#anyway I’ll keep my eyes peeled for it next time I’m able to stop by there

[magic-can]

you can get that little coffin necklace at spencers 🫡 idk if they still stock it but thats where i got mine

Oh thank you so much my friend, I’ll stop by there next time I’m at the mall and if they don’t have it I’ll scour the Mariana Trench for that thing if I have to bc it goes hard as fuck

#magiccan answers #missilekids #side note I’ve only been to Spencers once #I was at the mall with a bud and I was like #‘huh I’ve never been in Spencers’ and he was like ‘Spencers is cool lemme show ya’ and I was just kinda like. ‘okay’ #I saw something I thought was a cute little container for keepsakes #*narrator voice* it was for weed #also for the record Spencers is for adults. if your brain has been developed for less than 18 years do not go in there #your baby eyes are not ready to be subjected to their wares #anyway I’ll keep my eyes peeled for it next time I’m able to stop by there #again thank you so much dude. mwah mwah

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Exposed

Summary: Bond has to make a decision about someone he loves. 

A/N: Hello lovelies,

Oh my dear lovelies, oh sweethearts. I AM SO SORRY for going dark.

As some of you may have read from my last announcement, things got a bit hectic when my mom was in the hospital. It was a scary and crazy experience, she basically became paralyzed from her chest down. I’m talking about an extremely active woman who was on her feet working 10-12 hour days to not being able to move at all. 

We had to rush her to emerge and find out she had contracted some rare bacteria that affected her spine. Needless to say she was in the hospital for a month, and finally was discharged about three weeks ago and is now staying at my brothers. Which is great for her since he has a bungalow and makes it easier for her to move around as she’s learning to walk again. However, that does mean we have to travel a bit to visit her and take care of her when my brother and his family can’t. 

Anyway ... long story short, too late. I am back, I am going to try to catch up on some of our lovely stories. I also have a special surprise for you guys, which I’ll upload sometime this week. I’m currently working on Crosshair’s section of the Gym Membership and then SOTF, the Reunion and Upside Down, and I’m also going to be working on a one-off request that I received. Keep your eyes peeled for those. 

Thank you all for sticking around, for sending me love, and for checking up on me, you have all been super amazing and wonderful. 

A special thanks to @firstofficerwiggles​ and @ulchabhangorm​ for being my beta readers. Love oo.

Italics - flashback

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, blindfolded, smoking, prisoners, cages, feelings of mistrust, bleeding, injury, I think that’s it, if I miss anything please let me know. 

AO3 Link   |   DC Characters Master List   |   Main Master List

The blindfold covering Bond’s eyes finally started to slip down after hours of the corrosive material rubbing against his eyelids, but if this little irritant put him off from his mission, he shouldn’t’ve been able to call himself a double O. 

It been more than three hours, closing on four, since he’d gotten into the first vehicle and the fabric was placed on his eyes. Since then, he’d been moved to two subsequent vehicles, each more uncomfortable then the one previous.

They were travelling across increasingly bumpier roads, from the cobble stones they started out on, to the rural roads he deduced they were currently on. With each bump he felt the rough material scrape across his skin, there was no doubt his eyelids would be rubbed raw by the end of the journey. 

Despite the increasing discomfort, he focused his attention on what was happening around him. 

As the car began to slow down, he expected a gentle stop, of course that was before his whole body shifted forward violently. He would’ve hit the seat in front of him, if he hadn’t engaged his core muscles doing his best to remain upright as the driver slammed on the brakes. He shifted himself back against the seat, as another vehicle slowly approached them.

The car that had been stifling since he’d been shifted into it, finally received a breath of fresh air, as he felt a rush of wind blow across his face and hair when the door flung open. 

Someone grabbed his arm with force, shifting him forcibly from his seat. This wasn’t his first clandestine meeting he attended, yet every time they always decided to yank the blindfolded person from a vehicle; come to think of it, he was guilty of that as well. There was an inherent expectation that the one blindfolded wouldn’t fall, and would be able to follow the silent instructions. 

Maybe just for fun, the next time he was going to fall to the ground just to throw them off, and chuckle at hearing them become all flustered. 

There was an eerie silence that seemed to hang in the air as he got out of the car, it wasn’t necessarily threatening or dangerous per se, but a seemingly tense atmosphere between the two drivers themselves, maybe an affair of the heart, or simply rivals for one thing or other. He concluded he was being transferred to yet another vehicle, as his guide pushed him forward, hopefully this would be the last vehicle transfer before arriving at his destination. 

His guide kicked his left foot, trying to push it up onto a ledge, he didn’t need much prodding as he stepped up doing his best to gain some form of balance, when he was shoved into the seat. There was no doubt it was an older truck, the cracked leather seats felt as though thousands of tiny pins were poking his butt as he shifted to find a somewhat comfortable spot. 

It didn’t take long to get them on the road again, the further they drove on, the more he was able to determine their heading. The bumps in the road had started to appear less and less, instead it became increasingly dusty from what he could gather as he breathed in more dust from the air vents. The noise from the city vanished completely and replaced by the sound of trees rustling in the breeze and birds squawking from above. As far as he could tell, they hadn’t passed another vehicle in the past thirty minutes, which could only mean they were in an even more isolated area then they had been previously.

The truck shifted gears as it began to slow down, the driver turning ever so gently before he decided to slam on the brakes, lurching him forward once again. He was seriously thinking about talking to whoever taught these guys how to drive. He was trying to brace himself before hitting the dash, only to be pushed back this time into his seat by his guide’s forearm; he wasn’t sure but there was a high probability he would have a bruise on his chest later. At least he could say there was some concern about his safety, relatively speaking.

The relative peace that had surrounded him was now replaced by the sound of various footsteps rushing towards the truck, when the door flung open.

“Get out!” The voice demanded without any further explanation or care. Either from the person’s lack of English or simply they didn’t wish to expand more than the two words because of the unbearable heat beating down against them, the breeze that he had enjoyed was now a distant memory. It hadn’t been so bad in the truck as they drove on their way, but now that it was idle, the lack of breeze, the humidity, and the sun bearing down on them started to feel stifling.  

Though he still couldn’t see much as he moved out of the truck, he was able to see something through the fabric covering his eyes, from the small opening provided by the shift of the blindfold. It was mostly outlines of objects, shapes that provided a hint as to what he was seeing against the bright sun and bluish-grey sky. 

He took in a deep breath, there was a hint of salt in the air brushing against his tongue as he licked his lips; so they’d been travelling closer to the sea. Possibly the Pacific Ocean side as the air wasn’t as salty compared to the Atlantic. The thickness from the rustling of the trees was no mistake they were somewhere dense, either near the border of the forest, or just on the edges of an abandoned village. 

The humidity surrounding him, simply reaffirmed his suspicions, it was thick and suffocating. They had driven closer to the coastline.

Someone grabbed his arm pushing him foward, he could hear sounds of people moving around him, out of his and his guide’s way. Not completely disappearing simply moving off to the side, as they whispered among themselves. He could feel eyes analyzing and scrutinizing his every move, waiting for an opportunity to strike, despite his hands still being restrained. 

As he walked along, his foot bounced off the corner of a box he estimated as best he could from the sound and movement of what he hit. His theory was confirmed as his guide shoved him down onto the seat. He adjusted himself as best he could, as someone cut the zip-ties binding his hands, seconds after his wrists felt sweet relief, his blindfold was yanked off without any concern. 

It took him a few seconds to adjust to the brightness, probably could’ve been worse if his blindfold hadn’t slipped, allowing his eyes to adjust even just a little.

“Bienvenido Señor Bond” the thick Spanish accent coming from the heavyset woman sitting in front of him. The structure in front of him, if he could call it that, provided enough shade for her and her table, leaving the rest of her people and Bond to experience the full heat of the sun. The air was filled with the smell of the cheap cigars she was smoking, the smell flowing over and encapsulating him, making him want to eliminate whoever invented those foul-smelling cheap cigars as he held back the bile that was rising.

He left off a light cough, doing his best to be his most charming self possible, “I’m grateful for the meeting Señora, it’s truly a pleasure to be in front of so much beauty ”

“A great pleasure as well, Señor Bond, I understand you are looking for information” she took a long drag from her cigar, the ashes flicking off in the breeze and creating more of the nasty smell. 

Bond nodded “As a gratitude for giving me the opportunity for this meeting” he motioned to the man beside him who had been carrying his bag, the same man he met in the city before they started off on the long voyage to the middle of nowhere, he must have been in the vehicles with him each time he transferred or travelled ahead of him, “a small fee to show my appreciation for the inconvenience this has caused you.” 

The man, loomed over them as he stepped closer, as tall and broad as he was, the man barely made a sound as he gently placed the bag in front of her. 

She eyed Bond, not saying anything as she took an even longer drag of her cigar, she motioned to one of her subordinates to open the case revealing it full of money.

“American?” She asked as the smoke exhaled through her mouth and nose.

“Of course”

She took another puff “What is the information?”

“Several days ago, a man travelled through the area with a backpack”

“There are many men who travel through this area with backpacks, Señor”

“Of course, however, I believe he is a guest of your wonderful facilities, currently” he motioned towards the rundown prisons, well what appeared to be prisons. They were mere barriers out in the open, simply branches tied together with rope, to form cages to keep the unwanted contained. 

She simply shrugged, “Perhaps, perhaps not.” She motioned with her cigar towards Bond, “Do you have a picture of this man?”

Without a word he pulled out a 4 x 6 picture of the man from his pocket. One of the requirements of meeting her was no technology was allowed. No cell phone. No laptop. No tablet. Nothing that could connect him to the outside world. 

Despite the oddity, it didn’t really matter to him why she was being extremely cautious, all he cared about was the reason he was there. He passed the picture to her aide who was waiting to receive the image, she leaned over taking a long look at the picture, taking another drag nodding slowly in agreement.

“You are correct, Señor Bond, this man is indeed one of our guests of our, as you say, wonderful facilities.”

Bond couldn’t help smirk at this fool’s misfortune, frankly he could care less about the predicament he found himself in, “I hope he’s enjoying his stay then, what I’m more interested in, is the backpack this man had with him.”

She hummed as she took another drag, the smoke flaring out of her nostrils, “Was there something special in this backpack?” Her eyes narrowed as she took in the man sitting in front of her, “If there was something my men overlooked…” her eyes narrowing on two men who were standing off to the side, as her anger flared along with her nostrils towards her men, “I would be very disappointed.”

James knew better than to show his hand, after all it wasn’t anything that was obvious to the untrained eye, “Not in the least, the backpack is in fact mine. The man stole it from me, and I simply wish to reclaim it back.”

Another hum from the woman followed his statement, as she took a final drag of her cigar, putting it out on an overfilled ashtray.

“Why so much money to simply retrieve what was stolen?”

“There is a copy of a book that was given to me by my late wife, it was the last gift she gave me before she passed away; it means the world if I was able to get it back.”

She called over one of her men, whispering to him, careful to not let her conversation be overheard. Within seconds the man brought the dull beige backpack, still intact, at least from what Bond could tell.

“Would you mind if I confirm it’s contents, I would hate for anything to be missing or for the book to have been lost”

She motioned for him to stand, as her men surrounded Bond from all areas, their eyes watching his every move. He opened it fully, the clothes neatly stacked on top, a dog eared book of ‘How to Kill a Mockingbird’ sitting there, along with a toiletry bag, he opened it seeing a razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and shaving cream. 

“As you can see there is nothing special in this bag, except for the book. This was the book she left me before …” his hand caressed the book tenderly, before he zipped up the bag, looking as undisturbed as before, retaking his seat on the crate. 

“It appears so” her voice was weary.

“Thank you for retrieving my belongings, I would like to compensate you of course, for your troubles.” He put his hands inside his pockets, pulling out two stacks of a hundred American dollars placing them on the table in front of her, “There’s about $20,000 here, as a personal thank you.”

“Señor Bond you are quite good at making friends” she smirked as she slowly picked up the bundles, “Ernesto will take you back to the village. If you ever need my services again, I am more than happy to help.”

“Señora” Bond bowed, giving her his whimsical smile, as he followed Ernesto back to the truck, he sat down the backpack in between his legs, as he was blindfolded once again for the long journey back. 

- - - - - - - - - - - 

The book lay beside Q’s laptop as it’s front pastedown was peeled back, leaving only the indent of a microchip in its wake.

“Q, is the information compromised or not?” Mallory was annoyed as the youngish technician appeared to be taking his time with providing answers that he desperately needed.

“Don’t worry” Bond intervened, “Q’s probably confirming for the third time before he gives us any answers. You know how annoyingly diligent he can be.”

Q focused his attention back on the computer screen doing his best to ignore the comments; however he knew no amount of rechecking would change the answer that laid before him. He leaned back after reading the information for the third time, “Only one identity was compromised”

“Why aren’t you more concerned!” Mallory’s patience was at an end.

“Because it was compromised two weeks ago”

Silence filled the room, as the weight of what was discovered sunk in; the identity of their undercover agent was already revealed, the chances they were still alive were remote if even possible. 

Mallory leaned against the desk, his head hanging low between his shoulders. He’d prided himself on doing all he could for his agents, there would always be deaths in this field that was inevitable, but he always wanted to make sure they knew they weren’t alone. They had support, backup, as much as he was able to offer. 

“Who was it?” Mallory mumbled out as his eyes closed tightly, trying his best to squeeze out the shame and guilt he felt. No one realized there'd been a breach, until it was too late, and then finding out who breached their network, how it was breached took even more time. He failed them, and nearly had others killed. 

Q glanced from Mallory to Bond, a heaviness rested in his chest, the next words he was about to utter would change his friend’s life forever. He focused back on the computer, maybe he was wrong, maybe it was a different person with a similar name and same date of birth, who just happened to have taken over the same undercover name. After all he’s made mistakes before, this could just be one of those unfortunate blunders, it would be better to keep this between Mallory and himself, “Maybe we should …” Q was about to say ‘discuss this in private,’ when Bond cleared his throat.

“Q … say it” James wanted to be wrong, he wanted the name that popped into his head, the moment Q said an identity had been leaked, to be different from the name Q was getting ready to say. 

“007 …”

“Q. Say. It.” James’ voice was tense, his eyes focused on Q’s, taking notice of every twitch, the number of blinks, even every bead of sweat on Q’s face, it all told him a story. Told him to expect the worse. 

Q took the time to focus on Bond’s demeanour, there was no way around it. He wanted to know and no amount of coaxing or trying to pull the old ‘need to know’ routine would stop him. If he didn’t provide him with the information, he’d just break into his computer later and look for it himself, and the last thing Bond needed was a charge of treason. He let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes trying to calm the unpleasant dreary sensation in his heart. He nibbled on his bottom lip, hoping the numbing sensation would make it easier to say what he needed to, “It’s J, 007.”

“When did J …”

“J was recalled to active duty a year ago, specifically for this assignment.”

James could feel his heart racing, his blood pumping faster, he could feel beads of sweat being to form and climbing its way down his spine. 

The sun was breaking in through the window as James watched you sleep, he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face, as you scrunched your nose, trying to remove whatever irritated you, mumbling in your sleep. He’d been up for almost an hour, after he had the same nightmare yet again. He knew he should’ve woken you up, whenever he had the dream of your death, it was only you that could ease the pain in his heart; however this time just watching you sleep, peacefully, calmed his heart. It was a sense of peace and tranquility that filled him just lying there beside you. He did his best to memorize every millimetre of your face, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss a single freckle or blemish on your face. In that moment, as he lay beside you, he knew. Truthfully, he had known since the moment you walked into his life, but in that moment he knew he wasn’t going to run away from what he felt, he wasn’t going to tiptoe around the issue anymore. You were the one. You were the missing piece of his life. In that moment, he wanted to wake you up, and ask you to marry him. 

He felt Mallory’s eyes on him pulling him back to the present, as M looked between Q and himself. He was trying to quell the coldness enveloping him completely, James’ fists clenched by his side as a thousand different scenarios ran through his head. This wasn’t the first time you were in a crunch, but at least then he was by your side. 

You pressed into your side, praying and hoping to stop the bleeding as James provided cover. Things were looking bleak for the both of you, you were down to maybe five rounds, your extra magazine used and spent. Bond had taken one of your pursuers guns but even then, he was running low. 

“Okay, I bought us a few minutes” he rushed out, controlling his breathing as best he could. His eyes glanced over doing his best to assess your situation. “What do you say? Ready to make a run for it?”

You could only chuckle and offer a weak smile as he grabbed your arm, but you knew the chances of both of you making it out were slim, especially with your wound that didn’t want to close. The bullet was still in there, and pressing against your ribs. You grabbed his shirt with all the strength you had left, pulling him towards you, kissing him deeply one last time. 

James was shocked at first but didn’t hesitate as he deepened the kiss, you didn’t have to tell him, he already knew what you were thinking. This was your goodbye kiss, you were going to tell him to run and to leave you there to cover his escape; but there was no way he was going to do that, his hand shifted from the side of your face, he slowly flexed his wrist, popping out the the tiny dart Q had mounted into his watch before the mission,  and pressed it against your neck. 

As you felt the prick in your neck, you pulled back and pressed your hand against your neck, “Wha… wha… whhh…”

James watched as your eyes slowly closed and your head fell against his shoulder, “Sorry love” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Can’t lose you.” He picked you up, and carried you to the extraction point, doing his best to stay ahead of the assailants.

Now wasn’t the time to panic, he needed as much information as he could gather, “Is it possible to contact J? Confirm in some way that J’s still alive?”

“J’s locator is no longer active. Even the communicator I gave is turned off. All the designated escape rendezvous arranged previously haven’t been used. There is one possibility, give me a minute, I’ll check …” Q’s words trailed off into nothingness as he focused his attention back on his computer.

Mallory stood from his position, it was not the time to be wallowing in self-deprecation. 007 looked as though someone punched him in the gut, or ripped out his heart. Not to mention, there was the possibility of an agent out there on their own for the past two weeks, that could very well need his help.

“You know this … J … personally?” Mallory asked keeping his voice low, as he subtly moved 007 away from Q allowing the genius to do his job.

“More or less” Bond responded, although he heard his voice answer Mallory, it didn’t feel like it was him that was actually talking.

“Meaning?”

“She’s my fiancé …” Mallory looked shocked for a second, before he was able to control his features once again; Bond didn’t draw attention to it, nor did he appear to really be paying attention to what he was saying at that moment. 

James looked around the room, making sure everything was perfect. The candles were lit, your favourite meal was on the dining room table, along with your favourite flowers. He was wearing the navy blue suit you loved, it was the one he wore when you first met, you always told him that image always lived in your memory. He felt for the ring box in his breast pocket. The nerves building as the thought of what he was about to do started to sink in. He always swore he’d never get involved with anyone again after Vespa, but you slowly broke down his walls, and pushed your way into his heart, and before he knew it here he was getting ready to propose to you. Now all he had to do was wait till you got home.

Something pulled James back from where his mind went, maybe it was the fact Q had stopped typing, or just having faith that J’d be okay, and there was no need to be lost in what-ifs. He cleared his throat, straightening and adjusting his tie, “Former. My former fiancé from years past.”

You stood on the street, as the rain pelted down soaking your and James’ clothes straight through. Your tears were welling up as your throat ached from the fight the both of you just had, James was doing his best to hold it together, seeing how much in pain you were from something he did. 

“I’m sorry! But you know this job … this life …”

Your fingers clenched around your engagement ring, “You promised me we would leave. We would both walk away from this job, from everything!”

James ran his hands over his face, “You know how difficult it can be …”

“Oh shut up! You claim to love me, you claim to I’m the one you want to be with, but if that was true you wouldn’t hesitate. Just admit James, you simply don’t want to be with me!”

“How can you say that? I’m here fighting to be with you!”

“Then leave! Leave with me!”

“You know I can’t. Not right now.”

“If you don’t leave now, you’ll lose me”

James closed the distance between the two of you, cupping your face in his hands, “Don’t. Don’t do this.”

You didn’t want to walk away, not from him; but if he wasn’t ready to make the commitment you weren’t sure you could wait around until he was ready. You had already waited five years just to be with him, and now just when you thought everything was finally coming together, it was all falling apart. 

Your hand slowly stroke his cheek, you brushed your lips against his pulling him closer. He didn’t wait or hesitate, he reciprocated making sure the kiss was as passionate and intimate, James didn’t want to think this was the final kiss he could ever give you. 

You pulled away, taking his hands in yours, you pulled off the ring and placed it in his hand. “I can’t do this when you’re not ready. I’m sorry.”

That was all you said as you left him standing there, James just watched you walk away, not sure of how to fix this.

Mallory didn’t say much, simply nodding his head. He knew the affairs of the heart all to well, he wasn’t going to pry into Bond’s past no matter how sorely he was tempted, “Are you able to handle this?”

James turned his head and locked eyes with Mallory, “Are you?”

“Very well, 007.”

Both regained their focus and steadied their nerves, Q looked up as he felt their gazes on him, he adjusted his glasses as he reviewed the information, “I triple checked all morgues, hospitals, law enforcement announcements, even underworld bounties, and I can neither confirm nor deny J’s alive … or dead.”

“Pardon me?” Mallory stated as his hand hitched on his waist, his anger needing an outlet. Not only had they been breached, but it appears it was a targeted breach against one particular agent that didn’t seem to have raised any red flags in their assignment. 

Q adjusted his glasses, not bothering to look at the very annoyed and confused expressions that no doubt rested on both of their faces, “If J were dead there would be a report of either an unidentified body, J’s undercover name or J’s real name, and if that wasn’t going to happen, then there would be a police report about a body found or a … piece found. However there’s nothing. There’s still a pretty large bounty on J, 750,000 euros. Which tells me two things, one - J escaped before the identity was revealed. Now how J knew the cover was blown, I couldn’t possibly guess. However, that brings me to number two, as of right now J’s escaped the clutches of whoever put the bounty. Otherwise, it would’ve been removed, not to mention there would be some form of notice on the dark web.”

“Okay that means J’s likely alive, but you said you weren’t sure about J’s death?”

“Well they could have found J and kept the bounty up to keep us thinking J’s alive when that isn’t the case. They could also be torturing J for information …”

Bond held up his hand, “Okay we get.”

“If J’s captured, then there’s nothing we can do.”

The air in the room went frigid, as Bond slowly turned his head to look at Mallory, “There’s always something we can do” his voice was terse as he addressed Mallory.

“I’m sorry 007, but you know the rules better than anyone. Captured and you’re on your own; MI6 will disavow all knowledge regarding your existence and activity. If J’s caught, there’s simply nothing I can do.”

The tension between the two seasoned men started to grow, one due to the power and position he held, limiting his ability to help an agent in need, the second due to his own feelings and sense of duty to the one who had held his heart far longer than anyone else since Vespa. 

Q held up his hand, “Before you two get into a testosterone filled match to decide which of you is bigger, I found something”

“Surprised you didn’t just wait till after” Bond smirked, appreciating the fact he could always tease Q no matter what the situation called for.

“I was tempted, but this is more pressing. I found a … as best I can describe it, some sort of distress code, on a back channel that hasn’t been used for a while.”

“What does it say?” Mallory was beginning to have doubts about this agent; first, why was only J’s identity that was revealed? Secondly, how did J survive? 

“Need extraction. No response in two weeks. Will go dark. Heima. J out.”

“When was this posted?” James hand clenched by his side, something wasn’t right. Heima referred to their home they were planning on building in Milford Sound, the remotest area of New Zealand.

“Sixteen days ago”

“J already went dark.”

“Question” Mallory couldn’t hold his tongue anymore, “If she was able to escape why didn’t she come back in? Why wait to get an extraction? Why wait to hear back? And why was J’s identity the only one that was leaked?”

Bond turned to look at Mallory, “Are you questioning J’s loyalty?”

“It does raise some concerns” Q offered reluctantly.

“I know J!”

“It bears some consideration, 007” Bond didn’t need to hear this anymore, he grabbed the equipment Q had laid out for his next mission; ignoring Q’s comment.

“Where do you think you’re going, 007?” Mallory was about to stop him but thought better of it.

“Heima” was all James said as he walked out.

Mallory looked at Q waiting for an answer, he simply shrugged, adjusting his glasses, “Did you expect anything less? I mean …” Q motioned with his hand to the door Bond exited, “Really?”

Mallory smirked, running his hand down his face, “Let me know when he finds J.”

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[lieblingspulli]

Soup or no soup?: SKZ

W.C.: 2.1k

Hyunjin x Reader

Summary: You get horrendously sick, but Hyunjin is a horrendously useless cook for sick people. Poor baby :( he tries his best to make you some soup.

A/N: I have been battling a nasty little ear infection lately so I didn’t write for like 3 days but I’m here and alive. Lol. Here’s an indulgent little story but instead of Hyunjin being able to take care of you like most fics portray the boys, he kinda fails and is a classic man instead. Sometimes we just gotta remember the boys: they’re just men 😥Anyways it's been a long day for me so- Enjoy!

Masterlist!

SKZ Masterlist

You can feel the scratchiness of your throat even in your sleep. You don’t know how many hours of sleep you got last night, but it couldn’t have been more than three. You spent all of last night tossing and turning in a pool of sweat, feeling the headache oncoming. Unfortunately, you had taken the last cold and flu pill in your apartment and didn’t have anymore to spare. 

You stayed completely still, laying like a dead person in a coffin, wrapped in all the blankets you could find. You seriously contemplated calling up your boyfriend just so he could buy you some severe cold medicine, but decided against it to not get him sick. Your throat felt so swollen, you could barely swallow and your head pounded so much, you couldn’t get up from bed. 

Because of this, you failed to notice the several times your phone rang and vibrated. You were too engrossed in the disgusting feeling of being hot yet cold at the same time, that you failed to even notice the front door open. Luckily it wasn’t an intruder. Not that you would have noticed. 

It was right around the point where you felt yourself finally dozing off to sleep that your bedroom door flung open as loud as possible. 

“Y/N!!!” Hyunjin burst through the doorway and crossed his arm in a pout before stopping in his tracks. 

“Y/n? Baby? You here?” You peeled open your eyes and could barely see the top of his head over your absolutely enormous mountain of blankets. Hyunjin’s head bobbed around for a bit, clearly looking for you before he walked up to your bed and peeled back one of your blankets to reveal your bare foot. 

“Ew.” He threw the blanket back and you coughed, making him jump. 

“Oh my god Y/n, you scared me.” He laughed and knelt down next to your bed to face you. He squinted at you and looked increasingly more concerned as he observed your sickly face. You felt as sick as he thought you were. 

“Hi baby.” You croaked out. 

“Jesus christ babe, you’re sick as hell.” Hyunjin’s eyes widened at hearing how dry your throat was. 

“Thanks babe.” You chuckled and coughed some more into your blanket, attempting your best to shield him from the biohazard you presented as. You curled up more into a ball and winced as your head continued to pound. It was so warm in this ball of blankets. 

“Did you get caught in the rain again? How’d you get so sick, oh my god.” Hyunjin looked around, trying to look for any sort of water or pain medication. He observed your face and deduced that the official prescription from Dr. Boyfriend would have to be soup and some good old fashioned Nyquil. He knew you had some somewhere. You just groaned in response and tried to fall back asleep. There was nothing you could do to get rid of him now. 

“Okay, the first step of my responsible care is taking medicine.” He announced before nodding in confidence and getting up to search for anything that could help you. You tried to focus on sleeping, but could hear him rummaging around the kitchen cabinets. 

“Baby! Where do you keep your cough medicine?” Hyunjin shouted. You winced. Obviously you couldn’t quite answer. You heard a loud groan of frustration before hearing his footsteps approach the room again. 

Hyunjin popped his head in. 

“I’ll be right back, I couldn’t find anything. Give me twenty minutes tops. Don’t die. Love you baby! Stay Alive!” Hyunjin rambled, smiled and quickly ran out of the apartment. As soon as the door shut, you rubbed your tired face and laughed a little before huddling back into a ball and finally falling asleep. 

About fifteen minutes later, Hyunjin carefully walked into the apartment, breathless from speed walking to the corner grocery store and back. In his arms he held two giant brown bags filled with ingredients, medicines, juices and teas, and most importantly, a bouquet of flowers. What could he say, he was a lover boy. 

After carefully unpacking everything onto the dining table, Hyunjin began his task of picking out the first round of medicines and drinks. Before he woke you, he assembled a makeshift medicine tray with a water bottle, a cup with your meds, tissues, and some tea. Hyunjin had to admit, he was being a great caretaker right now. 

He creeped into your room and checked that you were asleep before carefully placing the tray on the nightstand. 

He crouched down and loudly whisper-yelled, “Y/n!” to which you startled awake. 

Oops. 

“Mmm” You groaned and tried to flip over. 

“Come on baby, you gotta take some medicine to make you feel better.” Hyunjin carefully shook you and held out your medicine pills and the water. 

“Babyyyy.” He whined. You cracked open an eye and almost cried at how painful the light was. 

“It’s so bright.” You gasped. He looked to the window and back at you. 

“I’ll close it right now then. Here.” He held out the pills to you and made sure to hold the water bottle as you sipped from it, just in case you dropped it. After your second pill, he quickly placed the water nearest to you and jumped to close the curtains all the way. 

“There we go. Sleep tight. Also, that’s way too many blankets babe.” Hyunjin was absolutely determined to help you based on how his members took care of him. You didn’t reply, simply groaning and huddling closer to your wad of blankets. He let out a “tsk” and put his hand on your forehead, making you recoil. 

“Hyunjinnnn, your hands are freezing!” You snapped at him. He shook his head.

“No babe, you’re just burning up.” Hunjin immediately peeled the thickest blanket out from the hoard on top of you and you cried out in response. 

“It’s so cold though!” 

“Baby, you’re way too hot for this many blankets. How about some food to warm you up instead?” 

You winced at the thought of having to eat anything with the state your throat was in. 

“My throat hurts so bad.” You whispered and closed your eyes, sleep threatening to take over. You wanted to cry from the pain. Hyunjin observed you, his heart breaking to see you in such pain. 

He placed a kiss on your head before resolving to hit the kitchen next. He was a man on a mission. 

Hyunjin put on his favorite kitchen apron as he observed the objects before him. The first course of action was to set up the flowers of course. Right where you would see them. He had picked a set of pink Calla Lillies to fit in your prized pearlescent vase. He cut the stems, filled the vase and set them on the desk in front of your bed. He knew this would make you happy. Would it take your sickness away? No. But it would make you happy that’s for sure. 

The final course of action was his favorite part. Soup. 

At first, Hyunjin had debated on even trying to cook something for you. He had stared at the wall of soup stuff at the grocery store and really contemplated his skill level to even try. Hyunjin felt as if maybe he wasn’t qualified to do something like that, but with a quick phone call to Minho and some reassurance (and a list of course), he resolved to just go for it. How hard could it be anyway? 

Yea, he could have gone for the cans, but he always felt like handmade soup tasted much better. So here he was, staring at an onion, some garlic, some chicken broth, some noodles, and some celery. Minho said it was so simple, even someone like him could do it. Really, how hard is it to make soup? 

Right before resigning to the feeling that maybe it was a bad idea, Hyunjin decided to just go for it. That was his first mistake. Hyunjin almost never cooks. Even though he lives with some of the most incompetent gym bros in the world, he still doesn’t really cook for himself. He can maybe do some mediocre rice at best, but soup? Out of his league. 

Minho had given him explicit instructions. Onions. Garlic. Celery. Cut. Cook. Broth. Noodles. Cook. Ready!

It was simple. Too simple. 

First of all, Hyunjin failed to remember to cook the garlic-onion mixture in oil. That got a little toasty. He also forgot the celery. That would have to go in later. 

Second, he accidentally bought the unsalted chicken broth, so it was up to Hyunjin to salt the soup. Second tragedy of the night. Too salty. 

Lastly, he overcooked the noodles. How does one overcook noodles, you ask? Well, Hyunjin didn’t know, but he still managed to do it. 

In the end, the celery was too crunchy, the onions made the broth a sickly shade of brown, it was slightlyyy too salty, and the noodles were a bit mushy. But Hyunjin saw it as this: you needed the sodium from sweating so much and the mushy noodles would go down easier for your throat. Right? Just for extra measure, Hyunjin made some honey and chamomile tea, and included some crackers. Maybe that would fix it. 

All in all, the entire tragic process took him thirty minutes. You slept for those thirty minutes pretty good. 

Hyunjin brought the soup on another makeshift tray with your sides into the bedroom as soon as it cooled down. He was confident that you wouldn’t notice the soup ailments. Some soup was better than no soup, he thought to himself. He smiled in satisfaction that at least he was taking care of you like the dutiful boyfriend he was. 

Hyunjin’s second attempt to wake you up went a little tougher than planned. It took him around 3 times of calling your name to wake you. It was only when he placed his so-called “cold” hands on your face that you startled awake. 

“Go awayyy.” You groaned. Geez, since when did you get so mean when you were sick? He pouted and caressed your hand that stuck out from the blanket mountain range. 

“I made you soup baby. You should eat.” He gently tried to convince you to eat. You squinted at him. 

“You made soup?” You questioned. 

“Yea, for you.” He replied defensively. 

“Since when do you know how to make soup?” He scoffed. You smiled. 

“There’s my feisty girlfriend.” He giggled and smiled widely before turning around to reach for the soup tray. You carefully sat up and he watched you settle before setting the tray carefully on your lap. He giddily watched you take your first sip. 

Your reaction was slow. You took a long sip and stared at your spoon before making a confused and slightly disgusted face. However, with your boyfriend watching, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. You decided to take a second bite, this time with some noodles. That didn’t help your already discontent reaction. 

“Hyunjin?” 

“Yes honey?” Hyunjin chirped. 

“How much salt did you put in this?” You tried to take another sip. It was just too salty.

“Enough.” His smile dropped. You placed the spoon down and leaned back. 

“What’s wrong with it?” He pouted. Oh geez. 

“Nothing?” You forced out. 

“You don’t like it do you.” 

“Maybe it’s just my throat.” You carefully suggested and drank some of the tea. Hyunjin groaned. 

“I worked so hard on itttt.” He cried and let his head drop to the side of the bed. 

“I know, baby. Thank you for trying.” You attempted to sooth your sulking boyfriend. This made him sulk more. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be bad.” He lifted his face and leaned it on his palm. 

“Baby, I know. It’s okay, I know you worked hard on it.” You placed your tea down and caressed his hair. He sulked and looked up at you. 

“How are you gonna eat now?” He said. You took a sip and shrugged. 

“I won’t?”

“What! That’s ridiculous.” He frowned and then got lost in his thoughts. 

Suddenly he jumped a little and smiled widely again. 

“What now?” You eyed him suspiciously. 

He smiled innocently. 

“I know, I’ll just ask Minho Hyung to bring some soup!” He clapped and immediately got up from his position to reach for his phone. You didn’t even have a chance to argue as he quickly dialed for Minho and was already speaking. 

You heard his voice fade into the kitchen as you stared back into the dark liquid in front of you. 

Hopefully Minho’s soup was much better than Hyunjin’s. You smiled and chuckled before drinking some more tea. You loved that goofball of yours. 

#skz #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz x you #skz x y/n #soup! #Hyunjin #Bang Chan #leeknow #Changbin #jisung #felix #seungmin #jeongin #lovestay #you make straykids stay #Enjoy!

[knox-knocks]

on a place of insecurity for the kiss prompt please

you got it my friend :-*

tw for body image self confidence issues

~

Andrew didn't know why he cared. It had never been an issue before. But as he took off his shirt and smoothed his hand down his chest to his stomach, he felt a twinge of - of something. It was unpleasant. Andrew didn't particularly enjoy it.

Andrew let his hand fall to his side as he eyed himself in the mirror for a few seconds longer. Then he grabbed the bottle of pills Betsy prescribed him and shook one of the tiny blue candies into the palm of his hand. He raised it to his mouth, and swallowed it dry.

The living room was a bustle of activity. Neil was on his hands and knees looking for his shoe under the couch and Kevin had his hands full of a suspicious green smoothie that he was trying to coax Neil into trying with him. He was ranting about the merits of protein powder and whatever the hell else he put in it. Andrew didn't know how he could stomach that on top of the breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast Kevin ate every morning, but he also didn't care enough to ask.

Neil lifted his head when Andrew sauntered into the room. Kevin didn't stop talking, but Neil simply ignored him. He was fully dressed for the gym, though his hair was still a wild mess. In his hand, he triumphantly clutched his missing shoe.

"Hey," Neil said. A smile pulled at the edge of his mouth, a perfect companion to his tussled curls. "Did you take your meds?"

Andrew nodded and bypassed Kevin on the way to the kitchen. He stole a piece of bacon off Kevin's plate and an untouched pancake off Neil's. Andrew knew Neil had left it for him, anyway.

The gym was a sordid affair. A mix up and a scheduling conflict meant the Foxes had to share the gym equipment with the football team. Andrew waited, annoyed, for his turn on the weights. He ran laps on the treadmill next to Neil until a bench opened up for Andrew to take. Andrew switched off his treadmill and inclined his head towards Neil. Without so much as slowing, Neil flashed five fingers at him and increased his speed.

Five minutes later, Neil joined him at the weights section of the gym to spot him. Andrew didn't miss the way Neil's eyes lingered on his chest and biceps as he did his first rep. Andrew focused on the pull and strain of his muscles as he pumped his usual two hundred pounds. Bit by bit, it erased his previous insecurity until it was little more than a buzz in the back of his mind. It didn't hurt that Neil was still watching with half-lidded eyes and a quiet hunger.

Andrew replaced the bar on the hooks and raised his eyebrows at Neil. "If I drop the bar on my neck and die because you were distracted, I'm haunting you," he told him.

Neil ruffled his fingers through Andrew's hair, scattering the sweaty strands in ten different directions and then smoothing them back down again. "I wouldn't let that happen."

Andrew huffed and laid back down on the bench. He completed four more reps and removed some of the weights for Neil to do a few sets before Wymack called an end to gym time.

"Hey, Andrew." Nicky had draped himself over the five pound weights, hand tucked under chin and hair pulled into a small bun at the back of his head. "Do you wanna go to Eden's tonight?"

"Pass," Andrew said.

"Oh, come on," Nicky whined. "Just because you and Kevin can't drink doesn't mean the rest of us can't. Neil?"

"Sorry," Neil said, tone unapologetic.

"Drink at your own place," Andrew said.

"The only alcohol we have is the half-bottle of watered down vodka Matt keeps under the sink. That's not gonna get the three of us drunk."

Andrew blinked at him and Neil shrugged. "Figure it out," they said at the same time.

Nicky threw his hands up in exasperation and retreated.

Back at Fox Tower, Kevin left in a hurry with promises of watching the latest rerun of the Trojan vs Longhorns game with Neil thrown over his shoulder. Neil chased him down the hall until he confirmed they were, in fact, also watching the other games he had recorded. When he returned, he quirked an eyebrow at Andrew and jerked his head toward the bathroom.

"Shower with me?" he said.

That unpleasant feeling swirled in Andrew's belly. He shook his head. "I'll shower after you. Don't hog all the hot water."

Neil accepted that with a nod and placed a firm kiss on Andrew's jaw.

"You know," he said as he shucked his shirt over his head and threw it in the general direction of the bedroom, "I've been thinking of getting Kev those books he's been eyeing for being sober for three months. Do they celebrate three month sobriety?"

Andrew shrugged. "Get them anyway. I don't think I can handle any more drool on the computer keyboard."

"I'll order them today." Neil stepped in the doorway of the bathroom with his shorts balled up in his hands. "Hey. You okay?"

"Peachy."

Neil tilted his head until he caught Andrew's eye. Andrew didn't miss the crease of concern in his eyes. "The antidepressants still making you feel weird?"

"I've been worse."

Neil eyed him until Andrew grew tired of being scrutinized and ushered him toward the waiting shower. Neil left the door open and Andrew cast a lingering glance over his shoulder as he peeled off his boxers and stepped under the hot spray of the shower.

Andrew didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until the sound of Neil rummaging through the drawers for clean clothes woke him.

"Morning," Neil quipped. Andrew squinted at him from under his arms. "Shower's free."

Water beaded on Neil's shoulders and ran down the corded muscles in his back in thin rivulets. They disappeared in the fluffy towel still wrapped around Neil's waist. Neil shook out his hair and looked back in time to catch Andrew staring.

He raised his eyebrows.

Andrew rolled his eyes at Neil's smug expression and pulled him closer by the towel. "Asshole," he said, and kissed him.

Neil planted his hands on either side of Andrew's thighs and let the towel drop to the floor. He hummed and opened his mouth as Andrew directed the kiss with nimble fingertips on his jaw. Neil pulled back with a gasp and began kissing down his neck.

"Neil," Andrew said. His eyes fell shut when Neil sucked at the pulse in his neck. "I haven't showered yet. I'm sweaty and gross."

"We can shower when we're done." Neil pressed a hand against Andrew's back and bit at his collarbone. A surprised gasp slipped past Andrew's teeth.

"You're gross."

"You like it."

Andrew didn't deny it.

Neil worried at a spot on Andrew's throat and reached for the hem of his shirt. Andrew startled at the first brush of Neil's fingers against his bare skin. He jumped and reached for Neil's hands, but Neil was already moving back.

"Andrew?" he asked, looking him up and down, searching for what had triggered this reaction. His chest heaved, skin already flushed a distracting shade of pink. "What's wrong?'

"I don't want to take my shirt off." Andrew wouldn't meet Neil's gaze.

"Okay," Neil said. "Is everything okay?"

Andrew nodded, then shook his head. He chewed on his bottom lip. Neil gently reached out and pulled his lip out from his teeth with his thumb. He waited for Andrew to find the words. Neil was always so patient with him.

"I gained weight," Andrew said. When Neil said nothing, Andrew looked up to find him looking befuddled.

Maybe Neil didn't notice, but Andrew couldn't stop noticing. He knew it was the meds fucking with him, Betsy had said that would be a side effect, but it didn't stop Andrew from being self-conscious. He couldn't help comparing himself to Kevin and his green smoothies and defined abs, or Matt's chiseled chest. Andrew had always been on the heavier side, but it had always been made of muscle, and it had never bothered him before.

He was still strong. He could still protect himself. He was able to lift Neil up against the wall when they were kissing. It shouldn't have mattered.

Neil watched him for a moment longer and said, "Can I try something? I have to take off your shirt."

Andrew hesitated, but he trusted Neil. He nodded and lifted his arms so Neil could pull his shirt off. Then Neil pushed him with a gentle hand on his chest until he was flat on the bed.

The first kiss was right on Andrew's chest, just above his sternum. Neil never broke eye contact when he pressed his lips to his skin. He lingered there for just a heartbeat longer before he shifted so his mouth hovered above Andrew's stomach. His kisses were light, frustratingly so, until he placed a soft kiss onto the soft flesh on Andrew's tummy.

His lips tickled the blond hair there, and Neil left tiny butterfly kisses all over. Around his belly button, his navel, the sides that poked out of his waistband, until Andrew was relaxed and reassured underneath him. His eyes had drifted shut, nearly lulled back to sleep beneath Neil's soft touches.

When he was finished, he pulled himself up until he was face to face with Andrew. Their noses brushed. Andrew stole a kiss from him.

"I love your body," Neil said. "No matter what it looks like."

Andrew brushed the hair back from the side of his face and ran his hands down Neil's sides and over his back to settle above the slope of his ass. He plucked another kiss from Neil's lips. "I still need to shower," he said.

Neil huffed a laugh, pressed their foreheads together, and rolled off him. "Better hurry before Kevin gets back and steals the rest of the water."

"Over my dead body," Andrew sniped and tripped over Neil's discarded clothes in his haste to get a fresh towel. He doubled back to press a kiss to the crown of Neil's head.

"Thank you," he whispered against his hair. He didn't need to say anything else. Neil already understood.

#aftg #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #i don't edit these so if you see any mistakes shhh #mine #my writing #aftg fic #yes i would die for soft andreil #and soft tummy andrew

[ama-kuu]

Abandoned and Rehomed Ch 2

Warnings: Panic attacks, Depression

Hawks brings you home after picking you up as an abandoned stray

Feline quirk reader

Sorry this is gonna be another sad one. I promise that it's gonna get better as the story progresses. 😅

Link for Chapter 1:

Hawks landed gently on his balcony, tenderly gazing down at your sleeping form. He lightly adjusts you in his arms, as few feathers detach to unlock the keypad and maneuver the sliding doors open. Now under the awning, he shakes out his wings, bristling each feather to expel the water droplets. Glancing back, the rain still falling heavily, he moves swiftly into his penthouse.

……………………

You groaned as your ears flicked at the sounds of a nearby shower starting. Ugh. Your head was pounding. You sat up from the very plush mattress underneath you, rubbing circles at your temples, you slid off the bed. You rocked slightly unbalanced when you straightened up. You peered around the room, your gaze catching at the large wet spot on the bed from your rain soaked clothes, you lowered your ears.

Guilt dug at your gut, your head quickly turned to bathroom the door, it was cracked but you didn't see any movement. You moved your attention back to the bed. In your mind, you were indebted to Hawks for graciously picking you off the streets only to inconvenience him.

You tried to work quickly to remove the sheets and bedding before Hawks returned. Once you had all the bedding gathered in your arms you searched around for the hamper. You were so absorbed in your task you didn’t even notice Hawks leaning against the bathroom door frame snickering at you.

He stealthily moved behind you. You were so focused that you didn't even notice him until his hands gripped your hips pulling you flush against his own. You yelped involuntarily followed by blushing hard.

He shook with laughter as you clutched the bedding close to you. “What are you doing Kitten?” His head cocked to the side trapping you with his intimidating golden gaze.

You faltered under his attention, “Oh..Um..” You looked down at the bedding in your arms, your ears drooping forward as you contemplated your response.

“I wanted to clean up after myself before you came back.” You kept your head down, unwilling to hold his gaze. Did you mess up? Was he upset with you for touching his things? Wha-

He clicked his tongue, breaking you out of your downward spiral. Feathers swarmed the bedding, pulling them from your hold and floated off out of the room. Hawks spun you in front of him, now facing him. He held your chin up to maintain eye contact.

“Kitten…” He leaned in closer, “I didn’t bring you home to be a maid…So let me pamper my new pet properly.”

Your mind was spinning leaving you speechless as you gaped at him. Your mouth hung open stunned for only a brief moment before you sighed in relief, leaning up on your tip toes and purred loudly against his neck. Thank goodness he wasn’t mad. He pet your head gently before gathering you up, his arms scooping you up under your thighs. His hands brushed over your tail causing you to shutter against him. In the short time you were with him it seemed like you spent most of it in his arms rather than touching the ground, it was amusingly pleasant. You melted against him.

You couldn’t help but notice his own wings flutter gently at your reactions. You leaned over him as he carried you towards the bathroom, your fingers gingerly batting at the feathers at the peak of his wings. He deeply inhaled and dipped through the bathroom doorway, careful to make sure you didn't hit your head on the door frame.

He set you down on the marble vanity. The steam from the shower caused a thick fog to coat the room. You took in the room, not only the counter was marble but the floors and the walls as well. It was honestly intimidating to take in. Beside you sat a neatly folded pile of his clothes. Your attention was quickly redirected by a brief flap of his crimson appendages, as he leaned into the shower to check the water temperature. You sat there in a trance as your senses zoned in on his wings. You fought your quirk’s instincts to run your claws through the feathers pulling and tugging at the quills.

Hawks felt the intense stare on his back. Peeking his head subtlety over his shoulder, his pupils narrowed at the sight. You sat there, eyes fully dilated with your claws flexing in between your spread thighs. He slowly expanded his wingspan, eager to watch your expressions. You reacted immediately, claws elongating and digging into the stone counter. Fuck. Watching you restrain your impulses to jump him was HOT.

He shook his head, he was in control. At least that’s what he told himself as he raked his gaze over you. Still in your soaked outfit, he knew he needed to make sure you were taken care of first, before his own needs. He slowly exhaled, regaining that control, he stepped closer to you.

“Kitten. You are going to shower then change into these.” He motioned to the clothing beside you.

Your pupils readjusted back to normal as you listened to his commands.

“Got it kitten?” His eyes flashed with dominance challenging you……

“Yes.” His eyebrows raised surprised to hear you for the first time since you woke up. You smiled gently at him, your heart warm at his efforts to pamper you.

His hands braced your shoulders, “Kitten if you need me, I’ll be right outside the door.”

You nodded as you slid down from the counter. When your feet were planted on the floor he gave your forehead a light kiss before retreating out of the room.

With Hawks no longer around to distract you, the headache you woke up with became more apparent. Your head throbbed as you slowly peeled the heavy clothes from your body. They fell to the floor with a thud as you stumbled to the shower. The steam was now thick and difficult to see through, as you entered the luxury glass shower. You stood under the water stream with your ears tucked down to prevent water from getting too far down into your ear canals.

Your hands grazed up your body as the shower heated you back up. Heat. You froze when your fingers made contact with your collar. Your stomach dropped. Hands become numb as they clenched onto the collar. Even though you were the one left behind, you could not help but feel… guilty… Dabi….Tears flooded your eyes as your legs buckled under you. You couldn’t stop what came next. You began to hyperventilate, you choked on the shower steam as you tried to get air into your lungs. You needed to collar OFF, NOW. Your fingers fumbled with the buckle as you fought back sobs.

“HAWKS!” You screamed for him, fighting to get the words past the tightness forming in your throat. It was getting harder for you to breathe, it felt as if the collar itself was strangling you with your own feelings.

He was on you in seconds. Red blurs flew around you as the shower was shut off, plush towels wrapped cocooned around you and mainly the collar choker removed from your neck. You got one last glimpse of it before it was flown out of the room. Taking deep breaths, you cling to his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Everything’s okay kitten, you are safe with me.” His hand cradled your head against him. He didn't dare move you, not until you calmed down. “I’m going to be right here. You can get through this, just keep breathing with me.”

You focused on him and made a conscious effort to sync up with him. In and out. He continued to rub gentle circles on the back of your head with his thumb, as your respirations became slower.

You nodded against his chest, “I’m okay.” Your heart was still pounding in your chest, but you felt better.

You lifted your head and wiped the stray tears from your cheeks, “ I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.” You smiled to ease your embarrassment.

“No. No apologizing, If you ever need something, you call me. Period.” He squeezed you against him. “Am I alright to pick you up now?”

“Yea, can we go back to bed.” You tugged lightly at his shirt in your hold.

“Anything for you”, he scooped you up effortlessly and carried you back to the bedroom.

You looked at the freshly made bed as he passed it and set you down on the bench at the foot of the bed. It puzzled you as you turned up to look at him.

He leaned down to you, “I'm gonna dry your hair before we go to bed, hang out here for a second.”

You sat there in silence. What time was it anyway? Glancing around you noted the large thick curtains that covered what you assumed to be a large wall of windows. Knowing Hawks, you bet he lived somewhere high up. You internally kicked yourself for not being able to stay awake during the trip here, to get a general idea of where you were.

Hawks returned shortly with a small hair dryer and wet brush in hand. He kneeled behind you carefully brushing through your hair. You pulled your knees to your chest so you could rest your head against them.

“Is this okay? Does it hurt?” He paused to wait for your response.

“No, it’s nice.” He continued to comb through your hair until the brush passed smoothly. Then began section by section blow drying.

You soaked in the warmth as you purred in content. Your chest vibrating from the sounds, you would honestly be surprised if Hawks couldn’t hear it.

You dozed off as he tended to you. Once he finished, used his feathers to return the tools into the bathroom. He pulled you up onto the bed throwing the covers over you and positioned you as the little spoon against him.

His wing covered you, as you held his arms around you. It felt nice to be wanted again. His arms pulled you tighter against him, it was very noticeable now that he was shirtless. Your face flushed at the realization that you never put any clothes on, after your episode you completely forgot.

“What’s the matter?” he blew seductively into your ear. “Your heart rate seems to be increasing rapidly.” He chuckled as he teased you.

Fidgeting with the blankets, you pulled them tighter to your chest. Your cheeks burned from embarrassment, you turned to face him and pouted.

Hawks spun you in his arms, so that you were now fully facing him. “Kitten relax, tonight I’m just gonna cuddle you.” He moved his arm to prop his head up on the pillow. “Besides I wanna make sure you are a little more settled before I scare you away” He winked suggestively at you.

You giggled into his bare chest, “I’d like to see to try”. You scraped your teeth against his skin, giving a brief nip before curling into him and drifting off to sleep.

Taglist:

@sunaswife @viol3tcr3am

This isn’t the end. I promise there will be more chapters to come. I have a lot of ideas and directions for this story to go. I hope that everyone is enjoying it. This is my first series, so I’m doing my best. Thanks for bearing with me. 😸

#Abandoned and Rehomed #hawksbnha #soft hawks #cat reader #hawks x reader #panic anxiety #protective keigo #keigo x you #bnha keigo

[blu-joons]

You’re Admitted To Hospital, But Don’t Tell Him ~ Bang Chan

Your legs trembled as you stood up from the sofa, taking a moment to regain your composure, you smiled across at your friend who quickly leapt up as you stumbled. You pushed her back down, walking out into the kitchen to grab yourself a drink.

You managed a few paces forwards before you began to feel your mind spin, you held onto the kitchen counter to try and steady yourself, but as you did, you felt your hand slide away, feeling your body tilt right until you went crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

“Are you alright?” Your friend called through, but when silence greeted her, she began to worry. She ran through into the kitchen, eyes widening with horror, searching for her phone as quickly as she could to try and get help for you.

She sat beside you until you began to stir a few minutes later as a knock was made on the front door. You sighed softly as you realised quickly what had happened, grabbing onto your friend’s hand before she could answer the door.

“Please don’t tell Chan,” you requested, pleading with her. “I don’t want to disturb him at work.”

“I need to get the door, but you can’t keep a secret like this from him Y/N.”

Despite your protests, you were encouraged to head to hospital for a few checks. You spent the whole journey begging your friend not to let Chan know. You didn’t want to worry him over something that wasn’t important, especially now that you were awake.

Hospitals never did quite sit right with you, they were clinical and intimidating, a place you’d rather not be. Your friend hadn’t left your side whilst doctors and nurses filed in and out of your room to see how you were doing and if you needed anything.

She smiled across at you as she felt your eyes staring across at her. “I know you don’t want to be here, but it’s for the best for your own peace of mind.”

“Surely, they could have just checked me over at home, rather than bringing me here?”

“Maybe they see something that we don’t, maybe this is more serious than we think it is.”

Your head shook, desperately trying to push any worrying thoughts to the back of your mind. You’d never fainted before in your life, it was probably a one off, or so you kept trying to convince yourself, but the staff here couldn’t quite say the same.

“Plenty of people faint,” you pointed out, “it’s not like I was asleep for long anyway.”

“You didn’t hear the noise your head made when it hit the floor,” she scolded.

The only way she could describe the noise was like a tremble of an earthquake, your body felt lifeless, tumbling to the floor sending shockwaves all around the room.

“I wish sometimes you weren’t this stubborn so that you could appreciate how serious this is,” she sighed, moving to sit closer to you, “it’s not something that is natural.”

Yet again, her thoughts turned to Chan and how worried he’d be. She’d begged with you several times to let him know, but you continued to decline.

“If you think you’re feeling better, don’t you think it’s time to let Chan know?” She suggested once again causing your eyes to roll. “He’ll be devastated if he doesn’t know.”

You knew it would hurt him to find out what had happened after it had happened, he worried for you greatly, which was why you wanted to keep it a secret. He was busy, the last thing he needed was to panic about you, especially when you were feeling much better.

“I don’t want him to know,” you responded, “he needs to focus on work.”

Her eyes closed, yet again failing to get through to you. It was getting late, and her frustrations were continuing to grow with you for keeping everything bottled up.

“I’ll come back tomorrow and pick you up if you managed to get discharged.”

“There’s no way I won’t get discharged,” you confidently smiled.

Her head shook as she walked out of your room, throwing her bag over her shoulder. You finally allowed your eyes to close once again as your room fell silent, the only thing to keep you entertained was the people passing by your window.

An hour later, a nurse appeared with a tray of food for you to take for the evening. Straight away, she recognised the concern in your eyes, offering you a smile.

“It’s not great,” she laughed, “but you need to eat, especially in your condition.”

Your hands reluctantly reached out to take it from her, “are you sure you can’t sneak me in a takeout?”

“Maybe your friend could bring you some snacks tomorrow?”

“I don’t think she’ll do that,” you whimpered, “I think she wants to bang my head against the wall before giving me any snacks to stop me being so stubborn.”

She lightly chuckled before leaving the room to move onto the next patient. As the room fell silent again, you took a few mouthfuls of the food before placing it aside, allowing yourself to lay back again and try and get a bit of energy back in you.

You weren’t quite sure how long you slept for, but when a warm feeling suddenly encompassed your hand, your body began to stir. Slowly, your eyes peeled open to see Chan sat beside you, staring at your sleeping figure as he studied your face closely.

“Take it easy,” he whispered, “I’m here for you now.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned.

You and Chan both knew that he didn’t need to answer that, there was only one person who would have told you what was going on, and where he would find you.

“I told her not to say anything.”

“She said,” Chan sighed, “I can’t believe you were more worried about me then about yourself. Work could have waited, I was needed much more here, with you. I would have been here for you.”

He leant himself forwards to press a kiss against your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I just didn’t think this was a big enough deal for you to have to leave work.”

“Y/N, you’re in hospital. It’s a huge deal, anything could have happened to you today.”

“I know,” you mumbled, staring across at him with wide eyes. “Everyone seems to keep telling me how serious this is, but only I know how I feel.”

His head nodded as his free arm gripped against your shoulder to keep you calm. You’d never expected to see Chan with you, but now that he was with you, you realised just how much you needed him around you to take care of you.

“I’m staying here tonight,” he whispered, “I’ve got a bag in the car to be able to head straight to the studio tomorrow morning.”

“You need to rest,” you groaned, “you’ll wake up with a sore back and all sorts sleeping here. You need to look after yourself too.”

“No, I need to look after you. I’ve never been as scared as I was when I found out what had happened, I need to start keeping a better eye on you.”

Your shoulders dropped gently, “I can look after myself.”

“Then explain to me why you’re in hospital?” He joked. “Just let me be here for you, for once.”

“I said that I didn’t want this to effect your work, and now it feels like the complete opposite is happening.”

Chan’s head shook, squeezing your hand. “My work isn’t affected, I can work and still be with you, you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Are you sure that no one will mind?”

“I’m not leaving, I’m going to be here, for you.”

---

Masterlist

#stray kids #stray kids imagine #bang chan #bang chan imagine #chan #chan imagine #stray kids bang chan #stray kids scenario #stray kids reaction #christopher bang #stray kids drabble #stray kids angst #stray kids one shot #bang chan scenario #bang chan reaction #bang chan drabble #bang chan one shot #bang chan fluff #skz #skz imagine #kpop #kpop imagine

[aetherarf]

The idea of Diluc being carried is so adorable I have to ask for this:

Can I get a fluffy one shot where Diluc finds someone with some kind of supernatural strength(maybe an android, alien, giant, or just unnaturally strong)and he falls completely in love after being carried to saftey?

Hope that's not to specific.

I'll just say he happens to find someone that, somehow, is strong enough to carry him :)!

And I wasn't saying it was impossible, just... Unlikely.

But here you go!

[[ WARNING: INJURY ]]

[[ Summary: Diluc thought he didn't like being carried. The idea of a lack of control, the fact that most either were visibly shaking and/or ended up dropping him when they tried, he assumed he didn't enjoy it. But he was very wrong...

Word Count: 1'046 ]]

"I could probably carry you, you know."

He didn't believe you.

"I don't like being carried," he said, the one thing he could say that wouldn't immediately upset someone and make them demand he give them a shot at trying. It had happened several times since he was a lad-They try, they fail, and he ends up crashing to the ground with another bruise and, once, a broken pelvis.

That was a miserable three months.

He said a brief goodbye to the last patron, namely, you, and opted to close and finish up. While cleaning, he found a satchel, and he just tucked it under the bar. Someone would come back tomorrow looking for it, and he'd just give it to them then. Besides, he didn't know who left it.

Locking up, he pocketed the keys in his chest pocket, the safest place for them to be, and grabbing his claymore on the way out. Not likely he'd need it, but...

...

Who was he kidding, he likely wasn't going to get home until well after dawn had struck, covered in blood and dirt with a filthy blade, only to peel off his clothes, bathe, then pass out in bed for an hour or two.

And that's exactly what happened, at some point not far from Mondstadt, but closer towards the Temples of Mondstadt instead of the Winery itself [or even Springvale, really], his blade slicing through the body of an Abyss Mage with disturbing efficiency--something he had done time and time again, and would proceed to do over and over.

He turned around, a Mitachurl with a massive axe standing there, and he was seconds from swinging his blade at it, only for it to be faster, bashing his hand painfully, and his claymore was knocked out of the way, clattering through the wall of a HIlichurl hut, making reaching it near impossible,

And only a second later, in a swift motion, he was thrown back, crashing into a stone wall, and falling several feet to land on the ground, exhaustion hitting him all too quickly as he lied there.

...

What was he going to do, anyway?

He knew this was how it was going to end up, but he thought, maybe, he'd get another year or two to go... but it seemed the Ragnvindr bloodline was finally about to end.

...

...?

But that next strike never came, and he lifted his head up, looking over at where the beast was supposed to be, only to see a collapsed corpse and...

...

You?

You stood there, looking at him with terror in your face,

"I," he rasped out, "I'm... alive?" He asked, confused... As you walked over, he managed to adjust to sit up, but a shocking pain shot through his body.

"Barely," you smiled, weakly, "... Are you okay?"

He looked over himself--a little beat up, "I should be fine," he said, softly, as he pushed himself up, only for a horrifying pain to shoot up his leg, and he collapsed back onto the ground, narrowly stopping himself from getting a faceful of dirt.

"Diluc!" You shouted, "Diluc, what's wrong?"

He looked back to his leg... It wasn't visibly injured, but...

It was broken.

He couldn't walk on it like this, a terrifying idea. His other leg was fine, maybe if they could wrap up his leg, tie it to something straight to keep the damage from getting worse, and he could get his claymore... he'd be able to all but limp his way back, or maybe he'd have to send you back to get him some people to help.

Sigh.

He usually was glad he was strong, and reasonably big, but at moments like this, he'd give near anything to be Venti's size, to not be forced into eternally keeping himself safe, small enough to be taken care of.

But instead of him able to figure out what to do, you crouched down, one hand behind his back, one hooked under his knees, and he looked at you in horror at the fact that you were going to try and carry him, already preparing to be dropped flat on his ass, tense--

...

But it never came. He opened his eyes, it felt... odd, but you were not trembling. You held him as though there was no struggle, and you looked at him with a glint in your eye, "I said I could carry you, didn't I?"

He froze... baffled. What could he even do in this situation? Instead, he just sat there, motionless in your arms, as he desperately tried to figure out... what to do, or to think.

But as you kept walking, likely back to Mondstadt to the Cathedral, he realized how... pleasant, it was. No longer fearful of being dropped, the sensation of being carried was... could he say comforting, despite the situation?

"Why were you even out this far?" Diluc asked, softly, enjoying the gentle bouncing of your footsteps as he was carried.

"I left my bag at the Angel's Share... figure I'd try and find you to get it back."

He was quiet for a moment, realizing keeping himself upright was a lost cause, and he rested his head on your shoulder, too exhausted to keep fighting it, "I think I found that," he said, eyes fluttering, "I put it behind the bar for safe keeping."

"Oh, good." You said, not even panting with exhaustion, or grunting with struggle, "I can get it a little later, then."

And a comfortable silence came back, and Diluc realized something.

He was ruined. Irreversibly ruined. He would not know peace again until he had someone who could hold him, cradle him, as though he wasn't the terrifying Ragnvindr warrior. That he could be held as though he wasn't the most powerful man in Mondstadt, that he was allowed to be weak.

Head still resting on your shoulder, he looked at you, lovingly watching the profile of your face...

... Would it be wrong if he fell asleep like this? He hadn't felt this safe since he was young...

Well, it didn't matter if it was wrong, from the exhaustion, the sleepiness prompted by pain, and the security of being carried, he couldn't stop himself.

He just, idly, hoped you'd still be there when he woke up.

#genshin impact #diluc #diluc x reader #genshin x reader #genshin diluc #bark writes #fluff #fluffy bark #hurt and comfort #anonymous #request

[calaofnoldor]

Sixth Time’s the Charm [4]

(GIF credit: @teamfreewill-imagine)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 6,107

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you. (Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone.)

Chapter Summary: You offer yourself as bait for a shapeshifter hunt. Things do not go as planned.

Warnings: canon level violence, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, huffy!sam, protective!sam, slight angst?, slow burn, fluff

A/N: i am SO sorry for the wait (story of my life) but to make up for it, look, 6k words! (yeah i’m sorry about that too, i don’t know what happened there.) written for @tvdspngirl314‘s birthday writing event with the prompt “You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone?” which is bolded in the fic. this also fills a square for @spnfluffbingo​!

Square Filled: Rescue Mission

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The fourth time was all you. Dean barely had to lift a finger. The result, however, was far more traumatic than he had planned and rather emphatically revealed the magnitude of his brother’s feelings toward you.

Much like the previous attempts, there was a case: a shapeshifter going after women who conveniently happened to fit your description. The strategy was obvious, and you’d leaped at the opportunity to both make yourself useful and hopefully take the place of what would have otherwise been the next innocent civilian victim. But of course, Sam resisted at first.

“No. Absolutely not! We don’t know enough about this guy for you to just jump into his waiting arms, Y/N!” The fervent indignation in his tone and body language was palpable. Sam was rarely one to raise his voice or sport much of a temper at all really, but lately these heated outbursts seemed to be occurring more frequently, and frankly you were getting sick of it. The false hope they momentarily granted you through the notion that perhaps he cared about you as more than a friend was one thing. What’s more, the way his voice lowered half an octave combined with the sight of his flared nostrils, puffed chest, and straining jaw always seemed to have a sideways effect on you, in that it was impossible to keep your attention on his words alone. But boy did you try.

“Sam, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself. And your wrist is still healing so it’s not like you can call the shots on this one anyway. Besides, I’m not going in alone. You and Dean will be there for backup the whole time, right?”

“’Course we will, eh Sammy?” In a strange turn of events, Dean often appeared to be the one with a more jovial outlook recently.

Sam merely nodded and continued his heavy breathing. He glared down at his bandaged left wrist, the result of skirmish with a couple of wraiths, as if it were the root of all his problems. Then he looked up and through densely drawn brows, those magnetizing multicolored eyes pierced yours, his countenance bearing a charged and sullen expression of pensive exasperation as his jaw visibly tightened. You swallowed and could not for the life of you find the will to look away.

“So it’s settled then,” Dean proclaimed jubilantly, “Unless… you’ve got another reason you don’t want Y/N playing bait, hmm Sam? Maybe something you wanna share with the class? Or, you know, I could leave…”

“Dean, stop it. You’re not helping,” you quickly admonished before steadying your gaze back on the taller Winchester, “Look, Sam, have I ever let you down?”

“No. Never.”

“And do you still trust me?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately in a ‘what-kind-of-a-question-is-that’ tone, at which you simply raised your eyebrow to send him a reciprocating ‘then-what’s-the-problem?’ look.

“OK fine,” Sam huffed out a big breath, “But you’re not taking any risks! Anything seems off at all, just… promise me you’ll wait for me and Dean and keep us in the loop?”

His pleading eyes were so earnest and you’d truly never been able to say no to the giant puppy before, so you offered him a little smile and said, “Cross my heart.”

Sighing, Sam rubbed his face, looking lost in thought for a moment until he spoke up again, much more reserved and hesitant this time, “Do you still have that uh… ring from… that time?” Dean muffled a snort at his brother’s expense but you both ignored him, completely accustomed to his nonsensical teasing by now.

“Uh yeah, I- I think so.” The uncertainty in your voice was a lie. Of course you still had the ring you’d once used to pretend to be married to Sam Winchester. You may or may not have tucked it away in a special place for safekeeping.

“Good,” Sam nodded curtly, “I want you to wear it. It’s silver. I’ll wear mine too and Dean already has his. That’s how we’ll know that we’re still… ourselves.”

“OK, yeah that’s a good idea,” you agreed, trying your hardest not to linger on the memories.

“Well look at you two! Getting hitched again so soon-“

“Shut up, Dean,” you and Sam cut him off together.

When the meeting was adjourned and you were about to part ways to prepare for the upcoming hunt, something inside you forced you to call out his name, “Oh and Sam!” He turned around at once, questioning gaze somewhat urgently searching yours for a sign of what might come next. You stuttered though, feeling suddenly self conscious, so the next words you uttered were not much louder than a whisper, “Be careful with your wrist.”

Sam smiled, his dimples making your fingers twitch with the need to caress them. “I’ll be fine. You just look out for yourself. Remember, we’ll be right behind you.”

Somehow you both didn’t hear the groan Dean emitted as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to whoever was listening, ‘Good lord, someone give me the strength to survive another day with these imbeciles.’

There was only one diner in the tiny Pennsylvanian town, and seeing as you were starving by the time you got there, the three of you were forced to make do with soggy fries and questionable milkshakes. As you ate, you went through your game plan once more, which essentially consisted of waiting until nightfall to visit the bar from where the previous girls had gone missing, while Sam and Dean shadowed you covertly.

Before you left, you took a quick trip to the loo and when you returned, Sam was stood outside alone, a broad smile upon his face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked as you began to walk out the diner, expecting to find the older brother waiting impatiently in the parking lot by his precious car, but the Impala was gone.

“He went back to the motel, said he had something to take care of and that we should go scope the place out first.”

“But I thought we agreed to-“

“Yeah, well change of plans, you know how it is,” Sam replied casually with a shrug.

Little red flags started fluttering in your head, urging your eyes downward to locate the silver band on his finger. You frowned when you found it there untouched on his right hand; Sam almost never interrupted you, not even when he was absorbed in the foulest of moods.  

Apparently sensing your hesitation, he added, “I mean, he made a good point. Maybe if you familiarize yourself with the surroundings first, you’ll be able to take the guy out faster.”

Sam was still smiling at you, but it felt all wrong. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something missing from his rainbow eyes. The colors were all there, but they lacked luster and warmth, a delicate twinkle that you’d learned to associate with the beautiful, heroic yet self-doubting giant of a man. Never had you seen that breathtaking magic replicated elsewhere, nor had you ever seen Sam without it, which was why you were almost completely certain that the man before you was not the real Sam Winchester.

But weaving within you was a thread of doubt, insisting that you couldn’t just pull a gun on your best friend because of something as trivial as… a feeling? No, you needed to test your theory. And so, bracing yourself with a deep breath, you slowly reached out your silver-equipped hand to do something you’d grown accustomed to resentfully abstaining from: touching Sam’s bare skin. You aimed for the large target of his hand, deeming it the most inconspicuous of places (given that he was wearing his hunters’ uniform and the only other visible option would’ve been his face or neck), but Sam was faster. Just before you were able to graze his skin with your ring, he caught your wrist in his much bigger hand and pulled it away, twisting your arm until it was locked painfully behind you.

“You think you’re smart, huh?” the shifter snarled with a flash of its eyes, moving in real close as he used Sam’s immense size and his own superhuman strength to easily constrain you.

Even so, you stared up at him defiantly, unafraid, “Sam and Dean will be back.”

“That’s the plan.”

Sam’s sneering face and threatening voice were the last things you saw or heard.

You had no way of determining how much time had passed when you unceremoniously came to in what looked and smelled to be an underground sewer. As your senses sharpened and your muddled brain began to size up your current plight, you nearly scoffed at the clichéd style of your captor. Sat on a peeling wooden chair, manila rope bound your wrists together behind your back and tethered your ankles securely to each of the seat’s front legs.

Ignoring the ache in your head, you set about strategically testing the knots and the integrity of the wood. If only you could reach the silver blade in your boot. But your attempts were interrupted by the reappearance of the shifter, whose shoe hit something as he stepped before you. A metallic clang echoed through the confined space as a result and you followed the sound to find your coveted knife on the ground, far beyond your reach.

“Fucking hunters, always think they’re so clever, always one step ahead because it’s their game. Sure, we might be the monsters but you’re the predators! So let’s see how you like being the prey for once.” Shifter Sam’s upper lip curled up in a way that seemed so foreign to you as he leaned forward to rest his hands on either arm of your chair, caging you in.

The malicious glint in his eye left you with no qualms about affronting this being who, for all intents and purposes, appeared identical to the man you’d recently discovered you were in love with. Lifting your chin, you glared up at him brazenly, “If you’re so keen on being the predator then why am I still alive? What are you waiting for?”

“Why your knight in shining armor of course!” he exclaimed, backing up as he stood to his full height and gestured to himself with both hands. “You think it was a coincidence that all those women looked like you?”

The shifter’s narrowed eyes were alight with amusement and a ripple of fear surged through your body. You were in much deeper than you or the boys had anticipated, though years of practice helped you keep your voice steady and bold, “What did you do to them?”

“Oh, I gave them a fairly painless death, don’t you worry. They were just stepping stones on my way to you. See, the Winchesters owe me a girlfriend, so I figured I’d take the closest thing to theirs. But imagine my joyous surprise when I got into this big lug’s head and discovered that he’s in love with you! No, actually it’s more than that. He’s obsessed with you; you never leave his brain! Every other thought and memory is about you... Well, it’s either you or his brother, but oh, it’s gonna kill him to see you die before his eyes. I might’ve been able to replace my dead girlfriend, but I don’t think Sam here will ever come back from losing you.”

Stunned into silence, the stupid influx of misguided hormones pumping through your veins forced you to focus on maintaining a neutral expression as he rattled on.

“And you feel the same way, don’t you? So this really will be a double kill. It’s OK, you can let it all out. I might be a monster but I’m not one to deny the dying their chance for some last words. Besides, you can say it all while looking into the eyes of the man you love.”

“Fuck you,” were the only words you could trust yourself to spit out at him.

‘Sam’ laughed, but it was nothing like the laughs you normally pulled from him. It didn’t radiate like sunshine or replenish your soul with glee. Rather, it was chilling and conniving and despite the mimicry of Sam’s beautiful voice, you immediately decided that you never wanted to hear it again.

“Not feeling too talkative, huh? Or maybe you’d rather wait until he gets here in the flesh to make that anticlimactic confession of love? That’s alright, I can just tell you more about this dumbass’s feelings for you.” The shifter chuckled with delight, as if every word brought him nothing but pure joy. “Man, he loves you so much, it’s insane. I’ve never been inside the skin of someone so in love. And I thought I really loved my ex. Afterall, this whole revenge thing is for her. But I gotta tell ya, I’ve got nothing on Sam Winchester. Did you know he thinks you were made specifically for him? You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone? Cause Sam does. That’s how he feels about you.”

“Why should I believe you?” you challenged, growing tired of the inadvertent response his words were eliciting. Your heart was pounding in your neck, core trembling at the mere possibility of Sam genuinely feeling the way he’d described. But you knew better than to trust a monster, and one who was in pursuit of maximal vengeance no less. Still, those rose-colored thoughts resonated within you, and you stumbled to dismiss them as they bubbled up, one after another like a game of emotional whack-a-mole.

Shifter Sam smirked, “Yeah, you’re a cynical one, aren’t you? You know everything he said in that marriage counseling session was true. You kinda hurt his feelings when you just brushed it all off. Even big brother Dean’s been trying to get him to confess his love for you. You must’ve heard them arguing about it at some point? They weren’t exactly being discreet.”

Choosing not to respond, you simply scowled at him.

“No? Still in denial? Perhaps you need details… You ever notice how he always sits across from you whenever you’re doing research? It’s because he thinks you’re gorgeous when you’re focused, and it gives him an opportunity to admire you without getting caught. And why do you think he lets you call him Sammy, huh? Yeah, he might not let it on but he fucking loves it when you do, makes him feel all tingly inside. And you remember that cop who hit on you? Captain Anderson, was it? Sam wanted to break the guy’s nose just for touching you. Oh and why do you think he asked you to move into the bedroom closest to his? It’s so he can keep track of your nightmares. He likes to keep you close because it makes him feel like he can protect you better when you need it.”

By now, your ‘neutral expression’ must have surely mutated to betray your shock, and you couldn’t have answered if you tried. The shifter didn’t seem to mind either way. In fact, he appeared to be having the time of his life.

“And it’s not all pure thoughts, let me tell you! Oh man, buddy boy here has dreamed up plenty of X-rated scenes with you, ranging from obnoxiously romantic to just plain obscene. You name a position and he’s imagined it, in high-definition detail,” he embellished, tapping an index finger against his temple, “His mind is like a library of pornos starring the two of you, although he’ll never get to live out any of his fantasies, will he? It’s a shame really; some of these are really hot... Ooh, I’ll have to borrow that one,” he said with closed eyes, as if a figment of Sam’s imagination was playing through his head in that very moment, “Maybe my girl and I can re-enact it while we’re still in your skins-”

“Shut up, just shut up!” you finally bellowed in protest.

Sam watched the bathroom door attentively after you’d disappeared through it, unable to contain the upward jerk of his lips when he saw you walking back out of it. Heartwarming relief had become his body’s intrinsic response to seeing you safe and sound.

“You ready?” he questioned when you made it to his side.

“Yeah, I’m good.” God, even the sound of your voice made him happy.

Once you got back to the motel, Dean plopped down onto one of the full-size beds, exhausted from the drive. Within a matter of seconds, snores began to fill the room, and Sam chuckled under his breath as he sat down around a wobbly table with you to continue your research on the shifter’s victims, hoping to find something else that linked them together or a clue as to where they might’ve been taken.

It wasn’t long before you inhaled a revelatory gasp and abruptly clutched Sam’s wrist to show him what you’d found. But your grip was harsh, causing him to hiss in pain and do something he’d never before done: recoil from your touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” you asked nonchalantly, smiling up at him innocently.

Worse than the pain in his fractured wrist was what felt like sirens blaring in his head. You were always hyper-cognizant of his injuries and exceedingly careful around them, sometimes even more so than himself. Sam looked you over subtly, eyes landing on the silver ring still upon your finger. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him and all that tender attention he thought you’d shown him was simply a mirage of his own wishful thinking?

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” Sam sent you a tight smile, to which you responded with a dazzling one of your own. It was beautiful but something about it felt off. In the past, you apologized profusely if ever you found yourself the accidental cause of his discomfort, no matter how indirect or insignificant the case, but right now there wasn’t a single speck of concern in your eyes. Indeed, the more he looked into them, the more he struggled to recognize the person staring back at him.

In a flash, Sam had you up against the wall, a silver blade held against your neck. He looked down to see the metal sizzling there, burning your flesh, and cursed himself for failing to notice sooner.

The noise woke Dean from his slumber and what he saw when he opened his eyes was equal parts shocking and amusing. “Whoa! At least wait till I’m out of the room! And isn’t that a little kinky for your first time?”

“Dean, it’s not her. She’s not Y/N,” Sam grit out, “She’s wearing the ring but she’s not Y/N.”

His brother’s brows knit together as he rubbed the sleep from his emerald greens. “Wha- How did you know?”

“She was acting… weird.”

Dean scrambled off the bed, making a quick call on his phone to ensure you really were missing. He paled when a robotic voice over the line told him the number he was trying to reach was no longer in service.

It was then the shifter decided to speak up, “You know, the real Y/N would have liked this, you pressing her up against a wall?” she murmured suggestively.

“Shut up. Where is she?!” Sam slammed her body against the flimsy motel wall once more and dug the knife in a little deeper. In his panic-stricken state, he barely registered her remark, being driven entirely by a one-track mind at present.

Shifter Y/N grimaced slightly, glancing down at the knife, “Maybe if you stop cutting into me with that, I might consider telling you.”

“How did you get the ring?”

“Oh, this little thing? You like it? It’s imitation silver, but otherwise nearly identical to the one on the real Y/N’s finger. You see, we’ve been following you for a while now.”

“Who’s we? Where did you take Y/N?!” he demanded incessantly.

“My boyfriend’s got her, but don’t worry, he looks just like you so I’m sure she’ll find her accommodations to her liking,” she retorted with a smirk.

Sam’s heart lunged in his chest and his mind began whirring with endless possibilities of escalating dread. Had you been deceived and captured by a shifter pretending to be him? Were you being hurt or tortured by someone who looked exactly like him? How would you ever be able to look at him the same way again? Of course, you’d know it wasn’t Sam but the damage would still be done. You would forever remember his face as that of someone who once hurt you, who tried to kill you. That is, if Sam could make it to you in time.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see her one last time. That’s actually why I’m here, to take you to her when the time is right,” the shifter added casually.

“I will end your miserable fucking life! Tell me where she is right now!” Sam roared before pressing the blade further into her neck, the veins in his forearms ready to burst through his skin.

“Hey, hey! Sammy, ease up! We need her alive, alright?” Dean bounded over to his brother and after quite the struggle, managed to assuage him enough to release his vice grip and replace it with silver chains that shackled her to a chair.

“Sam, maybe we should also be asking ‘why’,” Dean mused as he fastened the end of a chain against one of the beds.

With a shake of his head, Sam avowed through grinding teeth, “I don’t fucking care. I have to get to her.”

“And what if it’s a trap?”

“Then I’ll find her myself.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief as he turned to his usually wise and level-headed little brother, “Oh yeah, and how’re you gonna do that? Where would you even start?”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed in exasperation. Then, after a pause of desperate deliberation alleged, “Shifters like to make their lairs in sewers, right?”

Taking a step closer, Dean maintained his challenging tone, “So what are you gonna do, just wade through the entire town’s shit and piss until you find her?!”

“If that's what it takes, then yes!” Sam looked like he was about to eat his brother alive.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” shifter Y/N interfered from her seated position before them, raising her chin to meet Sam’s eyes, “Don’t worry, handsome, I can tell you she feels the same way. But unfortunately, by the time you get to her, I don’t think she’ll be able to tell you herself. In fact, you’ll probably hardly recognize her anymore… so you might want to keep me around, if only as a souvenir of your soon-to-be-dead girlfriend.”

Sam couldn’t contain himself anymore. Despite looking like a carbon copy of you, the evil gleam in the shifter’s eyes made her easily differentiable, and so Sam held back nothing when he lunged across the distance, knife in hand ready to do some real damage. However, Dean pounced with him, having predicted his brother’s violent eruption and felt his shaking wrath, knowing a little too well just how rash he could be when it came to you. Still, it took all of Dean’s strength to pull Sam back, sending him a stern but knowing look once he did.

“Sam, stop!” His low voice rumbled as he went into authoritative big brother mode, “Listen to me, you wanna save Y/N? Well so do I, but this is not how we do it! Now I know it’s hard, but I need you to calm down, alright?”

Sam’s massive chest was practically at his chin as he heaved ginormous breaths. Though his body language was still offensive, his hazel eyes were filled with fear and devastation when they looked toward his brother, “Dean, if I don't get to her in time, I’ll...” Clenching his jaw, Sam made a fruitless attempt to calm his tremoring frame and quell his tumultuous emotions. What would he do? Sam wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was that every cell in his being was currently screaming at him to get to you, to make sure you were safe and soothe away any of your pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t give in that moment to simply know you were alright and to hold you in his arms. He knew you could look after yourself, but for once he had a terrifying feeling that even you were in over your head, that you might actually need him this time, and he’d be fucking damned if he let you down.

“Woah! Hey, hey! Sammy, look at me! That ain’t gonna happen, alright? We’re gonna find Y/N and we’re gonna bring her home in one piece, you hear me? We’re the Winchesters, man! We’ve faced the end of the world. What’s a couple of shifters got on us?”

‘You,’ Sam thought, ‘They’ve got you.’ But he appreciated Dean’s pep talk nonetheless and nodded in response as a fresh surge of determination swelled within him.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded as well, “Why don’t you let me give her a go?”

As Dean’s silver blade cut into the detained shapeshifter, Sam flinched with every moan and howl of agony. He knew it wasn’t you, but she still had your voice and your perfect face. Yet not a second was wasted on the feeling of relief when they finally managed to get a location out of her. Sam nearly tripped over himself in his haste as he snatched the Impala’s keys and his gun before flying out of the room with a jumbled order for Dean to stay with the monster.

“Well, if you’re not gonna admit your feelings for the giant lumberjack, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should stop yapping and get to prettying you up for that first and last date of yours, huh?” Shifter Sam prodded your cheek with a switchblade.

You said nothing. At this point, you had a sneaking suspicion that physical pain might be more bearable than the psychological torment your imprisoner had been so keen on. It was one thing for you to torture yourself by entertaining the slim possibility that Sam might return your feelings for him, but to hear such outrageous perceptions from a creature who could read the inside of his mind like a paperback novel, and conveyed with such tantalizing conviction… well, it just about broke you.

And knowing that the shifter was yearning to coax a confession out of you simply to cause Sam as much anguish as possible made you more resolute about your refusal to submit, beyond the need to protect your own sanity.

One shiner and a slash to the thigh later, however, you heard a loud clash. Shifter Sam paused his handiwork and began to turn around, “Could your knight be here ahead of schedule?”

‘Dammit,’ you thought. The Winchesters were usually capable of being stealthy when necessary but in case it really was the sound of them making a blunder or encountering some other form of resistance, you figured you’d buy them a distraction.

“Wait, wait! You’re right, OK? Maybe I do feel something for Sam, but even if I told him, I think you’re forgetting… This is Sam fucking Winchester we’re talking about here. He’s been tortured by the devil himself. You really think killing me is going do much damage?”

Your abductor had now given you his full attention, leering at you with a sly smile, so you continued, “Besides, you picked a fight with the Winchesters; don't expect to live to see tomorrow.”

Right on cue, a hulking blur of hair and plaid came barreling in, growling ferally as he grabbed the shifter and threw more than one brutal punch against what appeared to be his own face. The silver ring on Sam’s hand made contact with skin and his shifter counterpart groaned in pain.

You nearly forgot about your ceaseless work of untying the rope that cuffed your wrists together as your looked on in shock. Why Sam hadn’t just shot him with a silver bullet was beyond you. He was smarter than this. There was no need to drag out a monster’s death if a more efficient option existed. But as he continued to engage his clone in hand-to-hand combat, it appeared almost as if he was venting his frustrations on the shifter, as if he drank up every ounce of hurt he was able to inflict. But his high only lasted so long and shifter Sam soon regained his balance, making use of his supernatural invulnerability and superior strength.

“Sam!” you screamed as the shifter threw him across the room.

He tumbled up just in time as the shifter meandered over, “So nice of you to join us, Sam. You know, Y/N here was just telling me about-“

Sam didn’t wait for him to finish, choosing instead to tackle him to the floor with a loud grunt. While they wrestled on the ground, you worked furiously at the knots behind you, wincing with every hit Sam took though it was becoming hard to tell them apart.

When Sam finally drew his gun, the shifter was able to divert its barrel and a shot rang out futilely. Catching a subsequent elbow to the ribs had Sam falling to his knees and you watched in horror as shifter Sam once again gained the upper hand, sending the gun flying out of Sam’s grasp. The binding around your wrists was just about undone when Sam seized a stray rusty pipe and swung it against his counterfeit. Shifter Sam was incapacitated for a brief instant but quickly returned to form with some vicious hooks and a couple of well-placed knees.

With your hands finally free of their restraints, you staggered over to the gun, the chair still attached at your ankles. As you took aim, you shouted, “Sam, get down!” before you shot his mirror image through the heart.

Sighing, you slumped to your hands and knees whilst the real Sam sat up with his back against a wall, gaping at you with a look of awe. Yet before he even caught his breath, he was up and gliding toward you, cradling his left wrist at an awkward angle.

“Sam, your wrist!”

“It’s fine, are you OK?” he swiftly dismissed your concern, cupping your face with his good hand as he examined the darkening bruise around your eye.

You ignored the palpitations in your chest and placed a hand upon his wrist, “Yeah, I’m fine. He wasted more time playing mind games than anything. You know villains and their monologues,” you joked, trying to ease his tension and the deluded self-imposed guilt you knew he must’ve been brewing in.

As if to prove your point, Sam lamented, “God, I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have gotten here sooner.”

“What? No! They were miles ahead of us, Sam. The whole thing was a set up; this was their hunt. How could you have known?”

Rather than replying, he released a breath and busied himself trying to help you out of your binding.

Back at the motel, after icing your eye and stitching up your thigh, you insisted on re-wrapping Sam’s wrist while Dean took care of shifter Y/N’s remains. But when the older Winchester returned and spied you and his brother sitting together on a bed through a crack in the door, he couldn’t resist the chance to exercise his espionage skills.

“How did you know she wasn’t me anyway?” you asked as you gently wound the ace bandage around Sam’s swollen forearm.

“I just…” He looked down at your nimble fingers upon his skin and smiled unwittingly at their tender touch, “had a feeling.”

Sam’s sunflower gaze locked onto yours for a frozen instant and something about his soft expression made you forget what words were, until he cleared his throat, “Did you um- did you know he wasn’t me?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling for some strange reason. Perhaps you were just glad to see his trademark twinkle return to those otherworldly eyes. “Pretty soon after actually. I… had a feeling too.”

Sam’s dimples made every ache in your body disappear as that twinkle glistened in full force, “And how’d you know which one to shoot?”

Well, that dampened your mood and brought you back to the task at hand, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you kept grimacing every time you used your left wrist?” Although your words had a bitter force behind them, the pressure beneath your fingertips never increased and Sam had almost completely forgotten about his pain.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of your struggle to reconcile with what had happened since his question prompted a restored and growing frustration.

It had been bugging you the whole time and you felt compelled to confront him about it because storming in alone with a bad wrist, ready to throw hands with an out-of-his-league monster was really not Sam’s style. Something must’ve gotten into him and with everything the shifter had told you, you couldn’t help but wonder. Nevertheless, you were a little afraid of how he might answer, so Dean had to lean in closer to hear your next words.

“Why didn’t you just shoot him?”

“W-what do you mean?” Sam stammered out after a pause.

“Sam, you have a broken wrist, but instead of sending Dean or using your gun from the get-go, you came in like a madman and went after him with your fists!” Your voice was full of incredulity though it also carried an undertone of anger.

As Sam picked up on that reproachful tone, you could almost feel the telltale signs of his puppy dog eyes coming on. “He used my face to deceive you, to hurt you. They manipulated us. I had to- ...I mean, he killed those women just to get us here. He had it coming!”

Your hopes plummeted. Of course, Sam was ever the righteous man. Why would you assume his brashness had been purely born out of a need to avenge you? Though regardless of his reason, you were still upset about his self-destructing behavior, “Yeah, but you had to have realized you were in no position to be the one to give it to him, right? I mean, you might’ve looked the same but he was juiced up on monster superpowers, Sam… which meant he was stronger and faster, not to mention uninjured, in his own territory, and apparently the only one with a sound plan.”

A breath of laughter left Sam’s lips though there was no smile on his face. Here he’d been on a mission to save you, but you were the one who’d ended up saving him, again. You must’ve thought he was comically stupid and pathetically useless. How could he possibly think he was worthy of you? “I guess I should thank you for saving my ass again, huh?”

“What?! No! That’s not what I mean. Sam, you’re the one who saved me! And I’m beyond grateful for it, really I am. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself more in the process.” You finally finished up with his wrist wrap, securing the final ends with a clip, and letting your hands linger on his for longer than necessary, momentarily distracted by the disparity of size between them. Sam didn’t appear uncomfortable though, as his fingers twitched closer to yours and he made no move to pull away.

He couldn’t help but smile again when he noticed the sincere concern in your eyes that was previously absent in the shifter’s. “Yeah well, what was it you once said to me? ‘Your ass will always be worth it’?” 

“And if I remember correctly, you once told me you don’t do things on hunts that make your injuries worse,” you quoted him back with an arched brow.

“Yeah well, I guess this is payback. Now you know how I felt.” A playful grin made his dimples deepen and you clenched your jaw to refrain from gushing over the ridiculous cuteness of this ‘giant lumberjack’.

“You’re an idiot.”

“As long as you’re OK,” Sam answered assuredly, and you nearly melted when his free hand caressed your cheek for the second time that day, big thumb tracing a feather-light path below the purpled skin.

‘You’re both fucking idiots,’ Dean groaned internally from the other side of the door. He knew he had no choice but to up his game.

thanks so much for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated!

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[watermelonlipstick]

Septic

This was written as a request for anon, who asked:

I was wondering if I could request one with Dean. The reader's injury gets badly infected and she gets a high fever and they are stuck somewhere and can't go to the hospital (maybe a cabin during a snow storm or something else if you want?). Anyway her condition keeps getting worse and dean is doing everything he can to keep her alive? As for their relationship it's up to you, whether they're dating or hiding their feelings...?

I hope this is something along the lines of what you were thinking. I decided to go with a ‘hiding from Leviathans’ angle because that seemed the closest to canon compliant to me. Thanks in advance for reading; I would love any advice or critiques!!

Title: Septic

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2124

Summary: Unable to go to a hospital for fear of getting trapped by Leviathans, Dean tries his best to manage the reader’s worsening infection and fever. 

Warnings: fever, illness, swearing, implied threat of death, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff (maybe? if you squint)

           “Dude, I have a fever, I haven’t been decapitated. Can you stop pacing? Sam’ll be back in a couple days, I’ll take some Tylenol and sleep it off, we’ll be good as new in no time.”

           He glared down at you where you laid on Rufus’s couch with flared nostrils. “You’re shivering under every goddamn blanket in this place and it’s been 3 days already. We’re going to a hospital.”

           You rolled your eyes at him and tried to hide the way you snuggled deeper into the woolen bundle. “So dramatic. As if we wouldn’t get made walking in the door. And if you’re so worried about me, why don’t you make yourself useful and get me a hot water bottle and some tea?” You tried to give him your most casual smile in reassurance.

           Dean appraised you with a hard set to his jaw and a twinge of concern at his eyebrows for a moment before relenting. “Fuck, fine. One more day and if the fever hasn’t broken, then we’re going.” It was only a few steps to the kitchen, and you heard him putting a pot of water on to boil. “You sure I can’t just do coffee? I don’t know how you drink this stuff.”

           Like it always did, Dean’s aversion to tea made you laugh. “It’s literally just mint flavored water—you act like you haven’t drunk all kinds of potions and hangover cures.”

           “The fact that I have drunk all kinds of potions and hangover cures should show you how gross it is.” He tossed a hot water bottle covered in worn waxed canvas on top of your blankets and you shimmied it under your feet while he got the tea together. After a moment, he set the tea (and a plastic bear full of honey, which made you smile to yourself) on the coffee table next to you. “Can we at least watch something else? These chicks are driving me fucking nuts.”

           That made you laugh hard enough to shake loose the blanket corners tucked in under your chin. “You might be able to trick Bobby into thinking you don’t like the Real Housewives, but I’m not buying it for one second.”

           He shot you some side eye but didn’t protest, patting your feet in a signal to raise them so he could sit with your legs in his lap. You didn’t remember past the first few minutes of the next episode.

           “Hey, come on, you gotta drink something.”

           You squinted up at Dean, feeling the sickly stickiness of dried and re-soaked sweat in Dean’s stolen sweatshirt where it bunched around your neck. “You want me to sleep, you want me to wake up, pick a lane, asshole,” you tried to joke, feeling each word like a stab in your, well, stab wound. It took more focus than it should’ve too hold onto Dean’s face where he perched on the coffee table right in front of you.

           “You’ve been asleep for 16 hours, Rip Van Winkle. And you’re sweating like a whore in church, gotta rehydrate.”

           “Thanks, Nurse Ratched,” you croaked, carefully keeping your face neutral around the throbbing ache in your side as you sat up and accepted the bowl of broth from Dean. When his hands were free, he put the back of his hand to your forehead in a very maternal way that might’ve made you giggle if you weren’t in so much pain.

           Dean’s lips pressed into a tight line and he breathed a hard “fuck,” as he sat back. “Lemme see it.”

           “If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask,” you tried to joke.

           “No slick shit, I’m serious. The fever’s getting worse.” There wasn’t even a touch of playfulness in his tone, tight chord of anxiety clipping his words.

           “It’s going to be pink and raw like every other set of infected stit—”

           “Cooperate or don’t, but my bet is there’s no way you can slip out of getting pinned right now.”

           “Who knew you were so kinky, Dean?”

           He didn’t rise to the teasing at all, the just-this-side-of-friendly banter you normally had, and it made the nervous bile rise a few degrees in your throat. You eased back and slowly flipped down the blankets, immediately started shivering as you pulled up your damp layers to show him your stomach.

           It was worse than you’d thought it would be even before he tenderly pulled back the tape to see the injury itself, the gauze a mottled tie-dye of blood and greenish pus. The stitches strained against swollen, angry tissue oozing at the corners, and you looked away to hold onto a little denial that you weren’t completely fucked. “Jesus Christ, kid,” Dean murmured. He reached behind him for a bottle of rubbing alcohol and you didn’t even try to argue, hissing and grabbing his wrist when he poured it over the wound. Dabbing off the worst of the external mess with the moisture, you watched as his mind raced.

           You decided to try to grab the reins of the situation before he locked you both into a crazy plan. “Help me up, I want to take a shower. I feel disgusting.”

           “Can you even stand?”

           You rolled your eyes at him exasperatedly.

           “Roll your fucking eyes at me all you want, you look like Marvin the Martian. Can’t believe I let your dumb ass talk me out of taking you to a hospital.”

           “I’ve got a much better chance of beating a little infection than I do the combined force of however many Leviathans are looking for us and the full force of the federal government. Now get out of my way if you’re not going to help me up, I need a shower.”

           He pushed back the coffee table and watched you stand up, grabbing your arm and waist when you immediately swayed. “Goddamn it, sit back down, I’m getting your shoes.”

           “Dean. I am not going to a hospital. Especially not before Sam gets back. Not a negotiation. I just—you’re freaked out, I get it. I just need you to please let me call the play for once.”

           His jaw muscles tightened into firm balls and you could see the flare of panic behind his gaze as he flicked between your eyes. Ultimately he didn’t say anything, just giving you a tight nod and offering a hand to guide you up and to the bathroom. When you’d gotten there, he hovered in the doorway as you started to peel off layers, hoping that your leaning on the sink didn’t look as obvious as it felt. “Think I can take it from here, chief,” you offered, hoping he’d take the hint.

           “Not adding a head injury to this bullshit stew, sorry.”

           “No way, psycho. You’re not watching me shower.”

           His face screwed up in a scowl. “I’m not going to watch you shower, I’m just staying in here while you do in case you get dizzy again.”

           “Dude—”

           “Not a negotiation,” he growled, spinning your words back on you. You held each other’s stubborn gazes for a long beat before you gave in, getting in the tub and yanking the curtain closed with the rest of your clothes on, shucking the rest of them off and dropping them outside the tub behind the plasticized shield and curtain. You turned the water on and held onto the dial for support, hearing Dean’s movement in the bathroom as he sat down on the lidded toilet next to the shower. Laborious as it was, it felt a lot better getting clean. You’d started washing your hair when he started to talk.

           “You know what you’re asking me to do, right?”

           “Let me take a shower in peace?” You didn’t want to acknowledge the elephant in the room—what was the point?

           “If you’re not septic yet you will be in a day or two.”

           “By which time Sam will be back and you guys can strong arm some vet into giving me antibiotics like the mafiosos you fancy yourselves to be.”

           “Don’t deflect.” It was quiet but firm, and you blinked away the way your vision was starting to fuzz out at the edges. Something about it finally got you to drop the joking, if only for a second.

           “I know what I’m asking you to do.” You hoped he could hear the resolution in your voice.

           Dean was silent for a long enough beat that you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, but you heard the roughness in his voice when he finally replied. “Please don’t make me?”

           The shower washed away a hot, stupid tear when it shot out of your eye like a kamikaze at his vulnerability. “I can’t be the reason you guys get caught.” You were clean now, but something about the confession-style quality of the shower curtain and the way it was letting both of you say what you really meant held you in the stream of water anyway.

           “I’m not—it’s going to fuck me up forever, you know that, right?” It was almost a grunt, the way Dean’s voice strained as he pleaded with you.

           “Long as you guys are alive.”

           He didn’t respond.

           After a long minute you felt your legs start to turn to jello. “You have something out there I can put on?”

           You heard him clear his voice, sticky and coarse. “Gimme a second.”

           A callused hand shot behind the shower curtain with a towel before Dean’s footsteps got quieter, and you tried your best to dry yourself off without stumbling. Not 15 seconds later, a bundle of clothes came in the same way. You smiled to yourself at your underwear and yoga pants with Dean’s t-shirt; he would’ve had to deliberately go into 2 different bags to get the clothes, no way it was an accidental grab. When you were dressed, you tugged the shower curtain back and didn’t argue when Dean wrapped his arm around your waist to ease you out of the tub, let him guide you back to the couch and fussily rearrange your blankets and pillows before he got out his first aid supplies.

           You watched his face as he worked on cleaning the wound again, knowing he just needed to be doing something, that he couldn’t just sit still and hope it got better. You could give him that, sat stock still even when it stung like a bitch and didn’t even tease him when he made you swallow a handful of vitamins as though that would help. Another cup of soup eaten silently and two mugs of tea later, your eyelids were beginning to droop again.

           “Tired?” he murmured, messing with the cover of the hot water bottle before ultimately getting up to refill it.

           “A little, yeah. Will you, um, will you sit with me?”

           Dean mercifully didn’t acknowledge the shake in your voice, nodding gently and sliding himself beneath you on the couch, tucking you under his arm and onto his chest, burrowing you both into the cushions. You reached your hand out of the blankets to place your palm over his heart, feeling the vibrating thrum of his pulse under your fingertips and cheek. His hand shifted so that he was smoothing the drying hair back from your temple, and after a few beats he bent his neck to kiss the crown of your head. The tenderness of it, the giving in to your request, pulled another tear out of your eye that fell straight into the cotton of Dean’ t-shirt underneath you.

           He sounded like he’d just woken up, that sleepy-syrupy sandpaper of a long night on his vocal cords. “You know, right? If it was going to be anyone for me, it would’ve been you?”

           The weight of it turned the blankets on top of you into a hug. You were nodding into him before you could speak, the tears turning your voice creaky-soft. “Same to you, dummy.” He chuckled once nostalgically at the ribbing, and you felt the rumble of it under you. “Thank you, Dean.”

           You felt the tension of the hiccupped breath before Dean got it under control to answer. “I love you, kid.”

           “Love you too.” It was the only thing to say, and neither of you had to answer or explain this undercurrent that had never been acknowledged so plainly before, no matter how rock solid it might’ve been for years. You laid there together for a long time, beating of Dean’s heart underneath you something constant to hold onto, warmth off his body better than any hot water bottle. The last thing you remembered before passing out was hearing Sam walk through the front door.

-

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[skzsauce01]

The Student Council President Reads Shoujo Manga?!

Synopsis: You discover that the student council president, who claims to hate romance, reads shoujo manga. Slight influence from Kaguya-Sama: Love Is War.

Warning: none

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: fem student council vice president!reader x student council president!Hyunjin

After forgetting your textbook in the classroom, you expect to be the last person to arrive to the student council room, but it appears that you’re actually the second.

“Vice President, you left your manga here last night,” Secretary Kim greets. He glances at you momentarily before returning to his paperwork.

You shut the door behind you. “My manga? I don’t remember— Oh.”

Sitting on the mahogany desk is a tote bag that you recognize is the president’s. You loaned President Hwang the first five volumes of The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider two weeks ago. When you peer inside the bag, you find that he forgot to take off his manga protectors. You keep telling him that he doesn’t need to take such a precaution since you trust him, but he always does so anyway. Even your old battered copies are wrapped in plastic.

You take the topmost one and hold it to the light streaming through the window. Not even the outline of the title can be seen. You voiced your confusion at his choice of using opaque protectors before; how would he be able to differentiate between different volumes or different mangas? His answer made you laugh: it was how he got away with reading during class. The image of the student council president doing such an illicit thing seemed ridiculous, and he pushed his hair back in embarrassment as he recounted the time the teacher almost caught him. Then you stopped laughing and wondered what the symptoms of a heart attack were. Your rib cage felt like it was going to smash open.

Now as you peel off the protector, the same feeling returns. The corner of Dragon Rider is blue and purple, not dark red. Did he spill something? No, none of the pages are wrinkled with water damage, and he would never be so careless so what exactly—

“Oh my goodness!”

Secretary Kim, pen twirling in his hand, looks at you curiously. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes!” you squeak out, hiding out the manga behind your back. “I just… I just… it’s nothing! Everything is okay!”

“Alright then.”

While he goes back to his papers, you hurriedly turn around and check the book. It’s the same as it was a few seconds ago. Instead of a fearsome dragon and its hardworking rider on the cover, there is a teenage girl flanked by two boys with wolf ears. The title reads Tsukiko of the Wolves. You flip through, discovering with both amusement and disbelief that it’s a shoujo manga. There is nothing wrong with reading shoujo — you’ve read a fair share yourself when you were younger — but President Hwang is the least likely person you would expect to have a secret love for them. You regularly loan him your shounens to read, and he eagerly discusses each volume with you. He frequently complains about the romance, saying he’s reading it for the adventure, not for the love triangles.

This has to be a mistake. He has a younger sister who you’ve seen at the bookstore occasionally. It’s possible that they share a bookshelf and that he accidentally grabbed hers on accident. You put the protector back on, set it aside, and reach for the next book on the stack.

You have no real idea if it’s another shoujo or not, but NecRomancer sounds like one. The summary on the back describes a girl panicking about her newfound powers of resurrection and the attractive man she just brought back to life. You open to the middle of the manga and let out a squeak when you see the naked corpse on the page. It’s just another accident, it has to be. President Hwang is close with his sister, so it’s only natural that his manga would be close to hers. You try the next book in the stack, hoping that it’s one of yours.

The corner reveals a dark red cover, and you hold your breath, keeping an eye on Secretary Kim. He is still preoccupied with his work, muttering sentences and scribbling things down. You fully peel back the protector, and Why Do I Not Remember You? is written across the cover in glitter. Could this be his sister’s bag? No, she doesn’t use protectors.

You mindlessly thumb through the pages, seeing but not really seeing the crying woman being comforted by a stranger. Then at the flashbacks of broken beer bottles and a ring. The chances of this being a mistake are lessening. Once is a coincidence, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. Does this mean that…

The student council president reads shoujo manga?

You quickly replace the protector. Your heart pounds, and possibilities swim in front of you. At the very best, he will be mortified if he knows that you found out. At the very worst, the entire school will find out. President Hwang’s reputation will be tainted, and with the upcoming reelections, his reputation is of the utmost importance. If he’s not president, you might still be vice president, but what’s the point then? It’ll be no fun without him.

No one can find out about this.

Suddenly the double doors to the student council room burst open, and you drop Why Do I Not Remember You? onto the desk. President Hwang slouches in the doorframe, resting his hands on the handles, completely out of breath. A Blueprint Books bag hangs in his grasp. That must be the one containing your manga.

He looks up from the floor, and you realize you are directly in his line of sight. Your hands fly to the ribbon around your neck, and you begin to untie and retie it.

“President, are you alright?” you distantly hear Secretary Kim ask. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m alright.” President Hwang’s voice comes out strained as he notices you standing behind his desk, three books out in the open. “Vice President, I see you discovered the manga as expected.”

“I was just counting to make sure I got all five back,” you reply with a fake smile. He can’t know that you know because he will never speak to you again out of embarrassment. “You left the protectors on, by the way.”

He walks toward you. You are the perfect picture of innocence. He will not know. “Did you… check them?”

“No, I was in the middle of counting them. Why?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, but you can hear the relief. “I left the wrong bag for you last night. Working late must be getting to me, haha. Here you go. The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider.”

You peek inside, and sure enough, the volumes are there with no opaque protector to obscure the title on the spine. You clutch the bag in front of you like you can use it to hide the truth you have just uncovered. President Hwang stacks his shoujo manga back into his bag and tucks it underneath the desk. His face has gone pink, and he fans himself with the latest edition of the school newspaper.

“What did you think of it?” you ask to distract him. “Isn’t the artwork amazing?”

Mission successful. President Hwang’s eyes go glassy as he recalls the story in his head, and he stops his fanning. “It is. And the worldbuilding too! The academy is so different from the usual school settings, and the dragon breeds are so cool. Also, Hirajima is such a tsundere. He’s going to end up falling in love with Kimi, isn’t he? Ugh.”

“I won’t spoil it for you,” you cryptically reply. The president is holding tightly onto his facade, which you need him to do. “I’ll lend you the next five volumes tomorrow. Just wait until you get to the tournament arc. You’re going to love it.”

He groans and leans back into his chair. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No! Tournament arc is always the best arc! That’s why Feast of the Gods is so popular. Every arc is pretty much a tournament arc.”

President Hwang lights up even more at the mention of the fantasy cooking-themed manga. He borrowed it from you last month and loved it so much that he bought matching keychains for the entire council. “Secretary Kim is the bird's milk, Treasurer Lee is the silkworm flour, you’re the delphinium rose syrup, and I’m the volcanic pepper,” he explained.

“Why are you the pepper?” Treasurer Lee complained. “You can’t even handle spice.”

“Because I’m hot.”

While both the secretary and treasurer cackled and while the president grew increasingly embarrassed by his own claims, you did your best to focus on your new keychain and not him. He looked too attractive loosening his tie and running his fingers through his hair. He looked like a manga character come to life.

President Hwang’s comment snaps you out of your daydream. “The ending is good! I can’t believe that Ryuzaki actually—”

“Shouldn’t you two be working?” interrupts Secretary Kim’s flat voice. He peers at the two of you over his glasses and flicks his eyes towards the suggestion box he must have brought in earlier. “Especially with reelections coming up soon.”

“We’ll talk later,” President Hwang whispers to you. “I want to discuss my theory about Kimi and Bando with you.”

“Yeah, of course. Let’s go through the suggestions now before Secretary Kim gets mad.”

You walk over to the door and grab the suggestion box. It’s heavier than expected, and you hold it flush against your chest to keep it from slipping out of your grasp. President Hwang notices your struggling and meets you halfway. He nearly makes you drop it as his fingers brush yours while he takes it from you.

“Thanks,” you stammer out. Your hands are empty, so you toy with your ribbon again as you follow him back to the desk.

“No problem,” he says. He lifts open the lid and takes out the first paper on top. “Shin Ryujin is asking for more funding for the Tennis Club again. Speaking of tennis, have you seen the animations for Bleeding Heart? It’s so good.”

Though Bleeding Heart starts off like a shoujo, it devolves into a mystery. If it weren’t for the knowledge you have now, you would have teased President Hwang for watching it. Instead, you enthusiastically nod. “They play croquet, not tennis, but yes! They’re so smooth!”

“President, Vice President.”

You and President Hwang exchange sheepish smiles. He softly sighs and scans through the paper, playing with a lock of hair. You imagine him doing the same as he reads. Why is the image of him secretly reading shoujo manga so charming? You shouldn’t find it so when he has this much at stake. He needs to be reelected.

“What do you think?” he asks, pointing at a proposal that you should have been reading with him, interrupting your thoughts. He edges closer to you, and breathing is suddenly difficult. He smells like laundry detergent. “Are new uniforms justifiable?”

“Yes, I think so,” you choke out. “Excuse me for a minute.”

You practically run out of the student council room, stopping only when you reach a small alcove in the hall. It’s dim and quiet, and you can hear your heart trying to break out. You press your hand over it, trying to push it back inside. Heart attacks don’t feel like this, or so says the medical website you consulted. Your heart thunders against your wrist, and its beat perfectly matches your pulse.

Steady.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It eventually slows, and you return back to the room with more composure than you had earlier. Treasurer Lee has finally shown up, and you decide to help him with calculations instead of reviewing proposals with President Hwang. It’s better this way.

During the weekend, you head to Blueprint Books and wander down the aisles, trying to find the manga President Hwang reads. You know what he likes for shounens, so what is it for shoujos? You mindlessly swing your tote bag back and forth as you scan the shelves. He Doesn’t Know My Secret, Steampunked!, Squirrel Princess. It’s been some time since you visited this section of the store. As you look to the next shelf, you notice a familiar keychain hanging from someone’s pocket. When you do a double-take, to your surprise and horror, President Hwang is standing at the end of the aisle. He looks different when out of uniform. Good different.

Maybe you made a noise of some sort because before you can turn around and leave, he glances up from the book he holds. His eyes meet yours.

Disbelief. Confusion. Panic.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he shakily asks as he slides the manga back into place. He’s mostly calm, that’s good. If he can lie to you about it, surely the entire school will be a simple feat. “Is there a new release?”

You shake your head. “Just browsing. Are you buying something for your sister? I know you don’t like romance that much.”

The relief in his voice is palpable when he says, “Yeah. Do you have any recommendations?”

“What does she like?”

“What do you like? You read a lot of manga.”

The question makes you pause, and you recount all the conversations you’ve overheard during lunch. Shounens are more of your thing now, but you're not above shoujos. “I’ve heard good things about Best Friend Boyfriend and I Wouldn’t Change A Thing.”

“Have you read them?”

“Not yet, but I always hear people talking about them.” You shift from foot to foot. A change of subject is much needed. “How’s the campaign going?”

“It’s going well, I think. Yeji and her friends are asking everyone in their year to vote for me, so that’s cool. The Japanese Culture Club is apparently doing the same,” he answers. He thumbs his pepper keychain, and you instinctively reach for your complementing one. The tiny syrup bottle is cool on your skin. “What about you? You’re still going to be my vice president, right?”

‘My’ makes you warm. “Of course! Just worry about yourself. Han Jisung really wants your spot.”

“I’m not letting that happen. Trust me, on Friday, the principal’s going to announce me as president again. And you’re going to be vice president. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee are going to be there as well. We’re going to be the student council until graduation.”

He says it with so much determination, you can’t help but laugh. “I really hope so. Hey, I’ll bring you the next five volumes of Dragon Rider on Monday. Just give me six through ten whenever you’re done.”

“Thanks. Do you want to borrow one of—”

“There you are!” President Hwang’s younger sister bounds into the aisle with a shopping basket filled with stationery. She furrows her eyebrows when she notices exactly which aisle her brother is in. “Don’t you have enough al—”

“I’m going to be late for dinner!” you interject. You step backwards, nearly bumping into the cardboard cutout of a manga character. “See you in class, President. Have a nice day. Bye.”

As you speed walk in the opposite direction, you hear his sister quietly ask him, “Wait, was that the vice president?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

You don’t hear if President Hwang replies anything because once you’ve turned the corner, you sprint out of the bookstore. It’s not until you’re home that you realize that you never found out what kind of shoujos he enjoys.

The days leading up to Friday are fraught with worry. Han Jisung is campaigning hard for the position this year. His small band of dedicated followers pass out flyers at the school gate every morning and trade lollipops for votes. Despite that, the president is unbothered.

“Did you watch the new episode of 00 Daniel?” he asks you on Wednesday.

You place your shoes inside your locker and shut the door. “Today’s the last day of voting, and you’re concerned about that?”

“I think the mission’s going to go badly this time. It’s been like five missions since his last screw up,” he continues like you said nothing. “There’s no way the season is ending without setting up for the next one.”

“President.”

“He’s not going to win, I promise. Treasurer Lee took a survey a few days ago, and I’m in the lead. The Mathematics Club’s survey confirmed the same thing.”

You start heading to your class with a resigned sigh, and President Hwang follows you even though he’s in a different room. He tugs on the sleeve of your blazer.

“You have nothing to worry about, Vice President,” he reassures. He lowers his head down to meet you at eye level. “It’s you and me until graduation, okay?”

You quickly nod and try not to burst into flames right on the spot. He’s too close yet not close enough.

“I think you’re right about 00 Daniel,” you stutter. “They’re taking too long to find the target too. I’ll see you after school then. Class is going to start soon.”

He retracts himself, a bit disappointed that you don’t want to speculate now. “Okay, we can talk later. See you.”

“See you.”

You two head to your respective classrooms. As you slide into your chair, you notice the boy next to you has a red candy wrapper on his desk. The girl in front of him has a purple one.

You really hope the Mathematics Club is right.

When Friday arrives, your stomach is in knots, and you feel ready to pass out at a moment’s notice. The traffic lights are slow today, making your usual stroll to school longer than usual. Students your age all the way down to elementary, pass you by, laughing and chatting with their friends. How can they be so relaxed when the results of the election come out this morning? You bet the paper announcement is already tacked to the bulletin board at the front of the school.

“Good morning,” comes a familiar voice.

“Good morning,” you reply back. President Hwang easily falls into step with you and holds out a tote bag to you. “Oh, you finished all of them?”

“Yeah. That last battle was crazy! I can’t believe it ended like that. And the epilogue! I knew it would happen! I feel so bad for Bando and… You okay? You look a little sick.”

“It’s nothing.” You take the bag from him and hold the books to your chest. You peek inside to make sure the protectors are off and to check that he gave you the right bag. No shoujo manga this time. “Are you nervous?”

He’s surprisingly apprehensive when he asks, “About what?”

“The election?”

“Oh. No, not really. Are you?”

“A little bit,” you lie as the two of you walk through the gate. The bulletin board is surrounded by a crowd, and you’re ready to march through to see what the paper says. Please let President Hwang be on there. “Let’s go.”

But the president is soon stopped by Han Jisung and his followers. Han Jisung holds his hand out, and you hold your breath as he opens his mouth.

“Congratulations on winning, President,” he says with a good-natured smile. He shifts his gaze to you. “And you as well, Vice President.”

You let out an audible sigh and quickly cover it with a cough when everyone looks at you. “Thank you.”

President Hwang shoots you a knowing grin, making you blush, before exchanging pleasantries with his defeated opponent. In the meantime, you push through the crowd to double-check the results. There it is in black ink: Hwang Hyunjin as President. Relief floods through your body, and you happily accept the other students’ congratulations and swap theories about the upcoming season of 00 Daniel with your fellow manga and anime fans.

“Told you,” President Hwang later says after he manages to get away from Han Jisung. He shuts your locker door with one finger. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Hey, are you going home now?” President Hwang asks. With no changes in the student council, everything is business as usual, including Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee leaving as soon as they can on Fridays.

“Yeah. Are you staying late again?”

“Not today. Want to walk home together?”

“S-sure.”

While he reorganizes the papers on his desk, you fiddle with the strap of the tote bag. It’s not the first time you’ve walked home with the president, but it sends you into a panic every time. The golden sun and orange sky makes everyone look beautiful but him especially so. It’s difficult not to be tongue tied around him when he looks exactly like the lead of a shoujo manga.

Manga. The thing that accelerated your feelings for him in the first place. His good looks and his sweet talking charm were enough for you to notice him, so learning he shared the same hobby as you? Discovering that he adored coming up with theories?

You were smitten.

“You ready?” he interrupts.

“Yeah.”

The two of you make it to the front entrance before he stops and turns to you. “Actually, before we go, can I show you something first? It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Sure. What is it?” You follow him through the school, taking note that he seems to be headed to the courtyard.

“Have you read Limitless?”

As you step over a pile of fallen cherry blossoms, you rack your brain. You read it a long time ago, mostly because it was on every recommendation list online. “The shoujo about the math tutors? It’s been some time, but yes. What about it?”

President Hwang stops in the middle of the courtyard and faces you again. The sun is behind him, the rays of light forming a crown on his head. “Well, there’s a scene near the end that I thought you might like.”

The end of Limitless…

… features a confession scene in the school courtyard.

He gently takes your hands. “Do you remember the first day we were elected? I was the first person in the room, and I was so nervous to meet you because I didn’t know that much about you. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee said you were really kind, but I was still nervous. Then you ran into the room with a bunch of manga and almost tripped over the rug. You laughed it off and held out a book for me to shake since your hands were full.”

“It was the first volume of Feast of the Gods,” you whisper. That day is burned in your mind. “Lee Chaeryeong just finished the first ten volumes and gave them back to me.”

“And then I asked you if I could borrow them because I wanted to read them but Blueprint was out of stock. You said yes immediately, and that’s when I knew that you and I would be a great team. When you wanted to listen to me talk about the chapters I read, that’s when I knew I liked you. And when you continued to offer me other series to borrow, that’s when I knew I had to tell you. So,” he breathes, “here it is. I like you, and I want to be with you.”

“I… I like you too.”

He breaks out into a grin and wraps you in a hug. He still smells like laundry detergent, and you bury your nose in the collar of his shirt.

“What do we do now?” he softly laughs as he pulls away. “The shoujo mangas usually stop here and cut to a new scene.”

The words fly out of your mouth without thinking. “So is that why you’ve been reading shoujos? For the confession?”

His smile falters but recovers soon after. “Yeji gave it away last weekend, huh? Ah, I was hoping you hadn’t heard her.”

“Actually… I found out when you gave me back Dragon Rider the first time,” you admit. You twirl the ends of the ribbon around your neck. “I took off the protectors and saw some of them. But there’s nothing wrong with liking shoujo! I was just surprised since you always say you hate romance.”

“I mean, I did. I started reading them for confession tips, but then it turns out some of them are really good. Like Limitless? And then I started reading my sister’s, and I kind of like them now. Is that weird?”

“No. Honestly, it’s kind of cute.”

“Really? You’re not weirded out by that?”

“Not even a little bit. I don’t care what you read as long as you’ll talk to me about it after.”

“Well, I finished Winter Fireworks recently. Have you read it before?” When you shake your head, he takes a step closer and leans down. “It ends like this.”

As it turns out, the story ends with a kiss.

~ ad.gray

None of the mangas/animes mentioned actually exist. They’re just riffs of other fics we’ve written. Was this just a giant ad for them? Yeah, kind of lol. In order of appearance:

The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider ➞ Normal (Hyunjin)

Tsukiko of the Wolves ➞ 42nd Moon (Hyunjin)

NecRomancer ➞ Magic Words (Hyunjin) 

Why Do I Not Remember You? ➞ Eternally Yours (Hyunjin)

Feast of the Gods ➞ God’s Menu (Felix)

Bleeding Heart ➞ King of Hearts (Bang Chan)

He Doesn’t Know My Secret ➞ Harmony, Melody (Seungmin)

Steampunked! ➞ Matters of the Head and Heart (Felix)

Squirrel Princess ➞ Squirrel and Wife (Han)

Best Friend Boyfriend ➞ Ruin My Life (Lee Know)

I Wouldn’t Change A Thing ➞ Even if Things Were Different (Han)

00 Daniel ➞ Apologies in Advance (Lee Know)

Limitless ➞ love you to limx (Han)

Winter Fireworks ➞ Ringing in the New Year (Bang Chan)

bonus after credits scene

It’s only when the two of you are crossing the bridge do you realize what he has done. “You just spoiled the ending for me!”

“Sorry, I forgot.” After a few seconds, he asks, “Can I give you more spoilers?”

You reach for the front of his blazer. “Yes.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz fanfic #skz imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin imagines #stray kids au #skz au #20210701

[semischarmed]

Detour

“Really Scott,” you say, as you run your fingers through your hair. “I don’t look familiar to you at all?” You take a mental picture of your high school tormentor’s face. Damn. ‘You’ve only gotten hotter these past few years haven’t you?’

“Nah man, sorry” He states as he moves to close the door to his apartment. You give a slight rub to a small gold medallion and his body starts moving on it’s own. You stare at him with a cruel smile as he tries to wrestle control back of his body. Your face strains but you are able to force him to let you into his place. Scott, evidently, was smarter than he looks as you notice him take a mental note of your struggle and the medallion. You’re gonna have to be careful around him.

You have to admit, this is a lot tougher than you initially expected. Much like his body, man has a will of steel, and even with this necklace’s little power boost, you can only barely contain him. But you have the power of raw emotion coursing through you. Envy. Lust. Unlike Scottie over here, lady luck has not been kind to the past few years past high school. That all changed when you came across this medallion. A strange, mystical, wonderful medallion with strange, mystical, wonderful powers. As soon it came into your possession, you instantly knew the first person who would have the privilege of witnessing its power firsthand. Scott reclaimed a bit of power over himself.

“What the fuck dude! You got the wrong guy! I really don’t know who you are!” You have to hold back a bit of your hurt. All those years of agony and fear, and it doesn’t even register a blip to him. ‘Fuck it, worth it for what I’m about to get.’ With another rub of the medallion you force him to freeze.

As you study his frame, still and glistening with a nervous sweat, you are overcome with a wave of lust- you can’t wait to possess the fuck out of this man. He’s only gotten bigger, beefier since the last time you’ve seen him. You are cut from your trance as you hear a soft “zzzz” sound.

His phone buzzes again and, rubbing your medallion, you force him to pull it out and unlock it for you. “Who is this?” You ask, as you take a closer look at the string of texts. “Almost back!” “Hey u wanna get some pizza tonight?” “Dude I gotta tell you about Sophie at the weights today.“

“I-It’s Alex, he’s my friend. He’s my best friend. We’re roommates. Also he’s coming back soon, so you should probably go. This-whatever the fuck this is man, I won’t tell anyone I promise. Just go” he states nervously. Try as you might, you can’t read if he’d genuinely let you go. Knowing the Scott you knew in high school, he’d probably beat you to a pulp as soon as you released your hold on him. Whatever. Not leaving anyway. You stare at more pictures of his friend from Scott’s social media. Fit, cute- hot even, easy on the eyes. Ok then, maybe a little detour is in order. 

“I’m gonna give you a choice.” You state plainly, as you set his phone on the table. “And I know you remember who I am, so you can stop the act. You? Or Alex? Who’s it gonna be?” He probably thinks you’re gonna kill him. Not even close. If anything, he’s gonna be getting a new lif-

“Alex, Alex! Please dude, just leave me alone!” He says without hesitation. Damn. Cold-blooded. You smile with menacing compliance. 

“Alex it is.”

----

Minutes later, a sweaty Alex unlocks the door to his apartment, eager to get quick shower in and order some dinner. “Oh, uh, I didn’t realize we’d have guests”. 

Alex smiles warmly at you and greets you, “Hey, I’m Alex, Scott’s roommate. Good to meet you!” He looks at his hand. “Sorry, I just got back from the gym, so I’d shake your hand, b-” “So you’re Alex! good to meet you too!” you cut him off by extending your hand, which he awkwardly shakes out of formality. You use this to take a sneak preview of your future vessel’s hands. Calloused, but soft. Thin, damp. Vascular. Good.

“Yeah, I’m an old friend of Scott’s. From high school,” you lie. “He said he had to grab something from the store, so he’ll probably be back in a bit.”

“Aww well, I’m sorry he’s been keeping you waiting” Alex gives a warm smile. “He’s usually pretty good at this kind of stuff, so I’m sure he had a good reason. Do you want like a water or something?” 

He starts to head to the kitchen. You stifle a moan as you quickly stick your hand in your pants and smear his gym sweat all over your dick. Sneak preview. 

As he fashions himself a glass of water and glances back as you quickly take your hands out your pants before he notices. “Oh no, no! I’m alright! Thank you for the offer though!” you beam back. Close call.

‘Alex is such a nice, stand up guy’ You wonder to yourself, ‘why is he friends with that piece of shit’

“I’ve known Scott since college, so a little less than you, haha” he adds, as if hearing your mental conversation. “He always keeps it real and he’s even been helping me get toned”. He smiles and does a small bicep flex to demonstrate -hot- before he ravenously gulps down the entire glass of water and sets it down.

‘Fuck yeah, I can’t wait to be the one going down that tube’ you think, as you bite your lip. Alex starts to head your way. You then pick up on his scent, he smells clean- probably his cologne or deodorant. Mountains. Mint. Fresh rain. He’s like a breath of fresh air. Then the undercurrent of his scent hits. Raw, primal, alpha as fuck. You’re a bit surprised. Such a kind, clean cut guy and he apparently naturally smells like a filthy, raunchy, putrid motherfucker. You can hardly control yourself as you try to imagine where it’s coming from. Pits, ass, feet, ball sweat, all of the above?- wherever the fuck it’s coming from, it’s intoxicating. You smile in the joy that a little piece of you, even if it was just the dick that you rubbed his hand sweat all over, now smells like a diluted Alex. You struggle as you adjust your growing hard on in proximity to the pheromone bomb that is Alex.

Suddenly, Alex’s phone buzzes. You steal a glance at the sender. It’s Scott.

“Hey man, come to my room, now. We need to fucking talk. I have no idea who he is. Make sure he stays where he is. He doesn’t know I’m here .” Alex stares at his phone, a little perplexed, while you continue to stare at this fine, fine piece of ass in front of you. He gives a quick glance your way, to which you respond with a smile. 

“Hey, uh, make yourself at home, ok? Im sure Scott’s coming back soon. I, uh, I gotta take care of something real quick with our, um, other roommate.” There’s only two bedrooms and he’s a horrible liar, but you still find it a little endearing. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you, maybe we can hang out sometime. Any friend of Scott is a friend of mine!“ he tells you kindly as you swoon. ‘Oh Alex we’re about to be much, much closer than friends. Closer than you can possibly imagine’.

“Hey dude, uh, so Scott’s friend is waiting for you in the living room. Also whatever this is, can it wait? I kinda have to showe-“ Alex cuts himself off as he sees Scott slumped over, tied up to his desk chair with his own dirty clothes in a neat little bow. “What the fuck!?! Scott! are you ok?” Alex rushes over to help his friend.

“So, I gotta say, Scott, you made a great choice sacrificing him to save yourself. Alex is definitely a catch.” You say from the doorway. Alex quickly looks your way in horror as his best friend breaks free from his fake restraints and pulls him into an embrace.

Alex tries to squirm free from Scott’s grip, as you make Scott say the truth to his friend. “He made me choose, between you and me. I chose you.”

“T-This is a joke, right? Scott?” Scott starts to force him into his desk chair. “Cmon man!” Alex pleads, as an emotionless Scott ties him to the desk chair.

“Some best friend” you chuckle, as you stroke Scott’s cheek and wipe away a stray tear -you can feel his revulsion internally- “he sold you out without a second thought”. You start to undress his lower half, starting with his gym shoes. Fuck it was potent. “Don’t worry, I’ll never do that to us.” You peel away his sweat soaked socks and take another whiff. Alex sits in confusion, probably speechless at what had just transpired.

“Let’s make a deal” you say with a chuckle. “I’ll show you a taste of me if you show me a taste of you.” Without waiting for a response, you start by kneeling down sucking on his scummy toes. Sour. Just how you like it. He’s still squirming in his bonds a little. “Step on me,” you say, as you smash your face to his sweaty feet over and over again, simulating him stepping on you. You catch a little movement in his crotch area. ‘Is he enjoying this?’ you ask, as you continue up Alex’s legs. You look back to make sure Scott is still in your control. He stands frozen, emotionless, but with a deep hatred in his eyes, twitching occasionally in his attempt to break free. You make him face Alex and force him to lift the corner of his tank top to give Alex a little tease, while you continue with your little treasure hunt.

You then peel away his compression shorts to reveal your prize. A concentrated bloom of Alex’s pheromones hit you. Ecstasy. You almost pass out on the spot. ‘Holy shit’. You can't control yourself as bury your head and greedily rub your face in his sweaty crotch. Alex is eerily quiet.

Rubbing the medallion, you issue your next command. You’re gonna need to divert a little magic to making this work, so you release some control of Scott as emotion and shouting return to him. It takes a minute or two but you’re able to get your bodies properly primed fro the next stage. You notice Alex shiver from a slight tingle in his body, while Scott continues his barrage of insults your way. “Shut up,” you command. His lips quiver and then shut. “Scottie, come tell Alex what his best friend is gonna do to him.”

Alex again looks at Scott with a pleading face as a twitching, emotionless Scott continues: “Alex, I’m gonna stuff you full of himm- full of my Ma,” you wince. Strong and stubborn as ever, you can’t even get him to call you master. “Man you’re gonna love it. I sold you out to save myself. Didn’t even have to think about it. Just like that.” You’re getting a little better at controlling his movements. “Now I’m gonna be the one to make sure I put all of him inside you” Scott continues, “I-I can’t wait to see him wear you like a s-suit, parading you around, s-swimming in your skin and no one will ever know. I can’t wait to see the new you, w-with a little fag pilot tucked safe inside, pulling on your strings, speaking for you, thinking for you, loving for you” Scott finishes with an unsettling, wide grin that you force him into. 

Emotion and control rush back to Scott’s face. “Alex...” he states in an apologetic tone, but Alex doesn’t even look him in eye. Again, off the corner of your eye, you can’t help but notice a ghost of a smile on his face before it returns to its sullen look.

“Ok, ok, enough you two. Let’s go put on a good show for our best friend Scottie”.

-End Part 1-

[nctsworld]

can’t take it anymore

✩ jaehyun x reader | office au | smut | 1.5k

→ summary: jaehyun wants to take you now, in his office, right before his next meeting. → warnings: smut, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, desk sex, power dynamics (jaehyun’s your boss), fluff  → rating: explicit → notes: okay, but we all thought the same when the yearparty vid dropped, so i had to 

→ gif created by me, please don't repost or share without credit!

“On your knees.”

Standing at the front of your boss’s desk, you perk your head up from the paperwork within your arms. 

As Jung Jaehyun’s personal assistant, you sometimes take part in things more intimate than other assistants normally would, but you’d by lying to say you didn’t love it (and technically, you did get paid for it).

However, Jaehyun would usually ask for such things after work or if he had no meetings during the day, so you’re taken aback by his three words when he has an upcoming meeting in thirty minutes. 

You shake your head, holding your professional stature. “Mr. Jung, you have a meeting soon. Let me finish my update on the third quarter numbers and then I’ll come back after—”

It’s his turn to shake his head. He stands up from his leather chair and lays his palms firmly on his desk. 

“On your knees.” He repeats once more, raising an eyebrow, and you note the familiar flicker in his eyes, making you gulp. “That’s an order.” 

Although it’s second nature for you to always close his office door behind you, you whip your head back to double check. You place the small stack of reports on his desk before you do as you’re told. 

Jaehyun makes his way over to you, head to toe in a slick, baby blue suit. He unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, letting his desire free in front of your face. 

Almost as if you’re conditioned to do so, your mouth waters at the sight of his full possession. He lazily strokes himself, ensuring he’s fully erected for you and drowns in the view of you gawking at his cock.  

“Now, suck.” 

The moment your touch encompasses his length, he releases and grants you permission to control him. Knowing you don’t have much time to spare, you skip the usual, slow foreplay and barely give him a few swipes of your tongue before your mouth consumes him whole. 

You grip his cock firmly, stroking to the rhythm of your bobbing head as your tongue twirls around his girth. Moans emanate from above, and you glance a peek up at Jaehyun leaning his head back. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, almost whines. He loosens the collar of his shirt, giving him the false sense that if he loosened it, he’ll be able to breathe more. He then forces himself to face the extravagance below him which has a hold on him. 

You keep your pace steady and he fiddles with your hair tie to give him the freedom to do as he pleases with your hair. Jaehyun begins to run his fingers through, before caressing the back of your head. 

When you begin to flick your tongue at his tip and give it your sole attention, he grips hard at your hair. 

Calling your name, he groans, “Slow down. I don’t want to come just yet.”  

Pulling away from his tip with a pop, you jerk him off languidly and look up at him. 

“Then why did you want a blowjob right before a meeting?” 

You quicken your strokes, causing him to bare his teeth and throw his head back. He tugs once more at your hair, so you stop. 

“Because,” he pants, rubbing your head in a silent apology due to the tugging. The soft gesture contrasts against the emerging smirk that dances upon his lips and the dark haze in his eyes. 

“You’re mine, and I can have you whenever I want.” 

Your sex pulsates at his words, finding pleasure in how Jaehyun calls you his, even if it was just in the confines of the office. 

“...And because you just had to wear my favourite outfit today. I’m only human, you know.”   

You roll your eyes at your boss’s words, moving on from his sentiment seconds ago. Before you have the chance to taste him again, he grasps your hand and aids you off your knees to stand. Jaehyun turns you around, his chest embracing your back, and his hands start to unbutton your blouse with ease. His nimbleness always astounds you, wondering if it’s innate or from experience, or both.

A gasp flees. Like you attending to his desire before, he suddenly pushes your bra upward, freeing your breasts and goes straight to the point of pinching, twisting, and rubbing your nipples between his fingers. Moans take over, and you relax your neck into his shoulder.  

He captures your neck with kisses as he drops a hand that descends, shifting your skirt to give him enough leeway to feel your wetness. He chuckles into your neck, his hot breath tickling you just a bit, while he trails two fingers against your covered folds.  

“Jae…” you suck in a breath, sinking further into him, and he lightly nibbles your ear. 

Suddenly, his fingers are gone. You whine for a mere moment, then Jaehyun leads you to the front of his desk. He snakes his hand underneath the bottom of your back beneath your blouse, gesturing for you to rest your chest upon the desk. With your bra still pushed up and your breasts bare, the immediate coldness of the desk’s wood stimulates you further. You bite back a moan.

Kisses disperse down a line, starting from the back of your neck, further upon your back as he lifts your blouse up, and finally reaches his haven of your ass. Not forgetting to slap what’s his, he does so. You yelp with a bite of your lip. Jaehyun feels your body’s curves, worshipping the way you look in your pencil skirt, before dragging said skirt and your underwear down to your ankles.  

Both bodies are now bare from the bottom; he lays atop of you and presses himself against you, with his hands on top of yours and his hard-on against your ass cheeks. 

“What do you want?” The question burns against your ear. Your hips writhe with want, your backside rubbing and grinding against him. 

You try your best to look back at him as much as you could. “I want you, Jaehyun. Please...” 

So he peels away from your body and you expect him to tease you more with his cock, but instead, he slips his fingers into you. Your breathing hitches as your walls tighten in delight around his full, long fingers. 

“Feels good?” he asks, as if your uneven moans and incoherent affirmatives aren’t enough to tell. 

The feeling blossoms throughout your body and you nod fervently. Although you relent over his fingers fast, you don’t give any indication for him to stop and continue to ride the satisfaction, your body happily accepting more and more.       

Jaehyun, assuming you’ve already come at least once from the way you’re reacting and how drenched you are, plants another smack on your ass and hastily withdraws his digits to replace them with his inches. 

He has one hand stuffed with his dress shirt, trying his best to not stain them, while his other grip is around your waist. Your lover takes you roughly, knowing that his strength will leave bruises on your skin afterwards, but he knows you can handle it and enjoy it just as much as him.  

His inches deeply penetrate you. The position provides you a fuller experience of his length and the slaps and your cries that echo in the room are proof of his intense thrusts. Struggling from the ecstasy, you feel around the desk to grip onto something, anything, but the desk is too large; the corners are too far, so you end up running your fingernails along the wood. 

“Are you all mine?” he grunts.  

Hardly able to nod, you manage to do so anyway. 

“Say it.” 

“I’m-” A mix of a moan and whimper leaves your lips. “I’m all yours, Jaehyun.” 

You unravel over and over on his shaft and you can’t see it, but Jaehyun’s eyes tremble, along with his entire body, as he draws back, spurting himself all over your ass and back. 

Aware of the time, the two of you fumble to clean-up and put your clothes back on in a hurry. To no one’s surprise, Jaehyun’s phone rings. 

“Yes?” he pants, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, I’ll be right out in five minutes.”

Still buttoning up your blouse, you ask if he needs anything from you for the meeting, your professionalism turning back on as if sex didn’t just occur. 

“No, but before I go—”

However, you revert back and lose your work ethic when Jaehyun steps closer to you, moving the flyaway strands of hair that are sticking to your face, before he helps you finish buttoning your blouse for you.  

“I know I’ve never asked this of you before, but can you do overtime at my place tonight?” he whispers, glancing at you in between his buttoning with a soft smile. “Just to catch up on the third quarter update, of course.” 

Your heart’s stuck in your throat, along with your breathing, but you keep your cool. 

“Just to catch up on the third quarter update?” You raise an eyebrow skeptically. 

His smile broadens, his dimple deepening. 

“Maybe some other things too...” 

When he’s done, you place your arms around his neck and near yourself to his ear. 

“Yes, but only if I can call you mine, too.” 

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun x reader #nctcreations #nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fanfic #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #mywritings #myfanfics

[butwhyduh]

Since you wrote Christmas with tha Bois are you planning on writing a New Years Eve fics too 🎇🎉?

*insert surprised pikachu meme*

now I am (!!!)

They are all required to go to a Wayne gala that Bruce has thrown since before he took Dick in as a ward. It’s important. So of course, I wanna show what kind of suits they would wear too. (Indulge me lmao) [none of these images are sensitive. Tumblr is an idiot]

Tim

Okay I get that you wouldn’t think high strung proper Tim Drake Wayne , Mr CEO, would were a pretty casual suit. But he wears a suit everyday and by golly, he isn’t wearing a tie for New Years freakin Eve. It’s something different and he can relax. And he’s so tired of black. Plus the blue brings brings out the color in his eyes.

—————

He adjusted the collar of his suit. He always wore a nice suit to work. But this was for a gala. The tie just wouldn’t lay flat. You walked up behind him and pulled the offensive fabric off and tossed it on the bed. He moved to protest but you started unbuttoning his collar.

“Okay,” he said with a slow smirk. “But it’ll have to be quick.”

“I’m just fixing your shirt,” you said rolling your eyes. “I’m not messing my makeup up before a gala. That looks nicer. I never see you relaxed,” you said leaving your hands on his chest longer than necessary.

“I relax sometimes. I’m relaxing tonight. With you,” he said turning to give you a quick kiss. You smiled and he took a look at your outfit. “I’ll have to keep my eye peeled though. You’re going to attract a lot of attention in that.”

“Too bad I’m already dating a man they couldn’t possibly compete with. Come on, lover boy,” you said and he took your hand before going downstairs.

It was always stressful to first go to a gala. Tim was moderately famous as Bruce Wayne’s heir, heir to the Drake family fortune, and the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprise. Luckily this was very boring to most young people and his pictures were in a small section of the business page of the papers rather than like Dick Grayson being splashed all over the lifestyle section like a celebrity. But cameras flashing as you walked down stairs in heels was terrifying. Tim was the only one to notice as you gripped his arm like a vice each time.

You could usually smile and drink champagne as Tim talked shop with the old men he worked with or young men who were trying to climb the business ladder. Tim’s fingers made idle circles in your hand or on your back as he talked. He was also taking glances at you in you outfit all evening.

Only when he was desperate for a break would he ask you to dance. Tim was a good dancer. He had been taught at an early age. But he was not a natural and he didn’t want you bothered with more photos. You insisted after a full hour of talking about some sort of quarterly investment opportunity that he take you to the dance floor.

“Dance with me, Timmy,” you asked quietly in a lull in the conversation. It was almost midnight anyways. He smiled at you before looking back at the men.

“Excuse us,” Tim said before letting you lead him to the floor. He gently held your waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck. The song was fairly slow so you barely danced more than a sway. That was fine. You were more interested in staring in to his ocean eyes than cutting a rug.

“Sorry if it’s been incredibly boring,” Tim said. “You’d probably rather be doing anything else.”

“Dancing is nice. Seeing you more than 5 minutes is nice,” you said.

“Speaking of 5 minutes, it’s 5 minutes until midnight.”

“No more work talk tonight. Just be with me,” you pleaded softly. Tim frowned for a second before pulling you closer.

“I can do that. All yours tonight. I’ll just punch anyone who tries to talk business to me,” he said.

“Good enthusiasm. Terrible plan. Sweet though,” you said kissing his cheek. He smiled.

“Or we could just leave right after New Years,” Tim said with a wiggle of his brows. You giggled.

“Better plan.”

Bruce had gotten on the stage and the music stopped. You didn’t let Tim go. As they counted down to midnight, you and Tim gazed at each other.

3-2-1

🎆🎇

You leaned your face up and kissed him. Tim held your waist tighter and your wrapped your fingers up in his soft black hair. After just a few seconds you pulled back and smiled at him.

“Happy New Years, sunshine,” he said.

“Happy New Years, Duckie.”

“Let’s get out of here before they see us leave,” he suggested. The rest of the night was spent in his room and you were so glad for the loud fireworks to cover any noise you might have made.

Dick

Dick has been to 714 galas. He’s an expert. He’s expected to play the handsome charming eldest son. Wearing a beautiful suit is half the battle. Not to mention, he kinda likes showing off a little. It’s New Years. And the blue and grey bring out the color in his eyes so well.

———————————

Dick barely got in the door before flopping on the bed with his detective uniform still on. You sat on the edge of your bed, already in hair, dress, and makeup, and reached over to rub his shoulders. He groaned softly.

Barely off of work and already having to change into a suit for a family event. Dick needed a day off. Badly. He had the next 3 days off of work and he just had to deal with this night. No, he needed to be positive. You hadn’t done anything and he didn’t want to ruin New Years Eve.

You pushed your palm into a knot on his shoulder. He all but moaned. “Thank you, baby,” he said. “It’s these stupid cases. They have been driving me- baby,” Dick said turning to look and taking you in. “You look good.”

You smiled and giggled. “You think?”

“Always, but this? Wowza,” he said laughing. “Im going be showing off the prettiest girl at the ball,” Dick said sing song. You rolled your eyes with a grin. His compliments were usually over the top.

“Yeah, yeah. Not likely. You need to get dressed or I’m going to be very fancy for no reason,” you said and he hopped up. Dick was overworked but he always was. In record time he was dressed.

“Do you want to drive,” he asked hopefully. A quick 30 minute nap would be awesome.

“I can’t drive the Porsche since it’s stick,” you admitted.

“Well in that case, I’m teaching you soon. But not tonight. You gotta learn how to drive my car,” Dick said and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You added that to the list of skills he thought completely necessary that hardly anyone could do anymore. Could you even buy a new standard transmission car?

“Sure, hun. Let’s get going before we’re late,” you said kissing his cheek. You straightened his pocket square and you were both out the door.

“-and then you push the clutch. Right here,” he pointed at the floorboard as he drove.

“Not tonight. We can do this some other time. And if we don’t get there, it’s fine,” you said evasively.

“Ever? It’s important to be able to drive any kind of car and if it’s just you and the Porsche,” Dick said with a frown. You could see a contingency plan forming in his head.

“I very much doubt there will be a situation where I have to drive your car,” you said with a shrug.

“I’d rather plan for it,” Dick said and you dropped it. It was like a security blanket for him to plan for anything.

Walking into a gala was exciting and nerve racking. Dick was extremely popular back in Gotham and it was honestly weird as he was normal back in Bludhaven. Dick was the perfect gentleman and made sure you felt comfortable and safe when the cameras flashed. You smiled and ignored whatever anyone said about you. It could be mean with jealousy. You were with him for his money, you were just arm candy, and you weren’t that pretty. The first time had hurt pretty badly. Now you had a new ring on your hand and you felt almost as nervous as your first gala. One through the door to the ballroom, you relaxed.

“Are you okay? You looked really nervous,” Dick said and you grimaced. That sounds like nice pictures.

“Just a little,” you said subconsciously playing with your ring. Dick, of course, noticed right away.

“What’s wrong? Do you not want the ring? Or the engagement,” he asked quietly and it broke your heart that he was even worried about it. His big blue eyes were wide with worry.

“Not at all,” you said grabbing his shoulder. “I just don’t like how they talk. I’m very happy. And I love the ring. It’s beautiful.”

Dick’s frown turned to a pleased smile. “Good. Because that was my mom’s ring.”

“Dick! You gave me a family heirloom without mentioning it? That makes it twice as special,” you said shocked. “Thats so sweet of you.”

You leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I love it. But if you give me something that important again without telling me, I’ll beat you,” you whispered in his ear and he laughed.

“Let’s dance,” Dick said. He pulled you to the dance floor. He was the best dancer out of all of the Wayne children and possibly better than Bruce. He had been dancing since he could walk. His parents were performers and taught him many dance styles. Bruce also insisted that all the children knowing all the common dances they would need to know at a gala.

Keeping up with Dick was the biggest issues with dancing. He could dance quick dances for hours and you had to remind him that not everyone spent hours a day training and fighting. At the moment you had insisted on stopping to get a drink. You practically pounded a water bottle while he sipped on some punch.

“Kinda floral. Not bad. Little sweet,” he said.

“It’s not alcoholic, is it?”

“I don’t think so. It’s just one glass,” Dick said. “I’ll be fine to drive later.”

“No. It’s just that Damian and his girlfriend have a cup each,” you said motioning over to them.

“It’s fine. They wouldn’t give them alcohol,” Dick said and you relaxed. Of course not. That would be crazy to give kids alcohol.

“Let’s sit down. My feet are getting a little tired,” you said with a wince. He nodded and you sat at a table by the dance floor. As if Dick had put out a sign, a bunch of people flocked over to talk to him.

Somehow a plate of small snacks ended up in front of you, probably Alfred. You ate a little while he played the philanthropist son of Bruce Wayne. It was actually really nice to be ignored.

Until it wasn’t.

An older Wayne investor brought a woman over as his ‘date.’ She instantly latched on to Dick and started flirting with him. Her hand kept touching his arms and shoulders. You were getting mad but this wasn’t a surprise. People acted like he was someone they could grope and touch without consequences.

Finally it was too much and you cleared your throat. She looked at you in disgust before going back to flirting with Dick.

“Can you give my fiancé some space,” you asked politely as you could. Her eyes raked over your body.

“He could do so much better than some poor trash like you in a second rate dress. Not even that ugly little ring could change that,” she said nastily. You gasped.

“Okay we’re leaving,” Dick said standing up. The woman had to back away from him. His jaw was clenched in controlled anger. He had a temper and this wasn’t the time to lose it.

You stood up and hissed as your shoes cut into your feet worse than when you had been wearing them all night. Great, you couldn’t even wear heels in front of her. She laughed. Dick simply picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the ballroom and upstairs to his old bedroom. He sat you on the bed gently.

You knew that she was just a vapid socialite but it did hurt. She had pretty accurately attacked your insecurities and you blinked to prevent yourself from crying.

“Baby,” Dick said bending to a crouch in front of you. “Don’t think anything about what she said. She’s just jealous. Not worth your time.”

“She’s not wrong though. I’m just a poor kid trying to fit in in Wayne freaking Manor,” you said wiping your face. Stupid tears.

“And I’m just a circus kid. Don’t forget that,” Dick said sitting beside you. He pulled you into a hug. “Not a single damn bit of that matters. It’s almost midnight in a minute. Do you want to go back downstairs?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a dry smile.

“I figure. We have a better view anyways,” he said opening the curtains. You could vaguely hear the noise downstairs.

3-2-1

🎆🎇

“Happy New Years, baby,” Dick said giving you a kiss. He wiped the tears from your cheek.

“Happy New Years. Sorry I’m all teary,” you said.

“Nope. Don’t be sorry. My new New Years resolution is to make you smile,” he said with a devious look. His fingers suddenly attacked your sides and pulled laughter from you. He pushed you to the bed in his attack.

“Dick! Okay! Quit!” You shrieked with laughter. He stopped his hands and leaned over you.

“Alright. I quit. But since we’re alone. Wanna ring in the New Years the right way,” he asked with a smirk. You grinned back.

“Got any ideas on how to do that?” You asked back.

“So many. Baby, so many,” before kissing you. Fireworks sounded in the background.

Damian

(Older 16 yr old) Damian is literally the son of Batman. He’s going to dress like it. Nice and formal and expensive. It was like a form of armor. Homeboy looks like a million bucks. His watch might be. And if a burgundy turtleneck A accents his well defined pecs, B shows the gold in his tan skin, and C the gorgeous green in his eyes, he ain’t complaining.

“Beloved,” Damian said pulling on his jacket. “Come out,” he said in a sing song voice that would have been completely foreign to hear to anyone else but you.

You flushed as you came out. His jaw dropped before he quickly straightened his face. He’d taken the risk of buying you a dress for the party. He’d seen Bruce do it for women all the time. It was practically his calling card. Even Dick had done it a few times. But this was a first for Damian.

“You look very nice. Beautiful,” he said quietly looking away at his cuff links. “Are you ready to go downstairs?”

“Just my shoes,” you said, trying to slip them on and almost falling over. Damian quickly grabbed your waist.

“I got you. I can put them on,” he said kneeling to the ground. He hadn’t meant anything besides efficiency with his offer. But as he slid your foot into a heel and strapped it across your ankle, it felt far more intimate. His hand held your calf a little longer than necessary before switching to the other foot. This side had a slit up to your thigh and he could see your bare leg up close. Damian gulped before attaching the shoe. He quickly stood up and cleared his throat.

“Are you ready now?”

You nodded. He offered his arm and you went downstairs. Cameras flashed for just a few minutes before Damian skillfully steered you away from them. His father would kill any pictures of you before they got to the papers but Damian knew how much you hated them.

“Dance with me?” You asked and he happily complied. He had been trained in several dance styles and was good at it. He also enjoyed the way you would smile when he would spin you. If it made his beloved happy, he was happy. It attracted a little attention. Bruce Wayne’s teenage son and his date could dance with skill. This too was only viewable in person.

“Let’s get a drink,” Damian said pulling you to the refreshments. You were out of breath but happy and followed him. There was suppose to be people handling the drinks but there were so many people. Damian pushed through and grabbed two drinks and handed one to you.

“Let’s find a table,” you said. As always, Damian pulled you along to a secluded corner close to the door to the garden. Cold air and little whiffs of cigarette smoke swirled around but at least you weren’t in the overheated body filled floor anymore.

You sat and drank at your punch. It was heavily sweetened and floral. It was refreshing and... warm. You waved at yourself.

“Is it hot in here to you?” You asked Damian.

“Want to go for a walk outside? It’s cooler out there,” he suggested. Damian took your arm again and you walked out the door into the garden. A stone path lined little beds of delicate plants. Topiaries lined the path. Small solar lights and the full moon lit the garden. There were a few people walking but not many.

Damian looked so handsome. Long dark lashes frames his bright green eyes. His skin almost glistened with silver light of the moon. He bent and plucked a flower from a bush. Damian tucked it behind you ear with a little smile.

“The prettiest rose in all the garden,” he said and you smiled shyly.

“I don’t think that’s actually a rose though,” you said and he laughed. A rare occurrence.

“It’s not. But I was talking about you. May I kiss you,” he said lightly touching the side of your neck with his hand. You nodded and he leaned down. You closed your eyes and his lips brushed against yours. You pressed a hand against his chest.

Damian’s hand slid to the back of your neck to hold you as he pressed harder against your mouth. His tongue slipped in your mouth and you made the softest whimpering sound. Damian’s eyes flew open and he almost froze. That was new and he could get used to the pretty sound.

You kissed like this for a little while. Damian’s hand slid down to hold your waist when he noticed you shivered. He pulled back.

“Beloved, are you cold,” he asked, cursing himself. Of course, you were cold wearing a thin dress while he was in a full suit. He quickly pulled off his jacket and put it around your shoulders.

“Just a little. It’s fine,” you protested. He insisted on sliding your arms in the sleeves and button the jacket.

“Let’s go in. It’s close to midnight anyways,” Damian said giving you one last kiss.

3-2-1

🎇🎆

“Happy New Years beloved,” he said with a kiss. Damian had grabbed another two glasses of punch and you two touched them in cheers.

“No sir,” Alfred said sternly, taking the glasses from your hands. “No alcohol for either of you. There is juice on the other side of the table.”

You waited until Alfred walked away before laughing. “They should have labeled that better.”

“That explains why it felt overly warm in here earlier,” Damian said thoughtfully.

The music had changed to overly sappy and people were kissing and dancing far too close. They were feeling the effects of the alcohol they had been drinking all night. Damian looked at them in disgust.

“Want to go upstairs,” he asked. You quickly looked at him. “Not like that. We can watch a movie or something, anything away from this.”

“Sounds great,” you said and you both left.

Jason

I’m fairly certain I’ve seen him in a suit like this in the comics. I considered him saying FU to Bruce and showing up in boots and black leather jacket. But Jason knows he looks good in red. And he’d probably get a kick out of wearing one of his suits he wore as Red Hood to a fucking gala. Bruce would know.

—————————

“Princess, if you make me wait any longer I’ll kick down the door and physically carry you to the damn party,” Jason said with no malice in his voice. You opened the bathroom door.

“Not all of us look good without a little work,” you said playfully tapping his chest. You yanked his tie straight with a little more force than needed.

“I’d have to disagree, doll. I’d honestly prefer you in nothing,” he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes.

“How does it look?” You said with a twirl.

“Like a million bucks. That ass. Let’s skip the party and-“

“No no no. Let’s get going. You can be handsy later,” you said grabbing your purse.

“Promise,” he asked as you both left. The roads weren’t too bad with ice and in fact, it was going to be a rare dry night in Gotham.

Jason didn’t do pictures. He hated them and so you both parked in the servant entrance and walked in a side door. It didn’t matter. The Manor was beautiful no matter how you looked at it. And being a poor kid from Gotham, you couldn’t believe you were actually at a party in Wayne freaking Manor.

“Don’t be nervous. It’s just a bunch of shitty rich people in pretty walls. They aren’t any better than us. Hell, worth half of you, sweetheart. Let’s get a drink,” he said pulling you to the drink table. It was pretty packed but he muscled through to the front. He got your preferred drink. “And a whiskey on the rocks.”

“Don’t get drunk,” you whispered to him. “I won’t sleep with you drunk.”

“With a finger of water,” Jason added to the bartender who nodded.

“Good save,” you said turning to look at the floor. You sipped your drink and people watched.

Dick and his date were dancing some quick steps in the middle of the floor. No surprise there. Tim was talking to boring business men and his poor date looked absolutely bored on her feet. Alfred was watching Damian and his date from the corner of his eyes whereas Damian seemed completely oblivious with his eyes on her all night. And Bruce was currently heavily flirting with a woman who literally meowed at him. You resisted the urge to gag and turned back to Jason.

“Wanna dance,” Jason asked casually watching the floor. But you knew he wanted to dance because he asked.

“Yeah,” you said grabbing his hand. He pulled to to the floor. Jason was also trained to dance as all the Wayne boys had been. But he was probably the worst dancer out of all of them. His parents had never taught him anything as nice as dancing and he’d only lived with Bruce for a few years before the whole Joker thing. But Jason was a natural athlete and his dancing was still pretty darn good.

The dance was a bit slower than the one Dick and his date had been dancing to earlier. Jason held one hand on your waist and the other stayed in your hand. His dancing was visibly polite and innocent. The words he whispered in your ear were far from.

“Is it hard being the hottest woman here? This dress on your ass is fucking delicious,” he whispered and you flushed at his words. “I can’t wait to fuck you in it later.”

He really enjoyed saying things that were completely naughty in public where you could do nothing about it. But you knew that if he kept it up, you’d be finding a spare room before New Years even came. And you didn’t want to miss the fireworks again this year.

As the song ended, and you thoroughly turned on and scandalized, you asked him to walk in the garden with you. Lover boy needed something to cool him down.

“Sure, Princess,” he said snagging 2 glasses of punch on the way out. You both walked between the flower beds and he told you stories of things that had happened there. “And that’s when Dick accidentally cut the top foot off of this bush. Alfred had him scrubbing floors for a month,” Jason said with a laugh. “It was so bad that there is still a rule of no swords in the garden. Damian hates it.”

“I bet he does. But he could probably destroy the entire garden with a pocket knife,” you said with a laugh. Jason suddenly pulled you to the side with a hush. He motioned over a ways.

“Speaking of the kid, look over there,” Jason whispered. You looked over to see Damian making out with a girl his age. It was so weird to see him being so sweet. “I didn’t know he felt human emotion, much less find someone his age to makeout with.”

“They could have said that about you a few years ago,” you said slyly.

“Yeah, point taken. Want the best view of the fireworks?” Jason said.

“Where?”

“Top of the roof.”

You blanched at the idea. “No thanks. I choose life.”

“It’s safe. There’s a ladder and everything,” Jason said hugging you from behind. “Best view in the house. And if not, dinners on me.”

“Jay, you get the check every time,” you reminded him. He chuckled.

“Maybe I’m just trying to get a pretty girl alone to give her a kiss,” Jason said pulling you to the roof. You flushed. “Unlike demon boy making out in the garden. I have class.”

“You’re a classy lady. Show me the way before I change my mind,” you said. He took you to a ladder over the library. You pulled off your heels and started climbing.

“Don’t worry I’ll catch you you if you fall Princess. I’m right behind you. Did I mention your ass in this dress? I kinda have the perfect view,” he said. You rolled your eyes before throwing your leg over the side of the roof. Jason quickly followed you.

“Here, wear my jacket,” Jason said throwing the red blazer over your shoulder.

“Oo my knife now,” you said feeling in his pocket and pulling out a sizable switchblade.

“I forgot to take it out of there. I wouldn’t touch it too much,” Jason said taking it out of your hands with a grimace. You gave him a look.

“That’s incredibly gross. Seriously. Do I even want to know?”

“Not really. Look at the stars. You can see them through the shitty Gotham sky,” Jason said sitting on a box. He pulled you into his lap and you were grateful as it was really quite cold. You could see some stars and you leaned your back against his chest and looked up at the heavens for a few minutes.

The music stopped downstairs. It must be almost midnight. You couldn’t understand but you heard Bruce talk over a mic. Then everyone started counting.

3–2-1

🎇🎆

“Happy New Years, Jaybird,” you said turning your head and holding Jason’s jaw. You leaned your head up and gave him a kiss. He held you close and you made out until the sound of a firework had you jumping. You laughed before turning to look. The roof really did have the best view.

After a few minutes of watching the fireworks you heard some lewd noises. Jason looked over at a window near your spot.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said with a disgusted look. “That’s fucking Tim’s room and the sound of him getting laid is literally the last thing I want. What I do want is to take a bite out of that ass I’ve been looking at all night.”

#batboys #christmas series #Tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #yum #Tim drake #Red Robin #dick Grayson #dick Grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing #damian al ghul x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #Damian Wayne #Damian al ghul #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #Bruce Wayne #Alfred #Wayne manor #fns #Tim drake fluff #Jason Todd fluff #dick Grayson fluff #Damian Wayne fluff

[random-imagines-blog]

Post Red {Viktor Krum x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3072 Summary: At a time when he should be focused on the game, Viktor Krum is distracted by you, his childhood best friend, and a blonde-haired boy who won’t stop flirting.

The Quidditch World Cup. You came just about every year, getting pretty okay seats with your best friend Viktor and his family. His parents and yours were good friends, which instantly meant that you were best friends. And with his father holding season passes to every Quidditch world cup, no matter where it was, this had become a yearly tradition. “I’m going to be on the Bulgarian team one day,” Viktor would always state as you watched the players fly. Bulgaria was always his favorite. Home country pride. It was yours too, but sometimes you liked to cheer for other times to mix things up. You would always grin and nudge him to point out something a player was doing, but not this year. This year, you were at the top of the stadium, standing next to the Minister of Magic in a special area, watching Viktor Krum play in Bulgaria versus Ireland. He was achieving his dream.

Every time that he flew past you, you jumped up and down, waving the flag of his team. He had become the star seeker of the team so quickly, it made your head spin. But you were nothing if not supportive. You used up your allowance to buy his merchandise, even though he could get it to you for free. It almost became a joke between the two of you, how you would always show up to his house wearing a sweater with his face on it, bright and smiling. You always made the joke that he was smiling on the sweater because it was the closest that he would ever get to your chest. He would make the joke in return that he was just smiling because he finally was looking at someone good looking - himself. He was actually very funny for a serious looking man.

You weren’t the only one high up in the stadium. Sharing a box with you was the Minister of Magic himself, and a man with his son. The boy was two or three years younger than you, you would assume by his size, and his hair was as silver as snow, just like his fathers. You had no interest in them. You weren’t here to make friends. You were here to support the best one that you had. But you did give a friendly hello and smile to the Minister, as it was better to have a friend in him than an enemy.

The other boy though, he wanted to have more than a friendly hello with you. He kept moving closer to the part of the box that you were occupying. He spoke to you with a very snobby voice, and though it would be considered rude and your parents would be disappointed in you, your direct reaction was to pretend that you didn’t know English.

“I’m Draco Malfoy,” He said, sticking his hand out to shake yours. “We’re here with the Minister of Magic. Are you here by yourself?”

Rather than shake his hand, because you honestly didn’t want to touch him for too long, you tapped yours against his in a high-five. “Ja, go fast!” You said, pointing at one of the Bulgarian Chasers who just flew past you.

The look on Draco’s face was worth it. But there was still a long game ahead of you. It could go on for hours. For days. Hopefully for the former though, because Viktor was a really good seeker. You had full confidence that he would get the snitch before it turned midnight.

Draco went and stood by his father for a little bit, and the two had quiet conversations. You didn’t pay him much attention. You were too busy watching the game. Even during lulls when it was just Chasers fighting over the ball in the middle of the pitch, you were intrigued. You didn’t pay attention to anything else - except for maybe making faces at Viktor when he passed by you on his way to catch what he thought was the snitch. He was darting back and forth so quickly though, it was hard to tell if he had seen you.

Since the World Cup was officially sponsored by Butterbeer, it kept being brought up to your box by people who worked for the Quidditch federation. It was enough to keep you warm as the game went into the nighttime. The skies seemed to threaten rain, but you didn’t care whether it fell or not. You were having fun, regardless of the weather.

The Irish scored the first goal. You booed, even though the others in your box seemed to be very supportive of the green team. You smiled apologetically at Fudge as he gave you an odd look, but didn’t pass a glance at the other two. However, the young boy came and stood beside you again, leaning over the box to look down at the people below in the lesser seats. He was sneering at them, like they had done something wrong by just existing there. That was worth a look to you at least. He caught your eye, and that sneer turned into a smile.

“Is this your first time at the Quidditch World Cup?” He asked. You shook your head, still feigning not knowing any English. “We come every year. But this is the first time that we’re in the Minister’s Box. So how did you get up here anyway? Who are you?”

He wasn’t letting up. You tried to look up at the players again, but the war for the Quaffle was going on in the middle of the pitch which meant there wasn’t much to look at right now. He nudged your side, so you finally answered, giving him your first and last name.

“Sounds exotic,” He said, which made you have to turn away and roll your eyes. Leave it to someone from England to think that your name was exotic, when it was commonplace where you were from. And not like he had the right to judge - what sort of name was Draco?

There was finally some action on the pitch, which took his attention from you for a little while. Unfortunately it was Ireland again, scoring the second goal of the game. Your eyes scanned the pitch to look for the familiar frame of your best friend and you saw him across the stadium. He was balanced on his broom, sitting on it in a way that made it look easy. Comfortable. You always admired how effortless he made it look to fly, while you were always hunched down, holding on with both hands until your knuckles had started to hurt. You waved at him when you thought you caught his eye and he smiled back at you. You chuckled as you heard a few girls in rows below you start to squeal because they thought that it had been at him.

“He’s overrated,” Draco muttered beside you.

“Krum?” You asked - before realizing this was very close to exposing yourself as a fraud.

“Yeah. He’s not even that good. In fact, I’m better than him. I’m the Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team. I got in second year, which is really rare, actually.”

You let his voice go in one ear and then out the other. This boy seemed to like to talk about himself an awful lot.

Ireland scored a third goal, and you groaned loudly, cutting off Draco in the middle of a sentence. “Oh, are you cold?” He asked.

Either he didn’t notice that you were shaking your head, or he didn’t care. He moved in closer to you and tried to put his arm around your shoulders. In your discomfort, you took a few hasty steps away, and ended up bumping into the Minister himself, stepping on his robes which almost pulled him down.

“I’m so sorry,” You said in horror as you realized what you had just done. You helped him to upright himself, and he gave you a wary look, like he should have expected this.

“It’s quite alright,” He said, but he did wander to the other side of the box, far away from you. You watched, feeling a bit bashful about what just had happened. At least, until there was a cheer from the fans. Ireland scored yet another goal. You sighed, and put your gaze back on the game. Viktor had moved since you had last seen him, and you began to scan for him once more, only for him to pop up not too far from you.

“I knew you spoke English,” Draco said from next to you. You almost forgot about the little twerp, but here he was, making himself known again. You never met anyone so infuriating before. He just couldn’t pick up a hint. “Come on, talk to me. Do you go to Hogwarts? I felt like I would have seen you there.”

“I don’t go to Hogwarts,” You stated. “You have not seen me before. And after this, we shall not meet again. Please, leave me alone.”

“I’ll be telling my father about your rudeness,” He said, finally turning away from you. You let out a sigh of relief. Maybe you could finally get into the game.

There had been a few close calls of Ireland getting the snitch. They were winning by quite a lot, and you could feel Viktor’s frustration from where you were standing. He kept looking at you, and you didn’t have much to offer him except for crossing your fingers.

“I think you should come to have dinner with us after the game,” Draco said, strolling back over to you after a while.

“The game could go on for hours, or even days,” You said, clenching the fence in front of you. You had never felt the urge to punch someone before but it was growing slowly and steadily. Something about his ferret like face.

“Well, we’re taking a break soon. We brought our new house elf. It’s an alright cook, it’ll do for the occasion. And you’re going to join us, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine here, thank you,” You said, scoffing at the idea of a break. You had no intention of leaving the game until it was over, even if that meant starving or peeing yourself. You were dedicated to stick it out for Viktor, at the very least.

He was flying not too far, eyes peeled for the stitch. But he looked at you. He was able to smile once more, but a hand grabbed yours and pulled you away from the fence. In your astonishment, you had let go. “Come on, we’re going to have something to eat.”

There was a sound of awe from the crowd at the exact same time that something went soaring by your head. You just barely managed to duck before it turned around and came back. A bludger. But how in the hell did it-

It went returning the way that it had come from, flying across the pitch. That was when you saw Viktor again, a little closer to you this time, holding a beater’s bat. He tossed it back to the beater, who went soaring after the bludger, while Viktor looked over at you. You put your hands over your heart as a thank you. He had always been a little overprotective of you, but right now, you were grateful for it. You were able to snap your hand away from Draco’s grasp, who was still ducking from the bludger attack. “I said I’m fine here. And if you, or your father, have a problem with that, you can shove it up your rear!” You shouted. The Minister overheard this part of the conversation and let out a little ‘oh my’ in surprise.

You didn’t even care. Enough was enough. If he grabbed you again, you would be telling everyone that you were being assaulted, and put him on full blast. Though he looked rather shaky after the encounter with the bludger, so you had the feeling he wouldn’t actually be bothering you again. You returned back to the fence so you could overlook the pitch again, and wrapped your hands around it so no one would be able to drag you back again.

-

The game finished with Bulgaria’s loss. You were disappointed, but it wasn’t Viktor’s fault. He still managed to catch the snitch, so he had done his job. It was the Keeper that you were disappointed with, and you would be bringing that up to him later.

You descended the endless flights of stairs, blending in with the crowd after the game - many were celebrating but there were quite a few who looked the same as you felt. Damn Ireland, you were thinking to yourself. And damn the Bulgarian Keeper! He hadn’t been able to do his job properly. Even Viktor would have done a better job, and it was his least favorite position!

You managed to veer away from the crowd to go to your own little campsite. Much like the others around yours, the tent was much bigger and roomier on the inside than it appeared on the outside, thanks to a little magic. You marched on through the flaps to go inside, and change out of your clothes. It had been a long game, and you had definitely sweated at least a little bit. You wanted to be much more presentable when Viktor would come along and join you.

The flap came open once more, and Viktor strolled in, just as you were fastening the button on your bottoms. He had perfect timing - now at least, maybe not so during the game. His jaw was clenched, you noticed, and he looked very angry. He’d lost games before, but still reveled in the fact that he had been playing. This was not a mood that just came from the game.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, watching as he walked past you to the armchair that was in front of the budding fire. Thank heavens for magic - a fire and a tent would never have worked otherwise.

“That boy who was touching you-” He said, sinking into the chair, and spit directly into the fire with disgust. “What’s his name?”

“Oh, we don’t need to worry about him, Vik. I think you scared him enough with the bludger. He wouldn’t even come close to me after that. Turned white as a sheet,” You chuckled at the memory, but his anger seemed to rage on.

“No, tell me his name.” Viktor demanded. You sighed, and walked to where he was sitting. The chair wasn’t big enough for the both of you, but it had rather wide arms and you planted yourself right there. You leaned your head against the top of his, the bristly growth of his hair tickling your forehead. “Y/N...”

“He was a stupid, petulant child who I am never going to lay eyes on again, Viktor Krum. Why did it make you so mad?”

“No one should be touching you. No one should be dragging you...” He said, moodily. He was staring into the fire, not at you at all.

“Tell you what. I’ll let you know his name after you calm down, how about that?” You suggested. It would take some time - he had a temper like a bonfire that would just keep on burning until the morning.

“Fine,” He grumbled. He said nothing more, and the two of you sat in silence, staring at the fire as it crackled, and listening to some of the cheers from outside. People were still celebrating the Irish win out there, and it gave everything a joyous atmosphere. “I’m not angry anymore.” He said after a few more minutes.

You pulled away from him, and took a look at his eyes to see if he really was in a post-red mood. He still looked grumpy but the worst of it seemed to be over. “His name was Draco Malfoy. His father is friends with the Minister, which is why I didn’t do much about it myself. You took good care of me, Vik. Just be happy that it ended the way that it did and we could move on with our lives.”

“If I see him again, I’m punching him,” Viktor grumbled. You shrugged, alright with that since the likelihood of it seemed so low.

“That is a price that he will have to pay then,” You smiled, moving back towards him and fell into his lap. Before you could try to get up, his arms went around your waist and started to tickle you in the way that he knew you hated. Fingers digging into your skin, it was a horrible feeling but the closeness that it brought wasn’t entirely terrible. “Vik - come on, stop...”

“I like it when you call me that,” He said, finally letting a smile come across his usual gruff features. You smiled in return, and lightly ran your fingers across his sculpted jawline, feeling the bone beneath his skin. His breathing hitched, and he held you closer, tighter.

You grew closer, until you could feel the heat of his breath on your lips. Viktor was so close - and you hadn’t realized until this moment that this was something that you wanted. You had always been friends, and your parents had teased since the beginning that they were planning your wedding to each other. But this was the first time that you had seen what they had been seeing.

Screams came from outside, and they were far from being the joyous kind. There was serious fear in the female voice that you had heard. And then came others. More and more screaming. The tent seemed to move as people were rushing past it. You could just see it through the crack between the flaps which acted as doors.

“Stay with me,” Viktor said, getting up immediately. You agreed to this without question, and when he offered you his hand, you took it. Whatever danger was out there, you were certain that you could face it together.

#Viktor Krum #Viktor Krum x reader #Viktor Krum oneshot #Harry Potter #Harry Potter oneshot #request #oneshot #viktork #x reader

[mochamamii]

yandere!taeyong: monster.

part two: Here

▹ a/n : I tried to write something a little outside my comfort zone. I've been enjoying writing Yandere stuff lately and I wanted to do a realistic take on the after effects of being kidnapped by a Yandere, and ultimately becoming pregnant. Like I always say, this is an example of a unhealthy relationship. In no way do I think Taeyong or any other member of NCT behaves this way.

▹ triggers : this gets kind of dark and It's very angsty. There's no smut but it gets a little suggestive at the end. Mentions of unwanted pregnancies, extreme weight loss, kidnapping, abusive relationships, etc. Please take all of this into consideration before you read. 

▹ description : yandere!taeyong kidnapped you and has been holding you hostage for months. Unfortunately you wind up pregnant and Taeyong has pledged to build a life with you, and your baby as a family. When Taeyong presents you with a choice, you realize that you’ve become permanently trapped by Taeyong forever.

your perspective

I grimaced as I looked back at my reflection in the mirror. My skin was extremely dull and paler than usual due to the lack of sun I'd been getting.

I looked nothing like myself, I had dropped a significant amount of weight in just a couple months. It's been hard keeping food down lately, I don't have an appetite for anything, and whatever I do eat I immediately throw up.

My arms and legs looked more like sticks than actual limbs, and places where I used to have feminine curves were replaced by hard angles.

I had even suffered some hair loss due to losing a drastic amount of weight in such a short period of time.

My grimace turned into a scowl as my eyes traveled down to my swollen belly.

I was reaching seven months pregnant, close to entering my third trimester. My body had become so thin and frail that it looked like I'd topple over due to my large belly.

My fists clenched tightly as I stared down at my stomach, as if the thing growing inside me could see me glaring down at them.

'I want you gone.' I thought to myself.

If I'm lucky, maybe this monster inside me will die of malnutrition.

I pinched my arm to shake the dangerous thoughts from my head.

I cut the bathroom light off and exited the bathroom, forgetting what I had originally went in there for before getting distracted by my own reflection.

The clock's hand on the wall just outside the bathroom moved towards the six, and everyday just like clockwork, the keypad to the front door beeped and swung open, revealing him.

The reason my belly is so big.

The reason there's a monster growing inside me.

Lee Taeyong.

"Honey! I'm home-

Taeyong paused as his eyes fell on me, "Ah, there you are. Were you waiting on me?" He questioned with a wide smile as he kicked his shoes off.

My eyes drifted down to the black plastic bag in his hand, I ignored his greeting and silently pointed to the bag.

Taeyong chuckled as he approached me, placing a kiss on my cheek, "You're impatient today aren't you?"

Taeyong leaned down to my stomach and placed a tender kiss on my belly, "Hi baby." He whispered.

I felt like vomiting.

"Appa's home now." He said with a smile before standing.

He headed over to the table in the middle of the living room, placing the bag down. I followed behind him closely, my curiosity getting the best of me. He kneeled next to the table as he fished out the contents of the bag.

"Don't you want to see?" He questioned as he paused to look up at me.

I blinked at him blankly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Taeyong smirked knowingly at me before patting the spot on the couch before him. His eyes followed me as he watched me enter the living room and take a seat in front of him on the couch. He never moved from his original spot on the floor as he continued rifling through the black bag in search of something.

"It's been a while since you've painted your toenails right?" He asked as he pulled the contents from the bag to show me an assortment of brightly colored nail polishes.

I sighed as I peered down at my toenails, the paint on them was still there from when I did them a few weeks ago, although now the paint had started to chip and peel in different places. I couldn’t stand the sight of my toenails when they got like that, I was actually thankful when my belly had gotten so big I could no longer see my own feet.

I couldn't do anything about fixing my toenails anyways seeing as I stopped being able to reach my toes a while ago.

"Don't you want me to paint your nails for you? Won't that make you happy?" Taeyong smiled as he looked up at me excitedly,

I had to fight the urge to smack him.

I don't remember the last time I felt genuine happiness. And he's the reason.

Him and this fucking fetus inside me.

He searched my eyes for something before settling with a sigh, "Y/N...I'm trying..."

Try harder.

That's what I wanted to say to him.

His hands moved to clutch mine, lovingly interlacing our fingers together.

"I'm trying really hard to make up for what I've done in the past...But I can't if you won't even speak to me." He trailed, his thumb brushing over my skinny knuckles.

What did he want me to say?

It's okay Taeyong...I forgive you Taeyong for ruining my life.

If that's what he was waiting on me to say he'd die waiting to hear those words from me.

"I'll pick a color for you okay?" He said with a smile.

He squeezed my hand before pulling away to look back at the different colored polishes.

"Hmmm...blue?" He pondered, he turned to wave the sparkly blue polish at me in hopes of a response.

"It's okay if you still don't feel like saying anything. I'll keep trying until you forgive me." He smiled.

Don't bother.

He crossed his legs in front of me, placing my feet in his lap.

He carefully used a cotton ball and nail polish remover to take the paint already there off.

Taeyong continued to make mindless chatter and simple conversation as he removed the paint from my nails, none of which I responded to.

I had gotten so good at training my ears to drown his voice out that it was easy for me to forget that he was even there at times.

That was until my ears caught on to one thing he said.

"What?" I questioned, my voice came out weak and raspy from not being used in a while.

He looked up from my toes to meet my gaze. His eyes doubled in size in shock of hearing my voice for the first time in a while.

"Hm?" He questioned,

"What did you say? Just now?" I questioned, my fists clenching.

He paused momentarily as if trying to remember what he'd just said, "I said..."

"Our family will be so happy, you'll forget about your old one." He said it in such a matter of fact tone, as if it was just a guarantee.

It was so simple and he probably didn’t even mean it in the way that I took it, but I couldn’t fight the anger that started to brew in me.

"Are you crazy?" I spat out, yanking my feet away from him.

"Baby...don't be like that..." Taeyong said trying to reach out for me.

"Stop calling me that! I am not your baby, and we are not a family!" I screamed.

I couldn't stop myself as my fists raised up and I began pummeling them at him in a fit of rage. Taeyong fell back a little, surprised by my sudden attack.

He acted quickly on his feet and grabbed my wrists in his hands and yanked me up from the couch, "Y/N, stop. You're going to hurt the baby if you don't calm down."

"It's not a baby. It's a fucking monster." I hissed.

His face fell into a look of sadness, "Don't say that. That's our baby you're talking about."

I pulled my wrist back out of his grasp and landed a harsh slap to his cheek.

"I hate you. And I hate this baby because of you. It's going to turn out to be a disgusting monster just like you are." I seethed.

"Y/N....please." Taeyong said gently, trying to get me to calm down.

But I had only just started, and I was ready to let my anger take over.

"How dare you say I'll forget about my family? Are you sick in the head? You must be." I spat.

At this point tears started streaming down Taeyong’s cheeks as he soaked in my words. 

"Y/N, It's okay... I'll fix this, I'll fix everything so that we can be happy, okay? So that you can forgive me." Taeyong said between pathetic sniffles.

It only made me angrier to see him cry, I should be the one crying. He did this, this is his fault.

"No. Nothing is okay here. I could never be happy with someone like you. I could never love someone like you." I stated firmly.

I watched as Taeyong clenched his jaw, the grip he had on my other wrist tightened.The look on his face slowly morphed from sadness to anger.

"So what now, huh? You want to leave me? You want to leave so you can go back to your family, and your fiance? Is that it?" Taeyong asked with a dry chuckle.

I tensed up at the mention of my fiance.

His words were sharp and dripping with venom as they spilled out past his lips.

"Taeyong-

Before letting me finish Taeyong pulled me over to the door, punching in the code on the keypad before swinging it open.

I was hit by a cold gust of wind as the December air touched my skin.

The thin pajama set I had on did nothing to shield me from the cold weather.

"If you want to leave so bad. Go. See how much your family misses you when they see you're pregnant with my kid." Taeyong said with a twisted smirk.

I looked between him and the door. For the first time in a while I could see directly outside, I could see something other than the four walls I'd grown so used to seeing everyday.

Cars zipped past along the street, people walking along the sidewalk completely oblivious to the horrors taking place inside this house.

This is what I'd been wanting so desperately for months now.

The opportunity was being laid out right in front of me, ready for me to reach out and take it.

My heart was begging for me to run. Begging me to run far away from this wretched place and never look back.

I started to take a step past the threshold of the door before I was stopped by an abrupt kick in my stomach. A painful cramp shot up my spine as the monster inside me kicked a second time.

I couldn't go back home.

Not like this.

I couldn't go back to my family, my fiance, pregnant with my kidnappers child.

I couldn't do this to them.

I won't.

I’d already put them through the pain of losing their daughter, I couldn’t be the reason for my family’s embarassment by coming back pregnant. I had nowhere to go, and I knew I was defeated.

"It's all your fault." I said just above a whisper as I fell to the floor, my knees buckling under my weight.

I couldn't fight the ugly sobs that racked through my body as I thought about how horrible of a situation I was in.

Taeyong looked down at me with what I assumed to be pity before closing the front door.

He turned and squatted down to my level.

"I'm all you've got now, your family won't want you in their lives once they know you're pregnant. So be a smart girl and accept that this is your life now. Me and this baby are your only family now. Understand?" Taeyong questioned as he used his hand to wipe away my tears.

"Fuck you." I hissed in response.

Taeyong snickered, his lips curving up into a devilish grin.

"Soon. I don't want to risk hurting the baby."

#lee taeyong #nct taeyong #nct angst #yandere kpop #yandere nct #nct yandere #nct smut #taeyong smut

[elisela]

do you know how to do take-aways? (read on ao3) derek x stiles, g, 2.2k, au, meet cute, fluff, kid fic

prompt: call me for @tylerhunklin

--

"Hey Scott," Stiles says, jamming the phone receiver between his shoulder and ear so he can go back to typing with both his hands. "Desk duty is killing me, man, do you know how much of a backlog on paperwork there is in this place? Fucking ridiculous—"

"Stiles," Scott cuts in, “I have a call I need you to take."

Stiles sits up straighter and frowns. "We've got people out on patrol—"

Scott's laughter is warm and familiar in his ear. "No, it's not a patrol thing. I'm gonna transfer it over to you, okay? And I’m still coming to bring you dinner tonight."

"Roger," Stiles says, lazily snapping a salute despite Scott not being able to see him. There's a pause and a click, and he slips back into his professional mode—the one his dad definitely wishes he would use more often. "Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department, this is Deputy Stilinski, how can I help you?"

"Hi," a small voice says. "Do you know how to do take-aways?"

He frowns, glancing over at the display on the phone screen. He'd think it was a joke except he doubts Scott would patch that through, and there's a childish tone to the voice that's difficult to fake. "Like subtraction?" he asks.

"Yeah," the voice says. "We learned it today but I don't remember and I gotta do my homework."

He presses his lips together so he doesn't laugh and slouches, relaxing a little in his seat. "Sure do," he says. "What's your name?"

"Talia Marie Hale," she says promptly, and Stiles scribbles it down on a piece of paper. "How do I do five take away five?"

"Can you put up five fingers?" he asks, and she makes a noise of assent. "Okay, now put five of them down." He hears her counting in the background and he copies the number the shows on his display underneath her name, then clicks over to run it through the system. When she stops, he says, "okay, how many fingers do you still have up?"

"I don't have any," she says. "How do you write that?"

"Zero," he says. "Do you know how to make that? It's like a big o." He waits another moment before asking, "is anyone in the house with you, Talia?"

"Yeah, my auntie," she says. "But I can't ask her questions while she's writing unless it's an emergency."

He can't catch himself before he laughs. "What made you decide to call 9-1-1?"

"My teacher said if you ever need help you can call," Talia says. "And I really need help. What's seven take away three?"

--

The second call comes in three days later. He's peeling apart his turkey sandwich and layering Doritos on it, providing much-needed crunch, when his phone rings through from dispatch. "Sup, Scott," he says, because Scott's the only one who ever bothers to call him directly.

"Sorry, Stiles, just me," Kira says. "I have someone on the line for you. Given that she asked for you by name, maybe you could remind her that this line is for emergencies and talk to her guardian?"

He presses the top slice of bread back onto his sandwich and leans back in his chair. "Got it," he says, and waits for the click. "That you, Miss Hale?"

"Hi, Mr. Deputy Stilinski,"  she says, tiny voice chipper in his ear. "I'm really confused about this take away."

"Hit me," he says, and she giggles.

"Ten take away six," she says. "I put up all my fingers but I got confused."

He hums and glances around his desk. "Are you with your auntie again today?" he asks, and when she confirms he adds, "do you have any toys at her house?"

"I'm at my house," she says. "Auntie watches me while Daddy's away for work, but she's busy writing her thesis so I can't go in the office."

"What's your dad's name?" he asks.

"Derek Samuel Hale," she says. "And my auntie's name is Cora Elizabeth Hale, and my other auntie is Laura Margaret Hale, and my dog's name is Ruffio Hale. Like from Hook. Auntie Cora named him because she said Daddy was scared of Hook when he was my age and she likes to make fun of him. Daddy tried to rename him but he only wants to answer to Ruffio now."

He writes it all down with a grin—even the unasked for information—and flicks at his mouse to wake his computer. "Your aunt sounds pretty cool," he says. "Okay, go get ten small toys and we'll get your math done. Blocks, if you have them."

He runs Cora's name through the system as he waits, just to make sure Talia isn't being left with someone irresponsible, and finds nothing of consequence. He keeps the list, though; he'll tell Talia not to call 9-1-1 anymore unless it's an emergency, and if she does, he'll get in touch with her dad then.

--

"Little red h-hen makes s-sop," Talia reads, and pauses. "That doesn't sound right. What's ou?"

"Spell the whole thing for me," he says, and corrects, "soup," when she does, spearing a piece of microwaved chicken and popping it in his mouth. He's quiet while she reads, only interjecting when she needs help, trying to eat silently in the background. She mostly spells the comprehension questions for him and he reads them to her, and when she finally thanks him and hangs up, he looks up to see his dad standing over his shoulder.

"Hey, Pops, I finished the file on—"

"When did your desk turn in to the homework helpline?" Noah asks, frowning, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"She only calls on my break, it's fine," he says, waving a hand to brush away the question before picking up the file. "Anyway—"

"Are her parents aware?"

"I left her aunt a voicemail on Monday," he says, and when his dad just looks at him, he sighs. "Fine, I left her a message last Monday and I haven't heard back, but she's not alone in the house, nothing bad is going on, she's just—lonely, I think." It's something he understands; after his mom passed away, he'd started calling Edith, who worked the front desk of the station when he was a kid, every night his dad wasn't home.

"Call again,"  Noah says, "and next time, make whoever is home with her aware of it. Once or twice is fine; every day for weeks is a problem."

--

"Here," he says, and Talia gives him the first letter promptly before pausing and spelling out the rest. "Good job. Um, said."

He might be extending their time on the phone, just a little. He likes talking to her; she reminds him of himself, her elementary drama always makes him laugh, and she likes asking him questions about being a deputy. So he’s not really looking forward to asking to speak to her aunt and put a stop to all this.

When she seems like she’s winding down, he sighs. “I know you’re not supposed to interrupt Auntie Cora,” he says, “but I was hoping to talk to her. Can you tell her Deputy Stiles is on the phone?”

“Oh, Auntie’s not here,” Talia says, and Stiles feels the beginning of a heart attack coming on before she adds, “Daddy’s home now. I’ll go get him.” He hears a thunk and then little feet running, her calling out for her Dad before there’s a muffled thump.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi,” he says, “this is Deputy Stilinski from BHSD—is this Mr. Hale?”

“This is,” he says, and if it’s possible to fall in love with a voice, Stiles does so right then. Soft and gentle, just a bit of concern, and he has to stop himself from running Derek’s name through the system to get a photo. His dad is already irritated with him for encouraging Talia’s calls (and, you know, for the whole stopping a bank robbery in progress thing that led to the injury that landed him on desk duty), he doesn’t need to add misuse of resources to the list. “Is everything okay?”

He takes a breath and explains, starts from the beginning and includes how he gave Talia his desk number so she would stop calling 9-1-1, makes sure to add that he’d tried to get ahold of Cora—and leaves out the fact he hadn’t called Mr. Hale directly even though he could have easily done so—and when he’s finished talking, he adds, “I didn’t mind, honestly, she just told me today that you were back in town and I wanted to let you know.”

There’s a pause where he holds his breath and hopes that Mr. Hale doesn’t think he’s a creep, or doesn’t demand to speak to the Sheriff—but he just lets out a breath and says “I am so sorry, I’ll absolutely talk to her, it won’t happen again.”

“I really didn’t mind,” he says again, because he also doesn’t want to get Talia into trouble. “She must get home from school at the same time my break starts because she always called at the same time, I wasn’t busy. Just making you aware.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Hale says. “Deputy—” and isn’t Stiles going to have dreams where his name is said like that, low and grateful and—

“Sorry?” he asks, flushing when he realizes he’s lost track of the conversation. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I appreciate what you did,” Mr. Hale says. “I’ll talk to her.”

--

Talia doesn’t call the next day.

She shows up instead.

“Mr. Deputy Stiles!” he hears from the front, and his head snaps up to see a little girl with long dark hair looking around the room, envelope clutched in one hand, the holding onto the hottest man Stiles has ever seen and holy shit, he suddenly believes that karma is very real and he has clearly done something good in his life to earn this kind of reward.

He starts to stand, and her eyes catch his and light up as she tugs her dad towards him. “Miss Hale?”

“Hi!” she says, flinging her arms around his waist. He hugs her back and looks over at her dad, who gives him a sheepish look and shrugs. “I got a hundred percent on my sight words test and Daddy said we could go to ice cream to celebrate and then when we were at ice cream he said we should do something nice for you because you helped me so so so much and I really wanted to come here anyway because I want to see a real jail and Daddy said if I was really really nice and asked politely then maybe you could show me some handcuffs—”

If this is what he’s like, he’s starting to understand why it was difficult for him to make friends in school, because she just does not stop, and doesn’t leave an opportunity for him to get a word in. He crouches down so he’s eye-level with her and waits it out, accepting the envelope when she finally runs out of words and beams at him. “Thank you,” he says, and when he opens it up to find a drawing and a handful of gift cards, he looks up to Mr. Hale. “You really didn’t have to, Mr. Hale,” he says, wrapping one arm around Talia’s shoulders when she darts in to hug him again.

“Derek,” he says, and when he smiles, Stiles is pretty sure he’s found God. “We don’t want to take up your time, I just wanted to thank you.”

“But—” Talia starts, and falls quiet when Derek looks at her again. “I can’t even see the people in the jail?”

“It’s not really a jail,” Stiles says, shrugging, “just a holding cell. And there’s no one in it right now.”

“Boo,” Talia says. “Can I meet your Sheriff?”

“Lia,” Derek warns, and she sighs explosively. “Sorry about—all this. I talked to Cora and she knows to give Talia a little more attention during homework time, so she won’t—she shouldn’t—be calling you again. Talia, we need to get home. Say thank you and goodbye.”

“Bye, Mr. Deputy Stiles,” she says, and he knows—he knows—that her sticking out her bottom lip and pouting is nothing more than a manipulation tactic, but it hits him all the same. “Thank you.”

--

“Deputy Stilinski,” he says before he fully has the receiver to his ear, wadding up a piece of scrap paper and tossing it at Jordan’s head to get his attention. He motions to the pizza box laying on his desk—dinner for the station courtesy of Derek, who clearly didn’t know the going rate for tutors given the sheer amount he’d dropped on gift cards—and makes a grabbing motion. They’ll be having station dinners for weeks—so long as they cater to his busted foot and bring him what he wants. Otherwise, he’s spending it all on himself.

“Hi,” someone says, and “sorry, this is Derek Hale, Talia’s dad?”

“Hey,” he says, sitting up straighter. “How can I help you?”

“I—” there’s a pause and a muffled sound, a conversation happening just outside of what Stiles can hear. “Sorry, I—I wanted to ask if you would be interested in getting coffee on Saturday. With me,” he adds, and Stiles can hear it when he cups his hand over the microphone and says, “Talia, stop.”

It’s like a record scratch in his brain. “Coffee?” he repeats. He’d thanked karma for smiling down on him, but he’d figured the encounter with Derek was one and done. “You want—with me?”

“Yes,” Derek says, “although my daughter is also extremely interested and I believe is willing to fight me for you.”

Laughter bursts out of his mouth before he can stop it. “You know, I think Talia did call dibs first,” he says, grinning. “What if we all got coffee and then you and I went for lunch?”

“I can work with that,” Derek says. “It’s a date.”

#sterek #sterek fic #derek hale #stiles stilinski #eli writes #sterek au #deputy stiles #KID FIC #meet cute