#I do remember doing a high kick and people screamed

[mintyys-blog]

Omni mark x reader house wife 💓💓💓 Let's say the reader was a bit of a delinquent, rebellious girl, but after Omni Mark met her, he knew there was no better way than to raise her as he filled her thoughts with motherhood, pregnancy, and becoming best housewife and the most beautiful mother with his Babys, Pleaseeeee 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 you are my fav Writer and writings always make my day better 💘💘💘

And please if you can do the same thing with the Vitrumate Mark if you can or with the Full Mask Mark. :3 💖💖💖

HIS LITTLE WIFE | omni mark x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: smut, pregnancy, dubious consent/possessive dynamics, implied kidnapping, grooming.

You were hell on wheels, darling—

a bad habit in red lipstick, danger in denim and leather. Your presence didn’t just enter a room—it claimed it, carved your initials into the walls, and left the scent of trouble lingering like smoke.

Leather jacket zipped halfway over a crop top, thighs hugging the seat of your beat-up motorcycle like it was a throne. You didn’t walk—you strutted. Every movement said I dare you. Every look was a challenge. Eyeliner sharp enough to cut, rings on every finger, and that mouth? Sharp enough to shred pride, charm, or reputation without ever lifting a hand.

You weren’t the kind of girl people forgot.

The city knew your name. Not because you were on a billboard or an Instagram feed—but because wherever you went, something always happened. A fight in a bar. A set of tires screeching down a quiet street at midnight. A pretty boy sobbing on a curb because he thought he could tame you with flattery.

They learned fast: you didn’t do soft. You left bruises on hearts and lipstick on stolen beer bottles. You flipped off security cameras and taught your friends how to hotwire a car just for kicks.

You were chaos, but beautiful. Reckless, but free. You used to laugh at girls who planned their weddings. Used to snort when someone said “biological clock.” The idea of being someone’s housewife? It made your skin crawl. You said the word like it was a disease. Like you’d rather dig your grave with your own chipped nails than cook dinner for a man who thought owning a ring meant owning you.

You made it very clear.

“I’ll never settle down,” you told your friends one night, parked at your usual dive, high heels kicked off beneath the bar and boots up on the stool like you owned the joint. The neon light painted your smirk in hues of sin, cigarette tucked behind your ear like punctuation.

“All these guys,” you scoffed, tilting your drink, “trying to play me into being their little wifey? Like, ‘oh baby, I’ll take care of you’—please. I’ll take care of myself. I’d rather burn my own house down than let some guy build a prison around me and call it ‘home.’”

The girls laughed. They knew you.

They’d heard you drag some poor guy down the block just for touching your waist without asking. They remembered the time you broke someone’s nose because he called you a “crazy chick.” And yet— “Unless,” you added, voice dropping, almost thoughtful.

You swirled your drink.

“Unless he’s the one. The right one. The kind of man who could pin me down without breaking me.”

That earned another round of laughter, half-wicked, half-hopeful. You all had your wounds. Your war stories. But no one, not one, doubted your conviction.

You meant it. With all your soul. No man could tame you. No man could own you.

You’d have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into a dress and a white picket fence. It’d take a god to even try.

And then— The sky split open. And you met him.

It was late when it happened. City lights bleeding into the sky like neon veins, your boots scuffing the pavement with that easy, dangerous rhythm that said you didn’t care who was watching.

You were walking home from a party you didn’t stay long at. It was boring. The guys were forgettable, and the drinks were weak. You needed adrenaline—something real. Something that would make your heart race again.

That’s when you felt it. A shift. Not in the air. Not in the wind. In everything.

You stopped on the sidewalk, brows knitting. The street around you was still buzzing with life—cars passing, music thumping faintly from some rooftop bar. And then you saw him. Him.

Suspended in the sky above the buildings, like a bloodstain in the clouds. Red cape billowing. Muscles carved from war. Eyes burning.

Omni-Man— no, omnivincible. He wasn’t a hero now. He wasn’t even a man. He was a god who had fallen—and decided to drag the world down with him.

You’d seen him on the news. Watched him rip through people like they were paper, demolish entire teams like they were annoyances. He used to save lives. Now he just… chose.

Chose who got to live. Chose what cities burned. Your mouth went dry. “The hell is he doing here…?” you whispered.

You were still staring when a voice interrupted. “Hey, sweetheart. You lookin’ for a ride home?”

You blinked. Some sleaze from the bar earlier. He was grinning like he hadn’t just watched you roll your eyes at him hours ago. Blocking your path.

“Back off,” you said, tone flat, uninterested.

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. “C’mon, don’t be like that. You looked lonely back there. Figured you might want some company—”

CRACK.

The sky screamed.

A sonic boom ruptured through the air so violently, the glass of nearby storefronts shattered—windows cracking into spiderwebs as car alarms shrieked and bystanders hit the ground with screams.

You ducked instinctively—but something told you not to run. Something ancient and primal in your blood said stay still.

Because he was already here. Standing in front of you. Where the creep had been—he was gone. Just gone. No scream, no warning. Just… vanished. And in his place stood him.

Tall. Silent. The wind howled around him, tugging his cape like it was bowing to him. His head turned. Slowly. Like a predator tasting the air. His eyes met yours. Or more like his goggles, black and soulless. Not glowing. Not monstrous. Just unblinking. Calm. Calculating.

And you—girl who feared no one—felt your pulse stutter. You took one step back. Then another. “I know you,” you said, voice low, guarded.

“You should,” he replied. His voice was deep. Smooth. Like stone cracking beneath velvet.

You swallowed, resisting the urge to look away.

“You’re Omni-vincible. Or… you were.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I still am,” he said. “I’ve just stopped pretending.”

Another step back. You didn’t run. You were too smart for that. But every instinct screamed: He’s not here for someone else. He’s here for you. “Why… why did you stop him?” you asked, meaning the creep. “What do you want?”

He tilted his head slightly, like the question amused him. Or confused him. “I don’t like men touching what’s mine.”

You froze. “…Yours?”

“You’ve caught my eye,” he said simply. Like that explained everything. Like it was final. You didn’t know what to say. What to do. So you did the only thing that made sense. You ran.

But even as your feet pounded the pavement, even as the adrenaline hit and your brain screamed get away—you knew it didn’t matter.

Because if a god decided you were his? Running was just part of the game.

You ran.

Boots slamming against pavement, lungs burning with the sting of cold night air. You didn’t look back—not once. You couldn’t. Not when your body was still processing the way he looked at you. Not when you were trying to pretend that heat hadn’t crawled down your spine when he called you his.

But behind you—up in the sky above shattered glass and flickering streetlights—he didn’t chase.

He watched.

Arms crossing over his chest, cape fluttering with the wind of his own destruction.

And he smiled.

“I always did like a bit of a challenge,” he murmured, mostly to himself. Like this was a game he’d already won—he just hadn’t played the last few moves yet.

TIME SKIP…

The apartment was quiet.

Not the silence of emptiness—but the hush of completion. Curtains swayed gently in the breeze. Sunlight painted golden lines across the bedroom floor, and the distant sound of city life filtered in from beyond the balcony.

But in here?

There was only the sound of him—his low, steady breaths behind you, and your own sighs as you rolled your hips back into him.

“Mark…” you whispered, voice breathy, already hazy. His hands were firm on your hips, guiding you, owning your rhythm without rushing it.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he murmured against your neck, lips brushing the skin reverently. His voice was low, roughened with pleasure. “My wife…”

You shuddered when he said it. That word.

Wife.

Two years ago, it would’ve made you laugh—scoff—fight.

Now it made your chest flutter and your thighs tighten around him.

You arched your back just to feel him groan again, his breath hot against your shoulder as his hands traveled to your waist, thumbs caressing the soft curve of your belly.

“Perfect,” he said again, slower this time. Like he wasn’t just praising your body, but what you were to him now. What you’d become.

His dream. His victory. The one woman in the universe wild enough to catch his eye—and soft enough now to carry his name, his mark, his legacy.

You could still remember what you used to be—sharp-tongued and storm-hearted. You still had that fire, somewhere. But here, with him? It burned for him.

His hands moved with reverence, one sneaking between your thighs, the other gripping your breast like he needed the anchor. His mouth was at your ear now, his words sweet and cruel all at once. “You’re everything I wanted. You know that?”

You moaned, unable to answer—because you did know. He’d told you every day since he claimed you. Since he’d broken down your defenses with patience and power and praise.

You were his queen now—but in his image. A wife who served him her body and her loyalty, who wore sundresses instead of leather, who cooed at baby names instead of cursing at cops. And you loved it. God help you, you loved it.

He kissed your neck again, slower this time. “Might keep you pregnant, sweetheart. Just like this. Round and glowing, full of my babies, always so soft for me…”

Your breath hitched—half a moan, half a gasp. And he chuckled darkly, pulling you back into him harder. Claiming you all over again.

Your body rocked against his, a slow grind that had nothing to do with teasing and everything to do with communion. You moved like you knew exactly what he liked—because you did. Two years of learning each other’s bodies, two years of nights like this where words faded and all that was left was the truth of touch.

Mark groaned, his hands tightening at your waist.

“You feel that?” he breathed against your shoulder, voice deep, rough with restrained need. “The way your body holds me? Like it was made for me, sweetheart.”

You whined, rolling your hips again, letting the drag of his cock fill you just right. Not fast, not desperate—intentional. You were in no hurry. Not anymore. You belonged to him, and this rhythm? It was your worship.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, kissing the curve of your neck. “Every inch. Every breath. This body, this heart—it’s all mine now, isn’t it?”

You nodded, voice caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Y-Yeah… it’s yours, Mark. All yours.”

He growled, low and pleased, his grip tightening. His thrusts grew deeper—still slow, but heavier now, claiming you with each movement like he was trying to imprint himself inside you all over again.

“You were so wild back then,” he rasped. “So angry. So sure no man could ever own you.”

His hand slid up to your throat—not tight, not choking—just holding, a reminder.

“And now look at you… riding your husband like a good girl. Moaning for me. Begging for more.”

You whimpered, head falling back against his shoulder as he fucked up into you, the bed creaking under the weight of his strength and your surrender. One hand still at your throat, the other slid down, fingers pressing between your legs, circling that sensitive spot he knew too damn well.

“Mark—!”

He chuckled darkly, lips brushing your ear.

“Gonna make you cum like this,” he whispered. “Nice and slow. Let you milk me like a good little wife… my perfect girl…” And when it hit you—when your body clamped around him and your back arched and your voice broke into his name—it wasn’t just an orgasm. It was the echo of everything he’d built in you. The rebel, turned lover. The wild girl, turned his.

Your body trembled with aftershocks, skin slick with heat and pleasure as you collapsed back against him—chest rising and falling, your breath still catching around his name.

Mark didn’t move right away.

He just held you there, buried deep inside, one arm wrapped tight around your middle, the other sliding slowly, reverently, down to the small swell of your stomach.

His hand settled there.

Warm. Broad. Possessive.

You shivered—not from cold, but from the way he touched you. Like you were sacred. Like you were more than a wife, more than a woman. You were his legacy in motion. His future.

His home.

“You feel that?” he whispered against your neck, his breath making your skin prickle.

You hummed, dazed. “Mhm…”

“Our baby’s in there.”

You let out a soft sound—half sigh, half sob. His palm rubbed gentle circles against the faint bump, the early sign of what was growing. What he’d put there.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw. “So full. So mine.”

You melted into him, head resting on his shoulder, the strong cage of his arms holding you together as you breathed him in.

Mark exhaled slowly, the weight of you—you carrying his child—making his heartbeat slow with something dangerously close to peace.

“Never thought I’d want this,” you murmured, eyes fluttering shut. He chuckled softly.

“No,” he said, voice velvet-smooth. “But I did.” He leaned forward, lips brushing the back of your shoulder. “I knew the moment I saw you—out there, all fire and fury—that I’d put a baby in you someday.”

You whimpered softly, and he smiled. “Now look at you. Soft. Glowing. Mine.”

You nodded sleepily, letting him guide you down gently onto the bed, still keeping one hand over your stomach. His other hand caressed your hip as he spooned against your back, every inch of him curved around you like armor. Safe. Heavy. Permanent.

“Get some rest,” he murmured, brushing your hair away from your face. “I’ll take care of everything.”

The morning sun spilled through the tall windows, drenching the kitchen in gold.

You stood at the stove, barefoot, hair tied up in a loose knot. One of Mark’s shirts hung off your shoulders—soft cotton swallowing your frame, sleeves pushed up past your elbows, hem barely covering the swell of your hips.

The fabric stretched gently around your belly. It wasn’t small anymore.

You were showing now.

And you swore Mark loved you more with every inch that grew.

Bacon sizzled on the pan. You flipped it with one hand, the other absentmindedly rubbing your belly as you hummed. The house was quiet, warm, filled with the smell of fresh toast and eggs and the promise of another perfect day.

You’d never imagined this—never saw yourself in a kitchen like some suburban dream, barefoot and pregnant and humming over breakfast.

But now? Now it felt right.

Because this was for him. For your husband. For the god who chose you.

And you were happy.

Until you felt it—that shift in the air. The soundless presence that meant he was near. You didn’t need to turn around to know.

He was watching you.

“Smells good,” Mark said, voice deep and rich as he stepped into the kitchen. You could feel his gaze all over you. “But not as good as you.”

You turned your head just slightly, smirking. “You mean your shirt smells good?”

“I mean you, carrying my child, standing there looking like every fantasy I’ve ever had.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks heating as he moved closer.

He didn’t stop at just holding you.

He never did.

One strong arm wrapped around your waist from behind, the other hand sliding up your thigh, under the hem of his shirt—your shirt now. His palm flattened across the curve of your stomach, warm and possessive.

“I should let you cook,” he murmured against your neck, lips brushing your skin like a secret. “But it’s hard. Watching you like this. Looking so soft. So mine.”

You bit your lip, flipping the burner off.

“Breakfast’s not going anywhere,” you whispered.

His hand moved higher, cupping your breast—heavier now, full from the pregnancy. You gasped, arching into his touch as he grinned against your neck.

“Neither are you.”

His other hand slipped lower, beneath the swell of your belly, fingers brushing where he knew you were already getting wet from his voice alone.

“Mark…”

“You’re everything I wanted,” he murmured, guiding you to lean against the counter, his body pressing against your back, caging you in. “The perfect wife. And still so ready for me, even like this…”

You whimpered when he teased you through your underwear, the heat of his touch sparking through your limbs like lightning. “I can’t help it,” he whispered, voice reverent and hungry. “Even when you’re already full, I still want you.” Still his. Always his.

[suuuupernovaaa]

what if

summary: joel lives and is HAPPY damnit

warnings: just watched ep2 (&3)and im so unbelievably sad and mad so im making a happy ending to cope - smut, 18+, FMC in her 30s, dirty joel, a hot gf who GETS THERE IN TIME

MASTERLIST

Hand on the doorknob, Ellie looks back to you, and you shake your head. Not yet, you want to tell her. Just listen. Just be quiet and assess what’s happening in the room.

You hear a shout inside, and you know it’s him. You know his voice as well as you know your own.

There’s multiple other voices, male and female, impossible to say how many are in there. Joel shouts again, and your body tenses up, your stomach churning.

While she turns the door knob, you press your back against the door, out of sight.

It’s a mess of action once she opens the door. Her gun fires, but it takes only moments before two men are on her, pinning her to the floor, though she does get a good swipe with her knife at one before she goes down.

You peer around the corner, just for a whisper, to take in the scene. Joel, with a bloody knee. A girl before him, hair braided, holding a golf club.

Two men holding Ellie down. At least two other women in the room, and Dina, on the floor. You don’t know from the doorway if she’s breathing or not.

They don’t know you’re there. They’re too stupid to have checked. So, you enter.

You fire a shot, straight through the neck of one of the men holding Ellie down, and the other falls away.

She’s up then, and fast, her gun back in her hand, or maybe it’s someone else’s gun. There’s screaming, so much screaming, but you can’t hear it. You can’t hear anything besides Joel yelling your names. His woman. His daughter.

Ellie’s shot two more, they’re on the floor, both men.

Two women in the room - one bald and one with curly hair - back away, their arms up, their weapons on the floor, Ellie aimed at them.

That leaves the golfer. You turn to her, weapon raised, and she steps closer to Joel.

“Not another fucking step,” you whisper, finger on the trigger. “I will blow your head off.”

She has the nerve to look angry instead of scared, but she’s smart enough to drop the golf club. You kick it away, never taking your eyes off her.

“Who are you? What the fuck are you doing?”

Her lips are pursed, her eyes red with tears and rage. She looks so normal, someone you wouldn’t recognize or remember.

“Joel?” you ask.

“I’m okay. I… killed her dad.”

“Salt Lake?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You fire. One bullet, to her heart. She drops down, and you step over her to Joel.

TWO MONTHS LATER

The ground is thawed out enough for burials to take place now. They’re burying dozens of dead. The wall is secured again, but people stare at it warily now.

They’ve seen it come down. They wonder if it will happen again.

You wake up in the middle of the night, when the moon is still high, with a scream in your throat and a sheen of sweat covering your body.

“Baby, baby,” Joel is whispering next to you. You sit up, heart pounding. Joel reaches to his side of the bed for the water he keeps on his night stand, and hands it to you. You take a long drink, blinking the nightmare away.

“I’m here. I’m alive,” he reminds you.

The what if disturbs you sometimes. What if you and Ellie had been 5 minutes later. What if you had not come at all. What if, what if, what if Joel was dead.

He takes the empty water glass from your hands, and you’re on him when he turns back to you, kissing him with all the desperation you feel whenever you think of those what if’s.

What if the best thing you’d ever had was taken from you? What if Ellie’s dad had died before they could reconcile? What if, what if, what if.

“I’m right here, baby, I’m okay,” Joel mutters against your lips, and you’re pushing him down onto his back, climbing on top of him.

“I need to feel you, Joel,” you say desperately. “I need to feel that you’re here.”

His hands run up your back, under your tank top, his calloused hands on your hot skin, and you grind into him, making him moan.

“Whatever you need, sweetheart,” he says, and you reach down for him. He’s hard, always so hard for you, and you can feel you’re dripping wet, desperate to be filled by him.

It takes no time to remove your clothes, and you run your wet cunt up and down his hard length.

“God, Joel,” you moan, kissing his neck as he squeezes your ass.

“I’m here, baby,” he breathes, and slides into you.

It feels so full, so real, so fucking good. You place your hands on his chest, and look down at him as you begin to move, up and down. He never closes his eyes, always stares at you, always watches you when you ride him like this.

His fingers find your clit, moving over it expertly, and you cry out.

“Take what you need, baby,” he says, his voice dripping with need. “Take whatever you need.”

You just need him, to be sure he’s real and here with you. To feel him pulsing inside you, to bring you coffee in the morning, to be grumpy with you when he’s sore or tired. You just need Joel.

He brings you to an orgasm that makes you see stars, and finds his own release just seconds after, and you collapse on his chest.

He holds you then, tracing patterns on your bare back, both of you breathing so heavily with your eyes closed.

The what ifs always disappear in these moments when you are so connected to Joel. He’s here. He’s real. He’s not leaving you.

You won’t let anyone take him.

[cheoridoll]

distraction —

pairing: robby keene x reader

warning: none, just something cute

words counted: 1.582

includes: just Robby like a puppy after his love

playlist for the fic: spotify. | forgive the bad english! it's not my first language.

A toss or a distraction, Robby felt useless at this point in the day, sitting on the couch at his half-brother's house, while staring at the turned off television, totally disconnected from his current reality, only remembering how he was used by a girl. And damn, he liked it. He couldn't deny that he was like a puppy, obeying all the orders of the tough rookie girl, the one who arrived suddenly, the distant female cousin of the Larusso family. Because Daniel loved her, she was like a daughter to him.

At first, he just wanted revenge, now he finds himself in love with his own karma.

"Hey bro, grab your backpack, let's go to school" — Miguel said, throwing the backpack against Keene's rigid body, waking up to life, as his father would say.

He forgot so much about the world outside his head, that he also ended up forgetting why he was awake so early. School.

"Shit! Miguel, did you do the french work?" — like a light bulb, it lit up his mind. He spent so much time focused on Larusso that he left aside his obligations, like an idiot in love, preferring to remain in the illusion of his own daydreams.

"Yes, I did." — he agreed, transforming his expression into a somewhat confused one, eyebrows drawn together and mouth half open.

"Put my name? Please!" — he asked with a huge pout on his lips, making Diaz understand and laugh loudly at the gesture.

"Okay, but stop making that weird face."

Robby was getting more and more electric as the hours passed, excited for class after lunch. Arts had become one of his recent passions. He loved painting feelings, the most recent being the common mix of love and fear, which he affectionately nicknamed "chocolate and pepper." Love creates artists, it created Robby, and disappointment makes them better. But deep down, I hoped it would continue as an unfinished creation.

Keene continued rambling in his head, and all paths ironically led him to her, to her beautiful hair, penetrating, oblique and hidden gaze. He hated love, he hated being attracted to someone who held him up like a spear, a fucking distraction.

"Where are you looking, Keene?" — Robby's head went straight to the empty food plate, making the blow have a greater impact, his face burned with pain, his throat wanted to scream, but he couldn't.

"Shit Kyler, get out of here you idiot." — Miguel accompanied him.

Kyler had been thinking about the guy with the clear eyes in recent days, vowing to give him a good beating one day, also stating that he would at least see where the blow came from. No sooner said than done. After the crash, he became dizzy, it wasn't like he had the strength to stand up there, his face was fucked up, he lost consciousness, he even lost sight of the fact that one of the shards of glass had flown onto his shoulder. Damn the day he decided to wear a shirt with a loose collar. I lifted the table, still tipping sideways and my vision was blurred, holding his belly, as if that would give him more balance. Kyler saw the biggest opportunity, turned his body and kicked the other person's heel, knocking Robby to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Miguel tried to advance towards the other, but was stopped by the idiots, cowardly held by three people. While struggling, Kyler threw the first kick.

"Oh, Kyler!" — a female voice tore through the place.

There were feelings in the speech, not so positive so to speak, perhaps hatred, anger with a hint of jealousy.

"Only I can mess with my blond." — ran towards the brunette, kicking him away from Keene, his kicks were high, Kyler didn't really know how to attack at that moment, nor did he know if he should, opting to take small steps backwards while using defense.

"Are you such a coward that you can't just slap me?"

He attacked her with hatred, threw her body to the ground and stood on top of her torso, while holding the thin collar of the girl's blouse, ready to throw the first punch. She smiled, not an ordinary smile, a devilish smile, and the surprise came with her tears, a desolate and fearful look.

"What's going on in that cafeteria?" — shouted the director, who with heavy steps walked towards Kyler, taking him off the girl.

Behind him was Daniel, who was helping prepare the dance that night.

"Uncle, I tried to defend my friend, but when I saw..." — he burst into tears, being lifted from the ground by his uncle, who hugged him carefully.

"Fine my love." - Larusso left the girl leaning against one of the tables, heading towards the body of the former apprentice. With compassion the silence against his body, the support between his arms in the most comfortable way he could.

"Are you okay, Robby?" Nothing was said, he was still dizzy from all the blows and the coffee didn't help his anxiety at that moment.

"Uncle, I'm going to take him to the infirmary, okay?"

"Okay, princess, I'm going to go to the principal's office and sort out this mess." — The older man left, while Larusso placed Robby's arm over his shoulders, in order to avoid another contact between the other person's body and the ground.

"Robby, look at me, tell me it's okay." — He requested. "I..." - he paused, completely rethinking that moment.

"Take me to the infirmary straight away."

Without saying anything else, she took him there, the silence killed them, I missed their diverse conversations. In the end, Robby felt a little hurt, beyond the physical.

"Tell me sweetie, why are you like this?" — asked the one with locks, bringing her fingers to the other's injured face. "I know you're strong and you'd take him down whenever you wanted."

"You. I'm like this because of you." — he took his arm away and threw himself on the sofa in the infirmary.

Karla, the nurse, was at least scared by how deformed Keene was, after all, he was at a school where practically every day there were around three students injured after a hidden fight. I'll get the ice. - was the only thing he said before leaving.

"What did I do, Robby"

"Everything, just answer me one thing before I tell you to leave this room and leave me alone." — He shouted. He was more upset than actually angry, in order to just take her away from his mind and heart for a few minutes.

"Am I what to you? Cheap fun, love." — he laughed to himself. "forget the last part, I must be some idiot that you only catch when you feel like it."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" — he raised his right eyebrow.

"I love you so much, and look, if I didn't show you signs of that, it's because I'm insecure. Robby, you have anyone at your feet, your exes are incredibly perfect, they fight well, they are beautiful... " —she sat next to him.

"I'm afraid of not being good enough like they were."

"I should slap you for thinking like that." — he joked.

Not that he had the courage to lift a finger at her, he loved her in a ridiculous way, which sometimes found it strange.

"I love you, I love you in a way that I've never loved anyone else and you can bet that you're the only one I want to have in my life, or better yet, build one."

"I called him, I'm not good enough to fight someone experienced yet." — she laughed, throwing his body against hers, to create a hug.

"You're over the top, Keene." — she leaned his torso, kissing the wound on the older man's face close to the wound.

"No, I'm just ridiculously in love with the new girl. In fact, how did you know the director was coming?"

"Needy. For you." - they laughed.

"Look, you kicked very well, I was quite jealous of what the highs were."

"I don't even know how I did that, I just wanted to protect you at any cost."

"Damn girl. I love you so much that I could go to hell just for you."

he didn't want hell, he wanted heaven, the roof of her mouth, to calm her busy and stressful days. The calm kiss, full of desire and passion no longer repressed, was everything they wanted and what they finally got.

[akira-dulbar]

The life you left behind

4/3: Discoveries and chaos, but also decisions

part1 part2 part3 part5

Summary: You see a man following you and your son, but that's all it is. What does your alleged stalker really think? Also, chaos erupts in the Wayne family.

Warning: stalking, mention of death.

------

Lately, you've felt like someone's been watching you, not just you but your son as well. But that wasn't the strange thing. You lived in Gotham, so this kind of thing wasn't surprising. What was really strange was that he didn't do anything. He didn't threaten you. You didn't expect me to let my guard down to hurt you and your son, nothing.

All of this happened after the encounter with Red Hood, or maybe before; you didn't know for sure.

He just stood there, a few steps away, following you like he was your personal bodyguard, protecting you from reckless danger. Which was weird and frustrating. Why did he do it? Was there a reason for him? Besides, it wasn't like you could face him. You didn't even know what he looked like. Which made the situation worse. He was like a ghost. You couldn't see him, but you could feel him, and it was somewhat uncomfortable.

Every time you wanted to confront him, you turned around. Magically, you couldn't feel his presence anymore, and you only saw people passing by, but you knew it wasn't any of them. Another was that when you turned a corner, you stood there, hoping that when he turned around, he'd immediately run into you. But that didn't happen either, since either someone passed by and went the other way, or no one turned the corner with you.

But you knew he was there, and you could prove it. One of those cases was when you were at the store with your son, Peter. You were trying to reach the 8-roll pack of toilet paper because you were out of stock. For some stupid reason, the workers thought it was a good idea to put those packs on the highest shelves where only Superman could reach them. In any case while you were trying to catch up with him, Peter kept running from one side to the other, which made your hair stand on end since you couldn't do two things at once, so when Peter turned the corner to go to the other aisle, without hesitation you followed him forgetting the package of paper and your cart with your purchases, when you returned to Peter who was reluctantly contrasting you with the surprise of the paper was in the cart and not on the high shelf that you couldn't reach, when you approached you were also surprised by the fact that there were also other things you needed but you hadn't put them in the cart yet along with a few dollars to pay, that was certainly strange and for some reason you knew it had been him.

Another case was when you were reading a book to your son in his room, Peter was lying in bed ready to sleep with his Wonder Woman stuffed animal while you were sitting next to him reading, for some reason you looked up at the window for a moment, but it was just when you saw a nest of black hair with eyes that you didn't know if they were blue-green or neon green, in any case you screamed like a crazy woman while the man's eyes opened and the sound of hurried footsteps fleeing down the fire stairs was heard, you remember running to see if you could see him, but to your surprise and horror you saw nothing, at first you thought it was your downstairs neighbor, but he was blond, not black-haired, because you reinforced the security of the windows and closed the curtains, and why not go to the police, you're easily in Gotham, don't be surprised. And how did you know it was a man and not a woman? No idea, but you had the idea it was a man. I don't want to be prejudiced, but there was something that definitely told you it was a man.

But you quickly realized it wasn't dangerous—well, not for you or your son, but for others, and here are some other examples.

There was once a time when your neighbor Frank's friend who lived downstairs moved in with him because his girlfriend kicked him out, God knows why, but you thought it was because of his personality. He wouldn't stop insulting his ex-girlfriend for kicking him out just because she slept with his mother. When you heard it for the first time, it horrified you and left you completely perplexed. You tried to keep your son from getting close to him in any way. He wasn't the example you wanted your son to see of men, but for some reason he wouldn't leave you alone, always cornering you at any moment and making comments that ranged from flirtatious to inappropriate for the general public. You almost cried when your son asked you what they meant. That's what you wanted to avoid, but everything reached a breaking point when he insinuated that he could be a father to your child. No, absolutely not, you told him bluntly, which he didn't like and he got a little violent but you managed. You easily escaped and ran away, the next day your neighbor Frank was at your door apologizing for him and saying that his friend would be moving out at the end of the day, that he would never show up again, which made you completely relieved, but then he said something that left you puzzled but at the same time confirmed your assumptions.

"Hey, could you tell your boyfriend that since my friend is leaving, there's no need to come back into my apartment or say anything about the drugs?" Frank looked nervous, tired, and very scared, but you could only blink at what he said.

"What?" you said after a while, puzzled about your supposed boyfriend and some drugs.

"I mean, if I had known you had a boyfriend the size of a mountain, I wouldn't have let anything happen. I swear, please don't say anything about the drugs." You could see Frank rambling on about the drugs and your supposedly terrifying boyfriend the size of Texas, but you just stared at him, perplexed.

Then you found out his friend had a broken rib and both his right arm and leg were in casts, and that was just one of the cases.

-------

Jason hated being in the mansion, maybe not as much as before, but he still didn't like it very much. That's why when Dick asked him if he wanted to help organize some things, he said no. But when Alfred told him to come and that he would give him some of his delicious cookies as a reward, he didn't hesitate for a minute.

In any case, he was there, in his adoptive father's office, helping with his brothers to organize the mess he had.

"For someone who dresses as a bat at night and solves cases, this place is a mess." Jason could see the boxes full of messy papers waiting to be opened and organized.

"Unfortunately, there was a time when Master Bruce neglected his responsibilities; this is just the result of that carelessness." Alfred was standing by the door with a glass of juice for one of the roommates.

"Father, this isn't the kind of carelessness the world's greatest detective should have." Damian was sitting in Bruce's office chair, with Alfred the cat lying on his lap as if he belonged there.

"I have to say I'm not proud of this mess." Bruce was sitting on the floor with a pile of papers and boxes around him, stuffing some papers into a box and sorting through other papers to see what was inside.

"Anyway, how did this mess come about?" Dick was standing right next to Bruce, with the same mess around him, doing the same thing Bruce was doing.

"Well, Master Dick, first it was when he was just starting out as Batman that he left some responsibilities behind, then it was his adoption, and finally the death of Master Jason." There was a moment of silence for that last bit of information. Jason remained silent as he continued organizing papers while the others looked at each other, knowing that this subject was somewhat delicate.

Seeing the silence growing and the tension rising, Bruce was the next to speak.

"Anyway, I appreciate you coming to help me with this, knowing you might have had something better to do."

"Hey, don't worry, B. We didn't have anything better to do, right guys?" Dick turned to look at his brothers.

"Yes, I do." "Me too." "Of course."

"Oh, please." Dick looked at the three of them as he spoke. "What did you have to do?"

"Finish a case." Tim was the first to speak, but Alfred quickly silenced him.

"I remind you, Tim, that you needed to take a break from those activities; too much of it isn't good for your health." Alfred handed Tim an iced tea while scolding him for not getting enough sleep.

"Practice." Damien was the second to speak, but he wasn't spared either.

"Damian, we already talked about that. No practicing after lunch," Bruce gently reprimanded his son as he continued sorting papers.

"But, Father," "No, Damian, I already said no." Damian just crossed his arms and grumbled.

"And you, Jason?" Dick looked back at his second-born brother.

"Checking on Peter and his mom," Jason shrugged as he closed one box and reached for another to open it.

"So, being a stalker," Tim said, sipping on his iced tea.

"Look who's talking, replacement. Between you and me, you're the stalker. I'm just checking on them." Jason pulled a stack of unopened letters out of the box and laid them on the floor.

"That's still stalking. Just because you change the name to something more aesthetically pleasing doesn't mean it's not the same." Tim quickly dodged the box that was headed for his head.

"Guys, guys, don't get carried away." Dick raised his arms in a gesture of peace to calm the atmosphere.

"And what else do you want me to do in place of yours? It's not like I can just show up at her door and say, 'Hey, remember me? I was the man you thought was dead and the father of your child. How have you been?' She's going to call the police." Jason snorted as he looked at the cards in his hand, sorting them out one by one for organization.

"Also, considering you don't physically resemble the boy you were when you were 15." Like Jason, Damian sorted the cards out one by one.

Everyone knew Damian was right. Jason no longer physically resembled the child he once was. Thanks to the Lazarus Pit, if he approached you, you'd probably be scared stiff.

Jason couldn't help but remember the time you saw him that night. You screamed loudly and scared while you watched him through his son's bedroom window. He didn't mean to. He got distracted and scared you stiff. Now, every time he went to check on you, The curtains were closed, and he couldn't see them now, which frustrated him greatly.

He also didn't forget that idiot who assumed you were Peter's father figure. He has to say he saw green after that. That idiot was sexually harassing you so blatantly, right in front of his son. He had no shame, but thank God he took care of it. That idiot had no right to do any of that, nor to flirt with you like that and insinuate that he was Peter's father. Peter was his son, he had that right, not him. He wasn't the father, he was…

Jason was Peter's father… But how could he be a father if not even Peter knew of his existence? Neither of you knew he was alive, and that he knew about you, that he could be in your lives, but not even that… Maybe it was fear? That you'd be angry with him? That you wouldn't stop seeing Peter? No, it wasn't that… It was fear of getting you involved… getting you involved in a life you didn't want, of taking away the peace and quiet you had because of the selfishness of being in their lives. And worst of all, if you and Peter started to hate him because of it, maybe it would ruin Peter. Maybe he wouldn't be a great father, he wouldn't be a good father, he wouldn't be…

Jason stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the letter in his hand.

Your name was written on the letter.

Jason quickly opened the letter and began to read.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bruce. I hope these words find you in a moment of reflection and calm. I'm writing to you with a mixture of fear and determination. Before I tell you what I want to tell you, I want you to know that my heart is beating with news that could change everything. I'd like you to know that I'm pregnant with Jason's baby (No, this isn't a joke). I know this may come as a shock to you, and I understand. The truth is, I'm scared and I don't know what to do. I'm worried about the baby's future and how I'm going to take care of it, or if I'd even want to take care of it at all. I'm still undecided. I want us to be able to talk about what's happening. I know you have a lot of questions, and I'll answer them all. Even if you don't believe me, I'll do everything to prove it's true. I just want to talk. I'm not asking for anything more, I just don't know what to do.

With all due respect.

(Your name)"

Jason's color has drained. This can't be real. You had written to Bruce and told him about the baby. Jason looked at the other cards. Some of them also had your name, your fucking name. Jason thought he was going to faint, he started to tense up.

"Master Jason, are you okay?" Alfred approached Jason while he just tensed up.

"Jason?" Everyone turned to look at Jason, while he just stood there.

Everyone was surprised when Jason suddenly stood up and walked over to Bruce, standing in front of him.

"Jason?…!!!!!" Bruce was surprised when Jason grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up. By this point, everyone had already stood up, disturbed by Jason's outburst.

"You old idiot, what does this mean?" Jason flashed the cards in Bruce's face. Bruce could only open his eyes and skim the card.

"Jason, what's wrong?" Dick tried to grab Jason's shoulder, but was quickly pushed away.

"Dick, this is what's going on." Jason let go of Bruce and flashed the card in Bruce's face, surprising Dick.

"Because of this fucking mess and his carelessness, he didn't know she was pregnant. For God's sake, Dick, do you know what that means?" Jason began to speak louder, as he handed the letter to Dick, who, along with Tim, read it as they lost their color, turning into ghosts.

"She told him about the pregnancy, but he didn't even take the time to read it," Jason began to shout at this point.

"Jason, I swear I didn't know," Bruce tried to speak, but was quickly silenced by Jason.

"Oh, of course you didn't know. Do you have any idea how she must have felt when you didn't answer? How scared she must have been? That you might have thought she was a liar? Crazy, even?" Jason began to push Bruce while pointing out his mistake.

"Jason, please calm down." Dick grabbed Jason, pushing him away from Bruce. Bruce was holding his head with one hand while the other held him so he wouldn't faint.

"Calm down? Calm down? For God's sake, Dick, Bruce could have helped her, so she wouldn't have to be alone, or I don't know, do something else."

"You don't know that, Jason," Tim shouted so Jason could hear him.

"I don't know! Both you and Bruce are up to your necks in money, and you're going to tell me Bruce wouldn't have helped her?"

"Todd, that's not what Drake meant."

"Then what did he mean? Because that didn't sound like anything else to me."

"Jason, I think you should calm down before you say something you'll regret."

"Fuck you, Dick," Jason shouted as he walked loudly to the door, leaving the office and leaving the others in the office.

Jason just walked toward a place he knew would calm him down.

-------------

Jason was in the cafeteria across from his son's kindergarten. It was almost dismissal time, and Jason was hoping to see his son.

"Can I sit here?" Jason looked up from the window at his father and nodded, while Bruce sat across from him, also facing the window.

"So this is it, right?" Jason nodded again without looking at Bruce.

"Jason, I…" Bruce paused for a moment to speak.

"When you died, I didn't want to know anything else." Jason turned to look at his father.

"I was lost. I got away from everything. I didn't know how to navigate properly, and because of that, I couldn't understand what was going on around me." Bruce turned to look at his son.

"It's not your fault," Jason sighed as he lay down on the cafeteria table.

"You were grieving at the time… it's not your fault, you had the right to be that way." Jason sighed again, but Bruce didn't speak, encouraging him to keep talking.

"I don't know what to do. I just met my son and… everything is new to me, I don't really know what to do, and I don't want to ruin it." I don't want to be a bad father. Those were words left unspoken but perfectly understood.

"I know how you feel," Jason turned to look into Bruce's eyes. "I didn't meet Damian until he was several years old. And at first, I felt the same as you. I felt lost and didn't know what to do."

"How did you do it?"

"Well, at first it was difficult. But Dick and Alfred helped me a lot. They taught me to be patient and understand his needs."

"And now Damian is more open and less violent. I realized I wasn't alone, thanks to them."

"I feel like I'm not capable of doing the same." I'm afraid of ruining it for him and his mother." Jason rubbed his eyes as he looked down.

"Jason, you're not going to ruin it. You're going to learn and grow with them. And you're not alone. I'm here to help you, and your siblings can be a big help too. The most important thing is that you don't give up; you'll do great. Be patient with yourself, with your son, and with his mother. And if you remember that love and dedication are what matter most, then you'll do well." Bruce puts a hand on Jason's shoulder.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this."

"Jason, no one is ready to be a father. But what matters is that you're willing to learn and do what's best for your child." Bruce smiles as he turns toward the window.

"Besides, don't you think they deserve to decide if they want you in their lives?" Jason turns to see his son being carried by you as the two of you smile at them. He watches as you kiss your son on the forehead and hug him tightly.

"Yes, you're right. Thanks, Dad." Bruce just smiles.

"You're welcome, son." The two of you watch as you walk off with your son safely toward your apartment, while Jason has a look of determination.

-------

I have to thank @1abi because his comment on my 3rd post immediately gave me an idea and I literally wrote all of this today, thank you very much.

@mev-fizzah-writes (I don't know how to label haha)

Well, I don't know much English.

[daiourage]

TFO Dual Rulers (?) AU

I've been seeing people do like a "what if D didn't go fuckin' coconuts" AU, and it kinda inspired me to start thinking of what other events would be changed in those scenarios.

(yes i'm still in denial)

Please take these lightly colored sketches!!! Also I'm sorry for lazy handwriting;;

Also also, as always, please click/press the image for quality!!!

("Brief" explanations for each of the numbered panels is under the cut (the numbers are just the order of when I drew them, and not in chronological order of the scenes)!!!)

1. I think, because D won't be the one to shoot at Sentinel because he's grounded in this AU, Sentinel would be the one to use the last of his strength to try and shoot at D, only for Orion to block it. I couldn't figure out how to draw D in immense agony about it so I just decided to make this paper a collection of ideas. If anyone has any ideas, please tell me because I want angst--//shot (I also finally remembered to write my signature this time!!!) 1-2. The main problem I had trouble figuring out was how D would possibly let go of Orion... He'd still say the "Why did you do that, why?!" line, but I don't know where to go from there. Would Sentinel still have energy to kick D's hand? Would Orion be too heavy to hold on? Would Orion tell D to let him go? Maybe they wouldn't even be hanging over the ledge and D would just be holding him--but then what? There was too many things to ponder about just one scene, and I wanted to get my other ideas out before I forgot about them. Guyssss give me your ideas please-- 2. It always bothered me that Orion and Bee left D in Sentinel's office(?) to hold him off on his own;;; like, I get it, D won't listen, but at least tell him you're leaving??? 2-2. I think the "What did he do to you?" conversation would be much longer. Not as comical and cheesy as the comic I sketched a little bit back, but... 3. (Please read it right to left;;; I just got done reading manga when I had the idea to draw this panel;;; also the entire page honestly. I'm so sorry y'all--)At the High Guards' base, I think D'd be the one to initiate a fight with Starscream still, but do it calmly. 4. I wanted to keep this line, because it would make sense still. Also might hurt a little more *screams* (D would not do the Anime Girl Pose™️, but I wanted him and Orion to match oop--) 5. After apprehending Sentinel, somehow we'd get his (Megatronus's) cog and Orion (now Optimus) would give it to D as a token of trust. Based off of @/momonsalmonmon on Twitter/X's absolutely gorgeous comics!!! (I also DO NOT remember how the cogs looked I'm sorry for not doing further research ;w; Will do better next time I promise;;;) 6. Bee and Soundwave BFFs???? (+ annoyed Shockwave) Please. Also maybe bring back Senator Soundwave as a concept??? Miss he;; It might be interesting, with Bee also "working for the government" now,,, (Edit: 2/7/2025): Hi. just realized my typo and it's been months. Guys. It's Senator Shockwave guys. Why didn't y'all tell me;;;; I knew who I was thinking of I promise;;; guys please don't nod along to this and just ignore my huge ass typo 😭 (thank you for the support though but OH MY GOD) (Edit: 3/3/2025): GUYS. I FORGOT THEY WERE BOTH SENATORS AT SOME POINT (in different comics though but) GUYS. I'M A PUSHOVER. THEY CAN BOTH BE GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS AS A TREAT AJSDLKFAJLKSDJFLKA I'm a fraud ;w;)b 7. Headcanon that Orion is bad at math and confides in Elita and D for enforcing the taxes so the citizens don't become outraged but also so that the government has enough money to do stuff. D might be like "Aww he needs our help" and Elita would be like "godddd let me work out" 7-2. I feel like I draw Elita with an annoyed expression too much I'm so sorry milady;;; I promise I love you;;;

[roseyodditea]

Hello, I really love your Harumasas work! I hope you always stay healthy and happy! May I request Harumasa x reader which Harumasa first time caught up reader doing cutting/selfharm? He's really good at comforting people who's suicidal, I think he's good at comforting his BF/GF who's suicidal too ...

I tried to write this more from Harumasa's perspective and left the reader's mental health issues vague in order to attempt to comfort the most amount of people. I remember how comforting fics like this were when I was in the throws of my mental health problems. I hope I did it justice

At Least for the Night - Harumasa x gn!Reader

Summary -> 1.5k words. Harumasa comforts you once he deduces a secret you were trying to hide. Warnings -> Self harm, injuries, blood, medical supplies, please protect your peace and skip this fic if you need to

Harumasa crouched in front of your bathroom sink, digging around for the bandages you said were in there. A wound from a Hollow opened up while you two were having a dinner date at your apartment and he wanted to clean it up before he risked infection. He reached for the first aid kit and opened it, his instincts from being surrounded by medical supplies kicking into high gear. He grabbed the ointment and the wrap bandages and something in his mind screamed in alarm, but he was a bit preoccupied to notice what it was. 

He was used to the cold feeling of the cream on the wound on his arm, and he was quick to wrap it before neatly repacking the first aid kit. It wasn’t until he closed the lid that his brain finally caught up to what he subconsciously noticed. He opened the kit back up, his eyes scanning over every supply. They all matched the brand of the kit, all being used at an expected rate for someone like you… but the bandages. He flipped through the adhesive bandages again, noticing a lot of the ones left were the smaller, unusable ones of about six different brands. The bigger ones were all used up, and the roll of cloth bandages was a different brand from every single adhesive one he found. 

Harumasa sat on your bathroom floor, his mind going into overdrive as he tried to think of a logical reason for this. The first aid kit was less than a year old going off of the packaging of the lesser used supplies, but you seemed to go through so many bandages. He stared intently as he washed his hands, scanning your bathroom sink for any hints. He looked for anything that would hint why you’d need so many bandages. Blood thinners maybe? Childrens bathroom supplies in case you had a niece or a nephew that were a bit clumsy? He tried not to let himself get caught up on it. He dried his hands before he closed the kit and slipped it back under the sink, standing up and walking back to the kitchen where you were cleaning up after dinner. 

He felt bad being as scrutinizing as he was, but his eyes scanned you, that cold and calculating look of a scout covering up the normally soft look you say from your boyfriend. You glanced back, a bit uneasy with how he was staring at you. “Uhh.. You found them alright?” You ask, desperately trying to break the tension.

“Yeah. I found your bandages. A lot of bandages, actually.” He said, his interrogation tactics he had learned from Section Six starting to shine uncomfortably in the safe environment of the apartment you had worked so hard to curate. 

“Is that a problem?” “Do you have something to tell me?” He stepped close, making you feel trapped against the sink. 

“Haru, what’s going on?” You tried to change the subject defensively, shifting and trying to ignore the way your pants scraped against the semi fresh scabs hidden underneath. 

Harumasa softened a bit, letting out a breath. “I’m just worried. I’ve been surrounded by doctors all my life and I’d like to know if my absolutely lovely partner was having some health complications.” He eased up and took your hand before kissing it, slyly watching the way your sleeve fell naturally. Seeing nothing, he knew he’d have to change his tactic. 

“No health complications. Just clumsy I guess.” You respond, turning back to the sink. Harumasa wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder, watching you wash dishes. He didn’t say anything else, just… watching. “Are you alright?” Even if he didn’t have hard evidence, Harumasa had been recognizing the signs for a while now. He prayed he was wrong and just paranoid, but the bandages were the last nail in the coffin of his suspicions. He held you tighter and hid his face in your neck. “I love you. I’d be devastated without you.” You froze, wondering if he actually knew or if it was a wild guess. “What are you-” “Don’t. Please don’t lie to me.” He pleaded, genuinely emotional. “You don’t have to defend yourself, you don’t have to explain a thing, you don’t even have to promise you won’t do it again. Look, (y/n), I get it, I do. But I want you to be better, and I know that can’t happen overnight. So let’s take it one step at a time. Are you alright with that?”

Tears gathered in your eyes no matter how much you tried to will them away. Having this… angel leaning on your shoulder, holding out a hand to help you felt so terrifying. “I… I don’t know the steps. I don’t know what to do.” “That’s not what I asked. I asked if you’re alright taking it one step at a time.” He comforted, squeezing you close. “Do you want to change? That’s the first step.”

“I want to get better.” Your voice cracks out weakly, your hands starting to shake around the plate you were rinsing off. Harumasa took it out of your hands and kissed your cheek gently. 

“Good. Good… Do you currently have any injuries?” You nod hesitantly, not fighting back as he turns off the sink and leads you to sit on the couch. He rubbed different shapes on your shoulder. Square, circle, triangle, back to square. He repeated the pattern a couple times before switching the order, giving you something grounding to focus on. He took your hand and placed it on his chest and took deep breaths, helping you focus on your own breathing. 

“Can you tell me where they are?” He asked, his golden eyes filled with tenderness, not an ounce of judgement. Even as you gestured to your thighs, he didn’t look at you with pity. “Can I see them? Touch them?” He asked and let out a breath as you nodded. You shimmied out of your pants so he could see the hastily thrown on bandages. He lifted one of the cloth wrappings around your thigh to peek and nodded. “You stay right here. I’m going to go grab the first aid kit and show you how to take care of them properly, okay?” Once again you nodded, more tears spilling. 

He came back and sank to his knees in front of the couch, gingerly unwrapping and removing every bandage so he could see the old, new, and scarred cuts across your thighs. He assessed the damage before depositing some of the topical antibiotic onto his fingers, gently rubbing it over every scab and open wound. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be lecturing me? Telling me never to do this again? And how I’m hurting the people around me?” You tried to steel yourself, pushing down those tears and building your mental walls back up. 

“I suppose I could, but I don’t think that would be very beneficial.” He said gently. “I’m more worried about harm reduction right now. If you’re set on hurting yourself, taking away everything you have to do it with will just lead to you getting creative and dangerous. I’d rather make sure you know how to care for injuries so you don’t risk infection. We can work on breaking these habits later. One baby step at a time.”

Silence hung too comfortably for the circumstance. You expected more yelling and disappointment when he learned this about you. You expected him to leave and never turn back. You expected anything but this wonderfully gentle man taking care of you with a tenderness you never thought anyone would show you. More tears spilled down your cheeks, but this wasn’t the hot, suffocating tears you tried to choke back earlier, but instead warm tears full of a feeling you had only dreamed of. 

“Can you stay tonight?” The question didn’t even finish leaving your mouth before Harumasa nodded. He tugs the bandages into place, making sure they were more secure than the last set you had hastily thrown on. He sat on the couch and opened his arms, happily accepting you and all your baggage into his loving embrace. 

“Of course. I’ll stay the night and I’ll hold you or just sit next to you or whatever you need.” He reassured, kissing the top of your head and squeezing you into him. 

“I think… I just need you for now. At least for the night.” You mumbled against his chest, happy to relax against him. 

“Well, unfortunately for you, you’ve got me for a lot longer than just one measly night.” He smiled as he heard a soft chuckle leave your lips. 

Hotlines for different countries -> https://blog.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines

A/N -> Remember there's always avenues to get help or support no matter what stage of life you're at. Stay strong, and remember even a single spec of improvement is still improvement! <3

[stayinlimbo]

We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note:  i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it? 

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee. 

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you. 

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers. 

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls. 

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.” 

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them. 

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth. 

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row? 

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face. 

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh. 

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief. 

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep. 

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

[venomous-qwille]

You might have gotten this question before- if so I’m sorry- but I just want to know how you do it!!

Every chapter you write is of such high quality, and so long too! There’s so many intricate bits and pieces working together! I’m re-reading GITM from the start again, and with knowledge from later chapters it just- gah! It plays into itself so so well!!

How do you stick with it?? How do you keep putting out banger after banger without slowing down? I’ve always had a hard time with sticking to projects and lengthier things, so to see GITM is like utter magic to me /pos

Hope you have a wonderful day!

Ahhh thankyou so much!

Honestly? It's cause I have the entire story planned out. What you see in GITM at the moment is the very tip of a very large iceberg and oh my GOD I want to get to the meat of the story so bad. I want to share Sol's backstory, I want Ruin to wake up and immediately announce Cricket is his best friend! I want you to meet Sombra, I want to introduce Harvest, I want to show Cricket coming into their own, I want to get to them confronting Harry (for better or worse). I want them to remember Clip! I want to write the scene where they finally recall all their memories of him- I want to write that embrace with my whole fucking soul. I want to write Sol realising that he has the capacity for feelings. I want to write Fool discovering that he is The Main Character, actually. I want to break everyone's hearts with Noon's backstory. With Security's backstory. I want to make people HATE certain characters and then learn to love them as Cricket decides to drag those characters kicking and screaming into the light. I want the robots to realise their human friend never had a childhood. I want them to try and make up for lost time. I want Misuta to realise the difference between the love that exists in books and the kind of love you have to choose in real life. I want Sunspot to let himself fucking HEAL. I want I want I want. I want to smooch the robots, so bad. But to do all of that I have to write the fucking fic so.... I best get off tumblr and back on google docs.

Let me be clear: this is pure magnum opus hyperfixation. I cannot get off this train. I need to tell this story or I might die.

[wileys-russo]

ausenal ‘can you just not sit still?’ travelling to London

steph catley, caitlin foord, kyra cooney-cross

"one two three four, i declare a thumb war!" you chanted, hand locked with kyras as the two of you grunted and struggled. "oh my god." steph mumbled, massaging her temples as the four of you sat in dubai airport for your layover.

"how the fuck are the two of you not tired? you did not shut up or sleep that entire flight!" caitlin groaned from beside her, head resting on her fist as you and kyra ignored them.

"winner!" you screamed happily, jumping on top of the brunette. "ow! steph." you scowled as the defender harshly smacked the back of your calf. "its four thirty in the morning here and people are clearly trying to rest. shut up!" the girl warned sternly nodding to a few other passengers curled up in chairs not far from you.

"that doesn't count we're on aussie time!" kyra slung her arm around you with a scoff. "yeah! and on aussie times its...eleven thirty seven in the morning." you checked your phone and grinned, steph only letting out a deep sigh.

"how much longer till we board?" she mumbled to caitlin. "four and a half hours." the striker answered with a sigh of her own. "we could always drug them, i'm sure theres a pharmacy somewhere in here." steph muttered, both girls seeming to contemplate the idea for a moment before abandoning it with a shake of their heads.

"oh i have cards! lets play." you remembered, swinging your backpack off and rummaging through before you found them, kyra sitting cross legged on the floor beside you.

"come on!" you pinched stephs ankle as she jolted awake and shot you a glare. "works best with four people." you shook the packet at her as kyra had successfully harassed caitlin into playing.

"one game, thats it."

though with all four of your competitive tendencies kicking in, one game quickly became five, and then ten. steph tapping out as they announced your connecting flight was delayed a further three and a half hours due to an engine issue.

"oh you've gotta be fucking kidding." caitlin groaned, you and kyra quite unbothered as you packed away the cards. "ky and i are gonna go find food." you dropped your backpack on top of steph who grunted and pushed it off with an annoyed huff, the two of you racing off before she could say another word.

"do you reckon they accept aussie dollars?" kyra realised as the two of you stood in front of a vending machine, all of the food kiosks closed for another hour due to the time. "no but they should accept this." you grinned plucking your debit card out of your pocket.

"what! i thought steph took yours? caitlins got mine." kyra groaned, the two of you having had your 'pocket money' privileges revoked after you'd decided to buy out basically the entire vending machine at camp, most of which was shared with harper and harley and caused a sugar high chaos.

"sticky fingers ky, sticky fingers." you smirked, having swiped it out of stephs wallet when she was distracted. "oh like in home alone! the sticky bandits." kyra beamed, having admitted to never having seen the movie you'd forced her to watch a whole stack of christmas films over camp.

"see! and you thought you didn't need a christmas movie education."

"jesus christ we're here for a few more hours not a few days!" caitlin shook her head as you and kyra returned, arms laden with all sorts of treats both sweet and savory. "you are not eating anything that has sugar in it before the flight, over my dead body." steph warned sternly, making quick work to try and snatch everything she deemed a danger.

little did they know you and kyra had assumed this would be the case, the majority of the sweet treats hidden away in pockets, kyras bum bag or on your persons.

"do we stop them?" caitlin sighed, wedged into the chair beside steph as you and kyra took off again to explore. "no, if they run off their energy now maybe they'll actually sleep this next flight." steph pointed out, hopeful but realistic that likely wouldn't happen.

so they left the two of you to it, grateful you'd finally left them be much as they worried what the two of you were up to, the last thing they needed was to have to bail you out of trouble with security in another country let alone in dubai.

"where the hell are they? the flight boards in five minutes!" steph stressed, trying both of your phones again which rang out. those five minutes passed, then another ten, and with seconds to spare before they considered just leaving the two of you behind suddenly you and kyra skidded around the corner into view.

"sorry! we got lost and then kyra-" you started to explain but with a murderous look from both your older team mates you fell silent, accepting your bag which was shoved into your chest and silently filing onto the plane after them.

"no! you two are being separated." steph warned as you tried to sit beside kyra, frowning and moving the seat behind so you were next to steph instead.

getting through takeoff both you and kyra were quiet, steph and caitlin both praying that meant you had indeed tired yourselves out. but as the seatbelt sign went off and steph had just started to doze off she heard you moving about, tossing and turning and huffing.

"can you just not sit still?" the defender groaned tiredly, head turning to shoot you a look as you sent her a sheepish smile. "i'm not tired!" you shrugged honestly. "watch a movie or something then, just be quiet. please!" the older girl sighed deeply as you nodded.

it seemed to have worked as steph began to doze off, but the very obvious opening of a packet of something caused her to shoot back up, catching you in the act of shoving a chocolate bar in your mouth.

"give it." steph warned, holding her hand out as you sighed and handed it over. "all of them." the girl shot you a firm look as you deflated and grabbed out the bag, watching with a broken heart as steph hid them away in her own luggage.

"you know steffy you are the worst travel buddy ever." "funny, could say the exact same about you kid. now be quiet, please!"

[damiansgoodgirll]

 hi, can you please make a story where reader is young like 19 or 20 and everyone loves her and she’s a pretty close friend with basically everyone in the wwe and one day she has a match with like Nia or someone else and she gets injured so bad that everyone around her is worried sick.? maybe she has a closer feeling with the judgement day or Jey but like if you can mention more wrestlers it would be amazing. Thank you so much. I love your writing 

i love this type of requests cause it makes me travel back in time when i was 13 and i used to play wrestling with my best friend (don’t do this at home) and i remember everyone loving me…anyway

sorry for making nia the bad one!

the judgment day x reader (platonic) / jey uso x reader (platonic)

home is where you belong

you never thought you would find it but you did. the place where you felt safe and loved, the place that you called home.

you’ve been wrestling since you were fifteen and once you got eighteen wwe signed you in. two years later now you were living your dream;

travelling from city to city, having sleepovers with your wrestling friends, gossiping about what people you shipped together, talking nonsense with seth rollins and having becky teasing him, watching and learning new techniques from jey uso, training with the judgment day.

everything was a dream for you.

the fans loved you. even if they weren’t fans about your character, they still liked your persona and your positive energy. you had no enemies, you pretended of course, but you had no enemies at all.

many elders took you under their protective wing and you couldn’t be more grateful.

you we are currently training with rhea as you had a big match against nia and you wanted to be ready. you both already knew that the judgement they were gonna help you win this match because, according to the script they had to ruin this moment for you and for nia, but you didn’t care because you knew how fun it was going to be.

so you were ready to kick her ass.

nia, otherwise, wasn’t as happy as you thought. the idea of losing against some teenager like you made her blood boil. she was more experienced than you so why would you had to win? plus, by getting helped by the judgment day?

she didn’t like the idea but she didn’t tell you.

she had something else in mind.

so you were getting ready, your make up flawless, your hair perfectly posing over your shoulders and a smile that could make happy anyone who met you.

you were so ready.

you heard the “boos” when nia entered the ring and you heard everyone cheering for you when you entered. that’s how it was supposed to be so why did she have an envious look in her eyes?

you pretended it was nothing and you started the match as it was supposed to go.

ten minutes later, the judgment day music echoing through the arena, just like the script said.

rhea distracting nia.

following exactly what the script said.

so what did go wrong?

nia attacked rhea. it wasn’t in the script but rhea knew how to handle situations like that.

you could tell by damian’s look that this wasn’t supposed to happen but you took it as an opportunity to distract nia and make your final move, move that made you win that match.

earlier on the schedule but still, you had your win.

“someone beat your ass…” rhea screamed into the microphone, unleashing mixed reactions through the crowd. everyone cheering for you because of your win, not everyone was happy with the way you won but still, you better than nia.

that set her off.

she didn’t like the idea of a teenager beating her but she hated even more the way the crowd laughed at her face, making her seem weak, not strong enough.

the judgment day were leaving the arena, just like the script told them to do after your victory, so what didn’t go as planned?

you were still in the ring, fans clapping for you, the referee still held your hand high and as you were about the leave, nia hit you behind your back.

this wasn’t prepared.

you fell to your knees and before you could do something she dragged you through your hair into the middle of the ring.

“nia?” you said almost too terrified.

the referee tried to get into the two of you but nia pushed her away, hurting her.

“who do you think you are?” she said hoovering you with her body.

“nia what?” you weren’t understanding. why was she doing that? she was your friend, she wasn’t supposed to hurt you.

“don’t act so dumb…” she whispered before attacking you.

for real this time.

nothing prepared.

she was really hurting you. your face first, then your stomach, she kept hurting you, punching you over and over until you couldn’t feel your body anymore.

your head and nose were bleeding.

referees weren’t able to stop her either.

rhea and damian were the first one to intervene when they saw that the referee couldn’t stop her.

rhea attacking her, the referees, trying to get between the two of them, so damian so that as an opportunity to shield you with his body. he could handle nia attacking him.

“damian?” you almost cried.

“hey…shh it’s okay, i got you” he said, slowly moving your hair out of your face and it was in that moment that he saw your bleeding face.

“dam…it hurts” you said clenching your stomach. he felt his heart breaking. the way you were clenching your chest, the way your hands trembled a little, your bleeding face and your eyes full of tears.

he was mad. furious.

“i know…ssshhh…we will take care of you i promise” he whispered.

the crowd was cheering, assuming everything was scripted, but there was an uncomfortable silence going behind the scenes.

everyone watching what was happening in horror.

becky had tears in her eyes and seth was trying to keep her and himself calm because he was mad. cody was speechless. jey ran out of his locker room just to be stopped by the security. dom and finn paralysed in their steps as they were watching everything happening right before their eyes.

that’s what it went wrong.

thankfully, rhea and referees were able to drag nia away from the ring. she knew she went too far but her pride was something she wasn’t willing to give up.

damian was still in the ring with you as medical staff came and assisted you.

you already fell unconscious when damian lifted you up in his arms and dragged you down onto the stretcher waiting for you backstage.

you were rushed to the hospital and honestly no one felt like continuing the show but they had to. jey was next but all he wanted to do was rush to the hospital and stay by your side.

you didn’t even realised that when you woke up you weren’t in some hotel room but you were in a hospital bed. your head still pounding when you remembered what happened.

the doctor told you that you had a few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder,a broken wrist, a sprained ankle and a heavy concussion. not to count all the bruising and red spots forming all over your body.

then what you didn’t want to hear : no wrestling for at least four months.

your body needed to rest and heal first.

you were trying to hold in all the tears but eventually let them out when the doctor left your room. you were supposed to have your first main event at wrestlemania and now that dream was gone.

while still crying a soft knock echoed through the room.

damian first, then rhea with the rest of the judgment day.

“hey…” she whispered but her heart broke when she saw the tears in your eyes “why are you crying pretty girl?” she asked sitting on the chair next to your bed, followed by the boys who sat on the small couch right beside the window.

“bye bye wrestlemania…” you said with a broken voice.

everyone knew how much you’ve been waiting and wanting that moment.

“i’m so sorry y/n…” she said softly.

“its just it’s not fair…” you whispered “why did she do that? i thought she was my friend…i would have never done that to her rhea…never”

“i know love…because you know your value, you’re kind and sweet and loving and unfortunately you’ve met someone who thought about her ego and her ego only…” she said smiling sadly at you.

“what matters now is that you rest and take your time to heal” damian joined the conversation “you scared everyone back there…” he said making you smile a little.

“i didn’t mean to…”

“we know…or you could tell them that yourself” finn joked.

“what?” you whispered.

“everyone’s here…jey almost punched the doctor when they wouldn’t let him see you” dom laughed “becky is here with seth, cody and shayna are here too…girl you even scared gunther”

“i don’t believe it…” you laughed.

“we can make you believe that” jey said entering the room with a beautiful bouquet of red roses. everyone followed him too.

you were relieved in seeing so many people caring for you in a way not even your friends cared about. you felt loved and appreciated.

you’ve spent the next hour talking nonsense with them all and you almost forgot about the wrestling problem thing.

almost.

when everyone left for your check up with the doctor, the only one who stayed was jey.

he was the only one who noticed the shift in your mood and he knew what was like staying away from what you love do the most, so if you needed a shoulder to cry on, he was willing to do that, if you needed a friendly advice, he was willing to do that too.

“care to tell me what’s on your mind sweetheart?” he asked when the doctor left.

“i’m going to miss all of these…four months of not seeing you all days, no wrestling, no wrestlemania and probably no summerslam too…it’s just, i feel useless and empty not doing what i love jey” you confessed.

“you’re not useless at all, and it’s normal to feel nostalgic right now but it’ll pass and i promise you that you’ll be on your feet for when summerslam comes! i promise you” he said sitting next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder - the healthy one - “i wish i could have done something to stop her but i was the useless one…i hated seeing you in so much pain…she lost her mind and finally she lost her job too”

“what?” you whispered.

“yup! got fired…you know you could sue her right?” jey asked.

“i would never do that…”

“i know…you’re too kind for that…what she did was wrong and completely unacceptable but i’m glad you’re here…” he said softly kissing your head.

“ill be here for a long long time…this is my home after all” you smiled, making jey laugh too.

and it was in that moment that you truly realised how important those weird people were for you, and how important you were for them.

[thatpinkbetch]

I don't give a fuck if Valentine's Day is over.

I wrote this after going back to look at this beautiful piece by herbarimoon one too many times :)

AU where cupids are angels that are given human assignments to help them fall in love, and Midoriya's first case is Bakugou Katsuki.

As if finding someone for this difficult human to fall in love with wasn't hard enough, it just had to be the one Midoriya had a soft spot for. As a fledgling angel, he loved to watch humans from above the clouds, but his favorite of all was the bratty blonde man that secretly feeds his scraps to kittens in alleyways and strives to be the best at everything he does.

Midoriya wants to find the perfect partner for this man. He searches high and low, until he's found him! Someone that could love his beloved human enough, and someone his human could love in return. And yet, when push comes to shove, and it's time to fire, he messes up the shot and the arrow gets lodged into Bakugou's heart. For it to work, the arrow has to shoot through his chest. What's even worse is, with this magic love arrow stuck in his heart, Bakugou can now see Midoriya, and the other cupids. And he's fucking pissed.

"Are you kidding me? You had one fucking job and you can't even do that right? You stupid fucking Deku!"

Midoriya promises that he will fix this. He looks for the man that he planned to be Bakugou's partner, but he can't find him anymore! Where did he go?

Meanwhile, Bakugou's upset as all hell. What the fuck is this? Is this fucking real? No way in hell is he going to be set up to fall in love. If he's going to fall in love, it will be because he chooses the fucker. Midoriya has to drag him kicking and screaming to find his future partner. People stare after him likes he's crazy, since they can't see the angel holding his wrist and pulling him along.

Try as he might, Midoriya can't find the perfect match again. Well... They'd have to keep trying. What a mess he's gotten himself into.

Bakugou doesn't fucking know what to do. This fuck ass angel keeps following him around, into his home, to his work, hovering over him worried and shit. And on top of that, he's got this arrow sticking out of him. He won't admit it to the idiot, but it hurts. It hurts to put his clothes on, even though the arrow phases through them. It hurts when he wasn't even thinking about it, a dull throbbing in his chest. Because obviously it would hurt to have something stuck in your heart. But fuck that bastard. He doesn't have to know shit about him. Like hell he'd fall in love with whatever random fucker Deku assigned to him. He can deal. He can figure his own way out of this. Apparently they can't just pull out the arrow, otherwise his heart might be damaged beyond repair - meaning he won't be able to fall in love afterwards. He doesn't actually believe that; not until he tries to tug on it at night when the angel is sleeping on his couch and it hurts like a motherfucker.

Fine, okay, this is going to take some time. He just doesn't really get why... There's this nagging sensation in the back of his mind... Why there is something familiar about this angel guy...

Shenanigans ensue. Obviously. Bakugou looks kind of strange half the time, sometimes talking to someone that isn't there. But it's only when he goes to his parents house for something or other, and he sees a picture of himself from childhood. There, beside him, his old friend who drowned in the river when they were kids. It looks just like this fucker that's been harassing him and sleeping on his couch and consuming all of his sweets because even though he doesn't need them, he still has a sweet tooth (and, well, Bakugou could speak up more if it really pissed him off...)

That night he shows Midoriya the picture, and Midoriya is stunned. That is him. Truly. But...he doesn't remember that. It's kind of freaky. Bakugou can tell that it freaks him out, too. And that's when he starts to suspect.

When Midoriya sleeps that night, he dreams of being a child, of playing with his best friend. His best friend, who is the coolest in the whole world, the strongest, the bravest. Going out to play one day when it's raining and his friend... Ka... Ka... His friend stayed home that day. And he slips on the log they used to cross all the time and plummets to the waters below... It's dark, and so, so cold...

He wakes up with a gasp and a splitting headache. Midoriya tries to recall his earliest memory, but the further back he goes, the foggier it gets. No one can really remember their first day alive, their beginning, can they? But he remembers the heavens, a life that feels so long ago, though its only been weeks. He was a bit of an outcast up there, longing constantly for the humans, for one in particular...

That morning, Bakugou studies him silently, but doesn't speak, which is fine, because Midoriya doesn't feel like speaking, either.

They're in that same park, the one where Bakugou first saw him. They're sitting on the bench together, strangely silent. Normally they bicker; Midoriya points out people and asks Bakugou about them, if he's interested, and Bakugou proceeds to tell him all the ways he hates them. Why Bakugou always agreed to sit with him and watch, he could not explain. But today, Midoriya is quietly focused.

Suddenly, he shoots up and grabs Bakugou's hand, pulling him along. There! There he is! The man Midoriya paired him with originally. And Bakugou finally gets a good look at him. Crap! He's his type... He looks at Midorya's excited face, seeing the cupid looking only at their target, and Bakugou frowns. Yeah, okay, maybe he kind of gets Bakugou after all.

"Keep your eyes on him!"

Bakugou digs his heels into the ground.

"The hell is that? You think I could fall for somebody like that? Look at his shitty hair! He looks like an idiot!"

Midoriya stares at him, the excitement slowly draining from his face until he is crestfallen. Oh well. Looks like stupid Deku is going to have to take the time to find him someone else. Shame.

Before either of them can say anymore, Bakugou's face crumples in pain, and he falls to his knees. He hadn't wanted to tell the angel about his pain, but it was getting worse as time went on. He was pretty damn good at ignoring it, but it floods his chest right then, along with a bunch of regrets he'd been holding back for longer than he could remember.

Midoriya follows him down, panicking now. How could he have not noticed! Of course Bakugou would have been in pain this whole time. Humans can't handle long exposure to magic like that, and this arrow had been pumping him full of it for a month now! How he had lasted this long was a miracle already, but he'd never complained, so Midoriya never realized...

"Kacchan, Kacchan please-" where had that name come from? "Please, tell me, just tell me someone-" he looks around at the people in the park, some looking curiously at the man crouching, but Bakugou grips his wrist and holds his gaze.

"Dumbass..." He croaks out. "I don't want anybody else." Then he falls onto his back and the crowd around them gasps. There's screams and calls for an ambulance, but Midoriya is too shocked to notice the commotion. Anybody else...

There are tears in his eyes that he doesn't even feel as he straddles Bakugou. Nobody can see him, or the arrow sticking out of the fallen man's chest. So they can't see it when Midoriya, with his determined gaze, places his hands around the end of the shaft, looking down into Bakugou's eyes, so open and revealing, and he pushes down.

The sound Bakugou makes hurts his own heart, but he doesn't stop. He pushes the arrow through him, slowly, steadily, watching Bakugou gasp and cry, and then reach up and hold his hands and guide them in while he looks directly at Midoriya.

It was his own fault this was painful. If he'd just shot straight, it would've gone clean through. But perhaps there was a part of him that hadn't wanted that shot to work out. A part that had betrayed his trained accuracy. As he holds Bakugou's pained gaze, he takes full responsibility for it, pushing the arrow through and soaking in every wince and tear. He embraces his own selfishness; he wants this heart for his own.

When it's through, they both gasp. The arrow disappeared. And Bakugou... Well, aside from the deep, heaving breaths, and the tears he's blinking away, he looks just like normal. When he sits up, that's when Midoriya notices the crowd around them. And for some reason, they seem to be staring at him.

"Idiot." He looks at the sound of Bakugou's voice and sees him smirking at him. "They can see you now, Izuku."

Midoriya never told him that name. Midoriya hadn't known it himself. But the second Bakugou gives it to him, he feels it fit like a glove. The people around them murmur, saying, "He saved him, thank god..."

Midoriya doesn't know what they saw, or what they think they saw, but he knows what they're about to see. He dives forward and kisses the man beneath him still, and Bakugou holds the back of his neck as he lets him.

He never regains the memories from his childhood - those were swept away by the river. But his heart could never forget. He always wondered if that arrow ever actually worked - nothing feels any different between them. Kacchan loves him just the same.

Though, there is one thing that changes. He's human now (again) his powers stripped from him for falling in love with an assignment. Maybe it's for the best. He was never really good at this cupid business anyway.

[yuta-nakamots]

Kick It - N.Yuta

Pairing - Soccer!Yuta x Female Reader 

Genre(s) - Fluff, University!AU, slight enemies to lovers 

Warning(s) - you get hit in the head with a soccer ball??, yuta is kinda mean at first

Summary - Yuta was one of the best offensive players on your university’s soccer team, yet his defense was just as strong. Namely, his emotional defense. It became your personal goal to break away into his heart and score points in your favor.

Word Count - 5.9k

Author’s Note - I had this half finished for the past two years and I’m so glad I finally came back to it :) I was surprised when I found it was featuring @horanghoe but I must say it was quite a good idea from my past self. This fic is based on one of the requests I got in my first event when I reached 1k where Yuta is a moody soccer boy that only shows himself to the reader who is also a soccer player. Not gonna lie, I’m really just projecting myself through this fic lol but people always say write what you want to read

Taglist - @k-vanity @neocity-net (fill out this google form if you'd like to be added!)

Written for the Quarter Life Shenanigans Collab hosted by @ncteaxhoe. Beta read by the lovely @lovetaroandtaemin.

Prompts: “I have a term paper due tomorrow but the cafe you work at after college is the only 24 hour cafe with internet,” and “I want to take a shower so you should probably join me, to save water you know.”

Now playing: Kick It - NCT 127, Bad Euphoria - Yuta, Meaning of Love - NCT 127, Pandora’s Box - NCT 127

A shrill blow of a whistle rang in your ears, signaling the end of the soccer game. Your best friend, Wren, had somehow convinced you to go with them to watch the university’s men’s soccer team, despite the chilly autumn weather. Wren’s boyfriend, Hoshi, was one of the captains of the team, and Wren had become a devout fan of him and soccer ever since they started dating.

You trailed after Wren, both of you heading down the bleachers towards the field so that Wren could greet their favorite player. “Hoshi!” they screamed in delight, the aforementioned soccer player making a beeline for his significant other as soon as their foot hit the turf. 

“Thank you for coming!” Hoshi wrapped Wren up in a tight hug, picking them up and spinning them around. “We won because you came.” 

Not wanting to hear any more of their sweet nothings, you absentmindedly nudged one of the extra soccer balls that were sitting around. Just a light tap on its surface had you thinking back to your younger days when you played soccer for your high school. You were never the best, but you kept at it because of your love for the sport. 

You stopped the ball under your foot, pressing it down into the turf. With the slightest push, you set the ball in motion, making it roll straight ahead. Surely, you remembered this drill from all the times your coach made you practice it. As the ball continued to roll forward, you stepped forward and then across the ball’s path, repeating the commands in your head ‘out and around, out and around,’ just as you did all those years ago.

As if you were lost in a trance, you continued the motions until you had made it down to the edge of the penalty arc. This, too, was something you recalled vividly, all the missed shots meaning another lap your coach forced you to run. 

“Are you gonna shoot it or what?” A voice called out, breaking you from your memories. You turned to find one of the team's eldest members, Yuta, standing with a soccer ball tucked under each of his arms and his weight shifted onto one leg. “I have to put these away, you know.” 

His hair was slightly damp from sweat, cheeks flushed pink with a slight sheen over them. Gosh, he looked good even if he had just played a whole game before this. “Oh, it’s okay-“ you stammered, moving to pass the ball to him. 

“No, no, go ahead,” he encouraged with a smirk, “I’d like to see what you can do.” 

You weren’t one to turn down a challenge, so you shifted the ball around with the bottom of your foot, placing it squarely on the penalty arc. It had been a while since you were last in this position, but surely your muscle memory would pull you through. Yuta was getting impatient. “Hurry up. The ground crew is gonna lock us in here if you don’t get a move on.” 

Not wanting to be stuck on the field with such a prick, you locked your gaze on the goal, switching back to the ball. Your feet were firmly planted before pushing all your momentum forward, taking two steps towards the ball and kicking it hard on the third. The sound of the leather against your shoe made that satisfying noise you remembered all too well. The ball flew through the air valiantly, but your chest filled with embarrassment as it so clearly missed the goal, not even coming close to the posts. 

“Nice one,” Yuta sneered as he dropped the two balls he was holding in order to run after the one you had sent to the edges of the field. “Take those back to the bench for me,” he shouted as he took off running. 

You sighed, feeling bad about giving the already tired soccer player more work to do, but after he acted like he had a stick up his butt, you didn't feel all that guilty. Picking up the two balls that Yuta had dropped, you headed over to the team’s bench where Hoshi and Wren had taken a seat to wait for you. Wren raised a hand to wave at you before turning to Hoshi and speaking into his ear. Hoshi smiled and laughed at whatever your friend had said, nodding his head enthusiastically. 

“Now what are you lovebirds laughing about?” You inquired, not wanting to be left out of the fun. 

“It’s nothing,” Wren said with a smile. You knew it wasn’t nothing. 

“Looks like you met Yuta,” Hoshi noted. “He played well today.”

You spared the aforementioned soccer player a glance over your shoulder, finding Uta jogging while dribbling the ball in your direction. “Yeah…is he always like that?”

Hoshi raises an eyebrow, “like what?”

“You know…sassy, brooding…” you trailed off, not knowing how else to explain the attitude of the older athlete. 

“Hmm, I’d say so,” Hoshi mused, his eyes shifting to focus on something past you, “WATCH OUT-“

Hoshi towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder while his other stretched forward. But he was too late. There was a loud smack as the ball collided with your head and bounced off, sending you reeling. Hoshi barely caught you in his arms while Wren lurched forward to make sure you didn’t completely fall over. 

You felt a wave of heat wash over your head and face, ears ringing and burning. It was partly from embarrassment, but there was a stronger emotion present. Anger. You whipped around, knowing fully well just who sent that ball at your head. 

“Nakamoto Yuta!” You shouted, eyes falling upon the dark-haired soccer player clutching his stomach and laughing. He staggered around as he struggled to catch his breath, falling to his knees and putting a hand on the ground to steady himself. 

You stood still in shock, feeling a sudden hatred for the man in front of you. “Don’t take it too personally,” Hoshi muttered as he moved to retrieve the ball and slide it into the bag with the rest of them. 

“Don’t take it too personally?” You repeated, not sure how to handle the situation. 

“He’s just playing around,” Hoshi reassured. 

You shook your head and asked, “How in the world can that be considered ‘playing around’ when he literally nailed me in the head?”

Hoshi put a hand on your shoulder, patting it as if giving you support. “That’s how he fools around with us. Just trust me.”

No matter how much you trusted Wren’s boyfriend, there was no way you were going to trust that asshole of an athlete for deliberately kicking a ball to your head. 

After the little incident on the field, you start to notice Yuta like an Easter egg hidden in plain sight. On Monday, when you entered the classroom for your 9AM business ethics class, he was sitting on the other side of the room with his phone out. The seats had always been arranged in a circular formation to allow for discussion, and as you took your seat, Yuta was almost directly in front of you. There was no way he had always sat there. You had this class three times a week and already had six class meetings, yet you didn’t recall ever seeing his face. 

Yuta momentarily glanced up at you taking your seat, the two of you making brief eye contact, though he looked away, turning his attention back to whatever was on his phone. You were still perplexed by his appearance in class. Perhaps someone had taken his seat, and he had moved to a different one. Sometimes, that happened in your other classes, and you begrudgingly took up a different place in the room. Yeah, that’s probably what happened to him.

Most students streamed in and filled up the remaining spots in the circle while the professor started his lecture. Today’s focus was on profit margin, and the professor started monotonously introducing the topic of buying low and selling high. It was common sense, really. 

You found yourself falling disinterested in the lecture and allowed your eyes to wander throughout the room. When your gaze fell upon Yuta, it was startling to be met with his that was already on you. Now it was your turn to avert your eyes from his piercing stare. This type of interaction happened a few more times throughout the hour you were forced to listen to examples of net profit calculations. 

It was quite inconvenient that Yuta chose the seat that he did since whenever you relaxed and forgot about his dark and foreboding presence, he came into view again. When the lecture drew to a close, you breathed a sigh of relief as he swiftly left the room. The stifling feeling that had gripped you throughout the class finally began to fade, and you made a mental note to never again sit across from Yuta. 

Later in the week, on Friday, you were halfway through your shift at a small cafe just a block away from campus. Due to its close proximity, it was frequented by your fellow university students, so you shouldn’t have been surprised when a certain person entered the shop. Already preoccupied making another order, you didn’t pay him much attention, but your hands became shaky as you felt the unsettling sensation of someone watching you. 

“One medium green tea frappe with a caramel drizzle,” you heard him order while finishing up the drink you were working on. It may or may not have been on purpose that you took a while unscrewing the lid of the blender and pouring the contents out into a cup. But regardless, Yuta’s order went to another barista, and you were happy to have avoided the awkwardness of calling his name and handing him the drink.

After your coworker had finished making his order, you subtly watched him take a table near the back of the shop. That particular spot was coveted by many since it only seated two people and had access to the outlet in the wall next to it. As he pulled out a laptop and charger from his backpack, you wondered just how long he would be staying since it was already nearing 6PM. 

Yuta left the forefront of your mind as the hours dragged on, and you got lost in the repetition of completing orders and cleaning the equipment. The two other baristas working were entertaining enough with the rumor they heard about one of their professors doing drag at a local gay bar. 

Before you knew it, the end of your shift was approaching, and the employees taking the graveyard shift arrived. You double-checked that you had clocked out properly before taking off the cafe apron and throwing it in the laundry bag. Upon exiting the bar from the side door, you were surprised to see Yuta still at his table nestled in the corner. 

He looked the same as when he first sat down all those hours ago, except he now wore glasses and had a collection of empty cups next to his laptop. He came in around 6PM and was still working at 10PM. You wondered what Yuta could possibly be doing that he kept himself holed up in the cafe for so long. 

As you held the door open for your coworkers leaving behind you, Yuta looked up from his computer, his interest piqued by the motion behind his screen. Your eyes caught his, just as they did during class, though this time, you could see exhaustion painted ever so clearly in his expression. 

“It’s already ten o’clock,” you called out to him, walking over to his table, “what are you doing here this late?” 

Yuta let out a heavy sigh, which was laced with his stress and lack of energy. “I have a term paper due tomorrow, but this cafe is the only 24-hour cafe with internet near campus. So I’m stuck here, pretty much.”

“You don’t have wi-fi at your dorm?” you inquired. The thought of being a college student without internet access in their accommodations utterly horrified you. 

“Apartment,” he corrected. “I do have an okay connection there, but my roommates slow it down a lot because of all the stuff they do.”

You couldn’t really imagine what a group of guys had to do in order to slow down their connection so much that Yuta felt he had to go elsewhere. Especially to work on a school assignment on a weeknight. That seemed inconsiderate of his roommates, but you knew you weren’t in any place to voice these thoughts to Yuta. “How much longer are you planning to stay?”

“Maybe just another hour or so. I’m almost done,” he shared. “Why? Do you need me to leave or something?”

“No, I was just curious,” you blurt quickly, not wanting to provoke his thorny personality when he is already worn out. “I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

Yuta looked down at his laptop and sank into the seat. “Yeah, probably. If I actually wake up and get there in time.” 

“I can take notes for you if you end up not making it,” you offer, surprising yourself. 

He perked up at your words. “That would be nice. Here,” Yuta picked up his phone from the table and held it out toward you. “Send yourself a message from my phone so that you have my number.” 

You typed in your digits and sent a smiley face before handing the phone back to him. “Good luck on your paper,” you encouraged, “and hopefully, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Thanks,” Yuta answered curtly while returning his focus to his assignment. 

On your walk back to your dorm, your thoughts kept drifting to Yuta. It was clear that you hadn't broken through his shell, but you had his number now. Surely that was progress, right? Why were you even trying to make progress in the first place? He was only a classmate, and not even a very sociable one. So, why were you still so drawn to him?

As the semester went on, you noticed the way that Yuta became a regular in your cafe. His piercing gaze met yours whenever he came in, no matter if he came during the lull between lunch and dinner or if he came during the peak of rush hour with customers waiting for their end-of-work caffeine fix. Yuta always ordered the same thing whenever he came. A medium green tea frappe with a caramel drizzle. Surprisingly sweet for the likes of him. 

You became so familiar with his presence in the shop that you would start working on his order as soon as you saw him walk through the door. At some point, you noticed that you began looking forward to his visits when you were working. You caught yourself wondering when he would stop by, what he would be wearing, and what his plans were for the day. 

Whenever you happened to be the one to take Yuta’s order at the register, he would greet you with a smile and ask how your day had been. Sometimes, you’d answer with a simple “good.” But whenever the store wasn’t busy, you took the time to share more about yourself, and he would do the same. 

You came to know about which classes he had besides your shared one. He was a fifth-year business major with a focus on international relations and a minor in travel industry management. He spent his earlier years in college partying until the sun rose, forming bad habits to the point that he was going to be kicked from the team if his grades dropped any further. Yuta told you that he took his third year as a time to change. He shared about his withdrawal from the soccer team and the long hours he spent at the library finishing assignments and proofreading his essays in a grand attempt to resurrect his GPA. 

To him, soccer was more than just a sport. It was something that grounded him and brought him back to his senses. To Yuta, soccer was the reason that he was able to clean up his act and get his academics in order. You would have never guessed that this one activity meant so much to him. “I’m worried about what I’ll do once this is all over,” he confided during one quiet evening. “I’m scared that I’ll go back to my old habits once I don’t have the team to keep me in check, once I don’t have practice to go to every week.”

The conversations with Yuta became a regular occurrence, especially when he would come near the end of your shift. You worked from the end of your classes at 1pm to 5pm on Mondays and Wednesdays, which was right in time for Yuta’s coffee pick-me-up before heading to soccer practice at 7pm. Originally, you hated your Friday schedule, starting classes at 9am with hardly any break until 2pm, then off to work from 3pm until 10pm. But when Yuta began coming in during those late nights, you grew to like them. 

“Can’t let a pretty girl like you walk home alone when it’s this late,” Yuta reasoned when you asked why he insisted on coming to the cafe and getting his normal iced americano when any normal person would be winding down for the night. He stuck to his words, walking you home every Friday night after you helped close up. You weren’t going to admit it, but you enjoyed his company, and it helped to put your mind at ease whenever he was with you. Sometimes, he would even help you clean up, picking up trash and taking the large garbage bags out to the dumpster for you. “The faster you close, the faster you’ll get home…gotta make sure my girl is safe.” 

His girl. 

Yuta had never asked you for more than his normal medium green tea frappe with a caramel drizzle, yet you both knew each other well past customer and barista. Were you his girl? If you were, you had no way of knowing. You didn't want to ask and push the situation around when you were already happy with where things stood currently. The way Yuta made time for you in his busy schedule despite his soccer commitments and impending graduation. Surely that must mean something, but you shut down those thoughts, not wanting to place more weight onto Yuta’s actions. 

Aside from Yuta becoming a regular at your cafe, you similarly became a regular at the men’s soccer games, much to Wren’s surprise. After that first incident with Yuta, Wren was so sure that you would never want to go to another soccer game in your life. Wren jokingly asked if you would be down to watch the team’s upcoming match, fully expecting you to say no. Wren’s eyes went wide in shock upon hearing your answer, not sure if they heard you correctly. “Y-you’ll go to the game with me?” 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” You said matter-of-factly. 

“I know I said that it’s an important match because it decides whether or not they qualify for the play-offs, but that doesn’t mean you have to go,” Wren blurted, as if double-checking that you weren’t merely forcing yourself to go in order to support your friend in supporting their boyfriend. 

“It’s okay,” you told them. “I want to go.” But if you were being honest, you were already planning to go. Yuta had invited you to the game the previous week. When he explained how important the match was to him, being that it was his last year with the team, you couldn’t say no. Not when he gave you the cutest pleading look, eyes wide with hope. For all the times he kept you company at work and got you home safely, you figured this was the least you could do to repay him. 

The bright stadium lights shone harshly upon the two teams running around on the field. You watched the throng of players weaving in between each other as the ball was passed around the turf. It was already nearing the end of the match, yet the teams were neck and neck, tied with one goal each. You admired all of the athletes on the pitch, in awe of the stamina and strength they’d shown throughout the entire match, yet your eyes followed only one of the players. Number 7, Nakamoto Yuta, left striker. 

Yuta dominated his area of the field, expertly handling the ball with precision and skill. Throughout the game, he was constantly breaking away from the opposing players defending him and taking multiple shots on the goal. He played with such vigor and ferocity that it had you doubting he was the same man that watched you with such softness as you wiped down tables. 

With only a few seconds on the clock, the play started with a throw-in from Hoshi, who was playing as a right-side midfielder. Sitting next to you, Wren cheered on their boyfriend as he sent the ball to the right-side center back, Jeonghan. The ball was sent on its way from Jeonghan across the field to the left, bouncing over to where Yuta was in tight quarters with two players from the opposing team. One of them attempted to do a header, causing the ball to continue in the air and the group of them to run after it in a fight for dominance. When the ball came back down, Yuta swooped under it, nudging it with his thigh to push it forward and into his control. The team erupted in cheers as they knew what was about to happen. 

Yuta brought the ball to the ground and dribbled it while coming up to the opposing team’s defensive players. He lightly tapped the ball towards the outer line before quickly sidestepping and redirecting the ball towards his right, now with a clear path towards the goal. Yuta broke away from the small mob of opposing players with exceptional speed, his shoes turning into a blur as he sprinted toward the penalty box. 

The opposing team watched, unable to catch up with him, their only hope left being their goalie. Right as Yuta reached the top of the penalty box, you saw the all-familiar plant of his left foot while his right hung back, winding up for the shot. The crowd was in a frenzy as supporters of both teams yelled and cheered. The sound of Yuta’s shoe against the ball echoed from the field, followed by the swish of the net when the ball soared right over the goalie’s outstretched arms. 

You and Wren jumped in the air, holding each other's hands in celebration while the other boys on the team ran onto the field and crashed into Yuta as he ran into their arms with a smile on his face. The buzzer rang loud and clear, signaling the end of the match and the team’s entrance into the playoffs. You watched as Yuta’s hair flew around while he hugged his teammates, all of them equally sweaty yet even more energized. “Come on, let’s go and congratulate them,” Wren said, holding onto your wrist while guiding you down the bleachers toward the turf. 

Not wanting to interrupt the team and their hard-earned moment, you and Wren hung back near the edge of the field. Your eyes floated over the crowd of boys in the same jersey, buzzing with the same excitement. A singular ball came shooting out towards you from the mass of men, followed by the athlete whose smile felt like it was even brighter than the stadium lights. 

You trapped the ball gently with your foot before passing it back to Yuta as he approached you. He received the ball with the top of his foot, popping it into the air and letting it fall onto his thighs before juggling it a couple of times, showing off his skill before sending it back to you. You trapped it with your thigh, waiting for it to fall down a bit and then tapping it back up with your foot, only juggling the ball twice before firmly pressing it onto the ground. “Looks like you should be on the field instead of me,” Yuta joked with a smile. 

“No, I could never,” you shook your head as Yuta closed the distance between the two of you. “You did so good tonight,” you said quietly as Yuta pulled you into a hug. 

“I had to,” he responded, pulling away to meet your gaze. “Couldn’t let you down.” 

“Couldn’t let your team down,” you corrected. “Congratulations on making it into the playoffs.” 

Yuta sighed as he released you from his grip, “Yeah, just means more games, more practice, more sore muscles.” 

“You act like that’s such a bad thing when you’re quite literally the star of the team,” you say with a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Am I?” Yuta mused while turning to look at the rest of his teammates as they began to pack up their equipment. 

“I think so,” you nearly whisper as you approach him once more. You place both your hands on his firm chest before shoving him lightly back towards his team. “Go back to your team before they leave you behind.” 

Yuta shot you a quick smile as you passed him the ball, and he took it back over to the bench and joined his team in cleaning up. “What’s up with you guys?” Wren's voice breaks you away from the fading image of Yuta’s smile in your mind. You shrug, not really knowing how to explain the situation between you and Yuta. Wren gave you a look that meant you were done for once the two of you were alone. “There’s no way you guys go from nearly fighting each other one game and hugging the next without telling me what’s going on.”

“I became a fan, I guess,” you tell them with feigned nonchalance, causing Wren to let out an exasperated sigh.

In celebration of the soccer team’s advancement into the playoffs, their coach had given them the week off and canceled practice on Monday and Wednesday. You knew this much because of Wren’s insufferable yapping about how excited they were to have Hoshi all to themselves for the week and how they had so many fun things planned. Wren and Hoshi had extended an invitation to both you and Yuta privately in hopes of getting to play matchmaker and help move your relationship along. 

You meant to ask Yuta about it on Monday, but your plans were thwarted by the midterm, which occupied all of your class time. Since Yuta’s practice was cancelled, and the midterm for your shared class was over, you knew there was really no reason for him to stop by the cafe that night. You spent that entire shift anxiously glancing between the door and the clock on the wall, wondering if the dark-haired soccer player with the piercing eyes would show up. He did not. 

On Tuesday night, your professor announced that class on Wednesday would be canceled to allow for makeup tests for any students who had yet to take the midterm and for the grading of tests. As such, you were robbed of your next chance to see Yuta. When you went to work on Wednesday, you assumed that Yuta’s familiar presence would again be missing from your schedule. 

It was fine; he deserved to rest. Yuta should have been using this time to recover. He earned it. 

The bell on the door chimed as Wren and Hoshi entered the cafe, interrupting your pitiful worrying. “How is my favorite barista doing?” Wren asked with a wide smile, their hands wrapped around Hoshi’s bicep. 

“Good, good,” you start, “just…working.” You took down their order seamlessly before continuing the conversation. 

“You know, we didn’t think you would be at work tonight,” Hoshi shared. “We thought you would be with Yuta.” 

“Oh?” You were intrigued. Yuta hadn’t mentioned any plans to you. The two of you hadn’t seen, much less spoken to, each other since the game on Saturday. 

“Yeah, I was stalking your location, and when I saw you were here, I knew something was up,” Wren spilled, causing you to roll your eyes at their antics. “Hoshi also said that Yuta has been radio silent in their team chat too, so we thought maybe he was over here with you.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed in thought. “He didn’t say anything about hanging out this week, and he hasn’t stopped by the cafe while I was working either. Should I be concerned?”

Hoshi looked between you and Wren. “Well, nearly every guy on the team is spending this time with their significant other. I’m not saying it’s a problem that Yuta isn't with you, but I’m just saying maybe he would like to have some company.”

You thought back to the late-night conversations you shared with Yuta in the cafe and on the walks to your apartment. The way he told you about the passion, loyalty, and devotion he had towards soccer and the team. The image of his brow furrowed with worry comes to your mind, remembering how he spoke about his future and his life without the guidelines of the sport keeping him afloat. 

All the pieces suddenly fell together. You had a newfound sense of urgency to finish Wren and Hoshi’s orders. Looking over at your coworker, you quietly asked if they would be okay closing alone, which they more than happily obliged, as you often did for them. 

You brought Wren and Hoshi their order before taking off your apron and clocking out early. “Where are you going?” Wren asked, the slightest bit of concern showing in their expression. 

“Is the field open?” You ask Hoshi. 

He nods. “Should be. We normally have practice right now, so I would assume it’s open.”

“Thanks.” You packed away your belongings into your school bag and headed out just as the sun was starting to set. 

After the short walk back to campus, you finally reach the top of the soccer stadium. The lights illuminated the field, all but empty aside from the lone man taking shots from the edge of the penalty box. As you made your way down the bleachers, emotions swirled in your chest. Would this be too far for your relationship? Was it too much for him? What if he wasn’t comfortable with this? What if he really just wanted to be alone?

Part of you wanted to turn around and go back to the familiar warmth of the coffee shop and spend a peaceful evening with your friends. But it was too late for that. Yuta had already spotted you and now stood waiting with his arms crossed, one leg straight while the other was planted on a ball. “What are you doing here?” He called out to you. 

“I thought practice was canceled.” You deliberately didn’t answer his question. 

Yuta shrugged, then returned his focus to the line of balls and sent another one whizzing through the air and into the corner of the goal. He continued down the line as you drew closer, sending shot after shot into the net. He paused right before the last one, placed his foot upon it before turning to you. “Just because it’s canceled doesn’t mean I can’t practice on my own.”

He took his foot off the ball, doing a little nod over to it and stepping back a bit to give you space. You smiled at him before shooting the ball towards the goal, hearing the satisfying swish as the ball fell against the net.

Yuta praised your skill, and the two of you played around for a bit while collecting the balls from the goal. Once all of the balls were fathered into a bunch, the two of you laid down on the cool turf together, looking up at the night sky. 

“Shouldn’t you be at work right now?” Yuta questioned. 

“I should be. But I’m not.” You didn’t dare look at him, keeping your eyes glued on the stars above you. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuta adjust himself. You saw him roll onto his side and prop his head up, his cheek resting inside his palm. “Why are you here?”

“Thought you might need some company,” you breathed out, feeling the heat of Yuta’s gaze on you.

“I guess you were right.” Yuta’s eyes traced up and down the outline of your face. “So do you have any plans for tonight?”

You finally turn to face him. “No, this was about it.”

“Would you like to come over?” Yuta offered.

You looked at him incredulously. “Come over?”

“Yeah,” Yuta chuckled, seeing your expression. “To my apartment. Well, it’s a shared apartment. I live with Seungcheol and Jeonghan from the team.”

You knew he had roommates, but you didn’t know they were his roommates. You should’ve expected he would be living with people from the team, though. They were his inner circle, and you knew that much. “What are they doing with their free time tonight?”

“Don’t know. They said they’re going to a party, so they probably won’t be coming back until later.” Yuta rolled onto his back as a gust of wind blew over the two of you, carrying his sweat-tinged scent. “So are you coming or what?”

You hummed as if thinking about your answer. “I smell like coffee, and you smell like, well…”

“Yeah, I know.” Yuta let out a laugh as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “I want to take a shower, so you should probably join me,” he smiled further as your brows furrowed, “to save water, you know?”

“I-” you were left stumbling for words. “I mean, yeah, I guess that makes sense.” You sat up to match him, dusting off the bits of turf that stuck to your clothes.

Yuta looked at you through strands of damp hair. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was only joking.” You froze in place. “Unless…you really want to.” A smirk slowly formed on his face. “I won’t stop you if you do.”

You didn’t want to speak, afraid of tripping over your words as your heart pounded in your chest. “Yuta, what are we?” You blurted out.

“Well,” he began, placing a hand on your knee, “what would you like us to be?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh and look up at the stars glimmering in the sky as if they would speak your innermost desires for you. “Would it scare you if I said I want us to be more than friends?”

“No, not at all.” Yuta’s hand lifted from your knee and gently cupped your jaw, turning you to face him. “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

“I would love that.” Your eyes lit up, mirror the stars above you. 

Yuta closed the distance between the two of you, the hand on your jaw tilting your head as his lips caught yours in a kiss. You kissed him back and felt his lips form a smile against yours. 

Yuta scored many goals on this field, but nothing compared to the one he scored tonight. 

Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like Good Thing - K.Doyoung

[sicko4smut]

Everybody’s A Suspect! | B. Floyd

synopsis: A string of murders in the fall of ‘84 in a small town shakes the residents of WoodSprings to their core

warnings: violence, murder, eventual smut, gore, porn with a whole lot of plot, inaccuracies of the 80s (have mercy), personal head cannons of characters/dynamics, dubious consent, pushy male characters who can’t take no, bullying, physical harm, other warnings i can’t think of right now

PSA- i do not own any characters, names, ideas, or royalties of the ‘Scream Franchise’ or ‘Top Gun Maverick’

CHAPTERS

📼 1.1 - A Body…In WoodSprings?

PLAYLIST 📻 (no particular order)

The Perfect Girl - Mareux

Dark Red - Steve lacey

Somebody’s Watching Me - Rockwell

Hidden In The Sand - Tally Hall

The Red Means I Love You - Madds Buckley

Smooth Criminal- Micheal Jackson

Arms Tonite - Mother Mother

Sippy Cup - Melanie Martinez

Headlock - Imogen Heap

♪♫♪

─•────

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

MEET THE CHARACTERS

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 🏈 - Jake Seresin as ‘Dumb Jock’

* Jake is captain of the football team and son of the town’s mayor, super rich boy vibes

* Wholeheartedly believes you and him should be together because he is captain of football team and your cheer captain

* All brawns no brain up there, his poor skull is sitting there collecting dust and head trauma from getting tackled one too many times. 🏆 𓈒⟡₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔

🎸⋆⭒˚｡- Bradley Bradshaw as ‘Punk Outcast’

* Rooster is a free-spirited, rule-less, angsty, outcast

* Stays to himself and rarely ever talks, seriously no one has heard the guy say more than three words since high school

* working to put himself through college even though the stress from college and work is kinda making him flunk out

* Butts heads with Jake, two sides of different coins mixed with egos, passive aggression, and LOTS of testosterone leading to many physical fights between the boys. ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚

☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ - Nat as ‘Freak Loner’

* Out of her nerdy, timid shell from high school and free as can be…Natasha has voiced her disdain for all oppressive nature and love of the unknown, terrifying, and paranormal.

* She doesn’t feel the need to pretend to be uninterested in her education to fit her aesthetic when all is said and done, Natasha wants something to call her own and a degree is just that. So she’s willing to swallow her pride on how the world forces you into school for years right into the capitalist system of working for even longer before screwing you over even more the longer you let them..though she sure won’t be quiet about it

* But don’t be fooled by her dark makeup, passionate outburst, and spooky demeanor as hard she tries to bury her, that nerdy timid girl within Nat keeps kicking no matter how hard she beats her down. 𓉸ྀི ✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ -You as ‘The Town’s Sweetheart’

* You never wanted for anything in life for as long as you could remember, born with a silver spoon in your mouth however you were never snotty about it…never let it get to your head

* Miss goody-two-shoes as you were called was always the first one to volunteer your help whenever needed, first to be picked for the cheer team, first to speak up when someone was being bullied, first place in the Woodsprings beauty pageant, Prom Queen, Co-class president, captain of dance committee. It was all honestly a little overboard but you loved it all, love how busy it made you and how you were praised by seemingly everyone around you.

* Your family being the second wealthiest people in Woodsprings (thank you mommy and daddy) it was a given you never worried about how you were going to pay for college, the thought never crossing your mind until you overhear some peers complaining about how THREE jobs weren’t even enough to cover book fees so they would have to go to the local community college instead…it left you with an odd feeling never really having had the chance to acknowledge your privilege °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⊹₊⟡⋆ 🔪 - Bob Floyd as ‘Ghostface’

* The man of the hour, our beloved robby. Fed up with being bullied and patronized, bob fights back…he didn’t mean for the guy to die but he would be lying is he said he didn’t like the silence that came with one less of those losers gone.

* Sweet boy who lives with his single mother trying to help her pay bills by working a variety of on campus jobs, from handyman to security to library assistant…anything that pays to lighten the load off her back

* Geek Charming in the flesh, bob but always robby to you has always been super smart which is why he was head of chess club, class president, and valedictorian in high school and awarded a full-ride scholarship to Woodsprings University

* Robby has had a crush on you since the first grade, it’s honestly a mix between creepy and embarrassing how bad he had it for you but you rarely noticed him anyway. When you did seem to remember his existence you were always so sweet just like he knew you to be his sweet girl

🪓 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

• This a masterlist/promotion for a WIP soon to be fic

• All actual chapters will be published on my main account @smutmaniac

• Please like and reblog

[widowmaxff]

Hello!! I was having some bad days recently, could u make a one-shot of moms!wandanat and reader with the reader having a bad week, and then Wanda and Natasha comforts reader? If you want to, of course!

enough for you

pairings: parents!wandanat × daughter!reader

warnings: bad thoughts, self-deprecating reader, lots of crying, one agent who really needs to stfu - i think thats all!

a/n: tysm for the request my love! im so sorry for the delay in posting this one shot, my life has been very busy these last few months. and i dont think this one turns out the way u wanted it, because i already made one like your request but w mom!wanda but i hope u like it :3

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE!

You always saw yourself working for SHIELD. Being able to do missions and 'save the world' was something you always wanted to do. Having mothers who are considered super heroes was also something that made you inspired by this life, but you only saw it from the outside. How they were greeted by everyone or how it seemed so easy for them to do these hero things. But when you finally got what you wanted when you turned eighteen, it wasn't what you expected.

It was the third time in the last few days that you had messed up in a mission in which you were classified. The looks the other agents gave you at the Academy made you feel horrible. You obviously hadn't messed up the missions on purpose, you would never do that. But it seemed like all those people expected that every step you took would be right, that you would never make mistakes, and that you would be as good as your mothers. Your head hurt just thinking about it. And that thought led you to others, how ashamed you felt remembering how the other agents spoke mean words to you when, again, you messed up on the mission.

You tried to distract yourself from these types of self-sabotaging thoughts about yourself by training even harder. Punching and kicking the red cylinders using all your strength, and even after hours it still felt like you didn't feel good enough, strong enough. All you wanted was to just stop thinking for at least a few seconds, and when you heard those heavy footsteps you knew that wasn't what was going to happen. "Oh, look who's here!"

You didn't care about remembering that agent's name, but you remembered exactly her voice and face, because it was her who started the whispers about how you weren't like your mothers. How you spoiled the missions of the last few days of that week, how you will never be like them. "The daughter of the great Black Widow and the Scarlet Witch, even if it doesn't seem like it." You continue ignoring her presence there, massaging your fingers to continue punching the red bag. "Do they know how you failed this last week?"

She wasn't stupid to know how horrible your week had been, how the failed missions, the disturbances and all those other things were making you almost have panic attacks right there in front of everyone. "No." Your voice was low, because you knew that if you exerted the necessary strength to reach a greater height, the tears would fall without your permission.

"What do you think they will do when they find out how bad you are?" She starts to approach you with those boots with a high step, her head lolling to the side with a tone to tease you. A smirk on her sharp face, her gloved hands resting on her waist. All those little details made you want to scream in her face, tell her that you weren't bad, but how would you say that if you didn't even believe it yourself?

"Maybe they'll get you out of here when they see how bad you are and realize that any of the agents here are much better than you, your place as an Avenger is almost invisible.” The girl laughs, her cheeks almost covering her eyes due to the action. At some other time you would find her features extremely beautiful, but at that moment, you wanted to vomit just looking at her.

Even if you tried to be strong at that moment, like your mother Natasha, you couldn't. Your fists were clenched tightly trying to control the tears from coming out, the pain of your nails in the palms of your hands trying to distract you from that moment. And every time that Agent mentioned your mother's name, your thoughts directed you only to them, how you wanted to be in their arms right now while you feel your hair being stroked by Wanda's magical hands. You knew that if you wanted comfort from your mothers they wouldn't wait a second to give it to you, and even if you didn't want to talk about why you were feeling that way, they wouldn't force you to talk.

"Where are you going? Ruin another mission?” If it weren't for the high-pitched, irritating tone of her voice, you wouldn't have even registered those questions in your head. Your thoughts were in a totally different space from that place, just wanting your mothers affection. So when you started packing your things and totally ignoring that Agent, you knew that your body wouldn't stop until you got home.

The girl's laugh echoed throughout the room as you headed towards the exit door of the place. In films, this scene would be dramatic, as if the main character was planning some revenge in their head to end the character who keeps provoking them. But at that moment you weren't thinking about revenge, or how you would turn things around, you just thought about how your mothers affectionate touches would turn that bad week into just distant memories. How you were sure that your mother Wanda would know what to say to you and how Natasha would know what to do so that your surroundings were just comfort.

You didn't wait a second before getting on your motorcycle, which Natasha had given you as a gift for your 18th birthday, and heading towards your childhood home. Even though those bad thoughts were in your head now and could possibly distract you in the traffic on the streets, you continued on your way with your eyes soaked with tears and the horrible tightness in your chest. You tried to think of good things, like your mom Wanda would probably be baking chocolate chip cookies and your mom Natasha would just be watching, since cooking isn't one of her great talents, but that domestic situation was pretty far away for you. It seemed that any self-deprecating thought stood in the way, a great layer of ignorance about happiness.

You didn't bother to park the motorcycle correctly, just running towards the entrance porch and knocking, almost softly, on the door. You heard some sweet giggles through it, confirming that your mothers were in some domestic situation, before the door calmly opened and revealed Wanda's long red hair. Her smile opened for a few seconds when she saw it was you, their beloved daughter, but when she came across the features on your face, the reddish eyes with lakes over them, her smile soon fell apart, taking its place a worried look. “Sweetie? What happened, my love?"

She took no time in taking you into her arms, even though you didn't answer her question. Your head falls on your mother's shoulder as she wraps one of her arms around your waist and the other massages the hair spread across her chest. Your hands tightly grip the blouse stuck to Wanda's body, as if at any moment she would come off and no longer provide the comfort you needed. Natasha heard your sobs from the kitchen, and she knew they were yours, she knew and kept almost everything about you. She quickly heads towards the front door, seeing her wife's back being grabbed by you, and how your body looked like it would fall to the ground at any moment.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Wanda whispered in your ear with her sweet voice. Your crying was loud, as if you had kept it for several days, your mother thought. She didn't know and had no idea why you were sobbing uncontrollably and why you arrived so early that day. Normally you would be completing some report, or training, since you always said how strong you wanted to get. But at that moment, everything didn't seem strong to you.

At some point you were carried and taken towards the comfortable sofa in that house. Your thoughts were so loud that you didn't even notice when you were positioned on your mother Wanda's lap. She still kept her grip on his body and the affectionate words in your ear. “I need you to breathe for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” Her breathing became heavier and slower, forcing it so that at that moment you could keep up with her. Natasha, beside you two, continued to caress your back, praising you for following Wanda so well.

You finally managed to take a deep breath after what felt like hours of crying and sobbing. Your gaze fell from your mother's eyes to your hands in your lap, you felt embarrassed. Maybe because you were 18 and sitting on your mother's lap, or because you were crying uncontrollably without being able to breathe properly, or because you failed at the only thing you wanted to do at SHIELD. “I feel like a baby.” You say in a low voice, almost making your mothers not hear, even with their proximity.

"Well, you're our baby." Natasha says making you finally let out a laugh between your lips. “Do you want to tell us why you're so sad, my love?” You didn't know if you wanted to tell them or not, the negative thoughts making you think they were going to fight you, tell you how bad you are. So, you shrug and lay your head on Wanda's shoulder again, but in a position so you could still look at your mother Natasha. “I just- I had a bad week.” You murmur, closing your eyes to feel the comfort that place brought you. “And, um… I think I should stop being an Agent.”

That took their mothers by surprise. You always said you wanted to be one of the people at SHIELD and you always trained to be one of the best at that place. “Oh, and why do you think that?” Wanda questions. Even though you didn't see her, you knew she would be looking at Natasha, as if they were talking through looks.

“I’m not good enough.” You felt Wanda's body tense beneath you. Your mothers always knew how much you felt like everyone was better than you, how hard it was to believe you were good at something. “This week I- I ruined every mission I went on,” Your mother's blouse was soaked with your tears, and now she could once again feel the salt water falling from your eyes through the fabric. “all the Agents are making fun of me because of it. They say I will never be like you.”

When you finish speaking, Wanda's grip on your body becomes even tighter, you feel Natasha's hand in your hair, stroking it as you hear her sigh deeply. “I've lost count of how many times your mother and I messed up a mission.”

“What?”

“There were several times when I blew up my teammates, for example, Uncle Tony was probably the one who received the most blasts.” Natasha says, making the three of you laugh at the words. “What about the times your mother mistook me for enemies and threw me out of buildings with her magic? We had to stop missions many, many times.” She emphasizes the word 'many', as if she were singing it.

“Remember when I joined the Avengers, Nat?” She was asking your mother, but she was talking so you could listen. “I was much older than you, Y/n/n, and I couldn't do half the things you do today at SHIELD, even with my powers.” She leaves a kiss on your head before continuing. “In every training session I did, I always ended up on the ground.” You laugh again, feeling much lighter than before.

”And you want to know something? I bet you were the one doing all the mission stuff, huh?” Natasha says. “Because if no Agent has ever made a mistake on a mission, then they aren’t real Agents.”

“Your mother is right, make mistakes is human, my love, and everyone will do it one day.” You feel your thoughts start to ease now. The tears stopped falling down your face and only lightness is in their place. Your mothers always knew what to do to make you feel good.

"You're right..." You finally admit, lifting your head from your mother's shoulder and looking at the two women in front of you, seeing nothing but affection and truths.

Wanda sits you down on the couch before getting up and ruffling your hair. "Now, don't worry your pretty head about that stuff and just think about the cookies that are going to go into your stomach in a little while that obviously weren't made by Natasha!"

"What do you mean by 'obviously’?" You laugh at that one scene, seeing Natasha's arms cross under her breasts as an indignant expression is placed on her face.

And at the end of the day you knew that you wouldn't have to worry about anything - just your mom's delicious cookies - and that you knew that your moms would never think about fighting or being upset with you. And Natasha would definitely make sure you didn't need to worry about that Agent who wouldn't leave you alone. That bitch will obviously never set foot in SHIELD again.

[pretty-circa006]

hello i was wondering if you where ever going to continue your unhealthy attachments story i understand if your not going to or if your just to busy to we all have lives but if you would please consider writing a new chapter a would be very grateful

-anon<3

Unhealthy Attachments pt. 9

Back to School

◀︎Previous Part

Coach! Negan x Student! F! Reader

summary Spring break is over and actions have consequences tags bullying, violence, vomit note y/n knows no peace as long as i'm around >:(

wc 1.6k

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact :)*

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

You rode that high from hanging out with Negan at the beach until the end of break. It was the only thing that kept you sane throughout your sorry excuse of a spring break. Sometimes, you could feel his lips against your forehead, or the skin of his cheek on your lips. 

You were excited to go back to school, so excited that you could hardly sleep last night. School meant Negan and whenever you were with Negan, you felt happy. You didn't even think about the fact you'd be back with your bullies and surrounded by people who didn't like you, you were solely focused on getting to see Negan again.  

... 

Reality didn't rear its ugly head until lunch time. Normally, you'd hurry to Negan's office as soon as the bell rang and have some spare food packed for him in your lunch sack, but not this time. You remembered the talk Negan had with you the Friday before spring break, the talk where he very clearly forbade you from coming into his office. It hurt, of course it did, but you eventually understood where he was coming from, so you went to your usual lunch spot; the girls' bathroom. 

You'd be fine. You'll see him at the end of the day for PE and everything will be okay again. You pushed the door open and walked inside, about to beeline for the biggest stall, but your path was blocked by a small crowd of girls gathered around the mirrors. 

"'Scuse me..." you muttered as you tried to squeeze by. 

One girl's head snapped in your direction and she let out a disgusted gasp. 

"You! You're the bitch that broke my fucking nose!" Her friends all turned to face the commotion and now all eyes were on you. 

"Well...you had it coming!" you shot back as you hurried into the stall. She wasn't gonna let you go that easily, though. Her hand clasped the strap of your backpack and she forcefully yanked you backward, causing you to lose your footing. Thankfully, you didn't hit your head on the sink, but you did land painfully on your behind. 

"Do you have any idea how much it cost to get my nose right again?" she hissed as she looked down at you. 

"I don't really care," you deadpanned as you tried to get up. This time, it was one of her friends who knocked you back down. 

Your heart hammered ferociously in your chest once you came to the realization that this girl had intended to get payback. The first time you beat her up, you were fueled by rage and adrenaline, fear hadn't even been an emotion to cross your mind. However, this time was different. She had backup and you were caught off guard, like a deer in headlights. 

"Well you're about to fucking find out!" She swung at you, but missed due to you leaning back just in time. 

"I'd have never broken your nose if you hadn't bullied me!"

"Psssh, is that what you tell your boyfriend? That we ‘bully’ you?” she teased, earning snickers from her other friends. You knew she was referring to Negan. 

"Stop calling him that! Y'know accusations like that could get him fired, right?" you said in his defense. You flashed back to his talk with you that Friday and the rumor he mentioned. Now you were sure who started said rumor. 

"Shut up, bitch!" the friend from earlier sneered before sending a swift kick to your stomach. A scream escaped your throat and you clutched your stomach in pain, but they only found that amusing. You grabbed the sink for support in an attempt to stand up, but this time the girl whose nose you broke pushed you back down. She took her turn in kicking you in the stomach, albeit her kick was much harder, likely due to the grudge she was harboring. You couldn't even scream this time due to the wind being knocked out of you. All you could do was lay there, groaning in pain as you clutched your stomach. 

"Oh, now you can't fight?" She leaned down and pulled you to your feet by the front of your sweater. "C'mon, bitch! Get up and fight back!" 

"Please...j-just leave me alone!" you pleaded between pained groans. Tears burned at your eyes, but you didn't want them to see you cry. They didn't deserve that satisfaction. 

"You sure as hell didn't give me any mercy!" she mocked with a sadistic smile as she drove her knee into your stomach. You screamed in pain as whatever oxygen you had left in your body was forcefully knocked out of you. You hunched over, clutching your stomach as you gasped for air. A sharp, burning sensation filled your stomach before a wave of nausea came over you. You couldn't stop the vomit that spewed from your mouth, but thankfully it got them to back off. 

"Ew! What the fuck?! My shoes!" she whined. 

"Ohmyfuckinggod I think I'm gonna be sick!" squealed the third girl in the group who took no part in the fight, if you could even call it that. 

"You're fucking disgusting..." sneered the girl who threw the first kick as she hurried out the door. The others quickly followed suit. Once they were gone, you sunk down to the floor, still in pain. You hugged yourself in the fetal position, not caring that you were probably laying in some of your own vomit. It hurt so bad and since you were finally alone, you let the tears fall. Sniffles turned into weeps turned into sobs as you continued to struggle for air, your stomach still burning and cramping from the hits. 

... 

Negan watched as students flooded the gym for PE. He had his eyes peeled for you. It had been a few days since he last saw you that time you and he hung out at the beach and, quite frankly, he missed you...a lot. He quickly became fond of you in the few weeks he's gotten to know you, so fond that he's started looking forward to this PE class because it meant seeing you. 

Finally, you straggled in. He was so happy to see you that he barely registered the way your hands clutched your stomach, or how your gait became a hobble, or your puffy eyes and clammy skin. 

"Long time, no see!" he greeted happily as you approached. Your attempt at a smile fell short and appeared more as a grimace. That got his attention. 

"What's wrong?" He asked, concern eminent in his tone. 

"C-can I sit out of class today? I don't feel so good." 

Negan's heard this a million times before. Having a student fake a health issue to get out of class was nothing new, but he was disappointed to see you trying that old trick, especially considering how happy he was to see you. 

"Do you have a note from the nurse?" 

"No...she thought I was just faking to get out of this class." 

"I can fuckin' see why. Maybe you should take a drama class before attempting to lie to me again. This performance is shit! Go get changed." 

"Negan, please!" you tried to reason, your voice breaking in the process. 

"Go!" 

By the time all the students were changed into their gym clothes, he had finished setting up today's game of dodgeball. Some cheered upon seeing it, others groaned in despair, including you. 

"You all know the rules. Oh, and no head shots." With that, he split the class into two teams and blew his whistle to start the game. He watched as the more athletic students ran to grab the balls first and began pelting them at the other team. His gaze flickered over to you, where you stood in the back, still hunched over clutching your stomach. Maybe you weren't pretending, but that thought was cut short when he had to blow his whistle at a student who hit another student in the head with a ball. 

Minutes passed and the game dwindled down to a few people on either team, everyone else was out and sitting on the bleachers as they impatiently waited for the next round. He was shocked, but pleased, to see you still in the game, although you seemed to be in a condition worse than the one you came in. 

Guilt started to crawl its way to the forefront of his mind when he realized you probably weren’t pretending for the sake of getting out of his class. From his spot on the other end of the gym, he watched as your opposing team members each picked up a ball and pelted toward your only remaining teammate. She jumped out of the way just in time for each of the balls to hit you instead. He winced as you screamed in pain before toppling over onto the floor. 

At that moment, he couldn’t care less about the rumors and what consequences they could have on his job lest they were proven true– he just needed to make sure you’re okay. He hurried over to where you were laying on the floor in the fetal position clutching your stomach, your breathing shallow.

“What happened, are you okay?” Negan worriedly asked as he crouched down beside you. All you could do was shake your head ‘no’ as you whimpered in pain, still clutching your stomach. 

“I’m gonna take you to the nurse, can you stand?”  The same response cam from you. He slid one arm beneath your knees and one under your back and picked you up like you weighed nothing. 

“You’re all dismissed,” Negan called out to the rest of his students as he rushed you out the gym and to the nurse’s office. 

Next Part ►

[flowersdiceandlove]

was reminded of this post and so what i need is this:

a canon divergence fic (or even a silly comic if someone wants to do it. please) where, at some point, hua cheng, when meeting xie lian again, is having such a gay panic/is totally start struck, and so his mind blips when xie lian asks his name and he ends up introducing himself as Hua Ping. He's probably so dazed by His Highness, that he just starts off automatically with "Hua..." until he remembers he doesn't want to tell his xie lian his real name just yet and ends up ending with "Ping" because he sees a vase is like "yeah, that works" or his mind is in complete chaos and he's thinking about a bagillion different things about His Highness and he keeps screaming in his head "DON'T SAY SOMETHING GAY! DON'T SAY SOMETHING GAY! DON'T SAY SOMETHING GAY!" which promptly backfires on him. He then curses himself in his mind in despair because Hua Ping!?!?!! SERIOUSLY!?!?! THAT'S what comes out of his mouth!?!?! THAT"S the name he introduces himself to His Highness with!?!?!

xie lian doesn't know what the slang is and so is oblivious to the connotations of it. And, it's not like he's going to judge the name of this new friend of his; they get along so well.

hua cheng only saves it because his mind finally kicks in and he says "but please just call me San Lang. Please."

however, later, whenever they're walking through a new town or city and meet someone new, xie lian introduces hua cheng like "and this is my friend Hua Ping." because xie lian might have permission to call him by a familiar nickname, but random people they just met don't. hua cheng always dies a little on the inside when it happens, but still keeps his normal carefree smile in place. Even when the new person(s) do a double take and look back at hua cheng because even if xie lian is oblivious to the double meaning of the name, these people certainly aren't. and xie lian basically just said "this is my 'friend' *wink wink* a gay twink." hua cheng's appearance as San Lang isn't helping this mess he got himself into.

bonus points if this happens close enough to canon and so he ends up getting introduced to nan feng and fu yao as this. nan feng and fu yao obviously know he's hua cheng and they both know the double meaning of the name--mu qing because pei ming makes jokes about it and feng xin maybe the same way or just cause he's not so strictly disciplined--and they're both thinking "What is he planning!?!?!" because there has to be a reason hua cheng would give that name. is he trying to seduce xie lian!?!? what's the game!?!?!

but, just, yeah. silver-tongued hua cheng getting tongue-tied in front of xie lian. because as impressive and amazing as he is, he's still just a school girl with a crush when xie lian's around.