#here in the quiet privacy of the Tags I will say

[dindjarindiaries]

Borrowed Time

summary: You can’t stop staring at Hunter during a mission, and little do you know just how distracting it is for both him and you.

pairing: sergeant hunter (tbb) x reader

tags: canon-typical violence, light angst, kissing, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.786k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

“All right.”

Hunter’s voice, modulated by his helmet, broke through your silent reverie as you finished your weapons check. You looked up to face him and instantly, your jaw locked up. This certainly wasn’t close to the first time you’d seen him in his armor, and it was likely far from the last, but today… it was hitting different.

“Does everyone remember the plan?”

Hunter’s visor looked around the group. You couldn’t peel your gaze from him, and when his visor found you, he didn’t look away, either. It was only when Tech spoke up that the two of you shifted your attention to him. “Considering that you briefed us on the plan only a standard hour’s time ago, I would confidently say that yes. We remember.” He began tapping around on his datapad once again. “We ought to get moving if we would like to make any progress.”

“Good call, Tech.” Hunter nodded at him. “Are comms being monitored?”

“It doesn’t appear so at the moment.” Tech glanced up from his datapad to return Hunter’s nod. “That is why I suggested we move in.”

“Right.” Hunter led the way, and you were more than happy to keep your eyes on him. You blinked a few times and shook your head. There was a time and place for admiring him, and a mission wasn’t one of them.

But the lack of privacy the two of you always had to deal with left no luxury of picking and choosing when such feelings and urges would arise. You had to take any chance you could get, even if that meant your admiration would happen during a risky job.

Hunter led the group through the foliage that surrounded the hangar you were infiltrating. Cid had you chasing some kind of valuable fuel, but unlike Tech, you had somewhat drifted off during the briefing and knew next to nothing else about it. You couldn’t help it when the glow of the holoprojector had started to illuminate the golden flecks in Hunter’s eyes. He was more important than the plan in that moment.

It wasn’t long before there was a break in the trees, and Hunter crouched down before motioning for the rest of you to do the same. You weren’t far behind him, which gave you the chance to watch the steady rise and fall of his armored shoulders as he focused on observing the wide stretch of the open hangar.

“Sunny?” Omega’s voice whispered your nickname to get your attention. You leaned down to show her you were listening, despite the fact your gaze remained on Hunter. “Do you see something?”

You huffed and offered her a sweet look. “Nothing out of the ordinary, Omega.”

“Oh, okay.” Omega gave you a small smile. “You just looked really focused.” She gestured to her own forehead, and that’s when you realized there was a small knit of focus in your brow.

You fought the urge to laugh as your ears burned. “I’m only keeping an eye out. It’s a little eerie around here.”

“You can say that again,” Echo muttered from your other side. “I’m not liking this.”

“You say that about every job!” Wrecker reminded him.

Hunter’s helmet whipped around as he lifted a finger over where his mouth would be. “Quiet.”

You inhaled a breath and didn’t let go of it. It sat in your chest as you hung on his every move, your gaze zeroing in on his gloved fingers as they took some of the dirt and sifted it in a slow and steady motion. Then came your exhale, along with a slight tightening of your hand upon your own thigh as you kept yourself in place.

“The cargo’s on the other side of the hangar.” Hunter kept his voice low as he addressed the squad once again. You looked at him through your lashes as an attempt to keep your gaze focused on something other than him. Obviously, it hadn’t worked. “I can sense where they’re using it.” He drew his blaster and nodded. “Let’s head in.”

Hunter wasted no time leading the way yet again. He was sliding down the slight decline that separated the foliage from the furthest edges of the hangar, and you should’ve been following. Instead, you assured everyone you would bring up the rear, just so you could finish watching him. When he reached the ground, he stayed low, but you saw his visor find you as he gestured with his head for you to come down next.

You pulled your blaster and obeyed, this time staying attentive to what you were doing for fear of misstepping and losing your footing. When you reached the bottom, an outstretched hand was already there to help you up. You took it and made the sweet mistake of looking up, meeting the intensity of Hunter’s visor that never once left your gaze as one easy tug got you back onto your feet.

He didn’t let go of your hand, not right away. You could’ve melted right there if his sense of duty didn’t pull him back to the moment.

With a lingering touch, he pulled away and checked on the rest of the group, who had all just gotten back into position on their feet. “Okay. Plan seventy-two.” He pointed to the right side of the hangar. “Echo, Wrecker, and Omega, you’re on the diversion. Tech,” he turned his helmet, “you’re with me and Sunny.” He gestured to the extractor on Tech’s belt. “How much time will you need?”

Tech clicked around on his datapad before answering. “Not much. It seems that this type of fuel responds well to extraction, and thanks to my keen ability to handle such delicate operations, I should only need a standard minute or two to complete the procedure.”

Hunter nodded, then his visor found Echo. You still hadn’t looked away from him, not even once, and so your gaze didn’t follow his as he looked at the ARC trooper. “Echo?”

“I’ll trigger an alarm to reroute forces.” Echo gestured to the collection of ships by their designated area. “There should be a scomp over there.”

“And if that doesn’t work, I’ll blow something up,” Wrecker assured the squad.

“Fine,” Hunter agreed, setting his weight on his hip and lifting his arm to point his blaster at the ground. “Just make sure Omega’s fully out of the blast range this time.”

You bit back your smile. Protective. Omega had been quite far away from Wrecker’s last blast, but that hadn’t been enough for Hunter, of course. It only made the warmth within your chest and stomach burn more as you gave him a once-over that was dangerously obvious.

When your gaze had risen back up to his helmet, you realized his visor was already on you—and it likely had been the entire time. He began to tilt his helmet at you, but you couldn’t tell if it was a look of warning or a look of reciprocated desire.

“Hunter, we need to get going.” Tech’s voice broke through your brief trance as Hunter’s visor snapped over to his brother. “If we delay much longer, their diversion will be for nothing.”

Both you and Hunter looked to see that Echo, Wrecker, and Omega had already left. So much for being subtle. You could take the blame for that one. “Right.” Hunter lifted his blaster and ran ahead, sticking to the shadows as you and Tech did the same.

You were inside the hangar and running between cargo crates when Hunter suddenly raised his fist and began to back up behind one of the crates. The momentum from your running nearly made you run right into him, but without missing a beat, Hunter lowered his hand to reach behind himself and grab your thigh to steady you. He pressed you between his hand and the crate, keeping his grasp there until the small patrol of guards passed by.

Tech had already made it to the next crate, and he kept an eye out as Hunter slowly swung his helmet to face you. His voice was low in a tone he would never use with the others as he spoke to you. “You okay? You seem… distracted.”

You played it coy as you nodded. “Yeah, Hunter, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His helmet tilted again, but he said nothing for a moment. Instead, he returned your nod and leaned even closer. “Good. Keep that focus.” His hand gave your thigh a quick squeeze before he began to follow in Tech’s footsteps.

You blinked a few times before following. There was no way Hunter realized how difficult it would be to follow that order, especially when he was behaving in such a way—which, you supposed, was just the normal way he acted on every mission. Somehow, that made it even worse.

At one point, Tech stopped behind another crate, looking at Hunter behind him. “Are we close to the fuel source?”

Hunter didn’t answer right away, and it wasn’t hard to tell why. He was focusing on his senses, and he helped himself to lock in even more by kneeling down and setting his palm upon the hangar’s floor. You watched as his gloved fingers gently splayed across the floor, and you had to circle your jaw to fight the flushing feeling it brought you. “We’re close.” Hunter rose up and pointed with two fingers to a cargo crate diagonal from your position. “It should be just beyond there.”

Tech nodded, taking a cautious look before he launched forward. You and Hunter followed, with you trailing just behind Hunter. It was a view you couldn’t resist, even if you were arguably focusing on where you were going. There had to be a way of following Hunter’s gentle order while also obeying your demanding heart.

Once you had gotten to the crate Hunter had pointed out before, the fuel source became more obvious. It glowed a bright green as it bubbled inside its transparisteel container. You, unsurprisingly, stared at Hunter as his visor studied it for a moment. “Are you gonna need help with that, Tech?”

“I will assume that is not an insult and kindly reject your offer,” Tech assured him. “Like I said before,” he took the extractor from his belt, “I have a keen ability for such delicate operations.”

Before anyone could say anything else, a blaring alarm sounded throughout the hangar. The three of you stayed concealed in the shadow of the cargo crate as guards began to run from their posts over to where Echo, Wrecker, and Omega were luring them. After three groups of guards had gone by, Hunter nodded at Tech, and he made his way over to the container to extract the fuel.

And even then, you couldn’t look at anything except the small sliver of skin that became apparent by Hunter’s chin as he surveyed the area to watch Tech’s back. You should’ve been doing the same, and you did every once in a while, but the pull back to Hunter was magnetic, as if he was a constant pulse you couldn’t stop sensing.

Hunter’s visor eventually found you again, and he slightly eased his grip on his blaster as he tilted his helmet. “Sunny.” He gestured with his blaster to your surroundings. “You’re supposed to be keeping watch.”

You huffed. “I am watching.” It was true; you were watching something, just not what you were supposed to be. The way you peeled your gaze away from him for the moment, though, was  enough to convince Hunter.

Just as Tech had promised, he was quick with the extraction, and he was soon joining you and Hunter once again with the fuel secured on his belt. “The extraction is complete.”

“Good work, Tech.” Hunter looked over at his brother and nodded. “Get back to the ship and power it up. Sunny and I will go help the others.”

Both yours and Tech’s eyebrows shot up at that. It made no sense; Hunter could easily call them off over the comms. Tech seemed to have the same thought, and he spoke on it before you could. “Comms still are not being monitored, Hunter. We can—.”

“That’s an order, Tech.” Hunter’s tone left no room for argument.

Tech sighed, nodding once more before he backtracked the way you had all come. You were still furrowing your brow at Hunter, who was beginning to lurk out from the other end of the cargo crate. “Hunter, what’s going on?”

He glanced back at you and gestured with his head to a long set of cargo crates. “This way.”

Your confusion grew, but there was no point in questioning him. You followed him over to the crates and waited to line yourself up along its shadows. Instead, Hunter’s arm seized your waist, and he pulled you into the small space left between the two looming cargo crates.

Before you could fully make sense of it, you realized you were trapped between one of the crates and Hunter’s body, one of his hands still on your waist as the other, with his blaster, was pressed against the crate by your head. You could only look at him in awe as he spoke. “Why did you lie to me?”

You blinked a few times, and the tips of your ears began to burn. “What are you talking about?”

Hunter said your real name, his voice still low as he leaned even closer. You swallowed hard as the heat of his body washed over you in the sweetest wave. “You’ve been staring at me ever since the briefing.” He lifted his hand from your waist only to grab the lip of his helmet and lift it over his head. Your breath caught in your lungs at the sight of his gaze, which was darkened in the same amount of desire you felt for him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

You shrugged, giving him a once-over just like before. “I thought your senses might’ve been… otherwise occupied.”

Hunter raised his brow. “Trust me, my senses are working overtime.” His arm wrapped around the side of your waist, even as he continued to hold his helmet in that grasp. “But only because they’re so committed to you that they refuse to let me focus on anything else when you’re around.”

You looked between his eyes and his lips, caught in your conflict between the invisible tether that brought you closer to him and the rest of the galaxy that was still in chaos around you. “Hunter,” you breathed his name, and at that point, your breath was fanning right over his lips. Your hands betrayed your weak protest as they wove themselves into his hair. “The mission.”

“The mission.” Hunter repeated your words and let the corner of his mouth rise in a smug smile. “It’s giving us the two things we never have: time,” his lips brushed your own, “and privacy.”

You couldn’t resist him. It didn’t matter how bad of an idea it was, and it certainly didn’t matter that you were at risk of being seen by anyone in the vicinity should they get curious. All that mattered was him, the man you had been staring at this entire time, and the fact that the warmth of his mouth and his body was on you in all the ways you’d been wanting for much too long.

All at once, he flooded your senses, from the touch of his hair on your hands to the pleased hum that he breathed into you. It was hard to separate each desperate move you made together, and even more impossible to count the seconds or minutes that ticked by as his tongue explored your mouth as if he’d never have the chance to do so again. It was breathless, passionate, and desperate all at once, with the adrenaline of the mission only adding to the sweet chaos that kept you going back for more time and time again.

Eventually, your lungs demanded air, but somehow Hunter’s didn’t need the same luxury. His lips grazed down to your neck to let you practically gasp for air underneath the hot warmth of his mouth. Each exhale you managed was dedicated to him, utterances of his name or simple breaths and sweet curses. You willed your lungs to take in enough air so you could have his lips on yours again, and soon, they allowed you to take a hold of his jaw and raise it enough for you to bring yourself back to him.

Your surroundings had long since disappeared in the haze of your affection, but for Hunter, that would never be a reality. That’s how he noticed the guard who had stopped at the place where the two of you had entered and was able to lift, aim, and stun them without missing even a single matching stroke of your tongue.

It only made your knees weaken even more.

But that distraction was enough to make the galaxy around you louder in your roaring ears, and with Hunter’s helmet just behind your back, you were able to hear the muffled voices of your squad. With a strength you never realized you were capable of, you pulled yourself away from him and spoke between pants. “The comms,” you managed. “Your helmet.”

Hunter tightened his jaw, unraveling his arm from your waist to set his helmet over his head. He kept two fingers on the side of it, and the slight tilt of his head made you hold back a giggle as you smoothed out the wrinkles in your clothes as well as in Hunter’s scarf. “We’re not far behind,” Hunter insisted. “We were just on our way to your position.” You playfully rolled your eyes at his lie as he finished. “We’ll head back to the ship.”

As he lowered his hand, you raised your brow. “Who’s the liar now?”

Hunter sighed, his hand brushing over your back as he nodded. “Come on, love. Let’s go.”

Your chest burned with a lovely ache at the nickname as the two of you stepped over the stunned guard and retreated back to the Marauder. Your pace never slowed, and thanks to the diversion Echo, Wrecker, and Omega had pulled off, you didn’t have to worry about being seen by any more guards. It wasn’t long before the two of you reached the ship, which the others had only just arrived to themselves.

“Okay, Tech,” Hunter called to his brother in the cockpit after he’d done a quick headcount. “Get us out of here.”

As Tech initiated takeoff, Omega approached you, her brow furrowed in concern. You instantly got down to her level as she met your gaze. “Sunny, what happened?” Omega gave you a worried once-over. “Did you get hurt?”

You lifted an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean, Omega?”

Omega pointed towards the cockpit. “Tech said on the comms that you and Hunter were coming to meet us, but you never did.”

You fought the warmth that attempted to enter your face as you instead reassured her with a smile. “We just got sidetracked, that’s all. There were a few lingering guards.”

“Really?” The sound of Echo’s voice caused you to look up at him. His expression was much too mischievous for your liking. “That’s surprising.”

Hunter was the one to speak up for you. His tone was coated in caution as he lifted his helmet from his head. “Why?”

Echo leaned against the back of the nearest chair. “Because that alarm I set off was supposed to summon every guard to our post.”

Hunter set his helmet down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, it didn’t.”

Echo’s brow shot up. “Are you sure about that?”

“Hunter is telling the truth.” Tech emerged from the cockpit, having already gotten the Marauder into hyperspace. “I saw him stun a guard not far from the fuel supply while he and Sunny were engaged in a passionate kiss.”

Your jaw dropped, and your heart went right with it. Hunter froze beside you, and Echo’s lips stretched in a shit-eating grin as Wrecker broke the stunned silence first. “A what?” He shuffled Omega in front of himself and covered her ears with his hands. She glanced up at him with confusion.

Tech furrowed his brow. “Does that information surprise you?”

“It doesn’t surprise you?” Echo remarked. Meanwhile, you had slightly turned your head towards Hunter, hoping you could somehow hide yourself from this awkward tension.

“Each part of what I have said is rational to me,” Tech explained. “One guard stayed behind with the fuel supply, and Hunter and Sunny have never been subtle with their own relationship. It makes utter and complete sense for them to take advantage of a moment spent alone when we have constantly been around them for many rotations.”

The Marauder had never been more silent. You sighed and rested your hand against your forehead as you spoke. “Thank you for that, Tech.”

Hunter subtly brushed a hand over your back to soothe you as he spoke up next. “I thought you were going back to the ship.”

“I only returned when you were not answering my comm,” Tech argued. “I was attempting to warn you about the lingering guard.”

“We would’ve realized what happened anyway,” Echo insisted. He looked between the two of you and drew a circle around his own mouth. “Lips don’t lie.”

You and Hunter glanced at each other, and it was hard to bite back a smile of amusement when you realized Echo was right. The intensity of your kiss was left behind in evidence on his mouth, and you were sure your own—and possibly even your neck—was just as bad, if not worse.

“We still achieved the objective,” Tech reminded you all. “So what ought to be learned here is that… well, perhaps we should let the two of you have more privacy outside the bounds of a mission.”

Hunter raised his brow at you, and your smile spoke for you before he responded. “That would be nice.”

“Yeah.” You brought yourself just a step closer to his side. “That would be nice.”

But deep down, you both knew the truth; you would do it all over again on the next mission if it meant recreating even a fraction of the moment you had just shared.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

#WE DID IT and man oh man do i feel like it's worth it #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x you #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fic #dindjarindiaries

[monster-noises]

I came on here to make a different post initially and I may still make that post in the tags but now the main body of this post is gunna be about how weird it is that of all the things I have come on here to Repeatedly Gripe about like some big sad lump I am regularly embarrassed and ashamed to write posts about me wanting a relationship and the troubles my mind has about it? Like it's not Less personal than me writing about any other issue I am dealing with but somehow it Feels Different and I keep shying away from it and it's really backing things up in the ol' noggin, which isn't Great

#monster noises #anyway #here in the quiet privacy of the Tags I will say #I am worried that I won't be able to initiate or maintain a relationship until I fucking Deal With Some Things #Primarily surrounding complexes I have about the people in my life sharing or not sharing my interests #that make it very difficult for me to draw the line between #'it's okay that I like this and you don't and vice versa' #and 'If we don't agree on this then deals off we won't work' #my whole life has been me Not Quiet fitting in in places I Fit In #so to speak.. #and having differing interests even from my closest friends that either get made fun of #though not true nowadays #I have better friends #or simply like.. we can't even enjoy them together casually because they are That radically different #and even probably freak the other person out #and it's really isolating!! for a lot of other reasons involving my social challenges! #and I find myself on Apps and such and in person even too #reflexively writing people off on things that like.. are probably fine #but I don't have a good concept of what Probably Fine actually is??? so like???? ah???? #and I am afeared that this is going to just.. constantly interfere with me even getting of the Ground #and I will be stuck single until I can fucking untangle this knot #but like Cool Rad Cool #Who Wants To Pay For My Therapist For That Or Am I Just Fucked Forever Basically #I Feeeeeeel like actually getting to be in a relationship might help me navigate this because I'm flying a Bit blind here #but you can kinda #see the paradox with That idea already #so like Whomp Whomp

[deus-ex-mona]

✨cursed thoughts✨ only

#disclaimer: i’m not saying that you should go out to catch covid or anything. please don’t >:( take care of yourselves!!!!!! #drink tons of water and wear your masks whenever possible!!!!!! stay safe!!!!!!!!!!! #very very long rambling in the tags below please take caution— #so i got checked in to a quarantine facility and ngl i love it here. i get a room to myself(!!!!!) and meals at stipulated hours. with cake! #there’s also free wifi and no roommates (for now at least) and actual air conditioning!!!!!!!!!!!! #plus there’s an actual desk(!!!!!!) here and i’m more productive than i’ve ever been for the past few *years* #in fact i managed to finish chapter 13 of idol sengen as well (but that’s queued for a few hours later) #i finally have some privacy and some gd peace and quiet for the first time in like 4 years. it’s amazing. i almost don’t wanna leave #minus the occasional coughing fits (and the fact that the shower has only 2 settings of ‘boiling’ or ‘freezing’)… this is the ✨life✨ #but if i don’t leave i can’t get my burger king. or my bubble tea. or my ramen. or my mcdonalds. or my— #just wait as i tl the entire daizo event in one shot tomorrow (lol) #anyway day 1 of quarantine was good. minus the travelling in the mf ✨covidmobile✨ #inedible blubbering #it is suiyoubi my dudes

[miserycanary]

DEFINITELY NUTS ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & model!fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost mentions you but 141 doesn't believe that he got a wife

tags: crack (well, attempted), fluff

Ghost’s strict rules for privacy are something the 141 has known for years now. He’s not the type of person to blab about his personal life and often chooses just to keep quiet. So, imagine their surprise when he suddenly says that he’s going to take a day off because his wife asked him to watch a play. 

“Price, ‘am not gonna be here tomorrow. Got a date with my missus.”

All eyes are on him, everyone stills. “WIFE? Since when?!” Soap exclaimed, finally breaking the silence. His eyes were almost bulging out his eyes. “Never told you about her?” Ghost hums, unamused by the Scottish’s exclaim. “Johnny here does have a reasonable reaction. You never tell us anything ‘bout you, mate,” Price joined, chuckling and pulling out a cigar. The man just contemplates before brushing it off and bidding farewell, leaving the group confused. 

“Ain’t no way he’s telling us the truth. That man ain’t got no bone in his body to bag someone,” Soap voiced out, looking for anyone to support his disbelief. “I mean..” Gaz whistles out, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head as if he’s agreeing to some extent. That’s when, unbeknownst to Ghost, he got the reputation of being delusional and a liar. 

Soap, still doubtful days later, watches the lieutenant with a vision like a hawk. “Hey, lieutenant.” Ghost snaps his head up, looking at him. “How was the date with your wife?” Immediately, everyone else stopped what they were doing, silently listening. It was obvious he was baiting Ghost, emphasizing the wife as if putting on quotes. They weren’t as nosy as Soap but each one of them still held a bit of doubtness that the brick wall of the team managed to get a girl, and even marry her.

“It was okay. The missus had fun,” Ghost chuckles, fondly remembering how you were beaming on the way, rambling about the plot of the play. “Can we see pictures?” Soap smirked thinking he finally got the lieutenant but was taken aback when Ghost only shrugged and pulled out his phone before freezing. “Ah, we didn’t take pictures yesterday. Said she wanted to live in the moment.” 

Soap whipped his head to signal to Gaz, seemingly saying ‘See? He’s definitely lying! How convenient he has no pictures.” 

“How about just a picture of your wife?” Kyle suggested, now invested while Price seemed to be shaking his head in the corner. “I have none with me but..” With a few clicks, Ghost holds up his phone for everyone to see. Like birds, everyone flocked around him, curious to see. For a while, everyone was surprised and sure the man was lying. I mean, he just showed them a picture of a drop-dead gorgeous model from a magazine! 

‘He's definitely lost it’ everyone seemed to think, offering pity glances at the man who had this prideful shine in his eyes. Walking up to his superior, Soap patted him on the back. “It’s fine, mate… we understand how difficult it must be.” ‘not having a lady at all’

Thinking Johnny meant about your hectic schedule, he agreed. “It’s quite tough but we make it work,” he chuckled which made everyone wince.

‘Definitely nuts!’

Weeks passed after that and the topic never got brought up, until Ghost came in with a bento in hand covered with a handkerchief with frilly ends. When asked about it, he replied, “Ah, wife’s testing out recipes for an upcoming TV show. ‘S been practicing and asked me to bring one.” Once again, he was given pity glances and even heard a defeated sigh from Soap. 

‘He’s too far gone’

“How’s work?” you ask, dazedly paying attention to the movie you guys put, more invested in burying your face in Simon’s chest while he drapes both arms on your waist, completely engulfing your torso under his muscles. “Been getting a few weird stares,” he mumbles, playing with your hair and pressing kisses on your forehead. “Why?” you peer up, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I don’ know, princess.”

Meanwhile…

“Should we just… finally set the lieutenant on a date? I feel bad. I mean, he even lied about his “wife” making him lunch,” Johnny sighed.

“Probably the best idea,” Kyle nodded.

Now Price… he knows the truth. He met you before when you dropped by, asking for Ghost— which ended horribly— but he’ll lying if he said he’s not getting a kick out of this.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: probably won't be posting for a while :] Did you guys notice the hint to my previous work? Please do. 😔

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

#simon ghost x you #simon riley cod #simon riley fluff #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #john price cod #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #ghost fluff #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #canary’s melodies

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#376

“Hey Caleb.  You were in that bathroom for a while.  Big shit or were you giving it a tug?  Considering your swim trunks is showing no bulge whatsoever, I doubt you were enjoying your right hand.  Or do you use the left?  Me personally, I’m a lefty….

“Your dad and I were just talking by the pool.  I asked him how long he knew you were gay….  Oh I wish you could see the shocked look on your face.  So you haven’t told him.  He was shocked too.  He said you weren’t.  I told him that I’ve been around sperm burpers all my life and you were a classic pole rider.

“You haven’t said much.  Not one word of protest.  You are just trying to figure out what your next step is going to be.  Don’t worry, I love fucking with your dad.  He’s worked for me for ten years now.  He knows my sense of humor and just brush it off.  Besides he’s been drinking.  But I got enough out of him to convince me that you definitely gob the knob.

“You wanna swing on my dick, or not?  Here let me take it out for ya.  I can see by the lump forming in your shorts that you want it.  Am I right?...  Your dad likes to say that you are quiet and keep to yourself.  I can see that.  Just nod then.

“Ok, let’s do this then.  This guest room’s toilet serves as the overflow bathroom.  Someone will interrupt us.  Come with me.  My bedroom will offer us some more privacy.  Your dad already thinks you are off reading a book on your phone.  Nobody is going to miss me for a while….  It’s a large house.  When I bought it, I had an addition put on for my master suite….  When you enter my bedroom, lose the swim trunks.  Boys are to be naked at all times in my bedroom.

“Damn boy, you are rock hard.  So, were you jerking off or taking a dump in the toilet?...  Look, when it comes to sex, I cut to the point.  There’s no need to be coy.  I’m going to be fucking that pussy of yours, and I want to know if you are empty first.  Good.  Did you also give it a tug?...  Of course, you did. 

“Come here.  Point to the guy you were jerking off to….  You are at a construction company pool party where 80% of the men here work for me.  There are more muscles out there from hard work than a fag like you can take in.  Which one?...

“…Of course, you would go for Stan.  So you like big guys?  He’s six four and built like a brick shit house.  Have you talked to him?...  He can be a bit of an gruff asshole.  The guys call him Ox.  He has a dick to match.  Not the brightest guy, but damn he’s a hard worker and a brutal fucker.  Yeah, he’s tag teamed with me a couple of times.  He can fuck for hours.

“Come with me.  This closet door leads downstairs to my hidden playroom.  I had it specifically designed and loaded up for just about every kink my dick was interested in.  You’re what 20?  You probably don’t know about all these things.  I do know this: you are leaking up a storm. 

“Don’t touch yourself.  Let the leak flow.  Why don’t you have a look around?  I need to text a few of my guests to let them know that I had to step away for a bit.

“That’s a St. Andrew’s cross.  If you have an interest in being whipped, I’d be happy to oblige….  Didn’t think so. 

“Those are my four rim seats.  They are for eating ass.  Depending on my mood, they vary based on how secure the boy is underneath.  That last one secures the boy’s legs up so he can get fucked while he’s eating my shithole. 

“No. No.  Leave your dick alone.  I want you to leak….

“There.  All the appropriate texts have been sent.  Now, we’ll have some time to really have fun.  Come over there.  This is a fuck bench.  Simple.  Easy access both holes.  Climb up.  Knees go here; elbows here.

“Oh, you have a pretty cunt.  Nice….  Oh, you are not as tight as I thought you would be; my finger just slid in.  I take it you are not a virgin.  That’s fine.  I get it, a cunt needs to be fed.  You get fucked at college?...  Kinda figured. 

“Ever been tied up?...  No?  There’s always a first time. 

“Ok, so here’s the situation.  I’ve applied a small amount of lube to your cunt lips.  Your mouth, or rather your throat needs to put some slime on me.  I will probably go between your holes.

“I put a sludge plate under your dick to collect your pre-cum and when I eventually allow you, your cum.

“Open wide…. Oh fuck.  Your mouth feels good.  Oh shit, you know how to work your tongue.  You little faggot whore.  Oh man.  Fuck.

“I gotta try that cunt.  If it’s as good as your throat, boy…

“…Right to the root.  Right to the fucking root.  Wait.  What the fuck?...  Do that again….  Boy you are something.  I could just stand here, and you can squeeze my cock like that all day.  It feels like you are jerking me off with your hole.

“Where the fuck did you learn all this?  No twenty-year-old stumbles on how to treat a cock like you.  Who taught you?

“…Your math professor?  Damn, I never would have thought a math professor would have been so twisted. 

“Say faggot, you have a job?...  Living off your dad, hunh?  You probably go out looking for dick when he’s at work.  You fucking faggot whore.  How would you like to come work for me?  It’ll be in my main office.  It’s a tiny office, just me and my manager Dwight.  You’ll actually have office responsibilities in addition to servicing me and Dwight.  Yeah, he’s another guy that I work with that I play around with.  I employ four or five guys that also enjoy using faggots like you, although Dwight also uses bitches too.

“This is a serious offer.  Your dad doesn’t need to know anything other than you are working in my office.  I need to have these holes accessible.  You want to do that?...

“…Fuck yeah!  I’m getting close faggot.  Keep doing what you are doing.  Oh shit.  Oh shit!  Here it cums!  Shit yeah!

“You keep performing like this, and I’ll pay you what I do your dad.

“So, did the math professor teach you other kinks?…  Eating ass and piss drinking!  Hell yeah!  So you have been under a rim seat?...  No, he just sat on your face.  Did he tie you up, or get rough?...  He wanted to?  Boy, when a man wants to use you the way he wants you need to let him.

“Oh fuck, climb down.  And keep my load in you.  Here hop up on this fuck table.  I want to sample that tongue.  Legs go in the stirrups.  I will be securing your legs in them….  Wrists will be secure at your sides in these cuffs.

“You still in contact with the professor?...  Good.  I want to invite him over some weekend so we can use you all weekend long. 

“This table was designed for butt play as well as eating ass.  Your head goes here onto the head rest off the end.  I can lower the head rest and your head back so that opens your throat to a deep straight throat fuck, but I primarily use it by lifting it up like this to support your head when I straddle it like this.  Now your face is wedged in my ass, with me just standing here.  Get that tongue going.

“Oh fuck.  Fag, this will definitely be part of your office responsibilities.  Dwight will love it too.  As will Ox….

“Hey Ox….

“Faggot, I took the liberty of telling Ox to join us when I sent out those texts.

“Holy shit Ox, this is Murphy’s boy.  He’s a total cunt pig.  I just hired him to work for me in the main office.  Wait until you try his holes. 

“Shut up faggot!  This doesn’t concern you….  Get back to sticking your tongue into my shitter.

“He does this pulse thing with his cunt muscles.  You have to try it.  My load is still inside.

“Hey fagboy, you ever have a baseball bat in your cunt?...  No?...  Well it would have been practice for what’s about to be shoved into you.  You know that bulge you jerked off to is going in your twat.

“Scream in my ass.  Keep that tongue going in deep.  Oh fuck! 

“Look at how much he’s leaking.  Give it to him.  Hard.  He’s shaking.  Keep plowing….  Oh shit!  He’s fucking cumming.  Without his hands, that’s fucking amazing.

“Fag, I don’t care that you shot a huge load.  Ox takes a while to get going.  I’ll be right back.  Ron Owens needs to try you out. 

“Fag, while I’m gone, I want you to focus on the man you jerked off to—the man that is tearing up your cunt.  Here, let me undo your hands.  Run them over his chest.  Feel those muscles and that chest hair.

“Ox, don’t you dare cum before we get back.  Keep pile driving into him, and don’t let up, even if he begs.”

“Faggot, this is only the beginning….”

[shibaraki]

TO BUILD A HOME ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

synopsis: todoroki shouto is the ideal roommate. he is tidy, quiet, considerate, and one of your dearest friends. you almost wished he were a tactless slob. it would certainly make navigating your feelings for him easier.

tags: GN reader, friends to lovers, pro hero shouto, quirk support engineer reader, living together (and they were roommates!), mutual pining, fluff, alcohol, other character interactions, domesticity, jealous shouto, a little angst, minor oc, love confessions, making out + frottage

wc: 14K+

a/n: I wrote a little bonus sequel for this au about their first date which you can read here !! [+4K]

Shouto’s home strikes a dissonant note with you.

You’re a statuesque centrepiece in his living room, staring out his tall standing windows, paneled wall to wall and making for a beautiful view of the city. There’s a soft shine to it, iridescent from corner to corner. A privacy film to block any view into the apartment from the outside, you’re guessing.

Despite your closeness you’ve never had reason to visit until now. There’s far too much space for one man, you think. Jarringly, it’s as if you’ve stepped into a studio display. A picture perfect bachelor pad— but really, what bachelor pad needed three family sized bedrooms?

It feels awfully lonely.

Shouto heaves the last of your boxes onto the kitchen island with ease. The muscles in his arms flex under his loose shirt, fabric briefly tightening. Unfair, you think. He hasn’t even broken a sweat.

Back straightening, you watch Shouto roll back his shoulder and rub at the joint. The movement causes the hem to lift and flash a pale swath of skin, his shorts hung low on his hips. The weight in your arms is somehow heavier with his eyes turned onto you.

“You can set it down,” he says, his tone full of warm mirth. The disbelief must be written plain on your face. Your fingers tighten on the corners as he walks over. Tilting his head, the red strands that have been haphazardly pushed back into white slip over his forehead. You watch his gaze dart over the label scribbled onto the card that reads ‘toiletries’.

“I know. I’m just…” your jaw shifts and you swallow, a frown etched into your brow. “I don’t know. Got a little lost in my thoughts”.

“Feel free to change whatever you like,” his mouth curls into a small smile, scar wrinkling by his eye. You are taken by just how happy he looks to have you here. Shouto seemed the type to appreciate his own space. “I want you to be comfortable”.

“Whatever I like?” you echo teasingly, shucking the box up in your embrace and bumping his shoulder. “Famous last words. Maybe I’ll decide to renovate your other guest room into a mini workshop”.

Shouto exhales a quiet laugh. The air around him is displaced by an ephemeral wave of heat that seeps through your sweater; it cools back to room temperature as quick as it came.

“I wouldn’t oppose it,” he says, and your breath catches. Reaching to poke at the box, he adds, “Do you want me to help you unpack?”

You begin to shake your head. “No, no. I can do all that, don’t worry,” you demurred nervously.

“It wouldn’t be a problem”.

Memories of all the things you managed to salvage in the wreck flicker across your mind's eye. Mugs and plates, a few clothes, oil stained tools and various other inappropriate things you’d rather die than have him accidentally discover.

But he’s staring at you like a restless puppy. You relent, “Maybe you can put away the kitchen stuff then”.

After Shouto retreats you are left adrift to navigate the narrow corridors. The room he directs you to has the biggest guest bed and it shares a wall with his own room. You shuffle in, processing your surroundings. Your linens are freshly washed, tucked in tight at the corners, and they smell like him.

You lower another box on top of the bed and sit by the headboard. The mattress yields. Admittedly it is much more comfortable than your old bed used to be. Soft, you sink into a foamy embrace, smoothing a hand over the matching pillowcases, then reaching up to the shared accent wall.

Reality has hardly set in for you yet. It’s been four days since you lost your home, most of your earthly possessions along with it, and the life you had spent years building. The villain that managed to frisbee a car through your living room had been apprehended but not before destroying half the city block.

Shouto immediately volunteered his own place. You have been close friends for years now, having met during your second year at UA as a support course student. You’d worked with Yaomomo on redesigning her costume for your portfolio and managed to worm your way into their quaint friend group.

Your initial crush on him all that time ago burgeoned into something you’re too anxious to put a name to. When he first suggested you live with him while the city fixed everything you’d wanted to refuse. So far lack of proximity has been your only saving grace.

But you really had nowhere else suitable to stay. A hotel would be too costly in the long run. Your other friends are scattered across different prefectures and those who are in the city are too far from work.

Shouto practically sparkled when you agreed, plucked right out of a shoujo manga.

You remember this as your fingers curled into a loose fist and gave the wall a quiet knock. All the tension accumulated in your shoulders relaxes at the dull sound. “Atleast it isn’t thin,” you mused.

There’s a large closet adjacent to the bed, deep enough that you could crawl inside comfortably. Windows that stretch above your head and overlook the busy streets. You notice that same iridescent sheen, alongside a large blind connected to the control pad fixed by your doorway. They roll down as you fiddle and remind you of those old school projectors from the pre quirk era.

The walls are almost entirely bare. Your imagination drifts to the countless books and photo albums you managed to bring, envisioning them taking up the empty space. It makes you wonder what Shouto’s room looks like. You squash that thought.

When you rejoin him he stands with his back to you, blades shifting under the material as he plays with a small round object held between his fingers. Closing the distance you realise it is one of your stress balls.

His expression is entirely relaxed, bright with a little child-like satisfaction. He pulls at the flexible rubber, rolling it under his thumbs, flattening in between his palms. Your novelty mugs are lined up in the open cupboard right beside his own, entirely forgotten.

As not to startle him you call out gently, “Hey”.

Your voice stalls his movement. Shouto pivots and meets your eyes; they widen as you laugh, amused by his forced nonchalance. He clears his throat, “Hi. Are you happy with the room?”

Humming an affirmative, you sidle up next to him and poke at the ball. “It’s fine, thank you. Nicer than my old place”.

Redirecting his attention to the ball, he squeezes it so hard the foamy rubber protrudes through the gaps in his fingers and lets go, smiling as it retains its original shape. “I liked your old apartment,” he murmurs. “It suited you”.

“Because I’m a mess, you mean?” drawn back into Shouto’s orbit, you lean against his left side. He mirrors your weight until you are like two pillars braced against one another, standing uselessly in the middle of his obviously unused kitchen. Your heart aches recalling all those nights he spent at the agency doing unnecessary overtime. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to come back here.

“No,” Shouto huffs lightly, passing the ball hand to hand. He doesn’t elaborate. Instead he bumps you with his hip, “Come with me. I’ll give you a tour so you know where everything is”.

You are guided back to the genkan; it’s gorgeous, modernised with a calligraphy feature wall that breaks up the light colours. There is a narrow door leading to a coat room and two white cabinets under a granite countertop housing a small decorative bowl painted in Deku’s colours. Inside are your keys and his, the chains entangled.

Very quickly you realise Shouto doesn’t even know where ‘everything’ is. He opens the cupboard doors hesitantly, in a way that suggests he had no idea what is in them. One filled by his shoes and slippers, the other left empty.

The coat closet holds a few jackets you only ever see him wear in winter. He pinches the waterproof puffy sleeve between finger and thumb with a curious sound. Quietly, “I forgot that I had this”.

“You wore it once and Bakugo said you looked like an ugly toasted marshmallow”.

“That’s right,” a smirk pulls at his lips, mouth thin to restrain his laughter. You dip your chin to hide how infectious it is. “He hated it. Maybe I should take it with me tomorrow and wear it around the agency”.

“Please don’t. He’s coming to see me later in the day and I need him in a good mood”.

Shouto glances at you from the corner of his eye, sunlight reflecting through the blue iris. You would recognise that air of mischief anywhere. “I mean it, Shouto!”

“The day after, then”.

“As long as I’m not in the line of fire,” you snort, itching absentmindedly at your forearm where the skin feels tender. Probably bruising after carrying everything up. “Antagonising Pro Heroes should be listed as a hobby on your wiki page”.

You fall in line with his footsteps once more and keep pace until he stops by another door. There’s a laundry room and a separate toilet by the genkan, first door to the right. Upon opening the door the white toilet lid lifts.

You gasp and clutch his bicep, far too excitable to register how firm it is. “You never told me you have a happy toilet. What the hell, Shouto?”

Still nestled in his palm, you notice Shouto squeezes the stress ball until the foam is straining under the stretchy skin but you say nothing of it. He swallows and echoes your words, “A happy toilet?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it's happy to see you! Isn’t it cute?”

He turns with his cheek between his teeth, exhaling a warm puff of air through his nose. “Yeah,” Shouto rasps. “It’s cute”.

The entrance leads to a hallway, opening at the end to an open plan living area and kitchen. A black and white palette, dark stained wood flooring from room to room. You stand by and watch fondly as he opens every half empty drawer. The sectional couch is a welcome splash of colour— deep royal blue, huge, L shaped and plush, facing a 60 inch TV held up by a cabinet with a few books and photographs inside.

You toe at the fluffy grey rug laid out under the coffee table. His place is spectacular, sure, but it isn’t Shouto. While left unspoken it seemed you both knew that. There’s an abashed pinch to his expression that’s endearing, yet sad; you thought he might be embarrassed by how threadbare his home life appeared to be.

“You ever use that thing?” you ask, pointing to the TV. Predictably, Shouto shakes his head.

“Not very much. These days it feels like I only come here to sleep,” he leans over to pick up the remote from between the cushions and balances it on the arm of the couch. “Every few months Uraraka and Midoriya will visit to order food and watch movies with me. You can use it whenever you want”.

The bathroom is opposite your bedroom doors. He taps his own in passing but does not open it. You step into a bright, white tiled room with a double vanity sink and murmur in awe. Above are ceiling lights that give a soft glow, giving it a warm toned hue. Behind a glass door is a bowl shaped bathtub, big enough to fit two.

“Damn…” you whisper, running your fingers over the control pad connected to the tub. There’s a big bath cover propped by the wall. “A sauna button, too?”

“Not that I need it,” he muses, standing by the doorway, hands loosely interlocked as he observes you navigating his space. Intuitively, you get the sense that this is the beginning of a true paradigm shift. His offer had been the fork in the road and your agreement took you down a path soon to be irreversible.

You could survive seeing him at work or out with the mutual friends you shared. You’re not sure how you’ll weather the domesticity that comes with living together.

The reflection in the mirror shifts awkwardly and you grimace at how hard you’re trying to act like a normal human being. This is just Shouto: your good friend and longtime supporter. Just the man you might possibly be in love with.

“We should probably talk about ground rules and stuff,” you begin, hoping it’ll wipe that gentle look off his face before you say something stupid.

“Ground rules?” Shouto pushes off from the door frame with his back straight. He tilts his head, sight following you closely as you scoot past him back into the hallway.

“Like a chore rota and stuff. Rules so we can live in harmony or something. And you still need to let me know how much I’m paying you”.

“But I don’t want you to”.

You pause mid step and turn to stare at him in soft incredulity. “Why not? It’s only right I contribute”.

Steadfast, he holds your gaze and bluntly says, “I have a higher income than you. There’s no need for you to pay me rent”.

“Way to rub it in”.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you laugh at the rare wobble to his voice and knock your hands together as a sign of forgiveness. His eyes squint into a smile. “It just feels unfair for me to ask that of you”.

The hallway falls dim as clouds gather, casting shadows that make the private bubble you’re in seem that much smaller. “But I want to,” you reassured him. “Come on— forty percent?”

“Thirty”.

You hold out three fingers up on the right and five on the left. You try again, “Thirty five?”

“Thirty,” he doubles down, covering the entirety of your left hand with his own. You feel his thumb skim your inner wrist and your resolve breaks.

“…Fine”.

Shouto grins boyishly and you do not acknowledge the flutter in your stomach.

The first few days are cautious despite your desire to behave as normal. At night you found yourself acutely aware of Shouto’s presence behind the bedroom wall. Your senses latched onto every muted bump and creak; the quiet drew thoughts you so valiantly avoided the surface and you could do nothing besides parse through them.

It made sleeping difficult.

You’d wondered if Shouto was having the same issue but the drowsy gait and hair plastered to one side of his head only ever spoke of a good night's rest. He wears loose silk pyjama pants to bed, low on his hips and an inch or so longer at the leg so they always caught under his heel as he walked.

Seeing him relaxed and fumbling like a fawn before his morning tea felt as if a big star was fizzing in your chest. It’s strange, in a tentative way, not an uncomfortable one.

The dust settles and a chore rota is scribbled out on a white board and pinned to the refrigerator with a worn All Might magnet. Your hours are less hectic so you offered to do the weekly shopping. Shouto volunteers for the laundry— his sister set the machines up for him when he first moved and he hasn’t moved the dials since— and taking out the garbage. Together you build a precariously clumsy peace, a mimicry of home.

Things started to change.

A kaleidoscope can take on an entirely new pattern with just the subtle turn of the lense. Weeks lapse. You stopped asking for permission and he no longer sought reassurance that you were happy. Existing parallel to one another, your lives fit seamlessly, though not without effort.

You’ve never known him to be a tactile type of guy— back when you rushed to hug him at graduation he’d brandished his diploma like a weapon before noticing it was you. Now, Shouto playfully hip checks you in the kitchen, he sits closer than he needs to on the couch and texts you at random throughout the day. He brings you a treat if his route overlaps your commute, keeping it hot in his left hand. He even greets you by the door on the rare occasion he finishes a shift first.

Your heart is fatter than ever and you aren’t quite sure what to do with it or where to put it down. After the city has rebuilt your apartment block and deemed it safe you’ll be returning to a normal you don’t recognise anymore.

You’re finalising the upgrade for Dynamite’s summer gauntlets when your phone buzzes on your bench. The vibration carries it closer to the edge and you scoop it up before the inevitable fall, cursing at the oil smeared around the case. The screen lights up.

shouto : 1 minute ago

There’s an image attached with no explanation. You are met with the open skyline, dense clouds of every shape and size dotted across a blue canvas. Shouto’s arm is in the shot, finger pointed towards one cloud in particular.

You squint at it. Zoom in on your phone, tilt it to the side, flip it in the editor and outline it— and nothing rings a bell. It’s a white blob. 

Another notification drops down at the top of your screen. You wipe your hand against your overalls and open it. 

shouto : just now 

ヾ(=^・ｪ・^)

Your nose wrinkles as you glance back to the photo. Granted, it does have two pointed edges that could be interpreted as cat ears if you squinted. Maybe. This isn’t new — he burned his toast three days ago and took a picture simply because it looked vaguely feline. 

you : delivered 

aren’t u supposed to be on patrol? 

The message turns to ‘read’ quicker than expected. You panic and click off the conversation, setting the phone face up on your workbench and reading from your locked screen. Lately, despite living together and seeing one another every day, Shouto seems to have more to say to you than ever. 

shouto : just now

Divine intervention. We should get a cat. 

The use of ‘we’ pings around your head like a pinball. Ever since the initial dubitation smoothed out he's become much more flippant about things— treating your situation as though it were permanent. 

An intern shuffles into the workshop with a thick binder. Not one of yours, you realise. One of Mei’s. They blink curiously as your phone buzzes again, loud where it clatters on the hard surface, and you bite down on your inner cheek, hard, keeping your feelings at bay. 

When handed the papers you breathe in recognition. They’ve been coordinated into two groups, and you’d know that logo anywhere. “The costume applications for the upcoming UA students! I wondered why they hadn’t come in yet”. 

“Yes, for 1A and 1B. Hatsume-san said these ended up on her desk,” they said, gesticulating nervously, “and that I— I should give them to you?”

“Well If not for you I’m sure these would’ve ended up buried under all her discarded prototypes,” you demurred, offering what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “Thank you”. 

Abruptly, your phone gives another violent jerk and disrupts the moment. The intern squeaks, rigidity returning to her posture, and scurries out with a rushed goodbye. You sink into your arms, forehead pressed to the cool metal. Surely you aren’t that scary.

Turning the screen, you read the texts and sigh fondly.  

shouto : 4 minutes ago

An older cat would be nice. 

shouto : just now

Should we order tonight? 

My treat. 

Your gaze lifts to find the time at the top of the screen. It blinks back at you, the hour changing. Not long until you can head out. 

you : delivered 

it isn’t a treat for me if it’s more cold soba. give me variety or give me death (งಠ_ಠ)ง

The cursor flickers. Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, hesitating on the final letter. Something so minor that feels bigger than it has any right to be. 

“Stop being ridiculous,” you mutter, sending it before your mind can change. 

you : read 

be safe ok? I’ll see you at home. 

When he doesn’t reply you figure he’s returned to his job, thus you return to yours. 

Dynamite was once again trusting you with his gear. Bakugo had been extraordinarily protective over his initial design in highschool. Great bulbous things strapped to each wrist, grenade-like appearance, so big that his arms became pendulous and swung away from his body as he walked. The shoulder strain was immense. 

You fought tooth and nail to get him to accept your adjustments. Now every summer you remodelled the gauntlets to be lighter and ventilated, and in winter you added in insulation and flexibility. 

Respectively, the gauntlets still weigh a lot without additional stored nitroglycerin. You lift, bending at the knees and groaning as you lower them both down into a protective case, slotting into foam padding for protection. No doubt they’d end up rough on the first day but you still wanted them to arrive without a scratch. 

Evening draws near. Closing the lid, it gives a satisfying click. You fiddle with the lock pad and calibrate it to open only for Bakugo’s thumb print before lugging the case to the built-in vault in your workshop, where it’ll be kept over the weekend. 

Mei’s lab is directly opposite your own. Despite the dense soundproofing and reinforced steel concrete the jarring screech of a saw echoes throughout the hallway. You press your hand to the towering door, muscle fibres wracked by vibrations. Bidding her goodbye would be futile— she’s been working on a new patent for months now. The rest of the world fell away when she got like this. 

Heading through to the main lobby, you greet those passing by with a nod, exchanging hurried words. It was always as though time didn’t exist here. People worked all hours, any hours. Flexibility was a point of pride for your company, and seeing someone eat breakfast after midnight wasn’t uncommon. 

You preferred a regular schedule. Routine keeps you moderately sane. A cool breeze gusts through the sliding doors as you duck into the street; you hiss at the immediate change in temperature. Patting down your coat pockets you dig out your phone, sending a one-handed text to Shouto while you slip in your earbuds. 

Cacophonous bustling of the streets now muffled, you scroll through a playlist and click at random. An upbeat melody carries you to the station, scooting through the throngs of people and tapping your card at the barriers. 

You pick up the pace, scurrying onto the train right before the doors close. A stranger glares, looking over your dishevelled state with judgement. You find a narrow corner, left standing on the far end of the carriage, squashed up against the window to make room for other passengers. 

Conscious about the volume. you turned down your music a tad and sank into the confines of your coat. Shouto’s apartment is miraculously closer than your old one, meaning the commute is much shorter, and your time spent in bed is much longer. Three stops pass and the sky begins to bruise. Purple hues blend gently into red, the sun a fiery hearth on the seam of the horizon that blinks abruptly between the passing buildings. 

When you reach home Shouto still hasn’t texted back. You bend to arrange your shoes, coat hung beside his terrible winter puffer. The floor is cold under socked feet, pottering through to the living room in search of the TV remote. 

You flinch as the newscaster's voice blurts out of the speakers. Shouto must have left it on the news channel this morning. Watching the scene unfold on the screen you feel your heart climb your throat. 

Shouto is a hero— a number of your friends are. Villain fights are not only inevitable, they’re a requirement. The truth of it doesn’t make reality any easier to swallow. Uravity is a welcome sight. She’s fighting diligently alongside Shouto, up against multiple villains seemingly working in tandem to destroy the area. 

You always thought villains were a good example of how versatile and powerful even the most innocuous quirks can be. Topspin can morph their limbs into a whirling top, and with years of training has gained the ability to form small tornados using momentum. Another you recognise is Cryo, a woman capable of making her body intangible similarly to Lemillion— though she is able to freeze you temporarily if she phases through your body. 

There are others, too. Criminals you don’t recognise. It’s been a long time since a big group tried to organise in this manner. You worry at your lip, bracing against the back of the couch for support. What you find most concerning is they don’t seem to have a goal. Just mass destruction, plain and simple. 

“Come on,” you think anxiously, nails digging into the cushion as you watch Shouto brace a falling building with his ice, creating an emergency slide for those left inside to escape. You’ve always marvelled at his parallel processing skills— Deku, too. Their thoughts must be running a million miles a second. 

The cameras switch to highlight the other heroes and you realise you’ve been holding your breath. You exhale, physically deflating, feeling the weight of your phone in your pants pocket. Clean up would take a while once the battle is won; curry night is off the table. 

That’s fine. You could forgive it as long as he came back in one piece. 

Evening sinks into night. Shouto comes home after you’ve retired to your bed, though you aren’t asleep yet; you took to staring at the ceiling, waiting for a call from the hospital that you hoped wouldn’t come. 

The distant sound of his boots hitting the floor has relief flooding through your system. You strain to listen as he makes his way through the apartment, deliberately quiet. You hear him head straight to the bathroom. The echo of running water muffles after the door closes with a soft click. 

You check your phone once more, scanning over the recent updates and not finding much. You consider leaving him alone. Villain fights are hard on the body and the heart. Shouto likes space to process things before he speaks on them, and so you don't want to overstep. 

That sentiment dissipates steadily. Five minute intervals that feel like hours. Shouto is in the bathroom for a long, long time. You are seated on the edge of your bed with the covers pulled back when he finally comes out. 

Warm light streams beneath your doorway. Muscles clenched, you daren’t move an inch as a stretch of shadow moves across. Shouto stands outside your room and you stare, silently urging him to knock and give you an excuse. 

After a beat, Shouto turns away. He flicks off the bathroom light and shuffles down the hallway, away from his own bedroom. Your feet tentatively touch the floor and you slide off the bed with hands held out, careful not to knock into any furniture on the way. 

Goose pimples raise across your forearms. You’re in sleep shorts and a ratty old shirt on a cool spring night. No wind and no clouds, the moon hung high and bright. You have never seen the city so eerily still at this hour. 

The air always retains the warmth of his body for a while, and you feel it lingering when you step into the hallway. 

Voice kept to a whisper, you softly called for him, “Shouto?” 

You find him sitting in the middle of the couch. The blinds are up, moonlight flooding in. Shouto is a solid silhouette outlined in white. 

“Did something happen?” 

The fight ended up dragging on for a while, so you’re in the dark. Details about casualties were steadily being released to news outlets as the heroes dug through the remaining rubble. You’ve yet to hear of any deaths, civilian or otherwise, which is a relief. 

He lifts his head, “I’m fine. Sorry if I woke you”. 

“You didn’t,” Shouto’s gaze follows as you shuffle towards him, footfalls loud on the hardwood floor. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

The silence is suffocating. Your vision adjusts to the darkness, stuck on the downturn of his mouth and pallid eyes. “We’re friends right? Friends share their burdens,” you try again, awkwardness leaking out with every syllable. “I’m here for you”. 

He looks away. There’s a dark, disquieting bruise blooming on his jaw. Subconsciously, Shouto presses a finger onto the bruise and the blood beneath it recedes, paling and returning like the tide. 

You don’t sit too close— worried proximity might be suffocating. The couch arm is firm under you, feet propped on the seat cushion. Shouto wets his lips, as if to alleviate the gravity of his words. 

“A group of school children were in the theatre when it collapsed,” he rasps. His hand curls into a tight fist, sparks of fire diminishing between his knuckles. “They were young. No older than ten”. 

“You blame yourself”. 

Turning to you, light casts softly across half of his face, pooling in his left eye. “I was a second too late and now—” he stops, the words caught in his throat. 

“Because of my mistakes those children are stuck with the traumatic memory of being trapped under all that rubble. I... I could hear them screaming”. 

You gulp and slide down onto the couch, guided by the urge to touch him, “Hey. But you got them out safely, yeah? They’re okay, Shouto”. 

His eyes crinkle a bit, if only a trick of your own, and you take it as permission to reach over. One by one you unfurl each finger, massaging your thumbs into his palm to smooth away the crescent marks. 

“We got them out,” he amends quietly, taking a brief pause to find the right words. You spend it appreciating the nicks in his skin, scars and rough edges, proof of his tenacity.

Shouto closes his hand around your own, staring dolefully at the point where your bodies meet. You see it for what it is— a request for comfort — and your palms kiss as you realign your fingers, holding on tight. 

“You know what I think?” 

He hums, curiously peering up through his damp bangs. 

“Those kids? They won’t just remember the bad stuff,” you smile, as tender as you feel, “I think they’ll remember how at ease they felt when Hero Shouto opened the way with his ice to save them. And now they know a hero will always come”. 

The strain bleeds from his bones and his expression opens up in quiet wonderment. “Really?” he asks, his voice small, mouth finally curling. Your heart gives a squeeze. 

“Really,” you affirm, knocking your knees together. Shouto’s smile widens, chin tucking to hide it. “Are you hurt anywhere?” 

“No. Just bruised up,” he says. An idea clicks into place. 

“Good. I’ve got something we can do to make you feel better,” you scramble to your feet, weight shifting as Shouto’s stare lingers on your bare legs. It feels as though the moon is casting a spotlight, and you resist the urge to pull your shorts down. 

“What is it?” 

“Mug cake!” you exclaim happily, bringing your hands together. Adding an afterthought, “and a movie, too. One you haven’t seen yet”. 

Shouto tilts his head, amused, but stands with you all the same. You notice then that he's changed into a pair of sweatpants, cuffed at the ankles. The t-shirt he’s wearing has a Pinky logo branded across his chest in bubble font. 

“Mug cake?” he repeats. 

“Cake in a mug,” you ribbed, poking at him. You start toward the kitchen. “Come on, it’ll only take like five minutes, tops!” 

“Do we have cake ingredients?” he muses, following close behind. You flick on the recessed light over the stove and root through the cupboards, trying to ignore the natural warmth of his body beside yours. 

“We have everything,” you insist. “I would know. I do the shopping, remember?” 

Hovering unnecessarily close by, Shouto leans back against the counter and observes you with fondness as you list off the ingredients under your breath. It shouldn’t be so magnetising— you can feel something in your chest being drawn in, as though you were two unlike poles meant to come together. 

Meeting his gaze, you look away and try to tame your giddiness. “Quit staring and find me two big mugs”. 

You breathe a little easier when he does as you ask. Two large ceramic mugs are placed on the counter— a hideously priced vintage All Might mug gifted by Midoriya, another with cat ears on the rim and a tail curled into the handle. 

“Will these do?” he murmurs. You startle at the closeness of his voice, nearly dropping the teaspoon in your hand. 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “Yep. Thank you”.

He nods, satisfied. “Tell me what else to do”. 

You grab another teaspoon and hand it to him. The joy in his eyes gleams, so pleased at the opportunity to help. “First we need to put four teaspoons of flour and caster sugar in our mugs, then add two teaspoons of the cocoa powder. You follow?” 

Shouto mirrors each action, always glancing back to your movements to check he was doing so correctly. It is unbearably endearing. 

“Now we add an egg in each— one sec,” the fridge light bursts through the dimly lit kitchen, and you squint, grabbing two eggs from the tray. You give him an egg. “Now crack it into the mug and stir”. 

You’ve ended up with the All Might mug. Using it is nerve wracking; all you can think of is how expensive it was, but the cat mug is Shouto’s clear favourite. Gently, you tap the egg on the counter. A hairline fracture forms on the shell. You push your thumbs in, prying it apart over the mix, letting the whites drizzle. 

Shouto is… faring well enough. There’s clear viscous liquid all over his fingers, and his shell is broken in three, but the yolk made it in. 

You laugh quietly at his sheepish expression as you pass him some tissue. He wipes his hands, leaning to observe while you add three teaspoons of milk and vegetable oil. “Where did you learn to make these?” 

“During my apprenticeship,” you admit. Graduation hadn’t led to immediate incredible offers like it had for Shouto. You needed to get your foot in the door first, which meant working awful hours with shit pay and little recognition. “I was trying to save up back then, so I ate a lot of crap like this”. 

“I’ve never tried it,” he says, repeating the steps as you had shown him. Your fingers brush with a pass of the milk. “I wasn’t allowed treats as a child so I guess I didn’t develop much of a sweet tooth”. 

“That’s just like you,” you grin, tearing open the bag of chocolate chips and shaking them in his direction. “Always gotta drop depressing lore in the middle of a nice moment”. 

The truth about the Todoroki family had been outed during your first year, right before the war. It’s a subject Shouto can joke about now that time has mostly healed over those wounds. Granted, his relationship with his father was cautious at best, and his older brother was locked away in a private facility for a good few decades, but things were better. 

“Did you hear me?”

You blink, startled out of your reverie, “What?”

“I said I have plenty more material but you zoned out,” Shouto raised a brow, dipping into the bag of chocolate chips and sprinkling them over his cake mix, “Where did you go?”

“Ah…” you take his mug and set it beside yours inside the microwave, turning the dial to the two minute mark. “I was just thinking I kinda want to kick your dad’s ass”. 

Your heart leaps. You will never be sick of Shouto’s laugh; it’s like hearing his soul. The sound is rich and warm over the loud hum, glass plate turning, mixture bubbling. 

“Don’t worry about that,” the laughter tapers off into an affectionate murmur, body naturally leaning into you, “he’s been kicking himself for years now”. 

“Good—!” the microwave pings, and your soul jumps out of your skin. “Jesus. Why is it always so much louder at night?” 

The mugs are still hot. You press a kiss to your stinging fingertips and step aside; Shouto takes each cake out one at a time with this left hand wrapped around the mug. “Show off,” you pout. 

A sweet aroma fills your senses. They’ve risen well. You lightly scratch the top with your spoon, pleased by the firmness. “We did pretty good,” you chirped. 

“Smells good,” Shouto notes, cradling his mugcake to his chest as though something precious. “Are we watching a movie?”

“Yeah. Let’s pick while it’s still hot”. 

You cast a fleeting look at the counter before you walk around the kitchen island, putting the minor mess to the back of your mind. Bouncing back onto the couch, you run your free hand down the cushions in search of the remote. 

“Where’s the—” Shouto sits to your right and passes it to you. “Did you pull that out of thin air?” 

“Yes. I have a third quirk called ‘remembering where I put things’,” he grins, dodging the half hearted swat you send his way.  

“You’re a real comedian. Just for that I’m picking what I want to watch”. 

Infuriatingly, Shouto looks happy about that, “You know what I’d like anyway”. 

In the end you choose Ponyo because he had not yet watched it— a fact you deemed criminal. You watch his expressions soften at the vibrant scenery, idly pushing the tip of his spoon into the cake. He scoops out a piece and brings it to his lips. 

You try not to beam when he visibly freezes, eyes widening with his spoon held in his mouth. Slowly, Shouto starts to chew. He makes a happy little hum. Three words crossed your mind, travelled down to your heart and diffused throughout your body. You feel them restless in the tips of your fingers. You don’t say them. 

Only then do you let yourself eat yours. The spoon sinks into the sponge, a faint waft of heat bursting from the centre where the chocolate chips have melted. It’s just the right side of fluffy. 

Comfortable silence hung over your heads, masked under the clinking of your spoons against the mugs. 

After the soft thud of an empty mug meeting the table, breaking through the quiet, Shouto speaks. 

“Bakugo mentioned you today,” he says. “Asked me to pass on a message”. 

You hum to indicate that you’re listening. “He said ‘hurry the fuck up or kiss my sponsorship goodbye’, verbatim”. 

“I’m not sure I like those words coming out of your mouth,” you laugh, shoulders shaking with it. Shouto tips his head back, lips twisted to hold laughter of his own. “What a bullshitter”. 

Bakugo liked working with you too much to pull out. Even if he didn’t, the man was a hard nut to crack and refused to trust anyone else with his gear. 

“Are you almost done? Working on his gauntlets, I mean”. 

“They’re finished,” you responded, cheek resting on the heel of your hand. Shouto repositions his hips, turning his body to face you in your periphery while you watch Sousuke and Ponyo eat ramen. “Good and ready for the summer. Now he won’t level half the city when he sneezes”. 

“Thank you for your hard work,” comes his mirthful reply. “Oh, and Uraraka says hello. She wants you to go to the get together tomorrow night”. 

“You know I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, right?” 

He huffed a laugh through his nose. A soft sound that has satisfaction singing through your veins. “I wasn’t planning on going so I forgot to mention it”. 

You run your tongue along your molars. There’s still a lingering chocolate taste. “You aren’t going to go?” you ask, tone trended downwards, plainly implying your disappointment. It wouldn’t be so odd. While you’d befriended Momo and some of class B before ever meeting Shouto, you’re not sure you want to be there without him. 

“I will go if you do,” he eyes the way your shoulders relax at that, attentive to a fault. “They can pick on you instead of me”. 

You roll your eyes with exasperated affection and arms crossed over your middle. “Tomorrow?” mhm. “Is it at that place Denki likes?” mhm. “Thought it might be. Guess I can be your buffer for a few hours”. 

“I’ll let them know,” Shouto murmurs. Colour dances across his skin, shadows moving with the picture on the screen. Ponyo dunks her head into the depths alongside Sosuke and the room is suddenly awash with vibrant blue, and you witness an unwelcome epiphany cross his mind. 

Stated like a huffy accusation, he says, “You know, you’ve worked on most of my friends gear, but never mine”. 

“You never asked,” you reminded him. “And you had connections in my industry already because of your… Endeavor. But I would’a jumped at the chance to get rid of that first costume you designed”. 

Cheek pressed to the cushion, he smiles. “What, was the glacier too much?” 

“It was so ugly Shouto,” you bemoan, leaning closer with your dramatic outburst. “The worst part was it covered up half of your pretty face. Now that’s just bad for branding”.

A soft intake of breath. Shouto’s lips part and you are caught in his awestruck stare. His voice deepens as he asks, “You think I’m… pretty?” 

You swallow and muster up an easy grin, nudging his thigh with your foot. “Everyone thinks you’re pretty, you goof”. 

His eyes lower, pensive for a moment, and then flicker back to the movie. Ponyo is sleepy, and the boat has shrunk, and Sousuke has big tears rolling down his cheeks. 

You can’t help thinking it was the wrong thing to say. 

Eventually the noise settles into static; the kind that makes the shadows seem a little darker, dense branches spreading across the ceilings and walls into a daunting canopy. You burrow into your hoodie, pulling the collar up over the bridge of your nose as Sosuke and Ponyo are reunited with his mother in a vast underwater paradise. 

The earlier exchange weighs on you. Stealing a quick glance at Shouto, you feel your anxiety chip at the expression on his face. Somewhere there, beneath the scar tissue and laughter lines and eye bags, is a small boy watching in awe. 

Neither of you speak until the film comes to an end. Your head bobs along to the final song, drawn into a bubble of nostalgia. Through the thick of it, you hear a whisper. Shouto says your name and there’s barely any strength behind it, uncharacteristically timid. Blinking away the haze, your eyes adjust. You can see an inviting, wide open embrace, his left arm now outstretched, the intention clear. 

Shouto looks right back. Your vision has sharpened enough to make out the small smile on his face. You crawl across the couch cushions and curl under his arm, turning your cheek to watch the credits play out.  

“You looked cold,” he belatedly adds. “Is this ok?”

You hum in agreement. Compared to his body heat, you’d say it had been freezing. Despite all the hard earned muscle over the years Shouto is pliable when he’s relaxed, doughy, and he yields when you begin to adjust your shared position. 

Swallowed by warmth, you guide his arm down to cinch around your waist and nestle against his chest. You can feel his heart beating like a wing beneath your palm. 

“Better?” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. A final shiver dances the length of your spine as the faint tremors dwindle and your bones thaw. Fatigue creeps up, making your eyelids heavy. 

Quietly, “Better”. Then you mumble, “And I do think you’re pretty, Shouto”. 

“Hm?”

“Was bein’ a bit of a coward earlier,” you continue, a sleepy drawl to your words. A yawn pulls at your jaw, nose flaring with it. You think you could sink right into him, like a hot bath. “Shouto’s pretty… all… all the time…”

Your weary eyes gave in to the rhythmic stroke of his hand, consciousness drifting away. Soft dreams undulate, drawing you in, pushing you out. There’s a familiar face. They turn into your palms when you cradle them. Your stomach clenches at the sudden weightlessness and you grasp at their shirt, worried you might float away. 

When you wake up you are in your own bed again. It returns to you in fragments— Shouto’s arms around you, his rumbling laugh, the tangible intimacy that had hung over your heads. Realising he must have carried you to bed you turn over to groan into your pillow. 

Eventually, what draws you out into the open is the smell. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pad out into the living room, searching for Shouto. Leggings, your mind whispers. He’s milling about the kitchen in his workout clothes; a little pair of shorts overtop and a green hoodie. 

“Morning,” he says, placing a small plate onto a tray. You notice two bowls have already been prepared. “I made breakfast”. 

The greeting dies in your throat when he looks up. A stream of dewy morning light illuminates the room, reflecting on the pale surfaces, creating an ethereal view. He combs his hair back with his fingers, tucking the longer strands behind his ears. Your gaze strays from the bruise on his jaw— now turning a sickly shade of green— to the food on his tray. 

“Wow,” you mumble, feeling hunger twist in your stomach. “This actually looks edible. What’s the occasion?” 

It’s a traditional breakfast. A bowl of rice, miso soup with some vegetables, a rolled egg and a plate of grilled fish. Shouto sets a pair of chopsticks down. “No special occasion. I just wanted to cook for you”. 

“God. You are so…” you wave your hands at him, too overwhelmed by the sudden flush of tenderness. 

He blinks, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “You just gestured to all of me”. 

“I just woke up and there’s a prince using my shitty old rice cooker. Forgive me,” you remarked groggily. It feels as if your entire being is a soft spot that he won’t stop prodding at. 

Gathering the tray in your grasp you avoid his stare and make way to the dining table, his quiet chuckle close behind. You sit, unnerved by his presence and fighting off dregs of sleep. The seat is cold under your thighs. “Thank you for the food,” you murmur. 

Chopsticks tucked in the crook of your thumb and finger, you pick up a rolled omelette. The egg tastes sweeter than expected— mixed with more sugar than required, you think, but it’s good, and you finish in the next bite. 

“Are you not leaving for work?”

Shouto hovers across from you; his hands rested on the back of another chair, and stood silently. “How is it?” he deflects. 

Your teeth sink into a tofu cube, umami flavours bursting on your tongue. You hum your approval, making a show of it. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Shouto. Really”. 

Over the years you’ve come to learn that Shouto reacts to praise in subtle ways, and often smiles without his mouth. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice and see it in his spirited stride. You watch as his shoulders straighten. He’s alight, peacocking his pride, and you’re not sure he realises it. 

“There’s a secret ingredient”. 

You pause mid chew, swallowing thickly. “If you say love I’m moving out”. 

Shouto tempers his amusement with a shake of his head. Stray hair falls forward to frame his cheeks.  The chair reclines back on two legs as he leans. “My mother told me that making a meal for someone is a simple way to show gratitude,” he continued. “Thank you for taking care of me last night”. 

Heat simmers under your skin, all buzzing energy and jitters. The sincerity is disarming. Had this been a dream you would’ve kissed him. 

Shoving another tofu cube in your mouth you chew it down to fine paste, vying for time to formulate a coherent sentence. “Don’t thank me for that,” your initial playfulness softened to reciprocate some of his vulnerability. “I know I’m not a hero but I’ll always be there for you in whatever way I can”. 

Whatever his response is, you don’t hear it. Shouto murmurs inaudibly, eyes falling closed with a long exhale. Your only respite is the warmth in his gaze when he looks back at you. “I need to leave now if I don’t want to be late. But I’ll see you tonight?”

You hum an affirmative, nodding around the white rice pinched between your chopsticks. It falls apart gently on your tongue. Covering your mouth, you say, “I’ll be there”.  

Shouto steps away with some finality, readjusting the hem of his shirt. The fabric hangs loose around his hips, emphasising how tight his shorts are. You mentally kick yourself. 

“I’ll text you, then”. 

The day passes frustratingly slowly after Shouto leaves. You technically could be sifting through the new student’s designs, but all you can think about is how charged the atmosphere had been this morning. Retiring back to your room to scream into a pillow or two, you eventually find yourself getting ready. 

Shouto let you know he would be going straight from the agency. He had clothes in a locker here— casual, some jeans and a sweater, which at least allayed the fear of being underdressed.  

You pull on one of your nicer jackets, holding the lapels close to your chest as you step out into the cold evening. Dark cumuli gather in sparse clumps across the darkening sky; as mercy has it, the wind is pushing them in the opposite direction.

The place isn’t far. You don’t frequent it very often but liked it well enough despite management being a bunch of rich guys playing dive-bar dress up. The low ceilings, vintage mismatched furniture and dim red lights created an intimate atmosphere. 

People loved the idea of finding a hole in the wall that nobody else knew about. The catch was everybody knows, but not everybody can get in. 

Flashing above the door in green neon lights is a sign grimly reading ‘The Love Shack’. The first thing you notice is the strong woodsy smell masking the faint scent of alcohol. There’s a floral tinge to it that you have trouble pinpointing. 

You head inside and greet the bouncer standing by the entrance. He’s a big guy, standing around 6 feet 9, mutton chops swallowing a great deal of his face. Resting on his bald crown are a pair of comically small sunglasses. 

Before he can ask for your name it is being hollered across the bar. A few heads turn and you dip your chin to shield from prying eyes. Uraraka is bounding over, Mina hot on her coattails. The pair topple into you with canorous laughter clear over the music. 

“You’re here!” Uraraka effused, grabbing at your shoulders and shaking them. “I haven’t seen you in so long! Shouto has been keeping you all to himself”. 

Mina slumps against you, echoing Ursraka’s words with a slurred whine. “Holy shit. Are you guys already tipsy?” unsteady on your feet you try to keep them upright. 

“No,” Mina tittered, pink lips jutting into a pout. She pokes at your cheek. “You’re just too sober!”

You startle. Another hand, large and hot, splays at the small of your back. The bouncer grunts and encourages you in the direction which they came from. That appears to spur the girls on— you’re dragged to the far end of the bar, a wide booth nestled just around the corner, hidden from view. 

You’re met with a chorus of cheers. Kirishima, Jirou and Shinsou beckon you forward. Bakugo is nursing a pint, offering you a wordless nod. Momo shakes her head as Denki attempts to climb out and greet you despite being trapped by the table, patting his back when the effort is fruitless. 

“Alright, alright. I missed you too,” you grin, helplessly charmed by your friend's excitement. Uraraka ushers you into the booth. You scoot up beside Momo, the group packed in like sardines to make room. 

Mina bends to press a wet kiss to your hairline. It leaves behind a sticky impression of her lips. “Let me go grab you a drink, babe!” she chirps, skipping off toward the bar and immediately draping her upper body over the black countertop to wave the bartender over. 

The conversations resume, an easy atmosphere settling over your group. Though you aren’t entirely from their world they do well to involve you, asking for your thoughts, trying to make you laugh. Jirou blushes under the red lights when you bring up her latest album, sending you an appreciative grin. Mina returns holding an impressive amount of drinks, her fingers slipping dangerously on the condensation. 

You are one strawberry daiquiri in. There’s a muted yet pleasant buzz under your skin, no doubt aided by the good company. Still, you cast an anxious glance around the room, curious about Shouto’s absence. A soft tap to the knee draws your attention. 

Momo turns to whisper in your ear, “Shouto said  he’ll be here on the hour,” answering that unspoken question. Your cheeks fill with an indignant breath, embarrassed by your own transparency. 

“We aren’t attached at the hip, you know,” you rasp childishly. It’s a lie— you’ve lived with Shouto for only three weeks and you have already forgotten where he ends and you begin. Momo laughs, hiding it behind the back of her hand. 

“Could’a had me fooled,” Bakugo interjects, scoffing behind his drink. The glass tips and he drains the last of it. “Your name is all I hear outta his mouth these days. Starting to think he doesn’t know any other words”. 

You hold up an accusing finger, “Quit reading our lips, dickhead”. 

The other bares his teeth, gums and all. He moves his hands in recognisable patterns at a deliberately slow pace, as if talking down to you. ‘Fuck you’ he signs. 

“Oh!” Kirishima claps abruptly. You startle, almost knocking over your drink. He’s so big that it rocked the table. “Check this, Bakugo. I’ve been learning more signs, you gotta tell me if I’m doing ‘em right!”

“Fuck do I look like to you?”

“Like my handsome best bro,” is his smooth reply. Cheeks red as his hair, a cocksure grin flashing his sharp teeth; Bakugo softens, clicking his tongue in feigned annoyance, betrayed by the twitch by the corner of his mouth. You think Kirishima is like an overgrown stray that manipulated Bakugo into being his human. 

Whatever he clumsily signs must have been obscene, because Bakugo roars with laughter.

“Who the hell taught you that, shitty hair?” 

The hour comes and goes. Rings of water collect under the glasses. Shouto is five minutes late. You displace the group, accepting Uraraka’s loose lipped complaints as she is forced to scoot back out the booth. Pinching the fat of her pink cheek, she’s placated by the promise of another round on you. 

“I’ll come with,” Shinsou offered with a lazy wave. 

“Thanks,” waiting for him to get to his feet, you smile. You liked Shinsou well enough. Working as an underground hero meant you didn’t get to see him too often. 

You approach the bar. The man working behind it has gossamer insectoid wings on his back, sprouting from two long slits in his fitted shirt. They glint in the light, colours refracting iridescent, reminding you somewhat of a church window. 

He comes over as he catches your eye, wiping down the sticky surface. You’re honest enough to admit he’s handsome. Rugged with a baby face, hair falling over his forehead in loose curls. There’s an easy air about him, and when he flashes a crooked grin you feel the alcohol a little too thick in your veins. 

Tattooed forearms brace against the bar and he leans into your magnetism, “What can I get ya?”

“They’ll have the same as last time,” you reply. “I think the tab should be under Kaminari’s name?” 

He nods, eyes skimming over your form, “Won’t be long”. 

You turn to find that Shinsou is staring, kissed by a reddish glow. His mouth downturns into a smirk. “I don’t think he even noticed I was here,” he drawls. 

Defensiveness prickles over you. “Don’t think anyone has,” you lightly knock your arms together. “You’ve been quiet tonight”. 

“Not my scene,” Shinsou sinks forward, propped up by his elbow, and rests his chin in the cradle of his hand. His heavy lidded eyes never stray. “But I can’t say no to free drinks”.

The barman works the taps in your periphery but you remain focused on Shinsou. There’s a new scar across his cheekbone, right where his persona mask ends. Another over his mouth, a thin line of rough tissue that cuts through his five o’clock shadow. The mass untameable hair on his head has been cut shorter, tapering around his neck. 

“Leech”. 

“Look who’s talking,” his smirk widens. You watch his gaze slide over your head and dread swirls in your stomach at the gleam in his eye. “I think your nepo baby boyfriend just got here”. 

“Not my boyfriend,” you hiss under your breath. He holds his laughter between his teeth. “And don’t call him that!” 

Shinsou laughs into his palm, low and rumbling. You hear the fond invocation of your name as the heat of another body appears at your back. Met with brilliant teal and stormy grey, Shouto greets you both apologetically. 

Perking up self consciously, you say, “You made it!”

“Hi. Sorry, I got caught up and lost track of time”. 

You’re happy to see him. He’s in fitted jeans and a dark button up shirt over an old black turtleneck. Heterochromatic eyes slide from your smiling face to Shinsou’s own disinterest, then drawn to the drinks that have steadily begun to accumulate on the bar counter. 

“Ah, let me get you a drink—” you wave over the guy who served you, though it is hardly necessary when he’s already observing. He saunters over with a pint of lager, setting it beside Mina’s garish rainbow concoction. 

“Everything alright?” 

Squinting at the messy kanji on his name tag, you think you can make it out. Kei, it reads. “Would we be able to add another to the tab? Our friend just made it”. 

For some reason Shouto crowds in closer, the cool press of his left side seeping through your shirt. Kei barely pays him any mind. “No problem,” a cold flush crawls across your back when he winks. “Anything for you. What’ll it be?” 

“I’ll have a highball,” Shouto interjects. You frown at his sudden sharp demeanour, and lean your weight back in hopes of comforting him. The air warms up. 

Kei’s enthusiasm fractures imperceptibly, “Alright. Let me get started on that for ya”. Shinsou snorted, his head dipped to his chest and shaking; you think you aren’t nearly drunk enough for whatever this is.

“Shit. You really are petty,” Shinsou speaks up after Kei departs to the other end of the bar. “I always thought Midoriya was exaggerating”. 

“Petty?” you echo, squinting at your roommate with a soft pout. Shouto fixes his gaze to the bottles lined across the wall and looks as though he wants the earth to swallow him whole. 

“Highballs are tedious to make,” Shinsou turns his back to the bar, leaning against it with his drink in hand. “You definitely chose that on purpose”. 

“I didn’t,” Shouto monotoned. “I like whisky”. 

“I’ve never seen you drink whisky,” your voice lilts into suspicion. Shouto narrows his eyes, pointedly avoiding yours. A terse beat passes, and you inhale with defeat. “Oh, whatever. Go say hi to the others while we bring the drinks”. 

Shouto blanched. “I can help—”

“I’ve already got a big strong man here to help me,” Shinsou scoffed. There’s an umbrella resting on the lip and a purple straw in his mouth. You put a hand on Shouto’s bicep and squeeze, “You need to let Momo know you’re here before she sends out a search party”. 

The contact visibly placates him. You watch after him as he makes his way to the booth. Slurred over the low music, he turns the short corner to be met with a cheer in much the same way you had. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Shinsou murmurs, amused exasperation clear in his tone. Splitting the drinks into two groups to carry, you ignore his remark and the fondness swirling in your chest. 

Kei appears and sets the highball down. A tall glass of liquid gold, three carved ice cubes fizzing at the bottom, a lemon garnish on the rim. “Thank you,” you tell him, pleased when he reciprocates your sheepish grin. 

You let Shinsou take it— your hands are already full and slipping. The others have pulled Shouto into the booth and sandwiched him between Denki and Mina, whose distinct voices are overlapping as they try to get a word in. 

Denki stops mid sentence as Shinsou slams the drinks onto the table. You do the same, albeit much more carefully. He lists them off one by one, sliding the glasses over to their persons. Shouto’s comes last. 

“And in a surprising turn of events we have Todoroki with a japanese highball”. 

Shouto accepts the drink with his right hand and a straight face, ignoring the harmonious ‘ooh’ that reverberates around the booth. 

Bakugo points his pinky at him, “And since when do you drink whisky?” 

Petulantly, Shouto mutters, “Since now”. 

Ultimately deciding to pull up a chair, Shinsou sits at the head of the table while you are squeezed on the end beside Bakugo; he side glances, raising his brow in acknowledgement. 

“Dude, now that we’re all here, let's have a toast!” Denki exclaims, literal sparks of joy bouncing from his crown. Everybody groans. 

“I’ll hear your toast bro,” Kirishima lifts his pint, the wonderful enabler that he is. Shouto meets your gaze across the table and raises his own with a shrug. 

“I, uh…” Denki shrinks under the pressure. “I dunno what I was gonna say”. 

“To a quick death,” Shinsou proposed, halfheartedly holding his sake in the air. 

“Hear hear,” muttered from beside you, Bakugo’s eyes fell closed. You snickered, alcohol weakening your inhibitions as you hook your chin over his shoulder. He allows it. 

Momo voices her disapproval and tips her glass, “To good health”. 

“To Chargebolt,” Jirou adds, a grin splitting her cheeks, laughter already bleeding into her words. “Seen him at his best, seen him at his worst, and still can’t tell the difference”. 

“Oi!” 

“To a livable minimum wage!” Uraraka hiccups. All the blood in her body seems to have rushed to her face; expression comically determined, betrayed by her spasming diaphragm. Everyone lifts a glass. 

The night crawls on. Another round, then two. Kei refills your glass, never without a flirty comment. You feel thawed from the inside out, a silly smile fixed to your lips. Your cheeks hurt from laughing, from the too-forceful kisses given by Mina, the rough pinch of explosive fingers. 

You might as well be engaged in a game of musical chairs; the only one refusing to surrender his spot is Bakugo. Jirou and Momo slink away somewhere private— ‘private’ being behind the vintage jukebox right by the bathrooms— and Kirishima scoots over to wrap you up in a side hug and pushes all the air from your lungs. Uraraka drapes herself across your front. Shinsou surrenders as Mina sits in his lap. Being with them is as innate as breathing. 

Maybe you didn’t fight a war together but they still embraced you as their own. And Shouto watches with that terrible, awful, shoujo twinkle in his eyes; you flush hot whenever you catch him, inundated by the desire to reach across and kiss him.

Your pulse is quick and movements slowed. A pleasant buzz circulates around your body. After the third round Shouto begins insisting that you stay put. “Okay,” you conceded tipsily. “Tell Kei I said hi”. 

Shouto leaves with a vaguely constipated frown. 

Bakugo cackles and refuses to tell you what was so funny. Momo returns to the sight of you clinging to the stubborn hero’s arm, cursing his name. “What are we laughing at?” she muses. You notice a few things first: there’s a fresh bruise on her neck, a button on her dress undone, and a glass of water in her grasp. 

Disheveled Momo is a rare treat. You’d tease her about it, if Bakugo did not immediately jump at the opportunity to tease you first. “Just gearhead and halfie being oblivious idiots,” he surmised. Another snort bursts from his nose. “‘Tell Kei I said hi’. Shit. Should’a seen his face”. 

“Bakugo,” Momo chides, attempting to disguise her own amusement. “Go easy on them”. 

He clicks his tongue, shaking you with a rough shrug of his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel and fuck already”. 

Your mood tumbles, dampening as you sulk, “Shouto doesn’t want me like that”. 

“Yeah, right. And vice prez didn’t just get fingered by the jukebox”. 

“Bakugo!” Momo’s voice is stronger this time. She whips her head toward the other patrons and back, embarrassment flooding her cheeks. “I did not get… fingered,” she protested with a sharp whisper. 

“What’s that?” you feign ignorance, drowsy and loose lipped. “Momo got fingered?!”

Making Bakugo laugh feels a little like winning the lottery; having him throw an arm around you as he does it leaves you dizzy with accomplishment. You curl into his side, shoulders shaking. You mouth an apology across the booth and Momo stretches to take your hand, stressing her forgiveness. 

Shouto shatters the jovial atmosphere. He returns stiffly, his glare set in stone, and places a drink you did not order in front of you. After a quick sniff you realise that it’s water. 

“Once you’ve drunk that we should head home,” he says. It’s posed as a suggestion but you hear the instruction. Not wanting to irritate him any further, you begin to sip. 

Momo’s brow pinches with worry. “Is everything alright, Shouto?” 

He breathes harshly through his nose, coming out in a puff of cold air. ”Yes, everything’s fine. I’m sorry to cut the night short, Momo,” his face softens. “It was good to see you”. 

Astonishingly, Bakugo says nothing. His arm snakes from around your back. You finish the water with a big gulp, resurfacing for air. “Done,” you wipe the back of your hand across your lips. 

Shouto steadies you while you awkwardly scoot around the booth. Momo gathers you both into a hug, her kind hand stroking the length of your spine. “Text us when you get home”. 

“We will,” you promise, saluting as you’re gently pulled away. “See ya on Monday, great explosion murder god dynamite, sir!” 

The others have dispersed amongst the small crowd. You mourn not being able to say goodbye to them all. Shouto cinches around your waist and guides you to the door. You can’t complain— instinctively sinking into the embrace, surrounded by his cologne— but you do wonder what the hurry is. 

You waded through the mass of people until you both finally made your way out into the open air. The breeze encourages you closer to his front, cold and refreshing in your lungs. Already you feel as if some of your drunken enthusiasm is dissolving. 

“Shouto?” his pace slows mercifully, coming to a stop underneath a streetlight. The bulb blinks in five second intervals, dousing him in sickly orange. “Are you mad?” 

A warm hand hooks your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye only to avoid looking back. His lips part to speak, and when nothing comes they close. “I’m not mad,” he intoned quietly, thumb skimming over the line of your jaw. Your breath catches. 

He seems so… guilty. 

“I think you are,” you observe, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. You bring his hand down and intertwine it with yours. The alcohol must be making you brave. “But if you’re not ready you don’t need to tell me”. 

Some colour returns to his skin. Shouto huffs a disbelieving laugh. “You’re so—” cutting off that train of thought, he tugs you forward and wraps you into a hug. The crook of his neck shields you from the cold, and for a few short moments all you can hear is your heart beating in your ears. 

“…Have you ever felt like there are things you want to say but there’s something that always stops you from expressing them?” 

You take note of how his grip tightens, warm nose squished into your cheek as if he thought you might run. Shouto is nervous— rather, he’s making himself vulnerable to you. “I have,” you murmur. 

He bows his head to burrow into your shoulder, “Then, would you give me the chance to say them?” 

What you hear is: will you be patient with me? 

“Now?” you ask gently. The light overhead flickers again and your vision swims. You’re realising now that his impulsivity might simply be because he’s drunk. “Don’t you want to talk at home?”

Shouto shakes his head. “If I say it now you can change your mind and go back”. 

That’s worrying. You chew nervously on your bottom lip, “…Okay”. 

You expect him to let go but he doesn’t, though he does loosen his hold, as if giving you the chance to leave. Following a deep inhale, Shouto solemnly admits, “That guy at the bar. Kei. He asked me to give you his phone number”.  

“He did?” 

“Yes,” he says. 

“So where is it?” 

Dread and fatigue curdled in your stomach. You hear the moment Shouto swallows his caution. The atmosphere sours as he admits, “I burned it”. 

You step back, leaving his arms limp at his sides. He looks betrayed. Like you’re testing the strength of a promise you don’t recall making. This was not a good time nor place to talk about this. 

“My feet hurt,” his eyes widened in confusion. “I’m cold and I’m drunk and my feet hurt, Shouto. I want to go home”. 

The request registers slowly. You watch his face fall, gathering a facsimile of a smile. “Okay. Then let’s go home”. 

Your chest aches. You want to cry. You scramble for his hand and squeeze it tight, hating the despondent tone in his voice. “We’re too drunk. We’ll talk about this in the morning,” and that seems to lessen the rigidity in his bones. 

From then on, the walk is done in heavy silence. Your thoughts are muddied and loud, emotions bouncing back and forth between resentment and uncertainty. 

Underneath all of it is a seedling of hope that you daren’t nurture. 

The atmosphere clings, following you all the way home, suffocating as you stand a metre apart in front of your respective bedrooms. You bid him goodnight, hand lingering on the handle. Anticipation sits like a stone in your chest. 

You lie in bed waiting for him to knock. 

He doesn’t. 

Next time you open your eyes you wince at the throb behind them; it pings around the inside of your skull and you groan into your pillow. 

There’s movement in the apartment. Shouto had always been an early riser. Cold relief washes over you at the confirmation that he was here. Last night filters through your mind. One scene after another you try to make sense of it all. 

Kei had been genuinely flirting— you didn’t really think to take it seriously at the time. It was harmless fun, and you figured he was just the type that enjoyed teasing. 

Shouto must’ve realised it early on. That was the reason he stepped in and kept you away from the bar. But that didn’t line up right with the reality you knew, because the only reasonable explanation for his behaviour would be that— 

You shoot upright, kicking off your covers, and immediately feel it rebound. Thumbs pressed to your temples, you massage firm circles into your skin until the pain dulled. 

Holy shit. Shouto was jealous. 

A strange blanket of exhaustion settles back over you, as though your muscles have atrophied. You slide down the headboard and stare up at the marks on the ceiling, all sprawled out like dropped skeins of yarn. Suddenly your bedroom was a refuge from an inevitable relationship altering conversation. 

Shouto had been jealous of a man vying for your affection. Your Shouto: gentle, placid, considerate, patient, funny, beautiful Shouto. 

“Fuck,” you whisper into the emptiness. You can hear the coffee machine brewing in the distance. You’re torn between screaming into your hands and jumping on the bed. 

You settle on getting up. Slowly. It’s clear you had been drunker than you thought; your pyjamas are on back to front. You tremble as you slip your arms through the sleeves and right the collar, padding over to the door. 

Shouto wanted to talk last night and you stopped him. Guilt gnaws away at you. All that courage was shot down. Pretending to forget about it isn’t an option— you had to do this. 

The plan to be stealthy is squandered by the hinge on your door. A harsh squeak reverberates through the apartment. You huff, lowering from your tip toes, and walk towards the kitchen. 

Another body enters the hallway. Shouto turns on his heel and nearly drops his mug as you almost collide. Reflexes hammered into him, he catches it in one hand and manoeuvres you away from the hot splash with the other. 

“Shit. Did it burn you?” he breathes, bringing your hand up to his mouth. A chilly puff of air blows over your skin and you shiver. 

You clear your throat and try to find your voice. “I think you got it. Thank you, Shouto”. 

The sound of his name pulls him out of his reverie. You try not to feel hurt when he drops your hand like hot coal. “Sorry,” casting a forlorn look at the half empty mug and the small coffee puddle at his feet. Lips pressed into a thin line, he says, “I was bringing you some coffee. Thought you might need it”. 

Delicate tendrils of steam dance and dissipate into the air. You gently cup your hands around his and receive the mug, a small smile pulling at your mouth. His eyes are keen and searching as you take a drink. 

“I definitely needed it,” you tell him between sips. The coffee paves a hot path down your throat to your stomach— the warmth spreads, seeking to fill the spaces between. All the earlier fear is washed away.

The time you spend observing one another feels like a short eternity. You watch hope visibly thread into his features, brighter; the way he always should be. 

Softly, you ask, “Do you think we could talk about last night?”

“Yeah,” the word comes in a whisper. Head inclining, Shouto nods in one slow motion. Then, louder, “I should clean up, first. Where do you want to…?”

“Where?” you repeat. The thoughts in his head are written plainly across his forehead and you longed to rid him of them. Tilting and raising your brows suggestively, you tease, “Bedroom?” 

Shouto gives an amused huff and the remnants of caution are blown away like seeds in a dandelion clock. His steps are lighter, a subtle bounce to them. Light filters into the living room and your spirit is buoyed by giddiness and wonder. 

What had you been so afraid of? 

You wait in the crook of the L shaped couch, legs curled beneath your body, facing the tall standing windows that overlook the city. Your headache has lessened into a quiet echo. 

While he mops up the coffee you finish off the last drops in your cup. You take a moment to appreciate your surroundings. The emptiness you once felt in this room no longer exists. Blankets strewn across the cushions, small crochet coasters, pictures put into frames, books left face down to save the page, things out of place— it felt so lived in. 

It felt like home. 

You sit up when footfalls approach. Shouto is pretty in the late morning light, under eye shadows and all. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“Not much,” he confesses. His weight shifts before he finally decides on sitting beside you, turning to mirror your posture. “I thought I might’ve messed things up”. 

You stretch to put your mug on the coffee table and his eyes follow attentively. “Shouto, you didn’t mess anything up,” he wrings his hands together in his lap, searching your face for dishonesty and finding none. “Though you probably shouldn’t have burned up that guy's number”. 

“Probably,” he affirmed. The hair on his left side is pressed flat to his head. You count the creases on his cheek, stopping at the healing bruise on his jaw. The movement of his full mouth draws you back, “I am sorry for that. It was childish of me and I took away your choice”. 

You hum, shuffling closer on your knees. Shouto’s expression is beautifully open, and you understand it, because your heart beat is thrumming just the same. “Next time, give me the number so I can ask you to burn it myself”. 

Shouto’s fiddling halts. It’s a relief. You thought if he pulled at that hangnail any more he might unravel in front of you. A crease forms between his brows, “What?” 

“I don’t want anyone else’s number. I…” losing some of your strength, you close your eyes for a second. Inhale deeply, continuing on an exhale, “Last night, you were jealous”. 

It’s not a question. Shouto nods, his hand making an aborted reach for your own but thinking better of it. 

You slide your palm against his. Your fingers fill the spaces between his knuckles. Shouto holds on tight and you ask,  “…Why?” 

A nail traces random shapes into his skin. You watch him watching your finger, mouth curled into a small, wobbly smile. He steels his resolve, an internal monologue you aren’t privy to. With spine tingling cadence, he says, “Because I’m in love with you”. 

You’re not sure what you anticipated. There isn’t much that could prepare you for such a long awaited admission— for something you’d only daydreamed about hearing. The hunger in your heart rears its head, seeing his words as permission to want. To take. 

Shouto carries on, incognisant to your plight. “I made peace with my feelings a long time ago. It’s not something I wanted you to worry about”. 

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him. “Deciding things for me”. 

“I don’t want you to make peace with them. I want you to share them. With me,” Your eyes meet as he peers up. There’s a stray kiss curl by his temple, white and soaking up the sun. He shudders when you twist it gently around your finger. “I love you too, dummy”.  

Heat prickles at the back of your neck, feeling the shift in atmosphere. “Oh,” is his eloquent reply. A slow blooming grin pulls at his mouth as the reality sets in. 

“Yeah. Oh”. Giddiness bubbles in your chest like water in a wellspring and you let go to cup his face. Shouto leans into the cradle your hands form, eyes fluttering closed as your thumb skims over the scar tissue. His ears are warm. 

Guided by fleeting impulses you press a quick kiss to his left eyelid, and he sucks in a shaky breath. You move lower, nose bumping his cheek, to press another to the corner of his mouth. 

“Is this okay?” you whisper, feeling like you were on the delicate precipice of something incredible. His mouth turns to chase yours, bicoloured eyes peeking beneath his lashes. 

“Kiss me,” he murmurs, and it comes like a puff of steam. “On the mouth this time”. 

Your lips tremble as you try not to laugh, aligning with his. You kiss him, petal soft and gentle, and feel it when he smiles. Tentative, derived from uncertainty and unfamiliarity. 

Shouto’s cool fingers slide around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. Don’t go anywhere. You answer in kind— hands sliding down to his chest to guide him back into the cushions and feel his heart racing as you settle your knees either side of his hips. You barely part for air, and Shouto follows your lead. 

“Again,” he mumbles. 

The intensity grows. Shouto kisses like it’s his last. Strong arms wrap around your waist, wandering hands mapping out the topography of your body. Somewhere between, your tongue dips into the seam, biting his bottom lip and plucking a whine right from his mouth. Heat flutters low in your abdomen; hips squirm between your thighs, his chest pressed to your own. 

“Shouto,” you groan, pushing harder, needing to be closer, threading into the soft hair at the back of his head. Fingers curl into the fat by your hips, they pull, rocking you into his lap. Invigorated, Shouto nips at your lips. Arousal spikes through you at the cool exhale— his tongue slides over your own and along the grooves in your teeth, wet and cold. 

“Fuck, is that—” you pant, head falling back as he begins to leave a trail of hot kisses down your throat. “S’that your quirk?” 

He hums an affirmative. The sound is resonant, deep in his chest and satisfied. Smug. You feel the impression of his smile against your jugular. Static fills your brain. Your thighs clench, rutting forward to relieve the ache between your legs, imagining all the things his mouth could do. 

At some point you part to catch your breath. Your foreheads come together, sharing awed laughter. Shouto cheeks are pink and there’s a soft smile on his swollen, kiss-bitten lips.  His hand moves to cup your jaw, rubbing small circles into the cheekbone.

“We should… slow down…” his chest heaves, eyes swallowed by his pupils. They fall to his lap, right where you’re pressed to his cock. You file away the lazy slur in his voice and wonder if that’s where all his blood went. “…I want to do this properly”. 

Figures that he would have more willpower than you; though you get the sense if you pushed, he’d give, and every surface in the apartment would see you laid out. Gathering your thoughts is made much more difficult as he kneads at your thigh, heedless to your struggle. 

“Okay baby,” you murmur, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his brow bone. His ears turn red and you’re alight, “You like that?” 

Shouto tucks his grin against your shoulder. Like before, he locks both arms around your back and holds you close. You comb your fingers through his hair, overlapping white and red, a long tender moment passing. 

“You love me,” he whispered apprehensively. Then again, thick with wonderment. “You love me”.  

It’s unbelievable to him— and that’s unbelievable to you. Shouto is easy to love, moreso than anyone you have ever met. All clandestine glances, soft spoken words and inside jokes; a book of every witty little thing you’ve said, keeping your words close, giving importance to the things you enjoy; he’s gag gifts and thoughtfulness and open arms, the reason all your hot drinks never go cold, he’s the cream that never melts. He’s home. 

You cradle him to your chest with no intention of letting go. The sun crawls higher, casting a warm blanket over your shoulders. 

“I do,” you reply. “How could I not?” 

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader

[leighsartworks216]

Hi hi! I saw your requests are open and I really love your writing. There's a scene I saw on yt from bg3 where Raphael just magics Astarion's clothes off and I was wondering if you could write something where Tav covers him up or snaps at Raphael over the invasion of his privacy. Here's the clip btw

https://youtube.com/shorts/RJyurXglAHM?si=YNBC5POkV0j2Zns4

OH MY GOD I saw this prompt and literally could not stop writing until I was finished

Warnings: non-consensual undressing (by Raphael), slight arguing, swearing, trauma

Word Count: 1,139

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Now, let’s talk about you.” Raphael turns his burning attention to Astarion. “I sense there’s something you want to ask me.”

“I do. I have a… proposal for you.”

“A proposal? If you’re hoping to taste my blood, little vampling, think again. It burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey.”

You can feel Astarion’s whole body tense beside you with agitation. “This is serious business… devil.” The anger fades into discomfort. “My old - well, a long time ago, someone carved some runes into my back. I’d like to know what they say.”

Raphael hums as he contemplates the deal before him. You turn to your companion, confused. “What are you talking about, Astarion? What scars?” It’s not as upset as the spawn expects it to be. Truly, he was fully prepared for you to round on him for hiding something from you for so long.

He never got the chance to be… intimate with you. He tried, of course, he was uncomfortably desperate for the safety it would bring him. But, somehow, you saw past him. Through him. You saw the seduction for the act it was. And, somehow, you stayed with him anyway. He just, well, forgot to tell you about them. He told you of Cazador, of course. Just, not what he did to him.

Raphael was all too pleased with your confusion, smirking. “You haven’t told them? And you’ve kept your clothes on this whole time? How unlike you.” You stare sharply at the devil. He was enjoying teasing Astarion too much. But then it really went too far. With a lilting, “Why not let them see? Don’t be shy,” he snaps his fingers and Astarion’s clothes disappear in an orange glow.

You don’t even think as you immediately unclasp your cloak and wrap it around his shoulders. He’s more surprised you covered him up than Raphael un-covering him. You act as a barrier between the two, holding Astarion’s shoulders to keep the cloak covering him and glaring venomously over your shoulder at the devil.

Before you can spit vitriol at him, he’s trying to soothe the tension. “Don’t worry - I’m motivated to help you.” His teeth show as he smirks wider. “Scars often tell such wonderful stories - I think yours might be truly exquisite. I’ll see you soon.”

And just like that, in a puff of flame and smoke, he’s gone. You turn back to Astarion.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes widen, shocked. “I’ve been keeping a secret as wide as my back - literally - from you all this time, and you’re worried about me? Aren’t you, I don’t know, angry? Betrayed? Ready to kick me out of our little group?”

You frown. “No, of course not.”

He can’t wrap his head around it. Your face says you're upset, but your eyes shine with sympathy and worry. You mean it. Why?

“But I lied to you!”

“You didn’t tell me - it’s different.”

He scoffs bitterly. “A lie of omission is still a lie, darling.”

“Did you do it out of malicious intent?”

His face scrunches up. “Why should that matter?”

“Well, did you?”

“No! Not on purpose, anyway. There may have been some… selfishness.”

“Then you were doing it to protect yourself?”

“What are you-”

“I’m not angry, Astarion.” His mouth lingers open, but the words die in his throat. You squeeze his shoulders. “You kept a secret to protect yourself, not to trick me. You had your reasons for not telling me, and that’s okay. I’m not angry.”

He’s quiet. Shadowheart and Gale had backed away some time ago, giving you as much privacy as they could while you fought. Not that it was much of a fight. You’re grateful for it, nonetheless. Astarion has a hard time being genuine when it’s just you two; he almost never lets his guard down around anyone else.

He sighs. It’s shaky and quiet, but you can feel the shudder in his shoulders. He looks down at himself. He’s in nothing but his underwear and your cloak. His stomach is still largely exposed, and he grabs the edges of the fabric to close it the rest of the way. It feels… safe. He’s terrified, of course - he’s in his skivvies out in the open. But the way you immediately covered him up. He’d never dreamed of anything like it.

“I’ll find you some clothes. I should have something tucked away.”

You’re slow to release him. You pull the cloak to wrap more evenly around him, and then you’re kneeling on the floor, rifling through your stuff. Your face is set in determination. Your eyes are keenly focused on your search. A warmth fills his chest.

When he speaks, it’s barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

You don’t turn from your task, but he can see your soft smile. It eases him even more. Soon enough, you’ve pulled out a loose shirt, some pants, and a spare pair of boots. He has no idea how or why you carry spare clothes around, but he really shouldn’t be questioning it when they’re suddenly the most important thing in the world.

“Here. They may be a bit big, but they’ll do until I can threaten Raphael to give your armor back.” He chuckles and takes the clothes you offer him. “I’ll go talk to the others and start working out a plan.”

“Wait.” He grabs your wrist before you can even start to turn away. He opens his mouth like he wants to speak. Thank you again, apologize for creating this mess, something. But he can’t find the words. You wait, ever patient. And, gods damn it all, your expression is so open and kind - he can’t help cupping your face in his hands and drawing you in for a kiss.

It’s soft at the same time it’s passionate. A quiet thank you for everything. For your kindness, your patience, your protection. You don’t know where to put your hands. You touch his shoulder hesitantly, wanting to pull him close but not wishing to touch him where he’d be uncomfortable. It makes his undead heart ache even more.

His hands leave your face to slide down your arms, guiding your hands underneath the cloak and around his back. Even with his guidance, you’re reluctant to touch him, but then your hands, warm and gentle, glide across the raised skin. You press into him, kissing him harder as thanks for his trust.

When you pull away, you press your forehead to his, breaths fanning over his face as you catch your breath. He leaves one last kiss at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you.”

You smile. He watches fascinated as your eyes become filled to the brim with fondness. You squeeze his waist and slide your arms from under the cloak, stepping back carefully. “Get dressed,” you say. “I’ll be just around the corner.”

---

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@angelofthorr

@emiemiemiii

@marina-and-the-memes

@lynnlovesloki

#request #requested #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

[perpetuallydaydreaming]

stop flirting with the nurse, it’s embarrassing.

it’s hard to act cool if james’ beautiful, hot nurse can hear his heart rate.

tags: james potter x gn!reader,, modern au,, hospitals,, nurse!reader,, remus pov,, melodramatic sirius and peter,, fluffy,, crack(?),, short around 1.3k wc,, no mentions of y/n

a/n: contrary to the title, there are no flirting just james being awkward lol,, i have no idea about the process of how vital checking goes sorry,, finding photos for this probably took longer than writing the fic itself rip.

it is to be noted that remus, resignedly, accepted it was only a matter of time before james got hospitalized for his recklessness.

now, with sirius and peter on either side of him, they wait for james to gain consciousness from his surgical procedure. it was a minor one, hardly one that needed 24/7 surveillance that sirius begged him to be a part of nor is the blubbering phone call from peter about james dying. the doctors even said he could be discharged the same day, if he woke up within the hour or so.

but remus is nothing but a people-pleaser. so, he stayed to watch over james as sirius requested and comforted peter that their loud, obnoxious (/fond) friend will wake up soon.

the room ridiculously quiet, a word rarely used as an adjective if they were involved, but it was. the only sound in the room, is the constant slow stream of the heart monitor and james’ soft breathing. remus can attribute this peace that the unnecessarily frantic and ballistic duo has now gone to sleep on the hospital’s stiff couch.

your head poked in first through the curtain before offering the gentlest smile and a silent request for you to come closer. you had been nothing but kind and attentive, to the point you were somewhat spoiling his overdramatic friends and their bemoaning about death and pain.

acknowledging their concerns with facts, reassurances, and empathic smiles. though he couldn’t miss the twitch of your lips as you try and stop, what remus imagines is a bellowing laughter at their dramatic reactions over james’ “demise.” not that remus blames you if you did let out a little laugh, it was getting theatric for a simple, small, and successful surgery. but he understands that professionalism comes first, such reactions might not be appropriate.

“well, everything seems fine here. your friend should be waking up anytime soon, if he does, don’t hesitate to ring us over so we can have him checked and he can be discharged. but before i leave the room, do you want me to do anything for you, any questions or concerns?” you say, voice gentle and firm

“no, we’re good, thank you.”

you nodded and gave a pretty smile, “okay then.”

you adjusted the curtain to close it fully, giving a stirring james and the sleeping visitors some privacy.

it wasn’t long before james woke up, groaning and stretching as if he had just been napping. albeit, a little delirious still, from the anesthesia no doubt.

he had opened his eyes now, unnaturally drooping and hazed, remus reached over and thwacked sirius and peter on their heads, “james’ awake.” he hums, giving nothing but an innocent looking smile as they glare for their rude awakening.

any sort of complaints from the smack quickly died out when they saw james, crowding over him and hugging him as if he’s been gone for 3 years and not 3 hours.

peter grabs james’ hands and recounts his experience of how he heard the news (from a text). at the same time with sirius exclaiming,

“oh, i’m so relieved you’re alright!” sirius cries, cradling james’ head to his chest, nuzzling through the knotted mass of curls to which remus only rolls his eyes at the theatrics of it all.

leaving remus no choice but to call you back into their section and have him checked for the last time.

“i’m fine,” james rasps, giving a sleepy smile and sluggishly patting both of the melodramatic thespians as comfort.

he looked fine, his hair no doubt knotted, his lips cracked dry but still rosy-cheeked.

when you arrived, sirius and peter have behaved themselves to sit down on the chair beside james’ bed. you slid the curtains fully, letting the light into their area. the fluorescent lights behind your head creating a soft halo as you kindly smile at james.

he looked to be stuck in a dazed trance. eyes still drooping but wider than when he first woke up, mouth slightly open, and body seemed to be frozen in place.

at first, remus thought of this due to the lingering effects of anesthetics but heard james’ heart rate steadily increase in speed.

the beeping machine seemingly louder now than before.

“hello, james. how are you feeling?” you hum, walking to go near him to do your routine check up.

the beeping seem to have picked up in speed as you neared his bed.

remus looked to the others to see if they noticed. the three of them, doing their best to cover their mouths to muffle their laughter.

“..’m fine..” james mumbled, starry-eyed gaze stuck to your face as you check his file and vitals.

“no pain? or headaches? any discomfort?” you ask, jotting down notes.

“jus’ perfect. ” he said, sounding a bit breathless.

the beeping was just going incrementally faster, the nearer you go to him.

you look at the monitor, face looking confused and worried all the same. “is it okay if i touch you? i’m just going to check on something really quick.”

the beeping stops for 2 whole seconds before continuing its raging beats. by now the three boys are having a field day, face red from the silent laughter and disbelief.

his heart literally skipped a beat, what even is this guy really? remus amusedly thinks to himself.

james couldn’t seem to say anything but give a measly nod. you grab your stethoscope, and listened to his raging heartbeat to see if anything was wrong. but james’ heart rate just seemed to have gained more momentum as you gently place your hand on his shoulder.

you move away, and slowly the heart rate slowed down, but still fast enough that you looked at him in slight concern.

“your heart rates a bit fast,” you noted, looking straight at him.

james’, oh sweet james, cheeks bloomed a glowing red and bashfully looked down.

you wrapped the stethoscope around your neck again and gave him a sweet, reassuring smile, “but other than that, everything looks to be in order. i’ll bring over the papers you have to sign and then you guys are free to go.”

when you finally walked away, james heart rate seemed to slow down to the normal speed once more. lolling his head to the side, as he groans in utter embarrassment and self-loathing.

“what is wrong with me?” he groans, cheeks still aflame.

sirius smirks, “your usual weakness to utter babes, that’s what.”

“your heart was going so fast i thought it was going to pop.” peter gushed laughing.

james playing with his starchy blanket, muttering lowly, “you think the pretty nurse heard that?”

the boys snorts out a laugh,

“i think the whole bloody hospital heard it mate,” remus cackled.

you came into view again, attending to another patient checking their vitals. offering the same kind of glowwy smile you gave them not a minute ago.

and because james just loves torturing himself, his gaze lands on you again. the same dazed look, body frozen but his eyes actively following your every move. the boys heard his heart rate—the beeping sounds picking up again.

this time sirius couldn’t stop his bark of laughter, causing you to look over them, curious.

your gaze connecting with james for a solid second.

they heard the monitor give another long pause before resuming its fast beeps. remus shook his head laughing, telling you not to worry.

you give remus a small nod, before looking over at his flustered friend, giving james a smaller, but somehow the sweetest smile you showed all day and abashedly looking away.

and james looking undeniably enamoured by your brief exchange. letting his tongue wet his dry lips as a giddy, rather boyish smile erupts from his face.

hopefully, this doesn’t give james more reason to be reckless and get himself admitted to the hospital more often. but if he does, at least it’ll be a funny story.

#perpetuallydaydreaming #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #marauders imagine #james potter fluff #marauders era #peter pettigrew #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x gn!reader #the marauders #modern marauders #marauders fluff #marauders #harry potter fandom #james fleamont potter #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff

[jujutsubaby]

🩷 sex drive 🩷

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader ☆ summary: you go to a valentine's day blood drive at work. maybe it's just that you've been single for too long, but isn't the volunteer drawing your blood kinda...? well, let's just say you wouldn't mind exchanging a few other bodily fluids with him, too. ☆ tags: modern au, workplace au ☆ warnings: 18+!! MINORS DNI!! dirty talk, oral sex (f!recieving), slight exhibitionism, daddy kink ☆ a/n: happy valentine's day (again)!! another quick little treat for u all hehe...inspired by my real life experience of going to a valentine's day blood drive (except for the fun parts ofc lmao).

you knew you should have made up an excuse and stayed home today. you hate to be a cliche bitter ass single woman who's not getting any younger on valentine's day, but it's hard not to play to type when the whole office is decorated in cutesy pinks and reds. it definitely doesn't help that your boss, suguru, keeps getting visits every 15 minutes from his boyfriend satoru.

"ugh, what's with the pda?" you grumble at what feels like satoru's 30th visit to suguru's open cubicle. "haven't you two been together for, like, a thousand years already?" your coworker utahime helpfully makes gagging noises to emphasize your point.

"hey now, y/n, you KNOW that i'm the head of marketing and suguru's the head of sales! i can't help it if he and i have lots of important things to discuss," satoru protests with puppy dog eyes.

"i didn't realize important marketing meetings involve sitting on coworkers' laps now," utahime mumbles, and the pair of you giggle conspiratorially.

however, as the day goes on and utahime keeps receiving increasingly elaborate flower arrangements delivered to her from her doctor girlfriend shoko, you find yourself feeling more glum than ever. you decide to go out for a stroll, hoping the cold february air will slap some sense into you.

unfortunately, not even five minutes after you set out, droplets of threatening rain turn into a torrential downpour. you curse; in your mopey mood this morning, you totally forgot to check the forecast!

you really don't want to go back into the lovefest of your office right now, so you start looking desperately around for a rescue — an underhang to stand under, anything.

that's when you see a bright red sign advertising a blood drive for valentine's day being held at your neighboring building. that could be an interesting idea. at least this way, you can tell yourself you did a good deed on valentine's day instead of just complaining the whole time. even more appealingly, you see that it'll take about an hour, which is one less hour you'll have to spend around satoru's soppy nicknames for suguru. after shooting a quick text to your team's group chat informing them of your last minute appointment, you decide to brave the rain and head over, hoping there's an opening for a walk-in.

you enter the room where the blood drive is taking place, praying you don't look too much like a drowned rat. your self-consciousness melts away and you smile brightly when you see a familiar face.

"shoko! you're volunteering here today?"

"oh, hey y/n," your quiet friend replies, giving you a small smile back. "yeah, utahime and i have a date nearby this evening, so i thought i might as well sign up. what time was your appointment for?"

"well, uh, i didn't exactly make an appointment..." you say awkwardly. "are walk-ins ok?"

"no problem, we got a lot of no-shows today anyway," shoko replies with a subtle roll of her eyes. she then hands you a clipboard and a pen. "just fill this out, and i'll get you screened and set up and everything."

you gratefully take the clipboard and head into the tiny compartment curtained off at the side of the room, presumably to give donors some privacy as they get screened. you fill out the form (trying not to think of your stupid ex boyfriend when you encounter the questions about your sex life), and once you're done, you poke your head back outside of the compartment.

"i'm ready now, shoko," you call. when your friend doesn't answer, you crane your neck around to the desk where she had been sitting. "shoko?"

"she just went on break," a husky, masculine voice replies from behind you. "i'll be taking over." you look back and are immediately floored by what just has to be the finest specimen of the male form you've ever seen, clad in obscenely tight scrubs that emphasize every bulging muscle. focus!!

"oh thanks doctor...um...fushiguro," you read from his nametag. he's so tall that it happens to be at your eye level, giving you quite a nice eyeful of his firm, muscular chest. what business did men have being this tall, anyway?!

"just call me toji," he says casually, grinning down at you. he takes the clipboard from your outstretched hands and jerks his head back towards the compartment you had been waiting in. "let's head back there so we have more...privacy." maybe it's just your imagination, but you could have sworn he smirked when he said that. you take deep breaths to suppress the unholy thoughts you're having, and you follow him back into the side room.

when you push the curtain aside and go in after him, you see he's already settled into one of the two chairs crammed into the tight space that he's clearly a little too large for. as you daintily resume your position in your own chair, he shifts and splays his long legs out, brushing your thigh with his knee. you inhale sharply.

he clears his throat and pulls out a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket before reading your questionnaire. he nods at your answers (although you can't help but turn beet red as his eyes scan over the section about when you last had a new sex partner).

"looks fine to me. let's take your blood pressure now...y/n" he says, positively purring when he sounds out your name. "beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he says with a roguish wink, making you turn even redder than you ever knew was possible. was he making you uncomfortable on purpose?!

"mind taking your top off?" he asks, rummaging around in the drawer in front of him.

"i'm sorry?!" you choke out. that was a freebie! happy fucking valentine's day to you!

"oh, sorry, i meant so i can put the bp monitor around your arm. i don't know if you can roll your sleeves up in that blouse," he says, looking up from the drawer. you notice his eyes on your breasts, and you realize that you of course had worn your white button down over your lacy black camisole on the day mother nature decided to get you soaking wet. you must look like such a hussy!

you quickly unbutton your blouse and show him your arm to wrap the thick velcro band around, trying hard to avoid eye contact. it doesn't matter, though; you can feel his eyes boring into you like lasers. why does he have to be so hot?! you hope being in his presence won't throw off your blood pressure reading...you can feel your pulse going a little haywire.

As he tightens the band and starts the measurement, toji starts making small talk.

"so, you doing anything for valentine's day?"

ugh. anything but this topic.

"no," you reply simply, hoping not to broker further discussion.

he presses on, not taking your cue (or if he did, he ignored it.)

"no? what, your partner doesn't celebrate?"

toji reads out your bp measurement to you, but you don't even pay attention to it as you notice his hand brushing the side of your breast as he unwraps the bp monitor's band from your exposed arm. you gulp as you realize only the thin satiny layer of your cami is keeping his hands from touching your tits.

"uh..ah.." you say, hoping he doesn't notice the effect his one brief physical touch had on you, "n-no...my ex-boyfriend and i broke up a few months ago already." you don't mention how you saw him in your bed on your birthday in the arms of another person.

toji looks up at you from darkly hooded eyes.

"his loss...i know i'd treasure valentine's day with a pretty little thing like you."

just like that, toji snaps back into professional mode again, leaving you reeling once more from his flirtatious behavior. he was way too handsome to be acting like this on a dime! a girl like you could get ideas...

"i'm going to do a thumbprick now to get a quick reading on your blood. is that ok with you?"

you nod, and he grins at you.

"that's my girl," he hums in a low voice.

then, before you're even able to process what's happening, he takes your hand and engulfs it in his own. he then begins rubbing your hand back and forth, and you feel a small frisson of pleasure at the sensation of his callouses against your small, soft fingers.

"noticed your skin was a little cold, so i thought i'd warm your hand up before taking the sample," he explained, but you're hardly able to even listen to him as you enjoy the blissful sensation of his hands rubbing yours. his fingers were so long and thick, and so dextrous... how would those fingers feel somewhere else...no! stop! what are you thinking?! you've definitely been single for too long.

"all right, y/n," toji murmurs gently. "you're just going to feel a small prick...sorry about that..." he takes the sample and puts it into a machine for processing. he then reaches back into the drawer and withdraws a digital thermometer.

"while we're waiting for that to finish, let's take your temperature." you nod and extend your hands to take the thermometer from him, but he ignores you and instead roughly takes your chin in one of his huge, warm hands, tilting your head up towards his chest.

"open up for me now, y/n" he purrs, your name sounding like the sweetest and most beautiful sound you've ever heard when it's coming from his mouth; you can't help but comply. he gently inserts the thermometer under your tongue, and you note his eyes lingering on your lips for much longer than they have to. embarrassingly, you notice heat pooling between your legs, and tension twisting by your belly button. you could get used to this...all too soon, though, the thermometer beeps, and he takes it out. toji clicks his tongue as he reads the small display.

"99 degrees even," he reads out. "now that's a surprise."

"what? why's that?" you ask, confused. how could a body temperature be surprising?

"well, our cutoff is 99.5, and i was sure you'd be way too hot," he says with a laugh and another wink. you giggle back demurely; you can't help but act all girlish and coquettish with someone like him. you've never seen a man in real life wink so much, but you find you don't mind. it suits him.

"all right, y/n, let's go get some blood drawn!" he says enthusiastically, rising from his chair. you follow suit. he reaches around you (did his arm just brush your breasts again?) and opens the curtain for you. "after you, princess."

you used to hate when your ex called you "princess"...but when toji called you that, it sounded like the doors to the heavens opened and angels were singing. you'll definitely be thinking about that for awhile. probably before bedtime, and probably while touching yourself. you sigh and exit the small room before hopping up onto one of the cots that were brought to the building for the blood drive.

toji pops a small stress ball into your hand. "now, make a fist for me," he says, using his fingers to close yours, "and start squeezing that." he squeezes his fist around yours. it wasn't so confusing of an instruction that you needed a demonstration, and you're beginning to suspect that toji's making excuses to keep touching you. not that you mind, exactly.

you keep squeezing, and he examines the tender inside of your elbow. "that's a gorgeous vein you've got there, princess. this'll be easy for me," he murmurs seductively, and you blush. you've never been complimented on a vein, of all things, before.

soon, toji pierces your arm (pursing his lips sympathetically as you emit a sharp gasp, which of course makes you stare at his lips), and your blood is pumping merrily into a bag. you decide to make conversation with him, this time.

"how about you, toji? i'm sure someone like you has big plans for valentine's day, right?" you ask, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

"oh, yeah," he chuckles. "if you count getting high and watching magnolia for the millionth time big plans. i don't really go for that stuff," he says.

"i love paul thomas anderson," you say huskily, trying to flutter your eyelashes at him. it's been a long time since you've flirted, and you're probably embarrassing yourself. "you know what the perfect film of his for today would be, though?"

"what's that, princess?"

you smirk. "there will be blood."

toji lets out a huge laugh in spite of himself, and you smile proudly. flirtation successful!

soon, your blood has filled the small bag, and toji removes the needle, pressing gauze to the wound. the feel of his hands pressing into your arm is one of the most blissful things you've felt all week. he asks you to continue maintaining the pressure, and you feel like whining that it won't feel as nice as when he does it before remembering where you are and complying. you watch as he picks up your sample and sorts it in with the others; you feel a bit shy, seeing him manhandle your little blood bag like that. it feels so intimate.... you gulp as you imagine him manhandling you like that.

"all right, y/n, now you just need to rest for twenty minutes, and you'll be good to go." you start climbing out from the cot, feeling a little disappointed that your short, exciting interaction with toji is coming to an end. oh well. some excitement is better than none.

"we have some cookies for the donors in the seating area," he continues. "lucky you...i'd love a little taste of something sweet right about now..."

ok, it definitely wasn't your imagination — he positively growled that last sentence, and he was eyeing you. as you get up, you notice you're a little shaky on your feet; you realize that you actually hadn't eaten lunch before coming, since you'd been in such a rush to get away. you list and sway dangerously to one side, but a pair of strong arms braces you. you let your head fall back onto a perfectly firm, taut chest.

"careful, there, sweetheart" toji whispers in your ear, his breath tickling your sensitive skin as he lifts you up. you try not to think too much about how your back is pressed into him right now. "i think i'd better keep an eye on you." he walks you over to the front of the room, bracing your back against himself the whole way over. he leads you to the front of the room, where there are folding chairs and a card table with a small platter of supermarket cookies as promised. as shoko had alluded earlier, the blood drive was not busy at all. in fact, it was completely empty currently; just you and toji, alone in this room... you feel yourself getting faint again, but not for the same reason.

"y'know, princess..." toji says, sitting again with his legs splayed out over the chair across from you as you nibble a chocolate chip cookie. "my shift's ending right about...when your observation period ends."

you tilt your head inquisitively at him, hoping you knew why he was saying this. he leans forward, the flimsy plastic chair creaking under the weight of his solid muscle. what you'd let that muscle do to you...

"i don't think that i, as a medical professional, can let you go back to work today..." he continues. "i think you'd better go home after this." then, he smiles deviously. "and i think i'd better take you back, just to give you a...full examination."

it takes all of your restraint not to fling the rest of the cookie down and jump his bones right then and there. instead, you reply,

"i think i'd appreciate the house call." you do your best to make your voice ooze with suggestion so he knows you're picking up what he's putting down.

after what feels like the slowest fifteen minutes of your life, it's finally time to leave. just as toji's shift is about to end, shoko returns from her break, and you take the opportunity to ask her to have utahime bring your things back home from the office for you. since they're your neighbors, you can pick them up later tonight. or perhaps, tomorrow morning...just in case tonight gets a little too busy.

"something came up," you explain to her breathlessly, but you know shoko notices toji's hand creeping up the small of your back.

"have fun," shoko says to the both of you, only slightly judgmental but mostly encouraging.

since you took the bus to work that morning and toji refuses to wait a moment longer than he has to to commence your "examination," he insists on driving you back in his car. you both practically sprint through the parking lot, and he breaks at least three traffic laws zooming back to your apartment in the rain as you yell directions. for a doctor, he sure is awfully reckless.

finally, finally, after an agonizingly long wait, you're at your building. you're about to climb out of the car, but toji is way ahead of you, opening the door for you. you are about to climb out and jokingly thank him for his chivalry when he unceremoniously scoops you out of your seat and swings you over his shoulder. you shriek with laughter.

"toji! put me down!"

you're also all too aware that you're wearing a pretty short skirt that day.

"sorry, princess," he says smoothly. "it's protocol. i can't have you walking back in just in case you pass out, or something."

you're about to ask if he's even been to medical school when he shoves your key into your apartment door, slams it open, and, equally roughly, slams your back against the wall. the breath is shoved out of your lungs as he immediately captures your mouth with his, swallowing any potential protest you might have had (which you didn't, you absolutely didn't. not even close.). he carries your entire weight easily as he shuts the door behind him with his foot; you're hardly paying attention, though, as you're too busy widening your mouth and entangling your tongue with his. you greedily bite down on his lip, and he growls in response.

"let's get you to the examination table," he groans. you wrap your legs around his narrow waist, and he carries you haphazardly to your dining table, crashing into and knocking over furniture along the way. carrying you with one arm, he carelessly clears the table with his other before plopping you onto the tabletop. he kneels before your legs and tears off your tights in one swift motion.

"i hope you're planning to help clean up—" you start, but your breath hitches in your throat as he begins kissing up your ankle, then your calf...then your thigh...he gets slower and slower as he gets closer to where you most want him to go. you try to shift forward on the table to bring your throbbing center closer to him, but he holds you firmly in place with two powerful hands clamped on your hips.

"patience, princess..."

you close your eyes and start taking deep breaths, but the moment is disrupted by an annoying loud vibration against the wooden tabletop.

"who the fuck is 'ryomen sukuna?'" toji scoffs, "and why do you have a heart next to his name? you been lyin' to me, princess? have you been naughty?"

"no," you breathe, and it comes out as a whine. "no, daddy, i've been a good girl, promise. please..."

"'please' what, princess? help daddy out here," he purrs with a wicked grin. just then, your stupid phone vibrates again, and you're about to pick it up and throw it out the window when toji wrests it from your grip.

"your idiot ex, i'm guessing?" he asks. all you can do is nod, the words robbed from you.

"well, my professional recommendation is...for you to tell him to fuck off."

"i will, toji, i promise," you pant. "please, just ignore him, i promise, he's nothing to me."

"you're not listening to me, princess..." toji says in a low, dangerous voice. "i want you to tell him to fuck off. right. now." he slides the answer button on your phone and hands it to you before you can protest.

"h-hello?" you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "sukuna?"

"heyyyy, y/n....missed hearing your voice, boo," sukuna coos, clearly inebriated. you scoff in disgust; it's only four in the afternoon. sukuna was such a mess.

"what do you want, sukuna? i thought i w-was..." you start out assertively, but your resolve is breaking as a practiced tongue once again starts swirling its way up your legs, alternating between your left and right thighs. you clench your toes and grit your teeth before continuing.

"i was ... clear...that ... that we're o-over," you say, the last word coming out as a moan as you feel a set of teeth pulling off your panties ever so gently.

"baby, i told you!" sukuna whines. "uraume's nothin' to me, babe! they're just a friend! you're my one and only, baby!"

even in the midst of the sensory overload occurring in your bottom half, you still roll your eyes. yeah, "just friends" made out in bed naked all the time, right?

"i want you to...to...s-stop.." you pant, as sukuna finally picks up on your strange manner of speech.

"hold on, y/n, is someone there with you?" he snarls, his famous temper rising to the forefront. "you whoring it up with another guy already?"

at that, toji grabs the phone from you and growls into it, "seems like she finally decided she needs a real man, not some cheatin' asshole who can't appreciate her properly!"

the moment he finishes talking, toji leans back into your thighs and finally plunders you with his tongue, raising the phone to your mouth in time for you to moan sinfully into it as sukuna is arguing back. toji doesn't even bother hanging up as he throws the phone across the room.

toji grips your thighs tightly enough to leave bruises as he feasts on you, and you wrap your legs around him, tangle your hands in his short hair, and squirm in delight. it doesn't take you very long to come undone under his practiced mouth.

he rises back to his feet, licking his lips.

"finally got to satisfy my sweet tooth today," he says mischievously. you grab the v-neck of his shirt and tug him closer to you aggressively.

"take me to bed. it's your turn next," you declare authoritatively. then, you kiss him fiercely, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

"your wish is my command, princess," he replies with a dark chuckle, before lifting you, bridal style, to your bedroom.

this was shaping up to be a great valentine's day after all.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #jjk modern au #toji fushiguro x reader

[iateyourfav]

Shhhh

After you were approached by a reg, Tech feels the need to demonstrate his superiority.

! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

Tech x Reader

Tags: nsfw, established relationship, afab reader, no pronouns used/gender neutral reader, jealous tech

CW: porn without plot, oral sex (f receiving), semi-public sex, breathplay if you squint

Words: 932

Read on ao3

This wasn‘t a position you could say you found yourself in often, spread open on a crate in a supply closet somewhere on a Jedi cruiser with Techs head busy between your legs, your clothes scattered on the floor. 

You found yourself here after a reg got a little too close to you for Techs liking. He didn’t blame you, of course, but he needed to reassure himself that while other people may be able to make you smile as well, he was the only one who could make you produce the sound you made right now.

And the place where he did this, in the said supply closet, was chosen with strategy as well. Of course, for a more private setting he could‘ve taken you on the Marauder, seeing as it was deserted from its usual inhabitants right now, as they were all somewhere around the Jedi cruiser they landed on to stock up supplies. 

He chose this closet in particular exactly for its lack of privacy. Not only was he fully aware that every person that walked by was able to hear what was going on inside this closet, he also made sure that that reg who tried to woo you was able to see you getting dragged in here by him. He used your inability to keep quiet during sex to his full advantage.

“Mhmm fuck.“ you threw your hand over your mouth, trying to shut yourself up, unsuccessfully so. Tech was getting sloppy, seeing as you were starting to tense up and shake more and more every second he spent buried with his face between your legs. He detached for just a second to tell you to „Relax.“ while his hands left your thighs. One hand began to push your pelvis back onto the crate while the other started rubbing your clit.

You moaned in a mixture of pleasure and frustration. This made Tech speak up again: “If you want to climax, you will have to quiet down, or else we will be caught before you manage to cum.” he threatened. “I’m trying.” you managed to push out, but not without another moan following right after.

His face retreated from your pussy. His hand moved from your hip to up to your face, covering your mouth to stop your moans; his other hand still playing with your clit, making your back arch once again, your cries now muffled against his hand. He didn’t particularly do this because he wanted to shut you up and you knew that. It gave him a sense of power and control; and the ability to play with you even more. You felt yourself getting close, though you needed more contact to reach your high fully. 

“More” you tried to communicate, but your request was barely audible seeing as your lips were still fully covered by Tech's large hands. “You will have to speak up, I am unable to fulfill your request if I can't understand what you are saying.” he responded. From the tone of his voice you could tell that he very clearly understood what you asked for. 

You groaned in frustration, repeating yourself: “More!” you tried a little louder this time. It still sounded like gibberish, but Tech granted you mercy, knowing that if you asked again, any louder, people walking by would definitely be able to hear your begging.

That’s when he removed the hand working your clit from you, at least momentarily. “You will have to stay as quiet as possible, or you won’t be able to finish.” he stated, before diving his head between your legs once again, forcing him to retreat his hand from your lips in the process. 

His right hand landed back on your clit, rubbing circles while he pushed his tongue into you, lapping up every drop of arousal he possibly could, while his left hand tried to push your thighs further apart, as they seemed to try to crush his head.

You bit your lip, trying to hold in your lewd noises as you climbed closer and closer to your peak. Tech removed his right hand from your clit, wrapping both arms around your thighs now, his head moving slightly, pressing his face fully into you with his nose now stimulating the sensitive bundle of nerves while he kept eating you out like you were the first meal served to him after weeks of starvation.

With his hands now focused on pulling you closer, instead of pushing your legs apart, your thighs pressed against the sides of his head, catching his goggles between them, slightly shifting them off his eyes. Though he barely cared about his ability to see at this moment, this movement still caught his attention and made him look you straight in the eyes, mouth and nose still hard at work.

This sealed your fate. You came hard, back once again arching off the crate, head and eyes rolled back in ecstasy. You couldn’t stop your moans and cries, even if you wanted to. He helped you ride out your high by staying pressed against your pussy, eyes still locked on you, studying your physical reaction to his stimulation.

After calming down, you lifted yourself up on your elbows, severely out of breath, looking up at Tech who was now standing between your legs, offering your clothes to you that he picked off the floor while you recovered. 

“You may not have managed to stay as quiet as I ordered you to, but at least the regs walking by may now have learned not to try their luck with you.”

#tbb #tbb tech #tech smut #tech x reader #the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb smut #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #fanfic

[burntheedges]

Hi Kate!

I'm back with my Ask games again!

This time we have a spring based prompts theme. You get a spring prompt and a character and I'd like to know your head canon/immediate thoughts on the combination.

Character: Din Djarin

Prompt: lake

With love,

El

El! the way this immediately set my brain spinning!

anyway, here we go, I hope you enjoy this. I made myself laugh. lol

A day at the lake

Din Djarin x gn!reader | 1006 words | rating: gen | ao3 tags/warnings: make sure to do your research before going to strange planets, I guess, the Razor Crest is still with us, not betaed

or, Din tries (and fails) to relax on vacation

…

Din stepped out of the Razor Crest with his hands on his hips, sweeping his gaze over the view in front of him. He huffed a tiny disbelieving breath, too quiet to be picked up by his helmet’s modulator. He shifted his weight and shook his head.

It was, by any measure, idyllic. The sunlight reflected off the small ripples in the surface lake in dazzling patterns. A gentle breeze rustled the colorful flowers and grasses that lined the narrow shore, itself covered in pastel orange and pink pebbles. The mountains across the lake that formed this bowl-shaped valley had extremely picturesque snow glinting on their peaks. As he stood there, taking it all in, he heard the songs and trills of 4 different birds. A trio of small, colorful winged insects floated by the edge of the ramp of the ship, fluttering in the breeze. He watched a shiny fish jump out of the water and do a flip before smoothly slipping back into the lake.

He blinked.

When you’d said you wanted to take a vacation, just the three of you, he’d remembered hearing nice things about this planet. It had been nearby, barely a system over from their last destination. And it really had looked nice as he flew the Crest into land. But looking at it now, he realized it was too beautiful. Way too beautiful. 

He didn’t trust it.

Din thought back, trying to remember what he’d read about the fauna on this planet. Or maybe strange weather patterns? Was it extreme temperature fluctuations? Paradise couldn’t actually exist, not without people taking advantage of it. There had to be a catch.

He walked slowly down the ramp as he looked for a sign of you and his son. It didn’t take him long to spot you.

You were both sitting on the shore of the lake, about 35 meters to the right of the ship. Right as he turned towards you Grogu tossed a small pebble into the lake, and the sound it made when it hit the water – kerplunk – sent the child into a fit of giggles. Din watched as you joined him, letting his eyes trace the shape of your smile and the outline of your shoulders, relaxed and at ease. Hidden within the privacy of his helmet, he smiled.

He started to walk towards you, still carefully scanning your surroundings with every sensor and setting his helmet had to offer. 

Nothing.

Brow furrowed, he stepped onto the beach about 10 meters away from where you were sitting, and you and Grogu looked up and smiled at him. He smiled back in spite of his growing conviction that nowhere could be this perfect.

“Din!” You called out, grinning. “Look at this place!” 

I’ve been looking, he wanted to say, and I don’t trust it.

“Isn’t it almost too good to be true?” You continued, incredulous, as a frog-like amphibian hopped just out of Grogu’s reach into the lake and he squealed. 

Din nodded as he stepped up beside you. “There has to be something wrong with it.” He knew he sounded judgmental and wary, but he couldn’t help it.

You threw your head back and laughed. “I knew you’d say that.” You reached out to gently poke his leg. “Can’t just take the win, huh?”

He was certain you could tell he was smiling. He sank smoothly to sit next to you. “It’s too nice. Nothing is this nice, cyar’ika, not for free. Not without a catch.”

You shrugged. “Maybe it’s just too far out of the way of any of the main trade routes. Maybe there’s a season of ridiculous weather we’re lucky to be missing.”

Din tilted his head, amused, and reached out to tickle Grogu's side gently. “Maybe there are giant, man-eating frogs that are creeping up on us now, as we speak.” You laughed again at his words, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. Grogu made an offended noise and poked his father in the knee. 

“That’s right, Grogu, your father is being very silly right now.” 

Din huffed to hide a laugh but he knew you could feel it. “I set the ship to do a long-range scan. I’ll check it again before we decide whether to stay.”

You sighed but smiled up at him without removing your head from his shoulder. “I knew you would. But really, so far?” You lifted your right shoulder in a small, uneven shrug. “So good. No idea what kind of problem there could be.”

Din brought his right arm up and around your shoulders, tugging you in closer as Grogu climbed into his lap. He nodded, conceding. “We’ll see.”

…

Later, after a very pleasant afternoon by the lake, you could see how hard he was trying to hold in his “I told you so” as you jogged up the ship’s ramp to escape the huge, hissing, angry aquatic mammals that had emerged from the lake at sunset. Nocturnal, you'd guessed as you scrambled towards the ship. They had fangs.

On the bright side, they were pink, just like the many pebbles Grogu had stuffed in your pockets. And their legs were really short, so short they had no hope of catching you.

You looked at Din when the ramp closed, and his shoulders were shaking with his effort to hold in a laugh. You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You still owe me a real vacation, you know.”

He laughed outright, and the sound of it through the modulator made you grin. “I’ll do more research next time.”

“You’d better!” You called after him as he moved towards the ladder. “No more angry pink animals with fangs, please.”

Grogu squealed and held up a pink rock for your inspection. “Yeah, buddy. Pink, like that.” He made an insistent noise and waved it at you again.

And that’s when you noticed that it had legs. That one, and the 35 other members of Grogu’s collection that started squirming in your pocket at exactly the same time.

“DIN!”

...

a/n: lol no, I don't know where this came from

tag list: @katareyoudrilling @jeewrites @djarins-cyare if you're on the tag list for Maintenance Request and you want to be on my tag list for any/all fic, just let me know!

#din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #x reader

[writingforstraykids]

Only the best for you

Pairing: Minchan

Word Count: 2973

Summary: Felix's birthday party turns thrilling for Chan and Minho as they sneak away for a moment of privacy...more or less.

Warnings/tags: smut, fluff, idiots in love, soft!dom!chan, soft!sub!min, semi-public sex (a closet😭😂)

A/N: Soo after hearing this audio of my dear @slutforchanlix I had to go and write a little something for it. Thank you Azzy baby for the main idea for this fic hehe @galaxycatdrawz

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho steps into the bedroom cursing softly to himself as the button keeps on slipping from his hand. “Channie,” he calls out to his boyfriend frustratedly. 

“Mhm?” Chan gives back, his steps echoing in the hallway as he makes his way over. 

“Help, please,” Minho pouts at him and stretches his arm out for him. He yelps in protest when Chan grabs his arm and pulls him in so quickly that their bodies collide. Chan's hands grip his ass, squeezing his cheeks and then he's kissing him forcefully. Minho giggles surprised, gripping his arm to steady himself. “And what was that for, hm?” he asks once Chan pulls back. 

“You look incredibly fuckable right now,” he admits and Minho's jaw drops.

He shoves his chest and shakes his head at him. “Stop,” he giggles. “What the fuck are you on about again?” 

Chan smiles, eyes wandering all over his body as he takes in the sight again. “You're beautiful, that's why,” he says, watching him in wonder as he readjusts the fragile silver bracelet around his neck. “You've got the prettiest face and your lips look so kissable right now. Also that outfit looks so good on you, but what doesn't?” Chan says and takes a few steps back. “Turn for me?” he asks innocently. 

“My cuffs aren't buttoned up yet,” he protests softly but rolls his eyes at Chan's disappointed pout. Minho sighs and slowly turns, blushing a little beneath Chan's intense gaze. 

“Fuck, Minho,” he breathes out, eyes wandering lower to where Minho's trousers hug his thick thighs tightly. “If you don't suffocate me with those thighs later I'll cry.”

“What the hell are you on?” Minho laughs out loud and smiles at him giddy. “Look at you getting all worked up about me fully dressed.”

Chan closes the distance between them and gently takes his hand, closing the button for him on one sleeve and then on the other. He brings up his hands to his mouth and kisses his knuckles, smiling at him happily. “Sometimes I just can't believe you're truly mine.”

“Well, wake up, it's been four years, dummy,” he says fondly. “I'm yours and yours only,” he promises sweetly. 

Chan hums happily. “Mine,” he smirks before kissing him passionately again. 

“Don't you dare keep this up tonight,” he giggles. “It's Lix’s birthday and they rented this whole huge mansion to celebrate. Hyunjin would be pissed if we ruined some sofa in there just because you can't stop being such a tease.”

“Who says it'll be the sofa?” Chan smirks and Minho rolls his eyes playfully. “I'm sure there's some secluded room…or closet,” he says and watches Minho's eyes fill with curiosity. He knew he'd get him with that. The chance of sneaking around and getting caught had done things before to Minho neither of them could explain. 

Minho's smile widens at the implication, his eyes sparkling with mischief and a hint of excitement. "You're so stupid," he laughs, the sound bubbling up effortlessly. Chan simply grins back, his own excitement easily noticeable.

"Promise me something?" Minho says, his tone suddenly serious. Chan's eyebrows lift in curiosity. "Promise me no matter what happens tonight, we'll make time for us, just us. Even if it's just a moment stolen away from the chaos." Chan's face softens, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Minho's forehead.

"I promise," he says softly, then his lips brighten into a smile. "You know I can't deny you anything." They share a quiet moment, eyes locked, nothing but warmth between them. 

The sound of a distant car honking pulls them back to reality. "Sounds like the cab’s here," Chan notes, a hint of reluctance in his voice as if he'd rather stay in this moment forever.

"We should go," Minho agrees, though he takes a second longer to lean in and steal another quick kiss. They break apart, a little breathless but smiling widely.

-

At the mansion Hyunjin lets them inside and leads them downstairs. “We set up the party there because they have all sorts of stuff we could use. We even have a small disco.”

“Oh, nice,” Minho smirks at the thought of letting loose and dancing with Chan. 

As they make their way downstairs, the sounds of laughter and music greet them. The mansion is beautifully decorated, every detail perfect for the celebration. Lix, the birthday boy, is in the center of it all, surrounded by friends and brightly colored balloons.

"Happy Birthday!" Minho and Chan chorus as they approach, each giving Lix a warm hug. Lix beams at them, his happiness fully on display.

"Thanks for coming, guys! I’m so glad you're here," Felix exclaims. "Make yourselves at home—there's food, drinks, and later on, we’re hitting the dance floor hard!"

As the evening progresses, the party goes quite nicely for everyone involved. Music thumps through the mansion, and people mingle and dance.

Minho and Chan drift together through the crowd, occasionally separated as friends pull them into conversations or dance-offs but always finding their way back to each other. Their eyes meet across the room often, a silent conversation of smiles and nods, the promise of a stolen moment never far from their minds.

At one point, Minho finds himself alone on a balcony, taking a moment to breathe in the cool night air. The stars are out, twinkling above in a clear sky. He leans against the railing, lost in thought, until he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist.

"Escaped the chaos?" Chan's voice is soft, his breath warm against Minho's neck.

"Just needed a minute to breathe," Minho replies, leaning back into the embrace. "You?"

"I was looking for you," Chan confesses, tightening his hold slightly. "Remember your promise?" he whispers, his lips brushing against Minho's ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

"How could I forget?" Minho turns in Chan's arms to face him, their noses brushing. "So, about that closet…" he trails off, a teasing glint in his eye.

Chan chuckles, his gaze fond and filled with love. "Let's go find it," he suggests, taking Minho's hand and leading him back inside.

They wander through the party, unnoticed in their quest. When they finally slip away into a quiet hallway, their hands are clasped tightly, the thrill of their little adventure adding an extra layer of excitement.

There's a huge closet standing at the wall and Chan smirks opening the door to it. There are some cleaning supplies in there, which he quickly shoves aside before stepping into it. “Come on,” he giggles and Minho steps inside as well. It’s quiet here, away from the noise of the party. They close the door behind them, the click of it shutting sounding unusually loud in the silence.

Chan backs Minho against the wall, their bodies pressing close. "Found you," Chan murmurs, before his lips find Minho's again. The kiss is deep, passionate, fueled by the adrenaline of their sneaky escape.

Minho's hands roam over Chan's back, pulling him closer, their bodies moving in sync with a rhythm only they know. They break the kiss only to catch their breath, foreheads resting against each other, their breaths mingling. “I love you,” Minho whispers into the quiet. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Chan whispers back, hands squeezing his hips. “It's darker than I expected here,” he admits. 

“Well, obviously,” Minho laughs out loud and covers his mouth in shock. 

“Should we keep the door open, just a little?” he asks and Minho responds with a choked, little moan. “Means you gotta be quiet, bunny, think you can do that?”

Minho squirms a little and nods before realizing Chan can't see him. “Yes, yes I can,” he nods quickly. 

“Mhm, you better, or I'll stop moving,” he says and Minho can hear him undoing his belt. 

“Yes, hyung,” he answers softly, biting his lower lip hard. Chan gently shoves the door open enough to let in a little light. Their eyes meet and Minho swallows at the need in Chan's dark orbs. 

“Trust me,” Chan murmurs as he leans in, his breath hot against Minho’s cheek. The slight crack of the door allows the distant sounds of the party to seep in—a reminder of the world just outside their hidden spot.

Minho nods, his heartbeat quickening with each of Chan's movements. There’s a thrill to this—the secrecy, the risk, the sheer excitement of being with Chan in such a risky setting.

Chan’s hands are careful yet confident as they explore Minho, each touch sending shivers through him. Minho reaches out, his fingers digging into Chan’s back, pulling him closer, needing to feel as much of him as possible.

The soft hum of the party continues to drift through their small opening. 

“You make everything feel like an adventure,” Minho breathes out, his voice a hushed whisper against Chan’s lips.

Chan smiles, his eyes reflecting a mix of love and mischief. “Only the best for you,” he replies, pressing another kiss to Minho’s lips, this one tender and filled with promise. “Let's make sure you're ready, hm?” Chan hums against his lips and fumbles with the button of Minho's trousers. 

“Yeah,” he nods feverishly and shoves down his trousers and boxers enough for Chan to get to work. 

Chan pulls out the small bottle of lube, safely stored in the inside of his jacket. He pours some on his fingers and reaches behind Minho, circling his hole before pushing inside. Minho grips his shoulder tightly, mouth forming a silent “oh”. “Relax,” Chan whispers, gently working his finger inside. “Good boy,” he adds as Minho does exactly that and lets Chan do as he wants to. 

“Fuck, love, please,” he moans sweetly, pressing back on his finger. 

Chan smiles at Minho's responsiveness, adding another finger and scissoring them slowly, careful to prepare him properly. The intimate touches, combined with their secluded environment, heighten the intensity of each sensation. Minho's breath catches, his forehead resting against Chan's shoulder as he adjusts to the feeling.

"Better?" Chan asks, his voice low and comforting.

"Much," Minho manages to reply, his voice laced with a mix of pleasure and anticipation. He adjusts his stance slightly, allowing Chan better access, his own hands gripping Chan's jacket for support.

Chan continues his careful movements, his free hand tracing gentle patterns along Minho's side, soothing and arousing all at once. The soft, muffled sounds of the party outside seem worlds away, their own private universe reduced to the small, dimly lit space of the closet and the overwhelming sensations flooding through them.

Finally feeling that Minho is ready, Chan pulls out his fingers and takes a condom from his jacket pocket. With quick, practiced movements, he tears the package open and rolls it onto himself. He looks into Minho's eyes, searching for any last hesitation, but finds only eager need in them.

"You sure?" he asks, again.

"Absolutely," Minho replies, his voice firm yet breathy. "Please, Chan, I need you."

Chan nods, aligning himself with Minho, his hands gripping his hips tightly. He pushes forward gently, pausing at the resistance he meets to let Minho adjust. The tight heat welcoming him sends a shudder through his body, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. No rush. 

Minho bites down on his lip, concentrating on relaxing as Chan begins to move. Once fully buried inside, Chan gives them both a moment to adjust before starting a slow rhythm. Each thrust is controlled and soft, aiming for a depth and angle that pulls soft, quiet moans from Minho.

Their movements are synchronized, a dance they’ve perfected over time. The sounds of their breaths and the quiet squelch of the lube mix with the faint music from the party.

"Chan..." Minho breathes out, his hands sliding up to tangle in Chan's hair. He pulls him down for a kiss, hungry and deep, which Chan eagerly returns. The kiss muffles their moans, their pace changing as they lose themselves in each other.

Chan's hands explore Minho's body, his fingers tracing the lines and curves he knows so well, each touch sparking additional waves of desire. Minho's hands are equally busy, caressing Chan's back, shoulders, and occasionally drifting lower, thrusting deeper.

Minho's head drops back against the wall of the closet, jaw growing slack as Chan barely moves anymore. They both know how much he loves feeling full and Chan loves seeing him lose control. Chan starts kissing his neck as Minho gets more vocal, breathy moans and small huffs leaving him. He soothingly squeezes his hip and bites back a soft groan as Minho's moans rise in volume the more his lips travel over his neck. 

Minho's grip on his jacket grows tight as Chan barely pulls out before already pushing inside again, grinding against his prostate. “Ohh, fuuck,” he moans out louder than he should. He can't help it as Chan finds just the right angle to make his whole body sing with pleasure. Chan's breath hitches at the sound, encouraged by the undeniable evidence of Minho's pleasure.

"Shh, we've got to keep it down, remember?" Chan reminds him softly, even as he adjusts his movements to maintain that perfect angle, each thrust calculated to deepen the sensation for Minho.

Minho nods, biting his lip hard, his eyes fluttering closed as he fights to stay quiet. He wraps his arms around Chan, pulling him closer, their bodies flush against each other, minimizing any noise from their movements.

Chan's face, buried into the crook of Minho's neck, his hot breaths against Minho's skin sending shivers down his spine. He whispers encouragements, each word a tender vibration against Minho's sweaty skin. "You're doing so well," he murmurs, "Just a bit longer, I've got you."

Minho's hands travel down, tracing the line of Chan's spine, feeling the muscles work beneath his skin. He reaches lower and touches himself where Chan's body meets his, increasing his own pleasure. He feels a familiar tightening, his orgasm approaching rapidly.

Chan feels it too, his movements becoming less rhythmic, more erratic as he gets closer to the edge. "Minho," he gasps, his voice a tight whisper, "I'm—"

"I know," Minho cuts him off, his voice a breathy moan. “Please, baby, with me-.”

The permission breaks the last of Chan's restraint. With a few more thrusts, deep and hectic, they reach their climax together. Chan's grip tightens around Minho as he shudders as waves of pleasure wash over them, leaving them clinging to each other, breathless and spent. Minho can't stop the filthy sounds spilling from his mouth anymore and Chan doesn't stop him, loving the sound of his name so broken, so delicate, so sweet way too much. 

For a few moments, they simply hold each other, their breaths slowly calming. Chan eventually pulls back slightly, looking into Minho's eyes with a depth of love that words could never fully capture. He presses a soft, long kiss to Minho's lips, which the younger returns just as lovingly. 

"We should probably get back," Chan whispers against Minho's lips. 

Minho nods, a soft smile covering his lips. "Yeah, before they start sending out search parties for us." He helps Chan tidy up, adjusting each other's clothes and hair to erase any obvious signs of what had happened. 

They open the closet door fully, peeking out to make sure the coast is clear. The party still rumbles on, the sounds of celebration unchanged by their temporary absence. They slip out, blending back into the crowd, sharing looks, secret smiles and knowing glances.

As they mingle, they keep close, occasionally brushing hands or exchanging soft words.

The night continues, and the music changes to slower, softer beats. Minho leans against Chan, his head resting on his shoulder as they sway gently to the music. Chan’s arms wrap around him, strong and secure.

“Happy?” Chan whispers lowly. 

“Very,” Minho replies genuinely. “Best birthday party ever, and it’s not even mine.”

Chan laughs softly, his breath warm against Minho’s neck. “Every day with you feels like a celebration,” he says, meaning every word.

As the party slowly comes to an end, guests begin to say their goodbyes. Minho and Chan help Lix with some of the cleanup, gathering decorations and tidying up the space. The other boys poke fun at them for working in sync so well by now. 

Once they're done Minho turns to Chan. "Let's go home," he suggests gently. Chan nods, taking Minho's hand in his, their fingers intertwining naturally.

Once home, they kick off their shoes and collapse onto the couch, their bodies melting into one another in a familiar, comforting way. Chan rests his head against Minho's shoulder, his breaths deep and even.

"We really needed this, didn't we?" Chan murmurs, his voice muffled against Minho's shirt.

"Yeah, we did," Minho agrees, his hand stroking Chan's hair, soothing him. "Just some time away from everything else."

They sit in silence for a while, just enjoying the peace of their living room, the quiet hum of the city outside their windows providing a gentle background noise. It doesn't take long and Chan's straddling Minho's lap, sharing tired and loving kisses. As they break apart, Minho's phone buzzes with a message. He glances at it, a smile spreading across his face. "Looks like Jisungie is throwing another party next week," he chuckles, showing Chan the screen.

Chan groans playfully. "Another chance to hide somewhere?"

"Only if you behave until then," Minho teases, laughing. 

The rest of the night is spent in a comfortable silence, with occasional bursts of laughter when one of them shares a random thought. 

Eventually, they make their way to bed. As they get comfortable, their bodies close, Chan whispers, "I love you, Minho. More than anything."

"I love you too, Chan. Forever," Minho whispers back softly.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143

#stray kids #skz #chan #minho #minchan #bang chan #lee know #chan fic #chan smut #chan fluff #minho fic #minho smut #minho fluff #bang chan fic #bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee know fic #minchan fic #minchan smut #minchan fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz smut #skz fic #chan x minho #minho x chan

[cap-winter-barnes]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader - Don’t Leave Me Alone

Warnings: Brief/Vague mentions of childhood & teenage abuse. Y/N has a panic attack due to physical touch.

Someone requested this piece but I lost their @ so apologies for not tagging you when I said I would - hope this is okay for my first Spencer fic.

You’ve been a member of the BAU team for over a year and yet you’re still not ready to open up to your colleagues about your past. Hotch had made it clear to the team that you were not one for physical contact, handshakes and hugs were off the cards. Even a hand on your shoulder is enough to set you off in a panic. Your childhood into your teen years were a painful experience that has left you fearing human contact, even the slightest touch can trigger a panic attack, something you desperately try to avoid. Spencer respects your personal space, especially as he struggles to deal with people touching him too. But he can’t help but want to provide you with support to hold you when he can see that you’re struggling with your own mind or freaking out after a case.

The teams most recent case has you travelling to the humid climate of Florida. With the weather causing an unreal amount of heat and discomfort you reluctantly opted to wear a short-sleeved t-shirt rather than your usual long-sleeved blouse. It made the bullet-proof vest just that little bit more bearable. Yet you didn’t account for the local Sheriff to take it upon himself to grab your upper arm during an argument with one of his detectives. The detective in question had been making derogatory comments towards you, JJ & Emily the entire time you had been at the precinct and you had finally had enough. After calling you ‘sweetheart’ for what must have been the hundredth time, you needed to speak your mind.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, Detective,” your words laced with venom. “But my name isn’t sweetheart, or honey, or darlin’. It’s Y/N.” Silence follows your outburst.

“Well, darlin’. Maybe if you dressed more respectably you’d be treated as such.” The smirk on his face irks you beyond reason, so much so, that you leap from your position on the desk across from him.

“What did you just say to me?” Reid, JJ & Hotch all close in to defend you but you raise your hand to stop them. “I’ve got this don’t worry.”

“Yeah, the little princess over here can handle herself.” This earns chuckles from the other detectives and officers around the room.

“Right, that’s enough!” The Sheriff storms through but with your back turned to him, you don’t realise that he’s reaching for you as you take a step back, getting into his bad books isn’t going to help the progression of the case. It’s too late for your team to step in as they realise what is about to happen just as his hand closes around your upper arm. On instinct you’re body reacts in the only way it knows - a panic attack. You try to pull away as his grip tightens trying to move you aside for a quiet conversation but that isn’t happening now.

“LET ME GO!” You repeat the phrase as loud as your voice will allow you. His touch instantly causes your mind to picture the violence you suffered in your younger years. Tears stream from your eyes as your panic intensifies. You can just about make out the voices of Reid & JJ as they try to comfort you and reassure you whilst Hotch is demanding you be let go. When the Sheriff finally releases you under the threats of Hotch, your can no longer hold yourself upright, on instinct, Spencer catches you as you fall.

“I’m so, so sorry Y/N, but we need to get you someone quiet. I’m so sorry.” Spencer cradles you in his arms as he half walks, half carries you to an empty filing room for some privacy.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry. I’m so-“

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.” As he settles you down he pulls his hands away to let you go, fingers outstretched like approaching a wounded animal. But you reach out, taking his hands in yours.

“Please, Spence.” Your words are breathless as you speak, begging him to stay, to touch you. To comfort you. “Stay with me?”

“Of course.” His grip on your hands tighten as he sits himself beside you. “I’ll always stay for you.” You respond with a tight smile, grateful for him not pressuring you to reveal anything from your past, grateful for the respect he shows for your personal space. Yet now, nothing comforts you more than the feeling of his thumb dancing across the back of your hands, calming you unintentionally. For once in your life, you feel comforted and relaxed by someone’s touch. Maybe it isn’t so bad after all, yet only time will tell. And maybe you can finally let Spencer into your heart that little bit more like you so desperately want to.

#spencer x reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x fem!reader #requests are open

[dotster001]

Beloved

Summary: You thought you could never find love again... But here you are.

Sequel to Lover

A/N: I know this isn't the person that everyone was expecting to end up with...but I'm weak, okay! And it makes sense to me!!!!

When he looked at you, you knew you were the center of his universe. The apple of his eye. The only one he ever saw.

You'd thought your heart would never recover after leaving your ex husband. And he had proved you wrong. Oh so wonderfully wrong.

He was a much simpler man than your ex. And yet, when he offered you a ring while the two of you rested on the sofa after a long day at the bakery, it meant more to you than any gesture.

And now here you are. Staring at each other at the altar. His beautiful hazel eyes taking in nothing but you. You'd thought you'd known love before. But if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, you'd been wrong. Oh so wonderfully wrong.

His vows aren't superfluous. They aren't making flowery promises. They aren't comparing you to the sun. But they don't have to. Because the million promises that he has whispered to you in the privacy of each other's arms are able to be heard behind the words.

The beautiful quiet in your heart is broken by the church doors slamming open.

And in walks Rook. With a flourish as always.

"Monsieur Chevalier des Roses!" He booms, his voice echoing over the gasps of family and friends. "I challenge you to a duel for the heart of my Y/N."

You know this is a game to him. You know that, no matter the outcome, he will go on and on about the true beauty of heartbreak/happiness/victory/loss, really, any outcome. 

Trey quietly places an arm around your waist, pulling his pen out from his suit. As if he fully expected this to happen.

"A duel would be pointless, Rook. You made your choice long ago."

That statement didn't stop his pen from glowing, though.

"It's a choice I have always regretted," he says with a bow, before rising and pointing his pen at Trey.

"And yet you'd make it again," Trey said, tiredly. He was one of the few people burdened with understanding Rook, at least to an extent. He moved his pen in a defensive position, a blocking spell on his lips, but both men were interrupted when you stepped in front of Trey, protecting him with your arms spread wide.

"Rook. The game is over. Let go."

"Game? It's not-"

"You're chasing an ideal. A perfect expression of love that you'll never be able to find. At least," you smiled softly, and looked at Trey over your shoulder, "at least not the way you do it."

Trey smiled back, his cheeks sprinkling with pink.

"You're right," Rook muttered. "Because you already have the perfect expression of love with Chevalier des Roses."

He bowed deeply, looking into your eyes with bitter tears.

"I want you to know, I will always love you."

Before you could respond, he disappeared in a flash of purple smoke.

You looked over at Trey, completely confused.

"Was that…was that even real?" You whispered.

"Real or not, I cannot stand not being your husband for much longer," he said sheepishly.

You laughed, looking at the minister expectantly.

"I now present, the newly wed Clovers," the minister said with a confused laugh.

You kissed Trey, feeling safe and secure as his arms wrapped around you.

You'd been with the lover.

But now, you were the beloved.

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll and @stygianoir for shits and giggles 🤭

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt #trey x reader #trey clover x reader #trey clover

[bwabys-scenarios]

Fixer Upper

Part 10

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

part 9

part 11

A/N: the next chapter will be a flashback to the Hunter Exam!!

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na

If you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

If you like my writing, come join my discord!! we watch HXH, play games, and spend all night writing sometimes!! there’s also lots of content there that I may never post here!!

As the sun began to rise over their small cabin, (Name) was already awake packing lunches and preparing breakfast.

“You’re up early.”

Kurapika sat down at the kitchen table, sending her a smile. “Oh, yeah, I needed to make sure everything was ready for today. We’ll be at the beach for quite a while, so I had to pack plenty of snacks.”

She looked cute in her matching set of pink pajamas. There wasn’t a time Kurapika could think of when he didn’t think she looked cute.

“Hmm, Kurapika, I’m brewing some coffee. Would you like a cup?”

He glanced up to see her walking forward, sitting down next to him. She seemed rather happy this morning, smiling as she leaned against his shoulder.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun today. I’m excited to spend lots of time with you!”

He pushed her away gently, looking away. She seemed just a little disappointed by this, but continued smiling. “I’ll go make you a cup of coffee.”

She hurried away to the kitchen. Kurapika caught her wiping at her eyes, his stomach twisting knowing he’d probably made her cry again.

He stood up suddenly and walked forward, unable to stop himself. She glanced up just in time to see Kurapika lift a hand and place it on her head in a gentle pat.

“… thank you.”

She blinked, looking up at him confused. He continued patting awkwardly, not able to look her in the eye.

“You’re… you’re welcome?”

(Name) also reached up and patted his head, not knowing what else she should do. They just stared at each other in confusion for a minute, neither willing to back down in fear it would make things even more awkward.

“Of course this is the first thing I see when I wake up at the buttcrack of dawn.”

Leorio stood in the doorway, scowling. He yawned loudly before pouring a cup of coffee for himself.

“Good morning Leorio! How did you sleep?”

“As good as someone can when your roommate is jer-“

Kurapika rushed forward and dragged Leorio away, leaving his cup on the table.

‘Was he about to say jerking off?’ (Name) thought, tilting her head. ‘It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Poor Pik- I mean Kurapika.’

“Hey, what’s the big d-“

Kurapika slammed Leorio against the wall, his eyes shining red in embarrassment. “What the hell were you thinking telling her that? She’s a girl, you know?”

Leorio raised an eyebrow. “Telling her what, that you were jerking off last night? Do you think she cares what you do in the privacy of your- well actually OUR bedroom? Speaking of which, do that in the bathroom next time.”

Kurapika turned red. “I thought you were asleep, and I didn’t want to get up and disturb you.”

Leorio snickered. “You sure did disturb me. Who’s name were you muttering? You got me curious, I thought you said you didn’t have a special someone?”

‘Oh god, he heard me saying (Name)’s name?!’

Kurapika groaned loudly. “It’s none of your business, that’s such a strange question to ask someone.”

He shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one that jerked off with your friend in the room.”

“You’re acting like you didn’t when you, me, and (Name) shared a room before the 4th Phase of the Hunter Exam.”

Leorio’s jaw dropped. “You… you knew!?”

“You’re not exactly quiet.”

The two frowned at each other.

“Let’s never talk about this again.”

“Agreed.”

By the time the two had finished their awkward conversation, Killua and Gon were sat at the table with a plate of pancakes, bacon, and eggs in front of them.

“You two done making out or whatever? (Name) made breakfast.”

The two blinked. “I would rather die than make out with Leorio.”

Leorio gasped. “I’m offended. (Name), can you believe how mean he’s being to me??”

He ran to her and pulled her into a hug, sticking his tongue out at Kurapika. (Name) patted his back, rolling her eyes. “Well you did try to embarrass him earlier.”

Kurapika stiffened at this. ‘Did she hear enough to guess what he was going to say?’

He could feel the tips of his ears heat up, turning red.

“Ooo, we’re embarrassing Kurapika? I want in!”

(Name) placed Kurapika’s breakfast in front of him. “Don’t worry, you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone does it.”

She gave him a wink before walking away.

‘Does that mean, she…’

He shoved a pancake into his mouth so he could focus on not choking, instead of the thought of (Name) shoving her fingers into her pussy.

———————

It was still early when they arrived at the beach. (Name) set up a few towels along with a large umbrella. Kurapika and Leorio carried her cooler, the boys working on blowing up a beach ball.

“Sunscreen everyone. I don’t think I need to remind you of what happened last t-“

Killua started to sneak away while she was talking. “Gon, get him.”

Leorio and Kurapika glanced at each other before watching Gon chase Killua down the beach, kicking up sand behind them. She waited patiently, rubbing sunscreen on herself while she waited.

As Kurapika helped her rub sunscreen into her back, Gon returned with Killua in tow.

“Oh good, I was afraid I’d have to come after you myself.”

She grabbed Killua by the shoulders and sat him down on the towel to begin applying his sunscreen.

“Last time, you got so sunburned, you cried for days.”

Killua whipped his head around, his cheeks red. “Mom, don’t tell then th-“

When he realized what he said, it was much too late to take it back.

“Hmm? Don’t tell them what?”

The entire group was silent besides (Name). She didn’t seemed fazed at all, the same smile she had on before he began talking still on her face.

Killua’s face turned beet red, and he grabbed Gon’s hand before rushing into the waves.

(Name) watched as Gon asked Killua something, only for the white haired boy to throw him deeper into the ocean.

“Mom, huh?”

Kurapika snickered from his seat on (Name)’s towel. “Didn’t know you had children, (Name).”

She giggled. “Yeah, I have two actually, Gon and Killua. I don’t mind, really. They’re basically my kids already, it doesn’t matter what they call me.”

Kurapika’s eyes softened as (Name) watched the two play with a smile. ‘A mother… hmm.’

He knew she would be a good mom, from her interactions with the two boys alone.

‘She’s going to be an amazing mother, I’ll make sure of it.’

He continued to watch her for a moment before he realized what he’d just thought. Kurapika felt his entire body heat up, causing him to jump up and rush towards the water himself.

‘What am I thinking? I can’t make her a mother, not when I have my goals to complete…’

But the thought of someone else taking that role left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Kurapikaaa!”

(Name) and Leorio ran towards the waves, the former waving as she did. “We brought you your own boogie board!”

He wasn’t paying much attention to her words, his eyes were glued to her chest. She’d gotten a new bathing suit, and this one showed even more skin, if that was possible.

Kurapika was just glad his lower half was under water.

“Okay, so you get on this like…”

She laid the boogie board down in the water and climbed onto it, giggling as she road a wave. Leorio held onto the board by the rope attached to it so she wouldn’t go to far.

“You lie on your tummy and ride the waves!”

Kurapika held onto his own board, watching her with those observant brown eyes. “Hmm… seems easy enough.”

He followed her example, easily riding the wave. “It’s… pretty fun.”

The three played in the waves for a bit, laughing when Leorio got a face full of seaweed when he didn’t duck down quick enough.

Although, they weren’t laughing when a huge wave hit (Name).

“(Name)!”

Kurapika waded over to where she was swept under, his eyes scanning the water before he spotted Leorio pulling her close.

“Is she alright? She could have swallowed some water…”

He continued forward, stopping suddenly.

“Didn’t her top have a… tie in the back?”

(Name) coughed into Leorio’s chest, Kurapika tilting his head.

“Kurapika, she lost her top. Can you find it?”

The blonde paused. “Her… top?”

You could almost hear the sound of the gears turning in his head.

Kurapika’s face turned beet red. (Name) was topless right now, and her chest was pressed up against Leorio, who held her close with no visible reaction.

“Kurapika!”

The blonde snapped out of his thoughts to see Leorio staring at him, seemingly frustrated. “Find her top. We can’t move until you do.”

He nodded quickly, and using his nen he was able to find it. He held the garment up for a moment.

‘Huh. Why is holding this doing something for me?’

He stored that information away for later, making his way to the two quickly. Before, they’d been alone at the beach, but people were beginning to set up on the sand. He needed to get her top to her before some pervert(other than him and Leorio) saw her.

“Here it is.”

He handed the top to Leorio. Kurapika watched as (Name) pulled back a little, able to see a bit of side boob.

Even that was enough to get him rock hard.

“Kurapika, can you tie me up in the back?”

He stared, wide eyed for a few seconds, Leorio raising an eyebrow. “Can you hurry up? Some people are coming this way. You’re the only one that can tie good knots, right?”

Kurapika gulped, reaching down her sides to pick up the strings. “I’m going to tie it now.”

He pulled them taut, glancing down to tie it tightly. Although Kurapika wouldn’t mind her top coming off around him, this was a public beach. For some reason, the thought of anyone else seeing her naked body made him… uneasy. No, that wasn’t quite right.

‘…’

Jealous.

He finished the knot and stepped back. “It’s done.”

Leorio sighed and let (Name) go, the girl turning around to reveal she’d teared up a bit from the embarrassment.

“Thank you!”

She jumped towards him and gave him a hug. The thin fabric of her bathing suit was the only barrier between his bare chest and hers.

‘Leorio, that lucky bastard.’

But if he had been the one to pull her up, would he have been able to shield her body with his own?

‘I would have passed out.’

Kurapika did still send Leorio a suspicious look. Why wasn’t he becoming absolutely flustered from seeing (Name)’s bare chest? It didn’t make sense to him. Leorio was a pervert, that hit on any woman in his vicinity.

And that pervert didn’t so much as blush with her boobs pressed up against him.

‘If that had happened to me…’

He pictured the scenario in his mind, (Name)’s breasts pressed into his chest.

“Kurapika, you coming?”

(Name) had pulled away from the hug and walked away and joined Leorio on the boogie boards again.

“On my way.”

————————

The group gathered under her umbrella for lunch. Gon and Killua grabbed their premade sandwiches and a bag of chips each before Killua dragged him away again.

“Seems mommas boy is still embarrassed about earlier.”

(Name) smacked Kurapika’s arm playfully. “Oh stop it, don’t tease my baby.”

“Your baby?”

The image of (Name) carrying a baby on her hip, smiling in her kitchen as Kurapika returned home from work.

He shook the thought from his head. He didn’t want to think about how warm and fuzzy the thought of her carrying his child made him feel.

“Kurapika, you should eat your chips before Leorio does.”

The blonde blinked before snatching the small bag of chips from Leorio’s hands. “Just because I haven’t eaten them yet doesn’t mean you can have them.”

“You snooze you lose, bozo.”

Kurapika scowled before throwing a handful of chips into his mouth.

(Name), who thought he was acting like this because he was hangry, used her spoon to scoop a few of her strawberries onto Kurapika’s plate.

“Here, you like strawberries, right? You can have some of mine.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her he in fact didn’t like strawberries that much. The seeds got stuck in his teeth and he wasn’t a huge fan of the texture.

Kurapika popped one into his mouth, giving her a small smile. “Thank you.”

The three ate their lunch in silence, Leorio occasionally attempting to steal some of Kurapika’s chips. “Try that again and I’ll be biting off a finger.”

“Seems like Killua is rubbing off on you.”

(Name) stood up and stretched, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Anyone up for some volleyball?”

The two glanced at each other, then to her.

“What’s volleyball?”

(Name) explained volleyball to the two, mimicking the movements as she explained.

“But we’d need more players. It’s only the three of us.”

She nodded. “Yeah, so we’re going to ask around and see if anyone would like to play with us.”

She began to walk away to ask, but Kurapika grabbed her wrist. “Wait, I’ll go with you.”

“Hmm? I can handle myself, you know.”

Kurapika glanced around the area, easily spotting several men eyeing her from other spots on the beach. He shook his head. “I’m not saying you can’t, I just… want to walk with you.”

This seemed to make the girl perk up. “With me? Oh, okay!”

Leorio rolled his eyes as they walked away, hand in hand. ‘Manipulative bastard. He knows she can’t say no to him wanting to spend time with her.’

Leorio didn’t exactly love that Kurapika was using her affection for him to his advantage, but he wasn’t doing it to be cruel.

At least not now.

Kurapika had to admit, he didn’t mind walking hand in hand with (Name). She was so warm, her presence always seemed to exude warmth and comfort. It was hard to NOT relax when he was around her.

It was yet another thing he added to the list of reasons to get away as soon as possible.

But while he was here… he could indulge in her. Just a little.

“Hi!”

(Name) had stopped in front of a mixed group of men and women, who were all sitting under a tent.

A few of the people turned to look at her.

“We’re going to play some volleyball, and wanted to see if anyone here would like to join us!”

A few of the people stood up. Two women, and three men. “Sure, we’ve got nothing better to do!”

The two women warmed up to (Name) almost instantly as they walk back, chatting with her. Kurapika wasn’t sure why, but he felt… competitive at the moment.

“Your bathing suit is so cute, (Name)! Where did you get it from?” one of the women asks, looking (Name) up and down.

(Name) answered with a smile, the women nodding along as she talked. Kurapika had been subtlety pushed to the side so they two women could walk, one on each of her sides.

And he didn’t like that, not one bit.

“(Name).”

She looked back, the women stopping.

“Yes?”

Kurapika took the opportunity to lock arms with (Name), glancing between the two women. (Name) seemed happy that he was touching her all on his own.

“Is she your girlfriend or something?”

Kurapika began to answer, but noticed they were talking to (Name), not him.

‘Do they think… we are two women in a relationship?’

Kurapika blinked rapidly, now realizing the way they were looking at (Name). Their eyes were on her body, taking in her curves.

“Oh, no, he’s not my boyfriend. Just my…”

She glanced at him. “Just a friend.”

Kurapika didn’t know why, but her hesitation to call him a friend hurt his feelings. ‘Just a friend..’

The two women seemed to perk up. “Really, then you’re single?”

“Yeah!”

Kurapika noticed the three men sipping on some alcoholic beverages as they trailed behind them. It was clear they weren’t paying attention to the conversation. He wouldn’t have to worry about them, but obviously the women in front of him were interested in (Name).

The arrived at (Name)’s umbrella shortly after, Leorio jumping up to greet the two women.

“Hello, I’m Leorio, and what are you two lovely ladies names?”

The first woman, a tall blonde with sun kissed skin smiled. “I’m Mellow.”

“And I’m Tasha!” said the shorter brunette. Leorio shook both of their hands.

“You two ladies sing-“

“We’re lesbians.”

Kurapika and Leorio blinked, the two women once again standing by (Name)’s side. “Oh!”

(Name) didn’t seem surprised, smiling at the two. “So how should we split up teams?”

The teams went like this: (Name), Leorio, Mellow, and one of the men. The other team was Tasha, two of the men, and Kurapika.

The blonde scoffed as he joined the other team, watching (Name) talk with Mellow softly, occasionally giggling.

If he’d been holding the volleyball, it would have popped.

————————

After the game, (Name) exchanged numbers with Mellow and Tasha. They offered to take her out for drinks before they left town. “Just call if you’re interested! See you later, cutie.”

(Name) became flustered at that, waving as they left. Leorio glanced to Kurapika, raising an eyebrow at his irritated expression.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Kurapika?”

The blonde huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m completely calm. Happy even.”

“Uh huh.”

(Name) ran back over, her breasts bouncing. Kurapika’s eyes followed her movements, staring at her chest.

“I think it’s about time to get back home. It’s better to leave a little early, so we don’t get caught up in the crowd.”

The blonde nodded, his irritation fading away. “That’s smart, if we were to leave later it would take much longer to get home.”

(Name) pulled her bikini top up a little, turning towards the water. “Let’s get a little more time in the water, then we’ll go!”

Without another word, the ran towards the waves, jumping in. Leorio followed right behind her. “Don’t get water in your no- oh she already did.”

Kurapika snickered from his place on their beach towel, watching as Leorio patted (Name)’s back. Her pouty face was cute, he had to admit.

“Why are you staring at (Name) like some sort of creep?”

Kurapika glanced up to see Killua and Gon walking towards him, carrying buckets of fish they’d caught. Was that a crab in Gon’s hair? Questions for later.

“(Name)? You must mean your mom, right?”

Killua turned red, dropping the bucket so water would splash onto the blonde. “Hey, you little-“

“Kurapika, watch me!”

He paused, looking out into the water as (Name) dived under, doing a handstand. She resurfaced, seeming proud of herself.

“Did… did you see me?”

Kurapika glanced to Leorio, who nodded. “… yes. It was um… cool?”

Her smile widened and she continued playing with Leorio, splashing and laughing.

‘Cute.’

Kurapika had forgotten about Killua’s actions, continuing to watch the girl with a fond smile on his face.

“Ew. He’s still watching her. Should I call the police? No, the pound.”

Gon pinched his friend’s cheek. “Oh, hush Killua. Don’t embarrass him. He’s already sitting all by himself.”

Kurapika glanced around to see he was, in fact, completely alone besides the two. “… I’m alone on purpose.”

“Sure you are. (Name) didn’t want to cuddle up with you?”

The blonde turned red, throwing a handful of sand in the boy’s face. “Shut up, you brat.”

“Oh no.”

Gon watched on as they threw sand at each other, just glad that Killua hadn’t resorted to biting off any fingers.

“And just what in the HELL do you two think you’re doing?”

Killua and Kurapika paused, the white haired boy just about to shove a handful of sand into the others mouth.

“Um… bonding?”

The two sat on their knees in front of (Name) as she chewed them out. “You god sand everywhere! Now it’s going to take twice as long to pack up!”

Kurapika didn’t want to admit how hot it was having her peer down at him, a scowl on her lips. It didn’t help that when she crossed her arms, it pushed up her breasts to show even more cleavage.

“… sorry (Name)…”

Killua stuck out at Kurapika as he apologized. “Yeah, sorry mo-“

Before he could even get the entire word out, Kurapika was laughing.

“Ugh… I’m sorry, (Name). It won’t happen a-“

“Don’t be sorry.”

Killua paused, his eyes widening ever so slightly when (Name) kneeled down in front of him. “Don’t you ever apologize for something like that. I love you, Killua, and if you wanted to call me mom, I wouldn’t mind at all. After all, if you can give me all these wrinkles, you’ve gotta be my baby, right?”

He takes a minute to process this, his eyes trained on (Name)’s face. She was being completely serious.

“…”

He didn’t respond, only sighing in contentment when she pulled him in for a hug. “It’s your choice, though. I don’t mind either way.”

She pulled away and kissed his forehead. “Though, I am honored that you think of me as a mother figure. I have a real special kid.”

She stood up, Leorio and Gon started packing up (Name)’s stuff so they wouldn’t be scolded too.

“Alright, it’s time to go. Let’s get to the car!!”

They raced off, (Name) being picked up by Leorio.

“You’re too slow, and you forgot your shoes in the car. The sand will burn your little toes.”

He held up one of her legs in the air, bending her into an awkward position.

“Leorio I think the entire beach can see my-“

He quickly pushed her leg back down. “Whoops, so-“

Kurapika snatched her out of his hands. “You probably did that on purpose, you filthy pervert.”

(Name) blinked. He’d thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. ‘Well, he’s no Prince Charming but…’

She giggled, feeling his hand grip onto her thigh so she didn’t slip. ‘At least I know he cares.’

“(Name), you gonna cook these crabs for dinner?”

She glanced down a Gon, who had a crab stuck in his hair. “Sweetheart, are you aware that on of them is on your head?”

“Oh yeah, that’s Hanzo the third. He’s going to be my pet.”

‘Another Hanzo? This is getting out of hand.’

“That’s… wonderful.”

———————

“Oh no… Hanzo the third escaped!”

Killua shrugged. “I threw him in the pot.”

Gon collapsed to the floor. “NOO THAT WAS MY SECOND FAVORITE HANZO!”

“Is the real Hanzo the first?”

“Oh, no way. It’s Hanzo the Second.”

Kurapika watched this as he cut up celery and onions. If he was good at anything in the kitchen, it was slicing up vegetables.

“Killua, that was his pet. You apologize to Gon before i confiscate your chocolate robots.”

(Name) pointed a wooden spoon at the boy, a scowl on her face.

“… sorry Gon. Your friend will be delicious.”

‘Good enough, I guess.’

(Name) gave Kurapika a smile. “Thanks for helpful me out, I really appreciate it. Oh, and for carrying me earlier.”

He returned her smile, dumping the vegetables into a bowl. “It’s no trouble, you’re as light as a feather.”

She waved her hand. “Oh, you sweet talker, you!”

Leorio shrieked when a crab pinched his finger, waving it around. “SHIT! HANZO THE THIRD GOT ME!”

“HE’S STILL ALIVE!?”

Gon grabbed the crab and rushed out before Killua could take him again. The white haired boy shrugged. “Must of been one tough crab. Gotta go see this…”

He followed Gon outside.

Leorio blew on his injured finger, (Name) holding out her hand. “Want me to make it better, Leorio?”

He nodded, placing his hand in hers.

‘Oh, I’ll get to see her nen ability up close!’

Kurapika watched as Leorio’s fingers swelling went down almost immediately, the man sitting. “Yeesh, I forget how much your nen drains me.”

“Drains?” Kurapika asked, tilting his head.

“Well, drain is a bit excessive. When I use my nen, it takes some of the stamina of the person I’m helping to make their wounds heal faster. Technically I’m not healing, just speeding up the individuals healing time.”

Kurapika’s eyes widened. “So you use time based nen? I didn’t know that was possible.”

‘She’s more talented than I thought. An ability like that would be incredibly useful.’

“Can it only be used on humans?”

She blinked. “Well, I’ve used it on inanimate objects before, like doors, but haven’t tried it on anything else.”

He nodded slowly. ‘Interesting, so she can speed up the time of anything she touches? Or her aura touches..?’

“I have to be in at least a 15 foot proximity to my target for it to work. It’s not good for long range, I’m afraid.”

“Still, it’s an interesting ability.”

She smiled. “So I’ve been told. It helps me get a lot of work.”

Kurapika paused. “Work?”

“Yeah, I take on missions as a Support Hunter. That means people hire me to provide support in battles or missions. Oftentimes it’s fellow hunters that hire me, but occasionally I get a rich guy that wants a pretty lady taking care of him.”

Kurapika scowled. “That’s… hmm.”

She waved her hands. “Don’t worry, my customers aren’t perverts, they’d just prefer a woman caring for them than a man. And if I’m getting paid, I don’t care if they’re staring at my butt.”

He stopped himself from saying that HE cared. Why should he? And why should his opinion even matter?

“Well I care. If any of them lay a finger on you, tell me.”

Leorio patted her head, giving her a smile. Kurapika cursed himself for not speaking up, seeing (Name) blush at Leorio’s words.

“Aww, my sweet Leorio!”

She pulled him down and gave him a kiss on the cheek before hugging him right.

Kurapika could only watch, his hand twitching. Had he only voiced his thoughts, that could be him. But would she do that, even if he had said something? He had been pushing all of her affection away lately…

“Kurapika? Are the vegetables ready?”

“Oh- yes!”

The three continued cooking for a while longer, though Kurapika noticed (Name) wincing and rubbing her lower back throughout the night.

———————

After dinner, the group decided to turn in early. A day spent at the beach had even worn Killua out. (Name) tucked them in for bed, kissing each of their foreheads before grabbing a snack from the kitchen.

Kurapika was already there, munching on some cookies (Name) baked after dinner. He glanced up when she walked in, pausing mid bite.

“Oh, hi (Name). These are really good.”

She giggled, taking a cookie for herself. “I’m glad you like them. Have as many as you’d like.”

The blonde shook his head. “Oh, don’t say that. I’ll end up eating all of them.”

(Name) leaned against the counter raising an eyebrow. “How can you always eat so much and barely gain any weight? I’m jealous.”

She finished her cookie before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Well, my nen takes a lot of energy to produce, so I have to refuel by eating.”

Her expression shifted to one of concern. ‘Is that why he lost weight? His nen must be using more energy than he’s gaining back through eating…’

She walked forward, pouring some milk into a cup and handing it to him. “Here, drink up!”

“Oh, thank you.”

He sipped on his drink, watching her from the corner of his eye. She was tidying up the kitchen, putting away the dishes and wiping down the counters. Even on vacation, she was at work.

“Here, let me help.”

He grabbed the rag she’d been using to wipe down the counters, shooing her away. “I’ll finish up in here, you go get some rest.”

Usually, (Name) would protest, but she was feeling more tired than usual, and her body was aching. “Yeah, ok. Thank you.”

He watched her shuffle off to her bedroom, hissing as she rubbed her back again. ‘Did she hurt her back today? Our game of volleyball was pretty intense…’

Kurapika thought about going after her to offer to massage her back or grab her some medicine, but stopped halfway.

The Kurapika that diligently took care of her when she was hurt, rubbing soothing hands into the aching parts of her body was gone. He couldn’t let himself become that person again, not if it meant getting her hopes up that he was back, and there to stay.

He didn’t want to hurt her, he’d done enough already.

Instead, Kurapika walked to his and Leorio’s shared room. He knocked before stepping in.

“Come in.”

Kurapika sighed, plopping down onto his bed. Leorio was lying atop the covers, wearing only his boxers. “Why can’t you wear pajamas like a normal person? What if (Name) saw you?”

Leorio grunted, waving his hand. “It ain’t anything she hasn’t seen before.”

Kurapika shot up at this, his eyes wide. “She’s seen you in your underwear?!”

Leorio glanced at him, putting down the porn magazine he’d been looking at. “We lived together for a few months after the Hunter Exam, we’ve seen plenty of each other.”

‘Of each other? Does that mean…’

That made sense, considering Leorio’s reaction earlier today, or lack there of. If he’d already seen her naked, that would explain everything.

“How… how much have you seen? Of her, I mean.”

The dark haired man raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know? It’s really none of your business.”

“It is. She’s my friend.”

“It’s a weird question to ask about a friend, but…”

Leorio groaned as he stretched, letting a loud yawn. “Just her chest, really. She’s seen everything of me, you know that from the Hunter Exam.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Kurapika sighed, partially relieved. ‘If he’s only seen her chest, that means they haven’t…’

He’d had his suspicions the two were together, unable to really tell, but with this it made sense how close they were. They’d lived together, and had been very close since York New.

When the group parted ways after rescuing Killua, Leorio and (Name) had tickets for the same airship, so they’d left together. He hadn’t thought much about it then, but perhaps on the way there they agreed to live with each other.

(Name) got an apartment in York New around July 2nd-4th, meaning the two spent at least four months living together. That was a lot of time to be around another person, more time he’d spent with the group all together.

Actually, the fourish weeks he’d spent at (Name)’s house was the longest he’d stayed with his friends.

Kurapika turned over, staring out the window at the ocean view. Even though he didn’t want to admit it, the past few weeks had been some of the best he’d had in years. (Name) really did know how to make him feel better.

She’d always been like that. Soft, kind, considerate. He wanted to protect that pretty smile of hers, more than anything he wanted to keep her happy forever.

Maybe in a different life, in a different body, he could be the person that followed her to her room and soothed her pain.

But he couldn’t be that person right now, and wasn’t sure he could ever be what she needed. His life was one of danger, bloodshed, and revenge. A pure soul such as herself had no place by his side.

She was an angel, and he was a lowly devil. He didn’t want to dirty her with his blood soaked hands, even if all he wanted was to touch, to hold her.

Kurapika felt his heart begin to race as he thought about her. He tried to calm himself, thinking about his mission.

Eventually, he was able to sleep. Not before masturbating to the picture they’d taken together at the beach, just him and her. She’d insisted on it, sending him the picture after. He wondered if she’d noticed how her nipples poked through her thin bikini top, or how cute her smile was.

Kurapika sighed, feeling relieved before passing out.

——————

The blonde awoke to the sound of creaking floorboards. He groaned, slipping on the house shoes (Name) brought for him before sliding towards the door, rubbing his tired eyes.

Creeping down the hallway was (Name), and Kurapika quickly noticed she was wearing a different pair of pants than she’d gone to sleep in.

“(Name) what are you doing up so late? I thought I told you to rest.”

He almost sounded cranky, fumbling for the light switch. She stood with her back to him, stiffening. “Oh, um… I just woke up, I’ll be going back to bed soon, promise.”

Kurapika rubbed his temple before walking over to her. “You-“

He blinked. She was carrying her sheets, and her pair of pants. He could see the distinct color of red staining the sheet.

“Oh.”

He let her go, the girl turning to him, looking embarrassed.

“I’ll go get Leorio.”

Kurapika patted her shoulder, trying to put her at ease. He knew it couldn’t exactly be fun for someone to see she’d bled through both her pants and the sheets in her sleep.

Thankfully, a similar situation had happened during the Hunter Exam, so he knew what to do this time.

Kurapika shook Leorio’s shoulder roughly, the dark haired man swatting his hand away before rolling over.

“Leorio, it’s (Name). She’s, um…”

At the mention of (Name)’s name, he shot up, eyes wide.

“What happened? She didn’t hurt herself, did she?”

Kurapika shook his head, blinking. “No? She just… she started… her…”

Leorio sighed, holding a hand to his chest. “You woke me up because she started her period? God, don’t scare me like that, Kurapika.”

Despite his words, Leorio stood and walked to the living room, where (Name) sat after putting the clothes and sheets on to wash.

“Hey, (Name).”

He plopped down in front of her, opening his suitcase. Because (Name) had irregular and heavy periods, he carried both pads and Midol with him.

“You have pads?”

She nodded slowly, looking uncomfortable with Kurapika lingering behind the couch. Although she didn’t mind talking to Leorio about these things due to how close they’d become, Kurapika had become close to a stranger.

“Oh, um. Do you need anything?” Kurapika asked, hovering around her. Despite hesitating to help her earlier that night, he couldn’t help but feel he needed to do SOMETHING. He’d seen how much pain her period caused her first hand.

“There’s a…” she held onto her abdomen, hissing in pain before continuing, “a heating pad in the storage closet down the hall. Could you grab it?”

“On it.”

While he walked away, Leorio grabbed her a cup of juice so she could take some pain medicine. He also made sure do a quick check up using the equipment he had on hand.

“You seem alright, fortunately. You should eat something before you go back to bed, though. How about some leftovers?”

She nodded, a sigh leaving her lips. “Yeah, make me a plate, please?”

“Of course.”

Kurapika returned with the heating pad, plugging it in before wrapping it in a towel and handing it to (Name). “Here.”

She sighed softly as she rested the heating pad against her abdomen. “Thank you, this always helps. You’re so sweet to me…”

Her hand held onto his, her thumb rubbing against his knuckles gently.

He felt his cheeks heat up. “I-it’s no problem, really. I know, at least during the Hunter Exam, your… it was very painful for you.”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, and you were there for me then, too. I love you, so much.”

He felt his entire body stiffen, his lips parting in a silent gasp. She’d told him this before, she’d said it to all of her friends, but it always caught him off guard.

He could tell she meant it, and it made his heart thump painfully against his chest.

“…”

Quietly, he sat down next to her. He kept his hand in hers, not saying anything when she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Remember when I chewed Hanzo out when he asked if I was on my period?”

Kurapika snickered. “Yeah. I wanted to slap him.”

“I mean, the answer was yes b-“

“He still had to no right to ask that. The crude bastard.”

(Name) felt her lips curl into a smile. Leorio came around the corner, (Name) poking her head up.

“Here you go, doll face. Eat up.”

He set the plate in front of her, (Name) happily munching away. “Mmm, I was barely able to eat dinner, but now that I’ve had some medicine I feel well enough to eat.”

‘She didn’t eat much at dinner? I didn’t even notice…’

But Leorio had. He plopped down on the other side of (Name), turning the TV on.

“I’ll stay with you until you’re ready to sleep. Wanna watch Sailor Moon or something?”

She nodded, unable to speak because her mouth was full.

“Thought so, it’s one of your favorites after all.”

Another thing Kurapika didn’t know about (Name). He stole a piece of fish from her plate, suddenly realizing he was hungry again.

“Hey!”

She sent him a glare, pulling her plate towards Leorio, who also stole a piece from her plate.

“Rude, go make your own if you’re hungry!”

Kurapika chuckled. He remembered just a few hours ago, she had no problem sharing one of her favorite fruits with him, and now she was being stingy with her food. It was cute, honestly.

“Leorio, I’m going to make myself a plate. Do you want anything?”

“I’ll come with.”

The two walked to the kitchen together, Leorio opening the fridge to take the leftovers out again.

“She’s going to be alright. I checked, nothing is out of the ordinary.”

Kurapika visibly relaxed, leaning against the counter. “Good, good. Last time, she got so… sick? I guess weak would be a better term. It was…”

“Scary?”

The blonde nodded, taking out two plates. “Yeah. I never knew a woman’s menstrual cycle could cause such symptoms.”

Leorio sighed. “Yeah, well I finally got her to see a doctor about it when she stayed with me. Now she takes medicine to regulate her period. The pain and nausea is still there, but at least it’s not as bad as… before.”

It felt a bit awkward to be discussing their female friend’s menstruation, but they’d both seen how badly it affected her during the Hunter Exam. Leorio didn’t want Kurapika to worry too much.

“I see. That’s good, I remember you were worried she might be anemic.”

Leorio nodded, pulling his heated food out of the microwave. “Thankfully she wasn’t, but having a period as heavy as hers can cause it.”

The two walked back to the living room, food in hand. They plopped down onto the couch, one on each side of (Name).

She seemed invested in her anime, barely acknowledging that they had come back.

“Hmm, guess we’ll be waking up late.” Leorio said with a yawn. (Name) shook her head.

“Actually, I’m getting up early to go collect seashells. Because I’m on my period, I probably won’t stay at the beach all day tomorrow.”

Kurapika frowned. “I can stay home with you, if-“

She shook her head again. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to do anyways. I’ll need everyone out of the house before lunch.”

The two glanced at each other. “Are you sure you should be alone all day?”

“I’ll be fine. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll send texts throughout the day.”

Leorio sighed. “Alright, but if I don’t get hourly texts I’m going to rush home, and I WILL treat you like a baby the rest of the trip.”

(Name) shivered. “Noted.”

They stayed up for a little longer, watching anime and eating leftovers before (Name) began to nod off.

“Hmm… (Name), I think it’s bedtime.”

Leorio scooped her up, only chuckling when she complained. “Hey, I let you stay up for an entire hour, it’s time to sleep.”

She pouted, but stayed quiet.

“… I can take her to bed.”

Leorio raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got it.”

And he was gone without another word. Kurapika watched, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt as Leorio entered her bedroom.

———————

(Name) woke up at around 5 am, yawning before pulling on a pair of shorts and a tshirt. She picked up a small bucket, walking down the hallway and sitting to slip on her shoes.

“(Name)? You’re up early.”

Killua stood in the doorway to his and Gon’s shared room, staring at her with this big, catlike eyes.

“Yeah, I wanted to go collect some shells before the beach got too crowded. They wash up during the night and in the mornings, then most of the pretty ones get snatched up before we would get there.”

She stretched, a small smile on her face when she glanced down at the strawberry patterned flip flops on her feet. They were a gift from Killua, and he seemed proud to see her wearing them.

“Oh, ok. Can I come with?”

“Yeah, just get dressed and meet me outside in 5 minutes.”

He tiptoed back into his room and got dressed as quickly as he could. (Name) offered him her hand when he met her outside, the boy taking it instantly.

They walked along the beach, Killua letting go of her hand to trail behind her.

He had only come to make sure she was safe, barely kicking the sand as he walked. Killua watched her pick up shell after shell, occasionally tossing some less desired ones back into the ocean.

But he noticed she’d missed a large shell, half buried in the sand. Killua caught up to her, handing (Name) the shell.

“Hey, you missed one.”

(Name) gasped, turning around the shell in her hands, beaming.

“Killua, this is the prettiest shell I’ve seen all morning! Good eye!”

She patted his head before continuing her search.

‘…’

Killua began running around the beach, finding shells she wouldn’t be able to see because of his superior eyesight. Every time, she gasped in delight, praising him for his finds.

He seemed to be having fun, making a game out of collecting bigger, shinier, prettier shells.

Within 20 minutes, the bucket she brought was full. “Wow, team work really makes the dream work. These are gorgeous, Killua!”

He blushed from her praise, kicking at the sand in embarrassment. “Thanks…”

She left her bucket on the beach, looking out at the water. “Oh, let’s wade in the waves, we might see some cool fish!”

He followed her into the water, the two crouching to watch fish swim by. They were quiet, but Killua couldn’t help but gasp when a small shark swam by, shaking (Name)’s shoulder.

“Mom, mom look!”

He paused, but this time tried not to run away in embarrassment. He didn’t want to scare the fish away, or spook the shark.

“Oh, wow! What a pretty shark.”

They continued this for a while, occasionally wading to different parts of the beach to see other creatures.

The sun was rising over the beach when (Name) stood. “Alright, it’s time to get home. If I don’t make breakfast, Gon will start chewing on the furniture again.”

He nodded, following her towards the beach. Killua enjoyed these moments with (Name), where he could have fun and enjoy what the world had to offer, without judgment. In front of her, he didn’t have to put up a front. He could be himself, completely.

“Killua, hop on!”

(Name) crouched down, looking back at him. Killua huffed. “I’m getting to big for piggyback rides.”

She tilted her head. “Now matter how big, or how small, you’ll always be my baby. Now hop on, we gotta hurry.”

She turned her head back around, and he had to clench his fist to keep himself from tearing up. Killua climbed on her back and she stood, holding onto his legs.

“See? Not too big. Still my little guy.”

He buried his face in her hair, sighing softly. She always made him feel safe, loved. It wasn’t often that Killua relaxed enough to fall asleep while being carried, but he easily dozed off as she carried him home.

(Name) held back a giggle at realization he’d fallen asleep. ‘He must if still been tired whne he agreed to come with me. My sweet Killua…’

As (Name) approached the Cabin, Kurapika was waking up. He stood and walked to the living room, noticing he felt (Name)’s aura outside, not inside.

The blonde peaked out the window to see her walking back from the beach, Killua asleep on her back. The sight made Kurapika’s heart race.

He couldn’t help but think of her carrying HIS offspring, not Killua. She really would make a great mother, and maybe she already was one.

Kurapika opened the door and ran down the stairs, meeting (Name) halfway.

“You shouldn’t be carrying anything heavy right now, (Name). Let me get him.”

She didn’t argue, allowing Kurapika to gently take Killua. “Just be careful, that’s my baby.”

Kurapika paused, his cheeks turning pink. ‘How cute.’

“… I’ll be careful.”

He took Killua to his room as (Name) began to cook breakfast, watching her when he returned.

“Kurapika, sweetheart, can you help me with breakfast?”

He hurried forward. “Yes!”

————————

After a quick breakfast, the boys all waved goodbye, carrying their beach equipment away. “Make sure Killua gets his sunscreen on, Leorio!”

“I will! Remember what I said last night, text me every hour!”

“Ugh, I will…”

She folded her arms, watching them go.

“Alright, it’s time…”

(Name) walked back in, closing the front door behind her. She snuck to her room and dug through her suitcase.

“There!”

She pulled out the package Illumi had given her, a big smile on her face. (Name) began to unwrap it slowly, giggling. “He’s going to be so surprised!”

At the beach, Kurapika and Leorio had just finished making sure the two boys were covered in sunscreen.

The blonde lied back on the towel, reading from the book (Name) had dropped at the pool. He’d already finished it a few days ago, but had begun rereading it.

It was definitely smutty, but besides that the plot was interesting. He could see why she liked it, in multiple ways.

‘I wonder if she masturbates while reading this…’

He turned the page before realizing what he’d just thought. He groaned and let the book fall onto his face, shielding his eyes.

Since she’d pretty much confirmed she masturbated, he couldn’t get his mind off of it. At night, he’d imagine how cute she’d look with her butt in the air, fingers pumping in and out of her plump cunt.

What he wouldn’t give to see her face when she orgasmed…

“Kurapika, are you aware you’re over there pitching a tent?”

Kurapika picked the book up and gave Leorio a confused look. “Pitching a hug?”

Leoruo pointed to his crotch. “You’ve got a boner.”

Kurapika looked down and turned red. He was, in fact hard. Leorio threw him a towel to cover himself. “I-I didn’t mean to-“

“It happens, don’t sweat it.”

Despite Leorio’s reassurance, Kurapika still felt incredibly embarrassed. He stood, using the large towel to wrap around himself. “I’m going to turn in early today.”

“By we’ve only been here an hour, and (Name) wanted us gone for a reason.” Leorio said, before taking a sip of the beer (Name) packed for him.

“I’m sure she won’t mind, besides I… need to take care of this.”

Leorio sighed. “Alright. I didn’t want (Name) to be by herself all day anyways.”

Kurapika grabbed a soda before leaving.

————————

(Name) hummed to herself as she began cooking. Although she couldn’t read the directions in the cookbook she’d gotten from Illumi, it had detailed drawings showing exactly what to do.

Thankfully, no one had suspected the few different ingredients she picked out. None of them were things she usually bought, but they weren’t anything she hadn’t worked with before.

She had to make a few substitutions, as she couldn’t include a vegetable only grown in the Lukso Province.

(Name) had in her hands, an official Kurtan Cookbook. It had taken her nearly a year to get it. At first, she planned on gifting it to Kurapika if he made it to Christmas, but not only did he not show up, she wasn’t able to get it on time.

The woman held her abdomen for a moment, feeling a cramp coming on. It was her body telling her she needed to take her medicine again.

She prepared herself a cup of juice and took her medicine before continuing her work.

Thankfully, there was just enough information in the cook book to make proper substitutions. The Lukso Province vegetable she couldn’t get could be substituted with onions and celery. One day, (Name) wanted to go there and propagate some of the plants to properly make this dish for Kurapika.

Well, that was if she ever saw him again after today.

(Name) tried not to tear up thinking about him. They’d been close, so close that up until a few weeks before York New, they’d been texting and calling constantly. Sometimes, they’d even fall asleep while on the phone.

But a few weeks leading up to their meeting, Kurapika slowly began to distance himself from her. At first it was just taking a few hours to message her with the excuse he was busy with training. Then his responses took days, and eventually, he stopped responding at all.

(Name) had been sad, but assumed it was only because of his busy schedule. After all, they would be meeting in just a few days! It shouldn’t matter that he hadn’t called her back in a week.

But even after he was supposed to call her when he arrived in York New, (Name) received nothing. No call, no text, not even an email. He’d essentially ghosted her.

Although they would meet multiple times in York New, not a single one of those meetings was a net positivite, honestly each one left her feeling drained and… useless.

She wiped a stray tear from her eye, pushing the memory of his angry and spiteful eyes out of her mind. So far, he hadn’t shown that side of him, and if he was really never going to see her again, she wanted to remember him for the sweet guy she knew he could be. Not the man who’d broken her heart.

Kurapika arrived at the cabin, blinking at the familiar scent in the air. It filled him with nostalgia, a strange ache in his chest causing him to walk into the cabin less stealthily than he had planned.

Thankfully, (Name) seemed distracted with what she was making in the kitchen.

“Kurapika?”

Or not. Sometimes he forgot she could use nen now, so no matter how sneaky, if he didn’t mask his presence she would sense him. “Sorry, I know you wanted us out of the house, but I… got too overheated.”

It was a quickly thought up lie, and he hoped she wouldn’t see though him. To his relief, she gave him a concerned look and ushered for him to sit down.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t feel pressured to stay out there because I asked for you all to be out of the house.”

She brought a wet paper towel to him, gently patting his red cheeks. “Don’t worry, I actually needed you here after all.”

He tilted his head. “For what?”

“First, sit down and I’ll bring you something cold to drink.”

He obliged, sitting at the kitchen table and saying a small thank you when she offered him a cold glass of water.

“Just a moment, I’ll bring you something to try!”

He watched her saunter off, sipping on his drink slowly. She seemed to be feeling better than last night, zooming around the kitchen, stirring pots and peeking in the oven.

Kurapika couldn’t quite tell what she was making from his position.

“Here!”

She blew on a spoon and offered it to him, that pretty smile on her face. “Tell me if you like it!”

Kurapika stared at the spoon. “What is it?”

She pouted. “It’s a surprise, now open up!”

He hesitantly opened his mouth, allowing her to feed him whatever she’d made.

It was some sort of broth, savory with a hint of sweetness.

“Mmm, it’s good. What is it?”

She quirked an eyebrow at the question, Kurapika quickly giving her a shy smile. “Oh yeah, it’s a surprise. Sorry.”

She bit her lip to hold back a laugh. “You’re awfully cute, you know that?”

“Cute?”

“Mhm.”

She ruffled his hair, giggling. He looked down, cheeks turning a light shade of pink before he pushed her hands away.

She sighed, stretching. “Alright, if you’re staying all I ask is you don’t come into the kitchen.”

“Because of the surprise?”

(Name) nodded, twirling around and heading back into the kitchen.

Unfortunately for her, he hadn’t agreed to not look in the kitchen. Kurapika was a curious man, to a fault. He peeked around a corner to see what she was doing.

(Name) had an apron on, humming softly as she moves around the kitchen. ‘If anyone’s cute, it’s her…’ he thought, watching the woman with soft eyes.

She tried a sip of the broth for herself, smiling. “If Kurapika thinks it tastes good that’s all that matters. But…”

She added a pinch of salt before walking away from the pot.

“Hmm…”

She seemed to be looking over a cookbook, but Kurapika couldn’t see what it was for.

“I don’t think I could even pronounce this… maybe Kurapika could…”

He perked up at this, a little flustered. Was it some long word she was having trouble pronouncing? Did she think he was smart?

Kurapika blushed. It wasn’t often that people recognized his intelligence, a trait he prided himself on.

(Name) tapped a finger against her chin, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the name of the dish. She began to pronounce it, Kurapika’s eyes going wide.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s quite right… I’ll have Kurapika teach me how to say it later.”

He stepped away slowly, feeling his entire body heat up.

‘Those… those words…’

He rushed to his bedroom, holding a hand over his mouth as his face went red.

‘That was the Kurtan language…’

But it was the specific words that had Kurapika so flustered.

“A dish for lovers.”

Kurapika gulped, wrapping his arms around himself. He’d heard of this dish from his mother, although she had seemed a bit flustered when explaining it.

It was a dish that consisted of a vegetable based broth, served with rice, poultry, and vegetables only found in Lukso Province. He’d smelled the dish being made for newlyweds before, but had never eaten it himself.

The newlyweds were to eat the dish after consummating their marriage. It was to be shared between the two, while they celebrated with family.

‘We both… we both…’

If two people consumed the dish together, whether married or not, it was said they would be bound together by fate.

Kurapika thought the legend was silly, but with the knowledge the two of them had shared this dish together, he couldn’t help his heart thumping against his chest painfully.

Part of him wanted to be angry she made the dish without knowing what she was doing, but he could tell she was doing it out of love. This was a surprise meant for Kurapika. Something she’d taken the time to do.

His only question was…

‘How did she get that book?’

————————

Leorio opened the front door, carrying Gon on his back. “(Name), we’re b- oh what are you making? That smells great!”

(Name) walked out of the kitchen, smiling. “Shh, come here Leorio.”

The man glanced at the two boys before following her into the kitchen. She smiled brightly before holding up the cookbook.

“Is that…”

Leorio took it from her hands, running his hand over the paper cover.

“Yep! A Kurtan cookbook! I finally got my hands on one!”

He leafed through the pages of the book, eyes wide. “How did you get it? Didn’t the lead you have a few months ago come up empty?”

She nodded, taking the book back and setting it aside. “Yes, it did, and you won’t believe who got this book for me.”

Kurapika tiptoed near the kitchen. He had heard Leorio walk in, and when he heard (Name) begin talking about the cookbook, he drew closer to hear better. Unfortunately, he didn’t get to her the name of the person that got her the book.

“Him? Wow…”

(Name) nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t get it either. Apparently he found it on a job. He killed a flesh collector, and one of the items they’d collected was a Kurtan Cookbook. It wasn’t something the flesh collector was interested in, so they planned on selling it, but thankfully he killed them before they could. I would have hated for this to end up in a collectors hands. It would be disrespectful to Kurapika.”

Could she be anymore considerate? The blonde held a hand over his chest, looking to the floor. He felt both loved and guilty. She’d done such a sweet, selfless thing for him, and in just a day he’d be leaving her for forever.

“(Name)…” Leorio said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re too kind. He’s done nothing to deserve this from you.”

Kurapika flinched, clutching the fabric of his shirt. Leorio wasn’t wrong. What had he done for her that she hadn’t already done for him a hundred times before?

He’d been helping her clean and cook out of guilt, she did this out of love.

“He doesn’t have to do anything. I love him, and I’d do the same for any of you.”

Kurapika walked away, heading back to his room. He couldn’t listen to another word. The blonde plopped down onto his bed, sighing into his pillow.

‘She’s making this so hard for me…’ he thought, tilting his head to stare at the clock above the doorway.

It was around 8:30 pm, meaning she’d spent all day preparing dinner, made specially for him. He blinked lazily, groaning when he heard the door open.

“What?”

“Woah, no need for the attitude dude. I just came to tell you dinner is ready.”

Leorio stood in the doorway, eyebrow raised. “(Name) went through all this trouble for you, so I expect to see you there soon.”

He stood slowly, rubbing his arm. “… I’m coming.”

———————

Kurapika washed his hands before leaving his room, eyes going wide when he saw the dining room.

It was lightly decorated, with a hand written banner saying “Kurapika Going Away Party” hanging from the ceiling.

The table was covered in food, the center being a small vanilla cake with chocolate frosting.

He glanced around the room, seeing all of his friends gathered around.

“This… this is all for me?”

(Name) stepped forward, holding the cookbook in her arms. “Yes, and this is for you as well!”

He felt tears begin to fall down his cheeks, his eyes burning a soft red. (Name)’s face fell, reaching hand up to brush his tears away.

“Do you… do you not like it?”

He shook his head rapidly, leaning into her touch. “No, no it’s perfect, (Name). Thank you.”

He took the book from her arms, opening it. It wasn’t an authentic Kurtan handbook, instead a copy, but he still held it tenderly in his hands.

He leafed through it, smiling at the few recipes he recognized. Kurapika had never been a talented cook, but he had helped his mother cook some of the dishes before. Though, helped may have been an exaggeration, he just stirred the pan and dropped in ingredients she handed him.

He chucked at the memory, looking up to see (Name) smiling warmly. “(Name)?”

“Yes?”

He handed the book back, pushing it to her chest. “I want you to keep this.”

“But-“

He shushed her with a raised hand. “I would not be able to put it to proper use. Keep my clans memory alive, and cook these recipes to your hearts content. You have my blessing.”

He smiled, a real genuine smile. She stared up at him with wide eyes, holding the book to her chest. “I will! I’ll make so many of these that Killua will get sick of it!”

“Hey!”

The group laughed, before sitting down to eat.

————————

Sadly, even though they stayed up later than usually eating and watching movies, they eventually had to sleep, ending their vacation.

The next morning, (Name) was up early again getting the cabin cleaned up and packing the rest of her belongings.

Kurapika was also awake, but for different reasons.

He rubbed his eyes after answering the text, barely keeping himself from nodding off when he heard a notification.

Informant: There has been a change in plans.

Kurapika huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hated when plans changed, especially as suddenly as they had now. He was supposed to be leaving at 4 am Friday, and the informant had texted him only a day before they were supposed to be meeting.

Kurapika: What changes?

Informant: We’ll be meeting Saturday evening, not Friday evening.

Kurapika sighed. It was annoying, but nothing he couldn’t plan ar-

Informant: You will also need to bring a partner with you.

“Fuck.”

That wasn’t as easy to plan around. Kurapika didn’t have many friends or acquaintances in the first place, especially ones that would be able to accompany him on a potentially dangerous mission last minute.

He let out a deep breath. ‘I can’t ask Leorio, he has classes, and Gon is leaving for whale island the same day I am. Melody is in another country. Maybe Killua would go if I asked nicely…’

Kurapika: … is there a reason I’ll need a partner?

Informant: the place we’ll be meeting is a restaurant that serves couples only

‘Well, that rules out Killua.’

He thought about just hiring a random woman to accompany him, but knew it wouldn’t be right to put a woman with no experience in danger.

‘Wait… there is one person…’

Kurapika shook his head. ‘No, no I can’t ask her. I couldn’t put her in danger like that.’

He pushed his hair out of his face, sighing. ‘I guess I’ll have to cance-‘

Another text message appeared, this time a picture.

Informant: to make sure you know I’m legit, here is proof I know the information you need

Kurapika felt his eyes go wide, red seeping into them.

The picture was a pair of the scarlet eyes. It was blurry, obviously taken in a rush. The informant wasn’t lying, he knew where a pair of the eyes were.

Now that Kurapika knew this, he couldn’t give up. His mission always came first, after all.

Even if it would mean he’d have to ask (Name) to accompany him. He didn’t want to, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

Kurapika left his bed and walked out into the living room, spotting (Name) sweeping the floor.

‘I’ll ask her later… she’s busy right now.’

He fixed himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, researching the restaurant the informant had sent him. He tried to find some kind of loophole where he could come alone, with no luck.

He sighed, only looking up when the rest of the group woke up and began packing.

——————

Kurapika waited until they were back at (Name)’s house to ask her.

“Hey, uh, (Name)?”

Leorio had left, and the boys were had left for the creek a few minutes before. They were alone, Kurapika having just sat next to her on the couch.

“Yes?”

He bit his lip, toying with his tabard. “Are you… are you busy this weekend?”

(Name) paused, turning away from the show she’d been watching. “Why do you ask?”

The blonde hesitated. “I… I have a favor to ask of you.”

She tilted her head, giving him her full attention. “Go on.”

He let out a breath. “I… I need you to accompany me on my mission.”

Silence. The two stared at each other, (Name) seeming confused, but curious. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“The informant wants to meet in a restaurant only open to couples, and…”

“And you need someone to serve as your date?”

He looked up, surprised to see a teasing smile on her lips. “… correct. He sent me confirmation today that he does in fact have solid information on the scarlet eyes.”

(Name) nodded slowly, curling a finger to her chin in thought. “While I’m not particularly busy this weekend, I will have to speak ask someone to keep an eye on Killua. Give me a moment.”

She stood, walking a way while pulling out her phone. He waited for her to close the door to the bathroom behind her before he followed. Ever curious, Kurapika wanted to know who she’d be calling.

“(Name)? Did you need something?”

It was Leorio. ‘Of course.’ Kurapika thought, pursing his lips.

“Hey, um… I have a favor to ask.”

“Go on.”

Kurapika raised an eyebrow. “Could you watch Killua this weekend? I um… I have some plans.”

Leorio made a confused sound on the other end. “Plans? You didn’t mention any plans to me when were at the beach.”

“Well, they’re a new development.”

Leorio sighed, and Kurapika could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, I’ll do it, but tell me your plans.”

(Name) went quiet for a moment, the only noise the sound of her tapping her nails against the sink.

“Well… you know how Kurapika is leaving Friday?”

“Yeah?”

She twiddled her thumbs. “He… he asked if I could accompany him, because he needs someone to act as his date.”

“And you agreed to that!?”

Both (Name) and Kurapika flinched at the incredulous tone of his voice. “It’s a lead on the scarlet eyes, you know how important that is to him.”

“Yeah, more important than all of us apparently… (Name), you remember York New, right? Do you think accompanying him on a mission is good idea after everything he’s said to you? I can understand taking him in, he’s our friend, but this is too m-“

“Leorio.”

The man paused, sighing. “Sorry. I know, nothing is too much when helping friends, whatever. I’m just… I’m just worried he’ll hurt you again.”

(Name) sighed. “I appreciate your concern, but he hasn’t given me any reason to believe he’ll do it again. He’s been on his best behavior.”

“Besides storming out to chase the phantom troupe and not even bothering to call you back.”

This made (Name) pause. Kurapika looked at the floor.

“… I’m going. If I can help him, I want to.”

Leorio groaned, but didn’t protest any further. “Alright, I won’t stop you, but the moment he makes you uncomfortable you call me and I’ll come get you.”

“I will.”

Kurapika walked away at that, looking down at his phone.

‘I’m sorry, but I’ll be taking advantage of your kindness again, (Name). This is the last thing I’ll ask of you.’

—————

Killua grumbled as he helped (Name) carry her suitcase to the train. Kurapika ended up ordering tickets for late Thursday, not wanting to have (Name) wake up so early Friday.

“Can’t believe you’re doing this for that blonde tw-“

(Name) pinched Killua’s cheek. “Oh, hush. It’s only two days, I’ll be back Monday morning.”

Killua pouted, only calming down when (Name) pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’ll miss you too, Killua. I’ll call you when we get there, okay?”

He nodded, burying his face in his shoulder.

Kurapika watched, grabbing (Name)’s suitcase from the white haired boy. Killua looked up, frowning.

“If she gets hurt, I swear to g-“

Kurapika held up a hand. “Her safety will be my top priority.”

“I thought your mission came before everything?”

Kurapika’s mouth hung open slightly at Killua’s words. (Name) looked down, sighing.

“I can take care of myself. Come on, let’s get seated.”

She gave Killua one last squeeze before boarding the train, Kurapika following behind.

“Kurapika.”

The blonde turned back, seeing Killua staring at him, his eyes serious.

“I will never forgive you if you let her get hurt. She’s doing this to help you, never forget that.”

Kurapika stayed quiet for a moment before answering.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He sat down next to (Name). They were in first class, sitting comfortably.

She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Ya know, this kind of reminds me of our Hunter Exam days.”

Kurapika leaned his head onto hers. “Yeah…”

The two rode the train in silence, on their way to York New, as (Name) thought back to the Hunter Exam…

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[eliwashere]

Can't Hear You

summary: König gets a radio from you in the middle of battle. You tell him your hearing aids got busted, and he runs. tags: könig x gn!reader, hoh!reader, angst (?), fluff, pining, canon-typical violence, no use of Y/N, slightly proofread word count: 2.9k words

fyi this is my first fic on here!

and i'm also aware that hoh ppl can't join the military but i just like the feelings

requests are open !

The ride is bumpy.

König’s sniper hood scratches the tip of his nose as the van moves along gravel, the vehicle shaking, the engine revving. The sweat-caked fabric scrapes against his lips, a familiar feeling, one that he’s gotten used to over the years here with Kortac. He leans on the wall of the vehicle, eyes scanning over his squad.

The mission had sent them to the middle of South East Asia, the humidity sticking uncomfortably to König’s skin. He hears the quiet murmurs of the squad, silently complaining about the heat. His eyes land on you, seated across from him. You have your hearing aids turned off, your eyes closed as you simply wait till the van stops or gets attacked.

Your colonel knows you like to take moments to yourself, to let the noise muffle out. Well, you’d told everyone on your first day, when you’d just been shifted from another base due to your battle-earned hearing loss.

Your first day, when you first met König.

===

König remembers it well.

He remembers his superiors introducing you to the team, taking an extra moment to specially mention that you were hard of hearing. It surprised him, though he didn’t let it show (he couldn't anyway). Usually, they’d let soldiers go if they lost something on the field, a limb, a sense. But he figured that maybe they had a reason to keep you around, and that intrigued him.

“Sometimes I take them off, at night or during down time,” you said, pointing to your hearing aids as the Kortac squad stared you down, whether it be to size you up or… other actions with other motives. You had clocked König in the crowd from a mile away, his head sticking up among the others like a tower in a field. He had a tilt in his head, which he held unnecessarily high. You could almost hear the whirring behind his eyes, the churning cogs in his brain, trying to figure you out.

“And so, if anyone would like to partner up with your new teammate here, it would be greatly appreciated,” your superior had said, and you almost sighed. Someone had to keep an eye out for you, in case there was a drill, or an alarm you couldn’t hear. It bothered you that you needed to be followed around, that you’d likely be assigned a caretaker, or god forbid, a roommate. You need privacy, everyone in this base needed privacy, and having to share that space with someone felt akin to an intrusion.

But of course, the military couldn’t take any chances.

When no one answered, König couldn’t say he was surprised. Nobody would want to follow someone around all day on the off chance that there was a danger to the base, and he figured that you wouldn’t want that either, especially not with total strangers.

“Alright, then I guess we’ll have to–”

“I’ll do it.”

Heads whipped back to König, who only looked at his teammates once before looking back at you. He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe he pitied you, like you were the kid that got picked last during a game, or maybe he just related to the silence that you were met with, all too familiar.

“Well, that’s settled then.”

===

The van came to a stop at the edge off the main gravel road, the hood of the vehicle poking into the forest. You turn your hearing aids back on, the soft hum of the world flooding back into your senses. The team filed out of the back of the van, dirt and rock crunching under your boots. König checked his rifle for the nth time, before looking over to you. You met his gaze, an unspoken understanding for you to stay close by him filtering between the two of you.

The squad started north not long after, towards the enemy base. König, as colonel, leads the team. His head is on a swivel, looking out for any stray enemy soldiers, or landmines and traps on the forest floor. He spares a half a second to glance at you, your rifle held tight in your hands, expression focused, almost unreadable. It’s the expression you wore whenever you were training with the team, the expression that engraved itself into König’s retinas during your first few days with them, with him.

===

To your luck, they still let you have your own quarters, but also to your luck, you had to spend every other moment out of your room with König. Protocol, you had heard him say, accent deep set into his voice. You hadn’t expected it, to be honest, for a man his stature and size to have that voice. By no means did you not like it, in fact, there was something mesmerising about it whenever he was out on the battlefield. Crazed, you would describe it, crackling, like radio static.

König never did hear your voice often, one of the many silent types in the team, him included. He’d figured he’d leave it alone, but it was rare to find someone that spoke less than he did. He found himself observing you most of the time, which he had a lot of with you.

He noticed that you spoke more with your actions than anything.

When you were tired, you’d stretch the muscles in your neck, sucking a breath in as it emits a satisfying pop.

When you were frustrated, you’d clench your jaw, or you’d press your tongue into your cheek. If it was the other teammates bothering you, especially with their volume, you’d turn off your hearing aids, which has made König chuckle on more than one occasion. You’d never hear it though, but you could see the creasing of his eyes, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

===

The base is fairly barren, though most of the people who are there are heavily armed by the looks of it. That means it’s easy for your team to pick them off without getting seen, but it means a longer process and a more distance between the team. König can’t help but worry when you weren’t near, your presence having been a constant in his life for months now. At base or at battle, you would be at his side. So, when he sees you more than ten feet away from him, he breathes in a little deeper.

All it takes is one mess up, one wrong move, and suddenly the base’s sirens go off, the enemy soldiers yelling and firing. On one hand, König’s annoyed, because he’s going to have to find out who messed up and come up with a way to set them straight, but he can’t deny the adrenaline that pumps through his veins as he guns down enemies like target practice. The colonel watches their bodies drop with a twisted sort of satisfaction, the chaos of the moment fueling his hands as he slams an enemy into the brick wall of the building, a sickening crack and choked wail emitting from the now limp body.

König is a soldier, has been for a long time, and this is his element, his work, his life.

The static from his radio brings him out of the moment, and he ducks behind a wall for cover as he brings the device closer to his face.

“König?”

Your voice rings in his ears, and it would’ve bloomed a warmth in his chest if it wasn’t for its shakiness, the uncertainty in your tone. He doesn’t even get time to answer before you speak again.

“They…they’re broken, König. My hearing aids,” you say over the radio, ragged breaths and stutters punctuating your words. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t answer, knowing you can’t hear it anyway. He could hardly stomach the fear in your voice. You’re never scared, at least you’ve never shown it like this. But not being able to hear on the battlefield, not knowing if someone is behind you, or if a grenade had landed nearby; it scared König more than it did you.

“Nor–northern building, second floor.”

It’s all the information König needs for him to start running, sprinting to you.

===

It took a while for König to open up to you, four months, if anyone was counting. But König didn’t have anyone to really compare your time to, because you were the first one to ever try.

It was late in the night, König remembers. He forgot why he was even up, likely due to a nightmare, or simply the inability to even fall asleep, but he found himself in the common room, sat on the couch with a cup of tea in hand, the type that was supposed to help with sleep. He took a sip, sniper hood draped over his lap, his face exposed. The tea was warm, soothing, and König sighs through his nose as the liquid down his throat.

Training had been rather rough that day, with most of the soldiers already fast asleep by the time it hit midnight (a rarity). So, König hadn’t expected anyone to walk in, until you did, half asleep, feet dragging across the floors. You hadn’t noticed him, and he watched you open the shared fridge, pulling out the milk carton.

König hadn’t even considered the fact that his hood was off, and made no move to put it on either. He simply watched as you poured yourself half a glass, drinking it till it was gone. Your hearing aids weren’t in, he noticed, just as he noticed everything else. The scrapes on your elbow from training, the mess your hair was in, the dark circles under your half-lidded eyes… you looking right at him.

You tilted your head, empty glass in hand, the other holding the milk carton. At first glance, you had no idea who he was. Perhaps it was the sleep eating away at your brain, or the fact that he was sat in the dark, none of the lights on in the common room. But the electric blue of his eyes was familiar, and you knew.

The first thing out your lips was a hurried apology, looking away in favour of returning the carton into the fridge, placing the empty glass in the sink. You knew König never took that mask off for anyone, so to see the face under it felt like a violation of sorts on your part.

“It’s fine,” König had said, only to realise that his words couldn’t reach you, words that he was surprised he said himself. ‘It’s fine’? Was it actually fine?

Was König actually fine that you saw his face?

That your brows raised ever so slightly, surprised.

That you took a second to scan his features, despite the darkness of the room.

That your apology was so quick and so soft, that he swore his heart stopped for just a moment.

As you washed the cup in the kitchen sink, a hand finds itself on your shoulder, and you turned to face König, who was still unmasked.

To the untrained eye, he would’ve looked absolutely terrifying. Scars slashed across his features, his expression set and serious, but you saw the hesitation in his eyes, which were somehow the most expressive part of his face, yet the one feature he didn't hide.

König stood back a little, preserving your respective personal spaces as he drew his hand back to his side. You saw his lips part for a moment, as if to say something. You looked up at him, had to, because he towered over you, but you saw the indecision in his body language, and you gave him a nod.

“I can read lips,” you reassured. König heard you loud and clear, and his eyes look back into yours as he swallowed, adam’s apple moving along his neck. He thought for a moment, about what he wanted to say to you. A hard decision, considering the fact that he wanted to say everything in that moment, but he had a tendency to swirl into German if he got too carried away. So, he kept it simple.

“I don’t mind,” he said, aloud. He didn’t want to go out of his way to mouth the words to you, it felt rather condescending. But you got the message anyway, shown by the upwards curve of your lips, the single breath that you let out through your nose.

König breathed in. It was shaky, and filled his lungs to the brim. It felt like how he’d feel post-battle. The feeling of sinking emotions, of deep breathing and a mouth running dry. The feeling of pupils dilated, of his hands flexing and clenching at his side because god did he touch your shoulder just now? He didn't mean to do that.

“Are you sure?” you asked, cocking your head to the side with that slight grin, almost like you were anticipating, excited by the prospect of him wanting to share this part of him with you, one that he keeps so heavily guarded at all times. The thought made your chest ache.

Your colonel nodded, wetting his lips.

“I trust you.”

===

König runs incredibly fast for a bulky 6’10 man with tactical gear on and a rifle in his hands.

Fuck stealth, fuck sneaking and scouting around corners because every second he's not running is a second that you're alone and in danger. If any enemies are in his way, he simply shoots, not caring to make sure that they’re dead, he just needs them out of his fucking way.

He kicks in the door to the northern building, the sound reverberating through the building that he’s sure that you can feel. The colonel steps over the limp body of an enemy soldier, the puddle of red pooling under their lifeless corpse, soaking their camo maroon. His throat tightens when he sees your hearing aids sitting in that pool of red, or what’s left of it. Blood seeps into the shattered plastic, finding its way into the cracks, into the torn wiring of the device.

Making his way up the second floor, König catches a glimpse of the barrel of your rifle sticking out from behind a wall. Reckless on your part, but he could hardly blame you. He steps towards the corner, unsure of how to approach without startling you. The last thing he wants is for you to shoot him when he’s already so close to you; just behind a brick wall.

===

König found out why the military kept you around.

The first ever mission you go on together was his favourite. Before that, he’d heard the other Kortac officers talk about you, about how you'd snipe down enemies like candles on a cake, how you could scan a room in a single swipe of the eyes, how you’d saved their asses from more traps than they knew possible to put in one room.

He’d believed them, of course, because he never wanted to assume anything more than the best from you. But seeing was believing, and god, he was never more certain of anything in his life.

It was like coming face to face with an angel from a religion he didn’t know existed. He watched your steady hands, the rise and fall of your chest that held whenever you fired. You hardly missed, but when you did you’d pay it back by taking two more enemies out. König almost missed the grenade that landed by his feet, to which you kicked away before he could even react.

The two of you had to get shrapnel removed from your legs that day, but König smiles whenever he sees those scars, a reminder of you and your magnetic monstrosity.

===

He was right, you do try to shoot him.

König is lucky that your reflexes are just as good when retracting your rifle. He stares down at you, hands splayed and raised at his sides, firearm hitting the hard concrete floor with a cloud of dust. You’ve backed yourself into a corner where you had the best vantage point, where no one could see you through any windows or balconies. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he sees you like this, reduced to frantic breaths and wide eyes.

“König,” you say, his callsign slicing through your breathlessness as you lower your weapon. The relief sends chills down your spine, stirring together with the adrenaline in your blood; a boiling broth of feelings. You had half-expected that König didn’t hear your radio distress call, that someone had gotten to him before you’d gotten through. It was an imaginable thought, that someone would be able to take down this hulking boulder of a man, but you thought the impossible.

You watch him lower his hands, reaching them out towards you instead. You push yourself from the corner, your back killing you as you grab onto his wrists. His hands clench around nothing, the muscles in his wrists flexing under your grip.

“König, I can’t… can’t hear you. I-I can’t–”

Without a second thought, König slips his arm from your hands and lifts his hood over his helmet.

“You’re safe,” he says aloud, making sure you have your eyes on him. Eye-black mixes with his sweat, a trail of ink running down his pale skin. He’d lowered himself to your eye-level, definitely straining his back. He holds onto your bicep, giving it a squeeze. The pressure is comforting, grounding you to reality, to König’s presence.

You nod, movements stuttered. König smiles, and so does his piercing blue eyes.

“You’re safe with me.”

#konig #cod x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig cod #angst #fluff #konig x gn!reader #canon typical violence #first fic #cod x gn!reader #no use of y/n #someone pls teach me how to use this hellsite #like what do i include in an intro or masterlist post #send help