#well if they can tell under the mask lol
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Watch Your Six
Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist
Sensory Deprivation - Han Jisung
Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader
Word Count: 14.8k
Summary: After training for years, you finally become a full fledged agent for KDOI, the Korean Division of Intelligence. Over time, each and every agent becomes something like a family member, including the high-tech nerd who has managed to put a smile on your face since day one. What happens when he's sent with you on his first field mission?
Warnings: Violence, smut (18+) MDNI
A/N: Kinktober is a state of mind. I know its January idc lol I will finish the list of prompts even if it kills me
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Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound your sneakers make on the treadmill reverberates through the gym. The expensive, high tech plastic mask strapped to your face fogs up with each exhale and clears with each inhale.
To your right, a man holds a clipboard, glasses covered eyes watching your vitals displayed on the monitor hooked up to the mask and other various wires clipped to your body.
You’ve been running for about an hour straight, but your breathing is still even; and just by glancing down at the screen, your heart rate looks the same.
For months, you’ve been training with the federal agency to be one of their field agents. Countless nights were spent pushing yourself to the limit, physically and mentally.
Today was your final evaluation before becoming a full-fledged agent. You were selected out of the hundreds of trainees to test to move on.
It was a great honor, all your hard work was finally paying off.
Maybe you’ll get your first mission after this!
If you pass.
A small bead of sweat drops down the side of your face.
Bored, your eyes wander over to the man studying your every heartbeat.
The thick rimmed glasses that sat on his face have slid down his nose a bit. His lips seem to sit in a constant pout thanks to those pudgy cheeks of his.
Choppy, fluffy brown hair sits on his head like a mop. You can tell he’s run his fingers through it more than a handful of times to get it out of his eyes.
A crisp white lab coat rests over a hoodie and khaki pants. A few different pens and instruments sit in the pocket under an embroidered ‘J’ .
You’ve seen him around the trainees once or twice in the years you’ve been here. From what you’ve gathered, he was one of the technical experts, providing countless gadgets and gizmos for the field agents to use.
The guy that would give the secret agent a lipstick taser before embarking on their world class espionage mission.
He’s pretty and smart— what a lethal combination.
When the man looks back up at the treadmill, your eyes flick back to dead ahead of you.
Reaching forward, he hits the stop button on the treadmill and jots down a few notes on his clipboard, a tiny smile pulls at his handsome face.
The treadmill comes to a gradual stop and so do your legs. One hour exactly sits on the clock.
Nervously, you look down at the screens, to his monitor, looking at anything you can.
“You did extremely well, 586.” There’s a happy tilt to his tone while he scribbles down some more notes, flipping the page, then writing some more. “You can take the mask off now.”
Nodding, you gently take the mask off your face and drape it over the top of the treadmill.
“I have one more examination for you.” He clicks a few buttons on the computer to the side.
Patiently, you stand there waiting for instruction.
He looks up at you with amusement glinting in his big, brown eyes. “You don’t need to be so stiff with me, 586, that’s not part of the tests.”
Your shoulders relax and sag forward a bit. “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”
“Understandable.” He grabs a hold of the cart with the machines on it and rolls it to the side. “Most, if not all, trainees are during their examination. I can’t remember a trainee that wasn’t nervous— well, maybe M, but he’s a special case.”
“Are you J?” you ask, looking down at his lab coat.
“I am,” he answers and steps closer to the treadmill.
He reaches forward and unsnaps the wires hooked onto the leads on your chest. The sticker part stays on, but the wires are removed. Which means you’ll probably be hooked up to another machine soon.
“I’ve seen you around before,” you say to him, studying his face up close.
“I’m always around everywhere,” he jokes, unhooking more wires. “I don’t think there’s a square inch of this agency I haven’t seen.”
“Are you a field agent?”
He scoffs. “No, not me. I could never handle that.”
“But you’re an agent.”
He moves his head side to side. “Of sorts, yeah. B needed a tech guy, so technically I’m an agent. But if you were to send me on a mission, I might cry. I leave those sorts of things up to C or S, or any one of the other agents. Just not me.”
You nod with a small smile of your own.
“Follow me.”
Following his orders, you step off the treadmill and follow after him out of the gym.
“Is there only one of each letter?” you ask.
J laughs. “Actually, yeah.” He leads you towards a side room, it looks like an interrogation room with a large contraption on the center of the table. “It’s easier that way.”
He motions for you to take a seat across the table.
“And unless you fail this psych evaluation, I believe we’re going to be back to 26 again.” J starts fiddling with the machine, pulling wires and leads off the top.
A happy pang goes through your heart. Thank god he hasn’t hooked up the heart monitor yet, he would’ve seen it skyrocket.
“You think?” Nervously, you shift around in the chair.
J chuckles. “I do. I haven’t seen a perfect exam like this in a while. Plus, we saw all the extra training you were putting in.”
Your mouth opens a bit in shock. J looks over at you, holding the wires ready to snap to the leads on your chest.
“We have eyes everywhere, 586. Did you really think we didn’t see that?”
An embarrassed flush crawls on your neck and turns your ears red. “Of course, I know that.”
Again, he chuckles and snaps all the wires to the leads. His fingers are warm in contrast with the cold air of the exam room. Each time his knuckles brush against your skin the feeling lingers.
He places a strap around your head that has two metal leads pressing into your forehead. Even more wires from that strap lead down to the detector.
J looks down at the wires and then turns on the machine. It whirrs to life and a needle starts scribbling out your heart rate on the top.
It’s a lie detector. Of sorts. It looks like more than that.
You’re not going to pretend to understand anything, though. That’s his job.
His eyes watch the needle, he then reaches forward and clips a small cuff on your finger— a steady beeping follows it.
“There we go,” he mutters to himself and takes a seat across from you.
J shuffles papers around on the clipboard to rearrange them.
A large mirror sat on the wall behind him. There’s no way that’s not one way glass. Is there anyone on the other side watching your evaluation? Or is it just the two of you? Is there another higherup keeping track of your answers? Maybe it’s B? Or maybe other agents are spectating to see how you are.
You would be working closely with them, after all. If the roles were reversed, you’re sure you would watch.
“Ready?” J’s voice interrupts your thoughts.
Your eyes snap to him and you nod.
“Is your name Y/N L/N?” he asks, looking down at the clipboard.
It’s been so long since you’ve heard your real name. Two years? Yeah, two years. You’ve only been referred to as 586 since you joined.
“Yes.”
J looks at the contraption for a few seconds, taking note of the way it moves. He makes a small tick on the paper.
“Can you verify your date of birth for me?”
You do as he says, saying it like second nature. Again, he repeats the same motion of watching your heart rate and making a small tick.
The questions start out simple. Where were you born? What are your parent’s names? Do you have any siblings? All questions that you would make a security question for your bank.
“Now, let’s get to the real questions. Just answer honestly and you have nothing to worry about, okay, 586?” J’s voice is calm and smooth.
Something about this guy makes you want to tell him everything regardless of if you’re hooked up to several machines.
“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency prior to enlisting in KDOI?”
KDOI: The Korean Division of Intelligence. Your dream job since you were a young girl.
“No.”
After your answer, J watches your heart rate for even longer than before. He makes a tick on the clipboard.
“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency after enlisting in KDOI?”
“No.”
Another tick.
“Have you ever participated in an organized event that openly opposed KDOI?”
“No.”
Tick.
“Have you ever had malicious thoughts about KDOI or the agents working within it?”
“No, quite the opposite. I admire KDOI.” You add the last part with a sheepish smile.
J grins when he makes the next tick on the paper.
“Next section…” he murmurs. “Have you recently had thoughts of suicide?”
“No.”
Tick.
Question after question comes from his mouth. You answer honestly to each of them, not even hesitating to let the reply leave your lips.
“Did you have thoughts of suicide prior to enlisting in KDOI?”
“No.”
Tick.
“Do you ever have thoughts of harming others?”
“No.”
Tick.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“N- what?” Your eyes widen and you stare at him incredulously. There’s no way that’s on the evaluation.
J feigns ignorance and points down to the clipboard. In exaggerated movements, he motions down to it and shrugs, puffing air in his cheeks and just making a meal out of this fake performance.
“I can’t believe it either but there it is. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’”
You tongue your cheek and smirk a bit. “No, J, I do not.”
J nods and scribbles down more than just a tick while looking at the heart monitor. “Interesting…”
He makes a few last notes before his eyes widen and he looks up at you, pointing his pen in your direction. “No girlfriend either, right?”
You roll your eyes, “No, no girlfriend either.”
Isn’t this an official evaluation? For a government official secret organization that grants people a license to kill?
He asked you if you were single immediately after asking if you’ve had thoughts of suicide. Is this guy for real?
You slow blink at him while he finishes up the form on his end.
“Well!” he exclaims happily, hitting the clipboard on the metal table. You don’t even flinch. “I believe we’re all finished here.”
Your heart squeezes with nerves.
J stands up from the table and rounds the table towards you.
So badly you want to ask for the results of your exam. Are you in? Did you pass? Are you an agent?
“B needs to sign off on all the paperwork,” J trails off, his hands reaching forward to unhook all the wires from the leads stuck to your skin. “But… I don’t think there’s any issue with me welcoming you to the agency. Officially.”
Since the heart monitor was still hooked up, you can hear the needle suddenly spike and scribble large peaks on the paper.
J turns his head to look at it. An amused smirk crosses his face and a chuckle huffs through his chest. “Funny,” he says to himself and then turns back to you.
Sheepishly, you look away from him.
“That’s what gets your heart rate to spike?” J sits on the corner of the table and folds his arms across his chest.
You bite your cheek and avoid his eyes. “Well, this has been my dream job since I was a young girl; so, yes, you alluding to me becoming an official agent would raise my heart rate.”
J scoffs. His warm fingers suddenly grab your face, thumb on one cheek and his middle and pointer finger on the other. He turns your head to face him.
When your gaze snaps to his face, you see that there’s a cocky smirk on his face but his eyes are focused down on the heart monitor. The needle stays steady much to his obvious distaste.
He sucks teeth in disbelief. “Really?”
“Is this another test?” your voice comes out muffled due to him holding your cheeks.
J rolls his eyes with a frown. “Yeah, let’s go with that.” He releases your face and slides the strap off your head.
The leads on your chest are soon to come off after that. J is careful not to rip the sticky pads off your skin too fast so that it doesn’t sting. He rubs the site with a bit of rubbing alcohol afterwards to get rid of the residue.
“How long have you been at the agency?” you ask. You’re curious about him.
He defeats all the ‘Secret Agent’ stereotypes. He’s personable and warm— and a bit flirtatious. He’s not at all the cold, all-business type you were used to. That’s how more than half the trainees were.
It’s not that you were cold, no. You just kept to yourself and worked hard.
And you made sure your personality didn’t fade during that time either.
J’s nose crinkles up while he thinks. His hands slow down in the process. “Hmm,” he hums. “Maybe four years now? Yeah, sounds about right.”
Your eyes widen. “Four years? How old are you?”
He smirks. “Don’t you know never to ask a young man his age.”
“I guess if you’re not going to tell me…” you trail off. “I’ll just say twenty eight then.”
“Twenty ei—!” he stammers and takes the last lead off your chest. “I’m twenty two!”
“Wasn’t so hard was it?”
J grumbles and turns around to finish putting the machine away. But there’s an amused tilt to the corner of his puffy lips and a playful glint in his eye.
“So you started when you were eighteen?”
“Yep.”
“Child prodigy?”
“Taken right from high school.”
“Impressive.”
J laughs under his breath. “Everyone seems to think so.”
“You don’t?”
“Eh.” He shrugs. “Everyone here is a prodigy of some sort. It’s easy to blend in and somehow appear mediocre when surrounded by Korea’s most elite minds and bodies.”
“I don’t think you’re mediocre.”
“You haven’t met everyone else yet.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to answer again. J grabs your clipboard and takes the papers off it, handing them to you.
“Bring these to B, he has to sign off on the final enlistment.” You take the stack from him. “The guard outside the door will bring you up to his office.”
You look down at the papers, your heart rate picking up faster and faster the more you think about it.
J puts his hand on your lower back and ushers you towards the door. It tingles at the base of your spine. He reaches in front of you and opens the door, motioning for you to exit first. The hand on your lower back twitches and it feels like he almost scratches it twice before urging you forward and dropping it.
It’s weirdly comforting.
It doesn’t feel weird at all.
You turn back to look at him, “Thank you, J.”
He smiles. Those round cheeks get even bigger when it happens.
“Welcome to KDOI, X .”
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Two years goes by in the blink of an eye when working with a government agency. Especially when a majority of your assignments can take anywhere from a week to two months at a time.
The agents you work with are the only constant in your life. Other faces flitter in and out of your life like leaves falling off trees. You don’t grow attached to anyone outside of this organization, you can’t afford to.
You’re not complaining, not at all. You love the life you have now. It’s everything you ever wanted.
Everyone at KDOI is a family, you’re all each other has. It’s an unspoken, special bond.
When you first started, you were welcomed in with open arms. Obviously, some agents were warmer than others at first— or maybe it’s just that some were better at first impressions than others.
Maybe other people would have been upset with M’s standoffishness when you first introduced yourself. But, after a hot coffee appeared on your desk not even five minutes after complaining about being cold to him and only him, you knew he wasn’t detached and icy at all.
Other agents, like F, have been nothing but a ball of sunshine. He was the one you ate lunch with every single day while you were at the agency. Whilst sitting by yourself in the cafeteria on day one, he took it upon himself to plop himself in the seat right across from you.
H is your favorite agent to go on long assignments with. He never fails to be a constant source of entertainment and intelligent conversation— with the occasional stupid ass comment that makes you question where the man you were just talking to went.
Slowly but surely, you’ve also started learning their real names. Learning someone’s real name was apparently the equivalent of leaving you in their will around here.
There was a time and place to refer to them as their real name. It was a line you tiptoed constantly.
Surprisingly, it was M who told you his name first: Minho. It was completely unprompted too. It was in the jet returning from a three week mission where you had saved him from at least five different gunshot wounds by tackling him to the ground.
The others trickled in afterwards.
Y, or Jeongin, was shocked when you didn’t know his name. And immediately told you afterwards with a cute, wide smile on his face.
Even though every single agent has become a part of you, one particular agent seems to have captured a larger part of your soul than the others.
“J,” you say casually, slipping behind him to stand on the other side of his cluttered workbench.
Jisung. He had told you his name when you had lingered in his workshop late one night, not wanting to go back to your dorm quite yet.
“Hello, X,” he grins without looking up at you. The glasses on his nose have fallen forward.
His laptop is his primary focus, several wires are running from the computer to a tiny little gadget that looks no bigger than a cell phone. It has a small LED screen with different colored pixels bouncing around it.
Jisung’s workshop was one of your favorite places in the agency. There was always music playing, a computer always had some sort of TV on silent with the subtitles on, and there were always snacks everywhere.
You consider it a second dorm, really. As soon as you’re done training for the day, you usually find yourself here.
“When did you get back?” he asks, clicking a few keys and looking over at the gadget, then back to his computer.
“Maybe two hours ago?”
“And it took you this long to come say hi?”
“I had to shower.”
“ And you didn’t invite me?” his cheeky smile gets bigger.
You smack the back of his head, the glasses fall even more. You’re surprised they don’t tumble off his face.
If one thing has remained constant since your exam day, it’s the relentless flirting. The guy can’t go more than five minutes without saying some sort of teasing comment.
It should bother you.
But it doesn’t.
At this point, you’ve gotten quite used to it. If he ever stopped, then you might be a bit concerned. You might even miss it.
But you would never tell him that.
Jisung makes a tiny ‘gah’ noise and rubs the back of his head in fake pain. He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks over at you.
“I missed you so much and the first thing you do is hurt me,” he whines.
“I wasn’t gone that long.”
“Two long months without my girlfriend.”
“ Not your girlfriend.”
He clutched his chest through his baggy black hoodie. “Another wound.”
You cross your arms and giggle a bit. “Well get used to me not being here. B is sending me on another assignment tomorrow.”
Jisung frowns. “I know, he asked me to be at your debrief tomorrow morning.” He lets out a whine. “You just got back! Usually you’re around for at least two weeks in between missions.”
Shrugging, you look around the room. The digital clock on the wall read 10:29 PM. He’s usually the only one in here past 5:30, he tends to lose track of time easily when working on projects.
“It’s part of the job,” you say casually.
Jisung grumbles again, looking down at his laptop once more. “Yeah, well it sucks. Everyone’s always coming and going. Meanwhile I’m stuck here all day every day.”
“I thought you didn’t do field work.”
“I don’t . I just also hate that I’m trapped here while everyone gets to travel with one another.”
You narrow your eyes. “You do know we’re not sightseeing, right?”
Jisung balks. “Of course I know that.” He pauses. “But I did see that picture that you and Changbin took at Buckingham Palace.”
You bite your lip to stop the smile. “Not my fault it just so happened to be by our hotel.”
“Bang said if we had a Christmas card he would use that picture.”
The smile you’re fighting gets even bigger. You hesitate before speaking up again. “It’s a good picture.”
Jisung’s head drops and he places both of his hands on the table. “See what I mean?” he groans.
“Just tell Bang that you want field work.”
Jisung’s head shoots up and he stares at you with wide eyes. “I would die in the field!”
“You would not. One of us would be there to save your hide. You really think Minho would let you die?”
“I think he would load the gun himself.”
A laugh bubbles up in your chest. Uncrossing your arms, you turn around and lean against the table.
“Ji, we would make sure you were safe if you were to come out in the field with us. It’s our job.”
“Your job is to carry out the mission.”
“I wouldn’t give a damn about the mission if your life was on the line.”
Jisung’s mouth snaps shut. His eyebrows fly up his forehead.
The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his knuckles turn white from gripping the counter so hard.
His Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp.
You shouldn’t have said something like that, shouldn’t you? Your job is to carry out government missions. Personal feelings should never be put first, you know that.
So why did you say that?
Fuck, you shouldn’t have said that.
The shock on Jisung’s face quickly morphs into a cocky smirk. It’s a mask. You can see in his eyes he’s still a bit shocked.
“I knew you were in love with me.”
Groaning, you roll your eyes and push off the table. “I’m going back to my dorm to sleep. Goodnight, J.”
Your hand slides to his lower back and you scratch twice over his lab coat and hoodie.
Ever since your exam day, the two of you do this small gesture to each other all the time. It could be when he passes behind you in the cafe line or comes up behind you in the training room. It’s such a tiny, personal gesture.
Sometimes on the coldest nights in the field, you’ll find yourself aching for that small touch.
“You’re so head over heels in love with me, X!” he calls after you, again, clutching at his heart and overacting like he’s swooning.
“I’m leaving!”
“You just got here!” he whines.
“Bye.”
“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away, X!”
“Night!” you repeat, letting the door shut after you.
You walk down the hallway of the agency with a goofy smile on your face.
“Idiot,” you mumble to yourself.
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B’s office was at the very top of the large building, the windows overlooked the entirety of Seoul. Everything inside the office exuded money and power. The wood of the bookshelves was black and sleek and always dust free.
Inside the office was so large there was an entire sitting area with two sofas and two loveseats around a coffee table.
There was always a bergamot candle burning on a side table there.
It was just about 10 AM when you stepped inside.
“Ah, X, thank you so much for coming in.” B stands up from his large desk chair to welcome you in.
Bang Chan, the leader of KDOI, and the most unassuming man you’ve ever met. When you brought him your final exam paperwork that fateful day you thought you were in the wrong office.
This whole time you were expecting a wrinkly old man, not a twenty-something with dimples.
But, at this point, you’ve learned to not be surprised by anything anymore.
Maybe you were surprised at the fact that the other man in the room made no move to even look at you.
Jisung sat in the other chair in front of the desk, his face sheet white. Both of his hands are gripped in tight fists on top of his pants.
Your warm smile fades from your face as you take in his ghastly expression.
“What’s going on?” you ask.
Chan’s lips form a tight line as he motions to the chair for you to sit in. “I was going over your next assignment with J before you got here.”
“Apologies, am I late?”
“No, not at all. I had J come in a little early to talk to him one on one.”
You glance over at Jisung who looks like he hasn’t even blinked. Alarm bells are going off inside your head. Not even a nod in your direction?
“What’s this assignment about, B?” You look back to your boss.
He slides a manilla envelope across the desk to you, you take it without a second thought. Chan picks up a tiny remote off his desk and presses a button. Shades slowly come down over the window, bathing the room in darkness. Another beep on the remote and a holographic screen projects from the floor next to the desk.
Both you and Chan turn your chairs to go over the debrief, Jisung stays still. Part of you wants to snap your fingers in front of his face to see if he’s still alive or not.
Instead, you focus on your job.
“I know you’re used to more recoup time, but I’m afraid this assignment is pretty urgent.” Chan clicks the remote. A grainy CCTV picture is displayed on the screen. “The international gang you’ve been dealing with lately, the Ice Crows, have shown their face again.”
Chan zooms in on the image. Several higher ups of the gang are getting out of a black SUV. They’re all dressed in fancy suits smoking cigars.
The last time you dealt with them was about five months ago when their trail had gone cold over in Canada.
“When and where was this taken?” you ask.
“Yesterday. Paris. Where you and J will be headed after this.”
Your head snaps over to look at Chan.
With Jisung? No wonder the guy looked like he was eight inches from death!
Your eyes slide to the engineer, he’s still staring forward. A cold sweat on his brow.
“J is coming with me?”
Chan points your attention back to the debrief. “Allow me to continue.”
You spare one last look Jisung. The poor guy is shaking in his boots. Your hands itch to reach out and comfort him, but you have to remain professional.
That’s for after the debrief.
“There’s an auction being held at the Palais des Congrès. Several large and important pieces are being shown there. Including…” Bang switches the slides and displays an expensive painting. “The Refuge, which was stolen no more than two months ago by the Ice Crows. They’re putting it up for auction when it belongs back in Korea.”
Your eyes narrow. “This seems like a pretty rookie cut and dry assignment, B. You need me to get the painting back. I don’t understand why J has to come with me, he doesn’t do field work.”
The conversation the two of you had the previous night echoes in your mind.
B nods. “I know. Let me get there, X.” He switches the slide to display the floor plan of the museum. “This convention center is rather high tech, as you can see. It’s equipped with blockers that don’t allow any outside waves to make it past their walls. Any and all technical communication has to come within the building.”
“So, you’re sending J with me because he’s the only one that can operate field equipment? S can operate simple transmitters and trackers.”
“It’s more than that, X. The painting will be behind several different firewalls and security systems that not even S can hack through. J needs to be with you and he needs to be in that building.”
You take a deep breath and look over at Jisung. His hundred yard stare has moved from the window and is now focused down on his lap.
“He’ll be in your hotel room the entire time. You’ll be doing the recon and walking through the convention center to get where you need to be.”
Jisung pulls his lips between his teeth. His body finally came back to life. “I won’t need to leave the room?” His voice is hoarse.
“No,” Chan answers quickly. “Not until you’re leaving to come back home.”
Jisung shifts on his chair, unfurling his fists and swallowing thickly.
“I understand your apprehension, J, I do. But I need you on this.”
Jisung watches him closely and then offers a weak nod. He glanced over at you.
“I wouldn’t put you with X unless I was sure that she would watch your six.”
You nod and steel your expression. “I won’t let anything happen to you, J.”
Color returns to J’s cheeks at your words. He gulps and takes a deep breath, his shoulders rolling back and remaining stiff.
“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay, I’ll do it.” He’s more confident the second time.
“Good.” Chan clasps his hands together. “Stay safe, agents. Amusez vouis bien!”
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You and Jisung were the only ones inside the cabin of the agency’s private jet. It took off the runway only about four minutes ago.
The brunette sat across from you, his eyes focused out the window at the clouds below. His posture is anything but relaxed. He’s sitting ramrod straight in the large cushioned chair.
You don’t think his muscles have released since you both were in Chan’s office. Even through the thick layers of his comfortable traveling clothes you can clearly read his uneasy body language.
“You okay?” you ask gently.
“No,” he mutters back. Duh.
You bite the inside of your cheek, completely unsure of what to do or say. This was never a part of your training. Maybe you should’ve picked up a copy of ‘ Comforting Friends for Dummies ’ when you had the chance.
Killing targets? Easy!
Provide detailed surveillance on a suspicious person? Done!
Soothe an anxious friend? Not so simple.
Jisung’s cheeks seem even puffier than usual, lips pursed in a pout. There’s no sparkle to his eyes like you’re used to.
Taking a deep breath, you lean back in your seat and look around the plane. You crack your knuckles, displaying your own nerves.
“Do you know the best part of staying at hotels during missions?” you ask him to break the silence.
Jisung hums in acknowledgement, he continues to watch the clouds below.
“You get to order all the room service you want— it comes out of the agency’s card.” You smirk.
He shifts around in his seat. His hands that were tightly gripping the armrests relax a bit.
“Last assignment I was on with Hyunjin, we were in a seaport town, the hotel made these bacon wrapped scallops… man… I ate so many I thought I was going to explode.” You pat your stomach.
Jisung finally looks at you. “Bacon wrapped scallops?”
You nod and smile at him. “You’ll be in the room the entire time. Think of all the room service you’ll get to order.”
“I’ve never had bacon wrapped scallops.”
“It’s Paris, who knows what they’ll offer there. And it all goes on Bang’s card.”
Jisung finally smiles. It wavers for a second, like he’s sheepish to do it. It’s paired with a breathy chuckle. He looks down at his lap and lets his body fall forward a bit, elbows resting on his knees.
His knee bounces anxiously and the exhales he lets out are shaky.
“God, Y/N,” he sighs, rubbing his face. “I can’t help but freak out.”
“Understandable.”
“It’s my first time out in the field.”
“I know.”
“What if something happens?”
You roll your eyes. “I would be more surprised if something didn’t happen, Jisung.”
His head shoots up. The color drains from his face. His pouty lips part a few times like he’s trying to find the right words to say.
“But I’m prepared for it, Jisung.” You lean forward, mirroring his posture and take his hands between yours. “I’m prepared to take care of whatever pops up to keep you safe, okay?”
His jaw clenches and he stares deeply into his eyes. The hands in yours are so warm in stark contrast to your always-cold ones.
“And if anything terrible happens then I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of it. Trust in me, okay? I have to take care of KDOI’s resident nerd, after all.”
“Resident nerd…” he scoffs.
You bite the inside of your cheek. “Did I ever tell you what happened on my first mission with Minho?”
Jisung shakes his head.
“It was supposed to be easy! The intel that KDOI had gotten was that there was going to be a large drug exchange somewhere in the States, Minho was sent with me. And my lord, our intel was off.”
Thinking about the memory makes you giggle to this day.
“It was an international, high profile cartel that Bang has been trying to nail down for years. Well, during a small scout, I got my ass captured. I wasn’t watching my six like I should’ve.”
Jisung’s eyes widen. Obviously, he wasn’t told about this. It’s not like you enjoy flaunting the story around.
“I had a gun to the back of my head, the leader of the cartel was screaming for Minho to come out from where he was hiding or he’d kill me. God, I’ve never been so afraid in my life. My first assignment and I already had a gun to my skull.
“Minho, being the amazing agent he is, found the right vantage point and took the guy out. I was able to evade the crossfire after that, but honestly those bullets weren’t what scared me, it was the idea that Minho was disappointed in me.”
He was the agent you looked up to the most after all. He was the one that all these great stories and tales were all about. Minho was the harrowing hero of KDOI who was able to ace every mission handed to him.
“But he didn’t even say anything about it. Even when I apologized over and over again, he just shrugged and said it was part of the job. And I get it now. It is just part of the job. So don’t worry, okay?”
Jisung swallows once, chin dipping down with a stiff nod. He turns his hands around in yours to grasp your fingers.
A playful smirk creeps up on his face. “I can’t believe it…”
Your head cocks to the side and you watch him closely. He’s studying your manicured nails, his thumbs swipe over the digits softly. It’s a tender movement.
“What?” you ask.
“I can’t believe how in love with me you are.”
You rip your hands out of his and swat forward just as fast.
With a barking laugh, he moves out of the way of your slap. You swing again and again, each time his laughter gets louder and louder.
“First last night, now this? Are you going to propose to me next?”
You know this is just his way of evading thinking about how scared he is, but if that’s what it takes to make him feel better, you’ll allow it. If a distraction is what he needs, then you’ll give it to him.
“Love hurts!” he cries out when you land a solid smack on his arm. “They were right!”
“It’s going to kill you, that’s what it’s going to do.”
---------------------------------------
By the time you and Jisung get to the convention center and check into the hotel it’s nearing seven at night. The gala isn’t being held until tomorrow, so you both have some time to relax and settle in.
It leaves Jisung plenty of time to set up everything he needs inside your hotel room.
You both checked in without a hitch, getting your keys and practically falling into the room. Jet Lag is pulling your eyelids shut and weighing down on your chest like an elephant.
Flicking the lights on, you blink your bleary eyes a few times, staring down at the large bed sitting in the middle of your hotel room.
One king sized bed.
You’d love to say this hasn’t happened before but you never know what to expect on missions. There have been places where there’s been one bed, two beds, bunk beds , and even separate bedrooms once or twice.
On one occasion Hyunjin slept on the floor since you were only given one twin sized bed and you were not about to share that tiny space with the man who likes to spread out all of his limbs and hog the blanket at the same time.
So, at this point, you don’t even care if there’s only one bed.
You shrug it off and plop your bag next to the dresser and let your body fall back onto the plush mattress with an ‘oof!’
Jisung, on the other hand, hovers around the doorway, both hands still gripping the two rolling suitcases full of his equipment. “I can sleep on the pull out couch,” he says thickly.
“Ji, it’s fine, we can share a bed, we’re both adults here,” you tease him. “As long as you don’t put your cold feet on me, I don’t care.”
“I don’t have cold feet,” he grumbles and wheels his suitcases towards the small table on the other side of the room.
You let your eyes slide shut on the bed. The gentle hum of the air conditioner already lulling your brain to sleep. With how exhausted you are, it wouldn’t take much for you to give into the pull anyway.
Jisung opens up the suitcases and starts unloading every piece of technology that he has brought with him. Various wires and computer parts thud against the wood of the table.
He stops for a second.
“And how would you know if I did have cold feet?”
A laugh is punched from your chest at the abrupt question. It’s a deep belly laugh. “Let’s just say there is a loose lipped agent among us.”
Jisung pauses. “Minho said he wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“He wasn’t going to until I started teasing him about his purchase of fuzzy socks.”
“You were with him when he bought those?”
“I helped him choose between two different pairs.” You crack one eye open to look at him. “The purple pair was my idea.”
Jisung groans and slides his laptop open, the typing on his keys is a lot more aggressive. You giggle again at his outward display of frustration.
You let your eyes close again, listening to him shuffle his things around the wooden table muttering in between movements about how his feet aren’t that cold, they’re just colder than the rest of his body.
An easy smile finds its way on your face and you listen to his quiet ramblings until sleep finally washes over your tired mind.
---------------------------------------
“You were right,” Jisungs voice says in your earpiece. “Room service is fucking awesome.”
A waiter with a tray full of champagne flutes passes by, you grab one as he strides by your side.
“I told you,” you say quietly while bringing the glass up to your lips to take a sip. “What did you order?”
“I think the better question is what didn’t I order.” His mouth sounds full when he answers you.
He’s up on the 14th floor of the convention hall while you’re downstairs at the gala in a sleek, red silk dress. Your hair and makeup done exquisitely well, beautiful silver heels match the diamond jewelry adorning your skin.
You blend right in to everyone around you.
“I heard that their oysters are fantastic.”
“I think that’s part of what I ordered.” You can hear several dishes being pushed around. “Yep, right here. Although, they don’t look as appetizing as I thought.”
“They’re not really a lounge snack.”
“For rich people they are.”
The mission started about an hour ago when you made your way into the main event hall. The auction for the painting is going to begin in about another hour.
Your first task of the night is to locate the painting before the auction and place a minuscule tracking device on it to locate later once it’s sold.
There was only one way you knew to get close enough to The Refuge.
“Oh. Three tables back to your 8 is your first target of the night, X.”
Paternino ‘Pink Panther’ Cardi. One of the Ice Crows inner circle members. He can’t resist swiping whatever paintings he can get his grimy fingers on; but, he also can’t resist bragging to an attractive woman.
You turn nonchalantly to find him already eyeing you up with dark eyes.
He’s your typical mafia member. In fact, if you had to draw a cartoon of a mobster, it would look like Paternino.
You hold his searing eye contact while taking another sip from your champagne. The mobster lowers his chin and lets his tongue dart out to lick his lips.
At first, seduction wasn’t a part of the job you particularly excelled at. But after doing it for so long, it comes naturally.
Batting your lashes, you smirk at him and then turn to walk towards his table, your hips swaying in the process. Maybe you exaggerate your movements a bit, but it has the exact effect you need on Paternino.
He’s sitting at a large round booth all by himself, legs spread wide in a show-of-power manner. A large swig of whiskey is taken out of his glass before you get to him.
“Don’t you know that a beautiful woman such as yourself deserves a better drink than the venue provided champagne?” He motions to the booth seat next to him.
You place your glass on the table and slide gracefully next to him. The effort you put into this is going to need to be quick, you don’t have long to locate the painting.
“And I suppose a handsome man like yourself knows just what to order a woman like me?” Your voice is coy and seductively low.
In your ear, you hear Jisung take a tiny, shaky breath. Does he know the intercom is still activated on his end?
Paternino slides towards you a bit more so now you can smell the expensive cologne wafting off him. It’s almost too overpowering.
“A woman like you, hm?” He rests his arm on the booth behind your shoulders, lifting one hand to signal a waiter to come by. “Look into my eyes, let me see if I can guess your drink of choice.”
You rest your chin on top of your folded hands, your elbows resting on the table. His eye contact is intense and vivid, it makes your skin crawl.
Paternino hums again. “A sapphire martini.”
“Nope,” Jisung says with a chuckle.
You give a tiny, fake gasp. “How did you know?”
“I know a woman with taste when I see her.” He takes another swig of his whiskey while staring at you. “A sapphire martini for the lady.”
There must have been a waiter next to the table. You fight the urge to turn and look, instead opting to look at Paternino through your lashes.
“Your turn, Beautiful. Why don’t you make an assumption about me?”
“I assume you’re an asshole with a tiny dick.”
Humming, you scoot even closer to Paternino, your fingers come up and walk up his chest to come around his tie.
“I think,” you whisper lowly, coming closer to his own face, forcing your eyes to look down at his lips for a split second then back up at his eyes. “That you’re a powerful man around here, and that you don’t take no for an answer.”
His lips curl up in a cocky smirk. The arm that was previously on the booth, comes around your shoulders. His fingers feel clammy on your exposed skin.
“Very observant, my lady. Anything else?”
The sound of a glass being delicately placed reaches your ears. You reach out and grab the martini glass without looking, bringing it closer to you.
“No, no, it’s your turn.”
He smiles. You’re so close to his face you can hear his exhales, smell the whiskey on his breath.
You sip your own martini. God, it’s awful. You hate martinis.
Paternino slides a finger underneath the spaghetti strap of your dress. “I think you would look gorgeous without this in the way.” He tugs on the strap.
“Zero out of ten. Horrible pick up line. Try again.”
Jisung’s snarky words in your ear are oddly calming to your racing heart. He keeps bringing you down to Earth.
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about your clothes.” You tug his tie. “The auction doesn’t start for some time. How about you show me somewhere private we can go and we can see if both of us are right.”
“Uuuuggghhhhhhh…”
“I like that idea, I know just the place, Beautiful.” Paternino slides out of the booth and holds out his hand, which you grab a hold of gingerly to stand up and be led away from the main gala floor.
---------------------------------------
It takes five minutes for Paternino to lead you to the room where The Refuge is being stored. It only takes you ten seconds to knock him out cold with one solid hit to the back of the head.
His body hits the ground like a sack of potatoes in the dark storage room.
“Fucking finally,” Jisung groans in your ear.
“Sorry, it was the only way I knew to get back here.”
“That was torture, X. I’m never doing this again.”
You roll your eyes and pick up Paternino’s ragdolling body under the arms, dragging him across the room and stuffing him inside a storage closet with his arms and legs tied together and duct tape over his mouth.
“Now, which one is The Refuge?” you mutter looking around at all the art around the room. There’s sculptures, painting, glass blown pieces, everything you would see in a museum.
“I wonder if The Refuge is the only stolen thing in here?”
Sighing, you walk around the room, trying to recognize anything. “Probably not. But it’s the only one we know about.”
You find the painting eventually sitting at the very back of the room covered by a large sheet. When you walk up to it, you take your earring out of your ear and slide the back off— which is where you were keeping the tracker.
You tuck the tracker in the back of the painting between the canvas in the wood. It wouldn’t slip out nor would anyone notice.
“Perfect.”
“I can see it on the map still, you’re all good. Now get out of there.”
“Anyone coming on the cams?”
“No, you’re clear.”
You take your other earring out and throw it in the garbage can by the door. They were fake anyway and you don’t feel like looking like a freak with one in.
---------------------------------------
When you returned to the event hall, people were taking their seats for the auction, so you followed suit. Grabbing another drink from the bar before you sat down.
“Vodka tonic?”
“Always,” you say under your breath.
You watch the bartender make your drink with close eyes.
Now you just needed to wait until the auction was over to get the painting back. Your job was half over.
Through the earpiece, you can hear knocks on Jisung’s hotel room door.
“More room service?”
“I… I didn’t order anything.”
Alarm bells go off in your mind. “Don’t answer it.”
Jisung stays silent for a few moments. You’re no longer watching the bartender, you’re focusing intently on what you can hear in your ear.
“J.” You state, trying to get an update from him.
“I think they’re gone.”
Before you can even think about being relaxed there’s a loud bang on the other side of the intercom and Jisung shrieks from surprise.
“X! X, they’re in the room! X!” His voice shouts into your ear.
You’re already running out of the event hall, your dress hiked up in your hands.
“J, there’s a gun strapped to the bottom of the table, use it!”
You can hear gruff voices screaming at Jisung not to move, that they’d kill him if he even twitched a muscle.
“X, there’s five of them.” He whispers quietly.
“J, listen to me, stay calm, I’ll be there in five minutes.” You burst through the stairwell and start climbing two at a time, even in your heels. The elevator would’ve taken too long. “Do what you need to stay alive, fuck the assignment. Stay alive.”
“X.” It’s a whimper and it stabs you through the heart. The yelling gets louder and louder.
Jisung begs for mercy. You can hear the desperation in his voice, it pushes your legs to move faster and faster up the stairs.
“Si—“
The earpiece goes dead after a gunshot.
Your knees wobble and you lose your momentum.
Oh my god, no, fuck, please.
Reaching out, you grab the railing to keep your balance on one of the landings.
“J?” you scream. “J, can you hear me?”
Nothing. Not a single voice comes through. Not even static.
Maybe they just shot the equipment. That has to be it. They didn’t shoot him. They wouldn’t. Right?
You steel your nerves and launch yourself up the remaining steps. By the time you reach the 14th floor, you’re not even winded.
The long hallway is colder than the stairwell. You take off sprinting towards your room, sharply rounding the few corners that you come across. Right before your own stretch of hallway, you slow down to a walk. It kills you but you have to do it.
In the distance, right in front of your room, you see two large men in black suits standing guard. They take notice of you immediately.
“What are you doing up here, ma’am?” One asks as you walk closer.
“My room is up here, honey.”
He looks to his partner and then back at you. “Turn around and walk the other way.”
“Why?” you ask, only about ten feet away.
“Just do it, sweet cheeks.”
Your eyebrow cocks and before he can react, you walk up and throw a sharp right hook into his jaw. The bone in his face cracks and he stumbles down onto the ground.
His partner yells in surprise and starts fumbling for his gun. When his hand raises to shoot you, you grab his arm and aim his weapon down so when he discharges it, it shoots right into his partner.
Then, you pull his arm so he falls forward into you. You swing the heel of your palm upwards right into his nose. With your free hand, you reach down and grab the tiny pistol that was strapped to your thigh.
Before the second goon could recover, you shoot him right in the head.
The sound of gunshots obviously alerted the remaining three gang members in the room. Two of them come barreling out into the hallway with their weapons drawn.
Immediately, you shoot the first one in the head, he hits the ground before he even knows what hit him. The other gang member yelps in shock before you shoot him too.
Within two minutes there are four bodies in the hallway.
Carefully, you walk into your hotel room, keeping your back against the wall and your gun cocked.
“Shut the fuck up,” a gruff voice says roughly.
Jisung said there were five of them. The fifth must be the one holding him hostage.
Quietly, you inch closer and closer to the corner of the wall. Once you turn around, he’ll be right in front of you.
You gulp and take one deep breath before coming around the corner, gun pointed forward.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” That same deep voice calls out.
Your heart drops.
Another typical looking crook is pointing his gun at the closed wardrobe doors in the corner of the room.
Where is Jisung? Where is he? Is he in the wardrobe? He has to be inside the wardrobe.
“Why don’t you drop the gun, sweetie.” The mobster says darkly.
You stay still with the gun pointed at him despite his words. The trigger seems to burn your finger. It's aching to be pulled.
Is Jisung in the wardrobe? Is he in there and you can’t see him?
Or is this guy trying to pull a fast one on you to get you to drop your weapon?
Fuck, is Jisung in the wardrobe?
“I said drop the fucking gun.” He moves to pull the hammer back of his own pistol and you don’t hesitate even for a second.
You pull your own trigger.
He drops to the ground with a bullet wound directly in his head.
You sprint across the room and rip open the wardrobe doors.
Empty.
It’s empty.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat under your breath frantically. You blink your eyes over and over again hoping that he would suddenly appear.
You even go so far as to open and close the wardrobe door three more times, each time more frantic.
“Fuck!”
Where the fuck is he if he’s not inside this room?
The equipment on the table has a bullet hole through Jisung’s main laptop but no blood anywhere near it. But his glasses are. They’re lying on the floor with a crack through one of the lenses.
Did they move him to another location? He doesn’t have a tracker on him like you do.
With a yell of anguish, you turn and kick the dead mobster at your feet. His limp body rolls over and his jacket pocket falls open.
A hotel room key tucked inside the pocket catches your attention. You crouch down and pick it up.
‘1833’ is written on the back of the key.
It’s not a great lead, but your legs are running out of your hotel room before you even think twice. Obviously they moved him somewhere else to lead you into their trap and it didn’t work. Not with how well you were trained.
You burst through the door leading to the 18th floor, heeled shoes sprinting down the hallway towards where room 1833 would be.
As soon as you’re in front of the door, you click the hammer back of your gun and hold it out in front of you, swiping the key in the handle with your free hand.
The lock clicks open and you push the handle down slowly, trying to cause the least amount of noise as possible. All of the lights are off inside of the hotel room, save for one lamp. The yellow glow radiates on the wall.
There’s no noise.
Everything is completely silent save for the quiet hum of the air conditioning pumping through the room.
Until you hear a sniffle, a huff, and then another sniffle.
Inching across the floor, you slide your back against the wall like you did previously, listening for any more key sounds that would alert you that there are more people inside the room.
Taking one last deep breath, you round the corner and point your gun forward.
Even in the dark you know exactly what you’re seeing.
In the middle of the room stood Han Jisung; his hands tied together with a rope coming from the ceiling, a blindfold around his eyes and earplugs shoved into his ears. From here you can see the wetness from his tears being absorbed by the blindfold. There’s a gag tied around his mouth muffling tiny sobs.
You don’t allow yourself to fall victim to false security, you look around the room closely, making sure no one else is lying in wait for you to fall into yet another trap.
No other soul is inside this hotel room with you.
Dropping the gun onto the bed, you cross the room towards Jisung as quickly as possible.
He must sense another presence in front of him, his entire body stiffens and another louder sob is swallowed by the gag. He backs up away from you as much as his restraints allowed– which was next to nothing.
“Jisung,” you say in relief. “Oh god.”
Without thinking twice about it, you reach around and brush your hand on his lower back, scratching twice.
Jisung’s chest heaves with another sob, even through the gag in his mouth, you can hear him whimper your name. His entire body relaxes and he falls towards you, the ties on his hands tugging even more.
You reach up and yank the gag out of his mouth.
“X,” he rasps with a dry tongue. “Oh my god please say it’s you. I-I can’t hear anything— fuck, Jesus. Thank god you’re alive, oh god.”
You scratch his lower back again, looking at the restraints. How the fuck were you going to untie that knot?
Jisung’s tongue darts out to lick at his dry lips. His weight leans into you as much as he can. It must’ve been horrifying to be tied up like this, he couldn't hear or see or scream for help.
Gingerly, you reach up and cup both of his cheeks so as not to startle him. Even with how gentle you were, he still jumps in shock.
“Everything happened so fast,” he rambled. “They shot out the laptop so the communicator was fried. Next thing I knew I had a bag over my head and I was being tied up.”
Using your fingers, you push the blindfold up his face to rest around his forehead.
Jisung’s big, brown eyes blink and squint a bit before focusing on you. He searches all over your face, taking in every detail as if you’re a glass of water and he’s been crawling through the desert.
His eyebrows pinch together and he gulps.
“God, I’m always glad to see you, but now I’m really glad.”
You laugh under your breath, the stress from just the last thirty minutes alone lifting off your shoulders.
He’s okay.
Jisung is okay.
Using your hands, you wipe the tear tracks off his puffy cheeks. God, he must’ve been horrified.
He’s probably never going to go out into the field again. You look up at the restraints, analyzing the knot closely. You’re going to have to cut him down, there’s no way you’re untying that. He’s secured to a pipe that runs across the entirety of the ceiling.
“You know,” Jisung starts. His voice already has that teasing tilt to it. “If you wanted me tied up this badly, all you had to do was ask, baby.”
Your eyebrows twitches. Mr. Humor-Is-My-Coping-Mechanism decides to show his face now of all times, huh?
Slowly, you look down from his restrained wrists to his dark eyes. A smirk is already plastered on his face, his lips still wet from licking them.
“You must want me so bad, hm?”
With your own crooked smile, you tongue your cheek and make a ‘huh’ noise, it puffs through your chest. That’s how he wants to be, huh?
He can stay tied up for a little longer then. It’s not like anyone’s coming into this room nor do you have anything to do until after the auction.
Really, you have nothing but time to kill!
You take a step backwards away from him and cross your arms over your chest.
His eyes widen when you distance yourself from him. “Wh…” His cheeks puff a bit as his lips purse in confusion. Jisung tugs on the rope still around his wrists.
You cock your head to the side and stare at him with one lifted brow.
The bed behind you dips down under your weight as you sit down on the edge. It gives you a perfect vantage point to watch Jisung grow more and more confused as to why you’re not cutting him down yet.
Slowly, his ears start turning red, the flush crawls across his face and down his neck, disappearing into his black hoodie.
“X,” he says hoarsely. “Aren’t you going to cut me down?”
You shrug, knowing no matter what you say, he’s not going to hear you. If he wants to tease you, you can tease right back.
The gun on the bed beside you is picked up in your hand. You nonchalantly click the safety on and toss it to the side again.
He tugs even harder, the ropes chafing his wrists a bit. You watch as JIsung’s Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp. The blindfold is pushing his bangs up in wild directions.
The helpless look on his face shouldn’t be making your blood pump this way. Excitement shouldn’t be tingling at the base of your spine from the power trip you’re getting from this. This is only teasing between two best friends, nothing more.
It’s just teasing, right?
Right?
You cross one leg over the other, leaning back on your hands. The plush blanket underneath your fingertips feels cool and soft. It’s a complete contrast to the way your skin is heating up under Jisung’s desperate gaze.
“Aren’t you going to…” he trails off. Several times his eyes flick from yours down to your exposed leg. When you had crossed them, due to the slit up your dress, the entirety of your leg was exposed to the cool hotel room air.
“Going to what?” you ask him, exaggerating the movements of your mouth for him to understand.
Jisung gulps again while watching your lips. He squints his eyes closed and tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose, his chin tilts back a bit.
You allow your gaze to wander down his body a bit. He’s always in relaxed clothing, including now. An oversized black hoodie draped over his shoulders with gray sweatpants on his bottom half.
Gray sweatpants that you now notice seem a little… tight .
Oh.
It seems as though you’re not the only one whose thoughts seem to be a bit… derailed.
When you look back up at Jisung, he’s staring at you with slightly glassy eyes and a heaving chest. Nervously, his tongue comes out to lick his drying lips again.
A tight band of tension stretches between the two of you; you can practically feel it connecting your bodies together. The hair on the back of your neck stands up.
Is he thinking the same thing you are? Is he allowing his mind to wander the way that yours is?
Slowly, you uncross your legs and stand up from the edge of the bed.
Big brown eyes flick down to watch the movement absentmindedly, his lips part and a shaky exhale leaves them.
Your hips sway from side to side with each slow step you take towards Jisung.
The eye contact he makes with you is sharp; his thoughts being conveyed through them. He wants you, and he wants you bad. It’s like he’s practically begging for it with those brown puppy dog eyes.
And you’ll be damned because you want it just as bad.
There’s only so much of his teasing that you can take. Only so much desire the dam within your heart can take before it bursts. And right now, with how high your adrenaline has spiked, nothing is stopping you.
The last two years of nonstop flirting is taking its toll on your self control.
Licking your own lips, you look up at Jisung, a shaky breath coming out afterwards.
Your fingers come up and grab the blindfold that’s still around his forehead and tug it back down over his eyes.
“ Fuck, ” Jisung murmurs. Your face is so close to his you can physically feel the words splay out onto your own lips.
With the gentleness of a butterfly landing on a flower, you brush your lips against his. Jisung immediately brings his face closer to yours, smashing your mouths together even more.
A sensation you can’t quite describe washes over you. It has the same level of completeness that you had felt when you became a full-fledged agent; like you just did something that the universe has been waiting for you to do.
His pouty lips start moving against yours faster and faster with more urgency, like he can’t get enough of you, like he’s experiencing the same emotions that you are. Were you the piece he always needed too?
Both of your hands begin to explore. You cup his cheek with one while the other grabs at the front of his hoodie. He’s leaning into you so much that the ropes holding his wrists squeak as they tighten and rub.
With a teasing smirk against his mouth, you take a tiny step back. This way he wasn’t able to reach your lips but could still feel the heat from your body in front of him.
A tiny whine leaves his throat as soon as you pull away. You watch as his lips chase after you just to be stopped by the ropes.
“Y/N,” he whispers, pleading. You lightly tap his cheek twice.
Pulling the collar of his hoodie to the side, you let your mouth hover over his neck.
Since he doesn’t have sight or hearing, all of his other senses are on high alert. Jisung feels your warm exhales so close to his skin and squirms around, little noises leaving the back of his throat.
You tease him more and more by letting your deep breaths fan over his flushed skin but never actually letting your lips actually meet with his neck.
Jisung pulls and pulls on the restraints, each exhale driving him insane.
When your lips finally meet his neck, a long mewl exits his own wet mouth. His head tilts to the side to give you more access. Greedily, you let your mouth explore his soft skin.
His hips buck forward into yours, his hard length grinding into your hip to bring himself some relief. Jisung whines again at the sensation.
At the same time, you open your mouth and suck down where his shoulder meets his neck. His body tenses up and his head tilts back in pleasure.
“Jesus, fuck,” he curses, grinding into your hip once again. “Oh, god. Shit– please, fuck, Y/N.” His incoherent babbling only increases in pitch and frequency the more you run your tongue up and down his neck, never going lower than the collar of his hoodie would pull or higher than his jawline.
You let your free hand travel up to thread in his soft, chocolate brown locks of hair. You scratch at his scalp a few times, letting your nails drag along his head. A low moan emanates deep within Jisung’s chest, it almost sounds like a purr. His head leans back into your touch.
“Oh my god,” he murmurs. Every noise that comes out of his mouth is louder than you expect thanks to the earplugs. “Y/N, please– oh fuck , kiss me again, please, oh my god, please, Y/N.”
Pulling away from his neck, you capture his lips in the middle of his babbling. The rest of his words are swallowed by your own mouth. His tongue darts out from his mouth to lick at your lips and coax yours forward.
Your own moans slip between kisses, Jisung can feel the vibrations against his mouth and they drive him absolutely wild. His hands ball up into fists; he wants to touch you so bad.
“Y/N,” he says your name in between kisses. “Please, c-cut me down.” Your kisses travel down to his jawline. “I want to– Fu-huh-huck! ” You bite down on his neck harshly, sucking a bright purple hickey underneath it.
Jisung rolls his hips into yours. You can feel how absolutely rock hard his cock is through his sweats.
“N-Need to touch you. Hah! I’m going insane, Y/N.”
Begs sound so good coming from his lips.
You run your hands down his chest to tease at the hem of his hoodie before sliding them underneath the fabric and up his bare chest. The muscle that greets you underneath it is a pleasant surprise.
The hard lines of his abs and chest run along the pads of your fingertips. He flexes and tenses under your touch.
Jisung throws his head back with a groan, his weight shifts around on his feet. It feels so fucking good . Every single touch to his body is heaven sent.
At the top of his chest, you curl your fingers and rake your nails down his skin.
The wail that tears from his throat makes your heart rate pick up ten fold. It sends a lightning bolt of pleasure through your body.
“Oh my god, please do that again! ” Jisung begs, his mouth hanging open as he pants over and over again. It seems like he can’t catch his breath.
Who were you to deny him?
With a featherlight touch, you let your fingers trail up, up, up his body. The closer you got to the top, the faster Jisung’s breathing picks up.
Right before you curled your fingers again, you smash your lips together in another searing kiss. When you claw down his quickly reddening skin, his cry is swallowed up by your own mouth.
You don’t stop your fingers on their downward descent, you tease the waistband of his sweats, letting your fingers curl around the top of the band and touching the taut skin underneath.
“Ah, hah.” Jisung pants into your mouth. He leans forward and sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it back for it to snap against your teeth. “I want to touch you so bad, Y/N, please .”
“Be patient,” you say against his lips. He doesn’t hear it, but he feels it. A pathetic whine responds to your words.
You kiss his lips a few more times before dropping down to your knees in front of him.
“Holy shit,” he breathes out. “Oh god, oh my god.”
You grab his legs with both of your hands starting at the knees and run them up his thighs, taking your time on your ascent.
“Fuck, fuck , this is really happening.” Jisung gulps. He pulls harder and harder on the ropes.
When your hands reach the top of his thighs, you run one closer and palm his erection over the top of his sweats. A deep, guttural moan is Jisung’s only response. Even through his sweats you can feel how his cock twitches in your grasp.
His hips buck into your hand when you squeeze him. “F-Fuck, I– Oh god– This is really happening and I can’t even fucking see it .”
You smirk. Maybe you should show him a small bit of mercy. Just a small amount.
Leaning forward, you kiss his cock over his sweatpants. Jisung gasps and twitches again.
You stand up quickly, coming nose to nose with him. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, they’re so warm from his flushed face.
“Y-Y/N,” he gasps. You peck his lips, letting them linger on his while your hands come up to his ears to take the plugs out. “Y/N,” he repeats on your lips.
“Hi, Jisung,” you breathe against his mouth before kissing him again, letting the earplugs drop to the ground.
You don’t linger for too long, you kiss down his face, down his neck, and then you fall to your knees once more.
“Jesus, Y/N.”
You don’t tease him too much this time, you grab the waistband of his pants and tug them down, his rock hard cock finally coming out. His tip is red and angry. God, how can a dick look so pretty?
Just as quickly as you got his cock out of his pants, you wrap your hand around him, pumping your hand up and down slowly.
“Ohhhh my goood,” Jisung mewls. His thighs tense up and flex each time you stroke up and down. “Fuck yeah, Y/N. God, your hands are so fucking soft.”
You tighten your grip and Jisung whines.
“Yeah? Does that feel good, baby?”
His cock twitches in your hand at the nickname at the same time a tiny whine escapes his throat.
“Does it?”
“Y-Yes,” he answers shyly.
“Louder, Jisung.”
“Yes, it feels good!”
“Good boy.” Without warning, you lean forward and take the entirety of him inside your mouth.
You can feel his knees buckle and if it wasn’t for the restraints keeping him suspended from the ceiling, he probably would’ve fallen to the ground.
“Oh, oh m-my, f-fuck, Y/N!”
You’re relentless. You bob your head back and forth on his dick, letting your tongue swirl around the tip when you come up just to go back down and swallow him completely. Jisung’s hands are balled into such tight fists that his knuckles are turning white.
So many different pitches of whines, moans, and groans fall so easily from his lips. Compliments come out in between each one.
“So good,” he cries. “I can’t fucking– holy shit.”
In some part of your mind, you always knew he would be vocal during sex– but never this vocal. He hasn’t shut up once. Not that you’re complaining, quite the opposite really. You fucking love every single noise that he makes. Each one sends a shock down between your legs.
Too often you’ve been with partners that conceal how you’re making them feel, but not anymore. Jisung is making sure you know exactly how well you’re doing.
“Such a perfect mouth, oh god. So fucking warm.”
You let your hand travel up his hoodie again, his abs are clenching and releasing over and over again with how hard he’s panting, you can feel each one under your hands.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he pants as your hand goes up. “Fucking hurt me, yeah, please, scratch me, Y/N.”
God, the way he’s talking to you is fucking sinful. It’s perfect .
You scratch down his chest just as harshly as you did twice previously.
Again, Jisung lets out a wail, his hips bucking and fucking his cock down your throat. You gag around him but keep him down your throat regardless.
“I-I-I’m gunna, holy shit, Y/N, I’m g’na– g’na—”
Now, you can’t have that yet, can you?
Quickly, you pull off his cock, letting yourself take a gulp of air.
Jisung cries out from his ruined orgasm. “No! Shit! Fuck! Why?”
You look around the room while he throws his mini temper tantrum. There’s a small kitchen off to the side of the suite.
As if you have nothing better to do, you meander over to it, looking around.
“Y/N?” Jisung asks, hearing you walk away.
“Hm?” you respond.
“W-Where did you go?”
“Still here, baby, why?”
He shifts around, pulling on the ropes. The red color on his ears is getting deeper and deeper. “Just um– Why did you leave?”
You giggle. “Looking for something.”
You open one of the drawers, close it, then open another until you find what you’re looking for. It glints and catches your eye in the third drawer you check. You pick up the knife that was inside the drawer.
You’re walking back in his direction with the knife in your hand.
“D-Did you find what you needed?”
“Yep.”
With frightening grace, you reach up and slice the ropes holding his wrists in the air.
He almost drops to the ground, but you grab a hold of him before he has a chance to fall into the carpet.
Jisung wastes no time, he grabs at your waist with both of his hands. Through the silk fabric of your dress, you feel the heat of his touch. It scorches into your skin and you wish he would brand his very handprints there.
His lips are already on yours again, feverishly kissing you as if you would disappear if he stopped even for a moment. He takes one second to rip the blindfold off his eyes and then he’s back on your mouth.
The hands on your waist don’t stay there long. They run all along your figure, up in your hair, over your neck, grabbing your ass, gripping your hips, he’s everywhere.
You back up a bit, pulling Jisung with you until the back of your legs are about to hit the bed. Quickly, you spin the two of you around, pushing his chest so that he falls back onto the bed.
When Jisung finally blinks the confusion from his eyes, his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you at the foot of the bed.
You’re looking at him like you’re about to devour his very soul. Your hair is frizzy and tousled, the straps of your dress falling off your shoulders, your lipstick smudged over your puffy, kiss swollen lips.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs. His fingers curl into the blanket.
You straddle his legs and crawl onto the bed, hiking the skirt of your dress up enough for Jisung to see the strong muscle of your thighs.
“There’s no way I’m awake right now,” he whispers, hands grabbing at your bare legs and running them up to push your dress further up your body. “I must have been shot. I’m in Heaven right now.”
With a sultry chuckle, you cup his cheek and let your thumb swipe over his lips. “I’m real, baby.”
“Oh my god.”
You reach down and take a hold of his cock, pumping him up and down a few more times. Jisung moans and fights for his eyes to stay open, he can’t get enough of the sight of your hand wrapped around him.
With your other hand, you reach down and pull your panties to the side, revealing your dripping cunt.
“Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” Jisung whines. His fingers run up your folds, collecting your wetness on his digits and bringing them up to his mouth. He moans around his own fingers at your taste, his eyes rolling back in his skull. “Please, I need to–”
You cut him off by squeezing his cock. “Next time. I need you now .”
“Yes, ma’am,” he squeaks out.
As if he would ever complain.
You line his cock up with your entrance, Jisung grabs your hips with both of his hands, his thumbs pressing against the bone so hard. His breathing is getting faster and faster with each passing second.
Slowly, you sink down on his cock.
Both of you moan out in unison. The stretch feels fucking marvelous inside of you. Jisung’s eyes roll back in his head once more.
His moans dissolve into silence as his mouth stretches open in an ‘O’. He throbs inside you right before you lift your hips just to drop them again.
“Oh god,” you moan. “Jisung, you feel so fucking good.”
“Move, please ,” he begs and you bounce up and down again and again. Each time you drop down, it shoots pleasure down through your thighs and into your toes.
You grab his face and smash his lips with yours once more. His tongue immediately finds yours.
Jisung’s hands wander from your hips all the way around your body to grip your ass while you ride him, his fingers dig into the flesh, kneading it with each bounce.
“Fuck, fuck,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Pussy so fucking tight.”
“Just for you.”
“O-Oh, fuck yeah . Just like that, baby.”
Jisung pulls away from your lips to kiss down your neck the way you did to him earlier. He takes his hands off your ass to pull the straps of your dress down your arms for your breasts to fall out of the top.
“Shit, baby,” he whines before taking a nipple in his mouth.
Moaning, you pull his hair tighter, keeping his face buried in your chest– not that he seems to mind. His eyebrows pinch together, moans vibrating against your chest as he licks and sucks at your nipple.
His other hand comes up to pinch and pull at the other. Each tweak and flick of his tongue makes your walls clamp down on his cock.
“Your cock feels so good, Jisung,” you moan, clenching on him again. “Stretching me so good, so fucking big.”
He moans, sucking a hickey on the underside of one of your tits.
The pitch of both of your moans begin to get higher and higher the closer you get to your peaks. Jisung’s heels dig into the carpet and he starts fucking up into you.
“Fuck!” you cry out, holding him tighter. His thrusts are so much wilder than your bounces were. Each one fucks right into your g-spot. “Ji– Jisung, oh god!”
“Yeah?” He pulls away from your chest and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. “Does that feel good? Am I making you feel good?”
“Yes, yes! Keep going, Ji!”
Every single thrust is driving you wild. Everything about him makes you feel crazy, everything down to the sweat beading on his forehead.
He reaches down and presses his thumb against your clit, making you cry out. He rubs circles in the same tempo as his thrusts.
Closer and closer you approach your own climax, his touch feels too good.
Jisung looks down, watching where his cock disappears inside you over and over again. The very sight of it makes his mouth go dry.
He groans and falls into your chest.
“Say it for me, Y/N, say it,” he pants into your neck. “Say you’re close. I-I’m going to fucking bust, say you’re close, I need you to cum on my cock. Need it s-so bad.”
“I am, I am,” you repeat like a mantra. Your own pleasure is making you feel inside, his cock is abusing your walls just right, his thumb on your clit adding an extra level of insanity.
You pull more at his hair.
Close, close, close. It’s all you can think of. Jisung is enveloping all of your senses. He’s everything in your mind and body and even your soul.
“Gunna cum!” you cry out. “Cumming, cu– cumming!”
With just three more thrusts, your walls clamp down on Jisung’s cock, triggering his own release.
“Jisung, fuck!”
He bites down on your neck, crying out and grabbing you tightly with his free hand. He clings onto you like he would die if he let go.
Hot, sticky cum drips over your walls, leaking out around his cock.
Both of you are panting heavily, unable to move and detangle yourselves from one another.
Slowly, you release your death grip on his hair, letting your nails drag along his scalp like you did earlier. He hums against your neck, his hands finding your hips again, thumbs massaging you over your dress.
The gentleness of his touch makes you clench around him, your cunt still going through the aftershock of your orgasm.
“Jeeesus…” Jisung moans out, a bit overstimulated. You giggle and pull back to look down at your best friend. He looks up at you with a delighted smile across his face.
You giggle and continue to comb through his hair.
His eyes fall closed happily and he leans into your touch.
This should feel awkward. You should be having some sort of ‘post-nut clarity’ where you freak out for sleeping with your best friend, but you’re not.
Right here, right now, you feel safe and content. And your relationship with Jisung feels the same– if not better.
“I knew it,” he hums.
You cock your head to the side. “Knew what?”
“You’re obsessed with me.”
Laughing, you lean forward and press a long kiss to his lips. “Yeah.” You kiss him again. “Maybe I am.”
---------------------------------------
“So J was captured and tied up in another room in the convention center?” Chan asks.
You and Jisung had safely returned to Korea with The Refuge about two hours ago. And, per protocol, you both immediately went to Chan’s office for a debrief.
“Affirmative,” you answer.
“And you got him back, obviously. No problems after that?”
“No, sir.”
Jisung shifts on his chair next to you.
“Uneventful beyond that one hiccup?”
You tongue your cheek. “Yes, sir.”
Chan eyes the two of you curiously from the other side of his desk. But, the mission was complete and everything was done. There was nothing he needed to be wary of. For now.
“Understood. I’ll read about the mission more in your reports. You’re both dismissed.”
The two of you are leaving Chan’s office with thinly veiled smirks on your faces. Just as you’re about to close the door behind you, he calls out.
“Might want to cover the hickeys next time!”
#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#han jisung x reader#han x reader#jisung x reader#stray kids x y/n#skz x y/n#han jisung smut#jisung smut#han smut#han jisung x you#han x you#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfic#stray kids kinktober
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hello 🐝!! hope ur doing well, luv!
was thinking about bff!roommate!simon loving readers food. the reader starts baking and cooking for fun and uses simon as a test subject to rate the food LOL. reader's food slowly becoming one of his comfort things and maybe him risking cooking for/with them
just pureeee fluff!!
had this idea while looking at my burnt brownies LMFAO
wish ya the best ⚡
this is so sweet. this came out much angst-ier than i intended lol.
more bff!roommate!simon (part 7/?)
cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, simon is big 👁️👁️, the mask doesn't come off, aNgSt and LoNgInG
it's one of the first dinners that simon spends with you in your new apartment. he has never lived in a home that he didn't hate coming back to.
when he was a child, he feared his father. when he was an adult, he feared the loneliness and the quiet; it left room for the thoughts in his head to manifest and grow claws. but now, he found himself in the back of a car after deployment without dread in his chest.
when he steps into the foyer, the apartment is warm. there is no dust on the forgotten, bare counters. there is no screaming, no crying, no hushed voices and angry eyes. there is a warm yellow glow throughout the apartment; the lights you have put up since he left cast such a comforting shadow across the inviting furniture, the pictures you've hung on the wall are happy, the books you've put away and the candles you've lit are familiar.
and there's a smell. something smells so good. he closes the door behind him and locks it, setting his bag down. he follows the sounds coming from the kitchen. there's the sound of something simmering, cutlery hitting a wooden cutting board.
when he emerges into the kitchen, something in his chest constricts. you've got your bottom lip between your teeth as you concentrate on peeling some potatoes, trying to be careful not to nick the tip of your finger. there's a pot on the stove, a low fire lit as something cooks. there's more candles, a glass of wine there, a neat mess of vegetable scraps and ingredients.
he doesn't know what to call it; the taste of the word in his mouth sounds something like home.
"simon!"
and there's your smile. a bright, shimmering thing that comes over your face, relief in those gorgeous eyes and glossiness in your gaze as you hold back the excited tears you're overwhelmed with. you drop the knife you were using, hurrying around the counter to greet him, and simon grunts as your arms fling around his neck, bringing him down to your level as you hug him tight. there it is again--something tight and mean in his chest, something that feels good but something he can't say out loud.
"y-you're home--" you pull back gently. "you're back."
you smile, and simon catches the tear that escapes before it can run down your cheek.
"w-welcome home," you whisper, and you mean it, and his breath is stuck in his throat because something was waiting for him here, and it is you, and you are perfect.
"'ello, luv," he murmurs. "somethin' smells nice."
"yeah, i--" you sniffle, taking his arm and bringing him into the kitchen. simon is still fully dressed in his gear, sturdy jeans with holsters fastened around his thighs, a thick belt, a tactical vest tight around his broad torso. you pick up a tasting spoon, dipping it into the stew and holding it up to him. "tell me how it tastes. i'm...trying something new."
simon meets your eyes from under the mask before he lifts up the fabric slightly. you don't pay attention to the corrugated skin you see, the discoloration; you just smile and feed him the spoon.
he closes his eyes gently. he has been living on ready-made meals in the field and the food prepared in the mess halls. the food isn't bad--but it isn't made like this. it doesn't come with an angel feeding it, it doesn't come with an apartment filled with peace, it wasn't made with that unspoken thing that is shared between the walls of this place.
it tastes wonderful. it's warm, and it sits so nice in his stomach, and simon wants more immediately.
"still needs some time, got to get the potatoes done," you say, as if reading his mind. "it'll give you some time to wash up."
and when he comes back, you're still there. he blinks; this isn't a dream. you're still in the kitchen, asking him how he's feeling, your hair in front of your eyes as you pick up plates and bowls and more things you must have picked up when he was gone--what the fuck is going on?
who's house am i in?
what kind of fucking dream is this?
when do i wake up--when does this all get taken away from me? because i don't fuckin' deserve this--ghosts don't eat--ghosts don't get to live, and they don't get to share these memories, and they don't get to fall in lo--
"simon," you say softly, putting a small bowl into his gloved hands. his dark eyes fall, focusing on the curve of your lips and the softness of your skin and the way you feel in front of him. "ready to eat?"
yes. yes, yes, yes--
simon has been waiting all his for this feeling. the domesticity of home, the familiarity of not being alone, the serenity in something not unknown. and this would not last--he knows this deep in his bones. dead men do not get to savor these moments; he knows his demon will come to collect the time he's stolen, but for now, he will sit at the table he shares with you, drink in the warmth that you bring. he will listen to the gentleness of your voice, and he will fight tears one day in the field trying to remember exactly how you sound at this exact moment in time.
and he will try again to keep this feeling. he will pick a day that you work, a day when you are gone, and he will try and recreate the homecoming you gave him. he will fuck it up--of course he will, because simon was never taught how to love someone else like this. but somehow, he knows you won't care.
you will look at him the way you're looking at him now--simon puts the stars in the sky, the moon into orbit, gravity in motion, he brings the heat of the sun and the snow in the winter, and maybe he doesn't do this with the world you live in, but he does it with whatever lives inside of you, and it's enough for you to know that this is all that matters.
his hand along your thigh, his eyes on yours, the thing that is stuck between his teeth that he won't say but that you can feel in the air.
the thing between you that follows you, even when you go to bed that night in separate rooms. the thing that keeps you up at night knowing he is just across the hall, that he's right there, he's right fucking there--
he's right there.
so why can't i just have him?
#ask#ask b#cinerxria#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ghost x reader#cod#call of duty
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✧Tldr: Chuuya notices you seem overworked, so he gives you princess treatment
✧One Shot, bath time
✧Cw/Content: Overworked/burnt out reader, implied nakedness (duh), whipped Chuuya lol, Fluffy fluff, Established relationship, Pet names
✧Here's that bath time fic I promised awhile back <\3
"Mhm..." Chuuya's eyes wandered over to your figure laying face down on the other end of the couch as you let out a groan. Chuuya had noticed the signs. You'd been together nearly 6 years now, he could tell just by the look you gave him that morning. You were stressed, unmotivated, exhausted even.
Your eyes didn't have that sparkly look he loved even when you did your favorite things. Your hair wasn't as healthy or shiny as it used to be. You just seemed unmotivated to do almost anything after work.
He sighed gently, shutting the book of poems he was previously reading. He gently scooted over to you, brushing a bit of hair out of your eyes. "Doll?" He spoke gently, rubbing your shoulder lightly. You glanced up at him, forcing a smile as you snuggled into his gloved hand. "Hi Chu." You whispered up to him.
Chuuya's eyes softened as he leaned down, placing a kiss on your forehead. "You doin' okay?" He asked, trying his best to mask his concern. You nodded lightly with a sigh. "I'm alright, don't worry about me hun." You chuckled lightly. Chuuya knew well enough to know your words weren't the truth. But he also knew better than to push further. He smiled lightly, sneaking a hand under your chin and gently kissing your lips.
"I'm gonna go run an errand, I'll be back in a bit alright?" His hand held your cheek carefully as you nodded. He smiled lightly, standing up and walking to the front door, placing his coat over his shoulders and quietly leaving. You let out a sigh, rolling over and facing the back of the couch, mind numbing itself.
—
As you heard the door unlock, you sat yourself up, looking to the door as it opened. There Chuuya stood, a confident smirk plastered on his face as he carried multiple store bags along with a fairly large take out bag. You stood up at the realization, walking over to him. "Awe babe, I could have helped you carry stuff in," you smiled guiltily.
He let out a small "psh", as he waved your helpful hands away. "No need, these weigh nothing to me." He set the take out bag onto the counter top, moving a few of the other bags into his opposite hand. "Go ahead and turn whatever you want on the tv, I bought your favorite so we can just have a calm, easy night here." He smiled sweetly at you as he carried away the other bags. You stood there for a second before finally your shoulders relaxed for the first time that day. You smiled genuinely, grabbing the take out bag and taking it into the living room.
After turning something on Chuuya joined you once again, taking out the containers of food and arranging the spread on the coffee table. As you both settled on the couch, Chuuya couldn't help but notice the faint smile that graced your lips while watching TV. He sat beside you, his arm casually draped around your shoulders, pulling you a bit closer.
As the last bites were taken and the plates were cleared, Chuuya leaned back, stretching his arms. "Feeling a bit better, Doll?" he asked, his eyes filled with genuine concern. You nodded, a genuine smile gracing your features. "Yeah, thanks to you," you admitted, appreciating his effort to bring comfort. He chuckled, leaning over and gently kissing your cheek. "Wait here, alright? I got a couple more cards up my sleeve tonight."
Chuuya stood up, letting the Tv continue to play as he made his way down your shared hallway out of sight. You hummed, laying back and waiting for him to fix up whatever it was he was doing. It took awhile but after a bit Chuuya snuck back in the living room.
He chuckled as you sat up looking up at him. He walked over, sneaking one arm under your legs and placing another behind your back, picking you up with ease. As you wrapped your arms around his neck he let out a confident chuckle, making his way to your master bathroom towards the back end of the house. "Ya ready?" He taunted you a bit. You nodded slightly excited, he then gently kicked the slightly open bathroom door. The sight before you was endearing to say the least.
The bathroom was littered with flower petals, separate arrangements of flowers placed in different areas, a few small candles were lit on the bathroom counter, and the bath was filled up with some kind of bubble bath. You let out a small gasp of excitement as you looked around the room. Chuuya couldn't help but chuckle smugly at his great idea. "Vanilla bubble bath, bath salts, and all at the correct temperature. And I bought you a new robe to wear afterwards, and some skin care products I caught you eyeing the other day." He said, kissing your cheek before setting you down on the ground.
You looked around in awe as Chuuya chuckled at your excitement. Chuuya turned on the jets in the bath, before making his way back over to you. He gently placed a gloved hand on your shoulder, "May I remove this?" He asked for permission as he found the bottom of your shirt. You nodded, lifting your arms above your head and allowing Chuuya to help remove the rest of your clothes.
As you crawled into the warm water, you could feel the muscles in your back slowly untense you rested your head against the side of the tub as you felt the jets spit out fresh warm water. "Feels good huh?" Chuuya asked, removing one of his gloves and running a hand along your back slowly. You nodded lightly as you leaned into his touch.
Chuuya felt the knots in your back, releasing a hum as he lifted his other hand to his mouth, using his teeth to remove the other glove before giving your back a proper massage. "A little tense there aren't we?" He quietly spoke, moving his way to your shoulders and neck. His hands were gentle, but still firm enough to help release the tension you'd been building these past days.
You hummed lightly as you sinked a bit further into the water. You'd been so busy with everything lately you hadn't really had time to pamper yourself like this. It was nice to have Chuuya home to do things like this for you.
After awhile of his hands massaging every rough spot of your body, he then ran a hand over your hair, taking in the slightly messy dirty look of it. "You really 'outta take better care of your hair love. It's too gorgeous to let get all greasy." He whispered, kissing your forehead gently.
Chuuya reached over you, grabbing your bottle of shampoo and squeezing a bit into your hair. Using his fingers to gently scrub it into your scalp. Relaxing you even more as he massaged it all throughout your head, cleaning every part of it. After rinsing your hair, he then put a small amount of conditioner, playing with your hair as he rubbed it all throughout. You giggled softly as you leaned into his gentle touch.
Chuuya chuckled lightly, leaning down and kissing your lips lightly. As he rinsed your hair, you felt comfort that you desperately had needed for awhile now. After he finished with your hair, he pulled his hand out, causing you to pout at him. He chuckled lightly as his hand went back, holding your cheek softly.
"What is it doll? I thought you might want some alone time in here." You shook your head as you leaned into his touch. "Nope." You said as you popped the P.
"Your company is what I want.." you smiled. Chuuya laughed lightly at your clinginess, shaking his head lightly. "I guess if that's what you want." He kissed your forehead again. "It very much is."
You two basked in each others company, your eyes lazily closed as Chuuya admired everything about you quietly. As you looked over you couldn't help but notice the light sadness in his eyes that he thought you couldn't see.
"What's up Chu?" You quietly whispered. Chuuya blinked a few times at you before he sighed lightly. "I was just a little worried about you is all." You hummed lightly at him. "It's the first time I've seen you relaxed in days. Which is good but.. I just missed this. Your smile." Chuuya smiled at you, running a hand softly on your face.
You smiled sadly at him. "I'm sorry Chuuya.. I know you worry. But I'm okay now. Honestly." You reached out and caressed his cheek as well. It was hard to remember sometimes that Chuuya really is a worried person. Especially when it comes to you.
Chuuya sighed contently as he gently grabbed your hand, kissing it softly. "As long as you're happy.." he smiled at you.
After a while Chuuya stood up slightly, shaking the slight dampness from his hands. "Alright, let's get you out of there, huh? Any longer and you'll be a prune." He chuckled. You chuckled back as you looked down at your hands. "I guess I am starting to look a bit prune like huh?" You showed your hand to him as he turned off the jets. "Yeesh, perfect timing I guess." He smiled as he opened the door, disappearing into the hallway.
You sat up in the tub, clicking the drain button down and watching as the water slowly went down. After a few seconds, Chuuya returned with a fluffy white towel in one hand, the robe he'd previously mentioned in the other. "I threw em both in the dryer so they'd be warm for ya." He smiled. You excitedly smiled, slowly standing up from the bath.
Chuuya immediately wrapped you up in the towel, setting the robe down and grabbing another one. "Alright, sit on the edge of the counter top so I can dry your hair." He pointed. You complied, sitting down facing the mirror. He wrapped your hair up in the towel, gently rubbing and drying it. You hummed contently as he was careful not to pull or yank at it.
"Anddd there ya go." He finished pulling off the towel and throwing it into the dirty bin across the bathroom, running a hand through your hair just a tad as you giggled lightly.
You yawned lightly as you stretched lightly, causing a chuckle to escape Chuuya's lips. "Alright, let's get you into the robe then head to sleep. You clearly need it." He spoke softly, picking you up from the counter and placing you back on the floor as you nodded.
Chuuya looked at you as he held a hand on your towel, waiting for a second. You smiled at him sincerely. "You don't have to ask to remove the towel Chu, you're only doing it to put on the robe." "It's still polite, common courtesy is important. Especially when it's you." He sighed at you as he gently took off the towel, not staring as he quickly slipped the robe on you, still warm from the dryer.
"So warmmmm." You smiled at him softly. Chuuya carefully picked you up with a light laugh, carrying you to your shared bedroom. Gently placing you on the bed, he pushed back your hair, kissing you on the forehead.
"Get comfy, I'll change into some pajamas and crawl in with you." You nodded up at him as he walked to his closet. You pushed the plush blankets down, pulling them back over yourself and getting comfortable. After a few minutes, Chuuya returned back. Walking to his side of the bed and crawling in, he immediately wrapped his arms around you pulling you close to his chest.
Chuuya pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your skin. "I love you.." he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.
"Hmhm.. love you too," you murmured back. The two of your breaths synced up as the night warmth overtook you both. After only a few minutes, you were both fast asleep in one another's arms.
#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs#bungou stray dogs x reader#chuuya x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#bsd chuuya#chuuya nakahara#chuuya nakahara x reader#nakahara chūya#nakahara chuuya x reader#guys if its not obvious asf i love soft Chuuya
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batfam with the youngest robin (prob 12-13) who gets kidnapped by the joker during a mission and a year or so later the joker reveals the kid who is now brainwashed to be the joker jr
i was thinking like maybe how they’d react and maybe that they can rescue y/n and un-brainwash them and like comfort them and stuff
if not that’s fine i don’t mind!!! i can also like explain better if needed lol
The Stranger In The Mirror.
Note: You guys literally send in the best requests, I took inspo from Batman Beyond where this happens to Tim but I also added my own little twists as always.
Warnings: Torture (graphic), brainwashing, manipulation, drugging, breakdown basically hurt not comfort (poor reader is going through it all in this one.)
Word count: 2.5k
⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤
“Help! Somebody please!”
You heard the cry before you saw what was happening. A female voice begging desperately for help, pleading for mercy as the two men backed her against the wall of the alley. They stalked towards her menacingly and you could see the way her face contorted with a fear that gripped her so tight as she moved feebly in an attempt to get past the two men. But they were large and between them took up most of the alley so that it was nearly impossible for her to slip past, and even if she did they would be on her in a second.
Using your grappling hook to secure a line on a nearby railing, you propelled yourself down from the rooftop. Before your feet hit the floor, you took the crooks out with a well placed blow that sent them crumpling to the ground like a sack of flour. Resheathing your hook, you turned to the woman.
“Are you alright, Miss?”
She smiled, looking at you from under the brim of her hat with an all too familiar smile “Much better now you’re here.”
A brief flash of recognition crossed over your face, obscured by your mask as you realised who those brown eyes belonged to but you had no time to act on it before she hit you on the back of the head. Hard. With a manic laugh.
“Night night, Birdy.”
~
When you awoke, you were laying on something cold. A piece of metal that you had been bound to by ropes that burned against your wrists and feet as you struggled to free yourself. The table was tilted at an angle that allowed you to squint against your throbbing head to take in your surroundings. The room you were in was well lit and seemed surprisingly sterile given the situation. Strange concoctions of colours that made you grimace hung on the walls and bubbled away in tubes on one of the many workbenches across the room. The tools made your stomach churn. But then you saw him.
Perched all high and mighty in a chair opposite you the Joker had sprawled himself out across a chair, flashing you one of his sickening, signature grins.
“Hiya, Birdy!” He stood with glee, making his way over to you with a spring in his step-almost like he was skipping.
“Why the hell am I here, Joker?” You spat at him, baring your teeth.
“Can’t a guy just hang out with his favourite vigilante?” He mused, turning away from you as he began organising things on the desk that you couldn’t see, you tugged in the restraints to try and catch a glimpse of them.
“Cut the crap.”
“You all really are no fun.” He rolled his eyes “Not to worry that’ll all change soon when I morph you into the perfect weapon. Me.”
“What?”
“Well, what’s better than one of me? Two of me. And you little bird, know all the ways to destroy your pesky family.”
“I’m not going to tell you shit.”
He shrugged, turning back to you with a pair of jump leads in hand. “We’ll see.”
Walking towards you with a grin he attached them to the table before reaching towards the dial. You thrashed desperate to break free but the ropes securing you in place allowed no leeway for you to move. When his fingers brushed the dial and the voltage came flooding through the wires, you let out a blood curdling scream. The pain was everywhere as your body arched, twitched and writhed against the rope. It burned at your skin, drawing blood and forming blisters against your wrists and your ankles. When the current finally stopped and you fell slack against the restraints your diaphragm jerked and spluttered against each pain filled gasp.
“Are you ready to talk now?”
~
They realised very quickly that you were missing. You hadn’t returned home after your patrol. They tried not to let the worry get the best of them, but this was Gotham. They waited, watching the seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, but there was no sign of you. You were gone.
Everyone was on high alert. For three, agonising weeks they searched every inch of Gotham, using every possible connection they had but no one found any leads. Tim was growing frustrated, hacking into every database he could find as Bruce and the other boys scoured the city. But you were gone without a trace. That was until one tedious Wednesday morning, the batcave received an urgent call.
~
Your head was fuzzy. Whatever the Joker had dozed you with this time was really taking a toll on you.
Your head hung low resting against your chest as you breathed slowly, trying to push away the fuzziness in your brain. Your entire body had grown numb; now too used to the pain it had been put through, too weak to hold yourself up as you lay slack against the table and although all dosed up now you may not be able to feel anything, you would never be able to forget the endless torment he had put you through; that would forever be etched into your mind.
The screams still seemed to ricochet off of the walls, burying themselves into each crack just to resurface once it went quiet. The feeling of your skin being torn apart still lingered, the pinch followed by the burn as the Joker slashed you with his weapons, screaming at you to tell him all that you knew about Batman. Of course, you refused at first. Oh how you were so brave trying to hold your tongue. But you couldn’t help the screams that ripped from your mouth and left your throat raw and soon when they layers of your mind had been peeled away by the cruel hallucinations he put you through with his serums and his words, you soon began to crack; your fragile body unable to take anymore of this torture.
Your wrists had been burnt red raw; the trails of blood tracked down your arms and mixed with dirt and blood, showing where it had beaded down your forearms as you struggled. Burned with tears your anguish was clear amongst your struggle and you were pretty sure that you had at least three broken ribs and four missing fingernails. Maybe more.
But you were growing to like the pain somewhat. Because it meant that you were still alive. It meant that your family was on your way…or… had they stopped looking for you.
The Joker's cruel words rang through your hazy mind. He had told you about the video he had sent to them. How there was no response. They didn’t care. None of them did or you would have been home right now. He had injected you with something as he said it, but you swatted off the prick of the needle as though it were a pesky mosquito bite.
“Soon,” He told you as the drug settled into the numbness of your body. “You will realise that I am helping you. That I am the only one that cares for you. Not Batman. Not any of those pesky Birds. Me.” he hovered in the doorway just before he left. “I’ll be back, Junior.” Junior. He had stopped calling you by your name recently.
And as much as you didn’t want to agree with the man who had put you and your family through so much…you were beginning to believe it. The Joker had dragged you away from a life cycle of patrol and ending crimes. He was giving you a place to stay when your family had so clearly given up on you. The Joker had confided so much in you in your time together that you felt like you almost knew him personally. And it had made you think that… he was misunderstood. Lonely. Much more similar to you than-
No.
No. No. No. You shook the thoughts from your head. ‘They’re coming.’ you told yourself. ‘But…’
Your mind was fighting itself now, conflicted between what you knew and what you were being told. Fighting between your family and the man who stood constantly before you. It fought until one side finally inched free and you realised something.
The Joker.
The Joker was right. He was helping you.
When he returned to you that night, you greeted him with a dumb smile. He was glad to see that his plan had worked. That he had broken you down enough to mould you into exactly what he wants.
He grinned manically. He could now move onto phase two: training you to kill The Bat. This stage would be considerably easier. You already knew Batman’s weaknesses; you had admitted that during one of the electroshock sessions. He just had to convince you that Batman was the real enemy. The only thing left to do besides that was lure him over to you. Which should’ve been easy enough.
~
Tim shot up from his seat the moment your face flashed up on the screen. Somehow, someone had overridden the computer’s controls and he was now staring at your bloodied and beaten face lolling against a metal table.
“Bruce!” Tim cried, scrambling to grab the attention of his father.
Bruce had never moved faster across the cave than he did to reach Tim, his stomach dropping when he saw the screen, with him came the rest of his sons who too were alerted by the shout.
Tim didn’t have to say anything else as they all gathered around to look queasily at the screen. You weren’t moving as the live stream played and this only worried your family more, but then an all too familiar green hair came into frame walking towards you menacingly.
Bruce felt sick when he saw you flinch and try to squirm away from the Joker’s touch.
“Smile for the camera.” He said, gripping your hair so that they could see your face. You blinked slowly permanent tears scarring your face amongst the blood and dirt.
“I hope you’re watching Batsy. You’re about to see the end of your little bird.”
Dick, who bit his lip anxiously as he observed instinctively gripped Damians shoulders and tried to push him away as the Joker reached for the dial again. They saw your body react despite its weakened state; legs kicking and trying as you tried to scramble away. But Damian refused to leave, especially when his little sibling was in this state. It was horrific, but he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the screen so he watched shell shocked. That was until your first scream cut through all of them and he turned away. Dick pulled him close as he screwed his eyes shut and Jason clenched his fists.
“Tim.” Bruce ordered “Turn it off. Find a signal.”
“I’m trying.” He said “But…there is no signal and something is overriding the controls.”
Bruce ran his hands through his hair until after an agonising few minutes, your screams stopped.
The Joker moved swiftly for a syringe which you didn’t even react to as he injected it into your system. Not good.
“They’re not coming for you, birdy. They don’t care.” The Joker taunted before turning back towards the camera. With one manic laugh he gave a final bow and the signal fizzled out.
The five of them stood there in complete silence. All silent. Most angry. Most heartbroken.
“Suit up. We don’t stop until we find them.”
~
By the time the vigilantes arrived, you were ready. Poised on the top floor of Arkham’s abandoned asylum cafeteria.
You had seen Batman arrive, sauntering furiously into the open room to where Joker had positioned himself. You had seen the other four sneak in too, wrapping themselves around the room and slinking throughout the asylum in search of you.
Once Joker had riled up the Bat enough to send him on a chase to him around a loop of the asylum, you jumped down from the bannister with a conniving grin.
“I know you’re all in here.” You laughed. And soon, one after the other your brothers appeared from the shadows gawping at the stark contrast of your appearance. You were skinnier and clearly injured from head to toe, but what struck them the most was the purple and green that the Joker had donned you in.
“R…” Red hood warned as he stepped toward you. “We don’t wanna hurt you. We just want to take you home.”’
You raised your weapon. “Liar!”
“No kid. We wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.” Red Robin said.
“You left me. You didn’t come back for me and you left me here to rot!” You gritted your teeth.
“That’s not true. That’s the joker talking.” Damian.
“He is helping me! He is helping me reach my full potential- I am already so much more than I was before.”
You raised the pistol. It was loaded and you knew that it would do damage. That was the intention. And that's what you were going to do. You were going to take them out one by one until they get what they deserve-
“R…” Dick said as you raised the gun your finger inching towards the trigger. “You know us Little Wing. We’re your big brothers.”
You moved swiftly, dodging them as they moved closer in sync. One of them reached out to try and grab you, but you gripped his arm and threw him over your shoulder. The five of you tussled until everything paused when Batman burst back into the room.
Your gun was pointed at him in an instant, locking in on him as you readied your stance and poised your finger on the trigger. no one said anything. No one even dared to breathe. Bruce just looked at you from behind his cowl as you grinned at him, sickeningly mirroring the villain who appeared behind him sending him keeling to the ground. You laughed.
“Do it.” Joker urged.
But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Your hand trembled as you looked down at him pleading at you. He looked so…vulnerable. And your mind screamed at you. Wrongwrongwrong. You were torn again. This was Bruce…your father. Your family. Your enemy-
“Do it, Junior.” He pressed. Your lip trembled.
Do it. No. Do it- You wanted to scream.
“R.” Batman uttered one single letter.
You pulled the trigger. No one moved. A cry of pain rang out across the room. The Joker dropped to the floor.
You let out a sob and dropped to your knees realisation catching up on you. A pair of arms wrapped around you and pulled you to their chest as you completely broke down.
“It’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. We’ve got you now.”
Everything hurt. Everything was so disgustingly wrong. You had tried to kill Bruce- you had given away your secrets… you let out an unholy sob.
“Shh.” Jason cooed. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean it.”
“Everyone is okay, Little wing.” Damian promised, taking your bloodied hand gently and tracing circles across the back of it. “We can fix this…”
Batfam Taglist:
@aestheticdaisies
@hell-o-kittys
@xxrougefangxx
#batfam x reader#batfamily x reader#batfam x injured reader#batfam x hurt reader#batfam x sister reader#batfam x brother reader#batfam x sibling reader#Batman#batman x daughter reader#Dick grayson#Dick Grayson x reader#Dick Grayson x sister reader#Dick Grayson x brother reader#Dick Grayson x sibling reader#Nightwing#Nightwing x reader#Jason Todd#Jason Todd x reader#jason todd x sister reader#Jason Todd x brother reader#Jason todd x sibling reader#Red Hood#Red Hood x reader#Tim Drake#Tim Drake x reader#tim drake x sister reader#Tim Drake x brother reader#Tim Drake x sibling reader#Red Robin#Red Robin x reader
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Hello 👋 is it alright if I request an extra fluff/smut piece for Ghost? With the idea of mutual pining, playing peacocks around each other etc. My idea is something like : SO is good at either playing the guitar or singing, and we know Ghost can play the guitar so maybe SO shows off while in private with him or with the whole grp in the rec room or smth , maybe SO starts showing off and then Ghost joins in w his lil skill? idk it doesnt make a lot of logical sense but id like to think its cute...
Ps: I am absolutely going mad for your writings, they are so so good ! Thank you for sharing your art and talent with us ❤️🫰🏻
Sorry if you dont like the idea, keep safe and have a lovely day 💞
Nothing Else Matters
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader
[“Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica]
[18+]
•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•
• summary - ghost teaches you how to play a song on the guitar. he rewards you for listening so well lol.
• rating - 18+
• wordcount - 3.8k
• warnings - fem!reader, fingering, soft!ghost, HEAVY praise, a lil sprinkle sprinkle of a size kink, fluff, the mask stays on 🙏
✿ ok but i lowkey struggled writing this idek why 😭 oh well thank you for the ask anon i love this idea fr!! i changed it up a lot, but i hope it's still ok :)
•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•
For the past few weeks, you had been watching your lieutenant strum at his acoustic guitar after long, strenuous missions. He'd keep his mask on, ripping one skeletal glove off to change notes as his gloved hand strummed and plucked at the strings.
You'd sit across from him in the rec-room, just watching, curled up on the couch next to Gaz, who would be elatedly telling Ghost about songs he should learn on the guitar.
You'd watch his ungloved fingers; how they'd wrap around the neck of the guitar, pressing and moving around the chords. You'd watch his gloved hand; how, despite the fabric, it moved fluidly to brush a tune from the taut strings.
Ghost would hum along, too. Eyes flickering to either watch his hand movements, or stare absent-mindedly into the distance, long blond eyelashes fluttering.
One day, the taskforce returned from yet another stressful mission. Battered and bruised, the five of you wandered into the barracks with separate objectives to relax yourselves. Price disappeared into his office, Soap and Gaz to their respective rooms. That left you and Ghost to idle in the rec-room.
Ghost immediately picked up his guitar, having left it on the couch, and sat down. He drummed his fingers on the hollow body for a moment, staring at the floor. You watched him from the doorway, and he looked up, sensing your eyes on him.
You shied away under his gaze, dropping your head nervously. "Sorry, I–"
"You can watch," he said simply. "It's okay."
You smiled at him, entering the rec-room and taking a seat on the couch opposite. With his mask still on, he bit at the tips of his fingers and pulled his glove off with his teeth, dropping it beside him. He rested his ungloved hand around the neck of his guitar, rubbing his fingers along the fingerboard.
You watched the movements. He looked up at you. You felt the heat of embarrassment prickle at the back of your neck.
"You play?" He asked genuinely, nodding to his guitar.
You shook your head. "No, no. I just... I just like watching you play. You seem to really enjoy it."
He hummed, something like an mhm, but his voice was deep and, in all honesty, it distracted you.
"Helps me reduce stress," he told you, tampering with one of the pegs for a second. "Calms me down."
He then began to play. It was somewhat of a familiar tune, with gentle strumming. His fingers moved fluidly across the fingerboard, and you cocked your head as you watched, reclining further into the couch. You were still in your gear, dirty and flushed with sweat, but you were relaxed– heart calming as you listened to Ghost's song.
You really didn't want to interrupt him, but the intrigue to know the song was almost overwhelming. He clearly could sense it as, without even looking at you, or pausing the movement of his gloved hand, he said: "Nothing Else Matters."
"Metallica?"
"Mhm." The same, deep hum.
You smiled, small. His picking hand was doing most of the work as the chords thrummed together, the song drifting softly around the rec-room. You felt sleepy– like he was sending you to sleep with some sort of lullaby. But you didn't allow yourself slumber, continuing to watch as your lieutenant played.
Halfway through a chord, he stopped. He looked over at you, eyes framed by that signature black paint, and nodded down at his guitar. "You like Metallica?"
You shrugged. "I like that song. Slower. Calmer."
He nodded slowly, eyes flitting back down to his hands for a second, before he looked back up at you. "You wanna play it?"
You shook your head, sitting up. "I don't know how, lieutenant."
"I'll teach you." He said, patting the space on the couch next to him.
You were hesitant to move, fidgeting with your fingers. He was waiting patiently, a hand resting on the fraying couch cushion, the other holding his guitar to his chest.
You sighed. "Look, I haven't even gotten changed, and I probably need a shower–"
"Sit down, sergeant," he said, almost jokingly. "I've been in the military a long time. Dirt and sweat is the least of my worries."
You bit your lip, but abided. You crossed the room, sitting down beside him. He shifted his body so that you could see his hands and the guitar. You watched closely as he guided you through the different chords, teaching you the basics of where to put your fingers.
You followed his ungloved hand with curious eyes, watching the way his fingers flexed, veins in his hands shifting with each press to a string. A sliver of tattoo poked out of his sleeve, along the edge of his wrist. The sight of the ink made your heart flutter.
"Easy enough, yeah?" He concluded, and you realised that you hadn't been paying attention for the past few minutes.
"Uh, yeah." You whispered, before he placed the guitar in your lap. You wiggled to get comfortable, but the way his eyes travelled up and down the length of your sitting frame was making you uncomfortably warm.
"Alright, now start like I showed you," Ghost said, voice low. "Two fingers like– yeah, perfect– and that's Em. Then you'll move into D with– good– then quickly into C– that's it, good."
You moved your trembling fingers, spurred on by his soft praise. You could feel his body heat beside you, radiating. You swallowed thickly, concentrating on moving your hands in tandem, picking up the slow rhythm.
"Now G– yeah– then B– three fingers, there you go, that's it– now back to Em– perfect, well done."
You paused. He had to be doing that on purpose.
"You picked that up pretty well, sergeant." He said.
"I barely managed that one verse," You groaned, flexing your already aching fingers. "Moving my fingers from Em into... uh..."
"D."
"D, right. I'm struggling getting my fingers into position in time." You said, and Ghost nodded next to you, moving closer.
He put a hand on your shoulder and turned you so that your back was to him, pressing against his chest. He wrapped one arm around your side, gripping the neck of the guitar.
"Just watch my hand." He said, masked mouth so close to your ear that you wanted to whimper.
His other hand moved around you, too. He began to strum, slowly, as you watched the movement of his ungloved hand. Effortlessly, he moved between chords, and you watched how he shifted the positioning of his fingers.
"You just have to take it nice and slow," he whispered. "There's no rush. You're learning. Here, you try."
He moved his hand, but kept his gloved one in place. "I'll strum. You focus on the chords."
Well, you couldn't focus on anything with how close he was to you. But, nevertheless, you tried. You did it exactly how he showed you: carefully moving your fingers across the fingerboard, two fingers to three, from one chord to another. You did it a few times as Ghost plucked at the strings.
Each time you failed to transition smoothly between chords, he'd murmur in your ear: "almost", "nearly there", "that's okay, try it again."
When you finally nailed the transition a few times, you hid your glee as he praised you: "that's it", "there you go", "good girl."
The last praise made your fingers stutter, and you prayed he didn't notice. But after half an hour of learning the basics, you decided it was time to get some rest. So, you thanked Ghost, bid him goodnight, and headed off towards the showers, skin warm and mind buzzing.
Ghost watched you go.
Of course he noticed the way you reacted to his voice, his praise.
He had always loved the way you watched him play. Sitting next to Gaz, watching on so intrigued, big eyes following each languid movement of his hands. He liked looking up and catching you staring, only for you to look elsewhere– at your hands, the floor. He liked seeing you nervous.
Ghost especially liked teaching you how to play. Who wouldn't?
Watching the way your brows lightly furrowed as you concentrated, how your hands, so much smaller than his, wrapped around the neck of the guitar and pressed down on the fingerboard. He'd observe the way you bit your lip when you had to focus particularly hard: changing chords, for one thing.
Then, when he pressed you to him, the warmth of your body– even through your military gear– was astounding. He could feel your breathing against his chest, hear the way you sighed through your nose when you got a chord wrong. He really loved when he spoke, close to your ear, and your body tensed for just a second. A second that made Ghost thankful for the thick material of his cargo pants.
He'd always had this juvenile crush on his sergeant. He whittled it down to being a man working with an attractive woman in an adrenaline-fuelled environment. Nothing more.
But having you so close to him, letting him teach you and speak softly in your ear, made him realise that–
"Fucking hell..." Ghost grumbled, placing the guitar to the side and running a hand down his face.
Thinking of you, he could already feel the blood in his body begin to head southward. He stood up, realising that it was time for bed.
And probably a cold shower.
•º•
The next couple of weeks, something in the air between you and your lieutenant had changed.
Maybe you were imagining things, maybe you weren't. But your interactions with your superior had shifted and you wondered if anyone else noticed it too.
Ghost had been continuing to teach you how to play. He was adamant for you to complete the entire song, and every couple of days, he would invite you back into the rec-room and pick up where you left off. You were getting the hang of it, actually.
But other mannerisms of his changed, also. He was gentler with you, spoke quieter, ensured you were okay more often. His orders to Soap and Gaz were abrupt, loud. His orders to you were quieter, less of a shout, usually paired with a gentle squeeze of your shoulder.
He'd pop his head into your room, asking how you were. You would tell him that you're fine. He would reply skeptically, "let me know if you need anything, okay?"
It all seemed confusing. This big, hulking figure of a man with a skull-face balaclava treating you like some kind of porcelain doll. But, you weren't complaining, and Ghost noticed that.
He'd have to be blind not to take notice.
Your pretty smile when you thanked him for something. Your sparkling gaze when you looked up at him. Your subconscious efforts to get closer to him– sitting beside him at briefings, pairing up with him on a mission, asking him for help when you needed it.
Ghost was basking in your presence and enjoying every second of it.
So when another guitar lesson came around, Ghost was eager to see how well you were doing. He was impressed by how fast you had picked it up, smiling when you managed a near perfect run-through of the song a couple of nights ago. Thank fuck for the mask, he thought.
"I think I've almost got it." You beamed, flopping down beside him on the couch.
He smiled under his mask, handing you his guitar. "You think?"
You nodded excitedly, positioning yourself so you were facing him. He watched as you began to play, the tune slower than he played it, but still good. Meanwhile, you were burning up on the inside– the way he was watching you play making you flush. You knew he wasn't even looking at the movement of your hands. He was looking at your face, your expressions. You screwed your eyes shut, losing focus and messing up the chord transition. You cursed under your breath.
"Still having trouble with the Em to D, huh?" Ghost asked, cocking his head to the side and resting his hands on his knees.
The transition was difficult, but you had been practising. The reason you had messed up was because your lieutenant was looking at you like that–
Soft eyes, long lashes, semi-lowered eyelids, smudges of black paint, gloved hands on his knees, large thighs pressed to the couch.
Oh my God, you thought.
Ghost chuckled lowly, as if he could hear your thoughts. That scared the shit out of you, but when he shifted his position, taking the guitar from you, you sighed, relieved.
"I'll run you through it one more time," he said, proceeding to show you the smooth, seamless transition of his fingers. You looked on, attempting to be subtle as you pressed your thighs together, warmth gathering. What the hell. "Think you can manage that?" He asked.
You hesitated to nod, chewing on your bottom lip.
Ghost followed the movement for a split second, snapping his gaze back to your eyes as you opened your mouth to speak.
"Could you... could you help me?"
"'Course," he said quickly, shuffling back on the couch and spreading his thighs. You moved between them, sitting with your back to his chest. Comfortable, as he placed the guitar on your lap and urged you to take hold. He covered your hands with his. "Two fingers to three, sergeant. Easy does it."
He guided you through it.
You were successful in each movement of your fingers.
"There you go, good girl. You've got it, haven't you?" Ghost said in your ear as you strummed, continuing through the verses.
You played for him, still perched between the mass of his thighs, his broad chest moving against your back as he breathed. He had moved his hands away from yours. They rested on your waist, holding you lightly as you played. His thumbs soon rubbed circles in time with your plucking, right on the curve of your hips. Only now did you realise he had taken off both of his gloves.
Tentatively, his hands moved around your hips, then waist to your stomach. He pushed you, carefully, further against his chest as he tucked his head onto your shoulder. You sighed through your nose, trying not to whine as you progressed through Nothing Else Matters.
"Doing so good, sergeant. So good," he whispered, hands splayed warmly across the shape of your tummy. His breath was warm against your neck, your ear, even through his mask. You shuddered against him, but didn't lose your concentration. "You like me teaching you things, hm?"
You allowed yourself a small whine, followed by a nod. He huffed a quiet laugh against your shoulder, sliding his hands back to your hips. He grabbed onto you, pulling your backside flush to his pelvis, making you gasp. Your fingers stopped.
"Keep playing, baby," he cooed into your ear, voice thick and rich with praise and lust. You obeyed, picking up where you left off. He circled your hips with his fingers, before allowing them to slide back to your front, sitting on the buckle of your belt. "If you don't want–"
You cut him off. "Keep going."
He didn't say anything, but he popped your belt open as you resumed playing. He kept his head on your shoulder, watching your hands move as he unzipped your cargos and peeled them open. He slid one hand inside, cupping the front of you over your underwear. He waited and, when you said nothing, he slipped two fingers inside and dragged them towards your heat.
When his digits made contact with your wet core, both of you whined. You stopped, letting your fingers rest against the strings as he trailed his fingers up and down your slit a few times, sliding between the heat of your folds.
"So wet..." He drawled, two fingers snagging your dripping entrance, circling it. You arched against him, song long forgotten. You whined softly into the sudden quietness of the rec-room, and Ghost nuzzled his masked face into the crook of your neck.
"Come on, baby. Keep playing for me," he said, urging you to continue with a pause of his movements. With shaking fingers and a desperate sigh, you started again, rec-room no longer quiet. As you did that, he brought his fingers to your entrance and carefully pushed them inside.
You whined, missing a couple of chords. "Lieutenant–"
"Shh, baby, I know, you're doing so well," Ghost hushed, gently flexing his fingers inside you. "Just want you to finish the song, okay? You can do that for me, baby, I know you can."
Damn it.
Desperately ignoring his thick fingers inside you, you continued. You had just a couple more verses to go, but the fact you could hear your lieutenant huffing softly behind you wasn't doing you any favours.
"So good... so good..." He was muttering to himself, kissing the junction of your neck and shoulder through his mask. His fingers had a slow, but steady pace. He could feel droplets of your arousal running between the grooves of his knuckles. This made him even more hard– painfully so– in the confines of his thick cargos.
With one verse to go, you felt Ghost drag his other hand from your hip to your underwear. He dipped inside, running a finger up and down your folds to collect your arousal as his other hand worked your cunt. He moved his finger, callouses soaked, to your clit and pressed firmly. You keened, arching against him as he rubbed steady circles across the bundle of nerves. Your fingers were trembling against the guitar, warmth spreading rapidly through your body.
"That's it, almost there," Ghost muttered, and you weren't exactly sure if he was referring to the song or your climax. "Sounds so good, baby." Again, the song, or your noises of pleasure? You were surrounded in a muddled daze of him, and you were loving it.
When you completed the song, you were quick to discard the guitar onto the other end of the couch, leaning back against Ghost as he trapped you between his thighs, hands moving against you simultaneously. You released a breathy moan, and then felt the finger on your clit depart. It made home on your mouth, blocking your noises as Ghost fucked his fingers into your needy hole.
"Nice and quiet, sergeant. There you go..." Ghost said, hand on your mouth delicate as he cupped your face.
Your orgasm was approaching rapidly as you screwed your eyes shut, revelling in Ghost's presence behind you, and his fingers pumping into you. You were wet and aching for him, the pressure in your belly building with each timed thrust. His fingers dragged against your walls, rough yet gentle at the same time.
"Been such a good girl, listening to me," he whispered, fingers stroking your cheek as he muffled your mewls. "Think you can cum for me? Think you can cum 'round my fingers?"
You hummed against his hand, hips meeting the movements of his fingers. You were whimpering from the back of your throat continuously as the orgasm spread throughout your body, bubbling through your nerves as he ushered you closer and closer.
"Let go, baby, know you can," Ghost nudged the shape of his nose against your ear as he spoke, fingers to the knuckle inside you, and you whined out desperately. You came with a shunt and a shiver, cunt spasming around his fingers as you sobbed into the palm of his hand. "Atta girl, there you are. So good, baby. So good." He praised you, working you through the ripples of your orgasm.
You were breathing heavily against his hand when he retracted his other from your underwear. Carefully, he pulled his hand away from your mouth, too, stroking your face gently as you leaned back into him. He placed a couple of kissed on the angle of your jaw.
You could feel the hard imprint of his cock against the curve of your arse. You moved backwards, grinding against it, feeling his body stiffen behind you. He exhaled, letting a low fuck slip out of his mouth.
"Want you..." You whimpered, underwear cool and wet against your core, your blood pumping hot through your veins.
Once more, he placed kisses along your jaw and neck through the soft material of his balaclava. You turned your head to allow him better access, relishing in the warmth of his mouth ghosting across your sensitive skin.
"Not tonight," he muttered, and it sounded strained: as if he really, really wanted to. He continued to hold your hips, pressing you into him, keeping you secure on his lap. "You've been so good already, but not tonight. I think you need a bit more practise... maybe tomorrow I can give you another lesson."
You were nodding eagerly before he even finished the rest of his sentence.
•º•
The next day, you were sitting cross-legged on the couch, playing the guitar in the rec-room. The rest of the 141 had gathered, listening to you play a perfect rendition of Metallica's Nothing Else Matters.
After the final verse, Price, Soap and Gaz applauded you. You beamed, resting the guitar on your lap and thanking them. They noticed how hard you practised to learn the tune, and barraged you with a stream of compliments. After a little while, they left, leaving you in the rec-room with Ghost: sitting on the opposite couch, arm stretched across the back, watching you with glimmering eyes.
"You're amazing at that." He said, and you smiled nervously.
"I had an amazing teacher."
He scoffed, still looking at you dotingly. "Sure, but it was all you, pretty girl. The rest of the boys thought you did great."
You averted your eyes, suddenly bashful. When you looked back at him, his head was slightly cocked, analysing your expression. You mimicked the tilt of his head, and you knew then that he was smiling beneath his mask.
"I... I'd like to learn another song, if that's all right with you." You said, drumming your fingers lightly on the sleek wood of the guitar.
"Oh yeah?" He reclined on the couch, shifting his hips. You tried really hard to ignore the movement. "What song're you thinking of?"
You shrugged, biting your lip to hide a smile. "You can choose."
He stared at you for a moment, and you picked up the minuscule movement of his mask. He was smiling like an idiot beneath that stupid mask.
Then, he widened his legs, spreading them further. He pat one of his thighs, a couple of smacks to the solid muscle. "Come on then, pretty girl. I have a couple'a songs in mind."
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#captainfern#call of duty#fem reader#call of duty mw2#ghost x reader#ghost call of duty#ghost x f!reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#ghost cod#cod smut#captainfernsalutes#captain’smetallica
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐄 — 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃
𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: Heyy! Could I request an Anthony lockwood x reader where lockwood gets injured on his side on a mission so at home reader helps him take care of it but he has to take his shirt off. Basically full of fluff
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): A lil bit angsty with some fluff
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2,881
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader
𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! :) I added angst cause I couldn’t help myself. Anthony Lockwood screams angst lol.
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
“Can you stand at all?” Lucy gave a once over to the boy pressed up against a stone. Lockwood grimaced as he felt an ache course up through his rib cage. He faintly nodded a yes to lessen Lucy’s worry over him.
“I think I can manage.” He smirked to mask the pain he was in. “Though I could use a hand.” He reached up, eyes falling onto George. The curly haired boy met his hand and helped him onto his feet again. A muffled grunt didn’t go over their heads. One silent glance of communication was enough to agree to head on home. A home where you currently waited for the trio in.
“Y/n is not going to be pleased about this.” George grimaced.
“So don’t tell her.” Anthony scowled with a grimace.
In a series of cases you would accompany them. The trio originally being a quartet, but after a case with a type two and a torn ligament. Lockwood thought best to keep you under house arrest, much to your chagrin, though you happily obliged to his wishes. Staying home at least until your foot is fully healed. That meant you weren’t allowed to apply pressure to your injury, thus preventing you from doing normal human things. You did your best to offer your knowledge and help out in terms of research, but you would much rather be out there in the field, another thing Lockwood was firm about, no forms of physicality. You hated being homebound, stuck staring at the small four walls of every room in the house, though you knew as much that Lockwood would have a cow if he so much saw you anywhere else but within the apartment. The bloke nearly panicked one day after you stepped foot outside to fetch the mail. Now you wondered how he would react once he knew about your rendezvous scales up and down the staircases. Your foot was far from healing at this point though you obliged. Wanting to keep the peace.
What seemed like a never ending wait, quickly vanished as the familiar twist of the doorknob got your attention from the living room. You hastily pushed yourself up to stand, hobbling towards the entryway. Your smile greeting your tired friends. Lucy reciprocates your smile, whereas George brushes past you with a curt nod, and Anthony…well he has yet to meet your eyes. You glance over at Lucy in hopes of an explanation, but she only further replies with. “It was our most difficult case yet. I’d give him some time.” You place your hand over hers that fell onto your shoulder in passing up towards her room. Your hand lingering on your shoulder. Tucking your neck in, as you subconsciously tether on your good foot. All your weight applied to your left side.
“Anthony.” Your voice rings out but it’s a faint mutter. Loud enough to dance in and out of his ears. You didn’t dare raise an octave. Too scared to break the silence with so much as a raise of your voice. “Ant-“
“Please.” He begs, shaking his head. Not in the mood to be lectured or frowned upon, he wouldn’t be able to bear it, seeing a frown on your soft features. He already got a glimpse of your worry stricken facade. He didn’t want to add on to your concerns. He didn’t need you to strain yourself over the horrible ache in his right side, not when you had your own injuries to worry about. His breathing becomes labored, his jaw clenches. The visible vein popping against his forehead makes your smile downcast.
“You’re hurt, Anthony.” You point out the obvious. You sigh, closing your eyes for what you knew was about to be a stubborn battle that was about to commence.
“It’s nothing.” His voice shakes, making his brave exterior falter. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Show me.” You gesture to the side he holds.
“I’m fine. No need to get over dramatic on me.” He straightens out with a smirk. His arms open wide for emphasis. “You have your injuries. I have my own. Goodnight, Y/n.” You roll your eyes, letting him brush past you slowly, then watch him ascend onto the second level. You wait a second then follow after him. Your slow thudded steps are not missed by him. He stops as he reaches the last step. Watching you hold the railing to support your climb. “What the bloody hell are you doing?”
“Wondering if you enjoy pissing me off.” You retort. You land on the deck with a huff. “Wow, that does not get easier.”
“Have you been practicing?” The realization hits him hard. His jaw drops, as two and two come together. You climb with ease, quite possibly faster than he could with his injuries.
“It was either I sit around all day. Or ascend the stairs. What do you think?” You pat his chest. Walking ahead and into his room. You turn back around to face the brute still gaping at you in the middle of the hallway. “Now show me!” You gesture for him to enter. He hesitates, but obliges. Coming into his room, and shutting the door behind him. He glanced up at you, waiting patiently for him to let you tend to his injuries.
“You really ought to just head on to bed. I’ll be fine.” He suggests, rather than fall vulnerable under your now narrowed annoyed eyes.
“And you really ought to know when to shut up.” You motion with your head to his bed. He averts his gaze, looking anywhere that isn’t your hard glare. He knows you mean well, but feeling the full blunt force he received when he fell against his ribcage. He didn’t want to imagine what his side appeared as if it’s caused him this much pain already. He didn’t want to burden you. See you in such pain. Your nurturing and caring stature is something he adores. You always look after others when you should apply such tendencies to your own self. You put others needs before your own, and right now, he knew after showing you how bad he was suffering, how much he was hiding, your mind would linger on this moment for a long time, until your mind occupied something new to dwell and overthink about. It’s why he’s so hesitant to even sit on the edge of his own bed.
“When will you stop being so stubborn and ask for help?” You walk over to the corner of the room, collecting a small aid kit, you recommended Anthony keep, in times of need, and situations as such. He had the tendency to gain a few cuts and bruises here and there. Overworking himself, and hardly gaining any sleep.
“Why bother? You see right through me every time.” The corner of his lips lifts. Eyeing you carefully as you set the box beside him. You roll your eyes, bringing a vacant chair over in front of him to help you clean up his wounds. You scoot until your knees brush. You sigh once more, meeting his eyes that have yet to leave yours.
“You’re right. I do see through every bullshit attempt of feigning okay.” You nod. “Though I wish more than anything that you’d tell me instead. That you’d use your words instead of having to see pain written over your face. I wish you’d tell me, Ant.” Your eyes begin to water. As do his. He holds your gaze, letting his walls tear down to allow you a second of entry.
He nods knowing that he definitely lacks verbal communication. He nods because he knows how this all affects you. He nods because you're the only person who truly sees him. Who doesn’t push him, but encourages him to find his voice and let his guard down around you. A tear falls down his cheek. “It hurts.” He finally allows himself to admit.
You hastily nod, swallowing down the ache in your throat. You sniffle as you try to gain your composure. “Where?”
“It’s my side…” He grits his teeth. “I fell on my side.” He closes his eyes as you go to lift the bottom shirt. His hand quickly stops you from pulling the shirt upwards. “No, no, no. I don’t want you to see. If it hurts this much then it can’t be far from looking bad.”
“Anthony please.” You plead. “I need to see so that I can help you. Make sure you don’t have a broken rib or worse!”
He thinks about it before giving in. His grip on your hand lessens up. You meet his gaze for a brief second then slowly go to lift the hem of his shirt. You lift and lift until his mid section is revealed to you. Your audible gasp has him thinking the worst. You reach out to touch him but stop. “I-I need you to remove your shirt.” You clear your throat. Tears brimming your eyes again. Your teary eyes lift to meet his now concerned ones. “Can you remove it?” You don’t even need his answer, his injuries do look as bad as he says he feels. A firm shake of his head is all you need to help slide down his blazer past his shoulders. Once carefully removed. His shaky hands fumble with unbuttoning the buttons. You take over and start from the top to the bottom. Once you reach the last button, you halt your movements. The overly confident person you are diminishing in a heart heart. Your cheeks grow warm as you overthink about the compromising position you just put yourself in. A shirtless Anthony was not something you thought you’d encounter.
You undo the button and push the shirt open. His chest, now revealed and his bruising and cut now more visible. Your breathing comes out shaky as you go to grab a cloth and disinfectant spray. Your eyes fleet back to his chest, shamefully letting your eyes take in his build. Anthony was a sight that was always sure. Despite the bags under his eyes, and overconfidence, you can see past it all and gawk at his attractiveness. His ego was now surely boosted as his eyes crinkled mischievously. A smirk prominent on his lips as he watched you try and subtly avert your eyes elsewhere, like towards his injuries, but your gaze flickering between his own eyes and open chest has him finding this whole predicament amusing.
“You’re bashful.” He teased, reaching forward to poke fun at your cheeks.
“I am not.” You scoffed at his accusation. You denied him, reluctant to let him see that he was winning and you were losing, very very badly.
“You know if you wanted to rid me of my shirt, you only needed to ask.” His laugh broke the barrier, the evident grimace now apparent as he grunted about the pain he felt. He had to make a mental note to not shake of laughter, at least until he got better and his side wasn’t currently sore.
“Keep laughing, see where that gets you.” You chuckled, yet the familiar twinkle in his eyes was now reflecting back at him. “Besides…who says I wanted to see you shirtless?” Your eyes fail you as you chance a look at his chest again, then to his knowing stare. You let your head fall wanting to avoid confronting him and your clear feelings for him. Though the slight lift of your chin by his own hand has you thinking that the feelings you hide might not be all so invisible to a certain someone.
“I say.” His face inches closer, the warmth of his breath closer to your lips than you wanted. The smallest flicker down to your lips then up to your e/c irises does not escape you. Your breath hitches when he lets his head lean against yours. Heads now pressed together. His hand still lingers under your chin, never retracting or falling back down to his side. “I am so utterly grateful for you, Y/n. I don't know what my life would be like if you hadn’t walked into my life.”
“I didn’t exactly walk though now did I?” Your smile widens. Eyes crinkling at the corners as you pulled back to look at him. “More like fell.” You laugh, reminiscing over your first encounter with each other. Another one of your cases gone wrong, you fell backwards when Anthony had opened the door your back was pressed against. Two strangers meeting under a ghostly scenario. What more could perfectly describe your bond with one another?
“You were scared that day.” He remembered. You nodded.
“I was…It was my first case. I was on my own till you showed up.” Your stomach flutters under his gaze. You fiddle with the cloth in your hands. “I’m glad you did though. You saved me that day.” You let out a breathy laugh. His eyes never faltered, never fleeting. His gaze was intense, wanting to remember every little detail about you. This life you all lived, nothing was ever truly promised, you and him weren’t so easily promised. Tomorrow could come, but there’d be the chance that you wouldn’t. He was so afraid of losing you. Losing the team, and ending up alone like how he was after his parents died. He was trying to hold onto you all until he couldn’t anymore.
“No.” He denied it. “You saved me.” He adjusted himself into a better sitting position. Straightening up. You gave the faintest smile. Looking away in hopes to lessen your flustered state. You saved him, and he saved you.
“You okay? I bandaged up the wound as best as I could, but you’ll need another clean up tomorrow.”
He looked down to observe your masterful work of art. He nodded reassuringly that he was okay. “Nothing a few pain meds can’t fix.” He joked, but saw you hesitate. “I’m okay. The pain isn’t as bad anymore.”
“Sure?”
“I promise. You’ve cured me.” He beamed.
“I wouldn’t go as far as that but I do try my best.” You began gathering the mess you made and all the opened wrappers.
“No, you are the best doctor anyone could ever ask for.” He placed his hand over yours stopping you from cleaning up after yourself. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me everytime I bandage you up Lockwood.” You reminded him. You’d help him any day given, no questions asked. “I want to help.”
“Thank you for everything you do for us.” For me, he wanted to say. You rolled your eyes and gathered up all the trash. You moved the chair back to stand and was stopped by Anthony’s grip on your wrist again. “You okay?” Your brows furrowed, looking down at him. He strained himself, using your arm for support to stand up to his feet. His breath shuddered as he stood silent for a second. “Anthony you okay?” He nodded in response. Then he grew flustered himself. You opened your mouth to speak again but clamped it shut when he leaned forward. His lips pressing a soft gentle kiss against your cheek. Your eyes widened in surprise, and your breath hitched in the back of your throat. Your dilated pupils met his own that were widened in shock of what he had just done. Your grip on all the trash loosened causing all the scraps to fall and float towards the bottom. “Oh I uh-” You scrambled, bending down to collect all the trash. Anthony raised a hand to rub the back of his neck subconsciously. He did not expect you to react this way.
“Sorry here let me-”
“No it’s okay I got it-” You waved him away. Though as you rose to your full height and he lowered closer to the ground, your heads budded against each other. You both groaned, touching the areas that collided.
“I’m so sorry-” He began, grimacing as the pain in his side returned.
“It’s fine!” You reassured him, rubbing your aching headache.
“No really. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I caught you off guard and I-” He was then cut off by your own lips. You pulled back in haste. Eyes widened in shock. You reacted impulsively and your mind said to kiss him, so you shut him up. “Oh…” He was the speechless one this time.
“Sorry-” You began. He held onto your shoulders, shaking his head to reassure you.
“No, it's fine. I just didn’t expect it.” You nodded in response this time.
“I’m gonna go now…” You answered lamely, gesturing with your thumb to the door. “Let you get some rest.” You took a step away only to be stopped once more. The tug on your forearm causing you to turn back around to face him.
“Stay.” The four lettered word caused your heart to skip a beat.
“Stay?”
“I want you to stay.” He muttered softly.
“You want me to stay?” You breathed out softly.
“I do. Please stay…If you want to of course!”
“I do.” You nodded surely.
“Okay.” His smile grew, tugging your arm to lead you closer to him.
“Okay.” You breathed out a laugh as you continued to let him tug you closer.
#anthony lockwood#anthony lockwood x reader#anthony lockwood imagine#anthony lockwood x fem!reader#anthony lockwood imagines#anthony lockwood oneshot#lockwood and co fanfiction#lockwood and co#lockwood and co x reader#my gif#writings by juls
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What is it about Astarion that DU Drow fell for? Which traits/habits/quirks/whatever were the ones that he first noticed/piqued his interest?
Oh boy, I mean, at first DU Drow didn't care for Astarion at all. He was extremely on edge around all of these people and Astarion's rather invasive strategy only put him off further - his insight checks may be awful, but he can still tell when someone is trying to suck up to him a little too hard. DU drow thought he was attractive, of course (see.: the narrator's comment about the quote-on-quote pretty corpse) but otherwise didn't think very much of, or very highly of him.
Once he got his confidence back, and after Astarion caught onto the fact that he needed to play hard to get to string him along, there would have been a little while where DU drow only saw him in the context of a trophy or conquest - but admittedly, he also thought Astarion was funny, and he thought he was smart - even someone as dense as him could see that the guy had read him perfectly, and proceeded to adapt as necessary to get what he wanted out of him - and DU drow fell right into it, willingly so. There would have been some mutual respect there between them from understanding each other's games.
Their ritual of letting Astarion bite him definitely planted a little seed of something too. I've talked about it plenty of times so I won't dwell on it, but DU drow enjoys the intimacy implied in allowing someone to hurt him. This was far from an emotional turning point in the relationship, but it did prompt him to start seeing Astarion differently (not better or worse - just differently.)
(I'm a little drunk and went on and on, enjoy LOL)
Then, after one or two intimate encounters, the Urge would have started taking too much of a toll - violent lust turned into lustful violence, and hence DU drow didn't want to have sex anymore out of a fear of losing control during the act; yet, he had learned to trust Astarion by then and would seek out his comfort and companionship all the same. Faced with the situation where sex is no longer an option, I imagine Astarion would have been caught off guard and let the mask slip more often than usual. Pair that with the fact that DU Drow is a surprisingly affectionate (in private) but highly withdrawn person, left him in the role of leading their exchanges. Astarion, I think, would have felt the need to talk; if for no other reason but to fill the air whenever they were alone together. Eventually DU Drow would have started talking back.
These were long nights of just looking up at the sky and going through things that happened that day, what led them here, what the companions are doing, talking shit about whats-his-or-her-name, often just straight up gossip. Astarion eventually realized he could say whatever he damn pleased in front of DU Drow and nothing seemed to phase him, and vice-versa. DU drow enjoyed his bluntness, his earnest impulsivity that matched his own, he laughed at his jokes (as well as some things that weren't meant as jokes) he enjoyed his teasing and his reactions when he said something putrid in return, he liked the way he smelled when he was clean and he liked his stink when he was filthy, he watched him fidget with his own clothes and hair until Astarion gave him a weird look and aggressively asked what he was staring at. He enjoyed when Astarion got angry at something he said, because it felt very genuine - and he didn't use to think of him as a very genuine person.
Astarion was the first to notice something was wrong with him - so DU drow felt comfortable talking about it openly. On the other hand, DU drow never pressed Astarion about his past unprompted - instead just letting him talk about it if he so wished and without trying to milk it for more details when he did choose to do so. Because they spoke a similar language of violence and operated under the same hedonist-based beliefs, it was easy to talk to each other even when there was friction between them - similarly, they were both always willing to move past and quickly "forget" when someone said something truly hurtful.
I don't know if there was a key moment where he realized this had turned into love; that was probably a word DU Drow dropped quite unabashedly sometime after they got to Baldur's Gate, and before they faced-off with Cazador (to no reciprocation or acknowledgment then, not that he minded). But sometime during act 3, DU drow simply assumed that after this was all over they would still stick together.
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eyeless jack dating headcanons pls :)
𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬*ೃ༄
: ̗̀➛Back to source
He broke into your apartment with the intentions of harvesting your organs.
When he held the scalpel to your hip, and you began to stir awake. Mf froze.
Oh shit.
“What the fuck?”
Now bro only kills to eat, and when he does, he make sure it’s as painless for the victim as possible (unless he’s in a frenzy).
And That so called victim being awake? That just makes it 100x harder to get the task done.
And when you wake up to see a 6’6 man with an oddly terrifying blue mask holding a scalpel to your hip?
You (rightfully) freak tf out.
He’s not a sadist like some ppl… (cough Jeff Cough) So he probably awkwardly retreated back out to your window.
Anywayssss.
To the actual dating headcanons now.
You guys probably had a longgggggg ass slow burn. (not the only thing that’s long…)
The two of you definitely acted like a couple, before you were ACTUALLY a couple iykwim.
You find it so cool that your bfs a demon. He doesn’t really understand your excitement about it, since it’s literally a curse for him.
This boy is a walking furnace, he’s so cozy. So lots of winter cuddle sessions. Also perfect for when you on your period.
He purrs in his sleep. You can’t change my mind. You guys be cuddling on the couch all cute n’ shit and then there’s this soft buzzing sound… You crack open your eyes to look at him. His head on your lap as he naps.
“Babe… Are you purring?”
You asked with the biggest grin ever.
“…No.”
He likes when you read to him, he struggles to see (ik ik, he’s eyeless n shit, but I like to think he can still see, it’s js rlly rlly blurry or he has that heat vision where he can see body temps.) So when you can’t read to him, he just listens to audio books.
He’s a gentle giant towards you, y’all literally so cute. AND A GENTLEMAN🤭 he’s the whole damn package (minus the whole… cannibal eating ppl thing.)
He has animalistic like senses. So he can hear, and smell very well. So he can smell when you change your perfume or shampoo.
Imagine him leaning down to hug you (since you’re prob shorter than this tall ahh mf, nah seriously use the Hikaku sitatter site) and his face is buried in the crook of your neck. He’ll say shit like-
“Did you change you’re perfume to Miss Dior Eau De Parfum 30ml?”
“Wha-“
When he started getting comfortable taking his mask off around you, everytime he does you call him ‘Pretty boy’ 🤭.
HE WILL FOLD. Partially bcs he likes getting praised. Partially bcs he’s not a fan of the whole demon look.
His morning voice is literally so sexy help. Frothing at the mouth, on my knees barking.
Yk when you have like a sore head, and then you ask Google what’s up and Google’s all like ‘lol bitch you’re gonna die.’ You ask him about it obviously freaked out and he had to reassure your fine.
Walks in the rain at like 4am.
Every time he sees you, he’ll give you a quick forehead kiss.
Pls pls pls pls pls pls pls, I’m begging you. On my knees and begging for you to not look inside his mini fridge he has sitting in your storage room. Thank u.
He’s got some pretty gnarly things in there. Just be thankful he has the decency to not cross contaminate that shit with your food.
You guys slow dance in the kitchen to Mitski. He spins you around and all that cute shit.
He’s overprotective of you, and when you do get him to come out in public with you, he will growl at anyone that gets a little too close for his likings.
Wearing his hoodie<3. It just makes his dead heart happy.
SASSY MAN APOCALYPSE‼️💯💥
He may seem all quiet and sweet. But he’s sassy af. This. Dude. Has. Attitude.
When you’re telling him to do something in a tone, he’ll mouth you’re words with his hands.
When you guys are cuddling in your bed at night, he’ll randomly nibble on your neck to shoulder. He has sharp ass teeth so it’s a bit nippy, but he makes sure to be extra careful to not draw blood.
He smothers you when you’re under the weather. He’s literally so sweet omfg.
When you guys argue which is like 10% of the time, it takes awhile for him to get agitated. But even when he does he will NEVER raise his hands to you. Other than that he keeps calm.
He will though, get a bit mean, he probably doesn’t mean what he says it’s just a defence mechanism.
He makes it up to you with a cute little gift basket (he stole it.)
Y’all have probably kissed, and he still had the taste of blood in his mouth from eating someone’s kidneys<3
He can’t steal your organs but he can deffo rearrange them ;)
✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•
#creepypasta x reader#eyeless jack#eyeless jack x reader#eyeless jack x y/n#eyeless Jack headcanon#creepypasta reader#creepypasta headcanon#creepy pasta x reader hc#creepypasta#creepypasta hcs#creepypasta x female reader#creepypasta x you#eyeless jack headcanon
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princess treatment
pairings. haechan x reader (f)
genre. fluff
note. this is inspired by a tiktok i saw LOL also haechan is back <3 i hope he rested and recovered well!! if u have his bubble pls send him encouraging words!!
—
“wahh, my hands are freezing.” you dramatically sigh, trying to stare at haechan who’s next to you as you both walk on the streets of seoul. hoping your boyfriend would get the message and hold your hand freezing hands. your covered head to toe in the much needed winter attire. you have black slacks on, a t-shirt under a hoodie and a puffer jacket and a beanie to top it off. haechan wearing something similar as you.
you take your hands out of the pockets of your jacket and rub them together to create heat. but to you, it’s more work for you when your boyfriend could hold your hand.
“why didn’t you bring your gloves?” he asks.
with pursed lips, you close your eyes for a second, internally shaking your head.
“it’s not that cold for me, here have my gloves.” he responds before you can say anything, he’s already sliding his gloves off his hands. the gesture makes your heart melt nonetheless despite the freezing temperature.
you bite your lip to prevent you from smiling like an idiot as he helps you put them on. when your hands are warmly covered he cups your hands in his and brings them up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “there.” he smiles.
you both continue walking down the sidewalk, no set destination, he just wanted to walk outside with you.
“yah!” you yell out, you stopped in your tracks a few seconds ago, haechan stops in his three feet away from you.
you pout, “i wanted to hold your hand, you idiot.”
blankly staring at you before the corners of his lips rise, walking back towards you.
“i know, i just wanted you to say it.” he confesses with a smug look, scooping your hands that fell by your sides and tugging you so you are both sandwiching your intertwined hands.
“you have to tell me what you want princess, or i won’t know.” he slowly leans down, his mask covered face tickling your bare nose.
you scoff, rolling your eyes jokingly. you wanted so bad to yank his mask off and kiss the hell out of him.
haechan steps back, his bare hands linked with your glove covered ones as he leads you to a park. what used to be covered in sand is now covered with a blanket of snow, the park is vacant as it is late into the night.
he lets go of your hand to walk in front of you as he uses his foot to trail a clear path for you to walk on. he slides his foot to scrape the snow away, despite the snow that gets into his shoes.
you laugh, “what are you doing?”
“making a path for my princess.”
you watch him with amusement as you take your time walking. “and what are you? my servant?”
he shakes his head, “i’m anything you want me to be, baby.”
#yeow6n#im so soft for haechan#haechan fluff#nct fluff#lee haechan#lee donghyuck#haechan x reader#haechan scenarios#boyfriend!haechan#haechan drabbles#haechan oneshot#nct x reader#nct dream fluff#lee donghyuck fluff#nct drabbles#nct oneshot
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Adopted Spider Headcanons (Metkayina Edition)
I've been reading fics where Spider's adopted by Ronal and Tonowari the past couple days and now I'm obsessed. The problem is that I mostly write angst and I really wanna read hurt/comfort, lol.
I feel like the typical/common way that I see Spider get taken in is basically him doing his little beach bum shit after everything and slowly getting adopted into their family. And I eat it up. Every. Single. Time.
Spider: *Building a campfire, roasting his own food*
Ronal/Tonowari/Tsireya or Anoung: *Why is the Sully's adoptive son alone on the beach?* *Oh well, mine now*
I feel like Ronal would definitely be way at first, she's made it no secret that she strongly dislikes Sky People. But, I'd imagine that eventually, she comes to see him not just as a human, but as a child. And a child who is alone and in need of help.
Aounung would probably be the same. I have this idea of him giving Spider a hard time (after all the carnage/damage/dead people have been handled). Like, trying to mess with him as much as possible, just being an asshole. And then, maybe Spider goes under for a long time while Aounung is on the beach weaving or something. And, even though Spider has a mask and can breath underwater as well as he does above it, Aounung somehow forgot that and freaks, thinking the human has drowned.
Aounung tossed his half-repaired net aside, diving into the water. He whipped around, eyes catching on the mess of dirty blond. Pushing further, he grabbed the boy by the armpits, shooting to the surface and pulling the human onto land. He flipped him over, meeting confused eyes as he placed a hand on his chest. He was breathing fine, not even panting from being under for so—
Spider's mask glinted in the sun. Aounung was an idiot.
"Are you . . . okay?" The smaller boy asked hesitantly, making no move to sit up.
"You were under for a long time." He mumbled, pulling away.
Spider's face split into a grin. "Did you— did you think I was— "
"Quiet." He hissed, standing up. "We will never speak of this again."
Spider's laughter followed him as he stormed away.
I feel like with Tsireya, she would've immediately been all over him. Like, this is Spider, Lo'ak's supposed best friend. The human boy who acted just like he was Na'vi. It probably started mostly as curiosity, but I think that after seeing how the Sully's interacted with Spider, she'd be confused about his place, his family. If Spider didn't sleep in the Sully's marui, didn't eat with them— then where did he do those things?
Tsireya glided along the water, Lo'ak a few feet from her. "Why doesn't Spider stay in your marui?"
Lo'ak raised a brow. "Uh . . . I don't know. He lives with the humans, I guess. Always has."
"But . . . the humans left after helping Kiri. They have not returned."
"They . . . they haven't?" He cleared his throat. "I'm sure Dad has it handled. There's probably a new shack or something for him."
Consider Spider's mask running low and there isn't a spare anywhere. As a kid, he never was gone from the shack long enough for his battery to run low and during his time with the recoms, there were always spares in someone's pack when he needed it. Idk how long the masks last, but for my own sake, I'm going to say Spider got a new one the day of the battle and it lasted him about a week. Or maybe, he managed to pillage one as the ship went down so he's on his second and it's like two weeks or so.
I think that when he saw the little red light flashing, a small beep-beep sounding, that he'd probably be like a kid who forgot there was a test. He'd just panic. But, I imagine he'd also be scared to bother the Sully's by telling them, so he'd spend the next hour searching the village (discreetly) to see if there were any pilfered batteries or masks left behind when the humans visited. Let's say he has two hours from when the mask starts flashing to change it out. And where, oh where, does he wind up when he's got a half-hour left?
Spider was not panicking. Because, when a human panicked, they breathed faster and wasted more air. Norm told him that, so it had to be true. But, he'd checked everywhere he could think of and . . . nothing. There was no shack, no Norm or Max to run to before his timer ran out. No humans. Only him. And in a matter of . . . fuck, twenty minutes, he was going to die just like a human.
He sat slumped on the beach, looking out into the water and trying his best not to openly sob. He didn't want to die crying like a little baby. It was not working out well for him. At least, he'd have a good view when he died.
"Child? What is wrong?"
Spider flinched, looking up with wide eyes at the clan leader. He'd only talked to Tonowari once, when Jake had introduced him. Of course, given his spectacular luck, the man would find him when he was on death's doorstep.
With a sniffle, he held up his beeping pack. "It's almost out. Twenty minutes."
The man frowned down, grasping the device carefully. "And that is why you're so upset? Because, you don't wish to go into the village for a new one? Did something happen? Someone make you feel unwelcome?"
"There is no new mask." There was also no home to go back to. "That was my only one."
With a cut-off gasp, he pulled Spider to his feet. He marched the boy through the village and into what he recognized as the healer's marui. The Tsahik was mixing something, but she stood as soon as they entered.
"Tonowari?" She asked, stepping closer. "What happened? Is he hurt?"
"His mask, where's the spare?"
Wordlessly, the woman pulled a mask from one of the many baskets, easily connecting the tubing and turning it on. Like, she'd done it before. Spider had no time to ask why she had such a thing before she was right in front of him.
"Take a deep breath." She ordered, unlatching the straps of his mask before pulling it off. Just as quickly, the new one was secured. Spider hadn't even moved.
I think that even before deciding to adopt Spider, Tonowari and Ronal would probably make sure he had spare masks and check what food he could/couldn't eat. Like, as soon as they realize the Sully's aren't caring for him, they'd probably subconsciously take responsibility for him. Because, he was just a kid, really. And kids were clumsy and careless and needed help, needed parents. Anoung and Tsireya, despite being independent and skilled, still needed their parents sometimes. Let their mother do their hair and insisted on their father de-gutting their catches. And Spider— Spider is fragile. He's skilled and smart and quick on his feet, but he's a human surrounded by Na'vi. Not to mention, one wrong move and he's left with a cracked mask. And what if he eats the wrong food, mistakes one fruit for another and ends up poisoned?
This ended up way longer that I thought it would be, lol. But, I really love these types of fics and if anyone has any recs or wants to hear more, my comment section is open. XD
#atwow spider#spider avatar#avatar#atwow#avatar fanfiction#avatar way of water#spider#miles spider socorro#atwow fanfiction#tsireya#anoung#tonowari#ronal#adopted spider socorro
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Heartsteel Ranking: “Scary boyfriend privilege”
(AKA how intimidating they are to people who don’t know them.)
Inspiration: I’ll be honest this is a bit of a random ranking but I thought it would be fun to do and it was!
Champions: Heartsteel
Genre: Ranking
Type: Fluff? This is meant in a funny way.
Tw: Small mention of alcohol (drink responsibly y’all), and swearing (because I do, in fact, have the mouth of a damn sailor.)
List goes least intimidating to most intimidating.
LEAST
Ezreal (One of these days I will do a ranking that doesn’t put him at the bottom! I swear it’s not intentional! 😂)
Let’s be honest no one is shocked he’s here, right? Where else was Ez going to go on this list?? This isn’t a bad thing though! He just gives off such golden retriever energy and it’s amazing and I love him. I want to be at least best friends with HS Ezreal.
Despite the usual happy golden retriever energy, he’s definitely not afraid to tell people off/protect you though. (I feel like he secretly has quite a temper. He’s a Sagittarius after all [love my fellow 🔥 signs WOOT WOOT]. Usually he’s very good about keeping it under control…but if someone [besides you, he absolutely adores you] pushes him too far [ex: by making you uncomfortable]…just see what happens.)
Aphelios
You absolutely have scary boyfriend privilege with Aphelios, but I just can’t rank him higher than any of the other members below. He definitely has that “brooding silent type” down pat, and when he’s wearing his mask, that’s doubled. That air of mystery, baby, he’s got that in SPADES.
We also know he’s tall. Like not Sett, K’Sante, or Yone tall, but he’s got some height on him (unconfirmed 6’). Physically, he’s definitely more intimidating than Ez. Like imagine Phel silently staring daggers at someone. Lmao I’d hate to be whoever pissed him off.
K’Sante
Most of this comes from his height (unconfirmed 6’4”) and the fact he’s one of the gym bros. Like general vibe/personality-wise, I think Phel could be more-intimidating than K’Sante (or even Sett), but have you seen how just MASSIVE K’Sante is? HE CAN CANONICALLY BENCH SETT. Like 😮😮😮
Not to mention I feel like he’d always stick close to you in public, so no one would even dream of trying to do anything to you. (Unless they’re a whole dumbass.) K’Sante genuinely gives me very kind vibes, but he definitely protects those he loves very fiercely.
Sett
Sett is (unconfirmed) 6’7” (at least confirmed the tallest in the group), and JACKED AS HELL. Not to mention “allergic” to sleeves so those arms are out most of the time lmao. Only a fucking moron (or someone who is incredibly drunk) would look at Settrigh and go “oh yeah I am absolutely going to mess with this guy.” RIP that idiot.
He also doesn’t fuck around about the safety of the people he loves. Sett genuinely seems like the sweetest guy (I love this giant, ripped, sewing himbo so fucking much oh my fucking god) but he can/will be intentionally intimidating if it’s necessary to keep you or Ma safe (the two most important figures in his life 🥺). Will walk you home/keep you close to him in crowded situations. He always wants you to feel safe when you’re with him (you absolutely do like how could you not?).
Kayn
So this is based on both appearance and reputation. Obviously Kayn has quite the reputation from his last band (as well as being kicked out of it.) Appearance-wise, he’s not super tall, but he’s tall enough. Not to mention the piercings, tattoos, the fact he’s also in excellent shape (I mean we all saw those abs 😏), has vibrant dyed hair, a very bright red eye, and he is a total metal head. He can also, um, travel through WALLS. (Small detail lol.)
DO I EVEN HAVE TO MENTION RHAAST (even as his stage alter ego)???? Kayn can be pretty impulsive and sometimes acts first, thinks later. (He’s currently working on that with Yone, it’s fine.) Someone would be a damn fool to fuck with him or you. He just gives me very loyal guard dog vibes. (I mean he did wear the damn leash in the mv so….😝)
Yone
There is no one (let me repeat: NO ONE) I’d want to fuck with less than Yone. This man has quintessential resting bitch face (RBF), is like 6’ 2-3” (unconfirmed), in very good shaped (based on the lovely titty window of his outfit. Thank you, Riot designers) and is able to (mostly) wrangle the rest of the group. Also (hella obvious but) HE’S AN INTROVERT (INFJ specifically). People are NOT his thing (fucking MOOD).
Yone is the one who gives the most similar vibes to the TikToks I’ve seen that show cosplayers at Cons with their scarier-dressed friends/partners following behind them keeping them safe. (For Yone, it’s the RBF/air of mystery that really sets the tone.) He gives me such mature gentleman vibes as well. He’s always going to walk you home especially at night, or he’ll stay by your side in a crowd and you are just going to feel really safe with him. Top-tier scary boyfriend privilege right there.
Most
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Ok so the least and most intimidating were extremely obvious to me. It was everyone else in between that made things difficult. This was really fun to write though, even if the concept is a bit silly! 😂
#heartsteel#heartsteel headcanons#heartsteel x reader#heartsteel fluff#Heartsteel ranking#heartsteel aphelios#heartsteel ezreal#heartsteel kayn#heartsteel k'sante#heartsteel sett#heartsteel yone
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Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:
Technoblade discovers that Dream is living in the prison
~~
@sixteenth-day-event
Prompt: Technoblade discovers that Dream is living in the prison
~~
Technoblade didn’t usually think of his rival as an idiot. Usually. But this had to take the cake.
“So uh, why are you here?” he asked, trying to keep the confusion out of his tone.
He and Dream both stood in the prison’s entry hall, just in front of the portal that lead to the outside world. The stack of TNT in Techno’s inventory was starting to weight a little heavier with the realization that was staring him in the snout.
The green teletubby, who was apparently no longer homeless, scoffed.
“What? You asked if I had a house and then have the nerve to ask what I’m doing here?” Dream countered.
Techno could feel the glare coming from underneath the cracked mask on his rival’s face. Looks couldn’t kill, but he was sure Dream was trying. Too bad Technoblade never dies, especially to such a pathetic attempt.
L
L
loser living in his old prison
L
L
Even chat agreed.
“I’m just saying, but living in the same place you were, you know, tortured for several months is not an ideal coping mechanism, I gotta be honest,” Techno replied.
Dream visibly bristled at the comment. “Well, well then you can leave if-if you dislike it that much!” His voice cracked at the end. It would have been funny under other circumstances.
“Look, if you’re that desperate for a home, I can see about sneaking you into my cabin. You can hide from Phil and everyone else. But this place can’t be good for you.” Techno gestured to the stone walls around them.
Dream was definitely glaring at him. Techno was surprised the mask hadn’t disintegrated from the intensity of said glare.
“Just… what are you even doing here?” Dream asked, exasperation in his tone.
Techno sighed. He could tell the truth and have his rival really hate his guts. Or he could lie and say a concerned citizen spotted Dream in the prison area. But he was pretty sure that wouldn’t get Dream to trust him. And considering how tense and closed off Dream looked, that trust was waning by the minute.
“Look, the prison when Sam was Warden was a place of abuse of authority. And Sam isn’t here anymore because Phil and Ranboo saw him walking around as a free man. So I was here to take the prison down as a part of the Syndicate.” Techno retrieved a piece of TNT from his inventory and held it out. “You being here instead makes that a little more complicated. You’re not holding anyone inside, are you?”
Dream’s shoulders relaxed. “No. No one’s here but me. And I intend to keep it that way.”
Techno’s eyebrow rose up his forehead. “But why here? You’re free, Sam was in prison, Quackity has fewer allies. You could have gone anywhere.” He gestured to walls around them. “Why come back here?”
“It’s a fortress, Techno. Completely secure, with all the things I need to stay safe. What better place to be, huh?”
For a moment, Techno could see just barely see the kid he’d dueled before coming to the server. And that image was replaced with the scared young man he’d comforted in that horrid cell.
“Why do you need a fortress, Dream?”
What had this place, this server done to Dream? To Quackity? To Techno? To all of them. Techno would probably never know.
“You… you wouldn’t understand, Tech. There’s so much…. It’s too important. You wouldn’t understand,” Dream responded, but didn’t quite meet Techno’s eyes. It was almost like he couldn’t.
Techno sighed. “All right. All right, I won’t blow up your house, Dream. Can’t leave you homeless again.” He heard Dream scoff again and grinned at the green teletubby before schooling his expression. “But if you need help, talk to me. Gotta be honest, this is making me a little worried about you.”
He had to suppress a wince as chat exploded.
Technosoft
Technosoft
Technosoft
Technsodt
lol typo
typo L
typo L
typo L
L
Dream’s shoulders hunched before he visibly forced himself to relax.
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Well, I’ll be off. See ya, nerd,” Techno called as he stepped back through the portal.
As Techno left the prison behind, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding come over him. He ignored it. Dream was an adult. A young and stupid one, but still an adult. He was responsible for his own actions. Techno just hoped it wouldn’t lead to disaster.
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yandere!nct: you try to unalive yourself.
▹ a/n: hello loves, I can’t remember if I’ve written something like this before but I wanted write something a little darker today but soon I will force myself to write some fluff I promise lol.
▹ pairing: yandere!nct x reader
▹ triggers: self-harm, readers attempts to unalive themselves, kidnapping, forced relationships
▹ warning!: I can’t stress enough how triggering this might be, I get descriptive at certain parts and I strongly urge you to consider whether this is something you want to read, this is dark and not my normal writing. please prioritize your own well-being and do not read this if it will influence you in anyway, I have lots of other lighter reads 💕
Taeil won’t let it get this far. Taeil loves you deeply and wants only the best for you no matter how demented it appears to others. He dotes on, and nurtures you like his life depends on it, carefully crafting your meals and your routine to keep your mind and body healthy. If something like this were about to happen, he would be able to foresee your declining mental state and hopefully prevent any attempts. Taeil would do everything in his power to keep you safe and he’d do his best to make you as comfortable as possible. He’d even consider letting you go if it meant saving your life.
“How could you do this to yourself? Don’t I take care of you well?”
Johnny is always calm and collected, even when he’s pissed off, a stranger wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, he always keeps the same mask on, never giving you any idea of what he’s thinking inside his head. Until now that is…He comes home to find you on the bathroom floor. At first he thought you must’ve slipped, hitting your head and knocking yourself out in the process, not that it had been done intentionally. Johnny is at a loss of what to do, it’s one of the few times he’s not sure what to say or do to fix this. He usually has a witty comeback to lighten the mood but he knows now isn’t the time. He helps fix you up, cleans the wound on your head, and tucks you in bed. Anytime you part your lips to speak he’ll shush you. The two of you will probably sit in silence for a while until he can figure out how to address this.
“It’s okay, shhh…Just rest, save your energy. We’ll talk about it later.”
Taeyong is an angry mix of emotions. He’s known for at least a week now that you somehow managed to obtain poison. He theorized that you must’ve used cleaning supplies to mix a cocktail of chemicals, he found you hiding your stash under the bathroom sink. He assumed your plan was to use it on him, simply out of curiousity and amusement he wanted to see if you were actually capable of trying to kill him so he didn’t address it. He wanted to see how far you’d go to leave him. He waited and waited, but he never noticed anything different. He already had cameras installed in your shared apartment to watch you while he was away, he hoped to find you tampering with his food in a botched attempt to poison him. But still, nothing ever came of it. Until suddenly, you were the one who fell sick. His worry turned to anger as he arrived home one night to find you on the floor of the bathroom, the mixture of poison lying next to you.
“Are you insane? What were you trying to do, kill yourself? Do you think that will work, because I promise you, nothing…not even life itself will keep me from you. Don’t ever do something stupid like this again.”
Yuta feels remorse. It’s one of the few and probably only times Yuta will ever feel this way. Out of everyone, Yuta is one of the most intense and dangerous yandere’s, but he still loves you in his own twisted way. He likes to push your buttons and torture you a little but he’d never kill you…probably. For Yuta, part of the fun is seeing how badly you want to live, how badly you want for him to release you and return to your old life. When he arrives home to find you on the floor, a dark crimson pool of blood surrounding you he panics, all the color draining from his face as he sees your barely conscious body. He’ll clean you up, bandaging your wounds, he’ll monitor you for a few days wondering if he should take you to a hospital. In those few days as he waits to see if your condition worsens he’ll be super gentle, much more gentle with you than he’s ever been. His hands will run over all the old scarred skin where he’s cut you in different places before, a deep pang in his chest screaming at him for doing that to you. He’ll be soft with you, but he can’t help but still poke fun at you in an attempt to get you to talk to him.
“Hey, couldn’t you wait for me? At least I know when to stop, clearly you’re still an amateur…You could’ve really hurt yourself. What would I do then, huh?”
Doyoung is angry. At you, but mostly himself. He likes to believe that he knows you better than you know yourself. To come home and find you in the middle of attempting to harm yourself he will realize just how little he truly knows about you and your condition. Initially the only emotion he can really process is anger, the thought of coming home a second too late and losing you enraged him. Even while angry, he was solid as rock, never giving you much of a clue about what he was thinking. He will carefully nurse you back to health, never leaving your side not even for a second. Once you begin to recover he will experience heartbreak and grief over what could’ve happened. Doyoung won’t address the incident much and will from then on refer to it as the ‘incident’ he wants to pretend that it never happened. He’s a stubborn man and his behavior towards you might not change much, if anything he gives you less freedom, afraid to let you leave his side.
“Never do that again. Hate me. Hate me all you want to, but never do that again. Please.”
Jungwoo is distraught after finding you in such a state. He’s in disbelief and this is a rare occasion in which he is truly afraid. Afraid of what could’ve happened to you and what might happen again in the future if he’s not careful. It flips a switch in him and forces him to realize something that he cannot shake. That he might not just need to protect you from the world but from your own self too. He becomes distrustful of you, scared and afraid that you might try to hurt yourself again. There’s no amount of convincing or promises in the world that will put his mind at ease. This fear will drive him to act irrationally, he’s not above strapping you to a bed all day while he’s gone if it means keeping you safe. In his mind you forced him to take these measures to keep you safe.
“You know why I have to keep you locked up like this don’t you baby? I can’t risk you doing something like that again, what would I do without you?”
Mark is shocked. He never expected it, he doesn’t necessarily make your mental health a priority for him. He knows you probably hate him and that you’d do nearly anything to get away from him. He just never thought unaliving yourself would be on the table for you. In fact, he probably expected you to try and kill him before you ever tried to hurt yourself. He will feel shameful and for the first time a little guilty about taking you. I don’t see him ever letting you go but he might be willing to talk and see what changes can be made to make you more ‘comfortable’ in your new life.
“Don’t punish yourself for the decision I made. If you wanted to kill someone it should’ve been me. Not you, never you.”
Haechan’s response might come off as cold and heartless. That’s only half true. Initially he might try and make himself believe that it wasn’t you who did it to yourself but that an intruder broke in and attacked you. When he realizes what you tried to do he knows that nothing he will say will comfort you or inspire you to never do it again. You hate him, so much that you’d rather die than be stuck with him another second. What could he possibly say to change your mind? His approach is a little brazen and risky but he wants to test your will to live. How badly did you truly want to be free of him? He used the only thing he knows for sure works in keeping you in check. Fear. Your fear of him and what he might do.
“What? It’s okay for you to go around taking lives but I can’t?” He asks with a quizzical expression as he holds a knife to your former friend’s throat, his icy eyes piercing into yours.
#nct yandere#yandere nct#yandere kpop#lee taeyong#kpop yandere#kim jungwoo#lee haechan#kim doyoung#johnny seo#mark lee#yuta nakamoto#nakamoto yuta#nct reactions
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LOVELY TO BE HERE (WITH YOU) - midoriya izuku x f!reader
with midoriya izuku, some things have always been easy. other things, however, have not.
genre: a strangers to lovers to exes to lovers au, pro hero au | angst, fluff
warnings: aged up characters (you and Izuku go through your 20s during this fic), a right person wrong time fic, hurt/comfort, happy ending, Izuku is taller than you, insecurity, talks of a boss/employee relationship (nothing happens during that time), making out, some smut (fem!recieving oral, mating press, slight dom!Izuku?? some dumbification… not actually sure I’m just putting it in the warning just in case, use of “pretty girl” and “good girl”), mentions of an outside natural disaster, arguments, you and Izuku gets a little Mean during the argument, Bakugou and Kirishima are your Helpful Friends and Good Bosses, some recreational alcohol consumption at a party
word count: 22k
a/n: vaguely inspired by that tiktok trend with the “ceilings” by lizzy mcalpine audio… if you know you know. this is so behind the trend lol it ended up so much longer than i thought it would be so a lot of this hasn’t been thoroughly read through i am sorry lol
.
You are twenty-two years old when you get the email - an offer letter that confirms your acceptance for an entry level office assistant position at Deku’s agency. And for someone like you who is in the final year of university and has been looking for a job to get a head start on your career, this is a very exciting opportunity.
Not only is it a foot in the door for the hero industry, a very popular and competitive industry for any young college student, but it is with Deku. The hero from UA, the one who has been destined for the top since he was a teenager.
According to the hiring manager, Deku is officially returning back to Japan after spending his first few years post-UA abroad in different countries. Different contract work with hero agencies worldwide. But now, with several years of experience under his belt, Deku has decided to return back home and start up his own agency.
It’s intended to start as a small agency, the hiring manager had explained to you, a small but multi-talented team who can take on different responsibilities. And you, young and enthusiastic, played up your retail experience and the tutoring jobs you took on during those earlier college years.
Clearly, you talked yourself up well because now you stand in front of Deku’s agency - a moderately sized building whose simplicity is reflected in the warm earth tones inside. Something in your gut tells you that this is the first page of a brand new chapter.
The beginning of your first day is slow and typical of any first day experience. You remeet the hiring manager who introduces you to your boss and your responsibilities, which will mainly involve managing the front desk and answering the phone and making appointments for Deku. It is a little overwhelming, but you mask that incoming anxiety with a determination to do well.
Your afternoon is spent filling out information for email accounts, taxes, and pay. The phone rings a few times, and your boss lets you know what to do based on the different phone calls. For a top hero agency, it’s surprisingly normal.
So normal, that you almost forget who you’re working for until he walks through the front door of the agency.
You look up and immediately feel your breath catch in your throat because holy fuck, it’s Deku walking towards you. It’s very strange to see the boy you’ve only watched through a laptop screen stand opposite of you. He’s much taller than you thought. His suit is more detailed, his hair more fluffy, his muscles more defined in person. It’s strange, seeing someone the same age as you hold so much power and confidence in a single stance. But his gaze is open, kind, and curious when he looks at you.
“Hi there!” he greets cheerfully, approaching your desk. “You must be the new office assistant! I heard you were starting today - welcome!! It’s nice to meet you!! Are you adjusting well?”
You blink, feeling like your brain is lagging behind to process the fact that pro hero Deku is even talking to you. Then, you realize that he has asked you a question. You close your mouth (one that you hadn’t even realized you opened) and try to string together a sentence. “O-oh, thank you! And I’m doing well… thank you, Deku.” You test out the hero name. It sounds so strange saying it out loud.
Deku laughs, a shy almost unexpected sound that makes something flutter in your chest. “I’m glad to hear that! And call me Midoriya. I’m glad to have you on the team!” His eyes flicker down, taking in the new lanyard you’ve received - it was part of your welcome package that is meant to hold your employee ID. “I can see you’ve already decorated your lanyard! I like your pin.”
Now you’re surprised for a multitude of reasons. Not only did he speak words to you, he’s actually continuing that conversation by noticing something you never expected a boss to notice. And he’s being sweet, warm, and welcoming.
You look down at your lanyard, bewildered as if you’ve never been a lanyard before, and see the pin you’ve haphazardly attached to the fabric. Glimmering on the metal is a character from your favorite movie - Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle. “Oh, t-thank you!” you manage, feeling warm, partly with embarrassment of having to explain a private interest, and partly because Deku actually looks genuinely curious in what you’re talking about. “He’s from this movie I really like. Howl’s Moving Castle?”
Deku ponders for a second. “Oh! Studio Ghibli right? I’ve never seen that one, but my friends introduced me to Spirited Away and I really enjoyed that one!”
“That’s a good one too,” you reply, losing enough nerves to actually feel your lips curve up into a small smile. Deku traces the movement quickly with his eyes. “That one and Howl’s Moving Castle are probably some of my favorites.”
He nods approvingly. “I’ll have to ask my friend to show that one to me someday.” He gets distracted momentarily by his phone, picking it up and frowning. “Ah, sorry, I have a meeting to get to,” he explains, putting the phone back down. “But it was really nice meeting you.”
Your smile grows a little, your head bowing a little to see him off. “It was nice meeting you too. Midoriya.”
He mirrors your smile, likely proud that you’re calling him Midoriya, before he walks towards the main office floor.
The phone rings before your gaze can linger for too long.
.
A full month goes by before you accept it. You have a crush on pro hero Deku.
To be fair, it’s hard not to have a crush on Midoriya. He’s just so open and sweet, thoughtful and considerate - a little shy, but reassuring enough to make you feel safe with just one smile.
Honestly? It’s a little infuriating. After all, Midoriya is… well, he’s pro hero Deku!! He’ll help old grandmothers cross the street and save a truck from falling off a bridge and then tackle a villain the size of a building all within the same day. He carries so much greatness, so much power, yet so many expectations on just one pair of shoulders. You see it on the news, in the meetings you have to schedule for him. Everyone wants a piece of him.
It’s harder now since he’s just starting up as a pro hero in Japan. There are things he must do, cases he must solve, and people he needs to save in order to climb that ladder and establish himself.
But still, despite himself, he stops by your desk every day. Either at the beginning of your shift or towards the end. He’s always had a busy day - you can tell as much because you help manage some of his appointments. Yet he never shows his exhaustion. He comes by, same bright smile, always asking about your day and chipping away at your apprehension.
It gets to the point where you’re comfortable enough finally sharing some interests with Deku rather than brush it off every time he tries to ask. You talk about the movies you like, the music you listen to, the dinner you cooked last night. Deku (Midoriya, you remind yourself time and time again) is always attentive.
So, again, how could you not have a crush on Midoriya?
And, to be fair, he doesn’t do much to quell that crush or fan the growing flames of affection you have for him. When he finds out that you really like that boba place thirty minutes away from the office, he starts bringing you a cup once a week. You try not to overthink the fact that he knows your exact boba order- down to the percentage of sugar you prefer. Or when he finds out you really like that Thai restaurant around the corner and starts bringing you your favorite when he knows you forgot to pack a lunch.
It’s sweet. Midoriya is sweet, dangerously so. Considering you often only see him drop off food and drinks for you, it makes you wonder if… perhaps, he feels the same way.
But a small, reasonable voice in your mind reminds you of a very important consideration: Deku was your boss. More than that, he was your boss’ boss. The big boss, if you will. There’s no way he could feel the same way, just from a moral standpoint. And even if you weren’t overthinking anything - a boss dating his employee? The scandals just write themselves.
It’s another two months before you learn to leave your feelings on the backburner and write it off as nothing more than a puppy dog crush. Lots of people probably have a crush on Midoriya, you think bitterly, it doesn’t make you special and it definitely doesn’t warrant a crush back.
Besides, you continue to think, Midoriya could have anyone he wanted in the country. In the world. There’s no way he’d settle with a measly secretary. He’s just doing these things because he’s a genuinely nice person - and it’s just convenient for him to make sure you’re eating proper meals and drinking proper (as proper as boba can be you suppose) drinks.
It is officially four months that you’ve been working for Deku’s agency when you stay late for the first time. You’ve started taking on more responsibilities that take the form of helping organize paperwork and writing up data analytical reports for Deku and his small group of sidekicks.
On the one hand, more work is great because it means your boss trusts you enough to handle important tasks. But on the other hand, it is stressful. Your perfectionist tendencies are not lost on you as you spend some extra time ensuring that a report is thoroughly. That means that by the time you are done, it is considerably later than your normal departure time.
Your boss and other colleagues must have left during your autopilot drive to get everything done because the office is mostly empty by the time your brain catches up to the outside world. The exceptions are the janitor taking out the trash and the night shift sidekicks who are either getting ready for a nighttime patrol or are currently sitting at their desks. They say their goodbyes as you pack up to leave for the night, coat on and everything, before you head towards the building entrance.
Only to find that it is pouring rain outside.
You stop short, taking in the rain pittering and pattering onto the sidewalk and the roar of rainfall filling your ears. Normally, you don’t mind rain. But the fall is too heavy to walk through unscathed - a fate that looks inevitable for you considering you forgot your umbrella.
You’re in the middle of wringing your hands together, debating whether or not you should just go for it, before you feel the agency doors open behind you. Then, a familiar voice calling your name.
It’s Midoriya, looking bewildered at the sight of you. “What are you still doing here?”
You blink back, equally as surprised. Last you had checked, Midoriya should have been long gone by now. “What are you doing here?” you quip back.
“Well, I, uh, had to approve some of the reports my sidekicks wrote up before sending them to the police,” he explains, scratching at his hair. “But late nights are normal for me. I’ve never seen you work late before.”
His inquisitive look leaves you warm with embarrassment. “I-I just wanted to make sure those data analytical reports were perfect before sending them for approval.”
Midoriya ponders you for a moment, but he ends up smiling. “I appreciate you working so hard. I hope you’re planning to go home. Or at least planning to eat something.”
You smile back sheepishly. “Guilty. I’m gonna go home- I have groceries that need to be cooked.”
“Can I walk you to the station?” he offers, flashing his All Might umbrella towards you.
You laugh. “Cute umbrella. And sure, that would be nice Midoriya.”
He watches you for a moment. “Do you have an umbrella?”
“Oh!” you laugh again nervously. “No, I forgot mine at home. But it’s okay.”
Midoriya looks momentarily troubled at your predicament, but he smiles easily enough. “It’s okay! Here. We’ll share mine.” He opens up the umbrella and holds it over both of you.
You still and immediately turn warm at the thought of sharing an umbrella with Midoriya. It seems too intimate of a situation to be in, all things considered. “O-Oh, don’t worry about me.”
“How could I not?” he retorts, surprising you by wrapping an arm around your shoulder to bring you close. Though hesitate, your arms encircle his midriff. For the umbrella, you tell yourself, as you gaze up at Midoriya. He’s staring back down at you, gaze unreadable.
A moment of doubt fills you. Was this too much? Self-conscious, you loosen your grip around him. But Midoriya tightens his hold, making you stop.
“You okay?” he asks, voice soft.
You manage to nod your head. Totally okay, more than okay. “Peachy,” you say, allowing him to lead you down the sidewalk towards the station. All the while, you do your best to ignore how romantic the gesture looks to people on the outside.
You reach the station within a ten minute walk, all while bunched up together like any other normal couple. Midoriya insists on making sure you’re underneath a solid roof before removing the umbrella. Untangling yourself from Midoriya feels like the real world has resettled itself on your shoulders.
So you take a breath, readjusting your backpack. “Thank you for walking me, boss.”
He grins sheepishly. “No worries. I just have to make sure my employee gets home safe.”
He’s trying to play along, but it feels a little like this cold wave of reality has just washed over you. You just try to manage with your best smile. “And some people have the nerve to say you’d be a terrifying boss.”
Midoriya laughs. “You’re right. They should be saying I’m downright jolly.”
That makes you laugh. “What are you, Santa Claus??”
Another short round of laughter, before you pull yourself together enough to stop and look at him. He’s looking back at you, that crinkle of laughter in his eyes - which doesn’t mean anything. It means nothing at all.
You look away first, fidgeting with the straps of your backpack. “I should go. Thanks again Midoriya.”
You still don’t look at him as he replies. “You’re welcome,” he says.
Without another word, you walk away.
.
Your ten month anniversary at Deku’s agency is around Christmas time, where the nearby shopping districts get taken over by holiday lights and festive trees of red and green. The weather gets colder, the days get shorter, and the work gets harder. Especially when most of your assignments consist of summarizing the events of the year. There are a lot of days where you are just trying to gather information.
It’s busy enough that you almost forget about the agency holiday party, scheduled just two days before Christmas. You only remember because your marketing specialist friend (Karly) volunteers you to help with decorations.
For The Most Wonderful Time of Year, it is rather stressful to make orders for the tree, the wreaths, the lights, and the Santa’s that are scattered throughout the office.
The day comes fast. Two days before Christmas, Deku’s agency is filled with laughter and chatter. Per the rules of the night, everyone is dawning their ugliest Christmas sweater and are currently partaking in the borderline alarming amount of alcohol that was brought. After all, the white elephant gifts have been exchanged, the toasts have been made - all that’s left to do is drink.
You’re no exception, as you have now found your way outside onto the balcony with a cocktail in your hand and a warmth in your cheeks. Being outside is nice considering how hot your body feels right now. You close your eyes as a nice breeze brushes against you.
That is how Midoriya finds you. “There you are!” he exclaims, closing the sliding door behind him as he steps forward to join you. “Been looking for you.”
You turn around to face him, eyes wide. He was… looking for you? “What for? Did you need something?”
He stops next to you. “No, no, nothing serious. I just wanted to say you did a good job with the party.” He grins, cheeks also a little rosy from drinking. “Everyone seems to be having a good time!”
You smile. “I’m glad. I would never have thought planning a party would be so stressful. But a part of me is glad I got to be in charge of it.” You glance at him, feeling unusually bold. It must be the alcohol. “Otherwise I would never get to see the great Deku in his Christmas sweater.”
True to your words, Midoriya is dawning an All Might Christmas sweater - the brightest shades of blue, yellow, and red that you’ve ever seen. It’s cute. Horrifyingly so.
Midoriya does a little pose that makes you laugh. “I mean, you could have seen this anytime. You just needed to ask.”
The remark makes you still because was he implying he wanted to discuss his interests with you?
The internal struggle leaves you a little winded, unsure how to respond to such a statement. “Is… is that so?” you reply softly. “B-But,” you stammer awkwardly. “I’m sure there are other people you could discuss your All Might collection with?”
Midoriya hums softly, resuming his position next to you against the balcony. “Like who?”
You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “I don’t know. Your girlfriend?”
He laughs gently at that. “Who is this girlfriend you speak of? She doesn’t exist here.”
Despite his behavior, it is a little surprising hearing that Deku doesn’t have a girlfriend. Especially considering that he looks the way he does and has literally been called Japan’s Sweetheart on numerous occasions.
You don’t feel too nervous at being called out like this. It definitely has to be because of the alcohol. “W-Well, I just figured. Someone who looks the way you do should have no problem finding someone.”
“Your confidence in me might be misplaced,” Midoriya returns. He turns to you. “Would you believe me if I told you that I have relationship problems too?”
“You? Having problems with women?” you joke. “Enlighten me then.”
He takes in a small breath. “Well,” he starts shyly. “Hypothetically, there’s someone that I’m interested in. Someone who I would think is smart, funny… and pretty.” There’s a weight in his words that settles heavily on your heart. “But… the problem, scientifically speaking, is that us being together would be inappropriate. I would never want this person to think I’m taking advantage of my position to manipulate them. And even if we were able to go out, I don’t want this person to be viewed negatively. I don’t want people to think she has been doing well or that she even got a job because of my personal feelings. After all…” he gaze drops to your lips for a moment. Your stomach clenches a little. “This person is a really hard worker. And I would never want to take that away from them.”
You wet your lips. “That does sound like a predicament, Mr. Deku.”
He smiles, albeit a little sadly. “I suppose…” he starts. “That if this situation was real, it could definitely be seen like that.”
You nod. “Right. Hypotheticals.” You take in a breath. “I guess you and I aren’t so different.”
He glances at you. “Relationship problems?”
You shrug. “Hypothetically, I could have problems.”
Midoriya laughs, playing along. “Right. Of course.”
“Let’s just say,” you start slowly. The alcohol buzz is starting to wear off. But you’re already neck-deep into this interaction and it’s too late to back off. “There’s this guy. He makes me laugh, looks out for me, and has never made me feel insecure. He’s patient, smart, and thoughtful - someone that I really admire, and someone I like a lot. The problem, hypothetically, would be that there’s a gap between us. Not an age gap or anything crazy but more just… the kind of gap where us dating would make him look bad. And he’s a good guy, who doesn’t deserve that kind of speculation.”
You dare to spare a glance at Midoriya for the first time since you started talking. He’s looking at you like it’s his first time seeing you - eyes wide and lips parted. But there’s some uncertainty in his eyes. Like he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions on who you’re talking about. You understand that. After all, his own situation could describe anyone.
But he turns towards you with eyes open and vulnerable. And you are rooted to your spot, helpless to do nothing but watch him watch you. You watch as he steps closer, feel as he reaches out to grab at the bottom hem of your Christmas sweater and thumbs at the material. As if he is giving you permission to turn away.
When you don’t, his fingers snake upwards to touch your hips. “It seems,” he breathes out softly. “We’re both a little stupid, aren’t we?”
You exhale as his hands settle. You feel warm with something decidedly non-alcoholic. “So stupid…” You want to just close your eyes, lose yourself in Midoriya as you’ve wanted to do for the past few months.
But.
Your hands find him, your fingers curling around his wrist. It takes a lot of (obvious) effort to pull him away. “Wait,” you whisper. “W-We just talked about how this isn’t right. And I don’t want you getting in trouble for this.”
His eyes search yours, but he squeezes your waist once before relinquishing the grip. “You’re right,” he returns, smiling a little. “There’s a lot of alcohol at this party. Makes me do things I shouldn’t. I’m sorry.”
You shake your head. “You don’t need to say sorry. Only if you don’t mean it and you don’t really like me.”
His eyes have not left your face. “I do mean it. I do like you, a lot. I’m just sorry that it has to be like this. If things were different…”
“I know,” you whisper. “But I… care about you. And I don’t want people to think you’re the kind of guy who’ll date an employee. Especially since you’re back and trying to establish yourself as a pro-hero here.”
Midoriya laughs, but it’s not meant to be a humorous noise. He reaches out, thumbing your cheek one last time as if to commit the gesture to memory before he pulls away. “I don’t want us to pretend like this conversation never happened, but I hope that we can still be… friends.”
Despite the unexpected turn of events (at a Christmas party of all places), you warm slightly at all how well he’s taking it. Not that you expected him to take it badly. And that, above all, he considers you a friend. “Of course,” you reply. “That’s what I want too.”
The pair of you stare for another long moment before someone is sliding open the glass door of the agency that leads to the balcony. It’s Karly, calling out your name.
You and Izuku look away, the moment gone. “I’m out here, Karly.”
Said marketing specialist appears from the shadows, cheeks bright red from rose much like everyone else. But she stops short when she notices the two of you. “Oh! I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”
“No,” Midoriya cuts in quickly. He’s not looking at either of you. “We’ve finished our discussion.”
Deciding to leave him alone, you nod towards Karly. “Well, some people are asking about the cake…”
“Oh!” you exclaim. “That’s right. I know where it is.” You turn towards Deku. “Will you be okay?”
You mean it in two different ways. Deku looks at you like he knows what you mean. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”
You make your way back into the party, refusing to think about what happens next.
.
What happens is a quiet next few months. Midoriya becomes busy with joint patrols, an onslaught of photoshoots, and general paperwork. He still comes by your desk when he happens to be around when you are around, but the interactions are safe and surface level. It is a warped version of what you and Midoriya would call friendly conversations.
While you miss the deeper conversations, you’re also guilty of not bringing up anything that could bring you back to that night. The fear of uncertainty gnaws at you, afraid of what could happen if you were to cross that threshold with Midoriya.
Like you, Midoriya is also good at maintaining that friendly facade. He thanks you for your hard work on your one-year anniversary, allowing your boss to take you out for dinner. He signs a company congratulations card when you graduate from university and officially become a working adult.
And you’re thankful that he’s willing to… move on, you suppose? Perhaps avoid is a better word. It’s hard to smile and laugh with Midoriya when you’ve spent the better part of your employment at Deku’s agency wanting more.
Despite those things, that isn’t the reason why you’re here now. “Here” being the corner coffee shop on a random Saturday, laptop open with a whole listing of hiring hero agencies displayed. Some of the reason is that awkward limbo with Deku, yes, but most of it has to do with the desire for a full-time job. Working part-time at Deku’s agency had been more of a necessity than a want, considering you had to work around a full-time student schedule.
But with graduation under your belt, full-time has become an option. While the hiring manager at the agency has been open to the conversation of offering you that full-time position, this feels like a rare moment of opportunity to branch out.
Besides, you think absently, there are a lot of good agencies hiring.
Quietly, you apply to a few of them, wondering if your experience at Deku’s agency and all the hats you had to wear as a result of working at essentially an agency start-up could impress some of these bigger agencies.
As it turns out, it does. Because over the next month, you garner the attention of Riot Ground. Again, quietly, you interview a few times before they offer you a position - one that will include working at a cubicle rather than a front desk and definitely involves a higher level of responsibility with a higher pay that you would be dumb to reject.
Your direct boss is supportive of the decision, understanding that this type of industry exploration is what you want for the next chapter of your career. It’s a chance, she says, you need to take. Additionally, she accepts your two week notice.
Telling Midoriya had been something you’ve wanted to avoid since Riot Ground offered you the position. In fact, it’s very possible that he already knows what is going on. It’s no secret that the Riot Ground agency and Deku agency are close - the leading heroes have known each other since high school.
But you decide to just assume that Midoriya doesn’t know what’s going on as you knock on Deku’s office door, taking in a breath when he tells you to come in. He’s finishing up some paperwork as you open the door, definitely looking appalled by your appearance. You hardly ever visit him, especially not since the Christmas party.
“Hey,” he breathes, closing his laptop. “Is everything okay?”
You smile a little, trying to stay professional. “Yes! Everything is good. I just thought I should let you know something that’s coming up.”
He frowns, but nods slowly. “Okay,” he says, a little confused. “What’s up?”
“Well,” you start. “As you know, since I graduated I’ve been thinking about getting into a full-time position. I don’t know any kind of end goal for myself, but I want the opportunity to grow my experience however. And wherever. So… I just thought that I should let you know that Riot Ground offered me a position. And I accepted. I start in a month, but I already submitted my two weeks.”
Midoriya is quiet for a moment, processing the ultimate conclusion to your words. Then, he laughs a little. Softly. “Kacchan… I mean, Bakugou told me that they had just hired someone from my agency. When he spoke about the new hire’s interview, I could tell he was impressed and excited to have that kind of person on his team. I just had a feeling that it was you.” He stands up, rounding the desk to lean against the front. “I’m really happy for you.”
You smile, relieved. Although you should have known to expect nothing less from Deku. “Thank you, Midoriya.”
But he does smile back, sighing a little. “I will say that I’m going to miss having you around. Getting to talk to you and see you at the end of a hard day always made things easier for me.”
Your heart picks up a little. You hadn’t expected him to use that kind of line on you. “I-I mean,” you stammer. “It’s not like I’m going off the grid. The agency is just a subway ride away. A-And, I’m still going to be in the industry. So we’ll see each other around at events and such… Besides, we’re friends.”
Friends. A delicate word to reflect on a delicate subject. And it shows in Midoriya’s eyes, watching you carefully. His eyes look you up and down, before he gives a half-smile. It looks like he has so much to say. But he eventually settles with, “Of course. We are friends.”
A long pause follows. The pair of you take each other in, until the sound of footsteps pass by Deku’s office and it brings you back to reality. You look away first. “I just… I thought I would let you know. As a courtesy.”
He nods. “I-I appreciate that. And I really am happy for you. Kacchan and Kirishima are good heroes, and they are good bosses too. I expect great things will happen with you on board.”
You laugh. “Midoriya, you are speaking way too highly of me. It’s just an entry level position, The amount of influence I’ll have is probably second to none.”
He shrugs. “So what? I believe in my friends - and I believe in you.” After a moment he clears his throat. “When is your last day?”
“About a week and a half from now,” you reply.
He nods slowly. “Got it. Well, thanks for letting me know.”
You leave work that night a little unsettled, wondering if you’ve made the right decision in telling Midoriya.
.
The last week and a half of your employment at Deku’s agency is quiet. Midoriya gets pulled into a job on the other side of the country, meaning he doesn’t get to see you on your last day. You tell yourself that it’s normal that a big boss wouldn’t mind one of his part-time interns leaving and try to make peace with it.
Midoriya is right about Bakugou and Kirishima. Despite being a little rough around the edges, Bakugou is polite and engaging. Naturally, Kirishima is warm and welcoming. Ground Zero is definitely a bigger agency compared to Deku’s up and coming roots - but the two heroes still take the time to greet you.
It isn’t long before you’re taking on your own assignments - but your team is nice and supportive and Kirishima even tells you that the recent report you handed in was good.
Two weeks after you start working at Riot Ground, Bakugou’s Vogue Japan article gets released and you are immediately pulled last minute into the afterparty preparations that Riot Ground is holding to celebrate. You’re more of a background shadow to provide support, but you are still invited to the party. Kirishima says you can think of your attendance as a rite of passage for your employment - one that you intend to take full advantage of.
The afterparty is hosted at the top floor of this insane skyscraper in the city center - surrounded by lights and music and drinking. You spend most of the early night with coworkers, those in the same department as you as you all talk and laugh and make sure that things are going smoothly.
This sense of ease is probably how you’re able to notice him before he notices you.
Your stomach drops when you see Midoriya, someone who you hadn’t seen since that last conversation in his office. He’s at the bar, talking to some girl with a surprising amount of engagement and focus that you stare.
You cannot help the sickly feeling weighing at the pit of your stomach - because you cannot remember the last time Midoriya talked to you like that. Actually, you can. It was before the Christmas party. Before you engaged in that game of hypotheticals with him. You’ve never regretted the way the exchange went down. But you have regretted the aftermath - the halted conversations, the surface level charades. Midoriya had said he liked you back, sure, but perhaps he only did nice things for you because he wanted something? And surely once he realized he was never going to get anywhere with you - he just gave up, didn’t he?
That’s stupid, you think to yourself, because Midoriya isn’t like that. He’s sweet and earnest. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person to just throw them aside when they are no longer of use.
But, the other side of you whispers, things haven’t been the same since that night at the Christmas party. Perhaps it’s not out of left field for you to be doubtful.
Across the way, Midoriya catches your eye and gives you a smile. You wave back half-heartedly.
He tilts his head, giving you a look you hate that you can read. Is everything okay?
You just give a shrug, turning back to your coworker before he could respond.
You assume it’s the end of that conversation with Midoriya. In fact, the next time you (subconsciously) try looking for him, he isn’t at the bar anymore but on the dance floor with Uravity and Shouto. You disappear into an empty hallway that leads to the elevators, sipping the drink (water) you’ve gotten and try to ignore that vague feeling of relief upon realizing that girl was nowhere to be seen.
You turn back to your water, perhaps waiting for it to drown you or give you answers to questions you are too afraid to ask.
That is, until a figure slides up next to you. At first, you think it’s some stranger coming up to bother you. But it’s Midoriya.
“You look lonely,” he comments. Despite the loud music coming from the main room just a few feet down, the hallway is insulated enough where you can hear him properly.
You glance at him. “What do you mean? I’m peachy-keen.”
He frowns, the first crack in his wall. “You know, people who say they are peachy-keen are usually the opposite of that. I just can’t help but notice that you’re here by yourself, and you’re drinking water.”
“I’m on the clock,” you reply.
Midoriya looks around for a moment, before turning to face you fully. “Is everything okay? Nobody’s bothering you, are they?”
You look at him this time. “It’s fine, Midoriya.” You jerk your head out towards the main room. “Why don’t you go reunite with your girlfriend or something?”
Midoriya blinks. “Girlfriend? What are you talking about?”
Your eyes narrow into a glare. “Don’t try to play dumb with me, Deku. I know that you saw me looking. She’s cute. Thanks for letting me know about that, by the way.”
“Oh, just like you told me that you were looking for a new job?” Deku bites back. Another crack in his game of pretend. He also seems annoyed you’ve addressed him by his hero name. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s Uraraka’s manager and has been her manager since we graduated high school. We’re friends - just like I thought you and me were friends.”
You push yourself off the wall at that. “We are friends,” you protest hotly, defensive, not even sure if you believe your own words. “It’s just…”
“Just what?” Midoriya snaps, that friendly facade gone now. “Just the fact that I thought things would go back to normal after that night, only to get blindsided?” He runs a hand through his curls. “Listen, I was and am really happy for you that you got a great job with Kacchan and Eijiro. I just wish you told me you were planning to leave. That’s what friends do.”
“Well, why does it matter?” you retort. “A boss shouldn’t care too much if a lowly part-time intern decides to pursue a different agency for a different opportunity - !”
“But you weren’t just a lowly part-time intern!” he says loudly, then lowers his voice. His admittance echoes in your mind, making you run warm. Midoriya watches you carefully, as if waiting for you to dismiss him. When you don’t, he takes a step closer, rounding on you so that your back is against the hallway wall. “To me, it wasn’t like that. At first, it was. But I grew to really like you as more than just someone I saw at work everyday. I liked you a lot.”
You narrow your eyes at him, refusing to back down, remembering your doubts just a few moments prior. “Why does that matter now anyways? You clearly have more fun with that manager anyways.”
He groans, stepping closer, hands settling on your waist to push you against the wall. “What is this about? It seems like we’re mad about two separate things.”
You huff, trying to look away from him. “I’m not mad.”
He rolls his eyes. “Baby, your glare could cut glass. I can be single-minded sometimes. But I’m not stupid.”
You hate to admit it. But the pet name softens you up a bit. Enough that you turn your gaze back to Midoriya. “I was just frustrated okay?” you shoot back. “I was under the impression that we would stay friends too. But you were so distant after I told you I was leaving. You didn’t even say goodbye to me on my last day at the agency. I know you were away but… it still hurt me. And then I come to this party and see you for the first time in a month talking to some other girl. Not just talking - talking excitedly and happily. I just couldn’t help but overthink about why you enjoyed your time with her more than time with me.”
His eyes flicker between your eyes, but he relaxes after a moment. “I always enjoy my time with you,” he explains softly. “But I’m sorry. I should have spoken up when I noticed we were playing this game of just pretending to be alright. I think the thought of confrontation made me more nervous. And I’m sorry for not being there for your last day.”
You sigh. Perhaps hearing his apology is just what you’ve needed after all this time. “No. I’m sorry. It takes two people to have a conversation, and I was also not reaching out to communicate my frustration. I guess… perhaps, a part of me wanted to know what would happen with us. And if…” you trail off.
Midoriya raises an eyebrow. “If…” he coaxes, leaning in. When you don’t say anything, he smiles. “If I still like you?”
You pout. “You have no tact, do you know that?”
“I think the proper phrase is ‘relief knowing I can now openly communicate with the girl I’ve been crazy about for months’.” He pauses. “Unless you’re more of a show don’t tell kind of person?”
He’s teasing you. “I don’t know,” you finally manage, feeling warm all over. “What would showing me look like?”
At your question, Midoriya smiles again. Less of a teasing smile, more of a soft and understanding curve that makes your heart race. Your anger is completely forgotten as one of his hands gently takes your chin. “Probably something like this…”
He leans in. You close your eyes, heart thumping out of your chest - because was this really going to happen? Right here? Right now? And to think you were so mad at him just an hour ago…
A call of your name. “Oi, I know you’re out here - oh. Fuck.”
Midoriya pulls away, his grip on your chin and your waist gone as if both of you are ripped back to reality. You jolt, eyes flashing open and turning towards the source of the noise. Bakugou stands at the entrance of the hallway, lips parted and eyes wide and looking uncharacteristically startled.
“Kacchan!” Midoriya exclaims, glancing at you before glancing back at your boss. “We were just… This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing…”
Bakugou tsks, recovering quickly as he raises a hand up to stop Deku from spiraling into a flurry of conversation and tangents. “I didn’t ask, nerd. I just need my employee’s help with something.”
You try to recover as well, ignoring your racing heart as you turn towards Bakugou. “O-Of course, what do you need?”
You step away from Midoriya, but he catches your wrist in his hand before you can go too far.
“Hey,” he says, stepping up next to you, not speaking until you’re looking at him. “Don’t be a stranger. If I promise to call, promise you’ll pick up.”
You cannot help but just smile and nod. “Okay,” you return. “I promise.”
He beams, and releases the hold he has on your wrist. You walk up to Bakugou, allowing him to lead you back into the loud dancefloor.
“Bakugou!” you call out, feeling the need to fill the silence between the two of you despite the music and laughter around you. “Midoriya is nice! And I really like him!”
Bakugou grunts, whirling around to face you. “Shut up!” he retorts. “I know. The stupid nerd hasn’t shut the fuck up about you since he found out I hired you. So I don’t think you need to worry. He likes you a lot too.” He pauses. “Now can you please help Eijiro set up the champagne fountain?”
You grin for more than just the champagne foundation. You shoot your boss a thumbs-up before making your way back into the main party, definitely feeling better than when you first stepped in here.
.
True to his promise, Midoriya calls. And to your promise, you answer. It doesn’t take long for the pair of you to resume the same ease of connection that developed when you first met. Partly because you have all this history together, but also because the feelings have been put out there. The calls and texts continue without the worry of crossing past a boss/employee relationship.
Having Midoriya in your life like this is different. There’s still a bridge to cross with him, but there’s a different openness about this compared to pretending not to be so into him.
Now he knows how much you like him. And you’re waiting for him to take the next steps.
But, again, it’s a line neither of you cross for the next few months. Midoriya is busy with work, and so are you. Ground Zero keeps you on your toes with increased responsibilities and solo projects that are stressful yet accomplishing. Yet, every “good job” thrown your way feels like a different badge of honor that heightens your confidence. It feels like some of the things you’ve wanted for your life (a stable career with responsibilities you enjoy doing and coworkers you actually like spending time with) are starting to come together.
Although yes, you are in a predicament with Deku, you refuse to let that damper your attitude about your overall life trajectory. Things will happen when they are able to happen.
It’s a thought that comforts you. For the next few months following the Riot Ground party, you maintain a limbo with Midoriya. Until there is a pounding on your door at three in the morning.
You start awake at the noise echoing through your apartment, heart pounding and eyes suddenly alert. What time is it? The digital BT21 Koya clock on your nightstand reads 3:02 AM. Who is it? No idea. A handful of college students live in this apartment building, so it isn’t unusual to hear knocks at this hour. They’re usually short; this one is not.
The persistence of it drags you out of bed and towards the door. Is it the smartest way to go about this situation? No. It could be a villain with super hearing, waiting for you to make a noise!! Or perhaps people pretending to be maintenance just so they can break in?
God, you definitely need to stop scrolling through Tiktok.
You sigh, tiptoeing to the peephole on your door. You’re expecting drunk college kids, or people you’re supposed to ignore.
What you see, however, is neither of those things. It’s Deku, slumped against the wall, looking uncharacteristically tired and out-of-breath. Brows furrowing and eyes widening, you open the door with more force than necessary. “Midoriya!” you exclaim, lowering your voice towards the tail-end when you remember that it is three in the morning. “A-Are you okay? What happened?”
Midoriya looks over at you. His face is bruised slightly and you don’t even want to know what kind of injuries he’s hiding underneath the suit. What happened? When he texted you earlier than evening, he looked and sounded perfectly fine. His eyes rake over you from head to toe, before he sighs. “Oh good. You’re okay.”
You stare, trying to mentally decipher his words but find that you have no idea what he’s talking about. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath before he pushes himself off the doorframe. Quietly, he leans into your space and slowly cups your face with his hands. Midoriya follows the curve of your face carefully, committing each detail to memory.
Clearly approaching the situation normally isn’t getting into his head. He’s too shaken by what he has seen. So you stare up at him, trying to catch his gaze. “Izuku…?” you try.
That catches his attention. He shifts to look back at you. He sighs, pressing his forehead against yours. “It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s just…”
“Do you want to come inside?” you offer gently.
Midoriya nods, allowing you to pull him inside the apartment. You make it to the living room, where he drops himself unceremoniously onto your couch. Despite his disheveled appearance, he is watching you carefully and looking more alert than before.
You look back at him, continuing to assess his condition. What happened to him? Did he need to see a doctor? You try to echo one of those thoughts. “Are you okay, Midoriya?”
He blinks. “I liked it…” he starts.
You move to sit on the couch. “You liked it?”
“You called me Izuku,” he clarifies. “I want you to keep calling me that.”
You sigh, eyes slanting into more of a frown than the wide-eyed concern from before. “Are you drunk?”
He looks away, rubbing at his face. “No, I’m not.”
“Well, do I have to drive you to the hospital?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“I’d have to disagree. A Midoriya… I mean Izuku,” you correct when Midoriya gives you a look. “An Izuku who is normal wouldn’t come barging in at three in the morning looking like he’s just seen hell.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, which worries you more. Well, if he doesn’t want to go to the hospital and he’s not drunk, you turn to the next best solution.
You move to get off of the couch. “Let me get you some water.”
“Wait.” His hand catches your wrist. He’s not even pulling you that hard, but his touch leaves you rooted to the spot. “J-Just stay here, if that’s okay.”
You settle back on the couch, trying to catch his eye. Yours widen slightly when you realize that his eyes are glassy. Was Midoriya crying? “Hey, Izuku…” you start, sitting closer to him. “What’s wrong?”
He looks up for a moment, before looking back over at you. “Can I…” he trails off. “Can I just…” When you don’t flinch away, he takes that as a sign. He wraps his arms around your waist, scooping you up and plopping him on his lap with your knees on either side of him. Straddling him, you let him manhandle you. You let him press you to him, chest to chest, and a hand at the back of your head to press your face into his neck. He noses at your hairline slowly.
“Izuku,” you whisper, voice muffled into his suit. “Tell me what happened.”
Midoriya takes in one more deep breath, before he loosens his grip enough for you to pull back and see his face. “I was finishing up my patrol when a group of villains ambushed me. That part was normal, since it’s the middle of the night and maybe they thought they could get away with it? Everything was fine until I saw you. One of the villains used his quirk and made me see something that really shook me up.”
Considering that he’s here, hugging you like he’s trying to merge with you, you think you have a vague idea of what he could have seen. But you refuse to be self-centered. You gently fiddle with the hair at the back of his neck. “What did you see?”
He doesn’t look at you as his fingers run over the hem of your sleeping shirt. “You showed up, and they took you away. No matter how far I ran, I couldn’t catch up. I couldn’t save you. Luckily, some of my sidekicks showed up so they didn’t get away. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what they had shown me. I just had to make sure you were okay.”
You exhale, not realizing you had held your breath during Midoriya’s story. At the very least, this explains his frantic behavior. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “I’m here.”
He sighs, moving his hands to your waist. “It’s not okay though,” he returns, looking at you. “I think not being able to talk things out with you has freaked me out, thinking that I’ll miss my chance and lose you.”
“You won’t lose me,” you say quietly. “I really like you.” You relax slightly in his arms. “We don’t have to talk about us right now but I don’t want you to rush into anything with me. I know that you’re here to protect people and you’re trying to establish yourself. I don’t want to get in the way of that. I don’t want you to spread yourself too thin.” You look down, suddenly nervous. “When this becomes something, I’m going to be a little selfish. I don’t want to feel like I’m coming in second place. I want everything that you’ll give me, and I want to feel like you’re always going to choose me. I know that in itself is selfish, but I just want to be upfront with you.”
One of Midoriya’s hands comes up to cup your cheek. He angles himself to meet your gaze. “Don’t ever call yourself selfish like it’s a bad thing. I want you to be selfish because I always want you to myself.” He starts mindlessly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I want to be honest with you too. I can’t promise you that I can respond to texts within the hour. I can’t even promise that I’ll be on time for every date. But I’ll always consider you. And I’ll always choose to come back to you.”
Overcome with helpless affection for him, you cannot help looking down at his lips. Suddenly, you’re aware of what you’re wearing and what you’re not wearing. Your sleeping attire is just a Riot Ground t-shirt you got from a team-building event during orientation and some loose shorts. Your lack of a bra is the most obvious.
Judging from Midoriya’s darkened eyes, he knows this.
A pause. Then he brings you down to him, kissing you softly. Time seems to melt away as you shut your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in him. You can feel Midoriya’s grip tighten, pulling you closer as little uncontrollable whimpers fall from your lips.
Without warning, you feel yourself get hoisted up again. One hand around your waist, one hand hooked around a leg as you are maneuvered onto your back. Above you, Midoriya is steady and comforting and warm. He stares down at you like it is his first time seeing you. The sight sends jolts of anticipation through your body.
On instinct, your arms find the back of his neck as he leans down to peck your lips once, twice, thrice more before starting a trail of butterfly kisses down your neck. He stops at the base, nipping and biting. It tickles, causing little giggles to escape you as you twitch occasionally at the overwhelming sensation.
Midoriya hums, lifting himself back up. “So sensitive,” he mutters.
You pout, tighten your grip on the back of his suit. “Is that okay?”
He smiles, leaning back down to touch your nose with his. “More than okay. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Want to keep going?”
You cannot help but smile back, heart beating helplessly in your chest. “Yes,” you whisper, nervous but knowing that you trust him more than anything.
So Midoriya kisses you again, his hands move to your waist to inch your shirt up higher and higher. He kisses down your stomach, fingers gripping the waistband of your shorts. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.
You nod, realizing after a moment that he cannot see you. “Yes, yes, please Izuku…”
You stare up at the ceiling as he pulls your bottoms down, exposing you to the air outside. It doesn’t stay unoccupied for long before he’s diving in between your legs, licking and sucking at spots that make you see stars.
And when he curls up with you later that night under the blankets, refusing to let you go as you giggle and complain about needing the restroom, your heart is high with hope. Hope that perhaps it’s finally time for you and Midoriya. That perhaps, the game is finally over.
.
The following day, Midoriya shows up to the Riot Ground agency. He had left early that morning, leaving behind a text apologizing and promising to make it up to you later that day. You hadn’t been entirely sure what making it up to you would entail, but you just told him you were looking forward to it.
It’s a little bit before your lunch break when Bakugou comes stalking towards your cubicle. You’re still on the phone with the guys at HEROES MAGAZINE when he approaches, but he’s surprisingly patient as he waits for the call to end.
You hang up after a few more minutes of last minute confirmations. “Everything okay?” you ask, redirecting your attention to Bakugou.
He grunts, crossing his hands over his chest. “You have a visitor. Real insistent about seeing you.”
You tilt your head. “Who is it?”
He sighs, unfolding his arms. “Come on.”
Nervously, you follow Bakugou into his office. Inside, you find Midoriya sitting on the couch. He’s talking to Kirishimia, but all the attention shifts to you as soon as you enter. Midoriya’s face lights up. “Hey!” he greets cheerfully, standing up to approach you.
You let him, unable to help but smile back as the memories of last night fill you with warmth. The fact that those events were real and tangible still baffles you. “Hi, Izuku…”
He scratches the back of his neck. “I really am sorry about having to leave after… yeah. After that.”
You laugh, forgetting that both of you have company. “It’s fine. I know you’re busy. You’re here. That’s what’s important to me.”
Midoriya smiles, actually looking relieved at your reassurance. “I’m glad…”
From what sounds like miles away, Bakugou interrupts with a laugh. “Oh my fucking god.”
You turn to look at him. “Something wrong boss?”
Bakugou is still smirking. He looks between you and Midoriya like he knows something you do not. He, however, makes it clear with his observation. “You guys finally hooked up, didn’t you?”
Immediately, your heart feels like it’s racing on overdrive as your entire body runs hot. “H-How did you… I mean, it’s just… I don’t…”
Midoriya’s cheeks turn pink. “Kacchan, we’re in a workplace - can’t you keep things professional?”
“Professional?” Bakugou echoes, smirking. “You have a lot of nerve saying that to me, Deku. Especially when the two of you are all googly-eyed right in front of my salad!!!”
“Oi, Katsuki,” Kirishima interrupts, getting up from the couch and walking over to slap a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. “I think it’s cute. Go easy on them.” Kirishima shifts his attention to you and Midoriya. “So, what’s this? You guys just hooking up? Or boyfriend and girlfriend? No shame either way!! I think it’s great that we live in a society where every stage and every kind of relationship has an appropriate label.”
The overall question makes you want the ground to swallow you whole. This is especially the case because you and Midoriya haven’t even discussed what this is yet. What if you answered and it wasn’t the answer Midoriya had in mind. Or would staying silent be the better option? Should you already know what kind of relationship you’re in with Midoriya? You know you talked things out yesterday but was making an assumption going too far?
Your silence makes Kirishima smile. “I mean, there’s also no shame in being undecided. As long as you guys are communicating.”
Midoriya wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close. “I’m actually here to invite you to dinner tonight,” he says, pointedly ignoring his friends and their teasing smiles.
You smile nervously, unsure whether or not to go along with Midoriya. You decide for it eventually. “Sure. I get off around 5. Can I meet you someplace?”
He shakes his head, looking at you with stars in his eyes. “No, no, I’ll come pick you up.”
True to his promise, Midoriya is in the lobby of Riot Ground. He gives you that same bright smile, takes your hand. The restaurant he’s selected for the two of you is a few stops away, and he fills any silence with questions about your day and conversations like this is any normal day. Not at all like you’re about to go on (what you would consider to be) a date with Midoriya.
It’s a sentiment you feel confident enough to echo once the pair of you are seated next to each other in the booth. You notice quickly that he’s taken you to a ramen shop you’ve mentioned enjoying once or twice. The realization draws out a happy, private smile.
At your observation of this date, he mirrors your grin. “I’m glad we’re on the same page about this. It makes me feel less nervous about telling you that… last night?” He asks like he needs to make sure you know what he’s referring to. Like you need a reminder. But you nod, because Midoriya seems nervous. “That was all real to me. I know dating me would be challenging. But I really like you and I want to be with you. I hope that doesn’t freak you out.”
Detecting his nerves regarding the subject, you reach out to take his hand. “Izuku, it doesn’t freak me out. I also mean what I said yesterday. I really like you.” You feel yourself go warm with meekness. “Although, I thought it was obvious that I wouldn’t freak out no matter what you said. You did spend the night, amongst other things… I don’t do that with guys I don’t like.”
Midoriya laughs softly. “I just didn’t want to make any assumptions.”
You nod. “Well, cease your worries. I am thoroughly into you.”
Since you’re not rejecting his advances, Midoriya grows bolder. “So… can I do this…?” He laces your fingers together.
You smile. “Yes,” you whisper, looking over at him.
He moves closer, still wearing that fond grin. “And when I drop by the agency, can I tell Kacchan that I’m visiting my girlfriend?”
Your smile morphs into a grin, but there are butterflies in your stomach. “You should probably be a little more professional around your Kacchan.”
He pouts at that. “What if it’s for something important?”
You gap slightly, unconsciously inching closer to him. “What could be so important with you and your new girlfriend that you need to visit her workplace?”
He smiles at the question, eyes flickering down to your mouth before he leans in to kiss you. It’s firm and quick, startling you enough to elicit a squeak from the back of your throat. But he pulls away before you can relish in the gesture.
When you open your eyes, Midoriya is still looking at you. You can feel the weight of his answer in his stare, making one very firm decision: you were going to suck his dick on the car ride home.
.
Nearly one year later, the hero rankings are announced on a bright sunny afternoon.
You are in your now shared apartment when the broadcast starts. When Midoriya is announced as the new number one hero. It’s a big moment within the hero community; not entirely unexpected considering the anticipation of Deku’s return and what he has been able to accomplish since then. It’s a moment that garners big cheers as Midoriya takes the stage alongside the other top ten heroes.
You watch as each top ten hero makes a speech about their appreciation and their promise to continue protecting the country. As Midoriya makes his own speech, your heart feels light with pride and joy.
It’s a feeling that continues into the late afternoon, when you’re fitting the bed with newly washed sheets that you hear the front door open and slam shut. “Baby?” It’s Midoriya. “Baby, I’m home!!!”
You immediately come bounding out of the bedroom, dashing towards the entrance where Midoriya is slipping off his shoes. “Welcome back!! Congratulations on your ranking, Izuku!”
At once, he sweeps you up into a hug, bringing your feet off the floor and your laughter in his ear. “Thank you,” he whispers earnestly, setting you back on the floor. He kisses your cheeks, spoiling you as if you were the one who has just ranked as the number one hero in the country. “Did you watch the broadcast?”
“Of course!” you say, giving him a look. “It’s a big deal, Izuku.”
He pulls back enough to send you one of his soft smiles. “Thank you.”
You shake your head, cupping his cheeks. “How do you want to celebrate, Mr. Number One?”
“Well, Uraraka is hosting a party later today to celebrate the new rankings. But…” he trails off, turning meek. He leans forward, nose to nose. “Kind of want to eat you out. Is that okay?”
Your stomach flutters. His hands move up your shirt, touching at bare skin. “W-We should do something for you.”
“You letting me eat you out is the something for me,” Midoriya returns, removing his hands to start messing with your shorts. He pulls both shorts and panties down, lowering himself down to let you step out of them. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he traverses down the hall back into your shared bedroom. Gracefully, Midoriya lowers you amongst the pillows.
One, two, three more kisses along your forehead, cheek and lips, before Midoriya makes his way down your body. Lifting your shirt over your head, planting two kisses on each nipple, down your stomach, immediately wrapping his arms around your legs to keep them apart. A kiss on your clit melts into a lick that makes you choke on a whimper.
Midoriya has always been good at eating you out. Ever since that first night, he is keen on prodding at the spots that drive you to the edge the quickest, or dragging things out as long as he wants to. It’s that scary observational skills from his line of work getting put to personal use.
And you’re not complaining.
In the fifteen minutes he spends in between your legs, you come three times. You’re shaking, gasping, overwhelmed by the time he lifts his head up with his lips shiny with juice.
You’re still trying to catch your breath as Midoriya undoes his belt, takes out his cock. He runs it over your slit once before pushing in past the ring of muscle. The sensation makes you jolt, crying out as you arch and push at his chest. “Izuku… wait.” Your walls flutter, causing Midoriya to sputter. “I just need to catch my breath.”
You take a few deep breaths as Midoriya thumbs at your hip in apology. “Sorry baby, I should have asked first.”
You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Midoriya leans down, kissing your ear and down your neck, nipping gently at your collarbone.The gesture, while ticklish, helps relax you enough to reflect on the events of the day. You’re not sure how long it is before you speak again.
“Hey, so since you’re the number one hero now…” you start once you feel like your head has cleared up enough. “You’re probably going to be a whole lot busier. Lots more people are going to be looking at you and relying on you. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted…”
Saying the words out loud makes a new kind of reality dawn on you. How would you fit in this equation of Midoriya’s newest accomplishment?
“Hey.” Midoriya’s voice draws you back. His head lifts from your neck, locking you in an intense stare, hands planted on either side of you. “I don’t know what exactly is going on in that head of yours. Just because I’m the number one hero now doesn’t mean that I still don’t care about you. It doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly going to stop considering you. I’m number one to the country, but you’re number one to me and that’s what is important.”
You pause, letting his words sink in. You giggle. “Izuku, that was super cheesy.”
“And what of it?” he purrs, using your giggle as the okay to readjust you. He takes your ankles, repositioning them over his shoulders. He leans in, bringing your legs to your chest, sinking deeper into you. The sensation makes you whine, arching your back and curling your toes.
“Mmmm,” you whimper, unable to do anything else but lay there and take it.
“Do you understand now?” he asks, pulling out until the tip and thrusting back in. “Do you understand how much I love you?”
As if it wasn’t hard enough answering his question, he’s hitting something in you that makes it difficult to think. “Fffuck, Izuku… yes…”
“Then, you think you can say it back to me, pretty girl?” He straightens up, keeping one of your legs on his shoulder as he increases his pace. His grip on you is strong, while his other hand starts drawing tight circles on your clit.
You start fluttering around his cock, unable to move away from the simulation. So you try to push at his chest in warning. “Izuku… wait…”
“I don’t know if I can, baby,” he says, almost disappointedly. “I can’t let my girl walk around not knowing how much I care about her.”
“I do know…” you whimper, shaking when he finds the right angle to rub your clit. “Aaaaaa… I know how much you love me.”
You can hear the smile in his voice. “Good girl. Wanna say it back?”
He releases your other leg so that both fall on either side of his waist. Midoriya looms over you again, never once letting up his pace. “Say…” you manage, tongue feeling like jello. “Say what back?”
He hums. Still circling your clit, he runs his other hand up over your curves, palming your breast. “Say you love me back.”
“I love you - !” you squeal as he pinches a nipple. The coil in your stomach snaps, and white hot pleasure runs through your body. You shudder, tightening and fluttering and gasping. You weakly whimper as Midoriya continues to drive into you, your breasts bouncing with the movement. It stops when he gives you one last firm thrust, letting out a groan of his own that is so hot your walls flutter at the noise.
The high of what you’ve started together starts to die down as the silence is filled with your gasps and his panting.
Midoriya drops himself next to you, immediately wrapping his arms around you and nosing your hairline. “Hey,” he whispers.
“Hmmm?” you hum, content and still trying to catch your breath.
He doesn’t speak until you look at him. He leans in, touching his nose to yours. “I love you too.”
You try hard to bite back a grin. “Still want to go to Uraraka’s party?” you ask quietly.
He groans against your neck. “Not really.”
You giggle. “You should!” you scold. “It’ll be fun. You’re the number one hero now. Don’t you want to celebrate with your friends?”
“I’d rather just celebrate with you,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
You roll your eyes playfully. “We just did. C’mon!” You push yourself off of bed, whirling around to face him. “I’m gonna pee. We’re going to shower, and then go.”
Never able to say no to you, Midoriya sits up on the bed and climbs out after you. “Okay, okay, baby. We’ll go.” Without warning, he hooks his arms under your knee and under your back, lifting you up and carrying you to the shower - the sound of your giggles filling the air.
The party is in full swing by the time you and Midoriya arrive at Uraraka’s house. Midoriya still has that post sex glow in his cheeks. It makes him clingy to you as you enter. The man at your side is immediately greeted by everyone, both friends and fans. It makes it easy for you to peel yourself away from your boyfriend, finding shelter in the living room.
There, you find Bakugou at the couch, nursing a drink in his hands.
Finding comfort in the sight of a familiar face, you approach him. “Bakugou! I didn’t think you’d show up.”
He gives you a sideways glance. “I wasn’t,” he says. “Eijirou said I should, so people can see that I’m supportive of Deku taking over the number one spot. Like I give a shit what people think anyways.”
You take a seat next to him. “I think you care a little bit. I know how much having that number one spot meant to you. Buuuutt,” you say, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “I think it could be seen as good, friendly competition. What do you think? Gonna start working double shifts to get your spot back?” you ask teasingly, grinning playfully at Bakugou. The latter is surprisingly quiet.
Bakugou gives you a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I knew it was only a matter of time,” he gruffs. “I really do hope as his girlfriend, you’ll never have to see this. But Deku? That nerd is crazy. Back in high school, during the war, he became this self-sacrificing maniac and acted out on his own. It’s a version of him I haven’t seen since then, but it’s a trait that never really went away. Deku lives to give back,” he mutters, so quiet that you wonder if you’re meant to hear him or not. “That’s why people gravitate towards him. It’s hard to compete with someone who would so willingly trade his happiness for others without hesitation.”
Bakugou’s eyes find something. You turn, following his stare to see Midoriya chatting it up with other pro-heroes. The latter looks bashful, but proud - he blends right into this world you are only just now starting to adjust to.
I hope you’ll never have to see it.
You watch as Midoriya’s gaze finds yours, waving when he smiles at you, trying not to ponder too deeply into Bakugou’s words.
.
Despite your wishes, you spend some time thinking about Bakugou’s observation. It’s true. Midoriya is a giver. He gives and gives and gives, hardly ever taking anything in return. He rarely asks to take time off, asks you to take care of him, and rarely ever thinks about himself.
A year after Midoriya becomes the number one hero, you start to see what Bakugou had meant.
It starts small. So subtle that you don’t even notice it at the time. It happens on a random Thursday night, when Midoriya stops kissing you hello after coming back from the office. It’s something you don’t even notice at the time. You had just continued cooking dinner, oblivious to what that simple missing gesture would spiral into.
Then, he misses a lunch date. Texts about his whereabouts and any villain appearances on the news are non-existent, until you find out that he just got caught up on paperwork and simply lost track of time. He apologizes later that evening, promising to make it up to you. And he does. He brought flowers home the next day and took you out to dinner. So you forget about the incident, assuming that it was a one-time thing.
Only, it isn’t just a one-time thing. He misses a few more dates, and doesn’t even tell you he’s coming home late one evening, before you decide it’s time to prod. Gently though, because you aren’t a confrontational person.
It happens late one night, because Midoriya stops taking days off, when both of you are in bed. Midoriya still wraps one arm around you, using his other hand to scroll through his phone.
“Izuku, is everything okay?” you ask softly, almost nervous to question it.
He looks at you, smiling uneasily. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“N-No reason. I was just wondering if you’ve been more busy than before. It’s just that you’ve been coming home later and later. Not to mention that I know that you know there have been a few dates we need to catch up on…”
Midoriya lowers his phone, pondering your words as he wraps both arms around you. “I know, baby. I’m sorry about that. You know, I didn’t realize just how many cases the police are working on at any given time. Big-case villains, small-case villains, missing people reports… so as the number one hero I’m trying to help out as much as I can.”
You look over at him. “You’re working with the police to solve all those cases?” you try for a smile and a joke. “No wonder you’ve been so busy.”
He grins, not noticing the fake smile you’ve plastered on your face. He’s looking at you, but it feels more like he’s looking through you. “People out there need me.”
You touch his cheek, trying to root him back to you. “Well, I need you too, Izuku.” You try to sound lighthearted, but something heavy plants itself in your heart.
At that, Midoriya’s eyes really do focus on your face this time. He cups your cheek. “Baby, I’m right here. Always.”
Are you really? It’s a thought that your mind whispers to you softly, challenging you to say it. But you cannot rise to the task. You don’t say anything that night. You just nod, hugging him and thinking: this is the last time I’ll have to say this.
Unfortunately, life does not work that way. It finds a way to topple down all around you. Not only does Midoriya remain busy, but you get promoted at Ground Zero’s agency. You move from a cubicle into your own office along with a clusterfuck of new responsibilities.
The next few months feel like one thing after another. Every attempt both you and Midoriya make falls flat. You plan a birthday party for Midoriya, only to fly out on a impromptu business trip hours before. Midoriya makes reservations for the grand opening of this fancy sushi restaurant, but ultimately stands you up because he fell asleep on the couch. He tries to come home early to surprise you, but you’re out buying groceries for the week.
Conversation between the two of you becomes as nonexistent as the plans you try to make. What were once joyful exchanges about the past or eventful tales from your jobs become surface level questions about the weather or if either one of you were going to be home for dinner - with the answer typically being no. It feels like another game of pretend with Midoriya - only this time, you’re pretending like this relationship is on the right track.
Everything comes to a headway on a Tuesday morning. Midoriya is out of bed and out of the apartment. Typical. You didn’t even hear him come in last night (or early this morning). But you notice a text message from Kirishimia at six in the morning. Less typical. Urgent meeting at the heroes commission. Turn on the news when you wake up.
The headlines jump out onto the screen as soon as you turn on the TV.
DEVASTATING EARTHQUAKE STRIKES. TOP OVERSEAS PRO HEROES REQUESTED FOR REINFORCEMENTS.
The footage is horrible. Buildings toppled down, rubble everywhere. People digging through. Children screaming. All the things of nightmares, not unlike the disaster you remember from your childhood - from the Liberation War all those years ago.
It’s footage that continues to be displayed over social media and over the city as you get ready for work and take the subway to the office. It’s still there when you turn on the TV in your office when you show up to work.
“It’s horrible,” Roni, your friend from the finance department, mutters, arms crossed over her chest as she joins you to watch. “The hero commission is probably trying to figure out which heroes to send over and which ones need to stay here in Japan.” She turns to you. “Any news from Deku?”
The mention of his name makes your stomach churn. Truthfully, you haven’t spoken to Izuku, really spoken to him, in weeks. You don’t even remember the last time you existed in the same space together. You clear your throat. You check your phone with a weight in your gut, knowing that there won’t be any messages.You hate that your suspicions are confirmed. “Nothing.”
He’s probably at the same meeting as Bakugou and Kirishimia, along with all the other top heroes.
It is a few hours of tense silence in the office. Both for the fate of which heroes will travel abroad and if your bosses will be part of that departure.
The aforementioned bosses return a few hours later, confirming that they will not be sent away. As part of the top five pro-heroes, they are tasked with staying. “Because some others at the top volunteered to leave. The commission wants to make sure at least some of us are still here holding down the fort,” Kirishima clarifies.
You wring your hands nervously. “What about Deku?” you ask.
Bakugou is noticeably quiet, something you pick up on. “You should go home,” he says instead. Then, he trails off into something softer. “That damn nerd doesn’t know when to stop.”
Your eyes widen, your heart picks up, and you leave. You practically race home to your apartment, to your home.
Izuku is packing when you arrive.
You slam the door. “What the fuck are you doing?”
For a moment, your Izuku peaks through the cracks. He jolts, looking startled and wide-eyed. But when he realizes that it’s you at the door, that facade disappears. You are facing Pro Hero Deku now, the hero who has just volunteered to fly away from here, away from you. “My flight is leaving soon,” he says, returning to packing.
“You’re leaving,” you echo. “Just like that?”
“You saw the news, didn’t you?” he challenges. “Those people need me. I have to help them.”
“Without asking me?”
He pauses. “This isn’t something I need a second opinion on.”
You clench your teeth together, trying to swallow the hurt. You’ve heard the stories from Bakugou about Izuku during the Liberation War - about Izuku barrelling headfirst into tracking down All For One alone, without his classmates or his support system, without regard to himself. His warnings suddenly feel like a lifetime ago. “A second opinion?” you bite. “I’m not a fucking doctor, Izuku, I’m your girlfriend. I thought we were a team. Shouldn’t I have a say in this?”
He throws his clothes on top of the ones he has already folded in. “What is there to say? How do you expect me to stand aside when I have a way of helping these people? How could you understand, when you don’t have the power I do.”
Ouch. You never thought he’d pull that card. Just because you don’t have a flashy quirk doesn’t mean that you don’t want to help people, it doesn’t mean that you don’t care. But your anger turns into sharp words that leave your lips without warning. “Fine,” you snap. “Do whatever the fuck you want. You’re really good at that.”
He glares at you. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know anything!” you protest loudly. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t been home in weeks, because you haven’t been here. Not really, anyways. Did you know this is our first conversation in days? But not just that. You’ve been standing me up, ignoring me for months. I thought we could eventually talk about this when things at work quieted down. But things have quieted down. All the other heroes, all your friends, are having date nights and friend nights. But you aren’t. You still aren’t here with me. You just stay out there, taking one police case after another.”
“You knew what you were doing when we started going out,” Izuku snaps back. It’s like you’ve both been holding back on each other, only waiting until now for the dam to break. “I’m the number one hero now. My quirk comes from All Might, and so do his responsibilities. I can’t always be here.”
It’s all coming out now, you think vaguely to yourself. The anger is overpowering the hurt you should be feeling. “I know that, and I’m not asking you to always be here,” you say sharply. “I’ve always said that I just want you to consider me and care about me. But I can see that something like that is impossible for you to do.”
Stop, your mind whispers. Anyone with eyes could see that Izuku cares. He cares more than anyone else on the planet. That’s why he’s here. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’re in love with him, and that’s why it hurts so much.
“You’re right,” he finally speaks hollowly. “How can you expect me to neglect my job? Because that job, and the people that need me…” he pauses. “Are more important than what’s here.”
The next words you were planning to say die down in your throat, as you both are left alone in the silence of what you’ve just said to each other. What is there to say after all that?
That’s when the hurt settles in, the insecurities threatening to swallow you alive. You know that you’ve also said some terrible things, but the knowledge that Izuku has confirmed your worst fears renders you mute. That you, for all the love in your heart you hold for the man in front of you, will always see you as second place in his life.
“Fine,” you whisper, refusing to see the empty look in Izuku’s eyes. Not like you can see it anyways with the tears fogging up what’s in front of you. “Go do whatever you want. Save the world just like you always have, Deku. But you should know that if you get on that plane, I’m done. If you get on that plane, it’s over between us.”
You remember to grab your keys off the counter before walking out the door.
You don’t know how far you walk, or for how long. The nighttime bustle ignores your sulking as you continue down the sidewalk. You pass by night clubs, convenience stores, other apartment buildings - but none of those matter. All you know in your heart is that this might be the end of you and Izuku. And the last thing he would remember you saying is that he doesn’t care.
You stop in your tracks. How could you say something like that? Izuku is the number one pro hero because he cares, and he has been a consistent source of comfort in your life because he cares. Was it really okay for you to give him such an ultimatum when you never said you could make him choose between work and you? Maybe you can return back, apologize, and try to talk things out. Perhaps he didn’t mean what he said, just as you didn’t mean what you said.
You run back to the apartment. Had you walked further than you thought? Your lungs burn with air, your legs ache as you run up the stairs, and through the front door. “Izuku?” you call out. “Izuku, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said those things…”
But the apartment is quiet, empty of Izuku and his immediate belongings. He’s gone.
How could he just leave? Izuku may be petty, but never aggressive when upset. Especially when something as big as this serves as a roadblock to your relationship. Especially when you don’t know when you’ll see him again.
On instrict, your hand goes to your back pocket to check your phone but it’s not there. You pat yourself down a few times, but come up to the same conclusion. No phone. Did you have it with you when you left? You swear you left the office with it in your bag.
Your bag. It was thrown by the door upon first arrival. You tear into it, rummaging through laptop, files, notebook and planners before producing the damn thing. The screen lights up.
9 missed calls from Izuku <3
Izuku <3 (6:03pm): the driver is here. I wish we had more time. I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry I have to get on this plane. But people need me. I can’t just stand aside.
Izuku <3 (6:03pm): I hope we can talk soon
The lump comes back and doesn’t leave. It makes the tears come fast and hard, the gasps leave your throat as you throw your phone somewhere faraway before curling up against the door. Because are you not someone he cares about? Don’t you deserve to have help from him?
You bring your knees to your chest, feeling the bitter loneliness stronger than you’ve ever felt before. You always knew that Izuku was a hero above and beyond. The pair of you have been dancing around each other for as long as you’ve known him. You really assumed that things would be alright once feelings were sorted out and Izuku showed up that night all those months ago, promising a commitment to you. But you were naive. Feelings were not enough to enact the selflessness needed to love a hero.
.
Just before you fall asleep that night, you vaguely remember crawling onto the couch. Your body carries a heavy weight that lots of tears usually bring, along with a sore neck and back. You sit up feeling groggy and tired, immediately searching for your phone. Although the intention is to check the date and time, you still feel disheartened when you notice Izuku has not called or texted since his previous message.
You do, however, have some texts from Bakugou.
boss bakugou (9:46pm): Hey, call me when you get this. I should have told you about the nerd, but thought it was better you hear it from him. Hopefully everything has worked out.
boss bakugou (9:46pm): Or whatever. I don’t give a shit what happens to you two.
boss bakugou (9:46pm): I’m mostly kidding.
boss bakugou (11:02pm): Did Deku leave????
You blink, reading the messages many times over because your tired mind cannot process it normally. You debate reading the message, or just ignoring it and also skipping work while you’re at it.
you (6:34am): he left
Your fingers hover over the keyboard.
you (6:40am): it’s over
You should know that Bakugou would be awake at this time.
boss bakugou (6:42am): Still want to come into work?
A part of you doesn’t want to. But a tiny part of you whispers that you should.
you (6:54am): of course
Despite your reassurance, there is a numbness that comes with hopping into the shower and washing away the messiness of yesterday. Because no matter how long you stand underneath the water, you cannot wash away the words and feelings.
Because was this really the end of you and Izuku? He really did leave, finalizing everything with his choice - picking the world over you. Implying that you aren’t as important as his job and the people who need him is a bold claim. It’s not something one can just make up on the spot and not mean.
Getting dressed is harder than you thought. You have to put some spoons in the refrigerator to help with the puffiness of your eyes. You have to step into your bedroom for the first time since Izuku left to gather some clothes. For some reason, the reality of what exactly you’ve gone through with Izuku doesn’t hit you. It makes you numb, sure, but it feels like these are problems someone else is going through.
Someone who is not you, as you leave your apartment and somehow manage to find your way to the Riot Ground agency.
Kirishima and Bakugou are in the lobby of the building as you enter.
You aren’t going to speak first, and the heroes in front of you seem to know that. “The nerd really left?” Bakugou asks.
You really thought you wouldn’t cry, especially after crying last night and determining that you were fine enough to work. But somehow, external forces bring up the feelings and the lump in your throat returns. You tuck your hair behind your ears, internally cursing as tears start gathering in your eyes. “Well,” you start, unable to help the way your voice catches, the way it breaks. “He made his decision clear last night.”
“Man, he was just like this when we were kids,” Kirishima grumbles. “Always putting others before himself. I just never thought he’d do that to you.” He looks at you. “I’m really sorry. I hope he didn’t say anything stupid. He was going a little crazy during that meeting.”
“He…” you gasp a little under the weight of your tears, hoping that neither Kirishima nor Bakugou will comment on it. “He said… our relationship wasn’t important.” You sniff. “I mean… I also said some mean things. But… I really… didn’t think… he’d leave without saying… goodbye.”
Bakugou wordlessly passes you a tissue while Kirishima guides you down the hall into his office. Neither of them press you for details as you sit in front of Kirishima’s desk, trying to calm down.
“Deku isn’t thinking about himself right now,” Bakugou says quietly once your gasps have died down and the tears have stopped. “When he sees that people need him, and he knows he can help, he’ll self-sabotage himself. That doesn’t excuse what he said, but he likely isn’t thinking clearly.”
You nod slowly, not sure if you’re acknowledging Bakugou’s words or just trying to get a handle on the overall situation. “I don’t know what to do,” you whisper.
Kirishima nods. “It’s a lot to handle. And you don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.” He shakes his head. “I’m not sure what anyone would do after hearing words like that.”
What would be the next step anyways? A text from Izuku first implies that perhaps moving the conversation along falls onto your shoulders. But what is there to say? Hey Izuku, I know you said this isn’t important to you and you left for another country for an undisclosed amount of time even though I said our relationship was over if you left. Anyways, how’s it going?
So rather than think about it - you wait, wondering if the right moment will ever come.
And you wait.
But you never seem to find the words to say.
.
Midoriya Izuku is away for a year and a half.
Your phone remains empty of his texts, his calls, or his love for the entire time. But you see him everywhere, especially on the news where the world is praising him for yet another save. Whether it’s digging people out of the rubble, or helping other countries with villain cases, or teaching society how to rebuild their communities after disasters.
He’s in his element. His tinge of sadness is probably the knowledge that he couldn’t save everyone, you think to yourself. Always watching him on your phone, or on your laptop when a breaking news notification comes up.
You’re sure he’s happy with his choice. After all, a year and a half with no contact is quite telling about his decision. Yours too, because you never mustered up the courage to ask how he was doing. You never talk to him.
Yet, you hear about him enough. Not just through the news, but through your boss and colleagues. It’s hard to avoid your pro hero ex-boyfriend when you work in the hero industry and so happen to have two bosses who have known the aforementioned ex-boyfriend since high school.
For the most part, both Kirishima and Bakugou don’t mention Izuku. They keep their opinions to themselves with everyday that goes by. They didn’t say anything when you started showing up to work without the necklace Izuku had given you, when you removed the matching phone charm, or when the couple's picture you had framed on your desk went into the trash.
It’s a line, however, that Bakugou crosses when you give him a box of Izuku’s things - the things he didn’t bring abroad with him like his extra sweaters, books, his favorite All Might mug, and that aforementioned necklace. “Listen,” Bakugou had said. “I know things have been hard for you, having to see that nerd’s face everywhere. But I’m sure it’s been rough for him. Why don’t you give him a call?”
“What is there to say?” you had returned softly.
Bakugou had rolled his eyes. “How about you start with saying sorry? I’m sure he also feels the same.”
You didn’t know how to respond to that. Would sorry be enough to make up for what you said? Would sorry be enough to make up for what he said? Would that be enough to repair the underlying issues of your relationship?
It’s a quiet year and a half. You move out of that old apartment, into a newer but smaller one. You work, eat, and sleep. You see friends on the weekends and watch dramas on the weekdays. Eventually, you stop watching the news every night. You stop getting notifications about Pro Hero Deku on your phone, which is why it comes as a big surprise when Kirishima approaches your office on a random Friday morning. He leans against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest.
“He’s coming home.”
Your stomach drops without meaning to. A name doesn’t need to be uttered for you to know who exactly is coming home. You continue typing out your email, doing well to ignore that feeling inside of you. “Is… is that so?”
Kirishima nods, eying you worriedly. “The repair efforts are finally done. Deku refused to return until he knew everyone was okay.”
Of course he would, you observe. “I-I’m glad to hear that,” you muster softly.
Out of the corner of your eye, Kirishima is still watching you. “Ochako and Iida are hosting a welcome back party for him. I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested…”
“Probably not,” you say, eyes not leaving your screen. “But thanks for the invite.”
Kirishima makes a noise. “Hey, I think that Katsuki and I have been as hands-off as possible about you and Izuku - but don’t you think it’s been long enough? Why not just talk about your problems instead of avoiding them?”
You look at him for the first time since he stopped by your office. “I’m not avoiding anything,” you point out. “Midoriya said what he needed to say. I said what I needed to say. Besides,” you look back at your screen. “It happened. He’s moved on. And so have I.”
Kirishima walks until he’s standing right next to you. He leans back against your desk. “You’ve moved on, huh? Even more reason to go, right? That’s what a friend would do, isn’t it? Support your other friend who is returning home after a year?”
“He has plenty of other friends,” you retort. You’re not even sure what you’re typing out anymore, but it’s better than looking at Kirishima. He’s likely disappointed in your decision. “He wouldn’t miss seeing me.”
Your boss makes a noise of protest, but doesn’t say anything. He ends up leaving for an upcoming meeting, saving you the trouble of his further pestering. Not ever seeing Izuku again, you decide, would be the best option.
.
Unfortunately, life doesn’t turn out that way. Because three weeks after Midoriya Izuku’s alleged return, there is a knock on your door.
And you, expecting a package, opens the door. Your stomach drops. “I-Izu- I… Midoriya!” you choke out, your heart suddenly feels like it is launching itself into the sun. Your stomach doesn’t fare well either. You swear it feels like it’s being wrung dry. Your mouth opens and closes a few times, eyes flying all over him as if trying to make up for the year and half you haven’t seen him in person.
He’s different. His hair is a little shorter. It still has that curly texture at the top, over his forehead, but is that an undercut in the back? Oh dear. Today he is wearing jeans and a sweater with SWEATSHIRT in typed kanji. Well… some things are still the same. His eyes are still that deep forest green color. Today, they are sad. But they are wide, also looking you up and down like he is seeing you for the first time.
“Hi,” you exclaim after realizing neither of you have spoken words for a concerning amount of time. You try to ignore how distant, how light your voice sounds. You eventually manage to close your mouth. “Sorry, I…” Your thoughts are scrambling. “I was expecting a package…”
He seems to have found his voice. “O-oh!” he returns, holding up a box towards you. “That must be this. It was by your door.”
You try hard not to look at him as you reach over. You cradle the package, glad to have something to distract you as you fiddle with the edges. The first time you’re seeing Midoriya in a year and a half, and you are uselessly mute. You do open your mouth, but only to say something stupid. “Seems like the pro hero stuff didn’t work out, if you’re a delivery boy now.”
Midoriya blinks, quiet, and you curse yourself.
You close your eyes for a moment, opening them to look at him. “Sorry, that was stupid to say.”
He tries to smile. But it’s soft, sad, and doesn’t reach his eyes. You hate that you notice right away. “Not at all. C-Can I come in?”
You inhale slowly, tucking the package behind your back as you open the door wider for him. “Sure.” You watch carefully as he enters your apartment. He leaves his shoes on, but lingers at the entrance.
His eyes take in the new apartment. “I like the new place.”
“Thank you,” you say. You place the package on the small table near the door. “Midoriya… what are you doing here?”
He whirls around. “I’m actually here on business. Kacchan asked me to pick up some damage report.”
“Oh!” That was unexpected. It’s hard to tell if it’s unwelcomed or not that Izuku actually has a reason for showing up. It’s also hard to tell if Bakugou was actually too busy to come over himself. But it seems like a waste to ponder on that. “Oh, yes. That. I can grab that for you right now.”
You walk further into the apartment. Midoriya does take his shoes off this time to follow you. “Sorry for just showing up, by the way. I probably should have called you but…”
You start digging through your work backpack. “Why are you apologizing?”
“W-Well,” he stammers. “I know Kacchan sent me here on official business but… I don’t know. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m crossing a boundary or anything. I know Kacchan gave me your address, but still.”
Perhaps he is overstepping. For a moment, memories of his neglect, of your words, flash through your mind. But where you once felt hurt now feels distant and foreign. “Not at all,” you reassure, producing the file and looking up at him. “I mean, we’ve always… been friends, haven’t we?”
If Midoriya is bothered by your question, he doesn’t show it. He smiles again. Yet, once more, it does not reach his eyes. “Yeah. Of course.”
The silence feels like something dangerous. Izuku looks deep in thought, and it makes you panic. So you cover the distance and extend the folder towards him. “Here you go.”
He takes it. “Thanks.” A pause. “So, uh, how have you been?”
You rub your hands, definitely giving away the nerves. “I’m alright. Still working at Riot Ground, which is nice. I actually have to manage people… which is fun, but also nerve-wracking because there’s a team that relies on me to distribute tasks and be on top of everything.”
“Well,” Midoriya starts. “You’ve always been really organized, so I’m sure you’re doing great. Kacchan and Eijirou always have nothing but praise for you.”
You nod in agreement, not really thinking as you open your mouth to continue the conversation. “It’s nice that you kept in touch with them while you were away.”
You shut your mouth but it is too late. The words have already been spoken, and you regret it at once. Why? You were content playing pretend, just as you assume he had been - but now you’ve gone and opened your big mouth. Even worse, you forgot to run your thoughts through that filter in your brain.
Well. Not much you can do about this now. You’ve threatened the fragile peace of pretending, and now there is not much you can do independently. You pause in your movements, refusing to look at Midoriya. Instead, you stare at the wall behind him.
But it seems like you underestimate his kind nature. He doesn’t rise to the bait. From the corner of your eye, you see his nod. “I talked to them occasionally,” he starts softly. He pauses, long enough that you look at him. He’s staring back. “I just wanted to make sure things were alright back home.”
Your eyes widen, lips part. What exactly does he mean by that?
Your silence reads like an open invitation for Midoriya. He steps forward, opening his mouth - !
His phone rings, startling both of you out of whatever trance you were pulled into. You look down, shuffling. Midoriya jerks back, face shuttering before pulling out his phone. “K-Kacchan,” he grumbles.
Noises on the other end of the line. Bakugou, likely reprimanding him for taking too long.
After a moment, he jolts. “A-ah, you’re right! Sorry Kacchan. I got the files, I’ll head back over soon. No! No… there was no trouble. Okay.” He hangs up, looking at you. “That was Kacchan. I, uh, I should go.”
You nod. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”
He moves to make his leave. You follow behind just to see him out, but he turns around before he can leave. “Hey, so. Since I’m back… don’t be a stranger, okay? If you need anything, I’m here.”
Oh, a tiny voice whispers in your heart, fuck. He’s really continuing this game of pretend.
Valid. Izuku has never been good at confrontation. Neither have you, so you give your best attempt at a smile. “Thank you… Midoriya.”
His fingers twitch, but leaves soon after.
.
Pretending that you were always just friends with Midoriya is strange, but unsurprisingly normal considering your history with him. Now that he’s back home, his unexpected visit to your apartment seemed to enforce something: he’s willing to fake it as much and for as long as you are.
It starts small - hesitant texts he sends sharing something from patrol that remind him of you. Texts that transition into asking about your day, or inquiring about a show you mention. Naturally, you are hesitant to return the effort. But a small part of you, the small part that is soft on him, is elated that he is back and actually wants to talk to you.
“Of course the nerd would still want to be friends,” Bakugou scoffs. “You clearly don’t know your own boyfriend that well.”
“Ex,” you interrupt sharply. “Ex-boyfriend. And sorry I don’t have years of experience handling Midoriya like you do. Usually, when things end badly with an ex, ignoring each other is the bare minimum most people expect.”
“Well,” he snaps back. “You idiot. Deku isn’t like most people.” He quiets down when he sees the guilt on your face. “What are you going to do now? I heard you were invited to Todoroki’s party.”
That is true. Shouto himself extended the invitation to you through a text message you were surprised to get. After all, most of your friendships with the Izuku’s old classmates have slowed down a fair amount post breakup. In general, you’ve never been too big on attending gatherings of any kind. But since you and Izuku have reunited (i.e., you guys are just playing house rather than actually talk), it leaves you (once again) in a gray zone.
You settle with just trying to stay aloof. “I was invited, yeah.”
Bakugou glares at you. “What? You’re suddenly playing coy? You going or not?”
You shrug. “I don’t know!!”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s just a party. It’s not rocket science.” He pauses. “You should go.”
“What are you, my consciousness now?” you retort hotly.
“Okay, fine,” he spits. “Go. Or don’t go. And deal with a paranoid Deku who is stupid sometimes but not stupid enough to know when you’re avoiding him.”
You glare at Bakugou for a little longer, really hating how smart he is in spite of his brashness. You’re not really sure you can handle a confrontation with Midoriya right now, and you know that he’ll try to ask questions if you don’t show up. Especially because you know that he knows that Todoroki invited you himself.
“Fine, fine. I’ll go just for Todoroki,” you say, defeated sigh and all. You pick up your phone to look at the time. It’s 4:30, almost time to leave work for the day. “I’ll go home first to drop my stuff off then head over, I guess.”
“No,” Bakugou snaps, grabbing your work bag from the corner of your office. “I can see your tricks coming from a mile away. I’m not leaving you on the off-chance you’ll go home and pretend to be sick. We’re leaving now.”
“No, wait, BAKUGOU!” you exclaim, frantically trying to shut off your electronic belongings and gather the items on your desk that need to go into that work bag. “This doesn’t even involve you, why do you care so much?”
Bakugou whirls around in the doorframe of your office. “Because if that nerd tries to talk to me about you one more time I will blow his face off. We’re going.”
You try to act as if Bakugou’s words have lit a fire of meekness inside of you as you follow him out of the office. “A-Are you sure we need to leave now?” you fight weakly. “K-Kirishima isn’t even back yet!”
“Shitty Hair is patrolling until later today. He’ll be late,” Bakugou explains, practically shoving you into his car. “Besides, the sooner I get there, the sooner I can leave.”
You huff. “Your intentions are definitely in the right place there, Bakugou.”
He sneers at you, before turning up the radio and leaving the two of you in silence. It’s a bit of a drive to Todoroki’s house. But in Bakugou’s presence, you’ve never felt the need to speak words to fill the space. He’s enjoyed the quiet as much as you. However, today the quiet fills your mind with questions. Was it really okay for you to be at this party? Would your presence make things awkward? Was Midoriya going to be there?
Bakugou pulls up to Todoroki’s house soon, located in a quiet wealthy neighborhood away from the city. Despite the wealth that you feel in the air, Todoroki’s house is rather discreet and combines modern architecture with a traditional style. It’s beautiful - you’re simultaneously flabbergasted and impressed by how rich Shouto Todoroki is. With the high bamboo and trees, you almost don’t notice a gate on the property, unlocked by a code that Bakugou knows by heart. There’s a sizable driveway, filled with a few cars and a familiar figure that makes your heart both sing and drop.
Midoriya is in what you assume to be his car, scrolling through his phone. His gaze lifts when he sees you and Bakugou pulling up. For a brief second, his eyes widen when looking at you. But by the time Bakugou parks and you’re hauling yourself out of the car, that glint in his eyes is gone. He’s also out of his car as well, walking over to meet you halfway.
You immediately write that previous look off as nothing. Instead, you smile and wave as you approach Midoriya. “Hi Midoriya, did you just arrive?”
He smiles over at you. “Yeah. I was just answering a couple emails before you guys arrived.” He glances over at Bakugou with a look that is surprisingly… pensive? “Hi Kacchan.”
Bakugou grunts in greeting as he immediately starts making his way to Todoroki’s house.
You cast one last look at Midoriya, who is already looking at you. Feeling the awkwardness start settling in, you turn and follow after Bakugou.
There are more people at the party than you originally thought as Todoroki opens the door to greet you. You weren’t sure what to assume, only knowing that Shouto Todoroki is a relatively private person - but there is his entire class from the UA hero course and people you can only assume to be his family. Additionally, there are people you recognize from his agency - sidekicks and his manager, who (thankfully) you know.
Besides that, you are completely on the outside.
Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.
Still, Bakugou’s warning about Deku is too prevalent to back away from. Besides, you think bitterly, you yourself had said it best to Midoriya. You’re friends.
You see Midoriya entering the house right behind you, and immediately make a beeline down the hallway. In your mind, the excuse is that you need to use the restroom. But asking Todoroki himself would subtract the ten minutes you’re banking on to find it. You’re not sure how long you’re going to be at this party. But every minute away from an unfamiliar crowd would be best.
You do manage to find a bathroom at the end of the hallway, telling yourself that no one is out there wondering where you are as you fix up your appearance in the mirror.
When you open the door, Mina is on the other side. She appears to be looking for something, until she sees you and you realize she’s looking for someone. For you.
She exclaims your name, bounding towards you. “I thought I saw you!!”
You shouldn’t be surprised that Mina is here, but your heart feels a little lighter knowing that you know another person. While dating Midoriya, you’ve had a few lunches or general hangouts with his old classmates. Everyone was always very friendly in that ‘this is my friend’s girlfriend’ type of way. From your memory, Mina was the someone who treated you more like a friend rather than Midoriya’s girlfriend.
“H-Hi Mina,” you manage, trying for a small smile. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” she says, mirroring your smile. “How about you? I… heard what happened.”
“O-Oh really,” you reply, going stiff.
“Yeah, from Izuku. I didn’t know right away that you guys had… broken up,” Mina explains. “I was also sent overseas after that big earthquake. But I’m sure it must have been challenging. Frankly, Izuku is an idiot for what he did!”
You soften slightly. “Well… I wouldn’t say he’s an idiot. I think he just had to do what he thought was best.”
Mina smiles. “You’ve always been so nice and understanding. I’m glad to see that you’re doing well though! We should celebrate that.”
You blink. “What do you mean?”
“By letting me get you a drink, of course,” she exclaims, taking your wrist and dragging you back down the hallway. You catch Midoriya’s wandering gaze, but ignore him in favor of Mina taking you to the kitchen. She boasts about the soju and sake that Todoroki let her bring before the pair of you take a couple shots together. It leaves you warm, fuzzy, giggly, and prone to wandering around.
Eventually, as Mina gets caught up in her own group of friends, you find yourself in the backyard of Todoroki’s house - the shishi-odoshi hitting the rock and bamboo echoing in the quiet night, the sound of your shoes crunching against the sand underneath your shoes. Todoroki has a little bamboo garden in the corner, fixed with a bench and other flowers whose color reflects off light from the house.
Still cradling the mix Mina had poured for you, you take a seat on the bench.
It feels like you’re sitting there for hours before you hear shoes crunching against the sand. You jolt, whirling in your seat and heart dropping when you see that it’s Midoriya himself making his way towards you.
“M-Midoriya,” you stammer, tearing your gaze away first and staring down at your drink. “Did the party get overwhelming for you too?”
He’s quiet as he takes a seat next to you. “Sort of,” he answers vaguely. “I also noticed that you weren’t with Mina anymore. I guess, I just wanted to see where you were.”
You look at him. “You… knew I was hanging out with Mina?”
He looks back at you. “Of course. I remember that you guys would talk whenever you hung out with my friends. Did you have a good time with her?”
“Y-Yeah, we were just catching up,” you return, laughing softly. “I know it may look like it, but I wasn’t avoiding you or anything.”
“You sure?” Midoriya asks. “Because it felt like every time I tried to look at you, maybe get a hello in or something, you would look away or run away.”
Your hands suddenly feel wet and nervous. “M-Midoriya…”
He sighs. “And that’s another thing. You don’t call me Izuku anymore.” He looks sad again. “I thought we were friends. But you call me by my last name and you avoid me and you…” he trails off, seeming to try and hype himself up for something. “Are you with Kacchan?”
You blink, taken aback. “Am I what?”
He gets nervous again. “Are you… dating Kacchan?”
“No,” you reply dryly. “I’m not with Bakugou. He just drove us straight from the office. You of all people should know that I wouldn’t date my boss…” you cut yourself off, looking back down and frantically trying to figure out a way to end this conversation. “You know,” you say, just speaking words at this point. “You don’t need to be out here keeping me company. I’m sure your hero friends are more important than this,” you try to joke, but it comes out more serious than you were hoping. Your drunken words seem to unveil something unconscious inside of you that you thought you’d move on from. Goddamnit.
Midoriya doesn’t say anything, as the reality of what you’ve said sinks in. You really hadn’t meant for it to come out that way. But here you are: drunk, cold, hurt, and feeling stupid.
So you laugh, a hollow sound. “Wow, how much alcohol did Mina put into this? I better go find her and ask because this shouldn’t be allowed…” You’re standing up from the bench, leaving your drink behind, those internal red lights telling you to run despite your outward attempts to look composed.
In fact, you are about to run because it’s just too awkward. But Midoriya calls your name, softly. And you, always drawn to him, just have to look back.
He stands, slowly walking towards you. “I don’t know why I said those things. But I’ve always felt awful. I just never had the guts to apologize earlier.”
You wring your hands. Was he really taking the bait now? He must have been drinking too. But his gaze is clear enough to tell you he’s taking this seriously, and you’re too scared to run away. So you speak quietly. “I know why you said that. And you do too. It’s because you love your job. You can say that you’re sorry but I’ve always felt like you put everyone else’s needs before mine or yours. So… don’t say you’re sorry. Not if you don’t mean it.”
He’s quiet long enough that you turn around, about to return inside before Midoriya speaks again. “I was being selfish,” he announces, reflective enough to stop you. You turn around. He walks right up to you. “I thought about you everyday while I was gone. Hero work has always been important to me, yes, but you are my dream. You’re who I want to be with, who I want to love. I was stupid to take advantage of that.”
Your lips part, a sensation filling your body. Is it relief? Perhaps, anxiety?
You don’t pull away when his hand reaches out, waiting a moment as if expecting you to pull away. When you do not, he gently cups both your cheek, a movement so soft and warm that your heart melts a little.
But… it doesn’t feel like enough. His touch alone cannot heal the wound you’ve unknowingly covered for a year and a half. Without meaning to, your eyes water. “What… What do you want, Midoriya?”
He exhales softly, brushing a thumb along your cheek. “I just want to be with you.”
That makes the breath catch in your throat, making you realize you are actually torn between that relief and anxiety. Relief that he feels the same. But anxiety because you don’t know if that is enough. “I feel like I’ve waited for you my whole life. But I don’t know if I can believe you.”
His face falls as his eyebrows furrow and he closes his eyes. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes you in, breathes out. “I know,” he whispers. “After all that, I don’t know if I’d believe me either.”
His eyes look disheartened and full of guilt. So much so that you cannot help but gently touch his nose with your own. “I’m not entirely innocent either. I said some mean things to you that night too, and I’m sorry. I should never have said you don’t care - that was wrong of me.”
He pulls away a little, but his hands are still on your cheek. Still sad but a little bit of hope glimmers. “No, you weren’t wrong for saying that. Once things calmed down overseas, Kacchan called me and gave me a lot of shit for what I said to you. I should have stayed, or talked things over with you. I’m sorry.”
You inhale soft, feeling a weight lift off your chest and no longer feeling like you have to make a run for it. “It’s okay.” You smile a little. “I know I just said I’d have trouble believing you. But… I do believe that.”
He laughs a little, more like a tiny exhale. His eyes are carefully watching your face now. “I’m glad.”
Well, you think to yourself, now that everything's out in the open, it’s probably time to ask the important question. “What does this mean for us?”
He hums softly, hands leaving your cheeks. But he does not pull away, likely trying to enjoy this moment as you are. His hands travel down to your waist, keeping you close. “I didn’t say all those things hoping we could try being together again. But I do want to say that…” he thumbs at the skin of your hip, always needing to be touching you. “I’m here. Really. I want to be here for you and for however long it takes you to believe me again.”
Your gaze flickers between his eyes, feeling the sincerity of his confession. “Thank you,” you reply softly. “I want to believe you again, and I want us to work together on that. I just think we need more time.”
It’s neither a full rejection nor a full commitment - but enough where Midoriya grins brightly. “I’ll give you all the time in the world.”
.
Honestly? At first, you think Midoriya is full of shit. Not in a bad way. Just in a tentative ‘is he really going to follow through’ perspective. You’ve always believed in Midoriya as a person. But considering the history, the daily ins and outs have required a little more work.
Midoriya had been away for a year and a half. You may not know his favorite food anymore or his favorite movie or his favorite song to fall asleep to. But something you haven’t forgotten about him is that Midoriya always tries.
Texts become more frequent, as Midoriya grows more eager to repair that bridge between the two of you. Surface level questions about your day turn back into similar text conversations of how things were when you were dating. He still enjoys checking up on you, asking about your day, and recalling memories that actually make you smile whilst reading them. Despite his behavior, he never actually pushes questions about your relationship.
He trusts you to communicate, just as you start to trust him once more with your thoughts, feelings, and insecurities. You go from pretending to be alright with Midoriya to actually being alright with Midoriya. And it doesn’t fill you with doubt. It leaves you content, happy to be where you are with him.
It comes to a headway about six months after Midoriya returns home - and you get injured at work.
It’s nothing serious. You sprain your ankle after missing a step going down the stairs at the office. Most of the heroes you could have called were out fighting some big villain on the other side of town, so the agency itself was empty of any heroes or sidekicks. Hence, your friend from finance drives you to the hospital. A couple hours of waiting, and you are admitted and immediately given ice packs, a pillow for leg elevation, and a recommendation from the doctor to get an x-ray scan to ensure no broken bones.
You decide to give Kirishimia a call after your x-ray, reassured by the doctor that the turnaround time for the results would take a little over an hour.
You almost regret trying to give him a call, considering what he was doing at the moment, but are surprised to hear him pick up the phone on the last ring. He calls your name, confused. “What’s going on? Is everything okay? I’m still caught up in the fight. More support has arrived so I think it’s wrapping up soon. Luckily we’ve been able to contain the damage but the first aid station is packed right now.”
“Eijiro, I just wanted to let you know that I’m at the hospital. But I’m okay.”
“What? The hospital? What happened? Is everything okay?” Kirishimia calls. “Do you need me to head over there?” A pause. “The police just arrived so I really do thing the fight will be over soon. Not every hero has to be present for the paperwork. I can come over right away.”
“No, don’t,” you say. “I’m fine, it’s just a sprain. I already did the x-ray scan and am waiting to make sure nothing is broken.” You smile. “It’s alright, Eijiro. Focus on what’s more important - protecting the people.”
Kirishima makes a tiny noise of protest, but seems to find some validity to your point. He is needed much more where he is. “Okay, fine. But call me when you hear the results.”
You nod. “I will, thank you.”
He hangs up, leaving you in the silence of the emergency room ward in a bed surrounded by a curtain. The waiting is long, leaving you with only your phone to occupy you. You watch some of the tailend of the big villain fight. Luckily, the damage was limited to just one of the skyscrapers due to all the heroes that rushed onto the scene. You catch sight of some familiar faces, of this echo of green lightning and immediately jump to thoughts about Midoriya. How was he doing? You hope he’s doing alright. He’s supposed to come over tonight, so perhaps you can ask him how he’s doing then. That is, if you’re able to be released from the hospital in time.
You’re about to take a quick nap before you hear the doors to the emergency room fly open. At first, you assume it’s a patient since you are, after all, in the emergency wing. But then someone is exclaiming, “Mr. Deku, please calm down! If you just tell me who you’re looking for, I can tell you where they are. Please don’t disturb the other patients!”
Deku’s name feels like a bolt of electricity running through you as you push yourself up to your forearms, trying hard not to apply pressure to your ankle as your eyes train themselves on the edge of the drawn privacy curtain.
Suddenly, Midoriya appears, wide and imploring eyes that immediately zero in on you with laser sharp focus.
“Midoriya!” you exclaim. “What-?”
“Are you okay?” he asks, quickly walking over to stand next to you. Without warning, he takes your face in his hands. Eyes search your face, likely searching for any signs of anything physically or emotionally out of the ordinary. “What happened? Where did this happen? Who took you here? Did you drive here yourself?”
“Midoriya,” you say carefully, firmly, watching the way he closes his mouth to let him speak. “I’m okay. I just hurt my ankle at the agency. H-How did you know I was here?”
He sighs, releasing his hold on your face. But he moves down to your hand. “Kirishima told me. And… it’s like with anything I do. My body moved on its own and suddenly I was running here.”
You frown up at him. “But weren’t you in the middle of a villain fight? You just left?”
His thumb is rubbing your hand. He shrugs. “We had a lot of help. The damage was at a minimum and things were wrapping up anyways.”
You look down, still lost. “But you love finishing up cases. You love reassuring people and always needing to make sure that other people are okay.”
His movement ceases, a time of silence he takes to kneel next to your bed. “Hey, look at me,” he says softly. You, helpless, look at him. “I know I was really bad at expressing this back when we were together. But I need you to know that you’re part of those people too. Not just that, but you’re the person I want to reassure the most and the person I need to make sure is the most okay. I’m sorry if you were thrown off by my arrival.”
“No, not at all,” you reassure quickly, tightening your hold on his hand. “I was surprised, but in a good way.”
He brightens at that, straightening up and kissing your forehead. “Okay. And I’m glad to see that you’re okay. Are they going to release you soon?”
You nod. “I think so. I got an x-ray, so a doctor will be giving me the report soon. They just want to make sure that nothing is broken.”
Midoriya brings your hand to his chest. “Can I wait here with you?”
You give him a private smile. “I’d like that.”
So Midoriya sits on the bed with you. Neither of you talk about his confession or what it means for the both of you. You just sit and joke around like no time has passed. He’ll occasionally fuss over your ankle, but it doesn’t last long. The doctor comes around and confirms no broken bones. He follows it up with strict orders to rest for the next four to six weeks before allowing you to leave.
The doctor comments about how nice it is for your boyfriend to take time off from heroing to see you off. You smile, hold Midoriya’s hand, and try to sort through the butterflies in your stomach.
.
Four to six weeks later, you take the subway to Midoriya’s neighborhood. His house is a place you’ve been to once, solely for work purposes so you still have the address on your phone. To be honest, you’re not even sure if Midoriya is home in the middle of the day. It’s Sunday, his new day off (or so he’s told you), so you imagine that he’s likely home resting. You hope so anyways.
Well, only one way to find out. You knock on the door with one hand, using the other to balance the tray of breads and desserts you’ve just picked up from that expensive bakery in the city. If he isn’t home, you might just have to leave it on the front steps…
The door swings open, revealing Midoriya in his casual attire of jeans and a shirt that says SUNDAY on the front.
You make it a point not to stare at the shirt in favor of looking at Midoriya’s frantic look. “Hi,” you greet cheerfully, holding up the box of pastries. “I wanted to bring you something.”
“Baby, what are you doing?” he asks, dragging you in by the waist. “You just got out of the hospital, you shouldn’t be walking right now!” He’s pouting cutely. He’s been more generous with his touches and nicknames since your return to the hospital, and it’s put you on a hopeful high where maybe… perhaps… he’s down to go out and give this another shot.
“I’m fine, Izuku,” you say mindlessly, not trying to fight your way out of his hold. You just hold up that box of pastries. “I was on strict house arrest orders from my boss and got daily visits from a certain someone so not only am I very well-rested, I am antsy. I’m not allowed back at work so it’s only right that I get a little bit of exercise. And I know how much you love this bakery and… are you okay?”
You stop because Midoriya is looking at you with that soft smile on his face - the same kind of smile he’d wear before telling you something important.
“No, it’s nothing,” Midoriya brushes off. He just takes the box from you and rests it on the table near his door. “You just called me Izuku.”
A little bit of your cheerful disposition from before vaporizes. “Oh. Um, yes… I did.” You gaze up at him. You were speaking a little too freely. Even though you and Midoriya are in a really good spot, there are still some things that haven’t been firmly established yet. Like, for example, what the specific label of your relationship was. “Is that too much? It sort of just slipped out, I’m sorry…”
“No, don’t apologize,” he says hastily, wrapping his arms back around you. “I guess with what happened between us and your trip to the hospital… things have just been feeling different.”
“They have!” you say, a little relieved. So his question wasn’t for disappointment, it was just curiosity. Again, you’ve underestimated his kindness and his love for you. But you refuse to back down again. “I… actually came here for another reason.”
His gaze is still trained on you.
You keep your head up. “I’m here to ask you out.”
Midoriya tilts his head, not fully understanding. “You wanna get lunch?”
“No, no, I meant… like, I want to go out with you. Date you. Try being your girlfriend again.”
His eyes widen, bringing you closer to him. “Are you serious? You… you want to try dating? You… believe in me now?”
His words from Todoroki’s party flash in your mind: I just want to be with you.
You nod. “I really believe in the things you’ve been doing to balance your life out more. I know you’re doing those things for yourself, and seeing you make the choice to take a day off or seeing me at the hospital made me happy. It makes me want to try being with you again, knowing that we’ve grown enough to put in our best effort.”
Midoriya smiles at that, big and bright as he cups your cheeks. “I promise you that I’ll never make you regret this.” And you, filled with so much love and hope for this, kiss him. He kisses you back, firm, simultaneously scooping you up in his arms.
You gasp out against his mouth, that shock turning into a fit of giggle. “Izuku, what are you doing?”
“I’m protecting your ankle!” he points out playfully. “Want to come down?”
You pretend to contemplate. He’s lifting you up so easily. “Hmm, actually no. Maybe I’ll just stay here and let you lead the way.”
He leans up towards you, signaling what he wants next. You indulge him easily, leaning down halfway to press your forehead against his. He closes his eyes, breathes you in. “I definitely intend to,” he says.
#mha x reader#bnha x reader#midoriya x reader#izuku x reader#mha writing#bnha writing#mha smut#bnha smut#mha fluff#bnha fluff#midoriya imagine#midoriya fluff#midoriya smut#midoriya izuku fluff#midoriya izuku smut#traci writes for mha
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Your new C.O, konig, claims you
18+
M4m
My first konig story!!! Wanted to take a bit of a break from ghost, might not post as much either since not as many people have seen my newer stuff, whatever, I do still enjoy this so I’ll keep making them.
Also, this will have some German in it, it will be google translate so please don’t come at me, I am American, I only speak freedom, and a bit of Italian, nevertheless, please don’t judge if the German isn’t perfect lol, blame google.
It contains a bit of degradation, so I get if that’s not your thing. Enjoy!!!
You recently got transferred to a new unit as a medic, you didn’t really want this but whatever, you’re here now, might as well meet some new people. As you walk around meeting your new squadmates, you realize something odd, they don’t all speak English, they didn’t tell you you’d be part of an international unit. You hear some French, English of course, even some Spanish, but then, you hear one really deep voice, a German voice. You turn and see the biggest man you’ve ever seen, standing at a whopping 6’10” a full foot taller than you
Konig-“Bist du der Neue? Großartig, noch ein kleiner”
You don’t understand a word he says, he walks over and awaits an answer, you say-
Reader-“uh, sorry, I don’t speak German, only-only English”
You say nervously, hoping you didn’t offend him. He sighs and roughly translates it into English, with a very thick German accent
Konig-“I said, are you the new guy? Great, another small one”
He says annoyed.
Reader-“i-yeah, I am new, and I think everyone is small compared to you”
You say cautiously, it’s true but he might not like hearing it. To your delight, he laughs and puts a hand on your shoulder, his hand is extremely large, and very strong.
Konig-“you’re funny American, I like you, come with me”
He grabs your hand and drags you away
Reader-“w-where are we going?”
Konig chuckles deeply, keeping a strong grip on your hand. Even though the situation isn’t exactly preferable, your heart pounds in anticipation for what he’s gonna do. As he drags you by your hand, you start to get a better look at him, his arms, thick and veiny, with some huge muscles, every time he looks back at you, you notice his piercing eyes. You also notice…. He’s wearing a t-shirt on his head? Odd, but he’s still extremely hot so whatever. After a few more minutes of walking, you two arrive at an office, presumably his. He takes a seat behind the desk in the middle of the room and stares at you before speaking.
Konig-“so, you’re the new Sanitäter, right? You are very small, like I said before”
You roll your eyes, feeling you’re gonna be teased about your size by him often
Reader-“yeah, I assume you said medic, so yeah, I am”
Konig nods and runs his eyes up and down your body, admiring your physique.
Konig-“are you good?”
Reader-“what? Of course I am, I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Although I am a bit surprised this is an international unit, I wasn’t told about that”
Konig chuckles
Konig-“you never know. They send anyone these days, especially considering how, how you say, petite you are”
He chuckles again as you start to get really annoyed
Reader-“look, is this gonna be a constant thing? I really don’t need it, so can you shut the fuck up”
Konig-“oh, a feisty maus, I like that”
He stands and walk back over to you, towering over you yet again, looking down on you.
Konig-“I get whatever I want here, and as of right now, I want… Du”
He smiles under his mask and leans down to your level
Reader-“what-what does that mean?”
You ask nervously, your face bright red. You know exactly what he means but you don’t wanna say it
Konig-“I think you know little maus. I want you to be mine, my… Spielzeug, toy, if you will”
He pulls up the bottom of his mask to reveal his perfect lips and intoxicating smile before licking his lips
Konig-“how does that sound little maus?”
He ask, smirk still plastered onto his face. You think for a second, you’ve always liked the idea of being someone’s toy, being used, but you also just met him, but it’s also not like you’re gonna be able to leave for the foreseeable future, so, you answer him.
Reader-“I-yeah, ok”
You stammer out, face still flushed, erection growing in your uniform pants. He smiles
Konig-“good”
He leans in and kisses you deeply, running his tongue all over your lips before forcing it into your mouth, making your mind go all hazy as you lose all the worry you had before. He slides his hand down between your legs and cups your bulge, squeezing it a bit
Konig-“did my little maus like that kiss that much? Good to know, but you don’t get to touch yourself, not till I have my fun. Come”
He grabs you again and leads you to his desk, he sits in the chair again and points under his desk, signaling you to get under. You look back and forth a couple times before going on your knees and getting under the desk. He puts his hand on your cheek and rubs it with his thumb.
Konig-“i always wanted my own little twink”
He laughs before pulling his hand away from you and pulling down his pants, showing you his huge cock, it just sits there and throbs, almost bigger than your head, his balls so full of assumably thick and delicious cum.
Reader-“I-wow, that thing is-is really big”
You say as you take it in your hand and stroke it a bit, getting it get hard in your hand, almost being able to feel the blood cells rush into it, that’s how big it is.
Konig-“you like it? My fat fucking Schwanz? It’s all yours from now on, my little maus”
He laughs then grabs the base of his cock and slaps it on your face a few times, making your cheek redden and almost bruise, it’s so heavy, almost as heavy as the rifle you carry on missions, how does he carry or around all day. And the smell, ohhh the smell, it’s so sweaty, so pungent, so…manly. You bury your nose in his balls and breath in only his scent. He rubs your hair as you smell and even lick his balls a bit
Konig-“you like my scent? Want it to mark you?”
He smirks and rubs his balls on your face, making you smell only him before prodding your lips with his huge cock head.
Konig-“suck it”
He says commandingly. You take it into your mouth, feeling his tip alone filling a lot of your mouth, already making your jaw sore, but you start bobbing up and down, slobbering and gagging in it. Soon, you hear the door open, you start to panic and try and pull away but konig holds the back of your head in place, he strokes your cheek to calm you down and you keep sucking, while trying to stay quiet. You hear a British voice
???-“konig, you see that new recruit around? I wanted to talk to him”
Konig grunts softly and looks up to the man talking
Konig-“ah ghost. No, I haven’t seen him for a few minutes, he’s probably looking for his room or introducing himself, either way, I’m sure he’s very busy.”
He says smugly as you continue to bob up and down on his shaft under the desk, slobbering on it and gagging as quiet as you can, you even squeeze his balls a bit in hopes of making him cum faster. He then grabs the back of your head and shoves you the whole way down on his cock, sheathing it deep in your throat, your nose buried in his thick pubes, you make a loud gagging sound
Ghost-“did you hear that? Sounded odd”
The British man says, starting to get a bit suspicious
Konig-“no, I heard nothing”
Ghost-“hm, whatever, see you later”
He turns and walks out, closing the door behind him. When he does this konig finally lets you off his cock, causing you to cough and gag a few more times as you get your breath back.
Reader-“what the hell! I almost fucking choked to death”
You say with a very scratchy voice from his cock being buried deep in your mouth. Konig laughs
Konig-“I know you liked it”
He says as he strokes his cock, still covered in a thick layer of your spit. He grabs you head again and pulls you close, his cock positioned just above your face
Konig-“oh fuck, maus, I’m going to cum. I’m going to paint your Hübsch face”
He grunts and moans as he starts to spray thick ropes of cum onto your spit covered face, every rope feels so heavy, so warm. It feels so damn good, and some even gets into your mouth, and you were right, it tastes amazing
Konig-“you look so pretty covered in my cum”
He says with a chuckle as he wipes some off your chin and puts it in your mouth to swallow.
Konig-“now, go find your room, and don’t clean your face till you get there, just so you remember you’re mine”
You stand up, one of your eyes almost glued shut from his cum
Reader-“y-yes sir”
You walk out of the room, your face covered in his cum, you love it so damn much. This is a great start to your time in this unit.
#18+ only#smut#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#m4m#gay#konig cod#konig x reader#konig mw2#konig smut#konig x male reader
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ohhh also TTN!Hobie request if you’re up for it: R runs into him as Spider-Punk for the first time and decides to shamelessly flirt with him. Up to you if Hobie knows that R knows or not.
(i kinda took it as a hobie doesn’t really hide it from R but doesn’t say it either situation, but I might have misread it lol)
AHHH I LOVE THIS PROMPT SM! 😘 thank you, bestie!! ❤️
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the Reader ( Hobie is mentioned taller than her though), CW canon typical violence, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader, Fluff.
TTN oneshots Masterlist
Set before this fic, but could be read as a standalone.
ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ
The toddler squirms in Hobie's hold, crying and soaking his leather vest. Swinging quickly yet carefully, Spider-Man makes his way back towards the child's mother whilst avoiding the fire blasting from the apartment building. Flames lick at his back, soot covering his suit, turning it slightly grey. He can already imagine the look on your face once you see his vest looking like someone tried to cook it.
Landing gracefully on the sidewalk, the boy's mother weaves through the panicked crowd trying to get to her son. Hobie quickly hands the child in her arms and they reunite. The boy clings to his mother with a tight grip, still wailing from the fear shaking his tiny body.
"Thank you!" She says through tears in her eyes.
"Be good, little man" Hobie nods, sighing in relief, web aimed towards a skyscraper to swing to another incident he heard through one of the police car's radios.
Swinging into action, his eyes darted downwards towards the street. The crowd parts for a man running at full speed, dressed in a dark hoodie, clutching a handbag that's clearly not his. Hobie knits his brows when the robber pushes someone hard on the ground. Thankfully another person helped them up, seeing them unscathed, Hobie continued the chase.
Diving down, Hobie extends his long legs aiming directly towards the man's back. He lands face first on the pavement, knocked out and unconscious. Hobie hops off the criminal's back, picking up the fallen bag to give it back to the owner that's surely not far behind.
"Thank fuck!" A familiar voice heaves behind him. "Hell, give me a minute" trying to catch your breath, hands on your knees for a respite.
Hobie whirls around, the eyes of his mask as wide as dinner plates, now realizing why the handbag was so familiar. His tongue already forming your name, he stops himself from uttering it by biting his tongue.
You stand up straight, grin widening as you see your roomate saving the day once again. Albeit literally this time instead of finding your coat for you or fixing you breakfast before you wake.
Hobie doesn't know that you've figured out he's Spider-Man, you intend to keep it that way until he decides to tell you.
"Hi" you say breathlessly, eyes already roaming for injuries, only finding his suit covered in ash and in need of a repair, especially his vest. You ignore your ruined handiwork for now.
Hand reaching out for Hobie, you stop yourself from hugging him with the excuse of taking your bag back. You are in public after all.
"Thank you, Spider-Man" winking, you don't miss the opportunity to tease him and make the Spider-Man flustered.
Hobie rolls his eyes under the mask, but you know the movement all too well with how he slightly tilted his head. Coming to a stop in front of him, so close that the tips of your heels kiss his steel toed boots. His chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline. The spikes on his head glimmer in the sun as he moves his head to peek back at the robber, just in case he already woke up. But you know the truth, he has no idea how to act, hiding it from you and the crowd. He can't reciprocate without compromising your relationship and risk letting his secret out before he could tell you. So he has no choice but to take it. You absolutely know this but of course you won't go too far.
You tilt your head as cute as you can, eyelashes batting at him, lips curling into a mischievous smile. Hobie's hand twitches briefly and instinctively trying to reach for yours. The crowd looks on, thinking another fan is trying to flirt with their resident friendly neighborhood spidey.
Slowly and painfully reaching towards his hand, you slide it down at the last minute, pinky only grazing his glove, but enough to make electricity appear on his skin. You take your bag back, the handle still being held by Hobie, in some sort of pseudo hand holding, you both hold onto it, still looking at him teasingly. You can only imagine his face underneath, oh you'll give anything just to see it right now.
"How can I ever thank you?" You say sweetly, the same voice you use when you two are alone at home.
If the circumstances were different he would've said 'I can think of a way' instead, he grunts in reply, making you snort in return. Hobie refrains from talking, if he talks you'll identify his voice in a heartbeat even if he tries to mask it by making it a pitch higher, he's sure you'll know it's him.
Standing on your tiptoes, you stabilize yourself with your hand over his chest, you can feel his heartbeat slowing down underneath. You smile, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek.
"There, a proper thank you" your breath fans his clothed cheek. A way for you to show him you support him being Spider-Man. Hobie would feel a twinge of jealousy if it was another bloke's cheek on your lips right now but him and Spider-Man are one and the same. He stops himself from leaning into your lips.
Hobie's stomach is in knots, his gut telling him you know about his secret. He lets go of your purse, palm cupping your elbow in an attempt to give you his own affection, albeit a small action compared to the usual.
Pulling away, you smile fondly at him, a secret shared between you. Hobie decides there and then to reveal to you his other identity when he gets home. You deserve to know, he loves you too much to keep that part of his life hidden from you.
Hobie watches you walk away, reminiscent of you in the airport just before you moved away. You chose not to look back that time, because if you did, you would've stayed.
This time, you look over your shoulder, waving with a smile. Not a goodbye like last time. A promise you'd see him at home.
#request done#hobie brown x reader#spider punk x reader#hobie brown#the kr8tor's creations#spider punk#x reader#atsv fanfiction#spider man across the spider verse#atsv fanfic#atsv x reader#atsv fluff#atsv hobie#hobie brown x fem!reader#hobie brown x you#spider punk x fem!reader#spider punk x you#hobie x reader#cw violence#hobie fluff#fluff#ttn one shot#ttn! hobie and reader#fanfic
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