#I can slowly feel my heart beginning to heal

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 6

Source for pic

Trouble 6

Word Count: 4648

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I really thought I wasn't going to get this chapter out this weekend! I had a very tough week and I really wanted to share something good with you guys. I hope you enjoy it.

Masterlist

You can't sleep. 

Not only because the room is still spinning around you - a sensation that only gets worse when you close your eyes - but also because you can't stop replaying what happened. 

Zoro's lips, Zoro's breath, Zoro's firm grip. Zoro, Zoro, Zoro. It all comes back to him. 

You suppress a squeal into your sheets and cover your face with them, your feet kicking the comforter while you grin maniacally. You feel like a teenager in love. 

Oh… 

No, not love. It's too soon for that. But it's a heavy crush. And damn it, you want to act on it right now. 

Why the hell did your alarm start blaring out of nowhere? You don't even have an alarm set, the rooster is enough as a wake-up call. 

Stupid phone. 

And damn criminals. You were about to kiss again, but someone had to commit a crime serious enough to drag Zoro back in. Damn drunkards. 

A heavy sigh parts your lips as you emerge from beneath the sheets. You try closing your eyes again, and just when you're fighting vertigo, your phone buzzes. 

Your heart skips a beat, and the silly grin finds its way back onto your lips. It must be Zoro. You unlock it and squint against the bright light before dimming it. 

Unknown: You looked gorgeous tonight, Kitten. 

What? It must be a wrong number. You ignore it, ready to lock your phone again, trying not to feel disappointed, but it buzzes again. 

Unknown: You're a happy drunk. Makes you loose. You're cute. Too cute. You attracted too much attention.  Unknown: But it's okay. I took care of him just for you. Can't have any other men ogling what's mine, can I? 

You sit up, trying to figure out the meaning behind the texts. They can't be meant for you. 

You: Wrong number.  Unknown: Oh, no, Kitten. I've got the right number.  Unknown: Sleep tight, Princess. I'll keep watch. 

You delete the texts and block the number from your phone. What a creep. Definitely the wrong number. 

But you can't seem to shake that familiar unease in your stomach. Nor the way your heart is thumping against your ribcage. 

You keep telling yourself the texts weren't for you. Lying down, you close your eyes, willing sleep to come fast. Somehow the walls feel closer, the air seems staler, your clothes tighter. 

All giddiness is now gone, and though you wish Zoro would say something, you fear hearing your phone buzz again. 

Even if it's the wrong number. 

Right? 

-*-

Morning comes too soon, and now you're rethinking your life choices. You shouldn't have drunk that much. 

“Shut uuuuuup!” The pillow muffles your scream, but even if it didn't, it's not like the rooster can hear you yelling at it. 

With a heavy sigh and a low grunt, you get up, ready to start your morning, dreading all the chores since your head is still pounding and your throat feels drier than the desert. 

You don't even recall the texts you received yesterday, they're so far back in your mind that they seem like a dream. You still feel the faint brush of Zoro's lips against yours, though. 

It's not until you open the door to go outside that the eerie events of last night swim back to the forefront of your pounding head. There's another box waiting for you. 

You hesitate, your hand hovering over the handle of the door and your feet staggering backwards. Should you just ignore it? 

Biting your lower lip, you take a tentative step out onto the porch, your eyes scanning the property, almost expecting something - or someone - to jump out. 

Your eyes fall back on the package. It's crumpled, and there's no ribbon. It also seems dirtier. Is it…? Blood? 

It can't be. 

Clenching your teeth and taking a deep breath, you kneel down, acting braver than you actually feel and ignoring the trembling of your hands as you open the box. 

You're not sure if your scream actually leaves your lips or if it only stays in your head. But the incessant pounding of your heart is so loud that it's all you can hear. 

There are two bloody eyeballs staring right at you inside the box. 

-*-

“You think they're a match, Cap?” Zoro raises the plastic bag upwards so it catches the morning sun. The eyeballs, wet and glassy on their surface, stare back at Zoro, a lifeless dullness in the irises, though blood still lingers on them. 

“Unless there's someone else with missing eyeballs, Roronoa, I'd say they're a match.”

Zoro's deadpan look doesn't seem to faze Mihawk one bit as he looks around the scene, coordinating his team. 

“Why here?”

Mihawk’s gaze falls on the vast scenery, a slight breeze dishevelling his hair as a hawk glides effortlessly in the sky. Then he looks back at the coin-operated binoculars, where tape still sticks from holding the eyeballs in place, his team still busy gathering all evidence before disrupting the scene further. 

They're at the overlook. 

“It seems like they were sending another message. What do you reckon it is?”

Zoro hands the bag over to one of his colleagues and steps closer to the binoculars, his gaze landing downwards, scanning the town's buildings, the beach in the distance, and the Ferris wheel from the fair. 

His department doesn't have detectives, they're too small, and Mihawk is a seasoned cop. They never had enough crimes - or crimes grisly enough - to justify it. But Mihawk - even though he'd rather die than admit it - has taken Zoro under his wing, so, when an investigation comes by, Zoro acts as a lead investigator, even if he's not officially a detective. 

And Mihawk likes to test him.

“I'd say it means they're watching. Or something like it.”

Mihawk hums appreciatively, his eyes still scanning the vast horizon. “I agree. But I would delve even further.” He gestures with his hand. “The overlook was not randomly chosen, I believe. If that was simply the message, they could've taped the eyes to any given binoculars, and the message would come through, right?”

Zoro nods, his gaze landing on your father's farm, and he feels a slight clutch at his chest. “The overlook has a view of the entire town.” 

“Exactly, Roronoa. They're not simply watching. They're watching everything.”

-*-

Fake. They're not real eyeballs. They're plastic eyeballs smeared in red paint. 

But damn it if they didn't give you a fright. 

Who the hell would even consider this a practical joke? Usopp? Luffy? Would any of them do this? Most likely they wouldn't. Their jokes are usually more of the childish kind, not the scary kind. 

With a grumble and a snarl, you shove the gift into the trash can and push it to the back of your mind. 

Freaking gifts. 

Your phone buzzes as you take the first step off your porch, and you freeze as last night's texts slip their way into your mind again. 

Another buzz. 

You swallow hard and take a deep breath. It was just a wrong number yesterday, it doesn't mean it will be another creepy message again. 

Right? 

You try to ignore the way your hand trembles as you reach for your phone or how your heartbeat races. 

Zoro: Hey, Troublemaker. Making trouble? 

A sigh escapes your lips as you sit down on the first step of the porch, both your hands clutching your phone tightly while the sense of dread washes away and a small smile paints your lips. 

You: Not yet! Just got up. You?  Zoro: Didn't even get to sleep yet 😴 Got tangled in a weird-ass case. I'll fill you in later.  You: Later?  Zoro: Got any other plans that don't involve me? Should I be hurt or worried? 

You smirk, the ghost of his lips still tingling on your own, along with the promise of a continuation. 

You: I marked out ‘complete unfinished business’ on my schedule after last night.  Zoro: You did, did you? I'll make sure to get some sleep first, then, since I plan to take my time with you. 

The smirk gracing your lips after you're done exchanging texts remains plastered on your face the rest of the day. 

-*-

“But I just worked an all-nighter, Cap!” Zoro grunts, his hair still disheveled from sleep. 

“And now you're fully rested, Roronoa. Johnny had an emergency, Yosaku is on vacation, and I need you to cover his shift. You can have tomorrow off.”

Fuck. 

“I have plans today.” The sheets fly away from him when he kicks them, though the gesture does nothing to curb his frustration. 

“Yes, I just told you what they were. Besides, Lucci is awake at the hospital and stable. You need to check in on him. I'm hanging up now. I hear enough complaining from my daughter, I don't need it from you either.”

“Fuck!” Zoro curses loudly as he drops the phone onto his bed, raking a hand through his hair to try and chase away the sleep. 

He usually doesn't mind doing extra shifts. He likes the work, and it keeps him busy. But he doesn't usually have dates planned. 

And he really wanted to continue that kiss. 

With another sigh, he picks up the phone again and starts heading towards the bathroom. 

Zoro: Hey, Trouble. Sorry, Cap just called. I need to fill in for a shift. Guess we'll have to postpone our unfinished business for another night. 

It takes you a few minutes to answer back, and he uses them to get ready and slip into his uniform. 

You: Really? 😟 And I bought some really good sake, too… 

The groan he releases now comes from the depths of his soul. Being with you and drinking sake have to be two of his favourite things in the world. 

You: It's okay, Zo. We'll have other opportunities to spend time together!  Zoro: Yeah, you're right. Stay safe, Trouble. 

-*-

Stay safe. 

You smile and sigh, sinking into the cushions of the couch. You had finished your chores earlier to grab that sake for Zoro, taken a nice bath, and were just about to start cooking dinner for two. 

“Well, dinner for one it is.”

Getting up with a grunt, you head to the kitchen and decide that dinner for one might as well be a bowl of cereal. You don't even notice your phone buzzing until you sit down and reach it. 

Unknown: Did you like my gift? 

Uneasiness sets your heart pounding against your ribcage as you drop the spoon back into the bowl with a soft clang and a small splash of milk. 

Gift? The eyes? 

Shaking your head, you delete the text and open a streaming service, searching for a mind-numbing show to shake away the edge. 

Unknown: I don't want anyone to look at you like that, Kitten. Unknown: You're mine. 

Delete, delete. Block. 

You turn the phone screen down and stare at the device as if it’s about to sprout legs and jump at you. It has to be a mistake. Those texts aren't for you. 

Unknown: Cereal is not a proper meal, sweetheart. You need real nourishment.  Unknown: I don't want you to get ill. 

“Fuck.”

The chair scrapes against the floor as you get up abruptly, stride to the front door, and lock and bolt it. You draw every curtain in sight, making sure all locks are in place. But not even all the security measures in the world seem to calm your racing heart. 

“It's a mistake. It has to be. Someone's messing with my head.”

You pace the kitchen after putting the cereal bowl into the sink, the food nearly untouched as your stomach roils and churns in revulsion. 

Unknown: It's not a mistake, Kitten. I'm here for you. You're mine. 

You nearly drop the phone this time as a cold wave of fear rushes through you. Darting your eyes around the room, you half expect someone to jump from the shadows. Everything seems alive, just waiting to pounce at you. 

A hiccupped sob shakes you from your momentary paralysis, and you fumble to unlock your phone again. With shaking fingers you scroll to Zoro's thread while your eyes still dart from every nook and corner of your kitchen back to the screen. 

“Come on, come on.” You whisper as your lungs constrict and the air seems heavier. You start to type, not wanting to call Zoro and disrupt his shift, even though it feels like something he would want to be disrupted for. 

The buzz from your phone makes you gasp and swallow a shallow scream. 

Unknown: Don't tell the cop, Kitten. This is our little secret.  Unknown: You don't want to misbehave, do you? 

No, no, no! This can't be happening. 

Your fingers hover on the letters and you take a deep breath, continuing your text to Zoro. 

Unknown: Don't hit send, Sweetheart. You don't want me mad.  Unknown: Who do you think made your precious cop go to work today? Who do you think made him be dragged to the station yesterday? 

What? 

Your legs give out and you slump on the floor, knees pulled up against your chest as you hug them tightly. 

Unknown: Do you know how easy it would be to lure your hero cop into a trap?  Unknown: I don't mind hurting him like I hurt the other one. 

Other one? 

Unknown: Maybe you haven't seen it yet, Kitten. 

And then there's a link to a local newspaper website. You hesitate, every creak of the old house making you hyper-aware of your surroundings. You still click on it. 

Gruesome crime in the Calm Belt. The police are still baffled as to who could have maimed Rob Lucci, local shipwright, with such a heinous crime. He was found last night after a party without his eyes–

You close the link, the taste of bitter bile rising up your throat. The gift, the fake eyes, Rob Lucci… it was all their work. 

Another buzz draws your attention, and you blink away the tears to clear your vision. It's a picture. 

Unknown: The things I do for you, Kitten. 

You know you shouldn't open it. Your thrumming heart and the coldness rushing through your veins are living proof that you shouldn't open it. 

Yet you do. 

And as you gaze at Rob Lucci’s pained expression, his eye sockets hollow and dripping blood, his mouth drooling while hanging open and at a big, tanned and veiny hand holding two bloody eyeballs, you can no longer stop your stomach from heaving and retching all over the kitchen floor. 

It's your fault Rob Lucci ended up like that. 

And if you tell Zoro about what’s happening, he could be next. 

-*-

“Atchoo!” Zoro sneezes and runs one hand over his nose. 

He's pissed. 

Lucci didn't remember shit from last night. Nothing useful, anyway. Someone stabbed a needle into his neck, whispered a cryptic: ‘You should've never have looked at her’, and next thing he knew, he was in the hospital. 

At least he wasn't awake when they took out his eyes. Could've been much worse. But Zoro didn't tell him that. 

Useless Lucci couldn't even say who ‘her’ might be referring to. He just said he’d hit on a lot of girls at Franky’s party. It could be referring to anyone. Maybe Khalifa, he'd mused, since he'd been hovering over her until the ship docked. 

Zoro felt a bit guilty about the relief that washed over him, the implication about Khalifa leaving you out of this gruesome business. Then he left Lucci to take his painkillers and rest, requesting that an officer keep an eye outside Khalifa’s apartment until someone took her statement in the morning. 

But what's got him even more pissed is the fact that he was looking forward to spending more time alone with you, seeing where you could take things. 

But since he has to take over Johnny's patrol, he can swing by your house for five minutes. Just to see you. Then maybe he can focus on his job instead of the way your lips felt brushing against his. 

Or how stupidly giddy he feels because you wanted to kiss him back. 

That has to mean you like him too. Right? You don't seem like the type to just lead him on. He knows you, and he doesn't think you've changed that much. 

Parking in front of your house, Zoro steps out of the car and raises an eyebrow. There's still a bit of light outside, why are all of your curtains drawn? It doesn't seem like you… Then again, maybe it's because you're all alone in your house. 

With a shrug, he climbs the steps two at a time and knocks on the door. You don't answer so he tries again, trying to shove his apprehension down. You're fine, he talked to you about two hours ago. 

You're fine. 

-*-

You're not fine. 

You hear a car approach and instantly know it has to be Zoro. You barely hold down a sigh of relief, but as soon as you get up, ready to open the door and jump into the safety of his arms, your phone buzzes relentlessly, text after text, without pause. 

Unknown: Don't tell him anything.  Unknown: Don't let him suspect.  Unknown: Don't even think about letting him touch you.  Unknown: I do not make empty threats, Kitten. I don't want to hurt him, but I will.  Unknown: Don't tell him our little secret. 

Your throat dries up and you swallow back a sob. Crying won't help. Nothing will help. 

Zoro could help. 

But you can't tell him. You won't risk his safety. 

Another insistent knock startles you, and you get up swiftly, stopping by the hallway mirror to try and disguise your tears. 

You can't do anything about the fear in your eyes, though. 

Unknown: Don't disobey me. I do not want to punish you. 

You shove the phone into your pocket, and just as you're about to unlatch the lock, Zoro pounds harder on the wooden door. 

“Hey, Trouble, are you okay?”

Deep inhale. You just have to fake it. 

“I'm opening the door, Zo, calm down.” Too shaky. Your words are too hiccuped and weak. 

He'll notice. 

The door swings open, and you try to focus on Zoro's chest instead of his eye. 

“Damn it, I was already considering breaking the door down.”

You force a dry chuckle as he leans on the doorway, a devious smirk on his lips, even though his brow raises slightly when you don't meet his gaze. 

“That's exaggerated.”

“Is it? I wouldn't put it past you to fall down the stairs, or burn yourself, or get trapped behind some furniture. You're that clumsy.”

This time, your chuckle is even drier, and he notices it. Zoro takes a small step forward, his hand reaching as he lifts your chin so you look at him. You flinch, and your phone buzzes in your pocket. 

“Trouble?”

“I'm fine! I just… There's food on the stove. I have to… It’ll burn.” Weak voice, weak excuses. Another buzz, and you pull away from his touch. 

“Is something wrong?” Zoro's eyes dart behind you, inside the house, half-expecting to see someone there. 

“No. I'm just tired. That's all.”

-*-

Tired, my ass. 

You're fidgety, jumpy, and scared. You don't even meet his gaze. The fuck’s going on? 

Zoro tries to get past you, but you block his path. You don't want him inside? What's going on? 

“Do you need help with something? I can spare five minutes.”

For a second, your gaze meets his, and Zoro's heart skips a beat. It's almost as if you're reaching out to him, seeking something. But it's fleeting, and you drop your eyes back down, your body trembling slightly at the same time he hears a faint buzz - your phone?

“No, I'm fine. Everything's all right. You should go.” You take a step back and start to close the door. 

Was it the kiss? Did that mess things up? No, it couldn't have been, or you wouldn't have flirted back with him over texts in the morning. It has to be something else. 

“Bye.” You whisper, but the word doesn't sound final. It sounds like a plea. 

Zoro's hand stops the door, and he reaches again, this time making sure you meet his gaze by holding your face with his hand. 

“You'd tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?” 

-*-

Yes! Yes, you want to tell him so badly! Stay, protect me, help me. I'm being watched, I'm so scared. 

You'd say all of it to him in a heartbeat. Just his presence is enough to make you feel safer. 

But the insistent buzz in your pocket tells you he can't stay. You don't know who the person on the other side of the texts is, but you already know enough to believe his threats. 

You can't risk Zoro’s safety. 

You can't. 

“Come on, Zo. Of course I would. I'm just a bit under the weather, that's all.”

Tired, food on the stove, under the weather? Shit. 

You should just stick to one excuse and run with it. He's never going to believe you like this. 

His hand feels hot against your skin, and so strong. A safety line. And you want to keep him there for as long as possible. 

Unwillingly, you raise your hand and cover his, forcing a smile on your lips. “I'm fine, really.”

He squeezes your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin softly. “You sure?”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

With a shaky breath, you fall back, pushing yourself away from him. 

“Yeah, talk tomorrow, okay?”

But you don't let him answer and close the door. You can't pretend anymore. Not when hot, wet tears are burning your eyes, not when your heart is pounding madly against your ribcage, not when your legs give out and you fall to the floor. 

Your hands fly to your mouth and you stifle your sobs against them. It's only when you hear Zoro's car driving away that you reach for your phone, where a mountain of texts stares at you. 

Unknown: Don't let him touch you, Kitten.  Unknown: Tell him you're fine.  Unknown: Tell him you don't need him.  Unknown: You only need me.  Unknown: What did I say about him touching you?  Unknown: Move away, Kitten!  Unknown: You're being very naughty. This won't do.  Unknown: I'm very displeased.  Unknown: That's it, move away. Close the door.  Unknown: Good girl. All is well.  Unknown: You're mine. No one can touch you.  Unknown: No one will touch you.  Unknown: All mine. 

You don't quite know how long you sit on the cold, hard floor, staring at the possessive, disturbing texts. 

You don't quite know how this situation escalated so fast and so far. 

You don't quite know how to feel or what to do in order to escape. 

All you know is that you feel trapped. 

And so, so scared. 

-*-

You don't sleep, even though you locked all the doors, all the windows, and checked them all three times before climbing into your room. 

And even there, you lock the door. The one door you never once locked in your life. 

You spend the night curled into a ball, trying to disappear against the headboard. Flinching at every little sound your old house makes. Every shadow looks threatening, every sound is overwhelming. 

You can't do this. 

You can't be controlled by an invisible threat. You need to tell Zoro. 

You make up your mind. As soon as you get up and take care of the animals, you'll march into the police station and speak to Zoro and his captain. If the police know about it, Zoro is going to be safe. 

He has to be. 

You can't face this alone, and you need him. He'll know what to do, how to find who this man is, how to make this stop. 

Zoro will know what to do. 

-*-

The knocks on the door follow the rooster’s call by around fifteen minutes, and you raise your brow. 

Everything seems less menacing with the morning light. The shadows are no longer threatening since they're brighter, and the sounds are merry, instead of haunting. 

And now that you’ve decided to tell Zoro about your torment, the fear seems far away. 

But you're not expecting anyone this early. “Who is it?” Your voice sounds hoarse and distant. 

“It's Ace, Princess, open up.”

A sigh of relief parts your lips as you unbolt the lock. “Morning, Ace. Want some coffee?”

He looks a bit worried, a single line furrowing his brows as he scratches beneath his ridiculous cowboy hat. “Later. I got started earlier since I have a morning shift at the station, and I waited until I saw you were up, but one of the cows is sick. I called the vet, and they should be here any minute now.”

“What? Oh, no!” You love those cows, some of which you've known your whole life. So, you grab an apple from the counter and close the door, following Ace into the barn. 

Texts, phone, and worries, all forgotten inside the walls of your home as something else takes the forefront of your mind. 

-*-

Ace leaves a bit before his shift starts, but the vet arrives quickly. The sick cow is one of the younger ones, and you spend the better part of the morning with her and the vet, taking a break to make some sandwiches for both of you to serve as a meager lunch while trying to fulfill the rest of the chores and still care for your poor sick cow. 

For a moment, your heart constricts, the thought of losing an animal a weight hanging heavy on your shoulders, but it passes the moment the vet sighs with exhaustion and assures you that the cow is fine. Tired, battered, and hungry, but fine. And she will live. 

You offer some refreshments to the vet since the afternoon sun is already starting its descent in the sky, and it's only after the vet leaves and you sit in your kitchen, tired and weary, that you pick up your phone, which had been forgotten inside the house for most of the day. 

Dread spreads its tendrils across your veins, sending icy chills through you as you stare at the screen. 

Three unanswered calls and half a dozen messages. 

All from Zoro. 

Zoro: Hey, Trouble, just wanted to check in with you, but you must be busy. Call me back.  Zoro: How are you feeling? Still haven't called me back, need anything?  Zoro: Shit, Trouble, I was selected to go on a week-long training retreat with other cops from other stations. It's random and mandatory. The commissioner pulls one of these every now and then. I'll be unreachable. Call me back, will you? 

Unreachable? A week? 

No, no, no! 

You fight the urge to immediately call him as you skim through the other texts. 

Zoro: I'm about to leave, Trouble. I tried calling you again, still nothing. Is everything all right? I can't leave the station now. Call me!  Zoro: Okay, I just spoke with Ace. I hope your cow is feeling better but this is really the last chance to speak to me before I leave. For a week.  Zoro: Be safe, Trouble. Call Nami if you need anything, will you? 

Shit. 

He's gone. Just like that. 

The phone stares at you mercilessly from the table, as if taunting you. Why didn't you bring it with you outside? You needed to speak to Zoro. You wanted him to know. You wanted his help. 

Now you're all alone. 

And someone is watching your every move, making you feel small, trapped, and scared.

Unknown: Don't worry, Kitten. He may be gone, but I've got you.  Unknown: I won't let anyone hurt you.  Unknown: You're mine.

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium

[pttucker]

"…Who was his target, anyway?" "You just woke up, but you're already so full of questions. How annoying." I sat on the bed, eyes blinking like an idiot. She pointed to my chest again. Upon taking a closer look, there were two [Modifier Necklaces] hanging around my neck. One of them was Asmodeus's Modifier, [Devil of Lust and Wrath], while the other one was… [□□ of □□] The places where my Modifier should've been were replaced by empty holes, instead. "No way?" "Yes, way." Well, at least he did leave behind 'Of'. That son of a bitch.

I KNEW IT!

Awwww, but he really has forgiven him, hasn't he? 😭

He even gave him the last syllable he needed to move to the next section. 😭💖

And Dokja picked up on the fact that he said he's a former Regressor!

Not the Regressor Yoo Joonghyuk, but a former Regressor. What was he thinking about when he told me that?

idk Dokja, maybe that's his way of telling you that he's made his final choice to stay in this life. With the guy who transformed him from this mindless, emotionless killing machine known only as "Regressor," back into the Yoo Joonghyuk he was before.

Oh, and I guess Joonghyuk didn't get dragged into the Library after all. Which is definitely for the best, I think. Joonghyuk yelling at Dokja while he's trying to do stuff would probably not be conducive to a friendly, non-stress work environment. 😂

...or if he did get dragged in, Dokja doesn't remember any of it.

[pepperpixel]

“put me on a pedestal and i’ll only disappoint you

tell me i’m exceptional, and i promise to exploit you

gimme all your money, and i’ll make some origami honey!

i think you’re a joke!!! …but i don’t find you very

fuuuuuuu~nyyy”

More tagr art!!! Assorted stuff this time! Featuring some cute chibi stuff. Some solo gaz’s, a lil uhhh. Comic of an altercation.. and a very belated Halloween pic I started drawing last Halloween and didnt finish lol. Also featuring lyrics from pedestrian at best cuz that song rllly rlly fits my ver of tak lol.

[nebulaafterdark]

A Tale Of Two Dragons

Summary: After suffering a head injury, Princess Y/N forgets the past two years of her life, including her marriage to Aegon. Who will do anything to win her back.

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, Smut, Cheesy, Medieval Romcom

Y/N wakes terribly hot, her head throbs and there is something wrapped round her waist. She peels open her eyes…an arm. She flicks it away.

“What is the matter, my dearest love?” A voice grumbles, from behind her. “The maester says you should remain abed for several days.

“Why?” The word is past her lips before she can stop it.

“You hit your head.”

Y/N reaches up toward her throbbing temple, scraping against the forming scab beneath the bandage. Her fingers come away wet.

“You mustn’t touch,” Aegon chides, “let me see.”

Aegon?

Y/N screams at the top of her lungs, rolling onto the floor.

“What is the matter?” Aegon peers over the edge of the mattress. “Does your head hurt?” He springs from the bed, grabbing a cup off the bedside table. “Here, milk of the poppy.” He attempts to bring the chalice to her lips.

Y/N slaps his hand away, the glass shattering over the floor. “Surely poison.”

“What?” Aegon breathes. “Why in the seven hells would it be poison, my heart?”

“Do not call me that.” Y/N snaps, feeling almost sorry for it as his face falls.

“Look at me,” he crouches down to her, cowering in the corner. “What’s happened?”

“I should be asking you! Why are you being kind to me? Why are you sleeping in my bed? Plotting to kill me?”

“I don’t want to kill you.” He huffs a laugh. Back are the sad, crestfallen eyes.

Y/N forces down the urge to punch him. “Why were you in my bed?”

“To be clear,” Aegon says, motioning behind him, “this is my bedchamber.”

Y/N searches the space behind him, he speaks true. This is not her room. “Why would I be in your bedchamber?”

Aegon’s upper lip twitches, “because you are my wife.”

Y/N laughs, “I am your wife.”

Aegon joins in, anxiously.

“You jest.” She wags a finger at him, “that is the Aegon I know. You have outdone yourself this time.”

Aegon’s eyes search hers for a moment more before he hollers, “guards!”

The doors fly open, “your grace?”

“We must have the grand maester.”

Y/N’s eyes track his movements. Pacing and pacing until the maester appears.

“Is your head troubling you, your grace?” He kneels before her. “I left you with milk of the poppy.”

“She needs more.” Aegon insists.

“She can have no more until the morrow.”

“She did not drink it.” Aegon shouts, “she tossed it away because she thought it poisoned.”

“I would never harm you, your grace. Surely you know that.” The maester addresses the princess directly.

“Not you, me.” Aegon throws up a hand. “She does not know who I am.”

“I know who you are and I do not like you.” Y/N argues.

“That is worse.” Aegon laments, “she does not remember our marriage or our-”

“Your grace,” the maester stops him. “Your lady wife has suffered an injury. It is best not to push the recollection of years past.”

“She will heal then?”

“I cannot say, the mind is unpredictable.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at the maester, “am I truly married to Aegon?”

“Yes, princess. For some two years now.”

“Nearly three,” Aegon corrects him, with a hand to his head.

Y/N’s breathing picks up, unable to calm herself.

“Princess, you must breathe slowly now.”

“I want my mother,” Y/N chokes out.

“I will get your mother,” Aegon offers, “just breathe.”

His command is foreign to her. That he would care. The maester fusses about her as they wait. “All is well, your grace, all is well.”

“I may faint.” She warns.

The maester begins fanning her with his hands.

Rhaenyra appears moments later, with Aegon hot on her heels. “What’s happened, my darling?”

“Mother,” Y/N reaches for her, sobbing against her shoulder.

“Hush now.” Rhaenyra cradles the back of her head, smoothing down her hair.

“I do not know how such a thing could h-happen.”

“What?” Rhaenyra begins swaying her like a babe.

“I woke up beside my sworn enemy, claiming to be my husband.” Y/N tells her, “and worst of all, everyone insists that it’s true. Am I truly married?”

“Yes.”

“To Aegon.”

“Yes.”

“And I am happy about it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Rhaenyra smiles. “You are quite taken with him.”

“To what degree is he hung?” Y/N scoffs. He must be-

Rhaenyra throws her head back with laughter, “I would not know, sweet girl.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “he speaks true then?”

Rhaenyra nods.

“And we are in…” Y/N forces out the word, “love?”

“Very much so.”

Without warning, the princess faints in her mother’s arms.

————————————————————————

“And though all the realm wished for the princess to deliver a son, she blessed the prince with two daughters.”

Y/N comes to, blinking up at the ceiling. Pleased to find that she is in her own bed this time. She nearly finds herself comforted by the voice beside her, before looking over to realize it is Aegon. Seated in the arm chair with a brown leather book in his lap. She sits up, staring him down.

“Don’t,” he slowly closes the book, holding up both hands, “don’t scream.”

“What do you want?” Y/N groans. “I’ve already told you I don’t remember.”

“I’d like to court you.” His lips twitch, nervously.

“Really?” She huffs a laugh. “You, Aegon Targaryen, would rather court me than go find another well suited lady, of high status, to marry you?”

“Yes.”

“You want me?”

“Very much so.”

“More than anyone else?”

Aegon twists his wedding band around his finger. “Yes, more than anyone.”

“Well…what would we do together?” She crosses both arms over her chest, “I can’t imagine we have much in common.”

“Talk, stroll the gardens, fly together on dragon back, whatever you’d like.”

“You told me this morning, I am to remain abed for several days.”

“That’s why I’ve brought this,” he waves the book at her, “thought it might keep you occupied. That or I could dance for you.”

“How well do you dance?”

“Not very,” Aegon admits, “that’s what makes it entertaining.”

Y/N leans up, trying to catch a glimpse of the book’s title. “What book is that?”

“A tale of two dragons.” Aegon pulls it away, “do you want to hear the story or not?”

“I suppose,” Y/N sighs, sinking back into the pillows. “I’ve nothing better to do.”

————————————————————————

For four days he reads to her from that silly book. With each day that passes Y/N finds herself more invested.

“But if a son is expected of the prince, why does he not want for a son?”

Aegon smiles as he closes the book. “That’s all for today, you must rest.”

“I am not tired,” Y/N argues.

“Your eyes tell a different story.”

“Truly, I’m not tired.” She tells him, toying with her marriage ring. “My head hurts is all.”

“Might I try something?”

Y/N scowls, reluctantly closing the distance between them.

His hands cup her face, moving up to her throbbing skull, running his fingertips over her scalp.

It feels nice, though Y/N will never admit it.

“It will help if you stop making such sour faces, Y/N.” Aegon remarks, smoothing his thumb over the furrow between her brows. “My head aches just watching you.”

“You might wear a similar expression after being dealt my hand.” It is odd, her name on his lips. As though he rarely speaks it, save for when he’s angry with her.

“Yes, how devastating it must be; doted on by the man who loves you.” Aegon muses.

“You used to call me a bastard at family gatherings.” Y/N remembers that clearly.

“I used to do a great many things I am not proud of.” Aegon admits. “But the man I am now, the man I am with you…I take great pride in.”

“It will take time, if I’m to trust you again.”

“I have time.” Aegon assures her, “though at present, there is somewhere else I need be.” He presses his lips to her forehead in parting. “Good night.”

Y/N cups his wrist, at the side of her face, for just a moment. “Good night.”

————————————————————————

On the fifth day, the grand maester allows Y/N to leave her apartments, and by the tenth day, she is cleared to fly. Being amongst the clouds always helps clear her mind, mayhaps she will recall something.

“Good morrow, your grace.” Marcello, the dragon keeper greets her.

“Good morrow,” Y/N smiles. “Might you saddle Stormborn for me?”

“At once, Princess. I’m glad you are well.”

Marcello returns a few moments later with the lilac dragon, whining as she nuzzles into Y/N’s hands.

“Issi ao daor biare naejot ūndegon issa, uēpa raqiros?” Are you not happy to see me, old friend? Has something happened between them that she’s forgotten?

Stormborn hums, nudging at Y/N with her head.

“What is the matter with her?” Y/N turns to Marcello.

The dragon keeper lowers his eyes, “she wants for Sunfyre, your grace.”

“She wants-” Y/N breaks off, clunking a fist to her head, “she wants Aegon’s dragon?”

“They are quite close these days.” The man in question says, stalking up behind her. “I heard you were flying out. I thought I might join you.” Aegon explains his presence.

“This is preposterous.” Y/N scoffs, “you mean to tell me we have become so deeply entwined that even our dragons cannot be parted?”

Aegon’s lips turn downward as his brows rise, “yes.”

“What can be done about it?”

“You loved me once, my hope is, you will love me again.” Aegon brushes past her, resting a hand on her dragon’s snout. “There’s naught to be done about it.”

To add further insult, Stormborn leans into his touch, cooing happily.

“I suppose I should pet your dragon.” It’s meant to be a threat, a means to get even.

“Go on,” Aegon encourages, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sunfyre?”

The golden boy begins to serenade her with a low melody. Y/N rests her temple against his head, glaring at Aegon. It is not the dragon’s fault.

“Your dragon understands English?”

“As does yours.” Aegon informs her, “they are highly intelligent creatures.”

“Pōnta issi mēre rūsīr īlva.” They are one with us.

Aegon smiles, “indeed.”

“Do you not speak-”

“Nyke kostagon emagon naejot…vestragon mirrī.” I can have to…say a little.

Y/N bites back a grin, “I could teach you.”

He starts to say something else, but she covers his mouth with her hand.

“Later,” she leans in, pressing a kiss to the back of her own hand. Had it not been there…it would’ve been his lips. Which means nothing, muscle memory, surely. “I’m sorry.”

He catches her wrist, bringing her hand away.“Don’t be.”

————————————————————————-

Y/N enjoys evening strolls with Aegon in the garden, but on occasion she walks alone, outside the walls, wandering near the woods.

“Wait!”

Y/N whips her head around to see Aegon charging at her, knocking her backwards before the steel trap snaps closed near their feet. Two rows of long, jagged teeth, meant to catch animals. She stares at him, in disbelief.

“They doubled the number of traps round the castle in these past years. I did not know if you’d recall.” Aegon explains, still holding her in the safety of his arms.

“You…imbecile!” Y/N returns the awkward embrace.

“Please, call me husband.” Aegon smirks.

“You could’ve been maimed.”

“Better me than you.”

Y/N groans in frustration, “quit doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Charming me.” She pulls away enough to see him.

No, not the sad eyes.

“I should like to know you better first.” Imbecile, she curses herself.

“What do you say we go back to your rooms and I will read to you?” Aegon suggests, “I’ll even bring cake.”

There it is, that tugging in her chest. “I do love cake.”

“When you were-” Aegon trails off, “there was a time all you would eat was cake.”

Y/N presses a hand to her head, “when I was what?”

“In due time, my dearest love.” Aegon smiles, sadly. “The grand maester says we mustn’t push, you’ve made great progress already.”

————————————————————————

She recalls a great many things over the next weeks. Trying and failing to teach Aegon High Valryian, eating cake with him and laughing until their sides ache. But there are a number of things she cannot recall.

“Where is it you go?” She wonders, “when you are not with me? You said,” Y/N closes her eyes until the words come to her, “you said you want always to be with me.”

Aegon’s eyes widen, “yes, I did say that. You remember?”

“Not nearly enough, just silly things.” Y/N admits, “sometimes…I think I might’ve been with child.”

Oh.

“That’s it, isn’t it? We’ve a child.”

“Two actually, daughters.”

“One after another like clockwork, then?” She arches a brow, resting a hand over her empty womb, “you’re late.”

Aegon grins, “both at once.”

“Efficient.”

“Well, we are nothing if not thorough.”

“With the way you look at me, I’m surprised there are only two children.”

“The birthing bed was not kind to you. I would love any child of ours, but I would not inflict such suffering upon you again.”

Y/N sighs, “you are so in love. I wish desperately to remember.”

“You could love me again.”

“What if it is different than what we shared? What if it does not please you as much?”

Aegon shakes his head, “then it will be different and I will be glad for it all the same.”

“Might I come with you to see them?” Y/N asks, wringing her hands.

“They should like that very much, they’ve been asking for you.”

“What are their names?”

“Dahlia and Visera.” Aegon tells her, “it might be difficult for you to tell them apart at first.”

“Dahlia is a Strong name.” Y/N whispers.

“And Visera was named for Viserys. If we would’ve had a son, we might’ve named him-”

“Laenor.” She breathes, recalling the smile on Aegon’s face as they’d discussed it, over the prominent swell of her belly. Subsequently leading his kisses to trail lower…her cheeks heats up.

“Yes,” Aegon swallows. Mayhaps he is recalling the same conversation.

The twins are playing happily on the floor, with their maids when Y/N enters the room behind Aegon.

“Papa!” They race to him, waiting to be taken into his arms.

“Hello, my darlings.” He holds one in each arm, kissing their little silver heads.

The child on the left sees Y/N first, blinking at her twice, to be sure. “Mama.”

The little girl on the right follows her gaze. “Mama!”

Y/N reaches for them out of instinct, hugging them to her as they are transferred into her arms from Aegon’s. “My girls.”

————————————————————————

Time passes, Aegon and Y/N have long since accepted she will never remember everything. What they share now is different, but wonderful, nonetheless.

Aegon and their children fill Y/N’s days with joy, though she still feels a bit guilty for the life she forgot.

She and her husband sneak out of their daughters’ rooms once they’ve found sleep. Walking back towards Y/N’s apartments with their arms linked.

Aegon bids her good night at the door, with a gentle kiss to her cheek.

“Stay,” Y/N insists, turning her face enough to catch his lips.

“What are you-” Aegon smiles against her mouth.

“It hurts to look at you and not touch you.” Y/N murmurs, reeling him back in and burying her hands in his hair. “If you mean what you say, and you will be happy with me even if I am different, I want to be happy with you.”

“It pleases me to hear you say this, my darling. But are you certain?”

“I want you in my bed, always,” Y/N whispers. “Or to lie with you in yours. To wake with you each morning and spend each night at your side. Though right now there is nothing I want more than your cock in me. Is that certain enough for you?”

Aegon chuckles into her mouth, “that’ll do it.” He pushes open the door, leading her deep into her rooms, until they reach her bed chamber. He unlaces her gown with practiced hands. “Gevie.”Beautiful.

She works him out of his robes, kissing the underside of his jaw. “Gevie.”

He smirks, moving her to the bed. Positioning her sweet head against the pillows, stroking wayward hair from her face. Taking a long moment to look upon her, their gazes locked. Aegon kisses the tip of her nose. “Let us see if you remember this, shall we?”

His lips trail down her neck, across her collarbones to her breasts. Licking and suckling at the entirety of them before bringing a sensitive peak into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Y/N holds him to her.

“Mmm,” he hums, in approval as her hips buck up against his. “Anything coming to mind?”

“I’m afraid not, husband.” Y/N whines as he pulls away, “you’ll need to keep going.”

“Of course,” Aegon latches happily to the opposite nipple, flicking the first between his fingers. Lower and lower his mouth goes, swirling her navel, skating over the skin of her sex.

Y/N nearly faints as he parts her with his thumbs, exposing her pearl to his starved tongue. “Oh!” Her memory of this particular act, does it no justice.

He sighs against her, as though he’s waited the whole of his life to be in this moment with her.

She does not know how to be loved that way, or to give such love in return. But she wants to learn.

Aegon coaxes her through one peak to the next, relishing her breathless giggles as she shoves at his head.

“Enough,” she covers her face with both hands, “enough.”

Aegon chuckles, pressing a feather light kiss to her cunt before retreating, back up to her face. Caging her head between his elbows, hovering over her. “Still nothing?”

“Not a thing, perhaps if you continue.” Y/N reaches between them, taking his cock in hand and stroking, lightly.

Aegon shakes his head, “of course.”

She positions him at her entrance, feeling him slide into her with ease. As though he belongs there. Her hands find his face, stroking his cheeks, reeling him in for sweet kisses or to pant against his mouth. Committing him to memory.

“I love you,” he says, pressing kisses to her fingers, “we’re going to make new memories together, you and I.”

“I love you.” The words fall from her lips, without hesitation. “I love you.”

“I have gone too long without your touch, I will not last.” He warns.

“That’s alright.” Y/N assures him, “I’m nearly there.” Still sensitive from his tongue.

It’s all he can do to hold off until he feels her walls pulse around him, “good girl.” He groans, emptying his spend.

Y/N nuzzles her nose against his. “Aegon?”

“Hmm?”

“Happy anniversary, my love.”

His eyes open wide, meeting her gaze. “You remember?

Y/N nods, feeling tears prickle at the back of her eyes. “I am so sorry, I’ve no idea how I could forget you…us, our daughters, this life together is the world to me.”

“It was not by choice.” He rests his forehead against hers. “If I ever sustain a head injury, I’ll expect you to court me in return.”

“Mayhaps I will court you now, just because.” Y/N wants nothing more than to shower him with affection. “That story you read to me was ours, how did you get it?”

“I wrote it.” Aegon tells her, “to share one day with our children and their children’s children, their children’s children after that.”

Taglist: @21-princess @ladyriverasafepace @oh-you-mean-me @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @donalesaa @cookiesnfeesh @barnes70stark

[themotherofhorses]

simon riley x fem!reader

Imagine holding Simon when he cries. 

Simon Riley is an incredibly strong man, an absolute force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Since joining the SAS in 2001, he has created a name for himself. A military legend—seemingly more ghost-like than flesh and blood. But that is the farthest from the truth, isn’t it? Cause, at the end of the day, he is still human. You’re his girl, the love of his life. His true love—his only love.

You are a source of comfort he somehow found in this shitty, cold world. The home he never had the privilege of experiencing; your arms have provided him with everything he was denied during boyhood.  

So imagine your Simon arriving home one evening—dead silent—merely shuffling his way to where you’re seated comfortably on the living room couch. His duffle bag drops near his leather recliner before the balaclava is tossed to the side. On his face is a certain heaviness, a sadness twisted in his handsome features; his blue eyes are not as bright as they usually are.

You swallow. Did something happen during the mission? 

“What is wrong, baby?” You coo, stretching your arms out wide to welcome him in. 

Without another thought, Simon tucks himself into your embrace, with his head resting gently on your chest. Against your breast, he can hear your heartbeat thundering away in your chest, moving in a rhythm that matches his. He reckons he is the luckiest bastard in the world, to find a soulmate who compliments him in every aspect of life. 

He lets out a small sigh, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling his throat closing up as tears begin to well up. His bottom lip trembles before he bites down on it. 

“Simon,” you murmur, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “What happened, my love?” 

Another tear, followed by three more. A tiny, shaky exhale. Simon remains utterly still for a moment, not saying anything, until…“It’s my father’s birthday today.” His voice is quiet, breathless, unbelievably thick with sheer sadness. 

Your face falls at that. “Oh, Simon.” A sad smile pulls at your lips while you hug him closer, peppering more kisses up and down his hairline, pausing to brush back soft, blonde strands. You say nothing more as he continues to weep in your arms, entire body racking with choked-up sobs and uneven breathing. 

“I loved him,” Simon rasps out, pulling his face up from your neck. Both his cheeks and nose are a cherry-red, with baby-blue eyes bloodshot and puffy, lined with fresh tears. For a moment, he wasn’t the Simon Riley you fell in love with, but the Simon Riley who was five-years-old—all scrawny, little legged and freshly bruised, hiding behind the bookcase in his parents’ bedroom. 

“Loved him so bloody much.” 

You don’t know what to say. What can you even say? Nothing can heal those wounds, cut so deep in his heart and soul that any slight movement reopens them. “I know you did.” You kiss his nose, minding the mess of tears and snot. 

His fists slowly tighten, knuckles whitening as all the memories of his father begin to flood through him; they all carry an agonizing sensation, the kind that is too fuckin' painful to discuss aloud, yet too damn gut-wrenching to keep bottled up inside.

“Do ya…” he hiccups, clearing his throat. “Do ya think…in another life…?” 

In another life. You think for a moment, carding your fingers softly through his hair. “Maybe, my love…” 

Simon nods. “Maybe,” he croaks out, keeping his arms tight around you. There, on the couch, you continue to hold him, letting his torrent of tears soak your shirt; time and time again, your fingers run through his hair in some silent attempt to ease the little boy wailing inside. 

“It’s okay, baby.”

You kiss his temple.

“You’re alright. Let it out, baby.” 

He’ll be alright tomorrow. You know it. In the morning, he’ll be barefoot and content in the kitchen, baking his mother’s special recipe of blueberry and pineapple pancakes—a cup of milk, one egg, blueberries, pineapple, and, of course, the batter—all while waiting for your arms to circle around his chest. 

But for right now, he is five years old, finally being embraced in arms so warm and loving and protective—so unbelievably perfect. The feeling incites more tears.

"Thank you, baby," he mumbles, gently kissing your collarbone; it's a kiss so rich with love, appreciation, and adoration that it stirs up butterflies in your tummy. "For everything."

For everything. Oh, you silly boy. "Simon." You smile down at him, gently caressing his cheek. "For you, my love? I'd do anything."

note: a little drabble for my "let simon riley cry 2024" campaign. thanks!

[nottsangel]

im absolutely in love with dealer!theo and your writing style!!! could you pretty please write more for him? 🥹🥹

“there she is…” theo drawls in a low, husky voice, his imposing and intimidating face instantly lighting up at the sight of you. he takes one last quick drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the ground, casually putting it out with the heel of his shoe.

“my favourite customer. missed me already, sweetheart?” you feel your cheeks heat up at his flirty remark, a wide, flustered smile uncontrollably tugging at your glossy lips.

“mhm, always. can’t you tell, baby?” he chuckles in response, shaking his head slightly in surprised amusement as he momentarily glances at the ground, clearly taken aback. when his eyes move back up, you notice him quickly checking you out, eyes scanning your body and lingering on your tits for a moment before they finally land on your charming, captivating eyes that drive him wild each time.

“what can i do for you, ma’am?” he questions, his tall frame slowly inching closer to you as he unconsciously bites his busted lip, your eyes narrowing when you notice the healing but still visible wound.

“what happened?!” you blurt out, both curiosity and worry evident on your pretty face, filling him with a sudden, indescribable warmth.

“nothin’ you gotta worry your pretty head over.” he begins, trying to dismiss it, but you continue to stare at him with furrowed brows, clearly not accepting it as an answer. “just, uh, heard some guys on the street call you names behind your back when we met last time. can’t let anyone disrespect my customers like that, y’know? especially not my favourite one.”

you unconsciously tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowed as you study his expression, trying to determine whether he’s speaking the truth or if it’s another one of his flirty gestures— but as far as you can tell with your fair amount of human knowledge, he seems to be speaking the truth.

“well… i don’t need a man to take care of me.” you begin, teasingly smiling as you gaze up at him through your eyelashes, your thumb then carefully brushing over the painful-looking wound. “but uh, thank you. that’s very sweet, i appreciate it.” you say softly, before your voice turns more stern. “don’t get into fights because of me again though— i mean, who do i go to when you’re on ‘sick leave’?”

he lets out a deep laugh, eyes still glued to yours. “yes, ma’am… no more fights.” he responds, his hand giving a playful but lazy salute as he smiles warmly at you. his expression then gradually softens as his eyes shift to your lips, and it’s quiet for a moment, the pent-up tension only building, and for a split second, it feels like your lips are uncontrollably gravitating towards his like a magnet— but then he breaks the silence.

“so, uhm… what is it gonna be this time?”

“oh, uh, just the usual. you— you still got some?”

“for you? ‘course i do.” he reaches into the pockets of his jacket and takes out a tiny bag filled with fine, white powder that glistens in the light, playfully dangling it in front of you while you reach for your own pockets to grab some cash.

“how much do i owe you?” you ask, but instead of giving you a clear answer, he leans towards you and swiftly moves his arm around your body, slipping the small, clear bag into the back pocket of your jeans.

“nothin’. this one’s on me, pretty girl.” he whispers as he cheekily winks at you, his deep voice and warm hand on your ass making your heart race, before he slowly slips his hand out again. “but don’t think this is gonna happen each time, a’ight? next time you’re gonna have to just pay— with a kiss, at least.”

ੈ♡˳

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 !! | sagau xiao, childe, zhongli x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: uhm. obsessiveness? yandere if you blink a couple times? cult themes... the usual deal with this au

⤷ [ you, the benevolent and kind overseer and creator of teyvat, has descended upon this world in mortal flesh, with a presence that is overpowering, omniscient, and so impossibly pure. ෆ yet, one day, you come into the cathedral with a gash on your arm, dripping with shimmering golden ichor that spilled from your veins. there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring. ]

— sagau!xiao noticed you immediately. it would be hard not to. since the beginning, he had always heard it.

your sound. a beautiful one, a heavenly one. a chord struck him, somewhere in his chest, and he found himself panting on the ground, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

like a electric charge - one that leaves you startled, tentative, with the tips of your fingers still tingling from what happened moments prior. a buzz in your veins that thrums along with your heartbeat.

he didn't deserve to see you. not with what sins he had committed. but xiao was selfish. he wanted to, with his tainted body, he wanted to praise you, scrape his throat raw with his voice.

and so he did.

his face brightens as you step into the cathedral, dressed in ceremonial robes as per usual. you look ethereal, why would you not? your eyes are warm as they fixate on him, and he can feel his heart skip a beat and words die in his throat. he kneels before you orderly, readying to lift his head when something catches his attention - that is, the coppery scent of blood.

blood?

a droplet splatters onto the dustless floor. melted gold.

xiao's already stood up before he realizes it. his eyes are blown wide, his shrunken pupils sharp, like a cat's. "who. who did this to you?" those words take all the willpower in him to speak. his mind is swirling, racing, thinking up of every single possibility, vision scattered and blurry as unbridled fury teems within him.

"it's nothing. some civilians have begun rioting in the city, saying that i'm an imposter. all i did was show them a little bit of my blood and they all started singing praises, so the issue has been resolved." you shake your head with a soft smile, like this matter isn't anything to concern himself over.

it is.

he hates it. how he feels so fucking powerless, how he couldn't even stop this simple event from occurring in the first place. it's his fault. it's his and everyone else who dared not believe your words. your word is the truth. it is the undeniable laws of the world, what maps the stars and what lays the land.

he'll have time to ingrain that within everyone's minds. even if it means time away from you. but that's not the issue at the moment. he turns to search for bandages, but sees the already-healing wound slowly closing up as your skin mends together.

there's a knife at your side, coated in something that shimmers in the rays of light coming from the high, color-tainted windows.

something in his heart decides, seeing your reserved smile.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

very well.

then he'll just have to eradicate every last one of them. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!childe had, to be honest, never cared all that much. why would he, to the person who had abandoned him into the cold, dark, abyss? yet, the smile on your face. it's bright. so bright it burns him. was there a day where he could smile like that?

no, no. he couldn't. that's an expression only reserved for someone as beautiful as you. as pure as you, like a blank, unblemished canvas, with the world as its paint. it's a level of resplendency that no one on this cursed universe could ever hope to accomplish.

a god in flesh, living in a tainted world. a walking contradiction that he had grown to call the thing that allowed him to keep living. something that spurred irony, you who broke all forms of the logic he had made to keep himself sane. perhaps that was why the heart he'd locked away has suddenly begun aching again? is that why he feels so warm from your divine prescence?

"childe?" you call out his name into the vast, empty hallways, glancing around for the familiar sight of a tuft of ginger hair. he hears you at once, rushing to your side with a grin on his face.

"your grace??" he bows at the sight of you, unable -to contain his excitement as he quivers in place, the smile on his lips tugging upwards even more than its current extent. "yes, what's-"

he stops abruptly, his voice faltering as he catches the scent of something iron. one familiar on the battlefield, a liquid that'd paint the surroundings a beautiful red.

his heart pounds. the thrill of a battle? no, that can't be it. if that was the case, how come it felt like he was slowly suffocating on his unspoken words?

that's when he catches the sight of the poorly wrapped bandages encasing your forearms. and the shimmering ichor that's soaked through the hastily wrapped cloth.

he moves to grab your arm, but curses himself out as he quickly changes direction and tightly holds your wrist, his expression more pained than yours, despite you being the one suffering with the injury. "what... your grace, what is this?"

he hates your knowing smile. he hates it. (oh, but does he? could he hate anything that is of you?) it just reminds him how you're all too far for him to reach, a purity that he does nothing to maintain. "there was a riot in the city against the church. luckily, they all quieted down after i gave them a glimpse of..." you trail off, ending your incomplete sentence with a sheepish smile. the rest is self-explanatory, anyway.

his vision trembles as his pupils shake. "haha, you...?" fuck. fuck fuck fuck, just whose idea was it to allow you near a knife? how did you get your hands on that?? which stupid fucking bumbling idiot allowed for this to happen?

it's his fault. he should've been by your side. curse the fatui, curse them all, how could they possibly dare keep him away from your holy being? the guilt that churns within him, is that why he remains mute as you step away, gracefully walking to meet with the other retainers?

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

no, it's fine.

it will all be fine.

cutting off their tongues won't be enough. cutting them up until they're a dismembered, bloody mess isn't even close to what you've suffered for the sake of humanity.

yes, he'll make them realize that. they'll pay with their blood a thousand times over. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!zhongli had his breath taken away by you before he even saw you, before the two of you had even exchanged words. your presence - it was so simply alluring, a saccharide charm that just drew him closer and closer.

sweet. yes, it was a familiar flavor upon the tongue that had long since tasted the many marvels the world had to offer. like a warm cup of tea, made from the sugary extract of flowers, how the sensation of it seemed to bloom upon your mouth.

ah, how should he put this. perhaps you had procured the blossom in his heart instead? stems, leaves, buds, a floret that'd only appear when you were in his gaze. a steady thrum that ran throughout his body with every stolen glimpse he took from your attention expertly.

perhaps, was this what he felt all those years ago?

did it matter? his soul was resolute, now, and it glowed gold, just like the blessed blood that flowed through every vein and lay in every vessel within that beautiful, beautiful you.

yes, ichor... just like the splatter of it on the ground...? a pang of fear strikes him - has something happened to you while he was away? he should've none better than to trust those good-for-nothing other cultists, who spend all their time babbling about your gloriousness yet turn a blind eye to whenever you require assistance!

no, he had to calm himself down. this wasn't the moment where he should grow frustrated. first, he must confirm the situation... he's planned this out to the every plan b, c, d, e, and so on, so how come he's still feeling so anxious?

there you are, upon your throne, busy conversing with a fellow archon, the one as free as the wind. funnily enough, you were the one that tied him down like a shackle.

"ah, zhongli. are you alright? you're breathing quite hard." you tilt your head, averting your gaze from venti's sparkling eyes and instead fixing them on the usually stoic man's jumbled expression. his shoulder's heave as he resists the urge to collapse at your feet.

"what... what are you... you're hurt?" stained bandages peek out from just below your silk sleeve, a sight that cannot possibly be missed from his attentive gilded eyes. "why didn't you tell me? i-i'll call one of the healers so they can-"

"zhongli, there's no need for that." with a hand, you gently signal venti to leave the scene, which he does, with obvious reluctance. a silence gesture that resonates with appreciation deeply within him. "this was of my own accord."

"your own accord?"

"unbelievers decided to throw a riot, and there wasn't much i could do except...well, don't they say that seeing is believing?" how come you don't look the slightest bit pain? where is your self-pity? your frustration? "anyhow, i'm not in a good state. please leave me for the time being, i don't plan on receiving any more audiences tonight."

he bows hastily, yet each movement is still finely crafted with minuscule adjustments that have taken him thousands of tries to master. he does as you say, and his strides are quick and long. it won't take a genius to see that his facade has crumpled, with the clear agitation that's spreading across his features like a wildfire that devours all in its path.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

he'll change that. every thrum of the golden markings running up and down his body seem to pulse in unison with his heartbeat, which is raring like he's recently returned from the battlefield.

who would've thought he'd so quickly return.

this time, of his own will. he'd be sure that these fools of this world would learn the truth of your paragon. ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) please save me the delulu has returned and iTS NOT LETTING GO

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

[narumi-gens]

boundaries gojo satoru x f!reader

post-breakup!gojo who can't quite follow through on the breaking up. he's as present in your life after he ended things as he was when you were still dating.

he still blows up your phone at all hours with nothing important. he insists on holding your hand when you walk side-by-side. he still uses your apartment key, which you never had the heart to ask for him to return. you've ended up in more than one heated makeout session with him, although you have managed to keep them from progressing past him feeling up your tits over your bra.

and when you end up in the hospital after a mission, he shows up before even shoko can get there. you sigh when his towering form appears in the doorway of the room you've been given.

"looks worse than it is," you say and despite the way you slur your words due to the painkillers, it's true.

your concussion, while serious, isn't something that wouldn't heal on its own. your broken ribs managed to avoid puncturing any organs. even the burst blood vessel in your left eye that's colored the white of your eye a ghastly red is only really a surface-level injury.

but for once, the man who never shuts up stays silent as he pulls a chair close and sits at your bedside. he reaches for your hand but pauses when you wince at the pressure on the two fingers that are fractured and wrapped in a splint. instead, he settles for loosely holding onto your wrist.

"shoko's gonna fix it all anyways," you tell him through a yawn, your eyelids feeling heavy. "'sides, you shouldn't even be here. boundaries, satoru. 'member?"

it's a word that you've tossed in his face so many times since the breakup that it's lost all meaning. and it doesn't help that you've never managed to say it with any sort of real weight. instead, it usually comes out on the end of a resigned sigh.

you can feel his gaze on you even through his dumb sunglasses. normally, even post-breakup, you would reach out and pull them down his nose to meet those cursed eyes of his and make some joke. but with your brain working at a diminished capacity and your arm hooked up to an IV full of the best painkillers japan's doctors have to offer, all you can do is slowly blink at him in return.

"it's always boundaries this, boundaries that with you," he finally retorts with a shake of his head, but offers nothing else.

"'f you didn't want boundaries then you shouldn't've ended things, y'big dummy," you mumble, and no longer able to keep your eyes open, you finally let them close.

"I told you. I don't have room in my life for anyone else – i.e., you," he replies bluntly and you can feel the fit of giggles that you want to burst into, but all you can manage is a soft huff of laughter.

"liar," you say with a sleepy smile stretching across your lips. "can't even be honest when I'm strung out on painkillers. psh. lame."

it takes monumental effort, but you manage to crack open an eye so that you can see him sporting his own cheeky grin.

silence settles over you both and you feel yourself slowly beginning to fall into the blackness as your breathing slows. the soothing sensation of gojo's thumb rubbing circles on the skin of your wrist only aids in pushing you closer and closer to sleep.

"you were considered a suitable match." even on the edge of consciousness, the disgust in his tone at those two words reaches you. "I couldn't let them get what they wanted."

you let out a quiet hum in acknowledgment and wish you had enough strength to open your eyes, curious to see if he's surprised you weren't fully asleep yet.

"still letting 'em control you, hm? s'good we broke up. want someone who's only tied down by me," you mumble.

"baby, if you want to tie me down, all you had to do was say so," he jokingly responds, unsurprisingly choosing to sidestep the gravity of your words, no matter how slurred they were.

"boundaries, 'toru..." you trail off as you finally succumb to sleep.

[yayll]

~ a little something about waking up next to Dazai, and he's unbearable as always ~

"I might just eat you alive..." He mumbles to himself, barely audible. His eyes are half-lidded, and he's barely blinked.

He's been watching you sleep next to him curled up like a kitten for the past hour, way past the time you usually wake up. He's the oversleeper, not you, and it makes him hyper aware of your bodily functions and if they're okay. He hasn't eaten properly in days, but you don't need to know that. He's rabid, and he knows he's being a total freak right now, but who will worry for you if not for him? He must rise up to be the voice of reason, the watchful eye that keeps you on track even if he can barely keep himself alive! He wishes you'd stay forever, where he could avoid his problems and take care of your every single need. He should be everything you need... He hopes. Then you'd never leave, and he would make sure to eat more, just for you. How perfect... selfish.

God, he just wants to crawl inside of you and make you his home, it's almost pathetic. You'd find him vile for the things he would do for you and your happiness, despite you already being so accepting of his dark past... You're simply heaven sent. He takes a deep breath, and lightly runs his knuckles down your jawline, as if carving them out of the precious material that you're made of. You begin to stir, and his pupils dilate instantly as he pulls back with anticipation.

"Mmm... Osamu..."

You murmur sleepily as your chest rises up and down ever so slowly. He's freaking out. It's bad for his health to hear the way you say his name as if it were a healing oath, a spell that only works on him.

"Wakey wakey~"

Dazai's propping himself up on one elbow, a calculating smile plastered on his lips as if he were in on something you weren't. You pop open one eye, and groan softly.

"You're up... early"

"Yes!"

"Why..." You yawn like the silly little thing you are. He gasps in mock offense, clutching his chest.

"Can't a fortunate guy like ME just be happy that we both live to see another beautiful day?!"

He winks, and boops the tip of your nose, this gets a muffled snort out of you that causes you to bury your face into the pillow. He's addicted to the rush of causing any joy in your life, it's disgusting. When you don't lift your face back up, he scrunches up his face, and reaches out to stroke a strand of your silky hair, but his intrusive thoughts win and he tugs on it as payback for possibly falling asleep again. He needs your attention, and you're sleeping? Insanity. You swat at him, blindly smacking his arm away.

Oh, how he loves that you're the only person who truly sees him past his myriad of theatrics.

"Oh my... a slap from you feels wonderful!"

He rubs his arm, and grabs the hand that swatted him, bringing it up to kiss the pulse point on your wrist. Feather like kisses, almost undetectable... until you lift your face up from the pillow, finally.

He gazes at you as he rubs his face onto your hand like a cat greeting its owner, purring as if he were starved for affection. For a moment, his gaze becomes more serious, detached, as if he were thrown back into a distant memory. He can't describe the feeling, but the way your hand feels against his cheek is a warmth he hasn't felt in ages. His eyes sting, and he blinks the wetness away before you can notice as he hears your angelic voice again. He's back to his usual self.

"Osamu... You're being annoying"

"You think I'm just annoying?~"

His voice comes out in a tender whisper, his mouth curled up into a mischievous grin. He's insufferable. He could be anything for you if you wanted it. Especially annoying! He almost drools when you roll your eyes affectionately at him, the coldness in his heart disappears as he leans in just a little, invading your personal space as always, eager to hear your reply.

"Amongst other things, yes..."

You flash him a sweet little smile, and it mends all that is wrong in the world. The pink in your cheeks is starting to turn red, and it sends him to the moon. He hums, slowly nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, it's his turn to curl up. You run your fingers through his messy hair that tickles you, feeling the warmth of Dazai's breaths against the back of your ear.

"Hmm, do I look like a pillow to you?"

He can hear the smile in your murmur, and he pulls back from your neck briefly, peering at you through his messy bangs, those intense hazelnut eyes demanding your attention, and his voice drips with an aching devotion that oozes like honey. he moves his lips to your ear, and whispers.

".. You look like an angel to me."

He watches you self destruct at his painfully smooth delivery of a compliment, and secretly rewards himself for once again giving you another reason to never leave. He's got it all!

Romance, self deprecating humor, an inability to properly process his emotions and grief, but more importantly, an undying commitment to stay alive against all odds so that he may see another day of you in his arms... or you helping him change his bandages... or-

He's cut short by you grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him into the most sinfully delicious kiss known to man, and he could swear that despite all his efforts, this might be what ACTUALLY kills him.

[arieslost]

home to you | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: oscar does what he should’ve done a long time ago.

word count: 2,978

warnings: healing sunburn right at the beginning, a touch of angst

masterlist — join my tag list here!

this is a PART TWO! read part one here :)

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

Your sunburn is peeling.

Oscar’s been watching you absentmindedly pick at it for the last ten minutes as you recount your day to him. He’s paying attention to what you’re saying, of course, but now he’s worried that you might accidentally hurt yourself.

“Stop doing that,” he says when you pause to catch your breath, reaching for his phone as if he could put his hand through and stop you himself.

“What?” You frown, and then look at your shoulder. “Oh, right. It’s weirdly satisfying though.”

“This is why you can’t go to the beach by yourself.” Oscar sighs. “You never put on enough sunscreen.”

“I know,” you reply quietly.

As much as both of you have tried, neither of you can help the awkward undertones that seep into every silence you share now. Oscar knows you love him, and you know that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You think he doesn’t feel the same way.

When he saw that look on your face that morning in the kitchen, it reminded him of the way he stared at you on prom night. Oscar didn’t get asked to the senior prom, but you did, and you had turned the offer down. Oscar asked you why, and you told him that you only wanted to go with him, otherwise you weren’t going. You’d dragged him back and forth from your table to the dance floor all night long, and it all would’ve faded into the mush of fleeting high school memories if your favorite song hadn’t come on. Oscar remembers every detail of how your eyes lit up, how you cried, “I love this song!” even though he knew you did, and how you’d grabbed his hands and started dancing with a refreshed energy. He felt like time had stopped and his world revolved around you, and it felt right.

So yeah, he knew the moment you gave him that look that not only did he still love you, but you finally, finally felt the same way. And, for the second time, he’d epically fucked it up.

He often wishes that he could go back and confess to you like he wanted to that night. You’d stayed over because you were too tired to drive home. You were both single. It was the perfect time. But now it’s four years later and he’s sitting in the hotel bathroom on the other side of the world, his girlfriend asleep in the hotel bed, and you on the other end of his phone screen picking at your sunburn that he could’ve prevented had he spent more time with you on vacation.

“You doing okay, Osc?” You ask, pulling on a hoodie of his that you stole from him before he left for his very first F1 race. “Aside from the races, I mean. I know you’re doing great with those.”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” The words come out with practiced ease. “I’d rather hear about how you’re doing though.” I miss you like you wouldn’t believe.

“I think I’ve told you everything like five times now,” you giggle. “I could tell you about the guy that came up to me in the grocery store this afternoon and took a painstakingly long time to ask for my number, but that’s not a long story.”

Oscar’s heart stops. “What?” He replies, teeth gritted, before he clears his throat and lightens his tone. “I mean, what?”

“Yeah, it was kind of strange. He started the conversation by asking me how you were doing, obviously, because you’re so cool and famous-” Oscar flips you off when you roll your eyes, and you laugh. “Anyway, I guess that was his icebreaker, because then he just abruptly segued into grilling me right there in the cereal aisle about my life and how he ‘couldn’t believe he’d never seen me before.’” You recount dramatically. “I’m telling you, Osc, it was nonstop cheesy line after cheesy line. I felt so bad for him I let him have my number.”

“So, he used me as an in and then harassed you until you gave him your number?”

You nod slowly. “Pretty much.”

“You better not actually be considering going out with this guy.” Oscar scoffs.

“Oh, no, I’m not!” You rush to clarify, and he can see a faint blush rising on your cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like I’m waiting for anyone-anything. He was just weird. I only gave him my number so he’d leave me alone… I blocked him when he texted me.”

“You’re horrible,” he starts laughing now, relieved that this guy never even stood a chance. “I love it.”

“You’re supposed to be encouraging me to get out there and find a boyfriend, loser. Brush up on the best friend manual.” You complain, pulling the hood over your head and hiding your face from him so he can’t see how much it hurts to think about finding someone that isn’t him.

He doesn’t notice anyway; he’s distracted by the sound of the covers moving and his girlfriend yawning.

You hear it too, and glance up at the camera. “You have to go?”

His heart breaks at how sad you look. “Yeah, sounds like she’s actually waking up this time. Sorry, honey.”

You shrug, and he knows you’re trying to appear unbothered. “It’s okay. We got, what, an hour and a half? That’s a whole extra 45 minutes or so.”

“You’re allowed to tell me how you really feel, y’know.”

“Damn it, Oscar. You just see right through me. I don’t know why I even bother.” You sigh, covering your face with your hands.

“I don’t know why, either,” he attempts to joke. “Look, I-”

“Oscar? Where are you?” His girlfriend calls, and you stiffen up at the sound of her voice.

“Be there in a minute!” He responds, turning his attention back to you. “I’ll call you again as soon as possible, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Osc.”

You hang up first.

“I love you,” he whispers to his blank phone screen, and gets up to start his day.

You say it back to your own blank screen and go to sleep.

Oscar comes to the steadfast conclusion that he wants you and only you at his side at his home race, and not as a friend.

Breaking up with his girlfriend still looms over him. He lies awake for way too long at night trying to figure out the nicest way to do it, but his thoughts always end up taking a detour to you and how he wishes it was you sleeping next to him instead.

Despite the struggle going on in his mind, he goes through the motions of PDA with her for all the cameras and other drivers in the paddock to see. Lando is the only one who realizes what his issue is.

“Mate, you have to figure this out.” The older driver said out of the blue as they were lounging in McLaren hospitality after qualifying.

“Huh?” Oscar frowned at him, tearing his eyes away from his texts with you. “I know I fucked up that quali, but it’s not like I can’t improve.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, you muppet.” Lando rolled his eyes, and said your name like it’s obvious. “You just have to break up with the girl you’re with now so you can have the girl you really want.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Oscar mumbled, looking at the text from you that had just come in.

Just focus on the race, Osc. Quali’s behind you, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll be cheering you on, what could possibly go wrong??

“It is, if you think about it. Besides, you’ve been acting so weird lately she might already think something’s up.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better.” Oscar groaned, sinking lower into his chair.

“Always here for you, mate.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I don’t care.”

That enlightening conversation gets Oscar to finally work up the courage to tell his girlfriend those dreaded words following the race– “We need to talk.”

He waits until they’re in the hotel room after dinner to say it so there’s no audience, primarily because he knows that she’s prone to throwing fits when things don’t go her way. The memory of her losing her mind when he took you to breakfast during vacation comes screaming back to him at the speed of light.

She doesn’t say anything at first; instead, she takes her time removing her shoes and taking the pins out of her hair. Oscar can’t stand the silence, so he starts speaking again.

“It’s about-”

“I think I know what this is about.” She interrupts him.

“You do?”

“I’d have to be stupid not to know, Oscar. You’ve been off for the past few days, it’s only with me, and every time I wake up you’re hiding in the bathroom on the phone.” She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth. “I know it’s her, and I’ve known since that vacation. You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’re… you’re not gonna yell?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“It won’t get me anywhere, will it?”

“It never did.”

She smiles matter-of-factly. “I guess I have to work on that.”

She packs her things without argument. Oscar offers to buy her a plane ticket somewhere, but she waves him off and thanks him anyway before walking out the door.

The Australian Grand Prix is in two weeks. Oscar doesn’t think before he calls you.

“I’m coming home. I need to see you.”

Your heart has been in your throat ever since Oscar called you this morning. He was so hasty that he didn’t even tell you when he was coming, so every little movement you see outside your window has you running to see if it’s him or not.

He doesn’t show up until almost 9:30 at night. You can hear the engine of his car as he flies through your neighborhood with practiced ease and nearly drifts into your driveway. Your stomach is jumping with nerves and excitement; you didn’t think you’d see him for another two weeks, and despite the awkwardness that your feelings have brought to your friendship, you want nothing more than to hug your best friend.

He starts impatiently knocking on the door as you nearly trip down the stairwell in your rush to let him in.

“Hold on!” You shout, fingers shaking as you unlock the door and wrench it open. “Are you trying to break my door?”

“Jokes later, let me hold you,” he says, reaching for you and meeting you in the middle of the doorway as he pulls you into his chest for a tight embrace.

You melt into him immediately, your arms wrapped around his neck and your nose pressed to the warm skin that peeks out of his hoodie. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you mumble, squeezing him.

He shivers, kissing the top of your head. “I’m here, baby.”

I’m sorry, baby. You think about that so much that it shouldn’t hurt anymore. It sobers your mood a little.

“Why, though?” You ask, pulling away a little to look at him. “Don’t you have things to be doing?”

“I may have forced them to clear my schedule by coming home without telling anyone.”

“Oscar!” You exclaim. “Why? You could get in trouble!”

“Can we talk inside?”

“Yeah, of course. C’mon.” You take his hand and lead him into your house.

He takes off his shoes, leaves his suitcase in the hall, and goes to your living room on autopilot, where he flops down on the couch and lets out a long breath. You sit next to him, knees bumping together as you look at him with a reasonable amount of concern. “You’re acting weird. What’s wrong with you?”

“I broke up with her.” He says, rolling his head to the side so he’s looking at you. “So, nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Bullshit, Osc, it seemed to me like you really liked her.”

“You didn’t, though.”

“Who cares what I think?” Your brain fully computes his words. “Wait- actually, no. I’m not even going to act surprised by the fact that you knew that.” You sigh.

“I care what you think. I care about you. A lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” He sits up straighter now, turning his whole body to face you. “Like, in a romantic way.”

You blink at him a couple times. “No you don’t.”

“I don’t?” He repeats incredulously.

“You can’t. You don’t.” You say. “You’re lying.”

“I’m lying?” He says through a laugh. “You’ve known me your whole life. When have I ever lied to you?”

You press your lips together. The only time he’s ever lied to you is when he planned your surprise parties. “I’m gonna need you to do a really good job explaining yourself, otherwise I’m kicking you out. You can’t do this to me, Oscar, you know how I feel-”

“Yes, I do, and I’d love to explain if you’d stop spiraling for a second.” He interrupts, taking your hands to ground you.

You’re once again having the dilemma of wanting to push him away and pull him closer simultaneously. The pressure of his hands holding yours succeeds in calming you, so you allow it.

“The whole reason I knew how you felt in the first place is because of the way you looked at me in the kitchen. You didn’t notice, but I looked at you the exact same way at the prom.” He says, gauging your reaction by how your face contorts slightly as you try to remember the prom at all, aside from the fleeting memory of forcing him to slow dance with you. “That feeling like time stops? Like-”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you recall, looking down as he runs his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Right.” He nods. “Look, the bottom line here is that I screwed up by not telling you then, and if I had, we would’ve been dating for years at this point and this conversation wouldn’t even be happening.”

You feel like you look like a fish out of water with how your jaw is opening and closing, searching for something to say in response. “Osc-”

“If this makes you change your mind, I get it.” He continues. “But the whole reason I came here is to tell you that I love you. I’m in love with you and I have been since we were 18.”

You go to muster up something to say in response when he says one more thing. “Oh, and I’m tired of only being able to see you through the phone. That’s the other reason.”

You can’t help it– that, paired with his polite cat smile, his flushed cheeks, and his confession has you dissolving into giggles. That quickly morphs into laughter that sends you leaning so far forward your head is practically in Oscar’s lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind because he’s laughing too.

“I hate you so much,” you gasp out, pushing yourself back up so you can look at him when you tell him the complete and total truth. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 14.”

“Shit, that means I have eight years to make up for, not four.”

“Sucks to suck.” You say, easily falling back into your age-old banter.

“You sound like Lando,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “And I was gonna ask if I could kiss you.”

“Ah, shoot. I ruined it.”

“Hmm, no. I’m gonna ask you anyway.” He shifts closer to you, brushing your hair out of your face with both hands. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

You start nodding before he even finishes asking, maybe too enthusiastically, but it’s Oscar. He knows you. He wants you. You don’t need to be embarrassed.

The press of his lips against yours is soft, gentle. You always thought that if you ever kissed Oscar it might be too weird, but the only thing you feel now is right.

It feels right to thread your fingers into his hair. It feels right to let him tug you closer, closer, closer, until you have no choice but to straddle him so you can be as close as he wants you. It feels right when his hands slip under your shirt and lightly run over the skin of your back, when his tongue meets yours, when you give his hair an experimental tug and he moans into your mouth.

The only thing wrong about it is that you have no choice but to break the kiss in order to breathe, but even then you don’t move far from each other, breaths mixing in the minimal space between you both.

“We could have been doing that for a long time,” Oscar sighs, throwing his head back against the couch.

“We have all the time in the world now that we stopped being idiots and confessed.” You point out.

“D’you think you can come to the race in a couple weeks? We can take it slow with this, no one needs to know… I just want you to be there.” He asks.

“Of course, Osc, are you kidding?” You run your hands over his shoulders and down to where his hands rest on your hips. “Though, if you win, I can’t promise no PDA or anything.”

“I’d expect nothing less from my girlfriend.” You can feel him tense up a little, like he’s expecting you to react negatively, but he relaxes immediately when your smile lights up your whole face and you kiss him again.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper back.

No one else needs to hear it just yet. You only need to tell each other.

note: i sincerely hope this made up for any tears i may have caused with the angst in the first part. this is the first time i’ve ever been inspired to write a part 2, and i think it’s because i desperately needed it to end happily. thank you so much for all the love on falling for you; i never expected it to get as much attention as it did!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @niallerswolf @fangirl-dot-com @hood-jabi @vellicora @k-pevensie28 @cami26cami @arian-directioner @vildetry06 @hauntedphotographybookstaco @bigheartsthings @northpizzasposts @notturlover @riv3rbank @gesfjjsl @oliveisunstable @lily1sposts @sadbut-true0 @lilcowboy0 @alltoowelltaylor @kimis-gloves @superheroreader @alexmarie29 @anedpev @lalalaphie @waitingforsmartpeople @arrowenchantress @zillygoose @its-cat-eyes @gxllumsriddles @fionaschicken @mrsgeorgerussell63 @bre013 @lizzypiastri @blldsnjs @samantha-chicago @homosexualjohnwayne @opheliabluewolff @catbat011 @drivelikeiido @what-is-happening-helpp @decafmickey @tania2748 @steviesscoops @annahowardsworld

[pupkashi]

satoru loves yapping [to you]

satoru was always chatty, shoko could definitely attest to that statement, subjected to too many conversations she definitely did not care about.

“isn’t it hotter than usual? i swear last year it was colder around this time of year-” he began, continuing to talk as shoko tried to focus instead on healing an injured itadori in front of her.

it seemed that his chatty characteristic only amplified when you were around, his eyes would visibly brighten, practically gleaming when you appeared in his eyesight.

“sweetheart! how are you? staying cold in this heat?” you can help but smile at him, walking straight into his already outstretched arms and squeezing his waist a bit, pressing a soft peck to his cheek before pulling away.

“heat? it feels so good out today!” you sigh happily, waving yellow to shoko and itadori, “it is hotter than last year though I’ll tell you that,” satoru grins at your words, turning to shoko with a flint in his eyes before turning back to you.

“that’s what I said! global warming is getting too severe-” the two of you walking out hand in hand, the taller man still talking as you listened intently.

satoru never felt the need to be quiet around you, always finding things to talk about no matter the task or the hour.

“and so you would think that since they were doing so bad they would think of making changes right?” you nod along, humming so he knows you’re listening, “but no! they keep going with same stupid strategy and it’s so frustrating as a fan to see, i just want him to achieve his dreams,” he sighs sadly.

“can you pass the salt?” you ask, taking it from his much larger hand, thanking him before speaking up again, “why does he keep resigning if they always treat him so poorly?” you ask, satoru smiles, heart warming at the fact that you really do pay attention to him.

“he’s always wanted to win with Ferrari- let me take you back to the beginning” he begins, giving you a summary of charles leclerc’s life as you finish cooking dinner.

you could always tell when he got a bit insecure of how talkative he was, but you’d always smile at him, urging him to go on. “and then what? why’d you stop talking?” you’d say, making him smile widely before quietly starting again.

“I’m listening, angel boy,” you mumble in between dreams, listening to him talk about how orange juice isn’t the same as it was when he was growing up and how the new game he downloaded was more complicated than it seems.

it could be nearing 2 in the morning but you wouldn’t mind, satoru would be discussing how and why wombats have cube shaped poops and how koalas eat eucalyptus and pandas have half a brain cell they don’t bother to use.

“it has no real nutritional value and that’s why they have to eat so much of it,” he mumbles, eyes drooping as he cuddles closer to you.

“aren’t they made to digest meat?” you whisper, head tucked into the crook of his neck, your breath running a chill down his spine.

“think so, dunno” he mumbles back, breathing evening out before he’s fully asleep.

your eyes open slowly as you crane your neck, his pink lips slightly parted as he takes soft breaths, snowy hair pointing every which way.

you can’t help but smile at your lover.

“goodnight pretty boy” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “my little yapper,” you chuckle to yourself, already looking forward to what he’d talk about tomorrow.

masterlist

a/n: hi friends ! just a quick little something i put together bc i miss satoru so bad lately </3 he’s def a yapper and i want to hear him talk all day and night

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[marauroon]

Hellooo! Marauders are taking over my heart my body and my life as well so could I maybe request a fic with James (or poly!marauders whatever you like) with a reader who is avoidant of relationships so once they realize they are loved they try to run away but James wont let her go and patiently convinces her to give them a chance? Thank you so much!

S E L F - S A B O T A G E — POLY MARAUDERS!

poly!marauders x fem!reader | h/c | 4.0k | masterlist!!

the marauders had thrown their hearts at you like it was effortless. and you just couldn’t return the gesture.

cw— relationship avoidant reader, mild miscommunication, mini argument, reader gets anxious and overwhelmed

a/n— thanks for the request ml, this one may require a part two <3

When exactly did it start? All four of you could give a different answer.

Sirius wagers it was the first potions class of fifth year, where you’d been unceremoniously wedged in between him and James as a part of a stupid boy-girl seating plan to stop ‘distractions’.

It didn’t work evidently, and James had managed to talk your ear off almost every lesson since, a familiar glint in his eye that Sirius knew all too well.

Remus would say it was closer to the end of that same year, when they’d somehow managed to invade your table in the library to study for their OWLs and Sirius had managed to get distracted—and distract you—within ten minutes of sitting down, spending almost a whole hour talking at you before Remus had to step in to make sure you both got an ample amount of revision done.

James would probably argue it was the first time the three actually spoke to you, finalised in the way that Remus looked at you as you slid a healing balm across the desk for his increasingly scarred hands with only a mutter that they “looked like they hurt,”.

And you? Well…

You’re not exactly sure.

It was so gradual yet so sudden and now you’re walking down the hallways with three borderline guard dogs at your tail like they’ve collectively decided you were a part of their pack.

And you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

It was endearing to a point, a genuine, unconditional affection shared between the three boys and spread onto you with no request for yours in return, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel almost suffocating.

You were almost constantly in the presence of at least one of the boys, languidly smothering you in unbridled affection like it was second nature to them.

Whether it was Remus slipping you notes for classes you weren’t paying attention in, Sirius insisting on carrying your bag down the hallways, or James sneaking compliments into every sentence he spoke to you, the casual fondness they showed you was never-ending.

And if you were being honest, it was beginning to be a bit too much.

“Here, love,” James passes you a pitcher over Sirius’ breakfast. “You’ll dry out your throat, we need that pretty voice in tact ready for the match later,”

You take the pitcher from him with a raised eyebrow, hoping your fluster isn’t too apparent in your tone. “the… match?”

“The Quidditch match doll,” Sirius takes it upon himself to pour your drink for you, taking the pitcher from your hands like you’ll shatter if he’s not careful enough. “We’re versing Slytherin, it’ll be a sight for sure,”

Oh.

Right.

“Damn right, I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when we take the cup for the fifth year in a row,” James hits Sirius’ arm lightly in his enthusiasm, stealing a slice of toast from his plate. “You are coming right?” James blinks at you slowly, honey-brown eyes big and round, like he’s silently trying to hypnotise you into agreeing with him.

“I- yeah,” You give him a half-stunted nod, letting your words speak before you can make up your mind and ultimately pull out of it. “yeah…”

“Excellent,” James clasps his hands together with a satisfied nod. “I’ll dig out a spare jersey for you,”

“Who said she was wearing your name?” Sirius turns to him with a raised eyebrow, and it starts a lighthearted debate that you quickly tune out in favour of the dull ringing in your ears.

The way they were talking made everything sound so final, so… concrete. Like you’d just completely melded into their routine through no input of your own.

“You don’t have to,” There’s a soft nudge against your left side, joined by what’s almost a whisper from Remus. “I don’t go to all of them,”

He’s giving you an out. Or at least trying to. You know that if you suddenly pull out of wanting to go that James and Sirius’d be disappointed, even if they pretend that they’re not.

“It’s alright..” You shake your head with a small smile, attempting to reassure both Remus—and yourself—that you really do want to watch the boys play.

James wins his and Sirius’ debate apparently, and a few hours before the match is due to start he hands you a folded up Quidditch jersey with a smile etched onto his face.

“Here you are m’love, look forward to seeing you in it later,” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, winking as he pulls away. “Gotta run for some last minute practice, wish me luck,”

“Good luck…” your hands curl in around the jumper almost instinctually as you stand stationary watching James run out of the common room waving in your direction, and once he’s out of sight your eyes drop to the clothing in your arms.

You hold it up to let it unfold, signature red and gold stripes adorning the fabric and a large embroidered ‘POTTER’ covering the back where it’d meet your shoulder blades.

Well, James’ shoulder blades. It would probably cover most of your upper back.

You spend the next hour staring at it in your dorm room, left draped over the end of your bed as you internally fought with yourself over whether you should actually put it on.

It was taunting you the way the gold embroidery thread caught the overheard lighting, forcing your focus towards the surname like an ultimatum.

If you put on that jumper, you were committing yourself to whatever you’d been thrust into.

And the thought made you almost physically nauseous.

It was like the boys had handed you their hearts on a silver platter, expecting you to shield them inside your ribcage, nestled against your own until they stop beating.

Like they were giving themselves to you wholely, nothing left behind until it was piled up so high that you couldn’t dig yourself out of the iron hold they’d captured you in no matter how much you tried, slowly asphyxiating yourself under the ever constricting grasp of the cage they’d trapped you in until you turned blue.

It terrified you.

You didn’t go to the Quidditch game.

God knows if you did it would end in nothing less than tears, if not you literally collapsing from hyperventilating at the first sight of any of the three of them.

Instead, you burrowed yourself underneath your satin sheets to seek a dull solace, no comfort found in the way you curled in on yourself, but no growing anxiety either.

You knew you’d have to leave it eventually, face the three boys and force out an excuse whilst desperately hoping they didn’t see just how horrifically anxious they made you.

It was horrible really, they’d done nothing but extend their kindest hands to you, treat you like you painted the stars in the sky and gifted them the oxygen they breathed.

And here you were, dreading the thought of so much as glancing at their blissfully oblivious faces.

“Sweetheart,” Marlene enters the dorm almost cautiously as she edges the door open, still clad in her full quidditch gear, sweat glistening against her forehead. “The boys are outside for you,”

“I’m not here,” You muffle your words into your duvet as you pull it up and over your head, and you can’t faintly hear Marlene sigh as she treads over and pulls you from your cocoon of self pity through dragging the quilt out of your hands.

She raises her eyebrow down at you questioning it, but you can see the concern swirling in her irises.

“Just tell them I’m asleep?” You furrow your eyebrows in silent pleading, echoed through your words as you exhale heavily. “Please?”

Shes clearly not very happy with your request, but she bites her tongue and gives you a small nod anyway, brushing stray hairs from your forehead with a sigh. “Whatever this is about, you should talk to them,”

“Yes mum,” You roll your eyes with a feigned sigh of indignation, pulling the duvet back up underneath your chin.

As she turns to leave, expression a mix of exasperation and amusement, you catch the jersey draped against your bed-post in the corner of your eye.

“Marls,” You point to it almost pathetically. “I really don’t want to face them right now,”

She practically snatches the jumper from the end of your bed with an almost scolding expression, and you flash her a guilty but grateful smile.

“I love you,”

“My love for you is dwindling,” She throws the jumper over her arm with an over-dramatised exhale, but she shoots you a flying kiss across the room nonetheless, and it leaves you with a small smile as the door clicks shut.

Although it doesn’t last very long.

You’d given her the jumper to return for you because you didn’t even want to consider what James’ face would look like when he got it back.

But of course your mind pictured it anyway.

The way his hazel eyes would pool first in disappointment before slowly turning to worry, a small, almost imperceptible frown pulling at the corners of his lips and his eyebrows furrowed just enough that it caused a line to form above the bridge of his nose.

You honestly didn’t know if you seeing it in real life or the picture your brain had unceremoniously forced onto you was worse, but what you did know was that you could not face him now.

The minute that boy saw you—any of them really—you knew that the impending conversation that followed was going to be one you didn’t want to have.

You jinxed yourself pretty hard with that prediction.

You’d managed to avoid the three at breakfast the next morning to no credit of your own, slept in so late after running your mind into the ground the night before you’d basically missed the whole thing, but you didn’t even make it down the hallway towards your first lesson before a pair of running feet crescendo’d in your direction.

“Hey—”

Shit.

“Sirius, morning,” You stop dead in the middle of the hallway, most definitely to the begrudgement of the rest of the students trying to get to class; And whilst you regret it almost immediately, Sirius doesn’t have a care in the world for diverting the foot traffic, concern written in the way his eyebrows knit together as his attention stays devoted to you.

“Are you okay? You didn’t make it to the match yesterday, we were worried about you,” His tone conveys less disappointment that you didn’t go and more genuine concern that something might’ve happened or gone wrong.

“Yeah, sorry,” You reply half awkwardly, fiddling absentmindedly with the cuffs of your sleeves. “I’m alright though,” You echo the end of your sentence with a nod, lips pressed together in a line, a mimicry of a smile.

“You’re sure?” He reaches out his hand to press the back of it against your forehead. “Because if you’re ill Moony’s got a bunch of stuff from Madame Pomfrey, I’m sure something’ll—”

“I’m fine, Sirius,” You don’t let him finish his sentence before you’re gently pulling his hand away from your face and back down to his side. “You really don’t have to worry, I just fell asleep,”

“Alright,” He most definitely picks up on the traces of defensiveness in your tone as he takes a step backwards to give you a little more personal space, and you’d have half the mind to feel guilty if you weren’t so constantly overwhelmed by him and the others.

“I’ll uh,” He presses his lips together half-awkwardly. “Let you get to class then,”

“Don’t you have potions?” It’s genuine curiosity, edged with a small amount of concern that Sirius’ll be late for his own class now that he’s followed you half way to yours. On the opposite side of the castle.

“Yeah, but I wanted to make sure you were okay first,” Sirius gives you a small smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Let me walk you?”

You shake your head slowly, gently pushing on his shoulder. “Go to your own class, Sirius,”

He lingers for a moment before turning to head back in the direction he came from, leaving you with a mix of relief and lingering guilt.

__

Your day is largely uneventful until lunch, the smell of parchment still lingering in your nose as you wander out towards the courtyard instead of joining your friends in the great hall.

You knew they’d be there. Of course they’d be there.

And after this morning with Sirius, which he’d definitely told the other two about, you were finding yourself wanting to be in their presence even less.

So you take your lunch to the courtyard instead, settling on a bench farthest from the entrance to avoid any potential encounter. The peace is short-lived, however, as you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching.

“Thought you might be out here,” James' voice is gentle, his expression a mix of concern and relief as he takes a seat next to you.

You tense up, trying to muster a smile but failing. “Hey, James.”

“Hey,” he echoes, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. “You missed breakfast this morning.”

“Yeah, I—“ You search for an excuse, but nothing comes to mind. “I wasn't really hungry.”

James nods slowly, as if he's trying to decode the underlying meaning behind your words. “Is everything alright? You seemed a bit off yesterday.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the anxiety bubble up in your chest. “I'm fine, really. Just needed some time to myself.”

“Time to yourself?” James repeats, his tone soft but probing. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

You wanted to curse James Potter sometimes.

How could he be so confident in himself that he could throw his heart at you with no fear of it shattering in your palms?

How could he be so sweet yet so painfully ignorant?

“If this is about you missing the quidditch match yesterday, Sirius and I aren’t—”

“It’s not about the quidditch match James,” You cut him off with a sigh. “Or— It is, but it’s not just about that—”

You stand to release yourself from James’ proximity.

“James, it's everything.” you finally admit, unable to hold back any longer. “I cant so much as breathe without one of you attached to my hip and I can’t do it anymore—”

James' face falls, the concern in his eyes deepening. “We're just trying to show you we care, but if it's too much, we can give you space.”

“It's not just space,” you say, your voice trembling. “It's... even thinking about you three is suffocating me...”

James's face contorts in confusion and a touch of hurt, but he quickly masks it with a forced understanding. "I... didn't realize it was that bad," he says quietly, his usual confident demeanor faltering for the first time in your memory.

You swallow hard, guilt gnawing at your insides, but you can’t take back what you’ve said. You don’t want to. It’s been building inside you for too long—the overwhelming presence of James, Sirius, and Remus in your life. They were everywhere, all the time, and while their company had almost become a comfort, it quickly spiralled into a cage.

“I’m sorry, James. I know you all mean well, but it’s just… too much,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, though the motion seems more for his benefit than yours, as if he’s trying to force himself to understand. “I get it,” he says, though you can tell he really doesn’t. “I guess I never thought about how it might feel from your side. We just… we wanted to make sure you really felt like one of us,”

The way he says "one of us" stings, a reminder of how you were a part of their tight-knit group—no, how they had made you a part of it, pulling you in whether you liked it or not.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You hadn’t really been given a choice. You had been absorbed into their world, expected to fit perfectly into the space they had carved out for you, without ever considering whether you wanted to be there in the first place.

“I know you didn’t mean any harm,” you say, trying to soften the blow. “But I need to figure out how I feel without… without you all hovering over me all the time.”

James winces at that, and you can see the pain in his eyes. “We never meant to make you feel like that,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought… We— thought, you… We were trying to prove how much we care…”

The tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over, but you blink them away. “I don’t need you to prove anything, James. I need to breathe.”

He looks down at his hands, clasped tightly together in his lap. “If that’s what you need, then we’ll give it to you,” he says finally, though his voice is tinged with reluctance. “We can give you space, we can— leave you alone if that’s what you need. We can wait until you’re ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

James doesn’t really know how to respond to that.

“I— Why wouldn’t you ever be ready..?”

“I don’t know if I can do this, James,” It hurts, coming out of your mouth, echoing back into your ears. But it’s true.

“I— I know being with three people at once can be overwhelming but—”

“It’s not that James,” You shake your head with an almost imperceptible sigh. “I don’t think I’d even be able to date one of you without being overwhelmed,”

James’s eyes widen in surprise, his expression shifting from hurt to confusion. “Are you saying... you don’t want to be with any of us?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and regrets. You glance away, struggling to find the right words to convey the complexity of your feelings.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you,” you say slowly, trying to articulate the intricate emotions swirling inside you. “But I can’t… give myself to you, I can’t— hand you three my heart on a silver platter like you did to me. I just can’t.”

James's expression shifts from confusion to a mixture of frustration and sadness. He clearly hadn’t expected this level of honesty.

“I get that you’re overwhelmed,” he says, his voice quiet but determined. “But can you give us a chance to show you that we can handle it? That we can adjust and give you what you need without pushing too hard?”

You meet his gaze, seeing the earnestness and vulnerability in his eyes. It’s clear he’s invested in making this work, not just for himself but for all three of them. You can see him struggling to reconcile his own desires with your need for space and clarity.

“It’s not just about trying, James,” you reply, feeling the weight of your words. “It’s about whether or not I’m ready to be a part of this—whatever this is. And right now, I don’t even know what I want, let alone if I can handle being part of something with all three of you.”

James nods, absorbing your words. “I understand that you need time. But maybe instead of pushing you away entirely, we could find a middle ground. We could— take things slower, give you room to breathe while still being here for you in a less overwhelming way. If you don’t want us all together then… maybe it’s just one of us you’d be open to starting with? Even if it’s just as friends—”

Your heart softens a bit at his suggestion. The idea of easing into something less intense seems more manageable, though it still doesn’t completely resolve your concerns.

“You can get to know us properly— as people, and let us show you why we care about you.” There’s a hint of desperation in his tone, one that’s mirrored in his irises, swirling in his gaze amidst the sunlight reflecting off of his pupils. “Just… give us a chance,”

You take in James’s earnest plea, feeling the weight of his words and the sincerity in his eyes. The desperation and hope in his gaze pull at something within you, a flicker of longing for a connection that feels genuine and real, even amidst the confusion and overwhelming anxiety.

“I... I can try,” you say slowly, the words feeling both heavy and hopeful as they leave your lips. “I can try to get to know you better, as individuals, and see where it goes. But I need you to understand that this isn’t going to be easy, and it might take longer than any of us expect.”

James’s face lights up with a mixture of relief and gratitude. “That’s all I’m asking for,” he says, a small but genuine smile forming on his lips. “We’ll take it slow, no pressure. Just... let us show you that we can be what you need, one step at a time.”

You nod, feeling a tentative sense of hope as you look at him. “Alright. We’ll start with that. But if at any point it becomes too much, I need you to promise me that you’ll respect that.”

James’s smile widens, his eyes reflecting a mix of joy and determination. “I promise. We’ll be patient and understanding. And if you need space, we’ll give it to you. Just... let us try and convince you...”

There’s a moment of silence between you, the tension easing slightly as you both come to a mutual understanding. The path forward is still uncertain, but the willingness to try and the promise of patience create a small but significant shift in the dynamic between you.

You give him a soft nod. “Thank you, James,” you breathe out shortly, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders.

James gives you a warm, encouraging nod. “Anytime. We care about you, and we want you to be happy. Just remember, we’re here for you.”

And so, the next chapter of your ‘relationship’ began. Starting in a place that preceded even the beginning.

[happy74827]

You Must Be Haunting Me

[Brian Moser x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Even after a year, you’re still haunted by the Ice Truck Killer.

WC: 2643

Category: Angst, No Comfort {TW: Not Proof Read 😞}

I did another one!! Are you guys proud of me? 🥹

So, rewatching the season, I forgot how sassy he was so I wanted to really show off that aspect in this one. Then my patience was over it, so the ending is just kinda… bland. But it’s okay because it’s Brian (he seriously needs more attention FOR REAL).

Anyway, for those 14 Brian fans… this one’s for you 🫶

『••✎••』

The dark circles beneath your eyes. The way you can barely stand on your feet, your body so exhausted that you can hardly lift a finger to defend yourself. You’re like a walking corpse, and he's the one responsible for putting you in this state.

It started one year ago. One year ago, you moved to Miami and became the victim of a killer. It wasn't until his brother came along and put him six feet under that you began to heal and get back into the normal, everyday routine. But then he showed up.

It was one of those nights where you’d randomly get a jolt in your sleep. You sat up straight, the sheets pooling at your hips as you looked around the room. Your breathing was shallow, and sweat was beading on your brow. You felt a shiver run up your spine as you slowly laid back down.

"You sleep soundly."

His voice caused your heart to stop. You knew who it was, the same man who had terrorized you, who made your life a living hell. Slowly, you turned to your side, staring wide-eyed at the dark figure at the end of your bed. Your hands began to shake and tremble as you reached for the lamp on your nightstand.

"Oh, don't bother."

In an instant, with the sound of fingers snapping, the lamp's light went out. You could hear a chuckle coming from the intruder, and you were paralyzed, afraid to make a move.

I mean, it couldn’t be him, right? It was just some sick joke. He was dead. He couldn’t be here.

He couldn’t.

But, god, he looked the exact same. The curly dark hair, the pale skin. He was just a silhouette in the darkness of your room, and yet, you could tell that the grin he wore was the same grin that he had on the day you met him.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost." He mused, moving closer towards you. His weight caused the bed to dip slightly, and you could feel the fear begin to take over your body. "Should I start saying boo?"

Your throat was dry, and you couldn’t speak; all you could do was stare at him, frozen in place. He lowered his head in amusement and chuckled, leaving his lips once more.

It was when his eyes weren’t on you that broke you out of your daze. You shot up from the bed, nearly tumbling over yourself as you ran to the dresser, grabbing the nearest thing you could find and throwing it at him. It was a vase, one that held a bouquet of flowers, that shattered against the wall, causing him to look up.

"…Was that supposed to scare me?" He asked, raising a brow as he tilted his head, an almost bored expression on his face. "You’ve got the aim of a blind man."

"Get out of my house!"

The sound of your own voice startled you. Anger wasn’t necessarily the emotion you normally felt, but now it was the only thing that was running through you. Anger and adrenaline.

He stood from the bed, taking a step closer to you, the broken glass crunching beneath his feet. You didn’t care; you took a step back, holding your hand out as if it would stop him from coming any closer.

"Get away from me, you psycho."

He laughed. He actually fucking laughed.

"Psycho?" He repeated, "That’s a new one."

"Stay back." You hissed, feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

He took another step.

"Don't touch me!"

Another. He was only inches away from you now, and the thought of him being so close made you want to vomit.

The annoyed sigh he let out when he noticed your hand trembling was enough to set you off. You didn’t think twice; the only thought in your mind was to get him out, and so you did.

When he was walking towards you, your mind remembered the small kitchen knife that you left on the counter. Quickly, you ran past him, dodging his hands as he reached out to grab you, and grabbing the knife, and in one quick motion, you turned and stabbed him.

"That’s not going to—"

It went right through his chest. He stared down at the knife, then up at you, with that all-knowing expression.

He sighed again, "…work."

What the fuck?

In the next moment, he vanished, and the knife fell to the ground, the clattering against the linoleum floor echoing through the house.

For a minute, you thought it was a dream. That is, until he appeared in the chair beside you, his arms crossed, his eyes boring holes into your face.

"You can’t hurt me." He said, his tone flat, his eyes narrowed, "I can’t either. Not physically, anyhow."

You stared at him. He stared at you.

"I can fuck you up, though." He continued, "In many ways. Mentally, emotionally… The possibilities are endless."

"What the hell is this?" You questioned, your brows furrowing, "Are you some kind of— of, what, demented Casper?"

His expression was unreadable, but then again, he always had that look on his face.

"Casper? Wow, seriously? You remind me why I don't watch movies." He groaned, shaking his head.

"You didn't answer my question."

"And you won't like my answer."

"Try me."

"You’ve lost it." He shrugged, "Completely off the hinges, you know? And that's saying something, considering who you’re talking to."

"I don't—"

"Have a mental disorder."

"What?"

"That's what it's called. When someone has delusions of grandeur, where they think someone is after them. Someone, of course, meaning me." He explained, a grin spreading across his lips. "But, no. It's all in your head. Just. Like. Me."

The words sank in, and you stared down at the floor, your mind processing everything he was telling you.

"No, I'm not crazy." You murmured, mostly to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear.

"You're not? Well, how else would you explain me being here?" He asked, cocking a brow, "I’m dead, remember? My dear brother made sure of that."

"I—"

"And you know damn well I’d never wear this out of the office. It's not exactly the most flattering."

It was then you noticed what he was wearing.

He had his lab coat on. His entire outfit was the same thing he wore the day he met you. You were with Debra to question him about Tucci’s recovery and, god, if he didn't make the biggest impression.

It was pretty hard not to like him when he was giving one of his patients, a little boy, a lollipop from his jar and making a joke.

You remember telling Deb, 'What a nice guy'.

Oh, the irony. The fucking irony.

"What a nice guy." You found yourself repeating before looking him up and down, your lips curling in disgust. "You were just fucking with me the whole time, weren't you?"

He shrugged, "What's it matter now? I'm dead."

"It matters to me."

"Would you like me to apologize? To beg for your forgiveness?" He asked, a mocking tone in his voice, "Would that make you feel better?"

You were silent.

"Wouldn’t do anything." He continued, "And it certainly wouldn't change a thing. But, hey! By all means, you go right ahead and play pretend. Maybe then, you'll sleep better at night."

You scoffed. He was such a piece of shit.

"How much are you gonna torture me, huh?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, "Torture me like you did, Debra? Like your brother? Are you just going to follow me around like a bad smell? Make my life a living hell, like you did theirs?"

"I didn't torture him." He stated, a hint of malice in his tone, "He's my brother."

"Like that means shit."

"He was just like me. A lot like me, in fact." He went on, his eyes flickering over to you. "I could see myself in him."

"Well, he killed you." You countered, "That doesn't really seem like brotherly love."

"He did what he had to." He shrugged, "That Harry… he was a real piece of work, wasn't he?"

You were quiet again.

"And Debra?"

"A pain in my ass. Always sticking her nose in places where it doesn't belong." He replied, shaking his head. "But, then again, that was her job, wasn't it?"

"You broke her. You tore her apart." You snapped, the memories of the past year filling your mind. "She really loved you. She really did."

"I know."

"You don't care."

"Not at all." He said, the faintest hint of a smirk appearing. "Not in the slightest."

"Fuck you."

He laughed, his laughter filling the room before it faded out, leaving the both of you in a heavy silence.

He had a different aura around him this time. It might be the aura of a dead man, a hallucination. But he still felt so… present. Even his mannerisms were the same—the way he moved his hands, the way he tilted his head. His eyes still had that glint of mischief. It was so real.

So. Fucking. Real.

"If your just in my head, why can’t I just kick you out?" You asked, finally breaking the silence, "Make you go away."

"Because, even after a year, I still affect you." He answered, his voice low. "Even though you try to ignore it and push the memories back, I’ll always be there. In the back of your mind."

"Why couldn’t you be my dead childhood dog or something? Why do you have to be some crazy serial killer that ruined my life?" You said, shaking your head.

"I'm not boring."

"Neither was my childhood dog."

"Rocky didn't have a single interesting thing about him. All he did was drool and lick himself." He countered, his lips pursing.

"How the hell do you know— oh, fuck this. Just go away." You groaned, rubbing your temples.

He didn't respond, and the room was quiet. For a second, you thought he actually listened. Then, you heard him hum.

"Hm. No."

"Jesus Christ."

"Now, that's really a name I haven't heard in a while."

This was how it became. For months, you would have these random conversations with him, and no matter how much you tried, he would never leave. Everywhere you went, he was there.

Work.

Shopping.

Even at the damn bar.

You had no idea what this was. You didn't know if this was a side effect of the trauma you went through. Whether it was your mind trying to cope or just the result of a lack of sleep. Whatever it was, it was draining the life out of you.

You felt like a shell. Your coworkers knew something was wrong. The way your eyes were dull and lifeless, the dark circles, the slump in your shoulders.

They were concerned—except Debra. She was too concerned about the case to pay attention to anyone else.

You weren't really sure what day it was. Or month. Time was going by, and you were slowly dying mentally, as he put it.

"Is this because I can't sleep?" You asked him one night, staring at the ceiling, your voice hoarse, "Because I can't go to sleep without seeing your face? Or is it because I don't have the energy to live?"

"I would say both."

You groaned, throwing an arm over your eyes, "What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's not what you did." He replied, his eyes locked on yours, "It's what I did."

"Yeah, well, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

The two of you sat there in silence before he cleared his throat.

"How are things with my favorite bloodhound?" He asked a curious tone in his voice. "Is he still sleeping with that cute blonde, or did he wise up and break it off?"

"Rita. Her name is Rita." You corrected him, shaking your head, "She’s his girlfriend, not his flavor of the week."

"Hm."

"And, for your information, they're fine. Great, actually."

"How disappointing." He scoffed, leaning back in his seat. He genuinely looked upset, which caused a snicker to leave your lips. "What's so funny?"

"You are." You replied, looking over at him, "You're so pathetic."

He blinked.

"You're a dead man. Dead. How can you be disappointed about his love life?"

"I'm his older brother." He stated, his jaw tightening, "I want what's best for him."

"Really? Then why aren't you in his brain, harassing him?" You questioned, a smile coming onto your face, "You know what? I bet he's sleeping great. He doesn't have to deal with this. Not like I do."

"I would love to give him a good old-fashioned night terror. It'd be easy, too. He's not exactly the most stable." He replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But his brain is too messy. He's always been that way."

"I guess he takes after his brother."

"He took after our father. The one thing I did was make him forget about it." He retorted, his tone harsh, "Notice how he never talks about the old man? Or the past? Now it’s only me. That's because of me. I took him from that shitty childhood. I gave him a better life. A better everything. I could’ve given him the world."

You were quiet.

"Instead, he killed me." He spat, the venom in his voice obvious. "Because of that stupid, half-witted sailor mouth."

You honestly had to give your brain props for this one. He was too realistic. He was too Brian.

"You know what?" You began, sitting up, "I really am feeling a lobotomy."

At that, he actually laughed. Now that… that was different from the chuckles and snickers, this was a full laugh, something you haven't heard since you met him. It was loud, it was obnoxious, and it was the only thing you could hear.

It was the last thing you heard before the most amazing thing happened.

You fell asleep.

In the morning, you woke up to a pounding on your door and an annoying ringing. Groaning, you pulled the pillow over your head, hoping the noises would disappear. Instead, they only got louder, and you had no choice but to get up.

"Coming, coming!" You shouted, shuffling out of the bedroom and towards the door, the banging and the ringing still going on.

When you opened the door, you saw Debra.

"Good. You're up." She greeted, her expression annoyed. "Where were you last night?"

"Sleeping. What are you, my mom?"

"I called you. I even sent someone by your house. You weren't here." She stated, a slight bite in her voice, "And I'm not your mom, but if I were, I'd spank you."

"For what?"

"We have a meeting in five minutes." She said, checking her watch, "Get dressed. I'm waiting."

"Shit."

In record time, you threw on some jeans and a shirt, and within the next three minutes, you were out the door and in the car with Debra.

But as she pulled out of the driveway, he appeared directly in front of her.

"Hey, watch—"

But he only winked at you before disappearing. And at the time, you found it nothing but him being a prick. But, later on, you would realize.

This was the last time you would ever see him.

A month went by. And another. And another.

Then, a year.

The visions of the past still came. The thoughts of him were still there. The memories were still fresh. And sometimes, if you listened closely, you could still hear that laugh.

But you weren’t afraid anymore. You had no reason to be. And so, you moved on. You continued living because that's what he would've hated. And that made you smile.

Because, now, it wasn't him haunting you.

It was you haunting him.

[doumadono]

Synopsis: in a serene moment of post-war healing, Bakugo and you cherish a peaceful afternoon in the park

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

"You're late," Bakugo's voice cut through the quiet of the afternoon, his impatience evident in his tone.

You quickened your pace, seeing him standing by the park entrance with his arms crossed. "Sorry, I had to finish up some things with Aizawa-sensei. You know how he gets," you explained, trying to catch your breath. "Besides, I knew you'd wait for me."

Bakugo rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, well, next time, try to be on time," he grumbled, though his irritation seemed to be melting away.

The sun was setting, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the park. 

You had always loved this time of day, when everything seemed to slow down, and the world felt a little more magical.

The war against the villains had ended months ago, leaving scars but also new beginnings. The world was slowly healing, and so were you and Bakugo. Today was meant to be a break from everything - a day to just be together and enjoy the peace you had fought so hard for.

The park was alive with the sounds of children playing, couples laughing, and birds singing. It was a stark contrast to the chaos you'd both endured, and you found solace in the normalcy of it all.

"Hey, can we sit here for a bit?"

You glanced up at Bakugo Katsuki, who was already eyeing a quiet spot under a large oak tree in the park. 

"Sure, Katsuki," you replied with a smile. You settled down on the blanket he'd brought.

Bakugo sat beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed against yours. He stretched out his legs and leaned back on his hands, tilting his head to the sky. 

"Mind if I sit here?" you asked, pointing to his lap and feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

Bakugo cracked one eye open, smirking. "Tch, do what you want," he replied, though you could see the faintest hint of pink on his ears.

You giggled, taking that as a yes. Carefully, you shifted, settling yourself on his lap. 

His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. Despite his rough exterior, Bakugo had a way of making you feel safe and cherished. "Comfortable?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"Very," you replied, leaning back against his chest. "It's a perfect afternoon, isn't it?"

Bakugo hummed in agreement, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Yeah, guess it is," he admitted. "But it's not just the day."

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Oh? And what else makes it perfect?"

He rolled his eyes. "You, idiot," he said, his tone softer than usual. "You make it perfect."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Despite his gruff manner, Bakugo had a way of expressing himself that always caught you off guard. You reached up, cupping his cheek with your hand. "You know, you're pretty amazing yourself, Katsuki."

He huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but you could see the slight curve of his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get all mushy on me."

You laughed, feeling light and happy. "Too late for that," you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "We deserve a break after everything we've been through."

He tightened his arm around your waist, his calloused fingers running up and down the curve of your waistline. "Damn right we do," he muttered. "Not that I need to be reminded of all the idiots we had to deal with."

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Katsuki, we won. We made it through. And now, we get to enjoy moments like this."

He huffed, but his grip on you tightened. "Yeah, yeah. I know." He paused, his expression softening. "I just... sometimes it feels like it’s too good to be true, y'know?"

You smiled, rubbing your nose with his. "It’s real, Katsuki. We made it real."

He sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. "You’re always so damn positive," he said, but there was no bite to his words.

"I have to be," you replied, your voice soft. "For both of us."

Bakugo's arms tightened around you, and he nuzzled your neck, making you giggle. 

There was an intimate intensity in being so close, feeling the surge of his heartbeat, now mighty in the wake of his encounter with Shigaraki, pressing against your side. His breath, warm and steady, brushed the skin of your neck.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the first stars began to appear, twinkling in the twilight sky. 

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against Bakugo's.

"Hey," he said after a while, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for sticking with me," he said, his tone unusually sincere. "I know I can be a real pain sometimes."

You turned in his arms, facing him. "Katsuki, I wouldn't have it any other way," you claimed firmly. "You're worth it. Every stubborn, explosive part of you."

He stared at you for a moment, then pulled you into a kiss. It was soft and lingering, filled with all the emotions he often struggled to express. 

The park was gradually emptying as families and joggers made their way home. 

"You know," you began, breaking the silence, "I always wondered what you saw in me."

Bakugo's grip on your waist tightened slightly. "What kind of stupid question is that?" he grumbled, but there was no real anger in his voice.

"I'm serious, Katsuki," you said softly. "You're this amazing, strong hero with a bright future. Sometimes I wonder if I'm enough for you."

He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "Listen to me, idiot," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You're more than enough. You make me better. You challenge me, keep me grounded. Hell, you make me want to be a better person. And if you can't see that, then maybe I'm not doing a good enough job showing it."

Your eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt words. "Katsuki, I..."

"Shut up," he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips. "Just... stay here with me. That's all I need."

You nodded, blinking back the tears. "Always," you whispered.

For a while, you both sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other's presence. The gentle hum of crickets filled the air, adding to the serene ambiance.

Bakugo shifted slightly, adjusting his hold on you. "Remember that time we got caught in the rain during patrol?" he asked suddenly.

You chuckled, nodding. "How could I forget? We were soaked through and had to take shelter in that tiny café."

"Yeah," he said, a rare fondness in his voice. "You looked like a drowned rat."

"Gee, thanks," you replied dryly, but you couldn't help but laugh. "And you were grumbling the whole time about how much you hate the rain."

Bakugo smirked. "Still do. But that day... it wasn't so bad."

You smiled, leaning your head back against his shoulder. "It was kind of nice, wasn't it? Just us, sipping hot chocolate and watching the rain."

He nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah. It was nice."

You turned slightly, looking up at him. "I love you, Katsuki," you whispered, the words coming out easily, naturally.

Bakugo's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought you might have surprised him. But then he smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made your heart skip a beat. "I love you too," he said, his voice steady and sincere.

You kissed him then, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of all the love and affection you felt for him. When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.

"We should probably head back to the dorm," you murmured, though you didn't really want to move.

Bakugo sighed, but he nodded. "Yeah, probably," he agreed. 

The future was uncertain, but you were ready to face it together, hand in hand. Because with Bakugo by your side, you knew you could conquer anything.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 3

Previous Chapter: Part 2 | Next Chapter: Part 4

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out, Smut

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, hand job, lemon

Link to My Master List

You wake up slowly to the feeling of warm sunlight heating your face. Damn! You think, I forgot to close my blinds again before bed! This is a bit of a bad habit of yours – training has been so harsh lately, you often fall asleep before you can even begin to perform your nightly wind-down routine. The sun feels nice across your face, but it’s also a bit too warm and becoming borderline uncomfortable.

You sigh, too tired and comfy to get out of bed to adjust the blinds. Instead, you shift and roll over onto your other side. Unexpectedly, you bump into something hard and solid. You panic for a moment, unsure of what the obstruction could be. Did you get a new plushie recently? Begrudgingly, you flutter your eyelashes and let the soft early morning light hit your eyes.

Oh, shit. Shoto Todoroki?!

Memories of the day before come rushing back in a stampede – moments in time tripping over each other as your brain scrambles to assemble a map of how you got into your current situation. You quickly remember the kiss, Endeavor’s bombastic arrival, the lonely library, and Shoto’s late night confessions. Your cheeks heat up as you recall how quickly your clothes had melted away as things with Shoto had turned hot and heavy.

You look up into Shoto’s soft face. He’s tucked in on his side, his face buried into your pillow. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look so relaxed. His pale skin and angelic features seem to sparkle in the morning light. You think back to all that he had confessed to you the night before – his troubled childhood, his estranged parents. You reach out to stroke his face, tucking a lock of bright red hair behind his ear. He sighs in his sleep, leaning ever so slightly into your gentle touch. Your heart squeezes. This poor, beautiful boy’s life has seen a deficient of kind touches.

You scoot closer to him in the bed, reaching out to gently wrap your arms around your sleeping classmate. He leans into you, unconsciously welcoming the embrace. He yawns softly and seems to wake up a bit.

“You’re so soft.” He moving to get a better hold on you, his large hands moving to cradle your hips. He smiles into your shoulder and pulls you into a more comfortable position, planting a sleepy kiss on your collarbone. He rubs a gentle, comforting circle into your lower back as he drifts back off to sleep.

You spend a few moments carding your fingers through his dual toned hair, listening to his gentle breathing. You notice the way that the hand on your lower back is slightly hotter than the rest of his body, and how great it feels against your training-stiff muscles. You feel your body relax into the touch. The hand resting on your hips, however, is refreshingly cold. You wonder if Shoto has ever thought to use his quirk for healing – his gentle touch is perfect for treating angry muscles and exercise injuries. He’d be an amazing physical therapist.

Your tired brain envisions a sexy doctor version of Shoto – tall and grown, a stethoscope draped around his strong shoulders. He will be such an amazing hero, but you wonder…if Shoto had experienced a normal childhood, would he aspire to be something different? There is so much potential in him - if his father hadn’t pressed so much on him, would he still want to be a hero?

You noodle on this question as you drift back to sleep, your body relaxing into Shoto’s temperate hands.

---------------------

Your alarm blares at 6 o’clock AM, jolting you from a sound sleep. You’re still wrapped up in the cocoon of Shoto’s strong arms, his face nuzzled into your chest.

Carefully, you extract an arm and reach to switch off the alarm. You gently wriggle out of your classmate’s warm embrace. You slide off the cozy bed and pad across the carpet to your desk, stopping to take a long sip from your sticker-covered water bottle.

You grab a small hand mirror from the shelf above your desk and use it to examine your face – you’re surprised to see that even after the late night spent talking with Shoto, you look well-rested. Your hair, however, tells a different story. Your bedhead is absolutely out of control, and you grab a brush to quickly tame it. Once the knots have been brushed out, you throw your hair up into a loose ponytail and turn back to face your bed.

Shoto must be a deep sleeper, because in the 5 minutes it’s taken you to tame your hair he still hasn’t stirred. He’s wrapped up in your comforter, looking warm and comfortable. You hate that you’ll have to wake him soon for class. Begrudgingly, you move towards the bed to get him up.

“Shoto…” You coo quietly, hoping to rouse him gently as you pull down the comforter. “It’s time to get up - ” You stop midsentence as your eyes run their way along Shoto’s body. He’s resting on his side, his white hair splayed across your pillow. His expensive looking sweatpants hang from his muscular frame in a way that’s so sexy that you take a mental photo to revisit later. But what’s really got your attention is the way that Shoto’s baggy sweatpants gather and pull around his prominent morning wood.

You bite your lip as you take in the image – Shoto’s hard dick is outlined perfectly against the grey fabric. Fuck. You’ve never seen a penis this close before. Even through Shoto’s loose fitting pants, you can tell he’s big. The soft fabric doesn’t leave anything to the imagination – you can see the way his long shaft ends in a soft, mushroom-shaped tip.

You climb onto the bed to get a closer look, glancing up at Shoto’s face to ensure that he’s still fast asleep. You shift a bit and lean in, wondering if the hardness is uncomfortable. Your mind instantly goes into the gutter, and you remember how good it had felt the day before to grind against Shoto’s rock hard length. You feel a spark in between your legs at the thought. You imagine rolling Shoto onto his back so you can straddle him. It would be so easy to line up the tip of his cock with your clit and -

You shake your head to clear it of the absurdly horny thoughts that are flying around in your mind. You only have an hour and a half to get ready for class, and any sexual experiments you want to perform with Shoto are going to take time. You want to take this slowly! Maybe!?

You check the clock on your phone again. Maybe you can spare just a few minutes for some exploration? You’re almost certain that Shoto will agree. You set a quick alarm for 15 minutes from now before placing your phone back on the night table. You then shift a bit closer to the sleepy hero-in-training and reach out your hand to touch him.

Experimentally, you trace the very top of your fingertip along the length of it – from base to tip. You feel it twitch slightly as you reach the top, and break out into a grin.

You ghost your fingers across the outline of his cock a few more times, feeling it become harder with each pass. You’re so entranced by the outline of his thick member that you don’t notice when Shoto begins to stir.

He groans softly as you let your fingers wander across his dick again. His eyes flicker open and he blinks sleepily. You quickly snatch your hand away from his nether regions, blushing furiously at being caught.

“Sorry! I just…well, I couldn’t really help myself…” You trail off weakly, ashamed. He blinks at you, expression unreadable.

“You can keep going.” He says in a gravely voice. He reaches down to take one of your hands, and brings it back to his pants. “It would feel better if you gave it a firmer grip.”

“Oh.” You say, shocked at how cool he is with this. But then you remember that for as sheltered and formal as Shoto is…he’s also just a horny teenage boy. You let him position your hand and grasp. The material of his sweatpants is loose, and you are able to wrap almost your whole hand around his cock through the material. You tighten your hand ever so slightly around him and he turns his head to groan into the pillow. You lightly squeeze your hand again, this time moving your fingers down a bit.

“So…” You say somewhat awkwardly as you continue to feel him up through his pajama pants. “Did you sleep well?”

Shoto’s face is still buried in the fluffy pillow, but he cracks open an eye and looks back at you. He’s giving you a disbelieving look.

“You’re hand is on my penis…and you’re asking me how I slept? Don’t you think we should talk…sexier?” His voice drops an octave at the last word. You gulp.

“I’m new to this! I’m trying to be considerate!” Your fingers flutter nervously and Shoto lets out a soft, strangled sort of noise at the contact.

“Well I appreciate the consideration then. I slept well, thank you. This bed is very cozy. And you make a comfortable sleeping partner.”

You feel your face warm at the words. You drink him in – he’s got sleepy eyes and his body is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen it. You wish that you could stay in this bed with him for hours and just talk and touch and kiss…

Then you remember you’re on a tight timeline before class starts.

“Shoto…” You say, voice low. “I think it would feel even better if you let me go under your clothes.”

All Shoto can do is nod and look at you with wide eyes. You scoot closer to him, placing a hand on his chest so you can roll him over onto his back. He looks so beautiful like this – vulnerable and open.

“Mind taking these off?” You tug at the waistband of his sweats.

Shoto reaches down to slowly slip the waistband down his narrow hips. His erection springs forward – hard and beautiful. You take him in – his cock is longer than you expected. It has the same aristocratic pale skin as the rest of his body, becoming the tiniest bit darker at the tip. He looks like he’s carved from marble – all muscles and smooth pale flesh. You marvel at the way that his cock stands at attention, settled stiffly against defined abs and a light red happy trail.

“Oh, Shoto. You’re gorgeous.” You smile in satisfaction as Shoto’s soft cheeks bloom red in reaction to your praise. You reach out and trace your finger up the base of his cock. The skin is silky smooth – not at all what you were expecting. You wrap your hand around his hardness and give it an experimental jerk. Shoto’s eyes close at the contact and his head falls back into your pillow with a quiet thud.

“Does that feel good?” You whisper, jerking at his dick again. All he can do is nod silently as you continue to fist his dick slowly. He moans a tiny bit when you focus your energies on his leaking tip. You roll the precum down his shaft, using it to lubricate your hand as you continue to run it up and down his cock.

Shoto looks like he’s in heaven – his expression is laced with pleasure and the muscles of his stomach and abs quiver with gratification as you work at him. He’s splayed out before you like a Greek god, defined pale muscles glowing in the early morning sunlight. You find your mouth is practically watering at the image. You lick your lips and take a beat to clear your mind. You’ve never known yourself to have any sort of oral fixation, but at this exact moment you can’t think of anything more appealing than taking Shoto’s cock in your mouth.

You lean down, mouth open and ready…

A sudden rapid knock on the door stops you in your tracks. You hear Mina and Hugakure being noisy on the other end.

“Y/N! Let’s gooooo!” Mina whines, continuing to knock. “You promised you’d help us get some training in before class!”

You tighten your grip on Shoto’s cock in surprise, he lets out a soft grunt in response.

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no!

You recall with a start that you had promised to go down to one of the training gyms with the girls to get in some early morning quirk training. Mina has been begging you to show her the Ultimate Move you’ve been developing, and Hagakure has been asking for some tips on her new light refraction move. You look over to your desk and see your navy blue UA gym uniform folded and ready from where you’d laid it out the day before.

Your eyes meet Shoto’s in a panic. He’s looking back at you with unabashed lust – his eyes half-lidded. You feel like he should be freaking the fuck out right now, but then you realize that your hand is still wrapped around his incredibly hard dick.

You think quickly, brain scrambling through a lusty haze.

“Mina! Toru!” You call out, hoping they can hear you clearly through the door. “I’m not feeling that well this morning – I’m sorry! Can we rain check and hit the gym tomorrow morning instead?”

A pause.

“Are you okay, girl?” Hagakure calls back, concerned. “Would you like us to come in and help you?

“No I’ll be okay! I think I just need to sleep in a bit, I have a bit of a headache from studying so late last night. I’ll see you in class?”

As you’re talking, you slowly start to stroke Shoto’s dick again. His eyes widen and he continues to hold your gaze with his intense mismatched eyes. You see him bite his lip hard to keep in a moan.

“Okay, but don’t be late for class Y/N! Besides – I have some hot gossip to share! You’ll never believe who has a crush on you!” Mina teases through the door. You feel Shoto twitch in your hand and you move to increase your pace. Who would have known he was such an exhibitionist?

“A crush on me!?” You call back in mock surprise, reaching out your free hand to cup Shoto’s cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the gentle touch. “Well now I’m dying to know!”

“You’ll have to wait until lunch!” Mina warbles, carefree and completely unaware of the X-rated scene going on behind the closed door.

“Ugh fine!” You pretend to sound exasperated. Mina and Hagakure share their goodbyes and feel-betters through the door before leaving for the training gym.

“Drink some water, Y/N!” Hagakure advises you as you hear their footsteps recede down the hallway. You continue to work at Shoto’s thick cock, you’re practically salivating as you look down and revel the way he twitches under your gaze.

“They’re gone.” You whisper unnecessarily.

“Yeah.” Shoto takes a shaky breath. He lifts his hand to fold over your own against his face. His palm is warm against the back of your hand, and you can’t help but wonder at what he can accomplish with those long, capable fingers.

You grin, leaning in close to the half-hot half-cold hero-in-training so that your foreheads almost touch. You part your lips to let out the faintest whisper: “It’s just the two of us now…baby.”

Shoto’s breath hitches. The intoxicating combination of getting handsy in front of your classmates plus the unexpected term of endearment prove to be too much for poor Shoto, because he cums in an instant. You feel the orgasm roll through him, starting at the base of his balls and moving up through his dick as you stroke him through it. He lets out an impossibly soft moan as he watches sticky white fluid flow across your tiny hand.

You’re both a bit shocked at the sight – you’ve never seen a man cum before and it’s a little different from what you were expecting. You didn’t realize it would be so damn easy to send Shoto over the edge like that. You continue to stroke at him until he winces from overstimulation. He places a hand over your own in a silent plea for you to stop.

“I’m so sorry Y/N – um, do you have a towel or something? Sorry.” Shoto is tripping over his words as he searches desperately for something he can use to clean up the sticky situation. His forehead is creased in embaressment. You lean in and kiss him soundly, trying to shut him up.

“Hey, calm down it’s no big deal. My goal was to make you cum!” You spring up off the bed, holding your sticky hand aloft and at a distance from yourself as you walk to your closet. You quickly open the door and swipe a fluffy blue clean towel off of the top shelf and throw it in Shoto’s general direction. You avert your eyes as he wipes down his dick and stomach. You grab a clean washcloth to use on your own sticky hand.

“I’m sorry. I never imagined doing this with another person, let alone someone that I like and admire so much. It feels like I’m defiling you in a way.” Shoto says, a note of concern bleeding into his usually flat tone. You turn back his way to see him shimmy into his grey sweatpants with grace only a Todoroki can muster.

You laugh out loud at his word choice. “Shoto, if anything I’m the defiler and you’re the defilee. I literally woke you up by stroking your dick. Please do not feel bad about what just happened. It was a learning experience – and a damn hot one at that.” You waggle your eyebrows, attempting to break the tension. This draws a smile out of Shoto. You now notice that his cheeks are still flushed from his orgasm and his hair is 25% messier than usual. You move back to your desk and toss him a hot pink hair brush.

“Fix your bangs, hot stuff. Our classmates will definitely know that something is up if you show up to History lessons with that wild sex hair.”

“It’s not sex hair if we didn’t actually have sex.”

“What do you call what we just did then?”

Shoto pauses, unsure if you’re asking him a trick question.

“Well…sex is only when you have penetrative sex, isn’t it?” He asks tentatively, blushing.

“Actually, that’s not totally true! Sex can be defined a ton of different ways. The way we were taught sex growing up and in school is super black and white. Sex and sexuality are more of a grey area than anything else. Think of it more as a spectrum of sexual acts! There really aren’t any rules aside from needing to gain full consent from someone before you dive in.” You rattle off, regurgitating knowledge gained from years of scrolling on Tumblr and Scarleteen.

Shoto’s eyes widen a bit more with each sentence you blurt out, looking almost abashed. “I’m embarrassed to say I’ve never thought much about it. That’s a very new way of thinking for me. It sounds like I need to do some Googling.”

“We can talk through it more too. I can show you what I know so far and we can learn together.”

“I’d like nothing more.” Shoto says, his tone characteristically flat but tinged with warmth. You smile at him, reaching up to continue smoothing across his hair. The two-toned locks fall gracefully across his face softly. The early morning light bounces off his delicate skin in a way that just makes him glow. You appreciate the view for a moment, basking in the wonder of this boy and his perfect genes. After a moment you shake your head to clear your thoughts, realizing that there’s a more pressing matter at hand that needs your attention.

“Now let’s sneak you out of here. You want to go out the window, or…?”

No, Shoto does not want to climb out the window. He’s feeling shaky and unbalanced from his first partner-induced orgasm, and so he doubts that he’d be able to muster the coordination needed for an early morning fire escape climb. Instead, he has you poke your head out your doorway and confirm that the coast is clear before he rockets down the hall and back to his own dorm room. He waves over his shoulder at you as he goes, his face breaking into a rare grin as your eyes lock.

You smile to yourself as your alarm blares – the 15-minute timer you had set is up.

-------------------------------------

A half hour later you’re feeling refreshed in your recently pressed UA school uniform. You stride down the school halls with a spring in your step and a smug grin on your face as you replay the mornings’ events in your thirsty-ass brain. You made Shoto Todoroki cum with nothing but your hand! You giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny, Y/N?” A light voice says brightly from behind you. You snap back to the present and whirl around to see Uraraka following closely behind you. You try not to blush.

“Oh, nothing! I’m just in a good mood today. The, uh, weather seems to be particularly nice.”

Uraraka’s smile falters a bit at this comment on the weather – it’s been a temperate 60 degrees for the past month with little variation. She looks like she suspects something is up. She raises an eyebrow and chooses her next words carefully.

“Are you and Hagakure cooking up some crazy secret party again?” She asks slowly, a suspicious look overtaking her cute features.

Back in the Fall there had been an attempt at throwing a raucous party behind Mr. Aizawa’s back. The underground hero turned teacher had been off campus for a rare overnight mission, leaving Mr. Vlad King in charge of both Classes A and B.

You and your dorm-mates had taken advantage of the lapse in guardianship to throw a party in the common room. Just as things had started getting interesting (Mina had somehow acquired a bottle of wine and was going to pass it around so that everyone could try a sip), Monoma had tattled to Mr. Vlad King about the party. Monoma’s jealousy surrounding Class 1A truly knew no bounds, and he was determined to ruin the boisterous event before it could even begin. Vlad King had shut down the party so quickly that your group had only made it through he third song on Hagakure’s “Class 1A Party Playlist.”

When Mr. Aizawa had returned, he had greeted your class with a long, disappointed lecture. You remember the way your cheeks had burned with embarrassment as he called out the party instigators: you, Mina and Hagakure. Following the failed party,  Aizawa had set a weekend curfew requiring Class 1A to be in their individual bedrooms by 10pm. The entire class was still furious about this – up until now they had enjoyed free reign over the common area at all hours of the night. Video game tournaments and late movie nights had been the norm. Fortunately, your classmates hadn’t really been too mad at you, Mina and Hagakare for planning the party. In truth, everyone had been looking forward to the secret event. Also, you and your friends had bought everyone dinner and lead tutoring sessions for a month in order to apologize for the new Aizawa-imposed curfew.

You bring yourself back to the present, realizing you haven’t yet answered Uraraka’s question.

“What!? No way! Although it’s been a few months since we last tried to throw a party under Aizawa’s nose…maybe he’s been lulled into a false sense of security, making this the perfect time to strike!” You fake an evil laugh and make a mental note to mention this thought to Hagakure and Mina at lunch. The three of you have been dying to re-attempt the illicit party. You had recently watched an old American 80s movie together and learned about an American game called “Spin The Bottle.” The three of you were longing to try it with your classmates.

“Nooooo don’t get us in trouble again!” Urararka looks horror-stricken at the mischievous gleam in your eye. “I miss our Saturday midnight movie nights! Mr. Aizawa said that if we all do well on the upcoming joint training session with Class 1B, he might consider lifting the curfew!”

You grin at her evilly. “I can’t help that I’m a chaotic force!” You cackle like a witch and rub your hands together diabolically, making Uraraka laugh.

“You’re so silly! If you do decide to throw another party…just pleaseeee don’t get caught this time.” She holds out her hands in a praying position, imploring you to avoid getting an earlier curfew slapped onto Class 1A.

“Deal.” You say as the two of you reach the door to your classroom. “And I think I have an idea of how we can make sure we don’t get ratted out this time around.”

“Whatever it is, leave me out of it!” Uraraka says, waving you away to your desk. “I have enough on my plate already between this month’s new combat training moves and our latest calculus test.”

You laugh and give her a thumbs up as you sit down at your assigned seat. You pull out your notebook and planner as the rest of the class slowly files in. Uraraka may seem like a goody two shoes, but you know that if there is a party, there’s no way in hell that she’d miss it. You know the gal well enough at this point to recognize that she would have FOMO to the max if she skipped an forbidden party (especially if a certain green haired classmate would be attending said party).

After a few minutes, Hagakare and Mina stumble into the classroom, both looking exhausted and a bit worse for wear.

“Jeez! What happened to you two!?” You ask as they both slump into their seats.

“Why does she look so well rested!?” Hagakare says suspiciously, pointing at you. She turns to Mina, a sharp edge to her voice. “Wasn’t she supposed to be sick?”

“I took some Advil.” You hum out.

Mina looks over at you, unconvinced. “Must have been some great Advil – you’re practically glowing.”

“I caught my second wind for the day.”

“Girl it’s only, like, 9 AM.” Hagakare says, her voice laced with fatigue. “And Mina and I just spent the last hour cooking up some special moves. It definitely took a lot more of our energy than we were expecting.”

“Any good developments?” You prompt, hoping to steer the pair away from discussing your supposed “sickness” in more detail.

“Hagakare’s light refraction technique is really coming along.” Mina chimes in, dumping her books unceremoniously on her desk and grabbing a hot pink fuzzy pen from her backpack. “And I’m working to increase the viscosity of my “Acid Man” move. It’s slow-going, but I think I’m on the right track.”

You beam at Mina, she’s been working so hard lately on her special move. She’s been trying to grab as many free hours at gym possible to spend more time practicing. 

“That’s awesome! I feel like you’ve made so much progress lately. I’m sorry again I wasn’t there.” You drop your voice down to a whisper. “Listen guys – I have something we need to discuss at lunch today. I think that it’s time to activate Operation: Spin The Bottle.” You waggle your eyebrows at them meaningfully.

“What!? Really?” Hagakare perks up, turning her body in a motion that clearly showed The Invisible Girl was trying to gauge the expressions on yours and Mina’s faces.

You shush her. “We’ll talk later at lunch!”

It crosses your mind that maybe you want to tell Mina and Hagakare about your…situation with Shoto Todoroki. They are your best friends after all – and you want them to giggle and gush when you recount the sweet words he’s said to you, and the way he’s kissed you so soundly that your head spins just thinking about it.

But, no. This is a private affair at the moment. Everything that’s happened so far should stay between you and Shoto until the two of you decide together that you want other people to be in the know about your canoodling.

Speaking of Shoto…your half-hot, half-cold classmate enters class right before the bell. It’s unusual – typically he’s in his seat and ready for class 10 minutes before. He looks well groomed – his uniform is perfectly ironed and free of any creases. His hair is brushed and perfectly styled. His mouth is set in its typical hard line as he crosses the room to take his seat.

You try not to let your eyes linger on Shoto for longer than is necessary. Some of your classmates are intensely perceptive, and you don’t want to give them any reason to suspect a romantic affair between you and Todoroki. You’re embarrassed by the way you’re drawn to him like a magnet – you actively need to will your head to stay turned towards the front of the classroom. He’s so devastatingly beautiful and you just want to stare and memorize the dip of his chin, the thin line of his cupid’s bow…

Mr. Aizawa enters the classroom and gives his students a dark glare.

“Good Morning, class.”

“Good Morning, Mr. Aizawa.” The class choruses back.

“Before we get started today, I have a quick announcement. I’ll be out of town this weekend for an undercover mission with a few other Pros. Nothing to worry about – but I will be gone all of Saturday and Sunday. Vlad King will be in charge of the class while I’m gone. He’s going to keep a close eye on you all in addition to his own class.”

You try to keep yourself from grinning – this timing is too perfect!!

“That being said…” He levels his gaze on you, Mina and Hagakare. “If I hear word of any of you causing trouble, there will be swift punishment. I’m not above lowering the curfew to 8pm on weekends.” He grins at the mass of horrified looks he gets in response.

“We’ll be good, Mr. Aizawa – we promise!” Sue calls out from her desk. Kirishima nods vehemently in agreement and Kamanari whispers, “I miss movie midnights.”

You try not to make eye contact with your friends so as not to give yourselves away.

“I’m expecting a stellar report about my class’s behavior when I return.” Mr. Aizawa scowls at the room at large before cracking open a textbook on the teacher’s podium. “Now let’s dive into our first lesson of the day.”

-------------------------------------------

A few classes later, it’s finally time for lunch. You and the rest of Class 1A file into the hall and down to Lunch Rush, chattering about the latest assignments and Mr. Aizawa’s upcoming absence.

“Mr. Aizawa is so cool!” Midoriya gushes to Ida and Uraraka towards the back of the group. “I don’t know how he juggles being our teacher and a Pro. I wonder what kind of undercover mission he’s got planned that will only take the weekend.”

“It’s true!” Ida chimes in enthusiastically. “Mr. Aizawa is an incomparable hero – UA High School truly does not disappoint when it comes to its faculty and staff!”

You tune out the rest of their conversation and move forward to link arms with Mina and Toru.

“Can you believe that Mr. Aizawa is going away this weekend!?” You whisper excitedly to your two closest friends.

“For someone who woke up sick this morning, you sure are chipper.” Mina groans, rubbing at her tired eyes with her free hand. “I need some coffee before I can be excited about anything.”

“Agreed!” Toru sighs. “Mina - we pushed ourselves a little too hard this morning.”

You file into the cafeteria and get on line at one of the food counters. You grab a tray and scan the menu board above you to make your selection. The Food Hero Lunch Rush serves you up a few piping hot dishes that smell so incredibly delicious that your mouth starts to water.

“I’ll go grab us some seats!” You call over your shoulder to the girls, walking blindly in the direction of your usual table.

You’re not paying attention to where you are walking, because suddenly you collide with another student and you feel yourself start to tip backwards . Everything is suddenly moving in slow motion as you watch your lunch tray fly up into the air as you’re falling back, back, back…

You close your eyes and brace for the impact, your brain scrambles to remember the lesson Miss Midnight taught you about the proper way to fall and land without injury. But everything is happening so quickly and your panicking mind can’t seem to remember the lesson.

Suddenly – you stop falling. You feel a sturdy arm support your back, a warm hand cradling the back of your head. You slowly open your eyes and realize that it’s Shoto. Shoto caught you inches before you hit the ground and protected your head before you could hit the ground. After the events of the past 24 hours his touch feels familiar and safe. Your body instantly relaxes as he holds you.

You blink up at him in wonder, a soft zing of adrenaline pulsing through your veins. His eyes burn into your own with a fierceness you can’t quite decode. His gaze darts quickly to your lips and then back to your eyes. Oh, shit. He’s thinking about kissing you. Right here, right now. You’re in a cafeteria full of UA classmates, faculty and staff and yet all you can think about in this adrenaline-filled moment is throwing your arms around Shoto’s neck and bringing his mouth to yours. In this moment, all you see is Shoto and his fierce mismatched eyes.

“Y/N! Are you alright!? I’m so sorry! I wasn’t lookin’ where I was going.” You snap back to reality and center yourself. You’re in a crowded cafeteria at school. You bumped into someone and tripped. Your lunch went flying and is definitely laying somewhere in a sad, inedible pile. You look over Shoto’s shoulder and see that the person you bumped into was Honenuki from Class 1B, who is now furiously apologizing from behind Shoto.

“Oh my goodness, that was so clumsy of me! So sorry Honenuki!” Your face flushes in embarrassment as Shoto lifts you back onto your feet. His hand is burning, and you see that his face has a scarlet tinge to it as well. All you can think of right now is that just a few hours earlier, he was cumming in your hand. The way his eyes seem to widen a bit as he looks down at you confirms that he’s thinking about the same exact thing. You feel yourself getting turned on just thinking about it.

“Try to be more careful, Y/N.” Shoto mutters, his tone sounds almost angry as he turns away from you and begins to clean up your spoiled lunch off the ground.

“Thanks Todoroki – sorry about that, man!” Honenuki says as he steps forward to sizes you up and ensure there are no injuries. Shoto gives Honenuki one of his quiet nods of acknowledgement.

“I was so zoned out listening to my zen playlist, I didn’t even see you coming.” Honenuki says apologetically, pointing to his ear buds. “Sometimes the cafeteria gets a little overwhelming for me so I like to cancel out the noise with music. I guess I need to be a little more aware of my surroundings.”

“No harm done!” You say reassuringly, embarrassed as Shoto sweeps the rest of your lunch into the trash. He nods again at you both then walks back towards the table he is sharing with Midoriya, Ida and Uraraka. He doesn’t look back. For a moment, you feel a pang in your chest – could Shoto actually be mad at you? After such an intimate morning spent together, the silent treatment is the last thing you’d expect from him. But then again – this is Shoto. He’s not great at expressing his emotions, and he’s likely trying to keep up the appearance that the two of you aren’t close in order to preserve some privacy. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming your nerves. Last night you were overthinking his text messages, and now you’re getting anxious about him literally saving you from a bad fall in the middle of the cafeteria. You repeat in your head that everything is fine, and if the way you made him orgasm this morning is any indication – Shoto is pretty smitten with you.

“Can I replace your lunch?” Honenuki asks, gesturing to the long line behind Lunch Rush’s food station.

“Oh, no, that’s alright!” You assure him, reaching into your pocket to grab your wallet. You flip open the small daisy covered case and realize there are no bills inside. Crap! You forgot to run to the ATM this morning before class. Your stomach rumbles audibly. You look up at Honenuki, your face burning.

“Come on.” He smiles (or you think he’s smiling. Born with a mutation that developed his face without lips, Honenuki has a permanent grin on his face) and nods towards the line. You follow him over and promise that you’ll pay him back the next day. He’ll hear nothing of it.

“It’s my fault your lunch ended up scattered across the cafeteria. No need to pay me back.” The two of you take up a place at the back of the long line, and you watch Toru and Mina grab seats at your usual table out of the corner of your eye. They’re looking over at you curiously, no doubt wondering why you’re chatting with Honenuki. You’ve met the Class 1B student on several occasions, mostly for joint training programs between Classes 1A and 1B, but you’ve never had the chance to speak with him 1:1. He’s always given off a cool, chill vibe that you find endearing.

“So what kind of music are you listening to?” You look up at him as he fiddles with his phone to decrease the volume of his ear buds.

“A lot of George Harrison lately. I’m really into 60s and 70s music right now.”

“I can send you some, if you’d like.”

“Oh – for sure!” You say cheerfully, always happy to make a new friend and hear some new jams. Honenuki seems really pleased with your answer for some reason.

“Here.” He holds out his phone, opened to the “contact” application. “Add your number. I’ll trade you – a song for a song.”

“Deal.” You say, punching in your digits. At this time, you’ve reached the front of the line where Lunch Rush replaces your spilt lunch with an equally yummy looking selection. You grab your fresh tray and move to walk towards your friends.

“Thanks Honenuki, I really appreciate it! And sorry again for being so clumsy.” You smile back at him before making a beeline for Mina and Toru.

“No worries, Y/N.” Honenuki waves as you scamper away. “And make sure you send me a good song!”

You slide into your seat with a sigh.

“What the heck was that!?” Toru shrieks, waving her arms around in a flurry of uniform sleeves.

“Looks like someone’s gotta crush on you, Y/N!” Mina winks at you and motions to Honenuki.

“Oh! Oh nooooo we were just talking about music. He bought me lunch to replace the one I’d dropped.” You say, embaressed.

“But you got his number, didn’t you!?” Mina claps her hands together. “This is absolutely perfect! We can try to rig spin the bottle so that you can kiss Honenuki!”

“How can you kiss someone without lips?” Toru muses aloud as she starts to dig into her lunch.

“Wow that’s pretty insensitive Toru!” You say admonishingly.

“No she’s got a point. We’ll need to strategize ahead of your big kiss with Class 1B’s chilliest student.” Mina grins deviously.

“Oh my God, drop the obsession with Honenuki! I promise I’m not interested in him that way. He’s just really nice!”

“Then who are you interested in, hmm?” Toru teases, pointing her chopsticks at the table across the room that holds Midoriya, Ida, Ururaka and Shoto. “Ida, perhaps?”

You and Mina laugh. “He’s not really my type.” You say kindly, glancing over at the table to watch Shoto take an elegant bite of soba. “I go more for a mysteriously handsome aesthetic.”

Mina gives you a Cheshire cat grin. “Ohhhh I know the perfect pairing for your spin the bottle partner then!” She cackles and you wonder if she’s figured you out. You glance again at Shoto and your eyes connect. You feel like a magnetic current is running between the two of you, pulling your energies together and bridging time and space.

“We all know who Mina’s ideal spin the bottle partner would be!” Toru declares loudly with a snort. “Mr. Tall Red and Handsome!” With her invisible hand, she gestures towards their left where Kirishima is wolfing down a bowl of rice next to a stoic looking Bakugo.

“Toru! Oh my God! Shhhh!” Mina waves frantically as she tries to quiet down your friend. It’s no secret amongst the three of you that Mina has been pining over her middle school classmate Eijirou Kirishima for the past year and a half. She’s been flirting with him and dancing around the edge of asking him out for months now.

“Oh yeah, Mina. What’s your game plan for when you get Kirishima for spin the bottle? Are you gonna kiss him…with tongue!?” You make a show of waggling your tongue at your friend and she gives you a mock look of disgust.

“Okay, so I know who Y/N is going to kiss and who I am gonna kiss…but what about you Toru? Who should we manifest for your spin the bottle debut?” Mina takes a delicate bite of her lunch as she poses this momentous question.

“The real question is…who won’t I kiss!?” Toru laughs almost maniacally, wiggling in her seat. It’s moments like this you wish you could see the expression on her invisible face – you’re sure it would be absolutely menacing. You and the girls laugh together and continue to babble about ideal “kiss” pairings across Class 1A.

“Oh! That reminds me! I’ve got piping hot tea to spill, y’all.” Mina pushes aside her empty bowl and leans on her elbows towards you and Toru conspiratorially. “Sero told me that he saw Todoroki sneaking back into his dorm room this morning.”

Oh, shit.

You scramble to compose your face into a look of shock – but not too shocked! Just the right amount of shocked! For a moment, you wish you had an invisibility quirk like Toru so you could mask your facial reactions.

“And you guys know that Todoroki is so by the book - he always abides by curfew. So where do you think he was!? Training? Studying? Having a covert love affair?”

Toru gasps dramatically. You almost choke on your rice at this last musing from Mina. From across the dining hall you see Shoto shoot you a look, clearly concerned. You avoid his stare and level your gaze at Mina. Her eyes dart over your face questioningly. “What do you know Y/N!?” She practically demands.

You push aside your rice bowl, taking a moment to compose yourself.

“Well…I saw his dad visit yesterday. Actually – I met his dad. It looks like he put Todoroki through training hell for most of the evening. I wouldn’t be surprised if he spent the night catching up on homework and studying since his dad took up all of his time yesterday.”

“You met Endeavor? The Flame Hero!?” Toru all but jumps out of her chair.

“Yeah, I did.” You try to keep it light on the details, no need to back yourself into a corner.

“What was he like!?”

You scowl, recalling all that Shoto had shared about his complicated relationship with his father the night before. Fuck Endeavor and his poor attempt at fatherhood.

“He seemed kind of like a jerk, to be honest.”

“That’s not surprising.” Mina chimes in. You’re relieved to see that she has moved away from the topic of Todoroki’s potential “covert love affair.” “A lot of what I’ve read about him online makes him sound like kind of an asshole. He’s not exactly known for being a warm and fuzzy hero with the way he interacts with the public.”

“That’s true – I heard that recently he saved a civilian from a factory explosion, then yelled at the man because he was wearing an All Might t-shirt.” Toru adds in a scandalized voice.

Mina snorts at this. “Inferiority complex, much?”

You laugh, finally back at ease. There’s no way any of them could find out about your illicit hookup session with Shoto. You two had so carefully covered your tracks. You snip and quip at each other for a few more minutes before you finally turn the conversation towards the most important topic at hand.

“Okay, girls. Let’s talk Operation: Spin the Bottle. How are we gonna get this secret party off the ground this weekend? What did we learn from last time?”

The girls latch onto the new conversation topic with fervor.

“I think we should make cute decorations!” Toru volunteers. “And we should remix our last party playlist to include the biggest radio hits from the past month.”

“Those are great ideas! I also think we should wait until Mr. Aizawa is officially gone before we start spreading the word about the party.” Mina says thoughtfully, sipping from her green tea drink. “As for our mistake the last time around…the biggest problem was Monoma.”

“Oh don’t worry – I have a plan to take care of him.” You say, rubbing your hands together like a cartoon villain.

“Oooo – Y/N, I love it when you get diabolical like this!” Mina giggles, sweeping her dirty dishes onto her tray and rising from the table. It’s time to go back to class for the second half of their school day. The three of you agree to chat through your plan in more detail later on.

You deposit your dirty tray at the correct receptacle before filing back to the classroom with the rest of your crew.

Ida, Midoriya, Uraraka and Shoto walk next to you in the halls. You and Shoto walk side by side, each immersed in conversations with your respective groups. Toru is explaining the latest makeup trends from Tokyo to you and Mina, while Midoriya and Shoto are deep in a conversation surrounding provisional licenses. You can feel the burning heat of Shoto’s body next to yours as you move through the crowded halls. It’s loud and chaotic as students bustle to and fro, rushing to their afternoon courses. For the briefest moment, you feel Shoto’s pinky brush against your own. You feel a shock of electricity run through you at the contact. You can’t help but smile. What a sweet little secret you have!

You file back into Classroom 1A and see that Mr. Aizawa is already stationed at the teacher’s podium, awaiting your class’s arrival.

“Alright, alright. Take your seats.” Mr. Aizawa says in a bored tone.

Izuku Midoriya raises his hand. He doesn’t wait for the teacher to call on him before he blurts out: “But sir – don’t we have combat training this afternoon?”

A murmur of confusion ripples through the class. Typically, this would be the point in the day when Mr. Aizawa would give you all access to your hero costumes and tell you to go to the locker rooms to prep for the combat portion of the coursework.

“Midoriya, please wait to be called on before addressing me in a classroom setting.” Mr. Aizawa reprimands quickly, but there’s no tone of annoyance in his voice. At this point in your academic journey with Eraserhead, you know that he’s just a stickler for rules and loves order.

“Sorry, sir.” Izuku squeaks out, sinking in his chair a bit now that he’s been called out in front of the entire class.

“That’s a good question. I realize that there’s an important lesson we’ve been neglecting to teach you here. Now that you’re living in the dorms, it feels more pressing than ever.”

Ida’s hand shoots up in the air at record speed.

“Yes, Ida…” EraserHead says in a bored voice.

“Sir, UA has such a strict and well-planned curriculum. What could possibly have been “neglected” by the faculty and staff?”

Aizawa smirks at Ida as if the young Engine hero has made a particularly funny joke. He looks out at the class and takes a deep breath before his next statement:

“This afternoon Recovery Girl and Midnight will be joining us as we discuss a crucial topic. I’m going to walk you through an Intro to Sex Ed.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's Part 4

Previous Chapter: Part 2 | Next Chapter: Part 4

🔥Link to My Master List🔥

Thanks so much for reading - I hope you're enjoying the story so far. You all were so excited for an update, it spurred me on to write up this 20 page update! Holy Cow! The next chapter I have planned out is going to be super spicy and a little silly (I feel like you all have been digging that combo so far!?). Let's see what happens next to our dear Shoto x Reader pairing! 👀

Lol maybe I should come up with a better story name than "Shoto's First Kiss." When I started this as a one shot I did not expect this story to take off the way it did! Thanks again for reading and feel free to check out my other spicy works on The Master List pinned to the top of my blog!

XoXo, Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

[revelboo]

Hello revel!! Been reading your stories for a few months now, and I'm obsessed.

Do you have any plans on writing for Rung?

Glad you like my stories!

I have the overwhelming urge to add TFA Megs. Rewatching the series and I somehow always forget the size difference between the Autobots and Decepticons and just how big a boy Megs is in TFA

Anything For You

Rung x Reader

• Carefully snipping a part loose, he pauses to adjust the protective lenses over his optics before fitting the part in place. There’s something about the routine of assembling a model that helps him think. And he’s thinking about the little human that had been the first to appear. The one that had gravitated toward Megatron, the former warlord. And, he hopes, helping Megatron move past his guilt and begin to forgive himself. To heal. He been assembling a model then, too. Smiling, he turns to reach for a cube of energon and hears a cry and a clatter as parts scatter everywhere. No, not again.

• Wheezing through the pain, it feels like someone clocked you in the face, head splitting as you squint open an eye. And see the huge monster leaning over over you. Screaming, you shove yourself backwards and your hand lands on a bit of plastic bigger than your fist as you grab it and throw it to bounce harmlessly off the giant. “I’m not going to hurt you,” the monster says, voice soft and coaxing as he holds out big hands. And you bean him in the head with another chunk of plastic. “Please don’t.”

• Scrambling to your feet and staggering a bit, you grab another part and rear back. The other human didn’t lash out, they’d cowered, but not you. You’re baring your little teeth at him, afraid and angry. Wild as a cornered animal. “Don’t you touch me.” And you chuck your projectile and snatch up another. “I’ll mess you up!” Easing back so he’s not looming because you’re strung so tight he’s afraid you might bolt and throw yourself off the top of his desk just to escape. And despite the scowl and angry tone, you are scared. “I will!”

• “I’m sure you will,” he says, reaching for a cube of glowing goop and tipping it up to drink. Not trying to grab you as you back up closer to the far edge, tensed in case he makes a grab for you. Where are you? What happened? Your heart is racing like crazy, pounding so hard against your ribs you can barely breathe. Is this a nightmare? Are you asleep? As you watch, he reaches for a long metal thing nearly half your height and uses a servo to work the knob on the side and you stiffen as a blade pops out of the end. Moving slowly, he sets it down and pushes it your way with a servo. Giving you a weapon? “See? I’m unarmed.”

• Watches you lunge, hooking your arms around the little utility knife and aiming the blade at him, struggling to hold it up, eyes narrowed. “I’m not afraid of you,” you mutter, but your fingers are white knuckled gripping the knife. Can tell you feel safer having that and he doesn’t think you’d actually cut him unless you felt threatened, but you’re stressed and on edge now. The blade a little thing if it gives you comfort. And he studies you, frowning slightly as you tremble and glare up at him. “Where am I? Who are you?” You’re definitely not the other human, you’re all anger and fear. Needing help. Needing him.