#& I do kinda. I’ve been in the mood to make a cocktail or something

[juniperhillpatient]

they don’t tell you this but state liquor laws can also be a form of homophobia

[audible--silence]

Heard abroad…

Whatever the question, the market is the answer

“Too many white people not enough markets”

“I mean i still didn’t understand any of it but i understood it was nice”

Pedophile and a dead aunt. You love to see it!

I exist to do the dumb thing and subsequently encourage everyone else to also do the dumb thing

“At least it isn’t Kevin”

“Home is the place where you keep ending up and you don’t really know why”

“Home is where you keep going back to your abuser”

Death is good business but without the repeat customers

As long as you have enough to buy linch on your first day, you have enough to figure it out

“Fucking cyrus man…” on cocktails and cacao ceremonies

It feels like im looking at the relic of a golden age that doesn’t know its past its best before date

Lots of people breeds competition in both capitalism and creativity. Capitalism also breeds racism.

Nobody gives one fuck about you here which is both amazing and kinda isolating

Its like if every city ive ever been to merged into one and did a bunch of drugs

I have fewer ideas but i have a lot of resolution so when i want one to work i just throw everything at it till it does

luck favors those who need it/rely on it in good faith

I was busy being sad and shit so I wasn’t in the mood for a heart attack

How lucky we are, to know that as long as we have charge on our phone or an internet connection, we’ll never go without

Going nowhere the long way

“Fuck you”

“What?”

“I was talking to the aircon”

Calories dont work on Mondays

Chicken is made by man, duck is made by god

Thats why i pay the rent

The only case there is is a quesadilla

It’s strangely captivating.

A city of nine million perfect strangers and nine million deranged fucking maniacs.

Everyone fits in. Because theres no such thing as “too different” out here.

Milk that mfer for every lil drop of lactation in it’s scary asymmetrical titty

Everybody be skipping to the calm down phase of life without ever experiencing the youthful fuckaround stage

The lifeline on my hand seems to doing fine.

The other two, I cant quite remember what they’re supposed to mean. Something about happiness or love.

They’re looking a little worse for wear lately.

“Look Ill extend him an olive branch but only so i can whack him over the head with it”

“After all, the universe continues to surprise, bewilder, and enchant, irrespective of our inquiries. As the tale concludes, may it inspire a subtle nod toward the dance of untamed contemplations—a dance best performed with an enigmatic grin.”

Thinking is for Jerry's (2023) - Professor Longwang

I feel glad to have an end date but miserable to end it

Scared of old reality but excited to confirm or deny it

Confused about my choices here and whether my feelings were made from genuine feelings

“How was the quality of your call?” Asks the messenger app.

To which I cannot reply.

Because to reply honestly would not do justice to the quality of the app, and instead be a comment on my experience of it.

The feeling in my gut when she said she met someone.

The thoughts back to all the times where I wanted to tell you i was yours.

All at once.

With a vengeance

Stabbing in the chest

What am i doing here

Accidentally drunk off a Manhattan i didnt want and a quarter pint of Guinness

In New York

In the rain

Trying desperately to find a job

In a field im hardly good at

It seems to me that it boils down.

When you look at the root of it all

What do you want

What do i want

How you utilize the two to make a life that brings you joy

Kill me, im french

Traveling is honestly comparable to hard drugs at this point: intense, euphoric, lands you in sketchy circumstances and often leads to living in very questionable scenarios. It also has a tendency to leave you broke as fuck and wondering where the last six months went

It do be a lil comedic,

A city of 12 million mother fuckers buzzing around packed in like a hive, and I’ve hardly made a friend.

[be-gay-do-heists]

hardison/parker || masc day for parker, potentially while on date with hardison

i think it ended up a little more the dysphoria route with this one but i hope this at least touches on what u were looking for!! had a spark of an idea and had to write it :V

---

If it was just the dress, maybe Parker could stand it.

Hardison had won choosing date night this time around, and he had suggested a new restaurant that recently opened up on the other side of town. A nicer restaurant. Which meant fancier clothes and Hardison had said the dress code recommended dresses so. The dress. It had been fine, leaving the brewpub in it to go meet Hardison at the restaurant. It was comfy enough, the fabric had a nice texture, and it was the same kind of green that you could see if you looked sideways at a professionally cut emerald, which was one of their favorite colors.

It was only upon arriving at the restaurant that they realized they really, really, really did not want to be wearing it.

And if it was just the dress, maybe it would be fine. But they were out in public, and Parker had come to understand over the years that if people in public thought they had your gender clocked, you had to act, walk, and talk a certain way if you didn’t want weird stares, unwelcome attention. A performance that they didn’t particularly have the energy for if there wasn’t a con and the promise of a payout at the end of it. The first “miss” they got from the hostess made them twitch, but they made sure to keep their mask up as they saw Hardison, already at the table, who smiled sunnily as they approached and stood to help with their chair. He was wearing his purple suit, the deep plum colored one that reminded them of a bottle full of red wine.

“Wow. You look amazing, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that dress for so long,” he said as they both sat down. “It’s not one of Sophie’s?” There was a trace of playfulness in his voice.

“No, it’s mine, I didn’t steal it,” Parker replied, latching onto his good mood for stability. They fidgeted, hyperaware of their bare shoulders and the cut of the dress around their torso. “Well, not from her anyways.”

Hardison snorted in that fond way of his. “Hey, it’s not stealing if it looks that good on you. That’s just proper re-appropriation. Anyways, you’re gonna love this place, the whole idea is normal fancy food, boring boring et cetera, but! They change the colors around so it messes with your senses and makes you experience it differently, you get me? I’m talking like green steaks, purple mashed potatoes. Cool, right?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Parker agreed absently, discreetly hunching a little and hoping Hardison wouldn’t notice. They fiddled with the utensils on the table, which had little chameleons etched on them. That was fun. This was supposed to be fun, they reminded themselves.

“Hey, you ok?” Hardison asked, brows furrowed.

A waiter came up before he could say more. “Welcome, folks, pleasure to have you with us this evening. Can I start you with drinks?” After Hardison, concern still showing in his face ordered a fruity-sounding cocktail, the waiter turned to Parker. “And for the lady?”

They couldn’t help their flinch, knowing that Hardison saw it, and pulled out their most flawless grifting voice to respond. They deflated a little again once the waiter left.

“Shit. I shouldn’t have said dress. I should have specified that you could have worn anything you wanted, who even cares about restaurant dress codes,” the hacker said, rubbing his hands over his face. Parker had to give it to him, sometimes his brain worked faster than his computers, and he was always twice as perceptive. “Is it a they night? A he night?”

Parker shrugged a little apologetically. “I’m not sure. It’s just really, really not a she night.”

“I’m really sorry Parker, I should have checked in before we came,” Hardison sighed, and having him in the loop did actually make Parker feel a little better. “Do you wanna get out of here? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable for any longer than you have to.”

Parker immediately felt bad again. “No, you won date night, you were so excited about this place.”

“Man, don’t even sweat it,” Hardison reassured them, waving a hand. “We can come back some other time when we’re actually feeling it. Or if it’s never the date vibes, I can ask Sophie if she wants to try it sometime. You know she gets a kick out of dressing up and I’m sure she would call this place ‘an exercise in creative expression and reaction’ or something.” He smiled at Parker’s bark of laughter following his terrible impression of Sophie, which made a couple other patrons startle in their seats.

“I don’t really want to be in this dress anymore,” Parker admitted. “Maybe we could go back to the brewpub and do something there?”

“Hey, if I ever refuse a quiet night in, know that I’ve been replaced with a clone or maybe a mind-eating fungus,” Hardison beamed at them, and flagged down the waiter to pay for their drinks with a tip that made the man’s jaw drop, letting Parker lead the way out.

On the ride home, Hardison gave Parker his suit jacket, pretending he was too hot even though it was damp and cold out. It was far too big for the thief and they thought it was kind of ridiculous how it came down to almost their knees, but the broad shoulders on it made them feel good. And the wine color purple was fantastic, even though they thought it looked far better on Hardison. They said as much, and took a silent satisfaction in the way Hardison ducked his chin to hide his face.

Entering back into the safety of the brewpub and the upstairs apartment took a weight off Parker, and they sighed, kicking off their shoes and slipping off Hardison’s jacket to cast onto the back of the couch. Hardison picked up to carefully keep it from creasing with a “heaven help me” kind of look. “You got everything you wanna wear here? Need anything of mine?”

“Mostly, but…” Parker thought aloud. “Could I borrow one of your shirts? The soft ones?”

Hardison nodded fondly. “Sure thing, lemme grab one.” While he was in the bedroom, Parker stripped off their dress like it was burning them, shaking the feeling of it away once it was off. They spotted their good jeans on the chair by the hallway that Hardison liked to call “Parker’s wardrobe,” where all the clothes they had left while over lived, and rushed to put them on. They were comfy and boxy and had a button-up fly. More buttons felt good.

“Incoming,” Hardison’s voice called, and he entered with his eyes covered, tossing a shirt in their direction. Parker jumped to catch it, and quietly approved of his selection, a wooly flannel type. They wiggled it on, tucking it in slightly, and exhaled in relief on how delightfully big it was, draping off the prominent muscles in their shoulders, leaving enough room on their torso so that the fabric wouldn’t cling to them. They rolled up the sleeves to expose their strong forearms, looked down at their broad hands. Yeah, this was much better, they thought, tying up their hair high.

“I’ve still got those canvases from last time, and the same paints, if you wanna do that. Ooh, I just got some good charcoal too if you’d rather sketch,” Hardison was saying, sifting through his art supplies. Parker bounded over and pressed up against his side. He jumped slightly but turned to look at them. “Feeling better?”

“Lots,” Parker hummed.

The hacker took in their outfit change. “And looking damn handsome too. Real suave, James Dean kinda look.” When Parker wryly grinned and crossed their arms, squaring their shoulders and standing tall, he mimed a swoon (Parker could see the slight, genuine flush that rose to his face). “So what do you wanna do tonight?”

“Dunno, it’s still your date night,” Parker replied, putting a little more husk in their voice and enjoying the way they could see Hardison’s thoughts stutter slightly.

He recovered quickly. “Well, all I want is a nice night in with my fella, whatever we do is gonna be more than alright with me.”

Parker felt another glow of joy at the endearment, and moved to wrap their arms tightly around him, one hand coming up to grip the back of the hacker’s neck. “Thanks Hardison. I really mean it.”

Hardison softened a little against their firm embrace. “Of course, I never want you to be uncomfortable. I love you.”

“I know,” Parker responded, and smiled mischievously into Hardison’s shoulder as he sputtered.

“Oh no you did not—“

[tuffduff]

Unprofessional (Axl Rose x Reader)

Pairing: fluffy modern!Axl Rose x younger!Female reader

Words: 2,139

Summary: You’re Axl’s younger personal assistant and doing his Christmas shopping for him. He appreciates all your hard work and gives you a little extra to buy something nice for yourself...for a good reason.

Taglist: @ubernoxa @the--blackdahlia @reigns420 @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker @rumoured-whispers

Explaining your job title over the years was perhaps the most difficult part of your job, not the work itself. Actually, the work was pretty fun. Spontaneous, never the same duties, and highly rewarding. But it wasn’t for everyone.

“Good morning,” you called out as you entered the large Malibu mansion that you knew every inch of.

“Y/N, sugar, that you? Hey, c’mere; you’re just in time.” You heard Axl’s voice calling you from one of the living rooms, the one with the view and Axl’s favorite grand piano.

He paused playing and smiled at you a little before he stood and silently handed you his credit card. You smiled knowingly and extended your other hand, to which he laughed.

“You already know.”

“Know that you hate Christmas shopping? Yes.”

“And that I very well can’t exactly walk around the mall casually.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” You smiled. Axl smiled back at you and you felt the familiar rush of warmth fill your heart.

“You’re damn good at it.”

Technically, you were what some would call a personal assistant. But, as the world knows, that extends itself to doing more than just boring paperwork and phone calls when you work for a celebrity. Or the most famous rock star in the world.

You had been working for Axl for years. At first, he was very combustible. Terrible mood swings and hard to please—he couldn’t keep an assistant. You never lost your patience though, and he realized he had someone that could trust in you. He told you as much. Now, he treated you like gold. You didn’t call him sir anymore, and he mainly called you sugar. Paid you more than necessary, sent flowers, sent flowers to your family, even bought you a house. In return you did everything for him; you were always by his side, day and night. Sometimes your family and friends didn’t know how you did it; Axl was your life.

Maybe you didn’t mind because you were in love with him.

Despite the age gap, you couldn’t deny the adoration he made you feel. The way he listened to you, how he remembered tiny details, how he never let anyone talk down on you. How he only really opened up to you. Your job wasn’t to fall in love with him, but how could you not? And it made work never really feel like work.

“Do you like the tree this year?” You asked him as you carefully secured his card in your wallet along with his shopping list. For some reason, he looked down.

“I love it, they did a beautiful job. But...” you frowned; Axl rarely ever complained of anything you took care of. He stepped closer to you, only inches from your face as he looked you in the eye. “I kinda miss it. Decorating it myself. You know?”

“Yeah. I can understand that.” You replied softly, before you cleared your throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that was something you would want to do.” Axl nodded a little.

“Do you have a tree at yours?” You swallowed a little.

“No. To be honest, I’m not there enough.” You both knew you stayed more at Axl’s than yours.

“Did you pick the red and gold decorations?” He asked you, turning and glancing at the sweeping tree behind the two of you.

“Yeah. Thought it matched the interior...and you.” You couldn’t help but smile and reach out to sweep his red hair off his shoulder, to which he turned back to you with a smile of his own.

“If it were really up to you though, is that what you would have picked?” You paused at his question, frowning a little.

“...I think the best decorations are the ones that are so old you have to be careful with them, or else they’ll break. Passed down for generations, all vintage and mismatched, you know?” Axl smiled at you and was silent for a long time.

“Me too.” He said before he sat down again. “Well, good luck.” You grinned at him.

“I won’t need it; you won’t even have time to miss me.” You joked, turning on your heel to leave.

“I doubt that.” You nearly stopped at Axl’s words, before he called your name. “Oh, Y/N, I almost forgot.” He pulled out a separate envelope and extended it to you. Your name was on it and he only smiled at you. “See you soon.”

Outside in the privacy of your car, you opened the envelope. There was a note with Axl’s handwriting.

Get yourself something pretty to wear out. It still won’t be as pretty as you.

You blinked at the note several times and focused in on the bottom.

Yours, Axl xxx

Even knowing how much money Axl had and how much he spent, seeing the cash behind the note still made the envelope burn in your fingertips.

Five minutes later, you were still sitting there in your car, uncertain. Axl had given you Christmas presents, of course, but nothing like this. A house, a car, many other material things, but not a note you couldn’t help but create fantasies about.

What did it even mean? Was this just another gift? Or did it mean more, did it mean...

You did your best to stop the thoughts before they started. After all, you accompanied Axl to many events and it never really meant anything. He was just being kind and generous, as always. Besides, he probably didn’t even see you in that light.

You took care of Axl’s list easy, gifts for his inner circle, workers, the few suits he cared about. The hard part now was the array of dresses you had at your disposal before you. Beautiful cocktail dresses, sparkling gowns, silky slips.

Normally, when shopping for dresses for events with Axl, you always made sure to look professional first and foremost. Nothing too low-cut and showy, nothing with thigh slits, nothing too extravagant. But now?

Yes, now. What were you going to do with now?

Coincidentally, your phone buzzed and you saw it was a text from Axl himself.

How’s it goin?

Your list is taken care of! Just trying to pick a dress now :)

You wanted to unsend your text as soon as it was gone. Had he even meant for you to buy a dress? Your heart pounded when you felt another vibration in your hand.

I’d ask for pics, but I like surprises

You nearly dropped your phone. You felt your cheeks blushing. You were helpless to stop yourself from imagining taking suggestive, racy pics for him in these dresses, sending all of them to him.

And you almost did. But your job was important and if you were misreading signs, you didn’t want to lose it all.

Finally, you settled on a gorgeous red velvet mini dress. It had long sleeves to make up for short length, a deep v-cut neckline that somehow still looked sophisticated, and a subtle sash tie around your waist that complimented your figure.

Despite how much you loved it, you couldn’t help but wonder if Axl would like it the whole way back to him.

When you arrived, the sun was setting behind the mansion, now lit in beautiful twinkling Christmas lights. You hurried inside with the various bags of gifts, as well as the dress in a garment bag slung over your shoulder.

“Y/N?” Axl called as you walked into the house. You smiled, but felt yourself turn uncharacteristically shy at the very sight of him.

“I’m back,” you said lamely, frowning a little at yourself. Axl smiled at you and you couldn’t hold his gaze.

“You were wrong, you know.”

“Sorry, what?” You choked out, feeling your heart stop.

“I did miss you.” Your heart pounded.

“Uh,” you laughed nervously, sending him another wobbly smile. “Do you want to see what I bought?” You said, turning your attention to the bags you were setting down.

“I do. Why don’t you go and put it on?” You stopped, swallowing at the sudden dryness in your throat.

“Oh, uh...I mean...” you blinked a few times. “Oh—that reminds me.” You said, quickly opening your purse and pulling out the envelope to extend back to him. “I didn’t spend all the money.”

Axl clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to go and buy another.”

“What?” He chuckled at your face. The room felt hot as he stepped closer to you, and the sound his shoes made against the granite floors suddenly made you focus on his attire. “O-oh, are you going out? I’m not making you late, am I?” Axl raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yes. We are.” You frowned at him and he sighed lightly, flicking the envelope you still had slightly extended out towards him. “Was my note not clear enough?”

Suddenly, you didn’t feel so crazy anymore, but that didn’t mean your heart wasn’t racing.

“I think...for my sake...and the safety of my job,” you smiled a little and Axl chuckled. “I think you need to be very clear with me.” He reached forward and took your free hand in his.

“Y/N, all these years there’s only been one person by my side. Through the ups and downs, not just for the spotlight. You’ve taken good care of me and never left me ever worrying about anything. And I don’t just mean the dry cleaning and appearances. When I realized you...actually just wanted to be around me because you liked the person I am, and not just the money...” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. “And I don’t want you not by my side. I don’t want anyone else. And I never wanted to make you think I was going to use you, but honey, did you really not notice?”

“What, the gifts? The fact that I live in Malibu now? I just thought it was your nature.”

“Yes, I take care of the ones I love. That’s why I make sure you never have to want or need anything. But haven’t you noticed I never have women over? I’m never off to dates, women aren’t hanging off my shoulders anymore, people call me a lonely hermit?” You laughed a little. “It’s because there’s you. There’s a reason you’ve got your own room here; I don’t like it when you go home.”

Axl raised his hand and brushed your hair away from your face, leaving his hand against your cheek.

“I don’t either.” You murmured. “Axl…I’ve cared about you for years. But I couldn’t exactly tell you that. It would be unprofessional, but…”

“You thought about it.” He guessed. “About us.”

“Of course I did. I love doing things for you, but…I mean, of course I would love more.”

“I thought maybe the note would make everything clear.” Axl said, before he took the garment bag from your shoulder and unzipped it halfway. Red velvet met his gaze and he raised his eyes to you, a new suggestive look in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow at you. “...it looks like you got the hint, darlin’.”

“I didn’t want to assume.” You murmured, trying to fight a smile. “Girl like me can’t get her hopes up; it’s Christmas.” He grinned at you.

“That’s when miracles happen. Speaking of Christmas...” Axl said, turning and grabbing a small wrapped box from the top of the piano. “I did a little shopping of my own while you were out.” You put your hands on your hips.

“I thought that’s what I was for, and I thought we opened presents Christmas Day?”

“This one has more sentimental value.” He pressed it into your hands with a small smile. You shook your head at him as you pulled the ribbon and lifted the lid, surprised to see a small glass ornament. It was two penguins hugging wearing Santa hats, with Axl and Y/N engraved.

“Ax…” you murmured, feeling overwhelmed. Axl reached out and pulled you against him, hugging you tight and kissing the side of your head. “I…I love it.”

“Think it’s too late to start some traditions?” He asked you in your ear before gesturing to the tree before following behind you as you picked a prominent branch to put the ornament on display. “Next year, we’ll go and pick out our own tree and put up our own ornaments. But for now, why don’t you finally go and put on that dress so I can see you in it and we can get somethin’ to eat. We’re gonna need energy to wrap all of these.” He said, looking at the bags surrounding you. You smiled excitedly at him.

“You’re gonna love it.”

“Oh, I know I will. I just hope I don’t have to wait until Christmas Day to open it.”

[sunnypogue]

midsummers with hockey rafe (blurb)

requested by an anon who asked if i could write something about ward telling rafe to cover his hickeys at midsummers. obviously, had to make it coho!rafe. 

enjoy!

you didn’t really know what you were getting yourself into when rafe invited you to midsummers.

it was spring semester, the two of you were in your roommates hammock that sagged on your front porch, mapping out your summer plans.

“so you’ll come stay with my family on hilton head for the fourth, right?” you asked, playing with his big, calloused fingers.

rafe made a sound of approval.

“we’ll have to book tickets for you to fly out, huh?” you continued, still fiddling with his hands.

rafe grunted, his baseball cap slipping forward onto his face.

you frowned, bending his index finger back just enough to startle him. “are you listening?”

“yes! fuck, leave my fingers alone, you brat.” he snatched his hand out of your grasp, shifting his hat back to sit properly on his head. “and to answer your question, because I was listening - no, I’ll just drive down.”

your eyes widened. “from huntsville? that’s going to take hours!”

rafe sighed. “no, I’ll be at my dad’s the week before. easier to drive.”

“you’re going home this summer?”

rafe didn’t really “go home” - at least, not the way you did. you looked forward to summers in your savannah home, having wine nights with your mom and barbecuing with your dad, relishing the time at home with your high school friends.

rafe only went home when he had to, his strained relationship with his father and stepmom making things less-than-pleasant when he would return to the outer banks for a couple weeks. he didn’t visit at all last summer, opting to split his time between your parents home and his place in huntsville.

rafe sighed again, deep & heavy. “yeah. I’ve got this...thing.”

you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest. “what thing?”

“it’s...god, it’s some stupid event my family goes to every year. basically a pissing contest to see who’s family is the most successful.” rafe removes his hat, rubbing his hand over his face. “my dad likes to win.”

you offered him a pout, going to rub your hand against his chin, letting your thumb run along the stubble that was coming in. “you have to go?”

rafe nodded. “yeah, I skipped last year only because I promised my dad I would come this year - wheez is 16, so it’s kinda a big year for her.” he gave a weak smile at the mention of his youngest sister. “sarah’s gonna be there too.”

“see! it’ll be worth it then. couple days with your sisters and then you can come hang with me and my fam in hilton head.” you nuzzled into his chest. “a tour of the carolinas.”

“I was actually hoping you would come with me.”

you popped your head up, eyes wide. “me?”

rafe rolled his eyes, “yes you. sarah’s bringing her boyfriend. figure it’s time for you to see where I grew up.”

and that’s how you found yourself flying up to the outer banks for a long weekend, a couple of gown options tucked away in your checked luggage, bikinis stowed in your carryon - you spent the whole flight fidgeting, beyond nervous about what was to come.

you had met ward a couple times - a little intimidating, and relatively unimpressed by anything rafe did. you didn’t mind that rafe didn’t go see him much - it always seemed to put him in this dark, sullen mood, one that could take days to pull him out of.

you were hoping to make it out of the weekend with minimal conflict between the father-son pair.

rafe was waiting at arrivals when you waltzed outside, grinning at the sight of your tan boyfriend leaning against his Jeep. you dropped your bags on the curb, opting to tackle him into a hug instead, giggling when he had to brace himself for impact.

“hi baby - missed you too.” he laughed, hands going to rest on your hips. “need help with those?” he gave a pointed look to your massive suitcases. you just smiled, offering him a quick kiss before flouncing into his passenger seat, letting him handle the heavy lifting.

your first interaction with the family at tannyhill (apparently rafe lived in a place where homes were old enough to have their own estate names) was mild - ward was charming, in his typical slimy way, rose offered you a grimace, before clacking away in her heels to “take a call,” and wheezie had barely let rafe slip into the foyer with your suitcases before she was asking him to buy her alcohol for some party later that night.

when you and rafe made it safely to the confines of his bedroom, he attempted to apologize.

“rafe, you don’t have to apologize.” you laughed, cupping his concerned face with your hands. “families are...well, you know.” you scrunched your eyebrows, trying to search for the right word. “family.”

rafe laughed, grabbing your wrists. “very insightful.”

the next day, rafe had a fitting, which you accompanied him to (your other option was pretending to make nice with rose while laying out at the pool - hard pass), giggling at his clear disdain for the whole situation.

“it’s so fucking stupid, babe.” he groaned for what had to be the tenth time that car ride, pulling into a spot in front of the tailors. “I probably have 50 suits I could wear, but god forbid I don’t match rose’s fucking color scheme.” he snapped his seat belt off, a hint of aggression peeking through.

you nodded, following him out of the car. “hey, if it makes you feel better, she’ll hate me more than you. I didn’t bring anything that matches the Cameron “color scheme.””

rafe turned to give you a look, hand blindly reaching for the door. “no one could hate you. you could wear a sack and people would adore you.”

you pulled a face. “shut up, you have to say that shit.”

“maybe, but it’s -“

“mr. cameron, here for the 2:30 appointment?” a tall, slim man appeared in front of y’all, tape measure around his neck.

rafe tugged on his shirt collar, letting out a small groan. “uh, yeah. that’s me.”

the man gave him a glance, before offering you a glare. “right, well, follow me. back here.”

you settled into a chair at the front of the store, fucking around on your phone. an hour went by before rafe emerged from the back, head peeking around the corner.

“hey babe!” you gingerly removed yourself from the chair, back stiff from your stationary position. “all done?”

rafe nodded, “yeah, I’ve gotta change out of it, but it’s ready to take home.”

you scrambled to your feet. “wait! let me see!”

rafe groaned, quickly looking behind him to see if the tailor was near by, before slowly emerging from around the corner. “it’s pretty fucking terrible.” he groaned.

you, on the other hand, were awestruck - there was your boyfriend, with his stache and overgrown hair, in all of his 6’3”, offseason bulked out glory, wearing a baby blue suit.

it should have been hilarious - but you were fucking salivating over it.

“uh, no it’s not.” you argued, walking up to grab the lapels of his jacket. “how the fuck do you make baby blue look this good?”

rafe grimaced. “babe, it’s awful. don’t lie.”

“oh really?” you smirked, peeking over his shoulder towards the empty dressing room. you started to walk backwards in that direction, tugging his hand as you gave him your best bedroom eyes. “why don’t you come in here and let me show you how much I like it.”

“babe!” rafe hissed, his head whirled to the left, checking to see if the tailor was in the vicinity, before looking back at you with raised eyebrows. “really?”

you nodded, biting your lip. “oh yeah, baby. never told me you were such a pretty boy.”

rafe grumbled, following you into the dressing room. “I’ll fuckin’ show you a pretty boy - c’mere.”

the next day, while waiting to take pictures with the cameron family, ward approached you and rafe at the wet bar, extending cocktails to you both.

you gratefully accepted, sucking down what tasted like a heavy handed greyhound, the vodka sitting in the back of your throat as ward barked instructions at rafe.

“we’re going to do the family first, rafe, and then we can get john and - what the fuck is that?”

you glanced up at the change in ward’s tone, straw slipping out from between your lips as ward tugged rafe’s shirt collar to expose a hickey, the deep purple spreading towards his collarbone.

“dad,” he started, knocking ward’s hand away to readjust his collar. “it’s-“

“rose!” ward yelled, turning away from rafe. “can you please come fix...this!” ward gestured at rafe wildly with his hand, throwing a glare at the two of you.

you were rigid, hand white-knuckling your drink, unsure what exactly to do in this situation.

“relax dad,” sarah huffed, grabbing her clutch as she pushed her way over to where y’all were standing. “c’mon, idiot, I’ve got something that can cover that up.” she rolled her eyes, poking at his neck.

rafe smacked her hand away. “quit.”

sarah ignored her brother, poking it once more before directing her attention to you. “what are you, part vampire?” she giggled, tugging your arm with her as she started up the stairs towards her room. “c’mon rafe,” she called out, voice almost singing. “gotta go cover up the evidence! people can’t know you have sex!”

you burst out laughing as at least three scandalized voices behind you yelled “sarah!”, rafe’s separate groan audible as he followed the two of you.

sarah leaned over as y’all entered her bedroom, voice whispering in your ear, “tux’s don’t hide shit - that’s why I usually go for the chest on john b,” she giggled.

you nodded, as if learning a deep and sacred practice - well, you supposed you kinda were.

“also,” she whispered, ignoring rafe’s call from behind to “stop corrupting his girlfriend,” and continuing, “third stall, men’s bathroom at the country club - doesn’t lock. learn from my mistakes. family bathroom is gonna be your best bet.”

“are you - are you scouting places for me to hook up with your brother tonight?” you hissed.

sarah shrugged, leading you into her room. “well, what else is there to do at midsummers?” she gave a grin, like the cat that got the cream. “john b and I call the golf restrooms.” she pushed your shoulders down, settling you to the bed, before turning her attention to her brother, who was sulking in the doorway.

“rafe! let me fix your hickey, you heathen!”

[ironmandeficiency]

dropped hints never picked up

pairing: wolffe / reader

word count: 2203

summary: wolffe’s been trying to catch your attention for a while now, but you’re more oblivious than he thought you’d be. this is the last time wolffe goes to boost for advice.

req: Wolffe x reader, #15 from the prompt list?

“Hi, I’ve been subtle at hinting that I want your attention all day and you haven’t noticed once and now I’m pissed.”

a/n: i had two ppl request this prompt for wolffe and it made it all the more important to perfect this piece. i changed a couple of words but the meaning is still the same so 🤷🏻‍♀️ no beta, just me on my bullshit

79’s was crowded as always, the music loud and the smell of booze permeating the air. it was comforting when paired with the company of the wolfpack, the battalion you worked under as a medic serving as both pleasant company and a deterrent for unwanted visitors. wolffe had a hand resting on your knee, the commander occasionally giving it a soft squeeze throughout the night.

three nights prior, wolffe found himself sitting on boost’s bunk, head in his hands. for weeks he’d been grappling with the emotions running rampant through his body like a raging blurrg. they were emotions he never wanted to feel, ones he’d been trying to repress to no avail.

boost, oddly enough, seemed to know exactly why wolffe was waiting on him before the commander had even opened his mouth. wolffe wanted to make a move and boost was going to be the one to help him. he advised wolffe on ways to be subtle but still show more affection than normal, things like extra physical contact and some offhand but sweet compliments to kinda nudge things along.

it made sense to him; you weren’t one for big showy signs of affection and he wasn’t a showy kind of guy. you had a way of knowing what he wanted to say when he wasn’t in the mood to speak, seeming to pick up on his moods with a familiarity he didn’t expect to share with someone outside of his brothers or even general buir. there were times where you both would complete each other’s sentences (it was disgustingly cute in the eyes of the rest of the ‘pack) and the blood would rush to your cheeks, wolffe immediately turning away to hide his own blush.

right now you were sandwiched between wolffe and boost, the former on the outside of the booth claimed upon arrival. drinks were passed around by comet who knew how you enjoyed your fruity cocktails with the twisty straws and umbrellas and did not fail in bringing one your way. you thanked him with a smile as you took a small sip, savoring the taste of your drink as well as wolffe’s hand on your knee.

he’d gotten quite a bit more affectionate lately and seemed to be touch starved, so you didn’t comment on the uptick in contact (you didn’t want him to think you weren’t okay with it because you were plenty okay with it) as you let yourself revel in his warmth.

“wolffe, do you wanna try?” you hold your drink towards him with a soft smile. he’d confided in you several days ago that he had a sweet tooth to rival a small child and comet did bring you one of the sweeter cocktails offered at the bar.

your hands brush lightly as he takes the drink from your outstretched hand. he briefly smells the concoction before taking a sip, and judging by the soft smile on his lips he liked the pineapple mango-rita. “not bad, cyare,” he gingerly hands you back your drink, hands once again making brief contact.

“if you like that one, i think you’d also like the nubian smile. it’s a favorite of mine.”

“i’ll have to try it some time.”

then warthog mentions wolffe’s name in whatever story he’s begun and the moment’s broken.

conversation flowed as freely as the bar’s beer tap. you sipped lightly at your single drink and listened more than you spoke. there were several stories shared that you hadn’t heard before, like how sinker got his name and the time boost tried to prank commander cody, that had you laughing uncontrollably and leaning closer to wolffe’s side. he responded in kind and soon moved his hand from your knee and wrapped it around your shoulder, subconsciously pulling you into him. it was more relaxing than you would like to admit.

wildfire had finished ratting out boost for sneaking bubble wrap into dozens of bedrolls when you went to sip your drink and got surprised when the pineapple wedge bonked you on the nose instead.

your face scrunched at the prickly skin of the fruit and wolffe thought it was the cutest face he’d ever seen. the offending fruit wedge was then plucked from the rim and glared at for a brief moment as if it could feel shame for its actions.

the plan was to eat it as punishment for its crimes but wolffe had other plans, playfully snatching it from you and taking a chunk out for himself. he was smug about it, eyes holding yours captive in a “what’re you gonna do about it?” look while his mouth twisted into a playful grin.

“hey, that was mine!”

“gotta be quicker than that, dear,” he replied as he took another bite before sliding it back onto its previous perch.

everyone else at the booth was about to vomit but it wouldn’t be from the booze.

————

you were glued to wolffe’s side the rest of the night at the bar and on the way back to the barracks. neither of you had enough to drink to completely explain the constant small smiles and excessive contact, but you didn’t care. wolffe was here and might as well have been holding you and you were living for it.

he had asked to walk you to your quarters with a gentle hand in yours, thumb smoothing across your knuckles tenderly. you were so absorbed in the skin to skin contact that you could only nod in consent.

the walk there was filled with small talk and nervous touches, both of you leaning into each other without realizing that’s what you were doing. before you knew it, you were in front of your door. neither of you acknowledged the arrival until wolffe grabbed your hand in both of his, tightening his hold briefly.

“sleep well, cyare. i’ll see you tomorrow.” his voice was soft and rumbly, attesting to the late hour and the evening spent drinking.

“see you in the morning, wolffe, goodnight.”

he lifted your hand still grasped in his toward him, placing a feather-light kiss to your palm. it was the gentlest thing you’ve ever seen him do and the fact it was with you sent warmth through your veins. his eyes were locked onto yours as he placed the kiss, keeping you in place.

you were desperate to give something, to reciprocate the tender way he touched you, but he was already leaving you in front of your now-open door for the night. when did your door open? and since when was wolffe so soft towards you?

————

the goodnight kiss wasn’t acknowledged aloud after that but you both thought about it constantly. you had no idea where it came from yet your entire being seemed to yearn for him to do it again when in his presence.

since then he became more open with his affection, even holding your hand in front of his brothers (that would tease a tiny bit before being shut down with a glare that dared them to question his happiness). you responded in kind, holding his hand right back and always finding a way to him after long nights when you were all sent to one planet or another. it was pure bliss and you weren’t going to question it.

but then, while planetside somewhere in the mid-rim, he seemed to not have anything to do besides trail you in your work.

the morning (very early morning) began like many of them had started to since the night at 79’s, you cradled by wolffe’s arms where he clung to you in your sleep as if to keep you from flying away. a fellow medic seemed timid to wake you once they noticed whose arms were keeping you down, the newer woman repeating flustered apologies for the interruption as if it weren’t your job to be woken up like this.

from that moment on through the rest of day, you didn’t spend more than a minute with wolffe at a time. not for his lack of trying.

he would appear seemingly out of nowhere every couple hours or so while you were bandaging one wound or cleaning another, words precise but tone gentle.

“hey cyare, the locals invited several of us for lunch to celebrate our arrival. wondered if you wanted to come with me.”

“you’ve been on your feet for hours, come have a seat for a minute.”

“sinker was playing a game with some of the kids, you shoulda seen his face when they beat him.”

turning the invitation down hurt more than it should have, but you had too many wounded and too few hands to help you with the workload. there was nothing in you that could justify going to a dinner prepared by the people you were here to serve.

a few hours later, he brought a plate back for you so you didn’t completely miss out on eating something that wasn’t rations. it took some convincing but he was able to sit you down and get you to take a moment for yourself to eat. while you ate, he gravitated around the medtent and offered his services where he could to alleviate the guilt he knew you felt for sitting. it was touching to see him talk to the various patients so gently, the children having not an ounce of worry about the giant, strong soldier.

with more effort than you thought it would take on your end (because part of you simply didn’t want to), the commander was shooed out of the tent so you could continue to work.

a couple hours later wolffe showed up again, telling you about a beautiful view one of the scouts found while on patrol that he wanted to show you. the flowers he described were vibrant in color and scent, decorating the landscape with hues previously unknown to many of his men. he wanted to show it to you, help you relax because you had indeed been on your feet nearly the entire day.

when you turned him down yet again, his eyebrows furrowed together and he looked upset. it was a reaction you were not expecting by any means. the other times you didn’t accept his invitations he simply tucked you under his arm briefly and pressed a kiss to your temple. this change in mood was unsettling.

“wolffe, what’s wrong? talk to me.” it worried you to see him distraught, the reason unknown. approaching him slowly, you rested a hand on his shoulder that he quickly moved away, choosing instead to grip it in his a bit tighter than usual.

he took a deep breath to steady himself before answering you, trying to dispel the anger and hurt to avoid making you feel guilty. it didn’t work as well as he wanted it to because his voice was gruff when he answered. “i just-“ he took another breath to steady himself. “gods, y/n, i’ve been subtly hinting that i want your attention all day and you haven’t noticed once and i’m pissed.”

that’s what he’d been trying to do? it made so much sense now! how did you miss it?

your other hand met his that still held you, smoothing over the skin on the top of his hand in consolation. “wolffe, i’m sorry. i just got so wrapped up in work today that everything else just passed right over my head.” you felt guilty. he was only trying to help you and spend time with you and there you were just turning him down!

“and that’s why i kept trying, cyare. you work so hard and while i admire it, i would much rather you spend time with me than the bacta patches.” the smile returned to his face at your ministrations but his eyebrows didn’t soften.

something was clearly confusing him but questioning him before he had his thoughts in order would do nothing to help. so you stood with him and continued to hold his hands as he thought, hoping that whatever he was thinking about wouldn’t hurt him when fully realized.

“do you… want to spend time with me?”

you were shocked. how did he not realize that every time you didn’t go with him today you lost a little pep in your step? each time he came in, your resolve weakened and if he had pushed just a tiny bit more to get you to come with him, you would have given in. you explain this to him with a soft smile.

“i’m sorry for pushing you away today, wolffe. i’d love to go with you.”

the smile that lit up wolffe’s face could have powered the entire planet of coruscant with its radiance. “i’d love to take you, cyare.” you let the commander guide you out of the medtent and towards the promised landscape, too wrapped up in each other to notice the sergeant and lieutenant watching them.

“about damn time! shit, why did it take so long?!”

“shut up, sinker! they were trying to take it slow, be subtle about it!”

“whose dumbass idea was that?”

a pause. “mine.”

“okay, it wasn’t that dumb.”

“thank you.”

“i’m kidding, it was extremely dumb.”

[sarahzstories]

*A/N this is an interview with Gwen and Harry Styles from my Instagram story that you can read here! This is done as if the interviewer is sitting in their living room asking them questions for a magazine! I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into the Styles marriage!*

Q: Harry what was your first impression of Gwen?

Harry: I thought she was dead at first.

Gwen: That’s so lovely honeybuns. Why don’t you elaborate on that?

Harry: Right well, I was walking down the beach after a few cocktails at this bar I went to a lot in Jamaica and uh...well there was this body just laying in the sand and uhm...I’m not going to lie I did contemplate kicking her when I first approached her.

Gwen: That’s a good first thought process to kick a body you assume is dead.

Harry: Don’t be mean lovey. I’m being honest.

Gwen: Please go on...

Harry: But I didn’t have to kick her or anything because as soon as I kneeled down to like touch her she opened her eyes and gave me this huge smile as if she’d known I was there the whole time and in that very moment I remember going “oh wow”

Gwen: He did in fact say that out loud.

Harry: She was honestly mesmerizing and it had nothing to do with the drinks I’d had before seeing her.

Gwen: I’m sure the booze had nothing to do with it. *pats Harry’s leg*

Harry: So my first impression was “is she dead?” And “wow” does that answer the question?

Gwen: I hope you’re comfortable? This is going to be a while...was that just the first question?

Harry: *rolls eyes*

Q: Did you instantly hit it off?

Gwen: I’d say yes, because after we met on the beach we spent the rest of my time in Jamaica together.

Harry: Yes we hit it off right away. We just sort of had a spark and I just didn’t want to spend time without her if I didn’t have to, honestly I’d never met anyone like her before.

Gwen: He’s still like that.

Harry: It’s true. i don’t like to be away from her if I don’t have to be.

Q: Who made the relationship official and when?

Harry: I did and it was the day my album came out and honestly it wasn’t planned it just sort of happened.

Gwen: He was on FaceTime with me while I finally got to listen to his album and he just kind of blurted out that he loved me.

Harry: Yup. I said “I love you” and she smiled and said it back so naturally I followed that up with “so, can I call you my girlfriend now or is that lame?”

Gwen: And to that of course I told him “sure” ya know super casual.

Harry: That’s us right? The picture of a casual couple.

Gwen: Gucci isn’t casual honeybuns.

Harry: It can be if done properly.

Q: Where do the nicknames honeybuns and love comes from?

Gwen: I mean look at him! He is sweet and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy like a honeybun.

Harry: She’s just always been my lovey? I don’t remember a time where I didn’t call her that.

Gwen: He only calls me other names when he’s upset with me.

Harry: True...but that’s very rare

Q: Gwen did you honestly not know who Harry was when you met him? And was that weird for you Harry?

Gwen: I had heard of him yes, I mean I didn’t live under a rock and I’m from California so the name Harry Styles I’d heard before. But I honestly didn’t know what he looked like before meeting him. I wasn’t a huge One Direction fan and he hadn’t had any solo stuff out yet so I didn’t really see his face anywhere.

Harry: You didn’t like One Direction?

Gwen: Do not start with me. I didn’t say I didn’t like One Direction, I just said I wasn’t a huge fan. There’s a difference. That type of music just wasn’t my thing. But I listen to it now with Vivienne.

Harry: But really it was sort of not weird but refreshing? The fact that this human whom I’ve completely become enamored with has no clue who I am other than what she sees and knows because of things I’ve told her, it was very exciting because it just assured me that she really liked me for the real me and not Harry Styles from One Direction.

Gwen: When I found out that he was this massive superstar it didn’t change anything about him in my eyes. We met in a situation where no one treated him any different than everyone else so it wasn’t until I got back home and told my friends who I had met and what had happened that it all sort of came crashing down that “wow he is like a really big deal huh?”

Harry: I remember being so scared about what was going to happened when she left Jamaica since I still had loads to do with the album and such and I just didn’t want what we had built together to get ruined by like the reality of the real world if that makes sense? I didn’t want her finding out about “Harry Styles” to ruin it all because I really liked her.

Gwen: It makes sense honeybuns. We met in the weirdest of circumstances so that’s a very rational fear to have. But look at us! We’ve come so far!

Harry: So far indeed.

Q: Who is more romantic?

Harry: Gwen.

Gwen: See I was going to say you!

Harry: Me? No way. You leave me those cute little notes in random places that have those little poems on them.

Gwen: Yeah but you send me flowers randomly and will text me in the middle of the day reminding me of random things you love about me.

Harry: So it’s safe to say we are both equally romantic? I will say this though, Gwen knows how to plan a romantic date that would put even the greatest romance movies to shame.

Gwen: I do love a good romantic date.

Q: What’s Harry like in the mornings?

Gwen: Annoyingly cheery.

Harry: Ah love a good morning.

Gwen: Really he is a dream in the morning because me and mornings don’t mix well so he’s quite lovely to have around in the morning. He makes my coffee and sometimes if I’m really in a mood he will put my slippers on my feet for me.

Harry: That happens about four days out of the week lovey...

Gwen: Like I said me and mornings don’t mix well so he’s good to have around.

Harry: *smiles*

Q: Do you think you two have a healthy relationship?

Harry: Uh I mean yes? But I’m not afraid to say I’m a very codependent type human and Gwen is who I have clung to over the past few years but that’s just me being honest.

Gwen: I think we have a healthy relationship. Every couple is different and Harry and I just prefer to be around each other anytime that we can. But that’s what happens when you meet your soulmate.

Harry: I agree lovey. Gwen is literally my human. So if you’ve met your human than you get it? It’s almost painful to be without them. But I don’t think that’s unhealthy? We can go places without each other we just don’t enjoy it as much.

Gwen: I let him go to the grocery store without me. I loathe that place.

Harry: True. She hates it so yes I go there alone once a week and it’s fine.

Q: What’s something a lot of people get wrong about your relationship?

Gwen: That it’s all perfect all the time, like people really think we don’t ever argue and I’m like what? We broke up for like five months at one point. We aren’t perfect.

Harry: Yes people seem to think the two of us are just such a perfect match that we aren’t allowed to disagree or fight. We have disagreements but we are adults so we handle it and move on.

Gwen: He thinks that glitter belongs on everything and I disagree. There is a time and a place for it.

Harry: That time and place is always and on everything. So you see? We are just going to move on now because she knows that’s a hill I am willing to die on.

Gwen: He will defend glitter until his dying breath.

Q: Why did you two break up? Who initiated getting back together?

Harry: I was selfish and assumed Gwen was going to always be okay with having her dreams be on the back burner until I got my career where I wanted it. So naturally she just got tired of it and left, I completely deserved it.

Gwen: I didn’t just leave though. It wasn’t quite that dramatic, we had a long conversation and decided it would be best if I moved out and at that point he had just started all his Gucci campaign stuff so he left for Italy while I moved back into my old place.

Harry: Also I initiated the getting back together process because Gwen knew that I just needed my time to really process what I wanted and that when I was ready I’d find her again.

Gwen: It was all very mutually respectful, I knew what he needed and he also knew that I needed to go and do some things for myself so it wasn’t this big sad emotional thing because I think we both knew we’d end up together it was just a matter of when.

Harry: Oh yeah I knew you’d be mine again I just needed to get my shit together first.

Gwen: Honeybuns! Language...

Harry: Oh right! Sorry...

Q: Was Vivienne planned?

Harry: Yes. Everyone assumes she wasn’t and I think that’s solely because when we announced Gwen was pregnant we weren’t engaged or anything.

Gwen: Harry and I have known we are it for each other since the very beginning so wanting to start a family was a very natural next step for us even though we didn’t have the labels of husband and wife yet.

Harry: Exactly, we’d been together for a while and I kept telling her how our house could use some more heartbeats and not ones that belong to cats.

Gwen: He made it pretty clear he wanted a baby and one night I told him “a baby would be nice” and boom two months later I found out about Vivienne.

Harry: I don’t like to waste time.

Q: How did you two find out about Vivienne?

Gwen: I was tired a lot and that’s very much not my thing.

Harry: She may hate mornings but she isn’t one to lay in bed all day. So we kinda knew something was off.

Gwen: So I went to the doctor and got some blood work done and they came back with a smile on their face and I just knew. I was like “I’m pregnant.” And I cried because I mean I’m carrying a little human! It was very emotional for me.

Harry: So naturally she had to call me to come get her because she wasn’t in any condition to drive and when I got there she was a mess and I could tell by how she was smiling probably the biggest smile I’d ever seen on her face that it was good news and I just started getting all watery eyed myself because being a dad is just... something I’ve wanted for a while.

Gwen: I didn’t get to tell him in some elaborate way, I’m not very big on that type of thing so that whole situation of him having to come get me is very us.

Harry: Yes very us indeed, crying in the middle of a lobby over Vivienne.

Q: What was Harry’s proposal like?

Gwen: Very casual because I was very pregnant and we were laying on the couch and he went to go get my heating pad and I had Lancelot on my hip and Merlin was laying on my feet and when he came back into the living room he laughed and I was “are you laughing at me? Why are you laughing at me?”

Harry: It almost went very bad very quickly because she doesn’t like to be laughed at if she didn’t intentionally do something funny. It hurts her feelings.

Gwen: But anyway he comes in without my heating pad but he has this little box in his hands and then he got down on one knee and leaned over the couch and grabbed my hand and at this point I’m crying and Lancey and Merlin are looking at him like “why are you hurting my mom? I will kill you” because they got very protective of me while I was pregnant.

Harry: I mean it makes sense. You’re their queen...

Gwen: True. But then Harry placed the ring on my middle finger because that’s the only one it would fit at the moment and goes “Please allow me the pleasure of being yours for all eternity? I promise I’ll never stop loving you.” So I said yes and we both cried as usual and it was very sweet.

Harry: Best decision I’ve ever made was asking Gwen to allow me to love her forever.

Q: What was the wedding like?

Harry: It was perfect. It was exactly what we wanted and very small and intimate. Gwen looked like an absolute vision.

Gwen: It was very romantic and not on a beach as everyone assumed it would be. It was very low key and it was just a dream. I loved every moment of it.

Harry: *stares at Gwen with a grin on his face*

Gwen: He’s thinking about it...

Q: How many kids do you want? What do you want next?

Harry: Six

Gwen: He’s been saying six for like a few weeks now but we for sure see ourselves with at least four.

Harry: Why not add two more and make it six? Six is a solid number.

Gwen: I’ll have six if one set is of twins.

Harry: That’s fare lovey, I’d love a set of twins.

Gwen: But as far as what we want next we don’t care. Gender is a social construct that we don’t really abide by.

Harry: We just want healthy children.

Q: Harry have you written any songs about Gwen?

Gwen: Oh yes good question. He doesn’t answer when I ask this and I only truly know of one song.

Harry: Yes I have.

Gwen: What songs?

Harry: That wasn’t the question lovey.

Gwen: *rolls eyes*

Q: How have things changed since you’ve gotten more personal on social media Harry?

Harry: I think people can see a side of me that normally they wouldn’t. I’m still very private with things but Gwen shares a bit more than me and I love that the fans or just anyone who’s interested in our lives can get a little glimpse of what’s really going on. It’s been nice.

Gwen: We are still very private and don’t show certain things, like we didn’t post a picture of Vivienne until we were already safe at home and all that. I love Harry’s fans to death and they for the most part love us as well but I also know not everyone is on our social media out of love for us so I think we have a nice balance of showing the real us while keeping somethings to ourselves.

Harry: I agree. We keep a good balance and it’s been great.

Q: Who is worst at answering texts?

Gwen: Me

Harry: She is the worst.

Gwen: He will text me and I’ll just call him and he’s like “lovey there is a reason I texted instead of calling you..” and he’ll be in a meeting and I’ll feel horrible.

Harry: Happens all the time. She doesn’t like to text.

Q: How do you make your marriage work while Harry’s gone a lot for work?

Harry: We communicate very well. We have routines we do every day while I’m away and it helps tremendously. Also I don’t go away without my girls a lot so we don’t have to do this often.

Gwen: Yes communication is key! We FaceTime about four times a day when he’s gone. But he’s right a lot of the time we go with him. Like if he is filming something or shooting something Vivienne and I will go with but not go to the set until he tells me he’s almost wrapped up for the day then we go over and get to see him do his thing for a bit witch is always fun.

Harry: I just do better when I know my girls are close by. I know that makes me sound so odd but really I’ve said it so many times but I don’t enjoy myself when I don’t have Gwen around and Vivienne well she just lights up my world.

Gwen: Like nobody else?

Harry: Was that a One Direction lyric quote lovey? You do listen!

Gwen: I told you I listen with Vivienne so she can hear her dad in his younger years.

Q: Is there anything you’d like to say to the fans?

Gwen: Thank you for loving my honeybuns and I so much. We adore you all so much and are truly grateful for the opportunities we are given because of how much you love us.

Harry: Yes, thank you so much. I have nothing but an endless amount of love for each and every one of you. Thank you. 

[newobsessionweekly]

Quarantine games🌿

a/n: someone asked for this, I hope I didn’t let you down. I honestly don’t know where that came from. I have a strange mind and even stranger imagination. So, enjoy! 🌿

warning: maybe language and some explicit stuff. word count: 2.305

Arón Piper x reader 🌿

There are so many things going on in the world right now that you can’t even keep the step up with them. First, Italy confronts with this virus-thing and then you heard numbers too big for you to understand. More than nine hundred of deaths in one day in Italy, those news gave you goosebumps. Then you heard the news about Spain having a bad situation as well. You’ve been carefully every time, but this couldn’t keep you inside for more than four days, otherwise you’d go nuts. So when your best friend, Miguel, called and said that he and some friends wanted a gathering to watch together the new season of Élite, you accepted immediately. Inside Jorge’s apartament in Madrid were nine people and a cat, and the place was almost overcrowded. Two episodes and thirteen songs later, the news about a total lockdown and Spain being closed, gathered you in front of the TV. You are not allowed to leave the house , except for emergencies so even if you tried, you couldn’t reached your apartament, is like in the opposite side of Madrid.

“It’s not a big deal, right? We can get over this together.” Jorge told you and it was an subtle invitation to stay over. And you did stayed. The truth is, you were afraid of this situation and you didn’t want to get through this alone. You weren’t the only one thinking like that so you decided to manage this situation together. Danna was supposed to fly back in Mexic to be with her family, but the flight was cancelled. 

 Though you knew this people before, staying so many days together, you got to know them even better, for example how are they in their private space. A few days later, you finished the last season of Élite and all the food in the apartament. Day five of quarantine bring a bore bigger than the Empire State Building. You slept almost all day and ate, ghosting here and there. Danna let you borrow some clothes from her luggage but today you only could find dresses and fancy clothes. 

“Can somebody borrow me a t-shirt or something?” Ester just washed the laundry and now you need to wait them to dry. You weren’t the only one who wasn’t prepared for so many days away from home, you packed, just in case, for three days. Miguel, Omar and Álvaro weren’t prepared as well, but gladely they could count on Jorge and Arón. The latter was supposed to go visit his father’s family in Germany, but his flight was cancelled as well so he got stuck with you.

“I think I still have some clean ones in my baggage. You can look and take anything you like.” Arón responded from the window frame. He smokes too much when he is bored. And drinks. It’s already the third beer and the night just started. But you don’t want to say anything because it’s none of your business. You must addmit he is the one that caught your attention since the day one. You stalked him on Instagram a few days ago, trying to find something about him, maybe some pictures with a girlfriend or anything, but it´s nothing much. He keeps his life privately and that’s a thing you admire most at him. 

Surprisingly, he has an ordonate luggage and you find rapidly a t-shirt. He had many from expensive brands. You loved one shirt from Monclair, and said “why not?”, he said you could take anything you like. You screamed “Gracias, Arón!” and went for a shower.          

----------

After a warm shower, the anxiety started to spread from your body. When you dressed Arón’s t-shirt, a strage feeling attacked you and made you stare at the image in the mirror. You are wearing a shirt that isn’t yours, is a hot boy’s shirt, which fits you strangely perfect. And this smell... the smell of his cologne haunted you these days, but now is closer than ever and you can enjoy it without raising question marks from anyone. However you wished you could smell it from Arón while he is hugging you. “Nonsense, I am getting nuts!” you thought. But this handsome man would help your fantasies only growing day by day. You shooked your head and walked out of the bathroom, just to found everyone sitting round the coffee table.   

“Finally, we thought you died inside and we were just tossing a coin to see who had to rescue you.”  Miguel laughed and made some space for you to sit next to him.

“Good choice, that one is my favourite!” Arón winked at you and took a sip from a cocktail. 

“Ah, lo siento, I didn’t knew! I can change it if you want.” you said quickly, panicked. He smiled at you and waved his hand as in “keep it”.

“So, the rules are simple. Truth or dare. You don’t make any of them, you receive a punishment, alright?” they decided to play this game to animate a little this flat. All day you almost ignored each other and it wasn’t a wise movement. The depression started to fill in and Jorge, because it was his idea to keep all of you there, was feeling responsable for you bad mood. You played Poker three nights in a row, then “Uno” and even “Activity”. You won at Poker and made Arón kinda mad, but unfortunately lost at the other ones. You and Miguel are not a good pair for games. Jorge spinned the empty beer bottle which pointed Álvaro.

“Aye, amigo, truth or dare?” Jorge smiled wickedly.

“Truth.” Álvaro’s response came and everyone mumbled “chicken” at him. He rolled his eyes and waited for a question.

“What scene did you like filming the most?”

“That sex scene in the pool with you and Georgina.” the answer came and the laughs didn’t waited to burst. Then Álvaro had to dare Mina. “Drink that beer from one sip.” And Mina didn’t think twice before she grabbed the bottle.

“Easy with the beers, alright? There are not many left!” Arón attentioned all of you.

“Sure, we ran out of food and you are worried about the beers.” you like very much to provoke him. Arón looked at you menacing. When Mina spinned, Omar picked the truth.

“What is the funniest memory you have from the set?”

“From season 3?” he asked and Mina approved. “Maybe the one when I was supposed to mime a blowjob and he couldn’t stop laughing. I was bouncing my head up and down for a damn take until I’ve literally got dizzy.” he pointed at Arón and laughed while accepted the middle finger. You tought for a minute, that middle finger is like a signature for him, is one of the many specific things for him. 

“You blame me for laughing but you made some funny sucking noises!” Arón defended himself and you laughed even louder. Despite the noises, Omar could hear Miguel when he chose dare and it wasn’t a great idea.

“Mime a sex scene with anyone in this room.” Omar spoken out the final verdict. Miguel picked you up, despite the fact that you refused to do that with him. You wear some kind of short jeans, but they looked more like underwear, so when Miguel made you bend on one of the countertops, you looked like you were naked. He put his hands on your waist and mimed the “in and out” move behind your back.

“Come on, (y/n), you have to moan to make it credible!” Miguel pinched your arm and that made you sceam. “Well, that wasn’t really a moan, but it was better than nothing!” you could hear everyone laughing behind your back. When the torture finally ended, you faced Miguel with anger.

“I hate you for this!” you said, but he just laughed and passed you so he can also spin the bottle. Arón had a strange look on his face. You didn’t know if it was embarrassment or anger or any other feeling, but something bothered him. The bottle stopped in front of Arón and he choses truth. “What are your top three turn-ons?” Miguel looked at you after he spoke and winked. “Puta mierda!” you thought. Now everyone would know something is going on with you. The truth is you have a crush on Arón and Miguel kinda figured it out. The way he smiles, the way he moves, the way he smokes, everything is so perfect at him. Beside the amazing look, he have a good heart too, he’s a funny one and you find yourself some things in common with him.

“Wearing matching lingerie, playing with my hair and maybe the smell of food cooking.” he answered and it heard some of them whistling while and you almost turned red like a tomato. You are a shy one and dirty stuff made you turn red like a tomato every time.

When the bottle pointed you, almost frozed. Someone out there hates you for some reason, you thought. Arón is the last person you would have wanted to ask you. He smiled wickedly at you, licked his lips and made you pick truth or dare. You choose truth, obviously. “Who here would you most like to make out with?” he asked. ¡Joder!, he’s good at it.

“Pure curiosity or you have something in mind?” you challenged him, smiling like a devil.

“Are you gonna answer that or you want to let me find the answer by myself?” he’s not yielding either.

“I’ll wait to see how long would it take you to find out.”

“Fine, dare. Let two people give you a wet willy at the same time.” you crossed the nose.

“¡Joder!, that is gross! No, absolutely not!” you shooked your head.

“Then you need a punishment, (y/n).” someone finally interrupted the stare contest you and Arón unknowingly held. You found out it was Jorge.

“A punishment given by whom?” you hoped from the bottom of your heart not to hear Arón’s name. Not this time.

“Arón. And you are not allowed to reject this one.” ¡Joder!, it was like the game was against you.

“Siete minutos en el cielo con mi.” the others watched you and Arón as you were a fascinating movie, no one came between you. You had to take some time to understand what he said. Seven minutes in heaven. Seriously? You are not sixteen anymore and you are not trying to have your first kiss. You rolled your eyes. You were convinced that he doesn’t stand you a bit, and now he’s asking you to lockup with him seven minutes to what? Maybe he wanted to tell you to go home. You haven’t really talked to him much and you didn’t know him, but you can say, watching him from distance, he is a great man. And that “bad ass” face and attitude he always shows up, it’s just a mask. You thought he is the sweetest person inside there, because he let you somehow see a little of that side. But you had so many question marks. For something you were sure, you had his attention like he got yours. You couldn’t get him off of your head and that drives you crazy.

“Fine, seven minutes in hell. Ah, perdona me, I wanted to say heaven.” you played pretend because you didn’t had any clue what the hell he have in that beautiful head and just at the thought about staying seven minutes only with him, in a small place, made your stomach hurt in a way it never did before. You followed him into the bathroom and then he locked the door behind you. You wasn’t expecting the bathroom to be this small, but him with his big worked out body, occupies a lot of space. Your mouth was dry and you literally couldn’t help but stare at his lips. If you were uncertain about the answer to that question he asked you, now you are a hundred percent sure he’s the one that turns you on.

“You know, I think I found the answer to that question.” maybe he figured out on his own, because maybe you didn’t know how to play pretend, or maybe around him you can’t control yourself.

“Oh yeah, what’s the answer then?” you looked him bravely in his beautiful brown eyes.

“I am the answer.” he approached and you could smell his cologne, or maybe it was just the t-shirt you’re wearing. “And if I’m right, and I’m pretty sure I’m right.” he leans towards you and whisperes in your ear: “Then maybe you wanna know the real answer to Miguel’s question”

“Why would I?”

“Because it’s you. For months you are the first one on my top three turn-ons list. And I think I’m not the only one here who feels this way.” as an answer to his unspoken question, you closed the distance between you with a kiss full of desire. He doesn’t waste any time and responded with as many passion as you put in that kiss. He grabbed you waist and pulled as close as possible. It was a slow one, like nothing outside didn’t matter anymore. Just the two of you, creating a new world. You pulled away from that kiss when you heard a knock on the door and Jorge’s voice.

“You know, I can even offer you my room if you want to, but don’t take away the bathroom, please!” you heard laughing coming from behind that door and felt your cheeks turning red. You looked at the man in front of you and tried to memorise all his beautiful features. He really admitted somehow he likes you, and you couldn’t stop that stupid smile spreading on your face.

[rosyredlipstick]

guess who watched high school musical 2 and got caught up in the ryan/chad of it all: a conchell AU

this is pure 100% cheese. thats ur warning. also unbeta-ed.

Spending the entire summer at their mother’s golf resort had sounded like a dream for exactly 3 seconds, until Mitchell remembered the…. Everything about his siblings. 

When he wasn’t pulling Sebastian away from flirting with all their guests and the entire staff, he was lecturing Scarlett and Drew about taking advantage of the concierge service, making sure Stefan and Valentina weren’t spending too much time in the sun and were definitely drinking virgin cocktails, reigning in Lacey and Sophia’s pranks, and making sure Sabrina was happy in her first summer enrolled in the youth program. Oh, and he was choreographing a major number for the end of summer talent show. So. Full plate. 

Still, it was nice he had convinced Will to come along for the summer. While he was one of Mitchell’s official guests, he had quickly befriended the entire young staff in the kitchens and by the poolside. More than often, when they were on their walks around the resort, Will would no doubt be called out to or greeted by grinning teens in red and white polos. 

Mitchell, used to his friend’s sunflower attraction toward attention, smiled knowingly and let it happen without a complaint. At least Will was enjoying himself--he’d been way too stressed about his pre-med program the last few months and, with Mitchell spending most of his time at the resort trying to rein in his power-drunk sibling, he was glad his friend wasn’t spending the summer alone at the poolside. 

Of course, with all his new acquaintances, that also meant that Will’s tendency to interfere with Mitchell’s personal relationships appeared. 

“I’m telling you, you need to hang out with friends more, you’ve been busy all summer!” Will was smiling brightly. “This is the perfect opportunity!” 

“Yes, the perfect opportunity to intrude on a social gathering!” Mitchell protested, “It’ll be weird if I go. You should just go and have fun, don’t worry about me.” Mitchell sighed, “I don’t want them to be uncomfortable! This is their down time, I don’t want to ruin it by being the boss’s kid.” 

Will rolled his eyes, “It’s a baseball game, Mitchell.” 

Mitchell shook his head, final. “Sorry. But I don’t think so. Text me afterward, okay? We can grab ice cream.” Will said nothing. He peeked a look back to the other boy, “Unless there’s something else?” 

Will sighed and looked off to the side as his cheeks colored. “Okay, listen, of course I really want you there because you’re my best friend and everything but also -” 

“There’s a guy.” Mitchell guessed, bored. Will found the love of his life at least once a week. “Who is he?”

Will didn’t even put up a fight. “I’m not sure if you know him. He works in the coffee shop? Pale, dark hair, sharpest cheekbones I’ve ever seen?”

Mitchell thought for a second, “Nico?” He guessed. Nico, for the past few months, has consistently served him the best caramel macchiato he’d ever had every morning. Mitchell dreamt about that drink, on especially good nights.  

Will melted into a dreamy mess. “Yeah. Nico.” 

Mitchell blew a puff of hair up into the hair around his face, “I mean…” He grimaced, “If you need a wingman or something -”

“Yes!” Will was already celebrating, “Thank the gods, thank you! I mean, I think you’ll enjoy yourself at the game and everyone’s really cool, but yes! Okay, if you could just like, set up a really good opportunity for me and Nico to be together like, alone, I’d so appreciate it -” 

Will continued to ramble about the perfect situation Mitchell could set up, including the ideal mood lighting, when Mitchell interrupted him.

"Is Percy okay?" Percy had just rushed by, looking upset, and hopped in his mother’s car without a word to either of them--odd, as he usually offered at least a hey guys! If not a full on conversation that left Mitchell feeling like a better person for having it. It was kind of his thing. 

"Oh, he's in turmoil because he feels like he has to choose between swimming or singing with Annabeth at the talent show and he doesn’t know which to choose." 

“Oh.” 

Will wrinkled his nose, “Yeah, he’s kinda got his own thing going on right now. I saw him dancing by himself in the golf course earlier, but I thought I’d just give him some space.”

“Smart,” Mitchell commented, growing a bit uneasy as they approached the field. There was a crowd already assembled there with a smaller circle throwing a baseball back and forth. As they approached, a few people called out to Will in excitement but it wasn’t until they were faced with a smaller inner group of people that Mitchell was addressed. 

A tall, smirking guy with wild curls was the first to greet him, lightly tossing a baseball into his own mit as he spoke. “Brought a friend, Will?” 

Will smiled brightly. “Yeah! This is Mitchell.”

“Trust me, I know who Mitchell is.” His humor-filled gaze flickered to Mitchell himself. “Nice to finally meet you.” 

Mitchell’s cheeks heated. “You know me?” 

Travis let out a small disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Travis elbowed the guy at his side, who shared similar curls and features. “And this is my brother, Connor.” 

“Hello, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Mitchell held out his hand with a smile. “I’m Mitchell. You’re on the staff, here?” 

Despite the incredibly stupid question Mitchell just asked considering Connor’s bright red LIFEGUARD tank top he still wore, Connor was kind enough to nod along with Mitchell’s obvious question, his eyes wide. Mitchell’s hand, still extended out to him, wobbled in the air. 

He was a second away from dropping his arm and shaking it off completely when Connor seemed to realize that he was waiting for a handshake in the first place and nearly dived for it. In his haste, he almost completely tripped over himself and onto Mitchell. 

“Oh, well,” Mitchell caught him before he could take them both down on the dirt field. “Are you okay? Is it too hot or something?” Connor’s face was strangely pale compared to his brother’s, despite the mid-afternoon summer sun. Mitchell resisted the urge to reach out and touch his skin for sun stroke. 

“So hot,” Connor whispered, in his arms. Mitchell stared down at him in concern.

A girl--Katie, maybe--came up beside him and physically took Connor out of his arms, a tight smile on her lips. “This is nothing, he’s just dehydrated.”

“More like thirsty.” A girl across from them muttered.

Katie continued on like no one said anything. “Let’s get some water in you, dude.” 

Will was smiling on like this interaction was completely normal. “So anyway I was wondering if Mitchell could join our game?” 

“Hmm, well this is an employee-only game.” Despite his words, the light tease in Travis’s voice kept Mitchell from getting nervous about the whole situation. “But it does raise the stakes.” 

That Mitchell could work with. His lips stretched out into a wide grin. “Yeah? What were you thinking?” 

Travis clicked his tongue, “How do you feel about being Captain? I take one team, you take the other.”

He thought it over then nodded. “That sounds fair. What’s the prize?” 

Travis shrugged, messing with the baseball in his mit as he spoke. “Any ideas?” 

Mitchell pretended to think, already knowing what he wanted. With a group this size, his choreo could really expand into something great. “If you lose, you guys have to join my dance group for the talent show.” 

“Hmm,” Travis looked to the girl at his side--Phoebe, he thought, another lifeguard. She once helped him with Sabrina’s floaties. “We’ll consider that. Guys?” The circle of employees gathered a bit closer to talk it over. Will shot him an excited look. 

Suddenly, in the midst of their talking it over, Connor burst from the huddle and pushed his way over to Mitchell. “I’ll give you fifty dollars if you let me on your dance team.” 

“Wait, no -” Travis grabbed his shoulders from behind to push him back, “Connor, we’re trying to negotiate with him!” 

“Oh,” Connor nodded seriously and turned back to where Mitchell was waiting, amused. “I’ll pay two hundred -” 

Katie slapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him back to the crowd, him protesting all the way. Travis looked back to Mitchell, tired. “Just ignore him, please.”

Mitchell watched him sink back into the crowd, something small curled at his lips. “I don’t think I can.”

“Anyway,” Katie was the one to speak now. “We talked it over, that sounds fine. If we lose, we’ll be in your show.” 

Mitchell had to resist punching the air in excitement. “Great.” 

Travis leaned back with his arms crossed, looking him over. “And what do we get if we win?” 

“Well, what do you want?” 

“Dinner and a movie,” Connor choked out, almost like he didn’t mean to.

Mitchell raised an eyebrow, “An catered employee afternoon in the movie theatre?” He thought it over, then shrugged. “I could probably arrange that.” 

Travis rubbed at his forehead, “I - sure. Yeah, that sounds fun.” 

“Alright,” Mitchell smiled with a small shrug of his shoulders. “I guess it’s game on, then.” 

...

Of course, against a batch of peers who had been playing baseball all summer, Mitchell was bound to lose. However, they didn’t lose as hard as he expected. 

After the match, when Mitchell was left aching from the game and loss but proud despite it, Will sunk down next to him at the picnic table. “Good game. I didn’t think you’d get so into it.” 

At the last moment, Mitchell had ended up diving for a ball, completely dirting up his outfit. He had caught it, and it had counted, but two players had already made it home in the meantime. Still, it was a close loss. 

Mitchell smiled slightly. “Me neither. But it was worth a shot at a full dance group.”

Will laughed softly, “Still. Great catch.” 

“It really was.” They both looked up at the new voice--Katie, from before. She’d been on Travis’s team with Connor, Jason, Leo, Annabeth and a few others. The rest of the group was mostly dispersed by now, most of them arranging rides home or plans to grab food. “We haven’t had a game that fun in a while.” 

At her arrival, Will stood and offered her his seat. Which was kind, but also definitely just a ploy to escape and run off wherever Nico was lurking. Mitchell waved him off with a roll of his eyes before returning back to the conversation. Katie took his place without a word. 

“Well, I’m happy to help. It was a good time, you guys work well together.” Mitchell shot her a knowing grin. “I’ll start working out the theatre rental. Any movie requests?” 

She shrugged, “We can take a vote on it. But we’ve also been talking.” Katie had an amused twinkle in her eye. “We’re in. We’ll still do your show, it sounds fun.” 

Mitchell sat up completely, a bolt of excitement hitting him. “Wait, really?” At her nod, he absolutely lit up. “Oh my god, it’s gonna be such a fun show, I promise!” He got to his feet in excitement and threw his arms around her shoulders in a hug, pulling away promptly. “Oh my god, wait, I’m covered in dirt I’m so sorry -” 

She waved it off but stood herself. She, too, was covered in dirt from the game so didn’t seem to care much at any additional. 

He couldn’t help but babble on. “It’s going to be so much fun. You won’t regret it.”

She smiled at him, looking like she was indulging him. “I know. Anyway, just a moment,” She disappeared for a few moments only to return, dragging Connor by the wrist. She pushed him toward Mitchell, almost bumping them into each other. “Connor will be your contact point for organizing this. Trade numbers, will you? For planning.”

“Oh, sure!” Mitchell fumbled to get his phone out and hand it over. Connor’s phone appeared under his hand faster than he thought possible. 

Katie left them alone as he punched in his own phone and name, drifting back to where Travis and a few others were waiting. He handed back Connor’s phone, suddenly closer to the other boy than he had realized. He paused. 

“You have grass in your hair.” Connor breathed out. 

“Oh,” Mitchell dipped his head in embarrassment and rubbed at his head. “Oops.” 

“I -” Connor gestured to his own temple. “Other side?” 

He tried but Connor only stepped forward slightly into his space, reaching out slowly. “Let me -” Mitchell felt a slight pull on his hair, not painful. Connor pulled away with a blade of grass in between two fingers. 

“Got it,” Connor said weakly, staring down at him. 

“My hero,” Mitchell teased. Connor nodded gravely at that, like he was accepting a mission.

Connor licked his lips before he spoke. “That was a really good catch. You’re a good player.” 

“Baseball’s just a dance of its own.” Mitchell shrugged, joking. “What can I say? I’m just that much of a star athlete.” Connor nodded, looking like he completely agreed. 

Before either of them could say anything further, Will called out to him and ran their way, grinning, with another guy at his side. “I heard the news! They’re still doing the show, that’s great!” Will was glowing, “See, coming to this was a great idea!” 

Mitchell stuck out his tongue, “You just wanted to brag that you were right.” 

“No!” Will looked behind where he had ran from and lit up, “Actually, I wanted to introduce you to Nico!” 

Nico, who trailed after him a few steps, walked up beside Will with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. Mitchell liked him already. “Next time you’re going to run off mid-conversation, can you at least give me a warning first? I’ll die before I jog after you in jeans.” 

“You’re the one who wore jeans to a baseball game!” 

“And why not? You think I’m gonna participate in this?” 

“Well, you’re an employee at an employee baseball game. Perhaps I thought you were going to play.” 

“Where would you get that idea? Have you not seen the everything about me?” 

“Hi, I’m Mitchell.” He stuck out his hand with a grin. He could sit here all day, truly, but he did have things to do. “You’re Nico?” 

“That’s me.” He raised an eyebrow. “You look familiar.

“Mitchell is one of Aphrodite’s kids. He’s a good one, don’t worry.” Will explained, shooting Mitchell a wince like he didn’t know exactly how his siblings were. 

Mitchell snorted, “On behalf of Drew and Scarlett, I can’t apologize enough.” 

“That… helps.” Nico winced. “I messed up Drew’s chai latte my first day on the job.” 

Mitchell groaned, “Again, I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to get them to act like, you know, normal people -” 

Nico cut him off. “We work at a golf club. I get more cranky boomers in an hour than an AARP meeting.” Nico shook his head, “They’re a lot, but definitely not the worst customers to have. At least they tip well.” 

He could have wilted in relief. Across from him, Will’s eyes were nearly hearts. God, he was already lovesick. 

Which reminded him --

“Actually, Connor and I were just leaving. We’ll leave you two be.” Mitchell lightly grabbed Connor’s elbow to start steering him away. “Will, can you get a ride home? I’m probably going to be staying late.” 

Next to him, Nico perked up. “Oh, I can give you a ride? If you want? I’ll have to pick up my older sister but, um, it’s not that out of the way -” 

“I would love to.” Will looked perfectly composed, despite the screaming excitement that must be running through his head. He even managed to grab onto Nico’s hand as he led them away toward the parking lot. 

“Young love,” Mitchell commented, shaking his head fondly as the other couple walked off. “Must be nice.” He stepped back and dropped his hand from Connor’s elbow. “Oh, sorry!” He laughed lightly. “Sorry, I was recruited as Will’s wingman and I wanted to give them some time alone. Cute, right?”

Connor’s throat bobbled. “So cute. Um,” Connor made a jerky movement, like he was gonna run his hand through his hair but decided not to. “So you’re, uh, staying late?” 

“Yeah,” He blew some air up into the hair hanging over his face. “If you guys are gonna join the number, I want to have the choreo adjusted for a group before we start rehearsals.” 

“Cool, cool.” Connor nodded slowly, “Cool.” 

Now that he was closer, Mitchell could almost recognize Connor from his many shifts poolside. His lifeguard chair was almost right across from where Valentina would occasionally drag him to tan in the afternoon sun. Didn’t he once help Mitchell apply sunscreen, when Valentina ran to get slushies right when he was reapplying? 

His hands were cold, Mitchell remembered, or maybe his own skin was just that hot. He shivered when Connor applied the first handful of cream on his back. Mitchell had to advise Connor to take some of the sunscreen himself, after his own skin started to stain red. 

He was kind, was the point. Or at least, that’s what Mitchell remembered. 

Mitchell gestured at his parked golf cart as they approached it. “You want a ride anywhere? I’m heading toward the main pavilion.” 

Something wobbled in Connor’s expression before he spoke. “I could, um, go with you?” He said it as a question, looking slightly nervous as he spoke. 

“Yeah, sure! The employee entrance? Did you forget something?” 

“No, no, like -” Connor made another awkward gesture toward nothing. “Like, if you need help with the number? I could come? I mean, it’s never too early to get started on learning the dance, right?” 

Mitchell smiled, “Oh, sure! Do you have experience with dance routines?” 

Connor nodded confidently. “Yes.” 

“Really?” Mitchell turned to him in excitement. “Have you been in any dance groups before?” 

“Um. No.” 

“Oh, so like private lessons or something? A club?”

“Uh. No again.” His confidence was fully wavering now. 

Mitchell raised his eyebrows, “So what experience do you have?” 

“I sometimes dance in my room?” Connor scratched at the back of his head. “I, um. I didn’t think you’d ask many questions, actually.” 

Despite his awkwardness, Mitchell was… charmed by Connor’s fumbling. 

“Um,” Mitchell bit his smiling lip, looking away then back. “Actually, I was supposed to get ice cream with Will after the game.”

Connor deflated before he could finish. “Oh. Okay, yeah.” 

“No!” Mitchell was quick to correct. “I meant like, with Will going off with Nico, I still want to get it. With you. If that’s okay?” 

Connor’s expression bloomed into something so joyful, Mitchell was almost taken back. “I would… adore that.” 

“Adore?” Mitchell couldn’t help but tease. “Why’s that?” 

“I just,” He turned to Mitchell, his eyes wide. “I just really, really like ice cream.”

Mitchell bit his lip, “Me too. I mean, I really like ice cream. Ice cream is… sweet.”

Connor huffed out a small laugh, “Yeah. I, uh, agree.” He made an awkward little motion with his arm at the golf cart. “Um, shall we go?” 

Mitchell stepped forward and looped his arm with Connor’s. “Actually, I thought we could walk?” 

“I will do literally anything you want.” 

Mitchell laughed, “I’ll hold you to that.” 

To Mitchell’s amusement, Connor’s face turned a dark, dark red. He looked away, his lips pressed together in a small excited smile. Perhaps the baseball game hasn’t been such a bad idea.

[imaginingsoftly]

Wedding Date Pt. 2 - Tyler Seguin

Type: strangers-enemies-lovers, series

Requested: no

Warnings: swearing, asshole exes

A/N: Hey guys! I know I said these installments were going to come out on Thursdays, but I feel like my fellow Americans currently losing their shit could use a distraction. Remember that it’s out of our hands at the moment, and you deserve to take a break from the news coverage. Breathe. We’ll get through this. I love you all.

Tyler hadn’t asked any questions about Melissa’s sudden disappearance from the brunch after she woke up grumpy and disoriented before the rehearsal dinner, and she appreciated the hell out of him for it. Instead, he’d brewed her some coffee and talked about his dogs and life in Dallas. Somehow he could tell that she needed some time to not think about anything significant, and he’d given that time to her like it was nothing. 

Attending the rehearsal on his arm was almost fun, and he helped get her back to the suite early. Most of the group probably thought they were breaking off to go hook up, but that was fine as long as Melissa could get into her bed faster. He’d walked her all the way to her bedroom, despite her laughter that she could walk across the living space by herself, and she’d smiled that night as she fell back to sleep. 

Now they were getting ready for their respective roles in the wedding, Tyler as a guest/ wrangler of the middle-aged relatives, Melissa as the Maid-of-Honor. Tyler grinned appreciatively as Melissa handed him a cup of freshly-brewed coffee, and she turned back to the french press to make herself a cup when her phone began to ring. It was probably Kirsten freaking out about something, even though the wedding was a good 8 hours away. “Tyler, could you get that for me?” He could handle his cousin just as well as she would have, and hearing Tyler answer Melissa’s phone might put Kirsten in a good mood. 

“Hello?” Tyler’s voice, gravelly from sleep, sent a shiver up Melissa’s spine. Hearing that first thing in the morning was something she would be interested in getting used to. She snuck a glance over at Tyler to see him already looking at her, smirking like he knew what was going through her head. 

“Who the fuck are you?” The familiar voice, dripping in attitude and disgust, sent another sort of shiver down Melissa’s spine. Her ex, and not the hipster beer guy. 

“What the hell do you want, Liam?” Tyler looked at Melissa confusedly as she spoke, and she shook her head. Later, she tried to tell him with her eyes. He understood, and Melissa took the outstretched phone. “I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and for a second Melissa thought that maybe Liam had hung up. “I can’t believe you’re hooking up with someone else. This won’t look good to my parents, Melissa. It’s time to come home. Stop throwing fits.” Tyler threw a sharp look at her, like he actually believed what Liam was saying, and Melissa had enough. 

“I am not your goddamn girlfriend, Liam, so stop acting like I am.” He tried to interrupt her, like he always did, but she cut him off. “No. I’m not fucking finished. I love my job, I love my friends, and I love my freedom. I’m not interested in being some rich fucker’s trophy wife and I’m definitely not interested in being yours. Leave me the fuck alone before I get a restraining order.” She hung up before he could get another word in, throwing her phone on the counter in anger. “Motherfucker!” 

The timer for the french press went off, and Melissa prepped her coffee with jerky, angry movements. She could sense Tyler staring at her from his seat on the counter, but she ignored him as she continued to mutter curses under her breath. She should have blocked his number a long time ago, but she didn’t trust him not to just get a new one in order to reach out to her. At least this way she had proof of his continued calls and texts in one spot. 

Tyler’s voice broke through Melissa’s cloud of anger, and she actually jumped a little bit at the sound of his voice. “Bad breakup?” Melissa scoffed. He had no idea. “Well,” Tyler said with a bit of a laugh in his voice, “I can tell you one thing.” He waited until she turned to face him, an eyebrow raised, before he continued. “I’d be honored to have you as my trophy wife.” No he did not. Melissa gaped at him, more shocked he had made a joke about the conversation than about the actual comment. 

She didn’t really think, she just reacted. Tyler laughed as Melissa’s coffee spoon came flying in his direction, and he caught the utensil with ease. Her heart felt light, lighter than it usually did after phone calls from Liam, and Melissa found herself smiling back. “Hipster beer guy wasn’t my most recent ex. He was actually a guy from college, so a while ago.” Tyler nodded, and she noticed that he leaned forward like he was interested in the story she was about to tell. “I dated Liam for about 6 months last year. We met at a dinner for the university that I work at, some charity thing where the donors get to come and make sure we know that they pay our salaries.” Tyler cringed, and Melissa was sure he at least kind of understood where she was coming from. 

“Liam didn’t seem like the other donors. He’d gone to the dinner in place of his parents, and we talked for a couple of hours. He seemed sweet.” She didn’t see the red flags that she normally would have, mostly because he looked so friendly. Apparently being raised by rich and heartless parents taught you some pretty impressive false empathy skills. She wasn’t wholly convinced he actually felt empathy at all, actually. “We started dating, and it just felt easy. We were both so busy that we hardly saw each other, and I told myself I liked that. I realized later that I didn’t like the distance from a partner, I just liked the distance from him.”

“One night like a week before we hit the 6 month mark Liam invited me to dinner with his parents. I hadn’t met them yet, because apparently they were super busy running their empire, so I was pretty nervous. Liam is a pretty driven guy, and I had assumed he got it from his parents. The dinner went wrong from the beginning.” Melissa paused as Tyler patted the space on the counter next to him. She hopped up gratefully, and he squeezed the shoulder closest to him. 

“Just wanted you to be comfy. I have a feeling this next part is going to be a doozy.” 

Melissa laughed at Tyler’s choice of phrasing, though she nodded because he was correct. It was a doozy for sure. “You have no idea. So we get there, and I’m immediately othered when everyone shows up in cocktail dresses and suits and I’m over there in my teaching pants and a blazer. His mother looked like she had just sucked on a lemon when I walked into the room, and she glared down at my hand when I introduced myself like I was going to give her some kind of disease.” That wasn’t even half of it. She’d also made some snide comments under her breath about where the clothing had come from, though Tyler didn’t really need to hear that detail. 

“We finally sat down for dinner after some of the most uncomfortable cocktail conversation I’ve ever had, and then I make a giant mistake. I mention my job.” Tyler reacts perfectly, throwing a hand over his heart and fake gasping. Melissa chuckled a bit. “Yeah, exactly. So his mom gets this horrified look on her face, and turns to Liam and says, ‘she will not be working once you’re engaged, correct?’ I tried to respectfully state that I love my job, and I planned on working for the foreseeable future, but she wouldn’t take that for an answer. She kept insisting that I couldn’t work if we were going to be together, and Liam wouldn’t back me up. At one point he turned to me and said, ‘you know, I make more in a day than you do in an entire month. I can take care of you.’”

Tyler’s face looked disgusted for her, and Melissa felt a twinge of satisfaction that at least he was on her side. “I lost my damn mind. I stood up from the table and said that if the expectation was that I would be a brainless trophy wife with no ambition or intelligence then I was uninterested in continuing our relationship, and I stormed out. I’ve been trying to get Liam to realize that no means no ever since.” Melissa downed the rest of her coffee, suddenly in need of at least three more cups. 

She was halfway through making a second cup when Tyler responded again. “Isn’t one of your areas of expertise gender and stuff?” Melissa whipped around, surprised he had remembered. She nodded, and Tyler let out a scoff. “So they were pushing some idea from the 50s on you when your area of study is literally everything against that?” Melissa laughed. At least someone else understood the irony there. 

A knock sounded on the door to the suite before Melissa could respond. Tyler jumped off the counter before she could move to the door, and she admired the view from behind as he walked away from her. “Morning, cousin!” Kirsten flew through the door, sliding across the room and into Melissa’s arms with a laugh. “I’m getting married today!” The pair laughed, and Melissa hugged her friend close as she felt some tears prick her eyes. They’d been through a lot together since their days as college roommates, and today felt almost surreal. 

Kirsten pulled back with a slight frown. “Why do you look like you want to punch something?” Melissa tried to school her face into one of confusion, but her friend knew her too well for that. “Don’t bullshit me. Why the hell do you look so pissed?” 

She didn’t get a chance to make something up. “Liam called her.” Melissa turned to glare at Tyler from where he was sitting on the counter again. “He was an ass, but she handled him really well. It was kinda hot actually.” He winked at Melissa, and she flushed bright red. He had that effect on her, and it was kind of aggravating. 

“He still seems to think we’re still dating. I told him a restraining order was in the cards if he didn’t kindly fuck off.” Kirsten held up a hand for a high five, and Melissa slapped it gratefully. She had stayed in Kirsten’s guest bedroom for almost a month after that breakup because Liam kept showing up at her apartment. He stayed away from the house because John was a hell of a lot bigger than him, and John and Kirsten had been lifesavers as she tried to get over their relationship ending. 

Kirsten looped an arm through Melissa’s and began pulling her out the door, despite the fact that the latter girl was barefoot. Melissa managed to snag a pair of flip flops on their way out, though she couldn’t get them on her feet. “Ty I’m stealing your girl for a bestie breakfast, try not to miss her too much!” Melissa stiffened at her words. Maybe they’d been acting too well. She looked over her shoulder to mouth an apology at Tyler, her face bright red, only to find him smirking in her direction already. They were still staring each other down when the door slammed shut behind her. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Lissy.” 

She couldn’t keep pretending like this. “Kirs, it’s not like that.” If she wasn’t careful, Kirsten would be planning her and Tyler’s wedding by the time the night was over. Kirsten meant well, she really did, but sometimes she really just needed to chill out. “We get along really well. We’ve had a lot of time to talk, and it’s been fun. That’s all.” It was obvious that Kirsten disagreed, but she relented as they reached the patio where the brunch had been held the day prior. 

The tables were no longer set up to make one giant table, like they had been the night before. Instead it was an open area where several groups were eating, none part of the wedding party. Kirsten pulled Melissa over to a table set up for two in one corner of the patio. It was next to the vine and flower-covered wall she’d noticed the day before, and she leaned in slightly to sniff at the flowers brightening the space. 

“So,” Kirsten said with an air of mischief, “you and my cousin.” Melissa opened her mouth to protest again, but her friend cut her off. “Uh-uh. Nope. I saw the looks he was giving you, and you turned bright red every time you two made eye contact.” She was right, and they both knew it. Kirsten looked smug when Melissa didn’t try to disagree. “Listen. You’re moving to Dallas in a month. Why not hook up with him? See if he’s worth keeping around, and then have some fun. You don’t have to do the whole relationship thing babe, and you deserve to have someone appreciate your body.” 

A server came to take their order, and Melissa gratefully ordered another cup of coffee and some pancakes. “I think you’re reading it all wrong, Kirs. He’s just being nice.” The looks that he kept giving her, full of heat and interest, said otherwise, but there was no way he was really interested in her outside of a hookup. Although, would that really be so bad? Kirsten scoffed at her statement, and Melissa jumped in before she could say anything. “I don’t know if I really want to hook up with anyone this weekend, Kirs. If it happens it happens, but I’m not going to push it.” 

Her friend shrugged, though her face said she completely disagreed. “Well if you aren’t going to let me find someone to match you with, at least tell me you found a place in Dallas.” Their food arrived, and Melissa took a happy bite of her pancakes. They smelled heavenly, and tasted even better. “You were going to buy a house, right?”

Melissa nodded. “Originally I had planned on a house, maybe just outside the city, but I fell in love with this townhouse right off of Main Street. It has three bedrooms, so right around the size I wanted, and there’s so much natural light. Plus, there’s a rooftop deck with a beautiful view of the city.” This place was going to be her new investment. She was fortunate enough to have gotten a lot of scholarships and grants to do her schooling with, and professorial pay allowed her to pay off those loans rather quickly. That meant that she could start saving for a down payment on her own place and a new start in Dallas. 

She took another bite of her pancakes while Kirsten contemplated what she was saying. “I’m really happy for you, Lissy. You deserve this.” They grinned at each other, and then Kristen broke down into giggles. “Look at us! You’re a badass in your field that got job offers from like half the universities in the country, and I’m marrying my soulmate. We’re killing this whole life thing.” Melissa chuckled as she nodded at her friend’s words. 

“It wasn’t half of the universities in the country, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.” Kirsten waved a hand in a ‘whatever’ kind of way, and conversation moved to people-watching and bets over who would leave with whom tonight or how long it would take for John to tear up.

[cal-puddies]

that’s the beauty of a secret || calum hood

another installment of pierced!sos because @kindahoping4forever and i couldn’t stop ourselves one day. I hope you all enjoy this.

Calum got his nipples pierced because he wanted to. It was a last minute decision he made while you were out of town and he was quite happy with it. He never bothered to tell you about it though. 

Ash asked him to accompany him for another tattoo, but Cal couldn’t decide on one. He hadn’t thought ahead like Ash had. 

It’d been a simple joke, “what if I just got my nipples pierced?” He laughs. 

But Ash gives him that look that said he knew better, “it’s your body man, do what you want.” He shrugs. 

And that was more than enough for Cal. Ash gets sat in his chair and Cal stands by and taps his feet, waiting for the piercer to call his name.

He’s happy when he sees it's a burly guy, and not some pretty little thing in tight jeans, because it might get awkward, and even more so when he has to tell you about it later. He wasn’t even sure how you’d react, he’d never really said anything about wanting it done. 

He chose barbells because he didn’t want to deal with the irritation of rings until he could get used to it. 

He climbs in the chair and takes his shirt off.

The piercer gets ready, getting the jewelry out and the alcohol wipes and sterilized needles. He sits and wheels his stool over. 

“Trainspotting, nice.” He comments, noticing the tattoos. He pulls the gloves on and starts touching Cal’s chest, checking his nipples. Cal fidgets, and the piercer notices. “You’ve got tattoos, this shouldn’t hurt any more or less.” He assures him, “now, what’s the orientation you want? Up and down or across?”

“Across.” Cal says confidently, and even though this situation isn’t even slightly sexual, he’s having a hard time. You’ve been gone a week and he misses you being at home in bed, and his body is reacting. 

Ash comes by, his tattoo done, and he smirks at Cal fidgeting. “Hold it together mate,” he laughs. 

Cal shoots him a look, Ash knows this must be torture for him. 

“Alright, you ready?” The piercer asks and Cal nods. “I need your nipples hard so I’m gonna Ice them.” He warns. 

There’s a snort that leaves Ash, Cal shoots him a look. 

He jolts when the piercer ices his left nipple “breath in,”  and then before he knows it, it’s pierced, the needle sticking through his nipple while the piercer gets the bar ready. He quickly pushes it through and pushes the needle out. And then he’s moving onto the right nipple. He ices it, “breath in.” And then the right one is pierced too. He pushes the jewelry through. “Alright check em out.” He says. 

Cal gets up and looks in the mirror, he instantly likes them, even though they definitely hurt. 

“Alright, so, 4-6 weeks before theyre healed enough to play with so tell your boyfriend to keep his paws off.” He warns. 

“Not my boyfriend.” Cal interrupts. 

“Or girlfriend… paws off for at least that long, full heal time is typically 12 months. Salt rinses twice a day for 2 weeks then a gentle antibacterial soap is fine. Blood or excretion is normal for that first two weeks but after that come back to me or see your doctor… any questions?” 

“No… I think you covered it.” He assures him. 

“Ok, well here’s some salt to get you started and some anti bac cream, and instructions. My name and number are on there if something comes up.” He clamps Cal’s shoulder and walks him out front to pay. 

“You wanna get dinner?” Ash asks as they walk to his car. 

Cal nods, though all he really wants is to go home and call you so he can hear your voice and jerk off like he desperately needs to now. 

“You gonna Tell her?” Ash asks as they order dinner.

“No… not at first. I’ll wait till she’s home and they’re healed.” He shrugs. 

“Where is she?” Ash asks. 

“She’s got 2 more weeks in New York for work, and then she’s gonna go home for a couple weeks to see her family, some sort of reunion.” Cal shrugs. 

“She didn’t want you to meet the fam?” 

“She didn’t want to bring me around her younger cousins.” He explains, “I’ve met her parents and brothers.” 

“Can’t believe you fuckin did it brov.” Ash laughs. 

“Eh… I’ve been thinking about it… but I gotta be gettin home mate, I owe her a FaceTime tonight.” 

“Yeah yeah… it’s nothing to do with the fact that that piercer was all over your nipples. I saw you squirm.” He teases. 

Cal just rolls his eyes. But Ash takes him home. He gets Duke out and takes his laptop to his room. 

He strips his pants off and leaves his T-shirt on with his underwear before he gets situated on the bed. He gets the ‘I’m ready’ text from you. And he starts the call. 

“Hey, pretty girl.” He greets, and you immediately know what kind of mood he’s in just from the slightly sultry tone in his voice and his use of pretty girl. 

“Hey handsome! I miss you.” You grin. 

“I miss you too, pretty girl, like a lot.” 

“Oh were having one of those calls tonight.” You chuckle. 

“If it’s ok?” Cal murmurs, watching you already getting up to move to the bed in your hotel room. 

“Oof, more than ok Cal.” You sit on the bed and get yourself comfortable. He watches as you pull his t shirt you were wearing to bed off. 

“You’re just moving this right along, aren’t ya?” He teases. 

“Sorry it’s late here and I’m a little tired.” You laugh. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t realize how late it was until Ash and I were having dinner.” He smiles at you. 

“What’d you guys do?” 

“I just went with him to get a new tattoo.” Cal shrugs, he watches your face light up. “I didn’t get one, before you ask. I didn’t have time to think on what I wanted and I promised someone I’d let my next one be something they picked.” You pout at him, “don’t pout I can’t kiss that bottom lip.” He groans. He moves his arm across his chest to grab his drink and he’s reminded of the piercing he’d gotten a few hours before. He lets out a little sigh, “you know how empty this bed is without you?” He asks. 

“Yeah I’ve spent plenty of nights in it alone.” You smile. 

“You’re gone more than I am!” He contests. 

“Yes, but me being able to be gone also means I get to be out on tour whenever we want.” You remind him. 

He watches as you settle back and start touching your body, running your hands up over your stomach, grabbing your breasts. He pulls his cock out and reaches across the bed to grab your hand cream. 

“Cal that shits expensive!” 

“I’ll buy you more, c’mon babe, it smells like you.” He explains, putting some in his hand, closing the top and tossing it on the bed. He rubs it in a little and then grabs his cock, “will you take your panties off for me?” He asks. And you will because you’d do anything for him. He watches as you lift your hips and push them down, sitting back to spread your legs. He lets out a soft groan, “touch yourself for me pretty girl.” 

He grins as you really get into it for him, pressing two fingers in. “Cal.” You moan, and he listens to your little whimpers. 

“Fuck…” Cal groans, he’s getting close, you can tell by his own sounds. 

“Someone was already worked up.” You smirk. 

“Just thinking about you… fuck, I’m close darlin.” He admits, he kinda likes the secret too. Something to surprise you with later. 

“I know handsome, I’m trying.” 

“Don’t rush yourself, enjoy it for us.” 

You watch his other hand tangle in his shirt as he gets ready to cum. “Cum for me, baby.” You encourage him.

“Fuck fuck fuck, darlin.” He grunts, and you watch his cum spurt, “so fuckin good for me.” He moans. “Keep going baby, I’ll be right back.” He promises. 

While he’s gone you lay on your stomach, so your hand is caught between the bed and your body. It’s only a view of your face for Cal, but he’d care more that the orgasm was good than being able to see everything. 

He’s in a clean shirt and shorts when he comes back, but he can see the lust in your eyes. “C’mon pretty girl, make yourself cum for me.” He hums. “So pretty when you’re like this for me.” 

“Cal.” You whine, looking at him. “Close.” 

“I know beautiful, wish I could be there to clean you up.” He smirks

“Fuck.” You groan. 

“That’s it pretty girl, little bit more.” He encourages. 

“Cal, cal.. fuck cal.” You whine. He watches your hand grip the bedspread as you moan for him, and then your body relaxes and you look up at him with a sleepy smile. You lay there and watch him for a few minutes, he’s doing the same to you. “I’m gonna go clean up.” You whisper. 

“I’ll be here… sing you to sleep?” He asks. 

“I’d love that.” You admit, sitting up. You’re gone for a short time and when you return, in just his shirt, you snuggle into the bed and lay on your side, he does the same and duke comes up to cuddle with him. “Hi duke!” You grin. Cal waves his little paw at you. “I have one question before you sing to me.” You say, and Cal nods, “what’s with the shirt? You didn’t even take it off for me.” 

“I had a big dinner with Ash, not my best look.” He laughs, you shake your head and roll your eyes. “What do you wanna hear my love?” He asks. 

“Surprise me.” You yawn. “I love you Calum.” You whisper. 

“Love you.” You hums, before falling into a song he knows you love.

Taglist: @cocktail-calum @1dthewantedlove @september09241994 @youngblood199456 @lustingforwunder @calumsphile @neso-k @rosecoloredash @radmcqueen @justayoungandwisefangirl @itsnotmyblood @softboycal @lietoash @pushthetide21 @5sosfanficrec @therealmrshale @fallfrxmgrace @lukashemmos @justarandomgirlthatyoudontknow @5sos-microwave @madbomb @sweetheartmendes1000 @literally-anythin @lfwallscouldtalk @clemmingstylins0n @ccnicole02 @lustingfor5sos @buteverythingiscopacetic @rosesfromcth @bodaciousbonzi1996 @ashtontotheirwin @captainam-erika-trash @xxgendurvikixx @jazzyangel242 @loti18 @bluebabycal @rhiannonmichellee @iovehemmings @glitterycalum1205 @katcontreras @cashtonasfuck @ificanthaveu @kindahoping4forever @talkfastdrums @here-for-the-uproars @youngbloodchild @canterburyfiction @opheliaaurora  @queer-5sos @banditocth​ @babylonbaby13

gc tags: @sublimehood @sugarcoated-pain @5sosnsfw @angelbabylu @aspiringwildfire @irwinkitten @lashtoncurls @myloverboyash @singt0mecalum

masterlist || ashton || calum || luke || michael

wanna be tagged? go here

[iron--spider]

there’s something wrong

Peter thought he would be happy, after he took the Goblin down. 

 It’s been a long time coming. Almost a year trying to figure out who the hell he was, then finding out and dealing with that shit, because who the hell can target Norman Osborn and get away with it? Tony helped, but Peter doesn’t like bothering him with stuff like this after everything he’s been through. He’s been through enough, and he doesn’t need Peter bringing more problems to his door. He brought him back to life, he saved the world, that—that should be enough. More than enough. Beyond enough.

 The battle was five days ago, and Norman, being who he is, threw everything he had at Peter. They were at his Hell’s Kitchen power plant, and Peter could barely breathe, there was so much smoke from the overloaded stacks, and he was sure Norman was trying to blow them both up, end it in a fiery blaze with Spider-Man’s corpse emblazoned on the front page of the Bugle. 

 But, despite the damage to the suit, despite the massive concussion and broken arm they had to reset that night at the facility, Peter finished it. His eyes were burning and his mask was destroyed and Norman knew who he was, but he finished it. 

 But Peter isn’t happy.

 The doctors said Norman might not wake up again. That set Tony’s mind at ease, knowing Peter’s identity was locked inside his decaying mind, but it made Peter’s guilt flare up like the fire did all around the two of them in the otherwise darkness of that night. He hates that he can’t help these people. He hates that they hate him. That they’ll never allow themselves to come back from what they’ve turned towards.

 He thought it was that making him sick, at first. The guilt. 

 “What’s wrong?” Ned asks, from beside him on Peter’s bedroom floor. “Do you miss your girlfriend? I can’t believe you have a girlfriend. I can’t believe it’s Michelle.”

 “Nothing’s wrong,” Peter snaps. He tries to focus on his paper, but his hand feels like it can barely support the fucking pencil. “Leave me alone, I’m trying to do this.”

 “Peter…”

 “Ned,” Peter says. He sighs, and turns over, laying on his back. He drops the pencil and covers his face with his hands. “Just stop, please.”

 “There’s something wrong with you,” Ned says. Peter feels him reach over and pat his head. “I know you’ve been through a lot lately. But you’re being snappy.”

 “I’m fine,” Peter says, voice muffled. 

 “Maybe you should ask for an extension on this paper?” Ned asks.

 “And what would my excuse be?” Peter asks. “Can’t tell him I almost just died fighting the Green Goblin, Ned.” Almost died. He’s exaggerating, but sometimes it feels that way.

 “Could tell him you’re sick,” Ned says.

 “Jeffords won’t care,” Peter says. “And anyways, I’m not.” He feels like his whole face is numb, and he sighs. He’s stressing himself out too much. “I gotta eat something. I have a bad taste in my mouth.” He twists around, pressing his hands to the carpet as he pulls himself to his feet. He hasn’t done much patrolling since the Goblin fight, only a couple nights here and there, but he feels like his muscles are crying out for him to take a big break. 

 “You just ate!” Ned yells after him, as Peter stumbles into the living room.

 “Stop judging me!” Peter yells back. His mouth tastes like blood, but he’s definitely not gonna tell Ned that. There’s probably something wrong with his gums or something. Maybe he brushed too hard...this morning. Or something.

 He sighs, and looks for chocolate, already planning on making tonight an early night.

 “Just bring me something too!” Ned says.

 ~

 MJ: Are you still feeling bad?

 PETER: I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise

 MJ: literally cannot believe you’re lying to me

MJ: you know I see through your lies we’ve dealt with me seeing through your lies

 PETER: love that you’re concerned :)

 MJ: that’s kinda part of my job description now, isn’t it?

 PETER: i’m fine totally fine completely fine

 ~

 Two days later, it’s…

 Has it only been two days?

 Jesus, Peter doesn’t know.

 He can’t think.

 Something’s wrong, but he doesn’t know what the hell it could be. He hasn’t been out anywhere, but his mind questions that, because he can’t remember. He can’t remember the last time he went out patrolling, what the hell happened when he did. He can’t remember shit. 

 His whole face feels frozen, and school is a complete and utter lost cause. He barely hears Ned when he tries to get his attention, and he doesn’t eat anything at lunch. MJ runs her hands up and down his back and it feels good but he can barely concentrate on it. 

 He shouldn’t be able to get sick anymore. He rarely does, now that he’s enhanced, and if he does it goes away within a day, at the latest.

 Peter feels like Ned is talking to him one moment and then the next, he’s in the back of Happy’s car. He’s cutting in and out.

 He leans down, bracing his elbows on his knees, and he feels like he’s shaking. He doesn’t know if he actually is. He feels like he’s deep within his body, small and broken and sad, watching as he falls apart. 

 Is this his guilt? Tearing him up? For Norman Osborn? It wasn’t this bad when Ben died. It wasn’t this bad when he almost lost Tony. Now he’s feeling guilt about his guilt and there’s a certain kind of sadness draping over him that he hasn’t seen the likes of before. It’s heavy and stifling and feels out of place, like it doesn’t belong to him.

 He blinks and rubs at his eyes.

 “Are you even hearing me?” Happy asks. “What the hell is going on? I’ve never seen you this out of it before. Well, on a normal day. And that’s assuming today is a normal day.”

 Maybe Peter has to accept that something is going on. But what the fuck would be going on? He hasn’t done anything of worth since the fight—

 —but he can’t remember.

 And is that the problem? The fact that he can’t remember? Or is the problem that he did do something? And he can’t remember it?

 His head feels like sludge. He presses his hands to his face and it feels like he doesn’t have a face anymore. Or hands. He shakes his head and his stomach turns. 

 “Okay, Peter, you need to tell me what’s happening, because if I drag you into the facility acting like this with no warnings for Tony—”

 “There’s something wrong,” Peter mutters, and just talking makes him feel like he’s gonna puke.

 Next thing he knows they’re not driving anymore, and Tony is there, peeling him out of the car. They’re at the facility but he doesn’t remember arriving, doesn’t remember half of the ride. Peter sighs, and can barely stay on his feet once he’s on solid ground, and Tony gets a good hold around his waist.

 “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Tony says, close to Peter’s ear. “Jesus, he’s pale, Hap.”

 “Something’s wrong,” Peter whispers. He tries to think back, tries to measure how this played out and where it started, but his brain pulls up blue screens, because he fucked up, because he’s been ignoring how he’s been feeling and how he’s been deteriorating each day—and what the hell did he do? What did he do, what was his mistake? Where did he make it?

 Tony groans but he bends a little and picks Peter up—he’s got the iron arm now, so it’s probably easier—and Peter squeezes his eyes shut tight, turning his face into Tony’s shoulder as he rushes him into the facility. He doesn’t even have the energy to make a joke about being carried like a baby.

 “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Tony asks, gently. “Tell me what hurts. And what happened.”

 “I don’t—know what happened,” Peter whispers, his own voice rattling in his head like metal clanging down a well. “Mouth tastes like blood. Uh. Muscles weak. Hurts to breathe. Bad mood, uh, feel sick. Sad. Nervous. Been getting worse, day by day, but I’ve been—ignoring.” He sighs, hates how it sounds. “I’m sorry.”

 “No sorry,” Tony says. “Just hold on. I’ve got an idea of what might be going on and if it’s that we gotta get on it stat.” Peter feels the terrain change under Tony’s feet, and he knows they’re getting closer to the side door. “Happy, call the Raft’s people and find out if Osborn is sick, please.”

 “Got it,” Happy says.

 Peter squeezes his eyes shut tighter and one of his arms flops down. He’s just exhausted. “Sorry I ignored it,” he whispers. “I wasn’t. I wasn’t sure what—”

 “Don’t worry,” Tony whispers. 

 But he sounds worried.

 ~

 They get Peter into the med bay and he wouldn’t exactly call what he’s doing blacking out, but more like stepping back. He retreats further into his head and everything becomes muted, because there’s so much going on and people running around everywhere and a fleet of doctors surrounding him and hooking him up to shit and his head hurts the more he pays attention. His senses are off. Loud then nothing. Everything out of whack.

 Peter keeps his eyes closed.

 “Osborn was trying to poison the both of them,” Happy’s voice says, somewhere in the ether. “There was goddamn mercury in the air, Tony—”

 “I thought so,” Tony’s voice says, closer, grave. “Okay, okay, can we—”

 “Yes, we can start—”

 “Remember, he’s enhanced so things are different, things affect him differently, Norman probably thought of that—”

 “It’s under control—”

 Peter groans and tries not to listen. He doesn’t know how much time passes but he knows he’s being poked and prodded and given things and moved around and he doesn’t want to open his eyes.

 He feels a hand on his forehead. Another on his forearm. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he turns towards the warmth. 

 “I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony whispers. “We should have checked you for something like this when we were resetting your arm and checking on the concussion. Goddamnit. We didn’t think.”

 “He poisoned us both?” Peter asks, trying to open one eye to look at him.

 “Yeah,” Tony says, brushing Peter’s hair back from his forehead. “He’s dying. He got the brunt of it, a nice fucking cocktail of bullshit, including mercury and a bunch of other toxic shit—”

 “Am I dying?” Peter whispers, voice breaking.

 “No,” Tony says, shaking his head. “No, it’s—it’s not good, but we’re dealing with it. I’ve got some treatments on the way and they’re gonna help. You being who you are helps. It’ll be okay.”

 Tears prick at Peter’s eyes, and everything still feels like it’s too big, burning, too much pressure.

 “Tell me if you need to throw up,” Tony says, rubbing Peter’s arm. 

 “Did I throw up?” Peter asks. He watches as another doctor rushes into the room behind Tony. 

 “Yeah, when you first got here,” Tony says. Peter doesn’t remember, and he sighs, wishing this was all over, wishing it wasn’t happening at all. “Just tell me if you have to, okay?” Tony asks, and Peter nods. “I’m not going anywhere. I called May. She’s coming.”

 “Okay,” Peter whispers, and his voice breaks again, horribly, a tear tracking down his cheek. 

 Tony quickly wipes it away, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “You’re gonna be fine, webs, I promise. I won’t have it any other way and I’m the savior of the universe so I get what I want.”

 Peter blows out a breath. “Good. Be stubborn about this.”

 “Oh, I’m gonna,” Tony says. Peter closes his eyes again and tries to keep his balance, even though he’s not fucking moving. “Try to sleep, okay? You’ve got a ton of people here working for you and I don’t wanna try to concoct the strong stuff to knock you out.”

 “You’re gonna flush it out?” Peter whispers. “The poison?”

 “Yes,” Tony says, gripping Peter’s wrist, fingers seemingly trying to track his pulse. “I promise.”

 ~

 Peter does sleep. He thinks. He isn’t really sure, except for the dreams, in which the Goblin traces across the sky and spews out poison gas from his mouth. Peter remembers the news reports. Norman had a son. Peter can’t remember his name, but after all that, he doesn’t like the idea of him losing his father, too. Norman is insane, and an asshole, but his son doesn’t deserve for him to die. Especially by his own hand. Peter doesn’t like the idea of him living with that.

 When he wakes up everything is a lot calmer, and darker, except for the one light beside his bed. He still feels out of it, but in a different way, and his mouth still tastes like blood. Metal.

 “Baby,” May whispers, suddenly sitting on the side of the bed.

 “May,” he says, still so tired. She’s fuzzy but it looks like there’s a halo behind her head. Maybe a light from the hallway. He sees Tony is sleeping in the chair by the bed, breathing through his mouth.

 “You’re okay, sweetheart,” May says. 

 Peter glances up and sees that he’s hooked up to about a hundred different things. He’s got a nasal cannula in and it’s definitely helping with the not breathing shit. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” he says, softly. He’s so annoyed at himself. There was gas everywhere, at the power plant. Norman was obviously doing something. But Peter was so distracted. “I should have—”

 “We should have realized something was wrong,” May says. “You were a little off, and MJ said something to me—”

 “He did it like this on purpose,” Peter says, holding onto her hand. “Osborn. So we wouldn’t know...right away.”

 May sets her jaw and then she shakes her head, leaning down and kissing him on the cheek twice in a row. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. We’re here.”

 Peter nods, trying not to think about all of it. Trying not to wallow in his own stupidity and guilt.

 ~

 When he wakes up again it’s brighter, and Tony is standing over him, checking on his chart. 

 “Are they doubling the poison?” Peter asks. “Finally a way to get rid of the Spider-Man?”

 “The Spider-Man,” Tony says. “The Iron Man. The Captain America.”

 “Mine works, yours don’t,” Peter says. He glances over at the other chair and sees that May isn’t here right now.

 “She’s downstairs making sure everyone properly puts your lunch together,” Tony says, reading his mind. He hangs the chart back up and sits on Peter’s bed, gently. “How you doing?”

 “Okay,” Peter says. He still doesn’t feel...amazing, but it’s not as bad as it was before. “How long have I been asleep?”

 “Uh, going on eleven hours,” Tony says, gritting his teeth. “Which is why May is so insistent on the—lunch. Gonna be a big one, she almost wanted to start feeding you through a tube.”

 Peter blows out a breath and sinks down a little further into his pillows.

 “We’re gonna have to do a couple different treatments over the next few months for the mercury,” Tony says. “It wasn’t death-level but it was close, with all the other shit he mixed in there, and it’s not good to have it in your body. With your heightened—everything, and your healing, your system was trying to attack it but, well—what he made was strong, and it was spewing out everywhere at that plant. It’s a good thing you caught it when you did, because we were able to contact everybody who went to the scene that night before they shut everything down. You saved a lot of lives, Pete. Now they’re all gonna get treated, and it would have hit them harder than it hit you because they’re not—spider men. You were just more exposed.”

 Peter stares at him. “What about Norman?”

 Tony’s face goes stern. “Why do you care about that asshole? He did this to you.”

 “He’s got...a kid, Tony,” Peter says. “My age, I think. I’m sure, as disappointed as his kid is that his dad is a super villain, he still...doesn’t want him dead.”

 Tony looks down at his hands. “He’s still alive,” he says. “I sent some of my best guys to the prison to treat him. Because I knew you’d want me to. I didn’t do it because I wanted to or because I want him to live, I did it because I knew it’s what you would have wanted.”

 Peter feels warmer, under all that, and he reaches out and grabs Tony’s hand, the one that isn’t iron. “Thank you,” he says.

 “Uh huh,” Tony says, but he squeezes Peter’s hand. “He deserves to rot for doing this to you, Pete. You’re gonna be dealing with this shit for six months or so. Minimum.”

 “I’ll beat it before then,” Peter says, smiling at him, trying to ignore how like shit he feels.

 Tony meets his eyes. “You’re too good. You need to stop being too good.”

 Peter shrugs and keeps smiling. He doesn’t think he’s good enough, at anything, ever. But he knows that’s not the right thing to say to Tony right now. 

 Tony scoffs and squeezes his hand again. “Uh, are you okay for visitors? Because Morgan was having a complete heart attack.”

 “Always ready for a Morgan visit,” Peter says. “And can you, uh—call Ned and MJ?”

 “Yeah, they’re on their way already,” Tony says. “I gotta keep your girl from chastising you too hard.”

 “No way to avoid that,” Peter says.

 “Yeah,” Tony says, patting Peter’s hand. He clears his throat and doesn’t let go quite yet. “I’m proud of you. I know I said it before when it all first happened, and I wish I had been there to back you up—I wish anybody had been, but I just—wanted to say it again. Because you deserve to hear it, especially when you’re—dealing with something like this.” He looks at him and smiles fondly, a little sadly. “I’m proud of you.”

 It’s one of Peter’s favorite things to hear, especially from Tony and May. He knows getting through this is gonna be hard, but he’s got the kind of support system that people literally wait lifetimes for. He’s beyond lucky. 

 He holds onto Tony’s hand. “I’m proud of you too.”

[simple-heroics]

Snowy Nights in Tokyo

Part 1 of the “Let Me Take Care of You” mini-series Fuyumi Todoroki X fem!Reader (alternating between she/her and they/them pronouns) Word count: 11,919 someone stop me

Not to get too gay on main but @floof-reppu​ opened my eyes with their Fuyumi fic. Which inspired some assertive!Fuyumi. Everyone say thank you to her for helping me the NSFW scene. It’s my first one and tbh I still have a lot to learn in writing smut but here it is.

Me being me, I’ve also gone overboard and now have to make a mini-series for Fuyumi. I don’t even care that I won’t get a lot of notes for this. It just...feels like I need to write it, you know?

Anyway, this is dedicated to all the eldest daughters in the world who have had to take care of everybody but themselves. 

Content warning: Hyper vigilance, alcohol, references to drunk adults, references to high stress work environments, mild Quirk play (not previously negotiated), brief orgasm denial, possible naked book clubs, and VERY consensual sex between two sober adults. Emotional, intense topics brought up before, during, and after sex. It gets heavy, y’all. And a little awkward because surprise, surprise. Sex with a virtual stranger isn’t always all that sexy.

“To y/l/n - for kicking ass and finally taking a night off!” Your friend toasts you. Similar cheers echo her as shot glasses clink together.

Rolling your eyes, you throw your head back and take your shot. You are well-acquainted with burns but the shochu is an unfamiliar one in the back of your throat, making you cough. Your old schoolmates laugh, jokingly asking you when you last actually drank. A second later, you remember to laugh with them. The sound scratches itself out of your throat, hoarse from the recent burn of liquor. 

It feels...off.

Even if you weren’t on shift, even if you were having fun with friends and tossing back a couple of well-deserved drinks, you couldn’t help being hyper aware of everyone in the room: The group of salary men, somber when they first arrived, now laughing hysterically. Some girls’ night out, tipsy women giggling over cocktails. Random tourists in the back going nuts over sake bombs. You watch it all on the mirrored wall behind your friends. 

Eventually, your eyes wander to your unsmiling reflection next to your friends and realize… You look older than them. Your friends glow with this vibrancy, this carelessness, that made them feel younger to you. You listen to them talk - about classes, about apartment hunting in Tokyo and midnight convenience store runs, about dating. A whole different life than the one you live now. You’re the same age as them, have known some since high school, but you somehow feel ten years older. A part of you always feared your friend group growing apart as you all got older. But you never expected you would be the one to age so quickly ahead of them. There is too much weighing on your mind, too much you’d seen. 

You close your eyes and the images are vivid on the back of your eyelids. The memories sweep over you, drowning out the surrounding laughter and clinking drinks. Phantosmia clogs your senses like smoke. The taste of ash soots the back of your tongue.

“Seriously, though. It’s been forever!” one of them exclaims.

You jerk back to the present, blinking. 

“Does your new boss own you or something?”

You stiffen.

Another friend nudges her, shooting her a reproachful look. 

“I actually don’t see him that often,” you say, tone sharp. You don’t want to kill the mood, not when it’s been so long since you’d seen any of them, so you try to lighten it. “He’s busier than I am.”

There are few people you respect as much as your boss. It’s a privilege to work under someone with so much experience and skill. You worked your ass off for years before you became qualified to even apply, and that was only the beginning. If you couldn’t keep up with the team, you weren’t needed. Too many lives at stake. The only person held to higher standards were the ones your boss set for himself.

“Right, right,” says the friend who made the sarcastic joke. “And we’re grateful to him, really. But...”

“But we really do miss seeing you, y/l/n,” another chimes in, sincere. 

Your best friend intervenes. “Besides, he’s not all bad if he let you and that cute coworker of yours off for the night. Speaking of…”

Knowing what they’re getting at, you check your phone. “She says she got caught up in...something.”

“Really? Even the salary men over there are taking a break.”

Your table looks over to see the middle-aged men, completely sloshed, start their own improv karaoke. Your friends immediately crack up and imitate the off-key singing.

While you laugh with them, a part of you itches. You think of your coworker and the ongoing case.  It feels strange, almost wrong, to be joking with your old schoolmates and making fun of drunk salary men while they were risking their lives.

Maybe you are becoming something of a workaholic, you privately admit. But it’s good work, important work. You help so many people everyday. You love your job. 

But what’s the point of if you don’t have someone of your own to protect? a voice whispers, the same quiet voice that speaks up when you leave the bunks for your own lonely apartment. 

Now’s a good time for another drink.

Ignoring the teasing requests for another round from your friends (“C’mon, y/n, we know you’re getting paid more~!”), you slide through the small crowds until you find an open space at the bar. The bartender’s swamped with orders piling in from a sprawl of college boys. Some sports team, you think as you subconsciously size them up, too rowdy to be an academic club. Harmless but stupid.

Still, you watch them from the corner of your eye. 

“Could I get the matcha highball, please?” 

Her voice should have been too soft to hear in the loud bar but somehow it rings out clear as a bell. Everything slows down. Your eyes widen, snapping to look at her.

At about average height, she stands out among the bar patrons in her modest white blazer and high-waisted jeans. Her soft-looking hair is white like the snow outside, vermillion streaks ribboned throughout the light strands. She shifts from foot to foot, full hips swaying with the motion.

You stare.

“Oops~”

You snatch the college boy’s wrist before he could “spill” his drink after he purposely bumbled over. The boy (really, he could only be a year or two younger than you) jolts, gawking at you.

With a stony expression, you look him dead in the eye. “Careful.”

“Oh!” The woman startles at the sudden commotion. She turns and you still.

Her face is cuter than you’d imagined it: a pert nose, soft jawline, and pretty pink lips that look like they’re made for things like smiling and laughter and other nice, soft things. Large, bright eyes like a winter sky framed by glossy eyelashes blink at you behind glasses. 

The entire world around you just...freezes. The only conscious thought you can think is her, her, her, her. The inner mantra matches the tempo of your heartbeat.

“Uuh...hey?” the college boy speaks up. You realize that you haven’t let go of his wrist - oblivious to his attempts at pulling away from her vice grip. And that you’ve forgotten to breathe.

Feeling your face turn warmer than usual, you swiftly look away from her. It’s pure autopilot that allows you to say, “Be a little more careful. We don’t want any ‘accidents’.”

Driving your point home, you squeeze just a little - a silent show of your strength - before abruptly letting go. He stumbles back slightly, nearly bumping into another person, and stutters, “Y-yeah, whatever. Sorry.” 

Partially to avoid contact with pretty turquoise eyes and also to drive the intimidation home, you stare after him stoically until he disappears. 

“Thank you.” 

You take an extra second to breathe, willing the concerning heat in your face - and the rest of your body - to lower before you face her. 

Then she smiles at you.

The heat returns tenfold. Damn.

Light-headed, you quickly realize she isn’t merely cute. This stranger was so stunning that she knocked the air out of your lungs with just a look.

“No problem,” you croak.

The bartender saves your life. “Matcha highball!” 

You have exactly 5 seconds to breathe and get your shit together while she gets her drink. You flounder for something, anything, to say. You could bench press the bar counter itself but you can’t talk to a random (beautiful, alluring, breath-taking) woman at said bar counter. But would that be weird? Would that make you no better than the creep deliberately spilling drinks on people? 

Drink in hand, she turns back around and smiles again. It’s just as debilitating the second time around. Your knees weaken. “Thanks again.”

“You come here often?” you blurt out. And promptly wanted to blast yourself. 

You expect her to lift a dainty eyebrow and walk away, pretending your existence never happened, but instead she honestly answers your terrible cliche. “No, not really. I’m...usually at home around this time. But some work friends told me I couldn’t skip out on happy hour again.” 

Given her the simple sincerity of her answer and the way she completely missed the near “spill”, you deduce that she doesn’t come to bars often or at least doesn’t have much experience with the nightlife. You almost want to ask what a (beautiful, damn near ethereal) girl like her is doing in a place like this but thankfully quash the impulse.

“Me, too,” you say quickly, straight-faced. “Except they’re not so much work friends. More like actual friends. Not that friends from work can’t be actual friends but they’re my friends outside of work. Except I haven’t seen them in a while. Because I work. A lot. Not that I’m a workaholic or anything. It’s just an intense job. But I’m not intense. Well, kinda. Some people say I can be. Only because it’s important - the job, not me. Um. Not in like a self-deprecating way but like in a self-important way - which I’m not. Or I try not to be. I just care about people which is kinda a requirement for my job. Mostly. Or at least it should be. Some people, you know? And I’ll just stop talking now.”

It’s a wonder steam doesn’t hiss out of your ears with how hot your still stoic face is. You almost wish a villain would tear through the bar and knock you against the wall right. Now. Damn it, y/n.

Yet miracle of miracles, her polite smile slowly widens into an amused one - and one of those genuinely nice ones, without so much as a trace of mockery. “It’s like that with my job, too.”

How is she still here after that? And was she really...making conversation? 

You swallow and try not to seem overeager when you ask, “What do you do?”

Her face lights up. “I’m a teacher.” 

You can’t help the rare, almost timid smile that wobbles onto your lips. A teacher. Of course the angelic-looking woman is also a sweetheart with a sweet job. God, that sounds so precious. “Yeah? What grade?”

“Third.” Thinking about her class, her smile broadens. Your first impression was dead on: her face was made for smiles. 

“Third grade…” you repeat. Not just a teacher, an elementary school teacher. No wonder she seems so - wholesome? Patient? Kind? You damn near melt at the mental image of her working with little kids. 

She tilts her head, bangs moving with the cute motion. You try not to get distracted. “What about you?”

“I - “ You hesitate. It always feels weird when you tell people your vocation, almost like you were bragging. Besides that, another part of you - the increasingly paranoid, always on guard part - is cautious.  “I’m a civil servant. Public safety.”

She makes a small noise of interest. “That does sound intense.”

“It has its days. But your job is probably a lot harder.”

Something in her eyes flashes. “You think so?”

“Mm.” You nod. “Teachers have to take on a lot, right? You’re not just teaching kids - as if that’s not a big enough responsibility, teaching the next generation. You’re also their counselors, social workers, referees, lawyers, motivational coaches. Sometimes even surrogate parents.” 

Her expression softens into something more thoughtful. “Yeah… Yeah, sometimes.”

Whereas before you were hyper aware of everything, now your entire attention is narrowed in on her. It’s the first time in a long time you weren’t subconsciously counting every head in the room or checking for emergency exits. And she’s quiet, considering you. The two of you spend an unusually long time analyzing each other.

She licks her lips. You try to keep eye contact but can’t help yourself, gaze flickering at the deft movement.

“My name’s Todoroki. Todoroki Fuyumi.” 

You briefly linger on her familiar but common family name before zeroing in on her given name, Fuyumi. Fuyumi. As in winter beauty. You inwardly applaud whoever chose her name; they had the right idea.

You bow politely. “Nice to meet you, Todoroki-sensei.” 

She laughs a little, cheeks flushing pretty and pink. Her returning bow is shorter, a little awkward with a drink in her hand. “Please, you don’t have to call me sensei. I’m off the clock.”

“What should I call you then?”

“How about…” She seems to internally debate this. “Fuyumi? We’re about the same age and besides, hardly anybody calls me Todoroki outside of work.”

“Fuyumi-san…” Your lips naturally curl upward while saying her name.

Her eyes flicker away and back, catching your own. “And yours…?”

“Y/l/n y/n. But y/n is fine,” you say, an almost lie. No one but your closest and dearest call you by your given name. But you can make an exception for this stranger at the bar, for Fuyumi. A small, greedy part of you simply wants to hear your given name in her voice, see how those pretty lips move around it. And besides...

Something tells you it won’t be long before you can count her in the small, tight-knit circle anyway.

“Nice to meet you as well. Please take care of me.”

“Of course.” You pause, realizing what you just said. “Uh…

Her rosy cheeks brighten but she’s still smiling, still looking at you with those bright eyes. “Can I get you a drink, y/n-san?”

Yeah, your name definitely sounds good - really good - coming from her. Almost as good as her own name feels on your tongue.

“I’d love that, Fuyumi-san.”

Another kneecap-shattering smile is sent your way.

Cool it down, y/n. Cool it. Down. You tug on your collar to alleviate the growing heat under it.

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

Despite their earlier hassling over you not spending enough with them, your friends are more than okay with you (temporarily, you insisted, lying to them and yourself) ditching them to talk to someone new. They seem almost more excited than you are -- “almost” being the operative word. You feel like you’d been hit by someone’s electric Quirk, and the feeling persists the longer you talk to Fuyumi.

You find a little two-seat table near one of the windows of the bar. It offers you both an open view of Tokyo, bright and alive in the dark winter night, where flurries of snow roll through the neon-lit streets. A nice sight, you’re sure, but you’re all but ignorant to it in front of Fuyumi who sits across from you. White blazer draped over the back of her chair, she wears a form-fitting black turtleneck. A simple gold band glints on her wrist as she fiddles with her glass, tracing the rim with an elegant finger. You notice that despite having gotten her drink sooner, the ice cubes remain perfectly intact while your own drink is now a watered down version of your original order.

Not that either of you are really drinking, consumed in conversation - in learning each other. 

You learn that Fuyumi is 22 years old. Less than a year ago, she completed her bachelor’s in elementary education at Showa Women’s University. This is her first year teaching, and she loves it. She adores her class. You listen attentively as she talks with her hands and a brilliant smile, describing one shy student’s increasing confidence and another’s improved reading score. You learn that your earlier deduction was correct: she isn’t much of a nightlife person, preferring smaller get-togethers and home-cooked meals. You learn that she loves the weather outside, attention sometimes drifting to the falling snow outside. You learn that she loves to read but is weak to the same soap operas you are. You learn that she’s kind and smart and passionate.

And that if you look directly at her for too long, you forget how to breathe. 

Your conversation delves deeper. You both talk about your work, how a passion for helping people brought you to your chosen professions and how it's that very passion that sustains you through the hard parts. You talk about the constant paperwork, tracking every incident and expense and flickering concern, in order to protect the people you look after and yourselves. Fuyumi quietly expresses her frustrations with the Ministry of Education, the intense focus on academics and Quirk development, and how she can already see the pressure on her young (too young) students. Expression grave, you tell her about the moral concerns in your job, how people - people who have it hard, people who are just having a bad day - are practically dehumanized for their mistakes and how your colleagues treat even milder, non-violent cases like they’re scum of the earth. 

You and Fuyumi both lament over the bureaucracies that get in the way of actually doing your jobs. You talk about what it’s like to be in that weird “in-between” age, feeling too old around people your own age who don’t have the responsibilities which your jobs demand yet so young - naive - next to most of your colleagues. Compassion fatigue is common in both your fields, you find. It’s just as fulfilling as it is utterly exhausting, taking care of people. You talk about how tiring it is to work for the public, how underappreciated you sometimes feel, how helpless some cases are. 

“And then after all that, coming home at the end of the day can just be so…” Fuyumi cuts herself off, covering her mouth.

“Draining,” you finish, solemn.

She slowly lowers her hand, turquoise eyes wide and serious behind her glasses. “...yeah.”

You tap the edge of your cocktail glass, contemplative. You hesitate before saying, “Sometimes it’s hard seeing people I really care about…after taking care of people all day. I know my loved ones need me, too, and I want to be there for them. But sometimes it’s too much on top of everything else. Somedays...I feel too tired to care and caring’s the whole reason I even got into this job.”

You didn’t realize how true this was until you said it. It’s an ugly truth, hideous as it lingers in the air, but the truth nonetheless. You wonder if this is the real reason you don’t go out with your friends anymore, why you rarely saw your family as of late. 

You also wonder about the intent look Fuyumi wore. Intelligent blue eyes meet yours behind rectangular frames and you can’t bring yourself to look away. You don’t know how long you two stared at each other, only that you’d stopped breathing entirely.

Pop!

“Aaaayyy!” 

You shoot up and whip around, physically blocking Fuyumi - an automatic shield. Your hand goes to your waist and of course - of course you aren’t wearing your tactical belt. You’re off duty.

You start to activate your Quirk, let it hum unseen but ready under your hot skin. Off duty but still - .

But still, it was just the crazy salary men anyway. All drunk off their asses. One of them bought champagne, hence the pop. The man must be in his forties yet there he is, drinking straight from the bottle. The college athletes nearby start to chant and soon the rest of the bar is joining in. Somewhere, you hear your friends (the hooligans) cheering among them.

A gentle hand touches your arm, cool fingertips pressing against your wrist. Her touch sends off an immediate spark at first contact.

Electric Quirk?

Turning around, Fuyumi’s face is gentle but her eyes burn with an unexplained fervency. It kindles something in your stomach, makes you swallow. 

“Let’s go outside for a bit. Get you some fresh air.”

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

With the din of the bar behind you, you exhale and watch your breath condensate in the cold night air. It’s quieter here. Only a few other bar patrons mill about, one smoking several feet away and others waiting for a rideshare. The warmth from nearly activating your Quirk slowly seeps out enough to bring you back to a safer, more civilian-appropriate temperature but it’s still enough to keep you warm in your simple leather jacket.

You glance at Fuyumi. The falling snowflakes surround her like a vision, bright against the dark of turtleneck but blending in with her hair. “Aren’t you cold?”

She smiles, pushing her glasses up. “I’m fine.”

“Quirk thing?” you guess wryly, curious but also avoiding directly asking about her Quirk. It’s fine as a kid but as people get older, outright asking people about their Quirks is something of a social taboo. It would be more polite to ask what her bank statement said.

“Something like that. What about you? Are you cold or is it a ‘Quirk thing’?” When she speaks, you notice that her breath doesn’t come out in a misty cloud. Trained to automatically identify hints of what a person’s Quirk could be, you pick this out. Ice Quirk then, maybe snow? It suits the winter beauty.

The corner of your mouth twitches. You tuck your hands in your jacket pockets and lean against the building behind you.  “Something like that.”

You both stand in companionable silence. It’s easier to breathe outside with the city lights to distract you, though you sneak occasional glances at the way the blue and red neon lights reflect off Fuyumi’s snowy hair. The red streaks glow burgundy under the lighting.

“About what you said earlier…”

You say nothing now, simply pressing your lips together and staring obstinately at a distant flashing billboard: First a soda commercial, then some car insurance ad. You glance away when you see an ad for Burning Coffee and the familiar face with it.

“I get it.”

Schooling your expression into a neutral one, you look at her from the corner of your eyes. 

Fuyumi tucks a stark white strand behind her ear. You try not to get distracted by the way she bites her lip. “Even before I started this job, I…I have two younger brothers. I love them a lot but it's - I…. I’ve had to take care of them for a long time now.”

You mull over this for a moment. “Because someone had to, huh?”

“Someone has to.”

You nod slowly. “Caring for other people is why humans are here but it’s hard. There are limits.”

“Yeah, there are...” That intense light in her eyes appears again. “But someone has to care, even when it’s hard. Someone has to bring people together.”

What about your parents? You want to ask, want to know who left her alone with such a heavy responsibility when she was so young. Something dark simmers in your stomach at the thought of a small Fuyumi burdened with the care of two little brothers while a child herself. But you bite your tongue. 

Instead: “Who takes care of you?”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Who takes care of Todoroki Fuyumi?” 

“Who… I - “ Her face is pink from the cold, you vaguely notice. Which is odd, if your hunch about her Quirk is right. “I... My brother does. The older one, Natsuo. He…” 

You realize too late that you’re raising your eyebrows, high and skeptical in your otherwise neutral countenance. 

“People care,” she finishes lamely. At your unimpressed stare, she turns her head away. The gesture is as bashful as it is stubborn.

“...there’s a difference between caring for someone and taking care of them,” you say softly.

Lifting her face, Fuyumi meets your gaze. You step closer without breaking eye contact. Her lips part, and you’re undeniably staring now - more than staring. You’re leaning closer, into her space, and she tilts her head back.

“Te ni shitai hikari ga aru kiiiimiii wa ima yorube mo naku hitori de kiro niiii tatsu~”

You both jerk away.

“Sorry,” Fuyumi mutters, covering her mouth. You catch a pink flush before she turns her head away. 

Clearing your throat, you fumble for your cell. “No, my bad. Uuuh, hold on. Lemme just turn it off.”

Even saying that, you habitually check the caller ID and immediately turn serious. You look at her apologetically. “It’s work.”

Still pink-faced and cute, Fuyumi waves a hand. “It’s fine!”

“One sec…” Praying it’s not an emergency but prepared nonetheless, you answer brusquely, “Talk to me.”

“Woah, there, y/l/n. No need to sound so serious. You’re off the clock, remember?”

“Are you?” you retort.

“Yeah, just got off and on my way. Your friends still there or you guys get bored waiting for me? ‘Cause I also know this one place in Shinjuku with some cute girls who maaay bat for our team if yanno what I - “

You nearly choke on your own spit. “Uuh, no. No, that’s not necessary.”

“Y/l/n, you need to get laid. Like, I’m pretty sure boss man gets more than you and - “

“Hey!” You cover the receiver, as though fearful Fuyumi would hear about your sad (lack of a) sex life. Also you never want to hear anyone talk about your boss like that. It’s worse than if someone were to bring up your father in that way. You shudder at the thought. “I do not want to think about that. Do not put those images in my head!”

Your coworker cackles. “Then get out and get some! Pretty sure with the overtime you pull, you got some cobwebs down there.”

“I will report you to HR,” you warn, too low for Fuyumi to hear.

“See? This is why he hired you. He needed a bigger wet blanket than him in the office to make him look chill in comparison.”

Ha. Your boss. Chill. Even you can privately admit that’s a good one.

“Then he owes me a raise,” you grumble. After some thought, you also add, “...besides, Shinjuku isn’t necessary.”

“Wait. You met somebody?!”

Hyper aware of a pair of pretty blues on you, you choose your words carefully. “We just received word from Team Lambda that things were...unexpectedly successful.”

“SHIT IS SHE WITH YOU NOW! Why are you still talking to me?!”

“Do you still require back up at the agreed location?”

“Pffft. Y/l/n, you dork. Nah, I’m good. I’ll swing by for a drink and say hi to your cute friend but you do who you gotta do.”

You clear your throat. “I’ll do my best.”

“Damn right you will. With how diligent you are, you’re bound to be a good lay.”

“I do have HR’s number saved on my phone,” you deadpan.

“Of course you do, you stick-in-the-mud. Now get off the phone and talk to your girl!”

Even when she abruptly hangs up on you, you can’t help the sudden grin while you silence your cell. Your girl.

That has a nice ring to it.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself.

“Is everything okay?” Fuyumi asks, tipping her head. She looks at you with such concern your heart flutters. “You sounded real serious.”

Your voice comes out half-strangled and high-pitched. “Fine. Ahem. Everything’s fine. My coworker was just checking in. We were supposed to meet up and, uh…”

“Oh.”  Fuyumi lowers her eyes. She adjusts her purse over a dainty shoulder. “My coworkers are probably waiting for me, too. We should…”

No!

“Something came up,” you say quickly.

She pauses mid-step.

“Do you want another drink?”

 “I think I’ve had enough to drink,” she admits.

 “Oh…” You visibly deflate despite your attempts at keeping up a nonchalant demeanor. “I...I understand.”

 “...didn’t you come here with your friends?”

 “I met someone,” you say bluntly. You pin her with a look, one that sears through Fuyumi and says ‘you’. “They’ll understand.”

 That pretty blush returns tenfold, rising in her cheeks and spreading all the way down her neck. You want nothing more than to discover where else it goes. “Oh.”

 You tuck your hands in your pocket to hide how they shake, try to relax your body but even you can feel the intensity in your own gaze. “And your coworkers?”

 “They’ll understand, too…” She fiddles with her purse’s strap, shifts her weight from foot to foot. Again, her hips sway with the motion and you start to wonder if there’s anything Fuyumi could do that wouldn’t attract you. “But I still think I’m ready to leave this bar.”

 “Just this bar?” You peer at her from under your eyelashes.

 If just looking at her wrecks your breathing, the way she bites her bottom lip will be your absolute end. “Just this bar,” she confirms quietly. 

 “Hm.” You step forward, edging closer but just shy of her personal space - maintaining a respectful distance but near enough to feel the energy passing between you two, the intense and immediate chemistry. It’s strange and unfamiliar and gravitational. 

 Fuyumi stands completely still but she’s tighter, tenser, with a white-knuckled grip on her bag and fair skin brightening to new shades of red. There’s a light in her eyes that keeps drawing you in, like a moth to a blue flame. They dart heatedly between your own darkening gaze and your mouth.

 “Do you have plans for the rest of your night, Fuyumi-san?” Maybe at least a dinner, you hope, somewhere warm and cozy and private. Something you think she would like.

 She shakes her head, blushing yet unhesitant. 

 You swear you can feel your own heartbeat in your throat. “Any younger brothers to take care of tonight?”

 After some deliberation, she says, “They’re 19 and 15. I think they’ll survive one night without me.”

 “Yeah?” you ask breathlessly.

 “Yeah,” she says, just as quiet, and she just...looks at you. Really looks at you.

 Then she steps closer and suddenly she’s right in front of you. A cloud of vanilla-and-jasmine fragrance surrounds you. You do nothing, say nothing, simply let her come to you. You watch her with a deliberately calm mien. Fuyumi lifts up a delicate hand and brushes through your hair. A whirl of snowflakes scatters around you.

She sees you shiver and whispers, “You’re going to catch a cold out here.”

Her hand lingers in your hair. The touch is light but it’s like being connected to a live wire. A second more passes. Then her hand flutters back to her side. 

“Then I guess we should find some place warmer.” 

“Y/n-san…” 

“Let me…” Let me call you a rideshare. Let me walk you home. Let me take you home. Please. Just let me stay with you a little longer. You swallow all those other words, better words, and come out with, “Let me take care of you.”

Those impossible blue eyes widen. “What?”

Face much warmer than you’re used to off-duty and braver in ways you’ve never had to be before, you ask her softly, near pleading, “Can I take care of you tonight, Fuyumi-san?”

Fuyumi’s lips part. Then slowly, shyly, they curl into that heartbreakingly beautiful smile. “Okay.”

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

You nearly trip over a chair on your way over to your friends’ table. 

“Aaww, did you strike out?” your best friend teases you.

You let out a shaky laugh, pushing your hair back. “Actually, I came to say bye real quick.”

This earns you a chorus of jeers and whistles around the table. 

“That’s my teammate!” a familiar voice crows behind you. You catch tendrils of green flames from the corner of your eye before you see her.

“Kamiji!” 

Kamiji moves easily between the tables, as graceful as a cat and grinning like one, too. “What are you still doing here?” she teases while pulling you into a side hug. “Didn’t I tell you to clean out some cobwebs?”

You add a little heat to your embrace - enough that would have made anyone else flinch away but with Kamiji, with anyone in the Flaming Sidekicks, it’s more like a playful punch. “I’m calling HR on Monday.”

“They’ll be the only ones you’ll be calling if you don’t catch up with your girl,” Kamiji retorts, nudging you away with a discreet flicker of flame at the tip of her finger.

Your girl.

“Look at that grin! Just an hour ago, she was moping over her shots,” a friend teases.

“I can count all the times she’s smiled at work on one hand and still have fingers left over,” Kamiji says, joining the min roast session. Her eyes gleam. “Introduce me to her later, yeah?”

“We’ll see,” you say non-committedly.

“Pfff - get outta here. Some people need a drink.”

“I gotcha,” your best friend volunteers. You notice them already making eyes at Kamiji and silently congratulate yourself on introducing them.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you say with a quick wave.

“How much later?” a friend snarks.

“Have fun!” another offers, waggling their eyebrows.

“Be safe,” one teases, a joke coming from a civilian.

“For real,” Kamiji adds. From her, regardless of her playful demeanor, it’s definitely not a joke. “Call me tomorrow morning. Or afternoon. Whenever you wake up.” 

“Sure.” 

It’s a good night, you think as you wander back to the entrance to meet Fuyumi. You have a feeling it’s about to get better.

So caught up in her, you miss your best friend and Kamiji lingering on their way to the bar. Both are curious to see who could possibly catch their overly serious workaholic of a friend’s attention. They exchange sneaky grins, instant co-conspirators, as they shadow you.

“Y/l/n’s usually the first to pick up when we’re being watched on stakeouts,” Kamiji confides in your friend. “Either she’s had too much to drink or this girl is something.”

They snort. “A couple of us literally walked by their table five times and she didn’t so much as glance our way. You literally came by the one time this entire evening where she’s taken her eyes off her.”

Kamiji’s sharp canines glint in her grin. “Oh, really~?”

She peers over at the door to take a look at your mystery girl and...stops. Her grin drops like a stone.

“Oh, shit.”

Your friend quirks a brow. “What?”

“Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit,” Kamii mutters. “Y/L/N! HEY, Y/L/N!” 

The bar’s noise drowns her out.

“Fuck.” Kamiji whips out her cell and dials your number. When she goes straight to voicemail, she tries again. And again. She sends you a barrage of texts.

“What’s wrong?” your friend asks. “Do you know her?”

There’s no humor in Kamiji’s caustic laugh. “Pretty much everybody at the agency knows her - except our newbie apparently.”

“At the agency? Is she a villain?”

“Worse.”

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

On the way to your apartment, you check and double check if this is what Fuyumi wants. She laughs a little as she reassures you. You insist that she texts someone, anyone, and give her your address ahead of time. You even ask her to sing the English alphabet backwards to make sure it’s not alcohol’s decision rather than her own certain and sober one. Between your protectiveness against...well, in this case, yourself and her laughter, you two trade giddy glances and secret smiles throughout the entire drive. 

You’ve never seen anyone who looks so...pretty in the city lights. You’d long lost any awe over Tokyo’s shining lights but find yourself gaining a new appreciation for them. They look good on her, reflecting off her hair and fair skin and glasses. It’s like Fuyumi is made of light and glass and something so bright that comes from within you can’t even fully fathom it.

And holy hell, she agreed to come to your apartment. Is this actually happening?

Your fingers tap a nervous rhythm in the middle seat. Suddenly, a cold hand slips over them - halting them. You jump, glancing over. She smiles and squeezes your hand, reassuring you even with that blush and her own fidgeting. 

You’re the one who's supposed to be taken care of right now, you think.

But now you’re so focused on leveling your breathing you can’t risk looking at her. You do, however, lace your fingers through hers. 

And it just fits. 

When you arrive at your place and slide out of the car, you’re the one to reattach your hands while you jostle for key with your other hand. You’re suddenly entirely too grateful to have a first floor apartment.

Reality socks you in the stomach when you’re inside. With Fuyumi. 

It’s strange...seeing her in your apartment. You can’t remember the last time you had anyone else in your home, hardly in it yourself between patrols and paperwork and stakeouts. But having Fuyumi here? With you? Barely visible in the dim light of your entryway, hair bright like a halo and face barely visible?

It’s like a dream.

But it’s not. Your heart wouldn’t be hammering like this if this were a dream. 

Fuyumi still hasn’t let go of your hand. If anything, the situation seems to dawn on her, too, going by how she clutches it. You both stand together in the dimly lit genkan, quiet, a little awkward. But the small space between you is purely electric.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Fuyumi admits quietly.

“Me, neither…”

“Work?” she guesses.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “You?”

“School. Then work.”

You force a smile through your nerves. “And taking care of other people?”

Her words are hushed. “Yeah… That, too.”

“Guess we both missed out on the crazy party phase other people our age got,” you say dryly.

That earns you a soft laugh. “I guess so. Never looked all that great anyway.”

You snort. “Yeah, I’m not too upset that I missed out on all my friends’ college hangovers. But when was the last time you got to just...let go? Not care what anyone thinks or says?” 

You yourself could at least count some fond high school memories.

Fuyumi, however… 

She says nothing, bangs covering her eyes. 

Tonight, you decide. Tonight is her night. 

And suddenly, something clicks into place. You’re not nervous anymore.

“In that case...” Hands still connected, you step out of the genkan. “I think it’s about time someone took care of you.”

Her eyebrows furrow in concern. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But… Aren’t you tired from caring so much?”

I don’t think I could ever get tired of caring for you.

Gently, you bring your intertwined hands to your mouth and smooth light, unhurried kisses over her fingers. Your lips trail along her knuckles until they press against her wrist and linger there over her pulse. You look at her through hooded eyes. Her breath catches. 

Then you drop your hands.

“Trust me,” you say, your voice low in your own ears. “This is as much for me as it is for you. But only if you want it.”

There’s an unspoken question there.

Fuyumi meets your gaze directly, heat rising in her eyes, almost like blue fire in how they scorch you with a single look. You start to rethink your original guess about her Quirk.

“I want it.” 

You. I want you.

Sucking in a long, slow breath, you smile at her. “...then come get it, Fuyumi-san.” 

She stumbles forward, as though in a trance. Shaky hands land on your strong shoulders, seeking stability, and she steps into you. Your chests brush against each other, and you’re submerged in her creamy vanilla and jasmine perfume. That gravitational pull tugs at you but you stop yourself just shy of her lips.

Hers. This is her night, her decision.

Her cool breath fans across your lips. Starlit eyes peer into your darkening ones.

You wait.

“May I?” The words vibrate against your mouth. 

Your heart melts.

“Of course.”

Fuyumi closes that last centimeter of distance and presses her trembling lip to yours. She tilts her head, mindful of her glasses. The kiss is slow and careful, closed mouth, testing the boundaries. Even with your verbal consent, it asks, Is this okay? You follow her lead, tenderly coaxing her lips along your own. Warm and welcoming and reassuring her yes, yes, yes. This is okay. This is perfectly okay. 

I want you, too. 

Her hands tighten on your shoulders. Yours slide into her feather-soft hair. You tug out the ponytail holder and delve your fingers in the tresses. You pull away, separating you with a soft pop, and watch the silky strands float to her shoulders.

Breathing hard, Fuyumi is still clutching your shoulders. Her face is flushed, roses blooming in her cheeks, and her pupils are blown wide. 

“Whoever named you had the right idea,” you mutter, completely dazed.

You don’t get a chance to recover.

Fuyumi surges forward, grabbing your face, and pulls you to her. You slant your head just in time to meet her kiss, eyes fluttering shut. Her lips are soft, soft yet pleasantly chilled. And they move fervently along yours. Currents spark from her to you, tingling down your spine and electrifying your senses. You meet her passion with your own, shaky and reverent hands moving up to grip her blazer. 

Without breaking the kiss, she steps out of the genkan and strides forward - backing you into your own apartment. Her hands slide from your cheeks and into your hair, tugging. You gasp, startled, and Fuyumi’s tongue is like ice in the warm cavern in your mouth. You groan. She uses her grip on your hair to angle you just so, completely taking over the kiss, and you let her. You want her to.

You move your hands up her back, into her hair - earning you another tug in reprimand - and down again until they find her full hips. You squeeze, enjoying the plush give under your fingers. Fuyumi hums, low and appreciative. You smooth your hands over her curves, slipping your thumbs under the shirt and rubbing circles against her hip bones. 

Fuyumi breaks the kiss just long enough to slide off her blazer, lets it fall to the floor with a muffled foomp and your leather jacket joins it soon after. Then she’s on you again, looping her arms around your shoulders. Pressing close, closer, her full breasts soft against yours. Her lofty exhale condensates in your warm apartment, chilling your lips. Your eyes flutter.

Gripping her hips, you kiss her - kiss her like you wanted to from the moment she first smiled at you. You kiss her like you want to consume her. And Fuyumi meets you, passion for passion, ice for fire. 

You slide your hands further up her turtleneck and skim along cool, soft skin with heated palms. Fuyumi arches, making soft appreciative noises that falter into disappointment when you remove your hands. Next you wind your arms around to fully embrace her, crushing her to you. Fuyumi moans. 

You pull back enough to land several pecks on her smiling lips, making her giggle, and then shower the rest of her face in kisses. Your eager mouth finds her swan-like neck and becomes more sensual, mouthing along the arch. Kissing and sucking and just breathing her in. Fuyumi leans her head back to accept your affections in full.  

“You’re so warm,” she sighs happily. 

Your brain dies and comes back to life. And then you promptly realize the full implication of her words.

Panting, you pull away. You’re still foggy and lost  and looking at Fuyumi, Fuyumi with that glazed over expression and slightly parted lips, certainly does help. But you have to check yourself - make sure you’re still in control.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Just wanted to look at you,” you say. Not a complete, as your gaze sears up and down her body.

“Don’t just look then.” Fuyumi tugs you forward by your shirt. You lean back at the last moment and grin at the frustrated sound she makes in the back of her throat.

“Y/n-san…” 

You kiss her, a quick peck, and dart away before she has the chance to deepen it.

Her nose scrunches up. You kiss that, too. She chases after your lips but you dodge, her lips landing on your cheek instead. You snicker.

“Y/n-san.” There’s a warning in her tone. The sternness in it, the sudden assertiveness, makes you light-headed and eager to obey.

Damn. You make a mental note to explore this later.

“Just wanted to be extra sure this is what you want,” you say breathlessly.

“I told you that I wa - “

You catch her open mouth in yours, kissing her longer, deeper. Your lips smolder against hers. Her responding hum shoots straight to your core. 

When you go to move away again, Fuyumi snares your bottom lip between her teeth and pulls you back in. A hand on your waist slips under your shirt, teasing the skin it finds there. She palms the small of your back. Pushes you closer. You squirm at the unexpected cold, inadvertently pushing yourself closer. She uses this to pull you into her, hands skating up your ribs, palms freezing, touch burning. The air grows hot and humid, a perfect clash between your Quirks, and you’re shivering from something far beyond temperature, beyond arousal. 

“Oh, god…” you eke out as she sucks on the corner of your jaw. You’re too far gone to process it, lost in a strange space between too much and not enough.

It’s only Fuyumi’s mercy that allows you to catch your breath. She pulls back, leaving our lips kiss-swollen and red and panting. You gawk at her.

Her demure smile isn’t kind; it’s the calm before a storm. “Where’s the bedroom?”

A small, pitiful sound - a whimper - escapes you.

This woman is going to be the death of you.

Wordlessly, you grip her thick thighs and lift her up enough to wrap her legs around your waist. Fuyumi yelps. She winds her arms around your shoulders, beaming down at you. You grin up at her adoringly, even when she laughs at you when you bump into your own furniture in your own damn apartment.

“I can’t remember the last time anyone’s carried me,” she says.

Nudging your door open with your foot, you hum thoughtfully. “I can’t remember the last time I had a pretty girl in my arms.”

Fuyumi hides her burning face in your neck. “...you, too.”

“Mm?” 

“You’re pretty, too,” she murmurs, burrowing in your shoulder. She nestles into you endearingly. “Prettier.”

You press a kiss to the side of her head, nuzzling into her hair and breathing in her conditioner. You whisper, “Don’t get in a fight over who’s prettier with me, Fuyumi-san. You’d lose.”

Then you promptly drop her on your bed.

Yelping, Fuyumi bounces on the mattress. She’s still smiling and giggling even when she tries to glare at you. “No, I wouldn’t,” she protests.

Amused, you place one knee on the bed. “Yes. You would.”

“No. I wouldn’t. Have you seen yourself?”

“Occasionally,” you drawl, raising your other knee to fully kneel in front of Fuyumi. 

“But you’re so fit and strong and - “ She bites her lip again, face tinted pink. “You’re gorgeous.”

You take your sweet, sweet time looking Fuyumi up and down. Body half sprawled across your bed, her beautiful hair fans out like a halo. The hem of her shirt is partially pushed up, revealing her pale stomach where a diamond navel piercing gleam and the full flare of her waist.

“I don’t compare,” you say simply, bending down to crawl over to her.

Fuyumi rises up on your elbows to meet you halfway. You straddle her hips, having to stretch out your thighs to fully seat yourself over them. Damn. They’re so solid and soft underneath you. You never want to sit anywhere else again.

Fuyumi’s breath hitches, staring up at you as though entranced. Her hands slip over your thighs. “I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.” 

“I think you,” you carefully slide off her frames, removing the one thing between you and the intensity of her gaze, “need new glasses, Fuyumi-san.”

You fold up her glasses and lean over to put them safely on your side table. The movement moves your hips, unintentionally grinding. The small friction makes you release a stuttery breath.

Hearing it, her own breathing starts to get heavier. Fuyumi tightens her grip on your thighs and pushes back. You groan, long and low in your throat. You start a slow rocking motion, core grinding down. Fuyumi’s hips meet you movement for movement. Her hooded gaze flares.

You place your hands on top of hers, looking down at her with half-lidded eyes. Taking all of her in hungrily. “Fuyumi-san, when you say you haven’t done this before…”

“I mean going home with someone I just met,” she murmurs, caught in the rocking motion. “This isn’t - it won’t be my first time.”

Her earlier ferocity - and the current undulations of her hips under yours - suggested as much, but it’s always good to check. 

You brush your fingers over her slim wrists and up her arms and down again. Feather light. Your touch ghosts over her exposed stomach and then up her lower ribs, pressing fully against her velvet skin. 

Fuyumi arches her back, eyelashes fluttering. Her lips quiver. 

She’s already starting to sweat, slick under your palms. You slide your hands back down and curve over her waist, kneading the bit of fat there. Her fair skin pinkens where you touch her. A small, desperate sound escapes her. 

“God, I love the sound of your voice,” you rasp, grinding harder. “From the moment I first I heard it.”

She laughs a little. “I’m surprised you even heard it. The bar was so loud.”

Rather than respond, you scoot down her thighs in order to bend down and nip a hipbone.

“Y/n-san.”

You groan at the sound of your name before trailing your lips from one hip to the other, your tongue briefly circling around her piercing. Throughout your loving ministrations, you push your hands further up her shirt to her heavy breasts and squeeze softly. Fuyumi arches her back, crying out. 

Eventually, you push her turtleneck up. Fuyumi sits up and you help pull it over her head. Your mouth dries.

Her beautiful hair is a beautiful mess, red tangled in white. Darkened blue eyes stare at you hazily. You finally learn that her flush extends from her round cheeks to her sternum, rosey and warm in the ivory of her skin. Her simple black bra barely restrains her heaving breasts. She’s all curves and supple skin and vanilla-and-jasmine perfume and - 

“How did I get so lucky as to bring you home with me tonight?”

In answer, Fuyumi kisses you. Her insistent lips move from your needy mouth to your neck. You gasp when she finds the sensitive place behind your ear. Her chilled breath makes you tremble. 

“How did I get so lucky as to end up in your bed?” she croons. Then she sucks your earlobe into her frigid mouth.

“Ah!”

She wrangles your shirt off and sends her mouth down the valley of your breasts. You wrap your legs around her waist, squeezing her between your thighs and pressing her into your aching core. Your head lolls, hair falling back. Your breathing is heavy under her. Her fingers tangle with the back of your bra and unclip it with ease. 

Peppering your shoulders with chilled kisses as she slides the straps over them, Fuyumi tosses your bra over the side of the bed and pulls back to admire. You shiver at the dark, glassy look in her eyes. And then put up absolutely no resistance when she pushes you down on the bed.

Freezing hands caress your breasts, making you hiss and raise your back, as they come in contact with your sultry body.

“Sorry,” Fuyumi says, not sounding the least bit put out. “Quirk thing.”

Your chest heaves. “S’fine. Do whatever. Just - just keep touching me.”

Her eyelids lowered, and that demure smile returns. “That’s not a very polite way to ask for what you want, y/n-san.”

You’re not a proud person, and you know what you want. “Please, Fuyumi-san, please keep touching me - aah!”

Fuyumi leans down to circle a nipple with her ice-like tongue, sucking it in with a lewd suctiony sound. Glacial fingers pinch the other. Her other hand trails down, breezing across your ribs, until they find the hem of your pants and toying with the zipper. You pant, grasping at her shoulders for purchase. Forgoing the zipper entirely, Fuyumi cups you through your jeans - fingers rubbing tantalizing circles against your heat. 

“Fuyumi-san!” you whine.

“Such pretty noises…” Fuyumi murmurs against your breast. “And you looked so stoic and serious at the bar. But look at you.”

Fuyumi grinds the heel of her hand into you. You squirm helplessly underneath her wintery body. It feels so good but so intense. You wonder if you’d somehow managed to lure a yuki-onna to your bed.

“You just fall apart at the simplest of touches.” She bends her head over your other breast, biting down gently. She continues to palm at your throbbing core.

You buck your hips, desperate for more friction. “Please…”

Then, in retribution for your earlier teasing, she removes her hand out from between your trembling thighs. You whine. Making direct eye contact with you, Fuyumi pulls back with your nipple still pinched between her teeth. Only after you let loose a satisfactory whimper does she release it. Your other nipple, however, she continues to roll leisurely between her thumb and forefinger. 

“Apologies. You seemed to like how assertive I was earlier. Was I mistaken?”

You don’t deny it. Instead, you say weakly, “Didn’t expect this from an elementary school teacher.”

Smiling amusedly, Fuyumi nuzzles into your too-warm cheek. “I can’t be nice, patient sensei all the time.”

“So you like to get back some control in the bedroom,” you say dryly.

Fuyumi’s answer is scraping her teeth down your throat and sucking a mark into your collarbone. Cold hands seize your breasts, squeezing. A knee slips between your thighs to push against you. You cry out.

“Based on that lovely reponse…” Fuyumi croons, running her hands up and down your sides, “and your clear deflection from my original statement, you like to let go of control in the bedroom. It’s a release.”

Somewhere in the haze of your lust, you catch on. You raise an eyebrow.

She sighs. “Let me guess: high stakes civil service job, demanding work environment, lots of pressure, extremely stressful. You have to be in complete control at all times on the job, always alert, and need your phone on even after hours just in case.”

“...maybe.” She has a scarily clear cut understanding of your “civil service job”, even without the full details such as what exactly it is. 

She smiles understandingly, though there’s a strange twist to it. “I noticed how..alert you were at the bar. Even though you came with friends. You really don’t let yourself relax, do you?”

You turn your head, averting your eyes. 

Gentle fingers pinch your chin and bring them back to meet Fuyumi’s compassionate gaze. “It’s okay, y/n-san,” she soothes. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place - “

“No, you’re right,” you cut her off, voice hoarse. “I - it’s just I… I love my job.”

“I know,” she murmurs, caressing the side of your face. 

Your draw in a breath. “I’m lucky to have it. Especially being a woman. It’s what I’ve wanted since I was a little kid. And it - I get to help so many people. Every day. I feel like I make a real difference, you know? But it’s not easy.”

Fuyumi strokes your hair. “When was the last time you took some time off?”

You scoff, covering your eyes with a forearm. “I just transferred to a new agency a little while ago. I still have a lot to prove.”

This makes Fuyumi frown. “They chose to hire you. You shouldn’t have to prove anything!”

“Fuyumi-san,” you drawl, “you’re taking care of other people again. Didn’t I say it's your turn to be taken care of tonight?”

“Is you taking care of me just ‘helping people’ like you do everyday?” she asks.

“No. Is you asking about my work life and the personal toll it has just another way of asserting control?” you deadpan.

Fuyumi sputters, turning red. “N-no! And how’s wanting to help others ‘control’?”

“‘Help is the sunny side of control,’” you quote, bone dry.

Semi-amused, you watch realization dawn across Fuyumi’s face. “That’s - I never thought about it that way. That’s...quite insightful. Did you come up with that? Or is that from somewhere?”

“Anne Lammottt,” you say dryly. “She wrote this sorta half self-help, half memoir on hope and how to find it when things are at their bleakest. My therapist recommended it. I’ll lend you my copy.”

The bed creaks as Fuyumi sits up, straddling you. Poker faced, you make a herculean effort to keep your gaze directly on her face rather than stray to...well, the gorgeous half-naked body on top of you.

“You have a therapist?”

“High stakes job with heaps of pressure and stress, remember?” you quip. “It would be irresponsible of me not to take care of my mental health. Like skipping a dental cleaning or a vaccination.”

“Yeah…” Again, Fuyumi has that intent, searching look in her eyes. The same one she gave you after admitting how tired you were, how draining caring can be. Without her glasses, it’s only about 100 times more intense. 

And there you are, titties out, laid out like a spread eagle underneath Fuyumi like you’re her personal throne. Not a bad position to be in, of course, but a little odd when her face looks like she’s trying to solve the world’s hardest math problem and not contorted in the throes of passion as gifted by yours truly. You wait it out, though. It seems important.

It’s a nice view anyway.

Finally: “You’re really something, y/l/n y/n.”

You smile up at her lazily. “Thanks. You’re something special yourself, Todoroki Fuyumi.”

Fuyumi smiles down at you like a real life Madonna icon. You’re suddenly reminded of your recently developed Fuyumi-related asthma. And how her luscious thighs are actually a little warm after hugging your body for so long.

You drum your fingers against them, enjoying the feel even through her jeans. “Hey, Fuyumi-san?”

“Mm?”

“How did we go from the hottest foreplay of my life to talking about our mutual tendencies for compulsive caretaking?”

Fuyumi slaps her hands over her reddening cheeks and groans. “Oh, no. I’m sorry, y/n-san!”

“It’s cool,” you say, nonchalant. “We can do a naked book club instead, if you like. Anything you wanna recommend?”

“No! No naked book club - well, maybe later. Wait!” She drags her hands down her face and half-heartedly glowers down at you. Somehow, that stern look makes you throb. “You’re making fun of me.”

“A little,” you admit. You stroke her thighs soothingly. “But I’m also a little serious. If you’d rather do something else, that’s okay. I think I have some puzzles somewhere.“

Snorting, Fuyumi shakes her head. “I want to keep going. I do, I really do. But if I made it too weird or - “

“Great. I want to, too,” you state bluntly. 

“I didn’t make it weird?”

“Sex is weird sometimes. Besides….” You look up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, feeling your desire thrum back to life at her bold reassertion. Your voice turns smokey when you speak next. “I want to make you feel good, Fuyumi-san.”

Fuyumi shudders above you. 

Gripping her thighs, you slowly sit up to avoid jostling her from your lap. Warm hands smooth up her thighs, following the curves of her wide hips and her waistline. Fuyumi shivers when you linger on the sides of her plump breasts. You trace her bra’s outer edges up to the elastic straps and unhurriedly lower the right one. You press a kiss to her bared shoulder, as soft as the newly fallen snow outside.

“I want to make you really, really good.”

You feel how the exhale shudders out of her. “Y/n-san…”

“Will you let me? Will you let me make you feel good, Fuyumi-san?”

She laughs softly, hugging your shoulders. “How do you do that? “

“Do what?” you mumble, sucking at a beauty mark you find.

“Just - mmph, right there - just turn the situation around? It was so a-aah! Awkward and now it’s like this again.” 

You laugh huskily. “A little trick I learned on the job.”

“Seducing people?”

“Are you seduced?” you purr.

“Y-yes. But seriously...” 

“Let’s just say... I learned how to assess a situation and Turn. It. Around. In my favor.” You kiss up her neck with each word, breathing in deeply.

She gently scratches down your back, soft lines that make you shudder. “Mm, you’re a good civil servant.” 

This draws a smirk from you. “Thanks. Now...back to my question.”

“Mm?” Fuyumi’s eyes flutter.

You whisper hotly against her ear, “Will you let me make you feel good?”

“Yes, please.”

Grinning, you kiss her ear and set to work.

You unsnap her bra clasp, sliding the silky undergarment off and lazily letting it fall from your hand. Her supple breasts fall free with gentle bounce. Hand on her shoulder, you lightly push her onto her back and Fuyumi goes down willingly. Lips parted, you stare down at her darkly. 

Expression hazy, she smiles up at you. “Please take care of me.”

“I’ll try my best,” you promise, voice low and gravelly.

You cup her breasts, relishing the soft weight of them in your hands, and rub slow circles over them. Then you bend down to tongue a slow circle around a dusky nipple before sucking it into your eager mouth. Fuyumi sighs, cupping the back of your neck. You hum, then go to turn your attention to the next. Gently heating your lips, you press gossamer-like kisses all over her flushed chest. From there, you kiss down her sternum and down her chest.

“Y/n-san,” she calls softly as you leave marks along her stomach.

You sink blunt teeth into he left hip and she gasps. Trembling underneath you, Fuyumi grips your hair and moans.

You slip a finger under her jeans, looking to her with lifted eyebrows. At her nod, you unbutton her jeans and - in return for her icy teasing - unzip the fly with your teeth. She gasps. You tug at the loosened denim, to which she lifts her hips, and you slide down her jeans past her hips where you kiss and suck and nip. Then you pull the jeans down her thighs. You swallow at the sight of her pink panties, pupils dilating at the dark stain over her folds.

Still, you take your time - gently pulling her jeans off one creamy leg at a time. You kiss every inch of new skin revealed, reveling in Fuyumi’s increasingly shallow breathing. You watch her chest rise and fall, breasts heaving. 

She’s easily the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

Not looking away once, you toss the jeans to some far corner and settle between her thighs. You’re not even aware of where you are, so consumed with the sight and smell of her. 

“Y-y/n-san,” she calls.

“Shh, darling,” you murmur, landing a kiss on the inside of her knee. You trace your lips down the soft skin of her inner thigh. “I know, I know.”

“Hurry.”

“Almost there. I’m going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

She moans, the precious noise pitching louder when you press your lips to the sweet wetness pooled between her thighs. You flick the full length of your tongue over her. Delicate fingers grip the back of your head, cold and insistent, and you groan. The vibrations send her hips rolling and you follow along with the motions, licking and sucking through her underwear, breathing through your nose, tenderly thumbing circles into her hip bones. Despite the delicious press of her clenching thighs against your ears, you hear her call your name - broken between a plea and a command. And you obey.

Without wasting another moment, you pull away and hook your fingers under the hem of her panties. You slide the garment down her hips, groan at the pearly strands of her essence clinging to her puffy inner lips, and pull it down her lush thighs. 

Impatient, Fuyumi sits up enough to shove her panties the rest of the way off. Then her hand returns to the back of your head which she immediately guides to her cunt. You grasp her thighs, spreading them open for better access. You latch onto her hot bundle of nerves and suck into your mouth. Encouraged by her cries, you lave your tongue between her folds while your thumb continues toying with her clit. 

Nails scrape against your scalp, sending shocks of pained pleasure through you and inciting another moan. You bury your tongue inside her, reveling in the full taste of her. A mewl rewards your efforts. Chin shiny with her juices, you pull back only to return to her clit. You press a kiss there, two, three, before sucking it back into your hot mouth. Your fingers slide inside her; velvety walls clench around them, pulsing rhythmically as you slide in and out. 

Lashes fluttering, you lift your gaze to meet Fuyumi’s piercing blue eyes - bright and demanding above the flush of her cheeks and her neck and her heaving chest. Her grip tightens in your hair. You close eyes, blissed out, and delve your tongue deeper inside her until your nose is pressed against her clit. You delight in the wet friction. 

Her legs tremble, one hooked over your shoulder. Her cries rise - higher, higher, pitching into the dark ceiling. The sweetest of noises. You whimper when her thighs clench around you, following the undulations of her hips. Your own squirm against the sheets, arousal pooling in your underwear, as you listen. You feel it before she cries out: hands grasping, thighs shaking, labia twitching, her inner walls clenching around you. 

Ecstasy. Pure ecstasy. All because of you.

Fuyumi calls your names.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes -

Cold. 

Cold, cold, cold.

Under Fuyumi’s hands, ice coats your shoulders and spreads down your back. Your hair is stiff and frozen. Where her juices coated your lips and chin, now frozen. Even the tip of your nose has frost.

You blink.

Fuyumi gapes at you, horrified. 

“You know...when the weather forecast said snowy night in Tokyo, this isn’t what I expected.”

“I am SO sorry!”

You burst out laughing.

She hides her bright red face in her hands. “I’m sorry, y/n-san! Do you have a hair dryer? Let me -- “

“Nah, I’m okay. See?” You channel your Quirk, focusing on the warmth always present in the center of your chest, and let the heat spread throughout the rest of your body. Steam rises from your skin as the frost melts, not leaving so much as a droplet of moisture behind. 

Hands lowered, Fuyumi’s jaw drops. “You...you have a fire Quirk.”

“Opposites really do attract, huh?” Eyes crinkling, you laugh. 

It’s the only sound in the bedroom. 

“...Fuyumi-san?”

Speechless, Fuyumi stares at you with wide, wide eyes. The climax-induced flush is gone, bleached from her skin. She covers her mouth with a shaky hand.

You immediately recognize that expression. It’s the look a civilian had before they were saved, before help arrived. Fear. Seeing it on her face makes your stomach turn. It reminds you of the time you rescued a child from a burning building after a villain set off an electrical fire - the initial relief on the boy’s face evolving into sheer panic when you activated your own flames to fight the villain off before back-up came. You’d hated yourself for reigniting that fear so soon after the initial trauma.

And now? You’re bewildered and cautious. 

“Hey...you alright there?”

“I - yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Fuyumi swiftly looks away, shrinking in on herself. She brings her arms up to her bare chest. 

Resisting the urge to frown, you put up an air of calm. You wordlessly lift a sheet and - avoiding sudden movements - wrap it around her shoulders.

She blinks at you.

“A lot of people have had bad experiences with fire,” you say, non-judgemental. You smile softly. “I get it. It can be pretty scary sometimes. But I can guarantee you that I have better control over my Quirk than most people. Haven’t had an accident since I was 10.”

“I’m not - that’s not it, y/n-san.” Even saying that, Fuyumi pulled the sheet tighter around herself.

You lifted and lowered your shoulders in a languid shrug. “It doesn’t matter what it was or wasn’t. And you don’t have to explain it to me, either.”

Her bottom lip trembles. “Y/n-san - “ 

“Fuyumi-san,” you say, hushed. “It’s okay.”

You won't lie to yourself, though: It hurts. But you recognize a trigger when you see one. If years of general wariness of your flames didn’t teach you that, your training certainly did.

It’s that same training that allows you to smile at her reassuringly. “Hey… Look.” 

You hold your hand out, palm side up. Watching her face carefully, searching for even the slightest flinch, you focus the heat under your skin to converge at the center of your palm: A spark, then a shimmer, and a small flame comes to life. No bigger than a birthday candle, it casts a soft light across your face. 

Fuyumi’s eyes flicker between your tender expression and the tiny fire. Your own gaze doesn’t waver from her face, even as you slowly twist your hand and will the flame to move sluggishly along your palm, your wrist, over your knuckles, and between your fingers. Fuyumi watches all the while. 

You urge the flare to your to the very tip of your index finger and hold it up to your mouth. You purse your lips, not unlike a kiss, and extinguish it with a small puff. You wink at her. “See? Perfect control.”

While she is still hunched under the sheet, it at least earns you a small, wobbly smile. 

You hold out your hand, again palm side up. She immediately looks at it, clearly expecting another flame. The corner of your mouth twitches and you wiggle your fingers a little. 

It’s a relief when she accepts the silent offer, placing her small hand in yours. Your fingers wrap around hers. Tenderly, carefully, you brush your over her knuckles. Like you’re holding something infinitely precious.

“I was a pretty stupid kid, you know. You would’ve hated having me in your classroom,” you say suddenly, still fixated on your joined hands.

Fuyumi looks almost offended. “No, I wouldn’t!”

It makes you grin a little. “You’re right. You’re an amazing teacher - one of those saintly ones with tons of patience for even the brattiest of kids. I can tell. But trust me, even little me would have given you a run for your money. I was pretty full of myself, just because of an accident of being born with some flashy Quirk. Always showing off and playing around with it.”

At this, your smile fades into a grim line. “But you know what they say about playing with fire. ‘Cept I can’t burn but others sure can. I learned that the hard way...at someone else’s expense.”

“...the accident when you were 10,” Fuyumi recalls, voice faint.

“It was someone I really care about,” you say. Your mouth twists into a self-contemptuous sneer as you shake your head. “I knew how to start fires but hadn’t yet learned how to put them out. So much for the little show off.”

Suddenly, her hand squeezes yours. You blink.

“You were only a child, y/n-san,” she whispers. Her eyebrows scrunch together and without her glasses, there’s nothing between you and those fierce eyes. “It was an accident.”

“Doesn’t matter. Someone else paid for it,” you say, uncompromising. She opens her mouth to protest. You raise her hand to kiss her knuckles which immediately snaps her mouth close. “And I’ve been a whole lot more careful since then. I promised myself that I would use my Quirk to protect people, not hurt them. Especially not someone I care about.”

At that, you press your lips to her slim wrist. You gently suck at the blue-ish veins beneath delicate skin, kissing the heel of her hand and then her own palm and finally the tips of fingers. You look up to see Fuyumi’s cherry red face.

“Are you hungry?”

“W-what?” She sounds half as breathless as you felt most of the evening. Payback, sweetheart.

“I promised to take care of you tonight, remember? So. Are you hungry?”

Fuyumi stares at you, taking in your still half-dressed state and kiss-bruised lips. “What about you? I didn’t...you know.”

You shrug. “It’s fine. Lemme get you a glass of water at least.”

After her near panic attack and the sudden turn in conversation, you figure she might not be in the best headspace to...reciprocate. Besides, nothing dashes the libido quite like your partner almost freaking out at your Quirk.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stretch your arms out, oblivious to Fuyumi’s sharpened stare where your back muscles ripple with the movement. You push your hair back, lightly scratching your head as you lazily search the floor for your shirt. 

“Wanna watch a movie or something? I think I have some popcorn. We could - “

Cool hands smooth over your waist, meeting in the middle of your stomach. You feel the swell of her breasts against your too-warm back, tight nipples on your shoulder blades. Chilled lips brush the junction of your neck and shoulder, following the curve of your neck. She catches your earlobe between her teeth and tugs. 

Your breath hitches. 

Her hands trail up your abdomen, leaving shivers in their wake, before cupping your breasts. You arch your back, consequently pushing yourself further into her. Her thumbs smooth twin circles around your nipples, her natural chill sensitizing them. 

“Fuyumi….” Her name is a weak moan from your mouth.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” comes her wintry whisper. “Let me return the favor, okay?”

“A-are you sure? A-ah! Fuyumi!”

“I told you, y/n, I want it. And I’ll take it if I have to.”

There is a higher power and apparently, that higher power fucking loves you.

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

It’s habit that wakes you up in the early morning. Drowsily, you blink up at your ceiling and then turn your head on your pillow to find Fuyumi’s face inches from yours. Her cheek is squished against a pillow, snowy strands caught in her mouth. 

You stare at her in silent awe. 

Eventually, your stomach reminds you of your basic needs and by extension Fuyumi’s eventual needs as well. Breakfast then. You sit up slowly, taking care not to wake her. You swing your legs over the bed and pad your way around fallen clothes. You pick them up, sorting out which were whose. Your cell drops out of your pants.

You remember your promise to Kamiji. Turning on your cell, you grimace at the low power and then pause at the many...many messages on it.

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: RED ALERT RED ALERT

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: YO Y/N PICK UP

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: As GREAT as a time you’re having right now...pick up.

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: Yl//n.

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: Y/l/n. 

Burnin’ 🔥💪💪: Y/l/n y/n.

Frowning, you press “call” on her contact. A few rings carry on, setting your nerves at ease. You know that if it really was an emergency, she would be awake and pick up immediately.

A groggy voice answers. “Must’ve been a fun night.”

“Kamiji, what’s up?” you murmur.

“Did you take that girl home with you?”

“Uuh…” You glance at Fuyumi’s curled up form. The sheets drape over the curve of her hips and tangle between her legs, leaving her mostly bare. Her arms stretch out above her head, feathery hair a tangled mess, carmine streaks vibrant in the sunrise. A few of your marks stand out, red and violet, on the fair skin of her waist and chest. Perfect matches to the ones all over your chest.

You don’t realize you’re smiling like an idiot until you hear your name repeated, louder and louder. “Y/l/n… Y/L/N! HEY!”

You scowl, soundlessly slipping out of bed and snatching a robe on the way out. You muffle your phone against your collarbone until you’re safely in the kitchen where Kamiji’s yelling won’t wake Fuyumi up.

“Yes, Kamiji, I took her home with me and now I’m going to make her breakfast. There a problem?” 

Coffee. You need coffee. 

“Well, at least you’re treating her right. Hopefully that’ll work in your favor.”

“What are you talking about?” you grouse, getting your coffee maker ready. You mentally go over what you have in the fridge. Do you have enough to make something? Or should you run to the cafe to grab something? Would you get back before Fuyumi wakes up? Maybe you should wait and see if she’d want to go with you...

A dark laugh from the receiver. “You really have no idea who she is, do you?”

You freeze. Tightening your grip on the phone, you glance warily at your closed bedroom door. “...why, is she a villain?”

“You wish.”

Your brow furrows. “What?”

“You’re completely fireproof, right?” 

“Yes,” you say, frowning. “It’s pretty much why Endeavor hired me.”

Kamiji makes a small, aggravated noise. “He hired for more than that, y/l/n. But we’ll get into that later - before our boss gives a whole new meaning to firing you.”

“Fire me? For what?”

“What’s his name, y/l/n? His actual name?”

You really do not like where this conversation was going. “Todoroki Enji?”

“And who did you take home with you last night?”

“...that’s not funny, Kamiji.”

“I’m not joking.”

“It’s a common last name,” you protest, “and they look absolutely nothing alike - “

Except.

Except for the red in her hair. 

And the color of her eyes, the curve of her nose, the angle of her eyebrows...

The same family name.

Her reaction to your fire Quirk.

You even met at a bar close to the Endeavor Hero Agency.

“No.”

“Yeeeaaah. You slept with the #2 hero’s only daughter.”

For the first time since you were 10, you lose control of your Quirk - setting your favorite robe aflame.

“SHIT!”

Kamiji’s laughter is barely heard over the smoke alarm. Burnt cotton fills the kitchen air and you tear off the robe to throw it in the sink, immediately turning on the faucet. And then there you are, wearing nothing but a few love bites, as you fight with the smoke alarm to shut it up. 

Having taken the batteries out, you snatch up the phone and hiss, “I slept with our boss’s daughter? Our boss boss? Endeavor?”

“You work for my father?” 

You swear you feel the blood draining from your face. Slowly, mechanically, you turn around. She stands just outside your room, a vision in white sheets. The girl you met last night, the girl you’re pretty sure you fell a little in love with at first sight. The one you took home with you.

Todoroki Fuyumi.

Endeavor’s only daughter.

The higher power fucking hates you.

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

Note: When Fuyumi says “Please take care of me” during introductions with reader, it’s actually an English translation of “Yoroshiku onegaishimasu” which is more of a concept than a direct translation. Cool explanation here for my fellow language nerds.

[hockeybabestars]

New Year Same Us - Auston Matthews - Nine

a/n: guys we’re so close to the end! only one more chapter after this! I hope you enjoy part nine!

December 31, 2018 - January 1, 2019

Mitch and Stephs New Years party was pretty amazing. They had decorated with shiny banners and confetti and there were hats and beads and glasses to wear to ring in the new year. Everyone was having a good time mingling or dancing or doing their own things. Music softly played through the living room speakers with ease and the NYC countdown was playing on the T.V. Everyone was dressed up and looking their best. And Aus was no different. 

I spotted him across the room chatting with Freddie. He wore a simple black suit with a white button up underneath, some of the buttons undone showing his toned chest. He looked hot. I thought he would go for something more bold but he insisted on matching me. I thought it was cute. My silver cocktail dress would for sure clash with the other suit he had in mind, so we compromised. His eyes met mine and I sucked in a slight breath. The twinkle of his gaze really doing it for me as he grinned. I smiled back shaking my head. 

He had seemed different since John and Aryne’s wedding. The night that almost was, as I had been referring to it. I had wanted to kiss him badly, but it felt like the timing of it all was horrible. I had decided that night that I was going to try to get over him. I was tired of hearing that we were perfect together and knowing an end for us was never in sight. And then he goes and pulls me back in with his lingering touch and lips ever so slightly ghosting over mine. 

An almost. A should’ve been.

Since then he’s made subtle changes. In the kitchen he would put a hand on my lower back as he brushed past me to grab something from the fridge. He’d been sneaking into my room late at night, just to talk or snuggle. And every time we go out he keeps an arm slung around my waist and eyes down every guy in the vicinity. It’s not fair, honestly. That he gets to stake a claim without the weight of officiality looming over his shoulders. It felt like he had decided to dance around whatever this was. And I was over it. My heart felt like it was being pulled in different directions. Option one was listening to my heart and diving head first into us, and the option two was telling me to listen to my head. And my head kept telling me that I would ruin us, some way, somehow, and I didn’t want that.

But for now, I would happily ignore all of that just to have a good time with my friends. I constantly needed a distraction from will-we-won’t-we with Auston, so I decided tonight that I would let him do his own thing and see where it took us. 

It felt like there were so many things going on, but maybe a refill would do the trick. I found myself in the kitchen, looking through the fridge for something to make a mixed drink with. One drink was not doing me enough of a service tonight, but I wasn’t planning on having more than 2. Maybe 2 and a half at the most. 

I pulled out some champagne and orange juice when I heard a voice from behind the fridge door. “Aren’t mimosas a morning kinda drink?” Willy asked as he shut the fridge door. He leaned casually against the wall and watched me fix my concoction with a smirk on his face. I flipped him off, but smiled as he opened the fridge back up to let me put the drinks away.

“No William. Can’t a woman drink what she wants? It’s new years, you think you could let me live a little.” I grab my drink and swirl it around as I move to step out of the kitchen but he steps in front of me, not allowing me to pass. I flick my eyes up to glare at him but he just laughs and grabs my wrists swinging them a little in front of us. I steadied our hands but he still lightly held me there.

“You seem like you're already over the night and it’s only begun. Wanna play a game?” He smirked.

“I am not up for your shenanigans tonight William!!! I mean business. And I absolutely can not be drunk.” I took my wrists back, one of which had my drink, and took a long sip.

He glared at my drink, “Sure, ‘absolutely can not be drunk’ my ass. Why can’t you live a little tonight? It’ll be funnnnn. Besides it’s fucking New Years. You deserve to be plastered (Y/N).”

I glanced around the room and spotted Auston, he had moved on from Freddie to Steph, and I wondered what they were talking about, both wearing serious expressions. “Just trying to keep a clear head is all.” I mumbled. I was about done with all the feelings swirling around in my head and my heart, and I wasn’t sure I could keep them in if I got plastered. Especially with the way he had been acting lately. What a mess that would be. So for now I keep tabs on how much I’ve had to drink.

“(Y/N/N)” Willy grabs my attention again, having picked up on my worries and this time he’s a little more serious, giving me a knowing look, “don’t worry about anything. Just worry about you. You know how to have a good time. Don’t let what ifs plague you tonight. I promise you everything will workout.” I smiled and wrapped my arms around him.

“Thanks Will. That’s just what I needed to hear.” I mumbled into his chest.

He pulled me back his smile turning into a smirk like a switch had been flipped, “game?”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled all the same, “what game? Is it a drinking game? You’re such a fucking child.”

I felt a pair of arms snake around my waist and pull me in closer. His toned chest hit my back before he spoke, “yeah what game William. You fucking child.”

I laughed swatting his hands that only tightened around me as I looked up at him. The height difference was kinda perfect actually. He glanced down, giving me a wink as I gave up my struggles of escaping his grip. He rested his chin on my head as Will looked at us with a smirk.

“I'm the child here?” He playfully asked, “We’ve got options. Captain Dickhead? Truth or Dare? What Are The Odds? Seven Minutes in Heaven? Fear Pong? What do we want?!?” 

“Truth or Dare?” I deadpanned, “This is exactly why you aren’t in charge of this shit!” I laughed. 

“Hey you never know what can happen with the right people at the right time. It can be… fun?!” He chuckled and threw me a wink. I knew what he was doing. I wanted to kick that mischievous little smirk right off his pretty face. I could see right past his feigned innocence here.

“Are you buying this shit?” I turned in Auston’s embrace to look up at him, and he looked back down at me. 

He shrugged, “Captain Dickhead is always fun.”

“I don’t wanna be drunkkkk.” I grumbled.

“Whyyyy notttttt.” Auston teased but his eyes softened as he looked down at me, “you know if you wanted to I would take care of you. I haven’t had a drink yet.” 

I squeezed his arm in thanks, “I appreciate it, I’m just not in the mood tonight.”

“It’s New Years this is the best mood!” Willy exclaimed but dropped it when I glared at him.

“Can’t I just be soberish damn it! We already went over this!” I laughed. Auston shook his head at the two of us.

“Fine, What are the odds?” Willy crosses his arms exasperated. “That can be sober!”

“I hate you.” I laughed. “I don’t wanna play your games Willy. I can already tell you have some plan formulating that I don’t want to be apart of.” Willy’s calculated expression wore off as I smiled. I pried myself out of Auston’s grip as I went to pat Will on the shoulder. “Sorry for being a buzzkill buddy!” I turned and saw confusion on Auston’s face as I walked past him, grabbing my jacket from the rack, and cradling my drink out to the balcony. 

The cool air of the night settled in my lungs as I rested my arms out on the glass railing. The city lights roaring to life as the clock got closer and closer to midnight.

I knew what Will was doing. He and Kappy were probably scheming some way to force Auston and I into a situation that would turn out embarrassing for me or something. 

I didn’t want our first of anything to be forced. I wanted him to want me because he had feelings for me, not because we were drunk at some wedding, or Kap and Will made a stupid bet or meddled as per usual. I wanted him to want me, but not like that. 

I shoved my thoughts aside, taking an alarmingly large sip of my drink, more like a gulp, and stared out at the sky. This was bullshit. I should be inside having fun with my friends, not trying to clear my thoughts as I overthink like I always do. I toyed at the sleeve of my dress, thinking back to when we were kids, how easy things were when the pressure of liking someone didn’t exist. When we were just us. Before I even thought of us as an “us”.

I heard the door slide open and turned to see who it was. Steph stepped out onto the balcony with me, the metallic material of her red dress shining against the moonlight.

“Hey.” She says softly, coming to stand next to me. I look at her, my expression wavering as I almost let out a few tears in frustration. “Oh honey.” She pulls me into her grasp and I lean into her. She drags me over to the breakfast chairs and slyly pulls my jacket and drink from me to set them down on the table. I sit with a huff and just breath for a minute as Steph just holds my hands. I’m thankful that she gets me, and let me collect myself before listening to me. 

“Willy, god love him, he kinda irked me back there.” I say. She looks at me confused as I continue. “He was all like ‘ I get you, don’t worry about anything’ and then he was all ‘let’s play a game with the right people at the right time and see what happens’ like no.”

Steph just laughs and I can’t help but let my frown fall away as I laugh with her.

“(Y/N), don’t worry about Will. He just wants you guys to be together as much as the next guy so he meddles a little bit.”

“I won’t let him meddle.” I smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes.

She looks at me seriously, observing me before speaking, “is this why you don’t wanna be drunk tonight?”

I nod, “I just don’t want to ruin anything, and I know what will happen the minute I get out of control,” my hands fall to my lap as I play with my fingers, clasping and unclasping them to distract myself. I had meticulously avoided drinking the last few times we all went out together. I felt like I would be overkill if I let myself off my own leash. “I don’t want to ruin anything.” I mumble.

“(Y/N), babe,” she pauses, “why don’t you just tell him? You’ve been sitting with this on your chest for years now. And you’ve been dealing with it by yourself. Just let yourself breath.” she pats my hand in my lap.

“I can’t just come out and tell him I love him.” I suck in a breath. “I don’t think I could bear the rejection from him. Not from Aus. I care too much about him to lose him this way.” I stress. 

“What makes you think it would automatically be rejection? How do you not see it?” She smiles before getting up and pulling me with her. I arched a brow. “Take a moment, but then go back in there and have fun. You deserve it.” She gave me a quick squeeze and headed back inside as I found my way back to the railing. 

I took a breath and closed my eyes as I just focused on clearing my mind. It was peaceful out here. The city was different at night. It felt more alive.

I heard the balcony door slide open and click shut for the second time, as footsteps came to a heavy stop next to me. It was silent for a second, just the sound of the city in the background. The air was charged around us, like he had something to say but couldn’t quite say it and I held my breath. He rested his hands on the balcony next to me, letting out a sigh before he spoke, “Were you ever going to tell me how you felt?” 

I turned to look at him then, eyes wide in shock and the embarrassment I felt was surely showing on my face, “I uh-how did you-“. He moved closer then, still not touching me but closing the distance between us slowly, and it felt like I was suffocating in his presence. “You weren’t meant to hear that.” I breathed lowly, scared that if I spoke louder maybe I would break. The chill of the Toronto air had set in and I shrugged my leather jacket over my shoulders, wrapping it tighter around me and allowing my arms to subtly wrap around themselves. But Auston saw through me. He reached out and gently peeled my arms from around myself and brought me closer to him, his scent, his voice, his presence invading my personal space from every angle.

“But I did. I did hear you.” He was so quiet I almost didn’t hear the words escape past his lips. His forehead rested on mine and his lips were so, so close. All I had to do was push up on my tip toes and his mouth would finally be on mine.

“And?” I breathed in anticipation, eyes lidded and heart racing so fast it could beat out of my chest. When did this go from me being fearful of losing him to being wrapped up in him? His fingers traced my hand as one slowly curled around my wrist and the other reached out to my waist to draw me closer.

His eyes flickered down to mine and I could hear the countdown at 10 from the living room. And if he was so cliche as to-

He kissed me on 8. His lips slowly working on mine in long drawls. His grip on my waist tightened and the hand that was in mine slowly cupped my face. His hand feels so masculine against my cheekbones, the calluses coarse against the expanse of my soft skin but I leaned into it. I brought my hands up to his broad shoulders, pushing myself as close to him as humanly possible, feeling his taut muscles ripple against me. His body heat radiated off him and warmed me up in no time. His tongue was slow and calculated in my mouth. I could feel all the passion he felt in that moment and it caused me to whimper in response. Which in turn made him tighten his grip on me. He tasted sweet like dessert wine. I could hear the cheers of our friends as they rang in the new year but I just I smiled into him. I felt him smile back as I slowly pulled away and caught my breath. 

Somehow both of his hands found their way to my waist, keeping me flat against him. I clasped my hands around his neck and scrunch my nose as he leaned his forehead back to mine gently.  I close my eyes and revel in the feeling of him against me.“That was-“

“I’m in love with you.” He interrupted and I opened my eyes. “You wha-“

“I’ve been in love with you for way too long... I just didn’t realize it. And you’ve been right in front of me this whole time. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before or why it took me so long to admit, but,” the city lights reflected in his eyes making them glimmer as he looked down at me, sincerity gracing his face, “It seems like everyone else caught on before I did. I never want to lose you. My best friend. I always want to be that for you. But I can’t just settle for it either.” His smirk started to peak out at the corners of his mouth, as I felt myself start to smile a little at the normalcy of it. This. This felt normal. That stupid smirk too.

“I need you to be mine.” He says slowly, like he’s scared, that after all of that, that I would somehow say no. 

“All you had to do was ask.” I smile as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I felt a little more confident about my feelings now. 

“I love you, Auston Matthews. Nothing has ever changed that, and nothing ever will.” I place both hands on his cheeks and give him a lingering peck on the lips. His eyes flutter open, staring into mine fervently, and I start softly, “I’ve been in love with you since we were 16 and you dragged me out on the ice. You were so mad about the outcome after your game. But you didn’t say anything about it. You just laced me up after it was over and said you could think better when I was there. I never took that too lightly.” I grinned at the look of awe on his face as he sat down in the chair I was previously in and pulled me down with him. I faced him on his lap as he placed his lips over mine again, thumb lightly rubbing a circular path along my jaw. And as he pulled away I caught my breath.

“I’m glad I get to do that anytime I want now.” He smirked.

“Anytime you want?” I played.

“Anytime,” he pecked along my jaw and I instinctively closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips burning on my skin, “anywhere.” He kissed my lips again but I was the one who pulled back this time. 

“Happy New Year Aus.”

“It is now.” He grinned and I lightly swatted him, his laughter filling my ears, “that’s not going to change is it?” 

“Same old us, you still want your best friend right?” I smirked.

He smiled genuinely. The one that filled my heart to the brim, “Same us, (Y/N/N).”

-

[ktrsss1fics]

Cake By The Ocean: Seven.

It was four o’clock in the afternoon and Georgina Ferguson was dancing her way around the kitchen. Her boyfriend was gingerly cutting vegetables beside her while Fleetwood Mac filled the air with happiness.

It had been three days since their secret was out. The entire house had gone through an array of emotions during those three days. Everyone did their own thing. Jenna, Keith, Mags and Jamie hit the beaches hard. Brittany and David went on a tour up the coast. Niall whisked Georgina off on a flora and fauna adventure hoping to put her in a better mood. 

It didn’t work though. 

She still spent a good amount of time in their room afraid of what was going to happen next. It wasn’t until a heart to heart phone call with her mother that she realized the best way to smooth things over with her friends was to show them how much she loved them. 

Because she did. She loved them more than they could ever know. They had become family and she was stupid for ever thinking they wouldn’t approve of her relationship with Niall. They had been rooting for them to get together from the moment they met. She should have known better.   

After a brief conference with her boyfriend, Georgina decided that a nice home cooked meal and a quiet night in was the best way to show her appreciation. They spent a majority of the morning preparing to do just that. 

By the time afternoon hit, Maggie and the rest of the gang were curious as to what was happening in the kitchen. Before anyone could ask what was going on, their favorite Irishman beat them to it. In his best posh accent, Niall informed the crew that they were expected to be back in the kitchen at 4:30 wearing their best lounge wear for the cocktail hour. Unsure if he was being serious, David led the troops back to their rooms until the time was right. 

After changing into something more comfortable, everyone made their way into the living room where they waited anxiously for the cocktail hour to begin. 

“We goin’ to a five star restaurant or what? I don’t need a starter hour. I need a main course. I’m bloody famished.” Dave groaned resting his head on Brittany’s shoulder.

“Oh, let them have their fun.” Jamie said. “I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”

“The Baby can’t properly season chicken.” Jenna quipped. “This meal is all Ferg— assuming we’re getting a meal.”

“Her secret talent is that she’s an ace in the kitchen.” Brittany said running her hands through David’s hair. “Rumor has it she’s making Lydia’s roast dinner.”

David’s eyes lit up. “I fucking hope she is.”

“I’m quite pleased with the dress code.” Keith said smoothing out the fabric of his joggers.

“Um excuse me, not to change the subject, but are you guys seeing what I’m seeing?” Mags said snapping towards the kitchen where  Niall was acting like a goofy boyfriend. “He’s beaming.”

“Forget, Ni. Look at how happy she looks.” Jamie said nodding towards Georgina. 

“I’ve never seen her like this.” 

“You’ve never seen her truly happy then. That little Irish shit has fought long and hard to keep the rain clouds that used to follow her around away.” Brittany said as she looked at her best friend. 

“I’d say this is probably the happiest she’s been in about a decade. Right, love?” David said with a sigh. 

“Just about.” Britt smiled. Although she didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark, she was genuinely happy for both of her best friends. They deserved each other. 

“She’s in love with him.” Maggie said looking at Britt for confirmation. The blonde just nodded. 

“This is fucking brilliant.” Jamie said happily. 

The group of friends sat in silence as Georgina coached Niall through the prep work for her grandad’s special Yorkshire pudding. Her tone was gentle. Seeing Georgina’s soft side was a real treat for a majority of the group. The cold and standoffish woman they had first met was no longer there. Her guard was down and it was the most fascinating thing they had ever seen — and that was saying something.

“How are we gonna protect them?” Keith asked. 

That was the question that had popped into each of their heads as soon as the news broke. They knew how difficult it was for Niall to balance his public and private personas. Adding a serious relationship to that equation wasn’t going to be an easy feat. They didn’t know how they could help but they were going to try their hardest to keep their friends safe.

“Well for starters, no more randos.” Mags said glancing at Keith. 

“Yeah, Ferg made that real clear on Day One.” Keith said dryly making Jenna laugh. 

“I don’t think there is anything we can really do besides support them.” Jamie pointed out. They had  never really interfered with Niall’s life before and he didn’t think they should start now.

“No we can do more than that.” Jenna said as she was met by an assortment of confused glances. “We are going to stop inviting Marco and Ash to get-togethers and on vacation.” 

“I second that!” Mags said as her eyes lit up. “They are suppliers of constant drama and honestly she is bloody annoying now that she got her tits fixed.”

“I think the one way to protect Ferg and Niall is to not let Marco and Ash find out about them.” Keith said. “The less people that know the better.”

“Miller’s right. I don’t know how we are gonna do that though. I want them to be free around us but like how?” Jenna said. 

“I think we should just treat them the same as we’ve always treated ‘em.” Brittany said. “They are gonna need that now more than ever.”

“Britt’s right. Ferg and Ni are gonna need normalcy. Shitting on him and poking fun at her — that’s what will help protect them.” Dave said. “Moment we start acting weird, they might change. Then the foundation of their relationship could start to crumble and before we know it we have two broken hearts. Personally, I don’t want to deal with that shit.”

“How—How do we do that with the knowledge we have?” Maggie asked sounding hesitant. 

“Well if you lot didn’t shit on The Fearsome Foursome so much then you’d know how to do it.” Keith said with a smug smirk. 

“They neve—“ Britt started to say confused. 

“You wouldn’t know because you twats always ditch us.” Jenna said before nodding at Keith. “They get extra flirty and we just let it be. It’s our thing.”

“I find that hard to believe, Jens.” Maggie said. 

“It’s the fucking truth, Margaret.” Keith said a little louder than he intended. The group froze as they felt eyes on them from the kitchen. 

“Y'alright over there?” Niall asked munching on a carrot. 

“Bloody brilliant, babes.” Keith winked playfully. 

“Starters are ready.” Fergie called out as she walked past Niall. “Just finishing up the sangria.”

“She’s already drank half of it so hopefully you get a taste.” Niall popped off— earning himself a smack across the back of the head. A soft giggle escaped as he went back to finishing up his task.

“So to sum things up, we’ve  missed out on a lot of cute shit.” Dave said with a grin. “And personally, I’m excited to witness it first hand.”

“Why the fuck do you keep sayin’ personally? Is that your word of the day, mate?” Brittany teased looking down at him. 

“Georgina, Brittany is being rude to me.” Davey whined making the others laugh. 

“You probably deserve it, mate.” Fergie called back. 

“He most certainly does not. David is a goddamn angel. Never does anything wrong.” Niall said. 

“Exactly! Well except for when I told her to sit on your face in Aruba — that wasn’t a good comment to make.” Dave laughed. “I’ll admit that.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t a good look.” Jamie said scrunching up his face. “Or that time you made him take his top off before we FaceTimed her so he’d look like a proper lad.”

Niall’s eyes went wide. “We promised we would never speak about that day ever again, James.”

“What the fuck?” Jenna said looking around the room. 

“You guys always end up being shirtless together. I’m starting to get concerned.” Maggie said looking at her fiancé. “Why are you lot always shirtless?”

“Don’t ask me about my business, Kay.” Jamie said in an attempt to sound like Al Pacino. 

“What kind of business do you have that involves you getting your tits out?” Jenna asked. 

Keith shrugged. “Just lads’ stuff.”

“But like what’s—“ Brittany said before Niall stormed into the room cutting her off. 

With the Irishman leading the ship, a very passionate chant about being lads began while the group of men danced around the room. 

“You boys are fucking weirdos.” Georgina said as she looked at her girls. “Um, we’re ready for you.”

Ignoring the awkward mosh pit taking place around them, the girls headed quietly into the kitchen where a very delicious looking spread was waiting for them. Four glasses of sangria were sitting on the counter. 

“Next time we plan a vacation, let’s make it a Hen House only trip.” Georgina joked as the boys continued to act like fools. 

“Either that or we rent our own house without them.” Jenna said taking one of the glasses of wine. 

“It’d be drama free. That’s for sure.” Britt said.

“It would just be a lot of Spice Girls and wine.” Jenna said. 

“Sign me the fuck up for that.” Georgina said passing wine glasses to Mags and Brittany. 

The four women watched in silence as an impromptu jam sesh to Toto’s “Africa” filled the living room. 

“They are such idiots sometimes.” Jenna laughed as David placed Niall on his shoulders. 

“And to think they are all sober.” Mags said shaking her head. 

“They might be idiots but I wouldn’t change them for the world.” Brittany said scooting over towards her best friend. 

“You know, I’m really happy the universe brought us all together.” Georgina said clutching the glass in her hand. 

“Like think of all the little moments that were added together to get us to this point.”

“You on drugs, Blondie?” Brittany said eyeing her best friend playfully. 

“I’m just sayin’ I’m really thankful for this moment and for all of you and—and—“ Georgina said incapable of finding the right words to say. “I know I’m shit at this kinda stuff but thanks for putting up with me for all these years.”

“We love ya, Georgie.” Britt said resting her head on Georgina’s shoulder. “We’re always gonna love ya.”

“I’m sorry.” She said glancing at her friends. “I should have—“

“No, you shouldn’t have. I would have kept it a secret too.” Jenna said keeping her eyes on Niall. “He’s like a rare gem and I wouldn’t want anyone to find out about him until it was necessary.”

“Would we have liked to know you were in love with our best friend? Obviously, yes.” Mags said softly. “But like your safety and comfort are the most important thing to us. I would have waited to tell too. His life is hard and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize my relationship with him just to tell my friends.”

“Exactly!” Jenna said with a smile. 

Brittany wrapped her arm around Georgina’s and stood up straight. “Bottom line baby, we’re just happy that you’re happy.”

“So serious question, Georgina.” Maggie asked reaching out for a piece of pita bread. “You two made out in Vegas, yeah?” 

“I plead the fifth.” Georgina blushed.  

“What are we lying about in here?” Niall asked appearing in the kitchen with the rest of the boys. Each of them significantly out of breath. 

“She won’t admit you two made out in Vegas.” Mags said with a smirk. 

“He got her flowers. Obviously, they made out.” Dave said popping an olive into his mouth. 

“How’d you know he bought them?” Brittany asked. 

“C’mon babe. It’s Fergie and Niall.” Dave said making Georgina laugh. 

“They made out in Aruba. Beats your little Vegas obsession.” Keith said pouring himself a glass of sangria. 

“How do you know that?” Jenna asked confused. 

“Context clues, babygirl.” Keith winked. 

“Keith, you’re a fucking idiot, mate.” Georgina laughed. 

“Georgina! You cheeky little minx.” Mags said in shock. 

“He kissed me first!” Georgina said in defense. 

“Atta boy.” Keith said patting Niall on the back. 

“I don’t know why you lot are shocked over this. It was bound to happen — especially when these two use plant talk as foreplay.” David said.

“Hey! I’ve got more game than that.” Niall said in mock offense. 

“Oh I’m not discrediting that at all, babes.” Dave smiled before nodding over at Georgina. “But you start talking about a fuckin’ bougainvillea plant and this one nearly creams her pants.”

“David!” Brittany said with a sigh. 

“That’s rich coming from the lad who got a hard on when the pictures of that black hole were released.” Georgina shot back earning a few snickers from their friends. 

Dave opened his mouth to defend himself but nothing came out. Georgina took a sip of her drink while the rest of their friends laughed at the sight of a speechless David Watson. 

“Did Davey just get lawyered?” Jenna asked in shock. 

“More like annihilated.” Brittany said with a smirk.

“Speaking of annihilation, did you lot see the score of the Laker game the other day? Yikes.” Jamie said as a very detailed conversation about basketball began. 

Ignoring the conversation, David walked over and wedged himself between the two women he knew the longest. He slid an arm around Georgina, pulling her into his side. 

He leaned down and whispered,“You know I love you, right?”

Georgina nodded as she took a sip of her drink.

“We’re having a date at Perch when we get home.” He said with a smile.

She looked up at him in shock. “Really?”

David nodded. “Your personal growth deserves a lot more than a few drinks at a dive bar.”

Georgina leaned up and kissed Dave on the cheek. 

“Oi keep your mitts off me girlfriend, mate.” Niall popped off causing the room to grow quiet. 

“Your what?” Dave said with a smug look on his face. 

“Fergie’s my girlfriend.” Niall said with pride.

The look on his face let everyone know that things were going to be alright.

[love-hope-faith-feels-like-a-lie]

50 questions you’ve never been asked! 

Tagged by the lovely  @lorelaigilmo, thanks 💕

1. what is the colour of your hairbrush? Black because I’m basic like that.

2. a food you never eat? Tomatoes and mushrooms are just a no no for me. 

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? Too cold, to the point my mum gets worried sometimes at me being so cold.

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? Reading. 

5. what is your favourite candy bar? Kinder bueno is the first thing that came to mind, so I guess that. 

6. have you ever been to a professional sports event? Nope. 

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? ‘She didn’t even close the door properly.’ I said that to myself as I got up to close my bedroom door. 

8. what is your favourite ice cream? Idk, there are so many good flavours that I love, so I guess anything with cookie dough.

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? Some H2O.

10. do you like your wallet? Yeah, I’ve had it for years now and I really need to get a new one but haven’t gotten around to doing so. 

11. what was the last thing you ate? French toast.

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? Nope, of course not. Why would you think that? Definitely not planning on buying clothes this week too, haha, totally not. 

13. the last sporting event you watched? There was some sort of football match on tv, but I stood up and left the room when it was on tv. Wasn’t in the mood to watch any sports. 

14. what is your favourite flavour of popcorn? My go to for movie night is sweet. But if I’m making my own, i’ll add so butter on it and add sugar which is really nice. I also quite enjoy the carmel one but rip to my teeth anytime I have any.

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? My bestie.

16. ever go camping? I’ve never been but I really want to.

17. do you take vitamins? Use to take them on and off but recently I’ve been consistent in taking them.

18. do you go to church every sunday? Nope, but I keep telling myself that I really should and that I will, but when sunday comes round I don’t go. Mostly because I’m lazy as hell.

19. do you have a tan? I wished. I usually get a little bit of a tan when I go on holiday during the summer but right now I’m looking like Casper. At least i’m friendly.

20. do you prefer chinese food or pizza? Pizza is always my go to because It’s what I have more of but love them both and if given the choice I’ll happily feast on both. 

21. do you drink your soda with a straw? I can do but I hardly ever drink sodas. They’re not really something I enjoy drinking. 

22. what colour socks do you usually wear? A mixture of colours, from black to light pink. Currently wearing light blue socks. 

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? I don’t drive, yet.

24. what terrifies you? Dying. Not being good enough. Failing. A whole lot of stuff that if I keep going will open a can of worms that I won’t be able to shut. 

25. look to your left, what do you see? My water bottle, glass with water in it and a Gilmore girls framed poster one of my besties got me for my bday, all on my table.

26. what chore do you hate? Don’t really hate any. Kinda like cleaning. Yep, I’m weird like that but cleaning the bathroom is always long so I guess that’s my least favourite. 

27. what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? I think about Chase from House Md. 

28. what’s your favourite soda? Not really into sodas, like I rather just have a soft drink or even water but If I had to pick it would be coca-cola cherry.

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? Well, I don’t have a car so I have no choice but to walk in like a scrub.

30. who’s the last person you talked to? My Mum.

31. favourite cut of beef? Idk, as long as it’s cooked well and tastes good I kinda don’t care.

32. last song you listened to? Currently listening to Hardest to Love, by The Weeknd. 

33. last book you read? Finished Red Queen by Christina Henry the other day and started her new book Looking Glass. 

34. favourite day of the week? It’s currently Wednesday because that’s when Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist airs in the UK. But when I was still in Uni it was Friday because that’s when I had my classic movie nights. 

35. can you say the alphabet backwards? Not without struggling the whole time.

36. how do you like your coffee? I don’t. I’m not a coffee girl which is sad because Lorelai and Rory would definitely be disappointed but oh wells, it just doesn’t agree with me. 

37. favourite pair of shoes? My navy and black converses. I’ve used my navy ones so much that the colour on them look more like a really dirty light blue. Really need to buy new ones. Maybe that might be my next shopping purchase.

38. at what time do you normally go to bed? Around 12-1am but that might change once I’ve finished with my uni exam. 

39. at what time do you normally get up? Around 8-9 am

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunsets because i’m very up early to see the sunrise but it's nice too. 

41. how many blankets are on your bed? Normally one but it’s been oddly warm lately here and I’ve had to take it off the bed or I would have melted. 

42. describe your kitchen plates. Mostly white, but we also have some polka dot ones

43. do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage? Any cocktail really. Gin Martini is pretty good the odd times I’ve made some for me and my mum. 

44. do you play cards? Yeah, I love card games. Fav is Blackjack (Switch) played it a lot with my friends back in the day.

45. what colour is your car? We don’t have a car in London but our family car in Madeira is blue with a slight hint of green in it. 

46. can you change a tire? Nope but I’ve helped my dad change one last summer. 

47. what is your favourite province? *Shrugs* No idea. 

48. favourite job you’ve ever had? Probably when I was helping with the summer school program at my school, that was years ago but it was fun and it’s crazy I was getting paid for basically just chilling with other students. 

49. how did you get your biggest scar? Burnt my arm on the iron. My mum had just used it and it was on the window so it could cool down. I didn’t know it was hot and when I passed by my arm hit the edge of the iron and burned it. 

50. what did you do today that made someone else happy? Helped my mum with some stuff she needed. 

This was fun to do and longer than expected. 

Tagging: @schnoogles @property-of-jason-todd @supernovaexplosion @harleyquins @regalmadness and anymore who wants to do this too, go ahead.