#//these are great!! best believe he appreciates and will be using all three of these on the regular

[skylarclarke]

From Robin:

All Time Low's "Tell Me I'm Alive" (March 2023) in record format.

All Time Low T-shirt (definitely didn't get it at the same place as the record whaaaaat)

Coffee Warmer. Perfectly regulates the coffee temperature to the exact degree Skylar wants for up to 6 hours (though unclear why he would not simply drink it in those 6 hours. Also it's just the disc part the coffee cup is to illustrate there's a cup on there idk).

"Dear Sky,

I hope year 35 is better than all the other ones. Thanks again for being my big brother and being there for me and Ryder. I love you!

Robin"

.

[freedomfireflies]

You Again*

Summary: The one where Harry is your sister's ex-boyfriend and you finally get to see him again after 5 years.

Word Count: 11.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, age gap (6 years), sir kink, choking, use of a toy, exhibitionism if you squint!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Your eyes widen as you look up toward the man making his way into the diner. You'd recognize him anywhere. The dark curly hair. The tattoos that bleed through the fabric of his light shirt. The rings on his fingers.

Just like that, years' worth of memories come flooding back to you all at once.

"Harry," you shriek, sliding off the stool before practically flinging yourself into his arms. 

He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.

Of him.

His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable. 

And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.

It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.

It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship. 

But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.

He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.

Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.

And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.

"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"

His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."

"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"

"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”

His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."

"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"

"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."

"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”

You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”

“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.

But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."

He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"

"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”

He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”

"Good."

He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”

"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."

"Not annoying. Cute."

"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”

“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”

You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."

He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."

A beat.

You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."

He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”

"I see."

"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."

You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."

The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.

You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.

Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.

Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.

When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”

"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."

"Like...this?"

"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”

“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”

He glances down at his lap. “Right.”

There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.

“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”

He smirks. “Oh, not much.”

“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”

“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."

He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”

“Sure.” 

“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”

“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."

"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."

"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"

"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."

His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"

"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."

"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."

He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."

"You're not...what?"

"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."

"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"

"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."

"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"

He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."

"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"

He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”

And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.

"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."

He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."

You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"

"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."

"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."

His head tilts. "With me?"

"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."

He nods. "Right."

"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”

"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."

He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath. 

When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers. 

"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."

You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah."

The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.

You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.

You wonder why.

Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.

He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.

And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.

But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.

"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”

He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.” 

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."

You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.

You wonder if you actually want him to.

You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.

"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."

Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."

The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."

With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.

The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you. 

Like something is missing.

You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door.  "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.

Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.

Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.

And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?

"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."

You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"

"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"

"Do what? Flirt with you?"

His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"

"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"

"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"

"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"

"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”

"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"

"But not this—"

"Why not?"

"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”

And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.

"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."

He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"

"Why—"

"Because it's not right—"

"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"

His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"

"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"

He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."

"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"

"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"

"Try what?"

"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."

He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.

And it feels right.

Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."

You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.

The way he wrestles with you.

You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.

But right now, all you feel is disappointment.

"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”

Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.

Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.

Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”

Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.

You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.

So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.

You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.

He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything. 

He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.

And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.

You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.

But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.

He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."

You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."

But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”

Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”

"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."

Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.

"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”

You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”

He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”

"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"

"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"

"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"

His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.

He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."

"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"

"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.

"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"

The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel him smile.

"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.

Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.

But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.

"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs. 

You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.

"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.

The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.

Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."

He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.

His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit. 

You tense before releasing a shaky exhale. 

Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.

"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"

You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"

You give him another nod.

He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."

You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.

"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."

You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"

"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."

But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.

You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.

Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.

Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.

Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.

His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.

"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper. 

He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"

Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.

"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."

And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.

But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"

Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.

His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"

For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.

You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"

"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."

Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.

"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.

With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."

He perks up. "Yeah?"

You nod faintly. 

"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."

Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.

And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.

But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.

For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.

"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"

Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."

His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"

You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.

Then...you flip the switch.

The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.

You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.

And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.

There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.

"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."

Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.

So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.

You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.

And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.

A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.

You hear Harry chuckle. 

"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"

"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."

"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."

Your head lifts.

He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"

You nod.

Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet. 

Then...he begins.

It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch. 

Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees. 

But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.

Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.

He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."

"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."

"What, little one? What do you want?"

"I need...please, I'm..."

"What? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"

More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."

He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard. 

And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.

Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation. 

"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."

Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"

"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"

You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.

Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."

"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"

"...two."

He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"

To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him. 

"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"

"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"

The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.

"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"

You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.

"Har...Har—"

"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.

"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"

"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"

You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."

"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.

"I...wait, what was the question again?"

He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.

And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.

"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breath hitches. "No."

The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it. 

"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?" 

"No."

"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"

"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.

His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.

A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.

He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"

Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip. 

He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.

"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."

And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free. 

Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.

Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.

But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.

Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.

He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.

He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.

Everything about him is beautiful and good.

His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has. 

You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.

Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"

You nod, despite his hold.

"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."

You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years. 

Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.

But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.

He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.

You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.

"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?" 

But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.

Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.

He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.

You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.

"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want  something?"

You nod and lean forward another inch.

"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."

He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.

You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.

You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.

However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.

"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."

"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."

"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."

You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."

With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.

He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.

And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.

"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"

You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head. 

"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"

"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."

Your heart flutters.

"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."

"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."

"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."

Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Just like that, something in his demeanor switches. 

Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.

"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.

He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.

"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing. 

He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.

"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.

At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.

Then...he goes deeper. 

And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.

You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.

"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."

"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up. 

"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.

“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”

He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.

However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.

"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin. 

But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."

But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.

"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"

A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.

Not that you'd mind.

His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.

"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"

You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back. 

But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”

You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.

"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."

"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.

But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.

"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."

You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.

But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.

And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.

But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful. 

And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.

Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument. 

There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.

But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.

Beneath him.

"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"

"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"

"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.” 

"Sir—"

"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"

"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"

"Then what are you going to do?"

You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."

A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."

However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.

"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"

"Yes, Yes, please…"

"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"

"God, yes. More...please—"

"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"

Suddenly, your phone rings.

The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.

God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.

Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it. 

"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"

"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."

"Harry, please—"

"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."

His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear. 

"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"

You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.

Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"

"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"

Your eyes just about pop out of your head.

Atta.

Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.

"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you. 

But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.

"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"

"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.

You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone. 

However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."

"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"

"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.

You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.

However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.

"—so, yeah. What about you?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."

Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.

Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.

"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."

That's not the only thing he's in. 

"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"

"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"

"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."

He grins.

"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.

"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.

Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear. 

"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."

"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle. 

"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"

"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—" 

Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.

"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"

"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”

"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"

"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"

It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.

Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.

"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"

Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.

It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.

You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high. 

Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.

And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.

Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.

But until then…

You’re happy to have your Harry back.

~ Masterlist

Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

[former-leftist-jew]

Of course I'm upset. I'm sick to death of Christians trying to take our shit and make it theirs, while giving us shit for not abandoning our shit for yours.

It's a Jewish movie, based on a Jewish story. Judaism exists just fine without Christianity, while Christianity can't exist without Judaism.

If you find meaning and fulfillment in a Jewish story it because Judaism preludes your Christianity: good for you. But stop trying to take our shit and make it yours.

Get your own shit.

Need this site to understand that "The Prince of Egypt" is BOTH a Jewish and Christian movie. Let no one rob it from the Jews, but us christians literally owe our faith to the same God who saw to and led the Exodus. The Ten Commandments are still in effect, Jesus did not abolish the law but fulfilled it, and to get to Jesus we needed Moses.

[pitchsidestories]

treat you better (2) II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader

part 1 I masterlist I word count: 1438

a/n: Hi, we hope you'll love part two as much as part 1 and thanks to @briggtea for sending us the idea for the oneshot.

You stumbled upon that podcast snippet accidentally while scrolling bored through Instagram while your girlfriends were getting ready for bed in the bathroom of the hotel room you were staying in. Nights before big Champions League games always made you feel a bit restless.  It was a queer podcast about sports you enjoyed, that’s why you clicked on it, but you couldn’t stop watching it when you noticed the guest was your ex-girlfriend.

In the scene the host asked her grinning:” How would you rate y/n on a scale from 1 to 10?”

“Maybe a two if I’m being nice.”, your former lover replied with a smug smile on her lips, you wished you could take away from the fellow footballer.

“Oh wow, seems like you got an unpopular opinion here, the internet goes crazy for her.”, the interviewer whistled impressed by the reply of your ex-girlfriend.

“The internet’s falling for her looks. She’s not that great to be with.”, she shrugged.

“So, the rumours are true, you two were together?”, the host curiously lifted an eyebrow at her.

“Maybe. All I can say is that she wasn’t very committed.”, the football player answered laughing which was obviously a blatant lie. After all she was the one who cheated around in London not the other way around.

“That’s bullshit!”, Mapi yelled furiously before ripping the phone out of her hands to throw it on to the bed.

“Babe.”, Ingrid tried soothing your Spanish girlfriend with her calm voice.

“She’s basically gaslighting her!”, the defender protested enraged, shaking off the hand the Norwegian had laid on her shoulder.

“Maria, relax. I know she does, and we’ll prove her wrong on the pitch tomorrow.”, you told her calmly.

 “On the pitch? She’s going around spreading rumours about you when she was the one who cheated on you!”, Mapi snorted angrily.

“No, you don’t understand, amor. She’ll hate losing against us.”, you pointed out.

“I believe you that, but I’d like to hurt her in in more ways than just that.”, she hissed, sounding almost like Bagheera when he was ready to fight whatever caught the cat’s eyes.

“I appreciate it, but trust me, she’s not worth it. Come on we should go to bed.”, you assured her in a soft tone.

“Fine.”, the Spanish player sighed, exhaustion was catching up with her. Quickly she and Ingrid laid down, you were in their middle.

“Sleep well, my loves.”, Ingrid gave each of you a good night kiss.

“Good night, girls.”, you whispered, once again feeling very lucky to have them in your life.

“Night.”, Mapi mumbled, already half-asleep. Sleep took the three of you in quick succession.

You tried to focus on yourself as best as you could while you got ready for the game. Ignore the noise, forget about your ex. There was just you and the game in front of you.

Even the chatter of your teammates faded into the background until something touched your elbow.

“Y/n?“

You looked up to Alexia studying your face.

“Yes, Capi?“

“Do you feel ready?“, she asked.

You watched a small line between her eyebrows as she frowned.

Nodding once, you replied: “Ready and focused.“

“Good.“

“Don’t worry.“, you assured her and forced yourself to a smile.

Alexia shook her head, considering you: “I just don’t want you to do anything stupid out there.“

“I won’t. You know I’m not the type such behaviour.“

“I’m just saying…“

You sighed, locking eyes with her: “Promise.“

This seemed to relax your captain. She nodded slowly and then clapped her hands: “Alright, let’s win this then.“

“Please.“, you agreed. You refused to imagine your ex cheering with her teammates.

Ingrid squeezed your hand as she passed you: “Come on.“

“Coming.“, you smiled back at her.

Mapi appeared on your side right as you were about to walk out on the pitch. She nodded into the direction of a very familiar ponytail: “There she is.“

Apparently, she had felt your gaze on her because in that exact moment, she turned around and flashed you a bright smile.

You swallowed hard as she walked towards you, all innocence: “Hi.“

“Hi, good luck.“, you answered plainly.

“You’ll need it more.“, she smirked.

It took you a lot not to roll your eyes about her arrogance. Instead you shrugged: “I think you’re wrong about this.“

You jogged onto the field to warm up, leaving her behind to watch.

The first half of the game remained calm as you had expected. Both teams testing the waters, not risking too much that early in the game. Barcelona had more chances but had not used them yet. You know you had to be more clinical in the next fourty-five minutes.

In the second half, the whole game changed. It got rougher, more aggressive and you had your problems with that.

It was more than frustration, it was pure anger. Your exes smug grin, the unnecessary fouls by the other team, the unsuccessful attacks. You just wanted to scream.

You took a deep breath and gathered yourself, there was no use. You had to stay focused.

It worked until the seventieth minute. Chelsea was on attack but Mapi won the ball easily. She hesitated for a half a second before passing it to Lucy.

Your ex saw this moment of hesitation as an opportunity. She wanted to win the ball back with a slide tackle but her timing was off. She crashed into Mapi, her studs colliding with your girlfriends ankle.

Mapi was on the grass, screaming in pain while your ex got up, unfazed by the incident. There was not even an apology.

Ingrid was already kneeling beside your girlfriend when you ran over to them.

“Shit.“, the Spanish defender cursed under her breath.

“Mapi, are you okay?!”, you asked her deeply worried.

“Yeah.”, she answered through gritted teeth.

“I swear she did it intentionally. I’m going to.”, you begun.

But a firm, big hand prevented you from walking up to your former girlfriend.

“No, you’re not doing anything.”, Alexia interrupted you, her voice dripping with determination.

“Stay calm and carry on, y/n.”, Marta added.

“But.”, you started.

“Score the winning goal for us.”, Aitana suggested with a wink, hoping it would stop you from doing something stupid.

“It doesn’t work like that, Aitana.”, you reminded her.

“Maybe it does.”, she replied encouragingly. While your gaze followed a hurt Mapi who got subbed off. A spark of extra motivation hit you when you saw that. Maybe the Catalan midfielder was right about that.

It was the last minute of the game when your chance arrived to turn the draw into a win, Caroline played a cross to you which you only had to head in with your head. It was a goal, Barcelona has won once more against the English team.

Aitana jumped into your opened arms.” See? I told you so.”, she cheered.

“There’s no fucking way.”, you could hear your ex-girlfriend scolding, shooting mad glances at you from afar, but you couldn’t care less.

As the referee blew the final whistle you sprinted to the bench where Ingrid and Mapi were the first to pull you into a group hug.

“We won girls!”, you laughed happily.

“You were amazing.”, the Spanish defender whispered proudly into your ear.

“And your goal was amazing.”, the tall dark-haired woman beamed at you.

“Thank you. Have you seen her face after I scored?”, you wanted to know from them with a hint of malicious joy.

“She deserved that.”, Mapi noted.

“How are you feeling? Her foul looked bad.”, you suddenly remembered, looking concerned at your girlfriend.

“I’m okay. She went right for the ankle, but it’s not too bad.” she calmed you.

“At least that.”, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t worry about me.”, the heavily tattooed woman said.

“Come on, girls, time to celebrate that win properly.”, Ingrid intervened smiling.

“Yes, y/n deserves it.”, Mapi agreed smirking.

“And we make sure she gets her reward for her great game and her bravery.”, the Norwegian continued delighted.

“Oh, we’ll.”, your other girlfriend shared a knowing glance with her.

“Girls.”, you blushed listening to their words.

“We’re just proud of you.”, Ingrid declared.

“And we’ll show you how proud later tonight.”, the defender winked.

“We can’t just leave now.”, you protested, pointing to the rest of their teammates who were still celebrating.

“No one will notice trust us.”, the Scandinavian argued.

“Alright, let’s go.”, you give in, knowing fully well that your girlfriends would always treat you better than your former lover. And the night had just begun, it was set to be unforgettable.

[hoshinasblade]

second best |3| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART 3

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2k trigger warnings: a bit suggestive at the end author's note: i promised a part three so here it is, hope you guys like it! likes, replies, and reblogs are welcome but im begging you not to copy or steal my works. feel free to sign up for my taglist (which i swear im gonna use on the next fic lol), and i appreciate when people send me asks so let me know your thoughts (or send me hoshina pics, that'd be great too). my masterlist is here! also i gotta let you know that i might put the next fic on hold because i am so tempted to start a short nsfw collection instead - just one-shots so it won't be a lot of commitments. who knows cause i might write angst and nsfw at the same time 😉

soshiro's hands were trembling. you noticed because it has not happened in a while - you cannot even recall the last time you've seen the man nervous, much less shaking. you were going to himeji that morning; hoshina had snatched your backpack from you - "when i said i would make it up to ya, i mean in every way i can," he said, sounding gentle and sincere that your only choice was to let him carry your belongings and blush as he also intertwined his fingers with yours while walking.

there is this story you have been hearing for a while - the red string theory, it is called. according to it, people who are destined to be together will always find each other despite everything and anything. when you were a kid, instead of thinking it romantic, you rather thought it is frightening - fate is a difficult enemy to go against: if it is meant to be, then it will be eventually. when you grew up, you held that belief as a prayer - it means that whoever is the one chosen for you may get lost on their way to you, but they will always - always - arrive.

you glanced at hoshina soshiro and you knew you were right to believe.

it was roughly a four-hour journey from tachikawa to himeji by train, and during the entire ride, even when he fell asleep for a short while, your boyfriend did not let go of your hand. you complained about your palms being sweaty as a joke, and he only loosened his hold. you understood - he is making it up to you, but he is also making up for all the wasted time.  

"we're almost there," you told him when he startled from his nap. his bangs were slightly messy, and he bumped his head to your shoulders. "comfy," he hummed. you giggled.

you are still trying to navigate through dating a high-ranking officer of an anti-kaiju defense force unit. relationships aren't strictly forbidden but still frowned upon, which was a little bit of an issue between you and soshiro when you had a proper and long-overdue conversation about what you guys were. confessing is one thing, but when being friends is all you've known your whole life, you know adjustments are supposed to be made here and there.

 which brings you and him back to your hometown.

he didn't exactly disagree with you, but you are aware he had his reservations about the idea of visiting himeji. "oh i'm pretty sure soichiro-kun would be surprised," you said when you were still planning the trip. "yes, we should kiss in front of him and give him a heart attack," soshiro suggested, and you weren't hundred-percent sure he was just joking. maybe you didn't want him to be.

when the streets started to look familiar, soshiro noted the sudden bounce in your pace. you and he have walked in the same alley years ago - he would wait for you after class and would even make up some ridiculous excuse so you could go home together. "i used to pretend to be tired way back just so i could convince you to slow down. i wanted to spend so much time with you," you reminisced.

"i should have known ya were head-over-heels for me," he teased.

"they miss ya, soshiro-kun. ya don't have anything to worry about." the change in topic wiped the smirk off his face. he was suddenly serious, sad even. there was a part of you that regretted saying the words, but he had to hear it - you only wanted to reassure him after all.

"just that i haven't been here for a long while", he said, squeezing your hand. "i don't know if they think this place is still my home."

"ya need to have faith in the people you care about, soshiro-kun. ya need to trust that they care about ya too," you solemnly advised. "i know that doesn't make any sense sometimes, but that's how i do it."

"have i told ya i love you so much?" he responded, to which you smiled.

"only a thousand times," you joked once more.

the hoshina estate is a spacious one - you have to pass through an automated black gate that directs you to the main house, the cobblestone path lined with cherry blossom trees, their delicate petals swirling when the wind blows gently; the grandeur of the home soshiro grew up in is undeniable with its traditional japanese architecture. a man with striking features and an aura of authority was waiting at the entrance, waiting for his son.

“father,” soshiro greeted the man, bowing deeply.

“an embarrassment that your friend will be the one to bring you home when you could have done it a long time ago,” soshiro’s father scolded him. his stare at soshiro was that of disappointment, which quickly disappeared when he looked at you. “ah, my dear, come on in, hurry, come on in,” he turned and said to you, inviting you in. the hoshina patriarch had always been fond of you - soshiro’s parents had wanted a daughter and they found one in you.

soshiro rolled his eyes. “my father’s favorite child is my girlfriend, great,” he muttered.

the maids made you a great dinner, cooking soshiro’s favorite food per his father’s request. conversation was light, and it was apparent that the old hoshina wanted to catch up so badly on how his son was doing, inquiring in consecutive questions about soshiro’s rank in the unit, his experiences so far, and his long-term plans in staying with the force. soshiro’s replies are detailed, but you know he intentionally did not mention all the instances where he almost died fighting.

soshiro’s father regaled you both with stories of soshiro’s childhood antics - “do ya remember, my dear, when soshiro tripped and fell on his face after training with soichiro? we were so worried, but he only fell asleep,” he recited the memory as if it was just yesterday., his kansai accent thick on his words. the tension that had lingered in the air had dissipated as you finished your meal.

“i had the guest room prepared for ya so ya can rest for tonight,” soshiro’s father had said when his son cut him off.

“no, we can sleep together,” soshiro declared, and thinking it might have sounded improper, he spoke again. “beside each other, i mean. in my room. because we’re tired. from travelling all day," he attempted to clarify but failed.

“ah, may i look forward to a grandchild soon from ya two?” color drained from your face as you slowly closed your eyes. you fought off a laugh but failed.

“ya may, but we aren’t doing that here of all places,” soshiro argued just as his father had turned his back on the both of you, amused with himself. at least now you know where soshiro got his sense of humor.

the hot shower felt great against your tensed muscles, and if you weren’t that exhausted, you would have opted for a bath instead. soshiro wanted to speak to his father alone, so when he ushered you inside his childhood bedroom, he’d let you know that he would be gone while you were cleaning yourself up. you were relieved; you haven’t seen your own father since you were a teenager, and it would be a shame to see it happening to the person you care about the most, not if you can do something about it. and this is not to say that you wanted to fix soshiro’s life - you pointed this out to him once - but he’s had a terrible habit of holding back and assuming the worst, so you had decided that if you could help him out, you would push him to the right direction.

“didn’t ya pack clothes?” his eyes were on you immediately after he came in, finding you on the bed with your phone, wearing his shirt.

“i did, but yours look better,” you replied, holding your arms out and showing him how oversized it is on you - the sleeves are passed your elbows, the hem reaching the middle of your thighs.

“they look better on ya, i agree.” he sat on the mattress for a few moments before lying down, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed. “ya all good?”

“i am,” you said to him. “especially because i scanned yer photos when ye're still little while ya were gone,” you informed him then showing him a folder you created in your device - baby hoshina soshiro folder, you named it - full of duplicates you made of the framed pictures of your boyfriend all over the house. there’s one where he didn’t have any hair at all; there’s one where he was close to crying but appeared to be keeping the tears in; there’s one where he was missing a tooth but smiling like there’s no tomorrow. soshiro moved to take your phone away, but you were quicker than him.

“this is payback, for all the times ya weren’t talking to me.” you were alluding to the three long months when you were still an applicant to the defense force and soshiro acted like you were a stranger. he had apologized for it already, but it is nice to make fun of him sometimes so you brought it up. “that hurt my feelings, ya know.” you laid down beside him, invading his personal space, your shoulders touching his.

“i was stupid”, he said. “and it’s not like i could have come up to ya and said, hey i’m sorry for leaving ya in himeji, by the way i’m crazy for ya.”

“and all those times i thought ya had something with commander ashiro, oh god!” you exclaimed for effect. “by the way, the other recruits thought the same.”

“it’s not like that between her and me.” his gaze on you was brief. “it’s not like that with anyone else.”

“it better not be, because i’m leaking all yer baby photos to the first division if ya mess up,” you threatened him despite not needing to.

“i promise, i won’t.” he grabbed your hand from your side and linked it with his, cradling it to his chest before bringing it to his lips. “i’m not that stupid.”

soshiro’s childhood room was what you would expect from a teenage boy: a king-sized bed, a bookshelf of manga, a cabinet showcasing knives and blades. you never had the opportunity to enter his room even when you were kids, you realized. you looked up to the ceiling and you saw green dots that formed shapes - makeshift constellations, you recognized the patterns - little plastic stickers that you glue to surfaces. “are those supposed to be stars?”

soshiro sighed, his arm on top of his face. “yeah, uh - remember when uh - i think that was in junior high, and ye're so into astronomy? i thought it’d be a good idea to know the names of the stars to impress ya, so i started trying to memorize them.”

you shifted to face him, speechless. maybe if you had known this, if you had known the other things you are certain now that soshiro had done and was willing to do for you, you wouldn’t have wasted years questioning your place in his life and deciphering his feelings. a wave of warmth washed over you as you reached out and lifted his arm off his face, meeting his eyes.

soshiro’s lips felt as soft as it looks like, you thought as you kissed him. you pushed yourself into him, and he pulled you tighter until it seemed there was not enough air for you to breathe - until your chests were pressed together it was as if your hearts were beating as one. something sparked inside you; the sensation of being so close to soshiro about to consume you from within. his hand crawled to your hips and remained there. you drew back a bit after that, and when you saw the panicked look on his face, you kissed him again.

“i love you,” you told him in between pants.

the night went on, and by the end of it, hoshina soshiro discovered that his favorite sound is you moaning his name.

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Back to december

Remus Lupin x reader

Summary: Remus feels like he will regret that night the rest of his life, the marauders convince him to do something about it.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Second chance romance

CW: Remus being self-destructive and questioning his worth.

Word count: 1.8K

This is part of my Speak now (Marauders' Version) collection.

“So this is me swallowing my pride standing in front of you, Saying I'm sorry for that night. And I'd go back to December all the time

It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you. Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine”

Remus sighed, his eyes were fixed into someone across the great hall. He was sitting with the marauders at their usual place, his fork was playing with the food in front of him, he hadn’t been able to eat ever since that night. 

“Come on mate, tell us what’s wrong. You’ve been sighing the whole dinner.” Sirius’ voice made him turn to him, seeing his three friends looking at him with worry written in their faces. 

“Nothing is wrong, I’ve already told you” Remus replied with the same excuse he had been using for days.

“Yeah and that’s why you’ve been looking at Y/N like a kicked puppy for the last week” James retored. “Tell me again, why did you two break up?” 

“How many times are you going to ask me that?” Remus sighed, tired of repeating the same conversation over and over with his friends. 

“Until you tell us the truth” Peter urged. 

“I’ve been telling you the truth, we wanted different things, the relationship wasn’t working” 

“Remus” Sirius’ voice was stern, and the lack of a nickname while referring to his best friend was jarring. “You two were the epitome of love, I had never seen you smile as much as you did with her, like, never.” 

“It’s hard to believe you, not even a day before you broke it off you were looking at her like she was the best thing that had ever happened to you. Your words, not mine.” James insisted. 

And he was right, Remus had never been as happy as he had been while dating you. The choice of breaking things off had been all his. He loved you so much it was terrifying, at some point all he could think about was how long he had left before you realised what he really was and you left him for someone better. You deserved someone better. 

“I really hope this has nothing to do with your monthly problem.” Peter’s voice was low, only for the four of them to hear. 

Remus couldn’t help it, he stiffened. Peter had nailed it and he wasn’t ready to let his friends know about how deep his insecurities really run. But, they noticed his frame changing from exhausted to on guard, Remus didn’t even say anything before the rest of the marauders understood what had happened. 

“Is that true Remus, did you break up with her because of that? I thought she already knew?” Sirius asked quietly, his previous anger now replaced with symphaty.  

“She knows now, and it doesn’t matter, just drop it. I’m done with the interrogation” Remus snapped at them before getting up and leaving the great hall, leaving his friends with dumbfounded expressions behind. 

───✥───

Lily meant well and you knew it, but if she kept asking you if you were okay you might explode. 

“How are you, Y/N?” Lily asked you, for the fourth time in the last hour. 

Ever since Remus had broken up with you Lily had been sitting next to you through all the meals, leaving her boyfriend's side, and afterwards she would walk you to your dorm. You appreciated her company and her friendship, but she was also a constant reminder that things were not as they were before, and therefore she was a constant reminder of your heartbreak. 

“I’ll be fine” was the answer you settled for every time she asked.

“I talked to James.” Lily hesitated before speaking “Are you really okay? He told me why you and Remus broke up…” 

Your eyes widened at that, if James had really told Lily about your break up that meant Lily knew about Remus being a werewolf, and as far as you were concerned he had never pushed her out of his life as he had done when you had been the one to bring it up. 

“You knew about…that?” you decided to keep it as vague as possible in case James had made something up to stop Lily from asking more details. 

She nodded “Ever since fourth year” 

“Did he tell you?” You needed to know, your hands were now shaking and your heart was racing. 

“No, I figured it out. Just like you did '' Lily's words calmed you down a little, if he had been able to confide in Lily but had never felt safe enough to tell you it would’ve made you feel awful. 

“The moment I brought it up he cut me off, we didn’t even have the chance to discuss it. He just broke up with me.” It was the first time you were being honest about it, and it just made everything hurt like if Remus was breaking up with you all over again. 

Lily stepped closer to you before wrapping you in a tight hug, her arms stroking your back in an attemp to comfort you. 

“I think you should talk to him, try to make things right again.” she whispered. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, he probably doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.” 

“Somehow I doubt that.” 

Maybe Lily was right, but you would never be brave enough to even try to prove her right.

───✥───

After storming out of the great hall Remus had locked himself in his dorm, he didn’t want any of the marauders to give him a speech about how he couldn’t let his lycanthopy affect his relationships. Because it had already affected the most important one he had. 

But of course his friends wouldn’t grant his wishes. 

“Remus, let me in, I want to talk with you. Please” Sirius was nothing but persistent. “Come on Moony, you know I’m not leaving.” 

Remus sighed, he’d been doing that a tad lately, but decided to let Sirius in. He wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, and he preferred to talk with him alone and not wait for James and Peter to join Sirius. 

When he opened the door Sirius didn’t waste a second and barged in, going directly to sit on Remus’ bed. 

“Oh, yes of course, make yourself at home on my bed.” Remus scoffed at him. 

“Come sit, Moony” 

Remus didn’t have the strenght to fight him, so he walked towards his bed and sat next to Sirius.

“What happened when she found out?” He wasn’t going to waste any more time. 

“She confronted me about it, asked me why I hadn’t told her.” Remus said sadly 

“Was she judgemental, was she scared or disgusted?” Sirius inquired, he knew you well, and you weren’t anything but lovely and understanding, being disgusted by Remus’ lycanthropy was not something he pegged you to be. 

“I didn’t give her the chance to really express what she thought of it” Sirius gave him a look of encouragement for him to continue. “I broke up with her before she could say something.” 

“Why?” 

“I think that if she had rejected me at that moment I would have never recovered from it, I was terrified.” He said, his words showing a rare vulnerability. 

“Do you regret it? Not giving her a chance. Do you really think she would’ve hated you?” 

“I regretted it the moment she walked out of the door, but I couldn’t risk it” 

“I think you should give her the chance, talk with her.” Sirius patted his shoulder

“If she didn’t hate me then, she defintely does now. She deserves better.” 

“I believe it’s not your call to choose what she does or does not deserve, give her the chance.” 

Maybe Sirius was right. 

───✥───

The Gryffindor common room was not very crowded after curfew, usually only a few seventh year students were spotted working on their class work after being kicked out of the library. 

But these days you would only find comfort on the couch in front of the fireplace, even if it was not a substitute for Remus’ warmth during the cold nights of december, it was the best you found. 

The quiet crack of the wood being burned and the weight of your blankets lulled you to sleep, your eyes were closed and your breathing slow, you were finally falling asleep when the weight of another body made the couch shift. 

“Y/N '' your name was called very quietly, barely above a whisper, but you could recognise the voice anywhere. 

“Remus” your eyes opened and you sat up, straightening yourself

Remus was sitting right next to you, far enough for his thighs to not touch you, but close enough for you to be able to read his expression in the dark room .

“Can we please talk?” He was fidgeting with his hands, clearly nervous of how this conversation was going to go. 

You hugged yourself before nodding. Then a beat of silence 

“I’m sorry.” you both said at the same time. Another silence took over the room before you both chuckled awkwardly. 

“I’m really sorry Y/N, I shouldn’t have cut you off like that. I was scared and I was impulsive, I know I can’t excuse my behaviour, and you don’t have to forgive me but I needed you to know.” He took a deep breath before continuing 

“I have never felt what I feel for you before, and only the thought of you leaving because of my lycanthropy terrified me. And the moment you confronted me about it I thought it was better if I was the one leaving. But I regretted it the moment I saw the tears in your eyes, and when you walked out of the door all I wanted was to take my words back. And I regret it every time I see you across the great hall instead of next to me. Words can’t begin to show how sorry I am.” 

Remus was now crying, he wasn’t the only one, your eyes had started to water the moment he started talking. You took his hand on yours before speaking. 

“It’s okay Rem, I forgive you. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I would hate you for being you” you said sincerely. 

There was a brief moment of silence in which you looked each other in the eyes, they were filled with tears, but also love. You swore no one had ever looked at you like that before.

"Can we try again, please?" He asked 

You didn't even answer, throwing yourself at his arms, which embraced you with the familiar warmth you desperately craved. 

"I've missed you so much, please never leave again" you sobbed into his chest 

"I won't, I promise" he said, placing a kiss on your temple. 

Maybe Remus should listen to Sirius' advice more often if they were going to help him get the love of his life back. 

Author's note: I'm so proud of this one I think it's super duper cute. I'm also dying with uni work at the moment, wish me luck, love u all <33 Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3 Series' taglist: @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsimp @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo 

[five-rivers]

green is for envy, black is for trigger

A long BNHA oneshot!

.

So, they didn't realize at first what it meant when the teachers announced that Deku was going to UA.  Hell, they didn't really get what it meant when it was just Bakugou that was going.  Not that any of them, least of all Hideo, actually thought Bakugou would get in.  The whole thing was a pipe dream.  Only forty kids from the whole of Japan got into the hero course every year, and even if Bakugou was great at a lot of stuff, those were still long odds.

But Deku?

Deku, who had to have how his own name could be pronounced literally spelled out for him?  Who broke down into tears whenever someone made a joke?  That noodle-armed wimp with a death wish?  Useless, quirkless Deku?

Not a goddamn chance.  Not even with a miracle.

But Deku did get decent grades.  Not as good as Bakugou, but the fact that a genetic throwback got passing grades at all was kind of freakish on its own.  Shinozaki used to joke that it was because he was having special ‘tutoring sessions’ with the teachers, but both the teachers and Bakugou were so uptight about stuff like that.  It was a joke.  A kind of creepy joke, and Hideo was sort of glad when Shinozaki knocked it off, but still. 

Anyway, inasmuch as Hideo thought about it at all, he assumed Deku got into one of the other courses.  Although he only really knew about those because of the sports festival and Bakugou nerding out.  Support and business or something like that.  They probably only took Deku because they needed to meet some kind of pity quota.  Hideo's dad was always talking about stuff like that at dinner.  Mostly about mutant quirks, but Hideo figured it applied to deals like Deku, too.

But life went on, and no matter how ticked off Bakugou was about his glory being snatched or whatever, everyone else had entrance exams too.  There would be time to complain about it later, or not.  Hideo kinda figured Bakugou would eventually appreciate the stress relief beating up Deku would bring even through high school.  He'd heard the hero course was tough.  He certainly took advantage of it now.  Enough that Hideo felt sort of bad about it, now and again.  

The swan dive dare had been a little messed up.  Sure, quirkless people usually killed themselves eventually, but let them do it at their own pace.  

Hideo sort of envisioned him, Bakugou, Shinozaki, and Kanemaru hanging out together on weekends, dragging along whatever new friends they'd managed to make at their new schools.  It'd be fun, hearing about Bakugou's glamorous life as a hero student, and Kanemaru's adventures at the local rich kid school.  

What happened was Kanemaru drifting away, and Bakugou dropping all three of them like a hot potato. 

It was–  Well, for the first few weeks, he'd been mad.  They hadn't been best friends or any sappy crap like that, but it was annoying to realize you'd been tolerated rather than appreciated.  But then he'd heard that UA had been attacked, he'd gotten some new friends, and Kanemaru started hanging out again when he figured out all the cigarette hookups at his fancy school were trash.  

And he was sort of looking forward to seeing people try to beat Bakugou up on national television.  

So there was that.  

But what he'd seen instead–

There was no way.  There was just no way.  

But there it was, on national television.  

Deku.

Useless, quirkless Deku.  In the sports festival.  In the third event.  

With a quirk.  

It had to be some kind of trick.  That's what he thought at first.  But it'd have to be one hell of a trick to fake a whole quirk like thag out of nowhere, and there was no way Deku was that smart.  

Maybe he'd been replaced or something.  Hideo had heard of people with body snatching quirks.  But, then, that'd be two quirks, and whatever urban legends said, Hideo wasn't dumb enough to believe in the quirk boogieman.  

Could he have been faking being quirkless?  The very thought made Hideo nauseous.  No.  No way.  Not a chance.  No one with power would tolerate that.  

There had to be another explanation.  

His phone was buzzing.  The group chat was going wild.  

He scanned through the messages.  Shinozaki was disgusting, but he had good ideas, sometimes, and Kanemaru got rumors from his rich kid friends that took much longer to reach Gungan High, and their other friends were more of the same, but maybe one of them could see what Hideo himself was missing.  

His eyes stopped on one of Shinozaki's texts.  

i bet its trigger

where would deku eve  get trigger, Hideo typed.  

idk but its not like you can but a quirk on the street

Theres a guy in my class whose quirk makez every1 atoung him sing in tune, wrote Kanemaru, maybe its like that

with strength like tgat?  r u serious rn noone like that ia gonna work for a quirkless deku unless he has more money than god its trigger ffs

But whered he get it?? asked Hideo.  And would it even worj on a omeone Quiklessm?m

u cab get trigger cheap if yu know where to look

And how the hell did Shinozaki know that?  He and Hideo weren't exactly squeaky clean, with the cigarettes and all, but trigger was something else.  Like heroin was before the dawn of quirks.  

deku prolly just has some bs weak asf quirk that hes juicing

That nauseous feeling came back, and this time, Hideo was able to identify the emotion fueling it as mostly anger.  Red, hot, roiling anger.  

It wasn't enough that Deku stole a spot at UA from someone who'd live past twenty, but he'd taken a hero spot?  And he'd done it with drugs like the cheater he was?

If Hideo had been allowed to take trigger during his entrance exams, he'd have gotten into a hero school, too!  Hell, maybe even UA, if Deku could do it.  Hideo, after all, had a quirk that could be used even without trigger!

weve dot tobdon somethin

*got to do

It only took a minute for Shinozaki to reply lik what??

idk tellthe police if it's a druf thing right? Or just tell ua

He flicked away from the chat and, hands still shaking with rage, started looking up how to file a police report.  

.

“And you think your former classmate is using trigger because…?”

“Because he didn't have a quirk like that before!” said Hideo, frustrated.  No one was listening to them.  

“UA's got a pretty great training program,” said the police officer at the desk, a bored-looking woman with fish scales around her eyes and ears.  She reached over to a small spray bottle and spritzed herself.  “Pick any one of those hero kids and you'll probably hear the same thing.”

“You don't get it,” said Hideo.  “We all thought he was quirkless.”

“Well, clearly not,” said the woman.

“Yeah, but don't you think that's a little suspicious, that he never used his quirk at all before, and now he comes out with that?”

“Yeah,” said Kanemaru, who was ridiculously intimidated by the police station for a rich guy.  Shinozaki hadn't even come, claiming he was too high to be anywhere near a police station.  “What he said.  Deku never used his quirk at school or anything.”

The woman raised a scaly eyebrow.  “Did it occur to you that your classmate was simply following the law against public quirk use?  Or that he didn't want to use a quirk that broke his bones.  Quirk counselor probably told him not to use it.”

“He never went to the quirk counselor at our school.”

“You know private counselors are a thing right?  I'd be seeing a specialist for a quirk like that.”  She leaned back in her chair and looked up at them.  “Do you really think a school full of heroes wouldn't notice something like that?  Save yourselves some stress and go home.”

“But–”

“Seriously.  Go home.”

.

“Any luck?” asked Shinozaki, whose eyes were indeed bloodshot.  

“No,” said Hideo.  

“And we haven't heard back from the school, either,” said Kanemaru mournfully.

“Figures,” said Shinozaki.  “The police suck.”  He twirled a blunt between his fingers, then lengthened them to offer it to Hideo.  “Want a hit.”

“No,” said Hideo, wrinkling his nose against the rancid smell.  

“Yes,” said Kanemaru, snatching it.  “God, that sucked.  What do we do now?”

“I don't know,” said Hideo.  “We've got to get some kind of proof, otherwise the police won't take us seriously.”

“We could follow him,” suggested Kanemaru.  

“Hell, no,” said Shinozaki.  “You remember what chasing him was like in middle school.”

“We caught him whenever we wanted to,” said Kanemaru.  

“Hell, yeah, we did.  But he always knew when we were following him, and if he's pulling this off, he's not using where anyone can see.”

“What then?” demanded Hideo, frustrated.  “Break into his house?  Find his stash?”

Shinozaki snorted.  “When his mom works from home?  Putting Deku in jail isn't much good if we're there, too.”

“How the hell do you know Deku's mom works from home?” asked Hideo.

“Unlike you, I listened to Bakugou's ranting.  She's a programmer or something dumb like that.”

Kanemaru perked up.  “Maybe we could ask Bakugou!” 

“After he ditched us?  If he hasn't done anything yet, he's not gonna.  Give me back my weed already, Kanemaru.”

Reluctantly, Kanemaru returned the blunt.  

“There is one way, though,” said Shinozaki as he took another hit.  “It'd be real risky, though, and it'd cost ya.”

“Yeah?” asked Hideo.  “What's that?”

“Well,” said Shinozaki, “someone with a habit has a different reaction to someone taking trigger for the first time.  We get that on camera, and it's all over for him.”

“I thought we couldn't follow him,” said Kanemaru. 

“I'm not talking about following him, moron.  I'm talking about an ambush.  The freak still has to go home sometime, doesn't he?”

“Wait,” said Hideo.  “You want us to, what, pin down someone high on trigger, shoot him up with even more, and then just stand around filming him?  Who's the moron here, exactly?  Where would we even get trigger?  It's not like weed or tobacco.  We can't bribe a college student to go into a trigger dispensary.”

“The trigger's the easy part,” said Shinozaki.  “So long as Kanemaru can cough up the money.  I know a guy.”

“I'm not fighting a guy on trigger!” said Kanemaru, shaking his head.  “That's worse than roids!  And he's got to be doing those, too, right?  And he's got combat training or whatever, right?”

“Freaking chill already.  Quirk or not, it's still crybaby Deku.  No one's asking you to fight him, anyway.  What’re you going to do?  Pop out your eyes at him?”

“It's not like your quirk is much better,” said Hideo, trying to channel the police officer's cool skepticism.  “I'm not fighting anyone alone.”  According to his dad, that was the height of stupidity.  You always brought backup.  

“How is it that I'm the highest one here and the only one that can think?  We aren't fighting anyone.”

“You know someone who takes hits or something, too?”

“No, idiot.  I'm talking about your after school book club.  How'd you think they'll react to someone who's basically quirkless putting one over on people with natural talent?”

Hideo's spine had gone as stiff as a board.  “How the hell do you know about that?”  Even his parents didn't know about that!  Not that his parents knew anything.  

“I listen, duh.  To spell it all out, my proposal is that moneybags here gives me cash to get the trigger, then our literature lover can get his meta friends riled up and ready to do the delivery, and we stand well clear with cameras rolling.”

“I don't know…” said Hideo.  He was totally behind liberation philosophy, people should be allowed to use their quirks to their fullest extent, but he was pretty sure that the people most likely to help with this kind of thing were the radical hierarchists, and they skeeved Hideo out.   

“You never know anything,” complained Shinozaki.  “And you say that I'm not civic-minded.  Whatever.  Something awful's going to happen, and neandertoe there will be right in the middle of it and you'll come crawling back to me and my plan.”

.

Hosu was burning.  

Hosu was burning, and Stain had almost killed another hero.

Hosu was burning, Stain had almost killed another hero, and right in the middle of Stain's insane motive rant video was Deku.  

Hideo picked up his phone and called Shinozaki.  

.

Izuku wasn't so far removed from who he'd been in junior high that he couldn't tell when he was being followed.  However, unlike when he'd been in junior high, there was more than one reason to follow him.  In junior high, the only people that followed him were bullies, teenaged and otherwise, looking for a soft target.  

But now?  It could be anything from sports festival enthusiasts to the police (he had just broken a bunch of quirk use laws) to one of the villains he'd whirlpooled at the USJ, out for revenge.  

The only people he was sure weren't following him were Kacchan and All Might.  Kacchan, because stealth was one of the few things he was definitively bad at, and All Might, because being stalked by the number one hero had a very distinctive feeling, and this wasn't it.  Besides, the figures he saw ducking out of his line of sight didn't have All Might's proportions, and he was almost a hundred percent sure that All Might only came in two shapes.

But they hadn't done any units on stealth or counterespionage in class, yet, so all Izuku had to draw on in terms of solution to his problems were his hit-and-miss strategies from junior high.  He couldn't even call for help, because the fight with Stain had trashed his phone.  He was hoping he could convince his mom to replace it with a mid-range hero model, but he hadn't quite managed yet. 

So, his plan was as follows:

Play dumb as long as possible.  If he started running, so would they.  The closer he got to home before they closed in, the better.  

Keep an eye out for patrolling heroes, policemen, or even convenience stores with sufficiently intimidating cashiers.  He didn't think there were any suitable ones at the moment.  The conbini closest to Izuku's house was staffed by a jerk who always tried to steal Izuku's change from now until midnight, but he might still come across one. 

In case of being cut off, don't run randomly if there's another choice.  Running randomly let the pursuers pick the route.  Izuku knew paths, shortcuts, and hazards only people familiar with the area would know.  He should take advantage of that. 

Get home and call for help.  Failing that, get to Kacchan's.  If it was just bullies, they'd give up.  If it was a more sinister group…

An unusually large group of older teens turned onto the road in front of Izuku, all wearing hoodies and oversized medical masks.  Izuku promptly turned off the road, jogging through an alley and briskly striding onward.  

If he wasn't already in trouble over the fight with Stain, he might have decided to use Full Cowl to jump his way home… except, what would he do if he accidentally ran into a person and hurt them, or broke someone's windows or something like that?  

Maybe, if he went to the park, then cut through the thrift store in that one basement…  No, if there were as many people following him as he thought, they'd be able to cover all the exits, even there.   On the other hand, if the nicer person was at the counter, he might let Izuku use his phone. 

He wished there was somewhere he could just hide until the people following him gave up, some building or business he could duck into, but that would require people who were actually willing to intervene in a beating, and most of the people around here… weren't.  Some of them would call the police or hero hotline, but (with a few notable exceptions, none of whom lived or worked in Musutafu or its suburbs) even the best heroes couldn't just appear as soon as they were called.  That's why they patrolled. 

Speaking of patrols, finding one of those would also be good.  But Izuku's mental timetable put the nearest one a mile east, if Kamui Woods was his usual amount late and not extra late, which was also possible.  Kamui Woods was pretty popular, so he got stopped by fans regularly.  He didn't usually come this way, anyway.  The main villain hotspot in the area was the train station.  

Mount Lady sometimes did surprise patrols, to boost her image, but Izuku hadn't figured out the pattern of those yet, if there was one, and he didn't have his phone to check if she was doing one today. 

Although, if he had his phone, he could just call…  Who would he call?  Not his mom, most people who were okay with beating Izuku up wouldn't hesitate to beat uo his mom, too.  Kacchan was still at his internship for another day, and wouldn't have picked up the phone for Izuku, anyway.  He wasn’t sure where most of his other classmates lived.  All Might would come get him if he called, and All Might wasn't busy as All Might - he had a car - but Izuku really didn't want to bother him.  Calling the police, well, they wouldn't do anything unless he was actively getting beaten up, which looped right back around to the time thing.  

Izuku had always thought it was remarkable, how fast you could get the crap kicked out of you if enough feet were willing to do the kicking.  

At this point, Izuku had counted six sets of willing feet.  Or two, if they both had shapeshifting quirks.  He shouldn't rule something like that out.  

But he had the sinking feeling that there were more than two.  Or six, for that matter.  A lot more.  

He cut through the ground floor of an apartment building, ignoring how the doorman swore at him.  He went out the service entrance.  He wasn't too far from home, now.  

But before he'd gone another street, he'd picked up another tail.  Or regained one.  He wasn’t sure.  

Whoever or whatever was behind this was much more organized than the bullies and muggers who went after him in high school.  He was- well, he'd already been scared, but now he was concerned, too, and that was a different kind of emotion entirely.  Sort of.  Probably.  

When he got home, he'd call All Might.  All of the really bad organizations who'd want to target Izuku would be connected to All Might anyway.  

After this next corner, he just had to go one more block, and then–

Oh.  

Somehow, Izuku hadn’t considered that the people following him might already know where he lived, and be waiting there.  

He hesitated for only a minute as his brain registered a group too large for him to take on even with One for All.  

There wasn't anyone for him to protect here but himself.  

He ran.  

New plan: Evade capture.  Acquire a phone.  Call the emergency line.  Use One for All only if he was backed into a corner; he didn't think the police would be amused by a second quirk use incident less than a week after the first.  

Hands reached out towards him.  He ducked away from several, and almost ran into another, tipped with sharp claws.  They raked over his arm, barely avoiding drawing blood.  The owner of the hand laughed, and another person kicked at Izuku's ankles.  

Izuku jumped over the feet, and he flipped the next person who tried to grab him.  He could hear the crowd - and it was a big enough group to call it a crowd - jeering and calling out to him.  It was nothing really identifying, unfortunately.  They were calling him Deku, quirkless, and a fake, but the groups of people who would know to call him those things included both former classmates and incredibly serious villains.  

The sidewalk underneath Izuku's feet crumbled, and his heart leapt into his throat - Shigaraki?  No.  Both the pattern of destruction and its products were different.  Shigaraki powdered things.  The concrete here was still in recognizable chunks.  

He caught himself with his other foot, adjusted for the new terrain, and kept running.  A volley of dark beams forced him to swerve and duck and turn onto another street.  He thought there was a conbini up ahead– no, that was the next street down, but that apartment building left its ground floor open–

The broken concrete under his feet started to twitch and levitate.  He changed direction again, now running on the street itself.  There were hardly any cars here, even on a normal day.  Today, the streets were dead, otherwise he'd try waving one down.  How had they managed that?  Bribery?  Stolen construction and detour signs?  He used his backpack to shield himself when the levitating chunks of concrete pelted him, then dropped it as he was strafed by a spurt of fire.  

He hissed as he patted out his sleeves, then reflexively punched the next masked face that appeared in his vision.  His muscles and tendons in that arm pulsed with pain, still not entirely recovered from their ordeals in both the sports festival and the fight with Stain.  He switched tactics for the next person who tried to grab him, sweeping their feet.

There were some really cool quirks on display here, but they all felt rather… unpolished.  Unpracticed.  It kind of pointed away from these people being career villains.  But then, so did their ages.  Some of these people were adults, but not many. 

That didn't mean they weren't working for worse villains. 

A pop of compressed air went off to his left, and a pair of wires went shooting after him.  They had tasers, too?  

Something slammed into the ground around him, creating deep circular indentations.  Telekinesis?  An invisible giant?  No, gravity manipulation.  Izuku stumbled and was forced to use One for All just to get back up, and then he was hit over the back of the head with something.  

He lashed out, caught flesh, and struggled away from the grip.  But he'd lost what little lead he'd had on the main body of the pack.  They were circling, now, cutting off escape routes.  Could he use One for All and Full Cowling to get up on a roof?  Not without fighting people with wall-crawling quirks.  Still, that was fewer people than he was dealing with now.  He tensed, getting ready to jump, and was suddenly hit with extreme vertigo, intense enough to drop him to his knees. 

When it passed, he looked up to see a foot coming towards his face.  He wasn't able to dodge.  

The only good thing about the next few minutes was that One for All kept them from pinning him.  He was hit with dozens of quirks and dozens of feet.  He pushed them off, but he didn't have a good idea of how much of One for All was too much for a person to handle without serious injury. 

But then someone - someone with at least a mild strength quirk - got hold of his right arm and twisted. 

The world went wobbly, and the next thing Izuku knew, he was on the ground, restrained by a truly painful submission hold and multiple quirks, including the vertigo and gravity quirks. 

“Come on, bring it over!”  The movement in the crowd became more purposeful.  

Left hand, pinky finger.  Letting it heal naturally if Recovery Girl wouldn't help would suck, but not as much as letting these people do what they wanted to him, he was sure.  He flicked his finger and the wind pressure pushed back the nearest members of the crowd, sending them toppling into one another.  Izuku staggered to his feet, still dizzy.  Up was the only way out, but he wasn't sure he could aim–

Something sharp sunk into his right bicep, and he punched the person holding it.  Which, ow, his pinky.  

He pulled the sharp thing out of his arm, which wasn't the best first aid decision he could have made but he was still learning.  A hypodermic needle? 

A minute later, the needle fell from Izuku's nerveless fingers.  It didn't fall far.  When had he fallen down again?  

There was a burning sensation spreading down his arm and across his shoulders.  It started as a surface-level itch, but then it went more and deeper, and–

Izuku had thought he knew pain.  Shattering three of his four limbs in one go at the entrance exam, breaking his legs at the USJ, repeatedly breaking his fingers at the sports festival– He hadn’t done those things for fun.  He thought he knew burning, too, from ten years as Kacchan's punching bag.

This was different.  This wasn't just his skin burning, melting, his blood was on fire, his bones.  He was cracking open with every beat of his too-fast heart, something terrible trying to get out.  

This was agony, all the way down to his soul.  

.

Hideo was feeling pretty good about things, actually.  Elated, almost, like on a good roller coaster ride.  Yeah, there were risks, but this was kind of like hero work, wasn't it?  Giving the bad guy a beatdown and exposing him for the whole world to see.  

As soon as they got the needle in him, everyone stepped off, giving Deku room for his freak out and Hideo and the others a clear shot at the action with their phones.  

“Crap,” said Shinozaki.  “Crap, crap, crap.”

“What?” asked Hideo, distracted by how Deku was writhing on the ground.  It almost looked like he was fighting himself.  Freak.

“It's not like I got him the good stuff that goes down smooth, but that's not–  If he's a user, he shouldn't–  That's not what he should be acting like!”

Hideo's good mood vanished fast.  “Wait, you mean he wasn't on trigger…?”

“It's fine, it's fine, we just can't post this anywhere, we've got to stay quiet, it's not like he'll be able to identify us–  We didn't touch him.”

But that wasn't the imminent problem, was it, if Deku had a quirk like that?  If he had a quirk like that, and they'd just given him a shot of trigger?  A quirk booster?  

“Uh, um, guys?” said Kanemaru.  “When you say don't post it…”

“Yeah,” said Shinozaki, backing away, “I mean don't post it anywhere, forget that it happened.  Never speak of it again.  All that good stuff.”

“But I, um, I sort of… livestreaming.  I'm livestreaming.”

“You idiot–”

“Hey!  Hey!  Get away from my friend, you creeps!”

.

Ochako flopped down on her bed, doing her best impression of bonelessness.  Her internship with Gunhead had gone great, but she was so frickin’ tired.  She was glad it ended half a day before everyone else's - except for those guys who got caught up in Hosu, she guessed.  Iida was still in the hospital, but apparently Deku had gone home last night. 

She sighed.  She'd text him, but he'd emailed everyone saying his phone broke, so that was out.  So… she'd probably just scroll through the internet… it was a peanut butter and crackers for dinner sort of night…

Her phone rang.  She frowned at the number, but answered.  

“Uraraka!  Dieu merci, I was not sure you would answer!”

Ochako sat up.  “Aoyama?  What's wrong?”

“It is Midoriya!  I have found this, this livestream, of a bunch of gangsters chasing him through the streets.  And I call the police, but they do not get there so fast, and all our classmates, they are on their internships, and he must be near home–”

“Send me the link,” said Ochako, slamming her feet into her shoes and grabbing the can of pepper spray her mom had gotten her when she first started to live alone.  “Jiro and Mineta should still be in town, too, they got internships with local heroes.”  Who else was still around?  Ochako knew about Jiro, because she'd considered interning with Death Arms, too, and she remembered where Mineta was going, because he'd been gross about it, but there had to be others still around.  “You call them, okay?”

“Oui, Uraraka, I am sorry I cannot help more–”

“It's fine, it's fine,” said Ochako, jogging down the stairs outside her apartment.  She didn't remember where Aoyama was having his internship.  “The police, they're sending a hero, right?”

“I do not know.  They did not say, only that it would take time, that they have to confirm, that they do not know where this is, this video.”

She reached the bottom of the stairs.  “Okay, okay, I've got to go now, but you'll send the link to the video?”

“Oui, it is sent.  Be careful, Uraraka.”

“I will.  Bye.”

She hung up, then, and quickly navigated to the link Aoyama had sent her.  She swallowed back the anger she felt when she saw masked and hooded adults grappling a clearly-injured Deku, and started scanning the video for landmarks and street signs.  There had to be something. 

She rewound slowly, slowly.  The street signs were too small and blurry in the video, she couldn't read them.  

Wait.  

She scrolled forward.  That apartment building had its name on the front in huge kana.  She plugged the name into her maps app.  It wasn't too far from here.  If she ran– 

She was moving before she finished the thought.  She knew where it was, where Deku was.  

What she'd do when she got there… she wasn't sure.  There were at least thirty guys in the video.  But people who did stuff like this were ultimately cowards.  Sometimes, if they knew someone was watching them, if they knew someone saw what they were doing, they'd stop.  That's how Ochako's parents stopped a yakuza beating, once.  They'd just gone out with a broom, a baseball bat, and a phone connected to the police. 

… there had been a lot fewer of them, too, though, if she remembered correctly.  

It didn't matter.  If she had to use her quirk, she'd use it.  It'd be her first public quirk use citation, and if that meant she was suspended or expelled… it didn't matter.  What kind of hero would she be, if she didn't do her best to help a friend? 

She turned the last corner and saw the knot of villains.  She couldn't see Izuku from here, but he was visible on the livestream clearly enough.  

She dialed the emergency line.  “I'm on Obi Street, near the Millenium Building,” she said, once the operator had answered.  “There's a group of thirty villains beating up a student.”

“How do you know they're villains, ma'am?”

“They're using their quirks.” 

“Understood, I'm sending your location to the nearest hero.  Please find a place to shelter until they arrive.  Do not approach the villains, and stay on the line.”

Normally, Ochako would have followed instructions.  Honest.  But the villains moved strangely, and it was Deku.  He was basically her best friend, especially since Sakura back home stopped talking to her for stupid reasons.  

“Hey!  Hey!  Get away from my friend, you creeps!”

“Ma'am--" said the operator, but Ochako wasn't interested.  

Some of the villains turned towards her.  Others, apparently, hadn't heard her.  

“Who the hell're you?” demanded one of them, who was clearly used to using his mass to loom.  Joke was on him.  It didn't matter how much mass he had when she could use her quirk to negate it.  “Some kind of pervert slut who gets off taking it from subhuman freaks?”

Ochako didn't know how to respond to that, so she didn't.  “I have the police on the phone, so you'd better get lost!”

“Ma'am, please–”

“You think those fascist pigs scare us?  We're part of the new revolution, the–”

The big man stumbled and looked back.  The other villains jostled into each other, disorganized, and for the first time since looking at the livestream, Ochako saw Deku.  

He looked terrible.  Of course he looked terrible.  He was being beaten by a small mob.  He was bruised and bloodied and panting.  

His tongue was black.  

There was something else black, too.  Something like a gnarled, black root, growing from Deku's tattered sleeve and wrapping around the villain's ankle. 

“No,” said Deku, except it didn't sound very much like him at all.  

A thick, opaque fog exploded into being.  And then the screaming started.  

.

Hands gathered Izuku up.  Not gentle, exactly, but careful.  Not hurting.  They pulled him through the dark where lights flickered, uncertainly, like memories.  He opened his eyes and saw their faces, glowing, like fires that refused to be extinguished.  He knew them, but he didn't.  They could have been his, but they weren’t. 

“Ninth,” theh said, they whispered, they chanted.  There was power, there, burning and immense, and behind that power was purpose, but it was distorted, warped and shredded around the edges.  

This was not how this moment was supposed to go.  

There should have been triumph.  This should have been sacred.  A sharing of memories, a meeting of minds, a point of convergence, of singularity.  

How dare they?

How dare they–

–trap them - poison this - forget history - throw away this peace - hurt the boy - call them useless - touch Toshi's child - young Midoriya - say those things to Uraraka?

Uraraka was here?

Hush.  

Or–

Listen.  

Feel this.  Every strength they ever had.  Every memory that could aid their task.  Every skill, every scrap of knowledge, every quirk, every second of every year spent running-hiding-fighting.  All of it, brought together and finally expressed.  

They knew about trigger.  They had seen it, in all its gruesome forms.  Its purpose was to strengthen quirks, but the side effects - bodies twisted, quirks out of control, brains working at a fraction of their normal capacity.

One for All was a quirk.  A strange quirk, a difficult to understand quirk, but still a quirk, and everything within it was part of a quirk, and every thought they had happened in the brains of their Eighth and Ninth.  

At the moment, they were insane.  And they knew it.  And they didn't care.  

The purpose of One for All was to stop All for One, but that kind of specificity was a human foible, not something so easily encoded in the core of a quirk.  The end to which it put itself was the very destruction of evil and the eternal rebirth of hope.  Its favorite means was violence.  

“What are you talking about?”

Izuku tilted his head to one side.  Had he been talking?  Mumbling?  Muttering?  He should probably work on that.  But it didn't seem to matter so much when Blackwhip and Fifth were whispering to him the secrets of how to use rage to rip an enemy limb from limb, and Danger Sense hovered around him like a protective halo, Hikage watching his back.  

They were so, so, angry that it had spilled back over into serenity, like an overflow error on a computer.  

A fist came flying for him out of the swirling vapors of Smokescreen.  As soon as it brushed his cheek, Gear Shift grudgingly reversed its momentum.  Second did not approve of their current stronghold, but that did not mean he would permit an attack.

There was a snap, and then a scream, the man– no, the boy.  He couldn't be more than a year out of high school, if that.  The boy grasped at his broken wrist, howling.  

Izuku hadn't even done anything.  It was his own fault.  

Smokescreen whispered of an attempted escape, and Blackwhip dragged her back.  They weren't done with them yet.  

He didn't want to kill them or anything.  They just wanted to hurt them a little.  Ten years of quirklessness… twice.  And four lifetimes on the other side, running from people who thought meta powers were curses, or a symptom of a disease.   It was the same kind of bigotry, just reversed.  

There was just so much pain.  It hurt so much.  In his chest, in their head, in their hearts.  

Maybe if these little monsters felt some of it, they wouldn't do it again.  Maybe some of it would go away.  

.

Hideo stumbled through fog bank after fog bank, and started to wonder if he should call his mom.  He didn't always get on with his parents, but, if he was going to die…

There was a sort of scraping sound.  Then, footsteps.  They had to be close, close enough to touch.  The heavy fog dampened sound eerily.  Hideo froze, hardly daring to breathe. 

“Stop it!  Stay back!  How are you still moving?”

“Your vertigo quirk has its weaknesses, although it's useful for combat otherwise.  I'd ask you why you aren't trying to be a hero, but it's clear the problem is temperament.  Or, well, your entire personality, to be quite honest.”

There was a thump, a cracking sound and a shriek.  

“Stop!  Stop!  What do you want?  I can– my family has money.  Connections.  We can get you anything you want!  Just stop!”

“There is nothing we want more than you never doing anything like this again.”

The voice sounded like Deku's, but the cadence was all wrong.  Deku was a meek, shivering, stuttering nerd, and Hideo would have sworn that he'd stay that way, no matter what drugs they gave him.  

“I won't!  I won't!”

“It's nice of you to offer, but the only way people like you stop is of they're forced to stop, or if they're made to regret what they've done.  A lot.  All the time.”

“No, no, please!  No!”

There was an ugly cracking noise, and then a wet thump.

“Pathetic.”

Oh, god.  Oh, god, what kind of quirk was this, even?  There was no way Deku had a quirk like this all this time. 

A horrible thought came to him then.  What if it wasn't Deku?  Body-snatching quirks were a thing.  Hell, Bakugou had been targeted by one of those guys just last year.  And Deku had no friends, basically no family.  Who would notice when he started acting different?  Other than them, apparently. 

That was actually kind of sad.  Hideo would probably have had more pity to spare for Deku, though, if he wasn't using it all on himself. 

There hadn't been any sounds over there for a while, now.  Maybe it was safe to move again? 

“Hello, Hidaka Hideo,” said Deku's voice, right in his ear.  “It's been a long time.”

.

Kyoka wasn't entirely sure what was going on.  She had only been on the phone with Aoyama for a few confused seconds before the large-scale villain attack alarm went off, and what Death Arms said to her just after hadn't helped matters.  

Midoriya?  Taking trigger?  That didn't make any sense at all.  He was friends with Iida.  Totally straightedge.  

But apparently, he'd been given trigger.  As in, drugged, by a gang trying to beat him up.   Which, honestly, made even less sense.  Giving trigger to a guy you were fighting with…  It was like throwing a pair of brass knuckles to a guy you just hit, and daring them to do one better.  It was stupid. 

It was also on video, so Kyoka had to admit that some people were just that dumb, as unbelievable as that sounded. 

Whatever the Mensa squad's original goal had been, the result was… this.  A fat, billowing cloud that occasionally sprouted writhing black tentacles and faint but disturbing screams.  She didn't know what kind of quirks could combine to make something like this, and she didn't care.  She wasn't Midoriya.  The villains must have gotten spooked by Midoriya's quirk or something.  She just had to hope that they hadn't gotten spooked because Midoriya had broken all the bones in his body.  

What had happened at the sports festival had been… hard to watch.  

“Alright,” said Death Arms, “before we go in there, let's get some things down.  Earphone Jack, this Midoriya is your classmate?”

“Yeah,” said Kyoka.  

“He's not going to be himself, jumped up on trigger.  Don't try to get near him, or any of these villains.  He won't listen to reason, and I'll bet that these guys've been taking trigger, too, for a quirk effect like this. You're going to be flanked the whole time by these two,” he said, nodding towards a pair of sidekicks.  “The only reason we're bringing you with us is because we need someone who can navigate in all that crap, not for fighting.  Understood?”

Kyoka nodded.  “Understood.”

“Everyone else, go for restraint over injury, where possible.  We don't know if there are civilians other than Midoriya caught up in this.”

He spent another couple of seconds arranging the marching order, but then he finally gave them the order to move in.  

Inside the cloud, the air was cool, and drier than Kyoka had expected.  Not like fog, more like smoke.  Somehow, the screaming she'd heard on the outside was quieter in here as well.  Must be some quirk…  

“Group of three, that way,” she said, pointing.  

They took care of the villains quickly.  They didn't seem much older than Kyoka, and their quirk control was much worse.  They were tied up in class-C restraints in seconds.  

“We're going to have to carry them back out,” said Death Arms with a grimace.  “We can't just leave them here.”

“Oh, thank god,” said one of the villains.  “You guys are actual heroes!”

“As opposed to what?” asked Death Arms, gruffly.  

“The punk is probably talking about me.”

Kyoka jumped and turned.  Whoever that was, they'd managed to sneak up on them while making no sound at all.  Not even breathing.

The man was bald, wearing leather, and the same sort of rugged as Death Arms.  He also sort of… faded into the smoky clouds around him, almost as if he were made of them.  Even accounting for mutations, his smile was a bit too wide, his eyes a little too blank. 

The black, lashing tentacles around him, however, looked very real, especially when they scraped along the already-battered asphalt near his cloudy feet.  

“And who're you?” asked Death Arms, readying his fists.”

“They should have stayed away from our kid,” said the man without moving his mouth.  Then, in Midoriya's voice,  “It hurts! “

“Where-” started Death Arms, but the man was opening his mouth, wrist and wider.  Too wide.  Inside was a perfectly black hole. 

A faint rushing noise was the only warning before a dozen of those black tentacles came pouring out of the man's mouth.  They jostled and grabbed and wrapped around, and by the time Kyoka got her wits about her again, she and the rest of the heroes had been deposited outside the cloud. 

Death Arms looked shaken.  “I think we might need backup for this one.”

.

Ochako caught another glimpse of yellow gloves and a fluttering cape.  It was a hero.  It had to be, even if Ochako didn't recognize her.  Now, if only Ochako could get her attention…

She pushed through another bank of smoke.  The smoke was… weird.  When it first appeared, it looked like it was coming from Deku, but that couldn't be right.  He had a strength enhancement.  Like All Might.  But then, those black root things weren't a normal part of Deku's quirk, either.  

Maybe it was like Tsuyu's quirk.  She had a lot of different things she could do, and you normally wouldn't describe it as a jumping quirk instead of a frog mutation, but it did let her jump high.  She just… wasn't sure why Deku would do that.  Unless he didn't know?  

Ugh, all these things could wait until later, when her friend wasn't in trouble. 

“Miss Hero!” she tried again.  “Please wait!”

And this time, to Ochako's surprise, she did.  

She was tall - but not as tall as Ochako first thought.  She was floating above the ground, and the way the smoke clung to her…

“It's yours, then, the smoke?” asked Ochako, a little out of breath.  

“Not exactly,” she said, in a voice as thin as the smoke. 

A partner, then?  “The person they were beating up was my friend, do you know where he is?  Is he safe?”

The hero inclined her head, and then dissolved, the smoke that made up her body tearing away from itself.  The clouds behind her patted as well, revealing a large crater, and–

“Deku!”

She hopped down into the crater, avoiding broken electrical cables and gushing pipes.  

Deku looked even worse than he had minutes ago.  Red and green sparks danced over his body, and his skin was a ghostly gray.  He was shaking, and clutching at the ground, raw fingertips digging deep grooves into the remaining concrete.  

But before she could get to him, smoke swirled out of his body, and two more figures coalesced out of it.  A slender white-haired man in a t-shirt and loose pants, and a shorter, younger man in a long, high-collared coat that reminded Ochako of Best Jeanist's costume. 

“Wait a moment,” said the white-haired one.  

“Why?” demanded Ochako.  “Who are you people?”

“It's people like this that give my brother so much power,” said the man, which answered nothing. “They could use their abilities to help, but instead they act out of jealousy and envy.”

“Unless there's been a big change recently,” said the other man, “that dosage of Japanese trigger lasts for three minutes, maximum.”

Ochako looked down at her dead phone.  How long had it been?

“Wait a moment,” repeated the white-haired man.  “There is still justice to be done, there are still things to be made right.”

“I'm sure you're tough.  Are you tougher than concrete?” asked the other man.  “We don't remember that.”

“Wait a moment.  I wish my brother were here, so I could pound his stupid face in.”

“We really, really don't.”

“Uh,” said Ochako.  Were these guys, like, all there?  “There are villains here who tried to hurt him, so–”

“Wait a moment,” said the white-haired man.  He sounded frustrated.  “Wait a moment.  They are being discouraged.”

“Vehemently.”

“Wait a moment.  He won't remember this.  Tell him we will speak again.”

“We'll try, anyway.”

Ochako looked between the two of them.  Maybe she could run by them… Were their bodies even solid? 

Deku shuddered, and the force behind the movement sent more cracks through the concrete, deepened the crater.  Ochako threw up her arm to protect her eyes from dust. 

When she lowered her arms again, the figures of the two men were dissipating back into smoke, and the smoke itself was wisping away.  Deku was lying still, now, eyes closed, breathing heavily.  Ochako checked him carefully for quirk effects, but didn't see any, and approached. 

“Deku?”

He didn't respond.  According to the first aid course she'd taken to boost her chances of being accepted at UA, she shouldn't move him unless there was imminent danger, in case of broken bones or neck injuries.  The pipes and wires… that situation would probably hold for a while longer.  The villains…

She climbed back out of the crater and looked around.  She could see both sides of the street, now, even if it was hazy.  The glass in most of the nearby windows was broken.  The street itself and the sidewalks were gravel.  One streetlight had been knocked over.  

And scattered all over were the prone forms of the villains.  They didn't look like they were moving.  Ochako stared at the nearest one, frightened, until she saw that they were still breathing.  So she should stay with Deku until first responders got there.  Hopefully, that would be soon.

Her phone chirped as it came back to life, whatever quirk effect keeping it inoperable disappearing with the smoke. She looked down at it, briefly.  It was an older model, and usually took a minute or longer to turn back on all the way. 

She scanned the street again, squinting to see through the thinning smoke, and, oh thank goodness.  That was Death Arms, wasn't it?  And Jiro!  She waved frantically.  

This whole thing had lasted only a few minutes, but it had felt like forever. 

.

In other news, the large-scale disruption in residential Musutafu today occurred when a group of thirty-two villains chased down and injected a UA student with trigger.  The villains were mostly high school and college students with otherwise clean records.  According to Musutafu PD, the villains believed the student was somehow using trigger to fake having a quirk.  A statement released by UA with the permission of the student's guardian not only refutes those claims, but includes select medical data from the student's most recent hospital visit, only days before.  These records show no evidence of the student having ever taken any form of performance enhancing drug.  The student was the only civilian injured in the event, and is recovering at an undisclosed location.  The police are investigating the possibility of classifying the incident as a hate crime.  Now, Ms. Long with the weather–

.

Izuku pried his eyes open blearily.  His head was pounding, his bones ached,  and his mouth tasted like he'd licked Dagobah Beach.  Before he'd cleaned it up.  Where was he and what was he doing there?  

He blinked a few times.  Actually, that ceiling looked familiar…

“Ah!” said Recovery Girl, who was suddenly in his field of vision.  “You're awake.”

Before Izuku could ask what had happened, she was running through a cognitive test.  Despite his confusion, he answered her questions as best he could, and she didn't seem disappointed, so he must have gotten a good grade.  Was that something you could get on a cognitive test?

“What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?” she asked, finally.  

“Uh, um,” said Izuku.  “I used one of the gyms at the school… here, I mean… for physical therapy stuff.  Then sat in on one of the support classes - that was really cool - then, um, the train… and I was walking home…  Was I hit by a car?” he guessed.  

Recovery Girl sighed.  “You were attacked by villains and injected with trigger.  Trigger heavily cut with other drugs, no less.”

“What?!” said Izuku trying to sit up.  Recovery Girl pushed him back down.  

“The villains were all captured.  They won't be doing anything like that again.”  She set a bowl of broth down on the table attached to Izuku's bed.  

“But did I– What did I–?”  Even if he didn't remember anything, trigger made people do all sorts of weird stuff.  And One for All wasn't an ordinary quirk.

“Don’t worry about that,” said Recovery Girl.  “You focus on recovering your stamina, so we can do something about all those microfractures you have.”

“I thought– I thought you said you wouldn't treat me anymore,” said Izuku, bewildered.  

“I never–” Recovery Girl stopped, pressed her lips together.  “What I meant to say, at the end of the sports festival, is that I won't be able to heal you with my quirk if you keep getting injuries like that.  There's a limit to what can be healed, even with quirks, as you well know.”

Izuku thought back to All Might's wound, and shuddered.  Which.  Ow.  

“If you can keep that down,” said Recovery Girl, nodding to the broth, “I'll see about letting some of your visitors in.”

“Like Mom?  And, um, All Might?” guessed Izuku.

“Your mother is here already,” said Recovery Girl, nodding at the green-haired lump in the neighboring bed.  “Just got her to take a nap herself, after she spent all night fretting.  But, yes, All Might isn’t above using his position to get to the top of your visitor list.  Although he isn't the only one on it.  All your classmates called in from their internships, and I had to ban that girl from the support course.  I won’t have untested support equipment around my patients, no matter what the medical applications are.  Uraraka and Jiro from your class were also here earlier…”

Izuku listened as she bustled around the medical wing and continued to chatter about his visitors and well-wishers, and felt… warm.  Later, he was sure there would be consequences beyond missing memories, sore muscles, and broken bones, but for now… it was nice to know he had people who cared.  He didn't think he'd ever get tired of that. 

With a shaky hand, he picked up the soup spoon and started on the broth. 

.

“Mr. Hidaka,” said the lawyer, more to Hideo's father than Hideo, even if the lawyer was technically representing Hideo, “I'm afraid to say that the government's case is ironclad.  Between the livestream video, the messages to the other defendants, being found at the scene of the crime, the evidence of quirk use…  The best we can hope for is the young villain diversion program, but that's only possible if you plead guilty and implicate any other co-conspirators.  Otherwise, you're old enough to be charged as an adult, and even if they don't do that, juvenile villain facilities aren't great places to be.”

“But Deku–” started Hideo.  

“Hideo,” growled his father.  

“I was attacked–”

“Hideo, shut up.  You'll take the guilty plea and hope you get it in before any of rhe cretins you call friends.  And if you say anything about this Midoriya boy again…”

Hideo swallowed and nodded.  Goddamned Deku.  How come he got everything good, and Hideo was in here?  It wasn't fair.  It wasn't fair.  Goddamned Deku.  

But what was he supposed to do?  He wasn't an actual villain.  He just wanted things to be right. 

“Fine,” he said.  “I'll do it.”

“Great!” said the lawyer, gathering his papers.  “I just have to talk to the prosecuter.”

Goddamn Deku.  Why couldn't Hideo have his life?

[leahrintarou]

✩₊˚.⋆ BABY NUMBER TWO ! - osamu miya / 10.12 / kinktober

CW: they're parents to a newborn, breeding kink, lactation, she/her pronouns, female anatomy, pet names,

Word Count: 1.4k

Author's Note: welcome to my seventh post of kinktober. i definitely stepped out of my comfort zone to write this so i hope you all enjoy. leave a like and reblog to show support.

osamu and y/n stepped out of the restaurant, the evening air cool and refreshing after the warmth inside. their date night had been perfect—good food, laughter, and moments that reminded them both why they cherished each other so much. as they walked toward the car, osamu slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close with a grin.

“you know, i had a great time tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and playful as he leaned in, brushing his lips against her ear.

y/n smiled, squeezing his hand. “me too. you really know how to spoil me, samu.”

he chuckled, leaning back to look at her, his eyes softening. “only the best for you,” he replied. as they reached the car, he paused, his hands resting lightly on her waist before sliding one hand up to her chest, a slight squeeze to her breast. but as he did, she let out a sharp hiss, pulling away slightly. osamu’s face immediately shifted from playful to concerned, his hand retracting as he looked at y/n with worry. “sorry, did that hurt?” he asked, searching her expression.

y/n gave him a small smile, swiping her hand down her arm as she nodded. “yeah, a little. i think i might be sore,” she explained, trying to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault. he reached out, gently cupping her face with his hands. “we don’t have to do anything tonight if you’re not feeling up to it,” he said softly, his thumb tracing light circles on her cheek. “i just want you to be comfortable.”

she leaned into his touch, appreciating his gentleness and understanding. “thanks, samu,” she replied, taking his hand in hers. “my pump broke this morning and kaori has already been fed.” that was the name of their three month newborn little girl. "should we pick up a new one before we go home?" 

"no, all the shops are close by now. I'll figure it out." she gave him a tired smile and he osamu gave her a wary look. "im fine, i promise." she reassured. he nodded, voice still sounding unconvinced. 

"okay, baby." 

—

“thanks for watching her for us.” y/n said to both atsumu and sakusa. they insisted on watching kaori so that she and osamu could have some sort of break. They were new parents so to say it was stressful was an understatement. “anytime.” as they walked through the front door, closing it behind them, y/n turned to same, letting out a heavy sigh. “Going to take a warm shower to try and help these.” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. 

Samu nodded, following her down the hallway and to their bedroom. He started to get undressed and a few seconds later, he heard the sound of the shower running. He felt bad for the pain that y/n was currently experiencing, but he also couldn't help the way his mind trailed off to other things. Her breasts were obviously larger and he could tell as much due to the low neckline of the dress she wore. 

He wanted to believe that it was just an innocent concern, but his thoughts of impurity drove him to take careful steps towards the bathroom. The door was left ajar so he only had to push it slightly for it to swing open. Behind the frosted glass of their shower door, he saw the silhouette of y/n standing behind it, under the showerhead and the steem from the heated water poured from the cracks of the door. 

He was only in his briefs, but he quickly discarded them and entered the shower as need enveloped his being. “Feeling better, baby?” he questioned. y/n wasn't startled by his presence and osamu figured that she might've noticed him slip in. she leaned her back against his chest as her fingers massaged circles to the top area of her breasts. The white liquid trailed down her body as the water washed it  down to the drain. Osamu pressed himself closer against her back, his hands coming around her to replace her own massaging fingers. 

A soft moan fell from her lips, the relief almost immediate. He continued this action for as long as y/n needed but she eventually turned around to face him. He gave her a questioning look and y/ only gave him a tired smile. It’s been a long day and this process of winding down felt the most enjoyable. 

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her neck, the water from the shower wetting his hair in the process. y/n’s fingers threaded through the wet strands and she soon felt the warm muscle of his tongue place a stripe against her collar bone. He moved down, his kisses now being placed where his fingers once resided just a few seconds ago when he was aiding her to relieve the pain. She let out a moan of his name and he couldn't ignore the way his length twitched at the sound. 

His tongue ran a stripe over her raised nipple and a whimper fell past her lips. “Sensitive?” he questioned, his breath fanning over that very area. “More than usual, yeah.” she confirmed. With that information, his lips latched around her nipple as his tongue ran a circle around it. y/n’s hand tightened in his hair, pulling slightly when he continued unmerciless. His free hand traveled between her thighs, slipping between them as the pad of his digit circled her bud. 

She let out a pleasurable cry at the lustful act and osamu couldn't help it, his erection grew by the second. “feeling okay, baby? If it hurts, tell me to stop, okay?” she nodded, her head thrown back just a bit as she moved to press her pack against the cold tiled walls. “Samu, I want you inside me.”

“I will be. It’s almost starting to hurt if I'm not.”

A small smile fell onto her lips, but they parted as a moan fell past them just a second later. He removed his hand from her sex, his hand gripping his length as he rubbed the tip against her bud. With the pure memory of y/n’s body, he was able to find her entrance without looking, seeming too busy with his lips and tongue teasing her nipple. “I want to see you all round with my baby again.” he muttered, his breath fanning her neck as he slowly moved back up towards the shell of her ear. “Can we make it happen, baby?” he questioned. His eyes low as he watched her nod. “I’d have to fill you more than once then huh?”

“Yeah, I want it so bad, samu.” 

“How many times? You think three’s enough?” he questioned. His length finally slipped past her entrance and osamu let out a heavy moan. The steam from the shower made his view of his surroundings hazy, but in one swift movement he gripped the underside of her thighs, making her wrap her legs around his hips. Her chest was pressed against his own and osamu trapped her between himself and the cold tiled walls before moving his hips. 

His breaths were long, drugged in a tempo of overbearing bliss. She clenched around him, tightening around his legend as the warmth of her walls took him in without reluctance. Their moans bounced off of the walls of tile and the door of glass, the steam fogging the frosted glass even more. “Spread wider for me, pretty girl.” he hated the fact that he was already reaching his limit. it hadn't even been a full five minutes, but it was with y/n and anything that had to do with her could drive him over the edge in less than a few seconds. 

All night, the thoughts kept crossing his mind but he wanted y/n to be able to relax, not tire her out with his erotic thoughts and actions. It was clear she felt the same, but her body couldn't keep up. He held her tightly against him, her only priority being to feel nothing but pleasure. “Samu, come in me please.” 

“What do you think we're doing this for, baby?” 

She could only hum against him and with only one last stroke, ribbons of white coated the inside of y/n’s sex, and leaked down his length, the water washing it down the drain. He moaned directly next to y/n’s ear and she did the same for him, the sounds of each other only aiding them in enjoying that moment of pure bliss. 

“That was one. Two more to go.” 

♤ likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @eclecticfirewitxh @nemoo888 @ririkavitanitraxova02 @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @yourefavsakura @karebear5118 @jays-adventure3 @flowerpjimin @thiisisntlovely @kawaiiisis @viviennevianna @slvttics @elmtree12 @ivydoesit23 @jellibean2018 @peehall @pestlaege @junabuggy @hyesworld @hime-honne @kuroaka @kimmi-iii @elssero @lxst-in-mxrdxrlxnd @littlemissfix-itfic @mythraendir @mapletress @todobrosky @amajikisbabygirl @sanriovin @daydreamteardrop @tsukishimasslut @tenwt @meowmeowmau @icyhottodo178 @lightaflaem @insaneclown0408 @raggedypansexual @satorusluvrgirl @staygoldsquatchling02 @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @luvvmae @anastasiatheloveofyourlife @satoruyes

[chrzzboo]

Hi! Can you do one with pedri that he and reader have a baby but they are both 21 and really young and a lot of fluff.

pd: if you can name the baby Mia that will be awesome <333

Just the three of us

Summary: A few days in the life of Pedri, Y/N and baby Mia.

Note: I can’t believe my last fic got over 500 likes which is crazy!!! I appreciate every single one of you!🫶 As promised here is the Pedri fic, enjoy! 🤍

Reader x Pedri

Genre: fluff

I looked down at our baby girl, Mia, in my arms and couldn't help but smile at her sweetness. As I glanced up at my boyfriend, Pedri, sitting next to me, I saw him smiling at me.

"Can you believe we're parents at 21?" Pedri asked me, as he watched our little girl sleeping peacefully.

I chuckled softly, feeling a mix of joy and disbelief. "It's still surreal to me," I said, looking back down at Mia. "I mean, we're so young, but here we are, with a beautiful baby."

Pedri put his arm around me, pulling me closer. "We may be young, but we're doing a great job," he said, giving me a reassuring smile. "And she's perfect, just like you."

I blushed at his words, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. "You're such a sap," I teased, even though I secretly loved his romantic side.

Pedri laughed, ruffling my hair affectionately. "Guilty as charged," he said with a grin. "But can you blame me when I have the most amazing girlfriend and daughter in the world?

I rolled my eyes jokingly, but couldn't fight the smile that was spreading. "You're laying it on thick there, amor," I said, but secretly I was swooning on the inside.

Pedri chuckled and leaned in to plant a kiss on my forehead. "I just can't help it," he said, his eyes sparkling with affection. "You two are my whole world, you know that?"

I felt my heart melt a little more, and I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. "I know," I said softly, looking down at our sleeping baby. "And you're our whole world, too."

Pedri wrapped his arm tighter around me, pulling me closer to his side. We sat there in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the simple joy of being together as a family.

yourusername posted on Instagram!

Liked by pedri, yourbffuser, gavi and others

yourusername Home day with my little family 👨‍👩‍👧

View all comments

pedri: Mis amores 😘

yourusername: Mi amor 🥰

yourbffuser: I miss my little Mia ☹️

yourusername: She misses her aunt too 🤍

gavi: Tell Mia her best uncle is coming over later

ferrantorres: You wish! She loves me more! 🤫

pedri: Stop fighting already 🥱

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr: Move over all of you, I'm her real uncle so clearly she loves me more 🙄

yourusername: Children 😑

rosylopez78: Mi princesa! Come over soon Y/N we miss you and Mia!

yourusername: Will do! We miss you too!

pedri: I've been replaced 🥲

pedri4everlover: How cute is little Mia 🥹

fcbpepi8: Oh to have a little family at 21 😩

culergvipd68: She grew up so much! She was just a newborn baby yesterday 🥺

The next day, Pedri and I were getting ready for a barbecue at Lewandowski's, known as Pedri's teammate's house. All his teammates and their wives/girlfriends and children are going to be there.

Right now, Pedri was playing with Mia, our one-year-old, while I was getting myself dressed. I could hear them laughing and giggling as I put on my makeup in the bathroom.

"Hey, Y/N, you almost ready, amor?" Pedri called out from the living room.

"Yeah, just a few more minutes!" I yelled back, finishing up my makeup. I heard Mia giggling and squealing in the background, and my heart warmed at the sound of their joyful playtime.

Finally done with my makeup, I walked out of the bathroom and into the living room, where I found Pedri sitting on the floor with Mia on his lap. They were both laughing, and Pedri was tickling her little tummy, making her giggle uncontrollably.

"Aww, you two are adorable," I said, watching their sweet interaction. Pedri looked up and smiled at me, his eyes filled with love and happiness.

"She's the most entertaining little kid ever," Pedri said, giving Mia a little kiss on her head. "Aren't you, princesa?" Mia let out a gleeful squeal in response, as if she understood what her dad was saying.

I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. "She definitely takes after you in the energy department," I teased, sitting down beside them. "You both have too much energy for your own good."

Pedri laughed and pretended to pout. "But you love us both anyway," he said, then blew a raspberry on Mia's stomach, making her giggle even more.

I chuckled and shook my head, amused by their antics. "Of course I do," I said, smiling at them. "Even if you two drive me crazy sometimes."

We eventually left the house, with Mia in her stroller and Pedri carrying her diaper bag. We put the stroller in the boot and Mia in her little car seat. We got into the car and started driving to the Lewandowski residence.

We eventually arrived at Lewandowski's house, where him and his wife were hosting the barbecue. We could see many of Pedri's teammates and their families already gathered in the backyard, mingling and laughing together.

Pedri and I walked through the entrance and were immediately greeted by several of his teammates and their wives and girlfriends. They all cooed over Mia, who looked adorable in her little sundress.

"She is getting so big!" Mikky, de Jong's wife commented, as she reached out to hold Mia in her arms.

"She's growing like a weed," I said, laughing as Mia babbled happily at Mikky holding her. Pedri stood beside me, watching affectionately as his teammates took turns holding our precious daughter.

The player's, girlfriends and wives were all chatting and having a good time, while the kids were playing around the backyard. Some of the guys, including Pedri, were gathered around the grill, helping Lewandowski cook the burgers and sausages.

Despite being just one year old, Mia was already making friends with the other kids. She was waddling around the backyard, interacting with them and even trying to play with their toys. They all seemed to adore her, and the older kids were being very gentle and kind to her.

"Look at her go!" Raphinha yelled, as he watched Mia toddle towards a group of kids playing with a ball. "She's got more energy than all of us combined."

The other players chuckled and nodded in agreement, watching as Mia continued to toddle around like a little energy ball. They all doted on her and were more than happy to babysit whenever Pedri and I needed a break.

As the food was served, everyone gathered around the tables set up in the backyard. I sat down, holding Mia on my lap as she tried to reach for the food on the table. Pedri sat down beside me, watching us both with affection in his eyes.

"Hey, let me help you with that," he said, taking a bite of food and then offering it to Mia. She eagerly opened her mouth, and he fed her the food, making sure she didn't make a mess.

The food was delicious, and the conversation flowed easily between everyone. Mia continued to receive a lot of attention, and several of the players took turns holding her, making funny faces to keep her entertained. Even though most of them had children, Mia was the youngest so obviously she was going to receive more attention.

When Mia started to get tired, she began to fuss a little in my lap. Pedri noticed this and quickly scooped her up into his arms, rocking her gently and speaking to her in a soft, soothing voice.

"She's getting sleepy," he said, looking down at Mia who was now yawning and rubbing her eyes. "I think it's time for her to sleep."

As the evening wore on, the sky began to darken and the temperature started to drop. Most of the players and their families started to pack up and say their goodbyes, and I knew it was time for us to go as well.

"We should probably get going," I said, looking at Pedri who was still holding Mia in his arms. She was now fast asleep, her head resting contentedly on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he said, carefully adjusting Mia in his arms so as not to wake her up. "It's getting late, and this little one needs her rest."

As we headed towards the car, Mia remained asleep against Pedri's chest, her breathing slow and steady. She looked so peaceful and cute in her sleep, and Pedri had a protective arm around her, making sure she was secure.

We reached the car, and Pedri carefully laid Mia down in her car seat, strapping her in securely. As he did so, he couldn't help but admire how adorable she looked, even in her sleep.

Once Mia was safely buckled in, we got into the car and started the drive home. It was a peaceful ride, with only the soft sound of Mia's breathing to break the silence. Pedri kept stealing glances at her through the rearview mirror, a small smile playing on his lips.

As we drove home, Pedri and I sat in comfortable silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. The sound of Mia's soft breathing provided a soothing background noise, and the city lights outside blurred together as we made our way through familiar streets.

Pedri reached over and took my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. I looked over at him and smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. We didn't need to say anything; the simple gesture spoke volumes.

We didn't have to speak. The silence between us was comfortable, filled with a mutual understanding and the knowledge that we were both perfectly happy in this moment. As we pulled into our driveway and parked the car, Pedri looked over at me again and gave my hand one last gentle squeeze before letting go.

After we got inside, I went to change Mia, while Pedri went to the bedroom to change. Once Mia was settled in her crib, I joined Pedri in the bedroom, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me.

Pedri was already in bed, propped up on some pillows and scrolling through his phone. He looked up as I entered, a soft smile on his lips.

"Hey," he said, his voice laced with warmth. "How's our little princess doing?"

"She's sound asleep," I replied, sinking down onto the bed beside him. "She was out like a light the moment her head hit the pillow."

"Good," Pedri said, setting his phone aside and turning his attention to me. "You look tired, amor. Come here."

Pedri opened his arms to me, inviting me to rest against his chest. I snuggled into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

"Long day, huh?" he said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me even closer. "But it was nice, wasn't it? Seeing everyone and watching Mia play with the other kids. It was a good day."

"It was," I said, nodding in agreement. "I loved watching her explore and make new friends. And it was great seeing all our friends too. They all love Mia so much."

"Of course they do," Pedri said, his hand coming up to stroke my hair in a soothing motion. "She's our little angel. How can anyone not love her?"

I smiled, feeling a wave of contentment wash over me. Being with Pedri like this, in the comfort of our own home and with our daughter safely asleep in the next room, was a feeling I could never get enough of.

"Are you excited for tomorrow's match?" I asked Pedri, lifting my head from his chest to look him in the eye. "It's the first time Mia will be there to support you in person."

Mia is just one year old but she still hasn't attended any of Pedri's matches. We worried too much for her since football matches aren't the calmest environment, so we decided it was the best to wait until she was at least a year old to bring her along.

Pedri smiled down at me, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Of course I'm excited," he said. "Having you and Mia there watching the match will make it extra special. I'll play my best, just for you two."

I smiled back at him, feeling a flutter of anticipation in my chest. "We'll be cheering for you loudly," I said, "and I know Mia will be clapping her hands and blabbering very loudly."

We both chuckled at the thought, imagining our little daughter cheering her dad on with all her heart. "She's going to be so proud of you," I said, snuggling back into his chest. "And so am I."

"Thanks, mi amor," Pedri replied, holding me close and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "You two are my biggest motivators. Knowing you're in the stands, supporting me, it means the world to me."

As the night wore on, fatigue finally caught up with us, and we drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, feeling content and happy. Pedri was holding me close, his breathing steady and even in my ear. His body was warm and comforting, and I felt a sense of safety and security in his embrace.

yourusername posted on Instagram!

Liked by pedri, mikkykiemeney, annalewandowska and others

yourusername Nothing better than a lovely barbecue with lovely people 🍖🤍

View all comments

pedri: ❤️❤️❤️

yourbffuser: My little cutie, tell my niece I'm coming over later! 🥰

yourusername: Will do bestie 🫶

mikkykiemeney: Miles absolutely adored little Mia!

yourusername: She loved having him around! Play date next week?

mikkykiemeney: For sure!

pedri: No dates for my little girl until she's 40!

yourusername: 🙄

culerruler4ver: Wait I didn't know Pedri had a girlfriend let alone a whole child 😧

pepextorreslove: Have you been living under a rock? he has been dating his girlfriend since high school 🤣

culerruler4ver: Give me one second I need to pick my jaw up from the floor, I didn't know all that, I just became a supporter 😮‍💨

annalewandowska: It was lovely having you and your little family over! 🤍

yourusername: Thank you for having us! We had a great time especially Mia! 😘

The next morning, I woke up to the cheerful babbling of Mia and the smell of breakfast wafting in from the kitchen. I yawned and stretched, feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep. Pedri was no longer beside me in bed, but I could hear him humming a cheerful tune as he moved around in the kitchen.

I got out of bed, freshened myself up, and made my way to the kitchen, where I found Pedri standing at the stove, flipping pancakes. Mia was in her high chair, happily banging her spoon against the tray, and the table was already set for breakfast.

"Good morning querida," Pedri said, looking up from his pancake-making as I entered the kitchen. "Breakfast is almost ready. Pancakes and maple syrup, your favorite."

I smiled and took a seat at the table, feeling a warm sense of contentment settling over me. Seeing Pedri in his element, cooking for us and looking after Mia, always filled me with a deep sense of gratitude.

"This smells delicious," I said, as Pedri placed a plate of pancakes in front of me. "You're spoiling us, you know that?"

"Only the best for my girls," Pedri replied, ruffling Mia's hair affectionately as he put some pancakes on her plate. "Besides, I want to make sure you're well-fed before the match later."

"We need our energy to cheer you on," I teased, pouring some syrup over my pancakes.

Pedri laughed, sitting down with his own plate of pancakes. "I have no doubt she'll be the loudest one in the stands," he said. "I can already hear her little voice yelling at the top of her lungs."

After a bit, Pedri finished his breakfast and stood up from the table, his expression a mix of excitement and a touch of nerves. He looked at me and Mia, his eyes filled with love and affection.

"Well," he said, "I guess I should get going. The team will be getting ready for the match soon."

Mia, sensing the change in atmosphere, looked up at her dad with a curious expression. Her little head tilted to one side as she tried to understand what was happening.

Pedri smiled at her and ruffled her hair affectionately. "Daddy has to go play football now, but I'll see you later at the match, okay mi amor?" he explained gently, crouching down so that he was eye level with her.

Mia made a soft noise, her tiny hand reaching out to touch Pedri's face. She wasn't fully understanding what he was saying, but sensing his tone, she seemed to realize that he was saying goodbye.

Pedri chuckled softly and gently took her hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze. "I'll score a goal just for you, mi pequeña," he told her, using the term of endearment he reserved just for her.

Mia babbled something in response, still not quite able to form full words yet. But the expression on her face – wide-eyed and a little sad – made it clear that she wanted her dad to stay.

I looked at Pedri and gave him a reassuring smile. "You should get going," I said, standing up from the table. "We don't want you to be late, and we'll be there soon to cheer you on."

Pedri nodded, though there was still a hint of reluctance in his eyes. He leaned over and kissed me quickly on the cheek, the brush of his lips soft and warm against my skin.

Pedri gave a final wave, his gaze lingering on Mia and me for a moment longer. "I love you both," he said, his voice filled with both tenderness and determination. "I'll see you later."

With that, he headed out the door, disappearing into the morning sunlight and leaving us behind. The house felt a little lonelier without his presence, but there was a sense of anticipation in the air as well. We were one step closer to watching Pedri play, and we couldn't wait.

After a bit of time had passed, I started getting Mia and myself ready to leave the house. I dressed Mia in her cutest outfit, in a Barcelona jersey with her dad's number on it to be specific. She looked absolutely adorable, and I knew Pedri would love seeing her in it.

I grabbed our bags, making sure we had everything we needed – water, snacks, and extra clothes, just in case. We'd be at the stadium for a few hours, and I wanted to make sure we were prepared.

Finally, we were all set. I picked up Mia in my arms, her little form feeling warm and familiar against my chest. "Ready to go watch Daddy play, baby?" I asked her, and she babbled happily in response.

I stepped outside, locking the door behind us, and made our way towards the car. The day was sunny and perfect for a football match, and my heart felt light with anticipation. It was going to be a special day.

I strapped Mia into her car seat, making sure she was secure. Once she was settled, I got into the driver's seat and started the car. The sound of the engine revving to life filled the air, and I couldn't help but smile in excitement as I pulled out of the driveway.

The drive to the stadium was smooth, with Mia making soft sounds of contentment in her car seat. She seemed to sense our excitement and was responding to it in her own way. The city streets flew by outside the window, buildings and trees becoming a blur of colors and shapes.

As we arrived at the stadium and found parking, I saw Mikky. She was there with her own toddler, Miles, and a few other WAGs. I smiled and waved at them in greeting.

Mikky came over to us, her face lighting up when she saw Mia. "Hey there, cutie," she said, reaching out to tickle Mia's stomach. "Ready to watch our boys play?"

I nodded and chuckled, shifting Mia from one hip to the other. "Yeah, we're super excited. How's Miles doing?"

Mikky lifted her little one, Miles, up into her arms. "He's been a bundle of energy," she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "I think he's just as excited as we are."

I laughed. "Well, our girl here has been looking forward to it all morning," I said, indicating Mia, who was now quietly gnawing on her own fist.

Mikky looked down at Mia and smiled. "And she looks absolutely adorable," she cooed. "Did you pick out that cute little outfit, or did Pedri have a hand in it?"

"Oh, that was all me," I said with a grin. "Pedri doesn't have the best fashion sense when it comes to babies or to himself."

Mikky chuckled, understanding exactly what I meant. "Yeah, I've seen what he wears when he's not on the field. It's not exactly top-tier fashion. Frenkie is like that too sometimes."

We all laughed, sharing a moment of humor and understanding. It was true; some of Pedri's off-the-field fashion choices could be a little... questionable but I was working on it.

As the time for the match to begin drew near, we decided it was time to find our seats. The stands were already filling up, and the atmosphere was buzzing with energy and anticipation.

As we sat down, in the distance, I spotted Pedri among the players, his familiar figure engaged in drills and warm-up exercises. Even, from a distance, I could see the intensity in his expression, the laser focus and determination in every move he made.

I was ecstatic when I realized that Pedri was the captain for today's match – it was the first time he would be captaining the team, and I couldn't be prouder. As the teams lined up on the field for pre-match rituals, I caught sight of Pedri, standing tall and proud, the captain's armband on his arm.

As the game began, I held Mia on my lap, her eyes wide and curious as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of activity on the field. She babbled softly, her small hands balled into fists, as she watched the players darting back and forth across the field.

Every now and then, she would point at one player or another, uttering a few indistinguishable syllables. It was if she was trying to figure out who her dad was among the sea of uniforms.

I tried to explain what was happening, pointing out Pedri each time he got the ball. "Look, there's daddy," I would say, following his movements with my finger. "Watch him go."

Mia would turn her head at the sound of my voice, her eyes following my finger, and she would make a cooing noise, somewhat interested by the sight. She still didn't fully understand what was happening, but she seemed to enjoy seeing so many people running around and the excitement in the air.

As the first half of the game progressed, Mia started to grow restless. She squirmed on my lap, her wide eyes starting to look a little weary. I realized that the excitement and unfamiliar environment were starting to take their toll on her.

"Looks like someone is getting sleepy," I whispered to her, trying to soothe her with gentle bouncing motions. "Are you getting tired, baby?"

She responded with a soft whimper, her eyelids drooping slightly. It was clear that she was starting to feel the effects of the day.

I looked up at the game, a bit torn. Part of me didn't want to leave during the match, but I also knew Mia needed some rest.

I decided to try a different approach. I pulled out a small snack from Mia's bag and offered it to her, hoping the food would keep her awake and engaged. She accepted it, munching on it happily for a few moments. But it didn't take long before her eyes started to flutter closed.

Seeing as she was starting to doze off, I pulled out a small blanket and put it on her for some comfort, she was already wearing her noise-cancelling headphones. She needed some sleep, and the headphones would help block out the loud stadium noises that could otherwise wake her up.

After the match had ended, I waited patiently with Mia in my arms for things to settle down a bit. She had woken up by this time, and she was wide awake again, her eyes darting around at all the people still moving about.

Once the crowds had thinned out a little, I decided it was time to head down to the pitch. I knew Pedri would be there and not in the locker room already. He would usually do his usual cooldown routine and interactions with fans.

I made my way down the stairs, carefully holding Mia in my arms. She was curious, her head moving from left to right, as she tried to take everything in.

As we reached the pitch, I saw Pedri looking for us from a distance. The moment he did notice us, his face lit up into a smile, and he made his way over to us, weaving around the other players and staff.

"Hey there," he said, coming to stand in front of us. He looked tired but happy, his eyes sparkling with the adrenaline of the game. He reached out to gently touch Mia's cheek. "How's my girl?"

I smiled, shifting Mia in my arms so that she could cling to her dad securely. "She watched the whole match, you know, well almost the whole match." I told him. "And she cheered you on whenever she saw you on the field."

Pedri chuckled, looking at Mia, who was now making little happy noises and grabbing at his hands. "Is that right?" he said, his eyes soft as he gazed at our daughter. "My little cheerleader."

Soon enough, Ferran and Gavi spotted us and came bounding over, their faces lit up with energy and excitement. They saw Mia and immediately started fussing over her, each trying to hold her and make her laugh.

They cooed over her, talking to her in high-pitched voices and making silly faces. It was a amusing scene, watching two football players turn into absolute softies around our little girl.

I chuckled, watching as Mia's face lit up at the attention, her little hands reaching out to them, her laughter filling the air. But as I watched them, I noticed that it also gave me and Pedri a moment alone.

"They're quite taken with her," I noted, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth.

Pedri chuckled, nodding in agreement. "It's hard not to be," he said. "Especially when you hold all the power of turning them into complete mush with just one little smile."

I reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You were amazing out there today," I said, gazing up at him. "I'm so proud of you."

Pedri held my gaze, his expression softening at my words. "Thank you mi amor," he said, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "Sometimes I worry I'm not doing enough, especially with all the pressure and expectations."

I shook my head, gently cupping his face with my free hand. "Pedro," I said softly, my voice filled with conviction, "you're doing more than enough. You're incredible, both on and off the field. Don't ever doubt that."

Pedri's eyes fluttered at my touch, a small but genuine smile pulling at his lips. "Hearing that from you-" He stopped himself, swallowing hard, and then said, "You have no idea how much it means to me."

I could see the emotion in his eyes, the vulnerability he was letting me see briefly before he tried to push it back down. I knew he carried a lot of pressure, both from himself and from the world around him, and I could only imagine how hard it was for him to accept my praise without feeling like he had to brush it off or make jokes to lighten the moment.

I gave his hand another gentle squeeze, my thumb brushing over his knuckles. "You need to hear it more often," I said quietly, my tone firm yet tender. "You deserve all the praise and recognition, and you should never feel like you're not enough."

Pedri and I stood there, our hands still linked, his gaze still locked on mine. For a brief moment, everything else seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of us, standing in our own small world. The sounds of the stadium and the chatter of the players around us became a distant hum as we just looked at each other, the love and understanding between us clear.

As we watched the chaos in front of us, with Mia's happy giggles filling the air, I found myself leaning into Pedri's side, my body seeking his warmth and comfort.

Pedri responded immediately, his free arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer, his hold gentle but possessive. He buried his face into my hair, inhaling deeply, as if trying to capture my scent.

We stood like that for a moment, tangled together in a comfortable embrace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through his chest, the familiar rhythm calming and reassuring. His fingers traced patterns on my skin through my shirt, a light, almost absentminded touch, but it sent shivers down my spine nonetheless.

As we stood together, still wrapped in each others' arms, our attention was still partially directed towards Mia, Gavi and Ferran playing with her. But between the laughter and the light banter, we managed to have a small, intimate conversation of our own.

Pedri looked at me, a soft smile on his lips. "You know," he said, "this feels right."

I glanced at him, noting the way he was watching Mia, the way his eyes held a tenderness only a father's could. I knew exactly what he was thinking. "It does," I agreed. "We're a family now. Just us three."

He pulled me even closer, his embrace tightening. "A family," he repeated, a hint of awe in his voice. "God, I never thought my life would be like this, but I love it. I love you both so much."

I leaned my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart under my ear. "We love you too," I said quietly, my hand resting on his where it was on my hip. "More than you know."

As soon as I said it, Mia's giggle filled the air again, a little louder and more insistent than before. I looked over at her and saw that she was trying to grab at Gavi's face, her tiny hands reaching out determinedly.

We chuckled softly, watching her determined attempt to get Gavi's attention. It was adorable, her little face screwed up in concentration as she tried to reach for him.

Despite our young age, we both knew that we had done an incredible job raising Mia. It wasn't easy being parents at 21, but we had managed to create a wonderful life for our little girl. We had learned and grown together, facing the challenges of parenthood head-on, and we had come out stronger and more in love because of it.

As we watched Mia continue to giggle and grab at Gavi's face, still trying to get his attention, Pedri pulled me closer to him, his arms around my waist. We both chuckled softly, enjoying the sight of our little girl's antics.

Just then, Mia seemed to notice us looking at her, and she turned her head, her big eyes looking up at us. She let out a little squeal, reaching out her arms towards us, clearly wanting us to pick her up.

We both couldn't help but smile, the sight of Mia reaching for us with her adorable little hands too endearing to resist. Pedri leaned down, scooping her up in his arms, while I moved to stand next to them, my hand gently patting her head.

Mia immediately snuggled into her dad's embrace, burying her face in his chest. Pedri held her snugly against him, his eyes warm as he looked down at her.

As Mia snuggled into Pedri's chest and I leaned into him, he reached over and planted a soft kiss on my cheek, then another on Mia's. He then looked at the two of us, a warm, affectionate smile on his face.

The stadium around us was quieting down, people slowly making their way out and the cleanup crew starting to do their jobs. But our little bubble of happiness remained, the love and contentment between us glowing.

As we stood there in our little happy bubble, Pedri had a mischievous, almost impish smile on his face. He shifted Mia in his arms, making her giggle a bit, and then glanced at me.

"You know," he said, his tone faux-casual, "I had a thought. When are we trying for another one?"

I chuckled, rolling my eyes at his teasing tone. "Slow down there, Papa," I said, reaching out to poke him in the side. "We've barely gotten our hands full with one. Let's not jump the gun here."

He just grinned wider, clearly enjoying riling me up a bit. "Oh, come on querida," he said, bouncing Mia slightly in his arms. "One just isn't enough. We need at least two, don't we, baby girl?"

Mia just babbled happily, clearly not understanding the conversation but picking up on the playful tones. I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head at Pedri's relentless teasing. "You're impossible," I said, feigning annoyance but unable to hold back a smile.

As I laughed at his playful banter, Pedri chuckled, giving me a cheeky grin. "Hey, you love me," he said, his tone feigning hurt. "I'm your favorite, admit it."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't hide the affection in my expression. "Oh, absolutely," I said jokingly. "You and this little one, the two loves of my life." I reached out to pat Mia's head again.

Pedri beamed at my words, clearly relishing the moment of affection. Mia babbled again, as if she was agreeing with him. "See?" he said, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Even Mia agrees, I'm the favorite."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, rolling my eyes once more. "You're the favorite. But don't forget, you're also the one who has to change her diaper later."

He let out an exaggerated groan, pretending to shudder at the thought. "Oh, gods, not the diapers," he said with a melodramatic gasp. "But hey, as long as I'm the favorite, I guess I can handle it."

I just chuckled, shaking my head at his antics. "You're ridiculous," I said, though the affectionate tone in my voice betrayed my fond exasperation. "But I guess I'm stuck with you either way, aren't I?"

Pedri just grinned shamelessly, clearly knowing he had me wrapped around his finger. "You're stuck with me," he agreed, his voice turning earnest for a moment. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. You and Mia, you're my world."

We continued to stand there, our little bubble of happiness still surrounding us. The chaos of the stadium and the pressures of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant in that moment. It was just the three of us, together and complete.

pedri posted on Instagram!

Liked by yourusername, gavi and others

pedri Great match as first time captain with amazing support from my girls 💪

View all comments

yourusername: We're so proud of you amor! 🥰

pedri: Te amo mucho! 😍

ferrantorres: Great work hermano! 👏

pedri: Gracias hermano! 👊

ronaldaraujo_4: Gran trabajo pepi! 💪

pedri: Gracias amigo! 🙌

srpepe8: Pedri as captain is everything!

mnculerfbgv6: Did you guys see that cute moment he had with his little family? 🥺

pedrignzlover8: Omg yes, it was the cutest thing ever! You can definitely see how much he adores both of them!

delulu4pedri8: Why did you tell me this? Now i got curious and looked it up. 😔

youramorfcb30: @delulu4pedri8 Wait what's wrong with commenting that?

delulu4pedri8: @youramorfcb30 Now i want to trow myself in front of a train, are you kidding me? Did you see how cute that was. It reminded me of how single I am.

youramorfcb30: Valid

slaypepiallday8: Oh to have my life together as Y/N

fcbwagcloset: Nah for real, just 21 and a full time mother and owning her own boutique. Wish that was me 🥲

yourusername posted on Instagram!

Liked by pedri, youbffuser, rosylopez78 and others

yourusername Mia's first time supporting her daddy at the stadium. ⚽️🤍

View all comments

yourbffuser: She's growing up way too fast 🥹

yourusername: I know right 😢

pedri: The cutest supporter!

yourusername: What about me 🤨

pedri: You too amor, don't be jealous 😘

rosylopez78: Mi pequeña ❤️ by author

ffpedri8_: Mia is slowly becoming more and more like Pedri

waglover4you_culer: Their interaction on the field was he cutest thing ever 🥲

closetofculers88: Now i want a daughter too 🥺

hatetohate_gorgeous: What does she even do? While Pedri works his butt off, she just uses all his money 🙄

pepigvfr8306: Girl stfu she's way more successful than you 😒

lalabarca4: She has been with him before he even started playing as a professional so mind your business

numberone4pedri: She owns her own boutique and has a successful social media platform, meaning she makes her own money. You mad for what? 🤔

ftbll_love_8: Y/N, where did you get that blouse from that you were wearing at today's match?

yourusername: It's from my new collection launching this Saturday so keep an eye out! 👀 🤍

sarah_yxxh: Omg how exciting can't wait!

The end

[mya-valentine]

Headcanon: Cyno and Tighnari Sharing an S/O

Cyno and Tighnari have very different personalities, which creates a unique dynamic when sharing an S/O. Cyno is more stoic, serious, and dedicated to his duties as General Mahamatra, while Tighnari is practical, witty, and highly knowledgeable as a forest ranger. Their S/O loves how they balance each other—Cyno’s calm and strength with Tighnari’s intellect and humor.

Tighnari is often the one to tease both Cyno and their S/O. He’s quick-witted and enjoys playfully pointing out the odd quirks both of them have. He might casually tease Cyno about his terrible jokes, saying things like, “You really don’t need to subject *both* of us to these puns,” but secretly, he finds it endearing that Cyno tries so hard to amuse their S/O.

Cyno, on the other hand, is incredibly protective of both Tighnari and their S/O. He may not be as vocal about it as Tighnari, but his quiet, intense loyalty is always felt. He’s the type to stand guard while Tighnari and their S/O work in the forest, ensuring their safety. When the three of them are together, Cyno is constantly aware of their surroundings, watching over the people he cares about most.

Despite Cyno’s seriousness and Tighnari’s focus on practicality, the three of them often find peace in simple moments, like sitting together under the stars after a long day or sharing a quiet meal in the forest. Their S/O brings a sense of calm and warmth to both Cyno and Tighnari, allowing them to relax and enjoy the time spent together.

Cyno and Tighnari have a playful, friendly rivalry when it comes to winning over their S/O’s attention. Cyno, though not as vocal, might use his competitive side to try and one-up Tighnari during their conversations or in card games like Genius Invokation TCG. Tighnari, meanwhile, knows how to charm their S/O with his vast knowledge of plants, animals, and the environment, making Cyno roll his eyes but smile fondly all the same.

Cyno isn’t great with showing affection openly, but his S/O and Tighnari have learned to read between the lines. His small gestures, like offering his cloak when it’s cold or silently standing closer during dangerous situations, speak volumes. Tighnari might even joke about it, saying, “Cyno’s version of saying ‘I love you’ is standing like a silent bodyguard,” but it only makes their S/O appreciate Cyno’s subtle ways of caring even more.

In contrast, Tighnari is more forward with his affection. He loves to gently tease their S/O and Cyno, brushing his hand against theirs when talking or casually wrapping his arm around their shoulders. He’s also the one most likely to break the silence with a witty remark or joke, lightening the mood whenever things get too serious.

With their S/O, the trio finds a way to share responsibilities and maintain harmony. Cyno’s leadership and strategic mind, paired with Tighnari’s practicality and deep knowledge of nature, create a strong team. Their S/O loves how they can rely on both of them in different ways, whether it’s Cyno’s calm assurance in dangerous situations or Tighnari’s advice on practical matters.

Both Cyno and Tighnari have their own ways of showing care for their S/O. Tighnari, as a forest ranger and healer, is naturally more attentive to their physical well-being, always making sure they’re well-fed, hydrated, and healthy. Cyno, though quieter, is always there with a steady hand, offering a reassuring presence and making sure they feel safe, no matter the circumstances.

Sometimes, Cyno and Tighnari get into playful disagreements over how to best care for their S/O. Tighnari might insist that their S/O needs rest, while Cyno believes they’re ready for more action. Their S/O often laughs at the two, appreciating how much they care, knowing they’ll always have two very different but equally supportive people by their side.

In the end, the balance of Cyno’s protectiveness and Tighnari’s humor and care creates a fulfilling, dynamic relationship. Their S/O is the anchor that brings them together, making their trio stronger than the sum of its parts.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[inferno-0]

Choleric

────────────────────────────

Just the attitude of the Titans to your temperament.

Let me remind you: Choleric is active, impatient and hot-tempered extroverts.

────────────────────────────

Godzilla

* Being a serious and calm creature, Kaiju is not used to your persona. He was amazed at your courage in front of him.

* He liked your extroversion to some extent. Unlike him as a loner, you literally communicated with every creature in your path. But the best quality he has revealed is to be a Leader.

You literally managed to chase away the skullsaurs that interfered with him, of course, it was not without escape, but still.

A Brave Man.

* Wanted to chase you away, but you were too persistent.

*You are now his Watchdog.

* To be Choleric is to be aggressive to some degree. To be honest, it sometimes amuses him. If you were a Titan, you'd definitely start fighting him to the end. But I like to watch how some little guy tries to move the tip of his tail and shouts something very bad at him.

* Thankful for keeping the raging gulls away from his dorsal plates while he swims. Will wait for the moment when you banish the Monarch from his eyes.

Mothra/Mosura

* She likes your activity and perseverance. You're eager to learn anything and everything that Mothra is amused about. But your short temper . . .

* It's not that Mothra is annoyed, she's worried about you. After all, the argument gets out of control at some point.

Your impatience may be misplaced somewhere, and the Titan tries to calm you down so that there are no unnecessary problems.

* Your irritability frightens her.

Even though it's several thousand times bigger than you.

* Sometimes he presses you to his fur, hoping that you will calm down and stop driving anger to the whole world.

* Tries not to glow too much at the sight of you. Since there was a moment where you accidentally ordered her to turn off her flashlight out of annoyance, to which Mothra choked.

I think she'll give you a lecture.

* She also appreciates your leadership skills.

Rodan

* Someone, help him.

* I have never met such a person as you in my life. No, of course he is. Partially. But this Titan is compared to you, forgive me, Bug. Your audacity amused him. Until you started throwing rocks at his beak and eyes, to which the Titan was ready to go back to the volcano and anywhere else from you.

* His ego has been suppressed since that time. You're not afraid of him.

And now he thinks: Are you stupid or are you really driven by something?

* He was surprised when he found out that you wanted to be friends with him. Okay, instilling fear throughout the city wasn't good, he needed communication. Of course, your character is not great, but at some moments he is ready to laugh at you heartily. Especially when you are the one who gets into trouble.

* And now let's forget about aggression, let's remember about Leadership qualities:

"Wake Up, Silly Bird"

"Thank you so much for this morning, kind little creature," ─ grunts Rodan as he emerges from his warm nest.

* No, he sometimes likes your mindset to boss others around. Although, he has frequent flashbacks about it.

King Ghidorah

* Very brave. Very brave.

* Three heads could have hit you to certain death right away, but something caught on them. Your aggression was wonderful, of course it's a pity to hear it from a person.

* Throwing sticks and anything else you can get your hands on when he literally saved your life for five minutes.

Only these five minutes still last for some reason.

* Okay, it them off, but it's still funny. A brave little king. Ghidorah kept you as a pet, but only because you weren't a coward.

* Ichi is proud of your anger at other creatures. He likes the way you command them.

Ni has the same relationship to you as Ichi, but is only watching for fun.

San is a little disturbed by your behavior, believing you to resemble his brother Ichi.

*Sometimes they deliberately bring you into conflict (mostly Ni) to laugh at your face.

Although, in the absence of an instinct for self-preservation, you give them a savory response, to which the Titan begins to retreat.

* Humans and other Kaiju find both of you insufferable. Godzilla is even willing to ask people to take you away from there, as Ghidorah's yells from another argument can be heard even in his nest.

King kong

* You didn't look like Jia. Jia is calm and understanding, and you are like a tomboy, irritated about everything. He still thinks about how his little human friend made friends with you.

* Jia introduced you as a good person, but with a strong character that you just have to accept. Kong had expected anything but this. Although he appreciated the ability to command others. You'd be good at managing your own tribe, if you had one. But given the Skullsaurs that are on the run all over the island from you, humans would have joined them themselves. Your aggression was out of bounds.

* Kong sometimes worries about your recklessness. You're not someone who sits still like Jia. You're always going somewhere. And he doesn't understand what you need. And Jia, who is used to all this, just says to calm down.

* Kong has never been in conflict with you. He tries to stay on the edge of patience.

The truth is trying..

He likes that enthusiasm, but please stop. Otherwise, he'll put you in this flying object that people use.

────────────────────────────

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Self indulgent but … thanksgiving w a gf who loves the holidays but doesn’t have family or friends to spend them with ?

This is really small and super quick, I hope you enjoy it! I do hope you have a wonderful day! (Also went ahead and incorporated two things I made today just because my mind is too lazy to think of anything else. If you don’t like them, womp womp/jk Pretend Gotham War dosent exist)

—

Time written - 8:09 p.m

—

“You sure I’m not invading in on their celebration?” You vocalize your concern for about the fiftieth time after smoothing out your final layer of fluffy, whipped concoction for your dessert dish.

“If anything, Alfred will appreciate one less dessert to make.” Jason responds, casually leaning across the countertop across from you, watching you work your magic on making one of your miracle dishes. While you didn’t necessarily have to bring a dessert, you insisted as a show of good faith.

“It’ll give the old man a reason to sit down for once,” Jason adds, referring to Alfred’s insistence upon waiting by everyone until they got full plates and thoroughly enjoyed a majority of their meals.

You kept asking the same question, just with different rephrasing of words. You were nervous, Jason could see that by the way you smoothed the silicone spatula over the top of your dessert for the tenth time, insisting perfection on something that already tasted heavenly.

Jason would know. He’s always your designated taste tester.

You went above and beyond with everything you did; Making your own whipped cream, using Madagascar vanilla beans, making your own pudding base from scratch.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You respond with a concentrated stare on your dish.

“Look at me real quick.”

You spare a short glance up at him, putting up a sweet front of a smile. “What? I’m almost done, Jay.”

“I know,” Jason curts. “I’m sure they’ll love it.”

You nod, swallowing before focusing again on the top of your dish. You picked up the recipe from an online blog article about three years ago; an upgrade on a traditional banana pudding using heavy cream and expensive flavoring, the dessert reeking of pure holiday that had to be shared with the rest of the world.

“Are you sure this looks okay?” You ask, feeling like the top of the dessert needed a lot more than wafer cookies and bananas. Nuts? Caramel drizzle?

“It looks great,” Jason insists, approaching your side of the counter, settling his hand along your hip. “Scratch that. It looks delicious, incredible, mouthwatering. All the good words, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but smile, your cheeks warming with his compliments. Raising your whipped cream spoon to his mouth, you tap his bottom lip before giving him a kiss, hearing his muffled chuckle shortly after.

“Decadent,” He adds, licking his bottom lip of any remaining, perfectly sweet cream. “Perfect. Believe me, Dick and Alfred will never see any banana pudding the same way again.”

You could only hope so, giving him another smile. You liked making this dish, bringing it to your work during little dinner parties. The loudest compliment was a dish scraped empty, yet no one ever asked for the recipe. No one wondered who made it, no one really asked.

“You sure it looks perfect?” Again, your doubts can’t help but have you repeat your broken vinyl record. “I want it to be perfect.”

“It is perfect,” Jason gently reassures with firm sentiment, giving your cheek a soft squeeze. You set your mind to something, you keep at it until you’re perfectly satisfied. As stubborn as it makes you, you always try above your best.

This was your first official gathering with the entirety of Jason’s family. It wasn’t your first, as you’ve been over a few times before for pizza and burgers for movie nights, but never with every single Bat related member at a large, ornately decorated table in an extravagant dining room.

Especially, never with Bruce. Not until tonight, where they’d have a little private event to themselves at the manor. A rare occasion where masks and secret identities weren’t needed. Sometimes, criminal behaviors didn’t allow them a break, so this was truly a treat.

Dick could be himself, fussing over preferences of pumpkin and sweet potato to an annoyed Tim. Babs would scoff her amusement while recording them to show off during Christmas, and the rest would gawk or scoff, chatting amongst themselves or listening in on such a boisterous conversation.

This time, the special guest would be you; the girl Red Hood was sweet on long before you knew his name, becoming the sole guardian of every important identity of the Wayne family.

“Trust me. They invited you, it’ll just be us. It was a big vote with no one opposing.”

Those words brought a more comforting, genuine smile to your face, one Jason could tell was more truthful. Holidays were joyfully dreadful to spend alone in an empty home, the promise of a manor full of friendly faces happy to see you, happy to spend time with you and incorporate you into a tradition you desperately craved was a godsend. It felt too good to be true.

The best part of it all was how much Jason understood. He didn’t celebrate these kinds of holidays when he was a child. No foster family, or even his own mother, could spare enough money to provide grand meals and hours of spending time with people you care for.

It took him a long time to get used to it, he wanted that for you as well. You deserved it after all, they all liked you in their own unique way.

“I’m sure a solid nine out of ten attendants will enjoy those sugar cookie martinis,” Jason murmurs while adjusting a few strands of your hair, reminding you of the one underage family member that ‘tolerated’ your presence.

“Do they got a full stock of vanilla vodka?”

“Course they do. Personally know Bruce has a ton of amaretto.”

“‘Personally?’”

“All those bottles for our dates, babe. Grabbed them all from somewhere.”

[ma1dita]

omggg hope you had a great birthday!! do u mind writing a remus x reader who realize there’s smth more than friends between them, thank youuu

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

remus lupin x reader

a/n: gn!reader truly idk how this escaped me. me writing for my long lost husband in the year of our lord 2024?? this was so fun it felt like reuniting with an ex anyways fluff incoming

wc: don't... look at me... 1.3k

“So?”

“So what, Prongs?” Remus huffs, flipping through a textbook. Merlin knows why he even tries to study in the common room with the boys when all they do is badger him about nonsense.

“So are you and your little friend, well…more than friends? You two are attached at the hip, so where’d the little one run off to?” James teases, whacking his best mate with a throw pillow, “Get tired of you moaning and groaning about prefect duties?”

Well, that’s…you’re definitely not nonsense.

Remus blinks, brushing his hair away from his face and glaring at James before elbowing him straight in the gut. Tosser he is, acting like he knows anything about you or relationships in general when he’s been pining after Lily for years now.

You two are just friends.

Sirius lets out a loud laugh from his place at Remus’ feet. He’s leaning against the arm of the sofa, looking up at the sandy-haired boy with a cock-eyed grin, “If they were more than friends, Moony’s moaning and groaning would be appreciated and reciprocated, don’t you think?”

Peter snickers from the loveseat across the table. It doesn’t help with Remus’ mood, so he buries his head deeper into the boring History of Magic text, grumbling, “Don’t be crass. Just friends, is all. Don’t look too hard into it or you’ll melt what’s left of your brains.”

The three instigators look at each other, before looking back at their best friend. Just friends, he says. Sure, Remus’s the nicest guy around—a prefect even; the one that people count on to be the most morally sound out of all of them, the guy that people borrow notes from, politely laughs at jokes and makes people feel included in conversations. Sure, friends—they can believe that! Everyone wants to be Moony’s friend. But it’s the way they’ve seen him treat you that stands out.

Remus usually lags behind them now, breaking apart their formation in the halls (and yes, Sirius likes to be at the front of the diamond), pushing Peter up so he can wait for you after class. Also, anyone that could distract him from taking notes in Arithmancy is surely a force to be reckoned with (and a threat to Peter’s grades). He’s even gone as far as sidling up next to you during Potions and breaking their age-old rotation of picking partners since their first year (which left James with a botched Aging Potion, and Lily laughing at him as he limped out of class with graying hair and a hunchback).

So things were different nowadays, but one thing is for sure: Remus Lupin’s favorite game is being in denial.

“Maybe your friend knows about your furry little problem, Moons. Surely you really don’t think you’re gonna get any studying done with us?” James chuckles, before pushing his glasses up to clearly see the blush blossoming on Remus’s cheeks. Though it might also be anger, he couldn’t really tell—they’ve never seen him like this, ever; so blatantly obvious with how he feels about you even though he’d never admit it. It was quite refreshing to remember that Remus is still a normal teenage boy.

“You’re right, Prongs,” he huffs.

“I am?”

“I don’t know why I even bothered to try and study with you lot if all of you are too focused on me instead of studying!” Remus is shoving his books into his knapsack as the boys continue to rib at him to get him to stay. This essay isn’t going to write itself.

“Just playing, Moons!”

“Yeah mate, if you need an actual study date we know that’s not us, just hang around!”

Remus sighs as he’s looking at his friends' shit-eating grins as they go around him showing each other the map and pointing at something.

“What now?”

There’s a knock at the portrait, and the Fat Lady’s shrill voice could be heard from where they were sitting. Peter jumps up, sticking his face over the enchanted parchment as he giggles a bit like a schoolgirl, “It’s for you. Your friend’s outside.” They all cheer and laugh at Remus shaking his head, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder walking quickly away from them.

When he sees you chatting with the Fat Lady, it’s almost as if he’s in a stupor, studying every inch of your face until your eyes finally meet his and you grin and wave at him.

Just friends, he reminds himself.

“Hey Rem! Was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the library together?”

Your voice is a treat in itself, he thinks—the lilt and manner of it so sweet and rich it almost reminds him of his favorite chocolate.

Good thing he has a sweet tooth.

Walking down the hallway together your hand bumps into his several times in passing, fingers ghosting against each other as if they were dancing, too close and then too far. Friends can hold hands right? Remus’s heart flutters as he thinks of the possibility like solving an Arithmancy problem. He supposes the boys and him don’t necessarily hold hands, but he imagines holding yours would be way nicer.

Is he sweating?

His palms are sweaty, forget it, and you’re just friends! You’re telling him about your day like you both haven’t seen each other in years, but he even sat by you at lunch earlier, much to the rest of the Marauders’ surprise. Though Remus supposes you could even make Divination sound interesting—maybe even make him look in the stupid tea leaves to see if you’re in his future, furry little problem and all. He realizes he’s been staring a second too long, bumping into you lightly as you stop in front of the library.

“Haha, you okay? You’re quiet today, Rem. Something on your mind?”

A lot about you, apparently, thanks to his meddling friends.

Remus scratches the nape of his neck as he grimaces, cheeks reddening again and instead of a response, he opens the door for you and puts his finger to his mouth as if to say “Shhhh….” before Madam Pince starts a fit at either of you. That, or him actually having to say how he feels.

How he feels… Well…shit.

You make a beeline for an open table near the corner, tugging at his wrist like it’s not making his heart beat out of his chest and Remus tries to compose himself, but then you look at him with your pretty fluttering eyelashes and he knows he’s utterly fucked. Pulling out your chair for you, you squeeze his arm in thanks and scooch your chair closer to his.

“Rem?”

“Hmm?” he responds, a strangled noise crawling up his throat as he coughs slightly, his arm landing on the back of your chair before he panics then realizes he’d look like an arse for pulling away.

Not that he wants to.

“How did you know?”

His heart genuinely stops. There’s no way you’ve caught on that quickly—especially not with him just realizing how he feels about you, his friend that he wants to be more and there is nothing casual about what he wants to d—

“How’d you know I was at the common room? You walked out just as I was about to walk in, I thought it was kinda funny,” you giggle, brushing your hair behind your ear and he takes a deep breath.

You’re just friends. But he definitely wants to be more.

“The boys told me it was you,” Remus says, chewing on his lip, “Apparently they had a feeling.”

And now, so does he.

What’s worse is that Remus hates admitting when they’re right (which is rare enough in itself, he’ll never hear the end of it from their inflated egos).

What’s worst of all is that for the first time in his Hogwarts career, Remus Lupin ends up submitting an essay late.

[hannahssimblr]

Beginning // Prev // Next

Hi Evie! 

God, I’m so sorry it’s been so long. Life is chaotic. I’m doing stuff all the time and I really haven’t had a minute. 

College is great. It’s intense. It’s so different to what I expected, although now that I’m saying it, I’m not sure what I expected at all. I’m not sure that I really thought about what it was going to be like. 

There’s art, obviously, a lot of it, and all of the time. We have drawing classes and painting classes, classes about composition, sculpture, art history and theory, and other stuff too that I can’t even recall off the top of my head. We were on a trip last week, out across the city drawing buildings and things like that, and it’s given me this new appreciation for how interesting Berlin really is. I’m learning about all of this history, and then recording it on the page by drawing it. I can’t really overstate how amazing it is to be surrounded by so many people who love art the same way that I do, and I’m thinking about you when I’m living my life like this, about how much you’re going to love it when you’re finally free from Tullamore, and you can go to art college. You’re going to have the best years of your life, so don’t worry about all that’s going on at school right now, and with Kelly and whatever. Things are going to get so much better. 

I go out a lot these days. Drinking, yes, but it’s not really like the way that we used to party and drink in Dublin at all. It’s so much more vibrant and fun, and there are all of these amazing bars and clubs with different themes. I got out with my friends like, three or four times a week, and sometimes I don’t even drink, I just dance, and that’s enough. I meet plenty of interesting people when I’m out, too. There’s always someone new to get to know. 

We did go to this club last week, though, it’s famous. Berghain. Jonas and some of the others like techno, which I’m not sure about yet, and sometimes they go there to dance. It’s open a few days a week, and you can go literally any time of the day, which is crazy. I mean, you can go in at seven in the morning if you want to, and you can get lost in there for three days. Jonas told me all these stories about the kinds of things you can do and… I don’t know if I want to repeat it. I honestly feel like you wouldn’t want to know. 

I mentioned we went, but really, they went. As in, some of our friends. Not me. Apparently, the bouncers are really strict about who goes inside. Jonas explained something about needing to have the right “vibe”, which sounds insane, but anyway. I have the wrong “vibe”, because the bouncers saw me and my friend Elias in the queue and they yelled “No!” at us from, like, a twenty metre distance, haha. It’s fine. We went to another club instead, and we had fun and met some more cool people, so I can’t complain. 

I also can’t say I’m not curious about what it’s like to get into Berghain… Maybe one day. If I do, you’ll be the first to know, and I’ll share all the crazy details when I’ve experienced it. I think the day I get in is the day I can say I’m a real Berliner. 

It’s Halloween soon, and I’ve recently learned that they don’t celebrate it here. Can you believe it? I hope you’ll be doing something fun, at least, to make up for my loss. Send me a picture of your costume if you are! I have a feeling you’ll come up with something dead creative, because you’re good with your hands. I think I remember seeing a picture of you dressed as a bee on your Facebook? Am I mixing you up with someone else? I don’t think so. It was so cool. 

Shane is coming to visit next weekend. Did he tell you that? It’s half term, or reading week, or whatever they call it now. I would have mentioned it to you before, but he’s coming with some college friends on a boys trip. I didn’t think you’d be up for coming. I think they’ve booked this dingy hostel somewhere, and I just can’t imagine it being your thing. Especially with you still being seventeen and all of that, it’s like, you wouldn’t be allowed in to any of the clubs and bars. You should come in the spring, though! That’d be fun. Maybe if you wanted to plan a trip for your 18th?

I feel like I just spewed a load of information on you there, sorry. I should have emailed you earlier, but I’ve had this project due, and when I’m not socialising I’m working on it.

Hope you’re taking care of yourself!

Jude x

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Take care of my love

PAIRING | Loki Laufeyson x Avenger!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1K

SUMMARY | You have been struggling lately, and the rest of the Avengers are starting to take notice of this. One night, Thor approaches you and catches you off-guard, making you suddenly feel very self-conscious about your arms and legs. Loki happens to be nearby and notices, making sure you're feeling safe as he comes to your rescue.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Mentions of past self-harm, mentions of depression, Thor being an asshole, Loki being a really great friend.

A/N | I’d love to start writing more for Loki, so if you have a request, please let me know! It can be fluff, smut or angst - or a combination! Thanks in advance 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Loki Laufeyson Masterlist

You haven't been in the best headspace lately, and it is starting to show. Not just in the way you dress or look, but in your behavior too. Usually, you don't mind people seeing your scars nowadays, especially the Avengers, but your depression has been catching up with you again. The missions have been getting harder and it is difficult for you to stay focused when you're even going on one to begin with. Where you used to be the light of every room you walk into, now you're feeling like you bring everyone down with you as your mood turns sour very quickly.

You've rarely gotten out of bed these last few days, and your hygiene has been suffering as a result. When Steve calls you in for another mission, you text him to say you can't go, because you're not feeling well but you don't want to talk about it. He accepts but he's worried regardless, he's seen you go down a spiral like this before. Not much later, he's at your door, knocking softly. ''Y/N? Can I come in?'' he says but you send him away. ''Okay, but please take care of yourself, okay?'' he asks and you don't answer, you don't have the strength.

That evening, you have a sudden burst of energy, and decide to take advantage of it by taking a shower and getting yourself cleaned up a little. When you're done it's already close to midnight, so you just put on a pair of sleep shorts and a sports bra, so you can get a snack and something to drink before diving back into your bed. You look at yourself in the mirror and your eyes go over the scars on your arms, legs, and stomach, some from battle, but most from the years of self-harm. Some faded into almost nothing, some still pink from the fact that they're relatively fresh. You haven't done it in almost three months, but the scars don't fade that quickly, and you're well aware.

You finally manage to rip yourself away from the mirror and you walk towards the kitchen, not expecting anyone. When you arrive in the kitchen, however, you're met with a surprise in the form of a certain God of Thunder, as Thor is sitting in the kitchen eating a snack. ''Hey Y/N-'', he says before the rest of the words die in his mouth, and his eyes are grazing over your scars. You want to curl into a ball and cry right about now, because you're extremely uncomfortable at this moment, but you're trying to stay strong. ''What the… I thought you stopped harming yourself,'' Thor says as he walks up to you with big steps, and grabs your arms into his big hands.

''Thor, please let me go,'' you whimper, tears starting to trickle down your face. ''Not before you tell me why-'' he says bluntly, but suddenly you hear a familiar voice behind you. ''Brother, I believe the lady said she wants you to let go,'' Loki says and Thor immediately does, but not before looking at them for a few more seconds. ''I thought you didn't-'' he starts, but Loki doesn't let him finish. ''Stop, she's already in enough distress as is right now. Just go and don't be such a dick next time,'' he says shortly to Thor and he pulls his eyes away from you. ''I'm sorry,'' is all he says before walking out of the kitchen, and you sink into your knees, sobbing uncontrollably at this point.

''Is it okay if I touch you? I just want to hold you in my arms until you calm down, that's all,'' Loki says as he crouches in front of you, and you nod with your face in your hands. He wraps his arms around you softly as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, calming you down. The two of you stay like that for what feels like forever, and multiple Avengers came to check up on you, but Loki whisked them away without saying a word. He didn't have to, because they all knew he had it under control, he is taking care of you right now.

When your sobs have turned down to soft sniffles, you take your hands away from your face and you look at Loki, who gives you nothing but a look of pure adoration. ''Hi beautiful girl, I'm glad to have you back,'' he says as he softly runs his fingers through your hair. ''Do you want me to bring you to your bedroom?'' he asks and you nod, and he picks you up so your wrap your arms and legs around his shoulders and waist. ''Ah, you're my little koala bear now!'' he softly jokes and you chuckle a little because he's not wrong.

All you can think of is how grateful you are right now. In all honesty, the two of you haven't spoken that many times, but you've always been nice to each other. You never expected him to do this, however, but you'll soak up every second of it while it lasts. He softly strokes your back in circles as he walks you to your bedroom, and he can feel you physically relax in his hold. ''It's okay, beautiful, you're going to be okay,'' he says in your hair and smiles softly. He's glad he can help you like this, and he's honestly happy that he walked by when he did, because he doesn't want to think about what happened if he hadn't.

When the two of you arrived in your bedroom, he softly puts you down on the bed, and as he wants to walk away, you finally say something. ''Thank you, Loki. For saving me,'' you say, and all he says in response is ''Please, don't mention it. I'm just taking care of my love,'' he says before bending over and placing a kiss on your forehead. ''Stay, please,'' you say and he does. He strips down until he's just wearing pants before climbing in the bed with you, as you curl up into his arms, your head against his chest. ''We're going to talk about this later, right now, you need your sleep,'' he says and you agree, slowly falling into a deep sleep in his arms. You've never felt safer in your entire life than you do right now.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

2D, Murdoc, Noodle , Russel - Relationship Headcanon

warning : implied drinking&smoking, fluff, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/n, reader is gender neutral

Info : I came back with Cracker Island into the lore and I love the four with all my heart so here have a little something. Have fun reading ;)

~~~~~~~~~~

Murdoc :

°The band founder himself is someone who either disappears after a one night stand or stays with you forever (of course if there's a chance of breakfast and alcohol he'll always stay anyway)

°Even if you don't believe it, he's a great romantic and love maker. Especially intimacy is a way for him to show love when it's not playing his guitar. That this closeness to his body means more to him than it seems he only feels safe with his beloved when you look at his past is a step forward.

°Because his past also haunts him from time to time, especially on bad days when everything seems hopeless, but it is the moments when he appreciates his loved one the most, when he feels the arms around him and the embrace before.

°Private concerts for his partner are a must, no matter if the other three are "forced" into it or not, his sweetheart deserves the best.

°Insists that during the cult time his hot flame is the chosen one. ,,Our Holy Pink Flame!" he had shouted through the street with a megaphone as his favorite walked beside him wrapped in pink.

°But even when he wasn't trying to escape from death, the devil, Bruce Willis or others, he tried to shed this "bad" side, to put away the alcohol, not to smoke and not to be violent, all for his darling.

°In the free time he has besides the band, he also likes to play tennis and dederball with his lover, which he is impressively good at.

~~~~~~~~~~

2-D :

°Roller skate dates are a must on a sunny day or when you are at the beach. He will hold the hand of his bunny the wide smile on his lips nothing but love and joy.

°Zombie movies even though he is always a little scared are somehow his favorite movies and on movie nights when they both have time together he loves to watch them.

°Of course, small private concerts are a must when he has given his heart to someone.

°2-D loves to watch his bunny with a gentle smile on his lips while he puts his love for them into song lyrics. Whether it's just a little insider between you or your whole being 2-D builds it in.

°But besides the lyrics the others casually perform with him, he teaches his heart to play the guitar and piano. Gently guiding his darling and rewarding them with kisses.

°But of course tea time must not be neglected and if his partner is not from England he explains the importance of tea and especially peppermint tea for breakfast.

°But even in the darker moments when he has been beaten by Murdoc, injured again or something else happens to him, he is most grateful that his bunny takes care of him.

°His heart tries to help him with his painkiller problem, stays with him, takes his hand and tries to wrestle through the pain by humming his songs.

°And trips on his motorcycle every now and then to a little cafe or music store just another outing for his love for his heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

Noodle : 

°Noodle energetic, cute and friendly a companion she met at one of her many concerts. Her cherry blossom is everything to her and a way to experience love for the first time, not love for her "family" but love for a single person.

°The guitarist, like the others in the band, insists on giving private concerts. Sometimes together with the other three to show a nice overall picture but also more often alone, the guitar mixes with traditional Japanese sounds and it becomes a special experience.

°Noodle always tried to be cheerful and cheer up her darling when things were not going well. Whether it was playing the guitar, going on a date to dance in one of the many clubs or playing chess. She knows that her partner is there for her when she is not feeling well, especially once a month, but otherwise every day.

°She just loves to ask her cherry blossom and try to teach them to play the guitar. Whether on a children's instrument or her own with the right music and Noodle's gentle instructions and songs she sings along.

°Above all, the relationship between them only grows when they travel to Japan. The country she actually came from and tried to get closer to her inner side there. They immersed themselves in the culture together and had a wonderful time.

°From trying on kimonos, the traditional Kabuki theater or eating mochi on New Year's Day. There was a lot to do together and even more love to share. In a land of endless possibilities, there were always new things to see.

°Especially when they both come back, they make soba noodles, the guitarist's favorite food, for everyone in the kitchen.

°But there are also quiet moments together cuddling and hugging and taking care of the common pet: Noodle's beloved bonsai tree.

~~~~~~~~~~

Russel :

°The band's drummer lost his heart to his cookie when he fell asleep somewhere and was woken up by the very person who stole his heart and drove away his demon.

°It was a meeting in the evening and he was talking about musk, he brought his love home just to get the number and from then on, boom, it just happened.

°A trip to an all you can eat buffet for breakfast followed by a visit to an instrument store and it was the perfect day for him and his partner.

°Because as it turned out, his cookie would love to be able to play an instrument and how could he say no. Which is why he promptly set about teaching his lover to play the drums.

°The two of them practiced together, alked, cuddled, gave each other rewarding kisses and ate cake that they had baked together.

°But even on the not-so-good days, when he thought about his dead friends, the demon or anything else that happened, he loved his sweetheart for always giving him a hug, a hand on his shoulder holding him and saying everything would be okay.

°It was a hold he needed all too often and was happy to get from his cookie, something he especially appreciated. Because no matter when, where or how, they were there for each other and that was what mattered.

°Even together or alone to help Russel, they would try to play ghost hunter and catch the demon. the main thing was that he could sleep peacefully but he usually did that without it when he was cuddling with his sweetheart.

~~~~~~~~~~