#((i do wonder what will keep her going after all of this; because her goal these last couple seasons))

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Well, I can understand that," Wilhelm replied with a little, sitting Randall down beside Emily as he resumed his own seat-as he sat down, Randall couldn't help but think to himself, You don't even know the half of it, Pa...

"I like to hope those hooligans weren't hanging around, looking to get even, but I'm also glad both of you were vigilant," June sighed with relief, trying not to think of what might've happened had they not flagged down that taxi when they did. "Even if there wasn't anyone there, you still did the right thing, leaving when you did!"

She'd had those bad "gut feelings" before, that unshakable pit in the bottom of her stomach that told her she needed to leave, to take her family elsewhere, to just get away from the area, and even if nothing came of leaving, that no disaster struck after they left, it still made her feel better, and so she understood where Emily was coming from. Especially after what happened a couple of weeks ago-the last thing she wanted was to see her son hurt like that again.

"You want me to watch the window for a little bit?" Wilhelm asked-if those muggers who'd attacked his boy were lurking out there, looking to get a little payback, then he'd gladly sit vigil for a while by the window; he had a permit for these sorts of situations. However, Randall put his hand up and said gently, "I-I really don't think that'll be necessary, Pa, I...I'm sure it's fine..."

"You sure? It's no problem for me," Wilhelm reassured, as Randall looked to Emily with a bit of uncertainty-would it bring them a little peace of mind, if nothing else, having him keep watch for a little while?

[zhelin-thames]

After the Summoning Incident: Justice League Debrief

part 1, part 2

The Justice League meeting chamber was quiet. Too quiet.

The heroes sat around the massive conference table, some looking contemplative, others still processing the absolute chaos that had just unfolded. The Batkids had scattered to their usual perches, some smirking, others—like Damian—still scowling.

Batman, as usual, sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable.

Superman was the first to break the silence. “Well… that was unexpected.”

Wonder Woman nodded, arms crossed. “The boy was not at all what we prepared for. He is young, brash, and clearly still learning. And yet, he succeeded.”

“Barely,” Damian muttered under his breath.

Jason grinned. “I don’t know, Demon Brat, I think he did pretty damn well. Didn’t even die or anything.”

“He’s already half-dead,” Damian shot back.

“That’s semantics,” Jason said with a shrug.

Constantine, who had been pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, finally spoke up. “Right, so here’s what we learned, then: the summoning worked, but not the way we expected. We didn’t get the Ghost King. We got the heir to the Ghost King.”

Flash leaned forward, confused. “Okay, but why does that matter? He still fixed the problem.”

“Because,” Batman said, voice low, “we summoned him by name—meaning he’s significant enough that the magic acknowledged him, despite him not being the ruler of the Ghost Zone.”

Zatanna frowned. “That shouldn’t have happened unless his claim to the throne is strong. Which means…”

“He’s important,” Constantine finished grimly. “And probably more powerful than even he knows.”

There was a pause.

Superman, ever the optimist, offered, “Well, he did seem responsible, considering he handled the situation without any casualties.”

Aquaman, who had remained silent for most of the discussion, finally spoke. “That is all well and good, but what concerns me is his guardian.”

The League collectively tensed at the mention of Pariah Dark.

Hawkgirl leaned back in her chair, frowning. “Yeah. Not every day you meet a giant ghost warlord who decides world domination is off the table because he’s got a new kid to dote on.”

“The real question,” Green Lantern said, “is why Pariah Dark, of all beings, chose him as his son.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Batman said. “Pariah Dark isn’t just a ruler. He’s a conqueror. The fact that he’s abandoned his previous goals simply because he’s taken a liking to this ‘Danny’ suggests a level of attachment that is… dangerous.”

“I dunno,” Flash said, tapping his fingers against the table. “The guy seemed weirdly soft on the kid. Like, full-on ‘overprotective dad ready to murder anyone who sneezes at his son’ levels of doting.”

Jason snorted. “Can you blame him? The kid’s hilarious.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “That does not negate the potential threat.”

“Which leads to our next problem,” Constantine interrupted. He gestured vaguely toward the space where the summoning circle had been. “That was the third time he’s been summoned this week.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “Three times?”

Constantine nodded. “From what I could gather, idiot cultists all over the place have been trying to summon the ‘Ghost King’ for centuries. Problem is, it hasn’t worked in millennia—until now. Which means something’s changed.”

Green Arrow leaned forward. “And you think it’s because of him?”

Constantine sighed. “Has to be. That kid might not be the Ghost King, but he’s enough of a power in the Zone to be dragged here through the same ritual.”

Superman frowned. “So you’re saying if people keep summoning him…”

“…Eventually, someone’s going to do it with bad intentions,” Batman finished.

There was another heavy silence.

“I say we keep an eye on him,” Wonder Woman said. “Not as an enemy, but as a potential ally. He may not trust us now, but if he is being targeted, he’ll need protection.”

Jason chuckled. “Good luck with that. Kid was practically begging to be sent home before his chem test.”

Hawkgirl smirked. “I still can’t believe that was his biggest problem tonight.”

“Teenagers,” Flash said, shaking his head.

Batman didn’t react to the lighthearted remarks. Instead, he turned to Constantine. “Can we track future summonings?”

Constantine exhaled a long breath, rubbing his temple. “Not easily. The magic is old, and the Ghost Zone doesn’t follow the same rules as our realm. But…” He glanced at Zatanna. “With enough prep, we might be able to set up a countermeasure. Or at least a warning system.”

“We should also determine how much control he actually has,” Aquaman said. “If he is an heir, his powers may be growing. We should be aware of what he’s capable of.”

Jason grinned. “So what, we’re gonna test his power levels? Let me know how that goes when Pariah shows up ready to throw hands.”

Batman stood, effectively ending the conversation. “For now, we’ll observe from a distance. If he truly is being targeted, we may need to act sooner rather than later.”

“And if Pariah Dark takes offense to that?” Zatanna asked.

Batman’s expression darkened. “…Then we prepare for war.”

Meanwhile, Back in Amity Park…

Danny groaned as he flopped onto his bed, exhausted beyond belief. “I hate magic,” he mumbled into his pillow.

Jazz, standing in the doorway with crossed arms, raised an eyebrow. “Rough night?”

“The worst,” Danny groaned, turning onto his back. “I got summoned by the Justice League—AGAIN. And Pariah nearly destroyed them before I could talk him down.”

Jazz sighed. “That’s, what, the third time this week?”

“Yes!” Danny threw up his hands. “I swear, if one more idiot cult tries to yank me across dimensions, I’m going to scream.”

Jazz smirked. “And then what?”

Danny scowled. “…Then Pariah will probably destroy another dimension out of spite, because apparently, he thinks I’m too stressed for a ‘mortal child.’”

Jazz chuckled. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

Danny groaned again, grabbing his pillow and shoving it over his face. “I hate everything.”

Jazz patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Welcome to adulthood, little brother.”

Danny just let out a long, muffled scream into his pillow.

[twistedpink]

I have like an unusual amount of dad!asks in my inbox rn, and they’re all sauve/responsible types, but what about your goofy guys? The ones that complain about “the ol��� ball n chain” at work only hours before worshipping you with a level of husbandry that can only be taught through backbreaking cuddle deprivation?? IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM SHUT UP (reader is implied afab- talk of “your” kids. Maybe he gets pregnant idk)

Husband!Ace HATES doing dishes with every fiber of his being, but he also likes getting fed.. Decisions, decisions,, Very into the “good cop/bad cop” routine. He’s good cop, obviously, but he sucks up after every tantrum you handle with the same puppy eyes he shares with your runt. It’s especially effective after he cuts out alcohol for fear of your kiddie getting high off of more than just life, and he gets hottttttttttt,,, Totally a neighborhood dilf- You’re guarding him like a particularly sexy discount, and he loves it <3 If you have more than one kid he makes a joke of “running out of options”. Naturally, he names the kid after Riddle for the bit. It backfires so completely that everyone’s calling him some kind of angel, and Riddle 1.0 contributes to the fucking college fund. His life couldn’t be worse if he tried.. At least his spouse’s still hot <3

Husband!Ruggie in two words. Grill. dad. And he looks good doing it! He’s literally living the dream,, Stable job, loving marriage, and just enough kids to keep him busy well enough into retirement- If you’re looking for anything productive being done on the weekend, you won’t find it at the Bucchi house. He’s done his time, but he’s always excited to ignore work emails! The fridge is fully stocked, and at your insistence he’s way too involved in HOA politics. The two of you are also totally couple goals- All your friends can agree the Bucchi’s are the people to call for birthdays. The only issue your kids ever have are overeating and toy theft.. Wonder where they got that from? (DAD BOD RUGGIE DAD BOD RUGGIE UGHHHHH)

Husband!Floyd’s just thankful you didn’t accept his proposal in Highschool,, He can admit he wouldn’t have been a good partner then, and that’s okay, because he makes up for it now. He works remote, always snacking and in range of his shrimpy for bad days- Plenty of cuddling, and so much clinging it’s rare to see either of you alone in public. He immediately attaches to your kids the same way- always sleeping in their rooms and kissing on their baby faces,, despite how hard he worked to get the big family he’s wanted, I imagine you probably had to go through IVF or surrogacy for any success on account of biological differences. This really shows in their childhood before it’s safe to take any transformation potions,, It’s torture to just observe the baby from outside their aquarium, but Floyd’s present enough for two until they’re old enough for a whole new world <3

¡Bonus!

Husband!Epel’s the only teenage dad on the list, and you guys got hitched QUICK after meemaw chewed him out for reckless sex- Even if it got her the perfect in-law. Gets all muscular after college, and keeps you whipped with those hip muscles that make a V. Ends up having more little girls than he knows what to do with. They all play winter sports at their dad’s behest, and he damn near shoots any boyfriends on the property. 7/10

Husband!Idia gets to live the housewife dream- Gaming pc next to your work computer, and a full 30 minutes of blissful silence when your little power naps after hours of Daddy plays! and Freakin’ bots!!,, He had to quit swearing when the baby started mumbling less than pg first words, but they fist bump when kiddie can avoid getting grounded by “the final boss”- So all thing’s considered, your player 3’s not so bad after all. (He’s still mourning the loss of his limited edition “Magic Rumimi- Sakura dreamscape” figurine, but give him a couple years and it’ll blow over.) 8/10

Husband!Lilia’s never been able to get this vulnerable with anyone. EVER. He’s working on it with his own kids, but it’s much harder to communicate with a toddler, especially when half-fae aging is SO sporadic. They’ll both have to watch you age, but your light never dims, and he’s getting all the pictures he can! Your baby/ies grow up in a home so full of love it’s embarrassing, and there’s always memories to look back on fondly of time well spent <3 10/10

@bju3c0re @kyokills @rinship

[differenteagletragedy]

Simon doesn't remember the name of the woman who took his virginity. At this point, all these years later, he's not sure if he ever knew it. It was a chance encounter, quick and a little dirty but fun. Fine.

He'd been in the neighborhood pub, the one he escaped to when he didn't want to be at home, shooting pool. He wasn't that good at it, not then, but he practiced for something to do, and as he racked up the balls for a third round against himself, he apparently caught her eye.

A bit older than him, the woman was immediately forward and flirty, and it wasn't a secret, even as inexperienced as Simon was, as to what she wanted. His body must have felt some kind of desire with the way it reacted to her, blood rushing south as she slid her hands over him in the dim light of the nearly vacant bar, but when she invited him to her flat down the street, it wasn't lust that made him agree.

It was curiosity. He wondered what it would feel like to be wanted, even on a base level like this, and if it would fill up whatever hole that had been inside him for as long as he could remember.

And it did. A little.

He'd never even kissed a girl before, always too closed-off to get in any kind of position to do something like that, but that night, he kissed the woman from the pub, over and over again. He followed her movements, let her put her hands on him and place him where he needed to go, and it was something.

When their clothes came off, left in a haphazard heap around her cluttered living room, it was something more, and when she pushed him to the couch and sunk down onto him, the unfamiliar warmth almost overwhelming, for a second, it was everything.

He came too fast, and it was over too soon. That night, he slid back into his own bed, alone again. He couldn't tell if he felt better, knowing there was something he could do to soothe the ache in him, or if it was worse, having the relief for a moment then going back to nothing.

A few nights later, when the weekend hit and the pub was more crowded, he caught the eye of a pretty girl in the corner, shyly checking him out, and he got his answer.

For Simon, for years, it was better to have a little bit of comfort. Just a little bit, because he never saw a way that he could have more. A stranger from a bar, one from the grocery store that asks him to reach a high shelf and flirts a little too much ... he gets good at spotting whatever that first woman saw in him. The part of someone that's open to a quick, needy fuck.

He sees it in you. Clocks it straightaway, but he also sees something more.

It's in the way you pull back after he kisses you hard and deep, the only way he really knows how to kiss. He stops, thinking you've changed your mind, but you're still there, still close, with such a soft look in your eyes now. You initiate the kiss this time, your hands sliding up to cup his cheeks, keeping him in place as you slow things down.

It's disorienting almost, he tries to shake it off, to get back to how this is supposed to go. He yanks your shirt off, and you let him, but when he moves his hands to roughly palm at your chest, you patiently pull them back down to rest on your waist.

"Slow down," you murmur, smiling up at him. "We've got a little time."

It's muscle memory for him at this point, finding a woman and bringing her to a quiet, private place, pushing into her, feeling the brief reprieve it brings. But with you, the rhythm is all off. It's somehow very good and very bad, all at the same time.

"Thought you wanted something here," he mutters, his meaning clear -- he thought you wanted him.

"I do," you answer. "I just don't want it to be over in five minutes. That ok?"

He's not sure what else to do, so he nods. And he slows down.

It's different, sex when you're not rushing towards the end-goal. His hands, used to action in moments like this, pushing and pulling and gripping, instead find yours. Your fingers intertwine, and you kiss him, almost lazily, like you’ve got all the time in the world. Like he’s worth it.

To Simon, it feels strange and new, but not really -- like it's all happening through the filmy haze of a dream, where somehow he knows every step of this dance and yet nothing at all, all at once. To you, from the soft sounds slipping from your lips, it feels right.

When it's over, and you're both breathless and sated, he feels like that boy again -- the one who'd never been kissed and who didn't know where to put his hands. But now, he notices, one hand is still grasping yours and he squeezes it, just barely.

"That ok?" he asks softly, and he's not sure if he's speaking to you or to himself.

"Perfect," you tell him, turning your head to give him a smile.

He doesn't know if he'll ever see you again. But he's memorizing the weight of your hand in his, the steady sound of your breathing as it returns to normal. And even if he never has this with you again, in the moment he knows that he's capable of it. And that's enough.

[k-hotchoisan]

coming home with me

<san x fem!reader>

under the dim lights, Choi San realises that he just can’t keep this casual when it comes to you.

genre/warnings: pwp, smut, furcoat!San, is San being toxic??? I guess we’ll never know!, jealous dom! San, unprotected sex, reader is commando, car sex, fingering riding, breeding kink, spanking

a/n: ahoy!! y’alls gotta thank @bro-atz & @skteezcursed for the fic concept 😘 have been overwhelmed with life so I’m presenting this as my compensation ~

w/c: 3.1K

Under the dim lights, your eyes slowly adjust, and much to your delight, you spot the man you’ve been eye candying at a booth. Of course, you knew he was gonna be there considering you’ve been stalking his socials, and casually asking your mutual friends about his favourite hang-out spots. 

He’s cute, you think, stealing glances at him from afar, wondering how you should approach him. A coincidence? Maybe stage an accident? 

“And what’s the end goal for you with him?” You hear your friend’s voice piercing into your thoughts. 

Well, initially, it was mostly a light-hearted flirty thing. You just thought he was cute. All romance sparks started off with the thrill of liking someone. It just hadn’t reached to that point with him yet. 

“Maybe play around? I don’t know”, you reply. 

Or maybe it was just a farce to keep a certain guy off your mind. 

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself”, your friend reminds you, her palm on your hand comfortingly. “You should be direct with him.” 

You force a smile back to assure her.

“It’s fine. I’m not gonna do anything foolish.” 

You don’t notice the confused expression she’s making at your answer because now you’re thinking if you should just let things unfold naturally. Amidst your pondering, your friend’s elbow nudges you. 

“And he’s looking at you”, she says. Your eyes glance up—and she’s right—your little eye candy has seemed to catch your gaze. He smiles even though he’s on the other side of the room. You give him a small wave and he waves back. Then he gestures for you to go down to the dance floor. You’re wondering if you should too as you watch him leave his booth and down the stairs to the crowded floor. 

Unfortunately, you let the thought sit for a little too long because when you decide to leave the booth to the floor, you’ve lost him. 

Letting the flashing lights and lasers with the decent music from the DJ doesn’t sound like a bad idea. 

Soon enough, your eyes filter through the people and you catch your prey. He seems to be talking to someone but he also seems to have noticed your stare before he fully turns to you. 

But as you’re steadily maneuvering the crowd to reach him, your eyes meet another man’s—sharp and all too familiar—and it seems as though he’s caught you too. 

Your eyes widen and you immediately turn away, fishing your phone from your chest, opening your phone book to speed dial.

You bring your phone up to your ear, turning away from the approaching male deliciously styled in a black fur coat walking towards you, panic obvious in your tone while your friend picks up. You look up at her from the dance floor, eyes wide. 

“Babe, you did not tell me that he was here?!” You whisper-shout. You watch your friend’s face widen her eyes before she shrugs. 

“Who the hell did you think I was referring to just now? I was talking about Choi San!” 

Choi San has had his eyes on you since you settled in your booth. He never thought he would see you out of all the clubs that existed in this town. But despite the slight scowl present on his face when he realises you’re flirting with someone else at the same level booth he is on, there’s a seed of desire that’s lodged in his heart, that maybe he has a chance. 

But first, he has to get rid of your little eye candy. 

San’s eyes trail your movements carefully—from the way you bat your eyelashes at the other male from the other booth, then to the way you stare after him as he walks down to the floor. 

How have you not noticed him yet? 

He stays put on the sofa, silently counting down how much longer it’d take for your eyes to rake over the rest of the booths to reach him. 

Unfortunately, it only leaves him frustrated, and even tenfold when you leave your seat while your eyes search for him on the dance floor. 

Guess he has to do it his way then. 

He pushes past the wave of people, still locked onto you under the dim lights

The satisfaction that floods into his brain when your eyes meet his, his ears slowly tuning out the music, and he watches the way you eyes widen when you finally take notice of him from a distance. 

And then you turn away. San cocks his eyebrow in confusion and irritation, and his footsteps towards you quicken. 

Then he stops in his tracks once more. 

Dear god, something might break today if he gets interrupted one more fucking time. 

Your attention is stolen by your little eye candy. He got to you before San could.

You’re well-aware that you’re being stared down by a certain male from your peripherals, and that certainly wasn’t stopping you from pretending that he’s part of the air molecules, although not the easiest task when he’s boring a hole into your head. 

You look back at your eye candy, plastering a pretty smile. 

The both of you sink into small talk, leaning in closer in an attempt to hear each other over the music. You’re listening to him, but your attention remains on someone else. Someone who’s not hiding that he’s stealing glances at you. 

“Do you wanna go somewhere private?” You hear him ask into your ear. His arm is snaking around your waist, and your interest is waning. 

You’re ready to reject him, and you jolt slightly when you feel a bigger pair of hands slide across your back replacing the unfamiliar warmth. 

“She’s got afterparty plans”, San answers curtly. It’s an automatic response that you swallow hard when let your eyes rake over San. His hair is slicked back, letting a couple strands fall past his eyes. He’s smug with the corner of his lips curled up. Maybe it’s the confidence that you hate about him, but like a moth drawn to a flame, you can’t seem to stay away from him. 

You see the way the male tuts, then force a smile. “No worries. We’ll see each other soon, yeah?” 

You nod, already losing him in the crowd, mostly because Choi San has your full attention. 

Even under the dim lights, Choi San looks stunning. You realise you’re royally fucked when your eyes trail to the star of the show—the fact that San isn’t wearing anything underneath his fur coat. That piece of apparel somehow makes him look bigger, and it’s driving you insane. Well, if the tension escalates, he might get a surprise if you’re feeling generous enough. But right now, he’s eyeing you down like a predator, and it’s making you fall into his spell. 

His arm isn’t leaving your back. He’s leaning in closer, making sure you hear his words loud and clear in your ear. 

“That’s your type?”

You do your best to hide the effects he’s having on you—ignoring heat pooling between your thighs.

Your fingers play with the soft fur as he leans in and waits for your answer. He smells so fucking good. 

You shrug, and that only bubbles his irritation further. His grip on your waist tightens slightly.

“Answer me, darling”, he pushes, his palm sliding lower down. 

“Maybe. We had a nice chat before you cut in. Seemed like a decent person.”

San furrows his eyebrows. 

“What if he’s not a good person? Does that mean any guy that has a nice conversation with you a good person?”

His other arm is snaking around the back of your neck and he definitely feels your goosebumps. He’s forcing you to look at him. 

“San”, you huff, mentally bracing yourself from falling for his charms again. “And on what grounds do you have to be saying all of this?” 

“As your best friend?”

You scoff, with a roll of your eyes. Painful to tear away from his chiseled body just peeking out. 

San can’t seem to pinpoint it—for some reason, the interaction you had with your eye candy pricked him so much. But why? You and he have always been fooling around, leaving feelings at bay so it wouldn’t “complicate things”. But obviously after tonight, something clicked, and San is very sure he doesn’t like you to be around other men that aren’t him. 

“I’m leaving, Choi San. It’s hard to hear you with all these people around”, you make up the excuse, smacking his arm away with much reluctance, only for him to snatch you back once more. San makes sure you hear him loud and fucking clear when he leans into your ears. 

“We should go somewhere private then.”

Your moan in the kiss sets him off. Your hands trail up his bare body, and his hands are on your thighs. 

Fucking you in his car wasn’t San’s preference—he prefers a little more space— but he’s not complaining when he has you slowly unravel right before him, forced to press yourself against him even with the seat reclined and his thick erection is just shameless pressing against your body con dress. 

His fingers slip under your dress, and he groans when he feels your bare pussy—wet, puffy and just ready. 

And for some reason, it pisses him off when thought of your eye candy being the one to discover this instead of him. 

“Just how much of my buttons are you gonna push tonight, princess?” He asks rhetorically, his sharp eyes locked onto yours, trying not to snap from how wet you are.

You steady yourself on his lap, your mind slowly growing blank whenever his thick fingers graze your clit and past your sopping hole. 

“You were just begging to be fucked, huh?” San asks with his fingers circling so close to your pussy. 

“San!-“

“Tell me then: who were you hoping to fuck you stupid tonight?”

Your begs come in the forms of soft whimpers, and a sob rips from you when he plunges two thick fingers in, filling you up so fucking full.

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

His fingers fucking your cunt isn’t helping you think. 

You know there’s no way around this. As much as you hated to admit, San always seemed to have the upper hand. Nonetheless, your unintentional plan had roused a side of him you’ve never seen before. 

“I’m waiting.” 

It takes almost all of your strength to focus on answering him, and it’s making you frustrated because he’s intentionally missing the spot that he knows can send you seeing the stars. 

“You”, you answer meekly.

“Can’t hear you, sweetie.” His fingers press against your g-spot, and you lean closer to his body on reflex, your hands gripping his fur coat. You could just smack the smug look off Choi San if he didn’t have two fingers stuffed in you. 

“You! Oh, fuck-” You cry out when he misses your g-spot on purpose once more. 

“Right answer, sweetie. You deserve a reward for being a good girl, hm?”

You can’t even answer. His thumb is rubbing on your clit, it sends electricity all over in the best way possible on top of his fingers hitting your sweet spots over and over again. The wet sounds of your pussy squelching only bring up the thick tension. 

“Look at you, tightening up like this. Are you gonna cum for me?” His voice drops an octave, lulling you closer to your impending orgasm. You hate the way he knows every nook and cranny of your body as if it’s his. You just really cannot escape him. 

His words continue to edge you closer. 

“Oh, that’s a good fucking girl. Keep squeezing my fingers like that. I’m the only one who makes you feel this fucking tight, right?” 

You fucking hate Choi San. 

Cream seeps past his fingers from your hole when your orgasm brings your vision to white. Your moans fill up the car when it wrecks your body in waves, your nerves flooding with pleasure over and over. 

And San isn’t letting you leave the damn car, not until you’re screaming his name. 

He’s not faring any better himself and he could just get off just by watching you cum all over him like that. 

His fingers leave your soaking cunt, slightly pruning with strings of your cum in between his fingers. While you catch your breath, San forces you to watch him lick his sticky fingers clean while his free hand shifts your fingers to his bulging erection that’s just begging to be let out. He’s grown so fucking hard that you wonder if it hurts. 

You unbutton and unzip his trousers, then push yourself to the side towards the car door to give him enough space so he’s able to fully remove his trousers. You can’t help but worry if the both of you would be caught, even though San assured you that he parked at a secluded spot. Your eyes dart to the windows, noticing how it’s beginning to grow foggy.

Oh. It’s about to get a lot more foggy. 

San’s touch pulls you out of your thoughts. Although you’ve fucked many times, the sheer fucking size of his cock never fails to make you swallow hard. 

Your hands wander up his tits as you settle back down onto his thighs. The realisation hits you then—the only clothing article Choi San has on right now is his fucking fur coat. 

He catches onto your stare and smiles in response. 

“Why? Is the thought of getting fucked by your favourite person wearing a fur coat getting you excited?”

You narrow your eyes at him, and you palm his bare, thick, and sticky cock, making San groan in reply. 

“Favourite? What makes you think you’re my favourite?” 

He chuckles and makes your heart flutter. 

“Many things, sweetheart. Just as you’re mine.”

You’re really gonna end up losing to him, huh? 

You lift your hips instead, lining up to his cockhead, and then letting San guide your hips down his fat cock, making you take him inch by inch. You bite your lip at the feeling of his cock filling you up so disgustingly good, and San has his eyes screwed shut, a strained groan leaving his lips when your warmth envelops him so fucking good. 

“That’s it. You’re so fucking warm and tight for me”, San mutters in pleasure through half-lidded eyes. 

Riding San sometimes feels too much for you, in the best fucking ways possible because he’s all the way in, and he knows that very well—how easily you get sensitive and squirmy just from sitting on his cock. 

You slowly bounce off his cock, grabbing his shoulders for leverage. He likes that you have to lean into him while he fucks you from below so he can whisper the most dirty things into your ear just to make you clench around him.

His palms slide down your ass, following the momentum of you bouncing off his cock, then landing a tight slap against your skin to hear your gasp and feel you tighten on his cock. 

The sting feels so fucking good that another slap has your pussy leaking cream all over his cock once more. 

“S-San! If you keep doing that-“ you cry, another slap to your ass making you jolt, sinking even deeper into his cock. 

“That’s your punishment for flirting with another man in front of me like that”, his voice buzzing in your ear. 

Another smack. 

Your thighs are trembling from the overstimulation. 

One more smack. 

Your mind is about to shut off. San’s cock is pressing against your g-spot with even more pressure than his fingers. 

The windows have completely fogged up.

“San, please. Oh my fucking god. Gonna fucking cum”, you whine, arms tight around his neck, intoxicated with the smell of his musk mixed with his cologne. 

San’s grunts fill your ears when your second orgasm drowns you again, your cunt pulsing uncontrollably around him, cream just pooling at the base of his cock. He groans and buries his nose into your neck, his mind fuzzy from how close his orgasm is. 

“I’m gonna cum in you. Wanna plug your pussy hole full of my cum. 

And you’re gonna take all of it like a good girl.”

“Yes, please”, you reply, much to his pleasant surprise. So his large hands hold your legs down, listening to you whine while his cock fills you up endlessly with warm and thick cum with moans escaping his lips every few seconds from how fucking good he feels. 

He pushes you off his body gently, his eyes reflecting the hearts in your glazed-out eyes. His thumb brushes against the corner of your lips and he pushes his thumb past your lips. 

“Such a good fucking girl, letting me fill you up with my load. Does it feel good?”

You nod, twitching slightly from the overstimulation since he still has you stuffed full of both dick and cum. San wants to keep this sight of you in his brain forever—sucking on his finger, sweating with him post-orgasm, staring down at him with watery eyes while his cum just leaks past your puffy pussy hole even though his cock is plugging your cunt. 

San pulls you into a deep kiss, and you reciprocate it in between breathless pants and sighs. 

“Fuck. I think I’m in love”, he mutters loud enough for you to hear. 

You don’t know how to answer to that, but you feel your face flushing. He grabs the tissues stowed in the storage compartment and quickly cleans the both of you up after he lifts you off his softening cock. 

You instinctively shift to the passenger seat, and San removes his fur coat to cover you. You watch him grab a black tank top from the back seat, then fit his trousers over his thighs. 

He rolls down the windows despite the air-con running, just to rid the smell of sex.

You wrap his coat closer to you when the night breeze kisses your cheeks. 

“So, are you gonna send me home?” There’s a strange tint of hope you have that he’d decline. 

San stares at you with an expression that confuses you—one that makes you wonder if you had said something weird. Then he smiles after that. 

“You’re coming home with me, sweetheart”, San tells you as he loops his tank top over his head before he switches gear to move out. 

“It’s gonna be a long night for the both of us.” 

taglist:

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[dunmeshistash]

How do you feel about Milsiril? Like what do you think of her interactions between the canaries, her goals, her intentions and morality? I keep seeing people with mixed feelings about her, some saying she's just toxic or morally grey or doing bad but with good intentions or that she's just a mentally ill and literally so much more, also with the comic about Otta calling Milsiril love for her children/Kabru as just love for a pet, I always saw people take it at face value and say yes, Milsiril did love them more as pets instead of children, did she take up raising/adopting non-elf children because she felt like none of them could ridicule her like the elves did because they didn't know what an elf was supposed to be like (and also because they were children) or did she inherently view them as less? I mean the canaries and I'm pretty sure almost all of the cast in dungeon meshi have some sort perspective on different races especially because how they were taught about them, i just think it was interesting to finally see someone interpret it as Otta just misinterpreting Milsiril, I'm just really interested in her, i think shes neat, sorry for the rant!

Ooh, well to preface this, I hadn't really realized Milsiril was such a controversial character before my last post, I kinda live under a rock. She's really not a character I had given much thought besides what I wrote there before it, but I can do my best to express what I have thought since, with sources for it. I'm not sure what order to go thru so I'll just go by manga appearances and then extras, this will probably be quite a long post

This is the first time she shows up in the manga (ch55) Kabru is wondering about what future they might have if the elves take them into custody because of the ancient magic, he thinks about Milsiril as a get out of jail card, and mentions "There's a chance they would make us become permanent resident of the elven lands." with the image of Milsiril holding him. I don't think that means she would be the one to not let them leave, since this would probably be an legal issue, and the fact Milsiril lives away from other Elves. It does set up that Milsiril is quite overprotective tho, with Kabru's reaction to her teary hug. (rest is under a cut)

The next time she shows up is in ch61 right after Kabru falls down the dungeon along with Mithrun, he faints and has this flashback

She's being her overbearing self treating Kabru's small injury as if its something you need to be in bed for, hand feeding him like he's a toddler, and when he insists he wants to learn how to fight and be strong like her, she hugs him revealing to us for the first time her arm scars, she's cleary in distress too, so you wonder "what has happened to her?"

It continues in the next pages, as she tells him to stay there, where it's safe and there's cake, and describes the bad things he might encounter. Until he tells her he will go with or without her help

Honestly this is a Kabru we don't see often, this is the version of him that is usually in thought bubbles, he's blowing out in frustation over being smothered and demanding straight up what he wants, instead of trying to manipulate Milsiril, very blunt for him. Milsiril seems to flip a switch into battle mode, when she decides to train him for real.

I really thought this was funny, the visual of these cuddly toys and this Mom that was being so soft just a second ago completely flipping into something menacing is very amusing to me. She says "I'll give you an exhaustive, thorough training in how to use a sword... until you finally decide that you're ready to give up." although it sounds cruel, it seems she really trained him as best she could to make sure he would survive the dungeon. If he couldn't take the training with her there was no way he would be able to take on the dungeon, but he could, so much so that he managed to make her let him go. I can see this being seen as her trying to prevent him from going but to me it seems more like some tough love from a traumatized war veteran in this case.

The last thoughts he has is admitting his Mom was right, "Not only were there plenty of traps, monsters, and malice... but there were times when I felt so hungry and cold that I couldn't stand it."

And he concludes with "I never once thought that I wanted to go back there. That room where I could eat all the cake that I wanted..." While I can understand the interpretation that he means he would rather go thru all this than go back, perhaps cause he hated it there, I think it's rather a statement to how committed he is to defeating the dungeon, the visuals show him in rubble vs him in a soft big bed, the rough reality he fought to be able to face and the comfyness of what his life could be. Plus is mirroring exactly what Milsiril said to him. Admitting she was right about the bad things but that he won't give up for the safe easy life he had.

After that visuals of Milsiril are used while Kabru tries to sus out Mithrun but she shows up again in Mithrun's backstory.

Here she's straight up called Gloomy, which wasn't really the version of her we saw so far, gotta remember this is also how Mithrun saw her and that she was called gloomy as a way of bullying. Kabru mostly cuts off her part in the story until the end, when she's the one to find Mithrun after he was eaten by the demon

She doesn't really care much for Mithrun as we see in some extras, and she was ready to mercy kill him, but she is also the one to spare his life. This could be seen as her thinking he can still be of use, and it's how it sounds with how Kabru tells the story, but I do think this was also a merciful act, Mithrun was in rehabilitation for 20 years after being saved, by the time he was actually useful for anything Milsiril had already left the canaries and adopted Kabru.

Now for extras... About Mithrun/The Canaries, Milsiril was cleary someone that hated the people around her. This is her extra in the Adventurer's Bible

Milsiril seems to be the type that hates "popular kids" so to say, her description says she was bullied by other elves for being so introverted so I believe she holds a grudge against people like Mithrun that seem to have succeeded where she failed. But realizing he was a twisted person like her seemed to make her feel more sympathetic towards him, that's why I think she really did act with mercy when she saves Mithrun, he's now someone she sees as similar to her, she sees he also suffered like her

Her decription also mentions she left the canaries specifically because she was disgusted with how the Utaya situation was dealt with. Yet it seems like she came back to help Mithrun with his rehabilitation once she quits.

There's an interpretation to be made that she did this only to get "revenge" on the demon since she just saw the destruction of Utaya, and that she's using him. On the other hand maybe she wants to help him find a motivation to live, she's no longer a canary and she has time to actually help him now. I don't know which one is the truth but it's not obviously something self-serving if you ask me. Especially in the context that right before this scene Milsiril admits she wishes they could have talked before.

My interpretation of her relationship with the canaries and other elves is that she's someone depressed that was mistreat for her 'quirky' side, the dolls are clearly one of the ways she used to cope with anxiety/depression but it only caused her to be bullied by her own kin, she's the daughter of an important family and it's shown in other extras, including one about Mithrun, that nobles often send out the kids they don't want around to become canaries. It's an easy way to get rid of someone undesirable and I think it was the case for Milsiril. (Pattadol even assumes her parents love her less than her sisters for sending her to join the canaries).

No wonder than that now that she's finally free from the canaries she chose to seek her own happiness away from the society she felt she could never fit into, she clearly likes to take care of children too, I think it's mean to assume she only likes them because she feels superior to them when there's no indication that this is the case.

And I don't think it's a coincidence she's so overprotective of Kabru after Utaya, it's literally the tragedy that was the breaking point for her, and he's a surviving small child from that tragedy, Milsiril cares about Kabru and wanted him to have a comfortable safe life after everything he went thru...

This ended up getting way too long so I'll make second part tomorrow about the rest of the extras and Kabru, and some other things I've seen said about Milsiril, but to answer the questions...

I don't think she treats her children as pets, Otta is just salty she was called out for dating like Leo Dicaprio.

Every single dungeon meshi character can be called morally grey because they all have flaws that in our world can be considered unforgivable, but they don't live in our world. To me Milsiril is doing her best in the context she lives in.

Who even is neurotypical in dungeon meshi, Milsiril is yet another flavour of a neurodivergent traumatized character among so many.

I believe she thought of the other canaries, especially Mithrun, as the same type of people that were cruel to her, probably because some of them really were, but that she generalized it to the point she thinks of all of them as bad by default. You can only get hurt so many times before you assume everyone will hurt you.

Part 2

[writeriguess]

Hey hun! Welcome back 😘

So, i have a kind of slow burn idea for a Bakugo x fem!reader fic. They both like each other and when she tries to ask him out or talk to him about it, he's kind of an ass 😅

He thinks she'll be in the way or a distraction to his goal, so he pushes her away. He can't get her out of his head though and their friends tell him he's being an idiot. Eventually, he cracks and tells her (in his very 'katsuki' way) that he does want to be with her.

Angst ending with lots of fluff, confessions, and a kiss please!

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 I just wanted to say that your idea was incredible, and I had such a great time writing it. It turned out to be much longer than I expected, but it was definitely worth it!

Heart of Dynamite

It started with stolen glances. You weren’t sure when you first noticed, but something about the way Bakugo Katsuki acted around you was different. He wasn’t nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something else buried beneath the rough edges and sharp remarks. A fleeting glance when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he always seemed to hover nearby during group exercises, subtly ensuring you didn’t get caught off guard.

You weren’t blind. You saw the way his crimson eyes would flick to you during lunch, only for him to look away just as quickly if you caught him. You noticed how his explosions during sparring would seem almost… controlled when directed your way—less destructive, more calculated. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder. Enough to make you hope.

The problem was, Bakugo being Bakugo, he’d never admit to something as human as feelings. If he did like you, he was keeping it buried under a mountain of anger, pride, and whatever complicated emotions made up Katsuki Bakugo.

But still, the moments added up. And with each passing day, your crush grew stronger. You hated the way your heart fluttered when he called you by name instead of his usual nicknames for everyone else. You hated how you’d secretly look forward to his biting remarks because, in some twisted way, it was his version of paying attention to you.

And most of all, you hated how much courage it took to even consider confessing to him.

After weeks of agonizing over it, you finally decided you couldn’t live with the "what if." No matter what, you needed to know.

The opportunity came on a rare quiet evening at the dorms. Everyone else had gone out for karaoke, leaving you and Bakugo alone. He was sprawled on the couch in the common area, his arms crossed, staring at some mindless action movie playing on the TV.

You hovered at the doorway, your heart racing. You almost turned back, but then his gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"What the hell are you standing there for? You look like a damn idiot."

You flinched, but quickly steeled yourself. "I just… needed to ask you something."

His gaze flicked to you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Then spit it out already. Don’t waste my time."

Your hands were clammy as you stepped closer, each word feeling heavier than the last. "Do you… want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, Bakugo just stared at you. His usual scowl didn’t shift, but you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes—so quick you almost missed it. His jaw tensed, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Then, he scoffed. Loudly.

"You serious?" he said, leaning back against the couch like your question was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. "Why the hell would I want to go out with you?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your throat tightened, and your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

"I mean, come on," he continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "What makes you think I’d waste my time on something dumb like that?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment—from the sting of his rejection. You struggled to keep your voice steady. "I just thought… maybe—"

"Well, you thought wrong," he cut you off, his voice cold and unrelenting. "So stop acting like some lovesick idiot and get over it."

The silence that followed was unbearable. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to step back.

"Got it," you said finally, your voice small and strained. You turned on your heel before he could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Bakugo didn’t move. He stayed on the couch, staring at the TV that he wasn’t really watching. His nails dug into his palms, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about you—or himself.

Hours passed, but Bakugo didn’t leave the couch. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the look on your face, the way your voice had cracked when he tore you down.

He hated himself for it. Hated the way he’d lashed out, even though he knew it was because he was terrified. Of what? He didn’t know. Maybe of admitting to himself that he cared. Maybe of the fact that you could make him feel so out of control with just one stupid question.

But now it was too late. He’d pushed you away.

You, on the other hand, locked yourself in your room, curled up on your bed, and let the tears flow. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid, so naive. Of course Bakugo didn’t like you. Of course he didn’t care. You’d just been projecting your feelings onto him, imagining things that weren’t really there.

Still, the hurt lingered. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d move on, but the ache in your chest said otherwise.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting downstairs, fists clenched, consumed by his own turmoil. Because for all his bluster, he’d never wanted to hurt you. He just didn’t know how to deal with the truth: that he did like you, more than he was willing to admit.

Bakugo tried to convince himself that what he’d said to you was necessary. He had goals—real, tangible goals—and nothing, no one, was going to distract him. Becoming the Number One Hero wasn’t just a dream for him; it was a mission, an obligation, a destiny he was determined to carve out with his own blood, sweat, and tears. He didn’t need complications. He didn’t need feelings. He didn’t need you. That’s what he told himself over and over as he sat alone in his dorm room, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, the tendons in his hands straining from the pressure.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify it, he couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The way your expression had crumbled when he snapped at you, the hurt in your eyes as you turned and walked away—it all replayed in his head on an endless, agonizing loop. He could still hear your voice trembling when you’d asked him out, soft and vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from you. You weren’t the kind of person who let your guard down easily, and he’d taken that rare moment of courage and crushed it underfoot.

“Tch,” he growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands in frustration. “Stupid.”

He thought that pushing you away would make things easier, but it didn’t. If anything, it made everything worse. You were everywhere. Every time he walked into a room, his eyes automatically searched for you, even when he told himself they wouldn’t. When you laughed with your friends, the sound sent an irritating warmth through his chest, only to be followed by a sharp pang of regret when he remembered the look on your face that night. During training, he found himself tracking your every move without even meaning to, his instincts on high alert every time you dodged an attack or threw a punch. He hated it. Hated how you’d wormed your way into his head and refused to leave. Hated how much he wanted to be near you, even after he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you.

It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to notice his turmoil. His friends had started giving him strange looks during meals, their eyes darting between him and you as if they were waiting for something to happen. Kirishima, in particular, had been annoyingly persistent, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing expression he always wore when he thought Bakugo was being an idiot. Bakugo did his best to ignore it, but the tension was impossible to escape.

One evening, when the others were hanging out in the common area, Kirishima finally confronted him. Bakugo had been sitting on the couch, staring at his phone without really looking at it, when Kirishima plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh. Mina and Kaminari weren’t far behind, hovering nearby like vultures waiting for a meal.

“Alright, spill it,” Kirishima said, his voice casual but firm. Bakugo barely spared him a glance.

“Spill what?” he snapped, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mina chimed in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been acting weird for days, and we all know why.”

“I’m not in the mood for this crap,” Bakugo growled, standing up to leave, but Kirishima quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Bakugo glared at him, his crimson eyes blazing. “Move.”

“Not until you admit what’s going on,” Kirishima said, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air. “You pushed her away, didn’t you?”

Bakugo froze, his scowl deepening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kirishima said, his tone unusually serious. “Come on, man. It’s so obvious you like her. Everyone can see it.”

“I don’t—”

“Save it,” Mina interrupted, stepping closer with a look that could cut through steel. “We’ve seen the way you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the way you lose your mind whenever she partners up with someone else during training. You care about her, and instead of doing something about it, you’re being a total dumbass.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t have time for this crap,” he muttered, shoving past Kirishima and heading for the door. But before he could leave, Kirishima’s voice rang out behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You think pushing her away will make you stronger,” Kirishima said, his voice softer now, almost sad. “But all you’re doing is proving how scared you are.”

Bakugo’s shoulders tensed, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out,” Kirishima continued, his tone unwavering. “But running from it won’t make it go away.”

For a moment, Bakugo didn’t move. The room was silent, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, he yanked the door open and walked out, slamming it shut behind him without another word.

That night, Bakugo lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that could have set it on fire. Kirishima’s words echoed in his head, mingling with the memory of your voice and the image of your face. He hated how much it all got to him, how much he couldn’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. He hated the way his chest ached every time he thought about the hurt in your eyes and the way you’d walked away from him, your shoulders slumped in defeat. But most of all, he hated how much he wanted to see you again, to fix things, to say something—anything—that could make up for what he’d done.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to move on. You’d been avoiding Bakugo as much as possible, throwing yourself into training and schoolwork to keep your mind occupied. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you saw him, whether it was in class or during meals, you felt a sharp pang of hurt that refused to go away. You hated how much he still affected you, even after he’d made it painfully clear that he didn’t feel the same way.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you’d be fine without him, the ache in your chest lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong to hope, if you’d been foolish to believe that he might have cared about you even a little.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting in his room, wrestling with his own feelings and cursing himself for the way he’d handled things. Because for all his bravado and pride, the truth was unavoidable: he couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more he tried to push you out of his mind, the more you consumed his every thought.

The days following your rejection from Bakugo had been a haze of hurt and confusion. You tried to keep yourself busy—extra training, study sessions, anything to keep your mind from replaying the harsh way he’d dismissed you. But no matter how much you told yourself to let it go, it lingered. You still felt the sting of his words, the way he’d looked at you like you were an obstacle instead of someone he cared about. That wound didn’t heal easily.

You avoided him as much as you could. You’d shift to a different group during training, sit at the far end of the cafeteria during meals, and leave the common area whenever he showed up. It wasn’t as subtle as you hoped; your friends noticed, and you were pretty sure Bakugo did too. Still, you couldn’t face him—not after everything he’d said.

What you didn’t know was that your absence weighed on him far more than he let on.

Bakugo was not a man who easily admitted to mistakes. Pride had been ingrained in him from an early age, and he carried it like armor. But lately, that armor felt suffocating, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying the hurt in your eyes when he’d lashed out. Every time he saw you purposely turning away from him or laughing with someone else, he felt a sharp pang of regret that he didn’t know how to fix.

Kirishima’s words lingered too. “You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out. But running from it won’t make it go away.” As much as Bakugo wanted to punch him for saying it, he knew it was true. He’d been running from his feelings because they terrified him. You terrified him—not because you were weak, but because of how much power you had over him without even realizing it. And that was what scared him most of all.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Watching you avoid him, knowing he’d been the one to hurt you—it was eating him alive. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to explode.

That’s what led him here, standing awkwardly a few feet away from where you sat on the bench outside. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on the notebook in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar. Was this… nerves? He growled under his breath, frustrated with himself. He was Bakugo Katsuki, for crying out loud. He didn’t get nervous.

“Oi.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, and you jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence.

You looked up, your eyes widening for a split second before your expression hardened. “What do you want?”

Bakugo flinched at the coldness in your tone, though he tried to hide it. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you asked, already sounding exasperated. “If this is about training or some stupid lecture—”

“It’s not about training,” he cut in, stepping closer. His jaw tightened as he tried to find the right words. He wasn’t good at this, but he had to try. “It’s about what I said to you before.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into your expression. “Why are you bringing that up now? You already made your feelings perfectly clear, Bakugo. I don’t need to hear it again.”

He winced at the way you said his name—so formal, so distant. You used to call him Katsuki, back when things were simpler. Back when he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Just shut up and listen for a second, will you?” he snapped, though there was no real heat in his voice. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I… I screwed up, alright? I said some shit I didn’t mean, and I hurt you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your arms remained crossed, a barrier he knew he’d have to break through. “Then why did you do it? Why push me away if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. His gaze dropped to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. “I thought… I thought if I let myself like you, I’d lose focus. That you’d get in the way of my goals.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now I know that’s total bullshit,” he said, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “You don’t make me weaker. You make me want to be better. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s driving me insane.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but you still hesitated. “You really hurt me, Katsuki,” you said softly, the pain evident in your voice. “I don’t know if I can just forget that.”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking for a chance to fix it. I was a dumbass, and I don’t deserve it, but… I want to try. With you.”

The vulnerability in his voice was so raw, so uncharacteristic, that it left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret and determination.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not some smooth-talking idiot like Kaminari, and I’m probably gonna screw up a hundred more times. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not gonna hurt you again.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. This was Bakugo Katsuki—the same boy who never admitted when he was wrong, who bulldozed his way through life without looking back. And here he was, laying his pride at your feet, just for a chance to make things right.

“You’re really bad at this, you know,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my strong suit.”

You laughed softly, the sound making his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. For the first time in weeks, you felt the tension between you start to dissolve.

“So, what now?” you asked, taking a tentative step closer.

“Now I do this,” he said, his voice low as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he leaned in. His crimson eyes searched yours for a moment, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, almost shy, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hands reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. He kissed you like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d wasted, pouring all the unspoken feelings he couldn’t put into words into that one act.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting together, you were both breathless. He smirked, his usual cocky confidence creeping back in. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’ve got a long way to go, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the gruffness of his tone. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and prove it.”

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Feel free to request <3

[memezs-corner-of-the-osc]

Memez theory analysis ramble #2:

SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF TPOT 17.

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I’m dedicating a entire post to just the scenes with One and Doughnut because it tells us so much about One as a person:

Her demeanour throughout the altercation is something I’d like to bring light to.

One as a character is a manipulator who weaponises gaslighting by learning the characters psychologies to put them under pressure using her facade to sign as we’re all…..very aware by now.

What we learned here is are her downfalls: Temper and ego.

This is the face of someone who’s overly confident in everything she does, here she was not anticipating any failure in her plans.

I mean how could she possibly fail right, after all she’s tricked so many contestants-

And then reality hits.

Her egos down, she didn’t rehearse for this.

Now: let’s observe who one actually is under her act.

She resorts to violence to start with, trying to get a fear response from Doughnut.

Success: Ego back up tenfold.

She feels safe, like she has the upper hand.

So she starts her downfall: She starts giving Doughnut more information than he should know.

After all he’s going to take the deal, they all take the deal.

He can’t possibly escape and tell everyone after he just signs that little contract.

And so like the hawk she is she swoops back in to claim her prize, here she thinks she’s won in crushing the tough nut.

……unfortunately for her Doughnut is smarter then that and questions her, she hates being questioned as it ruins her whole shtick.

“Ughhh don’t worry about that Doughnut, after all is it so crazy to believe I’m just trying to help you?”

Mocking, condescending, setting up her “finishing blow”.

“Those friends of yours all agreed to it and look at all the fun they’re having!”

She can’t help herself and besides he’ll never get the chance to tell anyone so why not take the chance to unconsciously gloat to someone about it?

But it doesn’t work, he keeps questioning, second guessing and not trusting her act.

So she snaps and goes nuclear and goes to what she thinks everyone is can’t resist, themselves:

She tries acting like his friend one final little time, going with her plan B she set up.

She lays it all out, everything she knows about him and all the things in his life she rigged to happen in one last desperate attempt to regain control.

“Everyone gets to be a little selfish, it’s only fair.”

This is the line I’m going to go on a tangent on, it shows why One can do this guilt free.

She’s self justifying it constantly in her mind with a positive feedback loop, through her own delusions she sees fact.

It makes you wonder why she’s doing this and supports what I said last time, I still theorise she’s not here for the power, she’s here to make sure Two is powerless for her own pettiness.

One is a heavily Toxic abuser type person, she has warped morals that she bends to justify their own behaviour to herself subconsciously to get her own goals satisfied.

She has a ego or (at least acts like she has one to further her agenda) and will stop at nothing to the point of almost ending the universe to satisfy her needs.

And if she was friends with Two it would make sense if she used these manipulative tendencies on them and the other algibralians.

The scene with Six I will now circle back to basically confirms what I’ve been theorising with one quote: “She was supposed to be gone.”.

We have half her motive, this seemingly confirms One was exiled from the playground.

For what is yet to be seen.

Now let’s talk about the ending of the scene: What happens when someone defies her.

Let’s watch shall we:

She’s failed to make this man stoop to her level proving her psychology is wrong so she snaps, she’s never encountered this before.

She wants to feel like she’s won so she turns to a power trip, in a moment of rage she rips Doughnuts legs off and kicks him off to affirm to herself that she got the last laugh here and that letting him go is no issue.

I mean what can one man do without limbs-

And this right here is where I theorise Ones downfall begins, she got greedy adding Doughnut: a person who she knew could be a problem into the plan.

And where did it leave her?

With a wild card with context clues about what she was planning and with information about what’s behind her act on the loose, in her own greed I theorise she set in motion her demise.

And the kicker is even at the end she’s still affirming to herself that she didn’t really fail here by flying head first into the sun and that Doughnut was “just for good luck.“.

So I end off this essay of a post with a question: If this is how she treats her victims how did she treat her “friends”?

Thank you viewer for reading, the follow up to this will contain an analysis on Pencil (probably my favourite contestant by now) along with a few other misc things I want to talk about as this is already pushing it for this ted talk of a post.

[evertidings]

— MARCH 2025.

Accomplishments.

What a month, huh? I glanced back at my update for February and wow, I really did not accomplish much in that month. In all fairness, I had a lot going on, but hey! That means my March update in comparison looks really good lol.

We’re already a third of the way through April by the time I’m writing this, so I’m a little late (when am I not, really?) but because of that, I can confidently say that the writing portion of Chapter 12 is nearly done! I was powering through it for most of March and now I’m slowly pushing through to the end; it’ll probably be done sometime this week, if everything goes well. After that comes editing, which is always the most frustrating part of doing this for me.

Because I’ve been working on this for so long, some of the chapter was written as early as October 2024, which, when you have my short-term memory, can be pretty bad. It’s kind of amusing when I stumble upon information that I already wrote at the beginning of the chapter, repeated again at the end because I forgot I mentioned it. That usually means more work for me though, since I have to cut it out and fill the empty space leftover, so you can imagine that I’m not very excited to start proofreading.

But, onto happier things. In terms of chapter content, I think this is the most RO-centric chapter I’ve ever written. I might have gone overboard, but there are three separate scenes with the RO of your choice. Some scenes are shorter than others, of course, but I’ve never fit so many in a chapter—it’s kind of exciting. It also makes sense since the romance lock is very soon (I may or may not have a chapter planned for it and am just keeping my lips locked), so I want you to have as much time possible with your potential choices. All of them are unique in their own way, though admittedly similar. Even so, I feel like they all make sense considering the content of the chapter and honestly, I doubt any of you will complain haha. They’re nice to have.

It’s a nice reprieve to the heaviness that Eliana brings to the chapter. I know she’s my character, but she’s honestly taken on a mind of her own and evolved so much throughout the writing process. My goal was to make her difficult to understand and, well, it seems like I successfully accomplished that. Aside from Sebastian, she’s probably been my favourite figurehead-like character to write. Her intrigue makes her so interesting, especially since she doesn’t like showing all her cards from the beginning. It’ll be a while until you’re able to put a finger on her character.

But, you’ll find that out soon! I know I said I wanted to put Chapter 12 out this month, and I could if I worked myself to the bone, but I think pushing it to Early May (first week or so) is best. In the past, I’ve given myself very little time to edit and code the chapter once it’s written out and it’s stressed me out a lot. For something that is supposed to be a hobby, I’m very harsh on myself with deadlines and I don’t think it’s fair for me to lose sleep over this, so, hopefully, you all understand. I’ll keep you all updated if I do manage to push the date up though and, of course, there’ll be an announcement once a date is official.

With that said, I hope you’re all taking care of yourselves and have a wonderful April!

Stats.

Chapter Total: 55,738 words (+14,113)

Game Total: ~567,170

[bunnysdollette]

WAYS IM PREPARING FOR THE BIG 2025 PT 1 ⟢

♡˚₊· ͟͟͞͞ Hey angels! I basically just wanted to come on here today and share some ways I’m preparing for the new year. Feel free to take inspiration from this post. :) Stay cute

BEFORE ANYTHING…

Before starting ANYTHING off new this year, I really just wanted to take time and reflect on what I did well and what I need to work on next year and also what I’ve LEARNED this year to make a game plan.

For example, some things I’ve noticed this year that I need to work on is better time management, balance between work and life, taking more time for my mental health, and pushing myself more towards my goals.

I recently also read a post about resetting before 2025, which I think is helpful. I’ll link it right here.

ENVISIONING THE YEAR

for me, setting an expectation is SO important. It just defines everything I want to have and accomplish, it lets me believe that my desires can be attained and really just cultivates that kind of positive mindset I need going into the new years.

Here are ways I’m currently making space for that vision for the big 2025.

♡ vision boards

(could be about beauty, manifesting, money, studying, or a combination! whatever you’d like, but I’d recommend not sharing to keep that energy private to you. it’s important to move in silence.)

♡ inner work

(maybe some difficult events have happened this year or recently. it’s important to go into 2025 releasing everything negative and leaving all grudges behind. 2025 is a NEW year. let’s make sure our mental is great now so that we can charge into 2025 ready to go.)

♡ self care time

♡ social media detox

♡ planning new smart goals

♡ stricter mental diet

START NOW

guys, you’re gonna have to trust me when I say START NOW. of course your resolution isn’t officially in effect til the start of January, but PLS. start now while your motivation is here or even if you aren’t motivated. START working out, start taking those little steps to move like your dream self, DO IT.

The problem is that usually a “new years resolution” person will give up after not even a week of being in it, so START now. Give yourself the space to make mistakes and work out those kinks NOW so you can really go into the new year feeling refreshed and ready to conquer every single one of your goals.

HARSH MOTIVATION

“The person with the same goal as you is working 10x as harder as you right now.”

I saw this quote on my feed and it really resonated with me, because I want to pursue a career in nursing. It made me think of all the people who are studying hard right now and doing pre-med programs right now to be two steps ahead and really excel in their performance as a nurse. And what am I doing? Slacking.

No more slacking in 2025! I have to realize this and tell you this, that nobody is holding your hand anymore! It’s just you versus the world. What will you do to succeed? You need to act NOW while you’re realizing this, or be left behind. That’s just the way things work.

Take that time to yourself. Take that time to reflect, think, and rebuild your self concept for the beginning of the new years. This is YOUR moment. This is YOUR year. YOU’RE her, so start acting like it.

ahihihihi and bd changes her layout again? guys I’m rlly struggling with this theme shit 😪 I feel like I can’t really find a format I can stick to. I think I’m in my divine feminine era..kinda loving it but doesn’t match the cute pink teenage vibe I have for the rest of my blog. anyways have a wonderful holidays n 2025 angels hoped this helped msg me byee ♡

[puckinghischier]

hi!! first off, i just want to say that i really love your work. i’m so so glad i found your blog. i just reblogged this quinn blurb of yours (which i’m obsessed with btw)

i was wondering if you’d ever be up to expanding on any of the aspects of it. for example; quinn seeing a guy flirt with you in the stands while he’s playing.. when the game was over what do you think that looks like? would say something to his girl and/or show her more with actions than words? or when he sees how excited she is to see him when he’s ready to head home is he just going to let it go? <- y’know like her smile’s able to erase damn near any negative feelings he’s having. playing on when you said about his girl being able to turn him to mush 🥹

✶₊˚⊹ apologies for the length of this.. when i get excited about something i tend to ramble. also, feel free to ignore this or keep it for later if you’d want. no worries either way ‹𝟹

oh i would absolutely love to expand on that

i don’t think he would dwell on it too much, honestly. because he does trust you and he knows that when you come to his games you’re watching nothing but him, but i think he would be a lil smug about it and the fact you never give them attention like you do him.

his eyes would find you as soon as he walks out of the locker room, ready to take you home and order a post game dinner while watching whatever series the two of you get sucked into on netflix.

you’d be talking to conor, just chatting casually, always having been close with him since you started dating quinn.

too distracted to realize he’s walking towards you, he walks up and engulfs you in a hug from behind.

“Q!!” you’d squeal, laughing as conor takes that as his cue to leave, saying a short goodbye and offering a small wave.

turning around in his arms, you come face to face with your slightly damp and scruffy looking boyfriend, loving his post-shower appearance after every game.

“enjoy the game?” he asks, admiring the joy on your face that only he seems to bring out.

“duh! you scored twice, how could i not?”

quinn’s ego inflates three sizes, remembering what spurred the second goal.

“oh, speaking of, who was your new friend tonight? sure you don’t want me to just buy out the seats next to you every game?” he’d only half joke, not letting you know he has genuinely thought about it before.

you rolled your eyes at him, swatting his chest. “just some chad, brad, or whatever else people name their overly confident, dickish sons.”

your words cause alarm bells in quinn’s brain, his tone suddenly turning serious. “what do you mean by ‘dickish’? did he get handsy? say something to you? do i need to make a call to make sure he never steps foot in this arena again?”

“no! no, nothing like that. he was harmless, just thought he could impress the pretty girl next to him with all kinds of hockey talk,” you’re quick to explain, watching quinn’s jaw visibly relax. “most of which he had wrong, by the way,” you continue. “but then he asked if i was here alone, and i told him no, that my boyfriend was on the ice, but he didn’t believe me. especially not when i told him it was you, the captain of the team.”

it was quinn’s turn to roll his eyes. people never tend to believe you when you tell them he’s your boyfriend, considering you two have kept your relationship decently private. if anything, they shouldn’t believe you’re his girlfriend, still shocked at how he managed to snag someone so out of his league.

“then, after you scored he made some stupid comment about ‘aren’t you going to congratulate your boyfriend?’ as if i had a direct line to you on the ice or something,” you kept explaining to him, causing him to recall the sour look on your face when he was watching you from the bench.

he kept seeing the man turn to you and make comments, figuring he was trying to get you to engage with him. you ignored him, though, giving him side glances every few minutes with a look of annoyance.

“but, after you came over and did your ‘sweetheart’ celly, he finally shut up and left me alone,” you giggled, referencing the goal celebration quinn coined for you. he’ll skate over to the glass where you sit, pretending to lick all five of his fingers as if he’s cleaning ‘sugar’ off of them, then points to you and draws a heart in the air before skating away with a wink.

quinn smiles in triumph, happy that his plan worked.

after watching the scene you just explained play out, he knew he needed an excuse to show some big display of affection so your seat mate would get the hint. so, he turned the dial up to ten and was taking every shot he could.

he hopes the glare he gave the man as he skated away from you was partially to thank, too. even though the second he saw your excitement-filled cheering for him, the man beside of you was (mostly) forgotten.

“well, i hope he realizes you only go for guys who can score both on and off the ice,” he winks down at you, knowing his choice of words was corny, but they succeeded in coaxing out the sweet sound of your laughter that he wanted needed to hear.

he loves knowing that you only get this giggly and carefree with him; knowing that he’s the one that gets to take you home each night. the security he feels in your relationship is unlike anything he’s ever known, blown away at how fully and wholly you love him, always hearing you tell everyone who will listen to you when you think he’s not paying attention.

even if he does manage to get grumpy and annoyed when people flirt with you during games or when you’re out with the team, he knows you never even give them the time of day. every time he catches himself staring daggers at someone, all he finds when he looks at you is your pretty eyes already trained on him, making him forget about any ill feelings he has harbored in his chest, just like tonight.

“alright, captain jealousy, let’s get home so we can eat, i’m starving. i was thinking sushi and gilmore girls, what do you think?” you suggest, grabbing his hand and starting the familiar trek to the car garage.

quinn groans, hating how much you love the annoying mother daughter duo, mentally preparing himself for the hours of torture ahead of him, knowing he doesn’t stand a chance of changing your mind.

[district4loading]

Can u rate twice member bj technique 1-10.

Minors DNI

Nayeon - 10/10

She has big hands and she likes to use both when she sucks you off. There's this thing she does where she twists her hands on your shaft and sucks the head between her soft, plump lips. It makes you so weak that you have to concentrate on holding back. She doesn't want you to hold anything back though, her goal isn't teasing or edging, it's making you cum as fast as possible. When you're done, she licks it off her fingers while laughing because it's like a fun game to her.

Jeongyeon - 9/10

Jeongyeon is one of the few women you know who can actually fit your entire cock in her mouth without choking or gagging. You've got no clue how she does it, but you can never wonder about that when you're with her. You're too focused on the way her throat hugs you, the way it squeezes when she swallows and how messy the two of you tend to get together. She lets you release down her throat because in her mind, anywhere that's not inside of her would be a waste.

Momo - 8/10

Momo's got the big beautiful eyes that serve as a great visual while you watch her tongue work your cock in ways that have you rolling your eyes. She's adamant on edging you, which you both hate and love at the same time. She does it because she likes to see you squirm, have you whimpering and begging her to just let you cum. Sometimes if you're unlucky, she'll ruin you.

Sana - 10/10 (not biased)

Yk I have to give my girl a 10. It's the way she looks at you when she has your cock in her mouth. Her big, inviting eyes tell you everything you need to know. That she wants you to hold her head still and slide your cock as deep as it can go down her throat. But when she has the control, she uses her tongue in only the best ways possible and she'll even deviate to your balls to stuff them in her mouth while she strokes you. She tells you that she wants you to cum where ever you'd like because she's too shy to tell you that she really wants it on her lips.

Jihyo - 9/10

Jihyo will sometimes let you use her tits if you've been a good boy. She presses them together on your shaft and licks the tip occasionally. The warmth of her breasts always gets you so close and ready to explode so quickly, especially when she uses her spit to make it slippery. When you cum, it's no surprise that it gets all over her tits she calls you a "good boy" then collects it on her fingers and licks it off.

Mina - 10/10

Mina might actually be the devil. It's the way she'll bring a fleshlight with her when she comes over to your place. She'll sit you down and blindfold you so you can't see anything and if she's feeling extra adventurous, she'll handcuff you too. Much like Momo, Mina was all about control and she loved to control your orgasms.

There was something different about her though, she'd use her mouth to get you there and she'd let your cum absolutely cover your chest. But she won't give you a break after, in fact she'll take the toy and jerk your sensitive cock off with it. Post orgasm torture was your thing just as much as it was hers, you just wouldn't admit it. The way it always had you squirming and begging her to stop. She'd tell you "I know you've got more for me" and she'll keep going until she pulls another load out of you.

Dahyun - 7/10

Dahyun's sweeter, more innocent. All she really wants to do is please you. She'll ask you what you want her to do and she'll constantly worry if she's doing it right or not. You assure her all the way through because the way her beautiful eyes look up at you and the way her mouth feels so perfectly slick is nothing short of amazing. She tells you to warn her right when you're about to, because she's afraid of it getting in her eye. When you cum, she lets it gather on the fingers she has wrapped around your shaft and she makes you go get something to help her clean it up.

Chaeyoung - 6/10

Chaeyoung likes to tease a bit as well and she wants you to tell her everything you need her to do to you. She likes tasting your pre-cum, so she teases as much as she can to get you leaking. Toying around with your shaft, spitting on it, licking the head ever so lightly. It always takes a while for her to get you to the edge but once you do, the orgasm always has your toes curling.

Tzuyu - 7/10

Although she can't fit your entire cock in her mouth, she makes up for it by having incredibly soft hands that squeeze your shaft perfectly while she takes as much as she can. Like Momo, she's got a pair of big beautiful eyes that get you so lost you forget how to think. When the time comes she'll always prefer it if you paint her face because she likes it when you call her pretty after.

-

Apologies to anon for taking so long with this one

[rootedinrevisions]

Better Late Than Never: Alternate Ending

SUMMARY: After one too many broken promises, Glen realizes he might lose the person who means the most to him. But proving he's ready to be the man you deserve proves to be harder than he expected.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for the comments and feedback on this story. Here is an alternate ending where you (and your friends) make Glen work a little harder to win you back over.

As always I'd love to hear what you guys think of this version! Did you like it better than the original? I'd love to see your opinion in the comments!

WORD COUNT: 7.8K

TAGS: In Comments.

**THE BEGINNING OF THIS STORY IS THE SAME. THIS ALTERNATE ENDING PICKS UP AT THE BAR WHEN GLEN SHOWS UP** - READ THE ORIGINAL VERSION -- HERE

The music thrummed through the bar, matching the energy of the group gathered around the high-top table. Glasses clinked together in a loud, boisterous toast, followed by laughter that was as unrestrained as it was contagious. You couldn’t help but smile, letting the warmth of the moment replace the earlier disappointment that had been gnawing at the edges of your birthday.

"To another year of dodging bad dates and drinking great cocktails!" Maggie shouted, raising her glass dramatically. The group erupted in cheers as you shook your head, laughing. She nudged you with her shoulder. "And to you, finally realizing what a catch you are."

You rolled your eyes, but the grin stayed plastered on your face. "Thanks, Maggie."

The group dissolved into casual chatter, and for the first time that night, you felt like you could breathe again. The sting of Glen cancelling dinner—the dinner you’d looked forward to all week—was starting to fade, dulled by the buzz of margaritas and the steady rhythm of laughter surrounding you.

“Okay, it’s your birthday, so spill,” one of your friends teased, leaning closer. “What’s the plan for your next year of life? New goals? Big dreams? New men?”

You were mid-sip, considering how to answer, when the door to the bar opened. A gust of air swept through the room, and instinctively, your eyes flickered toward the entrance.

And that’s when you saw him.

Glen.

Glen stepped into the bar, the low hum of conversation and the upbeat music doing little to calm the nerves rattling inside him. He scanned the room, searching for you, but all he could see was a blur of faces. His heart sank as he realized how crowded it was, and for a moment, he wondered if coming here was a mistake.

But then he spotted Maggie weaving through the throng of people, her sharp eyes zeroing in on him like she’d been expecting this. The relief he felt at seeing a familiar face quickly evaporated when he noticed the look on hers—unimpressed and unyielding.

“Glen,” she greeted, her voice flat as she stopped directly in front of him, effectively blocking his path.

“Maggie.” He tried to keep his tone even, but the urgency crept in anyway. “Where's she at? I need to talk to her. I need to explain.”

Maggie folded her arms, tilting her head in that way that made him feel like he was already losing. “Explain what? That you bailed on her—again? Or that you decided a party in New York was more important than dinner with her?”

He clenched his jaw, feeling the sting of her words. “I didn’t bail,” he said firmly. “I texted her. I told her I’d be late, but I’d be here. I just—things didn’t go as planned.”

“Didn’t go as planned,” Maggie echoed, her tone dripping with disbelief. “That’s your excuse? Glen, she waited for you. She planned her whole night around you. And then you just...what? Text her last minute and think that makes it okay?”

Glen rubbed a hand over his face, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He hadn’t planned for this confrontation, not tonight. Not with Maggie. 

“Look,” he said, forcing himself to stay calm, “I know I messed up, okay? But I’m here now. I just want to talk to her.”

Maggie didn’t budge. “And what? Tell her you’re sorry? That it won’t happen again? Because let’s be real, Glen—it will.”

Her words hit harder than he expected. He opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. Was she wrong? He hated the doubt that crept in.

“She deserves better,” Maggie continued, her voice softening but losing none of its edge. “And I’m not going to let you show up now, just because it’s convenient for you, and pretend like you didn’t hurt her.”

Glen’s chest tightened, the weight of her words settling heavy on him. “It’s not like that,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t want to miss dinner. I didn’t mean to let her down. I just...I screwed up. But I want to make it right.”

Maggie studied him for a long moment, her sharp gaze searching his face for any sign of sincerity. “You say that,” she said finally, “but actions speak louder than words. And so far? Your actions suck.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. He’d been so sure that if he could just talk to you, explain everything, you’d understand. But now, standing here under Maggie’s scrutinizing glare, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“I just...I need to see her,” he tried again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Maggie. Let me talk to her.”

She hesitated for a beat before shaking her head. “Not tonight, Glen. She deserves to enjoy her birthday without you making it about your mess. Go home.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but the finality in her tone stopped him. Defeated, he nodded, stepping back. 

“Fine,” he said, though the word felt hollow.

As he turned to leave, he glanced toward the table where you were sitting, laughing with your friends. The sound of your laughter, even from across the room, hit him like a gut punch. He had no right to interrupt that moment, no matter how much he wanted to.

Walking out of the bar, he shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind already racing with ways to fix this. Maggie might have won this round, but he wasn’t giving up. Not on you. Not this time.

When Maggie returned to the table, she had that look—stern but protective, the kind of look that meant she wasn’t going to let you off the hook without saying her piece.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned closer, nervous to hear her answer.

Maggie slid into her seat and took a deliberate sip of her drink, her eyes darting toward the bar. “He wanted to talk to you,” she said calmly, setting her glass down.

Your stomach flipped, a mix of hope and dread rising in your chest. “And?”

“I told him he couldn’t.”

Your heart sank, confusion flashing across your face. “You what?”

“I told him you didn’t need this tonight,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “That he can’t just show up whenever it’s convenient for him and expect you to drop everything to listen to him.”

Your jaw tightened as you stared at her, struggling to piece together what she was saying. “What did he say?”

“He said he wanted to explain, that he felt bad about missing dinner. But I told him enough is enough. This isn’t the first time he’s let you down, and I wasn’t going to let him ruin your night with some half-hearted apology.”

“Maggie...” you started, your voice trailing off.

“No,” she cut in, holding up a hand to stop you. “You’ve had a crush on him for how long now? Years, right? And you let him get away with stuff because it's him. If I did half the shit he does you wouldn't be my friend anymore. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away, fiddling with the condensation on your glass.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, but let’s be real here—the crush is why you let him get away with it. If he were just some friend who bailed all the time, you wouldn’t make excuses for him like this. But because it’s Glen, because you like him, you let it slide. Every time.”

“That’s not fair,” you mumbled, though the weak protest did little to convince even yourself.

“It’s not about fair,” Maggie said, her tone softening just slightly. “It’s about what you deserve. And if he’s just your friend? Fine. Let him screw up every now and then, no big deal. But if you want him to be more than that? If he ever wants to be more than that? Then he has to act like it. And bailing on dinner to go to a party isn’t acting like it.”

You sighed, her words sinking in like weights tied to your chest. “He’s not a bad guy, Maggie,” you said quietly.

“I’m not saying he is,” she said gently. “But I am saying that you deserve better from a partner. You deserve someone who shows up, who puts you first. Not someone who expects you to rearrange your life around their schedule and call it love.”

Her words stung because you knew they were true. The hope you’d been clinging to—the idea that Glen might finally see you as more than just a friend—felt paper-thin now, flimsy and fragile under the weight of reality.

“I just...” you started, but your voice faltered. You didn’t even know what you wanted to say.

Maggie reached out, squeezing your hand. “I love you,” she said, her tone softening even more. “And I know how much you care about him. But you can’t keep letting him off the hook just because you want him to care about you the same way. He either steps up, or he doesn’t deserve to be the guy you’ve been waiting for.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you blinked back the sting in your eyes. “You’re right,” you whispered, though the words felt like they might break you.

Maggie gave you a small, encouraging smile. “Come on,” she said, giving your hand another squeeze. “It’s your birthday. Don’t let him ruin it.”

You forced a smile, nodding as you straightened in your seat. The night wasn’t over yet, and you weren’t ready to let Glen—or your own feelings for him—ruin it. Not tonight.

* * * * *

By the time Maggie pulled up to your place, the weight of the night was beginning to settle in your chest. The buzz from the drinks had worn off, leaving you raw and tired. You unclipped your seatbelt as Maggie parked by the curb, and she turned to you with a small smile.

“Happy birthday,” she said softly.

She then reached into her purse. She handed you your phone, and for a moment, you just stared at it.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your fingers curling around the familiar weight of the device.

“Get some rest, okay? You’ve had a long day,” Maggie added, her tone light, but there was an edge of concern underneath.

“I will,” you replied, forcing a small smile to reassure her.

She lingered for a second, her eyes searching yours before she nodded. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

You stepped out of the car and watched her drive away before heading up to your apartment. The silence of your place greeted you like an old friend, but tonight, it felt heavier than usual. You kicked off your shoes and left them by the door, shrugging off your jacket as you wandered into the living room.

Sinking onto the couch, you finally unlocked your phone, the bright screen momentarily blinding you in the dim room. Notifications lit up one after another, but your eyes landed on Glen’s name almost immediately.

Your heart skipped a beat as you opened his messages, scrolling through them one by one.

7:12 PM: Hey, I’m really sorry about missing dinner last night. My interview ran long, and I missed my flight. I had to stay an extra day, but I swear I wasn’t blowing you off. Can't wait to see you tonight!

You frowned, your thumb hovering over the screen. He hadn’t mentioned the missed flight last night—hadn’t even tried to explain until now.

8:07 PM: I’m running late, but I’ll be there. Just got back into Austin and hit traffic.

Your stomach tightened. The memory of sitting at the restaurant, checking your phone every few minutes, flashed through your mind. You hadn’t seen this message. By 8 you’d already given up on him.

8:46 PM: Where are you? I went to the restaurant, but I guess I just missed you.

You bit your lip, the weight in your chest growing heavier.

10:15 PM: I’m sorry. I know I’ve let you down, and I hate that I keep doing this to you. Maggie said you didn't want to talk to me. Please don’t give up on me. I’ll fix this. I swear.

You stared at the screen, your throat tightening as the words blurred. His texts were full of apologies, of promises you weren’t sure he could keep. You wanted to be angry, to hold onto the frustration and disappointment, but a part of you—a soft, stubborn part—wanted to believe him.

You sighed, setting the phone down on the coffee table and leaning back against the couch. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. You closed your eyes, the words from his last message echoing in your mind.

Please don’t give up on me.

Your fingers itched to respond, to demand answers, but instead, you grabbed your phone again and typed out a simple reply: We’ll talk tomorrow.

You stared at the message for a moment before hitting send. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

As you set your phone back down, a knock at the door startled you, echoing through the stillness of your apartment. Your heart leapt, and for a second, you considered ignoring it. But something—some quiet, nagging feeling—pulled you to your feet.

When you opened the door, Glen stood on the other side, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and an almost sheepish look on his face.

“I know it’s late,” he started, his voice soft but urgent. “But I needed to see you.”

Your grip tightened on the edge of the door, your tired eyes narrowing. “Glen, it’s not a good time—”

He reached out, his hand gently pressing against the door to stop you from closing it. “Please,” he said, his eyes pleading. “Just give me five minutes. Let me explain.”

You hesitated, the frustration and hurt bubbling just beneath the surface. But something in his voice, in the way he looked at you, made you pause. With a resigned sigh, you stepped aside and let him in.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall near the door as Glen stepped inside. He seemed almost hesitant, like he knew he was walking a tightrope.

“Okay,” you said, your tone clipped. “You’ve got five minutes.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I messed up. I know I did. But I swear, I wasn’t trying to let you down again. My interview ran over, and I missed my flight. By the time I got back to Austin, I figured you’d already left the restaurant.”

You raised an eyebrow, the heat rising in your chest. “And then what? You just decided to go to a party instead?”

He blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What? No, that’s not—”

“Was your interview with Alanna Norris?” you interrupted, your voice sharp.

Glen froze, the color draining slightly from his face. “What are you talking about?”

You stepped forward, your phone suddenly feeling heavy in your pocket. “I saw the pictures, Glen. The videos. You at that party with her, laughing, smiling, looking like you didn’t have a care in the world. While I was sitting at home alone, trying to figure out you didn't show up for the birthday dinner you planned for me.”

His shoulders slumped, and he looked down for a moment before meeting your gaze. “It’s not what it looked like.”

“Then what was it?” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you bailed on me for some party for one of your Hollywood friends.”

He stepped closer, his hands out as if he were trying to reach for you but hesitated. “I didn’t plan to go to that party, okay? I only went because I realized I wasn’t going to make it back to Austin in time for dinner. It was a networking thing—work, nothing more. I wasn’t there to have fun, I was there because I thought it might help my career.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Work. It’s always about work with you, isn’t it?”

He sighed, his expression pained. “I know it sounds like an excuse, but it’s the truth. You know how important this weekend is to me. I didn’t want to miss your dinner, but when I realized I couldn’t make it, I thought at least I could make the most of the night professionally.”

You moved to the couch and sat down, arms still folded as you glared at him. “That’s convenient, isn’t it? You always have a reason, Glen. There’s always an explanation, but it doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t there. Again.”

Glen followed you, dropping to his knees in front of you. He looked up at you, his eyes full of sincerity, and for a moment, you hated how much it pulled at your heartstrings.

“When have I ever lied to you?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm. “Ever?”

Your lips parted, ready to counter him, but the words didn’t come. You wanted to call him out, to tell him he was wrong. But the truth was, he wasn’t. Glen had let you down, canceled plans, missed important moments—but he’d never lied.

You sighed, looking away. “It’s not about lying, Glen. It’s about priorities. It feels like I’m always coming in second to everything else in your life. Your job, your career, your networking events.”

He leaned back slightly, his hands resting on his thighs. “That’s not true,” he said softly.

“It feels true,” you replied, your voice cracking slightly. “I waited for you, Glen. I was sitting there, hoping you’d show up, and you didn’t. And yeah, maybe you didn’t lie, but it doesn’t change the fact that I was alone on my birthday because you couldn’t be bothered to put me first for once.”

His jaw tightened, and he nodded slowly. “You’re right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should’ve been there. No excuses. And I hate that I wasn’t. I hate that I keep screwing up with you.”

You glanced down at him, your chest tightening at the vulnerability in his expression. He looked genuinely hurt, but that didn’t erase the ache you felt.

“I don’t know if an apology is enough,” you admitted quietly.

“I don’t expect it to be,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “But I promise you, I’ll do better. I’ll prove it to you, Y/N. Just… don’t give up on me.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, but the weight of his past letdowns still lingered.

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I need time, Glen. I can’t just pretend everything’s okay overnight.”

He nodded, standing up slowly. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but instead, he turned and walked toward the door. Before leaving, he glanced back at you one last time. “Happy birthday. I hope it was still a good one.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the faint echo of his words.

* * * * *

The next morning, you were still in your pajamas—a faded T-shirt and a pair of shorts—when the knock on your door startled you. Coffee in hand, you hesitated for a moment before peeking through the peephole.

Glen.

With a sigh, you set your coffee down and unlocked the door. As you opened it, your eyes immediately widened at the sight in front of you. Glen stood there holding a bouquet so large it nearly obscured his face. Roses, lilies, sunflowers—practically every flower imaginable—were packed into the arrangement, making it look more like a garden than a bouquet.

You blinked, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the doorframe. “What… are you doing?” you asked, your voice laced with skepticism.

Glen peeked out from behind the flowers, his expression impossibly earnest. “I’m fixing this.”

Your brow arched. “With… that?” You gestured toward the bouquet.

He stepped forward, undeterred by your guarded tone. “Partly, I remember you said a few months ago no one's ever bought you flowers for your birthday. So here are flowers for your birthday,” he said with a small smile, tilting the bouquet toward you. “But mostly, I’m here to show you I’m serious.”

You hesitated, glancing between him and the flowers. “Glen, I don’t need a grand gesture—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “I know this doesn’t fix everything. But it’s a start. And I needed you to see that I mean it when I say I’ll do better.”

You let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking your head. “You realize this is borderline ridiculous, right?”

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Absolutely. But I figured if I’m going to make a fool of myself, I might as well go all in.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face despite your best efforts to remain guarded. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Glen took the opportunity to step inside, setting the bouquet down on your coffee table. The oversized arrangement looked absurdly out of place in your small living room, but somehow, it felt… fitting.

He turned back to you, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Look, I know I’ve let you down more times than I can count. And I know flowers and apologies don’t erase that. But I want to make this right,Y/N. I want to show you that I can prioritize you the way you deserve.”

You studied him for a long moment, trying to gauge the sincerity in his words. As much as you wanted to stay mad, it was hard to ignore the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?” you asked, your tone cautious.

“For starters,” he said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, “I cleared my entire schedule for the next couple days. No interviews, no networking events, no work commitments. It’s just you and me.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “You did that?”

“I cleared my schedule,” he repeated, holding the notebook up as if to prove it. “I told my manager I needed time off. And believe me, she wasn’t happy about it. But I didn’t care, because I meant what I said last night. You’re more important.”

The walls you’d carefully constructed around your heart started to crack, but you weren’t ready to let them crumble just yet. 

“That’s a nice sentiment,” you said quietly. “But what happens when the next big opportunity comes along? Or the next party? Am I just supposed to hope you won’t drop me for that, too?”

Glen took a step closer, his gaze steady. “No. You shouldn’t have to hope,Y/N. You should know. And I’m going to make sure you do.” He paused, his expression softening. “Look, I’m not perfect. I know I’ll probably screw up again at some point, but I want you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. Because losing you isn’t an option for me.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you square in the chest. For all your frustration and hurt, it was impossible to ignore the depth of his sincerity.

“I don’t know, Glen,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. “I want to believe you, but it’s hard. It’s really hard.”

“I know,” he said, his voice just as soft. “And I’m not asking you to forgive me right away. I just… I want a chance to prove to you that I can do better.”

You looked away, your emotions a tangle of doubt, hope, and fear. After a long silence, you finally met his gaze again.

“Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not making any promises.”

Glen nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Just give me one more chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his hand brushing yours lightly. “Friends?” he asked, offering a tentative olive branch.

You exhaled, a faint smile breaking through despite yourself. “Friends,” you agreed, though the word felt heavier than it should have.

As Glen lingered near the door, his eyes swept over your living room, still filled with traces of your everyday life—blankets draped over the couch, books stacked haphazardly on the coffee table next to the over-the-top bouquet he’d brought. He glanced back at you, his hands in his pockets again, and tilted his head with a small smile.

“So,” he began, his tone casual, “how about I take you to that coffee shop you love downtown? My treat.”

Your brow arched slightly as you regarded him, arms still loosely crossed. “You’re really laying it on thick this morning, huh?”

Glen shrugged, his grin widening. “I figured I needed to pull out all the stops. Besides, I owe you about a hundred coffee dates at this point.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t quite stop the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. “Give me a minute to change,” you said, turning toward your bedroom.

Behind the safety of your bedroom door, you leaned against it for a moment, letting out a long breath. The morning’s events played through your mind—his earnest apology, the ridiculous bouquet, his clear effort to show he was serious. It was all… a lot.

And yet, despite your lingering reservations, there was a part of you that wanted to believe him.

Shaking off the swirling thoughts, you crossed the room to your closet and pulled out something simple but presentable—a pair of jeans and a cozy sweater. As you changed, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. There was still a guardedness in your expression, but beneath it, a faint flicker of hope was beginning to take root.

When you returned to the living room, Glen straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and the easy smile on his face sent a pang through your chest—equal parts frustrating and endearing.

“Ready?” he asked, holding the door open for you.

You grabbed your bag and slipped on your shoes, nodding as you stepped past him. “Let’s go.”

The coffee shop was as cozy as ever, its familiar hum of chatter and the scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Glen had already ordered your hazelnut latte and a slice of coffee cake before you’d even had a chance to argue, his easy smile daring you to say he didn’t know you well enough.

As you both sat down, the conversation was brief but meaningful. Glen apologized again, promising to do better, and though his words carried sincerity, you held onto your guardedness. He didn’t press when you didn’t immediately forgive him, seeming to understand that trust would take more than words.

After finishing your drinks, Glen glanced at you as you walked toward the door. “What do you think about heading over to the old trail? You know, the one we used to run together?”

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Sure. Why not?”

You stepped onto the familiar dirt path, the trail winding through a grove of trees that were barren but still beautiful in their stark simplicity. You tucked your hands into your coat pockets, your shoes crunching against the gravel as Glen matched your pace beside you.

“It’s been a while since we came here,” he said, his tone light. “I forgot how quiet it gets out here.”

“It’s one of my favorite things about this trail,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the path ahead.

He glanced over at you, his expression softer than you expected. “I missed this.”

You let out a small laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Missed what? Running?”

He shook his head. “No. Walking with you. Talking with you. Just… spending time with you.”

The words hung in the air, the weight of them making your steps falter for a moment. You didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say. Instead, you kept walking, the silence between you not uncomfortable but charged with unspoken thoughts.

Glen didn’t push, letting the moment settle naturally as the trail stretched out before you.

The sound of your boots crunching against the gravel filled the silence as you walked side by side, the air between you and Glen thick with unspoken emotions. When you didn’t respond to his earlier comment, Glen glanced over at you, his brows furrowing slightly.

“Do you?” he asked after a moment.

You stopped walking and turned to him with a confused expression. “Do I what?”

“Miss spending time with me,” he clarified, his tone softer now.

You rolled your eyes and resumed walking. “Of course I miss you, Glen. You’re my best friend—when you actually show up.”

He winced but didn’t argue, nodding as if to acknowledge the truth in your words. For a few moments, the two of you walked in silence again, but Glen broke it this time with a different question.

“Are you still seeing… what’s his name?”

You shot him a look, narrowing your eyes. “Evan? No, we broke up.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice laced with curiosity. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine,” you replied with a shrug. “It wasn’t really going anywhere anyway.”

Glen hesitated before glancing at you again. “So… are you seeing anyone now?”

You huffed a laugh and playfully shoved his arm. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my love life?”

He grinned, rubbing his arm as though your shove had actually hurt. “I’m just trying to stay up to date on your life. You know, since it’s been a while.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, giving him a skeptical look but unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Seriously,” he insisted, his grin softening into something more sincere. “I feel like I’ve missed a lot.”

You glanced at him, your footsteps slowing slightly. “Yeah, well… you have.”

The honesty in your voice made him stop walking entirely. He turned to face you, his expression filled with regret. “I know. I don’t want to miss any more of your life.”

For a moment, you studied his face, the sincerity in his eyes making your chest tighten. You wanted to believe him, to trust that this time would be different. But after so many missed moments and broken plans, part of you still held back.

Glen glanced at you, his lips curving into a small, teasing smile. “So… are you seeing someone?”

You let out a sigh, staring down at the trail ahead of you. “No, there’s no one.”

He didn’t respond immediately, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you. You resisted the urge to look at him, instead focusing on the way the late morning sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

After a moment, you cleared your throat. “What about you?” you asked, your voice more hesitant than you intended. “Are you… seeing anyone?”

Glen chuckled, the sound light and almost self-deprecating. “Me? Come on. My life’s so crazy right now I don’t even have time to breathe, let alone have a girlfriend.”

You tried to match his laugh, forcing a lighthearted response. “Well, I guess that makes sense. You can barely make it to dinner—you’d probably be a terrible boyfriend.”

He laughed a little louder this time, and though it was meant as a joke, your words carried a heavier weight that neither of you acknowledged.

But deep down, his answer didn’t bring the relief you thought it would. Instead, it left a hollow ache in your chest, one you tried to bury as you pushed a stray hair out of your face and glanced at him.

“I mean, I’m not saying I wouldn’t try if the right person came along,” Glen said after a pause, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

You looked at him, startled by the sudden shift in his tone. But before you could say anything, he turned to you with his trademark grin, lightening the mood.

“Not that I’d have any luck. I’m pretty sure I’d forget our anniversary or something and get dumped immediately.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “You’re hopeless.”

The conversation drifted after that, the heavier moments giving way to an easier rhythm as you walked the familiar trail together. But even as you laughed at his jokes and teased him about tripping over a tree root, that small pang of sadness lingered, a quiet reminder of the distance still between you.

As you and Glen left the trail, he glanced over at you with a grin. “You up for one more stop?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Where are you taking me now?”

He just shrugged, keeping the grin firmly in place. “You’ll see.”

Before you could argue, Glen was already pulling out of the parking lot, his hand casually draped over the steering wheel as the radio played softly in the background. You tried to guess where he was taking you, but he didn’t budge, dodging your questions with playful non-answers until the car finally rolled into the parking lot of a small, familiar diner.

You blinked in surprise, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Rudy’s? Are you serious?”

“Hey, you used to love this place,” Glen said, parking the car and turning off the engine.

He wasn’t wrong. Rudy’s had been one of your favorite spots back in the day—a no-frills diner with red vinyl booths, a jukebox in the corner, and the best milkshakes in town. It was where you and Glen used to come after late-night study sessions or early morning runs, a place that held more memories than you cared to admit.

The familiar bell jingled as the two of you stepped inside, the smell of coffee and frying bacon hitting you instantly. You couldn’t help but smile as your eyes scanned the space, everything just as you remembered it.

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite troublemakers!”

You turned to see Donna, the waitress who used to wait on you two all the time, heading toward you with a knowing smile. She looked exactly the same, her blonde hair teased into a high ponytail and her pink uniform just a little snugger than you remembered.

“Donna!” Glen greeted, his grin widening. “Still holding down the fort, huh?”

“Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on this place,” she said with a wink, before turning to you. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you two together. Thought maybe he finally scared you off for good.”

You laughed, glancing at Glen. “Not yet, but he’s been trying.”

Donna chuckled and led you to a booth near the window, promising to bring over your “usuals,” even though it had been years since either of you had been there.

As you slid into the booth across from Glen, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of nostalgia. The playful teasing, the easy way you fit into this place together—it was starting to feel a little too familiar, a little too good.

“So,” Glen said, leaning back in the booth with a smirk, “I’m gonna guess she’s still got my milkshake order memorized.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You mean the chocolate monstrosity? Pretty sure that’s hard to forget.”

He grinned. “Hey, don’t knock it until you try it.”

“I did try it. Once. And I’m still recovering.”

The banter continued as Donna brought over your orders—his chocolate brownie shake, your classic vanilla shake, and a basket of fries to share.

Somewhere between stealing fries from each other’s side of the basket and arguing over who had the better milkshake, the tension from earlier seemed to melt away. You found yourself laughing more, leaning into the playful energy Glen always seemed to bring with him.

“You know,” he said, dipping a fry into his shake with a mischievous grin, “I forgot how much fun this is. Just us, hanging out. Feels like old times, doesn’t it?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you. But as you looked at him—his messy hair, his boyish grin, the way he seemed completely at ease in this moment—you couldn’t deny it.

“Yeah,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It kind of does.”

After finishing up at the diner, Glen walked you back to the car, the remnants of your milkshakes still in hand. The air between you was lighter now, filled with easy smiles and the kind of camaraderie you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re not taking me home, are you?” you asked as he pulled out of the parking lot, your tone both skeptical and amused.

“Not just yet,” Glen replied with a mysterious grin. “I’ve got one more stop in mind.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re full of surprises today.”

“Yeah, well, I figured you deserved a day of going down memory lane,” he said, his voice softening just slightly.

The drive didn’t take long, but the familiarity of the route had your curiosity growing. When Glen turned onto the winding road leading up to the old scenic overlook, your brows shot up.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, a laugh escaping despite yourself.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“This is where kids used to come to make out, Glen.”

He smirked, pulling the car into one of the gravel spots near the edge of the overlook and turning off the engine. “Well, yeah. But it also has a great view.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling as you climbed out of the car. The overlook hadn’t changed much—still the same grassy clearing that opened up to a breathtaking view of the valley below. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting everything in warm hues of gold and orange.

Glen joined you at the edge, leaning on the old wooden railing as he looked out at the view. “You know, I remember finding you here more than once back in the day,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with something almost nostalgic.

You glanced at him, surprised. “What are you talking about?”

“Back in high school,” he said, turning to look at you. “Whenever you were upset or needed space, you’d come here. Usually by yourself. I’d end up driving by and seeing your car parked here, so I’d stop to check on you.”

You frowned slightly, the memories flickering to life. “I wasn’t upset. I just… needed to get away sometimes.”

“Run away, you mean,” Glen teased lightly, a grin tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t running away. I just liked the quiet.”

“Sure,” he said, his grin widening. “But you’d always talk to me when I showed up. Even when you said you wanted to be alone.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t remember you being this sentimental.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he said, bumping your shoulder lightly with his.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the breeze rustling through the trees and the distant hum of cicadas filling the air.

“Why’d you bring me here, Glen?” you asked after a moment, your voice quieter now.

He glanced at you, his expression more serious. “Because I thought maybe you could use a little peace. And because I know this place means something to you.”

Your heart gave a small, involuntary flutter at his words, but you pushed the feeling down, turning your attention back to the view.

“This place is nice,” you said softly. “I forgot how much I liked it here.”

Glen nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I guess I just wanted to remind you of the good stuff. The stuff that hasn’t changed.”

You looked over at him, his profile outlined by the fading sunlight, and for a moment, you felt a pang of something bittersweet. It was hard to stay guarded when he looked at you like that—like he still cared, like he still wanted to be the person you could lean on.

The mood shifted slightly as you leaned against the wooden railing, the soft breeze brushing past you. Glen turned to glance at you, catching the way your gaze lingered on the horizon, a faint wistfulness in your expression.

“You know,” you said, breaking the silence, “I’ve never actually been out here with someone before.”

Glen frowned. “That’s not true. You’ve been out here with me.”

You rolled your eyes, shooting him a playful look. “Not like that, Glen. I mean… as a date. Back in the day, I was kind of the awkward kid. Nobody wanted to date me, let alone bring me out here.”

His frown deepened, and he turned to face you fully, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “It’s true. Not everyone gets their rom-com moment, Glen. Not everyone gets swept off their feet or… gets to star in the big romantic scenes.”

At that, he laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Rom-com moment? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gave him a knowing look. “You know what I mean. The big moment in every chick flick where the guy finally realizes he’s in love with the girl, and he makes some grand gesture to win her back. Like, he shows up at her house, or her job, or stops her at the airport to profess his love. And then they kiss, and everything’s magically perfect.”

Glen leaned on the railing beside you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And you’re saying you’ve never had one of those?”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the “p” for emphasis. “Not everyone gets that kind of moment, Glen. Some of us just get… life.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “You know, I don’t think that’s true,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“What, that sometimes life is just… life?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That you’ve never had a rom-com moment. I think you have. You just haven’t recognized it yet.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his smirk returning. “Just that you’re kind of oblivious sometimes.”

You turned to look at Glen, his words catching you off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean, I’m oblivious?” you asked, giving him a confused look.

He met your gaze, and there was something in his eyes—something intense and vulnerable that made your breath catch.

You started to say something, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“Let me say this...please,” he said softly.

You closed your mouth, your heart pounding as he took a step closer.

“You mean more to me than anyone else ever has,” he began, his voice steady but low. “You always have. And I’m scared, okay? I’m scared that I’m not enough for you, that I’ll never be enough. But I’m tired, too. Tired of not telling you how I feel, tired of watching you date guys who don’t deserve you.”

You blinked, his words sinking in, and your heart felt like it might burst from the mix of emotions swirling in your chest.

“You’re the most important person in my life,” Glen continued, his voice growing firmer now. “And if you’ll let me, I’ll keep showing you that. Every single day.”

The world seemed to go quiet around you, the only sound your heartbeat roaring in your ears. You stared at him, his words echoing in your head. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

Then, with a slight smile tugging at your lips, you whispered, “Kiss me.”

Glen’s lips twitched into a soft, almost disbelieving smile. “Yeah?”

You nodded, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “Yeah.”

He leaned in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as his lips pressed softly against yours. It was tentative at first, almost as if he were afraid to push too far, but when you leaned into him, his other hand settled lightly on your waist, deepening the kiss.

It was everything you hadn’t realized you were waiting for—warm, electric, and grounding all at once. When you finally pulled back, you were both a little breathless, his forehead resting against yours as his hands lingered on your waist.

“Was that rom-com enough for you?” Glen teased softly, his grin full of warmth.

You laughed, your hands resting on his chest. “I’d say it’s a good start.”

Glen's grin widened at your response, and before you could say another word, he leaned in and kissed you again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more certain, and filled with an unspoken promise that sent your heart racing. When he pulled back, his hands still resting gently on your waist, he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

But you weren’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

“You do know we're not dating now, right?” You said firmly, though your voice softened as you met his gaze. “If you want this to go anywhere, you’re going to have to prove you’re serious. No more excuses, no more letting me down.”

Glen nodded, his expression earnest. “I know. I’ll be better, I promise.”

“And,” you added, raising an eyebrow, “you’re going to start by taking me on an actual date. None of this ‘showing up with flowers and hoping for the best’ stuff.”

A smile spread across his face, and he chuckled softly. “I already know where I’m taking you.”

“Oh, do you?” you asked, crossing your arms and giving him a skeptical look.

“Yeah,” he said confidently, his eyes sparkling with a mix of determination and warmth. “But I’m not telling you. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Fine. Just don’t screw it up.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his tone soft but sure.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the night air cool around you, the stars scattered across the sky. It wasn’t a perfect ending, but it felt like a beginning—one filled with hope, potential, and the possibility of something real.

“Come on,” Glen said, holding out his hand. “Let’s get you home.”

You took his hand, your heart lighter than it had been in a long time. Whatever came next, you knew one thing for sure: this time, things were going to be different.

[smittenmeraki]

I have so many random ideas of Andreil being found out by the media in the strangest ways. My personal fav so far is them going pro and being on different teams. They end up playing against each other and everyone starts to think their rivals because Andrew keeps launching the ball at Neils helmet. After like 7 headshots from across the court Neil swears at him in german something along the lines of "I know you're doing that on purpose quit being a bitch for the sake of your entertainment or I swear I will empty your candy drawer" and of course Andrew's just there with his blank expression leaning on his racket, knowing Neil will forget all about it when they're home. However, all the fans see is Andrew targeting Neil over and over no matter where he is on the court so everyone thinks they hate each other until some weeks later an article is released with pictures of them grocery shopping together. Andrew is in the cart eating candy he hasn't even bought yet while Neil scans the aisle with a hand in Andrews hair. Another picture of them loading everything into the car, Andrew with a hand on Neils waist as he opens the backdoor. The article is titled something like "rivals or lovers : a deep dive into their history" and it brings up points like Andrew protecting Neil from Riko and Neil getting Andrew to shut down the goal with just a few words (ones no one knows), but also points of them shoving each other and getting in each others faces (tbh they were just flirting but from an outside prospective it was violence because they are never normal) all of the fan theories come to a head when Neil gets interviewed.

"What is your thoughts on the rumors about you and Minyard?"

"Rumors?"

"Yes, the ones about you two being teammates turned rivals turned lovers. Many fans are speculating what your relationship is and several articles have become very popular over it."

"We were never rivals??" Neil is absolutely lost at this idea, complete confusion.

"Really? Never once over the years?"

"No? And what articles? I don't understand how this has anything to do with Exy."

"Its about your career in the sense that Andrew Minyard has been a challenge for you." Neil smiles at the idea of Andrew being a challenge. "There was a really big article that shared some photos of you two together at a grocery store. It's rather unusal to see you two in a domestic setting, can you tell us about that? Many are wondering why you shop together." The first photo is pulled up on the big screen and Neil just stares for a moment, unsure of when it was taken.

"1. Its creepy that that was taken without us knowing. 2. I don't know what you want me to tell you, Andrew's not allowed out of the cart because he's a mence to shop with or maybe he refuses to let me go alone because I constantly forget things. Its just normal every day life, same as everyone else. 3. Because we live together?? I still don't see the relevance any this has to Exy. Many spouses go against each others teams, it's a part of being pro's."

"Spouses? So you are confirming you and Minyard are married?"

"Not on paper. Fundamentally yes. I thought this interview was supposed to be about how our season is going?" Neil sits back, baffled but also slightly smug from the look of shock on the interviewers face.

Meanwhile Andrew is at home with the cats eating a tub of ice cream while watching the interview thinking to himself 'yeah, fucking tell her. Noisy ass drama seeker.'

[saphig-iawn]

Safekeeping

I've been working with a doll to help her let go of those little barriers that stop her fully giving in.

Sometimes its embarrassment, sometimes its a little fear of taking up more space than she feels she is allowed.

In our sessions I encourage her to inhabit the space she rightfully exists in and embrace what we're doing with all of her heart.

She has been making wonderful progress.

Starting with little things like affirming mantras and statements, like her saying "I'm a good doll" whenever I call her by a certain name.

Moving into admissions and confessions. Opening her heart to me when something grips her arousal and doesn't let go.

More and more she has been opening up as I shape her with every spell.

That was when she surprised me, by completely letting go and asking me a powerful question.

She asked me if I could lock away her orgasms for her.

She confessed that every time she found herself alone and in the mood for play between our sessions that she would work herself up to that blissful edge and then a thought would manifest in her mind that would keep her from pushing further.

"I should ask Miss Saphi for permission."

Her eyes widened and her cheeks burned red as she buried her face behind her hands after confessing this to me.

So I first praised her, sending pleasure through her with a single click of her clicker. Then I asked her if that was what she really wanted.

With her bottom lip held prisoner between her teeth, she nodded silently.

I didn't even need to bring her onto my lap to bind that which she held so deeply within herself. I simply spoke it, that her orgasms were mine, and she felt it.

I even let her attempt to feel one herself, but every time that she got close to that wonderful release of pleasure, she felt the goal inch further away. Agonisingly close, but oh so far away.

And she didn't want it any other way.

As reward for her shedding more of her shackles, I allowed her to cum that night, and I woke up the most delicious message of the pleasure she felt knowing that it was because I had deemed it so.

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter eight when some clout chaser claims to be the mystery girl in the photo, Hiori shuts down the rumors and teases about the girl who truly has his heart blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains fluff, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader masterlist

The speculations about Hiori’s mystery girl are definitely one of the highlights of his career.

Ironically, he finds it funny how people react to it. He’s already been scolded by both the team manager and the marketing manager, each lecturing him about how careless he’s been. It’s not like there’s anything inherently wrong with dating, especially as an athlete. Though it seems like he was scolded for not giving them a heads up and keeping it a secret. 

His parents, on the other hand, are pretty much predictable. His dad stays quiet about these sorts of things, but his mom? She makes it a huge deal. Despite their issues, she still showers him with love and attention in her own overbearing, only-child-parent way. She’s adamant that he’s been hiding the girl from her because he’s embarrassed or something.

Not to mention, his friends and teammates. His Bastard Munchen teammates—not exactly the epitome of calm, cool and connectedness as how they would look.

The moment he arrived into a field for training, Isagi sprints at him at high speed, like golden retriever finally seeing its best friend. Igaguri and Raichi moan about how unfair it is for Hiori to get a girlfriend before them. The older members, Geisner, Bachs and even Ndiaye praised him as if he scored a goal.

Even Noa himself gives him an approving nod, “at least we know you’re normal-er than the rest of these football heads.”

Again, a wild reaction from everyone.

Sure, he’s not the only eligible bachelor in the field, nay, in his team who have been elusive or secretive about their relationships. But sports gossip writers love to eat up news like this. Like vultures circling around a carcass, the media (even fans) are waiting to pounce on him any moment. 

“Who’s the girl you were caught kissing at the JFA party?”

“Do you finally have a girlfriend?”

“Is your girlfriend a celebrity?”

It’s the same old question every single time. And for Hiori, it gets tiring. He should be answering questions about the game, the team’s performance and plans ahead this season. People are too hung up on who’s his “flavor of the month”, as if he’s Oliver freaking Aiku.

But he knows how to play the game. It’s just like playing a visual novel. His answers already predetermined, all of them would either deflect or shut down the whole topic all together. 

“I have no idea what yer talkin’ about.”

“Are ya sure that’s me? Doesn’t look like me?”

“Looks edited though, don’tcha think?”

Like he promised you, he won’t disclose anything to the media or anyone else. Not that he’s the type to kiss and tell. But he won’t confirm or deny it either. He finds it fun to watch people squirm, teetering on the edge of curiosity and frustration. 

Plus, he values his privacy. That’s how it’s always been, and it’s how it always will be. 

Still, beneath his calm demeanor, Hiori worries he might fumble this. He likes you—really likes you. Enough to avoid making mistakes that might scare you off.

Fine, he likes you a lot. More than he thinks you even realize. 

In the months before you started dating, he found himself looking forward to every conversation with you, whether it was online or during work. He’d take whatever crumbs he could get, so to speak.

That’s why he got so frustrated when you started showing up way less for interviews. He understood it was just part of your job, something entirely out of his control. But when you got reassigned to other teams, it did threaten him. 

You were a natural at what you did—fun, easygoing, and effortlessly charming. No wonder he felt at ease with you from the get go. So it was just a matter of time till others saw you the way he did. 

Athletes like them are human after all. 

When Nagi—and, surprisingly, Reo—tried to squeeze into the picture, that did it for him. He hated how it felt, the simmering jealousy that crept in every time he saw them be all chummy with you. No amount of goals scored against Manshine City could ease the sinking feeling of losing you to one of them. Or, worse, both of them.

Hiori never thought of himself as the jealous type. But now he knows better. He despises the feeling. The tightness in his chest, the restless nights replaying imagined scenarios. Yet, there’s also a quiet satisfaction now. You chose him. 

Not publicly known, not splashed across headlines. But still, you’re his. If he gets jealous, he knows he’s not overreacting.

“I know who she is!” Isagi sing-songs, jogging over to the bench.

Hiori offers him a water bottle, cocking an eyebrow. “Whatcha mean?”

Isagi displays a shit eating grin, practically glowing with mischief. “I know who the girl is. Ness knows, too.”

Ness, approaching from behind, offers a polite smile—a polite smile that makes Hiori’s stomach drop.

“Nah, ya don’t,” Hiori says, chuckling nervously.

“We do,” Isagi insists.

“Ya don’t,” Hiori repeats.

“Well, we do,” Ness interjects smoothly. “Reo told us about how you cockblocked him and Nagi at the party.”

Hiori freezes, sweat beading on his forehead. “What?”

“You guys weren’t exactly subtle when you bailed,” Isagi adds, his shit-eating grin growing wider. “Miss Journalist seems to be really into y—what the hell, Hiori!”

A towel smacks Isagi square in the face. “Shaddap!” Hiori hisses, putting a finger to his lips.

Ness snickers, and Isagi pulls the towel off, laughing. “Alright, fine, ya got me. But can ya two keep it down? We just started dating,” Hiori mutters, massaging his temples.

“Relax, I’m not gonna spill,” Ness says with a wave of his hand but he gives a small smile, amused by Hiori’s reactions.

“Gotcha,” Isagi says, mock-saluting. “But, man, I didn’t know you had that kind of ‘HioRizz.’”

Hiori groans, glaring at Isagi. “I swear to God, if ya don’t shut up, I’ll leave ya out of every pass next game.”

Ness bursts out laughing. “Don’t worry, Isagi. I’ll pass to you.”

“Hiori has more rizz than Yukimiya! I should take notes!” Isagi jokes, only for Hiori to smack him on the arm before chasing him down the field.

Despite the chaos, Hiori can’t help but feel a warm sense of pride. These guys might be loud and annoying, but they’re also the ones he trusts most. And in a way, it feels nice to share this secret with them—a small piece of his happiness.

Because you’re his. And he’s yours. And to Hiori, that means everything.

“So… you’re telling me this is you?” Your roommate, Miko, thrusts her phone in your direction, her finger pointing dramatically at the paparazzi photo of you and Hiori plastered on her screen.

It’s only been a week since the photo started making rounds online, but you’ve been caught staring at it one too many times by Miko, your eagle-eyed, ever-curious roommate. Today, you finally caved. The whirlwind of emotions bubbling inside was too much to handle alone.

And now, you just had to tell her because things are driving you crazy at this point. 

“Yup.” The two of you are sitting side by side on the couch. She grills you with her own paparazzi-like questions while you sink in further the couch, the unfinished article on the laptop you’ve been drafting long forgotten at this point.

Miko squints at you, her head tilting as she studies the image like a detective analyzing evidence. Her brow furrows, and then, as if struck by a sudden epiphany, she gasps.

She springs up from her seat, pointing at your face accusingly. “Aha! Is this the guy you—" she gestures vaguely but suggestively with her hand, “—you know, slept with after that work party?”

“Yes, it’s him. No, we didn’t ‘sleep’ together.” You can’t help but laugh as you swat her finger away. “We shared the same bed, yes. But nothing happened.”

Miko raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Sure, sure. A pretty girl like you, and he didn’t try anything? In this economy?” She blows a dramatic raspberry and plops back against the couch, clearly unimpressed.

Your cheeks burn, recounting the night you spent with Hiori. It was intimate—sweet and wholesome in a way that still made your chest flutter when you thought about it. The kisses, his touches. It only makes you yearn for it more.

The morning after was even better. You spending a whole Saturday with him was like magic. 

She idly giggles to herself as she scrolls more on her phone, probably to stalk Hiori. The girl is chronically online so her stalking (research skills as she calls it) skills are on par with yours. She could be a damn good journalist if she wants to. 

“You’re such a perv, Miko,” you say, swatting her with a throw pillow.

“Says the girl who drools on this guy's sweaty photos,” she shoots back, laughing as she scrolls furiously on her phone. “Wait a minute—oh, damn. This guy’s a big deal. National team and Bastard München? He’s a whole package!”

You glance over her shoulder, smiling despite yourself. At 26, Hiori’s resume is nothing short of legendary. Back when you were just another journalist in the crowd, you’d been blown away by his talent. It was his brilliance on the field that inspired you to write that first viral article—the one that caught his eye.

Even now, it feels surreal. How did you go from admiring him from afar to… this?

“And you’re okay with not going public?” Miko asks, her tone softer this time. Her eyes flick briefly to you, filled with concern. She’s seen you through your fair share of bad relationships—flings that went nowhere and heartbreaks that left their marks.

“Yeah,” you answer, though there’s a hesitation in your voice. “Honestly, I’m kind of relieved. I don’t even want to imagine how people would react if they knew I was just… me. An ordinary nobody.”

Miko slams her phone down dramatically. “First of all, you’re not a nobody. You’re the girl who single-handedly brought Bastard München back into the spotlight. You’re the one who made everyone see their worth when they were tanking. You’re that bitch.”

You can’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, leaning into the side hug she gives you.

“But seriously,” you admit, letting out a long sigh, “it feels unreal. Like… we’re from completely different worlds. If this got out, I don’t think I’d be ready for the fallout. People would rip me apart.”

Miko frowns but says nothing, letting you pass her your phone. Together, you scroll through the endless speculation about Hiori’s mystery girl. Post after post describes someone glamorous and unattainable—completely unlike you.

“That’s ridiculous,” Miko says, her voice dripping with disdain. But before you can reply, she suddenly gasps so loudly that you nearly drop your phone.

“What now?” you ask, startled.

She shoves her phone into your hands, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and fury. On the screen is a video of a rising sports influencer, her perfectly curated appearance making her look every bit the part of someone destined for the spotlight.

The interviewer’s voice is casual, almost playful. “So, you attended the recent JFA party?”

The influencer smiles coyly, a soft, practiced laugh escaping her lips. “Oh, of course. I was there.”

You can feel the tension building as the interviewer leans in slightly, their tone dropping to something conspiratorial. “And… given your connections to Bastard München and your shared sponsor, you must know Hiori Yo?”

The influencer’s eyes sparkle, and she lets out a delighted giggle. “Well, who doesn’t know Hiori? He’s incredible—on and off the field.”

Pfft. As if she knows anything about Hiori and his brilliance.

“So… are you the girl Hiori Yo was caught kissing that night?” Your stomach twists as the interviewer delivers the bombshell, their voice taking on an almost teasing quality.

The influencer doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering as if to draw attention to the gesture. Then she twirls a lock of hair, her eyes flitting away from the camera for just a moment before returning with a mischievous glint.

“Well… isn’t that for everyone to wonder?” she says, her lips curving into a playful smirk. The answer is deliberately vague, but the mischievous glint in her eyes speaks volumes, leaving just enough room for everyone’s imagination to run wild.

Miko explodes. “The audacity!” she practically shouts, throwing her hands in the air. “What is wrong with her? She’s milking this for clout! And the interviewer—ugh!”

You can’t even respond. Your gaze is glued to the screen, your chest tightening with every second of the video. The influencer’s words replay in your head, her casual demeanor and sly smile feeding into the storm of doubts you’ve tried so hard to suppress.

Miko’s rant continues unabated. “She didn’t even deny it! She knows exactly what she’s doing. God, people like her make me so mad.” She paces the room, her gestures wild and exaggerated, but you barely register her words.

Your stomach churns as you scroll through the comments beneath the video.

she’s stunning—definitely Hiori’s type. this makes so much sense they’d look so good together

Each comment feels like a jab, their assumptions cutting deeper than you thought possible. The image of you and Hiori, so ordinary and imperfect in comparison, flashes in your mind.

You glance down at yourself: wearing your favorite but worn-out pajamas, the fabric soft from too many washes. Your hair is in a messy bun, a few strands rebelliously sticking out. You’re comfortable, sure, but the reflection from the phone staring back feels painfully ordinary.

The woman in the video, with her flawless hair and perfectly styled outfit, radiates a charisma that seems effortless. She looks like someone who commands attention the moment she steps into a room, someone whose beauty turns heads without trying. 

Normally, you wouldn’t care about looking “normal.” Most days, you’re content in your own skin, finding beauty in your own way. But this? This moment makes you feel like just another face in the crowd. No striking features, no captivating allure. Just plain, unremarkable. And right now, “normal” feels less like a badge of self-acceptance and more like a curse.

Miko stops mid-rant when she notices the look on your face. “Hey, don’t let this get to you,” she says, her voice softening. She sits back down beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “People love drama, and she’s giving it to them.”

“But what if people believe her?” you ask quietly, the vulnerability in your voice startling even yourself. “What if they think she’s better for him?”

She shakes her head firmly. “You can’t let strangers decide what’s best for him or for you. Hiori chose you, not some influencer fishing for likes. That says more than any of this nonsense ever could.”

You nod slowly, though the unease lingers. Deep down, you know she’s right. But as you hand her phone back, the thought persists: How long before the world finds out—and what happens when they do?

You spend the next weekend with Hiori at his apartment. Again. 

This routine has become a comforting tradition. Every Friday after work, you and Hiori grab dinner, sharing stories about your day. By the time the last train rolls in, you’re on your way to his apartment, lugging a slightly larger backpack than usual. Inside are the essentials: a change of clothes, skincare, and personal items, neatly packed alongside your work things.

It’s mundane yet romantic, this little ritual you’ve built together. Friday nights are reserved for catching up, sharing laughter, and exchanging updates about work and personal lives.

During one of these chats, he casually mentioned that Isagi and Ness know about the two of you now. You shared that Miko, your closest friend and roommate, knows too. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about the video. Not yet.

That Friday night, you binge-watch movies. This time, some of his favorites, including SPEC. It’s endearing to see him so animated as he talks about what he loves, his passion stretching beyond football.

Curled up on the couch together, a blanket draped over you, everything feels natural. His arm rests over your shoulders, pulling you close as you melt into his side. Occasionally, he leans in to kiss you—your knuckles, your cheek, the top of your head—absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving the screen. The faint scent of his body wash lingers in the air, grounding you in this moment, so intimate yet exhilarating.

By the time the third movie ends, you’re both ready to tuck in for the night. As you drift off in his arms, the comfort and warmth feel whole, complete.

You always wake up earlier than him. It’s a small, heartwarming detail you love about these mornings. He even got you your own coffee mug. A matching set of Nier Automata ones for both of you. With coffee in hand, you lounge in the living room, flipping through a book while the quiet hum of his apartment surrounds you.

Later, you make brunch together, settling into the kind of domesticity that makes your heart flutter. Saturdays with Hiori are always this way—unhurried and easy. You both slip into a rhythm that feels like second nature, each finding comfort in the other's presence.

When he’s gaming on his PC, you’re nearby doing some light work on your laptop, occasionally glancing up to watch his focus. When he switches to his PS5, you curl up beside him on the couch, yapping about the book or manga you’re reading as your fingers absentmindedly play with his hair. He listens quietly, humming in acknowledgment now and then, his contentment reflected in the small smile that lingers on his face.

It’s the kind of quiet companionship that makes everything feel right—as if the two of you were meant to exist in this peaceful harmony.

But this time, something disrupts the vibe.

Standing by the sink, phone in hand, your brow furrows as the video plays again. It’s the same one. The influencer, the coy smile, the teasing comments. You try to push it aside, but the weight of it lingers.

“Hey, you okay?” Hiori’s voice startles you. He’s slipped behind you, his hands resting gently on your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“God, Hiori, you scared me!” You fumble with your phone, but instead of turning it off, the volume spikes, making you jump. Flustered, you quickly lower it.

“What was that?” he asks, noticing the unease in your expression.

You hesitate but eventually lead him to the couch, where you show him the video. As he watches, you fidget, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap.

“I just… it’s been bothering me,” you admit finally, your voice trembling. “Even though we’ve been dating for a few weeks now, I can’t shake this feeling that our worlds are too different. It’s pathetic that I let it bother me.”

Before he can respond, you continue, a weak laugh escaping you. “I know we’ve talked about this, but… it just gets to me sometimes.”

Hiori pauses, then gently pulls you into his arms. “Hey, s’fine. I understand. Don’t worry about them, ‘kay?” His voice is soft but steady, grounding you.

You feel his sincerity, but the nagging fear remains. “I don’t want to scare you with these feelings,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

“And I wantcha ya to know ya won’t scare me. Ever.” He tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help ease yer mind?”

You shake your head, smiling faintly. “Just this… spending time with you like this, it’s enough for me.” But then, gathering your courage, you add, “Actually… I was wondering if I could take you out. On a proper date. Something special. Just the two of us.”

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but his smile grows almost immediately. “You’re asking me out, huh?” He chuckles, leaning in to kiss on the lips. “Of course. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned.”

And for the first time in days, the weight in your chest feels a little lighter.

When midweek rolls in, you know you'll be too preoccupied since it always comes with an avalanche of tasks, and today is no different.

You're neck-deep in work, juggling content planning for upcoming videos and articles while checking in with interns you’re supervising. They're compiling research on volleyball, basketball, and surprisingly, esports, which they’ve informed you is “the next big thing.”

You slump back in your chair, fingers aching from typing, and let out a long exhale. Cracking your knuckles, you reach for your coffee, savoring the warmth as it spreads through you. It’s moments like this when caffeine feels less like a drink and more like a lifeline for your overworked soul.

Your phone buzzes on the desk, lighting up with a notification. It’s a message from Hiori.

Oooh, a Hiori pick-me-up, you think, already feeling a smile creep onto your face. Just what you need to get through this impending burnout.

The message is short:

hiori: watch fer a surprise

Attached is a link. Intrigued, you click it, and a video opens.

It’s a recent press interview featuring Hiori. He looks effortlessly charming in a black hoodie, his hair perfectly tousled in that way that reminds you of lazy weekends spent curled up on his couch. You remember him mentioning this event last weekend, but seeing him on screen still catches you off guard.

The interviewer’s question catches your attention: “So, Hiori, there’s been a lot of buzz about you and a certain sports influencer lately. Any truth to those rumors?”

Your chest tightens slightly at the mention.

Hiori tilts his head, his expression as calm and composed as ever. “Sorry, who?” he replies, his tone laced with subtle mischief. “Oh, you mean the one who has the same sponsor with our team?”

Ness, seated beside him, nudges him gently, a silent reminder to tread carefully.

The interviewer presses on. “Yes. Rumors are that she's the mystery girl you're dating. Is she?”

Hiori chuckles lightly, dismissing the question with his usual nonchalance. “Nope, not at all. We’ve never even talked to each other.”

And then, just when you think he’s moved on, he adds, “Besides, I like my girl who’s a little nerdy, enjoys the same things I do outside of football, and, oh yeah—she talks a lot.”

Your breath catches.

The comments section beneath the video is already buzzing. Fans are losing it over his indirect confirmation of the photo rumors.

did he just confirm he's taken? he’s confirming without really confirming it! whoever the mystery girl is, she’s lucky af. i will crawl in a hole and cry

But you’re not focused on them.

Hiori’s words replay in your mind, each one feeling like it was chosen just for you. He didn’t name names, but the teasing specificity left no doubt in your heart. This was his way of sharing a piece of his life with the world—without giving too much away.

Your shoulders relax as the video ends, warmth spreading through you.

Another message pops up on your screen.

hiori: would you mind writing an article about how yer favorite football player, Hiori Yo, is no longer single? hiori: also, I can’t wait to see where yer taking me fer our date. 😉

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head at his playful tone.

Oh, this man.

The stress of the day doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. With Hiori’s teasing yet heartfelt reminder of how much you mean to him, you feel ready to take on whatever comes next.

amari's notes: i just finished writing this last night, sorry it took so long! i got sick for some reason and still recovering from it. made the bf read this and pointed out that journalist is not my self-insert, the roommate is my self-insert. she is so me lol. also, happy new year to all my hiori loving people! anw, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. i'll greatly appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ (if you wanna join the taglist, just comment or send me a message!)

taglist: @inu1gf @pookalicious-hq @dontmindtheevie @wannabepoeticischiya