#Though the close up shots on the side look pretty cool though

[misswynters]

Ma Meilleure Amour

featuring. ekko x fem!reader

a/n. doing my duty as a writer to fill the ekko tag with fics of him only (it’s translated to my best love)

inspired by. the song Ma Meilleure Ennemie and the scene with ekko and jinx in act iii (listen to it while reading)

Everything felt different. The streets of Zaun had the ever-present haze of smog seem softer, its grim edge dulled by the warm hum of neon lights. The streets bustled with life, as they always did, but the night gave the chaos a certain charm. The glow of green and pink signs reflected off damp cobblestones, while the occasional flicker of a malfunctioning lamp sent ripples of color through shallow puddles.

You walked side by side with Ekko, your steps slow and aimless, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. You didn’t, of course. With how Zaun always had a way of reminding you that the clock never stopped ticking. But right now, under the swirl of lights and the faint hiss of steam vents, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

Ekko’s hand brushed against yours every so often, and though he wasn’t one to initiate touch easily, you could tell he didn’t mind the closeness. He always had this way of being effortlessly cool, his swagger and wit making it seem like nothing fazed him. But you knew him better than most. You saw the weight he carried, the pressure of being a leader, a fighter, and a kid all at once. And tonight, you were determined to remind him what it felt like to just…be.

“Ever think Zaun’s kinda pretty at night?” you mused, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ekko glanced at you, one eyebrow raised, before looking around. “Pretty? Dunno if I’d call it that. More like…gritty with a side of a green glow.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the one waxing poetic about this place,” he shot back, his grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, maybe I’m seeing it through rose-colored glasses. Or maybe I just like walking around with you.”

That earned a chuckle from him, the sound low and warm. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned closer to you. “Well, when you put it that way…” The two of you wandered through winding alleys and across rickety bridges, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil. Every so often, Ekko would point out a shortcut he’d used for one of his time-bending escapades or share a story about an adventure with the Firelights.

But then he led you down a narrow path you hadn’t noticed before, his fingers brushing yours briefly to guide you. At the end of the path, you stepped into a beautiful hidden oasis. A rooftop garden tucked away from Zaun’s usual grit and grime. The first thing you noticed was the lights. Strings of mismatched lanterns crisscrossed the space, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. Tiny fairy lights were woven through the vines that climbed up makeshift trellises, their warm flicker like little stars in the night. The plants themselves were a mix of scrappy greenery and surprisingly vibrant flowers, their colors popping against the muted tones of the city below.

“Woah…” you breathed, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a spot I’ve been working on.”

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filled with awe.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from yours. “Figured it’d be nice to have a place to get away, y’know? Somewhere quiet.”

You stepped forward, taking it all in. A small wooden bench sat in the center of the garden, its surface worn but sturdy. Around it, the plants swayed gently in the cool breeze, their leaves catching the light just enough to shimmer.

“Come on,” Ekko said, his hand lightly brushing the small of your back as he guided you to the bench. “I didn’t bring you here just to stand around.”

You sat down, the wood creaking softly under your weight. Ekko settled beside you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the lights and the distant sounds of Zaun filling the space. It was a working pattern. There was always a comfortable silence between the two of you.

“How long have you been working on this?” you asked softly.

“Couple months,” he said, leaning back with his arms stretched across the bench. “Takes a while to get plants to grow in a place like this. But I dunno…it feels good to build something, y’know? Instead of just tearing things down.”

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his voice. Ekko didn’t let people see this side of him often though. I mean this was the boy who dreamed of a better Zaun, the one who carried the weight of his community on his shoulders.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “Just like you.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and a little shy. “You’re laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just telling the truth,” you said, closing your eyes as his warmth seeped into you.

The two of you sat like that for a while, wrapped up in the stillness of the garden. Ekko’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, like you were always meant to fit together.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For, y’know…being here.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Of course,” you said softly while winking. “You’re worth it, Ekko.”

His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, the golden light casting shadows across his face. Then he smiled. It was real, genuine smile that made your chest feel light and full all at once.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you leaned into him.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little muffled. “It is.”

There it was again, the comfortable silence. The garden was quiet, bathed in the golden light of the mismatched lanterns. You rested your head on Ekko’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you. His fingers were still intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing small, absentminded circles against your knuckles.

It was peaceful, almost too perfect for Zaun, where tranquility was a rare luxury. The hum of distant machinery and the faint chatter of the streets below were a backdrop to your own private world. You thought this was it, that the night couldn’t get any better. But Ekko had other plans.

Suddenly, he shifted away from you, his weight leaving the bench as he stood. His warmth leaving your body. You blinked up at him, confused as he turned to face you, his signature grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He extended a hand toward you, palm up, the glow of the garden lights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice soft but brimming with an irresistible playfulness.

You tilted your head, a laugh escaping you. “Dance? Here?”

“Why not?” He wiggled his fingers, urging you to take his hand.

You hesitated, glancing around. “Ekko, there’s no music.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Reaching into his pocket, Ekko pulled out a small, beaten up speaker, a relic salvaged from some forgotten corner of Zaun. He fiddled with it for a moment before a warm melody crackled to life, filling the air with a gentle rhythm.

You stared at him in disbelief, your lips parting in surprise. “You planned this?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but failing miserably as a proud smile broke through. “Maybe.”

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his palm grounding you. “Alright, Clockstopper,” you teased. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Ekko pulled you to your feet, guiding you to the center of the garden. The music swelled around you, soft and sweet, a contrast to the chaos of Zaun. His other hand found its place on your waist, and he held you close, his movements easy and unhurried. At first, you tried to match his rhythm, your steps tentative as you followed his lead. But it wasn’t long before your foot accidentally landed on his.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, pulling back slightly.

Ekko winced dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “You’re killing me here,” he said, his voice laced with mock pain.

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Baby?” He laughed, spinning you unexpectedly. You stumbled slightly but caught yourself, the sound of your shared laughter echoing in the garden.

The two of you continued like that, swaying and spinning under the lanterns. Every so often, you’d step on his foot again, and he’d exaggerate his reaction, making you laugh until your cheeks hurt. But then, as the song shifted to a slower melody, Ekko’s movements became gentler, more deliberate. He pulled you closer, your bodies impossibly near. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the faint scent of zauns atmosphere lingering on him. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The golden light reflected in his eyes, making them shimmer like they held their own constellation. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something raw and real that made your heart stutter.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with everything words couldn’t express. Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around your waist. The world seemed to tilt, the glow of the lanterns and the soft hum of the music swirling around you in a haze of light and sound.

Time felt irrelevant—ironic, considering who you were with. All that mattered was the way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lights around you. Smiling, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too,” you said, the words as natural as breathing.

Ekko grinned, his hands tightening around your waist as he pressed a series of quick, playful kisses to your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. Each kiss was accompanied by a soft giggle from you, his affection spilling over in a way that was so uniquely him.

“Ekko, stop,” you laughed, trying to pull away as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Never,” he said, his voice full of mock defiance as he caught your lips in another kiss.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. The music played on, the lights flickered, and Zaun’s ever-present hum seemed softer, almost distant. As the night stretched on, you found yourselves back on the bench, your head resting on Ekko’s shoulder as he absentmindedly played with your fingers. The garden felt like a dream, a little slice of peace carved out of the chaos. And in that moment, with Ekko by your side and the glow of the lanterns above you, everything felt right. Almost perfect.

banners. @anitalenia

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

[crystalchimera]

Originally posted August 4 on Twitter/X.

A comic made as a sorta continuation from this. Some people joked that Slayer's wife should come pick him up, and this scene was the first thing that came to mind, so I made a comic out of it.

I was very new to the fandom at the time so I'm very much aware of how slightly out of character this is lol

This comic was planned to be 2 pages from the start but I at some point started considering 4 pages, but couldn't actually get the ideas to work out so here's the very unfinished and unused pages. If you don't understand what's happening that's fine, cause I didn't either LOL

There was also a different idea/draft that was never drawn where Slayer was about to fatality bite someone while in his current weird bloodlust state(which at the time I still never figured out what the catalyst of it was) and creepily recite a haiku before Sharon then showing up, but as you can see, I didn't go with that idea. Even though that one was actually the first idea I had

Despite the weirdness and slight out of characterness of this comic I still do have the headcanon of a "feral" Slayer, but it's a lot more refined and in character of them then this initial thought process/idea

Also as a treat for reading this far down have this silly meme redraw I did because I realized Slayer's expression in the 2nd page reminded of this LOL

[staraxiaa]

sunflowers

pairing: bakugou katuski x f! reader contains: childhood frenemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining status: standalone, one-shot, completed wc: 17840

note: canon-compliant but i bend it; early childhood and then up to season 3. also cross-posted to ao3.

summary: there you stand at the beginning of the world, with you and your sunflowers; your lovely liar's smile.

The first time you meet Bakugou Katsuki, you are six-turning-seven, and you remember it well. Not just because it’s the first day of school, or even that it’s your birthday. Rather, you remember it because of him, and though you think you would rather die than admit it, there is some part of you⏤ a more rational part⏤ that can temper itself down to acknowledge the fact.

You remember it well, because that morning, your mother makes sure to doll you up extra pretty. She dons you in a frilled dress like it is your armor, taking extra care with your hair, its bows, and she does: so much that there is an extra skip to your step as you walk. You don’t just feel pretty, you know you are; a work of art atop a work of art. But you still make sure to say your thank yous to all the unfamiliar faces that compliment you with gummy smiles and a not-so-quiet, conspiratorial grin. “It’s my birthday!” 

You remember the way your cheeks hurt from forcing the wideness of it, the way you think it has started to sound like a mantra. You remember smiling, nonetheless, at his friend, as he wishes you a happy birthday! in return⏤ you are smiling at his friend, and not him.

You remember it well, because the first time you ever meet him, he looks you up and down, clad in your careful curls and prettiest dress⏤ and dares to call you ugly. 

If you were anyone else, you might’ve taken the words like a physical blow. Already, your new friends are tensing for the inevitable confrontation. “You can’t just say that to her,” Sueko says, her eyes already narrowing in a glare.

“And who the hell are you, extra?” The crimson-eyed boy scowls right back. 

The other girl wilts a bit, but her glare remains set.

You decide, right there and then, that she is your new best friend. 

You smile. If you were anyone else, you might’ve taken the words like a physical blow. But you don’t just feel pretty, you know you are; a work of art atop a work of art. So you only give him your kindest smile, because your mother told you to play nice in the morning, as she brushed out your hair. You make sure to give him a once over, glancing down, and then up. 

“It’s okay!” Your eyes curve, ingratiatingly polite; ingratiatingly sweet. “Some people are just born blind. And stupid.”

“HAH?” His reaction is exactly what you hoped for, and it’s almost too easy. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING⏤” 

The slight quirk of your mouth is amused, but you only turn, pointedly, to your new best friend. “Any chance you’re free this weekend? Let’s hang out.” 

She stutters an answer, eyes darting between you, and the blond you know is seething behind you, if the glare he’s practically boring into the back of your head means anything.

You tilt your head to the side. A little inquiry, a little push. “So?”

Hands slam down on your desk, cutting out her squeaked yes. You jump a little at the sound, your eyes widening⏤ both a little bit at the sound, and how close his face suddenly is. All of a sudden, you’re glad you didn’t call him ugly right back⏤ it would have sounded petty, after all, and almost certainly would have bit you right in the foot, considering how this crimson-eyed boy is so clearly not.

“I’m talking to you.” Well. You think, he’d probably be a great deal prettier if wasn’t glaring down at you, face contorted in what seems like half snarl, half scowl. 

His friend adds, a little bit placatingly. “Bakugou-san’s not stupid. He’s really smart, actually, always been top of the class. He’s really cool!” 

You note the way the class eyes him, the way the blond’s eyeing the door. He grunts. “I also have twenty-twenty vision.” His chin raises, arrogance in the set of his features, a bit calmer at the praise, but also a touch quieter, almost a bit wary. 

The door opens. He glances back, just as a man walks in, old enough that you assume that he is your teacher. 

It takes effort to keep the shit-eating grin from spreading across your features. “Are you sure?” You ask instead, completely straight-faced. ( You should really consider acting, you think. You’re practically a genius! ) You simper, a hand covering your mouth. “Could’ve fooled me.”  

It’s almost too easy, you think, the way he explodes, literally. 

“YOU WANNA FIGHT, EXTRA?” Miniature blasts pepper the table, and you might have thought it intimidating, if it’s not for the way your sensei is stalking over, looking almost as murderous as the boy himself. “I’LL KILL YOU!” 

You coo a little, fearless with the backing of your newfound supporter. “You’re really scary. That’s illegal, you know.” 

He opens his mouth. But then⏤ “Bakugou. Seeing as it’s the first day, you won’t be getting detention.” His mouth closes mutely. You grin a little at the way he’s being pulled away from your desk, fingers still clutching at the edges of it⏤ by the scruff of his collar, and somewhat like a dog, you think.

His eyes flash, a little bit angry, a little bit dangerous. He points one grubby finger in your direction. “She started it!” 

The sensei also pins you with a stern look. “The next time this happens, the both of you’ll be staying after class to clean, as detention. Am I clear?” 

You gape at both of them. It’s half genuine, half not. You think this verdict is a little unfair. The boy grins, smug.

A complaint is on the tip of your tongue, then you see the sensei’s expression:  deadpan, tired, and unsympathetic.  You sober up, frowning a little. 

“Okay. Sorry, sensei. I’ll try.” 

The crimson-eyed boy is still glaring at you, a little victorious, a little smug, but with a gleam in his eyes. This is war, they seem to say, silent and from across the room.

Little does he know, it has been, ever since the moment he decides to look you up and own, clad in your careful curls and prettiest dress⏤ and calls you ugly.

You blow him a kiss.

He jolts. The face he makes is obviously a frown of disgust. 

The sensei straightens. You smile ingratiatingly, turning away.

This is war, his eyes seem to promise, and really, you can’t help but agree. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Your revenge is served not even three days later, on a Saturday evening, and you think it is the sweetest thing you have ever tasted.

You have your father to thank for it, actually. The boy, whose name you learn is Bakugou Katsuki, is something of a mini celebrity at your school. 

This means that the surface level things are easy to find⏤ he has anger issues, an explosive Quirk, and is smart, consistently at the top of the class. ( You frown a little when they tell you. These are all things you already know, and the only new information⏤ he likes spicy food⏤ isn’t helpful in the slightest. ) But this also means that, knowing his temper, there are very few willing to actively take your side, and much more openly against you. You are the new girl, the outlier, and though he can’t quite make you an outcast⏤ you and your horde of girl-followers ( bought with your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and your pure, sunny disposition )⏤ he has enough friends, or rather sycophants, that will ignore you in the hallways, or mutter names at you.

The boy in question doesn’t, though.

He storms up to your desk the second day. You are chatting with your friends, as he slams his hands on the desk and snarls: “Fight me.” 

Catching your pencil just before it falls, you frown up with him. “What ever happened to: hi, hello, how are you?” 

“Hi, hello, how are you.” He sneers. “Scared?” 

“No, and my answer is no.”

His scowl deepens. “So you are scared.” 

“I’m a healer.” You lift your chin in outrage, affronted. “I’m not violent.”

“Nah. You’re just an extra.” 

Internally, you seethe. First ugly, and now an extra. You have never been called such things in your life. You open your mouth, a retort on the tip of your tongue. 

The sensei walks in. 

It dies in your throat, Bakugou’s face splits into a shit-eating grin. He turns away, head held high; arrogant and condescending, having won this encounter by a mile. 

Wrath boils in your ears, but you tamp it down, expressionless. Your pencils are carefully aligned, your notebook opened with just a little more force than necessary. Internally, you promise yourself, he’ll get what’s coming to him. You will make sure of it. 

You get your chance soon enough on a Saturday evening, dolled up again in a dress your mother painstakingly picked out for you, your hair pressed into careful curls. Your father had told you: your family had been invited to dinner by a friend he’d met at work, and that they have a son in the same grade as you, in the same school. 

You had shrugged. So long as there’s a chance their son would be willing to join your Anti-Bakugou Society ( consisting only of you at the moment ), you don’t particularly mind.

“Play nice,” Your mother reminds you now, as you stand before the door; your father knocking on it. There is a bouquet of sunflowers clutched in your hands, matching the color of your dress, and you only scrunch your nose up a little at her. 

“I’m always nice.” 

Your mother doesn’t get a chance to respond, because then there’s a⏤ Katsuki, get the door!⏤ along with an answering⏤ “SHUT UP, OLD HAG! I’M GETTING IT!”⏤ and then, you blink.

The name sounds rather familiar. The voice, too. 

The door opens. You stare, wide-eyed, as a head of blond hair enters your vision, familiar and crimson-eyed.

He’s just as stunned as you are, as you watch, with no small amount of delight, as he takes one look at you, and then the sunflowers you hold in your hands, and sneezes. 

Christmas has come early, you think. “Katsuki! This is your house?” You step a little closer, a sickly sweet grin on your face. 

He dodges the sweep of your bouquet. A pity, you think, but you are successful: he only sneezes all the harder.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you… by any chance allergic to sunflowers?” 

Your mother gasps, tearing the bouquet from your hands. She had been the one to pick them out.

He doesn’t need to respond for you to know the answer: as soon as they’re taken away from his immediate vicinity, his sneezes lessen.  

Your mother had been the one to pick them out, and you had disliked the way they looked. But you decide, there and in the moment, that they are your favorite flower. 

He straightens. His nose is still red, and there is murder in his eyes. “Why the hell are you here?” 

His mother sweeps in, pinching him by the ear. “You will not address our guests that way.” She hisses, before looking up at the three of you, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to teach him manners, I swear⏤”

“No worries at all, Bakugou-san.” Your mother says, correcting herself at the other woman’s oh, just call me Mitsuki! She pinches your ear in turn. “This one is much the same. A righteous demon, she is.” You narrow your eyes a little at her. 

The blonde laughs, and the way she ruffles her son’s hair is terribly fond. “That’s just part of their charm, I suppose.” 

He hisses up at her. She hisses right back. 

You love her, you think.

“Oh, where are my manners!” She straightens, blinking. “Please come in. Masaru’s in the kitchen, just setting up⏤”

Your parents walk in first, complimenting the decor. Mitsuki beams at them, and down at you. “Masaru tells me the two of you go to the same school,” She says. “Have the two of you met before?” 

You say: “Yes!” at the same time he gives a flat, but resounding, “No.” 

He glares daggers into the side of your head. You grin. “We’re in the same class, and he’s my best friend!” You exclaim, the lie rolling easily off your tongue.

“No the fuck I’m not.” 

“Language, Katsuki!” Mitsuki reaches for his ear again, her face the picture of delight. “I’m so happy you’re finally making friends!” 

“WE’RE NOT FRIENDS!” 

She gasps, affronted, looking like she wants to tear him a new one. You smile. Your parents look on, utterly lost. “It’s okay, Mitsuki-san. That’s just how Katsuki-kun shows his love. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you angel.” And from the look on her face, one might have thought she truly believed it. She whips around to glare at her son. He glares back. “I don’t know how she puts up with you, but you’d better treat her well.” You grin at him from behind, terribly smug, and terribly victorious. 

She turns around, and your smile is pretty again, pleasant and soft.

Mitsuki coos at you. You think the dichotomy between the way she talks to the both of you is like heaven and earth. “Come over to our house more often. I’d love to have you over anytime!” 

“HAH? WHAT⏤” 

“We wouldn’t want to trouble you, Mitsuki-san.” Your mother says, assertively. She is shooting you the look, the one that means she knows what you’re up to. 

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” She dismisses the statement with a wave of her hand. “Katsuki has few enough friends as it is.” 

Your father laughs, ever the mediator. “We’ll have to invite you over next time as well. We live just down the street.” He brightens. “Actually, seeing as they’re classmates, they could maybe walk together in the mornings?” 

Your mother’s grip tightens around his arm. 

There is a wicked grin on your face. “I’d love that!”

The boy in question doesn’t even get the chance to protest, because Mitsuki’s already chirping. “It’s settled, then!” 

You think: it doesn’t even matter if he emerges victorious in all the encounters you have after this, because when the adults turn, you get to stick your tongue out at him.

The look on his face is so quietly violent, so blatantly murderous, as you wave your still sunflower-smeared hands in his face, that you think you will remember the sweetness of this victory for the rest of your life. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Your relationship does not change in the slightest after that.

Mitsuki invites you over to her house once a week, and your parents do the same. The adults do their own thing, and you do yours: trying your best to annoy the daylights out of your newfound nemesis, and he only does the same to you. You’ll make fun of his All Might merchandise, the ones displayed proudly in his room, and he’ll make fun of your Recovery Girl ones, the ones you have so painstakingly collected⏤ she’s not nearly as popular of a Hero. He’ll sneer: “So that’s why you used to kiss everyone you healed?” 

You’ll sneer right back, cringing internally at the reminder of that phase, though you are still Recovery Girl’s number one fan. “My Quirk’s literally activated through touch. You’d be lucky if I poked you with a ten-foot pole, let alone heal you with a kiss.” 

He’ll make a face. “Eugh. You wish, idiot. I’d never want to kiss an extra like you.” 

The two of you have learned to act relatively civil with adults in the house. You smile up at him, sickly sweet. “Yeah. This extra is an idiot, and she definitely didn’t score higher than you on the last history test.” 

By one point, but still. 

He snorts, though you can tell the reminder irks him. “That’s only ‘cause you sucked up to sensei like, three classes in a row.”

You sniff in derision.  “I did not.” Sure, it’s true: you’d definitely been a little more active in class, and answered more questions than usual, but you’d studied for it! You’d studied a lot!

He sneers back. “Did too.” 

You have learned to imitate the murderous glare he likes to level you with, and the first time you mimic it, you grin a little as his eyes widen, stunned.

The two of you are civil for the most part, though, at each other’s houses. His mother would tear him a new one if she heard him acting anything but⏤ ( she has )⏤ and you think you like his parents too much to ruin your relationship over something as trivial as this. 

School is a different story, however, as are your walks in the mornings. “Shut the fuck up,” He’ll snarl at you.

“But Katsuki-kun!” You’ll coo right back, using the tone you know he hates. “I haven’t even started talking yet!” 

He’ll scowl at you. You’ll simper right back. He’ll speed up, and you do not slow, nor do you attempt to match his pace, because you know: if you slow, he will too. Always keeping that same distance, and if you speed up⏤ well, you’d tried that once. And you’d kept pace with him for all of two seconds, before he’d sped up in turn, until the both of you were practically sprinting to school. 

You lose, of course. You have never run a day in your life.

( You start training right after. )

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You flop on his bed, making sure to crinkle his carefully-pressed sheets, forcing him to his desk during one of your so-called ‘hangouts’ and ‘study sessions’⏤ Mitsuki’s words, not either of yours, but there are textbooks in front of the both of you, so that is good enough. You study harder than you ever have before, and rub every one of your small victories in his face, and he studies like a demon in return⏤ ( even though he’s never needed to study in his life )⏤ until the both of you are neck and neck, with perfect grades in every subject. You buy everything sunflower-colored, sunflower-shaped, and tack sunflower stickers onto every surface you can see, pinning some cute ones to your backpack.

( Your mother picked out the flowers, but you are the one that held them, and you were also the one to decide, there and then, that these were your favorite flowers in the world. )

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You see his face more often than anything else, and he calls you an idiot when you tell him about the fictional boys you think are cute. Well, you don’t care. You tell him about them anyways, because you are bored and Kuroo-kun looked particularly stunning in the episode the other day⏤ only because you are bored and there is nothing else to do, or so you tell yourself. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ you don’t think you are, at least, because he has never confirmed it, even if he does seem somewhat tolerant of you; punches your pseudo-stalker in the face for you, and carries you piggyback on the way home, crying all the while. 

“You’re ruining my shirt,” He grouses. “Stop crying. I’m literally more injured than you are.” 

You sniff. “I’m not kissing you better.” 

He snarls. “Come anywhere near me with your mouth and I’ll blow your face off.” 

“You want it so bad it makes you look stupid.” You tell him, and he tenses beneath you, but you only press your cheek to his neck, and think, heal.

The pain of the bruises lances through you, and you feel the way he relaxes.

You droop. “Onwards, steed.” 

“I will literally drop you.” 

“I just healed you. I’m tired.” 

“No one fucking asked you to.” 

He doesn’t make good on his promise, though, and eventually, you sigh a little into his neck.

“What.” 

“Nothing.” 

“What, dumbass.” 

You hum, a little absentminded. “You’re going to UA, right?” 

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Oh, I was thinking of applying for the healer understudy openings.” You shrug. “Dunno if I can get in, though.” 

“You will.” His certainty surprises you. 

You smile. “Didn’t know you believed in me so much, Katsuki-kun.” Your head flops back onto his shoulder. “Will you still walk with me in the mornings, then?” 

“After school, too. Even if you don’t get in.” 

You shift to blink up at him in surprise. 

He clicks his tongue. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this uncomfortable.

“Who the fuck else’s gonna punch shitty stalkers for you?”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before, like the sun cresting upon the horizon, lighting up like a dawn inside your chest. You laugh at the feel of it. “Are you sure you woke up on the right side of the bed today? Besides, you don’t even know where I’d be going.” You reach up to pinch him on the cheek. 

He jerks away, the look on his face disgusted.

“Then I’ll teach you to fight.” 

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He lets you flop on his bed, lets you push him to the desk, wrinkles his nose at you when you tell him about a boy that was cute, and calls your friends dumb when you tell him about something they said that was funny. You weasel his birthday out of Mitsuki, and get him that All Might merch you know he’ll like. There’s some Recovery Girl merch left on your windowsill the day of yours. He laughs when you try a bite of his food for the first time and cough instantly after, your face aflame. What the hell is this? You hiss, and he grins, telling you it’s real food, and that you’re just weak. He never calls you his friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one. 

( That’s just how Katsuki-kun shows his love, you tell Mitsuki-san, once upon a time, and though you are not sure if it is love, you think: you do not mind it. )

This is how your relationship is, and how it remains, until the end of the second last year of middle school, right before the both of you enter UA.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are asleep at your desk when you are jumpscared awake. 

“UA? That national school? Isn’t their acceptance rate really low?” Someone in your class is asking. 

“That’s exactly why you guys are just extras!” You roll your eyes as the ash-blond jumps straight atop his desk. “I aced the mock test! I’m the only one at this school who could possibly get into UA. I’ll definitely surpass All Might and become the top hero!” 

This is not the first time you’ve heard this tirade. Sueko nudges you, quietly. “Hey. Didn’t you say you were applying for one of their healer slots?” 

“Oh, yeah.” The sensei glances down at his list. “Midoriya wanted to go to UA as well, right? And someone else…” You tense.

The class bursts into uproarious laughter, and it seems you are temporarily saved. 

“Huh? Midoriya? No way! You can’t get into the Hero course by just studying!”

The green-haired boy stammers. “Th-they got rid of the rule! There’s just no precedent…” 

You roll your eyes at the sound of familiar explosions. “Huh? Deku! You’re below the rejects! You’re quirkless! How can you even stand in the same ring as me?”

“No, wait! Kacchan! It’s not like I’m trying to compete with you or anything! Believe me!” He falters “It’s just that it’s been my goal ever since I was little! I won’t know unless I try…”   

“What do you mean, unless you try? You’re Quirkless!” 

You slam your textbook down with a little more force than usual, and the whole class turns to you in surprise. “He has a dream that he dares to try for,” you say, coolly and careful. “Isn’t that enough?” 

“And what the hell would you know about that?” 

Disbelief rushes through you, and you turn to look him squarely in the eye. The class tenses, and his own eyes widen. It has been a while since you’ve challenged him like this directly, whether in school or otherwise. 

Sueko pipes up, unhelpfully, from beside you, as if he wouldn’t know. “She’s also applying for UA.” 

You don’t get the chance to glare at her, because your sensei continues the thought. “Oh, yes, that’s right! You were the last student applying to UA! The healer routes are notoriously difficult⏤ how’s that coming along?” 

“Ah, I applied to some hospitals for volunteering, but I don’t know if they accept middle-schoolers,” You laugh. 

Your sensei nods, in support, but also a little condescendingly. “Well, it’s also a very difficult path, so don’t beat yourself up about it too much, yeah?” 

The smile on your face feels a little bit painful, a little bit stretched. 

You are distracted for the rest of that day. So out of it, in fact, that when the sensei calls upon you, his favorite student, you take all of five seconds to respond⏤ blinking, first, then glancing up, with a: “Sorry, what was the question?” You are so out of it that you bump your hip into your own desk as you move past for lunch, wincing at the twinge of it, and you are so out of it that you forget your pencil case when you leave after class, and have to go back to get it.

“Believe that you’ll be born with a Quirk in your next life, and take a last chance dive off the roof!” 

You know that voice. You pause. But then, the blast of familiar explosions. 

Before your hands, the door slams open. 

You don’t know what you were expecting. Bakugou and Midoriya both, obviously, and you suppose you should have known his two lackeys would have been there, too. They turn from their face-off, and your glare is sharp and terrible. “So what if he’s Quirkless?” You snap, storming over to grab the green-haired boy by the wrist. “At least he has a dream. At least he dares to try. That’s more than I can say for the two of you.” 

“Stay out of this,” The blond snarls, a warning. 

You are not entirely a good person. You lie as you please, wielding the power of your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and do things entirely for your own amusement, uncaring of the aftermath. You know Midoriya, or rather, you know of him, and how he is a frequent target of Bakugou’s scathing remarks. At first, you had assumed he’d just been one of the people that disliked you, but it had become increasingly evident that he was just one of the people that didn’t dare to brave the blond’s wrath. And you are not entirely a good person, because you just didn’t care. Not to talk to him, not to stand up for him, not if he hadn’t even tried to for you.

You are not entirely a good person yourself, but even so, you know that there are lines that should not be crossed. 

You lift your chin, and say, quietly. “Apologize.” 

“Hah?” He tilts his head. “And why the hell should I? Why the hell are you defending him?” 

You feel incredulous. “What does that have anything to do with it?” You don’t see the way his eyes flicker down to where you are holding the green-haired boy, by his wrist. “There are things that you should never, ever, say to a person.” His eyes narrow, but there’s an irrational anger within you, a disbelief. “You’re literally trying to become a Hero. How can you, an applicant of UA, who hopes to become one of the best heroes in the world, tell someone to kill themselves, and not think there’s anything wrong with it?” 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Little explosions are escaping his hands, in the uncontrolled way they do when he’s furious and unaware of them. 

You think Midoriya makes a pained sound, what with the way your hands are clenching, angry and white. Heal. A sting pulses through you, and you drop his wrist, but your eyes are flashing. “You’re being an ass. Apologize.”

“You don’t tell me what to do.” 

You lift your chin. “If you value our friendship in the slightest, then yes, I do.” The vehemence of your words stuns you a bit, and the blond recoils, as if he has been physically struck. 

You think you have won, for all of a moment, and then he scoffs.

“Yeah, right. What friendship? The one you lied to my mom about and said that we had? That friendship? The one that doesn’t exist? Won’t exist?” 

His sneer is not harsh, but the breath that leaves you is shaky.

You do not hear his next words.

( You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You flop on his bed, making sure to crinkle his carefully-pressed sheets, forcing him to his desk during one of your so-called ‘hangouts’ and ‘study sessions’⏤ Mitsuki’s words, not either of yours, but there are textbooks in front of the both of you, so that is good enough. You study harder than you ever have before, and rub every one of your small victories in his face, and he studies like a demon in return⏤ ( even though he’s never needed to study in his life )⏤ until the both of you are neck and neck, with perfect grades in every subject. You buy everything sunflower-colored, sunflower-shaped, and tack sunflower stickers onto every surface you can see, pinning some cute ones to your backpack. You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You see his face more often than anything else, and he calls you an idiot when you tell him about the fictional boys you think are cute. Well, you don’t care. You tell him about them anyways, because you are bored and Kuroo-kun looked particularly nice in the episode the other day⏤ only because you are bored and there is nothing else to do, or so you tell yourself. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ you don’t think you are, at least, because he has never confirmed it, even if he does seem somewhat tolerant of you; punches your pseudo-stalker in the face for you, and carries you piggyback on the way home, crying all the while. You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He lets you flop on his bed, lets you push him to the desk, wrinkles his nose at you when you tell him about a boy that was cute, and calls your friends dumb when you tell him about something they said that was funny. You weasel his birthday out of Mitsuki, and get him that All Might merch you know he’ll like, and there’s some Recovery Girl merch left on your windowsill the day of yours. He laughs when you try a bite of his food for the first time and cough instantly after, your face aflame. What the hell is this? You hiss, and he grins, telling you it’s real food, and that you’re just weak. He never calls you his friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one.  )

This is how Katsuki-kun shows his love, you say to Mitsuki-san once upon a time, but now, you know, because you have learned to read between the lines of his words; to understand him: that this is just how he treats liars who worm their way into his world, and how he tolerates them.

Your lip wobbles. There is a lump in your throat. But you will not cry for him, nor will you plead. Play nice, your mother chastises you once upon a time, because you are a willful child, vindictive in both your action and your speech, and petty enough to hold onto your grudges. She chastises you once upon a time, because you do not particularly care to cater to the feelings of those around you unless you feel like it; do not care to stand up for a boy who has done nothing to you, just because he has done nothing for you.

You are petty, yes. Vindictive, too. You may not be that much of a good person, and you are not without your own feelings, hypocritical as that may be. But you are trying, and you are genuine, or at least as much as you can be, as much as you ever have, and he⏤ he has just thrown all of that in your face. 

“Fine, then.” You smile, and you are unfeeling as you lie. “I’ve never thought of you as a friend, either. Don’t talk to me again.” 

The door slams behind you.

You do not hear his next words, so you do not hear him mean: not while you choose him, and not me.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki is six-turning seven the first time he meets you. 

It is the first day of school. You are seated at your desk, a crowd of adoring sycophants around you. “Happy birthday! You look really pretty today,” His friend says from beside him, and he looks you up and down. You are wearing a sky-blue dress, with your hair pressed into careful curls.

His cheeks warm. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, but he only grunts, looking away to the side. “Dunno. She looks pretty ugly to me.” 

“You can’t just say that to her,” Your friend hisses. He doesn’t know her face. 

He scowls at her. “And who the heck are you, extra?” 

She wilts under the force of his glare, and he feels a little better, as if satisfied.

“It’s okay!” You smile. He blinks. Maybe he should call you ugly more often.

And then you call him stupid. And blind.

And the rest is history. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The results of your hospital volunteer application are sent back the next week, and the first thing you think of, somewhat bitterly, is that at least now, you have a proper excuse for skipping out on your weekly dinners. 

You have already skipped out on the first, pretending you feel sick. 

Your phone is still silent. You have not talked to him since that day, not even to check up on him when you see the news, though your fingers itch to. You think of sunflowers: how you didn’t even like them, until him. You think of how your bag now feels empty without its signature pins, how you have thrown every scrap of yellow clothing into a pile in your closet, your sunflower-themed charms and notebooks tucked away. 

Proof of life comes from your mother, and you do not turn on your phone. 

You break your silence two days later, pushing your vegetables somewhat morosely around your plate. “My volunteer application was accepted. They’re letting me intern at the hospital.” 

Your father beams. “That’s great news! You should’ve told us earlier! Honey, we have to eat out to celebrate! Oh, I need to tell Masaru⏤” 

“I won’t be going to weekly dinners for the rest of the summer,” You cut in. Your mother’s chopsticks pause midair. 

Your father blinks at you. “Surely the hospital isn’t making its interns work that much.” 

“Well, I’m applying to UA.” You shrug. That much is true, but it’s also just so you can fill in your hours, work yourself down to the bone. “I’d like as much experience as possible.” 

Your mother is watching you carefully. 

Your father clears his throat. “Well, don’t work yourself too hard.” He says, jokingly, as he dishes another helping of food upon your plate. “You tell us if they’re giving you any trouble, alright?” 

You force yourself to smile back. “‘Course, dad.” 

( Your mother asks you, a week later, when you arrive home from your internship. “Are you still friends with him?” She has asked you a similar question once, years ago and late in the evening, at the end of the dinner party, your father drunken and half-leaning on her shoulder.

You give her the same answer you did then, and in the same way. Cheery, and without a hint of hesitation. “Nope!” 

She is watching you carefully. 

You excuse yourself, and she does not ask you about it again. )

It feels like the days never end, and yet summer passes by before you can blink. You banish all thoughts of blond hair and crimson eyes entirely from your mind, and truthfully, you do not have the mind to think of him much, anyways. You steal the pain of your patients and make it your own, smiling at the brightness of their faces as you heal one, then two, then several more. It tires you terribly so, and between your time at the hospital and pre-studying for the UA exams, you’re so fatigued each night that you fall asleep before your head even hits the pillow. You don’t even have the time to meet up with your friends. And before you know it, the last year of middle school is upon you, as are the start of your applications. 

It is a whirlwind of things to do, so much that you feel you do not have the time to breathe, or even think. Katsuki’s been placed in a different class from yours, which comes as a relief in more ways than one⏤ firstly, that you don’t have to see him, and secondly, because you can let your grades fall just a little, and still come out as top of your class. Between your intern shifts, your mindless studying, the applications, the tests and quizzes and preparing endlessly for interviews, the thoughts of anything else vanish entirely from your mind. You do not feel the emptiness of your afternoons, nor much of your mornings. 

About two months in, Midoriya Izuku is the one to seek you out. 

There is a spoonful of rice halfway to your mouth, a textbook in your other hand. You notice him when a shadow falls over it, blotting the light out. You glance up, drawling. “Yes?” 

“Can I… talk to you for a moment?” He ventures, nervously, a tray gripped in his hands. 

You eye him a little strangely. 

You haven’t seen him since four months ago⏤ you haven’t really been paying much attention, and even the reminder sets your walls of iron slamming up. He’d been shorter then, you think, and significantly more hesitant. The boy from back then would never have even dared think about approaching you like this.

He flusters. “I-I just! Another time is also okay, or if you don’t want to, that’s also okay⏤” 

There he is, you think, a touch amused. “Can it be said here?” 

Beside you, Sueko’s jaw drops. You can feel the stares of your friends boring into the side of your face.

“Y-yes?” 

“Then make it quick.” You flip the page of your textbook. 

He hesitates. “Is it really okay…? For me to sit here?” 

Your eyebrow arches, high. “Since when have you been unable to sit where you like?” 

Mutely, he sets his tray down, and sits. 

You only flip another page. “You can either eat or talk.” You say, conversationally. “Lunch won’t last all day.” 

Obediently, he takes a spoonful of rice, and swallows. “I just… wanted to thank you.” He begins.

You know exactly what he is talking about, and your throat tightens. ( You think of your backpack, how empty it feels, but your refusal to tack on your sunflower pins anyway. ) You shrug. “No need to thank me. I didn’t do it for you.”

“Even so,” Midoriya perks up a bit. “N-no one’s ever stood up for me like that before, and especially not to Kacchan… I-I’m really grateful, either way!” 

You snort a little. Never would you have thought Midoriya Izuku, of all people, would stand here one day, thanking you. 

“I think you’re a really good person,” He says to you, a little bit hesitant. It jolts you a bit, the genuine honesty of his tone, but what you are not prepared for is what comes after. “And I know Kacchan does, too.” 

Your spoon stops halfway to your mouth.

“He still cares about you,” Midoriya says, a touch softer. Your friends are not looking at you, but you can still feel the weight of their gazes, their ears.

You say as you set your spoon down. “If you want to be friends with me, then you will never speak of him again.” 

Midoriya watches you carefully, notes the finality in your tone. His gaze rises to a point above your shoulder.

He flinches.

He does not speak of what he sees, or of this conversation, ever again. 

You do not turn, and you do not ask.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The week of UA acceptances arrive, and you await your own with bated breath. 

Your father laughs as you run out exactly at eight every morning to check, before he finally deigns to tell you that the postman usually delivers to your house around twelve. “I knew that!” You say, and he laughs at the obvious lie.

You stick your tongue out at him, but you still sneak out the next day at the same time, just in case. 

But as it turns out, the postman is late. You know this, because Midoriya texts you late in the evening, after dinnertime, with his signature All Might emoji and a brief: check your mailbox!!!!!

You stop, your heart in your throat. You don’t think you are breathing. 

He’s still typing, spamming your text messages with a thousand All Might emojis, each of them more despairing than the last. You do not know what this means. And then, you see his next message: I got in!!!!! 

It turns out that you are not, in fact, breathing.

You feel like you are holding your breath the whole time you’re fumbling through your mailbox, dropping random letters haphazardly onto your doorstep. That one looks like it’s important, you think, distantly, and it gets dropped somewhere onto the growing pile at your right, scanning them all for a familiar logo, and⏤ you see it at the very bottom of the pile.

You thumb it open with shaking hands. Congratulations, it reads, and you scream.

( You think for one moment of sunflowers, how you can imagine exactly how he’d react, hear exactly what he’d say. )

Your father pokes his head around the corner. “I heard screaming. Everything alright?” 

Your mother is smiling. “Mitsuki just called. Katsuki’s in.” 

Your father is looking at you with wide eyes. You are grinning, there are tears in your eyes, and you are wordless in your delight. 

Your mother laughs, soft. “I suppose two congratulations are in order.” 

“Midoriya also made it, so make that three.” You correct, grinning. 

Your father whoops. “THAT’S MY GIRL!” For the first time in almost a year, you feel light as a feather, like the world is spread wide before you, and you are a young god before it, your wings wide and at the ready. 

For the first time in almost a year, you think, for one moment of sunflowers, how you can imagine exactly how he’d react, hear exactly what he’d say. You think of reaching for your phone⏤ ( and if you did, you’d see his icon that you’d purposefully wiped blank bubbling )⏤ but you don’t. You think of a boy with blond hair and crimson eyes that you have not looked at in almost a year, how you’ll brush past him in the halls, surrounded by your gaggle of friends, your uniform and makeup, your armor, and try not to note how he’s grown taller. For the first time in over a year, you think of him, and your heart does not feel like an empty cavity in your chest; you do not feel so hollow, nor do you ache.

Your heart only squeezes, a little tight, but. 

You think you will be fine.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are delusional. You are not, in fact, fine. 

You are standing in front of the classroom door. It spells the code of your class: 1A, in bold lettering, proportions inhumanly large. You are three minutes late, but it’s really not your fault⏤ you’d simply fangirled so hard over the fact that you’re finally getting to meet your idol in person last night that you’d barely gotten any sleep, and your mother had had to haul you practically out of bed and out the door, throughout the whole of your alarm. 

You slide open the door. Instantly, you’re met with a sea of faces, and you steel yourself⏤ but then. 

For the first time in over a year, you see him, and all of a sudden, you are painfully aware of the lack of yellow on your figure; your backpack entirely empty of its signature sunflower pins. 

The smile is frozen on your face, and he looks just as shocked as you feel. 

A voice drawls at your side. “You must be the healer,” You are glad for the distraction; the source a scraggly-haired man halfway through removing himself from a sleeping bag. Your sensei, you deduce. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, sensei!” You bow. “I overslept because I was fangirling too hard over meeting Recovery Girl today! I promise it won’t happen again!” 

A wave of soft laughter ripples through the class, and over the din, you hear a⏤ she’s kinda cute!⏤ at the same time as a⏤ oh, I love her already. 

“If I get hurt, will I get to see you?” A voice calls, and you turn to see a boy⏤ blond, and your heart stutters for a moment, but his shade isn’t ash, it’s golden. He’s grinning cheekily up at you. 

“No flirting in my class.” Your sensei warns. “But yes, seeing as she’s 1A’s healer understudy.” He turns to you. “Recovery Girl’s waiting for you in her office. You know where it is?” 

You nod cheerily. “Sir, yes, sir!” 

“Good.” You turn at the obvious dismissal, shooting a wave at your green-haired friend as you do. 

You leave the classroom with your shoulders set, your chin tilted high, your outfit your armor, and your makeup your helm.

You pretend like you do not feel the crimson glare that seems like it’s trying to pierce through the back of your neck. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Recovery Girl likes you, and you feel as if you are floating for the whole of a day. Not even meeting Bakugou’s gaze the next morning can knock you from it, nor can the grape-haired boy’s leering from across the room. You can’t really dwell on them for long, either, not with the crowd of people aggregating by your desk. You blink up a little, surprised.

It’s not like you’ve made an effort to dress up especially pretty today, and you don’t think you’ve come off as incessantly nice. You are not the you from first grade anymore⏤ you don’t just think yourself pretty, you know you are⏤ but are confident enough in your own skin that you have stopped putting on airs; have allowed yourself to be as cold and sarcastic and dry as you want. Most of your girl-followers⏤ ( the ones you buy with your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and your pure, sunny disposition )⏤ have only seen glimpses of you like this, and you can count on one hand the people outside of your parents who know you as you are. 

Sueko, Midoriya, and of course, him. 

You do not dwell on it for long. You are confident in your own skin, and though you would like some more friends, you do not wish to temper yourself to gain them.

You smile a little at the question the purple-haired boy asks, disliking the way his eyes are lingering at your chest. “You’re all welcome to drop by the clinic anytime you like. It’s what we’re here for, after all. Though, if you want a kiss to make you feel better,” 

You pause a little bit for dramatic effect watching the eyes of several boys brighten just a bit.

“You’ll have to go to Recovery Girl.” 

Your straight face is very well-practiced, but you do not hide the small quirk of your mouth as you watch their souls die. 

An arm slings around your shoulder, its pink-skinned, pink-haired owner grinning at you. “I think we’re going to be best friends, you and I.” 

You remember thinking the same thing about a different girl, when you are six-turning seven, and you hear the same genuinity behind it.

( You are clad in your outfit like armor, your makeup a helm. Today, you are exactly as cold and sarcastic and dry as you like, because you are confident in your own skin, and you do not temper yourself in the slightest. )

You smile up at her. “I think I’d like that!” 

Her grin widens, but then, an older Hero walks in⏤ Cementoss, you think. You have made an effort to memorize the roster. “To your seats, everyone.” He calls. 

You take out your notebook, neatly arranging your pens. New year, new you. You don’t have as many shifts at the hospital anymore⏤ you don’t need the experience exactly, as you’re sure UA will look good enough on your resume, but it can’t hurt. Besides, you enjoy working there anyways; the older nurses who help you out with a kind smile, the doctors who are almost always willing to answer a question. But the lessened shifts allow you to breathe, just a little, to settle back into a healthier routine; one no longer so bogged down by your thoughts. 

Math transitions quickly into English. You think you prefer Cementoss’s teaching style just a little, even if Present Mic is more energetic⏤ a little bit too loud for your tastes, you think. The material is basic, seeing as it’s the unofficial first day of class, and though you’ve already pre-studied most of the content, you end up writing most of it down, anyways. 

Lunchtime arrives. You balance your tray on your hands, walking side-by-side with Mina. Midoriya waves at you from his table, surrounded by an assortment of friends, and you nod back. “Let’s sit there!” The pink-haired girl points excitedly at a particular table. 

You see several boys from your class, some more familiar than the rest. A head of ash blonde, crimson eyes that glance up to meet your own. 

“Midoriya wanted me to sit with him today,” You say, a touch apologetic. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?” 

Her eyes widen a bit, and you note the glance, the observance. Her own smile is your mirror, just as apologetic, and just as assertive. “Maybe another time,” She says.

She knows what she wants, and she’s not afraid to say it. You like that about her. 

You incline your head, eyelid pulling down in a wink. “Do let me know which one you like,” 

She only laughs at you, her answering grin somewhat sly. 

All Might steps into the room after lunch, and though you’ve never been one of his particularly die-hard fans⏤ you think of your sunflowers, how you make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours⏤ you can admit that in person, he stands a legend in real life. You are just a little starstruck, you think, as he smiles at you, and says⏤ “Do try to keep your injuries to a minimum, though not to worry! Our healer team will be here to assist you!” 

You find yourself grinning a little as you respond, “Nothing fatal, though. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything about anyone bringing a dead person back to life.” 

He booms a laugh. “Naturally! You are all Heroes! You should refrain from using lethal power whenever possible!” 

He speaks too soon. The first teams are called up, and the matchup is almost comical. 

Bakugou will be fine. You know this. You are not worried for him in the slightest⏤ not that you would, you tell yourself, a touch sardonically.

No. What you worry for is the state of your Quirkless friend, and you are right to worry. Bakugou seems almost angrier than you’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying a lot, considering how good you are⏤ how good you used to be, you correct yourself⏤ at getting on his nerves, though Midoriya seems to be holding up very well. 

Your friend has grown, you think. He is not at all the same person he was over a year ago in that classroom. 

But you are right to worry, because All Might is shouting into his microphone. “Young Bakugou, stop! Are you trying to kill him?” 

No, you think, immediately, instinctively. You know Bakugou is many things, but he is not that. Never that.

You feel the force of that explosion from here. “This is supposed to be a class!” One of your classmates, red-haired and red-eyed, is saying. “You have to stop him!” 

“He knows what he’s doing.” You find yourself saying. Somewhat cold, somewhat callous. There are eyes on you, surprised.

You shrug.

You don’t really know why you say it, either. 

“Young Bakugou, the next time you use that, I’ll stop the fight, and your team will lose. To attack on such a large scale inside is inviting the destruction of the very stronghold you are supposed to be protecting. That is a foolish plan for both heroes and villains, and you will lose a lot of points!” 

You don’t need to look at him to feel his teeth gnash in anger, but you still watch the screen, anyways. 

Their clash is violent. You remember saying, once, that you dislike violence because you are a healer. But that is not entirely true, you think: you see the passion in their every movement, even as your green-haired friend receives the brunt of the beating, the callous elegance of it. The careful calculations, the years of training that you have walked alongside most of to witness. 

“This looks bad!” One of the classmates from before seems to shout. “Sensei!” 

You don’t dislike violence just because you are a healer. What you have always disliked is the senseless brutality of it, the cruelty of its aftermath. Not because you have to deal with it, but because sometimes, you can’t. 

You look to All Might. He seems to be struggling with something. 

“So long as it is not fatal,” Your voice is soft, but no less firm. “I can heal it.” 

His mouth tightens, but you see his decision made in that moment. 

You turn your attention back to the screen just in time to see Midoriya’s Quirk. Your eyes widen. It’s so sudden, so powerful, that you almost miss it; the blast entirely different from Bakugou’s own. So he was not Quirkless after all, you think, but all thought of that vanishes when you see the aftermath. 

All Might is turning for you, but you are already running. 

You see the two you are unfamiliar with first. “How is she?” You ask the blue-haired boy who stands upright. 

“I’m fine!” She gasps out. “Just nauseous! But Deku⏤” 

You hear the nickname, and you think you look a little strangely at her for it. You don’t dwell on it very long, though, because you’re already slipping past. 

Then, you see him, and though your heart stutters a little in your chest⏤ ( your bag, empty of its sunflowers )⏤ you still look him in the eye. You are professional. “Are you hurt?” You ask, because he is standing there, still gaping, a little open-mouthed. 

He turns that look upon you, and his eyes widen. 

The eye contact feels slightly unsettling. You look away first. “Well. If you are, you can let me know.” 

You kneel at the green-haired boy’s side. 

A hand stops you, just as you reach out. They’re a little bit bigger than what you’re used to, a little bit more callused. “Wait,” He says, voice raspy, and you tense a little: both at the familiar and unfamiliar touch, and because it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice. “You don’t have to⏤” He scowls, cursing. “Recovery Girl.”

You blink up at him, a little confused. 

But then you see his eyes dart towards your arm, and then the green-haired boy’s, lying prone on the ground. 

“I am a healer. It’s what I do.” 

“That’s not what I⏤” He curses again under his breath. “The damn nerd will be fine. Does he even know about your Quirk?” 

“Why would that even matter?” You are confused, and you shove his arm away. Your friend is still hurt, and he is keeping you from your job. Why do you even care? You want to say.

You bite your tongue, and think: heal. 

Midoriya blinks awake halfway through. Your arm is covered in purple contusions, and he gasps, jerking away. “You⏤ your arm!” 

They fade within seconds. You only reach again for it, feeling the crimson gaze burning into the side of your face, as you’re sure the rest of the class is too, from their camera screens hundreds of meters away. You stare straight ahead, and think, heal, even as your arm ripples in agony again, painted and purple. 

You steal your patient’s pain, and you feel all of it, but you don’t show a thing. Because you are a healer, and that’s what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are a healer, and that’s what you do, but the next day, Aizawa-sensei still admonishes you for it. 

“Your records are very impressive,” He tells you first, and you straighten. You figure: he is likely a man notorious for his lack of praise, so you might as well lap it up while you can. “However, just because you have a very high pain tolerance, does not mean you do not feel pain. Am I correct?” 

“Yes, sensei.” You dip your head. 

“The lot of you hear that, right?” He addresses the rest of the class. “She’s a healer, and she can heal almost anything, save those who are already dead. That’s very impressive, and it’s very rare. Don’t let her become your crutch. She will not always be there, and though she might say she doesn’t mind your burden, others will. Whether it’s yourself, your fellow Pro Heroes, or the civilians you are trying to save.” 

There is murmured assent from the class. 

He turns back to you. “Heroism is also about knowing when to step back and let others handle the situation. It is okay to share your burdens,” He tells you. 

You blink a little, surprised at the comments that are not really criticism at all. “I am a healer,” You state. “It’s what I do.” 

He sighs. “You’re just as stubborn as your mentor,” He says. 

You smile at this, chirping. “Thank you!”

“That was not a compliment.” 

You sink into your chair a little sheepishly, but it’s like a sun has been lit in your chest, because you take it as one anyways, and you are grinning. 

Lunchtime is a little strange today, for more reasons than one. Mina invites you again, but she doesn’t protest your decision, a knowing glint in her eye. But she doesn’t mention a thing, and you are grateful for it. 

Midoriya is sitting with the same people as yesterday, and he beams, delighted, as you slide into the seat beside him. Iida and Uraraka nod at you from across the table, and you nod back. 

Surprisingly, it’s the red-and-white haired boy across from you⏤ Todoroki, who breaks the silence. “My father says he would like to meet you.” 

You blink. That’s certainly not what you were expecting. “Endeavour, right?” 

He nods, his face deadpan. “Please decline.” 

You choke a little bit on the bite of food that has just entered your mouth. Midoriya slides you a napkin. 

You cough around it. “Wow, Todoroki-san. You really dislike me that much?” 

He shoots you a strange look. “Not at all. Why do you ask?” 

You’re a little confused. “Oh, that was a joke.”

“Apologies. I have never been very good with jokes.” 

“Nothing to apologize for, and I was planning on declining, anyways. I’m going to intern under Recovery Girl for the rest of my life!” 

“I will communicate that to him, then.” 

Midoriya coughs lightly from your other side. You elbow him. 

Uraraka giggles, but whatever she is going to say is cut off by the sound of the alarm. There has been a level three security breach, you hear. 

“Trespassing,” You hear someone clarify. 

You stare at the horde of gray-uniformed students crowding the hallway. You have never been a huge fan of crowds, especially ones as tightly-packed as this. Besides, you think, a touch dryly, that if there were an intruder, walking headfirst into a mosh pit like this would probably be the best way to get yourself caught up in a mass murder. 

But you don’t get to voice any of these concerns, because then Uraraka is tugging at your wrist. “If we don’t get ourselves in there now, we’re never going to get our way out! Come on!” 

You fall, weightless, and are carried away upon the sea.

It’s horrible. Internally, you curse the girl, and almost don’t even feel bad about it because yes, she’s like the sweetest person you’ve ever known, but she’s also reason you’re in the midst of a thousand wayward bodies right now, wrinkling your nose at the reek, and practically fighting for your life to keep your head above the throng. You are a healer, you think, a little despairingly, as you elbow someone so harshly that your own limb twinges. You are fighting a desperate battle, but nonetheless a losing one⏤ at least you are, until hands lift you by the waist and carry you forth; your savior cutting his way through the crowd with ease.

Your back hits the wall, and gratitude is on the tip of your tongue as you look up, but then you see him: ash-blond, and glaring at you with crimson eyes. “The hell were you thinking?” He hisses. “You don’t even like crowds.” 

You hate the familiarity in the way he says it, as if he still knows you, and you hate the way he cages you in against the wall, his body larger than you have known, but how it still feels the same, pressed up against yours.

( You think of your sunflowers, how your bag feels strangely empty without them. )

It is the nearest he has been to you in well over a year. You hate the way he smells, like burnt caramel, and you hate the way your cheeks warm. 

You want to say: neither do you, and you want to ask him why he even bothered to try and save you. You know he doesn't like you, not even in the slightest, not this liar who has wormed their way into his world; this liar that he tolerates. You think of a thousand witty remarks, ones that used to make his eyes light, the curl of his scowl somewhat harsh, but no less familiar, of giving voice to your outrage, to your feelings, and simply storming past. 

You choose none of the above. 

You still your features, the picture of calm, set the steel of your shoulders, and stare straight at a point above his shoulder. “Why do you even care?” 

You do not look at him, so you don’t see the way he recoils, ever-slightly. The expression he levels you, half-bewildered, half-disbelieving, the rest a complicated mix of emotions even he could not decipher himself.

You don't see the way he opens his mouth, because then Iida is there and shouting. 

You see your chance, and you don’t wait for his answer. You weren’t expecting one, anyways. 

He doesn’t even have the time to reach for you, before you slip past, and are gone. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You stand before the mouth of USJ, your heart in your throat. 

You barely notice the weight of the device upon your wrist; a monitor that connects you to all the ones distributed amongst the class, because there are villains down there, you think, a little dumbfoundedly. Real villains, like the type you see in movies, and you feel almost ridiculous, out of place, as if someone will smack you upside the head and tell you: wake up! and that you are not in a story. And you are not, because you pinch yourself, and yes, this is real life. 

You have never seen a villain yourself before, because you are a healer, and have only ever dealt with the aftermath of what they have done. You know the damage, the pain, the torture it can inflict upon a soul; the way sometimes, no one can ever fully heal them afterwards, not even you. So though you are a little wide-eyed, your thoughts blank, when the mist wraps around you, you don’t even think. 

You lunge. 

Crimson eyes widen, and he catches you, just one second before you fall into darkness as one. 

You try not to think about the way his body feels against yours, how he is cradling you, the way his hand automatically wraps around the back of your head. You feel the impact in your bones, though he bears the brunt of it. Automatically, you reach up, and think, heal, but you don’t have the time to do much else, because then his eyes widen, and he’s shoving you away. 

“STAY THERE!” Distantly, you think he is roaring at you, and another time, you might have protested that you could defend yourself. But the shock of it all is still settling in⏤ ( these are real villains, you think dazedly, and this is real life )⏤ and you are a healer, right now, you are nothing more than a civilian. 

In the aftermath, you still stand, dazed. Bakugou and another red-haired guy from your class are panting, smoke curling from your familiar ash-blond’s figure, and you register, like the world is separated from you by a film: it’s over. 

“Oi.” There are palms cupping your face, and you blink a little, startled, as crimson eyes boring into yours. “You hurt anywhere?” 

No, you think, a little too stunned to speak; the harshness of his tone at odds with the gentle manner of his touch. But then you see a hint of blood trickling down the side of his cheek.

As if on instinct, you reach out for him. He jerks away.

Wow, you think, the lump rising to your throat instantly. You had not known he hated you this much, to the point that he is unwilling of even your touch. 

“I am a healer,” You say, your throat somewhat tight. ( You think of sunflowers, your bag that is empty, your closet and its piled-up yellow. ) “You are hurt, and I am simply repaying a favor.” 

You sense that he is watching you carefully, but your eyes do not rise to meet his gaze. You simply steal his pain, and you barely feel a thing⏤ even if his injuries were not so light, you think you are too numb to, anyways. 

You move past, and he does not reach for you. The red-haired classmate⏤ Kirishima, you recognize, grins at you, saying that he is unharmed. He offers to escort you back to the front, but then, your wristband is beeping, a location upon it.

You straighten. You are still afraid, you recognize, but there is someone out there that needs help, and this is simply another obstacle you must overcome. You will not always be in your hospital, tending to those that manage to get themselves wheeled in⏤ and though there is fear in you, there is also an equal determination. 

“There are people who need healing,” You say, and that is all you need to. 

You are a healer, but that does not mean you are any less brave.

You are a healer, and this is what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You ask Aizawa, two days later, if he would be willing to teach you self defense. 

( You remember a boy, back from what feels like eons ago. You, on his back, the sun in your chest as he offers to walk you both to and from school. You don’t even know where I’m going, you tease, and he only scoffs at you. Then I’ll teach you how to fight.

You think of your sunflowers, and your bag, empty of them.

Your throat tightens, and you make your decision. )

He looks a little surprised, and asks you if you are sure. He warns you that he will not be a lenient teacher, but you have seen how this man dove headfirst into danger to save his students; seen his kindnesses that are masked in the form of tough love. 

You also know he likes you, at least a little bit. If he hadn’t, he would not have complimented you like that on the third day, would not have had the hint of fondness in his tone as he drawled, that wasn’t a compliment. 

And even if he doesn’t, you know he will be at least a little lenient. 

You had been the one to heal him, after all. 

You are wrong.

You hate running. Always have. You started training, years ago, but that had been entirely out of spite, and in the wake of it⏤ ( your bag, empty of sunflowers )⏤ you had stopped. You hate running, always have, and you have no time, you’d told yourself, nor the energy⏤ but really, you hate it because it reminds you of him.

Now, you hate it for a different reason. You hate it because Aizawa pushes you, hard, until your lungs are gasping for air, your knees and legs trembling⏤ you think, somewhat sourly, that none of your healings had ever prepared you for this. You have healed all manner of wounds, cured a variety of diseases, but that does not change the fact even back when you were running, you had not put everything you had into it, and that now, you are trembling, bones soft, muscles even more so, somewhat like a deer.

You heal fast, though, you always have. You would not have been able to heal without it⏤ Aizawa knows this, which is why he pushes you hard. “If you hadn’t been so dedicated to medicine,” He tells you, “I would’ve told you to go the Hero route instead.” 

You shrug. The thought has never occurred to you. Your mother is a doctor, and as soon as your Quirk had developed, you had never thought about anything else. But you don’t get a chance to voice it, or even to thank him, because then he’s hauling you up by the arm.

“Break’s over,” He informs you, a signature shit-eating grin on his face. You think you’re beginning to hate the sight of it. “Back to running.” 

You sigh, before dutifully acquiescing. 

Schoolwork is easier, at least, though between your sparse shifts at the hospital and Aizawa’s daily after-school training, you are pretty much spent. You don’t even register Mina chatting excitedly beside you about the upcoming UA sports festival that Aizawa has just announced⏤ you only think, a little despairingly; more work. 

You glance up at your pink-haired friend’s surprised exclamation, and you see: a crowd of people, so many that from your vantage point, it seems like it’s the intruder incident all over again. A scoff, vaguely familiar⏤ “They’re obviously scoping out the competition, small fries. We’re the group that made it out of the villain attack.” Someone protests, telling him to play nice⏤ no, you think. This is him being nice. “Out of my way, extras!” 

“I came to see what the famous Class 1-A is like, but you all seem pretty arrogant. Are all the students in the Hero courses like this?” 

You see: a head of purple hair, mussed, and you think⏤ wow, he could be Aizawa if your sensei’s hair was shorter, purple, and he were using his Quirk. 

“Seeing something like this makes me disillusioned. There are quite a few people who enrolled in general studies or other courses because they didn’t make it into the Hero course. Did you know that?” 

You didn’t, but he only continues. 

“The school has left those of us a chance. And based on the results of the sports festival, they’ll consider our transfer into the Hero course, and vice versa. Scoping out the competition?” He scoffs. “I, at least, came to say that even if you’re in the Hero course, if you get too carried away, I’ll sweep your feet out from under you.” His eyes flash, chin raised high. “Consider it a declaration of war.”

You sigh a little internally at the theatrics. “Excuse me, coming through.” You call. You ignore the way the ash-blond tenses a little as you walk up beside him, and you smile politely at the crowd; your uniform your armor, and your makeup your helm. You can do damage control just fine. “I’m class 1-A’s healer, so I don’t have a bone to pick with you really, but,” You cock your head. “All we did was fight off and survive a villain attack. I’m not sure how that’s arrogance. Have any of us gone out of our way to bother you?” 

You are sure your classmates haven’t, because though you have not known them long, you are observant enough to tell that they are good and entirely dedicated to the path of Heroism. And you are right: he is wordless in the face of your diplomatic tone, the maturity of it all. 

But then⏤ a laugh, somewhat mocking. You think you recognize the voice, and you do: it’s class 1-B’s understudy, standing in the middle of the crowd. You have not talked to her much, thinking her quiet, but it seems that really, she just dislikes you. 

“That’s so rich of you to say,” She says, with a scoff. “Sucking up to Recovery Girl all the time, parading around like you own the place, all because you went viral and people started calling you The Best Healer of our Generation.” 

You blink⏤ you remember Sueko mentioning it once, you think, after one of your co-workers, one of the older interns had started making videos of you, with your consent. You had not put much thought behind it, and you hadn’t the time to, between your many hours and the boneless weariness that had been so constant in your life after.

“Get off your high horse,” She snarls, a vehement finality to it, as she scans you, up, and then down. 

You don’t know what to say, because honestly, you had never thought of yourself that way; had not thought of any others thinking of you that way. There are cries of outrage from behind you, you hear, distantly, as if you are underwater, but you are still stuck on the way she scans you. As if you are less than what you are, reduced to the painted trim of your nails, the makeup on your face, less than what you are and undeserving. As if it does not matter that you go to the hospital more often than not, your features clear, your hair pulled up, and lose yourself in your work; the agony of your patients, healing them and then some more until your bones ache with the ghost of their pain and you drop dead to your pillow, your phone turned off. 

You are silent not because you are hurt, exactly⏤ you do not know this girl, and she does not know you⏤ but because you are so stunned. You don’t know what to say, because you have never thought yourself reduced to just this, less than what you are and undeserving. Distantly, you hear the cries of outrage, you feel yourself, adrift amidst an ocean, your hands clenching. You don’t know how to start, or what to even say.

But he does. 

“She doesn’t use social media,” He starts, and yes, you don’t, but how does he know? “It obviously wasn’t even her recording the videos, you fuckwit, and it says in the account biography that it’s owned and run by a friend.” 

You are staring at him, your heart held like hope in your throat. ( You think of your sunflowers. ) You don’t understand why he is saying this, why he is stepping in for you. ( You remember making fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You remember finding that you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He never calls himself your friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one. )

He does not look at you, nor does he pause, and though there is anger in his voice, you think he is holding himself back. “High horse?” He laughs sardonically. “Get off yours. She’s already ten times the healer, hell, the Hero, you’ll ever be.” 

( He doesn’t call himself your friend, but he still stands up for you. )

You don’t know what sort of expression you’re making, but it has to be ugly, something complicated, not exactly bewilderment nor gratitude or simply hope but some combination of them all; like something in between. 

“And what would you know? What are you, her guard dog?” She snarks back. 

And finally, you find your voice. 

“He does what he likes.” 

You are still watching him, and you see the way his hands clench, and then unclench. 

( You think very briefly of your sunflowers, and you think that you will always miss them. You can heal any wound on this earth, save the fatal ones, but you cannot heal the hole he has carved into your heart; not the one from this boy who knows you, every facet, both the good and the bad. You have never needed to hide the unsavory parts of yourself from him; after all, your very relationship was built upon a lie. You think a part of you has always loved him for it, will always love him for it⏤ this boy who is not your friend, has never been your friend, but still knows you, stands up for you, and believes in you, in all of you. And, you think, even if he does not care for you, there will always be a part of you that always cares for him. )

You turn to level her with a cool stare. 

“He’s right,” You say. “I don’t use social media, and before you call me a liar, just listen.” You add, as her mouth opens. 

( Your mother is a doctor, and when your Quirk develops, you know you want to go the same route. You have never even considered anything else; never even thought of being a Hero, until your sensei tells you that he might’ve pushed you for it, had you not already been so dedicated to the path.

And you will not pretend like you have been good every step of the way⏤ you are not that much of a good person. Your mother tells you to play nice, because you are a willful child, vindictive in both your action and your speech, and petty enough to hold onto your grudges. You are not that much of a good person, you have never particularly cared to cater to the feelings of those around you unless you feel like it; do not care to stand up for a boy who has done nothing to you, just because he has done nothing for you.

You are grown now, better now, you know, but some elements of you still remain. You still wear your outfits like your armor, though it is not your hair but your makeup that is now your helm, you take time with your appearance and you take care of it every morning. Your volunteering at the hospital was not born entirely out of unselfish intention⏤ firstly because your mother said it was what you should do, and second because you thought the experience would look good, especially since you were applying to UA. But⏤ )

“I don’t know why you applied to UA, but I know why I did.” You say, simply. “It was because I wanted to become a healer, and this is one of the best places in the world to do it.” You straighten, jerking a finger at the ash-blond beside you. “We all went through the same application process. Take him, for example. He’s arrogant, he’s loud, and he always gets on your nerves. But that doesn’t make him any less passionate, or any less of a Hero. It doesn’t matter, because if you’re determined enough, strong enough, you’ll eventually rise to the top.”

You are the center of attention, but you have never been so aware of a singular set of eyes, burning straight into you.

You continue. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want to be, but that goes for the rest of you, too.” You jerk your thumb back to your classroom. “There’s a green-haired boy in there that everyone thought was Quirkless, including himself. But he had a dream that he dared to try for, and look where he is now.” 

You look at your fellow intern, the class 1-B one. 

“I don’t use social media for a variety of reasons, haven’t for a long while, and I won’t pretend like all of them were good. But ever since I started volunteering at the hospital, whenever I think about it, I think: every second I spend scrolling the internet could be another life lost. Someone I didn’t save, something I didn’t learn that could’ve helped someone in the future.” Your shoulders are set, and you lift your chin high. “You can think I’m a liar all you want, but I would hope, as a healer, you would be at least able to understand this.” 

She is mute, and you look at the rest of the crowd, wearing your outfit like armor, your makeup, your helm. 

You raise one eyebrow. “Anything else?” 

Silence is your only answer, and you shrug.

“See you around, I guess.”

The crowd parts mutely before you, but then your wrist is clasped in a hand⏤ you think, very briefly, of sunflowers, but then you turn, and it is Mina grinning up at you, several others from your class in tow. “You’re so fucking cool,” She tells you, bright and genuine. 

You are not that much of a good person, never have been, and, you think, you are not entirely sure if you ever will be. You will never be entirely unselfish, free of your precociousness, your pettiness, your occasional lying habits, and all the other thousand-and-one flaws you could find in yourself, if you really tried. 

But you are growing. You are the same you that you were before, and you are also different. 

You grin at her. “I know I am,” You say. 

You are not that much of a good person, but you are growing, just as much the person you were before, as you are someone new.

You are a healer, you are yourself; this is who you are, and this is what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

His mother calls him out on his sulking, barely a week in.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” She frowns, and his heart clenches painfully in his chest.

“S’fine,” He snarls. “Keep your damn nose out of my business, old hag.” 

For once, his mother does not take him up on the challenge⏤ he almost wishes she would. He’s been itching for a fight, to get it out of his system somehow, but she’s always been able to read him⏤ just like you.

Mitsuki waves the phone in her hand. “Her father said she won’t be joining us for weekly dinners anymore⏤ she’s started volunteering at the hospital, and just won’t have time.” She states, plainly, and without judgment. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, or if you’re still friends, but you were probably a little shit like usual, so get off your ass and go apologize.” 

Apologize. That damned word. He hates it. And he’s considered it, but then he remembers: you, your face, the way it had crumpled, and then the way you’d sneered, don’t talk to me again.

He has always been able to tell your lies from your truths, and it stunned him in the moment, because it had not seemed like so much of a lie. 

And it’s not. He sees the truth of it, a week later, when you skip out on your weekly dinners, accept your volunteer position, and cut the whole of him from your life, just like that. He sees the truth of it, on the first day of school, as he waits by your intersection and is almost late because you aren’t there, as he scans his class for your face and finds you absent, when you pass him in the halls and don’t even bother to look up. He sees the truth of it two months later, when that damned nerd stands at your table, a tray in his hands, and you allow him to sit. His heart is in his throat, clenching around something painful, there is smoke rising from his hands⏤ Deku looks up instinctively, flinching, and you do not even bother to turn. 

( You and your sunflowers, the way you smile like the sun when you find out he is allergic, and go out of your way to plaster sunflower-themed things all over yourself, and he’s not quite sure if they are your favorite flower, or you do it just because you hate him. But then he gets to know you, slowly and over the years, a thousand-and-one forced interactions until he finds, one day, that he is not reacting so sharply to your barbs, uncaring that you flop onto his bed and muss up the sheets, unminding of your chatter, your studious, stupidly competitive nature, the way your eyebrows knit a little when you focus on a more difficult concept, or how you’re grinning as you annoy him, rambling about anything and everything; your fictional crushes.

You say you want to be a healer, and the first thing he thinks is: that’s stupid, why not a Hero?⏤ but your eyes are determined as you say it, there is a fire in them, and he sees that bleed into the way you do things; the way you act. You never call him your friend⏤ you have, once, very clearly a lie⏤ but he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, promises to walk you to and from school, even if he does not know which one you might go to, promises to teach you how to fight. It’s stupid, he knows it is, the way he tenses when you joke that you want him to kiss you so bad because he’s imagining it. And then the guilt after, when you press your cheek softly into the curve of his nape, feeling the dried-out tracks of your tears, the way you shudder as you steal his pain⏤ barely-there, but he feels it, anyway. )

He looks at you, properly, fork crumpling in his hand. “Yo. You’re staring.” One of his friends nudges him, gently, and he forces himself to look away. 

( You, the sunflowers you bedazzle yourself in, your bag absent of them, and the way you never wear anything yellow ever again. )

He’s angry at you, at first. It’s unfair, he thinks, the way you seem to carve him completely out of your life, with all the practiced precision of a surgeon, that he spends almost all his time thinking about you, and that you do not do the same for him. You don’t want to talk to him, you’ve made that abundantly clear, and that’s fine⏤ he has his pride, and he is not going to beg you to stay. Not when you chose the nerd over him. 

But then you stand in the doorway. You look like you did the first day, clear-eyed, but older. Your eyes widen when they catch sight of him, ever-slight, but he’s never missed a single expression on your face, and he does not miss it now. All of a sudden, he wants to talk to you so badly that it hurts⏤ he sees the bags under your eyes and wants to tell you to sleep, the bone-weariness with which you carry yourself, your step absent of skip. 

But then, your gaze drops. He sees your bag, absent of its sunflowers. 

He feels as if his gut were a stone, heavy and damning. 

He remembers: you have never once thought of him as a friend, and he will not beg you to. He will respect your space, your wishes. 

And yet. You stand by the entrance, the day of that first class, fierce and silhouetted by the sun. Are you hurt? You ask him, and it feels as if he were floating, stuck in a dream.

He takes too long to respond, and you give him a once-over, clearly discerning he is fine. You kneel by the damn nerd’s side, and he feels the absence of your attention like a physical thing, but even that is secondary to the horror he feels when you reach the other boy; his arm painfully bruised and almost a terror to look at. 

He wants to say: you don’t have to do this, you don’t have to hurt yourself. There are other healers in the building, and don’t you have a mentor? You raved about Recovery Girl all the time, there’s no reason you should be taking his pain for yourself. And the nerd will be fine⏤ anger clenches at him, then, because if the nerd knows about your Quirk and still allows you to hurt yourself for him⏤ “Why does that even matter?” You ask him, and he hears the ghost of what you don’t say: why do you even care?

He does. Of course he does. He always has, even when you giggle to yourself about something so blatantly stupid, even when you are an entire pain in his ass. 

But then he thinks of you, your bag empty of sunflowers, the way you have not worn yellow since. 

His arm drops back to his side, and he says nothing more to you, just as you’d like. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You have always disliked crowds, but so has he. 

He is watching you when it happens, sees you lingering hesitantly by the exit. You’ll be smart about it, he’s sure⏤ he’s hotheaded, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid or blind. But then⏤ brown-haired cheeks tugs you by the wrist, forcing you into the throng, and he thinks: what the fuck? 

He knows it’s stupid, and that you won’t thank him for it, but he dives after you, anyway. 

He forces his way towards you, watching as you elbow someone particularly hard with a surge of pride, before he’s holding you and marching away, towards the wall, towards free space, trying not to think about how you feel in his arms, how you feel with the whole of you pressed against him. He needs to say something, anything to distract himself, so what he says is: “What the hell were you thinking? You don’t even like crowds.” 

Your cheeks are a little flushed, and you are staring at him. He feels his own warm in turn, and he feels like a kid again, heart like a sun in his chest. 

Your features still. Your mouth flattens, and you are cold as you say what you did not only a day before. “Why do you even care?” You ask.

He does. Of course he does. 

But you do not ask this question in hopes of an answer. Your gaze slides past, and then you go with it, refusing to give him even the time to reach for you. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

When the mist envelops him, the first thing he turns towards is you. 

His eyes widen⏤ you are already in the air, lunging at him, and he barely has the mind, the presence of thought to catch you. You fall as one, and his gut lurches⏤ he wraps himself around you, shielding your vitals, your head from harm, and gladly takes the brunt of the impact. He has all of a second to check up on you, to feel you pressed against him, know that you are safe, before he catches sight of more villains behind. “STAY THERE.” He shoves you into a corner, setting his back to you⏤ and when they are done, you have not moved an inch.

He sees the daze of your eyes, the shock, and cups your cheeks anyways, trying to ground you. “Oi,” He says, harsh, but also soft. “You hurt anywhere?” 

You blink up at him, and then at the red he barely feels sliding down the side of his cheek. 

He jerks away. He doesn’t want you to touch him, not to heal him⏤ he’s strong, he’s fine, he can deal with it, he doesn’t need you to steal his pain. Not when it’ll hurt you. 

“I am a healer,” You say, and his heart clenches again at the sound of your voice, and again when you tell him: “You are hurt, and I am simply repaying a favor.” 

He hears the steel in your voice, lets you touch him.

He would give anything to curl into your touch, even if for the rest of your life, your relationship is just like this: he, the dog, and your favors, the bone. He wants it, so long as you will keep on touching him like this, and yet he also doesn’t want it, because he cannot bear to be the one causing you such pain. 

He is angry beyond words when the extra starts laying into you like she does, and you simply stand there, bearing the brunt of it all. 

He’s watched the videos, seen every single one. Seen how hard you work inside of them⏤ the comments talk about how beautiful you are, but all he can think of is the tired pallor of your face⏤ but what’s more is that he knows how hard you work outside, too, and who is this girl to even talk about you like that, when she doesn’t know what it’s like to take the pain of another, and make it into your own? His tone of delivery is quiet, no less than lethal, and he speaks with every ounce of pride he has in you and the person that you are. 

You are watching him, he thinks, and he thinks, somewhat dizzily, that this is it. You’ll chew him out in front of the crowd, call him out on his bullshit, tell him to stop speaking about you, speaking for you, that you hate him, that he’s stupid, anything and everything of the above. 

But you do not.

You only rise, and he thinks that you are not at all the girl he has known before. Some parts of you are the same, entirely unchanged, but you have grown⏤ so much that it takes his breath away. You have always been coolly elegant in your deliveries when you mean it, but this⏤

He thinks: it is okay if you never want to talk to him, if you don’t care one bit. It is okay if you choose never to wear yellow again, your bag remaining empty of its sunflowers, it is okay if you carve him entirely from your life. 

He will respect your wishes, and watch from the sidelines, basking in the radiance of you: the healer, the girl, and simply everything that you are. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You should not be here. 

You feel terribly out of place in this darkened room, with a crowd of familiar villains before you, disoriented and groggy. 

If it were not for the ash-blond by your side, you think you might’ve started hyperventilating. You are quiet as you wake. You notice: his hands are bound, but yours are not⏤ they know you are a healer, you think, and they do not fear you. 

You feel, rather than see, crimson eyes slide to yours. You blink up at him. 

And then, his eyes flicker up.

You see the resolve set firmly onto his face. You know him, likely more than he does himself, which is why you know what he will say. 

He says: “I’ll listen. I’ll consider working with you, so long as you make sure to leave her out of it.” 

No. The word clangs into you with a force, a viciousness. You jolt upwards, so fast your head spins⏤ no. You know he won’t. He is a Hero to the core, and you know this, because you have decided early on that you will remain a step behind him always, even if he does not care at all for you, there and ready to steal away your pain. You have decided: you will see him live out all of his days, full of glory and entirely unscathed, victorious, and you will not watch him burn his life away like this, tucked away in a corner of this world, quietly and without a sound. 

He lies to protect you, and you decide there and then that it isn’t worth it. You know him, have spent a thousand and one days getting to know him, just as you know that his bluff will be called before long, because though Bakugou Katsuki is many things, you have always known him to be a terrible liar. 

You aren’t, though.

You straighten, and rasp. “No, he won’t.” 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

He watches you straighten, watches you drawl, and he feels a terror like ice creeping up to his throat.

Your lips are pulled into your liar’s smile, soft and lovely under the candlelight, but then⏤ “Katsuki’s going to be a Hero,” You tell them, and his heart stutters because when was the last time you actually called him by his name? 

“Shut the fuck up,” He tells you.

You ignore him.

“Trust me when I say, this guy’s like, the biggest All Might fan you’ll ever see. Well, actually, maybe not the biggest⏤ Midoriya’s collection is insanely impressive, but you get the point. Did you really see his actions at the Sports Festival and think that was your opening?” 

You stand, a smirk on your face, and he wants to tell you to shut the hell up again, to just stop talking, but⏤ you turn, you flash him a grin, and it’s like he’s six again and seeing you for the first time. You see him, in a way no one else ever has, in a way that assuages all the criticism he’s seen since, narrowing his world down to these things: you, and your unwavering confidence in him. Your lips are pulled into your liar’s smile, you are scared and terrified and pretty much everything in between, but he hears your words, hears your truth.

“Newsflash, losers. He’s wanted to be a Hero ever since he was a kid, and nothing’s ever going to change that.” 

His heart swells so tight he thinks it’s going to burst. You, in this moment, like you still care, that he’s not alone in this, and that he cares for you more than anything else in the world, loves you more than you will ever know. 

You do not need to say anything else, because there is a knock on the door⏤ pizza delivery, someone calls, and then the door opens; All Might in the flesh. The heroes⏤ and then you are scrambling for him, your fingers fumbling with the knots, but he simply jerks his hands apart, tearing the fabric, and reaches for yours. 

You still a little, surprised, flinching back a bit, but his heart is singing⏤ you care, he thinks, somewhat dumbly, like a mantra bouncing around inside his head. He barely registers the rest of it⏤ he emerges by the ruins of a building, your hand still in his, piloting the both of you around the villains who try to keep you. Shitty Hair, calling down at him from the fucking sky⏤ what the fuck? but then he’s calling for you, and then there is you: looping your arms around his neck, knowing, instinctively, what he means.

His chest warms like the sun, ethereal and glorious. 

You blast together into the night. His hand lands upon another one, similarly callused, and then he’s curling his other around you, latching you to him. Your head is settled in the crook of his neck, and you don’t protest it in the slightest, only untangling yourself once you land.

You don’t reach for his hand once you do, but that’s okay. His heart is singing. 

He snarls at the others in his usual manner, and you assert yourself with your own. He follows you as you walk, a step behind. The others leave you at the police station, their own parents plenty concerned, and he doesn’t mind it in the slightest⏤ he gets to walk you home, after all. 

You are silent as he does. He walks a step behind, and does not prod you. 

You stop. He does, too. Your hands ball up into fists. He watches, waiting. 

Finally, you whisper. “Why the hell’d you do it?” 

That is not at all what he’s expecting you to say.

“Hah?” He’s never been good with his words, always more combative than means. Particularly with you. Especially with you. “Cause I wanted to, dumbass. The hell do you want me to say?” 

You whip around and slug him instantly, punching him square in the gut. 

He barely bends from the force of it. You clutch your fist, teary and glaring. 

“Fuck you,” You hiss. “Fuck you, Katsuki. You don’t just get to pretend like you care when you want to, whenever it suits you! You don’t get to⏤” 

He’s stunned into silence. He’s the one that’s pretending like he cares about you?

Your mouth opens and closes, so angry that you cannot quite find the words. “You don’t get to just fucking try and sacrifice yourself for me! What the fuck!” 

He steps closer, disbelief lighting a second sun in his chest.

You lash out. “Stay away from me!” 

He catches it in his hand, and you try to fucking headbutt him. He dodges that, too, and then he’s pulling you into him, as tight as his heart feels.

You stiffen. Frankly, he doesn’t give a shit, not when he’s figured out how you really feel. 

“I’m sorry,” He rasps into your ear. “I care for you. I’ve liked you since we were fucking six, and you shoved your stupid fucking sunflowers in my face. I was angry. I’m sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll have me.” 

You do not move. Do not breathe, and for all of a second, he thinks: this is it. 

And then, you crumple. 

He can count the number of times he’s seen you cry on one hand, but you weep into his shoulder now, a year’s worth of repressed emotions wrung out of you in an instant. You melt into him so perfectly he feels as if he was made for you, the weight of you so perfect and familiar in his arms. “You’re so fucking stupid,” He thinks you are saying though it’s somewhat unintelligible, between your sobs and the way your voice is muffled from being pressed into his chest. 

He chuffs in your ear. “Feel free to add blind and ugly to the list, if you’d like.” 

You laugh, broken and teary, but then your arms rise, and you are wrapping them around him.

He thinks: it’s okay if the world ends right then and there, so long as he gets to hold you; just like this; just then and there; just for a moment longer. 

( He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile. How your face had lit up in absolute delight at the sound of his first sneeze, and how you’d stepped forward to thrust it further into his face, a wicked grin on yours all the while. How you lie your way into weekly dinners, and he’s furious, swearing he won’t talk to his parents for the whole of a month⏤ but then you’re there, in his room and making fun of his figurines.

You say, somewhat disinterestedly, that you think you remember a new All Might one on the market. He caves, and his vow lasts only a week. 

He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile. How he had always hated the sight of them before you; a young god faced with his one mortal weakness, but as time went on, he learned how he did not quite mind the look of them on you. He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile; soft and lovely under the candlelight, scared and shaking and terrified but still believing wholly in him, just as he does you. 

He thinks he has loved you since forever. )

Absent-mindedly, he presses his mouth to your hair.

And in the light of the dawn, pink-streaked and painting you awash in sunflower yellow, you look up at him, and smile. 

bc i need to rant about this fic: afterword

[literatooru]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞

pairing: gn!reader x atsumu miya

note: repost from my old blog 𐚁

When Atsumu walks in, his eyes instantly land on you, and the first thing he thinks is “woah… pretty”. He stares for a second—until he realizes what he’s doing and shakes his head to clear his mind. He doesn’t want to come off as a creep, but he can’t stop his eyes from straying back to you. And when he hears your voice when you talk to your coworker? Whew.

He tries his best to behave normally while waiting in line, he really does. He simply fails miserably at it. And it’s not like his usual behavior is what one would consider ‘normal’, being the drama king he is.

Atsumu purses his lips, deep in thought. He’s wondering what the best approach would be. Maybe flash one of his winning smiles at you? Nah, too basic. Or maybe he should make the face. You know the one, eyebrow slightly cocked, head tilted to the side a little, narrowed eyes. Maybe he’d even bite his lip. No, nope. He just remembered someone told him that was a 'fuckboy face'.

Before he even realizes it, you’re staring directly into his eyes. He hesitates, taken aback. They’re so pretty, especially up close. There’s just something about them. Atsumu’s sure they’ll pop up in his dreams once or twice. At least he hopes so.

“Welcome! What can I get you today?” you say, sounding just a little bit tired.

He likes it, in a way. The fact that you don’t hide behind a cheery persona that's obviously fake. Well, technically you should —customer service and all that—, but you still sound nice enough that he doesn’t mind. He likes the sincerity in your voice.

And when you blink up at him, he realizes he’s staring. Again.

Atsumu clears his throat, plastering a bright smile on his face and leaning forward a little, resting his hands on the counter. That just makes him take a closer look at your eyes and — oh, boy. He thinks he might be in love.

“Hi, um… I’d like a Macchiato — medium size, please, and a… Turkey Pesto Panini,” he orders.

You hum, typing on the register and taking an empty medium cup from the small tower of them in front of you.

“Will that be all?” you ask, Sharpie in hand.

“Actually, if you could add your phone number to that, please,” he adds, then smiles innocently. “And thank you.”

Your brow creases lightly, although the amused smile on your lips reassures him that you’re not actually mad.

“You think you’re so smooth, don’t you?” you cock an eyebrow, resting a hand on your hip.

“That’s cuz I am.” He gives a playful shrug, smiling a little brighter at you.

“Well, I’m afraid that’s not on the menu, sir.”

Atsumu feels butterflies in his stomach when you call him that. It sounds so good, so sweet… even though you’re looking at him like you want him to leave already. But it’s just that — ugh, your voice. Is he in heaven? He must be.

“Hmm, pity,” he mumbles, pressing his index finger against his lips.

“What’s your name?”

He perks up. Are you flirting with him? Is that what’s— oh. He notices you readying the Sharpie to write his name on the plastic cup. Right. But Atsumu still thinks it’s not too late to shoot his shot.

“You can call me yours.”

You give him a deadpan look.

“Seriously. That’s the best you could come up with?” You grimace a little, lowering the cup.

Atsumu deflates visibly, blowing a puff of air through his lips.

“Hey, c'mon. A guy is trying.”

You raise your eyebrows, almost laughing at his honesty. You can’t deny it, he’s cute. Like, really cute. And he doesn’t seem like a complete jerk, even if his pick up lines certainly aren’t the best.

“Kudos for your effort. I’ll admit your jacket’s pretty cool, though,” you concede, if only to give him something.

Also, you can’t deny you like the way his eyes seem to light up a little after your words.

“Ya like it? It’s made of boyfriend material.” He winks.

Scratch that, his pick up lines suck. But he does manage to make you chuckle with that one, even if the reason is that it’s extremely ridiculous and silly. And Atsumu cheers up a little; he likes the sound of your laugh, and —yup, he’s definitely in heaven.

“Name,” you demand, pursing your lips.

Atsumu’s only thought is that he really wants to kiss you. But he knows a lost battle when he sees one, and he can’t afford to humiliate himself further. Osamu would never let him hear the end of it if he saw how badly he’s being rejected. He cringes at the thought, thanking god he decided to go alone.

“Atsumu,” he sighs in defeat.

“Great. What type of milk would you like for your drink?”

Atsumu wheezes almost inaudibly, averting his gaze as he presses his lips into a thin line. Because it’s a real struggle for him to keep his comments about ‘milk’ to himself. He figures it’s not the best thing to joke about if he hopes to have the slightest chance with you.

“Whole,” he stammers. “No, wait, 'm lactose intolerant. Uh, lactose free.” He grimaces.

“Will that be all?”

And now it’s Atsumu’s turn to purse his lips, thinking. And what he thinks is ‘screw it’.

“I don’t suppose I could add a date to that? You, me, and a delicious home cooked meal. I’m an excellent cook, you won’t regret it. Sounds good, huh?”

He’s lying, of course. He’d ask his brother for help, or maybe buy some take out and pretend he made it himself. It works in movies, surely he can do the same.

“No can do.” You shake your head softly, hiding the fact that you’re fighting a smile by looking down as you scribble his name on the cup. It seems to take you more time than he’d expect. “I could add another drink, though, if you’d like.”

“Okay, how about a Cinnamon Dolce Latte. Make it a large,” he murmurs, resting his elbow on the counter and placing his chin on the palm of his hand. You move to grab a large cup, pausing for a second when he speaks again. “That one’s for you, by the way. On me.”

And Atsumu feels giddy when you actually flash a smile his way. A real smile. You cock your head to the side, peering at him with curiosity.

“How’d you know?”

“I’m just good at reading people, I guess,” he shrugs nonchalantly, his suave demeanor faltering as you simply blink at him, entirely unimpressed. “Alright, fine, I heard you earlier saying you wanted one, I just- what’s- how much is it?”

Your gaze flickers briefly to the register, adding the large Cinnamon Dolce Latte to his tab. You suppress a smile by chewing on your lip, and Atsumu wishes you’d stop doing that because god, he really, really wants to kiss you right now.

“That’ll be $15.55, please,” you inform, swiping his Starbucks card. You take the money he’s offering you —Atsumu makes sure to brush his hand against yours, and you almost scoff because he wasn’t even subtle about it, he might as well just grab your whole hand and declare his undying love to you on the spot—, and you count the change and give it to him with a kind smile. “Here’s your change. Thank you. Your order will be given to you—”

“Be honest, though,” he interrupts you, leaning closer to you. You can feel your face feeling a little warmer at his proximity, but Atsumu doesn’t seem to notice. He aquints his eyes at you. “Didn’t it work? Like, not even a little bit?” he asks, pinching the air between his forefinger and thumb.

“Sir, you’re holding up the line,” is all you say.

Atsumu groans, throwing his head back in frustration. He actually stomps a little when he walks away, too busy throwing a tantrum that he can’t see nor hear you giggling at the counter. He also doesn’t hear when you ask your coworker to switch places with you so you can make his order.

He stuffs his change inside his wallet, folding his arms across his chest. Waiting for his drink, he stops himself from allowing his eyes to wander back to you. He can’t help it, you’re just… gorgeous. And, to be completely frank, he’s also gorgeous, and he thinks you’d make a great match.

He breathes out softly when you call out his name, biting the inside of his cheek as he walks over to retrieve his order. Muttering a low ‘thanks’, he takes his bagged panini and drink with slumped shoulders, walking out the store with gloomy attitude.

He takes a sip of his drink, coughing a little when he accidentally burns himself. He scowls at the cup — almost like he thinks it’s its fault rather than his. And his eyes widen in disbelief, because right under his name, there’s a phone number and a short note, which reads ‘I get off at 6 :)’

And he hoots in delight with a jump, and his bagged panini falls to the floor —although he picks it up hastily— because you even put a smiley face and everything. And he can’t help but notice that your handwriting is also really pretty, and it fits you. And Atsumu chuckles.

He pulls his phone out, searching for his brother’s contact. Yeah, yeah, Atsumu doesn’t know Osamu’s phone number by heart, but that’s what the contacts app is for, right?

“Samu, I need your help.”

[pellucid-constellations]

Lessons in Care

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel loves you so much. Even though you can't cook. You're trying though.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: A small injury

a/n: Consider this a small gift to make up for me disappearing for a month <3 This is part of the line cook au, but as I've mentioned, nothing is really in order so read however you want :) The rest of this AU can be found in my masterlist right there ⬇ love you <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Like this?” You shook the pan a little harder, the handle's weight tweaking your wrist at an odd angle. 

“Almost. Try not to hold your elbow so close to your body. It won’t flip right.” 

You pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes. “This is so hard.” 

“I believe in you,” Azriel teased, an amused upturn of his eyes as he watched you struggle. 

“Why is this pan so heavy? It’s literally like 40 pounds.” 

“It’s cast iron, baby.” 

“That’s stupid.” 

Azriel barked out a laugh, red tinting his cheeks as if he hadn’t expected the sound to leave his lips. Your mouth quirked up in a small smile despite your struggle. You shot your gaze to the side to try and catch the sweet expression that still lingered on Azriel’s face.

“Would you like me to do it?” Azriel posed after clearing his throat. 

“Of course not. I came early so you could teach me.” 

“I could teach you another time. You have class soon.” 

“Why do you want me to fail?” 

“I don’t—” 

“You totally do. You want me unable to cook for myself so I’ll always have to rely on you, and then I’ll never be able to leave you.” 

Azriel laughed again, a quiet, rumbling sound. “You caught me. Now hand that over before you hurt yourself.” 

You groaned and turned slightly to evade your boyfriend’s reach. “Az, I’m serious. Teach me how to flip these stupid eggs right now.” 

“Okay, okay. Just let me help.” 

The feel of Azriel’s hand lightly sliding over yours startled you. You jumped and your fingers twitched, the sudden motion sending the tips of your fingers too far forward until a simmering pain shot through your skin. You flung the pan back on the burner instantly, its contents splattering along the stove and into the open flame. It burned a bright orange and then settled as you held your hand close to your chest. 

You hissed a breath through your teeth and Azriel’s hands were on you. 

“Shit, baby, let me see, yeah?” he stressed, mindlessly turning the burner off without taking his eyes off you. He tugged your hand at your chest with gentle fingers. “Let me see.” 

You released the tight grip on your fingers and rested them in Azriel’s open palm. “I was just surprised. I don’t think it’s that bad.” 

Azriel’s brow furrowed as he examined your burn. He tsked, pulling you gently by your wrist over to the sink. “It’s going to blister.” 

Cool water rushed from the pipes and soothed your skin. Azriel held your wrist in a soft grip and turned your hand slowly, back and forth in a repetitive motion. 

“I don’t think so, Az. It’s not that bad.” 

Azriel shook his head. “That pan was pretty hot—I’d be surprised if it didn’t.” He looked up at you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You offered a gentle smile and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You didn’t scare me.” You raised your brow playfully. “You just made me nervous. A cute guy like you holding my hand—reaching over to help me to cook. Made me all jumpy.” 

Azriel breathed out a disbelieving scoff. “I’ve done far worse than just hold your hand.” 

“Scandalous!” you proclaimed, affronted. “How can you say such things at work, Azriel? You’ll be fired.” 

“I can only hope,” Azriel grumbled. 

Azriel directed you to keep your hand under the water as he dug through a cabinet for the first-aid kit despite your protests. You truly felt that you were fine and didn’t even need a bandaid, but it was easy to forget the multitude of scars that littered Azriel’s hands and how they contrasted with your completely unmarred skin. 

That was purposeful, meaningful—Azriel worked hard so you wouldn't have to. Azriel found peace in keeping you safe and happy. 

So you let him fuss. 

“Okay, let me see again, baby,” Azriel requested, flipping the water off and reaching for your hand. Your skin stung as it met the air beyond the sink, but Azriel’s caring touch was like a balm. 

He dried your fingers with a towel and uncapped a spray bottle, coating your burn with too much of the medication before grabbing a set of gauze and tape. You stared at the materials in exasperation. Azriel didn’t notice the expression and continued to admisinister care as if you’d been in a fire.

“Az, I love you so much, but I don’t need all of that. It’s a small burn. I’ve probably done worse with my curling iron.” 

Your boyfriend only hummed and continued his work. “I don’t want it to scar. It blistered already.” 

“Yes, but—” 

“Almost done.”

You let him work. A few moments of silence passed. Azriel kept his gaze hard and his brow set in a harsh line. 

That wouldn’t do. 

Once your finger was fully wrapped and protected from everything Azriel could fear, you puckered your lips in contemplation and shook your head. 

“Still hurts really bad,” you admitted, leaning back against the counter. Azriel followed your movements, leaving little space between you. 

“What?” he questioned, a tinge of panic in his tone. “That should’ve numbed it. How bad does it hurt?” 

“Really, really bad. Like my whole hand is on fire, actually.”

Azriel—who had yet to release your fingers—stared down at them in startled befuddlement. He turned them one way and then another as if that would answer his questioning gaze, and then looked back up to meet your eyes in a way that was almost pleading. 

“I’m sorry, maybe I should—”

“You have to kiss it,” you revealed, not wanting the sad expression to linger on his face any longer. “Duh.” 

Azriel let out a breath that bordered on relief, but most of it seemed founded in exasperation. He shook his head and brought your fingers up to his lips all the same, smiling to himself as he began to kiss each of your fingertips. Even the ones that clearly weren’t burnt. He flipped your hand over and kissed the knuckles, too, capturing your eyes as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes. 

“‘M sorry you got hurt,” he mumbled with his lips against the back of your hand. “Told you you shouldn’t try cooking, baby.” 

The warm feeling that had begun to seep into your chest paled in comparison to the offended scoff that echoed in the empty kitchen. Azriel’s poorly concealed, devious smile was hidden in the kisses he started pressing into your palm, and although it would have fit the sound you let out, you didn’t pull away. 

“Azriel, you are just asking for me to—” 

“The hell is going on in here?” The kitchen door smacked against the frame as Cassian made his entrance. “Someone get hurt?” 

Azriel dropped your hand just as soon as Cassian had spotted him pressed against you, clearing his throat and turning to the disheveled first-aid kit on the counter. You brought your knuckles up to your mouth to hide your laugh at Azriel’s expense, his face flushing in vulnerability. 

“Oh, I see what was going on. You were romancing your girl, weren’t you, Az? Well, don’t let me interrupt. You came in early and everything,” Cassian teased, his hands raised in surrender. 

“We were just finishing up,” you countered, a laugh trickling through. “I have to get to class, Cass. You can start your shift.” 

“Uh huh,” Cassian smiled, raising his brows and then lowering them when he caught your hand reaching for your backpack. “You okay?” 

“She’s fine,” Azriel interrupted. He took your bag from you and slung it over his shoulder, pressing a nonchalant kiss to your head that you knew was actually not nonchalant. “I’m going to take her to school. Cover for me for 20?” 

“Sure, man.” 

“Az, I was going to take the bus you don’t have to—” 

“C’mon, baby.” 

“But I don’t even have my helmet for your bike.”

“I always bring your helmet.”

[charliemwrites]

Part 4!! (No content warnings)

Fuck these men :)

You roll your neck, trying to loosen muscles tense from keeping your head locked in place. Hard work denying natural instinct to look at whoever is speaking, but the 141 doesn’t deserve any more of your attention than they’ve already stolen. Even if they didn’t know they had it at the time.

You’ll have to ask Nikto if he’ll massage out the knot forming there. He’s handy with anatomy like that.

“Listen, about what happened…” Gaz starts.

“Not relevant,” you snap, crouching behind a barrel.

“I’d say it’s pretty relevant,” he replies. “It’s not right, how we left things.”

You nearly snarl. ‘Not right’ is the understatement of the bloody century.

You twist on him. “You’re being unprofessional. Shut up and take this seriously, Garrick.”

You duck as a sniper shot pings dangerously close to your head. Spot Nikto across the way, hand-signaling to ask if you need back up. You reply with a ‘no’ and turn back to Gaz.

Thankfully, it seems he’s caught the message and keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the stupid drill. You resist a snappish comment when it’s over. Up until Gaz starts up again.

“I just think you deserve—”

“I don’t care what you think I deserve,” you interrupt. “I know what I deserve. And it’s a partner that can keep their feelings in their vest.”

Speaking of, Nikto appears at your side like a shadow in shifting light. There’s a disapproving tilt to his head, aimed at Gaz. You shake your head and tap your knuckles against his.

“Need a water break?” You ask, worried about how long he’s been under the helmet.

He shakes his head, then surprises you by bumping his forehead against yours — his version of a kiss. Even in private those are rare. You hum at him.

“Thank you, Nik.”

You have to run the next drill with Soap. Know from the start he’s going to be a stubborn prick about it. Can see it in the set of his jaw and the flicker in his eye.

“Didnae have to be a knob to Gaz,” he says.

You don’t respond, slipping away as the exercise begins. He calls after you and hurries to catch up, nearly blowing your cover.

“He feels bad enough for what happened, ye know.”

You level him a cool, blank stare. “You speak for him now?”

His eyes narrow. “If you won’t give him the chance to, aye.”

You knock his leg out from under him and fire at the “enemy” combatant, Nova. She sportingly goes down, but mutters that you should have let her take the shot. You should have.

“You compromise this drill again,” you tell a toppled Soap, “I’ll tell Laswell direct that you don’t belong on this mission.”

You spin on your heel and continue the exercise, ignoring any and all attempts by Soap to get you to speak again. At the very least, he picks up the slack, earns his callsign.

Nova finds you again when it’s over, arms around your neck and chest plastered to your back.

“Look’it you go, mamas,” she coos. “Shot me through the heart all over again.”

You laugh bending your legs to let her hop up for a piggy back ride. Yeah, you’re tired. But never too tired to carry your girl around. She giggles in your ear as you carry her off back to your captain for her next drill.

“With Price now,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Sure thing, boss,” you answer, doing a good impression of enthusiasm.

You know your place, settle into position just behind Price’s left side. No overtures about the past this time. Whatever iota of lingering respect you have for him grows as you complete the drill flawlessly. When it’s over, the two of you are at the furthest point from the designated “start”. And that’s when he decides to open his stupid mouth.

“It wasn’t personal, you know,” he says.

You smooth out your expression even though you don’t turn to him, already starting back.

“Okay.”

“It was the best call,” he explains, falling into step with you.

You tilt him a sideways look, don’t even bother with your full gaze. Spent far too much time looking up to him, by your estimate.

“Okay.”

“I look out for my soldiers.”

You turn forward again. “I wouldn’t know.”

Your captain happens to intercept, sweeping you up with one arm. You yelp, though can’t help grinning as you hook your fingers in one of his chest straps.

“Shouldn’t sneak up like that, sir,” you scold.

“That’s how I’ll know when I need to retire,” he replies with a crooked grin. “When I can’t sneak up on you anymore.”

You huff, snatching his sunglasses off his face to wear all the way back to the start point. Keegan meets you, looks directly at you as he salutes.

“Captain,” he says.

You laugh, give your CO his glasses back.

“Keeping fuckin’ around, Russ,” the captain rumbles, “I’ll take it out of your ass later.”

You gasp, scandalized, and laugh as the little skin visible through his smearing face paint turns pink.

“Off with you, girl,” your captain says. “We’re done after this, so keep it quick and clean.”

“Yessir,” you reply, jogging off to meet Ghost.

Fucking Ghost.

You don’t spare him a single look as you set up for the exercise. If nothing else, you have every expectation that he won’t say a single goddamn thing to you. No attempted apologies, no reprimands, no justifications. Just radio silence, like always.

What you don’t expect is for him to treat you like nothing’s changed. Like you’re still a fresh transfer that can’t watch their own six. You consider just putting your “gun” away and trailing after him until the exercise is over, but that would be just slightly too immature.

So you suck it up, grit your teeth, and do your job. Up until he gets in the fucking way. You’re about to get a sneaky shot on Keegan — a rare thing indeed — but Ghost moves. Goes out of his way to get the shot you already had and loses you both the element of surprise.

“Fucking oaf,” you snarl, scrambling behind a wall. “Is this your first fucking day or something?”

His eyes flash across the corridor. “What the fuck did you just say?”

You don’t reply, getting low and kicking your boot off, carefully sneaking it towards the corner like you’re trying to peek out. Keegan comes around, aiming too high and in the wrong direction, and Ghost shoots him.

Keegan “goes down” — goes out of his way to land on you, actually. You huff and shove at him.

“It’s not nap time,” you groan.

“Can’t hear you, I’m dead.”

You snort and shimmy out from under him. Not so different from most mornings, actually.

“If you two are done…” Ghost growls.

You suck your teeth and stalk off, giving Keegan one last pat to the back. The rest of the drill is barely civil, Ghost’s eyes more on you than on the training grounds.

When it’s finally, finally over, you sigh and pause, trying to work out that knot again.

“Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Ghost sneers.

It’s meant to hurt. Meant to piss you off. Maybe remind you of the last things he said to you. You don’t look at him, bending to re-lace your boots. Thrilled to realize it’s like poking at an old scar. The skin is deadened, even though a mark remains.

“Fuck you’re so immature,” he growls.

You straighten and just start walking. Keegan finds you almost instantly.

“The hell was that about earlier?” He asks, frown audible.

“Ugh, he got in the way. I would have fuckin’ had you, otherwise.”

His eyes spark with outrage. “He fuckin’ what?” He snarls, turning like he’s about to say something to Ghost. Which… no. Just not worth it.

“Keegs,” you sigh, “c’mon, I told you this would happen. He’s not worth it.”

He scoffs, laces his fingers with yours. “‘Course he’s not. Don’t waste bullets on the dead, right?”

You snort and tug him along. The rest of your team will be waiting.

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Masterlist

[dearsnow]

TOO SWEET

- you discover that you mix a little too much sugar into your relationship, and jake seems to believe that he’ll turn everything sour. (jake seresin x fem!reader, angst, jake being an asshole when he thinks he’s making the right decision but what’s new, i had a real fun time writing the description ⚠️ drinking)

PART 2

word count: 785

a/n - angst city is back !! and yes there are parallels bc i’m in a parallel mood so yeah some lines are very very similar to each other. hope you guys enjoy, even though my first hangman-centric fic is a sad one lol. based on “too sweet” by hozier <3

You press your palm to Jake’s face, feeling his stubble rough against your soft skin. “You’re amazing.”

He has a pool stick in his hand, one that he sets down to pull away from your touch. Your face flushes as he takes your hand in his own and places his pool stick in your other, motioning for you to take a shot. “You’re too sweet, darlin’. Let’s prove to Chicken over here that you can be tough, too.”

“Too sweet” is something he’s called you more than once. You suppose it is true, with your gentle and kind demeanor. You just can’t help wanting everyone to be happy.

Jake Seresin is pretty much the opposite of that. He intentionally upsets people with a smile on his face, content in riling them up, and fond of perpetuating rivalries. No one ever understands why you’re attracted to him, especially not the other daggers.

You see the side of him that he rarely ever shows. The one that’s kind and caring, that understands when he goes too far and reels his aggressive personality back to shore. When he kisses you on the cheek or places his hand on the small of your back, you feel it too.

So, when he pulls you to the side of the Hard Deck, you assume he’s just going to give you another drawling compliment and skirt his hand between your shirt and the soft skin of your waist. You certainly don’t expect the words that come out of his mouth next.

“Hun, I think we need to stop seeing each other.”

Your heart stops dead in its tracks. “What?” You borderline squeak. No, this can’t be happening. Everything was so perfect just moments ago, and now the look on his face makes you want to cry. It’s laden with sympathy.

He holds your hands with gentle fingers. “You’re too sweet, baby. I don’t mean it in a bad way, but I mean, you’re way sweeter than I could ever be. You tell Rooster his shirt looks nice when it’s eye-bleeding and you mean it. I love that, I really do, but we don’t fit. We don’t make sense, and I want my relationships to make sense.”

“We do make sense.” You protest. “Opposites attract or something like that. We can make it work.”

“The thing is, we can’t. I’m gonna piss you off eventually, and you’re gonna forgive me, and it’ll just be toxic. I don’t want that for you.”

He lets go of your hands, and as the cool air hits them, they miss his warmth. His green eyes are tinged with something you could associate with sadness, just a hint of aching regret. His mouth twitches a bit, curling into his sun-kissed freckles. They wouldn’t be noticeable if you hadn’t looked at him so closely, if you hadn’t kissed along that same line a few nights ago. “And what about what I want, Jake? I want you. We can have a good relationship, I promise, we’ll find a way.”

“That’s what makes you so special. Your goddamn unwavering hope. I don’t want to crush that, sweet thing, but you have to know that it isn’t always going to work out.” His tone is softer now, but his words hit like the sharp end of a knife. You stare up at him, eyes watering.

“But-“

“It’s a no, baby. Just no.”

He turns, and for the first time, you don’t follow his movements. Your fists close around empty air.

It’s really happening. He’s explained how he doesn’t want you in a million honey-suckled ways, and more than anything, you just want to sink into his arms and cry. But you can’t, and you don’t. You move away, instead, out of the Hard Deck and out of his life, into the cold night air. When you reach your car, all you can do is sob into the shiny metal.

Jake watches you leave. He wants to run after you, to thread his fingers around yours and pull you into a kiss, but he can’t, and he doesn’t. It’s better for you, he tells himself. You sip on wine and fruity drinks while his neat whiskey is sitting on the bar, half-drunk. You deserve someone nicer, kinder, who kisses you goodbye and doesn’t scratch your face with stubble. He sees you lean against your car, forehead pressed to the car door, and he almost folds. He picks up his drink and turns to face Penny, who’s looking at him disapprovingly.

“I’m not good for her.” He tries to explain.

Penny sighs and reaches for the whiskey, topping off his glass. “You aren’t. I just wish you made it your problem instead of hers.”

Taglist: @seitmai

[velarisdusk]

Night's Cold Embrace

Day 9: Dacryphilia | Rhysand x Reader word count: 2k author’s note: evil rhys makes me wet that is all ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver slivers of light through the thick canopy of trees. The forest was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. You had needed to get away, to breathe, to think, and the woods at night had always offered solace. But tonight, the shadows seemed deeper, and the silence unnerved you in ways it never had before.

You quickened your pace, your footsteps barely audible on the soft forest floor, but the feeling of being watched clung to you like a second skin. Your heart pounded in your chest, and just as you were about to convince yourself that it was all in your head, a voice, low and smooth as velvet, cut through the quiet.

“Out here alone, are we?”

You froze, every muscle in your body tensing at the familiar voice. Slowly, you turned, and there, leaning casually against the trunk of a tree stood Rhysand. His dark clothes melted into the night, but the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable, catching the faint moonlight as he watched you with an amused, almost predatory gaze. 

You swallowed, the air suddenly feeling too thick. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was calm, though your pulse thudded in your ears, 

He pushed off the tree, moving toward you with slow, deliberate steps, his presence overwhelming the space between you. “I might ask you the same thing,” he said, his tone lazy, but there was something in his eyes that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “Wandering the woods at night, all alone? Dangerous, don’t you think?”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, though every instinct screamed at you to look away, to run. But where would you go? The woods were vast, and you knew he’d follow. “I needed to clear my head,” you said simply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rhysand’s lips curved into a smirk, and he took another step closer, the faint scent of night-blooming flowers clinging to him, mixing with something darker, more dangerous. “And instead, you found me,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Unlucky for you, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitched, his words settling over you like a shadow, creeping into your chest and tightening your ribs. “I’ll leave,” you said, taking a step back, but Rhysand’s hand shot out, not to grab you, but to trail a finger down the side of your arm, just barely brushing your skin.

“You’re trembling,” he observed softly, his tone a dark purr. “Are you afraid?”

You flinched, concealing the shiver that threatened to run down your spine. “No,” you lied, though the slight tremor in your voice gave you away. 

Rhysand hummed, his fingers tracing the path of a tear that had fallen without you even realizing it. “Liar,” he whispered, his eyes darkening as he stared at the tear glistening on his fingertip. He seemed to pause, as if savoring the sight, before his gaze locked with yours again, more intense than before. “You are scared.”

Your chest tightened, the full weight of his attention suffocating. “I’m not scared of you,” you whispered, the words visible through the puff of your breath in the cool still night air.

Rhysand stepped closer, close enough that his breath fanned against your cheek. “No?” he murmured, brushing another tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Then why are you crying?” His thumb lingers there, then trails down slowly, grazing your lips. “Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured, his voice a low hum, sending an involuntary shiver through you. “It’s almost a shame to see you like this… almost.”

Your breath caught. He wasn’t just toying with you — he was feeding off this, savoring your fear like a fine wine. You tried to step back, but the tree behind you stopped you cold, your back pressed against the rough bark. “What are you–” you started, but your words faltered as Rhysand’s other hand came up to rest on the tree, caging you in.

“Shh,” he whispered, the sound almost soothing, but the heat in his gaze betrayed him. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, parting it slightly. “No need to ask, we both know you like this. I can see it all right here.” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb dipping just inside your mouth, a gentle tease that sent heat pooling low in your stomach despite the panic tightening your chest.

You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress the trembling, but it only made his smile grow. 

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered, his voice dropping to something more intimate, his lips brushing just near your ear. “I like seeing you like this, trembling… vulnerable.” His fingers continued their slow exploration, skimming down your throat now, tracing the hollow of your collarbone. “It suits you.”

Your breath came out in shallow gasps as his touch continued to roam, gentle but purposeful. You should’ve pushed him away, should have said something — anything — but the weight of his power over you held you still, the darkness in his gaze drawing you in despite yourself. “Why are you doing this?” Your voice trembled, fear bleeding through every word.

Rhysand leaned in, his lips barely an inch from yours, teasing the air between you. “I wonder,” he started, his breath warm as it ghosted over your lips, a sharp contrast to the night’s biting chill, “just how far I can push you before you break.”

His words sent a wave of heat straight through you, the dark promise in them both terrifying and intoxicating. You hated that your body responded to him, your pulse quickening, skin tingling under his touch. It was wrong, you knew it — but with every slow brush of his fingertips, every dark murmur, the line between fear and desire blurred. 

“Where do you get off, torturing people like this?” you demanded, trying to mask the shiver in your voice. “Is this some kind of game to you?”

Rhysand chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “A game? Perhaps. But it’s one I’m quite skilled at.” He traced a slow line down your lip with his thumb, his gaze never leaving yours. “And you’re playing so beautifully, darling.”

His thumb brushed across your lips again, this time more insistently, and before you could stop yourself, your mouth parted, the pad of his thumb slipping past your lips. The taste of salt lingered from the tear he’d wiped away earlier, and you held back a groan; whether it was from the shame curling in your chest or the undeniable need spreading through you, you couldn’t tell.

Rhysand’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you, completely in control, knowing exactly how to unravel you. “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice low and mocking. His thumb withdrew from your mouth, but before you could catch your breath, his lips replaced it claiming yours in a slow, heated kiss. 

Each brush of his lips against yours made you want to recoil, to resist, but you couldn’t. The fire in your veins drowned out everything else, and the more you tried to hate it, the more your body betrayed you. Every sensation twisted, wrong yet so fucking good, and you found yourself leaning into him, kissing him back, despite everything. 

When he pulled back from the kiss, his gaze dropped to your tear-streaked face. The way his lips curled into a smirk sent another ripple of dread and heat through you. “Look at you,” he murmured, almost in awe. “Still crying.” His voice was soft, mocking, the edge of it sharp enough to cut. “You’re beautiful like this…” He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to catch another tear slipping down your cheek. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring it. Your body tensed at the feel of his tongue, so slow, so deliberate. A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, and when his eyes opened again, they were filled with something primal. “Keep doing it,” he whispered, his lips not ghosting over your cheek, licking up the next tear that spilled free. “Cry for me, pet.”

You gasped at the sensation, at the way his lips moved over your skin, as though your fear — your misery — was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. “Gods, you have no idea what it does to me,” he purred, pulling back to meet your wide-eyed gaze. His fingers slipped beneath your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to hold his gaze as another tear slipped from the corner of your eye. “You don’t have to fight it, it only makes you more enticing.”

“I will not give into you, just leave me be–”

“Is that so?” He leaned in, his breath tickling your ear. “Then why do you look like you’re about to melt under my touch? You may not want to admit it to yourself,” his fingers traced a slow path down your neck, each touch sparking an involuntary reaction in you, “but don’t you lie to me,” he growled. 

You clenched your jaw, trying to stay defiant, but the way he spoke, the way his fingers made contact with your skin…

“You’re twisted,” you manage, less conviction in your voice than moments ago. “This is… sick.”

Rhysand’s eyes softened just a fraction, though the predatory glint never left them. “Twisted? Maybe. But I find it quite fascinating how, despite your hatred for me, you fall into me so easily every time.” He tilted your head back slightly, making you look up at him. “It’s as though, no matter how much of a fight you put up, there’s a small part of you that’s curious.”

You felt a heat rise in your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and an unfamiliar, unsettling thrill. Rhysand’s gaze was intense, his fingers lingering near your jawline, caressing your skin with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his demeanor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, though it came out weaker than you intended. More tears slid down your face and Rhysand’s eyes followed their path with wicked delight. He kissed them all away, his tongue dragging slowly across your skin, savoring the taste of it. “Let go,” he encouraged softly, his voice coaxing. “You don’t have to fight it. I promise, it will feel even better if you just let yourself be overwhelmed.”

His lips returned to yours, this time with a gentler touch. You hesitated, battling your instinct to resist the rising warmth inside you. The kiss was different now, softer, and filled with a different kind of intensity that made it harder to pull away with every passing second. 

Rhysand’s hands roamed over your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist and the softness of your hips as he pressed you against the rough bark of the tree, His touch was a mix of firm control and gentle exploration, each caress sending shivers through you. His lips parted yours, deepening the kiss with a sensual, slow burn that left you breathless. His tongue danced with yours in a languid, intoxicating rhythm, pulling you closer. 

When he finally broke away, his gaze was filled with satisfaction and something more vulnerable, almost tender. “See?” He murmured, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not so bad to give in, is it?”

You could barely respond, the mix of emotions swirling inside you — fear, shame, desire. You swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice. “This… this isn’t what I wanted.”

Rhysand’s gaze remained fixed on you, unwavering as always. “Maybe not what you planned,” he said softly, “but sometimes what we need isn’t always clear until it’s right in front of us.”

He took a step back, finally giving you a moment to catch your breath. “Think about it,” he said, his tone more contemplative now, “and if you ever find yourself wanting more… you know where to find me.”

With that, he turned and melted into the shadows of the night, leaving you alone in the cold, moonlit clearing. The lingering warmth of his touch and the haunting promise of his words left you unsettled… and oddly curious.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @90angiex

@sizzlingstarlightsky @fourthwing4ever

[stariekis]

red tinted marks

🛋️ pairing : 엔하이픈 ot7 + gn!reader . genre : fluff . cw : tons of kisses ~

— synopsis : pretty boys covered in pretty kissy marks.

— notes : © idea from my own post ! it was supposed to be a jake one shot but i loved the idea way too much so ot7 version it is ~ hope you like it pls reposts and feedback are very much welcome ⭐. thank you for reading <3

heeseung :

oh he would be down as soon as your petition left your lips ... even though he seems like the type of guy who hates doing those "cheesy" trends he is way too down bad for you that he won't be able to say no. so there you are, leaving kiss marks on your boyfriend's face while he looks at you with the biggest eyes ever, admiring your features everytime you pulled away with a smirk on his face.

jay :

he would be more than happy, as soon as his girl is happy of course. when he sees you all excited with your red lipstick on, he couldn't say no and it was also a pretty cute idea he thought. you focused on his jawline, your favorite feature of him, going up to his cheeks and also leaving little pecks on his lips making him giggle a bit. moments like this are very precious to him, nothing better than spending time with his favorite girl.

jake :

puppy ikeu agenda is back ~ as i said in my post he would be the one asking you to do it, showing you the video and begging on his knees to recreate it ) : as soon as you said yes he was running to your room to grab one of your lipstick. grabbing your face in his hands he applied the red tint on you lips while biting his lower lip trying to contain his excitement. once you were ready he sat down and closed his eyes, letting out giggles everytime your lips brushed against his features. he was living a dream, feeling the happiest man alive.

sunghoon :

he would act roughly all the time, lips pressed into a thin line as you leave kisses all over his pretty face. in reality he was enjoying more than ever, goosebumps going up and down his body every time your lips touch his face. as the teaser he is he would turn his head to the side capturing you lips and kissing you softly, now his lips are also tinted in a reddish tone.

sunoo :

he wants to leave kisses on your face too!!! when you showed him some videos of couples doing that trend he told you that he wants to do that to you too 'you would look adorable baby please ~ ' he said begging you, and who are you to decline such a thing? so at the end both of you would have your faces covered in red kiss marks and his gallery full of pictures and videos of you both together.

jungwon :

giggling wonie is all i can think about. he would be giggling the whole time with his eyes closed focusing on the feeling of your lips all over his features. he would let you take tons of pictures of him right after so you can use one as your wallpaper. he would look so cute, his eyes shining, his natural bushy cheeks and his pretty features covered in kiss marks.

ni-ki :

he is a softie ) : he might be a little hesitant at first but he was actually waiting for you to ask him to do it. he played cool as if he wasn't the happiest boy ever at that moment. after leaving the first peck on his cheek his boxy smile would appear instantly, breaking his character completely. his hands resting on you hips and your trapping his face 'babe that tickles' he said, moving back a bit and letting out a soft laugh when he saw your lipstick all smeared.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 

Word Count- 5.5k

Warnings- Swearing, violence, spoilers for canon, abusive dads, trauma, reader having bad responses to her trauma.

“Wait, you’re telling me that I miss ghosts coming back and terrorizing Damon just because I went to a doctor’s appointment?”

I deadpan at Ric as he looked over a bunch of pictures and drawings they had found in some mystery tunnel. 

“That’s what you get for going to the doctor,” Damon smirks at me as he and Elena spar. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Demon. Next time I just won’t get shot,” I shoot a glare at him and he rolls his eyes. Elena uses this moment to try to throw a punch at the vampire but Damon easily catches it. 

Elena sighs defeated and then turns to me, “How did your appointment go? Any good news?”

I roll my left shoulder and then shrug, “Nothing really new. The doctor did say I’m healing faster than anyone he’s seen before though,” This gains all three of their attention, “He chalked it up to my wonderful youth.”

“Well that’s good,” Elena smiles happily.

“And he said he liked my birthmark.”

“You have a birthmark?”

I look over to Ric who is looking at me questionably.

“Ya, she’s got like a smudge on her shoulder,” Damon jests and I glare at him.

“It’s not a smudge you asshat.”

“Don’t be mean Damon,” Elena defends me, “Personally I love Y/N’s birthmark. I think it’s cute. Almost looks kinda like the moon.”

I walk over to Elena and we both glare at the blue-eyed vamp who just rolls his eyes again. 

“Thank you, my love,” I look over to my best friend who is sporting a light pink tint to her cheeks at the nickname.

“Of course, my beautiful best friend,” Elena smiles back and we both giggle.

“Can y'all just kiss and get it over with,” Damon groans out.

“You wish you had a boyfriend the way I have my girlfriend, Damon. Your jealousy is oozing off of you,” I smile at the man and he purses his lips and then goes over to Ric.

A buzzing in my pocket has me separating from my friend and grabbing my phone. 

“Oh shit,” I whisper out and quickly grab my jacket off a nearby chair.

“Where are you going,” Elena asks to me as I book it to the front door.

“Theo’s tire popped and he’s supposed to be at practice in 2 minutes. So I have to go rescue him. Toddles!”

—

“Thanks for picking me up,” I groan as Theo grabs his football padding from the trunk of my car and puts them into my arms.

“Ya, whatever,” I struggle to carry it all as Theo closes the trunk and makes me follow him towards the school.

“Dude take your shit before I drop it,” I groan out to my brother who turns back and gives me a look before dramatically sighing and grabbing the gear from my hands.

“You need to start hitting weights. I’m bulking up this season so you can join me,” My brother says excitedly. 

I stare at him in disgust, “Oh ya cause that sounds like great sibling bonding time to me.”

“Do you know how many people would kill to be my sibling,” Theo asks and I shoot him a blank look.

“Many people, nerd. Many a people,” I fight the urge to laugh at my brother’s dramatics as his mood instantly brightens, “There’s the guys! I got to go, see you later nerd.” 

I stand there for a moment as I watch my brother run off to his teammates. Oddly enough though after going like 10 feet he stops and turns around. He quickly runs over to me and for a second I think he’s going to knock me down but instead, he balances his gear on one hand, and with the other he side-hugs me. 

“Even though other people want to be my sibling, I wouldn’t want any of those hoes,” Theo lets go of me and gives me a boyish grin, “You’re kind of a cool sister. Even if you are a nerd.”

Theo turns back around and I can’t fight the huge smile that comes over my face as I watch my little brother instantly start bickering with his teammates. 

“You guys have a cute relationship,” A feminine British voice makes my smile instantly drop.

“Hello Rebekah,” I turn around and come face to face with the pretty blonde Mikaelson. 

“That’s your little brother I assume. He looks just like you,” She smiles at me but I don’t return it.

“What do you want?”

Rebekah doesn’t seem to be unsettled by my prickly attitude as she continues talking. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to get lunch with me. Or perhaps go dress shopping? Homecoming is coming up and I’ve never been to one so I could use some help.”

My eyes narrow in confusion, “You’ve never been to a homecoming? Aren’t you like a million years old?”

Rebekah seems momentarily annoyed by my comment but quickly brushes it off, “I spent much of my life following my brothers around. Neither of which care for the dramatics that come with high school. So no, I haven’t been to a high school dance.”

I think about what she said for a moment and a smirk graces my lips at the thought of posh Elijah at a homecoming dance. 

“You’re not missing out on much,” I pick at the thread of my shirt, “I mean, not that I would know. I’ve never been to one either.”

At this Rebekah frowns, “You’ve never been! Why not?”

I shrug at Rebekah’s question, “Public places with tons of people aren’t really my thing. I’d rather be alone than be in a room with a bunch of drunk, loud teenagers.”

I move around the Original and start walking towards my car but inwardly groan when I hear her footsteps behind me.

“Great! Then we can experience it for the first time together!”

I bite my lip in anger and whip around, “What are you doing?”

Rebekah’s face morphs into one of confusion, “What do you mean?”

I gesture to her and then to me, “This! Why are you trying so hard to be around me? Did your brother put you up to this? He’s already making Alastair follow me around like a dog, so what about you?”

At my outburst, the girl frowns, “I heard about what my brother did. His ways of caring for people aren’t always shown in the best ways,” She smiles softly at me, “But I swear to you my brother didn’t put me up to this. I just…would like a friend…I would like you to be my friend.”

I look at Rebekah and try to find any signs of deceit in her face but I can’t seem to find any.

“You can’t just have friends, Rebekah. Friendships are built on trust. I can’t be friends with you unless you prove to me that I can trust you.”

Rebekah seems to take this as a approval as she quickly nods her head, “Great! Then I’ll just make you trust me. Can I have your phone number so I can text you? That’s what it is called right? I’m still quite new to this ages technology.”

I sigh and then reach out my hand and Rebekah smiles grabbing her phone from her pocket and placing it in my hand. I go to her contacts and type in my number and hand the phone back to the smiling blonde. 

I turn around and head to my car but hear the blonde call after me.

“I’ll text you!”

—

Rebekah wasn’t joking when she said she’d text me because approximately an hour later I’m pulling up to the Salvatore house because she practically begged me to meet her here.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

I turn around and spot Elena getting out of her SUV. 

“Rebekah asked me to come,” I frown at my friend’s worried expression, “What are you doing here?”

“She asked me to come as well.”

Elena and I warily eye each other for a moment before walking up to the front door. Elena goes first as she pushes the front door open and my ears are assaulted by loud pop music.

Elena shoots me a look over her shoulder and I shrug as we make our way into the foyer. We begin walking into the living room but stop when a smiling She-Klaus walks over to us with champagne in her hands.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You invited me over to talk,” Elena says from beside me, not matching Rebekah’s cheery attitude.

“I’m not exactly sure why I’m here,” I raise a finger.

Rebekah looks at us and then turns around, “Alright, girls. Have at it.”

I’m confused on who she’s talking to for a moment but then when a group of girls wearing homecoming dresses enter the living room in a line, I have my answer.

“What the hell,” I whisper to Elena who looks as shocked and confused as me. 

“Okay, now twirl, please,” Rebekah asks the girls and I watch in disgust as they all oblige.

“You’ve compelled your own private runway show?”

I nod along to Elena’s question because I’m also thinking the same.

“I need a homecoming dress. So what do you think? Pick one” Rebekah says as if this is totally normal behavior. 

“I know you’re new to this whole thing…and century. But most people just go to the store and try on the dresses. Not compel a bunch of innocent girls to parade around in them.”

Rebekah frowns at me. 

“We’re not here to help you shop. I’m here to talk about why you don’t want me to wake up Mikael.”

Rebekah smirks at Elena’s comment for a moment before flashing behind a blonde girl. I jump back slightly as I watch her fangs protrude from her gums as she puts them near the girl's throat. 

Elena takes a step forward and I follow.

“I said pick one, Elena.”

Elena looks a me for a moment before pointing to one of the girls, “The red one.”

“There,” Rebekah smooths out the blonde girl's hair, “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Go away. Remember nothing.”

I watch disturbed as the girls walk back out of the room and Rebekah comes back over to us. 

“You do not threaten me,” Rebekah stares Elena down and I move slightly in front of my friend, “You will learn what I allow you to learn. Is that clear?”

Elena nods from beside me and Rebekah moves around us and out of the room. Elena and I shoot each other another look before following the girl upstairs and into Stefan’s room where Rebekah is starting to go through the broody vampire’s things. 

“We shouldn’t be here,” Elena says standing next to me in the doorway.

“Of course, we should,” Rebekah says as she picks up a pair of boxers, making me frown in disgust, “Come on. Like you’ve never wanted to snoop. Boxer briefs. Now that’s a change from the ‘20s.”

“Ew. TMI.”

“Are you gonna root through his stuff all night or are you gonna start to tell us your story?”

Rebekah sighs, “You really are no fun,” She turns to me, “Why are you friends with such a bore?”

“One thing you should learn about me Rebekah,” I glare at the blonde, “I am not friends with people who insult my friends.”

Rebekah stares at me for a moment before rolling her eyes and muttering something under her breath. 

“What do you want to know?”

Elena takes a step into the room, “Elijah said that your father was a landowner in Europe. How did you guys end up here?”

At the mention of the suited Original, a warm feeling brushes my cheeks.

“My parents had just started a family when a plague struck their homeland. They lost a child to it. They wanted to escape and protect their future family from the same fate.”

A wave of sadness washes over me at the mention of Rebekah losing her sibling. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if I ever lost Theo. No matter how many headaches he gives me, the boy is practically my son.

“So how did you end up here,” Elena prods, “This part of the world hadn’t been discovered yet.”

Rebekah scoffs, “Not by anyone in your history books. But my mother knew the witch Ayana who heard from the spirits of a mystical land where everyone was healthy. Blessed by the gifts of speed and strength. That led my family here where we lived amongst those people.”

“The werewolves?”

“To us, they were just our neighbors. My family lived in peace with them for over 20 years during which my family had more children including me.”

“So… technically you’re American?” 

My question has both of the girls shooting me frowns but I lightly laugh at myself for the comment. 

“You make it sound so normal,” Elena comments. 

Rebekah walks towards a window and for a second I can see a thoughtful smile on her face, “It was. Once a month our family retreated to the caves underneath our village. The wolves would howl through the night and by morning we’d return home. One full moon, Klaus and my youngest brother Henrik snuck out to watch the men turn into beasts. That was forbidden. Henrik paid the price.”

A deep breath escapes my lips as the girl continues her story.

“And that was the beginning of the end of peace with our neighbors,” Rebekah turns back to look at us, “And one of the last moments my family had together as humans.”

The buzzing of Elena’s phone distracts us.

Rebekah coughs, “You better get that. That’ll be…Damon checking up on you.”

Elena turns around and answers the call as I walk over to Stefan’s desk and start rummaging through his things. I never said I was a Saint.

“Was that Stefan?’’

Elena’s question has me turning around and frowning. 

“Damon, how could you let him out,” Elena exclaims and I frown.

“That didn’t sound good.”

—

“Did you get your fill of snooping yet,” Elena asks Rebekah who is lying down on Stefan’s bed reading one of his many diaries, “Can we get on with the story?”

I watch from my seat on the floor as Rebekah throws the book onto the bed and stands up. She walks over to the desk by Elena and picks up a framed picture of the couple. 

“Honestly, I don’t get you two as a couple,” Rebekah shakes her head at my friend. 

“Why would you? You don’t know anything about who he really is,” Elena defends and Rebekah smiles at her and puts the frame back down. 

Rebekah leans down to make eye contact with my friend and I straighten up, “I know exactly who he is. He’s a vampire. We’re a predatory species. We don’t have time to care about humans and their silly little lives.”

“I don’t believe that,” I say but they don’t hear me. Or at least don’t acknowledge me. 

“Is that why you did that runway show earlier,” Elena snarks back and I bite my lip nervously as I have the feeling that a catfight is about to begin, “Because you don’t care about the homecoming dance?”

Rebekah stands up and Elena nods at her, “You know what? I’m just gonna go,” She turns to me, “Y/N you coming?”

I groan as I can practically hear my bones creaking as I stand up.

“You haven’t even heard half the story,” Rebekah calls to Elena. 

Elena turns around to her, “And you’re not going to tell it. You’re just bored and looking for someone to push around. Find someone else to play with. Maybe you can compel yourself a friend.”

OOP.

“The necklace wasn’t Stefan’s to give,” At Rebekah’s words I instantly sit my ass back down. This time on the comfy mattress. 

“It belonged to the original witch.”

Elena turns around, “The one who put the hybrid curse on Klaus?”

“Not just the hybrid curse. She’s the one who turned us into vampires.”

My mouth drops open, “Bomb drop…”

—

“Vampirism was a form of protection?”

Elena asks as Rebekah continues telling her story as we make our way down the stairs. 

“What else would it be?”

“A curse.”

“My parents only sought a way of keeping their children alive,” Rebekah answers.

“Yeah, but why stay? If they were so afraid of the werewolves why not leave?”

“Pride,” Rebekah says as she steps off the last stair and turns back to us, “My father didn’t want to run anymore. He wanted to fight and be superior to the wolves. Where they could bite we had to bite harder. Where they had speed we had to be faster. Agility, strength, senses.’’

Rebekah continues telling us the story of how the spell of vampirism came down to her mother’s hands since the other witch wouldn’t help them.

“In her hands? How could she do anything?”

Elena asks and I feel like I already know the answer. I mean if they’re called “The Originals,” I’m assuming the “Original” witch has something to do with them.

“Because my mother was also a witch.”

“What?”

“The witch of the original family.”

“The original witch,” I finish for her and Rebekah smirks at me.

We make our way into the living room and I plant myself on my favorite couch. 

“Where do they keep their best vintage,” Rebekah asks. 

“But if your mother was a witch then..”

“Am I? No,” The vampire finishes, “A witch is nature’s servant. A vampire is an abomination of nature. You can either be one or the other never both,” Rebekah fishes out a bottle of wine and then turns to Elena, “My mother did this for us. She did not turn.”

“How did you turn?”

Rebekah pours herself a glass and then walks over to the fireplace, “She called upon the sun for life and the ancient white oak tree one of nature’s eternal objects, for immortality. That night, my father offered us wine laced with blood.”

I almost gag at that.

“And then he drove his sword through our hearts.”

My heart clenches as Rebekah’s voice slightly cracks. 

“He killed you,” Elena says.

“And he wasn’t delicate about it either,” Rebekah says with tears and her eyes and quickly breaks the cap off the wine bottle. 

“We had to drink more blood to complete the ritual. It was euphoric. The feeling of power was indescribable. But the witch Ayana was right about consequences. The spirits turned on us and nature fought back. For every strength, there would be a weakness. The sun became our enemy. It kept us indoors for weeks. Although my mother found a solution. There were other problems. Neighbors who had opened their homes for us could now keep us out. Flowers at the base of the white oak burned and prevented compulsion. And the spell decreed that the tree that gave us life could also take it away. So we burned it to the ground.”

Metal.

“But the darkest consequence is something my parents never anticipated. The hunger. Blood had made us reborn and it was blood that we craved above all else. We could not control it. And with that… the predatory species was born.”

“I need a cigarette,” I say out loud as I sigh into my hands at the migraine of an origin story.

“Why did Mikael start hunting Klaus,” Elena asks not giving anyone time to catch their breaths. 

“When Nik made his first human kill,” Nik? “It triggered his werewolf gene. With that, he came my father’s greatest shame.”

“Yeah,” Elena responds, “Elijah told us this part of the story. Your mother had had an affair with one of the werewolf villagers.”

I look down at my hands as Elena and Rebekah continue speaking about Klaus’ father and I have to fight back showing any emotion as I think back to my own father, or not father I guess. 

“She tried to make it right. She put the hybrid curse on Nik to suppress his werewolf side and then she turned her back on him. But Mikael’s greatest weakness as a human was his pride. As a vampire that was magnified. He went on a rampage and killed half the village.”

Here, I thought my father leaving his family was the worst thing one could do in that situation. 

“Then he came home and killed her.”

“Mikael killed your mother?”

“He said she broke his heart so he would hers. He tore it from her chest as Nik watched. Afterwards, my father took off in a rage and the rest of my family scattered. Nik stayed so he could help me bury her. He knew I had to say goodbye to my mother.”

I listen to the rest of Rebekah’s heartbreaking story as she recalls how she and Elijah promised Klaus that the three of them would always be together. Always and forever. 

“Always and forever. Even though he locked you in a coffin for 90 years,” Elena says and I shoot a look at her.

“Dude, really?”

“We’re vampires. Our emotions are heightened. I’m stubborn, Elijah moral, and Nik…Nik has no tolerance for those who disappoint him. Over a thousand years as a family we’ve all made that mistake at least once. I’ve made it several times.”

As Rebekah’s voice softens I have to fight the urge to reach out and comfort her. Being someone who knows what it feels like to be the one disappointing a family member, I can’t help but relate and feel sorry for the girl.

“But you still love him?”

“He’s her brother, Elena,” I turn to her, “What if it were Jeremy? I know that if it were Theo, I couldn’t hate him. Even if he made my life a living hell.”

“She’s right,” Rebekah looks over to me and I can see the appreciation in her eyes, “And I’m immortal. Should I spend an eternity alone instead?”

Rebekah swallows and I think she’s about to start crying but she quickly walks by both of us, “You’ve heard the story. It’s time to go,” She turns to Elena who is just standing there, “I said leave, Elena! I don’t know what you’re up to but I am no longer playing along.”

“I’m just looking for one good reason why we shouldn’t wake Mikael.”

At Elena’s words I frown, “Are you serious Elena? The man literally killed his own children! After, abusing them their whole lives. You may have grown up in a white-picket fence family, but I didn’t. I know men like that, and men like that should stay away.”

Elena looks at me and from the look on her face, she doesn’t seem to understand why I’m defending Rebekah.

“She will anyway,” Rebekah shakes her head, “I know you want him to help you kill my brother. I’m not stupid.”

“It’s no secret that I want Klaus dead. He has a hold over Stefan’s life and over mine,” Elena points back to me, “And he’s terrorizing Y/N.”

Rebekah glares down at her, “Do what you need. Wake Mikael at your own peril. But make no mistake. If you come after my brother I will rip you apart. And I get my temper from my father. Now leave.”

Elena looks down and then back to me, “Y/N, come on.”

I look at my friend and then at the vampire, “You go. I have to talk to Rebekah.”

This seems to shock both of them, but I just stare at them blankly. Elena takes this as goodbye as she nods her head and leaves the house. 

After Elena leaves Rebekah and I stand there in silence for a moment, and awkwardly I clear my throat.

“Um, I’m sorry.”

Rebekah looks over to me confused, “What are you sorry for? You did nothing to insult me, unlike your friend.”

I frown at Elena’s behavior and then play with the loose thread on my shirt, “For losing your brother. And your mother. You were just a teenage girl when that happened. You didn’t deserve to have that happen to you.”

Rebekah stares at me almost shocked before she shakes her head and walks over to the couch I’m sitting on. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. It was over a thousand years ago, I’m over it.”

Rebekah sits on the seat next to me and we watch the flames of the fire.

“I don’t believe that. I think a loss like that stays with you. Even after a millennia.”

Rebekah turns to look at me and then nods her head softly, “Thank you, Y/N.”

We continue sitting in silence before I see her move out of the corner of my eye.

“What did you mean,” I turn to her in confusion as she speaks, “When you told Elena you didn’t grow up like she did and you knew about men like my father?”

At Rebekah’s question, I turn away from her curious glance and look back towards the flames, “It doesn’t matter.”

“You can tell me you know? It’s not like I have any other friends to go spill your secrets to.” 

At Rebekah’s words, I bite down hard on my lip to try to stop the tears that are making their way into my eyes. The urge to finally spill on the secret that I’ve been holding in all summer, building inside of me. 

“My father…growing up wasn’t the kindest man,” I say out loud trying to be careful with my words, “He was absent a lot but… those were the good moments, oddly enough, because, whenever he did come home… he was,” I stop, trying to find the right words to describe my estranged “not” father, “he was harsh. Nothing was ever good enough for him. No one was ever good enough for him. Certainly not me. He was the stereotypical macho man who thought that women weren’t equal to men. So whenever I showed strength in something, he made sure to kick me back down. Just to remember how weak I could be.”

I don’t realize I’m crying until Rebekah places a tissue into my hands. I’m not really sure where she got it but I take it and wipe away my tears.

“You mention him in past tense…is he…” 

I shake my head, “No, he’s not dead. He and my mother separated about two years ago. I haven’t seen him since.”

Rebekah doesn’t say anything as she waits to see if I’ll continue and I sigh as I try to.

“I didn’t know why they did. My mother always just kind of let it happen you know? The abuse. I don’t even know if you would call it that. It’s not like he hit me or whatever. Others have had it worse. My mother though just always told me not to provoke him, not to make him mad. But, she really wasn’t ever the one who got the brunt of it,” I bite down on my lip harder, “And you want to know the worst thing about it? Three months ago my mother told me that the man that had made me cry into my pillow since I was 8 years old… wasn’t even my actual father.”

I hear Rebekah let in a breath as she continues watching me.

“How fucked up is that, you know,” I laugh with tears in my eyes at the irony of it all.

“Did she tell you who your real father was?”

I shake my head at her question, “Just the bare minimum. I’ve barely talked to her since that day anyway. It’s the reason I have my own room down the hall,” I point towards the direction of my room at the Salvatore’s, “Damon’s let me crash here the entire summer. He’s the only other person who knows.”

“Not even your brother?”

I quickly shake my head and wipe the rest of my tears away, “Especially not, Theo. He’s so young and with the move and everything I don’t want him to be stressed out.” 

I can see Rebekah looking at me as if she’s trying to find the right words to say, “Is that the only reason you haven’t told him?’’

My eyebrows furrow as I keep staring at the fireplace, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you’re worried that he won’t accept you. Nik had that same fear after he found out he wasn’t Mikael’s.”

“I am not Klaus,” I bite out and she just nods.

“I know. But you can’t deny the similarities,” I don’t say anything as I try not to think of her words, “I know I haven’t been here very long but… just from seeing Theo and you a few times, I don’t think you have to worry about telling him. If he truly loves you he’ll accept you no matter what.”

I finally think about Rebkeah’s words and in doing so, don’t even notice the front door being swung open. 

Rebekah sighed deeply from beside me as she stood up, “I thought I told you to leave twice.”

“How do you know Mikael killed your mother,” Elena’s question has me turning slightly to hear her better.

“Nik was there,” Rebekah says as she pours herself a drink, “He told me.”

Elena sighs and she steps closer to Rebekah, “He lied to you.”

“And how do you know that?”

Elena walks over to us and I put my face down slightly so she can’t see the dried tears on my cheeks.

“The cave where you carved your family’s names, is covered in symbols. The story of your family. How your parents arrived, how they made peace, the spell that turned them into vampires, and this,” She places a photograph on the table, “This is the symbol for hybrid. It’s the combination of the werewolf and the vampire symbol. And this is the one for your mother.”

“Her necklace.”

Elena sighs, “And this is the story of her death. The hybrid killed the original witch. Not Mikael, Klaus.”

I turn fully at them both. Surprise is most likely clear on my face.

“No,” Rebekah forcefully shakes her head, “No, he wouldn’t.”

“She put the curse on him, made it so that he would be the only one of his kind and then she rejected him. With the werewolf gene comes aggression and violence. When he turned all of that was heightened. He killed her, Rebecca, and then he made up this entire lie about your father so that he wouldn’t lose you.” 

“These mean nothing. They’re just stupid drawings done by stupid people who had no idea who my family was,” Rebekah yells as she grabs the pictures and flings them into the fireplace. 

Elena approaches her, “Then why are you so upset?”

“Elena stop, just leave her alone,” I tell my friend but she ignores me. 

“Why are you doing this to me? I’ve done nothing to you,” Rebekah yells at her.

“Klaus killed your mother. He has a hold on you, on me, on everyone. He has for a thousand years. We have to make it stop!”

“Shut up! Just shut up! Don’t talk anymore! Nothing!”

I quickly stand up as Rebekah pushes Elena into the wall forcefully. 

“Rebekah!” 

After a moment Rebekah drops her hands and stands there silently with tears in her eyes. Elena and I watch cautiously but not even a moment later a sob escapes the blonde’s mouth as she drops to her knees. Elena looks over to me and I shake my head at her. 

“Go.”

I don’t even check to see if she leaves as I kneel down to the sobbing girl. I place a comforting hand on her shoulder and I gasp as I’m being pulled into a hug. Rebekah holds onto me for dear life as she cries into my shoulder. And I let her. 

—

I sigh as I throw my keys onto my kitchen table and sit down. I put my head in my hands and try to forget the shitshow that was tonight. 

“Damn bitch!”

Theo’s screech has me whipping around in my chair in shock. My brother stands there in his satin pajamas he got for Christmas last year with a hand over his heart.

“Fucking sitting in the dark like some goddamn stalker,” Theo walks over to the light switch and I try to stop him but it’s too late.

Theo’s smirk instantly drops as he rushes over to me and places his hands on the sides of my face, “What happened? Did someone say something to you? If it was someone at school tell me and I and Jeremy will go beat their asses right now.”

My brother’s angry tone has me smiling for a moment but before I can stop it tears are streaming out of my eyes and a sob escapes my mouth.

My little brother just stands there awkwardly as he pats my shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it? Um, should I call Elena or Mom?”

At the mention of our mother, I quickly shake my head, “No. I’m fine. Just a long day and all. I just need some sleep. Go back to bed, Theodore.”

Theo shakes his head and tries to deny my request but I shoo him away. As I watch his retreating figure I sigh and take a deep breath.

“Actually Theo…there’s something we need to talk about.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

you should watch alien stage 😁 it’s a really wholesome and heartwarming web series on YouTube by VIVINOS. Nothing bad happens! And I think that you would like it!

So before I checked out Alien Stage, I asked an irl about it to get a feel for the series. They jokingly described Alien Stage to me as "Hunger Games with doomed yuri and yaoi plus some toxic het on the side", and after catching up with the playlist of hits... yeah, that's pretty accurate. I'm so invested in this now 🤡

I have Ruler of My Heart stuck in my head, specifically this English cover of it! To probably no one's surprise, I'm really gravitating to Luka... WHAT CAN I SAY, I LOVE ANGELIC LOOKING CHARACTERS WITH PRINCELY AND CHARISMATIC PERSONAS THAT ARE ACTUALLY SO MANIPULATIVE AND SCUMMY. AFSLFAYOEFIYFAEEAF; AND HOW CAN I NOT ADORE A GUY THAT PULLS THSI KINDA FACE:

I think part of his charm is that contrast between how he's seen as a "prince" by his fans when he's anything but. The artists outdid themselves with the MV; it perfectly conveys how truly terrible Luka is. I was so uncomfortable watching the video play out. The way he progressively creeps closer and keeps invading Mizi's personal space, taunting her, imitating her dead bestie/crush, putting his hands all over her, AND THAT GROSS WHISTLE HE DOES IN THE BEGINNING???? That made my skin CRAWL. Luka is for real so awful and I love that for him-- MIZI WAS RIGHT TO SWING AT HIM, IT WAS CATHARTIC 💀

I wanna give big props to Mizi's facial expressions too... They're so despair-filled and delicious, even when it's just her widened eyes repeating on the screen. The animation specifically for the line "I don't believe you're a liar" is top tier 👌 It's nothing fancy, but it conveys just how distressed Mizi is and how that's impacting her ability to sing. The way she gulps is so punchy and visceral. THE HATE IN MIZI'S EYES AS SHE'S RESTRAINED FROM COMING AT HIM AGAIN???? Good stuff. The twist at the end where the stage gets smoke bombed (?) and Mizi is rescued by the rebellion was great too. It robs Luka of the satisfaction of seeing his rival gunned down and him being declared as the victor. (P.S. I thought Hyuna was Jamil when I first saw her design; this is proof that Jamil has cool onee-san energy/j) Super looking forward to seeing Luka square off against Till, who is another favorite of mine. The eyebags— Till the End is probably my second favorite song so far; it's so intense in the close-up shots of Till singing his heart out to the audience. (Poor Mob-kun though, bro's getting DESTROYED out here...) I admire Till's fighting spirit but at the same time I feel so bad every time he's subdued 💦 Whereas I want Luka to get knocked down a peg, I want Till to find happiness and safety...

qweliboqeuvqied Anyway, that's my current brain rot 😊

[willowsnook]

hiii can you please serve a vodka,whiskey, tequila, and scotch with italian soda in either a cooper mug or wine glass ? ty <3

charles leclerc x reader

a little variation on the prompts bc i was struggling

18+

it's always been you you're mine, end of discussion let me take care of you just shut up and come here

“We’re definitely sad to see you go, y/n,” your boss said, a frown tugging at his face, “but we’re glad to have you for the final stretch of the season.”

You had just told him that, as Carlos’ lead strategist, you’d be following him to Williams next year. You’d worked with Carlos since your first day at Ferrari, and over time, you two had become incredibly close. When he started negotiating with Williams, he mentioned he’d feel more comfortable if you were by his side. They offered you a position, and after some thought and financial incentive, you accepted.

Ferrari had been home, but the idea of a fresh start was exciting—and part of the reason you were ready for a change was waiting just outside your boss’s office.

“You’re really leaving Ferrari?” a voice called as you walked out, Charles stepping in your path.

“Yes, next season,” you sighed, already bracing for a comment.

“So, you’re a traitor then.” He crossed his arms, his expression sharp.

“People switch teams all the time,” you countered.

“Yeah, but you have insider knowledge.”

“And you had insider knowledge from Sauber. No one’s accusing you of anything,” you snapped back, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you even care, Charles? Honestly, I’m thrilled I won’t have to deal with you.”

“Maybe Ferrari will finally give Lewis someone with a brain,” he shot back.

You flipped him off as you brushed past him, headed to your office. From day one, you and Charles had been at odds, no matter how much Carlos tried to smooth things over. He constantly undermined your decisions, making it clear he didn’t think you deserved your position.

When you stepped into your office, Carlos was waiting, lounging in the chair opposite your desk. He grinned as you entered.

“How’d it go?” he asked, though you could see the concern in his eyes.

“Fine. He didn’t say much.” You dropped into your seat, rolling your eyes. “Thanks for telling Charles, by the way.”

Carlos smirked. “What did he say?”

“The usual nonsense.”

“He was pretty upset when I told him,” Carlos said, watching you carefully.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“Because he likes you, cariño,” Carlos replied, exasperation evident in his voice.

You scoffed. “He hates me, and I hate him.”

Carlos just shook his head. “Two people that argue with the passion you guys have aren't just enemies. Trust me.”

Rolling your eyes again, you shooed him out of your office, focusing back on preparations for the next race.

Three weeks later

“I can’t believe you screwed me like that!” Charles’ voice rang out as he stormed into the garage, livid after the race.

“I’m sorry, since when was it part of the strategy to overtake there?” you snapped back, meeting his anger head-on. “We told you to wait for the next turn.”

“I had the opportunity!” he seethed.

“And look where that got you,” you shot back, throwing your arms up. “Into the wall!”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re sabotaging me to help Carlos. Just admit it.”

“Ferrari signs my checks, not Carlos,” you retorted, your voice edged with frustration.

He glared at you before muttering, “Please, you wouldn’t even be here if Carlos didn’t think you were so—”

“Charles!” Carlos’ voice broke through, but it was too late. Your hand slapped Charles across the face before you even registered the movement. His eyes went wide with shock, and you turned on your heel, storming out of the garage without looking back.

You left early, heading straight to the hotel, needing space to cool off. Carlos texted later, checking in and inviting you to dinner with him and Rebecca.

Reluctantly, you changed into a nicer outfit and met them downstairs.

“How are you, y/n?” Rebecca asked kindly, linking her arm with yours as you stepped into the Uber.

“It’s been a day,” you muttered.

“Charles feels terrible, you know,” Carlos chimed in from your other side.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure.”

Carlos pulled you to a stop, making you face him. “He does, seriously. We all get worked up after races, and what he said was out of line. But you know how it is.”

You just hummed in response, unwilling to dive back into the topic, and turned your attention to Rebecca. Dinner was lighthearted, and soon after, the three of you headed to a nearby bar with friends. A few drinks in, you spotted Charles watching you from across the room. The moment your eyes met, you turned away, avoiding him for the rest of the night.

But as the night wound down, you sensed him approaching, and when you turned, there he was—standing right behind you.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly, his earlier anger replaced with something softer.

You sighed, giving in. He led you to a quieter corner, and even in your haze, you could feel the tension between you two.

“I crossed the line earlier,” he admitted, his gaze dropping. “You just—drive me insane.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” you replied with a bitter laugh.

“In a way, yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

You were tired of his words, tired of the tension. Without thinking, you grabbed his collar, pulling him down into a fierce kiss. He froze, stunned, but after a beat, his hands found your waist, pulling you closer.

“I like you better when you’re not talking,” you said as you pulled back, breathless. “I still hate you. But I'm drunk and want to forget this day.”

His eyes darkened as he nodded. Wordlessly, you led him out of the bar, ignoring Carlos’ knowing smirk as you ducked into a car with Charles at your side, his hand resting on your thigh, neither of you saying a word.

Opening the door to your hotel room, Charles tried to push you against the wall but you shoved him back.

"I'm in control," you said sternly and he held your gaze for a second before retreating to lay down on the bed. You watched as he pulled his shirt over his head and your eyes followed from his chest down to his abs in appreciation.

"See something you like mon cheri?" He asked smirking and you stalked over to him.

Straddling him, you met his lips in a heated kiss again, fingers tangled in his hair while he tugged at your dress to pull over your head. When it was off he immediately attached his lips to your chest, sucking harsh enough to leave a mark and causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. Feeling him harden underneath you, you ground your hips down onto him causing him to gasp.

His hands found the sides of your hips and started rocking you back and forth against him while you whimpered at the friction.

"That feel good huh," he rasped. "You need more?"

"Yes Charles please," you begged and he smirked at your neediness. He set you on your back and pulled down his jeans and boxers, letting his cock flip up against his abs.

He reached down to pull your thong off and rubbed his fingers up and down your wetness.

"So wet for someone you supposedly hate," he teased as you groaned against him. He brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. "Tastes even better than I imagined."

You started to say something but were cut off as he pushed into you, causing you to gasp. He moved slowly, whispering encouraging words in your ear as you adjusted to his size.

"Move Charles," you demanded once you were ready and he happily obliged, picking up a fast pace. You dug your nails into his back as he pounded into you, causing him to gasp out.

"I want on top," you breathed out and he pulled out, helping you up. Once he was settled, you sunk down on him slowly causing him to groan. You kept at a slow pace enjoying the tortured look on his face.

"Come on," he complained and you smirked.

"Beg."

He didn't say anything for a while, just staring into your eyes until you rolled your hips into his, causing him to whimper.

"Please y/n," he begged. "I need more mon cheri, please make me feel good. I need you."

Satisfied, you started moving faster and his head fell back against the pillow, his eyes closing. Your hand wrapped around his throat forcing him to look back at you.

"Eyes on me," you purred and he bit your lip. Grinding against him you could feel your climax coming and it was game over as his thumb found your clit. Your hips came to a stop as it washed over you and Charles dug his hands into your hips to take over the movement.

He was brutally fucking up into you chasing his own release as you squeezed tightly around him. At the last minute he flipped you back over to get a better angle and finally spilled into you.

The two of you just stared at each other in silence, breathing hard. You started to get up to move towards the bathroom but he stopped you.

"Let me take care of you," he said, scooping you up in his arms. He set you down in the shower, turned on the water, and slid in behind you. Washing your body slowly, you let yourself relax against him forgetting for just a second that this was your mortal enemy.

Turning the water off, you changed into pajamas and hesitated, seeing Charles in the bed under the covers.

"I don't know if you should spend the night," you said, and he gave you a pointed look.

"Just shut up and come here," he said and you gave in, climbing into bed next to him. He pulled you against him, letting your head rest against your chest.

"What are we doing?" You mumbled against him. "You don't even think I'm qualified enough to do my job and here I am letting you into my bed."

His fingers that were tracing circles on your back stilled.

"I don't think that," he said and you scoffed looking up at him.

"You basically say something along those lines every time we are together," you retorted and he looked away.

"It's just hard," he finally said.

"How is trying to be civil with me so difficult?"

"Because I'm jealous okay!" He exclaimed exasperated. "I love my strategists but they're all way older and have lives and other things going on. Carlos gets you and it's not fair. You guys hang out all the time and you actually want to spend time with him. It's been you that I've wanted this whole time."

Your mind was reeling at his confession and you sat up. He looked at you expectantly.

"So because you were jealous of me being Carlos' strategist, you decided the best course of action was to harass me?" You asked and he flinched at the coldness in your voice.

"In hindsight, it was a bad idea," he admitted. "I was just hoping you'd switch to another team but now that it's actually happening I freaked."

"You are truly unbelievable," you said, amazed at the audacity of this man. You laid back against your pillow and just stared at the ceiling.

"So what now?" Charles asked nervously.

"Dude, I don't even know," you said. "I hate you, but you hate me because you like me, and now I don't know what to think."

"I know," Charles said, his voice steady now. "But I don’t want to lose this... whatever it is between us. Can we at least try to figure it out? Maybe start over?"

You looked at him for a long moment, weighing his words, before finally nodding slightly. "Maybe," you said. "But this doesn’t just go away because you’ve admitted it. You hurt me, Charles."

He nodded solemnly. "I know. And I’ll make it right if you give me the chance. I want you to be mine."

You didn’t respond immediately, still processing everything. Eventually, you rolled onto your side, closing your eyes. "Let’s just get some sleep. We’ll figure out tomorrow when it comes."

Charles lay back down beside you, giving you space but still close enough to feel his presence.

[azzifudd]

i don't wanna see you with anyone but me

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: Azzi gets nervous before games. She always has. No matter how low or high the stakes, whether it’s a regular season game against a team clearly a cut below her own or the state championships, the moment she sets foot on the court, her palms break out into a sweat and her stomach churns with nerves.

Today though, she’s not nervous at all. She’s pissed.

rated: teen

3.0k words

disclaimer: as always, this is fictional

[AO3 Link]

Azzi gets nervous before games. She always has. No matter how low or high the stakes, whether it’s a regular season game against a team clearly a cut below her own or the state championships, the moment she sets foot on the court, her palms break out into a sweat and her stomach churns with nerves.

Today though, she’s not nervous at all. She’s pissed. It’s already been a bad morning. Early morning games are always tough on the team, and they’d gotten to the hotel late last night because of an expected traffic jam, leading to even less sleep.

And now, instead of helping her warm up and hyping her up like she normally is, Paige is at the opposite end of the court giggling with some girl on the other team.

They only have a few weeks left together before Paige has to go home, and instead of being with Azzi, she’s off flirting with someone else.

Azzi takes another shot, grunting when it bounces off the rim. The ref finally blows his whistle, signaling the teams to line up for tip off. Paige starts to walk back toward their side of the court, but not before that girl says goodbye with a hand pressed to Paige’s arm.

Azzi’s petty enough that she pretends she doesn’t see Paige’s offered high five before she runs onto the court.

Azzi plays like a woman possessed. By the time the final buzzer sounds, they’re up 25 points after her efficient 33.

“Okay, killa!” When Paige bounds up to her, bumping into her with her chest and trying to wrap her arms around her, she shrugs her off.

“Why don’t you go comfort your new friend?” Azzi heads to the bench to take a much needed drink of water. Paige trails close behind her.

“What are you talking about?”

“Her.” Azzi flicks her head in the girl’s direction. Azzi has to admit she’s pretty; with dark skin, dark hair, and big brown eyes. She’d probably enjoyed it a little too much when her crossover had landed the girl on her ass, but like she’s said, she’s petty.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know her.” Paige looks dumbfounded.

“You seemed to know her well enough that you spent all of pregame talking to her instead of helping me warm up.” She tries to keep her voice low, knowing that their voices would echo easily in the gym no matter how loud the other games were.

“She said she was a fan! I was just being nice!” Paige crowds into her space, voice defensive.

“Oh, I’m sure you were.”

“Azzi, come on, you’re being crazy.”

Azzi sees red, elbowing Paige in the stomach, pushing her lanky body out of the way easily. “Get away from me.”

“Fine!” Paige throws up her hands. “Come find me when you’re done being crazy.”

The rest of the day drags as they have to take the long drive home together in the car with Azzi’s family. Her parents clearly want nothing to do with their drama, ignoring the two ticking time bombs in the backseat.

When they finally make it back to the house, Azzi storms inside, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

“So… what happened, big dawg?” Tim asks Paige as she helps him unload their bags from the car.

“I didn’t even do anything!” Paige huffs, frustrated.

“I didn’t say you did.” He replies, patient.

Paige hesitates, suddenly feeling awkward about talking about this with her what are they? her girl? her Azzi’s dad, but he stops her before she has to.

“You don’t have to tell me the details, but give her some time to cool down, and then just talk to her. You know how she can be, I mean both of you are stubborn as hell, but when has she ever stayed mad at you for long?

That’s true. It’s one of the things that Paige likes the most about Azzi, that no matter how annoying Paige is being, Azzi still wants her around.

When they’re done unpacking, Paige goes to find Azzi. She stops in the kitchen to grab some reinforcements. When she gets to Azzi’s door, she hesitates. She’s never had to knock before. But before she even needs to, it opens.

She and Azzi stare at each other for a moment before they’re both blurting out, “I’m sorry.”

Then they’re both giggling and Azzi pulls Paige into her room, shutting the door behind her.

“I brought this, in case you were still mad at me.” Paige holds up a cartoon of ice cream and a spoon.

“Only one spoon?”

“In case you were still mad at me,” Paige repeats. Azzi laughs and tugs Paige over to sit on the bed, where they take turns eating bites of the ice cream.

“I’m sorry I called you crazy.” Paige says, wincing as she remembers it. “I shoulda seen how upset you were.”

“And I’m sorry that I overreacted when I saw you talking to someone else.” Azzi twists her fingers together. “I just got so mad when I saw you talking to her. And I know how popular you are, and you deserve every bit of it, but…”

Paige just waits because she knows Azzi needs to talk it out herself, and that she just needs Paige to listen.

“I know it’s selfish, but part of me just wants to keep you to myself. Because as soon as everyone finds out about you, they’re gonna want you.” Azzi glances at Paige then, almost certain she’ll see a cocky grin on her face, but Paige just listens.

Paige gets it. Sometimes someone can just look at Azzi for a second too long and it makes her want to just take Azzi and hide her away. But she can’t, so she just reaches out to hold Azzi’s hand.

There are so many things she wishes she could say to Azzi, things that she can barely stand to consider because they scare the shit out of her.

So she just settles for saying the one thing she knows to be true.

“I’m yours.”

Paige watches Azzi blush, stunned and speechless.

“Can I kiss you now? Lowkey it was so hot how jealous you got.” Paige laughs when Azzi pushes her with a hand to her face.

But then that same hand is gripping at her collar and pulling her on top of Azzi and then there’s no more talking.

//

It’s a Friday night, and Paige is sober.

It’s not the most uncommon occurrence, not anymore. After her ACL, she has learned to be a bit more responsible, a bit more grown up. So when the girls had decided to go out that night, she volunteered to be DD.

And if that gives her a chance to watch over Azzi a little more closely she will take it. The younger girl has been acting off in the past weeks. On the outside, she doubts that anyone else has noticed, but she almost knows Azzi better than she knows herself.

It becomes even clearer that something’s wrong when Azzi returns over and over to the bar, taking way more shots than she usually does.

And now, a few hours into their night, she has disappeared. It’s a small bar, in a small town, so Paige isn’t too worried, but Azzi has never been one to wander off, and especially not on her own.

Paige pokes her head through the door to the back patio which consists of a few picnic tables, lit up with fairy lights. She almost heads back inside when she hears a familiar laugh from the far end of the patio.

When her eyes adjust to the light, she sees Azzi sitting on a table, a tall form looming over her.

“Azzi!” She barks out, strides long as she rushes forward. The figure steps back from her friend, and Paige vaguely recognizes her as one of the members of the girls volleyball team.

“What?!” Azzi fires back, stopping Paige in her tracks.

“What are you doing? Who is this?”

“I’m talking to a friend.” Paige fights the familiar twist in her stomach at the sight of Azzi’s hand on the other girl’s arm. “Is that okay with you? Or are you the only one allowed to flirt with every woman who throws themselves at you?”

Paige feels like she’s been punched in the gut. She sees a hint of regret on Azzi’s face before she turns her head away.

The stranger looks like she would rather be anywhere else, and Paige would be more embarrassed if she wasn’t so focused on Azzi.

“I’ll see you in class, Azzi?” When Azzi gives a jerky nod in response, the girl takes her leave, giving Paige a cold look as she goes.

Azzi’s eyes are glassy, her cheeks obviously flushed even under the dim lights. She takes a heaving breath, face turned away while she clearly fights tears, and Paige hates that she is the reason for her best friend’s pain.

“Az-” Her hands reach up to find their usual place at Azzi’s waist, but she freezes when Azzi flinches away from her. Her fists clench as she drops them at her side.

“Am I not enough?”

“What?” Paige chokes out. The thought is inconceivable. She reaches out again, grasping at where Azzi has wrapped her arms around herself.

Azzi still isn’t looking her in the eye.

“Azzi, come on.” Paige sighs in relief when Azzi allows her touch, hands warm against the skin exposed by her crop top.

Azzi’s eyes brim with tears. “Can we just forget I said anything?”

That’s when Paige knows something really might be wrong. Azzi is always the one pulling her out of her shell when she’s upset, and she wasn’t usually one to hide her own feelings.

“It’s just us. Me and you.” Paige brings one hand up to cup her jaw and brings their gazes together. “Talk to me. We promised that we’d always talk to each other.”

Azzi takes a deep, steadying breath. And then another.

“I know that we agreed when you came here that we’d pull back and keep it more casual.”

You wanted that! Paige wants to say, but she can’t deny that she took advantage of it, loved it at times even. She can’t deny that sometimes it was nice to be able to talk to, flirt with, and kiss girls who didn’t hold the power to crush her with one word.

But none of those girls ever made her feel even half of how Azzi did, like she could conquer the world if only Azzi was at her side, holding her hand.

“And I know that we decided last year that it was best for the team and for everyone if we just.. didn’t complicate things.”

She keeps it unspoken that it was never that simple, and that it had tested their relationship more than ever having each other so close, but being unable to really be together the way they both hoped the other wanted. And then the season had ended with that devastating loss, and neither of them had had the emotional capacity to deal with all of it.

And then her ACL had happened, and just when Paige had thought that she couldn’t be forced any lower, there was Azzi. Azzi, who had just shown up to hold her, and let her yell and cry, and not be okay, for once.

It still sucks, and there are days where she’s so desperate to play that she cries, but she’s not alone in it. She’ll never be alone again, not as long as she has Azzi. And she knows now, sure as anything, that Azzi is all she’ll ever want.

“I thought something had changed between us this summer, and I’ve been waiting for you to be ready, to tell me you were ready.”

Paige feels like this is a conversation she has been waiting to have for a very long time.

“Do you know what my first thought was the first time I saw you? ”

Azzi huffs in frustration. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you shoot a basketball for the first time, and thought, damn, I have to play with her, and then I did, and it was better than I even imagined it would be. Then I got to sit next to you on that plane, and got to really know you, and then I knew that I just wanted you in my life forever. So don’t ever think that you’re not enough. You’re all I’ve wanted since I was sixteen years old.”

Azzi’s eyes shimmer with tears, but the smile on her face is radiant. Paige tugs her even closer by the waist until Azzi hooks her arms around her shoulders.

“I wish I was as good with words as you are,” Azzi says, pressing their foreheads together. “I wish I could tell you what you mean to me.”

But Paige doesn’t need Azzi to say it. She can feel it in the way Azzi’s heart pounds against her chest where they are pressed together. She can see it in the way her lips tremble like they’re about to kiss for the first time.

And she can feel it in the way Azzi presses their lips together, like she never wants to stop, like breathing matters less than kissing her.

//

Paige is unzipping her luggage when her phone rings with a Facetime call from KK. She taps accept and as the screen fills with an image, she realizes it isn’t a normal call.

The angle is askew and the camera is out of focus showing a gym with a few figures in the distant background. Somehow KK must’ve accidentally called her. She hears KK’s voice loud and clear joking around with someone with an Australian accent. She smiles, happy that her little freshman is getting along with everyone at the Dawg Camp. She almost hangs up the call when the camera focuses itself and the figures in the background become clear.

They’re a bit far away, but Paige would recognize that form anywhere. Azzi stands at the opposite court putting up shots, though her feet stay planted on the ground. Her stroke is still smooth as butter though, and she’s so strong that the shots swish through the net even if she can’t get off the ground yet.

Someone’s under the net, someone tall with dirty blonde hair, rebounding for Azzi, and she says something, too quiet for Paige to hear from this far away, but she does hear Azzi’s responding laugh.

The sound, one of Paige’s favorite sounds, one that normally never fails to bring a smile to Paige’s face, instead sends an uncontrollable roll of unease through her gut.

She knows it’s irrational, to still get jealous when someone else makes Azzi smile. She’s never been more secure in their relationship than she is now, but apparently that jealous part of her is still alive as she squints down angrily at her phone, watching fucking Kate Martin?! standing way too close to her girl.

“What the hell?” She mutters, and then the phone is moving and KK’s face fills the screen.

“Oh, what the? P. Boogers! My bad, how long have you been on my phone?”

“Kamorea!”

KK jumps from the unexpected growl in Paige’s voice. “Damn what’s gotten up your butt? Say hi to Georgia.”

“Hi,” Paige says, brusquely. She swipes the FaceTime to the corner of the screen, tapping open Instagram and navigating to Azzi’s profile.

“Jeez, tough crowd.” She hears Georgia say as she taps on Azzi’s following, scoffing when she sees Azzi’s most recent follow.

“Dude, lemme talk to Azzi.”

“Y’all fightin’ or somethin’? She seemed all goofy after she talked to you last night.” KK thinks for a second. “Oh was it because you were cheesin’ at those dancers?”

“What?” Paige sputters. “I was just being polite!”

“Mm, sure.”

“Whatever, just let me talk to her, bro come on.” Paige nods, impatiently.

KK rolls her eyes, but still walks down the court. “Azzi,” she calls out. “Dumbass on the line for you.”

Paige watches Azzi’s face come into focus, first looking confused before a smile blooms on her face, dimple creasing her cheek.

“Babe, hey.”

Paige feels all the uncertainty and jealousy just fade away at the sight of that smile.

“Hey,” she replies, softly.

“Did something happen?” Azzi’s brow creases with worry, and she walks a bit away so they can speak in a more private spot.

“No,” Paige lies, suddenly embarrassed about how much she overreacted. “I just miss you.”

“Paige.” Azzi's smile grows even wider. “You called KK to tell her how much you missed me? You just saw me like two days ago.”

“Well, she pocket dialed me, and I saw you, so-” She cuts herself off. “Yeah.”

“I miss you too, dummy.”

Azzi’s smile is softer now, the sight of it fills Paige’s chest with warmth, so different from the mess of emotions she felt just minutes ago. Azzi has always been that for Paige, her safe place, her peace, her home.

Paige hears the noise in the background pick up and Azzi looks up, past the camera.

“You gotta go?”

“I’ll call you later?”

“You better.” Paige smirks and Azzi rolls her eyes fondly.

“Okay, I gotta go.”

“Wait,” Azzi pauses with a finger over the screen. “Is Martin still there?”

Azzi looks confused, but she still calls out, “Kate!”

Kate appears over Azzi’s shoulder, looking slightly puzzled at being summoned, but with a friendly smile anyways. “Hey, Paige.”

“Hey, how are ya?”

“Good, happy to be here, you know? Just taking it all in. Azzi’s been really nice about helping me actually. Since she’s been here before.” Kate smiles at Azzi, who returns it.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great, huh?” Paige winks and Azzi snorts softly. But then she says, voice serious, “Keep an eye on her for me, would ya? She doesn’t like to ask for help for herself sometimes.”

“You got it, Paige. Good to see you.” Kate jogs off to join the others in the now starting scrimmage.

When Paige looks back to Azzi, she almost blushes at the look in her eye.

“You’re always taking care of me.”

“Well, I kinda love you a little, so.” Paige scratches the bridge of her nose, feeling bashful all of a sudden.

“I kinda love you a little too.”

[natriae]

10:23pm

"can i tell ya a secret"

"sure" you whispered in response as you snuggled deeper into Atsumu's neck. The two of you had just gotten home from a long day at work and were ready to fall asleep in each other's arms.

"i thought," he started, giggling a bit, "i thought ya had a crush on sunarin for a long time" you felt him shake his head back and forth lightly before continuing, "i was stupid though"

Without seeing his face clearly you could tell he was scrunching his nose remembering how oblivious he was to your love.

"nah he's not my type," you teased as you moved your body completely over his using him as a bed.

"oh yeah, what is your type?" 'tsumu questioned, wanting to see you face flush from embarrassment. His hand reached for your hair petting it to convince you to lean up and look at him in the face. You lifted your arms up and used your forearms to keep you lifted above his head. Subconsciously, his hands wrapped around your waist keeping you stationed over his lean body.

You giggled as you leaned down so your noses touched as told him, "i like boys who are loud and kinda annoying," you watched his face pout at the comment before leaning down and giving a soft kiss on his lips, "and i like boys who are twins, and love to play volleyball," you furthered your reasoning with your hands playing with his hair.

"oh well that doesn't set me apart to much," he prodded. You moved your legs so they rested on each side of his waist and felt the beginning of a boner form in his boxers. You shook your head and kept talking knowing how much this was fulling his ego.

"i like boys who seem come off as gay," you commented, reminding him that you thought he had a thing for Sakusa before you really knew him. You smiled at his reaction before whispering, "i like boys who have really pretty brown eyes that look a little yellow in the sunlight. I like boys who get pouty when someone does something kind for them," immediately thinking of when he started tearing up at the fact that you and osamu worked hard to make him nice lunches for the Olympics.

"i love boys who have big egos even though it gets on my nerves sometimes," you watched his pouty lips turn into a smirk as red flooded his face in pride. You smiled back and grinded lightly into him as you spoke your next words, "i love boys who are such gentlemen, but whisper dirty comments to me when we're supposed to be serious," you couldn't help but let out a big smile thinking about all the times he's ruined professional dinners by accidentally making you blush to hard. You leaned down and left little kisses up his neck to his jaw, "i looovvee boys who have big bushy eyebrows,"

kiss

"boys who have big meaty thighs"

kiss

"boys who always have a big smile on their face just to cheer everyone else up"

kiss

"and i especially love boys who are super protective and possessive,"

"still can't tell if yer describin' me" he teases with his hands interlocked behind his head and his eyes closed.

"oh really," You leaned up, "i like boys who are lowkey perverts, but won't admit to it,"

His body immediately shot up and held you on his lap, "hey! that's not nice," he shouted with his eyebrows drawn together. You laughed at his reaction before holding his face in your hands.

"i love boys who love their family," you said to cool him down leaving a light kiss on his nose.

Reaching down between you body you pulled his hard cock out of his boxers and moved your panties to the side before inserting it.

You left the joking aside and continued your affirmations as you tried to sink further down his cock without being prepped. "i love boys who's name's start with A, and who love dying their hair because it sets them apart"

"i love boys who love animals and will always swerve on the road if it means the animals are safe." you moved further down his cock, but the moment wasn't sexual. He turned the two of you over so you were on your back as he held himself on top of you. It was nothing more then two people in love.

You stared into his eyes and said, "my type is you and only you". The strong man leaned down and left a small kiss on your lips before letting himself relax complete over your body. He was like a big soft weighted blanket. One arm you had wrapped around his back while the other messaged his hair. "'sumu," you whispered into the night air of the master bedroom, but there was no response just quiet snores from the man on top of you. You giggled and continued to message his scalp.

Moments like these were important, moments where Atsumu was recognized for himself. Miya Atsumu a man who loves his mom more than anything, and would drop everything if his brother needed him, not Miya Atsumu MSBY star setter, not Olympic champion Miya Atsumu, not Osamu's twin, or the golden fox, but his own ordinary person. Who was important for just being himself. <3

[silkenedstars]

Just a Tiny Bit Jealous

In which her jealousy ends up with you cuddling her (and her snake).

₊✦Honkai: Star Rail | Jade x Fem!Reader | Really minor spoilers for Penacony! ✦₊

Additional Notes: A one-shot written as a good luck charm for my friend pulling Jade! (She better come home, I didn't farm 61 pulls on my friend's account for nothing.) Up next is a Sunday one-shot! I hope,,

Jade was paying more attention to you than what you were used to lately. That, and you were sure that she was pulling several strings to make sure that you were around her no matter what you did.

Had to continue working during lunch because there was a lot of paperwork to deal with and now you're really hungry? Not to worry, Jade made a reservation to a high end restaurant and she's going to bring you along with her to make sure you don't starve for the rest of the day.

Had to work tirelessly and came this close to catching a certain stellaron hunter — who may or may not have flirted with you — only for her to get away last minute? Well that's too bad, you're not allowed to go after them anymore— look, you got promoted to be Jade's secretary! Isn't that better?

Had to return to Penacony after everything went down because you had an unfinished business, which may or may not be meeting up with a certain memokeeper for a business deal between the Garden of Recollection and the IPC? But you're needed back at Pier Point way more, surely your "business" back at Penacony can wait?

Had to stay at a hotel for a mission but there weren't enough rooms for everyone, leaving you the odd one out? Oh well, not to worry, you can just stay in Jade's room.

And that lead you to now: Lying on a plush mattress with Jade at the other end of the bed. A sly smile laid across her lips, like she knew that you knew exactly what she was doing. Though, you doubted that she'd confess to it if you were to ask her about it.

The cool scales of her snake dragged against your skin as it slowly slithered on top of your body; leaving Jade's side for the comfort of your arms instead. Had you not been familiar with the silly little creature thanks to being close to Jade, then this moment probably would've adopted it as your own.

You let out a sigh, feeling soothed by the cold scales, before gently petting the top of the snake's head; cooing at the way it stuck it's tongue out at you in response. What a cutie.

"My? What's this?" came Jade's gentle yet teasing voice, "You're lying in bed with me, but you're showing more affection to my little friend. I'm jealous."

Oh.

Oh no.

Were you in trouble?

She scooted closer to you, her hands tenderly finding their ways onto your waist before pulling you flush against her chest. She nuzzled her face into your neck, taking in your scent before propping herself up on one elbow to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I should teach you some manners," she spoke softly, her breath fanning your skin, "Don't think I don't know about you fooling around with that stellaron hunter and memokeeper."

You definitely were in trouble.

You looked away briefly, petting her snake more as you thought of a reply. "…Are you jealous?"

"Jealous?" Jade repeated, the smile on her pretty pink lips widening as she leaned down to whisper in your ear, "I very much am, darling."

Her snake slithered away as she hovered over you, her hands taking in your wrists before sliding up your arms then down your torso before they settled on your waist once more. Her nails dug in, lightly, before she shifted your positions so that she was lying on the bed with you on top, your head nestled on top of her chest.

"I wasn't fooling around with them though," you defended yourself weakly.

"I know sweetheart," she replied, delicately caressing your cheek with her hand, "you'd never cheat on me."

"Right? So you don't—"

"Which is why you're forbidden from future missions regarding the stellaron hunters, as well as interactions concerning the Garden of Recollection."

"Huh??"

"Hush, darling," she cooed, bringing your face back up to hers to kiss your cheek, "We have a lot of work to do tomorrow, so it's best for us both to go sleep now."

"Wait, no, what do you mean I'm forbidden from—"

She pecked your lips.

"Goodnight, my dearest."

[ohtobeleah]

GQ, Man of the Year // Jake Seresin

Summary: After the events of TopGun, Jake Hangman Seresin finds himself being awarded the prestigious GQ, Man of the Year award. With his best friend in toe—Jake finds himself in a whirlwind of confessing his undying love for his best friend.

Warnings: Smut. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Unprotected Sex. Make receiving oral. Best friends to lovers trope. Callsign Jinx.

Word Count: 7.1k

Author Note: Happy Saturday! I know I’ve been pretty quiet as of late but I’m still here. Here’s a one shot for your Saturday morning. Love you, bye. xxx

Anxiety. It was the only thing you could put it down to. The way your hands shook, the way your heart raced a little faster than you would have liked it to have been beating. Thumping in your chest and ears. The way you felt the heat in your cheeks rising with sweaty palms to match. Leaning against the bar as you cleared your throat behind your fisted hand, the bartender raised his eyebrow as if he were already waiting for you to order your drink of choice while he poured the last bit of Whiskey Sour into the chilled glass before him. 

“Can I get a Vodka Redbull please?” You kindly asked the bartender with a shy smile as if he’d say no, or that your request was putting him out of his way. “But uh, can you put in a champagne glass?” The bartender laughed softly, he shook his head as he gave you a weird look. However, he complied with your strange request, after all it was his job and moments later? He was bringing you a champagne glass full of the golden bubbly liquid.  

“Thanks.” You gestured with yet again with the same shy smile that you had greeted him with a few minutes prior. As you sipped the alcoholic beverage you looked around the ballroom for your date, panic began to set in real quick when your wide eyes never met his. Jake Seresin was never late, and the idea he’d been late to such a prestigious event made your stomach churn with anticipation and uncertainty. 

Jake had told you he’d be right behind you when he sent you on your way, but now you weren’t too sure how far right behind you was.

It was safe to say you were extremely out of your comfort zone, your surroundings were elegant and oh so intimidating. The sound of violins in the background coming from the string quartet made you want to straighten your posture as if you were carrying a stack of books on your head. Never had you ever seen a marble staircase in person with what seemed to be gold detailing. You’d lived in New York for the better part of your entire life. You parents were both born and bred in Brooklyn and you’d grown up in what seemed to be the world’s smallest apartment. You knew of The Beekman, however, you never thought, even with your job taking you all over the world, you’d ever step inside the Manhattan building. 

“Shit, where are you?” You mumbled under your breath while your eyes frantically scanned the bustling ballroom for your best friend. Before you reached full panic mode, your core temperature surely rose as your anxiety threatened to overcome you—an all too familiar hand placed itself delicately against the small of your back, just above your ass, dangerously close to something more than just a friendly hand, a gentle chuckle in your left ear made you instantly relax. It was him, no other than your best friend, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. 

“Real classy Jinx.” Jake whispered in your ear— not before he slowly took the glass from your hand, taking a small sip of the Vodka Redbull which filled your glass. “Jesus, wasn’t expecting that, though it was Champagne.” Jake frowned softly as he placed the cool glass back in your manicured hand before he shook his head, walking you to your assigned table, hand still glued to the small of your back, walking close by your side. 

“You should’ve known better than to bring me out in public, especially to something this fancy.” You sassed as you walked with Jake back to your seats, the entire ballroom was settling as other guests did the same. So many people all here for the same thing, their guests, families and friends all here to hopefully see them thrive and be recognised for their fine work. 

“Had to settle.” Jack smirked as he leaned down slightly, kissing your cheek softly to stop you from turning to hit his chest playfully, a reaction he was quick to respond to after knowing you for almost six years.

You’d first met Jake when the two of you first ended up at TopGun. At first the cocky aviator from Houston Texas didn’t at all seem like the type of guy who you’d easily get along with. But that first impression was quickly obliterated when the two of you had been paired up together for a Hop. The rest was sort of as they say, history.

You and Jake couldn’t have been more different if you tried. He was outgoing, boisterous and sure of himself in every aspect. You were quiet, reserved and self doubt was surely something that resided deep inside your bones. You brought Jake Seresin down to earth and he brought out the best in you. It was Ying and Yang.

The two of you formed a strong bond that could be felt in the sky, on land and beyond any measurement of distance. Over the course of your friendship the pair of you had become inseparable. Two peas in a pod. A dynamic duo. Each other's wingman. 

“Didn’t have anyone else to bring, besides, I can’t wait to see you cry when I become Man of The Year.” Pulling your chair out for you, Jake's smug attitude made you giggle, his face instantly lit up at the sound of your beautiful laugh– a sound he cherished just as much as the girl it came from. The love of his life.

Jake had been nominated for a Man of The Year award after a mission that saw him on your doorstep with his duffel slung over his shoulder the second he was told he was dismissed. Not all the details had been released, but from what Jake had told you in the middle of a full blown panic attack and from files you pulled at work, it was safe to say the award was well deserved. He deserved to be nominated.

Jake Seresin had gone against his own orders to stand down to save Captain Pete Maverick Mitchell and Lieutenant Bradley Rooster Bradshaw. Without Jakes life saving decision, those two men wouldn’t be alive.

Although he wasn’t in it for the praise, it was nice to see Jake recognised for his efforts. Sure, he was always sure of himself. The best of the best he’d say. But you knew deep down, there was something of doubt in his mind that he’d never be enough. 

You thought it was his fathers tough love that drove Jake to want to be the best. You didn’t need him to tell you that you were right about that either, because you knew you were. You’d seen the way Jake acted around his dad. It didn’t take you longer to figure out why he was the way he is in most aspects of his career.

Not wanting to show up to such an important and publicised event alone, and with Rooster, one of Hangman's closest and dearest friends being unavailable due to his own deployment, it was a no-brainer that Jake would ask you to accompany him to the Prestigious event. You were his best friend and wingwoman after all and just so happened to be stateside. 

“You do realise all these men are nominated? You might not even receive an award, don’t be so sure of yourself Seresin.” You teased menacingly as Jake continued to be the gentleman he was, pushing you into the table as you sat softly on your chair, a little too fast for your liking, just to be a child— a gentle squeal left your mouth as you collided with the perfectly decorated table. The aesthetically pleasing ornaments and beautifully smelling candles shook momentarily as you gripped the edge. “Jake!” You hissed. Other occupants at the table weren’t shying away as they stared at the two of you, most likely thinking— ‘Such childish behaviour.’ 

“Don’t Jinx me Darlin’, I’ve got this in the bag and you know it.” There it was, the nickname that nearly sent you into cardiac arrest every damn time it left his perfect lips. You watched as Jake took his seat next to you—noticing for the first time that night just how grown out yet tamed his facial hair had become. It was almost a full beard at this point, and it looked right at home on his perfectly handsome face. His voice brought you back down to earth before you could float too far away, thinking of Jake. The love of your life, your best friend. 

“Huh?” You asked, completely dazed for a moment as you shook your head slightly. Jake threw his head back in a soft chuckle at the sight of you being so frazzled.

“I said, you look good? The wigs a nice touch, never thought you’d rock platinum blonde.” Through near panic and Jake distracting you– you had almost forgotten the entire theme of the night, 1920’s glam. 

“Oh? You think?” You questioned, touching at the curly shoulder length wig that you thought suited your outfit, a floor length, white, semi-corset style dress that hugged you just right. It accentuated your curves and plunged just a bit below your comfort zone in the chest area just right. Silver jewels dangling all over – it was a beautiful dress, to say the least, very fitting for the theme.

“Yeah, I mean it – just don’t kiss me when I win? That red lipstick is dangerously bright.” Jake joked as he smiled childishly as you smiled back. His hand reached for yours on the table, squeezing tightly as you felt his leg shaking against you under the table. “I’m honestly terrified– despite my cool calm and collected mannerisms.” You couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes. “I’m just glad you agreed to come with me.” His lips turned upwards into a soft smirk, just admiring the girl who sat beside him. The love of his life, his best friend. “I’d most likely never would’ve accepted the invitation if you said no.”

You leaned your head on Jake's shoulder, careful not to smear your makeup against the fabric of his ostentatious blue and white pinstripe blazer, the suit couldn’t have been tighter against his muscular body but much like your own attire – accentuated him in all the right ways. Both dresses to the nines. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Seresin.” Teasing, you lifted your head as the lights dimmed, clapping ensuing as the presenter of the night sauntered across the stage. Waiters alternated meals on the table in front of you – Jake tried to hide his disappointment as he got steak while you got salmon. Looking at each other with an almost telepathic ‘switch?’  Discreetly swapping your meals to better suit your personal preferences.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Half a meal and two Vodka Redbulls down, the list of recipients grew as the awards left to give dwindled. You could sense that Jake was beginning to doubt if he would actually receive the highly accredited award. He didn’t do what he did out of curiosity for praise and validation. He did what he did to save two people who’d taught him a lot about himself. He couldn’t just sit back and do nothing when he could have done something. 

The nights he slept alone were already plagued enough with nightmares of what could have been if he didn’t go after Rooster and Mav. He didn’t allow himself to think of what those nightmares might have entailed if he listened to direct orders and stayed on the carrier. 

“Jake? stop shaking your leg, It will happen if it happens yeah?” Your hand was resting below the table on his bouncing knee, instantly calming him as you rubbed softly against his suit pants. “You did a good thing, award or not.” 

“Just wanna make everyone proud ya’know?” Jake confessed, his face almost saddened with the idea he might walk out empty-handed. His eyes glassed over as he looked at you, so anxious that he had a light layer of sweat covering his forehead. The light from the candles situated on the table made him glisten. Cupping his cheek, Jake slightly moved his head into your touch, leaning into your comfort, the feeling instantly slowing his heart rate—you always had such a calming effect on him as your thumb rubbed softly against his scruff. 

“You already did, the moment you decided you wanted to help, no award could ever truly measure everything you’ve done—Darlin.’” You couldn’t help but to smile, tossing the pet name Jake often called you in his face—causing Jake to scoff softly as you continued to softly rub the pad of your thumb against his scruff covered cheek. Leaning in closer as Jake closed his eyes, eyelids fluttering. You were absentmindedly doing the same, the slow lean in as eyelids fluttered. Lips ghosting, dangerously close. Jake's hand coming to cup your cheek as you did his. But it was to no avail. Both you and Jake pulled back from one another immediately as loud clapping filled the banquet hall, ten recipients were standing on the stage holding their ‘Men of The Year award’ proudly in their hands. 

“That was the last recipient anyway” Jake sighed, you’d never heard him sound so defeated before as he fixed himself up and cleared his throat, slightly disappointed that he didn’t make the cut. “But, regardless—“ Jake's voice was nothing but soft as he looked at you. Heart eyes took over his entire face. “You look stunning and the fact I got to see you so dressed up instead of you in your flight suit for once was worth every moment.” 

“Oh rack off will ya.” You sassed as you turned in your chair to take another mouthful of steak in your mouth, being ever so careful not to rub your lipstick off in the process. Jake did the same, but his eyes never left your profile. He was captivated by your beauty. An unspoken love was clear as day between the two of you, both recognising each other’s feelings but never acting on them, never admitting them—both too scared to ruin a lifelong friendship. 

“And for our final award of the night. The prestigious 11th Men of The Year award that is specifically awarded to individuals who go above and beyond what is required of them.” The room was silent as the presenter spoke, you could hear a feather drop it was so quiet. “This individual has proven that always following what you’re told to do, isn't always the right thing to do.”

You knew it was coming before Jake did, you could tell exactly where this was going—it was Jake. Your Hangman. It was Jake Hangman Seresin who was taking home the 11th Man award. As you placed your hand excitedly on his shoulder you noticed how ridged he’d become– most likely scared he was getting his hopes up too quickly, scared to be disappointed. Scared he thought he had a chance only to be snubbed at the last second. 

“This individual risked his own life to save others without hesitation or fear of consequence and with only seconds to spare, saved two actively serving naval aviators who would have otherwise met an untimely demise and there is no doubt in our minds we have made the right decision in recognising his marvellous effects. This year’s honorary 11th Man of The Year award goes to……” As the presenter spoke, nearing the end of his speech, the sound of ‘Norman Greenbaurns - ‘Spirit in the Sky’’ began playing over the speaker just as a slideshow of video footage of Jake and Bradley aboard the Carrier moments after the events of their herring experiences played on the two large screens left and right of the stage. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes with a giddy smile thinking– ‘this is going to shoot his ego through the roof.’

“Lieutenant Jacob Hangman Seresin!”

At the sound of his name being called, you both shot up onto your feet and embraced each other in a tight, celebratory hug. Jake was quick to pull away and shake you slightly by your shoulders—an excited and overwhelmed Hangman laughed as tears welled in his over joyous eyes.

“What the fuck is happening Jinx!? w-what I, what do I do?” He asked nervously, so much adrenaline was pumping through his system he couldn't think straight. This wasn’t anything like flying a multimillion dollar fight jet adrenaline. No—this was something more personal. 

“Go! go up to the stage Jake, holy shit!” Nudging him, Jake fumbled with his blazer button—nervously approaching the stage as people clapped and cheered around him, including yourself. You couldn’t breathe, watching as he shook the presenter's hand and accepted the award he deserved more than anyone.

Jake had risked his life to save others, and you knew better than anyone that even thought some would say he wasn’t all that of a team player, that he’d do it over and over again if need be. Because underneath all the male bravado and the cocky attitude, it was just Jake. Your Jake. Your best friend. The love of your life. 

You only sat when the clapping stopped, wiping away tears of joy as you watched on with pure admiration for your best friend. Holding your hands up to your face, counting your lucky stars you got to experience such a moment. Your best friend being recognized as the selfless man he was. Patrons sitting at the same table were unable to take their eyes off the love you were radiating for your best friend.

“Oh woah.” Jake exclaimed with a soft laugh into the microphone. You couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip, trying to hide the enormous grin plastered permanently on your face as Jake's eyes scanned the room for you– to calm his nerves.

For a Naval Aviator who was so accustomed to keeping his composure under immense amounts of pressure, keeping a level head in pressing situations and making sure every action he took was executed correctly and without flaw, public speaking had never been his forte. So Jake did the only thing he knew how to— he looked for his girl and pretended the entire room was empty. All but you. He focused on the only person he wanted to see. His entire soul was focused on you and you alone, lightning up the entire room like a beacon of hope and gratitude. 

“To be receiving such an award is truly a blessing and I can’t begin to express how thankful I am to be this year’s recipient.” You looked at Jack as he looked at you and felt your heart flutter. He looked so handsome, devilishly handsome in that blue and white pinstriped suit. The way his facial hair was perfectly groomed and the hair atop his head carefully slicked back. He looked nothing short of perfection. 

Raised by women for women. 

“I never thought my actions would lead to this, being recognised for insubordination.” The crowd chuckled as Jake gave them that perfect Hollywood grin he was so utterly gifted with. “But i'm beyond thankful that i'm standing here right now.”

“I want to give a special mention to my family– thank you for loving me unconditionally, to my squad back in North Island who do the absolute most in keeping me humble and my ego in check.” The entire room laughed with Jake as he spoke. “To Bradley and Mav for teaching me things about myself I never even knew until I was taking off from that carrier after them.” Then, Jake stilled for a moment as he took a deep breath in. And finally to my girl.” Your breath hitched in your throat at the sound of Jake calling you his girl. “Although she prefers to stay in whenever she can, she reluctantly agreed to attend tonight’s banquet with me and I’m glad she did otherwise she’d never be able to hear me say just how thankful I am for her and her undeniable loyalty to a guy who isn’t worth a second of her time. I hope I made you proud Darlin’.” Holding the award above his head, the room erupted into cheerful whistles and thunderous claps of congratulations. “I'm a part of the team once and for all.” The guests only quieted once Jake had exited the stage to have his photo professionally taken and most likely be interviewed.

Your heart was so full, so proud of the man Jake had become, the passionate aviator that was just adored by the entire world. 

You loved him, you truly did adore everything about him. the way he’d hold your waist to the way he’d kiss your cheek. You loved the way he’d always let you sleep in his bed whenever you stayed the night– never wanting you to take the lounge that nearly broke his back every time he crashed on it. 

You adored the way he always let you borrow his hoodies – anyone your heart desired. If he had planned on wearing it, he’d change his entire outfit just so you could remain in it. The way he always left the last slice of pizza for you, regardless if he was starving – it was always yours. You loved the way Jake would let you nap on his chest, even if he had important plans or places to be, he’d stay still for as long as you were asleep for. 

Every moment spent with you was worth savouring because the both of you knew that those moments were fleeting with deployments forever looming above your heads.

All the little things he did throughout the years had finally taken its final toll on your heart – you were undeniably in love with Jake Seresin, your best friend – your goofy other half, your partner in crime. The only thing that scared you more than anything else in the world was finally admitting it. But the thing you didn’t know—was that Jake felt the exact same way, he wanted you to be his girl officially, wanted to be yours, but he was terrified you’d reject his love – in his mind? You were out of his league, way out of his league.

You were the only woman Jake had never tried to play, the only woman Jake never used cheap pickup lines on or thought about having a one night stand with. You were Jake's end game, simple. But he was scared you wouldn’t feel the same. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“You know you ugly cry right? Jake's voice startled you as you waited at the table for him to return, many of the others who sat at the same table were now vanished— either on the dance floor, at the bar or returning to their respective hotel rooms.

“Your ego really didn’t need that, at all— you’re already so big headed enough as it is.” You joked, standing to embrace him once again. “I’m so proud of you Jake, but that speech? Cheesy– at best like a four outta ten.” You sassed, kissing his cheek. 

“Come dance with me?” Jake whispered just enough for you to hear, his voice was soft and full of happiness. He took your hand in his as he made his way to the dance floor– littered with couples slow dancing. Spinning you into his chest, Jake placed his hand on the small of your back– bringing you as close to him as he possibly could, his other hand in yours.

It was a comfortable silence as you swayed to the music– Shawn Mendes’s ‘Never be alone'. Your head rested against Jake's chest, gently grasping his shoulder. 

“Jinx?” Jake cooed as you looked up at him, his eyes trained heavily on yours– only ever breaking eye contact for a second as his eyes dipped to look at your lips. “What are we?” You felt your heart skip a beat at the sudden question. Your eyes followed Jake's as you noticed how his lips looked slightly chapped but oh so kissable. 

You’d always wanted to feel his lips against yours. Too many times they’d kissed your cheek or forehead, leaving you longing for more. 

“I uh, we’re best friends I guess?” You stuttered, unsure of what to say in the moment, so desperately trying to read Jake's perfect face as you continued to sway around the dancefloor together– pressed up against one another, Jake's grip only tightened, he never wanted to let you go.

“Would it freak you out if I said I wanted to be more?” Jake’s voice was low as he continued to guide you across the floor, his fingers fiddled with the zipper that sat just above your tailbone – causing Goosebumps to rise over your exposed back. “I know it’s not usually what I’m after, but with you? I’d give anything.” 

Your heart felt like it was racing a million miles an hour at the confession leaving your best friend's lips as he twirled you around and took you back into his arms. 

“No. it wouldn’t, but how much more?” Jake dipped his head just a bit— leaning into you, he closed the gap between your lips and his, ghosting over your lips as you bit your bottom lip, trying to stop your lips from turning upright into a cheesy grin.

“All of you Jinx, let's just cut the shit we do? I just can't help but want to kiss you right now—so please stop me if you don’t want me to?” Jake’s hot breath fanning over you, the hint of the sweet alcoholic mixture of your Vodka Redbulls and whiskey sours lingered as he spoke. The both of you having  had more than you’d cared to admit– but you didn’t mind. As Jake’s lips just barely grazed against yours you giggled, moving both your arms to wrap around the back of his neck. Jake smiled as the angelic sound left your mouth.

“Kiss me.” Was all you said before Jake dipped you down and attached his lips to yours—your wig fell to the ground, exposing your natural hair as he brought you back up.

“There she is.” Jake jokingly teased as he rested his forehead against yours, smiling as you looked up at him. “My wingwoman.” Completely smitten for the man who held you in his arms as you danced. 

“Jake? you have somethin’ on your lip?” You told him through a witty smile “here, let me.” You reached up and connected your lips once again, only this time you asked for permission into his mouth by running your tongue along his bottom lip slowly– sensually. Granted access, your tongue danced gracefully with Jakes, fighting for dominance—you couldn't help but let him take over.

Jake couldn’t contain himself, moaning softly into your mouth, your reaction was to pull away– panting slightly as you tried to catch your breath. You knew people were staring at the two of you— but you didn’t care, all you wanted was Jake and you couldn’t contain your excitement. Knowing the consequences of your actions would be something the two of you would have to talk about once the alcohol left your system. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“So how long?” You asked softly, a little afraid of what the answer may be. How long had you and Jake waisted tiptoeing around each other's feelings? At the same time through your timidness, there was a hint of cockiness in your tone of voice.

“How long what?” Jake questioned as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders—walking you both off the dancefloor through the ballroom as you made your way back to the hotel room GQ had been kind enough to put you both up in for the weekend.

“How long have you had a crush on me?” You mimicked Jake's actions and wrapped your arm gently behind the small of his back.

“Oh, okay let's not get into all the specifics Jinx.”

“What if I want specifics? Like what if I want to know just how much you really like me?” You were just nitpicking at this point, so overjoyed with the event of this evening – you were on cloud nine. “It’s not every day that you get to say, Jake Seresin, Casinova extraordinaire is utterly infatuated with you.” 

“I don’t remember saying that—“ Jake chuckled, but you were right. Oh so right in every way. He was obsessed with you. He was infatuated with you. 

“What if instead of telling you how much I really love you, Why don’t I just show you—I mean— there’s only one bed in the hotel room and that lounge looks just as uncomfortable as the one back home.” Jake was rambling as he opened the taxi door for you, the yellow cab was waiting to take you both back to the hotel a few blocks away. Before stepping in you turned to Jake– pulling him down to your lips by his tie. A sudden surge of confidence radiated through your entire body.

“Are you trying to get in my pants, Seresin?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow. 

“More than ever before Y/l/n.” Jake mumbled, his husky voice made the heat rise in between your legs. Jake had never been this flirtatious with you.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not wearing any then huh?” You smirked hungrily before falling back into the back of the cab with grace— pulling Jake down on top of you by his tie. Your lips collided as he crawled over the top of you, his hands gripped at your hips as he sucked your bottom lip– letting it smack back against you before the taxi driver piped up, clearing his throat.

“Where to Lieutenant?” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

From the second you entered the ostentatious luxury suit Jake’s hands were all over you, as were yours on his. Jake couldn’t help himself. He slammed you against the wall in the entryway, your hands worked fast to remove his blazer, next– his tie. It was all a daze. So much adrenaline pumped through your veins at Jake’s sensual and needy touch. 

“Are we really doing this?” Jake pulled away to pause, to rest his forehead on yours as you worked to unbutton his white dress shirt. Breathing heavily you nodded eagerly in response. 

“Less talking Jake, you’re overthinking, that’s not like you at all.” You breath fanned over his parted mouth before Jake attached his lips to yours– his now fully exposed torso was pressing against you. Chiselled like a Greek god. An adonis. 

“C'mere Darlin—'' Jake huffed as he spun you around, your face pressed against the wall as he unzipped your dress and began trailing harsh, hungry kisses up and down your neck. His hands trailed up your arms to where your sleeves rested on your shoulders. Pulling them down slowly– revealing your body to him in all its semi-naked beauty. The only thing left on your curvy body as you stepped out of the dress, a mess on the floor, was the white lacy panties you had specifically brought to be hidden under the near sheer dress. You wanted to feel sexy for yourself. 

“You’re beautiful.” Jake mumbled. “So beautiful Jinx.” If it had been anyone else Jake wouldn’t have mentioned it. But you were you and you deserved to know just how beautiful he thought you really were. “My god are you perfect.” His hands gripped your hips, spinning you around to face him yet again. 

“Trying to sweet talk me?” You questioned as you worked fast to unbuckle the leather belt that held his suit pants tight on Jake’s waist. You unbuckled the belt before pulling it through the belt loops in one perfect motion slipping it right off. Your manicured hands unzipped Jakes fly as you watched with a smirk as he shimmied out almost desperately.

The both of you were now only in your underwear. Standing before each other, exposed so intimately for the first time. Together. 

“Is it working?” Jake teased before he squeezed your hips, causing a giggle to escape your swollen lips. “Jump.” Jake ordered and you complied. Jumping up, you wrapped your legs around his waist before you let his hands hold you tightly against your ass as he walked you to the ‘uncomfortable lounge’.

Falling back onto the lounge, Jake watched as you crawled between his legs in front of him on the floor, your fingers dipping into the waistband of his boxer briefs as he lifted his hips to accommodate your next move– removing his briefs completely. 

As you slowly removed the unwanted fabric from Jake's body, his cock sprung free from its previous confines– resting heavily against his lower abdomen as he slouched back against the back of the lounge. His tip was pretty pink, almost the exact colour of his perfectly swollen lips. His shaft smooth apart from the vein that ran up his entire length from the base to his tip. God he looked throbbing.

There he was. Jake Seresin. Completely exposed before you with flushed cheeks that told you he thought he was dreaming. 

Without a word you gripped his length in your hand, pumping him slowly— some pre-cum already oozed from his tip at your touch. You leaned on your knees between his legs, spreading them as far as Jake could get them so you could take more of his length down your warm, fuckable throat.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to suck you off.” You admitted as you pumped his shaft softly in your hand, watching as Jake's mouth turned into a smile and he chuckled from the pleasure. “I’ve thought about it a time or two while I was touching myself.” 

“I’m dreaming.” Is all Jake said before you took his tip inside your mouth – tasting the slightly salty pre-cum as you swirled your tongue gently around his sensitive tip. “Oh fuck--!” Jake moaned as you worked your way down his shaft inch by inch, training your throat to take him in his entirety. Grinning up at him like the devil would. 

Hollowing your cheeks as you looked up, sucking hard as you watched Jake exclaimed a guttural groan as he ran his hand through his hair. “Oh fuck, feels so good, holy hell!”

Your nose was tickled by the manscaped pubic hair that Jake had let grow a bit, his tip leaking more pre-cum down the back of your throat as you swallowed around his tip. Working him expertly. 

“S-shit! Come here, now I-I need to feel you before I fucking cum down your throat.” Jake pulled you up by your hair– watching as you gasped from the sudden pain that flooded your head, only for it to turn to pleasure seconds after. He made a mental note that you liked your hair pulled, something he would have to do another time– but for now all he wanted more than anything was to fuck your tight little pussy. As you crawled back up to straddle Jake’s lap, he was quick to rip the almost brand-new panties off your body.

“Jake—” His lips pressing against yours cut you off before you could complain.

“S’okay Darlin’, ill by you new ones.” His hand rested gently against your throat as he maneuvered his cock to your dripping entrance. This was the moment you had both dreamed would happen. Jake’s thick throbbing cock pressed slowly into your tight dripping pussy, stretching you out more than you had ever been stretched before as you sunk lower and lower– inch by inch. It was otherworldly. 

Jake’s cock grew thicker in the middle, a slight curve to the left, having to stop to moan at the pleasure you were already receiving half way down his thick shaft. At that moment your mind wondered— god help all the women who came before you. There were surely many. 

Because Jake's best friend meant you were around alot, you stayed the night more often than not and sometimes– on the rare occasion Jake let one of his conquests stay the night, you aided him by taking out the trash. 

“Oh fuck Jinx, please, j-just sink lower, b-begging you.” Jake whimpered as his hands gripped your hips tight, his head ducking slightly to take your right nipple into his mouth. As you sunk lower, finally taking Jake in his entirety in your tight pussy– his teeth sunk softly into the sensitive erect bud.

“UH—fuck! Jake, please move.” You whimpered, wanting Jake to buck his hips up into you, and so he did. He removed his lips from your nipple as he guided you up his cock a bit, arousal dripped down his shaft as he fucked up slowly into you. “Ahh- yes! Jake k-keep going!” You cried out into the hotel room, your mouth fell unapologetically open into an O shape as pleasure captivated your entire body. “Oh my god you feel so fucking good.” 

“So fucking right for me, so fucking tight for me huh? Ride me.” Jake ordered, his hand wrapped around your throat just the slightest bit more. You sunk down again, then back up almost instantly, quickly finding a comfortable rhythm as the sting from being so incredibly stretched out subsided into nothing but pure pleasure. “Never thought i'd get to see you like this, i'm the luckiest man alive.” 

“Ahh- fuck!” You both moaned in sync as you rode Jake’s cock, your hips rolled as your hands gripped the back of his hair, pulling tighter every time your pussy fluttered around him. “Yes, yes yes!” 

“Jake, I love you” you cried out, riding his cock the best you could as the coil inside your core tightened. Almost letting the tip fall out as you fucked down hard on the entirety of his length. Jake's eyes went wide as he watched your lips say the three words he’d been dying to hear you say for years. That he never thought he’d hear. 

When Jake went after Rooster and Mav there was one person he was thinking about the entire time. You. Simply you. His best friend. There wasn't a single thing Jake wouldn't do for you. You were the only person who ever saw the good in him amongst all the male bravado. You were the only person who knew why he was the way he was. You were the only person who ever gave him the benefit of the doubt and knew when the time came–Jake would do whatever it took to keep the people around him safe. 

Jake Seresin had been in love with you ever since that very first day he sat next to you in TopGun. He counted his lucky stars every night on every deployment he went on since as he stared absentmindedly at the photo he took with him everywhere of the two of you after graduating top of the class. His wingwoman, his best friend, the love of his life. 

Your callsign was blatantly wrong. The reason you were giving your callsign in the first place was because you’d been paired with Jake. it was a Jinx, a bad pairing that everyone, including none other than Natasha Trance thought would end in a tragedy. Jake would leave you hanging like he did with everyone else. 

But here you were. 

“I, oh fuck Jinx I love you too.” Jake moaned near pornographically as you tightened around him once again. Every time you sat down on his cock his tip pressed against your cervix, filling you so good you were sure you’d cum within seconds if he kept hitting all the right places. You were getting closer and closer with every thrust. 

“Cum around my cock Darlin’ – I wanna see your pretty eyes roll in the back of your head when you cum on my dick.” Jake's voice was heavy, he spoke through heavy breaths as he worked his hand between the two of you– his thumb rubbed figure eights over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Trust Jake Seresin to know exactly how to please a woman. 

“Ah! Fuck m’wanna cum so bad, keep going, please!” You whimpered, falling into Jake’s chest, his head fell into the crook of your neck. He could see your ass bouncing so perfectly up and down as you flicked your hips– his eyes widening at the sight. So perfect. So sexy and oh so hot. 

“Look at you, riding my cock effortlessly, you like my cock inside you huh Darlin’? Show me how much you love my dick inside you.” Jake moaning dirty nothings in your ear was only working in his favour as he pushed you further and further towards your orgasm. The hands that wrapped softly around your throat released to fondle your ass, helping you keep your fast-paced rhythm. Aiding you in your efforts to get off on Jake's cock. 

“Oh yes! m’cumming don’t fucking s-sto.. ah fuck!” You cried into Jake’s shoulder, the hand that rests on your ass came to pull your hair back into a makeshift pony, forcing you to look at Jake as you came.

“Look at me Darlin’, wanna see how pretty you look.” You gasped as you pulsed and throbbed around Jake’s shaft, wrapping so tightly around him as he watched you tremble above him, fucking you softly through your high. Jake watched your eyes roll, watched your mouth gasp for air as you held your breath- he watched the sweat that dripped down your forehead as you came hard for him. Fluttering rapidly and without rhythm around him as your velvet walls constricted his shaft and took him hostage. Leaving him at the mercy of your orgasm. 

“Fuck, hop off, oh my god—I’m about to fucking—oh god.” Jake groaned, his own orgasm was so close. He could feel the pool at the base of his shift filling rapidly. Your slick folds worked to slick his cock to the point of no return. Helping your still trembling body off him and down to your knees Jake held your hair as you opened your mouth, tongue waiting and welcoming the warm spurts of cum that shot from Jake’s tip as he stroked his length to his high. Watching his cum cover your beautiful face. 

Jake watched as you licked as much as you could from around your mouth, watched with wide eyes as you swallowed his seed before he leaned back again– lazily stroking his semi-erect cock. A giggle left your mouth as you looked up at Jake, his cum dripping down from your face onto your bare chest.

“What’s so funny?” Jake asked as he came down from his high— still trying to catch his breath. Still trying to wrap his head around the fact you’d both just done what you did. You could only look up at him innocently as you bit your bottom lip. So completely mesmerised by the man who’d just become so much more to you than you ever thought he would be. 

“You forgot your award…” You’d only just realised  had left his Man of the Year award behind.

Jake looked at you softly before he took your lips hostage once again. Tasting his own cum on your lips, a taste he didn't mind sharing so long as it was on your beautiful lips. Kissing you tentatively and slowly before he pulled away. You were all he ever needed. 

“I went home with someone much more valuable."

***~***~***~***~****~****~***~***~***~****~****~