#and then just carrying that secret around with him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucked-bunnie · 3 days ago

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never have i ever ⎜l.hughes

pairings: luke hughes x reader genre: romance ⎜angst ⎜ college AU ⎜ warnings: mentions of a bet ⎜hurt/comfort ⎜ luke is a silly boy ⎜ none tbh ⎜ unsatisfying ending ⎜ synopsis: when his friends spot the new girl at the teams halloween party - luke agrees to a bet he know he shouldn't be making. word count: 7.6k authors note: this was requested and ended up a little longer than anticipated! I hope everyone enjoys.

Luke had been watching you for an hour now.

Not in a creepy way.

He was just entranced by the way you weaved through the crowd - being welcomed into each group you passed as you say a bight hello to anyone who looks your way. Your bright yellow raincoat had caught his attention as soon as you walked through the door - shining like a beacon as you made you way straight for the house kitchen, carrying around that small bottle of water as you started to mingle.

“Who you so enamoured by, Lukey?” A slightly slurred voice says as the body of his friend and teammate slides into his personal space - Ethan’s shoulder rubbing against his, their matching costumes a joke to anyone who looked over at them.

“A Weather-Girl.” Luke says shortly, taking another sip from his half flat soda - nudging the hood off his costume off his head.

“Weather-Girl?” Ethan repeats to himself skimming over the crowd trying to find the described person. “I don’t see a Weather-Girl.”

Luke doesn’t elaborate, his eyes still fixed on you as Ethan follows his gaze.

“Ohhh,” Ethan drags out the word, spotting the unmistakable yellow coat bobbing near the living room couch. You’re laughing at something one of the senior players said, your head tilted back just enough to catch the low, golden glow of the decorative Halloween lights strung up around the room. “Weather-Girl, huh? That’s new.”

Luke just shrugs, feigning indifference. He doesn’t need Ethan making this more of a thing than it already feels in his head.

But Ethan being Ethan, the subtle hint of interest is like blood in the water. “You know, Lukey, I think we should introduce ourselves. Friendly team spirit and all that.” He’s already grinning like a devilish accomplice in a bad crime movie, and Luke knows nothing good can come of this.

“No.” Luke’s voice is flat, firm. But he doesn’t move to stop Ethan as he leans in conspiratorially.

“C’mon, what’s the harm? You’ve been staring for what, an hour? Two? Don’t be a coward.” Ethan’s smirk widens as he straightens up and crosses his arms. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to make things interesting.”

Luke sighs, already regretting whatever’s about to come out of his friend’s mouth. “What do you want, Ethan?” Luke’s gaze flickers back to Ethan, who’s watching him with the kind of grin that only spells trouble. It’s a setup, Luke knows it is, but he also knows Ethan won’t back down until he’s either embarrassed himself or dragged Luke into some ridiculous scheme. That’s just Ethan.

“You know,” Ethan starts again, his tone sly, “I think this is fate.”

Luke arches a brow. “What are you talking about?”

Ethan leans in, lowering his voice like they’re plotting something top-secret. “The new girl. Weather-Girl. I bet you couldn’t even get her to go out with you if you tried.”

Luke blinks, his head snapping back. “What?”

“You heard me,” Ethan continues, his grin widening. “She’s got this whole sunshine-and-rainbows vibe, and you’ve got… well, you’ve got ‘quiet, brooding hockey guy’ energy.”

“I wouldn’t really say quiet and brooding.” Luke says taking another sip of his drink, “more like quiet and anxious.” Ethan just shrugs as Lukes correction, watching you move with an equally appreciative look.

“I mean it’s not like you’re her type anyway.”

Luke glares at him. “And you’d know that how?”

“I’m observant,” Ethan says smugly. “Like I said, she’s sunshine-and-rainbows and you’re you. But hey, prove me wrong. I’m willing to make this interesting.”

Luke sighs. “I’m not playing your games, Ethan.”

“Not even if there’s something in it for you?” Ethan’s eyes gleam with mischief. “If you get her to go out with you and be the first one to say she has feelings—even just an I like you—I’ll do all your house chores for a month. Every single one.”

Luke hesitates.

That’s… tempting.

Too tempting.

But then he shakes his head. “And if I don’t?”

Ethan leans back against the wall, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Then you buy dinner for the whole team after every practice. For a month.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s fair,” Ethan counters. “Besides, you’ve been staring at her all night anyway. Might as well make it worth something.”

Luke doesn’t respond, but his jaw clenches. He knows this is a bad idea—knows Ethan is goading him on purpose. But then his eyes drift back to you, and he catches the way you’re laughing at something, the way you light up the space around you without even trying. It’s magnetic, and he hates that Ethan noticed too.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Luke mutters, “Fine.”

Ethan’s grin could rival the devil’s. “Fine, what?”

Luke glares. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Ethan claps him on the shoulder. “Atta boy. Just don’t forget—one date. Real effort. No half-assing it, Lukey.” Luke mutters a curse under his breath and shakes Ethan off. The smugness radiating from his friend is almost enough to make him back out, but then he glances at you again. You’re standing by the couch, the yellow raincoat still draped over your shoulders, your head tilted as you listen to someone talking. There’s something about the way you seem so at ease, like the party could crumble around you and you’d just smile through it.

Taking a steadying breath, Luke squares his shoulders and heads your way. The closer he gets, the louder the sounds of the party become—music pounding, laughter ringing, snippets of conversation floating through the air. He rehearses a dozen opening lines in his head, but none of them stick.

When he’s just a few steps away, you look up, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, Luke forgets how to breathe. Your expression shifts, recognition flickering in your eyes as you offer him a small, curious smile.

“Hey,” you say, your voice cutting through the noise like it’s meant just for him. “You’re Luke, right? From the team?”

Luke nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. That’s me.” Your smile widens, and you take a small step closer, tucking a strand of your blue wig behind your ear.

“I thought so. I’ve heard a lot about you. Big hockey star and all.” Luke’s mouth feels dry, but he forces himself to speak.

“Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

You laugh softly, and it’s the kind of sound that makes the whole room feel smaller, quieter, like it’s just the two of you. “So, what brings you over here, hockey star? Didn’t peg you as the mingling type.”

Luke rubs the back of his neck, cursing Ethan silently. “Just thought I’d say hi. You’re… new, right?”

“Guilty,” you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “Just transferred. My roommate dragged me here. Thought it’d be a good way to meet people.”

“And?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady. “How’s that going?”

“Pretty good so far,” you say, your eyes sparkling. “Especially now that I’ve officially met Luke Hughes-the-hockey-star.” Luke chuckles nervously, and for the first time all night, he’s not thinking about anything other than right now.

He’s thinking about you—how you look up at him like he’s the only one here, how your smile feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. Ethan’s words echo faintly in his mind, but Luke pushes them aside. He might have agreed to the bet, but right now, he’s not doing this for Ethan.

He’s doing this for you — well for him but what’s the difference.

“So what’re you?” Luke asks, gesturing down at your costume. “I’m guessing a weather girl.” He says with a soft smile, your eyes glittering as you shake your head.

“I’m Coraline - you know the terrifying kids movie?” The costume makes so much more sense now - your bright yellow raincoat, the gumboots and the button sunglasses propped on the top of your head.

“Nope, never seen it.” Luke lies, his neck flaming red as your mouth falls open, your eyebrows lifting. “Maybe you should show it to me sometime.” Luke gets out quickly, his heart slamming against his ribs as a knowing smile grows on your face.

Your grin is equal parts amusement and challenge. “Oh, I absolutely will. You’re missing out. It’s iconic.”

Luke’s stomach twists, but not in the usual anxious way—it’s something lighter, almost hopeful. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says, surprising even himself with how steady his voice sounds.

You tilt your head, studying him with a curious expression, and for a second, Luke wonders if you can see right through him, if you can tell that his hands are clammy, or that he’s replaying every word of this conversation in his head to make sure he hasn’t completely embarrassed himself.

“Deal,” you say finally, extending a hand like it’s an official agreement. Luke hesitates only for a heartbeat before taking it. Your hand is warm and soft, and he hopes you don’t notice the way his lingers just a little too long before letting go.

“So, Coraline,” he says, grasping for something to keep the conversation going, “are you into horror movies? Or is this just a one-time thing?”

You laugh again, a bright, genuine sound that makes his chest feel tight. “I like them when they’re creepy but not too gory. Psychological stuff, you know? Keeps you on your toes.” You pause, eyes glinting playfully. “Why? Are you scared of scary movies, hockey star?”

Luke shakes his head, though the truth is closer to yes. “Not scared. Just... prefer movies where I don’t have to watch an episode of SpongeBob after to sleep.” Your laughter this time is louder, drawing a few glances from people nearby, but you don’t seem to care.

“Fair enough. I’ll make sure to ease you into it.”

Luke nods, pretending to weigh his options. “I guess I can handle that.”

“You’d better,” you tease. “I don’t usually offer private screenings, you know.” Luke’s cheeks heat, and he hopes the dim lighting hides it.

“I’ll try not to ruin it with my... quiet, brooding energy,” he says, quoting Ethan with a faint smirk. Your brows lift, and there’s a flicker of recognition in your eyes.

“Quiet and brooding? That doesn’t sound like you. Quiet - maybe, brooding - no way. ” Luke huffs a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. Before he can think of a response, someone calls your name from across the room. You glance over your shoulder, and Luke follows your gaze to see a girl waving at you, her phone in hand.

“That’s my roommate,” you say, turning back to him. “She’s probably wondering if I’m still alive.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” Luke says quickly, though part of him wants to. “It was nice talking to you.”

“You too, Luke.” You hesitate for a moment, then smile again, softer this time. “See you around?”

“Definitely,” he manages, watching as you make your way across the room. As soon as you’re out of earshot, Ethan materialises at his side, looking far too pleased with himself.

“So, how’d it go?” Luke glares at him, though there’s no heat behind it.

“You’re insufferable.”

Ethan just grins. “Good then?” He claps Luke on the back and saunters off, leaving Luke to process what just happened. He takes another sip of his now-warm soda, his mind replaying the way your smile seemed to light up the room, the way you said his name like it was already familiar. For the first time all night, the noise and chaos of the party don’t feel overwhelming.

Because for just a few minutes, you made everything else fade away.

Until his head shoots in your direction - he never got your number.

“You’re really gonna stick up posters to try and find her?” Ethan questions as he looks over Luke’s shoulder at the posters his teammate was currently printing out.

“I have no other option, how else am I going to find her?” Luke hisses back, collecting each poster as it’s spit out of the machine.

“What kind of idiot forgets to get their number.” Ethan chuckles to himself, throwing his hands up in defence as Luke shoots him a sharp glare.

“I was distracted.” Luke clarifies.

“Maybe she didn’t actually like you, she didn’t seem to be trying hard to make sure you got her number.” Ethan hints as Luke tucks his posters in his bag, throwing it over his shoulder before trudging out of the library not waiting to see if Ethan was following behind him.

Ethan’s words replayed in his mind as the shorter man catches up the two of them making their way to the morning practice.

Maybe she didn’t actually like you.

It stung, even though Luke wasn’t sure if it was true. Maybe she had just been polite, humouring him with that radiant smile that had practically seared itself into his memory. Or maybe she really did want to see him again but figured he’d be the one to bridge the gap.

Except he hadn’t.

He’d blown it.

Luke glances down at the one loose flyer in his hand, the bold block letters read:

Looking for Coraline (or the girl in the yellow raincoat) at the hockey teams halloween party. You left an impression. Let’s finish the conversation. - Luke Hughes (the hockey star)

Luke had concerningly been willing to attach his own phone number, knowing that in the end this might spell disaster but he couldn’t think of any other way. Ethan peered at the flyer and let out a low whistle. “Wow. Really laying it all out there, huh?”

“Shut up, Ethan,” Luke muttered, his ears burning. He started toward the cork-board near the vending machines, where countless other notices, ads, and lost-item flyers were pinned. The board wasn’t exactly the romantic reunion he’d hoped for, but it was a start.

As he tacked up the first flyer, Ethan leaned against the machine, chuckling to himself. “You know, you’re making this way harder than it needs to be. Just ask around. Someone’s bound to know her.”

“That’s not the point,” Luke shot back. “I’m not going to embarrass her by asking the whole world if they know who she is.”

“But flyers are subtle?” Ethan teased, folding his arms and smirking. “You’re like a lost puppy, man.” Luke holds the poster up to the board, looking around for a free pin as he feels Ethan tap his shoulder lightly.

“Dude look.”

“Ethan I’m a bit busy can you knock it off.” Luke hisses as he tries to shake off Ethan’s hand but his friend was unrelenting continuing to tap on his shoulder until Luke couldn’t take it anymore, smacking at his friends hand turning away from the cork board.

“Hey Luke.” Your voice was like music to his ears. His hand quickly tucking the poster behind his back as his mouth falls open in surprise. “Someone said I might be able to find you here.” You laugh, Luke taking you in like he did at the party.

You were still as stunning as he remembers, your cheeks flushed slightly from the cold of the hockey rink, your coat buttoned all the way up your neck and your ears tucked under a beanie. You worse glasses this time, the large brown frames sitting high on your cheeks.

“Oh my god she’s a secret nerd.” Ethan whispers letting out a heavy ‘oof’ as Luke shoves him away, “Shut the fuck up.” Luke says through gritted teeth before stepping towards you, a lazy grin spreading on his face.

“You never got my number.” You say softly.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I kinda noticed that... after the fact.” You laugh — soft, warm, like the first sign of spring after a long winter. Luke glances down at the crumpled flyer behind his back, then at Ethan, who’s clearly struggling to contain his laughter.

“He found a creative solution,” Ethan says, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Your eyes flick to the paper in Luke’s hand and then back to Luke’s face in surprise. “Flyers?” Luke winces, pulling the paper out from behind him and holding it up sheepishly.

“Yeah. I, uh… wasn’t sure how else to find you. I thought maybe you’d see one.” For a moment, you just stare at him, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re kind of a dork, aren’t you?”

Ethan snorts. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Luke glares at him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Ethan?”

“Not really.” Ethan shrugs, but when Luke’s glare sharpens, he throws his hands up. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.” He backs away, shooting you a wink as he goes. “Don’t be too hard on him, Coraline.” As soon as he’s gone, Luke turns back to you, his nerves creeping back in.

“I, uh… didn’t mean to make it weird,” he says quickly. “I just thought you were—well, I mean, are—really cool, and I wanted to keep talking to you. But I totally get if this is too much, and—”

“Luke.” You cut him off gently, stepping closer, your boots making soft taps against the tiled floor. “It’s not weird.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” You smile up at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s kind of sweet, actually.” Luke’s heart stumbles over itself, and he tries to play it cool, even though he’s sure his face is giving him away.

“So… can I get your number now?” he asks, his voice quieter, more vulnerable. You reach into your pocket, pulling out your phone and unlocking it before handing it to him.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Luke takes it, his fingers brushing against yours briefly — just enough to send a spark through his chest. As he types in his number, he can’t help but smile to himself.

When he hands your phone back, you glance at the screen and grin.

“Luke Hughes, hockey star,” you read out loud, teasing. Luke groans, his cheeks burning.

You laugh again, sliding your phone back into your pocket. “So… when’s this Coraline screening happening?”

“Whenever you want.”

“Good.” You tilt your head, studying him with that same curious expression from the party. “Because I wasn’t kidding — you really need to see it.”

Luke chuckles, his nerves finally settling. “I guess I’ve got some things to come clean about?”

“You have watched Coraline, haven’t you?” There’s a pause — not awkward, but filled with something unspoken. Luke just nods his head, surprised when your smile grows.

“Good, then we can go for something a little scarier.”

“Scarier then Coraline, doesn’t exist.” Luke jokes, letting out a breath of laughter as you join, quickly glancing toward the rink doors more of Luke’s teammates filing through the doors.

Luke shifts awkwardly on his feet, watching you carefully as you tuck your phone back into your pocket. His heart is pounding louder than the distant thuds of sticks on ice from the rink nearby. He can’t believe you’re standing here in front of him — smiling at him like you’d been hoping to run into him, too.

You’re still here.

You came looking for him.

“Do you have practice now?” you ask again, glancing at the double doors that lead to the rink.

Luke nods. “Yeah, just drills.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Shouldn’t take long.”

You tilt your head, considering something. “And after practice?”

Luke blinks, caught off guard by the question. “Uh… nothing planned. Why?”

A grin tugs at your lips, and you glance down for a second before looking back up at him, your gaze steady but playful. “I was thinking maybe we don’t have to wait too long for that movie watch.”

Luke’s heart skips a beat. “You mean tonight?”

“Unless you’re too busy, hockey star.”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “Nope. Not busy. Definitely not busy.” You smile, the kind that makes Luke feel like the luckiest guy in the room — maybe the whole world.

“Good,” you say, taking a step closer. “Because I’d hate for you to back out after going through all the trouble of printing out those flyers.”

Luke groans, his face flushing again. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” you tease, your eyes sparkling.

Luke ducks his head, a shy smile tugging at his lips. When he looks back up, there’s a quiet determination in his gaze. “So… movie night?”

“Movie night,” you confirm. “My place?”

Luke blinks, surprised. “Yeah, sure. I mean, if that’s cool with you.”

“Definitely cool with me.” You pull your phone out again and hand it to him. “I’ll send you a text with my address.”

Luke watches you, his heart thudding faster as you step back. “So, tonight?”

“Tonight,” you agree, pulling your coat tighter around you. “Say… seven?”

“I’ll be there.” You give him one last lingering look before turning toward the door. Just as you reach it, you glance over your shoulder with a playful smile.

“Don’t be late, Hughes. I’ll be waiting.” Luke stands there for a moment, frozen in place, replaying the whole interaction in his head like a highlight reel. He barely registers Ethan stepping back into view, his expression smug as ever.

“Well, look at you,” Ethan says, clapping Luke on the shoulder. “Got yourself a date, huh?”

Luke doesn’t even bother with a glare this time. Instead, he just shakes his head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess I do.”

Luke finds himself standing outside your door, holding a small bag of snacks and feeling more nervous than he’s ever been before a big game. He’s replayed every possible conversation in his head, hoping he won’t make a fool of himself. The door swings open before he can knock, and there you are — standing there with a soft smile, dressed comfortably in a hoodie and leggings, your glasses perched on your nose.

“Hey,” you say, your voice warm and inviting.

“Hey.”

You step aside, motioning him in. “Come on in. I’ve got the movie queued up and everything.” Luke steps inside, taking in the cozy space — blankets piled on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, and the faint scent of something sweet lingering in the air.

“My roommate decided to give us some peace so she’s at her boyfriend’s place for the night.” You start slowly, before spinning around to face him, your hands thrown up in front of you. “Not that I’m expecting you to stay the night or anything.” Luke watches the way your face starts to burn, the tips of your ears a bright pink - a soft laugh leaving him as he nods.

“No expectations.” Luke agrees, pulling out his snacks and placing them on what he’s assuming in your bed. “So what are we watching?”

“I was thinking we should do a modern classic - have you seen any of the Jordan peele movies?” You question, busying yourself with laying out the food on the bed.

“No, my brothers aren’t big movie watchers so I never got the chance.” Luke says quickly, hovering awkwardly besides you as he waits for you to settle on the bed. He watches as you hoist yourself up, swishing yourself against the wall before patting the empty space besides you.

“Well you’re in for a treat.” You smile, throat bobbing as Luke climbs onto the bed besides you, his broad frame taking up most of the bed, his feet almost hitting the end. You had made the effort of setting up the projector your sister had gotten you before you went to college, the stupid machine notoriously hard to set up but it was worth it to not have to watch the movie on your tiny laptop screen.

“Can you turn off the lights, horror movies only work if it’s dark.” You say quietly, pointing to the lamp switch besides Luke, who reaches without having to hand off the bed like you normally do, the room shrouded in darkness as you press play on your phone connected to the projector. “Be prepared of the best psychological horror of the past ten years.” You tease, settling against your cushions as you reach forwards to grab the bowl of popcorn.

As the opening credits roll, Luke glances over at you. You’re focused on the screen, but there’s a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips. He knows that he’s here because of a silly bet, but right now, none of that matters. What matters is this moment. You, beside him. The warmth of your presence chasing away the cold outside. The way your laughter fills the room when you catch him flinching at a particularly eerie scene.

Luke has to admit that though the movie was very entertaining he couldn’t help but look away from the projector - his eyes one the side of your face almost the entire time, watching every tiny reaction you had. His gaze only flicking back to the screen as the movie comes to it’s crescendo your eyes briefly flicking over to him, a smile growing on your face as he panics and looks away as your eyes meet.

“Good movie, huh.” Luke says as he stretches his arms above his head, the credits playing as you let out a snort of laughter.

“You were certainly enamoured.”

“Sorry.” Luke sighs, his shoulders folding in on himself, the hockey player somehow shrinking to half the size he was before. “You’re just really pretty.” He admits, scolding himself in his head for his confession, the words slipping out before he even got a chance to stop them. “And now I sound like a ten year old boy telling the girl at the playground that he has a crush.” Luke laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as more words slip out.

You blink, processing Luke's words, your heart skipping a beat as the playful smirk on your lips softens into something more genuine.

"Really?" you ask, voice quieter now, almost hesitant, as if you're afraid to break the fragile moment hanging between you.

Luke nods, his gaze darting to the floor before meeting your eyes again.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not just that you're pretty. You're... more than that. Smart, funny, kind. Being around you feels—I don't know—easy. Comfortable. Even when I'm panicking inside, like right now." He chuckles nervously, his hand rubbing the back of his neck again. "And I know I'm probably making this awkward."

You shake your head quickly.

"You're not," you whisper, your voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering wildly in your chest. Luke watches you carefully, his eyes searching yours for any sign that he's misstepped, but all he finds is warmth and something that makes his breath catch in his throat—hope.

“You’re almost falling off the bed.” you say softly, shifting a little on the bed to make more space. Your hand reaches out, fingertips brushing against his arm in a way that feels both tentative and electric.

Luke hesitates for a moment before scooting closer. The bed dips under his weight, and suddenly the space between you feels almost nonexistent. His knee bumps against yours, and he can't help the shy smile that tugs at his lips when he hears your quiet giggle in response.

Your fingers linger on his arm, tracing a light pattern along the sleeve of his hoodie before curling around his wrist. The movie’s end credits roll on in the background, forgotten, as the room’s only source of light comes from the soft glow of the projector casting faint shadows on the walls.

"I've been watching you too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "During the movie. I thought you didn’t notice."

Luke lets out a soft laugh.

"I didn’t” he murmurs. There’s a pause—a moment of quiet, charged with unspoken words and shared breaths. His gaze drops to your lips, just for a second, before flicking back up to your eyes. You catch the movement, your heart thudding louder in your chest.

"Luke..." you start, but whatever you were about to say gets lost as he leans in, slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you don’t. You close the remaining distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that feels both inevitable and surreal. His hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing gently along your jawline as he deepens the kiss, his touch careful, as if he’s afraid to break the moment.

Your hands slide up to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you pull him closer. The scent of him—clean, with a hint of something woodsy—fills your senses, grounding you in the reality of this moment. When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you share a quiet, contented laugh.

The kiss was sweet. Innocent, but left Luke’s chest buzzing as he left your dorm, sneaking past the RA’s room with you, the two of you pausing at the front door as you lift yourself onto your tippy toes placing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Luke asks softly, your head nodding as you promise to meet him at the cafe near the hockey rink.

“Luke?” You call out as he makes his way down the steps, his body turning back towards you as you whisper, “I really like you.” The words make Luke’s heart drop to his stomach.

The stupid bet.

But no one heard it right?

And surely Ethan wouldn’t hold him to it?

Luke rushes back up the steps, his hands gripping your hoodie at your waist as he pulls you towards him, leaning down and capturing your lips with his own, the two of you lost in each other for a moment before he pulls away, whispering back “I really like you too.” Luke releases you, your lips tingling as you watch him dart down the steps, bolting from sight as his cheeks flush a bright red.

“You going to invite her to the party?” Ethan questions, his eyebrows raised as Luke glances up from his coffee.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“This thing is getting kinda of serious isn’t it?” Ethan asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks down at his friend taking the lid of his drink to pour an excessive amount of sugar in the hot coffee. “I didn’t picture you as a dating kind of guy.” He adds, Luke just shrugging his shoulders as he straightens ups, placing the lid back on his drink before taking a long sip.

“I’m not usually, but she’s something special.” Luke sighs, “I like her and I think she likes me too.” He adds noticing the way Ethan’s smile grows.

“So you’re going to tell her, or are you waiting till you win the bet?” Ethan teases, his eyes catching the way Luke flinches slightly, a shocked expression transforming his features. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.” Ethan coos. Luke’s jaw tightens, his mind racing. The warmth from the night before—the laughter, the kiss, the way you’d whispered that you really liked him—all of it feels fragile now, like it could shatter at any moment.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Luke repeats, his voice firmer this time. He doesn’t meet Ethan’s gaze, focusing instead on the swirl of steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Come on, man,” Ethan presses, leaning forward on the table. “We made that bet months ago. You were supposed to ask her out, take her on a couple of dates, and then call it quits. It was just supposed to be a joke—a way to get you out of your shell. But now? Now it’s looking a little more serious than that.”

“It is serious.” Luke’s voice is low, but there’s no mistaking the conviction in his tone. “I like her. A lot. And I’m not going to let some stupid bet ruin that.”

Ethan leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what’s your plan? Pretend it never happened? Hope she never finds out?”

Luke runs a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Then maybe you should tell her before someone else does.” Ethan’s words hang heavy in the air, the weight of the truth pressing down on Luke’s chest.

“I will.” Luke agrees, “Tonight at the party, I’ll tell her everything so just keep your mouth shut.” Ethan nods throwing his hands up in agreement as the both slip past a smaller figure holding the door open, a black oversized hoodie thrown up and over their head, Luke nods in thanks to the person, continuing his argument with Ethan as the continue on their way.

The message dings on your phone as you wait for your coffee, your black hood now pooling around your neck as you let out a long sigh.

Luke Hughes (hockey star) : I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party with me tonight - it’s at the frat house next to the rink? I can pick you up from your dorm?

Weather - Girl ☂️: I don’t know… I’ll just meet you there?

Luke Hughes (hockey star): Ok. See you at 7.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket as you step forwards to grab your drink from the counter.

A bet?

Of course that’s why Luke had approached you that night.

Someone like him would never go out with someone like you.

You arrive at the frat house just as the sun begins to set, the amber glow of the evening stretching across the sky. The music blares from inside, the bass vibrating through the walls as you hesitate at the door, your hand resting on the knob. You’d never been a fan of parties—too loud, too chaotic. But tonight, everything felt different. It wasn’t just about the party. It was about Luke. The way he’d asked you to come, the way he’d kissed you like he meant it... and now, this lingering doubt.

A deep breath. You turn the handle and step inside.

The scene is exactly what you'd expected—college students scattered across the living room and kitchen, cups in hand, the occasional burst of laughter, music spilling into the air. You scan the crowd, trying to pick out familiar faces, until your eyes land on him. Luke’s standing by the pool table, talking with a couple of teammates, his eyes scanning the room every so often. He’s dressed casually, but he still looks effortlessly handsome. The tight fit of his shirt accentuates his broad shoulders, and his dark hair is slightly tousled, like he’s been running his hands through it all day. Your stomach tightens at the sight of him, and for a moment, all the noise around you fades. It’s just Luke, and it’s just the two of you, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you.

He notices you then, his expression shifting as his eyes lock onto yours. His lips curl into a small, tentative smile. And for a moment, you wonder if maybe this is all worth it. Maybe he really does care. But then the nagging thought about the bet creeps back in, like a shadow in the corner of your mind. Luke steps away from the table, pushing through the crowd of people as he approaches you. His smile widens, but you can see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he gets closer.

“Hey,” he greets you softly, his voice a little too calm. He’s studying you, trying to read your mood.

“Hey,” you respond, your voice a little tight. You force a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’m glad you made it,” Luke says, his gaze dropping to your hand before meeting your eyes again. “You okay? You look... tense.”

You hesitate, debating whether to tell him how you’re feeling. How everything seems off. But you don’t. You don’t want to seem like you’re overthinking things, especially not in front of everyone. Instead, you just nod.

“I’m fine. Just, you know, not really a party person,” you admit with a half-laugh, trying to make light of it. “But it’s... nice.”

Luke chuckles, his hand brushing against yours as he gestures toward the side of the room. “Want to grab a drink? I can introduce you to a few people if you want.”

You hesitate, your heart hammering in your chest. What are you really doing here? Was this all part of the game to him? Or was he genuinely trying to make you feel comfortable?

Before you can answer, a voice calls from across the room—Ethan, Luke’s friend, who’s standing with a few of his teammates, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the two of you.

“Luke! Come on, man. Get over here!” Ethan calls, clearly in the middle of some kind of banter. “We’re going to play a game, the cute girl besides you can join in too.” Luke glances over his shoulder, then looks back at you. His smile falters slightly before he gives you an apologetic look.

“Only if you want to” he says, turning away from his friends to focus completely on you, your head nods before you can think about it Luke lacing his fingers through your before walking toward Ethan and the others.

“Thank you for joining us, weather-girl.” Ethan coos as you and Luke reach the group, a bunch of people huddled in a tight circle at the back of the house. “We’re playing never have I ever, know how to play?” You nod again, watching as Ethan clears a spot for you and Luke to join the circle, the two of you squishing between some other players from the team - Ethan quickly handing you both a red solo cup full of beer.

“I’ll go first.” Ethan cheers, “Never have I ever kissed a boy” The girls of the group chuckling amongst themselves before taking a drink, you cup raising to your lips as you take a slow sip as well the round continuing as each player having a turn in saying something they have never done.

The circle all turn towards Luke as the person besides him finished their turn, “Never have I ever regretted asking out a pretty girl.” He says with a beaming smile, watching as Ethan groans before taking a sip of his drink shouting across the room.

“That was a lame one.” Ethan turns towards you next with anticipation, your throat clearing as you say, “Never have I ever made a bet with my friend to ask a girl out.” The group falls silent as they all look at you, Ethan’s gaze flicking between you and Luke with a grimace, Luke gaze dropping to you in surprise as you look up at him expectedly, hoping to any higher power that he wouldn’t take a sip of his drink.

“I can explain.” Luke whispers, recoiling a little as you let out a harsh scoff, lifting yourself from you spot on the floor in a hurry.

“I think I’m done playing.” You hiss, pushing your way through the crowd as you bolt for the front door, ignoring the sound of Luke calling after you - letting out a shaky breath as the fresh autumn air hits your face.

“I swear I can explain.” Luke says as he comes up behind you.

“So I really was just a bet? What is this some fucking wattpad fanfic.” You let out a bitter laugh as you push your hair off your face.

“Yes...well no…kind of.” Luke sighs, not knowing how to answer your question.

“What did you even bet anyway.”

“Ethan said he’d do my chores for a month if I got you to go on a date and say you liked me first.”

“You tricked me because of chores.” You scoff, “Was it worth it?”

“Yes.” You let out a shocked laugh at his response, taking a few steps away from him as you throw your hands up in defeat. “It was worth it cause it meant I got to talk to you.” Luke takes a deep breath as he looks back to the party before taking a few steps towards you. “The whole stupid thing was worth it cause it mean I actually got to meet you, instead of just staring at you from across the room, and things moved a little faster then I was anticipating but I’m not mad that it happened.”

You blink at him, the words settling over you in a wave. You want to be angry, want to shout at him for making you feel like a game piece in some dumb bet. But as you look at Luke, there’s something raw in his expression, something that makes you hesitate. His eyes are sincere, even if the situation couldn’t be further from what you’d imagined.

“Are you telling me you really liked me? Even before this… game?” You ask, your voice coming out more fragile than you intend. Luke’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks unsure. Then he steps closer, the distance between you growing smaller with each second, the warmth of his body making you feel suddenly aware of how cold the night air is.

“I know how it sounds, and I don’t expect you to just forgive me because I’m telling you this now,” he says, his voice rough, like he’s been carrying the weight of it all for longer than he should. “I spent an hour watching you at the party that night, but I just couldn’t work up the courage to go over and talk to you and when Ethan made that bet, I saw it as a stupid way to break the ice—get us talking. And yeah, I should have told you everything upfront, but I didn’t. I messed up. I’m sorry.” The confession hangs in the air, a delicate thing between you. You feel the heat from his words, but your heart is still tangled in the doubt. He’s here, standing right in front of you, apologising.

“I don’t know, Luke.” You shake your head, trying to process everything. “This whole thing just feels… wrong. Like I was some pawn in a game that didn’t even matter. And now you’re telling me that it did? That you really wanted to get to know me?” Luke nods, his gaze unwavering.

“Yes. It matters. You matter. And I know it sounds like a bad excuse, but I’ve never done something like this before. I wasn’t thinking about how you’d feel, I was thinking about how I felt—and I was being selfish. I should’ve respected you more than that.” The wind picks up, tugging at your hair, and you shiver, more from the tension building between you than the cold. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say to all of this. Part of you wants to run. Part of you wants to let it go, to believe him, to give him a chance.

You cross your arms, staring at the ground, trying to make sense of everything. The weight of the night presses on you, every sound from inside the house now distant, muffled. “I don’t know if I can just forgive you like that, Luke.”

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right away.” he says, his voice softening. You meet his eyes then, something in the way he says it making your heart race again.

“Then what are you asking for, Luke?” You whisper, the question heavy with every word.

“I don’t know.” He says softly, his eyes dropping to the floor for a moment, before flicking back to you. “I’m not asking for anything, I just want you to know that even if the only reason I worked up the courage to talk to you was because of the bet, it doesn’t mean that anything else had anything to do with it. I do really like you and if you want me to back off I will but I really, really don’t want to.” Your stern expression falters a little at Luke words, your brain battling to keep your icy exterior up.

“Please, I’ll do anything for one more chance.” Luke pleads, his hands reaching out for you before quickly dropping back to his sides. You watch as he fights with himself in his own head, trying to decide whether to pass the invisible border you had put between the two of you.

“How about we make our own bet?” You say softly, not missing the way Luke’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “You get one date to prove that none of this was fake if you can manage that then maybe you’ll get a second one.” You say Luke’s head already nodding before you even finish your sentence.

“And if I don’t manage to prove it?’ He asks softly.

“Then you do all my errands for a month.” You answer finally cracking a soft smile, Lukes body visibly relaxing at your words, the joke clearing something as he takes a few steps forwards his arms wrapping around you and lifting you from the ground before you even get a chance to protest.

“I promise I’ll prove that the bet had nothing to do with anything, and I’ll do all your errands for the rest of the year.” Luke coos, his heart throbbing in his chest as you let out the sweetest laugh, the one that makes his legs turn to jelly as he gently sets you back on the ground.

“I think I can make that work.” You smile, the doubt remaining in your chest as Luke keeps his arms around you, a part of him needing to keep you wrapped up in his arm to truly believe that this was real.

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl #nhl fic #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes college au #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes imagine

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rowdyluv · 2 days ago

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luke! #8 she/her

this is so jack teasing luke! luke having the biggest crush on a friend and everyone knows but her

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: 8, “Yᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.” Jᴜsᴛ ɢᴏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛ�� (ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴ).”

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 500

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ ᴄᴏɴsᴜᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ - ᴏꜰ ʟᴇɢᴀʟ ᴀɢᴇ

From the porch, Luke's gaze was unwavering, his eyes locked on the distant figure of Y/n as she laughed and chatted with her friends by the dock. She was the center of their world down there, her laughter carrying through the still air and tickling his ears like a secret only he was meant to hear.

"You've got it bad," Jack said, appearing at his side with a knowing smirk. He handed Luke a cold beer, the condensation leaving a trail of wetness on his palm.

Luke took the bottle, trying to ignore the smirk on his brother's face. "It's not like that," he protested, his voice betraying his words of lies. He took a swig, the cold liquid a temporary balm to his embarrassment.

Jack leaned against the porch rail, his arms folded. "Oh really? Because you’re doing it again," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Doing what?" Luke feigned ignorance, his cheeks reddening slightly as he took a gulp of the beer.

Jack chuckled. "You know, that whole 'I'm gonna watch Y/n from afar like a lovesick puppy and not do anything about it' routine. It's a bit painful to watch.”

"Shut up, Jack," Luke grumbled, taking another sip of his beer. "It's not like you've never had a crush before."

“And what did I do? I went and talked to her, right?” Jack asked rhetorically.

The question hung in the air, challenging Luke’s inaction. Y/n’s laughter grew louder, as she led her group of friends back up towards the house.

“Now or never Lukey, you see her. Wait too much longer someone else is going to come around. Don’t want that do ya?” Jack tested, pushed even.

“You’re one to talk, you just go for it without thinking and it’s always a mess. Besides, it’s different for you. Girls just throw themselves at you,” Luke said, trying to hide his jealousy behind a sip of his beer.

“For godsake Luke, if you don’t tell Y/n yourself. I’ll do it for you.” Jack groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Tell me what?” She asked topping the stairs to the porch.

They both spun around to see Y/n standing there, her eyes curious and a hint of amusement playing on her lips. She’d heard the tail end of their conversation. Luke’s heart stuttered in his chest, his grip tightening around the bottle.

“Yes, Luke. Tell her what?” Jack grinned cheekily taking a couple safety steps away from his taller, though younger, brother.

Panic flooded through Luke’s body. He took a big gulp of his beer, his eyes darting between his brother and Y/n. Taking a deep breath, running his hands through his messy curls, he lets out the breath. “Can we talk about it alone?”

“Of course, Lukey. You know we can talk anytime.” She offers out her hand to him to lead him inside so they could talk with the barrier of the door adding a layer of privacy Luke wasn’t too sure of himself, but Jack was right.

Now or never.

#cay writes #luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x fem!reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x reader #Rowdyluvs 600 celly

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strnilolover · 3 days ago

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tomboy!reader shows skater!chris her vinyl collection for the first time

it was no secret music was something you were passionate about. whether that be cd’s or your phone—you always had your headphones with you, or on you.

the one thing you were most passionate about and cherished the most, was your vinyl collection. you’d spent years collecting them—it was something you absolutely loved.

they decorated a wall in your room, placed on the bookshelf below them—they were everywhere.

but you hadn’t flaunted them off to anyone before, not until now. you weren’t one for people being in your personal space, preferring to be alone. but chris—chris—was someone you didn’t mind the thought of being in your room, in your personal space.

“you have a lot of vinyls holy shit..” chris mutters as he steps into your room—the discs being the first thing his blue eyes land on. he looked stunned, setting his board against your wall as he wandered over to your shelf.

“ah ah! don’t touch ‘em!” you say quickly as you saw his hand come out to grab at one of your billie vinyls. his hand quickly retracted, head whipping around as wide eyes stare at you. your feet carried you to where he was, putting your arm in front of him. “i don’t want them broken..” you mumbled.

“sorry—they just look really cool. i’ve never seen so many in one place before.” he says, eyes flitting back to your many vinyls. you took a deep breath, letting your eyes look to your record player before moving back to him. “you..do you want to try one out? just—just one.”

his eyes lit up, nodding his head slowly. you let your arm drop, gesturing toward the shelf. he was quick, hands setting out to grab an arctic monkeys vinyl. he turned to you, holding it out, smiling softly. you grinned, “s’this the one you want?”

“yeah.” and you smiled, pushing it back toward him. “well then, put it on the record player.” you say, reaching your hand out to open the lid to the player. carefully he slid the disc out of the thing it was in, setting it down carefully as you flicked the player on.

he looked back at you after setting the record down, “er—i don’t really…” he trailed off, and you chuckled. “don’t worry, i’ll show you.” gently you grabbed his hand, bringing it to hover over the needle before maneuvering his hand to push the needle until it hovered over the edge of the disc. you pulled his hand back, pulling the little lever to lower the needle down, the soft static filling the room before the music started to play.

instantly, you both started to bob your heads to the music—saying slightly. you looked to the side at him, “i hope you know this is probably a one time thing.” you clarified. and he nodded.

“yeah..but it was so worth it. thank you for trusting me enough with them.” you smiled, bringing your arms up to rest around him.

“anytime.”

This is an Au collab with @endereies find her stuff [ Here ]

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margeoww · 2 days ago

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Strong Enough for You

back to my masterlist

pairing: percy jackson x gf!reader

summary: being in a relationship with Percy Jackson means adventure, danger, and plenty of moments to admire his heroism. But what you love most? His quiet moments of vulnerability—and, of course, those arms that could rival the gods themselves.

a/n: okay guys, just look at him. I just wanted to write something related to this wonderful pic.

It wasn’t a secret, not really. Everyone at Camp Half-Blood had noticed Percy’s physical transformation over the years—his strength wasn’t just in his bravery or his loyalty; it was evident in the way he moved, the way he carried himself. And you? Well, you had front-row seats to it all.

Sitting on the steps of the Big House one sunny afternoon, you watched Percy from a distance as he helped the younger campers set up for capture the flag. His orange camp shirt clung to his shoulders, and his biceps flexed as he effortlessly lifted a heavy crate of shields.

—Are you even listening to me? —Annabeth’s voice broke through your daydream.

You blinked, turning to your best friend, who was smirking knowingly. —What?

Annabeth crossed her arms. —I was saying that Percy’s been showing off a little more lately. And judging by the way you’re staring, I think I know why.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. —I wasn’t staring.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. —Sure, you weren’t. Look, you’ve been together for a year now. He’s obviously just as smitten with you as you are with him. Maybe it’s time to tell him how much you appreciate his hard work.

Later that evening, you found Percy by the campfire, absentmindedly poking at the flames with a stick. He looked up as you approached, his face lighting up in that way that always made your heart skip a beat.

—Hey. —he said, scooting over to make room for you. —How was your day?

You sat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. —Better now.

Percy chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. —You’re cute when you’re sappy, you know that?

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes trailing over his face and down to the strong line of his jaw. From there, your gaze wandered—his broad shoulders, the way his arms rested casually on his knees, the faint scars that told stories of battles won.

—Okay, what’s that look for? —Percy asked, amused.

You bit your lip, deciding to go for it. —I was just thinking… you’ve gotten really strong lately.

Percy blinked, caught off guard. —Uh, thanks? I mean, I’ve been training a lot, but..

—I like it. —you interrupted, your voice soft but teasing. —I mean, I really like it.

Percy’s face turned red, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. -Oh. Well, that’s… good to know.

You grinned, leaning closer to press a kiss to his cheek. —Don’t get too cocky, Pers. But for the record, you’re ridiculously attractive.

A few days later, Percy seemed determined to test just how much you liked his newfound strength. During sparring practice, he pulled off a series of overly dramatic moves that had the other campers rolling their eyes—and had you trying very hard not to laugh.

Afterward, as you were both walking back to your cabins, he turned to you with a mischievous grin. —So… was that impressive enough for you?

You playfully shoved his shoulder. —You’re such a show-off.

—But you like it. —he countered, grabbing your hand to pull you closer. His voice dropped to a low murmur. —Admit it.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. —Fine. Maybe I do. Just a little.

Percy leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was sweet and unhurried. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of affection—and a hint of smugness.

—Good. —he said softly. —Because I’d do anything to keep you looking at me like that.

That night, as you lay together on the dock by the lake, Percy’s arm draped around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but trace your fingers over the muscles of his forearm.

—Do you ever get tired? —you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

—Tired of what?

—Carrying the weight of the world. —you said, your tone teasing but your words sincere.

Percy’s smile was soft as he turned to look at you. —Not when you’re here. —he said simply.

And in that moment, as the stars reflected in the water and his hand found yours, you realized that no amount of strength could compare to the way he made you feel: safe, loved, and completely at home.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #pjo x reader #pjo #pjo series #fanfic #imagine

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scarletttries · 2 days ago

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Baldur's Gate 3 Companions With a Shy GN!Reader...(Baldur's Gate 3 Request)

Request: " Can I request for Baldur's Gate 3 companions with shy gender neutral s/o please?"

Pairings: Astarion x Reader, Wyll Ravengard x Reader, Gale Dekarios x Reader, Shadowheart x Reader, Karlach x Reader

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who sent in requests and has been reblogging my Baldur's Gate posts! Consider me open for any BG3 requests, let me know if you want to see more headcanons like this :)

Astarion:

- At first Astarion would find it hard to reconcile your shyness with his understanding of the way people behave. He would be suspicious of you initially, wondering why you insist on playing your cards so close to your chest. It wouldn't be until you finally warmed up to him and started to talk a bit more that he realised that this quiet tone to you is actually very endearing to him.

- When you two get together he would feel very proud to be the person you speak to the most. Astarion can be a little insecure sometimes so knowing that you choose to talk to him despite being selective with who you speak to would mean a lot to him. It would help him to trust you more too, knowing the the deep bond between you is almost a secret that you would never dare whisper to anyone else.

- Astarion loves being able to communicate with you with just a sly glance or a single whispered word, the two of you often having entire conversations without saying a word to those around you. When you need to talk your way into somewhere Astarion's always happy to do the talking, but he can't help but be impressed with the way you can navigate through a room quiet and unnoticed.

- As a partner Astarion needs more reassurance than he ever likes to show, so knowing that you'll go against your shy instincts to whisper a flirty thought or a sentimental memory to him when he starts to look worn out always boosts his spirits. He didn't know how much he needed someone just like you in his life until you became a core part of it.

Wyll:

- Wyll never shies away from the public or a spotlight, announcing himself as he enters almost any room, so when he meets someone who prefers to listen to those around them instead of interrupting, he'd become very interested in what you have to say. He'd make the effort to get to know you even if it didn't happen as naturally as sometimes other bonds have come to him, but as he worked to gain your trust and attention he'd never regret a moment of time spent getting you to warm up to him.

- When the two of you are together Wyll will never miss an opportunity to sing your praises, no matter how bashful it makes you! He needs you to know how amazing and appreciated you are, as he can never tell if you fully recognise your own brilliance.

- Wyll falls in love with the way you think before you speak, listening to every part of his story and really considering everything he tells you, never jumping to an assumption as so many people in his life have. He finds your accepting nature makes him a better man, and in return he only grows a deeper fondness for the way you carry yourself.

- As a partner Wyll always needs someone to be there for him, listening and reassuring, and he really finds that partner in you. He's never felt more loved and respected as he does when you give him the time and space to work through his feelings and history, the quiet stillness you bring to his life letting him find a peace he's never known before.

Gale:

- Gale has spent enough time studying magic at scholarly institutes to have met more than a few shy souls in his past, so when he notices you playing the shrinking violet he knows exactly how to give you all the time and space you need to finally share a bit of yourself with him.

- He knows that the most important things to hear usually come from those who don't speak unless they have something to say, and there's no exception to that in you. He really gives weight to everything you share with him, every opinion you pose, and every compliment you reward him with through flushed cheeks and nervous laughter. It only makes it that much sweeter that you don't dish out such comments absentmindedly.

- Gale also enjoys using a bit of your shyness against you, gaining a certain amount of satisfaction from being overtly flirty in public once the two of you are well into dating. He can't help but smile at the way you shy away from his loud declarations of love and the flirty comments whispered far too loudly across a tavern. His heart practically bursts when you try to hide your face in his hands when he's being far too vocal about how beautiful he finds you in front of the rest of your companions, and not a day goes by that he doesn't remind you of that fact.

- Thankfully he usually waits until you are alone to let his adoration pour out in his gentle words and touches, enjoying that while he can be a brash as he wants in public, he can feel your true appreciation in the quiet you spend alone. His life has held more than one dramatic chapter, so having someone who loves him so sweetly and mutters his name so softly when they praise him really means the world to Gale.

Shadowheart:

- More than anyone else, Shadowheart can appreciate the desire to keep parts of yourself hidden behind some firmly closed doors. She finds herself drawn to your quiet personality as the rest of the party are a bit boisterous for her taste, often favouring the seat beside you at any given campfire, knowing her boundaries will be respected, and any conversation made will be worthwhile.

- Once you two are together, she sees you as a respite from the endless questions of the outside world. The two of you can spend hours in comfortable silence together, only your interlocking fingers letting the other know you are still there. You give her the space to think through her decisions, but at the same time she knows that if you choose to speak up then she really should consider listening to what you have to say.

- Shadowheart finds herself more able to share pieces of herself with you, as you open up at the same gradual pace that she does. You don't rush to tell her everything or bombard her with questions like the others. Instead she'll often finding you waiting outside her tent at first light when she rises, offering her a hand for a quiet stroll through the forest as you softly tell her a tale from your childhood and she tries to imagine herself growing up alongside you, in a sweet version of her life she could almost convince herself is the truth.

- Shadowheart doesn't fully know her past, but with you as her partner, her future finally starts to come into focus, all because of you.

Karlach:

- Karlach has been loud and brash since the moment she could speak, so at first she thinks your shy demeanour is a sign of rejection of her friendship. It's disappointing that you don't want to talk to her, but she's not sensitive enough to worry about what every single person thinks of her. It would be endlessly frustrating to you that you have to really put yourself out there, making every effort to be by her side and forcing yourself to respond to her every remark to try and let her know you really do like her. In the end you'd just have to ask her to dance at a celebration with the rest of the group, and when she laughs and says she thought you didn't like her, please prepare yourself to tell her you like her so much that it makes it genuinely hard to talk sometimes.

- Once Karlach understands the concept of shyness and that it is not a personal affront to her, she will be very happy to do all the speaking for both of you. Every journey you take across the lands she will gladly fill the silence with every thought and tale, celebrating loudly every times she manages to make you gasp or laugh along with her.

- Karlach will take a lot of pride in the thought that you like her so much that you are almost rendered speechless, and get quite jealous when she realises you are being shy around other people too. Worried that everyone will be seduced by your strong-silent type behaviour she would definitely insist on holding your hand as much as possible, or loudly shouting across combat that you and her are an item just in case anyone was getting the wrong idea.

- While your personality might have started as a bit of a mystery to Karlach, once you two really know each other she'll come to highly value your way of carrying yourself, learning a few things about protecting herself from undue influences, while keeping herself open to the important people in her life, like you!

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hoe4hotchner · 9 hours ago

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can you dooooo, secret relationship with reader owning a 5 star restraunt??? the entire team goes there on rossi's dime and everyone finds out because the chef keeps coming to the table again and again and hotch was given a dessert he didnt order and all of his food was removed from the bill??

Étoile | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Chef fem!reader | WC: 1k | CW: Fluff, food, wine

A/N: I honestly just realized that I forgot the part about the bill.

The scent of roasted garlic, seared steak, and freshly baked bread filled the air as Hotch followed the rest of his team into Étoile. Everyone in the city seemed to rave about the five-star restaurant. The interior was a masterpiece of elegance — something that looked like it came straight out of a French Château — with its low lighting, polished wood and golden accents, and flickering candlelight casting a glow over the tables.

Rossi had insisted on treating the team to a celebratory dinner after their caseload lately, and he had, of course, spared no expense.

The team marveled as they were led to their table — a spot tucked into a private alcove that provided a perfect view of the open kitchen. Hotch felt a flicker of nerves as he glanced in that direction, and his eyes found you instantly, at the center of the busy kitchen, directing your staff with a calm yet authoritative nature to you — one that was rarely seen in the field.

You looked brilliant in your chef's coat, hair neatly tied back, your focus shifting seamlessly from one task to another. Hotch quickly looked away, feigning interest in the wine menu as the host seated them. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to notice how intently his gaze lingered on you.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

Just as the team settled into their seats, you stepped out of the kitchen, your confident stride drawing their attention immediately. A polite, professional smile curved your lips as you approached the table.

"Good evening, everyone," you greeted warmly, your voice carrying easily over the soft hum of the restaurant. "Welcome to Étoile. I’m the executive chef and owner, (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to have you dining with us tonight."

“Wow,” Garcia said, her eyes wide as she glanced around the dining room before settling on you. “This place is gorgeous! And you own it? That’s amazing!”

You offered her a genuine smile. “Thank you. I hope you’ll all enjoy tonight’s menu. If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Your gaze flicked ever so briefly to Hotch, the corner of your mouth lifting in a barely perceptible smile. It was a fleeting glance, gone almost as quickly as it came, but Hotch caught it — and so did Rossi, though he said nothing.

The team, oblivious to the exchange, returned their attention to their menus, already discussing what they might order. Hotch, on the other hand, shifted in his seat, his nerves bubbling just beneath his exterior.

As the evening went on, the telltale signs of your connection to each other began to unfold.

You checked on their table personally — not once, but several times, despite the fact that the restaurant was fully booked. Each time, you lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, your smile a little softer when your eyes met Hotch’s.

When the entrees arrived, Hotch’s plate was different from what he’d ordered. It wasn’t a mistake; it was a refined, elegant dish not listed on the menu. The server placed it in front of him with a knowing smile.

“This is Chef’s special request,” the server explained.

Hotch blinked, his expression giving away nothing, though he was certain his team noticed the slight shift in his posture.

“Special request, huh?” Morgan said, leaning back in his chair and eyeing the plate. “Man, must be nice to get VIP treatment.”

Hotch only gave a tight smile, his response curt. “I’m sure it’s just part of the service.”

The night continued, the atmosphere lively as the team enjoyed their meal and laughed over Rossi’s insistence on ordering the most expensive wine. But the final nail in the coffin came with dessert.

The team had ordered a selection to share — an assortment of tarts, soufflés, and pastries. But when the desserts were brought out, the server placed an additional plate in front of Hotch — a chocolate soufflé adorned with a delicate swirl of raspberry coulis and a small chocolate garnish.

Hotch frowned. “I didn’t order this.”

The server smiled, unfazed. “Compliments of the chef.”

Morgan arched a brow, his curiosity piqued. “Compliments of the chef? Again? Alright, Hotch, what’s going on here?”

“Yeah,” JJ chimed in, grinning. “You’ve been getting the royal treatment all night.”

Hotch opened his mouth to deflect, but before he could respond, Rossi leaned forward, his tone teasing. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed, Aaron. The chef herself has been hovering over this table like a moth to a flame.”

Garcia’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. Wait a second — Hotch, do you know her? Like, know her know her?”

Before Hotch could say anything, you appeared at the table once more, a light laugh escaping your lips as you held up your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, don’t be too hard on him. It’s true.”

The team turned to stare at you.

“Hotch and I…” You glanced at him with a soft smile. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

For a moment, there was a stunned silence over the group. Then Morgan let out a low whistle.

“Hotch,” he said, shaking his head in mock disbelief, “you’ve been holding out on us. A five-star chef? Man, you’re full of surprises.”

Garcia clapped her hands together. “This is amazing! I have so many questions. How did you meet? How long has this been going on? Oh, and please tell me he helps you in the kitchen sometimes because I’m picturing it, and it’s adorable!” The pictures played in her brain, mixing with the memory of cooking omelets with Hotch.

As the team bombarded you both with questions, Hotch met your gaze across the table, a faint blush shading his cheeks. Despite the exposure of your relationship, a warmth spread in his chest.

You reached out to squeeze his hand briefly before pulling away, your voice tinged with humor as you answered the team’s questions to the best of your abilities, making sure not to overstep Hotch's boundaries with the information you let pass.

138 notes · View notes

keehomania · 9 hours ago

Text

party animal — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, slowburn, pining, swearing, minors dni, reader’s surname is archibald bc it sounds expensive, super rich kids, slut-shaming, kook princess!reader, pre-buzzcut rafe, drug use, alcohol abuse, promiscuity, unprotected sex, reader has major daddy issues, rafe is lowkey obsessed, glazing the reader lol heavy serena van der woodsen vibes, rafe wants to fix her (he needs a therapist!)

you were a paradox, a contradiction wrapped in silk and sin—something meant to be divine but marred by every thorn that hell’s garden could offer. you reveled in it, though—the chaos, the pull of power, the way the world seemed to orbit around your smile. the thrill was intoxicating, the rush of watching people bend to your will like marionettes on fragile strings. if you wanted, they’d scrape gum from the soles of your designer heels, and you wouldn’t even need to say “please.” it wasn’t about malice; it was about the game. how far could you go before everything unraveled?

that’s why you came home late every night, long past the hour when even the shadows began to whisper secrets to each other. midnight had always been your threshold—swaying on the edge of your limits, drenched in vice. you carried the night with you like a perfume—martinis clinging to your breath, the ghost of cuban cigars still roughening your voice. your skin glistened under the harsh yellow glow of the porch light, the sweat and sin of your evening etched into your being.

sarah had been your constant, your touchstone in a life teetering between indulgence and destruction. she was supposed to anchor you, but even her goodness wasn’t immune to your sway. she let you in without question, her hand firm but gentle on your arm as she led you across the threshold. her boyfriend trailed behind, his words a muffled hum lost to the haze in your head as she whispered something you didn’t bother to catch.

you knew better than to stay, yet there you were, wrapped in tom ford and tequila, your gaze flickering in the dim light as you crossed the line you swore you wouldn’t touch again. this was mistake number one hundred, but this one felt different. this one was bigger. and you could already feel the weight of it pressing down on your chest, even as you smiled in the dark. god, how you wished you could take back time.

“shit, shit, shit,” you let out a long, high-pitched moan as your nails dug into the flesh of his chest, leaving everything from crescents to the presence of fresh blood from how hard you were clawing at him.

you threw your head back as you steadied yourself, his strong forearms wrapped around your knees as he spread them about, allowing him to meet your thrusts, his hips snapping forward as you moved at your own pace, bouncing, yours hands moving to push your hair back as your tits moved with every motion. “feel so good, rafe,” you slurred, leaning in and arching forward as you pressed your lips to his neck.

now, pause. was this bad? yes, this was very bad. not only were you drunk off your ass, but he was just as bad, if not worse, running on no sleep and booger sugar the way he usually did—maybe he was just wired that way. whatever the case was, he didn't care. he was enchanted, in a trance that he wasn't completely aware of—maybe it was the blow, he wanted it to be the coke more than anything, but he had a feeling it was more than that.

it had to do with the way you were moving, almost as if you were still at the club, dancing and swaying without a care in the world. had you always been like that? when did the kook princess conquer the underworld? he was panting, his mouth hanging open at the feeling of you squeezing, clenching around him like you were trying to milk everything he had to give—and you were. he let you kiss down his jaw, licking a stripe up his earlobe before moving down to his neck, nipping at the flesh and praying it wouldn't bruise.

“keep this up,” he hissed through his teeth, jaw clenching as his big, rough hands manhandled your hips, giving him all the leverage in the world as he kept thrusting, kept pounding into you like you were the only two people on the earth. “and i’m gonna fucking cum.”

you exhaled, something between a laugh and a moan passing your lips, ringing in his ears like a melody. “yeah, gonna cum?” you taunted, “gonna fill me up, cameron?” god, you were asking for it—begging for it, he was gonna nail you.

he pushed you back with a growl, leaning forward until his lips were perched around your nipple, teeth grazing the flesh of your tit as he muffled a guttural groan, fingers gripping the flesh of youe thighs as his dick throbbed. you could feel it pulsing inside you, twitching against your walls, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you sank down on his cock a final time. then, it was game over.

he moaned, loud and hard as he filled you up, milking the delicious grip your walls had around his cock as he continued to thrust, his cum spilling into you continuously, like he had an infinite amount of it in his balls, but he didn’t and, eventually, it did end.

it ended with you collapsing beside him, panting as you fought for oxygen. you wiped the sweat from your forehead as you panted, coming down from your high and absolutely refusing to look him in the eye—at all, really. he turned to glance at you, sweat sticking to the loose, thin bangs that grazed his forehead. he gulped, unsure of what to say as he took in the sight of you, unsure if he should say anything at all, and he didn't. he was too afraid to, but he’d never admit that out loud. he wasn't the type that got scared, intimidated, nothing of the sort. so, why was he suddenly quiet?

he was supposed to be the one to tell you to get up, to grab your clothes, and to get the fuck out of his room, but the words didn't come out. he was supposed to hear you talk about enjoying long walks on the beach, wanting something serious, something more than a quickie at three in the morning, but you didn’t. you didn’t beg for him to look at you as something more than just his friend, sarah’s best friend. instead, you turned around, pulling a blanket over your naked body, and went to sleep.

the pounding in your head was merciless, splitting your skull into jagged thirds as you groaned softly, pressing a hand to your temple. everything was blurry—the sunlight cutting through the blinds too sharp, the stale remnants of last night’s debauchery clinging to your skin like a brand. you blinked, once, twice, trying to piece together the fragments of memory that refused to align. but when the realization hit, it slammed into you like a freight train. your breath hitched. rafe. naked. asleep.

the room—the white walls, the overflowing closet, the faint trace of white powder on the desk—left no room for doubt. this was his room. and you had slept with him.

“dumbass,” you muttered under your breath, smacking your palm against your forehead like it could somehow erase the memory. “dumbass. dumbass. dumbass.”

you scrambled to your feet, fumbling for the crumpled dress discarded near the bed. your hands shook as you tugged it on, the silk clinging to your skin like guilt. your heels weren’t hard to find, their straps a sharp contrast against the chaos of his room. quietly, you tiptoed to the door, heart thundering with the weight of your actions. what the hell had you done? you tried to steady yourself, convincing your mind that it wasn’t the end of the world. rafe wasn’t the sentimental type. he moved from girl to girl like a chess master with no endgame, and you weren’t exactly unfamiliar with that strategy yourself. if anything, this was just another misstep, a shared mistake that wouldn’t—couldn’t—ruin your friendship.

but god, the thought of sarah finding out, of topper’s smug comments and kelce’s relentless teasing, made your stomach churn.

you reached the kitchen, relief washing over you like a cold shower—until you saw her. standing by the counter, sipping orange juice, her messy blonde hair and pinched expression screaming hangover.

“hey,” you croaked, your voice raspier than you intended.

she barely glanced at you, waving her hand dismissively. “jesus, stop screaming,” she muttered, rubbing her temples.

you rolled your eyes, slipping into a stool and squeezing her shoulder. “sorry, mom, i’ll use my inside voice,” you whispered with a smirk. “what? john b keep you up with his john d?”

her eyes narrowed, a faint smile twitching at her lips. “oh, you so cannot be talking,” she shot back, draining her glass in one go. “you did my brother, so that totally makes us sisters-in-law.”

your heart stopped. “keep it down, you psycho,” you hissed, swatting her arm. “you totally hazed me last night. this never would’ve happened if you hadn’t dragged john b along.”

sarah shrugged, not even bothering to hide her grin. “and what now? gonna ditch the club-night stands and get with my brother?” she teased, her tone as light as the smirk she shot you.

“as if,” you scoffed, pouring her another glass of juice. “i’m getting tested for chlamydia after this.”

her brow lifted in mock surprise. “damn, this is a first. usually, the girls beg me to hook them up with rafe.”

you shook your head, wagging a finger at her. “absolutely not. you know me,” you said firmly, and she did. “rafe’s my friend. known him since he was hoarding cereal box comics. so, this? It never happened.”

sarah laughed, leaning back against the counter. “man, he’s totally gonna brag to top and kels,” she said with a mischievous glint. “not everyone gets to nail the kook princess.”

rolling your eyes, you snatched your keys off the counter, leaning in to hug her. “you’re real peachy, aren’t you?” you teased, hand darting down to slap her ass. “i’m out, babe. pick you up tonight for the bonfire?”

“wear something cute,” she called after you, shaking her head with a grin as she watched you leave.

the engine of your corvette roared to life, a deep, satisfying hum that vibrated through your chest and momentarily distracted you from the chaos in your head. you leaned back against the leather seat, gripping the wheel as last night’s events replayed in fragmented flashes. the tequila, the dim haze of rafe’s room, the feel of his hands on your skin—it all came rushing back like a tidal wave, making your cheeks burn with equal parts shame and disbelief.

“what the hell were you thinking?” you muttered, shaking your head as you pulled out of sarah’s driveway.

the quiet streets were still sleepy, the morning sun casting long shadows that danced across the pavement. you drove a few blocks, the rhythmic rumble of the engine filling the silence as you tried to piece everything together. but no matter how hard you tried, it all felt surreal, like something out of a dream you couldn’t quite shake. when you finally pulled into your own driveway, the sight of your familiar front porch brought a strange sense of relief. this was home, your sanctuary—empty for now, thanks to your mother’s work trip. thank god for small miracles; she would’ve flipped her perfectly groomed, suburban lid if she’d seen you walk in smelling like bad decisions and luxury cologne.

sliding out of the car, you groaned softly, your palm meeting your forehead for what felt like the hundredth time. “dumbass,” you whispered again, scolding yourself as you made your way inside.

the house was quiet, sunlight spilling through the windows in soft golden streaks. you kicked off your heels near the door, leaving a trail of discarded items on your way to the bathroom. the cool tile against your bare feet was grounding as you stepped into the shower, twisting the knob until a hot, steamy cascade poured over you. you closed your eyes, letting the water wash away the remnants of last night—the sweat, the guilt, the lingering scent of rafe’s cologne clinging to your skin like a bad memory. your hands worked through your hair, fingers scrubbing at your scalp as you tried to scrub him out of your mind.

but he lingered, even as the water ran clear and you stepped out, wrapping a plush towel around yourself. you moved mechanically, toweling your hair dry before running a brush through the damp strands, blow-drying them until they fell in soft waves around your shoulders. a light layer of makeup followed—just enough to cover the shadows under your eyes and add a touch of color to your lips.

you opened your closet, scanning the rows of neatly hung clothes until your fingers landed on the white sundress. it was simple, elegant, hugging your curves in all the right places while leaving your tan lines exposed—reminding you of sun-soaked days that felt like a lifetime ago. you slipped it on, adjusting the hem before layering yourself with delicate gold jewelry: a thin chain around your neck, dainty hoops, and a few stacked bracelets.

the white heels completed the look, their sleek design elongating your legs as you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror. you looked put together, polished, even if you felt like a hurricane on the inside.

as you walked back out of the house, locking the door behind you, the corvette gleamed in the driveway. climbing back into the driver’s seat, you started the engine, the rumble a familiar comfort. last night was still a tangle of confusion in your mind, but as you pulled onto the road, you pushed it to the back of your thoughts. you had errands to run, a day to salvage, and a version of yourself to piece back together before anyone else caught on to how close you were to falling apart.

sarah wiped down the countertop with a slow, deliberate motion, her lips curving into a small smile as she thought about you. not with jealousy—she could never bring herself to feel that way about you—but with a kind of admiration that only years of friendship could cultivate. you had always been a force of nature, unpredictable and unrelenting.

you were the girl who punched cindy lopez in the nose for calling sarah stupid in third grade, who bought her her first vogue magazine when her parents refused to indulge her interest in fashion, who never hesitated to stand by her, no matter what. sarah knew, deep down, that nothing could ever truly take you away from her.

“hey.” the familiar voice snapped her out of her thoughts. she turned, her eyes landing on her brother as he sauntered into the kitchen. his hair was tousled, his eyes slightly bloodshot, and his expression unreadable.

“morning,” sarah greeted, fighting the urge to laugh. “some night you had.”

rafe ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze as he moved toward the fridge. “she left,” he stated, his voice flat, though sarah could hear the faint edge to it. “they usually don’t.”

rafe shrugged, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting the cap off. he took a long sip before sitting at the kitchen island, his gaze distant. “yeah, well, she’s a free spirit,” sarah said, leaning against the counter. she studied his face carefully, noticing the subtle tension in his jaw. “you’re cool with that, right?”

“yeah, yeah, yeah,” rafe said quickly, almost too quickly. he shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers against the counter as if to distract himself. “she’s a—she’s a good friend. shouldn’t be too bad.”

sarah tilted her head, suppressing a smirk as she moved some dishes around the sink. “congrats, by the way. you nailed the kildare princess. topper’s totally gonna be jealous.”

rafe raised an eyebrow, finally looking up at her. “top?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes narrowing slightly.

sarah nodded, folding her arms across her chest. “yeah, god, he’s had a crush on her forever,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “don’t rub it in too much, though. i was totally rooting for them.”

rafe tapped his foot against the tile, his brows furrowing as he processed this. “yeah? And, uh, how does she feel about him?” he asked, keeping his tone even.

sarah shrugged, pondering the question for a moment. “i have no idea. no one knows what she’s thinking—not even me,” she admitted with a small laugh. “she’s a free spirit, like i said. she doesn’t take guys seriously. guess it has something to do with her dad. whatever it is, a guy couldn’t fix her with two hands and a toolbox, so be grateful she isn’t begging for your attention.”

rafe nodded slowly, her words sinking in. he leaned back in his chair, wiping his face with his hands as he considered what she’d said. it didn’t sit right with him—the way you had left without a second glance, the way you hadn’t even seemed to care about what had happened between you. he was used to a certain kind of response from the girls he spent the night with—flirty texts, coy smiles, maybe even the occasional attempt to cling to him. but you? you’d left like it was nothing, like he was nothing. it bothered him. more than it should have. but rafe cameron had always liked a challenge.

the roar of your corvette’s engine echoed as you pulled into the car wash, your fingers drumming against the steering wheel in a rhythm that betrayed your nerves. the ache in your head hadn’t dulled, and you silently cursed yourself for not grabbing an aspirin before you left the house. a drink sounded tempting too—something strong enough to quiet your thoughts about last night.

as you drove into the bay, a figure approached your car, a man in a black cap pulled low over his brow. his gait was confident, but as he got closer, you noticed the slight hesitation in his step. early twenties, give or take, with sun-kissed skin and broad shoulders, he leaned down to meet your gaze through the window.

“hey, do you need your tires polished—” he stopped mid-sentence, his voice faltering as his eyes widened. recognition lit up his face as his jaw slackened slightly.

“top?” you asked, rolling your window down with a grin.

a smile broke across his face, wide and sheepish, as he tugged the cap off his head, running a hand through his hair. “hey,” he stammered, his voice boyish and endearing. “what are you doing here?”

“i could ask you the same thing,” you replied with a chuckle. “what’s this? early career change?”

he laughed nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “nah, it’s my uncle’s shop. just helping him out for the summer,” he explained, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “it’s, uh, it’s really good to see you.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s good to see you too, top.”

the moment lingered for a beat longer than necessary, his gaze holding yours before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

“so, what’s the occasion?” he asked, gesturing to the car.

“just getting her ready for the bonfire tonight,” you replied, leaning back in your seat. “won’t take up too much of your time.”

topper shook his head quickly, his grin returning. “you’re not wasting my time,” he said, almost too earnestly. “i’ll get started—on the house.”

you frowned, leaning forward. “come on, top. you know i can pay.”

he waved you off, his grin widening. “yeah, but you won’t.”

you sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. “fine, but i owe you a drink or two tonight.”

“i’ll hold you to that,” he said, his voice lighter, more confident now.

as he turned to get to work, you watched him for a moment, appreciating the way his shoulders moved as he grabbed the hose. he was efficient, his movements precise, but his composure faltered when his eyes drifted back to you through the window. he tried to stay focused, but you caught the way his gaze lingered on your collarbone, the golden jewelry adorning your neck, and the soft curve of the sundress that hugged your body. his jaw tightened as his eyes trailed lower, taking in the tan lines just visible above the hem of your dress. topper had it bad. real bad.

the errands had eaten away your day, the sun already dipping low in the sky by the time you were done. time had flown by faster than you realized, but the anticipation bubbling in your chest made you brush it off. you drove down the familiar block, the hum of the corvette’s engine smoothing your thoughts as you spotted the estate. pulling to the curb, you honked the horn twice, leaning out the window with a grin.

“get in, loser, we’re getting wasted,” you called out, watching as sarah appeared in the doorway, slipping into a pair of sandals.

behind her, rafe hovered like a shadow, his tall frame taking up the doorway. he muttered something to his sister—something about seeing her at the bonfire—but his eyes weren’t on her. they were on you. your stomach twisted, caught between the weight of his gaze and the awkwardness of the situation. shit, what was he supposed to do? wave? say hi? stay quiet? he settled on a wave, though the moment his hand lifted, his confidence faltered. the wave was awkward, hesitant, and he regretted it instantly.

you winced for him, forcing a half-hearted wave back, just as awkward, until the sound of the passenger door slamming shut snapped you out of it.

“romeo, romeo, where art thou, fair romeo?” sarah teased as she tossed herself into the seat, kicking her legs up and reaching for your playlist without hesitation.

“good to see you too, princess,” you mused, rolling your eyes.

she shrugged, her teasing smirk softening as her eyes swept over you, taking in the white sundress that clung to your frame. “you look good,” she said, her tone genuine for once. “you look good in white.”

a smile tugged at your lips as you shifted the car into drive. “you look good in everything,” you shot back smoothly, earning a laugh from her.

the drive to the bonfire was pure summer magic, the kind of ride where the windows were down, and the air smelled like salt and heat. music blared from the speakers as you and sarah sang along, her feet resting on the dashboard as the wind whipped her hair around her face. the sky burned in hues of orange and pink, melting into a deepening blue as the sun dipped lower.

the road opened up to the party grounds, and it was clear the bonfire was just the centerpiece of something much larger. the expansive courtyard buzzed with life, groups of people laughing and chatting, while the glow of string lights gave the scene a warm, golden hue. to the side, a makeshift bar was already busy with activity, and further back, you could see the well-manicured green of a golf field illuminated by soft lighting.

you pulled into valet parking, handing over the keys with practiced ease as sarah slid out of the car beside you. without thinking, your hand dropped to hers, fingers brushing for just a moment before she let out an exaggerated groan.

“oh, god,” she muttered under her breath.

“what?” you asked, already bracing yourself for the mess. seriously, it’s been, what? 10 seconds?

you turned your head and saw him—john b routledge, weaving his way toward you with that signature grin of his. he didn’t even hesitate, wrapping sarah in a hug the moment he reached her.

“hey,” he greeted you casually, though his attention was clearly focused on sarah.

you didn’t reply. instead, you met sarah’s gaze over his shoulder, your expression speaking louder than words. “routledge. mind if i steal her? thanks.” you didn’t even wait for a response.

as he pulled back, you leaned in close to sarah, your voice low enough that only she could hear. “he does or says anything, you get bored, anything goes flat—you call me, text me, i’ll be there, okay?”

she nodded, her lips curving into a smile. “god, you’re the best,” she said, throwing her arms around you for a quick hug.

you shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “i know.” and then, with a bounce in her step, she was off, disappearing into the crowd with her boyfriend.

the bar wasn’t far, but the walk to it felt like something out of a movie. you didn’t notice it at first—the way heads turned, eyes lingering on you like you’d stepped out of some dream. the last rays of sunlight filtered through the trees and string lights, casting a warm, golden glow that seemed to follow you. It was as if the sun itself had decided to pause, just for a moment, to watch you move through the courtyard.

when you reached the bar, you slid onto one of the stools, crossing your legs and leaning forward just enough to signal that you meant business. the bartender looked up from his station, a knowing smile spreading across his face as he approached.

“miss archibald,” he greeted smoothly, his voice carrying just enough warmth to feel personal but still professional.

of course he knew your name—everyone did. kildare was a small county, and its residents loved their local legends. you’d been a sensation for years, the name whispered with awe and envy, your life dissected by those who had nothing better to do. table dancing in barcelona? they’d seen the photos. a whirlwind fling with a celebrity? they’d read the headlines. you couldn’t decide if the attention was a blessing or a curse.

“hey, trent,” you replied casually, your gaze flicking to his name tag, even though you already knew it.

“what’ll it be tonight?”

“don julio, chilled,” you said, pulling your wallet out with ease. you layered a crisp hundred-dollar bill with a few twenties and then added a little extra for him, sliding it across the counter without a second thought.

he raised an eyebrow but accepted the tip without comment, reaching for the top shelf. “haven’t seen you around in a bit,” he mused as he grabbed the tequila. “get yourself a boyfriend?”

the question made your skin crawl, though you masked it with a polite smile. “not in the slightest,” you replied, your tone light but firm enough to shut the topic down.

he nodded, as if that were the answer he’d expected, and set to work. within moments, he placed a chilled bucket on the counter, along with a neat arrangement of shot glasses, lemon wedges, and salt.

“here you go,” trent said with a grin, stepping back to give you space.

finally, you could relax. you exhaled slowly, letting the buzz of the courtyard fade into the background as you eyed the setup before you. the tequila gleamed like liquid gold in the bucket, and you reached for a glass, savoring the moment. tonight, at least for now, was yours. or so you believed, until you felt a tap on your shoulder. the joy was short-lived.

you turned at the light tap on your shoulder, eyebrows raising in curiosity before your lips curved into a familiar grin. there he was, his blond hair slightly messy, his signature smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “you look like you could use a drinking buddy,” jj maybank said, his voice laced with that casual charm that never failed to make people smile.

you leaned back against the stool, crossing one leg over the other as you looked him over. “what are you doing here, j? still crashing our parties?” you teased, your tone light but warm.

he chuckled, sliding onto the stool beside you, his movements as relaxed as ever. “what can i say? i keep coming back. think it’s for the women,” he shot back, his eyes trailing down to where your legs crossed before flickering back to your face.

“some luck they have,” you replied smoothly, raising an eyebrow as you poured yourself another shot.

jj whistled low as he noticed the bottle. “don julio? act a foolio?” he quipped, grabbing a glass for himself.

you smirked, pouring him a shot. “savor it, maybank. you’re drinking two hundred bucks.”

he laughed, leaning back on the stool and looking skyward. “huh, i thought houses cost that much. or is it just mine? just mine? okay.”

you swatted him lightly on the chest, shaking your head as you laughed. his grin widened, and he leaned closer, resting his elbow on the bar. “how about a drinking game?”

your curiosity piqued, and you raised an eyebrow. “oh, yeah? what’s your angle?”

jj grinned like a cat with a canary. “simple. i take a shot, tell you a secret. you take a shot, tell me a secret. loser has to outdrink the other.”

you stared at him, your lips twitching with amusement. “smooth operator, aren’t you?”

he tilted his head, his grin unfaltering. “when it works, it works.”

you tipped your glass back, the tequila smooth and icy as it slid down your throat. setting it down with a soft clink, you thought for a moment before a sly smile spread across your lips. “alright, remember last summer when i went to spain? that article about my celebrity hookup?”

jj nodded, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. “oh, hell yeah. don’t tell me it was a kardashian or some shit.”

you smirked, leaning in slightly. “pablo gavira. nightclub. barcelona.”

his jaw dropped, and then he burst into laughter, slapping the bartop. “holy shit, congrats, it girl. you lived the dream of every fourteen-year-old girl out there!”

you rolled your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips. “shut up, you ass. your turn,” you urged, gesturing for him to take his shot.

jj grinned, taking the glass and throwing back the tequila in one swift motion. as he set the glass down, he leaned in closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “okay, remember last month when john b’s board mysteriously went missing?”

you groaned, already sensing trouble. “jj, what did you do?”

he shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. “sold it to a tourist for three hundred. used the cash to buy everyone drinks at the wreck. including your best friend, by the way.”

your eyes widened in mock horror. “diabolical.”

he laughed, that carefree sound that was so uniquely him. “hey, the guy wanted something ‘authentic.’ i gave him authentic.”

you shook your head, pouring another round. “you’re the worst, maybank.”

“and yet, here you are,” he teased, his grin infectious as he raised his glass for another round.

you stared down the shot glass, your mind racing for a secret that would blow jj’s offbeat humor right out of the water. you had your reputation—hell, you had a treasure chest full of scandals to pull from. but this? this had to be a knockout. something so jaw-dropping, so absolutely wrong that it would leave even jj maybank momentarily speechless. and then it hit you.

you set the glass down with a soft clink, leaning toward him, your lips curling into a devious grin. “guess who i slept with last night.”

his head snapped toward you, his interest piqued as he leaned in, matching your grin with his own. “sarah,” he shot back instantly, smirking like he already knew the answer.

you rolled your eyes, swatting his arm. “i wish,” you groaned dramatically. then, you paused for effect, letting the tension build before delivering the bombshell. “rafe.”

jj froze. for a moment, it was as if his entire system short-circuited, his jaw dropping in an expression that was equal parts horror and hilarity. then he hissed, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. “you’re joking,” he choked out between gasps, his face twisting in disbelief.

you shook your head solemnly, a hand over your heart. “i wish i was. i was drunk, he was high. it just happened.”

he leaned back, clutching his stomach as he cackled. “and they say romance is dead,” he wheezed before shaking his head in mock disapproval. “dude, you had sex with your friend. big no-no. and your friend is a total whore. what if he caught feelings? you be up for a change of pace?”

you nearly choked on the air you inhaled too sharply. “big no,” you said firmly, your voice rising slightly. “and with that psycho? he’d snap my neck in a heartbeat if he was coked up enough.”

jj shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip of tequila. “that’s your type, though. let’s face it. you like ‘em hot and stupid, and that’s all rafe is.” he broke into another fit of laughter, the image clearly amusing him to no end.

you narrowed your eyes, leaning toward him. “hey, i don’t go for psychopaths that shoot cops, dude.”

jj winced, his head swiveling as he glanced around. “allegedly,” he corrected, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “not so loud, psycho. besides, you like your men deranged.”

you scoffed, throwing back another shot. “yeah, that’s what I need. a strung-out psycho blasting big syke while he beats my ass.”

jj’s laughter came to an abrupt halt as he stared at you, his brow furrowed in mock thought. “really? pegged him more as a tupac kind of guy.”

you chuckled, leaning in close with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “you know, i should fix him up. do some psychoanalysis-type shit. make him a good boy,” you joked.

jj nearly fell off his stool, laughing so hard that tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “is that it, bob the builder? you wanna fix me up next?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

you cooed, shaking your head as you rested a hand on his shoulder. “no way, babe. i like you just the way you are. damaged goods.”

he faked a gasp, clutching his chest as if you’d physically wounded him. “who said these goods were damaged?”

“your track record,” came a voice behind you.

you froze, your entire body stiffening at the familiar sound. slowly, almost as if you could delay the inevitable, you turned in your seat, dreading the sight you knew you’d find. and there he was. his expression was unreadable, a mix of calm and something far darker lurking just beneath the surface. those piercing blue eyes bore into you, not leaving yours for a second.

jj let out a low whistle under his breath, muttering, “well, shit.”

you forced a polite smile as you turned to face him, though the tension in the air was as palpable as the heat rising in the room. “hey,” you greeted, trying to diffuse the moment with your usual charm.

you leaned forward to give him a quick hug, a friendly one, but as your arms wrapped around him, you could feel the shift in his breath, the way it caught in his throat as he inhaled deeply. his chest rose and fell just a little too sharply, his lips brushing the side of your neck as you pulled back. that warm, expensive scent of yours seemed to linger in the air, and for a brief moment, you thought you might have made things a bit too personal between the two of you.

but then, you pulled away, turning to greet the others, pushing the awkwardness aside. topper and kelce were already there, practically vibrating with excitement. you smiled and reached out to hug them both. “top, kels,” you said warmly. “you guys want a drink?”

kelce’s grin stretched wide, his enthusiasm unmistakable. “shit, don julio? there’s our money maker,” he cheered, sliding into one of the stools like it was his own personal throne.

topper, on the other hand, didn’t look as enthused anymore. his eyes flickered, darting between you and jj, the conflict visible in the furrow of his brow. you caught the shift, but decided to address it in a way that wouldn’t rock the boat too much.

rafe’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp and demanding. “what’s the pogue doing here?”

jj raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin pulling at his lips. “don’t shoot, just came for a drink,” he teased, the smirk never wavering from his face.

topper shot him a look, one that practically oozed disdain, his tone a little too biting as he quipped, “yeah, we can see that.” he slid a glance at you, his eyes flickering between the two of you. “bar’s full of stools. sit somewhere else.”

the words stung, but jj shrugged them off with practiced ease as you threw an arm around his shoulders as if to claim him as your own for the moment. “you guys are way too sober,” you joked, giving them a mock warning. “be nice.”

jj’s eyes briefly met rafe’s, just a flicker of something passing between them, something loaded with a challenge. and for that brief second, it was like the world stood still, the air thick with competition. but then jj’s smirk widened, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you just a little closer to him. “some friends you have,” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcastic amusement. “haven’t even complimented your dress.”

rafe’s jaw clenched, but he held his ground. he didn’t even know why he was angry, but the sight of jj with his arm around you was a slap in the face. he wanted to believe that it was because jj was a pogue, on kook territory, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than that.

“the dress is beautiful, looks great on her, probably real expensive,” rafe said, his voice suddenly tight, eyes flicking pointedly to where jj’s arm was draped around you. “so get your dirty-ass pogue hands off it.”

the words hit hard, but you weren’t about to let the tension build any further. raising both your hands in a surrendering gesture, you rolled your eyes. “okay, rafe, enough. we get it, he’s a pogue,” you said, your tone light but firm. “just chill out.”

rafe scoffed, a bitter edge to his laugh. as he passed by you, he paused and slammed his shoulder against jj’s, the force enough to make the stool wobble. he shot a look over his shoulder, his gaze hard. “paparazzi’s out in front,” he said, his words dripping with something darker. “try not to get sloppy.” ouch.

the air grew heavier as the boys found their places at the bar, settling down on the stools opposite you. you could feel their eyes on you, heavy and lingering, like they were trying to decipher something beneath the surface. kelce groaned, and the sound was unmistakable—hunger, wrapped in something almost reverential. his eyes raked over you, from your heels all the way up to the way your hair cascaded down your back, messy but perfectly styled.

“she looks fly as hell,” he muttered, swishing his beer bottle absentmindedly. his gaze dropped lower. “legs like that could give victoria's secret a run for their money.”

topper scoffed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning to kelce with a sharp look. “dude, back off,” he snapped, though there was a flicker of agreement in his eyes. he glanced at rafe, who was quietly sipping his own beer, a glint of something darker in his gaze.

rafe rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. he slouched back in his stool, taking another swig from his bottle. “you guys are cracked out,” he muttered dismissively, but then he added something they weren’t expecting. “that’s a low-value woman.”

“what the fuck did you say?” topper shot up, his voice harsh, his fist slamming the bottle down onto the counter with a force that startled a few patrons nearby. the shock in his voice was palpable, and even kelce's usual laid-back demeanor had faltered.

rafe shrugged nonchalantly, his demeanor almost too calm for what he had just said. “you’ve read the articles. she likes the attention. jumping from one guy to another, type shit,” he said, his words clipped, colder than the beer in his hand.

kelce and topper exchanged a glance, their confusion turning to something more, but kelce was the first to speak. “she’s our friend, dude,” he said, his voice lower now, softer. he paused before adding, “and besides, what does that make you? hazardous waste disposal in your pants.” kelce dapped topper up, short and quick.

rafe scoffed, the sound harsh as he ran a hand through his hair, the aggression simmering just under the surface. he looked over at the two of them, a hint of mockery curling his lips. “shoot your shot then, top,” he taunted, raising his bottle in a mocking toast. “let’s see how you’ll feel when you see her flashing the paparazzi.”

topper’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring slightly, but the tension wasn’t just between him and rafe anymore. he could feel it, the way the balance was starting to shift. and for a split second, you caught rafe’s gaze flicking over toward you. it wasn’t subtle, the way his eyes followed you, the way they locked onto the easy intimacy you shared with jj. the hand on your thigh, your smile—as if you didn’t have sex with him the night before. and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, rafe seemed to tighten, like a rope pulled too taut.

before it could build into something more, rafe exhaled, the tension in his shoulders giving way slightly. his eyes softened for a brief second before his face hardened again, and he slapped a hand onto topper and kelce’s backs, breaking the thick silence.

“come on,” he finally muttered, the words almost too quiet to catch, his voice rough, but there was a finality to it. “let’s get laid.”

the night blurred together in a haze of tequila, smoke, and too many shallow breaths. the bottle of tequila was gone—an impressive feat, even for you—but the dull ache in your skull and the growing warmth in your chest only made you crave more. you’d been warned, right? rafe had said it, the same way they always did, but his words bounced off you like the cheap music playing overhead. you thought of him dancing with the girl, the way he smiled, fake and carefree. the kind of smile that had always made you ache before you started pretending it didn’t. the thing was, he was just like you, right? just another person trying to fill a hole, trying to make sense of it all. but there was no humor in it when you smiled at him from across the room, only condescension.

you turned your back on him and back to jj. he was leaning back in his chair, lazily flipping the joint between his fingers. the dim light from the courtyard highlighted the sharp lines of his face, the messiness of his hair, and the careless way he seemed to fit into his world. you didn’t think you’d ever met someone who wore chaos like that, but there was something almost magnetic about it. he caught your eye and smirked as he took the joint from his lips.

“oh, you shouldn’t have,” you cooed, leaning in and snatching it from him, pressing it to your own lips. you didn’t need his permission, not anymore. you hadn’t needed it for a long time.

“major pretty privilege,” jj teased, his voice low but amused. “totally would've kicked your ass if you weren't—” he let the sentence trail off as you took a long drag, eyes narrowing as the smoke curled between your lips and into the air.

you exhaled slowly, the smoke filling your lungs with a warmth that dulled everything else. “i’m a scandal away from a nose job,” you mused, half laughing as you watched him.

he grinned, raising an eyebrow as his hand casually rested on your thigh. “i wouldn’t be so quick to joke about that,” he said with a smirk. but there was something softer in his voice, almost like he was trying to keep the conversation light. it didn’t matter. it never did.

you leaned back, staring at the stars above you, but it was hard to focus on them. the weight in your chest grew heavier, suffocating, like the world was closing in. you hated how it felt. how much you wanted to simply not exist, to disappear, even if only for a moment. you wanted to leave your body behind, to step outside of this mess you called life and pretend you were someone else. someone who didn’t need any of this, someone who didn’t feel like they were drowning in the way their own heart beat.

jj watched you, the flickering glow of the joint between his fingers casting shadows on his face. “lost in thought, princess?” his voice pulled you back into the moment. “already tapping out?”

you forced a smile, shaking your head as you took another hit from the joint. “the night is young,” you said, your words a little more slurred now, but that didn’t matter. nothing mattered except the rhythm of the music and the way your heart felt like it was pounding in sync with the bass.

somehow, that was how you ended up pressed up against him in the courtyard, your body swaying with his, your hips grinding against his front. his hands were on your waist, holding you tightly as if he didn’t care about anything else. you could feel the heat between you, thick and intoxicating, and you didn’t even have to think about it. the rest of the world? it didn’t matter. you could feel the eyes of others on you—the way their gazes flicked over you and jj, maybe in appreciation, maybe in jealousy. it didn’t matter. all you cared about was this moment, this feeling of losing yourself.

jj groaned, his breath warm against your ear as his lips brushed the skin just beneath it. “you’re asking for trouble,” he whispered, his voice rough with something you couldn’t quite place.

“i know what i’m asking for,” you replied, your voice low as you pressed harder against him. his hands tightened on your hips, squeezing in a way that made your head spin, your breath catching in your throat.

and yet, far away from you, there was rafe. his hands were wrapped around another girl, his eyes dark and distant. he didn’t know her—hell, he didn’t care to—but he had her close, like a shield, something to keep the world at bay. and still, his gaze drifted toward you, the same way it always did. you were just a magnet for him, weren’t you? the pull between you both was a constant, but tonight, it felt different. as his eyes locked onto yours, watching you dance with jj, something shifted. his stomach churned uncomfortably, the world spinning in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. how could you be so shameless?

rafe’s thoughts turned bitter as his eyes flicked over your body, watching you grind against jj in a way that made his jaw tighten, but he couldn’t look away. you were impossible. you didn’t give a shit about the rules. you were different. how had you not crumbled under the weight of it all? you were spinning out of control, and somehow, that made you even more dangerous. he wanted to stop watching, wanted to tear his gaze away from you. but something inside him wouldn't let him. he couldn’t understand you. not now, not ever. and so he just watched. because that was all he could do.

the air in the bathroom felt thick with heat, suffocating, and charged with an electricity that had been building between you and jj all night. you barely had time to process it before you were pinned against the wall, his hands keeping your arms pressed against the cold tile as his lips moved urgently against yours. the sound of his soft grunt vibrated between you both as he kissed you deeper, a teasing hunger in his touch that matched the fire burning inside you.

you could feel the hard, insistent press of his dick against your knee, the way your body seemed to react of its own accord. without thinking, you pushed your knee upward, letting it graze against him, offering him just enough friction to make him groan lowly, his grip on you tightening in response.

the moment was stolen, heat building between you both in a whirl of urgency, until he suddenly released your hands, his arms lifting you up effortlessly. you gasped slightly as he placed you on the edge of the sink, his strong hands spreading your thighs, pulling your hips closer to his as his lips trailed down your neck. the sensation of his breath against your skin made you shiver, and you let out a soft whimper, your fingers finding refuge in his hair, pulling him closer.

his teeth grazed your neck in the most tantalizing way, making your head spin. “should’ve done this a long time ago,” he murmured between soft kisses, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, but there was a subtle hunger in his voice that made your heart race.

you tilted your head back, trying to steady yourself, letting out a breathless laugh as you tugged his hair, forcing him to look up at you. “yeah? should’ve asked nicely. i’m a nice girl.”

his lips curled into a wicked grin, and he leaned closer, his voice dropping lower as he spoke. “real nice girl. nice girls like you get rewards.” the sound of his voice, the heat in his words, almost made you forget everything else. you felt his hands press into your ass, squeezing, fingers teasing the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

but then, just as quickly as the moment had built, it all came crashing down with an unpleasant, distinctly loud sound—a harsh gag, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up. you both froze, the spell broken, and for a moment, you felt disoriented as reality quickly snapped back into place. you heard the retching, the splashing of liquid against porcelain.

“rafe?” you called out, your voice tentative, already bracing yourself for the inevitable. you stepped away from jj, quickly pulling the straps of your dress back up. “you okay?”

you found him hunched over the toilet, his face pale, sweat slicking his skin as he heaved. the sight of him was almost comical, in a way, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh. you rushed over to him, placing a hand on his back to steady him. he was breathing heavily, but still had enough energy to shoot you a look.

“peachy,” he grimaced, sarcasm dripping from his words as he threw up again.

you sighed, looking over at jj, who was still lingering by the doorway. he caught your eye, and you didn’t need to say anything. he gave a small, understanding nod. “i’ll call you,” he said, his tone soft, but there was a lingering playfulness to his words. you wanted to say something in response, something like “please don’t,” but the words stuck in your throat. the moment felt too fragile, too much of a mess for you to handle right now. rafe noticed the unspoken exchange, and his mood soured even more. he wiped his mouth, scoffing.

“real classy, man,” rafe spat, his voice hoarse.

you rolled your eyes, unfazed by his usual grumbling. “glad to know you're well enough to fight,” you shot back, grabbing a paper towel to wet it and gently wiping his mouth. he shook his head and pushed your hand away. “you gotta go home, man.”

“no way,” he muttered, groaning as he leaned back against the wall. “top and kels are still here. i’m not leaving.”

you tossed the paper towel into the trash, exhaling in frustration. “i’ll take them home too,” you countered.

he groaned again, looking like he might pass out right there. “oh, great, you're driving. so that's two felonies—drunk driving and kidnapping.”

you smiled coyly, stepping back. “you know a lot about felonies, do you?”

he waved you off dismissively, rolling his eyes. “whatever. do what you want.”

you stared at him for a moment, but his behavior still felt off. he wasn’t usually this combative, not with you. it was like he couldn’t decide whether to fight you or something else. whatever it was, you didn’t care. “prick,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him. he didn’t respond, and you didn’t press him further. you weren’t in the mood for his antics anymore.

you sat behind the wheel of your corvette, the engine humming beneath you, but all you could hear was the muffled noise of the others in the backseat. the car felt too small, the air too thick, the silence between you all almost unbearable. you could feel the alcohol coursing through your veins, making your thoughts a little foggy, your senses dull. the weight of the situation was starting to settle, but it didn’t matter—you still had to get them home, and you could barely keep your eyes focused on the road.

“this is such a bad idea,” sarah muttered from the passenger seat, her words slurring just slightly as she leaned back, clutching the seatbelt. “you’re literally wasted.”

you shot her a look, shrugging carelessly as you kept your eyes on the road. you knew she was right, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. this was the least of your problems.

“you’re fine,” kelce said from the back, his voice louder than necessary, “i don’t doubt you, never doubted you.” he cut himself off with a gag, and you could hear the way his stomach lurched behind you.

god, they were a mess. none of them could handle their liquor, and here you were, playing the designated driver in the middle of a blackout night. you glanced at them in the rearview mirror, seeing them in the back, all sprawled out and disoriented. they looked like three little kids leaving a birthday party, unsure of where to go next, lost in their own drunken stupor.

“thanks for driving us home,” topper said, smiling at you, his head tilted back against the headrest despite the way his stomach was clearly protesting the ride.

rafe rolled his eyes and sneered from his seat behind you. “grease her feet while you’re at it,” he snapped.

topper turned toward him with a quick retort. “how about i break yours?” he slurred, half-smiling through the haze of his drunkenness.

rafe, wincing in pain from the aftermath of whatever he had consumed, sat up straighter. “bring it on, man,” he spat, still looking for a fight.

kelce groaned from next to them, exasperated. “shut up, macklemore,” he sneered at rafe, before turning back to topper. “you too, vanilla ice—” but he barely finished before letting out a shrill scream, his body jolting forward as you hit the gas, your car lurching forward onto the main road. the backseat erupted.

“man, let go off me,” topper grumbled, trying to push kelce’s hand away as he clung to his shirt for dear life.

sarah rolled her eyes. “i can't believe you have to babysit them,” she muttered, her voice dripping with frustration.

you didn’t reply, instead giving the steering wheel another firm grip as you swerved slightly, the backseat falling into even more disarray. the chaos from behind you was nothing but white noise as you tried to focus on the road. you couldn’t let your mind wander.

“nothing better to do,” you said, your tone flat, not caring about the joke.

rafe scoffed loudly from the back, clearly trying to provoke you. “what? lose your two minutes in heaven with the pogue?”

you didn’t respond, your eyes flicking briefly to the rearview mirror. rafe’s gaze met yours, and something dark flickered in his eyes—something you couldn’t place. you didn’t have time for it, though, the weight of his words sinking in despite your attempt to block them out. your knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. it wasn’t long before you reached the final drop-off point, and you dropped topper and kelce off at their places first. you could still feel the tension in the air, thick and uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem to matter to anyone.

when it was just you and rafe left, the silence between you both was more apparent. you turned to sarah, giving her a brief, tight hug before she slipped out of the car, but your eyes didn’t leave rafe.

"feel better, rafe," you said, your voice soft, a fake warmth in your tone as you held his gaze in the mirror.

he froze. he didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. his eyes remained locked on you for just a moment longer before he gave a brief, wordless nod. the moment lingered. without another word, you pulled out of the driveway and made your way back home.

when you arrived, it was the same familiar emptiness. the house felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in around you. the silence settled in like an old friend, but one you weren’t sure you wanted to have a conversation with. sometimes, you’d pretend your mom was upstairs, tucked away in her room instead of on another work trip—if that’s what you could call it. sometimes, you’d talk to your dad, even though you knew he wasn’t going to respond. you’d still say “hey,” because maybe, just maybe, one day, he would answer.

but tonight was different. tonight, you didn’t feel like pretending. you didn’t feel like escaping. you made your way to the bathroom, needing the comfort of your routine. you wiped the makeup off your face, the familiar motions grounding you for a moment, but even the sound of the wipes against your skin couldn’t drown out the noise inside your head. you checked the mark that jj had left on your neck. it felt like a different lifetime, like a fleeting moment that you could barely remember now. but the silence. it was deafening.

you wiped the makeup off, but the tears came anyway, falling silently as you let the weight of the night hit you. it felt impossible to stop them, as if the floodgates had opened and you couldn’t close them. the tears fell in quiet streams as you stared at yourself in the mirror, a stranger looking back at you. you wondered what her name was, what her favorite color was. she looked younger, more natural, like time hadn’t worn her out yet, like she was still someone’s little girl.

you woke up to the harsh sunlight filtering through your curtains, a dull headache pounding in your temples like a steady drumbeat. the scent of stale alcohol lingered in the air, a reminder of the night before, as your eyes fluttered open with a groggy resistance. you groaned, the pain in your head intensifying as you sat up slowly, trying to collect yourself.

it was always like this—late, a raging hangover, the world around you still spinning as if mocking your every move. you pulled the blanket around you tighter, wishing for another few hours of sleep, but the persistent ringing of your phone yanked you out of the haze. your hand fumbled for the device, the familiar vibrations like an intrusion into the fragile stillness you had been trying to create.

you squinted at the screen, the name blinking in front of you. you inhaled sharply, before reluctantly swiping to answer. “mom?” you called out, your voice raspy from the sleep, the headache still making it hard to focus.

“baby? hey, baby! happy birthday!” your mother’s voice was loud and cheerful, cutting through the background noise of what sounded like a party. you could hear the sound of waves crashing, glasses clinking, and the unmistakable hum of conversation. “hey, what’s going on?” she continued, trying to speak over the noise.

you felt a pit in your stomach. “nothing, just woke up,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes as you leaned back against the pillows, a dull ache forming in your chest. “how’ve you been?”

she laughed in response, the sound of her happiness so sharp and out of place compared to the hollow feeling gnawing at you. “just great, baby. you get the birthday money i sent you? only the best for my girl.” her words were bright, carefree.

you blinked, the mention of the money momentarily pulling you from your thoughts. “no, i’ll check, thanks, mom,” you said softly, not really hearing her anymore. you bit your lip, then hesitated. “have you—have you called him yet? to ask if he’ll come? for my birthday.”

there was a long silence, and for a moment, you wondered if she’d heard you. but then she spoke again, the change in her tone so subtle you almost missed it. “honey,” she started, her voice lowering just slightly. “honey, it’s just not gonna happen. said he had things going on, i’m sorry.”

the words stung in a way you hadn’t been prepared for. your chest tightened, but your eyes were dry—no tears would come, not today. not after all the times you’d convinced yourself it would be different. it was just another year of empty promises. another year of waiting.

“it’s okay, mom,” you said, your voice small. “no, i get it. he’s busy.” the words left your mouth, but they felt hollow, like you were trying to convince yourself of something you knew wasn’t true.

she continued, not noticing the shift in your tone. “hey, but i saw the news! you looked great in the dress, baby, i’ll send you another one—” she rambled on, her words falling on deaf ears. you didn’t hear her anymore, lost in the quiet thrum of disappointment that had settled deep within your chest.

you blinked rapidly, trying to push down the tightness in your throat, the dull ache in your chest threatening to spill over. “that’s great, mom,” you said quickly, forcing a smile that felt foreign on your face. “i gotta go. love you.”

before she could respond, you hung up. for a few moments, you just sat there, staring at the screen of your phone as if hoping it would change. maybe she’d call back. maybe your dad would come through. but you knew, deep down, that wasn’t going to happen. he wasn’t coming. maybe you shouldn’t have expected anything. maybe you should’ve extinguished that spark of hope before it could set you ablaze. but you didn’t. you never did. and it hurt more than you were willing to admit.

the car hummed beneath you as you drove through the familiar streets, the sound of tires on asphalt a low, constant rhythm. you had spent hours getting ready, the weight of the day pressing against you as you meticulously chose the outfit—a gold bodycon dress that clung to your curves, hugging every inch of your form, a golden strap resting around your neck shimmered in the fading light. you had layered the gold more subtly than yesterday, but it still caught the eye with its gleam, like a whisper of elegance in the dim evening light. your heels clicked sharply against the floor of your car as you shifted, checking your reflection one last time, the gold dress and matching shoes completing the look, but still, you felt incomplete. your hair cascaded down your back, and you’d carefully applied just enough makeup to cover the evidence of the tears you’d shed.

the drive to the estate was quiet, almost like the calm before the storm. by the time you pulled up to the house, the sun had nearly dipped below the horizon, the deep hues of nightfall creeping in. you sat there for a moment, the engine idling as you stared ahead, thinking about the emptiness that seemed to grow inside of you the longer you sat there.

you finally exhaled, pushing open the door and stepping out. the cool air hit you, making the tightness in your chest feel a little more unbearable. as you walked up the driveway, your heels clicking on the pavement, you saw him—rafe—leaning against the porch railing, his eyes trained on you as soon as you approached. his usual smirk spread across his face, but it was tinged with something else, something more curious as he took in your appearance.

“a little overdressed for mass, aren't you?” he quipped, his voice light, though his gaze was anything but. his eyes moved over the gold dress, the way it hugged you in all the right places, and you could feel the weight of his attention on you like a physical thing.

you didn’t respond at first, not sure how to react to his gaze, which lingered on you longer than usual. a breath caught in your throat, but you pushed it away, continuing toward the door. you had more important things to do tonight than engage with him. you just needed to get through this—this night, this birthday, everything. rafe, however, wasn’t about to let you go so easily. as you reached for the door, he stood up, pushing himself off the railing to block your path.

“happy birthday,” he said, the words soft now, an unfamiliar sincerity in his tone.

you paused, looking at him, feeling the weight of the moment as his eyes searched yours. “thanks,” you muttered, your voice flat. “you, top, and kels gonna join us tonight?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as if the question was casual, but there was an edge to it.

he raised an eyebrow. “where to?”

you shrugged, playing it off, though the emptiness inside you made it harder to keep the facade up. “viva, around nine. no big deal.”

his expression shifted, impressed but masking it behind a sardonically raised brow. “not even i can get into that joint. guess the people love you,” he said, his tone more biting now.

you nodded, unsure of what else to say, unsure of what to do. you just stood there, your eyes caught in his. something about the way he looked at you, a mixture of curiosity and something darker, made you feel exposed, like he could see right through you.

“we’ll be there,” he added after a moment, something less than a smile curling at the edges of his lips. it wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t mocking either. just something different. you smiled back, but it was small, uncertain. you nodded, stepping past him and into the house. the air felt colder inside, the silence pressing against you like a weight you couldn’t shake.

you made your way upstairs, your heels clicking on the hardwood as you walked toward sarah’s room. the door was slightly ajar, and when you pushed it open, you found her sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone. the moment she saw you, her face lit up with a smile that could have rivaled the sun, and before you knew it, she was up and wrapping her arms around you, pulling you in tightly.

“happy birthday, baby,” she whispered, burying her head in the crook of your neck, her warmth a stark contrast to the coldness you felt inside. “we’ll make it your best, i promise.”

for a moment, you let yourself melt into the embrace, letting the love and care from her soak through you. but as she pulled back, her hands taking yours with a smile, her eyes caught sight of something. her expression shifted, the smile fading as she noticed the wetness in your eyes.

“baby, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, her voice suddenly laced with concern.

you shook your head, trying to push the tears away, but they came anyway. you squeezed her hands tightly, the words barely able to escape your lips. “he’s not coming, sarah,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you felt the weight of the truth hit you. “my dad’s not coming.”

her face fell instantly, her arms wrapping around you again as she pulled you in closer. “it’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered over and over, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “i got you, you’ll be okay. you’re alright.”

but the words didn’t stop the tears. they spilled freely now, hot and relentless, as sarah held you tight, her presence the only thing anchoring you in the moment. you let yourself cry, the weight of everything you had been holding in finally coming to the surface.

unbeknownst to either of you, rafe stood frozen just outside the door, his back pressed against the wall as he listened. he bit his nail, his gaze fixed on the ground, but his mind was far away. the sound of your sobs tugged at something inside him—something raw, something human. and in that moment, he understood. no one acted out for no reason. no one. and now he knew why you did.

the night air was thick, heavy, as you stepped into the car. rafe was already in the passenger seat, his posture rigid, jaw tight. you settled into the driver’s seat, your fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped around the steering wheel. the silence between the two of you was suffocating, the kind that crawled under your skin and festered, making every breath feel labored. you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, his profile sharp in the dim light, his eyes staring ahead, unseeing, yet somehow deeply observant.

the quiet stretched on, and neither of you moved to break it. the air felt like it might crack under the weight of unspoken words, until finally, he did. “we don’t have to go to the club tonight,” he said, his voice low but firm, cutting through the stillness like a knife.

you turned your head slightly, your brow furrowing as his words hung in the air between you. he didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to. you knew exactly what he meant. why go? why waste your birthday in a haze of liquor and music, knowing you’d wake up tomorrow with nothing but a pounding headache and a hollow ache in your chest? why numb yourself, knowing it wouldn’t work?

“i can’t,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost fragile.

he nodded, understanding in a way that made your stomach churn. it wasn’t that you wanted to go. it wasn’t even that you needed to go. but you couldn’t not go. you couldn’t sit in the house and let the quiet consume you, couldn’t face the crushing reality of what the day symbolized. rafe opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but the back door opened before he could. sarah slid into the seat, her presence immediately filling the space with a warmth that felt like a lifeline. she reached over, placing a comforting hand on your thigh and offering a smile—gentle, knowing, as if she could read every thought swirling in your head.

“it’s gonna be okay,” she said simply, her voice soft yet steady, like she believed it enough for the both of you.

and somehow, it was enough. you felt your lips twitch into a small smile, a flicker of gratitude in your chest as you nodded and turned the key in the ignition. the engine roared to life, and the car hummed beneath you as you pulled out of the driveway, the night stretching out before you like a promise and a threat all at once. the drive to the club was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the engine and the muted chatter from sarah’s phone. by the time you reached the club, the neon lights were already casting their glow across the pavement, painting the night in shades of electric blue and pink. kelce and topper were waiting near the entrance, their figures silhouetted against the vibrant backdrop.

kelce was the first to approach, a wide grin on his face as he spread his arms dramatically. “it’s yo’ birthday, so i know you want to ri-i-ide out,” he sang, his voice teasing as he reached out to pull you into a bear hug.

you rolled your eyes, swatting at his chest as you laughed despite yourself. “you’re an idiot,” you muttered, but there was a warmth in your tone that hadn’t been there before.

topper was next, stepping forward with a nervous smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. he hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, his hug softer, more tentative. “you look really, really good,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “happy birthday, doll.”

you pulled back just enough to smile up at him, your expression genuine, if a little tired. but as you met his gaze, you felt the weight of another stare burning into your back. rafe stood a few steps behind you, his posture tense, his fists clenched at his sides. his jaw worked as he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes narrowing as they flicked between you and topper. the look on his face was unreadable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

he could feel his blood boiling, the vein in his neck throbbing as he watched you smile at topper. he doesn’t get it, rafe thought bitterly. he doesn’t understand.

topper couldn’t see you the way rafe did. he couldn’t pick apart the pieces of you that you tried so desperately to hide, couldn’t reach into the deepest, darkest corners of your mind and pull out the things you were too afraid to face. topper didn’t know you like rafe did. he didn’t understand you. and the worst part? there was nothing rafe could do about it. not here, not now. so he shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw tightening as he followed behind the group, his eyes never leaving your back as you made your way into the club. the music hit you like a wave the moment you stepped inside, the bass vibrating through your chest as the lights flashed in time with the rhythm.

the bouncer led your group through the heart of the club, weaving past packed tables and the glowing bar, where patrons leaned in to shout orders over the pounding music. the vip section was tucked into a quieter corner, though still pulsating with energy. elevated above the main floor, it offered an unobstructed view of the dancefloor below, with plush, leather seating that curved around a sleek glass table illuminated by soft, golden lighting. bottles of premium spirits and mixers lined the backlit shelves behind the bar like trophies, and the hum of wealth and exclusivity hung in the air.

kelce let out a low whistle as he plopped onto one of the couches, sprawling out like he owned the place. “man, i feel my trust fund going through withdrawals just standing here,” he quipped, nudging topper, who laughed as he leaned back, his eyes scanning the room.

you couldn’t help but smile at their antics as you took it all in. the place was opulent, a temple to indulgence and excess, and for a brief moment, it was easy to forget the ache in your chest. the bartender approached your section, a polished man in a crisp shirt and tie, his movements smooth and practiced.

you straightened your posture and glanced around at the group, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. “so,” you said, clapping your hands together lightly. “what are we drinking? my treat.”

the others stared at you, surprised. sarah raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest. “shouldn’t we be treating you?” she asked, her tone laced with concern.

you waved her off with a dismissive gesture. “as if, guys. this place is expensive, it’s fine,” you replied, brushing off her words as though they were nothing.

but rafe’s gaze darkened, his jaw clenching as he watched the interaction. it wasn’t fine. he could see it so clearly—the way you were trying to bury your pain beneath lavish distractions, throwing money around as if the hole in your wallet could somehow fill the one in your heart.

you didn’t wait for their protests, turning to the bartender with a confident smile. “chilled bucket,” you began, your tone even and composed, “we’ll do grey goose, nolet’s reserve, and some vodka sodas.”

as you reached into your purse and handed him your credit card, his eyes flicked over you appreciatively, lingering on the way your gold dress shimmered under the dim lights. “real big fan,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “dress is amazing, miss archibald.”

you forced a polite smile, nodding briefly as he walked away with your card. kelce and topper exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions a mix of amusement and curiosity, but rafe wasn’t laughing.

“that’s almost a grand you just spent,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the music.

you turned to him, your expression neutral. “it’s okay,” you said softly, as though repeating it might make it true. “just for tonight.” but he saw through you. he always did.

to everyone else, it might have seemed like you were simply indulging in the luxury the night demanded. but rafe knew better. he’d seen this pattern before—women in his orbit spending money as a salve for something deeper, using extravagance to mask emptiness. he’d always dismissed it as shallow, as meaningless. there was nothing to search for beneath their bold lipstick and sun-kissed skin, no hidden depths to uncover. but not with you. there was something beneath the surface of your carefully curated façade, something raw and real that you couldn’t quite hide. and it gnawed at him, this feeling of wanting to understand you, to know the truth of who you were behind the gold dress and the polite smiles. he didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

as the bartender returned with the drinks, setting them on the table with practiced ease, you picked up a vodka soda and raised it in a silent toast, your eyes flicking between the group with a small smile. “to tonight,” you said, your voice steady, though your eyes betrayed the storm brewing inside. everyone raised their glasses in response, cheers erupting as they leaned into the moment. but rafe stayed quiet, his gaze lingering on you, wondering if he’d ever get close enough to see the truth beneath the gold.

the energy was contagious, almost. the ambient bass thumped through the plush leather seats, rattling glasses on the illuminated table. laughter spilled freely, a mix of light-hearted giggles and drunken cackles, as the liquor flowed and the group reveled in the luxury surrounding them. the air smelled of expensive perfume, vodka, and the faint, metallic tang of ice.

kelce leaned back, swirling a tumbler of gin, his cheeks flushed as he tried to make topper laugh. topper, already several drinks in, leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin, his hair sticking to his forehead. sarah sat close to you, her hand lightly brushing yours as she twirled the remnants of vodka in her glass. you cracked open a vodka soda, the sharp hiss of carbonation cutting through the din of music and conversation. the moment the can opened, it sprayed everywhere, misting you and sarah. you squealed, recoiling as droplets of chilled liquid dotted your arms and face.

“oh my god!” sarah gasped, laughing as she frantically patted at her dress.

“sorry, sorry!” you cried, giggling uncontrollably as you grabbed a napkin to dab her arm.

“you are so buying me a new outfit,” she teased, but the twinkle in her eye told you she didn’t mean it.

the group erupted into laughter, kelce pounding the table with his fist. “what is this, amateur hour?” he mocked, earning a playful shove from topper.

“don’t act like you’re not next,” you shot back, shaking your head as you grabbed the vodka bottle from the bucket. the liquor was cold against your palm, the condensation dampening your hand.

in the background, act a fool blared through the speakers, the lyrics blending seamlessly with the buzz of conversation. rafe sat apart from the group, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were trained on you. his gin sat untouched in a crystal glass, the ice melting slowly. while everyone else laughed and joked, he watched you with an intensity that set him apart, his jaw tight as you brought the vodka bottle to your lips.

you leaned toward sarah, your movements slightly sluggish, your words slurring as you said, “i have to tell you something.”

she raised an eyebrow, giggling at your serious tone. “what’s that?”

you sighed dramatically, gesturing around the room. “i’ve gotten everything i’ve ever wanted, but i have one wish.”

sarah’s laughter softened into curiosity as she tilted her head. “i’ll grant you three,” she teased, her voice warm and affectionate.

you leaned closer, resting your chin on her shoulder as you whispered, “you and me. we’re thirty, living in california. we have a beach house in italy. these boys,” you waved dismissively, your free hand gesturing toward the guys. “…are just placeholders. we live together.”

sarah blinked, her expression shifting as her smile faltered. something in your voice, in the quiet yearning beneath your playful tone, struck a chord. she frowned, her eyes glistening as if tears were just a breath away. “i’ll drink to that,” she murmured, leaning over rafe to wrap her arms around you. the embrace was warm and comforting, sarah’s laugh mingling with yours as you passed her the vodka bottle. she took a swig, grimacing slightly as the sharp burn hit her throat.

across the table, kelce and topper exchanged a glance. “they’re not about to make out, are they?” kelce whispered, grinning mischievously.

topper slapped his arm, rolling his eyes. “shut up, man.”

rafe finally moved, setting his glass down with a soft clink. his voice cut through the noise, steady and authoritative. “hey, hey, hey, okay,” he said, leaning forward and grabbing the vodka bottle from sarah’s hand. he set it down firmly on the table. “you’ve both had enough to drink. settle down.”

you turned to him, your eyes glassy and your lips curling into a small, defiant smile. “you haven’t had enough,” you whispered, leaning against his shoulder.

the contact sent a jolt through him, his spine stiffening as your warmth seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt. your proximity was intoxicating, your breath brushing against his skin as your words hung in the air like a challenge. for a moment, he was frozen, caught off guard by the way you disarmed him so effortlessly. his pulse quickened, but he didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe as your weight rested against him.

topper, who had been quietly observing, narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening. “alright, that’s enough,” he muttered, reaching out to pull you upright. but rafe didn’t move, his gaze locked on you, his hand steady on the vodka bottle as if anchoring himself. something unspoken passed between you, a charged silence that neither of you dared to break.

the night was teetering on the edge of chaos, the atmosphere thick with liquor-fueled exhilaration and the sharp tang of tension. the flashing lights from the dance floor illuminated your golden dress, reflecting in the swirling haze of smoke and sweat. the crowd moved as one, their energy magnetized toward you and sarah as you spun her under the pulsing beat. the music thumped louder, and the bartender, noticing the rising excitement, wiped down the counter with a quick slap of his rag. he gestured toward the two of you, his grin wide as he motioned for you to step up.

“come on,” you said, your voice cutting through the music as you pulled sarah toward the bar. her protests were faint, drowned out by your infectious confidence.

with a laugh, you guided her up onto the counter, steadying her with a firm grip on her hands. the cheers around you erupted into a frenzy as you began to move, your body swaying and rolling in perfect rhythm with the music. the lights caught every facet of your dress, sending shards of gold cascading across the room. sarah followed your lead, her movements growing more fluid as you guided her hips with your hands. she blushed under your touch, her laughter blending with the roar of the crowd. you leaned into her, arching your back just enough to draw more cheers.

the vodka bottle in your hand sloshed slightly as you crouched low, balancing effortlessly on your heels. tipping the bottle over the edge of the counter, you poured a stream of vodka toward the eager mouths below, eliciting more hollers and applause. the crowd drank it up, their cheers climbing to a fever pitch as you returned to your feet, twirling sarah into another spin.

the boys were transfixed. kelce leaned against the table, his grin wide as he shook his head. “i got a hundred riding on this night ending with an ambulance,” he slurred, though his eyes lingered on you.

topper, already three sheets to the wind, chuckled. “man, she’s something else,” he murmured, his gaze locked on your form as you danced. he leaned back, smirking as he added, “i think i’m gonna ask her out tonight.”

kelce let out a loud cheer, raising his glass in mock celebration. “see you at the gym, top.”

but rafe sat rigid, his jaw tight and his glass clutched too firmly in his hand. he drained the rest of his gin in one sharp motion, his knuckles whitening as he reached for the bottle to refill.

when topper caught the expression on his face, his grin turned into a taunt. he tilted his head, feigning innocence as he asked, “something to say, cameron?”

rafe shrugged, pouring another drink without looking at him. “do what you want,” he said, his tone low and biting. “it’s your funeral.”

topper’s smirk faltered, his drunken bravado shifting into something darker. “what the fuck’s your problem?” he demanded, leaning in. “mad you don’t get the girl for once?”

the taunt hung in the air, baiting rafe in a way that was impossible to ignore. his grip tightened on the neck of the bottle as he leaned forward, his voice dripping with venom. “not as mad as you’ll be when i tell you that we fucked,” he spat.

the silence that followed was deafening. kelce froze, his eyes wide as he glanced between the two, anticipation crackling in the air. the music continued to pound, but it felt muted, the tension between rafe and topper swallowing everything else. topper’s expression darkened, his fist curling at his side. then, without warning, he lunged forward, his punch connecting with rafe’s jaw with a sickening crack. he stumbled back, toppling over the couch as the room erupted into chaos. the cheers turned into gasps, all eyes snapping to the commotion in the section. but rafe wasn’t down for long. he was back on his feet in an instant, his jaw set and his eyes blazing.

“is that all you got, bitch?” he barked, his voice carrying over the music as he launched himself at topper, tackling him to the ground.

kelce, still lounging on the couch, doubled over in laughter. “stop the violence,” he slurred, pulling out his phone to record the fight. “white trash.” he added with a cackle, his voice barely audible over the shouts and scuffle.

the fight had turned vicious. topper lunged again, his fist swinging hard enough to make the crowd around them flinch. he caught rafe across the cheekbone, the sharp smack of skin on skin cutting through the music. “take it back!” he shouted, his voice raw with anger.

rafe stumbled but didn’t go down. his lip split, blood trickling to his chin as he wiped it away with the back of his hand. he smirked, that infuriating smirk that always made topper see red. “why, top? gonna shed a tear or two?” rafe taunted, his words slurred but sharp.

topper grabbed the front of rafe’s shirt, pulling him close. “say you lied!”

rafe laughed, low and mocking. “why would I? you really think you’ve got a shot with her? come on, man. she’d chew you up and spit you out.”

kelce, leaning back on the couch, was practically howling with laughter as he filmed. “oh, this is gold. gonna do numbers on snap.” he slurred, zooming in as topper shoved rafe back, only for rafe to retaliate with a fist to his jaw.

the bouncers at the edge of the chaos exchanged amused glances. one of them, a broad-shouldered man with a shaved head, nudged his partner. “fifty says the tall one in the blazer goes down first,” he said.

“nah,” the other replied, shaking his head. “that one—rafe, right? he’s got crazy in his eyes. i’ll take the other guy.”

the blows became sloppier as the alcohol took its toll, but the rage between the two burned hot and bright. rafe tackled topper to the ground, the two of them grappling as the crowd shouted and jeered. that’s when you noticed. your attention, previously fixed on sarah and the music, shifted to the commotion. your heart sank as you recognized the figures on the floor. “jesus,” you muttered, pushing through the crowd. “what the fuck are they doing?”

kelce turned to you, grinning as he kept filming. “oh, you know boys, always roughhousing,” he cackled, his words thick with gin.

you shot him a glare before grabbing a nearby vodka soda, cracking it open with a sharp hiss. without hesitation, you stepped into the fray, tipping the can over their heads. the cold liquid drenched both of them, startling them into stillness. “what the fuck?” rafe spat, blinking up at you as the vodka dripped down his face.

you glared down at him, your chest heaving. “are you done?” you snapped, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him to his feet. “we’re leaving.”

rafe tried to resist, but your grip was firm, and his drunken state left him little room to argue. the crowd parted as you pulled him through, cameras flashing as you emerged into the cool night air. outside, the chaos faded into quiet, the muffled thump of the music barely audible. you stopped by a bench, releasing rafe’s arm as you took a shaky breath. the night air bit at your damp skin, and you sat down, your pulse still racing.

he stood there for a moment, staring at you. then, slowly, he sank down beside you, his body heavy with exhaustion.

“i’m sorry,” he said, the words soft and unexpected.

you turned to him, your brows furrowing as you took in his bruised face. his eyes were glassy, his lip swollen, but his expression was sincere.

“i’m sorry for everything,” he continued, his voice rough. “for being an ass, for decking topper. i did it because i’m wired that way, okay? you just—you left that morning. you were gone, just like that. i woke up, i could still smell you, you and your stupid perfume. and i turned around, and you were gone, like i was waking up from a dream that was never meant to be.”

his words hit you like a blow, your chest tightening as you struggled to respond. “i’m sorry,” you whispered finally, your voice barely audible. “i can’t stay. you know i can’t.”

he shook his head, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “i’m not him,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “i’m not your dad. i’m not gonna leave.”

and just like that, the dam broke. tears spilled down your cheeks, and you hated how vulnerable you felt, but rafe didn’t. he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as your body shook with sobs.

“you spend this time with a scab, and you expect it to heal,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “but how can you do that if you keep picking at it?”

he pulled back, his fingers tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. “anybody who’s had the pleasure of knowing your name just to lose you—they’ll regret that for the rest of their lives. and he will, too. but i’m not him. god, i could never be him. i could never let go of someone like you. i’d spend the rest of my life searching for you if i did.”

his words cracked something deep inside you, and when his hand stroked your cheek, trailing to the underside of your jaw, you didn’t pull away. his lips met yours with a fervor that made your breath hitch, his desperation coursing as though he feared you might disappear at any moment.

when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, relief flooding his expression when he saw you were still there. “i love you,” he murmured, the words so quiet you almost missed them.

you shook your head, your voice trembling. “i’m damaged goods, rafe.”

but he kissed you again, silencing your protests. When he pulled back, he whispered, “you could never be damaged, not you. and even if you were, even if you kept falling apart, i’d keep putting you back together. over and over again.”

his arms tightened around you as you cried, his grip unwavering, as if you were gonna disappear—and as far as he was concerned, it was possible. he needed it to last, just in case. just in case this was fate being cruel, god laughing at him from afar, ready to snatch you away again. he’d let you slip away once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

the silence of your home was deafening. the weight of everything lingered, pressing heavily on your chest as you sank onto the couch. your dress clung to your damp skin, and you leaned forward, burying your face in your hands. for once, you didn’t talk to yourself, didn’t pace the room pretending you felt safe, didn’t toss and turn, praying for someone to come home and tuck you in. you just sat there, letting the stillness wrap around you like a heavy, unwelcome blanket.

“you’re biting off more than you can chew,” you muttered finally, your voice cutting through the quiet.

but this time, you weren’t talking to yourself. you weren’t talking to the father who’d never respond.

from below you, rafe’s voice came soft and steady. “you’re not gonna push me away,” he said, kneeling in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. his fingers traced light, soothing patterns on your skin, grounding you. “not again.”

a small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips as your hands fell from your face. your fingers reached out instinctively, cupping his jaw, your touch feather-light. “sorry, was i doing that?” you teased, though your voice wavered.

rafe stood slowly, towering over you, his presence commanding as it was comforting. his hand brushed your hair back from your face, his eyes searching yours. “you can keep doing that,” he murmured, his voice low and unwavering. “because i’m not going anywhere either way.”

you couldn’t hold back the small smile that broke through, your face still streaked with the remnants of tears. “you’re not gonna like what you see, rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a vulnerability you hadn’t let anyone see before.

his thumb stroked your cheek, his hand warm and steady as it cupped your jaw. “do your worst,” he said softly, his gaze unwavering.

you stood, brushing past him, your steps slow and deliberate as you faced away. “i liked it,” you began, your voice fragile yet resolute. “the attention, the drinking, all of it. i could make it through my days of pity parties and waiting for something that was never going to come because i could pretend—pretend to be someone else, even if it was just for a few hours.”

rafe’s eyes never left you, his breath steady, waiting. “and who did you pretend to be?” he asked gently, his thumb brushing away the stray tear that rolled down your cheek as you turned back to him.

you exhaled shakily, the words breaking as they left your lips. “i’d pretend like i was still someone’s little girl. just for a little while.”

his hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, and his lips pressed against yours with a tenderness that felt foreign, new. the kiss was sweet, patient, the kind of kiss that made your heart stutter. it was soft, unhurried, but beneath it was something so much more different that what you were used to. you clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair as if letting go meant losing him. he didn’t falter, didn’t break away. Instead, his hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. he turned, sinking back onto the couch with you in his lap, his lips never leaving yours.

his breath was warm against your skin as he whispered, “you can hide as much as you want. i’ll run away and hide with you.”

a genuine smile broke through your defenses, the first in what felt like years. it wasn’t forced or fleeting—it was real. and it was because of him.

you kissed him again, this time with more urgency, more heat. his hands roamed your back, steady but hungry, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of you. his fingers found the zipper of your dress, pausing for a moment as if asking permission. you nodded, your breath hitching as he pulled the zipper down, his hands brushing your skin as the fabric slipped away. you tugged at his shirt in return, your fingers fumbling slightly, but he helped you, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside.

his hands, warm and firm, cupped your waist, his touch reverent as his lips found yours again. “god,” he murmured against your lips, his voice heavy with emotion. “i just wanna feel you—really feel you. not what you show the world, not the mask. just you.”

your breath caught in your throat as you nodded, letting the dress fall away from your shoulders, the fabric pooling around you. he kissed you deeper, his hands exploring, but gentle, as if he knew the fragility of your trust. your body responded, leaning into him, the heat between you growing as the fabric of his pants rubbed against your bare thighs.

his mouth trailed down your neck, kissing a soft line to your collarbone, and you shivered, your hands tightening on his shoulders. he pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes, searching for reassurance. you nodded, your breath coming in gasps as you whispered, “yes, rafe—yes, i want this, i want you.”

his eyes lit up, a warmth that spread through you like a warm embrace, and he kissed you again, this time with an intensity that made your knees go weak. his hands moved to unhook your bra, the fabric slipping away to reveal your bare tits to the cool air. he took his time, kissing down your neck, nipping at your shoulders, as he trailed towards your breasts, his touch light and reverent, as if he was worshipping every inch of you.

you felt exposed, but not in the way you had with others. with rafe, it was different. you felt seen, understood—like he knew the secrets etched into your soul and loved you for them. as his kisses grew bolder, so did your desire, your hands sliding down to unbuckle his belt, to push his pants aside. your heart hammered in your chest as your skin met his, the sensation electric, as if the air around you crackled with energy.

his hand slid up your thigh, and you felt him, hard and eager against you, and for once, you weren’t afraid. you weren’t just giving in—you were choosing this. choosing him.

his thumb brushed against your center, and a soft moan escaped your lips. his eyes searched yours, and when he found what he was looking for—consent, trust—his hand slid further, pushing aside the last of your barriers, watching the way your panties slid off the flesh of your thighs with desire in his eyes

you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, the urgency growing as his fingers moved with a gentle skill that had you arching into his touch. your breath came in ragged gasps, your eyes fluttering shut as you focused on the feeling of him, of this moment, of the way he was making you feel.

his other hand found your cheek, turning your face to his, and he kissed you again, his eyes never leaving yours as he entered you, slow and sure, filling the emptiness you’d felt for so long. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure, but with rafe, it was different—it was healing. you let out a moan as you held onto him, his dick pushing into you, splitting you in a way that had his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

you clung to him, your nails digging into his skin, as he began to thrust into you, the rhythm steady and soothing, his eyes never leaving yours. your breathing synced with his, your bodies moving together as if they’d always been meant to, and in that moment, you forgot about your father, your issues, the weight of the world. there was only rafe. he let out a groan as he lifted your legs, pushing them back, leaning forward to take advantage of the angle that had his dick throbbing.

his voice was a whisper in your ear, “i love you, baby,” and the words sunk into you like warm rain, washing away the doubt, filling you up until you felt like you might burst with the emotion.

your eyes snapped open, and you stared at him, your breath catching. “you love me?” you breathed, your voice trembling with hope.

his smile was gentle, his eyes full of love and tenderness. “more than anything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth as he thrusted into you. “more than i thought possible.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, your walls crumbling away. the love you’d been so afraid to admit washed over you, mixing with the pleasure of his touch. your hips moved with his, your bodies finding a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. his hand moved between your legs, his thumb brushing against your clit with a precision that had you gasping, your nails digging into his back.

you felt your orgasm building, the tension coiling in your stomach, your muscles tightening around him. rafe noticed, his eyes darkening with passion, his breath coming in harsh pants. “come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “let go—i’ve got you.”

you did, letting yourself fall over the edge, the pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave. rafe followed, his movements becoming erratic as he buried his face in your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. your bodies shuddered together, the intensity of your release leaving you boneless and weak. when he came inside you, there was no panic, no yelling, no running. he was still there, and so were you.

afterwards, he held you close, your heartbeats syncing as your breaths grew steadier. the room was filled with the scent of sweat and sex, but it was comforting rather than suffocating. rafe’s hand stroked your hair, his kisses tender and gentle as they trailed down your neck and along your collarbone. you leaned into him, feeling safe and loved in a way you never had before. the silence was no longer a prison but a sanctuary, a space where you could breathe and just be.

he could have this, he could enjoy it, knowing that you wouldn’t disappear when the morning came. not this time.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: take a shot whenever topper and kelce exchange a glance pls i giggled writing this

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pinkolve · 18 hours ago

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A Spencer Reid Fic- The One Where He Reads Her Diary

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Summary: Spencer Reid gets pressured into reading your diary. How will things end after you find out...

Genre: Fluff, and a little angst

CW: Autistic coded!Fem!Reader, use of Y/N, a bit of dramatic? reader, sad Spencer :(, steamy kisses, slight artist!reader.

Word Count: 2,227

A/N: I'm not the best at writing in a reader's perspective!! I always write my fics with myself in mind, so y/n is usually very similar to myself. I hope you still enjoy this anyways, and let me know if you have any tips for writing x reader fics!! Thank you! <33

Y/N’s always been an honest person, she always tells people exactly what she thinks. She’s blunt, but still kind. Y/N believes that everyone deserves to know the truth, especially when specifically asking for it. But, she also has millions of secrets piled up. Some of them, people know. The others…No one knows, except her diary.

Y/N had just turned twenty-two a few months ago. Some would argue she’s much too old for a diary, while others would say how beneficial it is for the mind. Like Spencer Reid, for example. He himself had a journal, he just hadn’t used it nearly as much as she did.

He used his journal to talk about important events or changes in his life, while Y/N used it for everything. She wrote everything she ever thought, and drew whatever came to mind.

The one mistake she had made from the start was keeping her diary in her work bag…That she always left on her desk when she left for the bathroom.

***

“Reid, man, come on. You need to tell her eventually.” Morgan bantered, standing right next to Spencer’s desk.

“I’d rather not look like an idiot, Morgan.” Spencer slightly rolled his eyes, still focused on his paperwork.

“You already do?” Morgan said, confused. Spencer looked up with a scowl. “I’m just messin’ with you Pretty Boy! Just ask her out for coffee, nothing wrong with coffee.” He shrugged. Spencer simply shook his head, staring back down at his files. Morgan shook his own head in disapproval before walking back to his own desk, passing Y/N’s in the process.

As he passed by, his hip bumped the half-open bag on her desk, knocking it to the floor. Morgan immediately turned around and swore. He set his mug down on the desk and bent down to grab her bag. He took notice of a surprisingly thick notebook. He picked it up and reveled at how heavy it was. Morgan looked at the cover to read ‘Diary.’ His eyes immediately widened.

A smirk took over his face as he placed the bag back on her desk and carried the journal back over to Reid’s desk. Once he was close enough, he threw the journal on the desk with a particularly loud ‘thud.’ Lucky for the two of them, the office was mostly empty so they were able to pull more shenanigans than usual.

Spencer looked over at the cover and looked up at his friend with furrowed brows.

“What is this?”

“Y/L/N’s diary. Fell out of her bag.” He gestured behind him. Spencer’s face went white, his jaw dropping, and eyes almost bursting out of his head.

“You cannot be serious! Put this back!” He jumped up from his desk, journal in hand, ready to bring it back to its rightful home.

“Woah there, Pretty Boy!” Morgan put his palms against Reid’s chest, pushing him back in his desk chair. “You have a major advantage here. You read that, and you’ll probably know everything Y/N’s ever thought about you.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Spencer’s face was angry. “Look Reid, if Y/N finds out I’ll take all the blame. I’ll tell her I read it to you and you didn’t want anything to do with it.” Spencer looked down at the book in his hands, contemplating.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you convince me into doing this.” Spencer sighed, shaking his head to himself. He hated the idea of invading his best friend’s privacy but he was also still a man. A man with a terrible crush on said best friend. How could he hold her very diary in his own two hands and not read a single word? “One page, that’s it!” Spencer groaned while Morgan ‘woo-hooed.’

Spencer took notice of just how thick the journal was before opening to the newest page. He held the book open gently, praying he wouldn’t break it since it was falling apart already. He looked at the left page, two messy sketches were drawn there in pen. They both were of him, the specific view Y/N had of him from her own desk. These are actually pretty good…He thought to himself.

“Holy shit, Reid. Is that you?” Morgan practically gasped.

“Yeah.” He whispered, too entranced by the book. The right page had an entry.

11/10/24 Sunday, 6:22 pm

Dear Diary,

Today hasn’t been very eventful. I came into work to try and finish some of my paperwork. Morgan and Spencer apparently had the same idea. I’ve been feeling so weird around Spencer lately. I can’t quite put my finger on why. Usually I feel fine around him, he is my best friend after all. I think it may have something to do with the wet dream I had about him last night…I can’t quite shake it from-

“Okay! That’s enough!” Spencer shut the book harshly, his face beet red. Morgan looked at him with a wide grin.

“Why wouldn’t you keep reading? It was just gettin’ good!” He chuckled. Spencer glared at him. “Well, now we know she likes you.” Morgan smirked.

“This doesn’t prove anything! People have wet dreams about other people when they don’t even like them, all the time!” Spencer almost screamed. Just then, Y/N came in through the large glass doors, letting out a loud sigh and stretching. She took one look at her desk and groaned.

“Derek Morgan, I told you to stop leaving your coffee on my desk!” She complained, grabbing it angrily. She looked over at the two, their faces covered in guilt. “What happened to you guys?” She questioned.

“Nothing. Nothing at all!” Spencer yelled, awkwardly covering the journal with both his arms. Y/N walked towards them while chuckling.

“Come on guys, you look totally guilty. What’d you do?” She smiles at Morgan then looks over at Spencer, taking notice of the large lump under his arms. “What’s that? Did you accidentally buy erotica again?” She shook her head. She reached over to pry his arms away from the object. “I told you to stop-” Y/N cut myself off, staring at her own journal. Her face drained of any color and every feature on her face practically melted.

“Y/N/N, I’m so-” Spencer started.

“Shut up.” She spit out. She tore her journal from him and slammed Morgan’s coffee on his desk, causing it to spill everywmye. She practically ran back to her own desk and packed her things.

“Y/L/N, it wasn’t his fault. I’m the one who-” Morgan tried to reason.

“I said shut the fuck up!” She screeched, her face red with anger and embarrassment. “I never thought you would do something like this to me. I trusted you with everything I had and you broke it like it was nothing.” She was crying now, looking between the two men. But all of them knew she was only really talking to Spencer.

“Y/N, please-”

“Don’t ever talk to me again you fucking asshole!” She sobbed out before running to the elevator and making a fast exit. Morgan looked over at Spencer and his heart nearly broke. Spencer looked like a wounded puppy, his eyes were wide and filled with unshed tears. He looked frozen in place, he couldn’t move a single inch. He begged any and every deity he could think of to make Y/N come back so he could explain. They hadn’t listened to any of his pleas.

***

Y/N lay in her living room on her large corner sofa. The TV was on, playing ‘Gilmore Girls’ very loudly. She hoped to drown out any thought she had with the noise. So far, it wasn’t working.

She hadn’t been to work in nearly a week, it was currently Saturday and no one had heard from her. She only called Hotch to tell him she wouldn’t be in for a while, sick with the flu. She sure as hell couldn’t admit that the real reason was because her crush read her diary. It felt stupid enough in middle school, she wasn’t about to say it aloud to her own boss.

Everyone on the team was very worried, getting barely any information and zero replies from Y/N. Penny, Emily, Morgan and J.J had all come to her apartment on different occasions, begging to see her. She never let them in. The only thing she cared about was seeing Spencer, but at the same time, she never wanted to see him again. Funnily enough, Spencer was the only one who hadn’t come over. Y/N was partially glad for this because she knew if he was at her door, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from opening it.

Spencer had of course sent about fifty-three text messages and made twenty-four phone calls to her. Once again, all of them were ignored. Spencer was the kind of person who liked to talk in person, apologize in person. All his text messages were him begging to talk to Y/N, to let him explain. None of them actually contained any excuses or apologies. She was clearly clueless on any reasoning he had, or how much he had read, because he didn’t want to say any of it in a meaningless text. He had been waiting since Wednesday for the weekend to come rolling around. He planned to show up and explain everything, but he needed to make sure they had plenty of time to talk, hence the weekend.

Everyone on the team knew of his plan so they all refrained from going over themselves. They just hoped the two would figure everything out.

***

Y/N had just gotten out of the shower when she heard a knock on her door. She rolled her eyes to herself and sighed, looking at the time.

“Which one of them has the brilliant idea to come over at eight in the morning?!” She yelled to herself. She softly and slowly walked against the hardwood floor, careful not to make a single noise and alert whoever was behind the door. She wouldn’t answer it but she at least wanted to know who it was this time.

“Y/N…It’s me.” Spencer’s voice rang out and she froze. “I know you’re angry but I really need to talk to you. Please let me in.” His voice was pathetic and sad, cracking occasionally. Within seconds the door opened in front of him. There stood the girl he’s been dreaming of seeing all week. Her hair was soaking wet and so were her shoulders and arms. A towel was wrapped around her body tightly, showing off her figure. Spencer watched a single droplet of water pass down between the valley of her breasts.

“H-Hey.” Spencer choked out.

“Hi.” Y/N greeted shyly.

“I need to talk to you.”

“So I heard.” She nodded a little. “What about?”

“You know what about…”

“Okay, fine. What specific part of that interaction would you like to discuss? What, did you just come over to make fun of me? To ridicule me for the way I feel? Did you come over here just to humiliate me even more?!” Y/N’s voice raised the more she spoke.

“No!” Spencer yelled, cutting her off. “I don’t want to do any of that!” He sighed to himself. “I…I never should have read your diary. Morgan convinced me, and I know I should have reacted better, and not listened to him. He just kept telling me how…Convinient it would be. I’ve been scared to tell you how I really feel for the last two years. He told me that reading your diary would be the perfect way to see how you feel about me before I confessed and made an idiot of myself. I just…I had a weak moment and I hate that I hurt you in the process.” A couple tears fell from the corners of his eyes. “I’m so…So sorry, Y/N/N.”

She looked up at him with an expressionless face. Spencer looked back into her eyes with the saddest look on his face. He was about to ask her what she was thinking when she told him instead.

“Do you like me? Romantically?” She asked, voice monotone.

“Of course I do. I genuinely thought it was obvious, I can never stop how flustered I get around you. All I’ve dreamed about since we became friends is spending my life with you. Whether we spend it as best friends or more, I couldn’t care less. I just want you with me every step of the way” Spencer spoke honestly.

“Kiss me.” Y/N blurted out. Spencer’s eyes went wide.

“W-What?” He stuttered.

“Please.” She breathed out. “Kiss me.” Her eyes were heavy and clouded. Spencer was quick to reach down and grab the sides of her face in his hands, pushing their lips together roughly. Y/N whimpered the minute his lips touched her own. Just as fast as the kiss happened it turned sloppy. Spencer’s hands travelled down to her waist, gripping tightly. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts pushing up against his chest. Their tongues collided and twirled against each other.

“I love you, Spencer.” She whispered against his lips.

“I love you more, Y/N.” He sighed.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #x reader fic #x reader fanfiction #x reader fluff #x reader angst

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protect-namine · 2 days ago

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this post is about qiao ling. but first, I want to talk about the power rangers of this show.

so. I'm really glad YE2 is putting the triple star warrior mirroring in a more interesting context

because that's clearly the intent and it's not like it doesn't make sense back in S1, but the actual execution of that mirroring seemed shallow at best with just S1 knowledge

(look! qiao ling even bought cake of them in the S2 finale)

I think it's because I couldn't quite place qiao ling's role in this until now. she's the star of wisdom, but she's the one who is the most out of the loop and lacking in knowledge... or so we thought. but with the S2 ending giving her tianxi's ability, and YE2 showing that it's a pattern for her to keep relevant information, then yeah, it's starting to make sense. the triple star warriors really are their character arcs.

star of justice, bringing hope (cheng xiaoshi's kindness being both a strength and a weakness that can either uplift or endanger other people; "even if you don't see hope, it doesn't mean it's not there")

star of courage, conquering fear (lu guang timelooping himself is the most extreme response to fear he has over cheng xiaoshi's death)

star of wisdom, serving knowledge (qiao ling and the burden of knowledge that she keeps from people out of guilt or protection)

and they really do need to overcome all of that to get the good ending.

anyway, I just think it's neat. I thought the triple star warriors mirroring was cute back in S1, but now I love it even more knowing qiao ling's place in all of this. I actually love this trait about her. she is always taking care of other people and has "big sister" vibes. she's the one who actually goes out of her way to find clients for shiguang to help and hearing their clients' troubles, even when she had no idea how their abilities worked. she's the one who truly connected with tianxi and knew how to communicate with her — even better than cheng xiaoshi could, and cheng xiaoshi was the one who actually got to live as tianxi.

it's in her nature to care for others, but it's also her biggest flaw. much like lu guang, in her desire to keep cheng xiaoshi safe in her own way, she hides relevant information from him. and the act of secret keeping causes her to keep doing it out of guilt too — as we've seen in the doudou case. it's a very human trait to have.

it puts the earthquake arc in a new context. a young cheng xiaoshi went to qiao ling, distraught over the possibility that maybe his parents died in the earthquake. young qiao ling, wanting to comfort cheng xiaoshi but also knowing that her parents were advised that it's safer for cheng xiaoshi to not go to bridon, tells him that his parents are probably somewhere "far away" and wasn't caught in the earthquake. this isn't just words for the sake of comfort. she has reason to believe this is actually true.

she's in a tough spot when S3 rolls around, because she should, by then, know about cheng xiaoshi's death, if not possibly everything that happened in bridon (through tianxi's power/memory transfer). unlike lu guang, who is dead set on timelooping himself as a way to fix things, qiao ling is in a precarious spot.

should she honor aunt shao's wish and keep cheng xiaoshi safe, which she also wants? or should she tell cheng xiaoshi information he rightfully should know, thereby allowing him to exercise full agency over his own future, even if that future has the risk of death? and whatever she chooses will affect lu guang too. what is the wise thing to do here?

on that note, others have pointed out how this recontextualizes S1E1 cheng xiaoshi talking about his parents. looking back, it's insane to me that S1E1's opening scene (not the dive rules, the one after the op plays) has cheng xiaoshi saying, "I won't go anywhere until my parents come back. if you drive me away, I'll hang myself here! then your father will never get a new tenant."

(it's looking like whatever he learns in bridon won't carry over to the cheng xiaoshi of S1, but I digress)

he says this, and both lu guang and qiao ling are sitting there calling him a childish idiot, all the while harboring knowledge about his parents that cheng xiaoshi doesn't have. (lu guang also has the extra knowledge of cheng xiaoshi's death and what happened in bridon at this point probably, but this post is not about lu guang)

like... in S1 this could just be seen as a little "haha okay so this is exposition and this is their dynamic" scene but now... man. qiao ling knew all this time, in this scene, where his parents might be. she knew during the earthquake. she knew while they were renovating the shop.

I understand the reasons behind it, and in her eyes it probably was the wise thing to do. but when S3 comes around, should she still keep hiding it, like she did with the doudou case? when she confronts lu guang about his memories, what will she do?

I have hope that she'll bridge the two boys together. we saw how her strength has always been communication and delivering words. she is the person the clients look to. she is the person that gained tianxi's trust and knew how to meet her where she's at. she is the person who knows cheng xiaoshi and lu guang best.

here's hoping that she can overcome her guilt and desire to protect cheng xiaoshi from himself, and become the star of wisdom the show wants her to be

#mine musings #liveblogging link click #link click spoilers #link click #obviously i'm team “tell cheng xiaoshi everything” but like i get it #i do sympathize with the reasons #a part of me wants ql to not tell cxs for the sake of messy drama lmao but i do want her to tell him though #aughh but idk if she will bc if she hid it from him before then what will make her not keep hiding it?#there needs to be a new element to this. bc i feel like #if ql and lg keep it a secret. cxs will find out eventually from someone else (maybe lx?)#or on his own. idk idk #i'm talking about S3 btw. not bridon #link click meta

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unopposablethumbsao3 · 10 hours ago

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Julian getting a little too enthusiastic in the gym after everybody finds out he's an augment.

He's never been able to actually push himself while working out in public before, he's always had to hold back to avoid attracting too much attention. So, horrific and traumatic as it was to have his secret revealed like that, to hold on to his career and his life and everything he cares about by the skin of his teeth, there are things he's looking forward to now, things he just couldn't do before.

All of which adds up to Julian in the gym at 0500, figuring out his absolute max deadlift, dropping it down to his 90% and doing set after set until he simply can't lift it anymore. It takes fucking ages, he's even stronger than he expected, and he's having such a good time...

Until about two hours later, right at the start of his shift, when he feels himself start to stiffen up. He tries to push through it, tries to just keep moving and get rid of all the lactic acid that's building up in his glutes, but there's only so much you can do when you've put your body through that and by lunch time, he's locked in a chair in his office and he doesn't think he can stand up anymore, actually.

Which, of course, is when Garak shows up to ask if he still wants to have lunch. And Julian would really like to say yes, but if he can't even stand up then walking to the Replimat is right out, so he just tells Garak that he's got to catch up on some research, actually, and can they take a rain cheque? And he adds his most charming smile for good measure, but now Garak is just *looking* at him, one of those inscrutable looks, with his eyes squinted and his head tilted to the side.

"My dear doctor, are you quite alright?"

And Julian could just tell him! He could just say 'no, actually, I worked out far too hard and now I can't actually stand up to go and get the muscle regenerator I would need to fix it, let alone to join you for lunch!' But that would require *admitting* that he'd overdone it, which of course is exactly what Garak warned him about that morning as he was leaving their quarters at 0430. 'Don't push yourself too hard, my dear, genetically engineered or not, human spines are simply structurally inadequate in some respects..."

And of course he was right, and of course Julian can't let him *know* he was right, and so they're at a stalemate. And Garak just keeps *looking* at him, and then he walks into the room and around the desk and he just stands there, looking down at Julian until Julian is just like "...yes?" And Garak's like, "oh, I just thought I would give you a kiss, since you can't join me. Because of your research." And Julian's like "...okay?" And Garak's just like "so why don't you stand up so I can kiss you properly?" And Julian knows he's fucked but of course he can't admit it so he just stares at Garak until Garak starts smiling and says "you can't, can you?"

And that's how Garak ends up carrying Julian out of the infirmary in the middle of the day to drop him in an Epsom salt bath while he lectures him on the importance of *moderation*, my dear, you really must learn *moderation*

#garashir #ds9 #elim garak #julian bashir #ficlet #why yes i was deadlifting on Friday and i can stand up fine why would you ask me that?#augment Julian Bashir #these idiots #i love them your honour

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https-lvesick · 7 hours ago

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( 지성 ) ── college boyfriend headcanons!

content . . 𝜗𝜚 fem!reader, smut, fingering, public sex, creampie

lola’s notes .: it wasn’t supposed to be a smut headcanon, but i can’t help myself by nct 127. i swear i’ll bring more fluff fics so you won’t think i’m a horny dog <3

college boyfriend!jisung isn’t just your boyfriend — he’s also your roommate. when you first moved in together, he was painfully shy, barely able to speak without blushing. it took two months for him to relax around you, but once he realized he was in love, he wasted no time showing you how much you meant to him.

college boyfriend!jisung who constantly goofs off during lectures, making you scold him every single time. but it’s not his fault! the professor is so boring, how could he possibly pay attention?

college boyfriend!jisung, affectionately known as your personal puppy. the sweet boy who’s always trailing after you around campus, carrying your books, your bag, or anything else you need — always ready with your favorite snack or drink in hand.

college boyfriend!jisung who has a habit of procrastinating his projects, pushing deadlines dangerously close until you step in to help. of course, this means you end up falling behind on your work while helping him scramble to finish his.

college boyfriend!jisung who’s surprisingly popular. not a day goes by without some random girl trying to flirt with him. but he always rejects them with polite kindness — even the ones who don’t deserve it — and makes it clear: he’s yours.

college boyfriend!jisung who loves to play innocent even when his fingers are deep inside your dripping cunt, teasing you under the desk during a lecture. he doesn’t care if you’re in class — as long as you’re relaxed and having fun, he’s satisfied.

college boyfriend!jisung who begs you to partner up for group projects because he’s too nervous to talk to other classmates, using his best puppy-dog eyes until you give in.

college boyfriend!jisung who’s always down to skip morning classes just to stay in bed a little longer — whether it’s for lazy, sweet snuggles or slow, passionate morning sex that turns an ordinary day into something colorful and unforgettable.

college boyfriend!jisung, the shy, silly boy everyone assumes is too innocent for anything risqué. some classmates even joke that he might still be a virgin who doesn’t know how to kiss his girlfriend properly — despite how undeniably attractive he is. if only they knew what happens behind closed doors.

college boyfriend!jisung who couldn’t resist you before class, emptying himself inside you until your legs wobbled and his cum dripped down your thighs — leaving you to navigate the rest of the day with a secret only the two of you shared.

college boyfriend!jisung who’s absolutely certain you’re the love of his life. with your graduation approaching, he’s been secretly, nervously debating whether to propose. his heart races at the thought of slipping a ring on your finger — because all he really wants is to spend forever with you.

did you enjoy your reading? why don’t reblog, like or leave a comment? this way i know you liked what i wrote and surely will keep up with the good content! 𖹭 masterlist

🏷 @jungaji @spacejip @lyvhie @sinisxtea @jirsungs

#nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream headcanons #park jisung fanfic #park jisung smut

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bunnyinvanilla · 2 days ago

Note

some sort of miscommunication between price and reader where he’s stressed out and constantly checking his phone for updates for a case that’s been getting to him for months. Reader’s confused and overthinking why he’s constantly checking his phone and acting anxious even around her. Is there another girl? Are you assuming an exclusive relationship when he isn’t? He is just your sugar daddy, he’s using you and you’re using him, why are you questioning the dynamic now? This leads to her realising she wants to be committed and exclusive with price.

this THISSS is my favorite request so far. stop. i just want daddy price to be all mine mine mine and think about me me me only

you know price is a busy man, between being the captain of a military secret service unit and owning a bar, you are aware of the many responsibilities he carries. But lately, he’s been just too far off. Constantly checking his phone, always on different calls with mysterious people he cannot tell you about, you can’t help but worry.

undoubtedly, you trust him blindly and completely — but you’re also just a sensitive, vulnerable little girl. Since he’s always been able to dedicate you his full time and attention, why has he been so nervous and stressed around you lately? has he been hiding something from you?

you notice he’s not fully listening to you when you talk, hands always holding that phone instead of your waist or hand, always running a large hand through this dark, salt and pepper hair, a weary and bothered look on his face, something serious has to be on his mind.

you trust him, so why are you suddenly so concerned and afraid? what if he started talking to another girl? maybe he’s seeking a different girl’s attention? maybe that’s why he’s always checking his phone for something that you can’t know about. that thought alone makes your tummy heavy with a tight knot, and you want to cling to his leg and beg him to just be your daddy and yours alone.

has he gotten tired of you? has he found another girl to be his sugar baby? you’ve always considered your relationship to be exclusive, only between you and him, but maybe you’ve given it too much more importance and consideration than him? It started off as a plain convenience, him paying for your college, pampering and providing for everything you needed and wanted, and you giving him affection, the company of a young, pretty girl, a warm heart and a warm body to bury himself in.

but you have wanted more from the start — gosh, you know you’re practically in love with him, you want to be his only girl, you want him to be fully satisfied, focused and interested in you alone, his forever little princess :( you want him to be in love with you, that’s it.

you reading alone on his bed and him spending time in his dark office, scrambling with paperwork, you could understand, but that damn phone? gosh, he keeps waiting for someone to text him, keeping it with him all day long, and you start overthinking so much that you just want to cry your fragile little heart out, like a poor soft bunny that feels neglected by her owner.

and when you saw his phone lit up with a notification from a certain Kate, you felt your heart sink — he muttered a low, heavy “fuckin’ finally” and stood up, leaving the room to take another call, leaving you with a wobbly chin.

poor bunny you just don’t know that he’s been stressing for a complicated mission that he’s been following, and that has been getting to him for months now :(

when he came back, he found you on his spot, sitting ever so cutely with your legs underneath your bum, twirling your hair around your fingers, nervously — you looked up at him with doe, puppy eyes and took a little breath before saying “sir, you don’t..you’re not hiding something from me, are you?”

he immediately looked at you in the most disoriented way, the wrinkles behind his eyes stretching, and before you could open his mouth, you sat upright, unable to stop your anxious words to spill out. “I just- im sorry, you’re always on your phone and i get scared, please tell me you don’t have another girl, im in love with you, sir, and-“

john, having years and years of experience behind his back, having learnt how to stay calm and collected in every situation, slowly walked up to you, giving you a relaxed, slightly entertained expression.

with a slow, deliberate movement , he picked you up effortlessly, like you weighted nothing, and placed you on top of the nearest surface — you squeaked, but your eyes were still soft and preoccupied, cheeks red and warm.

“doll,” he called your name with a firm, reassuring tone, as if to placate your worrying thoughts — he took your chin between his fingers, lifting it upwards with his thumb to meet your sugary, saccharine eyes. “listen to me”

he held your chin up with his large hand, your own finding the edge of the table and gripping it. “I’ve been spending more time with my phone because im following a difficult case, and have been waiting for any update for over a month now, princess”

the roots that had clenched your heart slowly started to dissolve into tiny, light sprouts. oh.

“but..you’re always nervous and distant, I thought-“

“what did we say about letting your thoughts wander too much, love?” he squeezed your chin, giving you a lecturing look that made you tremble for a different reason, his tone was reassuring but surfaced into a lecturing one. “mmh? answer me, angel”

“that I have to..” you felt like a little lamb under his intense gaze, like a a little girl being scolded by her father when she almost got hurt and made him worry :( “..come talk to you when it happens, sir”

“exactly, good girl, sweetheart, you come talk to daddy, and don’t overthink your pretty little head”

“didn’t wanna make you upset..” you mumbled softly, his thumb stroking your bottom lip.

“you never make daddy upset, baby. I can’t tell you about my missions doll, they’re state secrets...” his eyes followed the motion of his ginger against your plush lips. “but the person I’ve been talking on the phone with is Kate, our station chief” his lips twitched into a little amused grin, you’re just so young, so naive and sweet, getting all possessive of him :(

“so you don’t…” you trailed off, blinking up at him. “I don’t have another girl, pup. Never dream of it while I have the sweetest, prettiest treat here” he chuckled, a deep, warm and rich sound.

“next time you worry, come to daddy and talk to me. Im sorry I’ve been too busy and occupied with work lately, sweetheart, but you’re the only girl in my heart and in my bed. You’re my one ‘n only sugar baby.” he pulled your chin and planted a heavy kiss on your lips.

“and about that little slip out of yours…” he grinned against your lips, making your face grow red, flame up instantly. “say that again f’me? daddy’ old, didn’t hear it well”

“that i…i’m in love with you..?”

oh of course price knew you loved him. He could tell since the first time you had laid your sweet, honeyed eyes on him that you were lovestruck. Part of him was surprised a young, innocent thing like you could spare interest for a worn, old war dog like him.

well, the other part was smug about it, he was a confident, cocky man, and he thrived on the effect he had on you — his own little princess.

“yeah, that, princess, you’ve got me wrapped around your lil finger, havent you? make this old bastard all hooked,” he’s completely drawn to you, even if he’s reluctant to admit it outright.

“you’re gonna make me marry you if im not careful enough, steal my heart, my wallet, and now my last name”

#john price x f!reader #john price x female reader #john price imagine #price x female reader #captain price x female reader #john price #john price x y/n #captain price x reader #call of duty #captain john price #tf 141

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t0jisd0ll · 3 days ago

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Yandere gangster (male) head-cannons

cw: yandere traits, mentioned sex, implied violence.

disclaimer: I want to emphasize that I do not endorse or support this type of behaviour. This content is purely for entertainment purposes.

Yan!Gangster, the feared and ruthless head of a notorious crime syndicate, who commands the respect of everyone around him.

Yan!Gangster, who carries himself with an air of danger and charisma, always dressed sharply in tailored suits that match his deadly reputation.

Yan!Gangster, who believes emotions are a weakness—until he lays his piercing eyes on you, a seemingly ordinary person working in a diner late at night.

Yan!Gangster, who can't shake the image of your tired smile and soft voice when you served him coffee, even as he returns to his blood-soaked world.

Yan!Gangster, who begins frequenting the diner under the pretense of "business meetings" just to catch a glimpse of you.

Yan!Gangster, who learns everything about you in secret: your name, your routine, your dreams, and even the people you interact with (much to his growing jealousy).

Yan!Gangster, who once saw you chatting with a friendly coworker and had to physically restrain himself from making them "disappear."

Yan!Gangster, who finally decides to make his move by "accidentally" leaving his wallet behind one night, knowing you'd have to contact him.

Yan!Gangster, who uses this opportunity to invite you to dinner at the most exclusive restaurant in the city, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

Yan!Gangster, who sits across from you at the candlelit table, his intimidating aura softening only when he looks into your eyes, listening to your every word as though it’s gospel.

Yan!Gangster, who insists on walking you home afterwards, his hand ghosting your lower back to shield you from any potential threat.

Yan!Gangster, who, with a low chuckle, teases you about your innocence, calling you "kid" with a mix of affection and possessiveness, his age and experience making him all the more confident in his ability to protect you.

Yan!Gangster, who pauses at your door, leaning in just close enough to let his breath brush your ear as he murmurs, “You’re too precious for this world. Good thing you’ve got me to take care of you now.”

Yan!Gangster, who doesn’t ask to come inside—he doesn’t need to. The way his fingers trail down your arm and the heated look in his eyes make his intentions clear.

Yan!Gangster, who leaves you breathless by the end of the night, a dangerous promise lingering in his smile as he whispers, “You’re mine now, sweetheart. Don’t even think about running.”

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thebunnednun · 3 days ago

Text

Toast 4.

But do I look,

Like Him?

Pro Hero! Katsuki Bakugou x Prohero!Ex! Reader

Years after you walked out of his life, Katsuki can't stand how his mind won't let you go after all this time. And after your most recent phone call,

He doesn't think he ever will. Especially after meeting your secret daughter.

Who has his exact eyes.

Warning: Heavy angst, post break ups, crying Katsuki, meeting ex's (you).

Part one right here. Part 2 over yander Part 3 is here

Inspired by the song: Darling, I

Songs:

Full list on the ao3 chapter

Like Him <------ Tyler the Creator (Asuna over hearing everything.)

“My daughter.”

Katsuki felt his soul try to leave out his ass.

You were still turned toward Asuna, smoothing down her hair and examining the dip-dyed tips of her braids as you fussed over her, completely oblivious to the chaos unfolding just behind you.

“You’ve got bring your coat with you to school,” you said, your tone equal parts affectionate and chiding.

“And what did I tell you about after school junk food?”

Asuna grinned up at you, her sharp red eyes sparkling with mischief.

“ Not to,” she said sweetly, though the giggle threatening to burst free ruined any attempt at sounding remorseful. You glanced down at the girl as her giggles finally started to subside, and her mischievous grin turned into something softer as she looked up at you.

You ruffled her braids gently, your fingers lingering on the dip-dyed tips. The two of you looked almost like twins under the glow of the streetlights—same face, same posture, even the same teasing glint in your expressions.

But then there were the eyes.

Yours held warmth and wisdom, tempered by years of struggles and triumphs. Hers burned like twin embers, sharp and unrelenting, filled with the boundless energy of youth.

Katsuki couldn’t stop staring.

The resemblance between you two was uncanny. It wasn’t just the shared features; it was the way you both carried yourselves, that same blend of confidence and playfulness. The way her grin mirrored yours, the slight tilt of her head, even the way she gestured with her hands—it was like watching a younger version of you.

But it was her eyes that pinned him in place.

Those sharp red irises locked onto him, and for a split second, the lightness in her expression dimmed. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line as she studied him. Katsuki felt the air shift around him as recognition dawned in her gaze.

She knew who he was.

Her glare was quick, a fleeting moment of defiance that made his chest tighten.

It wasn’t hostility—not exactly. It was more like a warning, a challenge wrapped up in a teenage girl’s unimpressed stare. Katsuki, for all his brashness and bravado, found himself breaking eye contact first, scowling as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“ Brat ,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

Asuna didn’t let up. She leaned slightly toward him, the bouquet of flowers cradled in her arm like a shield, before quirking an eyebrow in a way that screamed the fuck you gonna do about it? Then, as if deciding he wasn’t worth her time, she turned her attention back to you, her expression softening once more.

You, oblivious to the silent exchange, gave the flowers in your hands another glance before passing them back to her. “Not bad,” you said with a teasing smirk.

“You’re learning.”

The girl pouted dramatically. “I’ve always been good at picking flowers.”

“Sure you have,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Just don’t think this gets you out of trouble.”

Her pout melted into a grin as she hugged the bouquet to her chest. “You’re not really mad, though,” she said confidently.

You sighed, shaking your head. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Behind you, Kirishima, who had been openly gawking, leaned over to Izuku and whispered loudly, “It’s like they cloned her, but gave her Katsuki’s eyes!”

Izuku blinked rapidly, still processing, before mumbling, “She really does look like them both, huh?”

Katsuki shot them a glare, his teeth grinding as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, and Katsuki felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. He stared at you, then at her, then back again, his mind scrambling to piece everything together.

Asuna, however, seemed completely unbothered by the tension. She beamed up at you, then spun toward the others, her energy as infectious as ever.

“It’s nice to meet you all!” she chirped, giving a little wave with her free hand.

Kirishima, still looking like he’d been hit over the head, managed a weak smile and an awkward, “Uh… hey there.” He squatted down and was still a little taller than the girl.

Izuku’s lips parted as if to say something, but he just nodded dumbly, his cheeks tinged pink with surprise.

Todoroki’s gaze lingered on Hikari, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough to reveal the faintest flicker of confusion. “She really does look like you,” he murmured.

“Yeah, well,” you said lightly, brushing a strand of hair from Asuna’s face.

“ She’s got good genes.”

Katsuki’s stomach churned. His hands twitched at his sides as he stared at the girl again, his mind flashing back to earlier that day. He hadn’t known then who she was, but now—now it made sense. Every sharp word, every defiant glare, every moment she’d stood her ground against him.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

She really was your daughter.

And as the girl’s mischievous grin returned, Katsuki realized with a jolt of clarity–

He wasn’t ready for this.

Kirishima lay frozen for a moment, his hands hovering uncertainly as he watched his best friend struggle to breathe. His eyes darted from Katsuki to you and Asuna, then back again, panic setting in. Finally, as Asuna let out another giggle, Kirishima made a snap decision.

“So, uh,” he said loudly, his voice almost too cheerful as he stepped forward, blocking your line of sight to the commotion. “Asuna, right? Cool name! So, uh, when’s your birthday?”

Asuna blinked, momentarily distracted by the question. “April 21st,” she said, tilting her head curiously.

You could’ve heard a snowflake drop.

“Nice, nice,” Kirishima said, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “What’s your favorite color?”

You glanced up briefly, arching a brow at Kirishima’s sudden interest in your daughter. “Bloody purple,” Asuna answered without missing a beat, her grin widening.

“Uh, cool, cool,” Kirishima said, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he glanced nervously over his shoulder at Katsuki, who was still clutching his chest like his heart might explode. “And, uh, favorite food?”

“Mapo tofu,” Asuna said proudly. “Extra chili peppers. Gotta have the heat.”

Katsuki fell to his knees.

His entire body trembling as if the world itself had flipped on its axis. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, and one hand was clutching his chest so tightly his knuckles were white.

Izuku, with his ever-watchful eyes, was the first to react, darting forward with a panicked, “ Katsuki! ” He crouched beside him, gripping his arm to steady him.

Todoroki was right behind him, his calm mask slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of concern. Without a word, he grabbed Katsuki’s other arm, hoisting him back to his feet as though the blonde weighed nothing.

“What’s wrong with him?” Todoroki whispered, his voice quiet but insistent.

You almost turned around to hear the commotion but Kirishima forced a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “You like spicy, huh? You and Katsuki have that in common—he’s all about the spice.” That had your attention back on your twin.

Asuna's eyes flicked briefly toward Katsuki, who was now leaning heavily on both Izuku and Todoroki. A small smirk tugged at her lips as she added,

“Oh yeah. Mom, I’ll be taking my hero license exam before Christmas break.”

“Really?” Kirishima said, trying desperately to keep the conversation going. “That’s awesome! Who’s helping you prepare?”

“Gramps,” Asuna replied casually, shrugging one shoulder.

“Gramps?” Kirishima echoed, blinking in confusion.

“Aizawa-sensei,” Asuna clarified, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s more like a hobo uncle, but I call him Gramps ‘cause he’s old and has the attitude to match.”

At that, Izuku’s head shot up, his eyes wide with realization.

“ Wait ,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “I’ve seen her before.” His face turned an alarming shade of red as the pieces clicked into place, and he stammered,

“She’s—she’s your—”

Todoroki, who had been silently observing, gave a slight nod, his expression as composed as ever but his eyes betraying a hint of smugness.

“I knew it,” he murmured.

Katsuki, however, couldn’t get a single word out.

His breathing was shallow, his chest heaving as he struggled to process the scene in front of him. His gaze flicked from you to Asuna and back again, his mind replaying every interaction he’d had with the girl earlier that day.

Her sharp tongue, her confidence, her fiery glare—it all made sense now.

“She’...,” he choked out, barely above a whisper.

Asuna, who had been watching him out of the corner of her eye, turned fully toward him.

For a brief moment, her playful demeanor faltered, and she regarded him with a look that was equal parts curiosity and challenge. Her wine red eyes narrowed, the corners of her mouth twitching as though she were debating whether to say something.

Then, with a tilt of her head and a knowing smirk, it was like her eyes said,

‘You’re slower than I thought.’

Katsuki’s jaw tightened, and for a second, it looked like he might argue. But before he could say anything, you finally turned around, noticing the way he was sagging between Izuku and Todoroki.

“Katsuki?” you asked, frowning as you stepped toward him.

“Don’t,”

He managed, holding up a hand to stop you. His voice was rough, strained, and he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Just—give me a minute.”

You hesitated, your concern evident, but Asuna tugged lightly on your sleeve, drawing your attention back to her. “He’ll be fine,” she said casually, though there was a glimmer of amusement in her gaze.

You sighed, ruffling her hair again before glancing back at Katsuki.

“If you say so.”

As you turned your focus back to Asuna, Katsuki’s eyes lingered on the two of you.

In the bright streetlights, the resemblance was undeniable. The way you fussed over her, the way she leaned into your touch—it was like looking at a version of you he’d never imagined but couldn’t look away from.

And for the second time in his life, Katsuki Bakugo didn’t know what the fuck to do.

The night air felt sharp against your skin, but it didn’t bother you as you glanced at the bag of snacks Asuna opened. She tilted it toward you with a casual shrug, revealing your favorite comfort snacks nestled among hers. You raised an eyebrow, amused.

“You even got mine?” you teased gently, cupping her face in your hands to study her more closely.

Asuna shrugged again, feigning indifference.

“Yeah, well, you’re annoying when you’re hangry.”

Her deadpan delivery earned a soft laugh from you, though your hands lingered on her cheeks. Her warmth was a welcome contrast to the chill in the air, but it only made you notice the absence of a coat on her even more.

“Kirishima,” you said, turning slightly to glance at the redhead still hovering near Katsuki.

“Can you give us a second?”

Kirishima perked up immediately. “Yeah, no problem!” he said, stepping back with exaggerated cheerfulness before noticing Katsuki still sitting on the pavement. He muttered something under his breath and quickly leaned down to help his friend up.

But Katsuki wasn’t cooperating.

The moment Kirishima hauled him halfway to his feet, Katsuki’s knees buckled again, and he collapsed onto Todoroki, who let out an audible grunt and staggered under the unexpected weight.

Todoroki’s expression didn’t change much, but the slightly widened eyes and twitch at the corner of his lips screamed discomfort. He looked like a disgruntled dog toy that had been stepped on.

“Bakugo, get ahold of yourself,” Todoroki said flatly, trying to nudge him off without much success.

Izuku hovered nearby, looking like he wanted to intervene but wasn’t sure how. Meanwhile, Kirishima alternated between fretting over Katsuki and apologizing profusely to Todoroki.

You ignored their antics entirely, turning your attention back to Asuna. “Where’s your coat?” you asked, your voice dipping into that firm-but-gentle tone you always used when nagging her.

Asuna rolled her eyes but grinned. “I run hot, you know that.”

“Not good enough,” you muttered, already shrugging out of your own black coat. She groaned in protest as you draped it over her shoulders, immediately beginning to fuss with the sleeves.

“ Moooom , seriously, I’ll overheat—”

“Too bad,” you interrupted, brushing off her complaints as you buttoned it up snugly. The veil you’d been wearing came off next, and you wrapped it around her neck as a makeshift scarf, your braids slipping free to frame your face in intricate, thick ropes.

“Thermals?” you asked, squinting at her. She sighed, defeated.

“Yeah, I’ve got them on.”

“Good,” you said, finishing the last button and tucking the veil securely under her chin.

It was then you noticed something new in her hair—a small, blue butterfly clip tucked into the braid nearest her face. You tilted your head, running a gentle finger over it. “What’s this? I don’t remember seeing this before.”

Asuna’s grin widened. “Eri gave me a matching set. She said butterflies are good luck.”

Your smile softened as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“It suits you.”

Satisfied that she was as bundled as she’d allow, you tilted your head, your voice dipping lower. “How was school today?” Asuna hesitated, the bravado dimming slightly as she fiddled with the itchy edge of the veil.

“It was okay . I stayed in the office with Nezu and Hound Dog most of the day.”

Your frown was immediate, though she quickly continued. “Aizawa let Midnight test me in the teacher’s lounge so I wouldn’t have to deal with people staring. She even paused the timer whenever I cried.”

You stilled, your chest aching at the thought. Without hesitation, you cupped her face again and leaned forward, pressing your forehead to hers.

“I’m proud of you,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

Then you kissed her forehead, holding her close as your quirk instinctively warmed her.

Behind you, Izuku was visibly tearing up, his hand twitching toward his pocket. Katsuki, despite his earlier stupor, noticed and smacked Izuku’s hand down before he could pull out his phone to call his mom.

Katsuki barely registered the pain in his chest as he clutched at it, staring at you and Asuna. The sight of her—your daughter—was like a punch to the gut. She looked so much like you, but her sharp red eyes glared at him with an intensity that mirrored his own.

For a fleeting moment, recognition sparked between them.

He’d seen her before, hadn’t he? In a fleeting memory, a face in the crowd…

And now, here she was, standing beside you like a living reminder of everything he’d lost.

“ Mom ,” Asuna whispered, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

You held her tighter, your warmth enveloping her entirely.

This wasn’t about Katsuki, or even about you.

It was about a girl who’d just lost her grandmother and was desperately trying to keep it together for her mom.

Katsuki’s throat tightened, and he looked away. There was no way he’d bring up the past now—not when it was so painfully clear how much healing still needed to happen.

The rustling of plastic bags broke the quiet hum of the evening as you reached into the convenience store bag. Pulling out a pack of tissues, you handed it to Asuna, who immediately sidled closer, using you as a human shield.

Her eyes darted past your shoulder, scanning the guys as if they might jump her with questions. You couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips as you fished out an unopened water bottle next, passing it to her.

“Drink,” you urged softly, tucking a stray braid behind your ear.

Asuna unscrewed the cap and tilted her head back, draining the bottle in one go. The hollow crackle of the plastic bottle echoed briefly before she sighed, lowering it and pressing her forehead against your shoulder.

“Can we dip, please ?”

Her deadpan tone paired with her abrupt word choice made you laugh. “Selective vocabulary strikes again,” you teased, but nodded, rubbing her back gently. Turning to the group, you called out,

“Alright, we’re heading out. Good night, everyone!”

Kirishima, who had finally managed to get Katsuki upright, grinned, his arm slung securely around the still-unsteady blond. But the moment Katsuki registered your words, he surged forward, his movements stiff but determined.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said firmly, his voice quieter than usual but still carrying that telltale grit.

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, Kirishima, Todoroki, and Izuku all moved in unison like an impenetrable wall of intent.

“Not happening,” Kirishima said, his voice chipper but resolute. “Too late for that,” Todoroki added coolly. Izuku, ever the diplomat, gave you an apologetic smile. “It’s safer this way.” You huffed in mock frustration, rolling your eyes.

“You guys act like I can’t handle myself,” you said, throwing them a playful glare.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to,” Kirishima countered, his voice kind but firm. He stepped forward and hit the button for the crosswalk with his knuckle, grinning back at you like he’d done you a great favor.

Asuna sidled in front of you, linking her arm with yours as the walk signal lit up.

The small group fell into step behind you, their quiet chatter blending with the distant sound of traffic as you made your way to the ramen shop across the street. When you arrived, the warm light spilling from the restaurant’s windows revealed a familiar figure standing outside.

Aizawa was leaning against the doorframe, his ever-present scarf hanging loosely around his neck. Before you could say anything, Asuna lit up and bolted past you.

“Eri!”

The teen barely had time to react before Asuna scooped her up, spinning her around in a hug. Eri laughed, her arms wrapping tightly around Asuna’s neck, her pink butterfly clip catching the light.

Inside, the members of Class 1-A were seated at a long table, their chopsticks halfway to their mouths as they stared in stunned silence. You followed Asuna into the shop, offering a sheepish smile.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce y'all,” you said casually, gesturing to Asuna.

“This is my daughter.”

The room fucking exploded.

Chopsticks clattered onto plates. Spoons hit the floor. Forks slid from bowls of ramen. Questions flew at you from every direction.

“Wait, what?!”

“You have a daughter!”

“She’s so cool!”

“She’s so pretty !!”

“SINCE WHEN DO YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER?!”

“Does she have a quirk?”

You let Asuna field most of the questions, stepping back and observing her with a quiet sense of pride as she answered effortlessly, dodging the ones she didn’t want to answer with a quick wit you knew she’d inherited from her….

Anyway.

When the questions began veering toward you, you expertly deflected them with a smile. “Thanks for the fun time, everyone. I’ll see you later. Have a good night!”

Aizawa stood with Eri as you turned to leave, but not before Kirishima elbowed Katsuki so hard you heard the thud of contact.

Katsuki let out a series of sharp, hot pops in response, glaring daggers at the redhead.

“Dude, say something to her,” Kirishima hissed, leaning closer.

Katsuki shot him a look that could melt steel, but before anyone could intervene further, he stepped forward, his gaze fixed firmly on you.

“I needa talk to you,” he said, his voice strained.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Alright,” you said, turning to Asuna. “I’ll be right back. Eri, keep an eye on her for me?” Eri nodded eagerly, her smile wide.

“Got it!”

Asuna rolled her eyes playfully, catching the purse Aizawa handed you with an effortless snatch. “Egg rolls for home?” she asked, already fishing through the bag for cash.

You chuckled. “Go for it.”

Her cheer echoed behind you as you stepped outside with Katsuki. He held the door open for you, his movements a little stiff, and you bit your tongue, holding back a quip as you followed him toward Kirishima’s truck.

The cool air wrapped around you again, but the tension in the space between you and Katsuki burned hotter than any flame. He stopped a few steps away, turning to face you fully. His crimson eyes bore into yours, raw and intense, like he was trying to read every secret written on your face.

You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to fiddle with your braids as you stood there, waiting for him to speak.

The air between you both felt electric, tense with everything unsaid.

Katsuki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands flexing open and closed as if trying to grasp for words that refused to come.

His chest felt tight, his heart hammering like it wanted to punch its way out. Danger, danger, danger, his instincts screamed, but he was already too far gone to retreat.

“I...” His voice cracked slightly, and he grit his teeth, frustrated at his own hesitation.

“I want to say first—I’m sorry. Again. For making this about the past when... when you’re goin’ through so much grief.”

You tilted your head, your brows knitting together slightly as you studied him.

“But...?” you prompted, the single word cutting through the cold like a blade.

Katsuki swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. He wanted to ask, needed to ask, but the words stuck, heavy and stubborn on his tongue.

“I... didn't know you had a daughter...” His voice faltered, and he clenched his fists at his sides.

He couldn’t even say it.

You caught the hesitation, your expression shifting. Slowly, you reached up and flicked one of your braids over your shoulder, the gesture calm and deliberate despite the fire sparking in your gaze.

“No one knows,” you began, your voice steady but low. “Except for Aizawa, Eri, some UA staff, and Hitoshi.”

“ Hitoshi? ”

The name hit him like a shockwave, bringing a flood of memories rushing back. “Bag check, Shinso ?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You nodded, and Katsuki’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. Memories of a younger Shinso flashed through his mind—a quiet, sharp-eyed kid who always seemed to linger around you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Katsuki closed his eyes and swallowed hard while a shuttered breath passed through him.

“Oh. Is he—”

“No.”

Your answer was immediate, cutting him off sharply.

His mouth snapped shut, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way you said it, the edge to your tone, the fire now blooming in your irises. It hit him all at once, the realization of just how much you’d been holding back.

You stood there, staring at him, your patience visibly fraying. Katsuki could see it in the set of your jaw, the tightness in your shoulders, and the way your gaze pinned him in place. Your quirk always revealed itself in moments like these, when your emotions ran too high to be contained, the fiery glow in your eyes a warning as clear as any explosion.

“No,” you repeated, quieter this time, but no less firm. “He’s not her father.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, as if daring him to push further.

Katsuki’s throat worked as he tried to form a response, but he came up empty. He could only stare at you, his crimson eyes searching yours for something—answers, forgiveness, clarity—but finding nothing he could grasp.

You took a shaky breath, your chest rising and falling as emotions swirled hot and heavy inside you.

The weight of the last few days, the confrontation in the ramen shop, and now this conversation—it was all too much. Your fingers twitched at your sides as you fought the urge to fidget, knowing full well that he was watching every little movement.

Fucking annoyed you as much as the last time it happened.

And yet, as much as you tried, you couldn’t read his expression. His eyes, normally so fierce and direct, were shadowed with something unreadable.

Indifference ? Regret ?

You couldn’t tell.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the cold air biting at your skin as the silence stretched. Katsuki finally took a small step forward, his hands still clenched but his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Then... who?”

The question hung there, fragile and uncertain, and you blinked, the glow in your eyes dimming slightly. But you didn’t answer—not yet. Instead, you crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze hardening.

“That’s not a question you get to ask,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to crack through. “Not tonight.”

Katsuki flinched at your words, but he didn’t argue. For once, he didn’t try to push past the boundary you’d drawn. Instead, he just nodded, his shoulders sagging slightly as he stepped back, giving you space.

“Alright,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of a distant car horn. “Alright.”

You turned away first, heading back toward the restaurant where Asuna and Eri were waiting. But Katsuki stayed where he was, staring after you as if the cold air might carry the answers he hadn’t been brave enough to ask for.

“WAIT!”

The cold night air pressed in around you, biting at your skin as you turned back to Katsuki. His voice had been sharp, desperate enough to cut through the haze of your exhaustion. You were so tired, worn to the bone by the last few days, and yet here you were again—caught in another conversation that you weren’t sure your heart could handle.

Katsuki stood a few feet away, his shoulders squared but his eyes uncertain. There was something raw in the way he looked at you, something that almost made you falter. But you didn’t. Instead, you crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze narrowing in a way you knew would keep him at arm’s length.

“Why didn’t you tell the group about her?” he asked, his voice low but carrying the weight of every unspoken question he’d been holding back.

Your jaw tightened, and you let the silence hang between you for a moment, tapping your foot against the cracked pavement in that telltale rhythm of frustration. It was a habit you couldn’t break, one that Katsuki clearly recognized. His crimson eyes flicked down to your tapping foot and back up, watching you like a man waiting for a storm to hit.

Finally, you let out a sharp breath and answered curtly,

“Because of who her father is. It was for her own safety. I didn’t know she was going to pop up like this, so I hope that answers any follow-up questions.”

Your tone was clipped, leaving no room for argument, but Katsuki didn’t back down. He breathed out slowly, the hot cloud of his breath dissipating into the cold air. His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered your words. Then, he took a step forward.

Instinctively, you stepped back.

It was a sick, familiar dance, one y’all hadn’t realized you’d both fallen into so easily.

He moved closer; you retreated. The space between you felt like a battlefield, charged with old wounds and unspoken truths. Katsuki’s frustration was palpable, etched into every tense line of his body, but he didn’t push harder. Not yet.

He just watched you, his crimson eyes flickering with something unreadable. And for the first time in a long while, he saw a reflection of yourself in him—of every time you’d tried to get closer, only for him to shift the goalposts, to move just far enough away that you couldn’t reach him.

It hit him like a frozen bread slice.

That’s what this was.

That’s how you’d felt every single time he’d held back. He could feel it now, the weight of emotions he couldn’t name sitting heavy on his chest. Feelings weren’t just fleeting thoughts—they were messy, tangled things that married the mind and the heart together.

Married.

The thought struck him, sharp and sudden, and his eyes darted to your hands, to your neck, as if searching for proof he already knew wasn’t there.

Still, the idea clawed at him, refused to let go.

Finally, he lifted his head again, his expression open and almost lost.

“ I didn’t know you got married ,” Katsuki murmured, his voice rough and cracking like dry wood.

The neon lights of the ramen shop cast a soft glow over you both, their warm colors a stark contrast to the icy air around you. Him, in the dark glow of the windows and green of the convenience store. You, bathed in the red and purple of the ramen shop.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

Your eyes widened in shock, your breath catching audibly. And then silence fell, heavy and unyielding. The seconds dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity as the weight of his words settled between you.

You didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stared at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. And for a brief, fleeting moment, Katsuki thought he might have been wrong to ask.

But then, finally, you spoke, your voice steady and clear despite the whirlwind of emotions behind it.

“I didn’t.”

Two words. That was all.

But they hit like a detonation, shaking the fragile ground you both stood on.

Katsuki’s mouth opened slightly, as if to say something, but no sound came out. He stared at you, his crimson eyes wide with shock, confusion, and something else—

Something deeper.

You stood firm, your feet planted on the cold pavement as you crossed your arms tighter over your chest. Despite the chill, your cheeks felt hot, the weight of his gaze like a physical touch against your skin.

And yet, you didn’t back down.

You couldn’t.

For the first time since this conversation started, it felt like the roles had shifted. Katsuki was the one left floundering, scrambling to make sense of what you’d said. And you... you were finally the one holding your ground.

But as you stared at him, as the silence stretched on and the distance between you felt both infinite and nonexistent, you couldn’t ignore the pang in your chest.

Because no matter how much you tried to steel yourself, there was still a part of you that remembered—remembered how warm and safe he used to feel, how easy it had been to curl up in his chest and let the rest of the world fade away.

And yet, here you were, the space between you wider than it had ever been.

The cold nips at your skin, sharp and unrelenting, as Katsuki steps closer. You could feel the heat of his presence, the weight of him pressing into the fragile boundaries you’d erected between yourself and the rest of the world.

Step by step, he closed the distance, and step by step, you backed away, your arms crossed tighter against your chest like armor.

You didn’t realize you were nearing the curb until the edge of it bit into the heel of your shoe.

The stumble was slight, but it jolted through you, a stark reminder of how close he’d pushed you to the edge—literally and figuratively. Katsuki noticed, of course, his crimson eyes narrowing with the sharpness of a predator, but he didn’t stop.

"Hey, I just..." His voice cracked slightly, and he exhaled heavily, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "I need to know. Is her father—"

"Stop."

Your voice came out like a whip, sharp and cold. Your arms tightened further across your chest, and you held your ground despite the gnawing urge to retreat further.

"You’re going too fucking far, Katsuki."

His jaw worked as if grinding down his words, his teeth clenched tight. But the frustration in his eyes only grew hotter. “I just want to know if he’s even—”

“Enough!”

You snapped, and your voice rang out louder than you intended. For a moment, you saw the faintest flicker of surprise in his expression, but it didn’t last.

“Does he even know?” Katsuki shot back, his voice rough and biting.

“Does her dad even know she exists?!”

Your entire body stiffened, the heat of anger flashing through you like a wildfire. The words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them, burning like acid on your tongue.

“That asshole doesn’t deserve to know.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Katsuki froze, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. His crimson eyes searched yours, wide with shock and something else—something softer, something heavier.

Katsuki was lost.

Your throat tightened, and you turned your face away, a trembling hand swiping quickly under your eye. The motion was small, almost imperceptible, but it betrayed you nonetheless. The vulnerability of it all—of him seeing you like this, of him pushing you so far—made your chest ache with an unbearable weight.

Katsuki took advantage of the moment, of your gaze pulling away from him, and closed the distance.

You could feel him stepping closer, his warmth drawing nearer, and the air felt too thick, too suffocating.

Your eyes shifted to where Asuna and Eri were sitting at a table near the ramen shop window, their little faces glowing in the neon light as they giggled and shared egg rolls.

Hitoshi placed a steaming bowl of ramen in front of Asuna, ruffling her hair as she swatted his hand before giving him an eager grin. Aizawa lingered by the doorway, looking half-exasperated as Denki animatedly gestured with wild abandon, no doubt recounting some chaotic tale about frozen bread.

The scene was warm, domestic, and far too normal for the tempest swirling inside you.

“ You don’t get to come back and ask me things like this ,” you said, your voice quieter but no less firm as you turned back to him.

Katsuki’s gaze lingered on the scene for a moment longer before snapping back to you. His brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a hard line as if he wanted to argue. But something in your expression stopped him, something in the way your eyes glimmered with a mixture of anger and exhaustion.

You wanted to take another step back.

You wanted to keep retreating, to put as much distance as possible between you and this man who had once been your everything.

But the curb was at your back, and the thought crossed your mind to step into the street, to show him just how far you were willing to go for a sliver of space.

Before you could act on the impulse, Katsuki did something unexpected.

He stepped back.

It wasn’t a stumble, wasn’t hesitant or unsure.

It was deliberate, a single step backward that left a noticeable gap between you. His hands balled into fists at his sides, the tension in his shoulders unrelenting, but he didn’t close the distance again.

You stared at him, your breath coming in uneven puffs of condensation, and for the first time in what felt like ages, there was a fragile kind of silence between you.

The frigid air bit at your skin as you stared at Katsuki. It wasn’t just the cold that made you shiver, though.

The weight of his gaze, the anger barely hidden behind his furrowed brows, and the way he seemed to tower over the moment—it all made you feel exposed in ways you couldn’t afford right now. You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, a flimsy shield against everything unraveling between you.

Katsuki wasn’t moving. His boots were planted firmly on the ground, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as though anchoring himself. You could see the storm brewing in his eyes, the frustration and confusion tearing him apart. You could practically hear the words he wasn’t saying.

"Tomorrow," he said finally, his voice rough and strained. "Park. Noon."

You blinked at him, your lips parting to speak, but the words stuck in your throat.

Katsuki’s jaw worked, his teeth grinding audibly. "For the pictures," he added, his voice sharp but quieter.

You felt the tightness in your chest ease ever so slightly, but only because it gave you something concrete to grasp onto, something simple. "Fine," you replied curtly, nodding. "During lunch."

For a moment, neither of you moved. It felt like you were standing on opposite planks, balancing on a precarious structure. The slightest shift from either of you could send the other tumbling, and neither seemed willing to make that first move.

Katsuki’s voice broke the silence, hoarse and raw. "You’re trying to do everything on your own, aren’t you?"

Your lips tightened, and you looked away, your gaze drawn back to the ramen shop window where Asuna and Eri were laughing. Their hands were messy with soy sauce, and Hitoshi was playfully nudging Asuna’s chopsticks toward the bowl while Aizawa kept one eye on the scene and the other on Denki, still ranting.

"I’m her mother," you said finally, your voice low but firm.

"It’s my job to protect her, to do what’s best for her."

"And what about you ?" Katsuki snapped, taking a single step closer, the plank beneath him groaning under the weight of his frustration.

"What about what’s best for you ?"

Your eyes whipped back to him, narrowing. "I don’t have the luxury of thinking about just myself," you shot back, your voice trembling with the effort to hold steady. "Not when I have her, not when I have everything else to keep in line."

"That’s bullshit," he growled, his fists trembling at his sides. "You’re—"

You cut him off, your voice sharp enough to slice through the tension.

" Don’t . Don’t pretend to understand what it’s like to juggle all of this, Katsuki. You wouldn’t get it."

He flinched, just barely, but you saw it. His expression shifted into something softer, more raw, and the intensity of it made your stomach twist.

"You think I don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re gonna snap under the weight of it all?" he said quietly, his voice dropping into something almost pleading.

"Ya think I don’t know how much it hurts to have to hold everything together when all you wanna do is fall apart?"

Your throat tightened, and you looked away again, your arms uncrossing just enough for your hands to rest at your sides. You clenched your fists, willing your resolve to hold, but his words burrowed under your skin.

"I don’t have that option," you whispered, barely audible over the hum of the city around you.

Katsuki exhaled hard, his breath clouding the air. He didn’t argue this time. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration simmering just below the surface.

"You deserve better," he muttered, almost too low for you to hear.

You glanced back at him, your gaze steady but weary. Then, your lips curved into a sad smile as your eyebrows pursed together in grievance. A bittersweet chuckle escaped your breath,

“Yeah, I should’ve chosen better, huh?”

Katsuki’s heart stopped.

The weight of your words settled heavily, neither of you willing to move or send the other crashing. It was a delicate balance, but at least for now, it held.

"Tomorrow," you repeated, your voice softer this time.

"Noon."

Katsuki nodded, stepping back finally, giving you the distance you craved. His hands shoved deep into his pockets, and his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned away.

As you watched him go, you couldn’t help but feel the tension still thrumming in the air, like the strings of a song left unfinished.

The sudden burst of energy from the ramen shop felt like a pressure valve had been released.

Kirishima, grinning but clearly on a mission, bounded out first with Aizawa close behind, his sharp eyes scanning the street. Behind them, Eri and Asuna trailed, the former clutching a half-eaten egg roll while Asuna looked around with wide, curious eyes. Shinsou followed last, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze keen, observing everything.

You barely had a moment to gather yourself before Asuna caught sight of you. Her face lit up like the neon signs above, and she sprinted toward you, arms outstretched.

You tensed instinctively, catching her as she all but threw herself into your arms. The warmth of her body against yours was grounding, and you clutched her tightly, spinning her once to hear the delighted giggle escape her lips.

Aizawa approached with a measured pace, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

“Everything alright? ” he asked, his tone low but concerned.

You nodded, not trusting your voice yet, and pressed a kiss to Asuna’s temple. She squirmed happily, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though the words felt heavier than you intended.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Izuku step out, his gaze flitting between you and the rest of the group. “Mina wanted to know if she could sleep over tonight,” he said, his voice gentle.

“To keep you company.”

You hesitated for just a second before nodding. “That sounds nice,” you said, offering a small, grateful smile. Izuku nodded back, his concern evident, before he ducked back inside to deliver the message.

Todoroki stepped closer, his expression neutral but his eyes studying you intently. “Is there anything I could do for you?” he asked.

You nodded again, this time with a little more conviction. “Yeah. Could you let everyone know goodnight for me? I’ll see them later.”

Shoto inclined his head, ever the picture of grace. “Of course.” He turned, but not before casting a pointed glance toward Kirishima, who had Katsuki in a firm grip, dragging him back up the street. Katsuki’s expression was dark, his jaw set tight as he fought against Kirishima’s determined hold.

With a polite bow, Todoroki said goodnight to Eri and Asuna before slipping back inside. The door swung shut behind him, muffling the warm chatter from within the ramen shop and leaving only the chill night air between you and the others.

You adjusted Asuna in your arms, her fingers playing with the ends of your hair. Eri stood by Shinsou, who offered her a lazy smile as he handed her a paper crane he’d folded from a receipt. Aizawa lingered nearby, his gaze flicking between you and Katsuki as if assessing the situation.

Kirishima finally reached you, his grip firm on Katsuki’s arm. “Got him,” he said lightly, trying to inject some humor into the tension, though his smile faltered when Katsuki pulled his arm free with a sharp jerk.

Katsuki stood there, his breathing uneven, his crimson eyes locked onto yours. There was something raw in his gaze, something unspoken that made your chest tighten painfully. You didn’t want to do this—not now, not in front of everyone.

‘I’m gonna pack my things and leave you behind,’

You thought bitterly, the lyrics echoing in your head as you stared him down. The words felt like they were burning through your veins, but you didn’t dare say them aloud. Instead, you kept your voice steady.

“I told you we’d talk tomorrow, Backugou.”

Katsuki clenched his fists in his pockets, his lips parting as if to argue, but then his gaze flicked to Asuna in your arms. Her face half buried in your coat but one ruby eye watching him carefully. Your hand rubbing her back in a soothing manner. Then he thought of Rita. The fight seemed to drain out of him, and he exhaled sharply, turning his head away as if the sight of you hurt.

‘Let me go.’

‘Let me go, so I can let you go.’

‘Let me go, so I can finally get you out of my head.’

‘Let me go, so I can finally let you free myself.’

'Let me go, so I can finally be free.'

'Please don't let me go.'

You wanted to scream.

But you stayed silent, clutching Asuna tighter, using her steady warmth to keep yourself from crumbling. Eri tugged at Shinsou’s sleeve, asking something in a soft voice. Shinsou nodded and guided her toward Aizawa, murmuring something about getting her home.

Aizawa hesitated for a moment, his gaze heavy on you before he finally nodded, giving you space.

Kirishima cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess we’ll head back inside,” he said, his usual cheer muted. He gave you a nod before dragging Katsuki back a step, though Katsuki didn’t resist this time.

You watched them retreat, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs. Asuna leaned back to look at you, her hand cupping your cheek.

“Mama, are you okay?”

You kissed her forehead, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you lied. You glanced back at Katsuki one last time before turning toward her fully, determined to leave the broken pieces of this night behind you.

The tension hung thick in the air, clinging to your every breath as you tried to steady yourself. A hand landed lightly on your shoulder, and you turned to see Shinsou, his violet eyes steady but kind.

"I'll drive you home," he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Aizawa will probably call you later.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you smoothed a hand over Asuna’s hair. “Alright,” you murmured, pulling yourself together. Shinsou reached into the bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a takeout bag.

“Got your usual,” he said, offering it with a slight smirk. “Figured you’d need it.”

Your stomach clenched, not from hunger but from the way Katsuki’s gaze flared at the sight of the bag. His jaw tightened, and you could almost see the flicker of heat behind his eyes. Shinsou, unbothered, simply handed you the bag like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice trembling just enough for Asuna to catch on. She rattled the convenience store bags on her wrists, drawing attention away as she chimed, “I got the drugs.”

You smiled at her, grateful, before lightly pinching her side as she squealed, and then made the mistake of looking at Katsuki again.

He was still standing there, his chest rising and falling with a deliberate slowness as if he were forcing himself to breathe. His crimson eyes met yours, holding them for a beat too long before he nodded curtly.

“Goodnight,” he said, the words low and controlled. He glanced at Asuna, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly.

Now they were staring at each other.

Katsuki’s eyes roamed over Asuna’s face, a mosaic of features that mirrored yours and yet held something wholly her own. Those bright vermillion eyes—the same shade as his—caught his attention, and for a moment, he looked almost lost, like he was piecing together a puzzle he didn’t know he was holding.

Asuna’s expression, on the other hand, was a mix of defiance and thinly veiled disgust. Her brows furrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line, but she held his gaze, committing it to memory as though it were a necessary evil. The air between them was electric, charged with unspoken questions and tangled emotions neither seemed willing to voice.

It was strange.

You cleared your throat, breaking the moment. “Goodnight, Kirishima,” you said, turning to the redhead who stood a few feet back, trying to look inconspicuous but clearly on edge.

He smiled warmly, a balm to the tension. “Goodnight. All of you,” he said. Then, looking at Asuna, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hero card, passing it to her with a reassuring grin.

“Call if you need anything, alright?”

Asuna stared at the card for a moment before taking it with a light nod.

“Thanks,” she said sweetly, turning to leave with you. But as you walked toward Shinsou’s sleek black Mustang, her hands shot behind her back, and she flashed both middle fingers toward Katsuki and Kirishima.

You barely caught the motion, her defiant smirk fading into feigned innocence by the time you glanced at her. Shinsou, already at the car, opened the door for you and Asuna.

“Ladies first,” he quipped, gesturing with a mock bow.

Asuna climbed in without hesitation, sliding into the passenger seat and tossing the bags beside her. You followed, settling into shotgun as Shinsou closed the door with a quiet finality.

Katsuki and Kirishima were still standing there as Shinsou pulled onto the street, the Mustang’s engine purring like a contented cat. You didn’t look back, but Asuna did, her gaze lingering on the shrinking figures in the rearview glass.

The silence in the car was thick but not suffocating, and you let your head rest against the cool window, the takeout bag clutched in your lap. Shinsou glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

“Ready to call it a night?” he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet. You closed your eyes and exhaled, feeling the weight of the evening settle over you.

“ Yeah ,” you whispered, the word carrying more exhaustion than you intended.

As the city lights blurred past, you reached back to squeeze Asuna’s hand, grateful for her warmth and resilience. Whatever this mess was, you’d figure it out. For her.

For both of you.

The Mustang’s tail lights disappeared into the night, leaving Kirishima and Katsuki standing under the dim glow of the ramen shop’s sign. The street was quiet except for the occasional rumble of a passing car and the faint hum of city life in the distance. Kirishima let out a low whistle, his hands on his hips as he turned to look at Katsuki.

“ Damn ,” Kirishima muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “That kid’s got some fire in her. Just like you, man.”

Katsuki didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on the spot where the Mustang had vanished, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. His hands hung at his sides, twitching with leftover adrenaline and something he couldn’t quite name.

“You’re gonna burn yourself out if you keep this up,” Kirishima said gently, stepping closer. “C’mon, man. Let’s get you out of here. My truck’s right here. You can crash at my place tonight.”

Katsuki finally turned his head, meeting Kirishima’s steady gaze. His eyes burned with exhaustion and something deeper—something raw and unspoken. But he nodded, his shoulders slumping just enough to show he was done fighting, at least for now.

Kirishima clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving him a small, reassuring shake before heading toward the truck. “I already took care of the squad's bill,” he called over his shoulder, trying to keep the mood light.

Katsuki followed in silence, his legs feeling like lead as he climbed into the passenger seat. He slumped against the seatback, his head resting against the window. His skin felt tight, his throat dry. He didn’t say a word as Kirishima slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

The truck rumbled to life, and Kirishima glanced at him before pulling onto the road. “You good?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“ Yeah ,” Katsuki muttered, though he didn’t sound convincing. He didn’t feel convincing either. His body ached, and his head was a mess, tangled in thoughts he couldn’t untangle if he tried.

As the truck rolled through the city, Katsuki stared out the window. The neon signs, the glow of streetlights, and the occasional flash of a passing car reflected on the glass, blending into a kaleidoscope of colors. The city moved on, oblivious to the storm raging inside him.

The last 24 hours replayed in his head like a movie stuck on a loop.

You. Asuna. Shinsou. The confrontation. The questions. The overwhelming emotions that had left him spinning. And those last two hours—those played louder than anything else. Your face. The way your voice cracked when you spoke to him. The way you looked at Asuna, at Shinsou, at him. He couldn’t shake it.

Couldn’t shake you .

His fists clenched in his lap as he thought of you with someone else, of the life you’d built after him. The idea that you’d given your heart, your trust, to someone who had burned you. The father of your child. A child who shared his crimson eyes.

Asuna

‘Did Asuna have siblings?’

Katsuki didn’t think so.

But he didn’t know anymore.

He didn’t know what to think about anything.

Katsuki let out a long breath, his gaze shifting upward, past the skyline and the glowing city lights, to the faint glimmer of stars above. They seemed so far away, so out of reach, like everything he wanted but couldn’t have.

Kirishima’s voice broke the silence. “Hey, you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?”

Katsuki grunted, his head tipping slightly in acknowledgment, but he didn’t answer.

As the truck turned onto the highway, the steady rhythm of the tires against the road filled the cab, a soothing backdrop to the chaos in his head. Katsuki blinked slowly, his eyes heavy, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

He let his gaze drift back to the stars for a moment longer before closing his eyes. The last thing he saw was the faint shimmer of light on the horizon. Then he let the darkness take him, the sound of the road lulling him into a restless sleep.

—

The house was warm and alive with the gentle hum of the washing machine and the faint sound of a true-crime podcast Shinsou had absentmindedly put on. He sprawled across the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed, one eye lazily on you as you bustled around with a basket of laundry.

Your home in one of Japan's well known volcanoes had an ever-present, soothing warmth that could only be found in a place tied so deeply to your quirk. The low hum of molten lava flowing beneath the house was almost like a heartbeat, steady and comforting. Soft, golden light filtered through the high windows, casting gentle shadows over the sleek, maximalist furniture that adorned your living space.

Every detail was intentional, from the geothermal-powered appliances to the vibrant, living plants that thrived despite the volcanic heat. It was secluded, a haven tucked away from the chaos of the city, and the perfect place to recharge—though it did make visitors rare.

Perfect place to raise a fiery young upstart too.

Asuna was perched on a stool by the kitchen counter, her oversized black hoodie swallowing her frame, paired with Hello Kitty pajama pants that spoke of her half-hearted rebellion. Her hair was tied back in a silk scarf, messy strands framing her sharp, youthful face as she absently scrolled through her phone.

You stretched with a groan, your back cracking audibly. “ Finally ,” you muttered, tossing a few shirts into the washer with a little more vigor than necessary. Shinsou snickered from the couch, his tired, amused gaze tracking your movements.

“You look like you just lost a fight with a dryer sheet,” he teased, pulling a throw pillow under his head.

“Stuff it, Hitoshi,” you shot back, grinning despite yourself. Asuna snickered, shaking her head as she grabbed the jacket draped over the back of a chair.

“Mom,” she said suddenly, holding it up for you to see.

“ Whose jacket is this ?”

You froze mid-step, turning to face her.

For a second, the sight of it didn’t register—the familiar black fabric with bold orange stripes along the sleeves—but then it hit you. Katsuki’s jacket. The one he’d draped over your shoulders earlier, his gruff voice saying, “You’re shivering, dumbass. Take it.”

Your jaw dropped, and you let out a half-strangled noise, a mix between a gasp and a yelp.

“ Oh my god!”

“ What?!” Asuna asked, her eyes wide and freaked out as she clutched the jacket tighter. Her question only deepened your horror.

“ Nothing! ” you said quickly, your voice pitching higher than you’d like. “It’s nothing. A... a friend let me borrow it because I was cold.” You plastered on a smile, praying she wouldn’t dig deeper.

To your relief, she gave you a knowing smile that was somehow both sweet and teasing.

“Oh, a friend ,” she said, emphasizing the word with a sly lift of her brow.

“ Don’t ,” you warned, pointing at her dramatically.

“Don’t even start.”

Asuna chuckled, her red eyes— so much like her father’s —dancing with amusement as she turned and carried the jacket to the washer. She dropped it in without a second thought, closing the lid with a satisfying thud.

You exhaled deeply, the tightness in your chest loosening slightly.

Tomorrow.

You’d just have to return it tomorrow when you saw Katsuki at the park.

No big deal.

From the couch, Shinsou arched a brow at you, his smirk bordering on smug. “You’re gonna ‘borrow’ his jacket now, huh?” he said, voice low and teasing. You quickly looked from him to Asuna, who was too far into the hallway to hear, thankfully before you shot a look at the wonka haired shit talker.

“ Go fuck yourself, ” you groaned, throwing a sock at him. It missed, landing limply on the floor, but the effort made him laugh under his breath.

“Sure, surrre ,” he drawled, shifting to make himself more comfortable. “I’ll just sit here and quietly judge.”

“Good,” you shot back, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

Asuna reappeared from the laundry room, already yawning as she stretched her arms over her head. “It’s past 9, I’m going to bed,” she announced, giving you a soft smile.

“Love you, Mom. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gave you a tight hug that you returned before she just as quickly scampered off. You didn’t take it personally though, knowing she had a set schedule and would wake soon enough at 5am to train.

“I love you too, baby,” you said, your voice warm as you watched her shuffle toward the stairs.

Asuna paused at the base of the steps, turning to glance at Shinsou.

“I tolerate you,” she said flatly, though her lips curved into a small, mischievous grin. “Might see you tomorrow, if you’re not dead after patrol.”

Shinsou laughed dryly, raising a hand in mock salute. “Nice to know where I stand.”

Asuna’s grin widened, and with that, she headed upstairs, her footsteps light as she disappeared into her room.

The apartment fell quiet again, save for the faint whir of the washer and the muffled sounds from Shinsou’s podcast. You sighed deeply, the weight of the day settling on your shoulders as you finally let yourself collapse onto the floor.

The coffee table screeched against the hardwood as you kicked it aside, sprawling out on your back with your arms stretched overhead. The cool surface of the floor felt grounding, and you stared up at the ceiling, letting the stillness wash over you.

“You good?” Shinsou asked from the couch, his voice softer now, his teasing tone replaced with genuine concern.

You nodded without looking at him. “Just... processing.”

“Fair enough,” he murmured, turning his attention back to his phone.

For now, you let yourself breathe, focusing on the steady hum of the washer and the faint flicker of light from the living room lamp. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

Hours had gone by and you were going crazy.

Focusing on the TV was becoming more and more difficult. The ramen Hitoshi bought you was already eaten, you placed both bouquets of flowers into water through sheer reluctance. Mina still hadn’t shown up yet and you were dying for her company. Hitoshi ate the eggrolls from earlier, which you didn’t mind because you didn’t have the appetite for them anyway.

Shinsou was sprawled on the plush gray sectional, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a book in the other, while you folded laundry at the coffee table. The washer hummed softly in the background, and you worked in companionable silence, the volcanic glow giving everything an otherworldly warmth.

“Christmas plans?” Shinsou asked suddenly, his tone casual but curious as he set the book aside.

You glanced up, folding the last shirt and setting it down. “I want to make it special this year,” you admitted, your voice soft.

He raised a brow. “For Asuna?”

You nodded, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you leaned against the counter. “She’s been doing so well. Top 1% in her school, passing all her exams. And Mirko accepted her as an intern! She’s been over the moon about it.”

Shinsou smirked, resting his head against the couch. “Can’t blame her. Mirko’s no joke.”

“She’s been training so hard, balancing school and the pressure. I’m just... so proud of her,” you said, your voice filled with warmth and pride. You picked up a stray sock, absentmindedly rolling it into a ball as you continued. “I want this Christmas to be perfect for her. She deserves it.”

Shinsou nodded, his expression softening as he listened. “Sounds like she’s lucky to have you. Most parents would just toss some gifts under the tree and call it a day.”

You chuckled, though the sound was tinged with nervousness. “You know I couldn’t do that. She’s my one and only.” You turned away, placing the folded laundry into a nearby basket. The pause lingered, stretching the space between your words.

Shinsou noticed.

He always did.

He tilted his head, watching you closely. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

You hesitated, your hands stilling as you gripped the edge of the counter. “I just...” you started, then faltered, unable to find the words.

Shinsou sighed, setting his mug down and standing. He walked over, leaning against the island across from you.

“It’s about Katsuki, isn’t it?”

The mention of his name felt like a jolt, and you looked up sharply, your eyes meeting Shinsou’s.

The lights around you seemed to flicker, their glow dimming and brightening in sync with the fiery pulse beneath your skin. For a fleeting moment, crimson sparks danced across your veins, crackling like embers struggling to ignite. The air around you felt heavier, charged with a tension that wasn't entirely your own. You clenched your fists, willing the heat to subside, but the surge of emotion refused to be ignored.

He knew the rules here—every unspoken boundary, every landmine that had been laid in the fragile aftermath of your past. It wasn’t like your ex’s name was a curse, but the weight it carried might as well have been. It was a spark to kindling, an uninvited ghost dragging its chains through the carefully rebuilt calm of your life.

His gaze flickered to you, cautious but steady, the silent question hanging in the space between you both.

“I’m not judging,” Shinsou said gently, his tone understanding. “But if he’s going to be part of this picture, you need to figure out where you stand. For yourself. For Asuna.”

You sighed deeply, running a hand through your hair. “I know,” you whispered. “I just... I don’t want to mess this up. For her. For us.”

Shinsou crossed his arms, his gaze steady but kind. “You’ve done a good job raising her, even with all the craziness. She’s strong, smart, and honestly? She’s a little terrifying in the best way possible. You’ve got this.”

His words settled over you, grounding and reassuring. You managed a small smile, grateful for his steady presence.

“Thanks, Hitoshi,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

The familiar chime of the door alert snapped you out of your thoughts.

You wiped your hands on your pants and checked the cameras, exhaling when you saw Mina’s pink, flushed face staring into the lens. She was sweaty but smiling, giving a little wave as if to say, I made it, finally.

You opened the door, and before you could say a word, Mina enveloped you in one of her bone-crushing hugs, squeezing you tight as if she could physically inject you with her endless energy and warmth.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” she blurted out, pulling back slightly to look at you, her golden eyes glinting with concern. “We had to stop a villain trying to rob the city bank a few hours ago. It was a mess, but we got them!”

Your eyes widened, and you felt Shinsou shift behind you, his sharp intake of breath mirroring your own. “Mina,” you started, your voice thin with worry, “why didn’t you—”

She cut you off with a reassuring smile, holding up her hands. “You couldn’t have known, okay? Don’t blame yourself. We handled it.” Her tone was light, but her gaze flicked over you, taking in your exhaustion and the faint tremor in your shoulders.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. Everything Mina said blurred in your mind as the memories hit, triggered by her presence, by the safety she brought even in the chaos.

It wasn’t just the fight a few days ago that had left you physically and emotionally battered. It was waking up to a world that had shifted without you, to news plastered everywhere about your grandmother’s death—a beacon of your life suddenly snuffed out. The hospital TV hadn’t stood a chance against the projectile vomit that came up when you’d seen it, the molten heat of your quirk melting the screen to slag.

You remembered waking up disoriented, Asuna at your bedside, her face etched with an anguish you’d never seen before. That was what broke you more than anything.

Seeing your child so lost. She had only ever known you and your grandmother.

And now it was just you.

A sob rose in your throat as Mina hugged you again, her energy softening, her arms anchoring you as you let yourself cry. The memories rushed over you like waves.

Your grandmother had been there when Asuna was born, cutting the cord with steady hands and a teary smile. Aizawa had brought flowers when he visited your hospital room, his stoic demeanor hiding the tenderness in his gesture. Mina had declared herself Asuna’s godmother with absolute authority, showing up with the most delicious post-birth meal you’d ever seen. Shinsou had brought cat-themed pajamas for Asuna, holding her like she was made of porcelain, his normally dry humor replaced with quiet reverence.

And your grandmother had known everything. She’d known the truth about Asuna’s father. She’d told you she’d handle it if you didn’t. “You take care of your baby,” she had said, her tone unyielding as steel, “and I’ll take care of mine.”

And now she was gone.

You felt Mina’s arms tighten around you, her cheek resting on your shoulder as if to shield you from your own grief. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice warm and steady, “We’ve got you. We’re your village.”

“You’re not alone.”

You cried harder at that, the weight of the past and present colliding in your chest. Mina held you, her vibrant presence grounding you as the grief poured out, a release you hadn’t let yourself have until now.

Behind you, Shinsou stood silently, his gaze softening as he gave you space to lean on someone else. In this moment, you weren’t the one holding it all together. You were just you, surrounded by people who refused to let you fall.

And then you fell in the doorway, taking Mina with you.

The second Shinsou saw you break down in Mina’s arms, he stood from the couch without hesitation. His steps were deliberate but gentle, as if moving too quickly might make things worse. Without a word, he crouched beside you, his arms wrapping around your trembling form from the other side.

It wasn’t long before the three of you slid down to the floor in the doorway, your back against the cool frame as your sobs filled the space. Shinsou’s hug was firm, steadying, while Mina’s was warm and grounding. They didn’t try to shush you or tell you it was okay—they just held on tighter as you unraveled.

The tears came harder, your chest heaving with the weight of everything you’d been holding back. You weren’t just crying about today. It was everything—years of pain, fear, and exhaustion crashing over you all at once.

“I failed her,” you choked out between sobs, your voice thick with guilt. “I’ve failed Asuna. I’ve failed her so many times.”

“No, you haven’t,” Mina murmured, her voice soft but unyielding. “You’ve done so much for her. Look at her—she’s thriving.”

But you couldn’t stop the flood of memories.

You cried at the thought of all the times you felt like you couldn’t measure up, couldn’t be enough for your daughter. Mina had been there during your pregnancy, covering for you when your body gave out, when the world was demanding you be more than you could. She’d gone to battle for you, doing hero work in your name so you could recover without the public eye dissecting your every move.

You remembered your manager, Elle’s, tireless efforts to shield you. She’d blocked contact from the outside world, pretending to be you for photoshoots and promotional materials if it came down to it, ensuring that Asuna stayed your best-kept secret.

The nights Aizawa sat up with you played in your mind, his quiet presence keeping you company as he shared his parenting books and advice. He never judged, never questioned your decisions—he was just there, steady as ever. Shinsou’s midnight drives surfaced too, his dry but loving humor making the miles pass faster as he indulged your spicy cravings, no matter how absurd.

And then there were the tokens of your grandmother’s love. The tiny hats, socks, and blankets she made for her great-grandchild, each stitch a testament to her pride and care. You thought about the Christmas gifts still waiting at her house, already wrapped, waiting for a holiday she wouldn’t see.

Your sobs became more ragged as a new wave of grief surged through you. “Katsuki,” you whispered, his name slipping out unbidden. Saying it felt like tearing open an old wound.

Mina and Shinsou didn’t need to ask.

They just held you tighter.

You wept harder at the thought of him—his stormy eyes and the memories that refused to leave you alone. The way he had once been your world, and the way he unknowingly left you with the greatest and most complicated gift of your life. The idea of seeing him tomorrow, of returning the jacket, of carrying the truth that you still couldn’t share—

It was too much.

Your fists clenched in their holds, your body trembling as you sobbed into the quiet. Mina rested her chin on your shoulder, rocking you slightly, while Shinsou pressed his forehead against the top of your head, his grip solid and unwavering.

“We’ve got you,” Shinsou said, his voice low and steady. “We’ve always got you.”

You let their words and presence anchor you as you cried until there was nothing left.

Eventually, yo exhaled shakily as your breathing finally steadied, and Shinsou rose to his feet, pulling you and Mina up with him. His grip was firm but gentle, his sharp eyes scanning your face to ensure you were truly okay. Satisfied, he gave a small nod, grabbed his jacket, and made his way to the door.

“Call like usual,” you reminded him, your voice still a little hoarse.

He paused, throwing a lazy salute your way. “Always will.”

Mina leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “Don’t worry about her, Hitoshi. I’ve got her covered. You just go terrorize the villains like the grumpy cat you are.”

Shinsou raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “And you try not to melt the place while I’m gone, Pinky.” She stuck out her tongue at him, and with a final wave, he disappeared into the night.

Mina shut the door and turned to you, her expression softening. She didn’t say anything immediately, just made a beeline for your fridge. The quiet hum of the appliance filled the air as she rummaged around before pulling out a can of her favorite strawberry soda. She pressed the icy metal to her flushed cheeks with a sigh of relief.

“I love your place, you know that?” she said, her voice light but tinged with teasing. “But seriously, would it kill you to crank the AC? It feels like I ran a marathon to get here.”

You chuckled softly, leaning against the kitchen island. “I keep it cool in Asuna’s room. She can’t stand the heat.”

Mina nodded, cracking open the soda and taking a long sip. Then, setting the can down, she shuffled over to where you stood. Without a word, she reached out, taking one of your hands in both of hers. Her fingers were cool from the soda, and the simple gesture made your chest tighten all over again.

“I know things have been… rough this past week,” she began, her voice unusually serious. Her golden eyes searched yours, filled with concern. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. And I really didn’t know Katsuki was going to… do that.”

You felt your throat tighten again, but you squeezed her hands back, managing a small laugh.

“It’s okay. I don’t think he knew he was going to do that either.”

The two of you fell silent for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling in. Finally, you pulled away gently, opening the fridge to retrieve a bottle of green tea. The cold glass felt grounding in your hands, even if you had no real desire to drink it.

Mina perched herself on one of the kitchen stools, swirling the remaining soda in her can. “He’s always grumpy around this time of year, you know,” she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the countertop. “The night you two broke up… it was Christmas Eve. And technically Christmas Day was when you moved out.”

You sighed heavily, nodding as you unscrewed the cap from your tea. “I know. I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I just…” You trailed off, words failing you as memories threatened to resurface.

Mina reached out, resting a hand on your arm. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” she said gently. “But you do need to let yourself feel it. Whatever it is.”

You nodded again, staring into the pale green liquid as if it held the answers. The two of you stayed like that, quiet but connected, as the soft hum of the volcano-powered home wrapped around you both like a warm, steady heartbeat.

Mina lifted the soda and took a sip before looking at you, her expression softening. “How’s Asuna holding up?”

You sighed, setting the tea bottle aside and hoisting yourself onto the counter, crossing your legs. “Honestly? I don’t know. She’s my little rock. She’s always been so strong, but I’m really worried about her.”

Mina frowned but stayed quiet, letting you continue.

“She’s only cried once since everything happened—at the hospital,” you said, your voice faltering slightly.

“And she told me herself that she broke down during exams a few times. I think Kayama-sensei even emailed or texted me about it, but I never got around to checking.”

You rubbed your temples, frustration and guilt creeping in. “I think she’s trying to be strong for me, which is exactly what I don’t want. She’s sixteen, Mina. She should be able to express herself, to fall apart… at home, where she’s safe.”

Mina nodded, her pink brows furrowing in thought. “Everyone processes grief differently, you know? Maybe Asuna just needs time to work through it her way.”

You nodded, but your shoulders slumped as you added, “I know, but her temper…” You trailed off, your lips pressing into a tight line. “When Asuna loses her temper, it’s like a nuke exploding. She’s been asking weird questions lately, too, and I don’t want a ticking time bomb on my hands.”

Mina tilted her head, curious. “Weird questions? Like what?”

You looked at her, hesitating, and she immediately pieced it together. Her expression softened, and she murmured,

“Oh.”

You nodded, your voice quieter now. “About her father. She’s been asking more and more. I’ve never given her much to go on. Just that he’s a man I went to school with, that things didn’t work out, and he was always more into his work than anything else. We… we parted ways. That’s all I told her.”

Mina’s eyes held a mixture of understanding and concern, but she didn’t push. Instead, she waited as you stared off, lost in the memories that began to wash over you.

The first time you held her. That tiny, warm bundle laid gently on your chest after hours of labor. She was so small, her full head of hair damp against her delicate skin, and her cries—soft but strong—rang out. The sweet, almost otherworldly smell of her. When she opened her eyes, red as fire.

Those same eyes you had tried so hard to leave behind.

It had been so much.

Too much.

The breakup, the media frenzy, being surrounded by old friends constantly. Then, just as you were piecing yourself back together, the nausea hit. That grilled fish someone offered you after a patrol had you puking onto the office floor in front of a dozen horrified colleagues.

At first, everyone thought it was some concussion reaction. You’d been rushed to the hospital by your manager for every possible test—scans, bloodwork, everything—until one very specific blood test confirmed it:

Five weeks pregnant.

You’d felt a rush of something indescribable when the nurse handed you the results, congratulating you with a warm smile. “Are you sure?” you’d asked, almost breathless.

She laughed, nodding. “Very sure. Congratulations, Mama. Your follow-up with the OB-GYN is already scheduled.”

You’d walked out of the hospital on cloud nine

Until reality hit. Your life was no longer just yours. You were 21, at the very start of your hero career and life as a young woman. No husband, no boyfriend, no partner. In a world that was dangerous on the best of days. Literally employed to kick ass and possibly get your ass kicked in the name of justice.

Without thinking, you called Aizawa. The groggy sound of him waking up still echoed in your memory. He’d mumbled something incoherent, but when you said you were at the hospital, needed a ride, and, oh yeah, you were pregnant—there was a loud crash. You’d later learned he fell out of bed, taking the cat tree with him.

He showed up, though. Of course, he did. He always had. From that night onward, he was there for every moment, a steady presence as you figured out how to navigate the chaos.

Mina’s voice brought you back. “You okay?”

You blinked and nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… thinking about everything. Aizawa’s always been there for me, you know? Like a dad. But he has his own kid to finish raising, and he’s already done so much for me.”

Mina tilted her head, watching you carefully.

You sighed. “He thinks Katsuki has a right to know. About Asuna.”

Mina didn’t say anything right away, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. Finally, she reached for your hand again, giving it a squeeze. “Do you think he’s ready to know?”

You exhaled shakily, unsure of the answer.

You shook your head slowly, staring down at your hands. “I don’t think so,” you admitted quietly. “But I don’t know if that’s because I’m scared of how it’ll affect Asuna. She’s doing so well in school right now. I don’t want to ruin that for her.” You paused, your voice faltering.

“Or if it’s because Katsuki… he’s different now. Changed.”

Mina’s lips pursed thoughtfully as she leaned back against the counter. “Yeah, he has been a little off lately. Like, really off. More than usual. He’s in a slump, even if he won’t admit it.”

You glanced at her, curiosity mingling with concern. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, tipping her head back as if to gather her thoughts. “He came into the office this morning, right? Had all these random frozen things we forgot about—bread, soy sauce, and stuff. He just started throwing them at us.”

You blinked, a soft, “Ah,” slipping out as you remembered Denki and Sero recounting the same ridiculous story earlier to cheer you up.

“Exactly,” Mina said, pointing at you. “Then he went into Kirishima’s office, and the two of them stayed in there for almost two hours. No one wanted to get in or figure out what they were talking about. When Katsuki finally came out, he just… left. For the rest of the day. No one could reach him.”

You frowned, worry gnawing at you.

“Kirishima ended up tracking him down and bringing him to the ramen place,” Mina continued, crossing her arms. “When he got there, Katsuki looked like he’d been crying. Like, actual crying.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt.

“After that, they hit up a convenience store with Izuku and Todoroki. By the time Katsuki came back to the office, you’d already shown up, and then you two disappeared outside for hours to talk.”

You nodded slowly, trying to piece together your emotions. Mina didn’t press, though you could tell she was dying to ask what had been said. Instead, you filled the silence. “We’re meeting tomorrow. At noon. He’s bringing back some old pictures of mine.”

Mina’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? You’re meeting with him? Are you… are you ready for that?”

“No,” you admitted bluntly, trying to muster a smirk and failing. “But I’ve been through worse.”

She shook her head at you, her gaze unwavering. “You’re still not over him,” she said quietly, but there was no judgment in her voice.

Just the undeniable truth.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You swallowed, suddenly feeling very small as you sat there, trying to sort through everything churning inside you.

Your kitchen was cozy, a mix of soft colors and warm woods that made it feel like a sanctuary. Potted herbs sat on the windowsill, their fresh scents mingling with the faint aroma of lavender from a nearby diffuser.

A large window dominated one side of the kitchen, offering a breathtaking view of the sky and ocean, with greenery swaying gently in the breeze below. The moonlight streaming through painted everything in a soft glow, making the plants look even more vibrant. A few hanging planters dangled above the sink, their long vines brushing against the backsplash tiles like a living curtain.

Mina glanced outside, a hand dramatically fanning her face. “This view is gorgeous, but why does it feel like a sauna in here?” You laughed and got up, heading to the freezer. “Need some frozen chocolate?”

She shook her head but eyed you skeptically. “No thanks, but maybe some ice would help before I melt into a puddle.”

With a grin, you popped open an ice mold, revealing perfectly shaped rose cubes. “Here, delicate as you are.” You handed her a few, and she took them with exaggerated reverence, gently pressing them to her temples before finishing her soda with a satisfied sigh.

“This is why I come here,” Mina said, leaning back against the counter. “Cozy kitchen, ocean views, and rose-shaped ice cubes. You spoil me.”

“I aim to please,” you said, tossing a few frozen corn bits at her before closing the freezer door with your hip. The pinkette yelped in mock indignation. “You and Katsuki both have this terrible habit of attacking your friends with frozen food. Is this a tradition or something?”

You smirked, about to fire back a retort when something clicked in your mind.

“The will!”

Mina raised an eyebrow. “The what now?”

You rushed into the living room, almost took out your coffee table, phone snatched in hand, scrolling furiously through your messages. The airy, open space was just as homey as the kitchen, filled with bookshelves and soft throws draped over furniture. Lavalight spilled through another set of large windows, highlighting the TV and a small jade tree perched on the side table.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Texting Katsuki felt daunting, a weight you weren’t quite ready to carry tonight. Mina followed you, her curiosity clearly piqued.

“What’s going on?” she asked, plopping onto the floor beside you as you sat down in frustration.

With a groan, you explained, “My cousin’s contesting the will. It only mentions Asuna and me, so if I don’t get the original document, the judge might split everything fifty-fifty. I can’t even get into the house because the sheriff put a lock on it.” You covered your face, sliding further down until your back hit the floor.

Mina sat cross-legged beside you, shaking her head. “Why don’t I just call him? Katsuki doesn’t have to know I know about Asuna.”

“No,” you said firmly, sitting up with a glare. “If he found out you knew and didn’t tell him, he’d never speak to you again.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “How would he even figure that out from a phone call?”

You groaned, making a faint, frustrated noise as you flopped back down. Mina, clearly undeterred, grabbed your phone. “Hey, your voicemail box has something.”

Curious, you let her play it. Katsuki’s voice filled the room, calm but tinged with his usual gruffness. “Hey, uh… I forgot to give ya that binder after all that stuff earlier. I’ll bring it to the park tomorrow with the other things. Just lemme know if that works.”

The relief hit you like a wave, your chest tightening as you nearly sobbed. “Oh my God, thank you,” you breathed, staring at the phone like it had just saved your life.

Then your eyes widened in realization.

“Tomorrow’s the last day of school before winter break. Asuna gets out at noon.”

Mina raised an eyebrow. “So? Text Aizawa to watch her for a bit.”

You winced. “He and Eri are going straight home to nap and then going Christmas tree shopping. I don’t want to mess with that. Eri’s been looking forward to it for weeks.”

“Fair point.” Mina tapped her chin, then grinned. “What about Mirko?”

Your face lit up as you immediately texted the six-foot-tall bunny hero. Not even a minute passed before your phone rang, Mirko’s name flashing on the screen.

Mommy Rabbit 🤤🥰 is Calling

“Don’t tell me you’re asking for babysitting favors,” Rumi teased the moment you answered, her tone light but curious. “Would you believe me if I said it’s a long story?” you replied, half-laughing, your heart easing at the sound of her familiar voice.

The warm lava light cast a soft glow as you leaned against the sofa, phone cradled to your ear. Mina sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping the last of her soda, while Rumi’s voice boomed from the speaker with her usual energy.

“Long story, huh?” Rumi teased. “Didn’t take you for the fairy tale type.”

“It’s not like that!” you said with a laugh. “Asuna gets out of school early tomorrow, and I’ve got to meet someone. I didn’t know who else to ask.”

“Relax, I’m just teasing,” Rumi replied, her tone softening. “Of course, I’ll watch my favorite stinker! How’s she been doing anyway? Still blowing things up, or have we learned some self-control?”

Mina grinned, joining the conversation. “She’s actually been amazing! Aizawa’s been working with her on technique, and she’s gotten so good at regulating her quirk. Like, scary good.”

You nodded in agreement, your heart swelling with pride. “She’s not just controlling it; it’s like she’s physic. She’s using her quirk in ways I hadn’t even considered.”

“That’s my girl,” Rumi said with a laugh. “Sounds like she’s got a little stone-cold killer in her, just like her mom.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was impossible to hide. “Aizawa’s been incredible too. He’s agreed to keep working with her over winter break, which is such a relief. He really gets her.”

“Yeah, Eraser’s good like that,” Rumi agreed. “But don’t give him all the credit. You’re the one raising her, and it sounds like you’re doing a damn good job.”

Mina raised her drink in a mock toast. “Hear, hear!”

You chuckled, grateful for their encouragement. “Thanks, you two.”

“So, what about you?” Mina asked Rumi. “Got any Christmas plans, or are you just winging it like always?”

Rumi snorted. “You know me too well. I’ve got nothing concrete, but Taishiro and I were talking about maybe checking out the light displays. If you and Asuna are free, you should come with us.”

“Asuna would love that,” you said instantly. “Let’s do it.”

“Perfect. I’ll let you know when we figure out the details,” Rumi said. Then, her tone turned serious, though her warmth remained. “And you, missy—keep hanging on. It’s easier to fall apart than to put yourself back together, but I know you. You’ll be back to being the woman I know and love before the year is out.”

“If not,” she added with a playful growl, “I’ll happily kick your ass into shape.”

The three of you burst into laughter, the sound filling the cozy living room like a balm for your soul.

Love you, you big bunny,” you said, making exaggerated kissy noises into the phone.

“Love you too,” Mina added, joining in with her own obnoxious smooches.

“Alright, alright, enough of that!” Rumi laughed. “I’ve got to get back to patrol. Catch you ladies later.”

She hung up, leaving you and Mina sitting in the lingering warmth of her encouragement. The sound of the waves outside the window and the rustling leaves in the breeze seemed to echo her words, grounding you in the moment.

Mina tilted her head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Wait, what did Rumi mean about Asuna blowing things up? I thought her quirk didn’t work like that.”

You sighed, setting the phone on the coffee table and crossing your arms. The lava streaming through the windows danced across the warm wooden tones of the floor, highlighting the cream carpet and photos arranged neatly on the fireplace. A pothos plant spilled its green vines down the wall, and the faint scent of rosemary from the herb garden lingered in the air.

“Well,” you began, leaning your hip against the table's leg, “Asuna got Rita’s quirk with... traces of Katsuki’s and mine. Her main ability is creating energy fields for offense, defense, and protection. At first, she could only make force fields, basic stuff, ya know? And my grandma was the one who helped her figure that out.”

Mina nodded, leaning forward, her interest piqued. “Okay, that makes sense. Force Fields are practical. Useful.”

“Right. Then she started producing powerful energy blasts, and that’s where I came in,” you continued, gesturing with your hands. “I helped her learn to control the intensity and precision of her blasts. But then Asuna realized she could channel the energy into these tiny, marble-sized balls... and set them to explode.”

Mina’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“Yeah.” You grimaced, running a hand through your hair. “The results were... disastrous, to say the least. One burnt-down baseball field and two houses later, I went full paranoia mode and bought everything fireproof. Just in case.”

Mina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Wait, you’re serious?!”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” You gestured toward the corner of the kitchen, where a fire extinguisher hung on the wall. “Even this place is prepped for the worst. I give Asuna credit, though. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she’s sweet and loving most of the time. But then there’s that other side of her—the gremlin side she inherited from Katsuki.”

Mina snorted, doubling over in laughter. “You mean the ‘short-tempered, explosion-prone, gremlin’ side?”

“Exactly,” you said, shaking your head. “Her temper flares, her quirk sparks, and... boom. Sometimes it’s an energy explosion, sometimes it’s a fiery mess hot enough to rival the lava I can conjure from my fingertips. And the scariest part? She’s fireproof to an extent, but not completely.”

Mina sobered, her smile fading.

“That sounds... tough. For both of you.”

“It is,” you admitted, your voice softening. “She’s getting older now, and I can tell she gets frustrated with that side of her quirk. She’s trying so hard to control it, but sometimes she loses herself in it. Aizawa helps however he can—he’s trained Katsuki, after all—but I know she doesn’t talk to me about it because it reminds her of her mystery father.”

You sighed deeply, gazing out the window at the endless blue sky meeting the ocean in the distance. “I hate that she feels like she has to navigate that alone.”

Mina placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her expression serious but kind. “She’s lucky to have you, though. You’re doing everything you can, and she knows it. Kids are resilient, and Asuna’s got your strength—and your heart.”

You smiled faintly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “Thanks, Mina. It means a lot.”

“She’s gonna be okay,” Mina said firmly, squeezing your shoulder.

“You both are.”

You nodded, the weight on your chest lightening just a little as you glanced back at the cozy kitchen—the plants, the lava light, the safety you’d built here for Asuna.

Maybe Mina was right.

Maybe you were doing okay after all.

Upstairs, Asuna perched silently at the top of the staircase, earbuds dangling loosely around her neck.

She had been about to head down for a snack and a bottle of water when she caught the tail end of your conversation with Mina. Her chest tightened at the words that drifted up.

"So I do get that part of me from him," she murmured to herself, barely audible, her fingers gripping the banister. A dull ache spread through her chest as realization settled in, heavier than she expected.

The sound of her name crackled through her earbuds, snapping her out of her thoughts. “’Suna, you there?” Eri’s voice rang, sweet and full of concern, in her ear.

Asuna pulled the earbuds back in and forced a smile. “Hey, Eri. Yeah, I’m here.” She rose from her crouched position and tiptoed back up the stairs, her socked feet silent against the wood. Her door clicked shut behind her as she whispered, “I gotta take a waz, I’ll call you back in a bit.”

“Okay, don’t fall in!”

“Pfft, you wish!” she replied with a small laugh before the line disconnected.

Asuna sighed, tossing her phone onto the bed before padding over to her window. She pressed her forehead against the icy glass, the cold biting at her skin but doing little to calm the storm inside her.

The moon hung high, its glow illuminating the cityscape stretched out before her. Over the dark lava flow in the distance, the twinkle of city lights blurred into the horizon. She stared at the expanse, her breath fogging the window as memories and unanswered questions churned in her mind.

She didn’t know which of the famed men from Class 1-A was her father, but she had her suspicions. She’d pieced together fragments over the years: the photo she’d found in Aizawa’s desk drawer, you standing next to two boys with fiery red eyes; the limited internet access she’d used to match the faces to names.

Red Riot and Dynamight —long-time best friends and heroes. The same men she’d met at the ramen shop not long ago.

She closed her eyes, the memory of their faces replaying in her mind.

Asuna hate’s the winter. The cold seeped into her bones, reminding her of her frailty as a child. Born at just five months, she had struggled with health issues, asthma attacks brought on by overheating being the most persistent to her underdeveloped lungs. You had kept her home most of the time, worried and protective. She had understood, even appreciated it then, but as she grew older, the isolation became suffocating.

It wasn’t until high school loomed that she had pushed to attend UA, determined to experience the world beyond the walls you've built around her. Aizawa had homeschooled her for years, and though she adored the time spent with him and Eri—her only true friend—she craved more.

Eri had understood her like no one else, the two of them often staying over at each other’s homes. But even with Eri’s companionship, the lingering questions about her father never faded.

Why wouldn’t you tell her? What were you hiding?

The bracelet tracker on her wrist felt heavier than usual as she traced her finger over its edges. She knew where you would be, thanks to it. She knew where Rumi had told her to wait. She also knew she wasn’t supposed to leave—

But the need to know burned too hot to ignore.

Her forehead remained pressed to the glass as she closed her eyes, wishing the cold would seep into her and numb her thoughts. She wished it would snow, a blizzard so thick it would shut everything down.

Then, maybe, you’d stay home. Just you and her, curled up with junk food, watching movies, and stealing moments of warmth in a cocoon of blankets.

She thought of her grandmother, her gentle hands tucking her in, rubbing her head as she drifted off in front of the fireplace. She missed her so much it hurt, a hollow ache that never truly faded.

She pulled back from the window, her breath leaving a foggy imprint on the glass. “I just want to know,” she whispered into the silent room. Her voice cracked, but she didn’t cry. The moonlight bathed her hair in silver as she stared out at the distant city, the question she never voiced echoing in her heart,

‘Who is my father?’

The cold outside pressed closer, a stark contrast to the warmth she longed for. She hugged herself tightly, retreating to her bed. The city lights twinkled far away, just beyond her reach—much like the answers she sought.

Asuna sat on the edge of her bed, phone clutched tightly in her hand. The glowing screen displayed Eri’s contact, but she couldn’t bring herself to press call. Her thumb hovered for a moment before she sighed, tossing the phone onto her pillow.

Restlessness gripped her like a vice, her thoughts racing too quickly to catch. She wanted to storm downstairs and demand Mina spill everything. She wanted to grab the card the big red guy—Kirishima, or whatever his name was—had given her and call him up, demanding answers. She wanted to thank Rumi for covering for her, for always having her back.

She wanted to thank Aizawa for finding her and letting her sit quietly on that rooftop instead of sending her straight home. She wanted to call Uncle Shinsou and make him tell her everything, the way he always managed to pry the truth out of others.

More than anything, Asuna wanted to march into your room, confess that she’d tracked your location and followed you, and apologize for breaking your trust.

But she couldn’t.

The weight of her emotions was too much, pressing down until she felt like she was suffocating. She stood abruptly, the movement sudden and jerky, and stumbled out of her room.

Her feet carried her to the bathroom in a blur. She slammed the light on, the harsh brightness stinging her eyes, and barely made it to the sink before doubling over. Her stomach heaved violently, the remnants of egg rolls and ramen she’d forced herself to eat earlier spilling out. Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles red, as wave after wave of nausea rolled through her.

Finally, the retching stopped, leaving her trembling and dry. She spat into the sink, reaching blindly for the faucet to rinse the mess away. The rush of water was loud in the small space, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of her own ragged breathing.

She grabbed her toothbrush with shaking hands, furiously scrubbing her teeth as if she could erase the sour taste of guilt and frustration along with the bile. The bristles scraped against her gums, her motions more aggressive than necessary, but she didn’t care. She wanted the germs gone, wanted to feel clean, even if it was just superficial.

As she rinsed her mouth, her mind drifted to her grandmother. She wished, more than anything, that the older woman was still alive. Her grandmother had never lied to her. She would have told her the truth—about her father, about you, about everything.

Her thoughts swung back to you, the image of your face etched into her mind.

How could she be mad at you?

You were her mom. The person who raised her. The one she had always reached out to, even as a baby.

Her first memory was of your lips—soft, warm, and comforting. She drew them in the margins of her notebooks, a small comfort when she felt overwhelmed. She thought of how her classmates whispered about you, how they admired your strength, beauty, and the private life you fiercely protected. Some speculated you’d gotten married in secret, building a family in the shadows.

Asuna turned her focus back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing her mouth thoroughly. She braced her hands on the counter, staring at the water swirling down the drain. She felt a lump rise in her throat, but she forced it down.

Finally, she raised her head and looked into the mirror.

Her reflection stared back, drained and tired, with stormy eyes that didn’t quite belong to her but felt achingly familiar. A piece of him, whoever he was.

She traced her fingers lightly over the edge of the mirror, her voice barely a whisper.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Asuna’s eyes lingered on her reflection in the mirror, her breath catching in her throat. She leaned closer, the fluorescent light above flickering slightly, casting a cold, sterile glow over her face.

Those eyes… they didn’t feel like hers.

They burned too brightly, smoldering like embers in the depths of a fire that wasn’t her own.

She raised a trembling hand to her face, her fingertips grazing the skin beneath her eyes as if touching them would confirm they were real.

But they weren’t really hers.

Someone else owned them.

The thought gripped her chest tightly. Her face wasn’t hers either. It was yours—your famed cheekbones, the soft curve of your jaw, the shape of your lips. Everyone said she was the spitting image of her beautiful, powerful mother.

And while she admired you endlessly, it made her feel like a ghost of her own life.

A shadow.

Her nails dug into the counter’s edge as the familiar weight of frustration and resentment bubbled in her chest. She didn’t feel like herself.

To most people, she was a reflection of you—a legacy, an extension, a continuation.

But who was Asuna?

She turned the faucet on, the rush of cold water snapping her out of her thoughts. She splashed some onto her face, hoping the chill would help ground her, but it didn’t. Her fingers pressed against her temples as she tried to stop the spiraling thoughts.

The only person who seemed to see her, really see her, was Eri. But even with Eri, there were times Asuna felt like she was walking a tightrope, trying to prove she was her own person. It didn’t help that, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t escape being compared to you.

“Just like her mother,” they’d say, dismissing her achievements as though they were inevitable, as if her hard work was predestined because she was your daughter. Asuna always worked twelve times harder than everyone else just to carve out a sliver of her own identity, but even then, the credit felt hollow.

Ironically, the one thing people agreed was entirely her own was the one thing that made her feel most alien.

Her eyes

Those piercing red eyes that weren’t yours, that didn’t come from the warm, loving person who raised her.

Eyes that clearly belonged to someone else

Her hands clenched into fists, her nails biting into her palms. She had seen those eyes before, hadn’t she? Earlier today, when she surprised the two men at the ramen spot. Her stomach churned at the memory. They had been so stunned, so caught off guard. She’d taken a dark, petty satisfaction in startling them.

And yet, the thought of it now filled her with guilt.

She hadn’t known it was him back then, the first time she’d seen them at the convenience store. She’d been overwhelmed, lost in grief and confusion.

But afterward?

She let them have it, throwing every ounce of her anger and frustration at them, even if they didn’t fully deserve it.

Bits and pieces of the story had come to her over the years, from whispered conversations and the few snippets she’d managed to overhear. You and her father had a terrible breakup—one that had clearly left scars.

But you never spoke about him. Not directly, only when Asuna had asked, in the way children do, with innocent curiosity.

Not even a negative word.

Asuna’s fingers tightened on the edge of the sink as her mind flashed back to the stolen moments of research she’d managed to conduct. Parental locks on devices made digging nearly impossible. She didn’t trust anyone at school enough to ask, and the school computers were out of the question.

It wasn’t until Rumi had entered the picture that things had changed. A single Google search on the bunny hero’s phone, a quick scroll through old and recent news articles, and Asuna’s world shifted. The headlines spoke of heartbreak, of public fights and private betrayal.

Your hero name intertwined with his.

Asuna felt sick all over again, not from the ramen or egg rolls, but from guilt.

She shouldn’t have looked. She should have come to you first.

You must have had good reasons for keeping it from her—reasons rooted in love and protection.

And yet, the need to know clawed at her insides.

Her powers were growing faster than she could control them, each surge of energy feeling like a scream she couldn’t silence. It was like her body was trying to tell her something, trying to fill in the blanks her mind couldn’t comprehend.

Asuna stared into the mirror, her red eyes glinting under the flickering light.

‘Who do these eyes belong to?’ she wondered again, a lump rising in her throat.

The weight of isolation pressed down on her.

She felt utterly alone, trapped in a mental prison built from secrets and half-truths. She wanted to cry, to rage, to throw something and let the dam break.

But she couldn’t.

Instead, she reached for a towel and dried her face, her movements slow and deliberate. She glanced at her reflection one last time, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“I need answers,” she whispered to herself.

Her fingers brushed against the bracelet on her wrist—the one with the tracker she’d given you. For her safety, you’d agreed. And yet, tonight, it had brought her somewhere you hadn’t wanted her to go.

Somewhere that had only raised more questions.

She turned and left the bathroom, her steps quiet but purposeful. Back in her room, she grabbed her phone, staring at the screen. She thought about calling Eri.

Or maybe Rumi. Or Shinsou. Or even Aizawa.

But no.

There was only one person she needed to talk to.

Sliding under the covers, Asuna clutched her phone to her chest. She’d wait until noon.

And then she’d confront you.

How we feeling chat?

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r,@v3n7s, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756.

Lemme know if you wanna be added to the list!

So sorry about the hiatus between chapters. I hope you all accept this as a late Christmas/New years present. I'm also working on the poster for this fic so I can finally add it to my construction zone of a master list.

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have some more Katsuki (and other mha) here in the master list. (Ao3 account is pretty sexy too.)

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I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

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