– that feel good?” you query, amazed at the clenching his body is doing. Tomura nods his head, white hair splayed across the mattress and you pause, waiting for him to gather himself back together. 

“Again,” he finally grunts, craning his neck to give you a staggered glare, his eyes cloudy.  

Licking your lips, you give the gland another press and Tomura practically writhes off the bed. He’s groaning and gasping, choking out your name as he works himself closer. His cock pulsates in your hand and a line of milky white cum spurts out. It’s not enough to be a true release, but it makes your mouth go dry. 

Tomura sits up and his eyes immediately ensnare yours, blazing as he looks up at you. “Fucking keep going, don’t stop,” he barks, his voice splintered, hoarse. Keeping your finger close to the swell of his prostate, you shake your head at him. Tomura snarls at your impudence, but when you start to withdraw your finger he quiets, his teeth grinding behind his scowling face. 

“Don’t be an ass,” you challenge, fingers scooping up some of his leaked cum, using it to ease your renewed motions. Tomura buckles at that and his head drops to his chest, shaking out a few unsteady breaths. “If you want me to keep touching you like this, you better ask me nicely.” To emphasize your point, you lightly scrape your nail over that sensitive spot inside him, making him shudder and sigh. 

“Keep going, please,” he spits out. It’s dripping with more false supplication than true politeness, but you’ll take it. Since he reacted so well to that first press, you can’t help but wonder what he’ll do when you circle some modulated pressure around him. Oh, and it’s a perfect reaction. As soon as you complete that first rotation he’s a gooey mess, his bowed head shaking and nodding as he scrapes out your name.    

“Oh handsome,” you sigh, watching as another burst of precum trickles from his slit, coating your hand in a tacky sheen of pearl colored liquid. “You look so good. Being such a good boy and taking me like this. Does it feel good? Do you like it? Talk to me.”

Tomura whimpers when you repeat the oscillation, his voice slipping into a giddy edge, cracking and rising. “Fuck yes. It– it feels– oh fuck– again, again. Do it again. I-I mean...please. Ohhh God, (Y/N)!” 

He’s laughing now, his throat snagging as his moans hit a high pitched garble. “Ah-haha— I know, you liked it when I called you mommy. I saw your fucking face. It looked so pretty. Want me to say it again? Ah– oh, oh. I’ll do it. I’ll do it if you keep– hahaaa— fuck, fuck, fuck– I’ll– m-mommy. Oh, fucking God. Mommy don’t stop! Come here, fucking come here. I don’t care if you’re not rubbing my dick. Come here mommy and let me show you how much I fucking waaant you.”

His hands paw at you and he drags you up, lifting you with a lithe strength that you’ve never seen. Your finger, too slick to withstand the pull, slips from him and he groans at the loss. “I didn’t mean–” you begin, but he silences you with a fevered kiss, his teeth clinking against yours. He drowns out your protestations and swiftly straddles you over him, pressing you down and spearing you onto his messy cock. 

Once he bottoms out, the tip of him pulsing deliciously as he indulges himself in your wet heat, he leans back and gives you a wild grin, his eyes bright. “Fuck, yes. Ride me mommy. Let me show you what a good boy I am.”

notes: (￣▽￣*)ゞ  

tags: @libiraki​ (i’m tagging you cuz imma make you into a tomura fucker if it’s the last thing i do) @spicy-skull​, @xwildskullx​, @yixxes​, @ghstmthr​, @rekoii​, @diaouranask​, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love​

Malchance

Jasonette July prompt 19: mistakes

Prompt applies to the beginning

Final part of Cocorico

My masterlist

Malchance sat on the roof overlooking the roof where Nightwing and Red Hood had been engaged in a fight for several minutes. They either knew each other's fighting style very well or they were evenly matched. She should have brought popcorn. Red Hood got a lucky hit before Nightwing could dodge and managed to lift him up by the back of the neck.

She dropped down behind them, losing sight of the lovely double view of them from behind when Red Hood turned to face her. Nightwing broke away from the hold while Red Hood was distracted. Malchance walked up to them carefully swinging her cat tail around, seeming relaxed. She was not relaxed. She had escaped one only to be nearly caught by the other so she was definitely on her guard.

"You were right about Black Mask. He is a nasty piece of work."

"See I tried to protect you from him."

"You kidnapped me."

"I told you it was temporary. You were a guest and I let you go."

"I escaped and then was immediately chased by him."

She pointed at Nightwing who had been watching them argue.

“I have so many questions. You kidnapped her?” Nightwing looked over at Red Hood when he asked that but then turned back to Malchance. “What is going on with Black Mask? That is what I was trying to find out before but you ran off.”

“I don’t remember any questions. You just started chasing me and then got out your cuffs.”

She sauntered over and winked at him, but looked back over to see Red Hood’s reaction. As she approached, she moved her hand to her staff in case she needed to make a quick get away. She couldn’t see Red Hood’s face to gauge his reaction but he had tensed. She laughed at them.

“You cuffed her? You aren’t trying to tell me we are after the same girl are you. I think she is warming up to me.” He took a step toward her.

“Maybe I am. I was even thinking about holding your hand.” She looked up at him seductively through her long cat eyelashes the suit gave her and whispered. “Cataclysm.”

She brushed her hand against a discarded box on the rooftop and the men watched it disintegrate and both of them took a step away when she turned back to them and reached out her hand.

“What are you?” Nightwing asked.

“Finally getting to some interesting questions. But I don’t answer interesting questions.”

“Why are you dealing with Black Mask?” Red Hood asked, changing the subject.

“Bonus points to you for bringing us back to the topic of the day.”

“What do I get with my bonus points? I might want to cash them in.”

“You destroyed my business. You will never get enough points to get yourself out of the hole.”

“I feel like I’m missing a whole lot of history here, and I’m definitely curious. But Black Mask. That seems to be the issue to focus on right now instead of your weird version of flirting.”

“Jealous?” Red Hood said.

Marinette ignored them and instead explained her actual purpose for being in Gotham and her former business. She omitted plenty of details that were more sensitive in nature but was able to give them an overview of the magic that was at the core of Gotham and how she thought Black Mask was utilizing it. She would not be able to stop him all on her own as she had found out in her dealings with him. He had too many people working for him that may not be loyal to his goal but still supported the goal of removing her from the picture. She was more offended that he tried to kill her instead of paying her what he owed.

“So you what, need our help to take him down?” Nightwing asked.

“Yes. If he harnesses this magic it would hurt the balance of the whole world. Gotham is surrounded by the miasma but it would extend far beyond that.”

“So you just want us to trust you? There is a system. You haven’t even been vetted.” Nightwing argued.

“I don’t need your approval. My authority spans far beyond Gotham and far beyond your plane of existence. You are inconsequential.”

She turned away from him when she was finished and Red Hood followed. She glanced back at him and he didn’t seem to be making a move so she just stayed vigilant in case that changed.

“I’ll be in touch,” she told him.

“Wait, can we talk?” Red Hood asked.

She motioned with her head and jumped away; he followed. They crossed several rooftops and made sure they were not being followed by anyone, Nightwing included, before Marinette led them to a rooftop that felt surprisingly calm for Gotham. You couldn’t hear the noise from the street or the docks and no sounds of fighting. It was like a calm in the storm. It was her favorite place to hang out when she needed to get away from everything.

“What did you want?” she asked.

“To apologize.” Red Hood said. He paused for a moment and removed his helmet. She could see his hair and facial features but his eyes and the surrounding skin were still covered by a lensed domino mask. He reached out for her hand.

“I’m listening,” she said.

“I guess it’s not enough to say I need to apologize, I actually have to follow through.”

“That is how apologies work.”

“I’m sorry. I should have handled the threats against you differently. It would have been better if I had convinced you to come with me.”

“That is your apology? You are not admitting the mistakes.”

“I mean I’m sorry for kidnapping you.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“It wasn’t just the kidnapping. You didn’t trust me to handle my own affairs and you ruined my business."

“I still have plenty of business for you. You gave up on it. Also, clearly something happened with Black Mask so maybe I was right.”

“This is the worst apology ever. The biggest mistake was listening to you at all. I’ve changed my mind, I don’t need help, not from you.”

“Just hold on a minute. You are twisting everything. It was my fault that anyone was after you. Someone made a joke about me flirting with you and word got out. I just wanted to take responsibility to make sure that you didn’t suffer because of it.”

“Maybe employ fewer gossips and don’t flirt with everyone you meet.”

“I employ at least one less gossip, and I don’t flirt with everyone I meet. It just happened with one person. There is a reason it was noteworthy gossip worth making such a large bounty for.

Malchance turned back to him and watched him without responding. He did appear contrite. Usually she would have a sense of someone to know whether they were a danger to her. She thought it just didn’t work with him because she never felt in danger. She may feel adrenaline or nervousness but it hadn’t tripped her internal sense of self preservation.

She stepped towards him and kept watching him. He looked down at her and she could tell he was making eye contact before he took off his mask. Her eyes searched his, looking for answers she was too afraid to ask. She reached up and pushed the shock of white hair away from his face. He closed his eyes as her fingers slipped through his hair. Her hand slid down to his cheek and she finally spoke.

“Why me?”

"Because I feel like you see me how am, and you don't recoil. There is attraction; you are gorgeous. But more than that, I feel drawn to you."

He stepped close and cupped her face. She was suddenly remembering his measurements and exactly how she felt being close to him to take them. She couldn't keep meeting his eyes. She looked away.

"I'm not sure what you see is actually there. I'm just a broken person with a mission to complete."

He lifted her chin to have their eyes meet again. She closed her eyes for the moment. His thumb brushed across her jaw before he dropped his hand and shuffled his feet. She looked back at him, but sure what she felt.

"I can get Nightwing and Batman to help take care of Black Mask."

"You and Nightwing were just fighting. Batman is one of your enemies. How does that even work?"

"We have to play by their rules but it sounds like this is a threat to us all. We can get along for a moment and fight later."

"I did not agree to anyone else's rules. This is my mission and I'm not just letting them take over."

"I should clarify. I meant his no killing rule. It's a restriction for me that I doubt changes things for you."

"It doesn't. I won't work harder to protect the life but I won't attempt to take lives."

"That should be close enough. Can we meet here in one week to discuss details?"

She nodded her assent. She was turning to go when he stepped towards her. She allowed him to turn her face slightly and put a gentle kiss on her cheek. She reached out and squeezed his forearm slightly. She tried to pass it off as a comforting gesture for him rather than to keep herself from melting off her feet.

---

It was the day of the planned assault on Black Mask’s operation. As far as Cocorico could tell they were at the location of the magical manipulation. Groups of Red Hood’s militia were prepared all around to breach but right now Cocorico was gathered with Red Hood and Nightwing to discuss the final details. It was all going as expected until Batman showed up and Cocorico suddenly wondered if this was a good idea. Red Hood and Batman were clearly far from okay with working with each other. Cocorico thought they might kill each other before the battle even started. Batman stepped towards Red Hood so Hood had removed his helmet and was stepping right back in some display of aggressive dominance.

Cocorico would not allow them to ruin her plan. She had gotten them to help a few weeks ago but she had been working toward this for almost 2 years and she wasn’t going to let them ruin it. She pulled Red Hood away and turned to scold Batman but she had pulled Red Hood too hard and when he spun to adjust they both stumbled towards the wall. Just before her head connected with the wall Red Hood slipped his hand behind it. Her back hit the wall and she looked up at him as he was suddenly pressed against her. His other hand had planted against the wall and he was pushing back, probably to continue his argument with Batman.

It was just a thought. She wasn’t planning to do anything about her errant thoughts about Red Hood. She had a mission and she had worked hard to have no distractions. But their eyes met for that brief second and she couldn’t bear to have him turn away. She grabbed the front of his jacket to turn him back toward her. She told herself she just wanted to see his eyes again but without thinking she moved toward him. He was shocked when she kissed him but he recovered quickly. He pressed her back into the wall and kissed her back. It was desperate and brief. Being interrupted by Batman clearing his throat. If looks could kill Red Hood’s would have killed Batman in that instant that Cocorico pulled away.

“For luck,” she said and reached back up to put a peck on his cheek.

“I could use some luck,” Nightwing said.

Red Hood’s eyes narrowed at him but Cocorico responded before anything else happened.

“Batman is right there,” she pointed at him. “Pucker up.”

That effectively ended any further comments about luck or kissing. Red Hood put his helmet back on and Cocorico took a moment to merge Orikko and Plagg as added protection during the battle. Then they moved in.

It was far longer than they expected before anyone noticed their presence. They had fully infiltrated the building before anyone sounded the alarm. Chatcorico thought that must be due to the training of the militia. They had found guards but they were neutralized, brutally in some cases, but they were still alive per Batman’s insistence.

She was shocked by the glow over the compound when they reached the hub. It was otherworldly. She stumbled under the weight of the magic that hit her. Red Hood turned to her in concern. No one else seemed to be affected. She could feel it though. It was not only the ancient sorcery of the city. There was miraculous magic here.

Whatever they were planning was going on now. They paused while everyone gathered at their appointed locations. Chatcorico looked around to decide how best to proceed but what she saw caused her to jump into action and charge out without alerting anyone. Black Mask was there as well as an unknown person bound at the center of all the activity. She was on her knees with her hand bound behind her and a gag in her mouth. In front of her was Black Mask walking towards her with a knife.

That was all bad for the person, which they would endeavor to protect when the assault began but she saw more. There was something in front of them that was drawing in all of the ethereal light seeping from somewhere below. Marinette didn’t know what they were trying to accomplish but she knew it would be bad. She rushed Black Mask from behind. He turned just as she reached him and knocked her over. She used her kite to block. But he didn’t have time to keep after her Red Hood was already behind him.

Chatcorico saw the rest of the group moving in to attack but she focused on removing the bindings from the woman. She undid the bindings on the hand first and then focused on the ones binding the feet together. The woman pulled the binding from her mouth and immediately transferred guardianship of the box to Monk. Marinette remembered that he was the guardian she had met in New York. The box seemed to shed the magic that was attempting to infect it and then floated up. It seemed to mask itself as it exited the building. Chatcorico assumed that it would go to the new guardian of the box, as had happened when she gained the guardianship. Then woman in front of her would have no memory of it.

The battle was long. By the end, they had claimed the building but Black Mask retreated and got away along with many of his men. Those left were behind she suspected would be arrested. Red Hood had his crew filtering out quickly. There was nothing to say they would not be arrested too when the time came. She didn’t expect that Batman’s generosity to work with the man would extend to keeping him out of jail when the time came. The partnership was very limited.

She started to get concerned that the same could be said of her own partnership with him. She was an unknown and she could tell he didn’t trust magic users. He knew enough to suggest a couple other magic users who he trusted enough with the magic seeping out. That didn't seem to include her and she wasn't sure she could handle it anyway. It had become clear that her involvement was to recover and protect the miraculous magic and the former guardian. She could leave the woman to their questioning.

She released Orikko, who had been active longer and she would have an easier time traveling as Malchance. She nodded at Batman and Nightwing, giving them no chance to stop her before she scooped up the woman and vaulted out of there. She took her to her apartment and left her sleeping in the spare room. She would have to find out about contacting the new guardian soon. The order would have some way to care for the woman who lost her memories to the cause.

Malchance would return to her shortly but she had to check. She landed on the roof and as she suspected Red Hood was waiting for her there. He looked up and watched her land and walk toward him. He stood and reached out for her. She was shocked at how right it felt to go into his arms. Maybe it had been too long since she had allowed herself to form any connections. She didn't want to bother with the 'why' of anything tonight. She just craved the connection. She knew it wasn't love and probably wouldn't last. Maybe he only liked the chase and maybe she didn't care. She pulled him down and kissed him. The only thing that mattered was it was right now.

Taglist

@jasonette-july-event | @theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf | @vixen-uchiha | @trythisagainlove | @trippingovermyfeet | @tbehartoo | @adrestar | @zynna

Can I ask for Nepeta when her s/o is having uncomfy lady week and poor cat baby doesn't know what's going on because trolls don't have that?

The pronouns for this fic is she/her I hope that’s okay

You wrapped the blanket around your form, letting a pitiful moan escape from you as another bout of pain spread through your lower area.

“Fuck. This.” You cursed bitterly. You snatched a bag of your favorite candy from the table in front of where you were seated on the couch. You grabbed a fistful and popped a few in your mouth, chewing tightly.

Yes it was that time again, the one where everyone with a uterus hated. Your cycle was here and it was wrecking you through and through. The cramps this month seemed unbearable and no amount of pain relievers was making it go away.

You were about to reach for the remote when you felt a pair of familiar arms hug you from behind.

“Hello pretty kitty~” Nepeta sang happily as she squeezed you tightly. “The huntress spots her mate spirit and gives her a big hug!”

You inwardly wanted to cry with being moved around from the hug but you held it in for your girlfriends sake.

“Back from hunting already sweetie?” You asked with a small smile, forcing your face to less of a pained one.

Your mate spirit gave a giggle before nodding vigorously. “Yess! It went quite well actually. I found a big fur beast that will be perfect for dinner!” She praised herself with a satisfied pose and expression.

You gave her head a pat and ruffled her hair between your digits. “Good job Nep, I’m so proud of you.~”

Nepeta gushed audibly and rubbed her face against yours affectionately. She went to give you another hug but froze when she saw your pained face.

“Y/N, what’s the matter? Are you okay?” She asked with a frown. She hated seeing you in pain or anything less than happy and content.

You waited for a rather strong cramp to subside before answering. “Yes Nepeta… it’s just cramps, it’ll go away soon enough. This month is just…” you explained and stopped for a moment to catch your breath you’d been holding. “Kinda high on the pain scale.”

Nepeta’s posture turned concerned, her tail flicked back and forth as she placed both of her hands on your knees. “Y/N… you’re in pain? Where are you hurt? I can patch you up!” She offered earnestly.

You gave a audible laugh at her innocence and shook your head. “No sweetie, I’m not hurt physically, I mean I’m hurting physically and technically bleeding-“

“You’re bleeding?! Where are you bleeding?” She exclaimed searching your body for a wound.

You had to hold her shoulders to make her pause. “Nep! Relax my love.” You told her in a calm tone.

The olive blood tried her best to be as still and quiet as possible. She wrung her hands together and took a deep breathe and let it out. “Okay…”

You gave her a smile and leaned back into the couch. “This is a normal human thing. It’s called a period. Since I have a uterus I have one every month. All it is is the lining that’s there gets shed with the blood through my nether regions. I’m not dying.” You reassured her and groaned as the cramps amplified. “It just feels like I am. During this time of the month, comes with pain down below my stomach. It’s totally normal.”

She looked mortified. “How is this normal! That sounds absolutely horrible…” she replied with a larger frown but noticeably less tense since you said that you were gonna be okay. “Trolls do not have nothing like this.”

She loved you and she hated that she couldn’t make this stop for you.

You caressed her cheek with your thumb. “It sucks but what’s a gal to do? Gotta love being human.”

She leaned into your hand and purred softly softly. “I could lay with you and make sure you’re warm?” She offered and looked to you.

You felt your chest tighten at her thoughtfulness. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot. Thank you…”

She gave a soft mewl as she lifted the blanket and made sure it covered the both of you. She then snuggled up closer to you and laid her head under your arm. “Anything for you Y/N, I’m gonna make sure you’re as comfy as pawsible~.”

Talk So Pretty, But Your Heart Got Teeth

AYO another day another oneshot as a part of the MGI Trope Tussle! BUT WAIT THERES MORE thanks to @nightlychaotic for letting me continue her oneshot that can be found HERE! 

Fics Masterlist

Dickinette Oneshot 2.8K words 

Summary:

“Nightwing was desperate to figure out Kit Noire. For reasons beyond professional.” 

without further ado:

Some days, you're the only thing I know

Only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold

Can't look away, can't look away

Beg you to stay, beg you to stay, yeah

It had been two weeks since Nightwing had last seen Kit Noire. While the lack of thefts and reported break-ins was doing wonders for his day job, he found his nightlife severely lacking its usual luster. He had done some research into her powers, cross-referencing with some of his more magically inclined coworkers. Aquaman had an interesting story about some god of destruction but it was Atlantean lore that led nowhere. He was drawing blanks on what his next move was going to be. Conflicted on whether to bring her to justice or to help her get justice. 

His team was of no help either. Batman was adamant on chasing her out of Gotham, her destructive powers too dangerous in the city, while his siblings were more engrossed in teasing him about his affections for the cat thief. Jabs about ‘learned behaviour’ and ‘truly being the next Batman’ went ignored for his own piece of mind. He loathed to admit it but his intrigue in her, his adamance to be involved with her case, stemmed from less professional intentions. He was compromised in this investigation but he was unwilling to relent to anyone else.

Kit Noire was his to solve. 

Sometimes, you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me or you want me dead

Push me away, push me away

Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay, yeah

He finally found her one night by the Gotham Harbour. She was in the middle of an altercation with the same guy who had stolen some grimoire from her. ‘Guardian’ he had called her. 

Rather than intervene immediately, Nightwing hung back in the shadows, observing the two of them. The man was obviously much older than her and was particularly equipped to combat her style of fighting. He used what appeared to be a wooden staff and was dressed in Buddhist-inspired robes. Another piece to add into his investigation. 

Their fight was approaching a stalemate, neither willing to yield to the other. Nightwing decided to make his presence known. A couple smoke bombs were tossed into the fray, halting the fight. Taking the opening, he jumped in between and threw two bolas at the old man. He was wrapped securely in the wires and collapsed gracelessly on the planks. Not giving him anymore attention, he moved to intercept Kit Noire; choosing the evil he knew over the one he didn’t.

“Sorry, songbird.” She spoke with more bite than usual, her frustration with the older man still clinging to her. “But I already have plans tonight. None that involves you sadly.”

“What?” His casual drawl, partnered with his carefully crafted smirk did nothing to placate the hissing cat in his arms. “I can’t let the kitty have all the fun.”

“Please,” she scoffs; she slackens in his hold only fractionally. “As if I need a little birdy like you to give me permission to do anything.”

She slipped under his grasp and shot a leg up directly into his chin. He was taken completely by surprise and before he could react, one of his own smoke bombs was thrown at his feet. He was disoriented and by the time he switched his mask to infrared, she was already gone with the older man. His discarded bolas were the only thing that remained between the clearing haze of smoke.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

He was pulling into the precinct parking lot for his morning shift with a poorly concealed bruise on his jaw and excuses already on his tongue for how it got there. His ego wasn’t fairing much better but that was concerns for his punching bag back at his home gym. Now, he was Dick Grayson, rookie cop at the GCPD. Now, his nighttime problems can’t reach him.

Or so he thought.  

He didn’t make it ten feet into the building before detective Montoya was slamming a file into his chest. He quickly glanced into the file, partially listening to her debriefing of the case, then immediately wished he hadn’t. In the file there were pictures taken from the most recent crime scene and sitting on top of the pile was a picture of a wall from the local aviary. The words ‘Sorry about last night, Songbird -KN’ were spray painted in steel blue. 

He felt his irritation flare as heat crept up his neck while a weight settled in the base of his spine. His warring feelings drowned out everything around him as he fixated on her very obvious declaration. Kitty Noire had been gaining infamy for never being caught by both the cops and the bats. Some in the precinct hadn’t believed she was actually real, just some urban legend the streets were stirring up to cause trouble. To let herself be caught like this, and to admit to contact with one of the bats— it didn’t take a genius to guess which side of the law she was calling out with ‘songbird’— was damning to say the least. 

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

It was another week before he was crashing into her midleap, throwing both of them down onto the nearest roof. They rolled a couple of times before he stopped them by pinning her down. Both of her arms were held above her head; his grips were tight around her wrists, avoiding her palms in fear of what her destructive powers could do. They were on top of the platform that had the doorway to the building’s stairs. Her distracting smirk curled up further as she was about to speak. Probably a suggestive comment but he wasn’t in the mood for their usual back and forth.

“Enough games, Noire.” He shifted his knees to brace on her shins, in case she had any ideas. “You need to tell me what’s going on. You’re bringing suspicious people into the city, dangerous people, and it’s my job to drive them out.”

“I’m not bringing anyone into the city,” she all but spat at him, the fury in her eyes burned bright at the accusation. ���He tracked me here.”

“And he is…?” He was getting tired of being out of the loop, meta-abilities and magic are safety hazards if left unchecked in Gotham. He needs to put a lid on this before it spirals any further.

“He is my business and soon to be not a problem for the both of us.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You have no other choice, songbird. Above your paygrade, remember?” She mumbles something he doesn’t hear but from the shape of her lips it looked like Cataclysm. He didn’t have time to react before the roof was caving in under them. 

The freefall was disorienting but he could see from his periphery that Kit Noire was prepared. She had extended her staff out to fit between two walls and was hanging on, dangling over what was probably twenty flights of steps. Nightwing wasn’t so lucky and he had to angle his fall to crash into steps a couple flights below her.  

“It was nice crashing into you, songbird, but I have things to steal and people to rob.” Retracting her staff, she let herself freefall to the bottom floor of the building. Nightwing dove after her, shooting out his grappling line to one of the higher railings. She had reextended her staff, this time aiming for the height of the building, and was sliding down it like a pole. Banishing the improper thoughts of ‘Noire’ and ‘pole,’ he questioned how the staff was even able to extend that far. 

Right, magic.

Once they were more comfortable feet above the bottom floor, she paused in her descent and let him over take her. He wasn’t given a chance to question her actions as she immediately swiped at his grappling line, snapping it with her rather sharp claws. This time he was prepared enough to brace himself for the fall. He landed on his feet and crouched to roll out of the harsh impact.

“I thought it was cats that landed on their feet, not birds,” her jeer echoed against the walls. He looked back up to see her rapidly climbing her staff. She was gaining distance fast and he was running out of options just as quickly. He didn’t trust climbing her staff so he took to climbing the steps from the railings, jumping and swinging himself around to gain altitude.

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.” She had made it to the door that led back to the roof and her staff retracted in an instant. He was still a couple flights away but he knew he wasn’t going to catch her. He resigned himself to knowing that tonight was another failed night. He had let her go again.

Some days, you're the best thing in my life

Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife

Then you turn into somebody I don't know

And you push me away, push me away, yeah

Something Kit Noire had said was bothering him. She said she was a hero once. That she had given it up because of accusations that ruined her reputation. He had half a mind to not believe her. Write it off as one of her tricks to try and get under his skin. But the other half, the louder, more desperate half, implored him to keep searching. To uncover the cat themed enigma he had grown frustratingly fond of. 

He expanded his search, looking for anything or anyone cat themed with destructive powers. A deep web search had him discovering an old video. It was labeled ‘Reflectdoll’ and nothing else. It was a part of some long forgotten blog that had an entire catalogue of videos labeled in similarly vague ways. Desperate for answers, he rationalised that if anything else, he would cross this source and narrow the search further.

The video was quite the fanfare, looking something out of a movie with impressive CGI. He was about to label this video as another bust but something paused him in his tracks. Her. Kit Noire, or at least a younger version of her, lept into the action. Her and some ladybug patterned partner dealt with the fiasco and Nightwing watched, enthralled and hopeful, as the two worked to take down the foe. He was both impressed and even more confused because he recognised that infamous tower but had no memories of there ever being attacks of that caliber in the city of love. He had done several missions there over the years, and there was never any call for help or an attack to get his or the League’s attention.   

Just what was going on? 

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

He had her pinned again, one of his hands holding both of hers above her head, the other was fisting her braid in a tight pin. They were staring at each other, neither wanting to tip the scales in their own favor. The air was charged and each breath felt like one step closer to a dangerous precipice. Nightwing was struggling with what to do. He had a responsibility to this city. This was his home. And he was letting some magical ex-hero trample all over it because he let his infatuation get to his head. He was too involved but he didn’t care. She was his case to solve. 

“Something you would like to share, songbird?” Her smirk was enticing and infuriating. He couldn’t look away. 

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“What? Is keeping me here not entertaining enough for you?”

“I’m not keeping you here for entertainment.”

“That could be rearranged.” She had surged up to kiss him, her lips soft and inviting. He would be a fool to pass up the opportunity.

Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand

You're looking at me like you don't know who I am

Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand

Still beating

She was hurt. The old man found her again and left her with a painful reminder of who she was up against. Nightwing wished he could track him down and beat him to bloody pulp but right now he was more concerned with patching her up. She was lucky he found her when he did. The gash on her side would be easy to stitch but he first needed to get her to somewhere safe. His options were limited. No clinic would take them in, she was still a notorious criminal after all. Batman would have his head if he brought her to any of their safe houses. The cave was completely out of the question. 

But she was still losing blood. 

“Why the long face, songbird?” Her voice which was usually jovial was tinted with strain. 

“Oh, you know, just getting blood on my suit while a cat bleeds out in my lap.” He tried to lighten the mood and her chuckles were relieving. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just need to find somewhere to put you.”

“Oh, is the birdy worried about his kitty cat?” She was teasing him, he knew, so he decided playing along would do more for his own peace of mind than trying to refute.

“And if he is?” He mirrored her own joking tone but he couldn’t help the taxes of sincerity that slipped in. She caught on if the slight widening of her eyes were an indicator.

“Oh.” The stunned look she had on her face would be adorable if it weren’t for their situation. “I have a place, not far from here you can drop me off there.”

“Lead the way,” he said, picking her up bridal style. If he pulled her closer as she wrapped her arms around his neck then no one had to know.  

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Nightwing never noticed this before but Kit Noire was small. Her waist fit in the palms of his hands so well and her legs were slender and lean as they tied themselves around his hips. He looked like he could overwhelm her but he knew better. He knew how strong and dangerous she was but the mental image of just holding her down as she submits beneath him spurred him on further. Her lips were cherry sweet and intoxicating. And her weight on his thighs left him reeling, silently begging for more.

“Someone’s eager,” she had pulled away from his mouth to speak but rather than entertain any conversation he just moved to suck bruises into her jaw. The hand she had in his hair tightened and pulled at the short strands. Her breathing became laboured as she pants into the night sky. He wanted to coax out more reactions from her, wanted to see if she can really mewl like a cat. 

A wayward hand had her grinding down harder in his lap. They were in their own bubble on this abandoned rooftop; it sat between two skyscrapers, both casting the roof in an almost impenetrable shadow, one would really have to be looking to see them. The sound of traffic below was nothing more than white noise, a background soundtrack for their current encounter. Using her grip in his hair, Noire dragged him up from her jaw and crashed their lips together again. Her kittenish licks asked for entrance and he eagerly granted it, savouring the taste of her as she mapped out his mouth with her tongue. 

He gripped her tighter, not wanting to let go, blind in the pleasure of her lips and tongue and teeth.

Teeth

Teeth

Teeth

Never, never, never ever let go

For the sign au Aizawa has a clue connecting Oboro to Kurogiri but it will probably confuse him more than anything. Since Oboro is supposed to be dead??? He'll probably discuss this with Present Mic then try to investigate. Maybe he'll try capturing Kurogiri for answers though that'll be hard. Or maybe he'll search for info on Kurogiri, his history and such. He won't find much unless he manages to break into one of the Doctors labs, but those are hard to find. Or are they???

fear not, for i come bearing answers

this is a bit of a timeline hopping thing since the first part is after Shigaraki was captured and the second is after the Eri rescue!!

ko-fi link (✿◡‿◡)

He finds Hizashi on the roof. That’s the first surprise.  Shouta comes up here sometimes, because he has the destructive habit of picking at old wounds until they’re bleeding and raw again, but Hizashi has always been the opposite of that. It’s not that he ever tried to pretend Oboro hadn’t existed, but he did use to pretend his loss didn’t affect him nearly as much as it actually did. Hizashi was always pushing forward where Shouta lingered on the past. Maybe that makes him a healthier person.

Shouta clears his throat as he approaches, but Hizashi gives no indication of having heard him. He’s sitting at the edge of the roof, legs dangling and arms resting on the railing as he looks out over the UA campus. The view has changed so much since they were teenagers. Since Oboro was up here with them.

There’s about a million places Shouta would rather be at the moment, but this is a conversation that needs to happen. They haven’t talked since Shouta had All Might call up his detective friend and demanded he use his quirk on Hizashi so they could be assured he wasn’t the traitor. The vindication followed by pure hollowness of Hizashi’s gaze after Tsukauchi’s nod has been haunting Shouta for weeks now. There were no words that would have repaired the broken bridge between them, so Shouta decided to give it some time. That might have been a mistake, too. Them drifting apart has always been something that hurt both of them in the process. Hizashi would have likely much rather had a big yelling match and then hugged it out. But Shouta couldn’t do that. He’s been... punishing himself, staying away from his best friend. His ‘something’. His ‘maybe’.  Because it’s Shouta’s fault that he’s hurting in the first place. Shouta’s stupid lack of trust and paranoia. He should have never, ever doubted him, even for a second. There’s a ton of excuses there. How he was injured, how he’s traumatized, how he was always only trying to protect the students. How being cautious was the logical choice. The professional choice for a hero. But none of that actually matters, does it? Hizashi is Hizashi. That should have been enough.

Either way, that’s a problem for later. He has to prioritize right now. There’s something much more pressing, and that’s forcing him to speak with Hizashi even though he still doesn’t know how to even begin repairing their relationship. Shouta has always had this tendency of ducking away from personal conflict like this. It’s much along the same vein as leaving a cat behind in the rain. It’s the easier way, when he gets overwhelmed and doesn’t know what to do. He despises that cowardly part of himself. Usually, he can push it away alright nowadays. But that’s only because he has Hizashi and Nemuri right with him.

Nemuri has firmly taken Hizashi’s side this time, though it’s not like she’s showing Shouta the cold shoulder, either. She’s just fussing over Hizashi more. Which is fine. Shouta is the one who caused the hurt, and it’s not like he enjoys her fussing. It’s probably good that they’re not talking much right now, because Nemuri... that’s going to be another painful conversation.

Shouta sits at the edge of the roof beside Hizashi and gazes out over their school grounds. It still makes him feel nostalgic to be up here. He breathes.

“How was your talk with Shigaraki?” Hizashi speaks first. Of course he does. Even if his voice is carefully blank, void of the usual emotion.

Shouta grimaces and flexes his freshly healed arm. The burns weren’t deep, but they were still painful. “... enlightening.”

Hizashi glances at him over his sunglasses. “So you found out who the traitor is?”

That was one of the questions Shouta knows All Might and Tsukauchi asked and got no answer to. He shakes his head. “But I did find out where he learned my name.”

Hizashi says nothing, waits with a raised eyebrow.

Shouta has no fucking idea how to do this. It feels like there’s a lead weight stuck in his chest. He breathes. Almost wants a cigarette even though he hasn’t smoked in nearly a decade.

He looks over towards the dorms instead of facing Hizashi any longer. “He told me Kurogiri taught him. Apparently they’ve been together for a while.”

“Kurogiri?” Hizashi repeats, “But... then we’re back to square one, aren’t we? How does he know?”

It’s nice, to hear him say ‘we’, even though of course they’re still in this together, as heroes. As teachers at this school. But ‘we’ has always meant something different to them.

‘We’ used to be a team of three or, occasionally, four.

“Shigaraki went nonverbal because of the stress of the interrogation, I think.” Shouta has never been one to dance around the point, he’s more known for being brutally honest, but this might be his limit right here. It’s like stumbling through the dark and knowing there’s a fall coming up ahead. “So... he signed.” Hizashi says nothing, allowing him to sort out his thoughts, but Shouta can feel his eyes boring into the side of his head. Is Hizashi concerned because all this hesitating isn’t like him? He should be. That still would in no way be enough to prepare him for what Shouta’s about to say.

“He spelled it out for me first. Kurogiri. But then, when he wasn’t thinking about it, he used his sign name instead.” Shouta turns to face Hizashi, slowly moving his hands in front of him. He signs, very slowly and deliberately.

Hizashi stares for a second. Then he huffs out a laugh. “That’s ridiculous, Shouta.”

Shouta raises a brow. “Is it?”

The reaction was a predictable one, of course, but Shigaraki wasn’t lying. And how else would he have known?

“He’s dead,” Hizashi insists, shaking his head again, “There’s just... no way. His quirk wasn’t even close to Kurogiri’s!”

“Wasn’t it, though?” Shouta asks quietly, tiredly. “Clouds, mist, it’s all humidity.”

“Teleportation isn’t.” Hizashi takes off his sunglasses, rubs at his eyes. “Are you hearing yourself talk? You seriously believe this?”

Shouta knows that he’s bringing his walls up because denying the possibility hurts less. It’s an old pain brought back up that they both only just started to heal from. But they need to be facing this together. If they’re still afforded that.

“Noumu are creatures created by combining multiple quirks inside a dead body and reviving them.” At least those are the bare bones of the process that Shouta understands. A lot of it is confidential. Need to know basis only. He doesn’t want the details... except now, maybe he does.

“They can’t speak or think!” Hizashi throws up his hands. “And they don’t look like that.”

Shouta’s jaw works for a moment. He looks back out over UA. “Who knows what Kurogiri looks like underneath all that mist?”

Hizashi has no answer for that, apparently, because he just pushes himself to his feet. “This is... I... I need to go. Somewhere else. Work. I have patrol. Yeah, that.”

He’s shaken enough that Shouta knows he’s not completely rejecting the possibility anymore. It’s about as much as he could have hoped for.

Shouta leans his chin on the railing and closes his eyes. “Be careful out there.” He pauses. “... and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ever doubted you.”

Hizashi laughs, and it’s a bit bitter, but not as biting as it could have been. “At this rate, me being a traitor would have been a better outcome.”

___

Their conversation bears heavily on Shouta’s mind, even two weeks later when he’s doing his usual patrol across the rooftops. It’s dangerous to let himself get distracted like this. Not his style at all.

Shirakumo does that to him.

And Hizashi, too.

He has no idea if things will get better now or not. It would be... helpful to have Hizashi at his side for this. And he knows that, as a hero, he won’t abandon Shouta when it comes to capturing a villain. But as a friend? As... someone Shouta has hurt, deeply and recently? Maybe not.

To be fair though, Shouta was always the one pushing him away before. If this is what his own medicine tastes like, then he’s surprised Hizashi stuck around this long.

“Eraserhead.” 

His capture cloth is hovering around his head even before the voice speaks up, his body tense and his mind... not as clear as he’d like it to be. But he knows the sound of these portals by now. He knows.

With one quick movement, he’s up from his perch on the corner of the roof and facing the shadowy figure that wasn’t there a moment earlier.

‘Oboro?’ he signs.

Kurogiri’s eyes flicker and narrow. “I didn’t come here for conversation.” He’s not signing, one of his hands behind his back.

Shouta doesn’t blink. He didn’t deny it, did he? Does he know? Shigaraki didn’t. Is Kurogiri able to keep secrets from him? “... but I need to talk to you.”

Against the backdrop of the night sky, it’s difficult to tell where Kurogiri starts and stops. It’s like he’s a part of the night itself.

Oboro liked the stars well enough, but he always preferred lazy afternoons in the sun. Shouta was the nocturnal one.

It’s all wrong.

There’s something that’s not even entirely human in the way Kurogiri tilts his head... if he even has a physical one underneath the mist. “There’s more pressing matters than the... tragedy of Shirakumo Oboro.” There’s a shudder going through him when he says the name, and part of Shouta wants to pounce on that.

If he’s still reacting to the name... then he must remember. And if he does... then he must be forced to help Shigaraki in some way. They already suspected something like that from his demeanor, but without being able to pin Kurogiri down for an interrogation, no one could be sure.

Shouta is, though. The most heroic boy he ever knew would never willingly become a villain.

He opens his mouth, but then Kurogiri is stepping aside, and revealing, behind him... Shouta freezes.

The child can’t be older than six, maybe seven years old. She’s wearing an adult size sweater that reaches past her knees, and her feet are bare. She’s trembling, her eyes big and red and filled with unshed tears that shine in the faint lights of the city below.

“This is Eri,” Kurogiri says.

Shouta knows. He’s been told about her, after all. He was part of an entire rescue operation that culminated in finding Chisaki near bleeding out in a room locked from the inside, and a missing girl. Now that part at least makes sense.

She was an asset. Did the League...? Would they? They’re not above kidnapping teenagers, but small children?

“We did not hurt her,” Kurogiri assures, and somehow he sounds almost affronted at the accusation that Shouta is sure doesn’t even show through the goggles hiding his eyes. “Chisaki took one of our own, so we decided it was time for his downfall. When I saw Eri...”

“You couldn’t just leave her behind,” Shouta concludes the thought. His chest hurts. If there needed to be any more proof, there it is.

Kurogiri makes a noise of affirmation. “I am a caretaker. I am not the kind of person who can leave someone in need.”

“An odd trait for a villain,” Shouta manages, then shakes himself out of it. Because he’s a hero and there’s a scared child.

Kurogiri pats Eri on the head gently and she seems to calm a bit.

Shouta takes a slow step closer, then crouches down, reaching out a hand. “Hello, Eri. My name is Eraserhead. I’m a pro hero.”

Eri looks up at Kurogiri. “... what does that mean?”

“It means -” Kurogiri’s voice is so, so gentle with her. “- that he’s going to help you and keep you safe. We’re unable to provide that kind of safety.”

“Oh.” Eri looks to the ground. “ ‘cause of what I did to the man with the burns.”

Kurogiri crouches now, too. “No. No, that was not your fault. I want you to remember that. And I do believe he will be fine, once he has calmed down a little. You did not hurt him. If anything... you may have healed him.”

Eri raises her gaze, eyes wide. “I... did? I didn’t hurt him?”

Kurogiri shakes his head. “He will be fine,” he repeats, “But your quirk is very powerful and we only managed to break the connection by using my portals in time, to create physical distance.” He stops himself, as if remembering he’s talking to a child. “... what that means is, you need to learn how to control your quirk, and with how powerful it is, Eraserhead is the only one I would trust with that.”

Ah.

Shouta feels a little dazed. This is nothing like what he experienced from Kurogiri so far, but to be fair, he only ever experienced him on a battlefield beside Shigaraki. Is Shigaraki behind this, too? Is Shigaraki giving up on such a powerful asset out of... kindness? Human decency? Or does he simply not know how deep Eri’s powers supposedly go?

“I can stop your quirk if you ever feel like it’s getting out of control,” he promises, then looks to Kurogiri. A silent question, signed slowly in the dark of night.

Kurogiri signs back after a moment. ‘No repayment needed. This is for her.’

He hesitates. ‘Children like T-O-M-U-R-A should be safe.”

Shouta takes in Eri again. Big, red eyes. Blueish white hair. A powerful quirk. Was Shigaraki to All for One what Eri was to Chisaki? It’s possible. Even if Shigaraki doesn’t seem to see it that way.

‘Understood,’ Shouta signs, ‘I’ll protect her.’

Kurogiri nods and gives Eri a little nudge. “I suppose this is goodbye, then, little bunny.”

Eri swallows and bows her head politely. “I... will you tell them all thank you?” she asks very quietly.

Kurogiri seems to smile, in a way that’s more felt than seen. “I will. Perhaps you will see us again eventually.”

Not if Shouta has anything to say about it. But Eri nods and bravely closes the distance between her and him. Shouta pushes his goggles up so she can see his eyes, and smiles at her.

Eri clutches at her sweater and does not meet his eyes. He didn’t expect her to.

Another portal appears, and Shouta lifts his head. “... Kurogiri.” The villain pauses. “Contact me if you need to talk. It... can be on neutral grounds. Just a conversation.” It aches, to allow him to leave, but he has Eri to think of right now. And somehow, it would feel wrong to try to arrest him after all of this. After seeing him so gentle and caring with this traumatized child. Oboro always was good with children.

Kurogiri watches him for a long moment. Then he nods. “Take care, Shouta.” And he’s gone.

Shouta exhaled forcefully, feeling the tension seep from his body. “... come on, Eri. Let’s get you out of this cold.”

The Prodigal Daughter Chapter 3/?

Story Summary: As the secret daughter of Jason Gideon, you’ve always had a certain proclivity towards profiling. After finishing the Academy, you finally have your chance in the BAU- only months after your dad’s passing. Will it all be too much? Will you find yourself sharing another proclivity with your father for a certain genius with big puppy dog eyes? A/N: Thank you all for the continued responses to this story! I’m so happy I’m finally just forcing myself to write for the first time in a decade. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! special call out to @candlesandsoftrain for being an especially awesome beta for this one- her suggestions are always amazing! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
 Category: Fluff/mild anxiety driven angst Content Warning: So much tension, a very anxious Y/N, sexually charged moments. Later chapters will include NSFW Word Count: 3500+

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3

After a night of drinking more than you, well, probably ever had, you woke up with a horrible hangover. You rubbed your eyes and stretched, before suddenly becoming aware of another human being behind you on your bed. You searched your mind for what happened the night prior, only kind of panicking at the idea that you could have… did you?

Said person in your bed made a sound, and you chanced a look without moving too much. “I feel like I’ve been hit by an 18 wheeler.” You heard Emily moan grumpily, which made you giggle lightly. You’d forgotten that she asked for a sleepover. You were so wrapped up in everything Reid, which was absolutely all you dreamed about last night. His hands, his voice, his hair, how he smelled like books and the forest…

“Me too…” you agreed. “Reid said he was going to come and get us this morning, but I have no idea what time it is or even when he’s coming. He said he’d text you.” Emily reached over to her side of the bed blindly, almost knocking her phone off as she tried to grab it. “Are you going to need to go to your place or do you want to borrow some more of my clothes. You seem to fit my PJs pretty well.”

Emily made a noncommittal noise as she put her phone to her face. “Hey Spencer, what time do you thi- You’re five minutes away? Cool cool no of course we’re up and ready to go. No we are not still in bed shut up.” You could assume she was talking to Spencer, and you panicked again, looking down at yourself and imagining what your face and hair looked like right now. Fuck. “Y/N, what’s the apartment number so he knows what number to buzz up to?”

“Um… 364.” You responded, and when she looked at you, she gave you a questioning gaze.

“Yeah, see you in a few, thanks Spencer.” She hung up the phone and stared at you, waiting for you to explain your face.

“I look like a mess!” You shouted, making her wince. You got up and started running around, your own hangover a thing of the past in favor of trying to clean up whatever you could. Your two cats who had been asleep on your feet made some very disgruntled sounds at your dislodging them, and they ran for the hills when you started running around like a crazy person. You imagined that you looked like a hungover hurricane. “He can’t see me like this! I’m in my pjs and my hair is gross and greasy and my makeup is probably smeared all over my face and my head is pounding and I bet I smell and- ugh!” You ran into the bathroom and turned on the shower. You didn’t have long, but you could make a lot happen in five minutes if you tried. “Grab whatever you want to wear!” You screamed, leaving Emily in the dust as you hopped in the shower.

You heard her follow in after you had closed the curtain, fumbling around with your drawers, finding what she wanted apparently. Her hand reached in and handed you what you figured she’d been looking for- a makeup wipe. You took it gladly, scrubbing your face clean with it. “You know, he’s not really like that- shallow, I mean. He’s probably the least shallow person I’ve ever known. And even with smudged makeup and PJs, you’re still bangin’, he’d be blind not to notice. And trust me, he’s noticed that you’re bangin’.” Her voice filled the room.

She was rustling through your drawers again, and you could hear your makeup rattling around as she sifted through it. “I… I’m sure that’s true, Emily, but I still… he doesn’t know me yet. I… I just want to make a good impression. He’s just…” You paused, suddenly remembering that you’d literally just met this woman and you were about to pour your heart out to her. “He’s just… he’s a new coworker and it’s different with men in the workplace. I don’t mind you seeing me a certain way, but I don’t want Morgan or Hotchner or Rossi or Reid to see me anything less than professional.” You finished, knowing she saw right through you, hoping she wouldn’t comment on it.

“Yeah, sure, you want Reid to only see you in a professional light. Sure. Professional.” Emily snickered. “You absolutely don’t want him bending you over a desk in the middle of a classroom while he’s wearing tweed and ramming you until you see stars-”

“Emily!” You would have blushed if you hadn’t already been completely red from the hot water. Even though it was embarrassing that she saw right through you, you laughed. You knew she was teasing and she meant no harm. It was nice to feel so at ease with her already.

“Did you know that he’s a professor in his off hours? Like a real one. At a college. With students.” She continued, and you could almost hear the shit eating grin on her face.

“Oh my god go away!” You laughed, trying to ignore the warmth spreading low in your belly. That image was… incredibly attractive. How were you supposed to get through the rest of the day without picturing everything Emily just described?

“Oh yeah, sure, I’ll go, so you can have some alone time.” Just in time too, because the buzzer went off in your apartment. “I’ll go get it, miss Y/N, enjoy the rest of your shower time.” She sing-songed as she headed to your door. You tried to focus on finishing in the shower and not on the fact that Spencer was on his way up to your apartment right now. While you were naked in your shower, possibly thinking about him in a professor look fucking you over his desk in his classroom…

“You are my favorite person in the whole world, have I ever told you that?” You heard Emily squeal. “Y/N is in the shower, but I’m sure she’ll say the same once she sees.” You were curious, but you needed to finish getting ready.

Spencer laughed softly. The sound excited you, happy to hear it coming from inside your home. A few minutes later, you finished up and stepped out of the shower, only to realize you’d forgotten a towel. “Em? Can you grab me a towel from the closet in my room please?!” You called out to her from the opening in the door. You heard some shuffling outside the door, waiting wet and cold until a towel appeared through the slot in the door. You grabbed it and wrapped it around your body, revelling in the heat of it. “Thanks, Em, I appreciate it-” You opened the door and found a very non-Emily person standing in front of you. “S-Spencer! Oh! I-I thought you were Emily- oh my god!” You squeaked, realizing you were standing in front of him looking like a wet rat, covered in only a towel. You didn’t get a chance to see the dark look on his face as he stared at you, taking you in head to toe, because you slammed the door in his face. He made a noise of disapproval. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know- I asked Em and then it was you-”

“It’s okay, Y/N, I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. Emily was in the middle of putting herself together something to eat and she asked me to help you.” His voice came from the other side of the door, soft, unsure, and lower than you remembered it from yesterday. “I’ll leave you alone to get ready, I’m sorry.”

After a moment of silence, he walked away, his feet shuffling on your carpet. You cursed yourself for making him uncomfortable. But the towel wrapped around you barely covered anything. He’d seen you soaking wet and you were so mortified. No one ever wanted cute boys to see them less than perfect.

You cursed yourself inwardly, moving quickly to get ready- hair, a touch of makeup- only to realize you hadn’t grabbed an outfit before running in a panic to shower. Sighing, you put your PJs pack on to make the trip back to your room, just a tank top and a little pair of shorts- you hated being too covered up at night, so you preferred minimal clothing to sleep in.

While you were bent over and moving things around in your drawers to find yourself a bra and underwear, you heard a sound from behind you- a sharp intake of breath.

“S-Sorry! Sorry I-I just wanted to l-look at your books! I didn’t- I was sure you’d be finishing in the bathroom I am so sorry!” He said, putting his hands over his eyes. You wanted to be horrified- your shorts were SO short and he had definitely just seen a lot of you… but he looked so cute, like a little kid who saw something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Spencer, it’s fine, really. I’m clothed this time, so it’s… it’s fine, I swear.” He peeked at you through his fingers, making you cover your mouth to contain the laugh that wanted to come out. His eyes fell right to your chest, which you realized was only covered by your thin white tank top- oh. You wanted to cover up pretty badly, but you also didn’t want to make him feel even more guilty. You looked around your room and tried to see if you’d left anything inappropriate out, but couldn’t find anything.

“You just… you have so many books, and Emily said you had even more in your room and I wanted to see- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have intruded. This is such an invasion of privacy wow-” He was now looking everywhere but at you, and you kind of missed the way his gaze warmed your insides up and made you shiver. You should have been mad that he was in your room uninvited, but… you liked how he looked in here. It made you feel alive- to have this man here looking at your most private space, looking at your collection of books and belongings.

You stepped towards him, which made his gaze rise to your face, where he found a soft smile. “Spencer, it’s okay. I… would like some privacy to get ready, though? You’re welcome to take in my book collection some other time, if you want. I never get rid of a book. I’d love to know if you think I’m missing anything that I should own.” You said, playing with the end of your tank top.

Spencer smiled at you, shy and adorable. “I’d… like that.” You both stood there for another moment, your eyes avoiding his as he looked at you. The air in the room felt thick and tense, and your heart kept getting faster as he stared at you. After what felt like hours and no time at all, Spencer seemed to pull himself together and walk out of the room to give you your privacy, and you were finally able to take your first breath since you saw him. You looked at yourself in the mirror and took stock of yourself- your chest was flushed pink, your hands were curled into the bottom of your thin tank top that was leaving- very little to the imagination. You never noticed how revealing it was until now, under his scrutiny. You… didn’t mind, though. You liked how he looked at you like you were something beautiful.

Getting dressed in a daze, you finished up and took a deep breath. Time to face the music. Emily and Spencer were on the couch whispering, Spencer's brows creased together. “Hey guys. Sorry I took so long.” They broke apart, both looking at you.

Emily was the first to speak, Reid averting his eyes from you, a rosy color painting his cheeks. “Hey hot stuff. Reid got us caffeine!” She pointed to what you assumed was yours on the coffee table- an energy drink, and somehow, your favorite brand and flavor.

Your face broke out in a huge grin, and you bounced your way over to it. “Thanks so much, Spencer!” You said, opening the can and downing a few gulps. You moaned in delight. “Oh that’s good. Thank god for chemicals that make my brain think it’s awake.” Emily bumped shoulders with Spencer and made him look up at you. He smiled and shrugged, though that tension that you’d had in your bedroom seemed to come back in spades. Would it be inappropriate to jump your brand new coworker within 24 hours of meeting them in front of your other new coworker that you also just met within the last 24 hours? Because you were seriously considering it, your eyes having been staring at his lips for… well, too long at this point. You shook yourself out of it, your face turning a light pick as you caught his eye and he looked a little… damn, did he look smug? Fuck, smug looked good on him.

“What did I miss, guys?” You were desperate to ease the feeling in the room that was making your stomach twist hotly.

Emily smiled at you like she knew all your secrets and took a sip of her coffee, staring you in the eye the whole time. “You know… just talking. You about ready? You took so long in there.” She accused, blinking at you slowly and teasingly.

“Yeah, well, I forgot a towel and then clothes for the day and it just… took a few extra minutes.” She snickered like she knew there was more, but she didn’t press you. “Thanks for coming to get us, Spencer, we really appreciate it. You guys ready to go?”

You turned from them because if you spent one more second looking at that man on your couch, you were going to explode. Or implode. Chances were pretty split on that at the moment. You heard them both get up behind you, and you took the chance to take a breath as you put your shoes on and slipped your jacket on. You really needed to get yourself under control. You worked with the best profilers in the world- there was no way they couldn’t all see through you.

The ride to Quantico was mostly quiet, your head leaning on the window, only answering Emily or Spencer when they directly spoke to you. You were steeling yourself- you were in the process of pulling yourself together. You couldn’t jump your new coworkers bones. You could not continue to fawn all over him. You didn’t join the BAU to get a boyfriend. You joined the BAU to start the career of your dreams, and that was the focus you needed to let drive you. For your dad.

You arrived at Quantico and Spencer parked your car. You all got out relatively quietly, and started heading in, but he put his hand on your elbow and held you back from Emily gently so you two were just out of ear shot. “Y/N… are you okay?” He asked, eyes searching your face.

You couldn’t meet his eyes, but nodded and started walking into the building, hands playing with your bag. “Yeah, of course. Just… excited for day two. Maybe a little nervous. I’ll be okay.” You deflected, pursing your lips. He didn’t look like he believed you, but he didn’t press.

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, Y/N.” He started, his voice small and his eyes on the ground as he walked beside you. “I didn’t mean to intrude this morning, I just thought- I thought…” He looked at you, and you pretended not to notice. You couldn’t do this right now. You had a job to do, and you couldn’t have… feelings.

You both had stopped walking, and you turned and looked at him, giving him a sad smile. “Spencer, I’m not mad, or even upset. I just… I think I’m a little overwhelmed. Yesterday was my first day, and then everyone was so nice and then they got me drunk and you are just so-” Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. Your hands were shaking a little, your anxiety making it hard to breathe. You felt his hand take yours, just like last night, and playing with his fingers brought you back down to Earth and made it a little easier to take air into your lungs. “I’m just trying to survive all of this new stuff. It’s all too much and I just… my anxiety can barely take it.”

The sadness in Spencer's beautiful eyes belied his smile. You hated puting that look there. “That’s more than understandable, Y/N. Based on a survey from the Anxiety Disorders Association of America, while only 9% of individuals are living with a diagnosed anxiety disorder, 40% experience ongoing stress or anxiety in their daily lives. It’s completely normal. And being a new person on a team like ours… well, I can’t imagine that helps. T-Take your time. You have friends here and we’ll help you through this transition, okay?”

You smiled, looking at him with relief. “Thank you, Spencer.” You met his eyes then, and the pull you felt from the moment you met him surged through the air, tugging you to him, desperate to close the gap between you. But you fought it, forcing yourself to pull away from him completely and drop his hand. “Come on, let’s go. Day two begins now!” You didn’t have to pretend to be excited, because you definitely were. You walked into the bullpen with Reid, only to be greeted immediately by a mildly grumpy and hungover Garcia.

“Genius boy, new girl, we have a case. Pretty butts to the round table, please.” She said, gesturing for you two to follow her. You did, and the rest of the team followed suit. An hour later, the team were all headed to the plane, you behind everyone else. You didn't know where to sit, because everyone paired off--Morgan with Rossi and Hotch to go over theories and ideas, Emily and JJ talking about the case and clearly gossiping too as they sat beside each other. Only Reid sat alone. You nervously stood there, trying to figure out what to do, when Reid looked up and smiled at you, gesturing to the spot by him.

The plane ride went by smoothly after that, you and Reid working together easily- you already had a base geographical profile to work off of by the time you landed. The team was impressed, and you were both proud of your accomplishments. The case was long and hard… the cases with kids were always the hardest for you to hear about when you were young, And this one was incredibly difficult to live through- three little girls lost, and you had only found him after he’d made a mistake and left one alive- just barely, but alive, where he dumped her. She was only 7.

The jet ride home was quiet, everyone dealing with the case in their own way. You sat in your own corner across from Reid, shaking and holding on to your go bag tightly, one hand inside it, your hand on your dad’s journal. You dug your nails into it, trying to find something to ground you. You couldn’t get the images out of your head. The images of those girls…

Suddenly, a note fell upon your lap, and when you looked up, you saw a messy scrawl on a ripped piece of paper. “Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them. - Leo Tolstoy” You ran your fingers over the letters, memorizing how his letters looped, how he pressed his pen in differently with each word.

You looked up at him and gave him a small smile, sadness in your eyes. You held your hand out, gesturing for his notebook. He handed it to you along with his pen wordlessly.

“We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one day not be at all. - Joan Didion” You handed it back to him, tears in your eyes.

He scribbled back quickly. “There is no grief like the grief that does not speak. - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow… The first one’s always the hardest, I’m here if you wanted to talk. I’m also here if you just want to sit in silence,” the note read.

You took a moment and thought about it, looking up at him and smiling softly before writing back. “Open your mouth only if what you are going to say is more beautiful than the silence. – Spanish Proverb” His smile in response was absolutely breathtaking, but in the best way- he understood completely. For in this moment, the comfortable silence between the two of you that was everything you needed.

The notebook appeared on your lap again, Spencer not looking at you as you looked at him in wonder. “In the flush of love's light, we dare be brave. And suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free. - Maya Angelou”

Next Chapter

taglist:

@rexorangecouny​ @asomers603​ @green-intervention @averyhotchner

Could you write a fic with baby Douxie and Merlin??? Like it just seems like a cute idea!

She’s back!!! I hope this works for your request, can always do Merlin finding Douxie as a baby if you like.

Also some of you may have seen that I’ve posted my works onto ao3 so people can find them easily!

The baby garbled at him. Merlin stared at it with something between disdain and concern. He didn’t know what Hisirdoux had done. Whether it was a potion, magical accident, or one of Morgana’s pranks, he didn’t know. And he didn’t want to know. Well he did, so he could reverse it. And have his normal, gangly, bumbling apprentice back. He didn’t seem to be having much luck. The baby made another noise. Merlin sighed and picked the... thing up. How did one even hold a baby? They seemed so fragile. What if he dropped him? Would it leave permanent damage? Would Hisirdoux be okay when he went back to normal? What about food? Did babies eat normal food? Merlin tried to hide the resounding panic. He considered if babies were like dogs and horses. Could they sense fear? Would this small form of Hisirdoux know he was absolutely terrified? Merlin tried his best to hold the baby close. He remembered how he’d seen some mothers hold their children and attempted to duplicate it. Luckily Hisirdoux seemed to be an intuitive child and wrapped pudgy arms around his neck, snuggling into his shoulder. Merlin patted his back a little in what was meant to be a soothing gesture. Fortunately Hisirdoux seemed to like that and let out a noise that could be considered happy. Maybe content. Oh who was Merlin kidding he didn’t know anything about children. He’d have to go commandeer a wet nurse or someone like that. Was there even a wet nurse around? He couldn’t recall seeing many children in the castle so maybe he would have to go to town. There was a scuffle and Archie came in to view.

“Oh my, what’s happened to Douxie?” The cat asked. Merlin almost rolled his eyes, but Hisirdoux had heard Archie and was now flailing small arms at him with excited noises. Perfect.

“Watch him.” Merlin ordered, settling Hisirdoux on the ground. The baby immediately started scrambling towards Archie. He clearly couldn’t walk yet. “I’m going to find a wet nurse.” Before Archie could protest, Merlin swept out the room.

He returned an hour later, wet nurse less and unamused to one of the most adorable things he’d ever seen. Not that he’d ever admit it. Hisirdoux was curled sweetly into Archie, big eyes following the cats tail as it whipped back and forth. Pudgy hands would occasionally dart out to try and catch it. Accompanied by a giggle. Merlin smiled before smothering it.

“I take it you couldn’t find anyone to help?” Archie said, batting his tail out of Hisirdoux’s reach. Merlin gave the cat a deadpan look, he was awfully sarcastic without Hisirdoux to mind him.

“I spoke to one who found this funny.” Merlin grumbled. Actually she’d laughed in his face and mumbled something about karma. “She told me how to handle this so you can shoo.” He reached down to pick up the baby. Hisirdoux started crying the moment he was pulled from Archie’s cosy embrace. Merlin’s eyes widened as the sobs grew louder. He tried pulling Hisirdoux close. Patting his back. Rubbing it. Nothing seemed to be working until Archie hopped onto his other shoulder. He batted his tail around and Hisirdoux began to giggle again. Small hands grabbed the appendage and rubbed it happily. Archie suppressed a hiss. Merlin rubbed Hisirdoux’s back.

“You clearly know exactly what you’re doing.” Archie quipped. Merlin rolled his eyes.

“I consulted with a wet nurse and she told me what to feed him and how to get him to sleep. The back rubbing should have worked.” Merlin said pointedly.

“What did she say about taking away his favourite toy?” Archie asked, eyeing the baby now gnawing on his tail. “Or did you leave before she could tell you?” Merlin puffed up his chest.

“I’m a Master sorcerer. I can manage a baby.” He said haughtily.

“So you left.” Archie confirmed. Merlin sighed.

“I left.”

It took a while but Merlin managed to extract Hisirdoux from Archie’s tail by tempting him with some milk. Hisirdoux guzzled it.

“Slow down Hisirdoux, you’ll get sick.” He chastised, tugging the milk cup back. Hisirdoux’s eyes began to well up with tears. Merlin sighed and gave in, letting Hisirdoux guzzle away. Now if he could put him down for a nap, Merlin could get some work down. After Hisirdoux finished his milk Merlin tried his best to soothe him. It took a while and lots of rubs, but Hisirdoux fell asleep clutching at Merlin’s hair. Gently, Merlin lowered him into a make shift cot with a baby blue blanket and tucked him in. He shuffled off to get back to work. Not a few minutes had passed when.

“Waaahhh. Waaaaaahhhhh!” Came from the crib. Merlin hurried over. Hisirdoux’s face was scrunched up like he was in pain. Merlin checked him over for injury and couldn’t find any. The wailing was louder and louder. Merlin was beginning to panic. What could be wrong? He searched the brief conversation he’d had with the wet nurse.

“Sometimes if babies consume too quickly or they swallow air with their meals they need to be burped. If they aren’t it can be quite uncomfortable for them.” She had said, still snickering. Maybe Hisirdoux needed that. He lifted the small thing up and began patting his back. The first hit was clearly too hard and Hisirdoux cried louder. Merlin reminded himself that this was a baby and he needed to be gentle.

“There, there.” He mumbled as he lightly patted Hisirdoux’s back. “Let it out.” It took a minute but eventually Hisirdoux let out a little burp. What Merlin wasn’t expecting was the spit that also came up. It dribbled off his shoulder, sticking to the armour. Merlin pulled a face of disgust. Still Hisirdoux couldn’t help it. He tried to put him back into the cot but Hisirdoux was having none of it. After tussling with the child Merlin realised he wasn’t going to win.

“I hope you realise this is a big compromise.” Merlin said sternly to the baby now settled in his lap. Hisirdoux looked up at him with big eyes and smiled. “Don’t give me that look. This won’t keep happening.” Hisirdoux giggled. “Just sleep would you.” Hisirdoux snuggled closer and quietly napped while Merlin got some work done. A few hours in and Hisirdoux started to get restless. Merlin paused his workings and began to rub his back. Maybe it was a nightmare. Did babies get nightmares? Could they comprehend fear? Or did they just want something? Was it the lack of contact? Merlin pondered all this as Hisirdoux settled down again.

“Heh, you’re almost cute when you’re sleeping.” Merlin muttered at the slumbering bundle. This wasn’t so bad. Of course right at this moment he was painfully reminded that Hisirdoux was a baby. And babies couldn’t control. Well anything. Now dripping, and smelling slightly, Merlin used magic to clean them both off. Hisirdoux woke up to giggle at the green magic wrapping around him. He tried to catch the strands.

“Oh like that do you.” Merlin cooed. “Well then.” He floated some objects in front of Hisirdoux and the baby clapped wildly.

“Aah aaaah.” Hisirdoux babbled. He reached up and captured one of the objects in his own sky blue. It floated and Hisirdoux cheered. Merlin was so surprised that the others things clattered to the ground. The object dropped and Hisirdoux looked at it with a big pout. Merlin picked it up and placed it on the table. He poked Hisirdoux’s check, distracting him.

“Aren’t you full of surprises my little apprentice?” He said. Hisirdoux gave him a warm smile. He made a grabbing motion towards Merlin, who obliged. Lifting him to his chest. “It would almost be a shame to have you turn back.” Merlin sighed. He did miss his apprentice. He missed the stumbling, grumbling, and even the lute playing. The baby was cute but his apprentice was special to him. He sighed again. Hisirdoux looked at him curiously. He reached one tiny hand out and patted Merlin’s cheek.

“Aagghh aggooo.” Hisirdoux babbled. Merlin smiled. He was sure it made sense to Hisirdoux; and it was sweet that the baby tried to comfort him. He cooed at the baby.

“Changing you back can wait a bit longer.” He mumbled as he rocked his charge.

4 times he wanted to come over + one time he did

Ok, we’re going to ignore several things here, like the fact that this was an 8 page Google Doc that I put together in a few hours, the fact that said document had been blank since June, t y p o s, and the fact that it’s nearly three am and I have my first day of classes technically today (aka at 2 pm).

But here I am, with my second fic of the day? IDK but since classes are starting, my posts are going to be a lot less frequent, so hopefully you guys like this! -------------------

one

Your apartment was finally put together just the way you liked it; all your stuff had its place, it was decorated just the way you liked it, you even had a pantry full of food, a rare feat when you were in college even with living with three other girls. Your first morning in your new, fully set up place was going to be celebrated by yourself. You had planned to make yourself breakfast that would probably last into lunch, order Chinese food later that night, drink coffee and watch Seinfeld on Hulu until you felt like going to sleep. There was no better way to break in a new place than by just relaxing in it. 

You turn on your TV, setting your coffee and plate down on the table in front of your couch, and walk over to the huge windows you were lucky enough to have in the apartment. It was a picture-perfect day, and the sun shined right into your apartment, not a single cloud in the blue sky. You felt like you were in a movie like someone had curated the scene and that with the touch of a button, the green screen would be gone and so would the magic. 

Sitting down, putting your feet up on the table, you dig in. This was actually perfect for you. Your new job was going to be stressful and you knew it. The more you could find ways to relax in your home, the better the job would be. 

After three episodes and nearly spilling your coffee all over you twice, you decide to get up and move around. You were drawn back to your windows, still in awe at the scene on the other side of them. Across the street, it looks like someone was doing the same in their apartment. He was tall, handsome, shirtless, and covered with tattoos that you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of. 

He waves at you smiling in a way that made you melt. It took everything in you to wave back and not do something stupid, mentally thanking yourself that the pajamas you had been wearing were athletic shorts and a tshirt from your sorority, and not something more embarrassing. 

You go back to your couch, knowing that he could still see you and probably what you were watching. You couldn’t focus on the episode, feeling as if he were still there watching you. You tried to force yourself not to steal glances at him but failed, every so often seeing him mirroring your actions, watching TV on his couch. You didn’t know that the entire time, he was also stealing glances at you. He couldn’t help it; never before had he seen someone look so naturally beautiful, so in their element and carefree while just sitting and watching TV. 

“Fuck it,” you say to yourself, pausing mid-episode and getting up to find the paper, markers, and tape you know you had stashed somewhere.

Messily scrawling ‘I just moved in, nice to meet you,’ on a piece of paper, you tape it up on the window, praying that you wrote it big and dark enough that he could see it.  Sighing when he wasn’t still on the couch, you get back on your own and press play on the TV again. 

Where could he have gone? And why were you more invested in the handsome stranger on the other side of the street than you were in the show about nothing that you had grown up watching? 

Your stomach growls, not quite late enough to order dinner, you wander into your kitchen to get a snack, looking over to the window of handsome man to see that he had left a note, presumably for you. ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Pierre-Luc’ was written in print messier than that of a doctor’s. Thank god your best friend growing up had the world’s worst writing, having to ask him to rewrite it would have been demeaning and embarrassing. 

And so it began: you would write a note, watch an episode, then check to see if he left you anything back. He always did, 

His name was Pierre-Luc and he played hockey. After a quick google search, unbeknownst to him since you were assuming he couldn’t see what was on your phone, you found that he was a professional hockey player, player for the Blue Jackets. Great, as if he weren’t already being sweet, asking you questions, leaving you charmingly flirty messages on his window for you, now he was an athlete? Quite possibly one of the sexiest types of men in your opinion? Great. Amazing. 

‘What’s for dinner?’ he leaves on his window, disappearing somewhere into his apartment. 

‘Ideally Chinese food, where do you suggest?’ is what you leave for him, scrolling through Uber eats to see what was cheapest and nearby. You look up, seeing him writing on a notepad his answer, taping it to his window before sending you what you could swear was a wink. 

‘Best place to eat out is here at my place,” you read, bursting out laughing. Confident, this one. 

You roll your eyes, leaving a cheeky message about sticking to Chinese food and just ordering it from the first place that came up. 

The night went on, you not realizing you had spent the whole day flirting with a window stranger. He had liked talking to you, too, but it was pretty bad for the environment to be wasting all this paper when he could clearly see the phone that was in your hand or on your table. Writing his number on what he hoped would be his final piece of paper, maybe you would invite him over. Or he could invite you over. There was something about you that he wanted to spend time with you, not flirt with you while a city street separates you. Taping the paper up, he can see you, fast asleep on the couch, your TV screen asking you if you were still there. 

Closing his curtains, he hoped that you would use the number soon so you could actually spend time with him. 

 Two

You had been feeding that cat every morning for over a month. You loved that stray cat; there was a weird sense of satisfaction in feeding her even though you knew your apartment building wouldn’t allow you to take her in as a pet. But of course, the day you had your friends coming over for dinner was the day you had to run to the store to buy more cat food because you ran out the day before and forgot to get some yesterday. You didn’t know who put food out for the cat at night, or even if anyone did. 

You go to the bowl sitting in the alley way, seeing that it was empty, confirming your suspicion that no one else fed the poor cat. You would have to start feeding it at night, too. 

“Sorry, you don’t have to do this,” you hear someone say behind you. You get up to see him, the man from the window. 

“Pierre-Luc? Why don’t I have to do this?” 

“Because I’ve been doing it.” 

“No, I have,” you argue, knowing that this would lead to a never-ending circle of ‘me, no me.’ You had been texting each other for a few weeks, constantly trying to figure out when you could spend time together, but much like you and your best friend during senior year of college, your schedules never matched up, going a year before finally seeing each other. 

“When?” he asks, a cocky smile dancing across his face. 

“Every morning before work, what about you,” you ask, getting closer to him. You text relationship was flirty, you were sure of it. Every time you passed by your window when he was home, he made a point to check you out, he winked at you, he smiled. He exuded a welcome confidence that you weren’t used to.

“Every day when I get back from practice.”

“What about the days that you’re away for games?”

“I figured someone would feed him for me.”

“The cat’s a girl,” you say, the little feline coming up to you. “You would know that if you didn’t just assume other people were doing what you set out to do in the first place.”

“Well, my assumption was correct, wasn’t it?” he says, a devilish twinkle in his eye as his tongue runs along his bottom lip. 

“You know what they say about assuming,” you tell him, breaking your eye contact to put out some food for the purring animal.

“What’s that?”

“It makes an ass outta you and me,” you tell him, looking up at him towering over you as a laugh leaving his lips. Given his demeanor, you wouldn’t expect him to look as, what’s the right word, jolly? As he did. 

“How come you’re feeding her now if you usually do it in the morning?” he asks, bending down to help you.

Feeling your phone buzzing in your pocket that signaled your friends were already there waiting for you, you tell him, “I ran out of food yesterday and didn’t have the chance to get more until after work. Plus, I needed to pick some stuff up for tonight, anyway.”

“Tonight?” he asks, his head snapping up. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit, ran through his head.

“Yeah, my friends are coming over for dinner. It’s the first time they’ll be seeing my new place.” You pause for a minute. He was here, obviously with some free time, but did you want his first time over your place to be surrounded by your nosy friends? They knew you were talking to an attractive neighbor, but you knew they would say things to him that would mortify you and send you running before he got the chance. 

But like the night you first moved in, fuck it. “Are you free tonight? I would love for you to come over,” you tell him, the smile on his face disappearing as soon as you asked.

“I have a game tonight, I can’t. I was actually about to change and then leave,” he says, looking sad. He wanted to come over, and as soon as you said you were having friends over, he knew that you were going to ask him. 

“Oh, that’s fine. Now I have a reason to watch a game, though,” you tell him, smiling. You had to admit, you were a little bit upset, but again, it was probably for the best that he didn’t meet your friends just yet. 

“If the game ends early enough, I’ll stop by, yeah?” he suggests, running his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.” 

Three

“Babe, you’ve lived here for like, what? Almost six months? You have a hot as fuck neighbor who you actually talk to, and he hasn’t come over yet? Why haven’t you asked him to come over?” Amy says with food in her mouth. Your friends were over, again, this time to hang out before they went out to the bars. You were originally going to go, but you were too exhausted, and having already promised to host the pregame, you weren’t going to back out now. 

“You call me babe more than any guy I’ve met, you realize that right?” you ask her, getting up to go over to your window. You knew he wasn’t home; you had the Columbus game against the Flyers playing on your TV, Pierre-Luc was on the ice as you absentmindedly went over to the window to see if he was there. “Plus, our schedules never work. Look, Aimes, he’s literally on our TV, meanwhile as soon as all you hooligans leave, I’m going to bed. 

“Come on, stay up for the man,” Jeff said. The only male in your group of friends, he always entered the girl talk, encouraging you to get with a guy just as much as the others. 

“I’m going out to breakfast with you guys in the morning, how cranky do you want me to be, Jeffy? You know I will not hesitate to throw a potato at you,” you say, the rest of the group laughing even though they know you’re serious. You have thrown stuff at him and only him during breakfast before, him never thinking you’d have the guts to cause a scene in public, but doing it anyway. 

“We all know you’d be less cranky if you got laid,” he says through a mouthful of food. Why did everyone talk with their mouths open?

“Tomorrow I’m ordering two breakfasts; one to eat and one to throw at you.” 

You tune out your friends for the rest of the night. You only paid attention to the hockey game, your eyes trying to stay focused on Pierre-Luc every time he was on the ice. You did really want him to come over, but again, the first time couldn’t be with your friends, not when they were full psychopaths when it came to any boy that you were talking to. What would you have done if Pierre-Luc was there when Jeff commented about you being cranky and needed to get laid? 

Why did the cute guy have to have such a complicated schedule? Every time you were free, he was to jet off somewhere in the country for a few days for games, then he would come back, sleep, go to practice, and then go to a game. From what you could tell, he never stayed up past maybe 10 pm on the nights he didn’t have games, he napped nearly every day after practices, and he really was only home to eat.

Not that you were stalking him. Or memorizing his schedule. You two talked all the time, having evolved from notes in the windows to texting, from texting to calling, from calling to him falling asleep before you while on Facetime. He was one of your best friends, and you had never actually hung out with him at your or his apartment. 

“So how long will it take for him to get home now that the game is over?” Amy asks, snapping you out of the trance that you didn’t know you were in.

You didn’t even know that the game was over; the Jackets beat the Flyers 2-1, the game apparently ending about five minutes ago. You never timed how long it took between the game being over and him getting home since it was different pretty much every night. You think. Again, it’s not like you were stalking the boy. “Uh, I don’t know, half an hour?” you guess, giving them what you hoped was enough information for them to not ask you more.

“So has he sent you any like sexy pics?” Tanaka pips in, you nearly choking on the water you were drinking. 

“What the ever living fuck?” you nearly scream, all your friends laughing at your reaction. “There is no way I would ever tell you. Guys, we’re friends. Yes, he’s cute, hell, he’s fucking hot, but we’ve never physically spent time together, so can we just drop it?” 

They change the subject, going back to the conversation from this afternoon that involved them trying to get you to go out. You loved your friends, they were your found family, but dammit they wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

“Wait, sorry, which apartment is his again?” Jeff asks in the middle of you telling them yet again why you weren’t going out with them. 

You all snap your heads to the other building, the one directly across from you now with lights on. “That one,” you say, Pierre-Luc appearing in the window, all of your friends running up to go wave to him. This was mortifying. Your phone started buzzing on the table, and with Pierre-Luc having his phone out for his friends to see, they knew it was from him.

“What did he say!” Tanaka yells, trying to grab your phone from you. 

“He said get your creepy friends away from the window,” you lie. If you told them he was asking to come over, they would steal your phone and make him come. “Guys, shouldn’t you be going by now? It’s almost 11, the deal at the bar ends at midnight and all of you are still sober,” you point out, praying that it would work.

“Let’s get drunk!” Amy says, grabbing her bag and marching out the door. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” 

“Yep, I’m going to sleep. Text me when you’re all alive!” you say, pushing them out the door.

Your phone buzzes again, Pierre-Luc asking again if he could come now that your friends were gone. You wanted to say yes, but you knew that as soon as he came over, you would be asleep. Plus he just came from a game, there was no way he wasn’t also exhausted. ‘I’m about to pass out, I’m sorry. We’ll hang out eventually, I promise’

Four

You should be back in your apartment by now. You had told Pierre-Luc that you would be home by 11 pm. You had an early day the next day and staying out late wasn’t something you wanted to do, no matter how good your date went or how attractive you thought the guy was. 

Much to Pierre-Luc’s dismay, you had told him that your friend Amy had set you up with someone she knew from school. You were going out with him tonight, you Facetiming Pierre-Luc while getting ready. He should have just been over there, watching you get ready. No actually, he should have been the one taking you out, but at this point in whatever the hell relationship you had, the first thing that you were going to do in person with each other, besides that one time you fed the alley cat, was hang out in each other’s apartment. 

He was pacing, checking his phone to see if you had sent him anything about your whereabouts. You should have been home by now, why weren’t you home? If you weren’t home in ten minutes, he was going to call the police. No, they wouldn’t do anything. He would figure out how to hack your phone, try to find Amy on social media, something so that he would know you were safe. 

Sitting down on his couch, he positioned himself so he had a direct view of your apartment. As soon as you walked in the door and turn on the light to your living room, he would know. He needed that light to go on right now. 

‘Maybe I should go over and wait outside her door? Would that be creepy?’ he thought to himself, ‘I could say that I was just checking on you, which would technically be true. It’s not like you were going to bring the guy home, right? But what if you did and then I was there sitting outside your door. I can’t ruin things for you.’ 

Why has it taken him so long to even get over to your place? Or for you to come over to his? He hated that your schedules were just different enough that you couldn’t meet up. You were always running out the door when he was just getting home and vice versa. He couldn’t even fathom what he would do the first time he saw you in person.

He should have just kissed you when you were feeding the cat. He knows that he wants to date you, how could he not someone who was sweet enough to do something like that for a random cat but also unafraid to chirp him like his teammates? 

Your light goes on, him doing everything in his power to not jump up and go to his window, but that doesn’t stop him from watching what was happening.

Your date went well; you and David had really hit it off, leading to making out in the elevator ride up, stumbling into your apartment with your lips practically glued to his. You look across to Pierre-Luc’s apartment, him sitting there. You make eye contact with him, smiling because of David. David comes up behind you, starting to kiss you down your neck. You send a thumbs up to Pierre-Luc, closing the curtain as you let David do as he pleases.

Pierre-Luc sits on his couch, dumbfounded by what he just saw. That should have been him. He should have been the one in your apartment with you right now. 

+one

Saturday morning, sitting on your couch, watching Seinfeld. A cup of coffee, your phone, and a plate with some fruit on it, much like the first full day when you moved in. The sky was cloudless and blue, but you weren’t admiring it in the same way as you were that day. You were out with David last night, one month after your first date. You thought everything was going great, until he told you that he wanted to see other people. You shouldn’t have been surprised, he had been saying that he wasn’t sure he was ready for a relationship, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt when he officially broke it off with you. 

‘You’re crying,’ a message from Pierre-Luc pops up on your screen. For a moment, you forgot your curtains were open, giving him a full view into your apartment. 

‘Yep,’ you reply back, not sure what else to say. He could see you, it’s not like you could lie to him. 

‘Need to talk about it?’ 

‘I don’t want to Facetime right now.’

‘Got it,’ was all he said. You look over at his apartment, just in time to see him shutting the door behind him. What the hell was he doing that he could ask you to Facetime and then leave right after? You let out a sigh, deciding to focus on the TV and try to force yourself to eat the fruit. You weren’t going to feel any better if your hunger turned into hanger, so you might as well eat the food that was in front of you. 

You didn’t know where your phone ended up; somewhere in the couch cushions maybe? On the floor? You didn’t even care, you just wanted to wallow and be dramatic for the day. What you weren’t expecting was the knock on your door, interrupting your favorite episode of the show. Getting up, not expecting anyone, you debated even opening the door when you hear his voice on the other side.

“Y/N, it’s me, open up.” You see Pierre-Luc standing there, a bag from the donut shop down the street in hand, a bunch of take out menus in the other.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, him pushing past you and plopping down on the couch, obviously already knowing the way around. 

“You were upset so I wanted to make sure you were alright,” he says, taking out the donuts, putting them on the plate with your fruit, popping a piece in his mouth. “You don’t have to talk about it, but at least this way we’re finally hanging out in person.”

There was something about seeing him sitting on your couch that just felt right. He looked so at home, his feet already up on your table in the way you sat pretty much all the time. He had already started up the episode, replaying it from the beginning so he could see it when you sit down beside him, tucking your feet underneath you. 

“Come here,” he says, reaching his arm out. You cuddle up next to him, your head on his shoulder as he plants a kiss on the top of your head. It felt so right. So much better than with David, so much better than with any of the other guys you had been with. 

“He dumped me,” you tell him, even though you were sure that you had already texted him that last night when you were on your way home. 

“He didn’t deserve you,” you hear him say. He mumbled something else, something you couldn’t quite make out. If he wanted you to hear it, he would have said it louder, you figured.

“He said I play hard to get?” you ask, unsure if that was true or not. Were you hard to get? You slept with the guy on the first night, Pierre-Luc had seen the beginning of it through the window. 

“No, you’re not hard to get, you’re hard to earn. Any guy would be lucky to have you. If I had you, I’d,” he stops himself, mentally kicking himself for opening that can of worms that he really didn’t want to dive into yet. You hadn’t even been out on a first date. If anything, maybe, this was your first date. 

“You’d what?” you say, sitting up, hoping he would continue. This was his first time in your apartment. Something you had both thought about a lot. You wanted to hear what he would do if you were together, hoping whatever he said would actually happen. 

“I’d feed the cat with you in the morning and then do it by myself in the afternoon if I didn’t have a game or something,” he starts, laughing, “I’d go out to breakfast with your friends even if we didn’t go out with them the night before. I’d even hang out with them whenever you did, even though they are a little crazy. You love the people around you, the animals that aren’t even your own pets. You deserve someone who will love you back the way you love everyone and everything.” 

You sit there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. “I should have been the one that night in here with you, not him,” he says, finally admitting it out loud. 

“Do something about it now, then,” you tell him.

“What?” he asks, stunned. 

“Forget that night you saw me with David, and do something now,” you insist. You had wanted this just as bad as he did, so why were either of you waiting?

He starts slow, sweet, his hand on your cheek as he presses his lips to yours. His lips move with yours, his tongue swiping your bottom lip as his other hand snakes it’s way around you back, picking you up from the seat next to you and placing you in his lap. Your hands go through his hair, your mind blank. This was what you had been waiting for since you first saw him.

He pulls away, his cheeks now red, a smile on his face, “I really hope I’m the only one who ever looked through your window.”

“If anyone else is looking then at least they get a little bit of a show,” you say, kissing him again. 

Blackbirds

submitted by our beloved klance day!

The mission wasn’t supposed to take this long, let alone be this dangerous. It’ll be a quick two hour tops mission, Lance. You won’t have to be with Keith for that long, Lance recalls Pidge groaning. He remembers it all so clearly. All the paladins, Allura, and Coran standing in the Catsleship’s bridge, planning their next mission to gather intel on newer planets and species that may have evolved in the past 10,000 years. The group had decided that, because of the agility of the Red and Blue Lions, it would be Keith and Lance who would get to go to the not at at all dangerous icy-rocky planet of Piyak. Not at all dangerous, huh? “You still there, Keith?” Lance huffs into the intercom. “Okay dude, just stay where you’re at. Don’t move. You’re already hurt enough.” In a raspy reply, he gets the “Copy that,” from Keith.

Lance wishes he was next to Keith. Not just because he likes him, but because that would mean the mission would be going ok. Heck, they might have been on their way back by now. But it was wasn’t like that. Far from it, in fact. It all started when they were landing. Coran explained many things about Piyak’s atmosphere and surface, but it’s extremely high winds were not one of them. As soon as the Lions entered the atmosphere, they got separated. Going every which way, they had both crashed a good distance away from each other. Blue had managed to crash a bit more gracefully, but Red can’t say the same. Based on Keith’s intermittent descriptions, his lion was pretty banged up, and so was he. Like, really bad. Lance could only imagine what he must be looking like right now. He pushes the thought away and continues trekking through the terrain with the help of his jetpack. Piyak was a fairly mountainous planet, but the peaks were not steep, and ice filled the cracks of rocks and boulders. It was foggy and cloudy, which obscured his vision a little, but it wasn’t anything Lance’s helmet system couldn’t handle. So far, they hadn’t come across any significant life, and Lance hopes it will stay that way. “Lance-!” Keith suddenly shouts through the intercom. “Where are you?” “I’m here, buddy. I’m going as fast as I can. Remember, I had to first tell the team that we were stranded, and that took a bit of time. I’ve already triangulated your position,” he replies. If only he could run faster. “O-okay. I’m outside of Red now. I found a little cave and I just- ow! There’s this huge gash going down my side and it hurts. Lance, it’s getting bad-” “Woah, okay, Keith! Slow down. It’s gonna be okay. I’m almost there. Deep breaths.” A pause occurs and Lance knew it was Keith just eye-rolling at him. What was “deep breathes” gonna do? Well, Lance didn’t have a better consolation, so it would have to work for the time being. He hears a sigh and then “Copy.” —————– It wasn’t too long after before Lance spots a giant red robot cat who’s size and color contrasts it’s background. Lance basically sprints towards Red and tries to find the cave Keith was talking about. He takes a good look at the lion and understands what Keith meant by “practically dead”. She was collapsed on the ground, and many large and small scratches lined her. Coran and Hunk should probably be able to fix her. Maybe. Lance managed to enter inside, just incase there might be any useful supplies for him and Keith. Finally, he left with some bandages and an artifical lighter that could simulate the heat and look of a real fire. Lance then promptly departed from the damaged robot in search of the boy. He saw a rocky grotto nearby and started heading in that direction. Thankfully, it was the right ‘little cave’ and Lance spotted Keith almost immediately. “Keith! I’m here, Keith!” Lance crazily waves his arms up and down to capture his teammates attention. Keith finally looks up and lifts his arm a little in acknowledgement. He drifts towards the boy and sparks the fire. After it looked big enough, Lance positions himself next to Keith. Keith’s descriptions of his injuries were severely underestimated. Not only did he have a scary large wound going through his right hip, but he have several noticeable cuts and wounds all over his face and body. Keith was breathing more heavily than normal, and it looked hard for him to even keep his eyes open. Honestly, it looked like he wouldn’t make it. Lance decided that was enough thinking for now. “So, how are we holding up, Keithers?” He asks as he tries his best to wrap the bandages around Keith’s biggest wounds. “Well, you already see all my injuries and I feel dizzy, heh. I’ve been better,” he coughs. “Um, I checked the air quality. We can take our helmets off,” he points to his helmet on the ground. Lance removes his helmet, but keeps it close to him. Once he did all he could with the bandages, Lance slides to Keith’s left. Keith leans on his shoulder. “Hey, I need you to stay awake for me, okay? We have to wait for the team to get here, which shouldn’t take too long, but we never know, right?” Keith mumbles affirmatively in response. “I might die here,” he blurts out suddenly. “Don’t say that.” “But, Lance! Listen-” -CRACK hiss! Keith was interrupted by.. something. From the volume of the sound, whatever creature made it must have been large. Both of them snapped silent, eyes wide, and they shared the same horrified glance. “Stay quiet,” Lance whispers. He gets up slowly and tentatively steps towards where the noise came from. Carefully, he pulls out his bayard and the object flickers open to reveal his energy rifle. Lance pulls the weapon up to eye level and waits…. “LANCE!” He quickly turns around to see a giant, black, slim monster in front of Keith. It was definitely not friendly. It’s tongue was flicking in and out, dripping what was presumably poisonous venom. The giant bug looked ready to pounce on Keith any second. Lance starts shooting. Blam! Blam! Blam! The monster falls to the ground next to Keith, barely moving. Lance pushes it away and returns to his spot with Keith. “Well, looks like we found our ‘new and evolved’ species,” Lance sighs. “Are you okay?” Keith nods slowly, now breathing even more heavily. He squishes himself up to Lance, and Lance wraps his arm around him. “Let’s talk about something different,” Lance says. He just needs Keith to stay awake a little while longer, so keeping him talking would be the best way to go about it. ————— The two paladins converse about many things ranging from favorite candy, the garrison days, and even a few childhood memories. The fire had died down by a lot, but the lighter only works once, so the two had to resort to just body heat. Lance assumes about 50 or so minutes had passed, but there was still no signs of the Castleship or his other teammates. He had also noticed that Keith was providing a lot less to the conversation as time passed, which was worrying. “Hey, you still with me?” Lance whispers. Keith only hums in response. “You need to stay awake for a little bit longer.” “I know,” Keith mumbles. “It’s cold. My cut hurts a lot. Are you sure I can’t sleep?” Okay, Keith was really out of it. Lance tried to think of something that would at least give Keith a startle without hurting him. There was only one option he could think of. Maybe the fog of the planet was really getting to him, or maybe it was out of real desire, but Lance closed his eyes and slowly leaned over to Keith’s face, giving ample time for the other boy to push away. However, Keith didn’t do anything, and they kissed. On the lips. It was a quick kiss; not special at all. The action was enough, however, to make Keith yelp with a start. “What was that for?” Keith’s eyes were wide, but his voice was still quiet. Lance’s face flushed a bright red, and he hoped Keith couldn’t tell. Searching for the right words he replies, “I- I just needed you to wake up a little. I’m sorry. Did it help?” “I’m up now, I guess,” Keith looks away. Several silent but seemingly long minutes pass. Lance decides this needed to come to an end, otherwise Keith may be prone to close his eyes. “You know that song ‘Blackbird’? By Paul McCartney and John Lennon,” Lance asks. Maybe Keith would stay awake if had to actively sing something. “Yeah. Pretty sure I memorized it back in highschool.” “Sing it with me?” “Ok.” The two start singing. It wasn’t a perfect harmony, but it didn’t need to be that way. As long as Lance heard Keith’s voice along with his, things would be okay. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life You were only waiting for this moment to arise” “Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these sunken eyes and learn to see All your life You were only waiting for this moment to be free” “Blackbird fly, blackbird fly Into the light of a dark black night” “Blackbird fly, blackbird fly Into the light of a dark black night” “Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life You were only waiting for this moment to arise You were only waiting for this moment to arise..” “You were only waiting for this moment to arise,” Lance starts. He pauses and waits for Keith to say the last line with him like they were supposed to. “You were only waiting for this moment to arise,” he repeats again. Lance looks over to his side. No. No. No. No. No no no. This can’t be happening. There Keith was, eyes closed and barely breathing. Panic filled Lance. He shook Keith almost violently in to get his attention again. “Hey, Keith! Wake up, WAKE UP! KEITH PLEASE, IF YOU CAN HEAR MY VOICE, SAY SOMETHING!” Hot tears started to form and roll down Lance’s face as he attempts to wake the almost lifeless boy in arms. Keith can’t die. Not here. Not now. Lance kisses Keith again and again on his forehead, left cheek, right cheek, but nothing was working. “Wake.” Kiss. “Up.” Kiss. “Please.” Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Lance buries his face in Keith’s hair and cries. He whispers. “Please, wake up, man. I still need you.” ———- Just then, a bright, teal glow enveloped the shallow cave. Lance jerks his head around quickly and practically laughs he’s so happy. “LANCE!” “PIDGE! SHIRO! Oh thank God you’re here oh ok just take him. Slowly! Keith’s alive but that’s just about it,” Lance yells too quickly. Shiro heaves Keith up and races towards his lion. Pidge stays back to inspect the large dead monster-bug. After taking a few pictures and typing a couple things down, she drifts towards Lance. “Hey, are you ok? Any injuries?” She prompts, ready to take action. “No, I’m fine. Just a couple bruises,” Lance replies absent mindedly. He looks back to the mouth of the cave where Shiro carried Keith out. “It looks like you’ve been crying,” Pidge starts. “Is that about Keith?” “I- yeah. It is. Things got really bad, and they still are, and I don’t even know if he’s gonna be okay. Like, I know I shouldn’t be worrying; he’s in good hands now, but,” Lance pauses. He chooses his next words carefully. “He just means a lot to me, y'know?” “You mean your major crush on him?” The girl swiftly adds on. Lance turns red. “Hey! Wait, you knew about that? Am I that obvious?” “Well…” “Fine okay, maybe I do feel that way, but really, I do care about Keith so much; as a friend or otherwise.” Lance crosses his arms and looks down. He might never even get to tell Keith that. Pidge places her hand on his shoulder, “I know you do.” And just like that they’re hugging. It reminds Lance a lot of when his younger siblings used to hug him. He was taller than them, so the hug was sometimes awkward, but it still felt good. Lance squeezes Pidge tight. ————– ————– It’s been almost two weeks since the whole Piyak fiasco, and Keith was still in the cryopod. Currently, Lance is in the kitchen, trying to get the food goo ejector to, like, eject the food goo, but like always, it’s stuck again. Lance wasn’t even sure if he wanted to eat anything. He hadn’t really been that hungry lately. “He’ll be fine, son,” Coran had told him. “Keith has gone through a lot, and we can’t for sure say when he will come back out, but I’m confident in our healing technologies.” “He’s right, Lance,” Allura chirped. “Go get some rest. You’ve taken quite the beating too.” Well, Lance has been 'resting’ for the past 12 days. “Quiznak,” he mumbles to himself. “Lance! Keith woke up!,” Hunk enters the room, practically breathless. “What?! And nobody even told me! What kind of friends are you?” Lance runs up to Hunk, dropping his plate. “Listen, man. I just got the news from Coran too. Apparently he wanted to keep it a 'secret’ so we don’t overcrowd Keith when he woke up,” Hunk continues. The thought kind of made sense. “Anyways, you can go see him now. Pidge told me about your little, ahem, feelings for him.” “That little brat. Thanks, Hunk!” Lance says, but he wasn’t sure his friend even heard him because he had already dashed through the door and into the hallway. ———— If there was a record for running to someone’s room the fastest, Lance was sure he had beat it. The distance from the main kitchen to the paladins’ bedroom hallway was pretty lengthy, but Lance had managed to get there in no time. He slowed down after reaching his bedroom door to catch his breath. He still didn’t know why Keith had chosen the bedroom right next to Lance’s, but he was grateful that he didn’t have to walk much further. He rehersed his lines in his head, so he was to remain as smooth as possible, and approached the door. Knock! Toc! Toc! “Come in.” The door wooshed open, and Lance slowly approached Keith. It was dark inside, save for the faint teal lights lining the ceiling corners. The boy was laying down on his bed, covers pulled up over him, as if he was about to fall asleep. “I’m sorry,” Lance starts. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” “No, its fine,” Keith sits himself upright, and Lance positions himself on the bed in a way that he was facing Keith, but his legs still touched the ground. “How are you feeling?” “Much better,” Keith sighs. “I guess there really is nothing a good two weeks in the cryopod can’t fix. I have a huge scar on my side where that bad cut was though.” An awkward silence follows. “Um, thanks for staying with me on the planet, by the way. I definitely would have died if it wasn’t for you,” Keith continues. He crosses his arms and looks down. Lance didn’t really try to make eye contact either. “No problem, dude. I mean, who would I be if I wasn’t the one saving your butt all the time?” Lance smiles. Maybe he can lighten up this awkward tension. “Oh, Lance!” Keith plays along, placing his hand dramatically his forehead. “You’re my hero!” They laugh a little and now the silence that followed from that exchange was a little more bearable. “I guess I should go, huh? Mr. Keithy needs his beauty rest,” Lance sighs, still keeping up his playful tone. He goes to stand up when suddenly Keith’s hand grabs on to his. “Wait,” Keith blurts. “Can you stay?” “Hmm? Why?” Lance sits back down and moves a little closer to Keith. Keith let’s Lance’s hand go and shifts a little. Even in the faint light, Lance could see the pink that suddenly lined the other boy’s face. “I want you.” “Dude, I’m like, right here.” “No, I mean. I want us.” “Us?” “Look, on that planet, Piyak, I was so scared that I was gonna die, but I was even more scared that I wouldn’t be able to tell you that-” “You like me,” Lance finishes. He takes Keith’s hand again. “Yeah,” Keith admits. “This is gonna sound really stupid, but I think I want be your boyfriend or something. I don’t know.” He squeezes Lance’s hand tighter. “Hmm, maybe that can happen,” Lance smirks. “Look at me for a second?” Keith glances up. Lance leans forwards, and placing his hand under the other boy’s chin, he kisses him. For real. Unlike on Piyak, this was a special kiss. It was long and warm and comfortable. Lance doesn’t even know how to describe it, only that he just doesn’t want it to stop. They part away. “That was,” Keith begins. “That was wow.” “'Wow’? Is that all you have to say?” Lance smirks. “I was thinking something along the lines of 'wonderfully amazing’, but now that just sounds cheesy.” “You ARE cheesy, Mr. 'Look At Me For A Second’. I mean come on!” Keith is now actually laughing and burying his face in his face. “Shut up shut up! I’m a romantic at heart, okay?” Lance giggles along with him. Honestly, he didn’t mind being called cheesy when it came to Keith. Hearing his laugh was kinda worth it. Hmm, maybe Lance was actually a little cheesy. Keith’s laughter dies down, and he finally looks up again. “Does this mean you will stay with me?” “Pfft, as if I was gonna say no. Move over a little. I’ll spoon you.” Keith gives the okay, and scooches to the left, facing the wall. Lance lays down right beside him and pulls the thick blanket over both him and Keith. He wraps his arm around the boy. Its really warm, actually, and it makes Lance get a little tingly in his stomach. Everything sort of drifts away in a sense. Like there is nothing else in the universe but him and Keith. Lance likes that thought. “You comfy?” He mumbles into Keith’s hair. “Mhm” “Good night.” “'Night.” “Did you know that I really like you?” “Lance, I swear to God.” “Okay, okay. Sleeping mode activated.” And with that, Lance closes his eyes. He wouldn’t mind spending all of eternity like this. Not one bit. -Klance Day

Set Me Free | Chapter 1

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 6,000~  Total: 40,000~ (I’m sorry xD)

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: violence, discrimination (against hybrids), mentions of injuries and blood, anxiety, panic attacks

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: I love writing reader inserts but I just can’t write Y/N. It feels weird to me. So in this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji. I hope this isn’t too confusing for anyone! This is my first time posting my work so I appreciate any support it gets!

You raised the blinds just high enough to let a sliver of pre-dawn light in, but low enough that you wouldn’t be blinded when the sun crested the buildings across the way. You peered through the sheer fabric onto the square outside. The area had seen a lot of development in the last few years. Trendy little shops now lined the street. The coffee shop you owned and operated was tucked between a couple of over-priced restaurants with laughably tiny servings. 

While you weren’t thrilled with the increase in your overhead costs, you couldn’t deny the recent boost in business. There was a steady flow of customers through the whole week, not just in the early morning or on weekends. It had even become necessary to hire a couple of part-timers to keep the place open longer. Not that you minded. You were actually glad for the opportunity to give your friend, Jungkook, a job. 

The rabbit hybrid was nervous by nature despite his imposing appearance; he stood at least a foot taller than you. Your brother, Namjoon was fiercely protective of him. Jungkook came into your lives in your final year of college. The police brought a battered and terrified Jungkook to Remedy shelter, which was run by your friend Jin. They hadn’t seen what happened to him, and he wouldn’t say. As far as you knew, Namjoon and Jin were the only people he ever told.

Your eyes focused on the patio before you, as the very bunny you were thinking of appeared at the door. One of the boys came in on the weekends to work alongside you and help with the rush. The square was usually packed with couples on dates, window-shopping and listening to musicians that busked along the sidewalks.

“Morning, noona!” Jungkook chirped with his wide bunny grin.

“G’morning Koo,” you said, attempting to match his energy level despite the early hour. He laughed sweetly at the nickname. You were the only one he let call him that since he turned seventeen.

“Did you have your coffee yet?” He asked. You shook your head no. “Waiting for your favorite hybrid to make it for you?” 

“Don’t let Jimin hear you say that. You know he’ll take any opportunity to pout,” you said. 

Jungkook chuckled at that. Jimin was the shop's other part-timer. Many hybrids were affectionate, but the ragdoll hybrid took it to another level. He spent every possible second with his arms wrapped around his nearest friend. You were counted among his friends from pretty much your first meeting. When the chance to work at your shop had opened up, he thought it would be a great chance to have some independence. 

Jimin had been rooming with Jin for years. Despite his desire for independence he simply couldn’t stand living alone. So he shared an apartment with Jin and Taehyung, a sweet tiger hybrid. Taehyung had been hard to adopt out because despite his good nature, he was an exotic breed, and a predator no less. Few wanted to risk taking responsibility for him, and those that did had less-than-good intentions for him.

Life was scary as a hybrid. Between the massive industry of underground fighting rings, sex trafficking, and abuse in even seemingly decent homes, any adoption was a gamble. Jin tried his best to vet each family, but he couldn’t catch every red flag. You and Namjoon knew better than most how that haunted him.

Several years ago, the two of you stopped by the shelter. Neither of you could reach him on the phone and you were starting to get worried. You finally found him in his office, passed out over his desk with several empty bottles of soju scattered around. Namjoon tried to rouse him, but all he could mumble was ‘dead, dead, dead’ between hiccuping sobs. The next morning you learned that a hybrid he’d helped earlier that year was found dead in a seedy part of town. The couple that adopted her were being investigated on suspicion of hybrid trafficking. 

He wasn’t the same after that. He got back to his usual smiling self, but he was slower to trust, and slower to laugh. Every time a hybrid left the shelter for their new home there was a flicker of sadness and fear in his eyes.

“Noona? What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, breaking your train of thought. You turned to look at him, blinking to stop your eyes watering at the memory.

“It’s nothing Kookie, just thinking about this sad movie I watched last night.” You and Namjoon both agreed that it was best to keep the more tragic events from the shelter quiet. Jungkook had been through enough in the past, and you didn’t want to hurt him further by bringing up old memories. Jungkook frowned at the response.

“It must’ve been really sad,” he said, sniffing lightly. His frown deepened and he searched her eyes. He seemed to debate pressing it further. You knew that his hybrid senses were telling him you were lying. But he seemed to decide it was best to let it go, instead holding out a hot cup of your favorite coffee, a soft smile returning and making his eyes scrunch.

You took it, grateful for the coffee and his letting you evade the question. You set about your morning tasks, laying out chairs, brewing coffee for the self-serve station, and checking that there was creamer chilled and ready. Sunlight sparkled in the air, reflecting off the morning frost. 

It was supposed to snow that night. You shuddered. You hated winter for forcing you to pay for heating, if nothing else. Whenever your friends got together at your house—a tiny one-bedroom apartment above the cafe—Jimin whined about the cold temperature. But you refused to pay for anything beyond what would keep your pipes from freezing. It was expensive enough to own a building in your area already. Instead you wore layers and piled blankets on your bed. Jimin wasn’t really upset anyway, he loved any excuse to cuddle. Movie night usually ended with him and Taehyung asleep on either side of you.

“You actually going to turn on the radiator tonight?” Jungkook teased.

“I have my radiator on! It’s just… turned down,” you said.

He chuckled, knowing you were too stubborn to waste money on ‘luxuries.’ He turned away at the jingle of the door bell. The first customer of the day came as no surprise. A familiar, slouching form appeared, dropped a couple of equipment cases off at the side of the door, and shuffled up to the counter. The young man had black hair that hung down and nearly covered his eyes, which flicked up to meet hers. His lips twitched in a hint of a smile.

“Good morning, Yoongi” You said with more than your usual morning cheer. Jungkook scoffed and you threw him a dirty look. The young man in front of the counter didn’t seem to pay attention, his eyes determinedly focused on his beat-up boots.

“Morning,” he mumbled, glancing up to briefly meet your eyes.

“The usual?” you asked, trying to hold his gaze.

“Yeah,” he said. This time offering you a genuine smile before he looked away again. He busied himself looking through a well-worn notebook while you relayed his usual order to Jungkook: cheese toast and a small hot americano. You returned to the counter and accepted his punch card. He practically filled one every other week, since he was in nearly every day. 

“Performing in the square again today?” you asked. He was one of the buskers that was a regular in the area. He nodded. “You should put on a coat. It’s supposed to snow later. You’re going to freeze if you’re out there all day like that.”

You looked over his clothes. The hoodie he wore was ragged at the sleeves. He had the hood up, cinched a bit against the biting wind. His signature beanie was just peeking out from under it. He scuffed his feet, uncomfortable under your appraisal. 

“I’ll be fine,” he answered shortly. He looked up at you, eyes wide as he realized how curt he sounded. “I stay warm when I’m performing.”

You weren’t sure how standing behind a keyboard and laptop could keep you warm, but you didn’t press the issue. You handed back the punch card and gave him his total. He rummaged in his pockets before frowning and looking up at the menu.

“That’s wrong,” he said.

“Hm?” you asked, though you already knew what he meant. He pointed to the menu over your shoulder.

“Your prices went up, but this is what it always costs.” He pulled a jumble of crumpled bills and coins from the pocket of his hoodie, counting through them. A couple of coins fell and clattered across the counter.

“I gave you the regular customer discount,” you said. Jungkook chuckled as he joined you at the register with the completed order.

“That’s not a thing,” Yoongi said as he finished counting out his change and handed you the total with the new prices.

“It’s my shop. I’m making it a thing,” you argued, pushing the money back toward him.

“Please, Yeoji-ssi. I don’t need a hand out.”

“I didn’t mean that you need it, I just wanted to,” you finally stammered after an awkward pause. Now you were embarrassed, and you felt bad for unintentionally insulting him. Yoongi cursed quietly under his breath. Beside you Jungkook’s ears twitched, and he sniffed curiously; no doubt sensing something you couldn’t.

“I know, I’m sorry. That’s very generous of you,” he said as he gently pushed the money back toward you. Tucking his toast into the backpack and taking his coffee he hurried back toward the door. He fumbled for a minute, trying to carry his equipment and the hot beverage. As he finally got his things together and went to push the door open, you called after him.

“Hey, drop by if you get a chance to take a break and warm up.”

“I’ll try,” he said, turning around and flashing another soft smile as he pushed through the door.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You thought about Yoongi a lot through the rest of the day. Jungkook noticed and teased you all day. You couldn’t scold him for it though, you’d teased him plenty about his first crush.

As long as Yoongi had been coming to the cafe you’d been curious about him. He was quiet, handsome, and talented. You’d heard him perform in the square before. He played the keyboard but also produced tracks that he played from his laptop, blending the simplicity of the piano with a full-bodied studio sound.

You often wondered why he wasn’t working at a studio, producing for idols. He could have been an idol himself with the good looks he hid behind a beanie, hoodie, and bangs. The more you learned about the boy, the more you wanted to know. On your break, you googled his name and found a few YouTube videos of performances at clubs and underground rap battles. Apparently he wasn’t just a musician, he was a talented lyricist and rapper as well.

“Doing some research on your boyfriend, I see?” Jungkook said, resting his chin on your shoulder. You jumped, turning to swat at him as he quickly danced away.

“Don’t read over people’s shoulders! That’s rude,” you scolded. You could feel your face turning pink, and it irritated you to know that he could sense your embarrassment. “He’s not my boyfriend. And I was just curious about his music.”

“Mhm, right,” Jungkook said dismissively. “You’re seriously browsing Google? Come on, doesn’t this guy have an Instagram?”

“Not one that I can find.” Your tone made it clear that you had made a thorough search and failed.

“Wow, really? No social media presence at all? Maybe he has Twitter.” You shook your head. “Facebook? LinkedIn? MySpace? AOL?”

“AOL did IM and email, you dork,” you interrupted, cracking a smile. “And no, I can’t find him on any platform besides YouTube. He doesn’t seem to have his own channel…”

“Weird…” Jungkook said. “Are we sure this guy really exists?” You snorted. “I’m serious! For someone to be completely off the grid on the internet is like, unheard of. Maybe he’s hiding from the law! Or in witness protection. Noona, what if your boyfriend is a drug dealer!”

You swung at him again, this time successfully landing a smack on his shoulder. He ran back out front when the door chimed.

“He’s not a drug dealer, stupid!” You called after him. “And he’s not my boyfriend!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Namjoon picked up Jungkook after closing that evening. They were having a boys night at Jin’s house.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join, noona?” Jungkook asked, pouting a little bit to try and convince you.

“We really don’t mind, noona. Jimin and Tae would love it if you came,” Namjoon added.

“I appreciate the invitation, but I’ll be fine Joon. And Koo, you know Overwatch isn’t my style. You have fun with the boys. Make sure to let them win a few times,” you said, getting on your toes to ruffle Jungkook’s hair affectionately.

“I will,” Jungkook said, leaning into your hand for one last ear scratch.

You waved off the boys and set to cleaning up for the night. After mopping and turning out the lights in the front you went in the back to wash the dishes. Through the door leading out into the alley, you heard shouting. Listening for a minute, you shrugged it off. Probably just college kids from a local frat house. You often heard them as they stumbled home from the local bar. It was Friday night after all.

That explanation left your head quickly when you heard a scream. The sound nearly made you drop the mug you were washing. That wasn’t a scream of young men goofing around, it was a cry of pain and fear. Before you could think better of it you shook the water off your hands, grabbed your  phone, and raced for the door. 

You burst out into the alleyway struggling to stay upright on the thin layer of freshly fallen snow.

What you saw made your stomach turn. A group of four young men were crowded around the dumpster. Something, or more likely someone, was crumpled in the corner between it and the wall. You couldn’t see much, just rumpled fabric and a couple of bags laying around. The bags were opened, the paper and garments they had contained tossed around the alley. 

The men took turns throwing brutal kicks at the person in the corner, who was now curled so that the only thing you could see besides the snow-soaked hoodie was his hands clutching something to his chest. 

“You thought you could fool everyone? Thought you could scam a buck out of us?” One of the men sneered.

“Too bad. We know what you are. Just because no one wants you doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want,” another said

“You’re just a toy that someone threw away. What were you thinking trying to pull something over on real people?” another said, punctuating his point with a kick to the ribs that sent the victim sprawling onto the snow.

“Hey!” you shouted before you could think better of it. You hurriedly lifted your phone to dial the police. It was dead. Panic shot through you as the four guys turned to you. Thinking quickly you put the phone to your ear and started talking. 

“Hello? I need the police. I’m in the alley behind ***********. There are some young men here and I think they’ve hurt someone.” One of the men took a step toward you, further illuminating his face in the dim security light. You took a step back. “Hey, I have all of this on CCTV! Your faces are on it!” you warned before returning to the imaginary phone call. “Yes, the cameras run 24/7. Everything should be on there…”

The guy closest to you stepped back into the shadows, cursing.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning to walk away and nodding for his friends to follow him. One of them turned to spit on the figure in the corner before walking away.

“You’re lucky, freak.”

You kept talking until the group disappeared around the corner. As soon as they were gone you rushed to the person in the alley. The person flinched away as you approached, tucking in on himself. You stopped, listening as he said something. It was muffled by his arms, which were held up in an attempt to protect his head. 

“What did you say?” you asked, moving a little closer.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…” he repeated over and over again. The man’s voice trembled to the point it was hard to understand him, but his voice was undeniably familiar. As you came within arms reach you got a clearer view, and your blood ran cold. There bundled in a thin, soaked hoodie, was Yoongi. The snow that had melted over him from his body heat was quickly refreezing. He shivered so badly you could hear his teeth chattering.

“Yoongi?” you asked in a choked whisper.

He looked up at you then. One of his eyes was blackened, almost entirely swollen shut, with a cut through his eyebrow dripping blood onto his eyelashes. His nose was bleeding, possibly broken. The split in his lip lined up with a quickly darkening bruise on his jaw.

“Oh my god, Yoongi! What happened?” you asked, reaching out for him.

“Please,” he said, more of a whimper than a word. You froze. He was scared you were going to hurt him.

“Yoongi?” you said, more softly this time. “It’s okay. They’re gone. I’m not going to hurt you. Would you please let me help you?” The panic in his eyes seemed to clear a little, and he seemed to really see you when he met your eyes again.

“Yeoji-ssi? I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry. I’ll leave,” he mumbled, wincing as he tried to stand.

“Woah, hold on.” You reached out to steady him. He flinched at the sudden movement, but didn’t pull away this time. “You aren’t going anywhere. Come on, let's get you inside before you freeze.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It’s really not worth the tro-“ he started.

“Yoongi,” you said in your older-sister voice. He seemed to realize that that was the end of the discussion, because he sagged against you as you slung his arm over your shoulders. His free hand was still clutching something to his chest. You glanced at it and your eyes widened. A tail. You looked up at him with a clearly shocked expression. He let out a kind of tired, resigned sigh.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Like I said, I can just go. You can leave me. You probably don’t want me here.”

“Why would you say that?” you said, immediately regretting your tone. He shrank into himself, curling his shoulders in to make himself smaller, even as he winced at the pain of moving.

“Sorry,” he repeated meekly, pulling his arm off as if he expected you to shove him away. You grabbed his hand and settled it back over your shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you, Yoongi. But why would you think I would leave you here?” you said. As you limped toward the door into the café he couldn’t meet your eyes. He’d embarrassed you, again. Of course you’d want to get rid of him. He hung his head and obediently followed you inside. His heart broke as he saw his bags, open and empty, strewn around the alley. His notes littered the floor, already soaked and probably illegible. He glanced around, seeing the edge of his keyboard where it had been shoved under the dumpster in the scuffle. Turning, he realized his backpack—containing his laptop, important papers and notes, and what little money he had saved—was still lying in the corner where you’d found him. 

He turned to you to say something, but found you were already at the door. As soon as the door closed behind him, what little strength he had left him. You eased him to the ground as best you could. He grunted, muffling a whimper of pain. He already felt pathetic enough.

“Okay, I’m going to call the police and an ambulance,” you said, tossing your dead cell phone on the counter and hurrying to the landline. Thank god you hadn’t hadn’t got around to cancelling it yet. Yoongi’s eyes widened and he lurched forward, trying to stand. He only made it one step before he fell, yelping in pain and landing on his hands and knees on the tile. You rushed back to his side.

“Don’t,” he begged through gritted teeth. You stopped short, thinking he didn’t want you to touch him. “No cops. No ambulance,” he got out before lowering himself to lay on his side. You quickly moved to lay his head on your lap instead of the cold floor.

“Yoongi you’re hurt. And those boys should be arrested! Besides, I’m sure someone is worried about you. Don’t you have a…” you trailed off, looking for the right word.

“Owner?” Yoongi said, disgust clear in his voice.

“I was going to say guardian. That’s what most of my friends call their arrangement.” 

“You have hybrid friends? Or your friends own hybrids?” Yoongi asked.

“I guess both, not that my hybrid friends are anyone’s property-“ you cut yourself off. “Yoongi this isn’t important right now. You need help.”

“No. The hospital will call the police, and the police will put me in a shelter.”

“You’re alone?” you asked cautiously.

“Yeah. I’m better his way. If I can just sleep here, I’ll be gone in the morning. Please,” he said. His voice kept getting quieter, losing its bite the more he spoke.

“No,” you said firmly.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t want me here. I’ll be gone before you wake up. I won’t touch anything. You can just forget all of this.”

“No, Yoongi. I meant I’m not letting you leave like this. I’m getting you help and you’re going to let me.”

You took off your sweater and put it under his head so you could stand and get the phone. Yoongi moved to protest, but you threw him a look and he surrendered. You dialed and watched as Yoongi’s eyes fell closed despite his best attempts to fight it.

“Noona? What’s up?” came the answer on the phone.

“Hoseok, I need your help,” you said, not wasting any time. You could hear the sound of video games and trash talk pause in the background as the other boys asked Hoseok what you called for.

“Shut up a sec and let me ask,” he said to the younger boys who were no doubt hovering around the phone trying to eavesdrop. “Sorry, noona. What do you need? It’s late. Is everything okay?”

“I need a doctor.”

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately, his voice more urgent now. You could hear a whine on the other end already, probably Jungkook, already worried.

“I’m fine, Hobi, but could you take this conversation somewhere more private?” you asked, not wanting to expose the younger boys to any unnecessary trauma. There was shuffling and complaints on the other end of the line, then the sound of a door closing.

“Talk. What’s going on?” Hoseok demanded. The door opened and closed again and you heard Namjoon’s voice.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” he asked. “Are you okay?” He repeated more clearly, evidently sharing the phone with Hoseok.

“Yes, I’m fine! But I have an injured hybrid here. He doesn’t have a guardian and he’s too scared to let me call an ambulance.”

“What happened to him?” Hoseok asked. He was a doctor specializing in hybrid medicine at the nearby hospital. He often helped out at Jin’s shelter. You felt some relief as you sensed he was in what Taehyung liked to call ‘doctor mode.’

“Some kids beat him up. It’s bad. He’s passed out on my kitchen floor right now. Drenched from the snow too. I can’t carry him into my apartment myself and it’s way too cold in this kitchen.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll have to grab some supplies from the shelter.” 

You heard the door opening again, and a bunch of voices throwing questions at Hoseok and Joon.

“Jin-hyung, shelter keys?” Hoseok requested over the noise.

“I’m going too,” Namjoon chimed in. There was more arguing and shuffling noises as coats were grabbed and shoes were put on and everyone insisted they were coming. You were distracted by a soft murmur from Yoongi, still on the floor behind you. You stretched the phone cord and returned to his side.

“What is it, Yoongi?” you asked, pulling the beanie off to brush some of his fringe off his face. His soft black ears were flattened against his head, and you gently smoothed over them too.

“My bag,” he mumbled, eyebrows creasing even in unconsciousness.

You interrupted the arguing boys on the other end of the phone.

“Bring the boys,” you said.

“Are you sure about that?” Namjoon asked, knowing that you, Jin, and himself all agreed it was best to protect the three maknaes from this kind of situation when it was possible. 

“They can’t come in and see him, but I have a job I need them to help me with. Make sure they dress warm,” you said.

“If you’re sure,” Namjoon said, deciding not to question you. 

“We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Hoseok said. “Do your best to keep him warm until then.”

“Okay. Please hurry.”

As soon as you hung up, you quickly ran into your apartment in the back. You pulled as many extra blankets as you could carry out of your closet and rushed back to Yoongi. You debated for a minute before pulling off the drenched hoodie, only to find that the black t-shirt he wore underneath was no drier. You weren't confident that you could get the garment off without further hurting him, so instead you piled blankets on top of him. You filled a couple of hot water bottles and tucked them around him; then filled a couple more and tucked them into your bed so that it would be warm when the boys carried him in.

You returned to the kitchen, where Yoongi was barely visible for all the blankets he was packed in. Glancing at the clock, you saw that only 10 minutes had passed. It felt like you’d been waiting for hours. The time crawled as you alternated between watching the seconds tick by and watching Yoongi’s chest rise and fall.

You jumped when the knock finally came at the door. They’d come to the back, the front door to your apartment, and you ran to let them in. Hoseok immediately slipped past you and headed to the kitchen. The others moved to follow, but you stopped them.

“I need you guys to help me with something,” you said. “Those thugs trashed his stuff threw it all over the alley. Joon, can you take the boys and go gather what you can and see if any of it can be salvaged? I know he said his bag is back there. It seemed important to him.”

Namjoon nodded and quickly herded the boys around the building and into the alley. You pulled Jin inside.

“I need you to help Hobi and I get him inside.”

“That bad?” he asked, frowning. You just nodded. He followed you back to where Hoseok was already taking stock of his patient.

“You did good, noona. Seems like you staved off the shock. Move him, and then I’ll dress these wounds.”

You carefully pulled the blankets away.

“Be careful, he was really protective of his tail. I think it’s injured somehow,” you warned before Jin and Hoseok picked him up. They exchanged a glance as they moved toward the apartment door.

“What?” you asked. “Is something else wrong?”

“No,” Jin tried to assure you, though his tone wasn’t comforting. “It’s just… Hobi, I know he isn’t a big guy, but is it normal to be this light?”

“No,” Hoseok answered grimly. “Definitely not.”

Now that your attention was drawn to it, you noticed how slight Yoongi was. His ribs were clearly visible through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. You felt a lump in your throat and looked away, hurrying to open the door.

“You can put him in my room. I put some water bottles to warm the bed.” They nodded and quickly settled him on the bed.

“Do you think we could cut away this stuff?” Hoseok asked, gesturing to his clothes. “It’s all trashed anyway.”

“I don’t know if he has much else…” you said, hesitant to ruin his things.

“I just don’t want to risk further injury trying to get them off intact. And we can’t leave him in these, he’s already nearly hypothermic,” he said.

“We can replace them,” Jin suggested. “I brought a change of clothes. It’s in a bag on your coffee table, noona.”

“Right, great,” you said. “I’ll go get them.”

You hurried out of the room to get the bag Jin mentioned. When you came into the living room you found Jimin, hovering by the door.

“Noona, there was a keyboard by the trash and papers everywhere. Are they his? Should we get them too?” he asked, shifting from foot to foot. His nose twitched, and you realized he could probably smell the anxiety and pain in the air. You sighed.

“Yeah, grab everything you can. We can sort through it in the morning, and see what we can save.” He nodded and turned to leave.

“Chim,” you called and he turned. You wrapped him in a comforting hug. “Thank you.”

A purr echoed in the boy’s chest, even as you heard him sniffle. You knew this whole experience was hard for him. He was one of the volunteers at the shelter the day Jungkook was brought in. That experience still haunted him. It’s why he stopped working at the shelter and took a job at the coffee shop. His tail curled around your waist as he hugged you back tightly.

“He’ll be okay, Chim,” you said, stroking his hair. “We’re going to help him.”

A pained groan came from the room behind you, and you pulled away from Jimin.

“Go back out and help the boys. Once you’re done, leave the stuff in the living room and go to the cafe. Tell Jungkook I said everyone needs a hot chocolate,” you petted his hair one last time and guided him out the door. A shout echoed out of your bedroom, and you couldn’t tell if it sounded pained, angry, or scared. Snatching the bag off the coffee table, you dashed back into the room.

“Get off me!” Yoongi shouted, tail clutched to his now bare chest. Jin stood back, hands up in surrender as Hoseok tried to calm the panicked cat. 

“Look man, your clothes are soaked. We’re risking hypothermia if we don’t get you into something dry.”

Yoongi looked down, seeing what remained of his ratty t-shirt cut open and in the trash. The right leg of his jeans was sliced along the outer seam up to his mid-thigh.

“What the hell did you do to my clothes?” He shouted again. He winced and swayed from the strain of sitting upright.

“Yoongi,” you started softly. Yoongi turned to you, eyes wide with panic. You approached slowly, not stopping when he spat at you to leave him alone, hurling threats and nonsense at you. As you sat on the edge of the bed he shrank back into the bedding around him and refused to meet your eyes.

“Please,” he said, his voice so quiet you hardly heard him. “Please just leave me alone. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Yoongi,” you said again, “I want to help. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” You reached out to gently take his hands. “I swear, I’m going to protect you. Please let me. These are my friends, and they’re trying to help.”

He drew a shallow breath, wincing at the pain in his ribs and nodded. You stood and moved to leave, trying to spare him some privacy.

“Wait!” he said, stopping you. “Please don’t leave me.”

You turned back to him and took in his face, still chapped from the winter wind. You couldn’t leave him. So you stood with your back turned, awkwardly rocking on the balls of your feet as Jin and Hoseok helped him change.

“That’s much better,” Hoseok said, evidently satisfied that his patient was no longer at risk for hypothermia. You turned to find Yoongi with his ribs already wrapped and Hoseok working on dressing the wounds on his brow and lip. The flannel pajama bottoms Jin had brought were much too big for him, you might’ve giggled at how cute he looked if the situation were different. Without the dark hoodie and ripped jeans, Yoongi was undeniably adorable.

“I brought my clothes since I wasn’t sure what size would fit. I guess we should’ve borrowed Jimin’s instead,” Jin said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said, bowing his head in thanks.

“It’s no problem. I’ll bring by something that’ll fit you better tomorrow.”

Yoongi glanced from you to Jin to Hoseok, then back to his hands in his lap. He focused on Hoseok’s hands, which were now busy setting the break in his tail.

“Don’t worry about it, I probably have something in my bag I can wear…” He trailed off, remembering the state his belongings were in the last time he saw them. “I’ll go clean up my stuff as soon as it’s light tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll be out of the way before you know it.”

“Yoongi,” you said, trying her best not to sound frustrated. Yoongi’s ears flattened and you knew you hadn’t succeeded.

“I’m sorry. I can leave now if you want,” he said, tail curling back around him as soon as Hoseok released it.

Your heart, already cracked from all the events of the night so far, finally broke completely. Hoseok stepped aside to make room as you came to sit beside Yoongi again. He was shaking, and you realized that he was terrified. He genuinely believed that you wanted him gone; that you’d throw him out in the snow right then and there.

“Don’t leave,” you said, your own voice trembling now. You reached out and lifted his chin so he’d meet your eyes. He did, and you found they were shining with tears of pain and fear that he was desperately trying to hold back. “Please don’t leave. I want you to stay.”

His shaking hand came up to rest over yours, which still cupped his cheek. He leaned in to the first gentle touch he’d felt in years, and the tears finally fell. You pulled him into your arms, and he let you. He buried his face in your neck and cried as you pulled a blanket over his shoulders. 

Eventually the sobs quieted. His breaths came in little gasps now, as he tried to catch his breath despite the pain in his ribs. You leaned away after a while to look at his face and saw he’d fallen asleep. 

You looked back to find that Jin had gone to check on the boys. Hoseok sat quietly at the end of the bed, not wanting to interrupt. He gave you an approving smile, and you thought his eyes were a bit wet too. It took you a moment to notice Namjoon standing in the doorway. Hoseok helped you ease Yoongi down to lie comfortably, and you carefully disengaged herself from his arms. The two of you exited the room as quietly as you could.

“You were great with him, noona,” Hoseok praised. Namjoon beamed with pride before pulling you into a tight hug.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, planting a kiss on top of your head.

“Thank you, Joonie.” Your voice broke and you finally felt all of the emotions hit you. Your shoulders shook and you struggled to stay quiet as you sobbed into Namjoon’s sweater.

A/N: So so so much thanks to my beta reader @sunshineboysbts​ for helping me create and edit this whole fic! She’s been listening to my ramblings for actual months while I worked on this. Love you, girl!

Day 6 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: A Walk on the Other Side

Summary: Bilbo is a FBI profiler and rather enjoys his desk job when a strange case comes across his desk hinting towards the FBI's most wanted: Smaug. As soon as he makes this connection, he is approached by notorious crime lord, Oakenshield, in an attempt to get him to work for him. Bilbo’s world gets flipped upside down by the suave man, and he may not be a dirty cop, but he does have a personal investment in making sure Smaug is put behind bars.

Bilbo Baggins was not exactly the first person you pictured when you heard the acronym “FBI”. He was a little too short, a little too pudgy, and enjoyed his sweater vests immensely. Yet, he’s been his department’s top analyst for the last fourteen years. He may not be one of the showy field officers (messy, nasty work that), but what Bilbo did was not any less important. In fact, if it wasn’t for analysts like Bilbo, a lot of times the “gunslinging action” wouldn’t take place at all. A rather unpopular opinion but true.

It was shaping into a relatively normal Thursday for Bilbo. They had just finished up a debrief over their latest embezzlement case. He was starting to suspect they were dealing with a serial embezzler. It was different locations, different methods, and different amounts, but there was something about the case that clicked in Bilbo’s mind. He was almost to his desk when he noticed a large manila envelope was draped over his keyboard. He raised an eyebrow as he carefully lifted the sticky note attached to it.

Have a look at these files for me? I know I’m missing something. Call me when you figure it out. -GG

Bilbo plopped into his uncomfortable rolling chair with a sigh. Gandalf was his old AD before he switched departments. And unfortunately, anything with Gandalf’s name on it was usually trouble for Bilbo. He tapped his fingers on the desk and spun back and forth in his chair for a bit when his eyes landed on his mother’s picture on his desk. She was in uniform hugging him at his college graduation. He knew exactly what she would want him to do. Heaving a groan, he pulled the damn envelope towards him and started looking over the files.

Arsons? Those didn’t usually fall under Gandalf’s jurisdiction. His eyes skimmed the reports, not sure exactly what Gandalf was expecting him to do. The evidence was fairly cut and dry. What’s more is the local police caught a suspect that seemed substantially to blame. Case closed. However, if Gandalf thought there was more, he should probably check it twice. It was actually the third time that he caught it. The papers hit his desk as his mind reeled. No...surely it wasn’t? Now he really needed to make sure.

He laid the photos out side by side circling the origin of the fires in each picture. His hand was shaking when he was done. This was big. This was FBI’s most wanted big. He didn’t even bother writing up a report. He immediately got on the server and sent a one-word email to Gandalf.

Smaug.

It was thirty after six when Bilbo finally packed up his work to head back home. His mind had been racing all afternoon, and all he wanted was to be put on the arson case. However, Gandalf never replied to his email, never called, nothing. First thing he was going to do when he got home after feeding Myrtle was grab a beer from the fridge and call the older man. Even if Gandalf wouldn’t let him be part of the team, he deserved to know what happened with that bastard.

Bilbo’s townhouse wasn’t exactly what you would call grand, but he enjoyed it greatly. It had the cosy atmosphere of his childhood cottage while still being rent efficient in a quiet neighborhood. It was a slight commute to work, but well worth it. He unlocked the door and flipped on the lights to the front room as he toed off his shoes and set his messenger bag down. He was just getting ready to move into the kitchen to get some cat food down for Myrtle when he froze. There was a man in his house.

“So you’re Mr. Baggins.” His low voice purred in amusement as he looked him up and down. “You look more like a grocer than an agent.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to scream when the man whipped out a Sig Sauer.

“Don’t.” He ordered calmly. “I only want to talk.”

Bilbo’s eyes hardened as he quickly took in details for a sketch artist. Tall, likely over six foot. Lean, except for he’s slightly broader in the shoulders. Tailored suit. Slicked back dark hair but graying at the sides, hooded blue eyes, well-trimmed beard and mustache. Almost as if he knew exactly what Bilbo was doing, the man smirked before nodding towards the sitting room. Bilbo moved slowly and deliberately as he sank down onto his armchair. The man unbuttoned his jacket before taking the spot on the couch. He set the gun down in front of him on the coffee table. A peace offering, but also a signal that it was within reach if he needed it. Bilbo’s blood was pounding as he forced his dry throat to work.

“What do you want?”

“Gandalf told me you have the information I need.”

Bilbo cocked his head in confusion as his mind raced to process the loaded answer. This man knew Gandalf. He talked to him recently. He knew Smaug.

“What kind of information?” Bilbo played dumb.

“A file came across your desk, and you gave Gandalf a name. I want to know why? What did you see that made you so sure it was him?”

There was almost a maniac gleam in those bright blue eyes. It was something Bilbo related to well. 

“I can show you. I just need to get to my bag.” Bilbo stated, slowly standing up.

The man’s hand twitched towards his gun, but he didn’t pick it up as he nodded his consent. He didn’t take Bilbo as a threat. His mistake. Bilbo grabbed his bag and slid the pistol and cell phone out of the front pocket whirling around on the man. He sighed but put his hands up as he leaned back into the couch. Bilbo’s left hand was shaking as he searched for Gandalf’s number, but his gun hand remained steady and in control. He put the call on speaker so he could watch the man’s face for any slip. However, his expression never changed from slightly bored and exasperated.

“My dear Bilbo, I do hope you haven’t shot our guest yet.”

Bilbo could just kill the AD. He really could. As it was, his posture relaxed just slightly.

“Who is he?” He demanded of Gandalf.

“Someone who has hunted Smaug longer than you.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the dramatics and lack of a real answer which seemed to amuse the other man somewhat. This didn’t feel right. Every instinct in Bilbo’s body said to arrest the man across from him if nothing else than because he was dangerous.

“Do you trust him?” Bilbo finally asked, his voice wavering just slightly.

There was a long pause before Gandalf answered.

“I do.” 

Being of no real use, Bilbo hung up the phone after that. He had two choices before him. He could trust Gandalf’s judgement, or he could go with his instincts. He kept the gun trained on the man for a moment longer before lowering it with a sigh. He flipped the safety back on as he stuck it in his waistband, because he wasn’t a total naive idiot, before picking up his bag like he said he was going to initially. When he looked back over, the man’s gun was gone. Bilbo sat stiffly next to him and pulled out the file Gandalf had sent over earlier.

“It was where these fires originated that tipped me off. Here, what do you notice?” Bilbo questioned.

The man furrowed his eyebrows studying the images before he shrugged with a grunt of irritation.

“Placement.” Bilbo pointed out. “There were no traces of accelerant so how do you start a natural fire? Well, very easily. Gas range stove, covered radiator, electrical outlets, but look. Where the spot is most charred we can assume is the start of the fire. It’s nowhere near anything like that. It couldn’t possibly have started naturally. So what set off the fire? Smaug has a very specific MO. He kills using highly concentrated nitroglycerin tablets, smuggable due to their heart relieving counterparts, that when combined with human stomach acid will cause an explosion. And judging by the shape of the darker burn, it’s not a huge leap to assume that there was a human body there.”

“But all of the owners were alive to file insurance claims.” The man pointed out, looking more curious than anything else.

Forgetting that he was a stranger that had a gun trained on him not even ten minutes ago, Bilbo found himself getting more animated at the chance to finally explain his theories.

“So I looked into that after I sent the email to Gandalf. Somehow, every owner was conveniently out of town before the fire happened, and afterwards were able to afford a building or home way above their pay scale. Which even if you take insurance money into account still shouldn’t be possible. I think Smaug was paying them off for access to conduct his dirty work somewhere he couldn’t be tracked. What’s more, all the buildings being used by the same money laundering cleaning service made an easy target for the police.”

The man raised an eyebrow as he seemed to be appraising Bilbo. He smirked before standing.

“Very well, I’ll talk to Gandalf about getting you transferred.”

Bilbo jumped to his feet.

“Transferred? Where? For what purpose?”

“I want you working for me.”

“Now wait just a minute here!” Bilbo demanded as he stomped back into the entry hall. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I won’t be a dirty cop! And don’t try to convince me anything about what we did was legal. Nobody breaks into an FBI agent’s home and holds a gun on him unless they work outside the law.”

The man shook his head with a snort. “Well aren’t you just perceptive.”

“Hang on!”

Bilbo reached out for the man’s arm at the same time he reached for the doorknob. In less than a second, the man had Bilbo’s arm pinned above his head in the wall out of view of the window with Bilbo’s own gun placed under his chin. Bilbo glared into the ice blue eyes inches away from his own as he tried to keep a cool head in an uncomfortable situation.

“Let’s get a couple of things straight.” The man whispered, his breath hot on Bilbo’s face. “One, I don’t answer to anyone, especially not you. Two, you’ll be whatever I want you to be or you don’t get the revenge you so clearly desire. Yeah, I can see in your eyes how badly you want Smaug. Work for me or get the hell out of my way. I don’t really care one way or the other, but Smaug is mine.”

He gave Bilbo one last smirk before shoving the gun in Bilbo’s pocket and stepping away. Without so much as a ‘good evening’, he was gone in the night. Adrenaline shot, Bilbo slid down the wall until his butt met the floor painfully. He let his head lightly bang into the wall behind him a few times as he just focused on breathing. A ‘meow’ alerted him to his company before Myrtle stepped over his legs to rub her head against his arms and stomach.

“And where have you been?” He croaked.

He didn’t get an answer back aside from another ‘meow’ as she seemed rather insistent on getting her dinner. Bilbo closed his eyes and counted to twenty before getting up to finally go to the kitchen. That beer sounded more prevalent than ever.

***

First thing he did the next day was go straight to Gandalf’s office, slamming the door behind him. The older man looked up and gave the analyst a wide smile. 

“Bilbo! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Who the hell was that last night?!”

“Well…” Gandalf huffed.

“Tell me.” Bilbo seethed. “Or I’ll go straight to the top and tell Saruman everything.”

Gandalf pouted. “No need to get testy. Please have a seat. Do you want some tea? Coffee?”

Bilbo let his face fall into his hands. “What I want…” His muffled voice stressed. “Is some answers. What have I just been exposed to?”

Gandalf sighed. “Very well. I believe you are familiar with Oakenshield?”

Bilbo slowly lifted his head to pierce Gandalf with a baffled glare.

“Oakenshield...the crime family? Oakenshield...who got into it with the Orcs several years back and cut off the hand of their boss? That Oakenshield?” 

“The very one.” Gandalf snapped, pleased. “Well that was Thorin.”

“Thorin? As in the head of Oakenshield, Thorin Durin?!” Bilbo’s voice had risen in pitch at this point.

“Of course.” Gandalf nodded as if Bilbo having a conversation in his living room with a dangerous mob boss was akin to making a friend at preschool.

Bilbo collapsed in the chair across from Gandalf as spots danced in his eyes. He white-knuckle gripped the arms as if physically trying to tether himself to the conscious world. I’m not going to pass out. I’m not going to pass out. Bilbo was an analyst! There was a reason he didn’t go out and meet people...well like that. And Gandalf knew Durin. Even worse, Gandalf leaked FBI intel to him. Slowly he lifted his head.

“Did my mother know?” He demanded hoarsely.

“Did she know what?” Gandalf asked, genuinely baffled.

“Did she know you worked for the mafia?”

“Bilbo…”

“ANSWER THE QUESTION, GANDALF!”

The wizened face hardened, reminding Bilbo of the reason why he had yet to retire.

“She suspected...but I never told her, no.”

Bilbo rubbed his jaw as he chuckled on the verge of hysterics.

“She always told me I had to get in your command. Said it was her best days on the force. That you were a good AD. Tell me. What’s your ratio? How many do you let slip off the hook for every one you put behind bars?”

“Now see here, Bilbo Baggins! I will not let you undermine me or my division! Contrary to your belief system, there is more at work here than what you can comprehend.”

“My belief system?” Bilbo scoffed. “You mean THE LAW?”

“Yes.” Gandalf grumped. “The law. The law which can dictate that a pickpocket is guilty but a corporation stealing hours from their underpaid workers is innocent.”

“I’m not going to sit here and debate...politics with you!” Bilbo laughed. “My job is to arrest people like Thorin Durin and there’s nothing you can say that’s ever going to make me think working with the lunatic is a good idea!”

“Not even if he’s your only chance to take down Smaug?”

Bilbo’s face fell into an emotionless mask, except for his eyes burning holes into Gandalf. Without another word, he stood and left the office. If he slammed the door closed with more force than necessary, well that was no one’s business but his own. Luckily, his black mood seemed to engulf him like a siren warning everyone off. He made it to his desk with no distractions ready to pick up where he left off with the embezzlement cases. Only, he couldn’t move as he stared blankly at the wall of his cubicle.

Understandably, his focus was a little off. He figured he should turn Gandalf in, but for the love of his mother’s memory and nothing more, he deemed it best to leave that stone unturned. His decision was immediately questioned when he got a text twenty minutes later from an unknown number with a time and a location and a charming little warning at the end.

Come alone.

Bilbo snorted as he tossed his phone on his desk. Absolutely not. An hour later, he found himself procrastinating the embezzlement case again to pull up the bureau's database on Smaug, Dracon. It was all information Bilbo had practically memorized at this point. His eyes drifted towards his phone with the text he had already committed to memory before shaking his head and exiting out of his search. Bilbo was an analyst for the FBI. He had his integrity and moral responsibility to ignore psychopathic crime bosses who wanted to use him for a turf war. He wasn’t so single-mindedly driven by revenge regardless of what Gandalf or Oakenshield said. His phone buzzed again.

Belladonna Took’s son was meant for more than sitting behind a desk for the rest of his life. Thorin was impressed. At least hear him out tonight, and if you absolutely feel like you can’t join the team, we won’t bother you ever again.

Bilbo threw his phone with a string of curses that had everyone around him staring with wide eyes. Bilbo dragged his hands down his face. This was such an easy decision. He just had to say no! No, no, no, no. Why couldn’t he say no?

Because you’ve never felt more excited about any case before? Because you trained for months to be a field agent before making an abstaining promise to your father at your mother’s grave? Because you’ve never felt closer to getting your mother’s killer, and that’s a sweet taste that just won’t go away?

Bilbo cursed himself with every swear in the book when the cab pulled up outside the restaurant that was texted to him. His nerves were singing. Everything about this felt wrong and dirty. And yet...he opened the door to let himself in.

“it was bound to happen anyway”

second ending:

Ccino barely was able to stand up on his own-

He was so tired, but his job was way more bearable with the appearance of nightmare on set. He couldn’t help but admire the actor; he watched all the movies he was included in, and he was a fan of them all! And he wouldn’t really admit it, but he had a crush on two actors in some movies. He was head over heels for nightmare, and he maybe had a little something for killer as well, but I mean, he just thought he looked attractive. Nothing more, nothing less, right?

“Um- ccino?”

Ccino almost jumped away at killer who just got behind him-

“Oh sorry- just here to ask if you could make some more coffee? Nightmare spilled his all over my clothes- “

His pants and shirt were covered in the dark liquid, but his jacket was the most splattered out of it all. The director was going to tear his skin off- not that he had any to begin with.

Ccino quickly came back to his senses and answered “of course! I-I’ll get going” killer paused and smiled; the other was probably daydreaming before- his face was priceless, maybe he’ll get it recorded for nightmare to see another time.

His grin slowly turned into a saddened look when he left to his dressing room. He did notice how tired ccino was over time, and college must’ve been way too much for him to handle with his shifts. He looked away, not that he could really help the poor guy anyways.

 Nightmare didn’t know what to think about killer, but their relationship wasn’t more than friendly, unless you counted flirting as something more than that. Killer’s shenanigans were always a pain to bear, but he did notice another monster who looked at him pretty weirdly; he didn’t really mind, he was used to it by now.

 Ccino didn’t know if it was worth asking nightmare out, not when the other didn’t even seem to pay attention to him-

He hid his face with his hands, when he stumbled at killer who was walking downstairs. He tried to stop the other from falling, but sadly ended up falling with him instead- killer barely was able to stop them from going through another pair of stairs when he heard a scream. He quickly looked at ccino who was trying his best not to whimper, holding his left leg tightly.

Killer quickly got up, and tried to hold him up to walk him off to help. Ccino didn’t really understand what was going on, so he muttered- “w-what’s going on? Who are you-“killer held the other by the waist, noticing that the other would clearly not be able to walk with his leg- “I’m sorry, it looks like you fell pretty badly didn’t you? It’s okay, it’s me- killer”

Ccino just realized that the other was basically carrying him around like a princess, and his face suddenly lit up with a blush- “ah- I- I-“he quickly hid his face in shame and whispered “I’m so sorry”. 

Killer looked at him and grinned tenderly “hey, don’t worry about it-“ ccino pulled his hands away from his face, and avoided the other’s eyes, his cheeks covered with a deep hue; 

what in the world was happening to him?!

 Killer managed to get to sci and asked if he could help. The other examined ccino’s legs and told killer to wait out of his office for a while.

Killer sat next to the door, anxiously waiting for the other’s results- ccino looked quite in pain, so he probably got badly injured!

 Killer crossed his arms; there was no way he could take care of that injury by himself- He barely even cared about his own sleeping schedule! What if he didn’t have enough money to pay for his medical care? He was already running low on money- if he ever had to pay for something, he’d ask sci to put it on his bill instead.

Nightmare noticed the other’s anxious expression, so he sat next to him, and asked “what’s wrong?”

Killer looked at him, it was stupid- he was stupid. Just how long did he try to hide his crush on the intern? It was useless to even do so anymore, because he will finally get a hold of himself and properly ask ccino out!

He looked away from nightmare, then whispered- “it’s just that- the intern and I fell down the stairs, and I think he broke his leg. I- I don’t think the other can pay for the healing night-“

Nightmare could read the worry on killer’s face. He looked away, maybe he did have a crush on killer, but he was glad the other told him about the intern, even if it wasn’t done directly, he could see that he did like him a lot

He sighed, maybe he could help them both?

“I’ve heard that he works in a nearby coffee shop too- the guy clearly doesn’t have time for himself-“nightmare was talking, but even he felt bad for the poor intern. If he had to work so many jobs to take care of himself, a broken leg would be quite devastating.

Killer paused. He didn’t quite understand what nightmare wanted him to do with that information; should he go to the coffee and keep him company? Should he advertise it? No, better than that, he was going to do all of that, but he was also going to help him directly!

Killer smiled, then got up- “well, we have some acting to do a bit later do we? Can’t be sitting here when the director clearly awaits us!”

Nightmare wanted to object- wasn’t he waiting for the intern’s results? But the other just grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to the set anyways.

Just what is going through his head?!

…..

Ccino got out of sci’s room, barely able to hold back tears. How stupid and how dumb can he get?! Sci lend him two crutches so that he can walk, but he clearly needed more than that-

He sat on a chair, defeated. He couldn’t work for a very long amount of time, and he knew what that meant.

His cats, his poor little babies- did he really need to give them away?

Or can he just not pay for clothes? For food?

He shook his head- no, that wasn’t possible, he couldn’t do any of those, but he desperately needed money- what could he do? Just, what did he do to ruin his living?!

He sobbed in the empty spare room, he couldn’t hold back his tears. He couldn’t even serve nightmare’s daily coffee- he cried so hard that he didn’t even hear killer entering the room. Ccino was obviously oblivious to his surrounding, so he immediately flinched when he heard killer’s voice.

“…ccino?”

Ccino stopped crying- why was killer here? Did he search for him?

“Is your leg okay?”

Ccino paused, his face was full of tears, but he managed to smile-

“It’s… not really the best state it had been into-“

Laughing it out turned to be the bad decision, since killer’s face got even more serious. Ccino gulped- he really managed to make this worse

“…I’m- sorry killer” ccino finally looked down, his “happy façade” falling down with him at the same time. “I- it’s my fault if it happened in the first place! I- I don’t think I-“ he looked at killer’s face for a brief moment, and quickly regretted it- the other’s expression got even more painful to look at- though  the genuine look of concern was shining through his empty sockets even brighter.

“…I don’t think I can work here anymore-“

He tried not to look at killer directly into his eyes, but it just wasn’t possible when the other took his hands and kneeled down to his level to say “wait- ccino are you being serious?”

Ccino looked at him, then broke down in tears- “l-look at me killer! I can’t even earn enough money to have a good amount of sleep and just flipping rest! I just want to sleep- I don’t want to go to school anymore- I- I-“

Ccino’s face was covered in tears- he didn’t want to be a bother to anyone- he didn’t want to let his problems get in the way of his relationships, but he just wasn’t going to keep it bottled up for so long! Just…why did it have to be killer?! He really didn’t deserve to get complains from the one who was dumb enough to fall down the stairs in the first place-

“…I’m sorry-“

Ccino looked up- the other pulled him into a hug and he didn’t even notice- “killer? I-it’s not your fault- you- you shouldn’t blame yourself!”

“-I didn’t act up before-“killer’s embrace got tighter. Ccino was really glad the other couldn’t see his expression, because he honestly didn’t know how to react. He would’ve never guessed that killer out of every one noticed him from the very beginning, let alone even care or feel guilty about any of what is happening to him.

Killer paused for a while, then slowly let go of the hug to face ccino, a faint smile covering his old pain inducing expression. “I know I can’t do much but, I want to help you. Soo-“he avoided the other’s gaze and finished off

“I want to work with you at the coffee shop”

Ccino almost choke at killer’s words. He was absolutely baffled; killer, working with him. WITH HIM. TO HELP HIM. If he wasn’t with killer right now, he would’ve probably fainted in surprise-

“w-WhAt-“ccino was so chocked he was barely staying with him, but he still managed to let out “y-you don’t have to do anything for me! I can take care of it somehow- you already have so much work already- I don’t need your pity”

Ccino was pretty surprised at how rude that sounded like, but he didn’t have time to add anything that killer immediately chuckled-

“w-what? I just want to work with you to help you out with your broken leg. You can’t really work with these conditions, and I know for a fact YOU already have so much work. Plus- I want to work there, you can’t really do a thing to stop me now do you?”

The last sentence was flirtier than intended, but ccino was just too confused to even get anything at that point. To be fair, he wouldn’t have got it anyway.

“…why?” ccino didn’t even notice that tears started rolling down his cheeks again. His mind was seriously considering the option of shutting down, but killer just held him up slowly and helped him walk out of the room 

“well, I like your coffee, and I wouldn’t want anyone else to replace you here. Just imagine if it wasn’t our preferred softie who held the stand!” his grin got wider, and ccino waited a moment before laughing out openly. Killer was pretty good at lifting people’s mood up.

 *********

 “Ccino! I need your help-“

Ccino sighed. Killer was good at serving people, and garnered a pretty good reputation for it, people often enjoying the discussions with him, which was understandable on its own, but he was kind of bad at making coffee.

Ccino was often the one in charge of doing it in the end since it didn’t really involve moving, and he was glad that killer was around to help him sometimes, but the rare times when ccino was having a break, killer was pretty saddened to ask him for help, since he didn’t want to bother him for it, but ccino was more than happy to give him advice, and in the meantime, he’d often talk about acting and his old films and shows.

Ccino was always exited to hear about his stories, more than what he wanted to show, and that was very endearing to killer. He was getting very attached to the little barista and he was ashamed to admit it.

But he wanted to admit it.

That’s why he wasn’t okay with the scene that was going to occur in the series.

He knew ccino was going to be there

And he couldn’t do it.

Killer rushed to his director’s office and started to argue for a very long while

He couldn’t do that

He was not going to do that in front of ccino-

And nightmare had to painfully hear that when he passed by the corridor. He paused for a while; ccino, it was because of ccino right? He couldn’t help but smile, deep down, he didn’t want to ruin their chances either. Killer cares so much about the guy that he was actually glad ccino had someone like him, he even felt envious. Nightmare sighed, then continued walking.

He sadly didn’t notice that he left the script on the table, but someone else did notice that.

Ccino’s reaction was…unexpected. He didn’t want to believe it, but what surprised him is that he was more jealous of nightmare than killer. He didn’t realize he wanted to be with killer instead, but these thoughts made his reaction softer; the tears rolling down his cheeks were slowly being wiped off with his left sleeve.

Killer was getting so dear to him that it was hard for ccino to ever imagine him with someone else. All of the times they had together only made it harder to accept that, but he still managed to smile;

 killer might a famous actor who has a million of fans who put him on a pedestal and who would kill to be with him, but he still chose to do anything to help him with his work. He stayed by his side patiently and chose to accompany and help him with his own free will.

So he still had a glimpse of hope now that he realized that he actually fell for killer

******

“There were so many clients todaaay-“killer yawned at ccino. Now that he was working both at the studio each Wednesday and Sunday and the coffee chop each evening, it made him more tired than the usual. Not that he regretted doing so; ccino was a pretty sweet and nice person, but he often denied or refused to ask for help. It was kind of hard to even convince him to sit down and recover.

“Pff yeah- not my record though! You still haven’t experienced the hell that is a special event! I got so many orders I was barely able to memorize them all” ccino chuckled slightly, but his smile quickly fell when he remembered what happened a week ago.

Right, the script.

He wondered, was there a little chance he liked him back?

“Um- ccino? Did you hear me?”

Killer patted his shoulder, and ccino almost yelped- “u-uh! Yeah- no” ccino laughed at killer’s reaction “really- you’ve been quite distracted this week. Are you okay?” killer’s grin turned into a concerned frown, but the other shrugged it off with a smile. “Just the exams, don’t worry!”

He was lying

But killer still tried to ask him out

Today was the last day he’ll work at the coffee

Ccino’s leg had recovered enough to be able to take his shifts alone, and while he wanted to stay with ccino, his excuse was getting invalid since “trying to help” wouldn’t really work on him anymore.

But there was his only chance to ask him out properly.

“Hey ccino-“

Ccino looked up, forcing a grin

Wow, he’d really got attached to him didn’t he?

And now there he goes

“Yeah?”

His

“Um-“

Only

“Well…”

Chance

 He inhaled.

 “I was wondering if we could go out next Sunday- if you don’t have anything planned of course!”

Ccino stopped walking, and looked at killer.

“…what”

It wasn’t a question, it was more of a realization.

Killer was a pretty flirty person, but he still was pretty shy when it came to being serious with someone he liked, yet he didn’t have to repeat himself twice.

“…and nightmare?” ccino’s mind was still processing what he just said. Was he asking him out, or was it just a friendly hang out? Wasn’t he…

“What about him?” killer got confused, but ccino was quick to continue; “aren’t you guys…together?”

Killer’s face was getting quite heated up, but he still answered “w-what? I-“

Ccino continued “but- wasn’t there…oh god I’m so dumb, it’s just cinema! How did i-“ccino just realized that most film had kiss scenes, yet the actors weren’t together or even in love! Ccino quickly hid his face in embarrassment, but killer chuckled at that-

“Oh you mean that scene! N-no, I asked the director to cancel it…because, uhhh- i- I like you, and-“

Ccino’s eyelights were gone, and his mouth was wide open, he-

“You like me???”

If there was any way his face could get redder, it would be

Killer paused a second, but quickly laughed out “pff- haha, well, of course! Really didn’t get any signs did you?” killer’s cheeks were bright red, but he still had his usual grin, if not a wider one.

“…” ccino was barely able to comprehend everything, and he almost fainted if it wasn’t for killer’s presence- “whoa there- you can’t even stand on your own, and you’re already planning to fall again?”

“Hahaha-“ccino’s laugh was more of an automatic response since his brain was on auto-pilot for now. “You LIKE ME??? Out of everyone, I never expected YOU would like someone like ME-“

Killer smiled at him, “but you still haven’t answered my question.” Ccino’s eyes met his, then ccino just answered “…what question?” killer wasn’t able to hold back his laugh, and ccino was just standing there, trying to remember what was his question.

“Do you want to go out sometime soon?”

Ccino paused, then jumped at killers arms “…if I’m free of my exams, I will”

Killer smiled, then hugged him back

 What a nice feeling was it to be loved

 Everyone in the studio was aware of their new relationship, and all were supportive of the two lovebirds.

But

“…”

He was happy for them too, but-

“…they care about each other so much-“

He smiled

“I guess it was bound to happen anyways”

******

“I was wondering if we could go out next Sunday- if you don’t have anything planned of course!”

the sentence you I was waiting for the whole time i was making this mess writing

((have the non- shaded version because i am proud of the lineless art in this one))

bad ending- second neutral ending- third neutral ending- happy ending

 there you have it folks! the second ending is finally here! gosh it took soo long and i’m so sorry, but heyy- the first neutral ending. one of my personal favorite endings to be honest. and as you might guess, there will be three endings left, but now i need a bReAk-

studio au belongs to @zu-is-here

killer belongs to @rahofy-sketch

ccino belongs to @black-nyanko

tagging @help-im-a-gay-fish @jann-the-bean and @kotikaleo​​ because you guys might like the remaining endings ;)

thank u so much for waiting @zu-is-here​! it took a while, but now it’s finally done <3

also a personal record of 3000+ words in one writing!!