#as soon as she was gone he was like ''oh my god that's not what the front galley duty entails at all isn't it''

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 9

Previous Chapter: Part 8 | Next Chapter: Part 10 Coming Soon!

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Smut

🚫🔞THIS IS AN ADULT BLOG CONTAINING EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, A18+ ONLY.🔞🚫

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes

Ten minutes later, you rejoin the party feeling refreshed. It seems that you haven’t missed much in the half hour that you were gone – everyone is munching on sweets and chatting animatedly. The vibe is happy and your peers are still buzzing with delight from the spin the bottle game.

You cruise through the common area where classmates are lounging with friends on the couches and across the floor. You see a few couples necking in the corners, and one in particular catches your eye. Tucked under the window towards the back are Hitoshi Shinsou and Nieto Monoma, locked in an amorous embrace.

Hitoshi is sitting with his back against the wall, Monoma in his lap. They’re making out lazily, blissed out and wrapped up in their own world. The purple haired hero has one hand at the nape of Monoma’s neck, the other creeping up under the hem of his shirt. Nieto has his hands cupping Shinsou’s delicate face. The blonde’s eyes glued shut as he presses his mouth to Hitoshi’s lips again and again and again. It looks as if he can’t believe his luck – he kisses Hitoshi as if they’re locked in a dream and he might wake up at any moment.

You smile quietly; glad to see that the night is going well in the romance department for others aside from you. With a start, you think of Mina and scan the crowd in search of a pink head of hair. You don’t see her on any of the couches or in the hallway. Instead, you find Toru in the kitchen chatting with Tsu and Ochaco, still giggling over her kiss with Oiiro.

“Y/N!” She squeals as she grabs your arm and pulls you into the little group of girls. “Did you see it happen? Oh my GOD wasn’t it romantic!?” She gushes. You grin and nod as she rates the softness of Ojiro’s lips (a solid 8 out of 10) and wonders how defined his abs are under his simple grey t-shirt (since the guy spends most of his off time training in a dojo, you all guess that his abs are likely a 10 out of 10).

Someone passes you a slice of cake on a neat blue All Might plate. You suspect that Midoriya was tasked with the party supply-shopping list. You take a look around the kitchen and sure enough…All Might branded party wear as far as the eye can see. Your teacher’s beefy figure adorns every paper cup, napkin and plate within a ten-foot radius. Note to self – for the next party, put someone cool in charge of party supplies (Jirou is the obvious future choice).

As you munch on the cake and listen to Toru analyze Ojiro’s body language during their kiss, you glance around the rest of the room. Members of Classes A and B are chilling around the space chatting and laughing. It looks like this party will go well into the night. You’re proud of all that you’ve accomplished with your friends – your dream party has finally gotten off the ground! Then you remember why you were scouting out the kitchen in the first place.

You interrupt Toru’s gushing. “Have you seen Mina?”

Toru turns to you, her invisible hands gesturing towards the hallway. “She went off with Kirishima.” She says slyly. “I wonder what they’re up to…I bet it’s more kissing.” She makes a bunch of smoochy noises and Ochaco and Tsu laugh good-naturedly.

“It’s true – we saw them walk off a half hour ago, I think they were going for a walk along the grounds, ribbit.” Tsu says in her usual warbley tone.

“Thanks guys – I’m gonna go look for her!” You call over your shoulder as you move swiftly towards the exit.

As you walk back into the common room, a familiar flash of red and white catches your eye. You see Shoto standing in the corner chatting with Tokoyami and Midoriya. He’s wearing a freshly laundered set of black joggers with a white t-shirt. The joggers fit his trim frame so well you almost salivate at the way they hang off his hips. He feels your gaze and glances your way, and your eyes lock. For a moment, the air between you feels like pure heat. You suck in a slow breath, willing your pussy to chill the fuck out for a minute – you need to go check on your friend! You shoot Shoto a grin before breezing out into the hall and towards Mina’s room. You feel the heat of his eyes on your back as you leave, sending goose bumps up your spine. You hope the other guys don’t notice the way he’s watching your ass as you turn the corner.

Mina’s dorm room is on the fourth floor, so you need to jog up a few flights of stairs to get to her. When you finally knock on her colorful, magnet-covered door, you get no response.

“Mina, it’s me! Open up!” You pound a little harder on the door with your fist. You hear a light sniffle come from the other side of the wall.  “I know you’re in there!”

Finally, after a few minutes of begging and cajoling, Mina opens up the door to pull you inside. She looks a mess – tear-streaked makeup runs down her cheeks and there are mascara stains on her cute crop top. Her hair is rumpled and her dark eyes aren’t as bright as usual.

“Mina – are you alright!?” You’re shocked at her disheveled appearance. Mina has always been the type of person who stays upbeat no matter the circumstance. You’ve seen her fight villains and fail math tests and still keep the good vibes going. She’s never looked so utterly defeated.

Your friend locks the door behind you and sinks into a fuzzy pink beanbag near her desk. “I think I messed up big time, Y/N.” She chokes out as she starts to cry. Thinking quickly, you grab a tissue box off of her bedside table and toss a few tissues in her direction. She catches them gratefully and blows her nose thickly into one of the squares.

You pretend you have no idea what happened. How would you even explain to her that you overheard her argument with Kirishima while you were holed up in a utility closet with Shoto? No way are you ready to have that conversation with your friend. You aren’t ready to talk about your whole Shoto situation with anyone. Maybe someday, but not right now. You decide the best thing to do is to play dumb.

“What do you mean?”

“Kirishima…he’s r-really pissed at me. I shouldn’t have pulled a stunt and kissed him like that. It’s not what he w-w-wanted!” She stifles a sob with her hand. “I think I crossed a major boundary with him and fucked up absolutely everything.”

You pat her back as she cries and offer her another tissue. She gratefully accepts as you mull over what you want to say to her. “I’m sure that everything is fine! You know Kirishima! He’s a ball of sunshine I’m sure he’s already over it. How could he be mad – he got to kiss the coolest girl in our year!” You try to sound upbeat. You’re fairly certain that after Kirishima cools down he’ll get over this and want to reconcile with Mina. Holding a grudge just isn’t in his nature.

“You don’t get it Y/N – you didn’t see his face when we were talking. He looked devastated.” She blows her nose again. “He wanted his first kiss – our first kiss – to be special. And I blew it by making a big scene, as per usual.” She wipes at her eyes pathetically. “I don’t think there’s a way to come back from this.”

You wrap your arm around Mina, letting her cry for a few minutes before you propose a solution. “I think that what Kirishima needs is some time alone to process his feelings. Once he’s ready – I think you give him a sincere apology. Tell him you understand where he’s coming from, and you should have taken his feelings into consideration. Don’t be flirty about it, just be honest. And then if he accepts your apology, you ask for a do-over.”

“A do-over?” Mina asks, mascara still smudged across her bright pink cheeks.

“A do-over. Ask him for every single detail of what he envisioned for your first kiss together. Then, you bring it to life for him. You plan the perfect first do-over kiss and you make it the most romantic, manly kiss he could ever dream of. Do everything exactly the way he wants. Tell him the first kiss was a fluke since everyone was watching – tell him that the kiss that matters is the one that only the two of you know about.”

Mina is silent for a moment as she contemplates this, fat tears still rolling down her bright cheeks.

“Oh wow. You’re good.” Mina says in disbelief, wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands. “That might actually work!?” She peers up at you as if seeing you for the first time. “Are you some kind of secret romance expert?”

You laugh loudly at this. “No way! Have you ever known me to get involved with romance? All I got out of spin the bottle was a kiss on the cheek.” You lie, hoping to cover your butt. You start to worry that all of these lies are going to catch up to you soon. If your friends find out about you and Shoto…they are going to be royally pissed off.

“I don’t know…” Mina says suspiciously. “There’s been something off about you lately.”

“W-what?” Oh crap.

“Yeah – ever since you started texting with Honenuki you’ve been a little flustered. You must really like him.” She waggles her eyebrows, already coming back to her usual teasing self. You sigh, exasperated. You take a measured breath, thinking through what you’re about to say.

“Listen, Mina. If I tell you something private – will you clean yourself up and get back to having fun at the party?” You say slowly, trying to keep your face arranged in a serious expression.

Mina practically hits the ceiling she jumps up off of the beanbag chair so fast.

“Absolutely!! What juicy secrets have you been keeping from me, girl!?”

“Nothing juicy! It’s just that…I don’t like Honenuki that way. Sure, he’s very sweet and friendly and he’s kinda cute – but I’m not interested in him like that. Actually…I have a crush on someone in the hero course. Someone else. But that’s all that you’re getting out of me right now!” You wave your hands dismissively. You’ve told her all she needs to know for now. You can’t reveal anything about Shoto just yet – not until you both are on the same page about other people knowing.

Mina squeals something unintelligible and hops around you. “A crush! A crush! A crush! We should make vision boards about this!” You laugh at her enthusiasm, marveling at the way nothing can keep Mina down for long. You’ll tell her about Shoto eventually. You’ll have to – she and Toru are your best friends in the world. How could you keep such a massive secret from them!?

Mina is a good friend. Despite her overenthusiastic approach to, well, everything, she respects your wish not to divulge any additional information about your crush. You refocus back to Mina’s needs. You help Mina clean herself up – she removes her runny makeup with a washcloth and reapplies a fresh coat of mascara to her lashes. Once she dawns a final swipe of cherry lip smackers, you know she’s mostly back to normal.

“You ready to get back out there?” You ask her, checking your own reflection in the mirror and making sure your hair isn’t rumbled from your romp in the closet with Shoto.

She looks at you through the reflection of the mirror and makes a simpering face. “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.”

You both laugh. “But yeah – I’m ready. Let’s get back to it. I’m dying to see how Hitoshi is acting around Neito now that they’ve publically sucked face.” She says enthusiastically. You open the door and usher her through.

“Oh just you wait.” You say conspiratorially, a giggle rising up in  your throat. “Hitoshi can’t keep his hands off of Neito. He’s like an octopus.”

“No. Fuckin’. Way.” Mina says, breathless. “I love it when a ship works out.”

“Yeah Monoma is so lucky!” You close her dorm door behind you. “Wow, what a night!” The lock clicks into place and you start to make your way down the hall, following in Mina’s springy footsteps. “This party business is truly exhausting.”

“Yeah…I think we’ve done enough spin the bottle for one night.” She concedes, fluffing up her hair as the two of you stroll down the hallway and back towards the common area.

“Oh! Speaking of which, I have a question for you.” You reach out and grab her arm to pull her back lightly. She comes to a stop and looks back at you, her dark eyes sparkling curiously in the fluorescent hall light.

“What’s up?”

“How did you rig ‘Spin The Bottle’ to ensure that all of your ships had to kiss? And don’t lie to me, I know you set the whole thing up somehow. Shinsou and Monoma. Toru and Ojiro. Kaminari and Jirou. You and Kirishima and all the rest – there’s no possible way that those match ups all happened by chance.” You give her an appraising look, still not comprehending how she pulled the whole thing off.

Mina grins, eyes glinting. “Oh, that. Yeah, you got me. So listen to this - you know that girl I invited from the General Studies Course? The one who kissed Shoto?”

You nod, feeling a bit of a sting in your heart as you recall the sweet little kiss Shoto bestowed on the pretty General Studies girl.

“Well…” Mina continues, really drawing out the reveal. “Her quirk is light telekinesis. She can control inanimate objects that weigh a few pounds. Not a super heroic quirk, but a pretty useful power when it comes down to it. She was the one making sure that the bottle landed on the right person each time. I gave her a list of all of the potential Spin The Bottle pairings I wanted to make happen, and she made sure every single one came to fruition. Any time someone spun the bottle, she used her quirk to have it land on specific people.”

Your jaw drops.  The two of you stare at each other for a moment – Mina preening while you stand in stunned silence.

“Oh my goodness. Mina…that’s insane. Genius, but insane. How did you even think of this? How did you meet her? And why didn’t you tell me and Toru!?” So many questions are swirling around your head. Usually the three of you share everything. Mina is a notorious gossip – so how did she manage to pull this off without letting any info slip to you and Toru? It looks like you’re not the only friend in this group with secrets

“Okay, don’t be mad.” Mina holds up her hands as if in surrender. She can see your brain working overtime to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. “I had to keep it a secret – she didn’t want anyone else to know she was involved beforehand and run the risk of getting in trouble if we got caught during the planning stages of the party. Apparently Fujita is in talks for a prestigious internship program and she’s trying to be extra careful so that she doesn’t jeopardize her chance to get chosen. In fact, I think she dipped as soon as the game was done.”

“As for how I met her…well, remember how I’ve been working on a new Ultimate Move lately? A few weeks ago, I realized that I needed better Support Items in order to execute the new move. I really wanted a more supportive sneaker that would allow me to shoot out acid and glide around, you know? So I went to the Support workshop looking for some help and that’s where I met her. We immediately hit it off – she’s super friendly and cool! She was doing some research on how to market Support gear and was asking Hatsume some questions about her work. We all started chatting about our quirks and stuff pretty naturally…and then the three of us started saying hello in the hallways and becoming friendlier. I was thinking about our Spin The Bottle plan during class one day, and wondering how on Earth I would make sure that I got to kiss Kirishima and his gorgeous face. And the idea just came to me. I asked her a few days later and she said she’d do it, but for a price.” Mina raises her eyebrows and looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to piece things together.

“She wanted a kiss from Shoto.” You breathe out.

“Bingo!” Mina says, pointing your way. She starts to walk down the hall again, pulling you along with her. “Ever since the Sports Festival, she’s had a huge crush on our Icy Hot classmate. I guess he went to the Support Lab, too, asking for some items and they chatted a bit. She’s, like, head over heels for his ass. So I told her that I would set up the situation at the party where she’d get a shot at kissing Shoto. And, obviously, she agreed!”

“Huh. Wow. Um…just curious, what specifically does she like about Todoroki?” You try to sound casual but you feel yourself starting to sweat. Don’t be to obvious!

“What isn’t there to like about Shoto!?” Mina practically squeals. “I did ask her, though. She likes his intensity and his attention to detail. Also his hands.”

“His hands!?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“Yeah.” Mina holds out her own hands before her face thoughtfully. “She was really embarrassed about it, but she said she likes how big his hands are. Said it was Hot with a capital H. And that got me thinking…Kirishima’s hands are pretty fuckin’ hot too. Like, he’s just so strong. Imagine what he could do with those bulky hands of his in bed.” She cackles.

“MINA!” You say, scandalized.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” She says, dropping her arms to her sides as she giggles, seemingly back to normal. You have a feeling she’s not kidding though.

“As for why I didn’t tell you and Toru…I wanted it to be a surprise. Toru’s been dying to kiss Ojiro and I wanted to give you a shot at something fun with Honenuki since he seemed really interested in you lately. But my bad for pushing you towards him since you’re obviously into someone else. Maybe I should have told you guys upfront.” She’s quiet for a long moment, thoughtful. “This is like what Kirishima was upset about, isn’t it? Maybe…maybe sometimes I just move forward with things without thinking about how it will impact others. I need to consider that everyone’s feelings are just as important, if not more important than my own. Especially when it comes to people I care about. That’s a lesson I really need to take to heart.”

“We all have things we need to work on.” You say kindly. “We are just high schoolers. We’re all changing and learning every day. Isn’t that the whole point of growing up?”

Mina smiles at you, all teeth. “You know, you’re pretty wise Y/N. For a dumbass.”

“I could say the same about you, Pinky.”

The two of you laugh as you turn the corner back into the common area.

“In any case…I’m sorry if I put you in an uncomfortable position. I was too excited for my own good about the whole Spin The Bottle shipping thing. Can you forgive me?” She looks at you pleadingly with her wide, black eyes.

“Of course.” You say. And it’s true – you do forgive her. “I’m thinking maybe we don’t tell the rest of the class about the way you rigged Spin the Bottle. Apologizing for that might cause a lot more harm than good.”

Mina frowns. “I feel guilty now, though. Did I trick everyone?”

“Hmm…I think that if we stop the game here, we’re fine. A few of our friends definitely weren’t thrilled about participating…Tokoyami, Momo and Shoto all come to mind. Maybe you can just give them each a quick apology and tell them you’re sorry you pushed things so far.”

“Hmmm…yeah.” Mina’s face flushes with embarrassment as she recalls the way that she essentially forced your classmates to participate in the game. “That was so dumb of me, I really shouldn’t have made everyone uncomfortable. What kind of hero does something like that?”

“Hey. Hey, it’s fine Mina! You’re fine! Remember what I said…we’re learning and growing. We’re allowed to make mistakes as long as we own up to them and try to be better next time. It’s alright.” You reach out and wrap an arm around her shoulders and squeeze. She sighs and glances over at you, her face still pinker than normal.

“Ugh I just feel so guilty. And poor Kirishima…he’s so mad.” Mina groans, leaning into your hug.

“I have confidence you’ll find a way to make things right.” You give her a squeeze and then let go. “Honestly…I think you did put some great couples together. A lot of people were thrilled with how the game went. I bet Kaminari is walking on air right now.”

“Oh god. Yeah I forgot about that.” Mina lets out a rough laugh. “Do you think we should we tell Toru?”

“Yeah, let’s fill her in later. I think she’d want to know. And I don’t think she’ll be mad about it.” You start walking again towards the common room. “A few minutes ago she was rating the softness of Ojiro’s lips, so I think she’s pretty pleased with how the whole thing shook out.”

“Ha…yeah, I knew she’d be excited about Tailman.” Mina grins as you round the corner and re-enter the party. You look around the common area and see that everyone is gathered around Ochaco who is proudly holding a brightly colored box aloft.

“Who want’s to play Twister!?” She calls out and everyone cheers. It’s a good night.

A large group of your friends flock over to Monoma who starts laying out the Twister mat. You watch from a far, smirking as Izuku grabs the spinner and starts calling out instructions to the others. Everyone’s scrambling across the slick plastic, laughing and slipping and having fun.

You and Mina wade through the rest of the crowd on the hunt for Toru. Mina veers off towards the kitchen to grab a coke while you scan the common area. On your trek across the room, you see your phone lying abandoned on the ground next to one of the couches.

“Oh, shit – there’s my phone!” You hadn’t realized that you’d left it on the floor during the game. You bend down to scoop it up, clicking open the lock screen and see a series of frantic texts.

Hatsume: Time’s up!

Hatsume: That was a lot of fun, let’s do it again sometime! I learned so much from Mr. King and can’t wait to make some modifications to my drone babies.

Hatsume: Are you seeing these? Mr. King will probably be at the dorms in 5 minutes.

Hatsume: No one else is answering their phones. Remind me to give you all smart watches next time we do something like this – I have a brand new design I’ve been working on that would be absolutely perfect for a situation like this. Here, I’m attaching the schematics in case you want to take a look!

Hatsume: I hope that you were able to break up the party before Mr. King arrived. Thanks again for the awesome testing opportunity for my babies!

Your eyes grow wider with each text you read. You feel panic rising in your chest – you have to say something. You need to tell everyone to leave! But you’re so overwhelmed and you didn’t come up with a party evacuation plan (how stupid of you!!) and now you can’t seem to get a sound past your lips.

At some point Toru has arrived and come to stand next to you.

“Y/N?” Toru says slowly, reaching out to shake your shoulder with an invisible hand.

“Toru – where’s your phone!?” Is the first thing your brain and mouth can agree on saying. The words fly from your lips so quickly it comes out as a garbled mess. Toru stands silently, her invisible face likely sporting a gob smacked expression.

“What?”

“Your. Phone.” You try to stay calm and annunciate, but your mind is flying. Everywhere you look there’s evidence that a party is taking place – there’s decorations and bowls of chips and riotous partying UA students. It would be impossible to clean up everything in under a minute.

“Oh! I think I left it on the charger in the kitchen. Remember you plugged it in and admonished me for now having charged it? I bet if I had left it be it would still be in my pocket with a decent charge.” You realize she’s absolutely right – you had taken her phone away from her to charge. You curse yourself silently, looking around desperately for Mina in the crowd.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Toru grabs your phone out of your hands and her eyes fly across the messages.

“Oh, shit.” She says frantically, waving her arms around in that characteristic frenzied way of hers. “Um. Um! Everybody! Mr. King is on his way! We gotta get out of here - !”

But no one can hear her over Hitoshi and Neito’s Cloak and Dagger Melodies party playlist. The music is bumping and everyone is chatting and having a great time. You desperately search for a hint of glossy blonde hair – where the hell is Neito? You need to pause this goddamn playlist ASAP and get everyone’s attention.

You scan the crowd frantically, and your heart leaps when you see a tuft of purple gelled hair off to your right.

“Toru – go find Mina! Tell her what’s going on! And tell people to go and hide in Class A’s dorm rooms!” You quickly shove her away.

You march your way through the dancing crowd, pushing friends and classmates aside as you stomp towards a slim, purple haired figure. As you get closer, you’re exasperated to see that Neito and Hitoshi have resumed their make out session. They’re standing in the center of the makeshift dance floor; swaying softly to the beat of whatever 80s New Wave song is playing. Hitoshi’s large hands are gripping Neito’s cute waist as he lavishes slow, deliberate kisses on your friend. For his part, Neito has his fingers wrapped up in Hitoshi’s thick hair. He looks like he’s ascending to heaven.

“Oh my GOD – guys! Cut it out!” You screech, reaching to grab at Neito’s shoulders so you can pull him away from Hitoshi.

“Y/N…?” Neito gasps as he shakes his head and comes back to himself. He looks absolutely punch drunk with glazed eyes and a blissful expression.

Hitoshi glares at you, annoyance dancing in his dark irises. “Homophobic, much?” He says sarcastically, hands angling to grab Neito’s face so he can get back to work kissing the blonde senseless.

“Guys. Guys!” You throw up your hands in a fine impression of Toru. “Cut the music. Mr. King is on his way over!”

Neito and Hitoshi stare at you as your words register. It only takes a moment for Neito to start panicking. He pushes Hitoshi away from him with a flourish, the purple haired boy stumbling backwards as he scrambles to pull his phone from his tight jeans pocket.

“What do you mean Mr. King is on his way over!?” Neito shrieks, grabbing you by the shoulders and giving you a haphazard shake. “I thought Hatsume had this covered!”

“You know as well as I do that she was only going to be able to buy us a bit of time.” You say, flustered. “Now we need to focus on party evacuation!”

Hitoshi finally fishes his phone out of his tight jeans pocket and hits pause on the Spotify playlist. His expression matches Neito’s – eyes wide with panic. You can almost read his mind here – he worked so hard to get into the Hero Course. Was he going to be caught and kicked out for attending this little shindig? You feel guilt flood your stomach at the thought.

The speaker across the room goes silent, but no one seems to notice. Classes A and B are all babbling and laughing and chatting across the common area and kitchen. Not good. You had been hoping that turning off the music would get everyone’s attention.

Okay okay okay…you can do this! You’re a hero in training! You can come up with a plan!

Your eyes search the crowded room wildly and land on Momo. She’s chatting animatedly to Kendo a few feet to your left. An idea crackles into your brain – you scurry over to her.

“Momo!” You grab her arm and yank her away from Kendo. “I need you to make something really fast. Mr. King is on his way and we need a way to get everyone’s attention.”

Momo stares at you for a moment, gathering her thoughts. She opens and closes her mouth quickly, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Come on, Momo!” You grab her bare, muscled arm and give it a tiny shake. “It’s go time!”

“Right!” She says more to herself than to you. She raises her arm above her head and a small cannon noise fills the room as confetti explodes from her bare elbow. Okay! This is good! You can work with this! Thank God for Momo and her quick thinking.

The entire room goes silent and heads turn to look at you and Momo.

“The teachers are on their way! Everyone choose a buddy from Class A and go hide in their dorm for a bit. We’ll send out a text once the coast is clear.” Momo calls out, ever the strategist.

No one moves. It’s so quiet; you could hear a limited edition mini All Might action figure drop to the ground. Your nerves are absolutely fried.

“Why isn’t everyone moving!?” You call out at them desperately. Everyone looks at you with blank expressions. You search their faces – Neito’s eyes are wide with panic, he looks like he may faint. When your eyes lock, he raises a shaky hand to point behind you.

Slowly, you turn around to face the doorway, following his sightline.

Mr. Vlad King stands tall in the door, a hulking figure casting a shadow across the party. In one massive hand he holds the crushed remains of one of Hatsume’s drones. In the other, he’s holding up a cowering Mineta by one of his purple head balls.

Oh no.

“Hello, class.” He says in that signature growl of his. “I’m going to need someone to explain what’s going on here.”

He drops the drone and it hits the hardwood floor with a tiny “clang!”

You’re all in deep shit.

The room is absolutely silent. Mr. King places Mineta on the ground softly and your classmate scampers into the crowd to stand next to Shoji. The little guy looks fine – he’s completely unscathed from Hatsume’s distraction.

Mr. King looks around slowly, his eyes trained on each of his students as he waits for an answer. He lets his gaze linger on Kendo – as the class rep; she would typically be the first to speak up in a situation like this. But even her bright eyes are downcast and her mouth is clamped shut in a thin, guilty line.

“Well?”

No one says anything. The silence is deafening. 

There’s a beat, then Neito steps forward.

“I’m sorry, King Sensei. I organized this illegal party and I asked Hatsume to help distract you. I’ve been incredibly dishonest and I fully accept responsibility and punishment for this.”

Vlad King’s jaw practically drops in shock. Classes A and B look on and a general air of astonishment washes over the room. Neito Monoma is not one to take on the blame for anything, let alone an illegal party involving his peers.

“Neito…you did this? And you’re…taking responsibility?” Mr. King looks downright proud.

Neito smiles softly, nervously. “Yeah.”

Mr. King blinks and then looks around at the room, taking in the faces of his and Aizawa’s students. Everyone looks uncomfortable and guilty. He looks back at Neito thoughtfully. “We’re going to have a long talk about this.”

Neito nods, accepting his fate. His expression is surprisingly serene. He doesn’t try to defend his actions or distract Mr. King by waxing poetic about how superior Class B is. He just stands there, willing to accept whatever punishment or disappointment Mr. King is going to waylay him with.

But Mr. King doesn’t press any harsh words onto Monoma or the rest of his students. He just looks out at the class a bit sadly and says: “Alright. Let’s clean this place up – everyone pitch in.” He doesn’t sound angry, just very tired. The deep lines of his face are creased from exhaustion. You see a light scratch across his left cheek – did Hatsume’s drones do that? Suddenly you feel a deep sense of remorse. It was unfair of you to think of Mr. King as just an authority figure to avoid and trick. You look at the tired teacher and realize with a jolt that you had forgotten his humanity, and you weren’t feeling very heroic about it. Perhaps you and your friends had gone too far in pursuit of a silly party.

Classes A and B are silent as they take down the decorations and clean the floor, tossing plastic plates and cutlery in the trash. There are so many people crowded into the space – it only takes a few minutes to return the room to its former UA glory. Shoji and Tokoyami remove all of the dark tablecloths from the windows, and Tsu uses her tongue to take down the streamers and hanging decorations.

Without all of the décor, you can see the stars winking brightly through the tall windows. You feel a deep sense of regret as you think back to how just a few hours earlier you and your friends were running and laughing, carefree, under that same night sky. You’d give anything to turn back the clock and go back to that moment.

“Alright. Class A – go to your dorm rooms. I’ll be back to check on everyone – I do not want anyone back in the common area until morning. Class B, walk with me. We’re headed back to your dorm building.” Mr. King waits for Class A to disperse – you all trudge towards your rooms, heads hung low with guilt.

As you pass Honenuki, he reaches out lightly to grab your hand and give it the tiniest of squeezes. Your eyes lock with his for a moment, you’re surprised at the warmth in his expression. It’s like being hugged.

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

When you finally reach your room, you’re grateful to be alone. You close the door soundly behind you and turn the lock before you let the tears come. You’re embarrassed and ashamed and…well, honestly you’re pretty scared. You have no idea what Mr. Aizawa will do or say when he returns and hears about the horrible mess of a party you and your friends have organized. It was kind of Neito to take the blame, but the truth will come out eventually. There’s no way you’ll let him take the fall for all of this. You wonder if what you’ve done is grounds for expulsion. Mr. Aizawa has expelled students for far less…

You shake your head and try to breathe deeply as the tears roll down your face. Your phone starts to buzz – it’s a FaceTime request from Mina. You quickly click it open and see that Toru is on the line as well. Mina’s face is pale with shock, Toru (as per usual) hovers invisibly in the tiny video square, and you are the only one crying.

Mina breaks the silence immediately.

“WOW WOW WOW OKAY!” Mina practically screams into the phone. “We need to get our stories straight, like, now.”

“How did we not see that coming? How did we not think of an escape plan!?” Toru cries out into the phone, all emotion. Huh, maybe she’s crying too. It’s hard to tell since she’s invisible.

“I know. I feel like we screwed up big time, y’all.” You sniffle, whipping your nose with the back of your hand.

“I left my phone in my room like an idiot!” Mina pulls at her curly hair in irritation.

“And I left mine in the kitchen on the charger! I can’t believe I didn’t have it on me during the party. I’m an idiot” Toru shakes her phone for good measure, and her tiny image on your screen vibrates with the motion.

“I just got too distracted by the party. I didn’t even think to check my phone once the party was in full swing. Y’all…as heroes, we lost focus during the mission. We let ourselves get sidetracked and caught up in the action.” You grumble guiltily. “We didn’t spend time thinking through the big picture.”

“Ugh, you’re so right Y/N.” Toru whimpers. “We should have treated this like a full class mission and planned out our exit/extraction.”

“Well. I guess that’s another lesson learned for tonight.” Mina sighs out. “Now let’s get our stories together.Just what are we going to tell Mr. King and Mr. Aizawa when they start asking questions? It was nice of Neito to take the fall initially, but eventually the teachers are going to want the full story.”

“Ugh. You’re right.” You groan, face palming. “We’ll really need to think this through.”

You hear a knock at your door and you stiffen. Has Vlad King really returned from the Class B dorms this quickly?

“Hold on guys.” You place your phone down and rise to answer the door. When you turn the knob and wrench it open, you’re surprised to find Hitoshi Shinsou standing in your doorway.

“I have a plan.” He says simply, pushing past you and into your room. From the ground, you can hear Mina and Toru arguing loudly over FaceTime. Shinsou bends down and scoops up the phone, holding it so that his pale face is on camera. “I know how we can potentially get out of this. We need to get Neito on the line as soon as he’s back in his room.”

Shinsou sends a hasty text to Neito from his own phone, and the four of you wait in silence for a few minutes. Finally, after what seems like ages, Neito requests to join the FaceTime.

His tiny face pops up on the screen. His blonde hair is still neatly gelled, but it’s clear that he’s changed into his pajamas since you saw him ten minutes ago.

“Great job, Neito.” You praise and he beams. Who would have guessed that he’d be so ready to take the fall for the party?

“Yeah – I can’t believe you did that!” Toru squeals out in admiration. “That was so cool of you!”

“Alright – quit stroking his ego.” Hitoshi smirks, crowding next to you so that your faces are squished together on camera.

“Shinsou said that he has a plan.” You fill in Neito as Mina and Toru go on mute. You pass your phone to your purple haired classmate and duck out of the frame. “It’s all you, Mind Jack.”

Shinsou rolls his eyes at the use of his hero name and holds the phone at eye level.

“So here’s what I think we need to say…”

As it turns out, Mr. Aizawa and Mr. King had been trying to figure out a way to bring both of the classes together for a long while. They hated the growing division between Classes A and B. In past years, the classes had never been so at odds. But, the events of the year had lead to Class A being thrown in the spotlight, and Class B feeling some sort of way about it. Mr. Aizawa had brought this up on occasion to Shinsou during their extra training sessions. Apparently, he often liked to pick Hitoshi’s brain and get his opinions on lesson planning and class issues. It was good to have a teen on the inside.

“Hitoshi…you’re a genius.” Mina’s voice crackles over the phone as she unmutes herself. “Alright, so we’re all on the same page here? As long as we don’t mention the alcohol I don’t think we should get in too much trouble.”

Since you had all so meticulously removed the brand label from the bottle, there really isn’t a way to prove that alcohol had been involved. Plus, no one had imbibed enough to actually get drunk, sick or sloppy.

“But what about Hatsume’s involvement?” Neito chimes in.

“We don’t know how much Mr. King knows yet. He might not have even seen her. And maybe they won’t be able to trace those drones back to her?” You say hopefully, looking over at Hitoshi for input.

“Let’s try to get the teachers to do most of the talking tomorrow so we can deduce how much they’ve put together. Then we lean into the whole ‘building inter-class camaraderie” theme hard. Maybe Mr. Aizawa will be proud of Mineta stepping up and taking one for the team as the distraction.” Hitoshi shrugs. “To be honest, Aizawa doesn’t care much for Mineta so maybe he’d be impressed by his ‘act of selflessness.’”

“Well…” Toru says nervously into the phone.

“What?” Hitoshi says blankly, turning to you for an explanation about your friend’s uneasiness with that piece of the plan.

“So. Um. Mineta didn’t volunteer to be our distraction out of the kindness of his heart.” You say awkwardly as Hitoshi’s tired eyes bore into your own. “We promised him that he’d get to kiss me in exchange for his services as bait for Mr. Vlad.”

“Damn. Offering sexual favors in exchange for services rendered? You guys are way more hardcore than I thought.” Hitoshi actually looks impressed. “So hopefully Mineta didn’t say anything about that fun little bargain to Mr. King after he got caught. Sexual Quid Pro Quo is definitely grounds for some kind of legal action or punishment.”

The blood in your veins goes cold. Shit.

“But it was his idea!” Mina shrieks through the phone’s tiny speakers. You wince at the sound. You feel shaky like you might start crying again.

“Yeah but you all agreed to it. And Mineta held up his end of the bargain. This could be really bad if the school found out about it.”

Neito mouths something angrily on the screen and the corner of Hitoshi’s mouth quirks upwards fondly.

“Neito…you’re on mute, babe.” He says in that gravely voice of his.

Monoma quickly unmutes himself and repeats what he was saying:

“But it’s only a kiss! It’s not like we promised Y/N would sleep with him or anything!” He says, gesturing wildly. His face is a bit pink in response to Hitoshi’s using such an unexpected term of endearment.

“It doesn’t matter…you still made a trade of a physical favor for a service. I don’t know what kind of punishment they’d slap you with, but this sort of thing would definitely rub the UA administration the wrong way if they found out about it. Let’s just hope Mineta didn’t say anything too incriminating. I can stop by his dorm and ask him before I got to bed, if you’d like.” Hitoshi smirks. “I think he’s afraid of me, so I’d probably be the best person to do it.”

“Could you, please?” You say in a strained voice. Hitoshi looks over and sees how pale you’ve gone, he awkwardly pats your shoulder in what he must think is a reassuring way.

“Yeah, for sure. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” He retracts his hand from your shoulder and gives you a thumbs up.

“Alright. I think we’ve mostly got our story straight. Don’t mention the alcohol. Don’t mention me needing to kiss Mineta. Don’t mention Hatsume. Don’t mention Spin The Bottle. Say we wanted to throw a game night to promote unity and bonding between Classes A and B. We good?” You quickly recap, counting off your fingers as you make each statement. “Dang, that’s a lot to keep track of.”

Everyone nods to confirm that they’re aligned (Toru doesn’t say anything to indicate that she’s not aligned, so you assume she’s invisibly nodding).

A message appears at the top of your phone screen from Shoto, a tiny preview of his text reads out in a bubble:

Shoto: You doing alright?

You quickly move to swipe the bubble away, hyperaware that Hitoshi can see any message that flashes across your screen. You remind yourself that it’s not weird for your classmates to check up on you -  you’re one of the party ringmasters, after all! And the message Shoto had sent was completely innocent, so…

Another message from Shoto scrolls across the screen as Toru rattles off a list of questions for Hitoshi to ask Mineta. You try to swipe the message away but you accidentally pull up the text screen over your friend’s FaceTime faces.

Shoto: This sounds awful to say, but getting to sneak away with you to the janitor’s closet almost makes getting caught worth it.  

You swipe desperately to get the text screen to disappear and after a moment succeed. Toru is still speaking, saying something about Hatsume’s drones. You throw a terrified glance at Hitoshi’s direction. He’s looking at you, violet eyes wide with shock. His eyebrows are comically far up his forehead.

Oh yeah, he definitely just got a glance at Shoto’s text.

Oh God.

He knows.

“Alright, Hagakure.” Hitoshi quickly turns back to the screen and nods in agreement at whatever your friend is saying. His facial expression instantly falls back to neutral – his eyebrows relaxing and his eyes narrowing back to their usual lazy squint. You stare straight ahead and try to keep all of your blood from rushing to your face. You feel hot all over but in a bad way. You don’t know Hitoshi super well, but you know he’s a good person. He wouldn’t spill your biggest secret to the world, right?

Hitoshi seemingly ignores you as he continues talking into the FaceTime. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Alright, I’ll ask him all of that. I think we’re all on the same page – get a good night’s sleep everyone.”

Good nights are exchanged, and one by one your friends drop off the call. Hitoshi clicks off your phone so that the screen goes back. He slowly turns to you, his expression flips back to one of uncharacteristic surprise. But his voice is as even and measured as ever when he says:

“Holy shit, Y/N. How long have you been fucking Shoto Todoroki?”

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

You stare at Hitoshi, frozen in horror.

He stares back at you, thick purple eyebrows raised as he waits for your reply.

Finally, you manage to wrap your tongue around a sentence.

“I am not hooking up with Todoroki.” Your voice quavers at the end of the sentence and you know you don’t sound at all convincing.

Hitoshi crosses his arms in front of him, a smile pulling at his lips. He’s going to enjoy pulling this information out of you. Suddenly you realize something about Hitoshi Shinsou – he loves drama. He’s got to – he has the hots for Neito Monoma of all people. He must eat up theatrics for breakfast.

“Come to think of it, you and Todoroki did disappear around the same time tonight. I was looking for him earlier. I wanted to ask him to train. No one seemed to know where he’d disappeared. Kendo said the last time she’d seen him, he was hanging back from dessert to talk to you.” Hitoshi barks a low laugh. It’s not an unkind sound, but you flinch nonetheless.

“You can’t tell anyone.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. You look up at him, fear etched across every inch of your face. You must look terrified, because he starts to look worried.

“What’s wrong?” He drops his arms to his sides and leans forward, his face painted in concern. “Is something bad happening? Are you alright? Take a deep breath, Y/N. It’s okay.” He reaches out a hand and plants it on your shoulder. You didn’t realize that you were starting to hyperventilate, and his touch anchors you.

You suck in a deep, rattling breath and force yourself to match his slow and even breathing pattern. The two of you sit like that for a few minutes, eyes locked and breathing deeply. He guides you through it, extending his breaths in and out and prompting you to follow his lead. After a few minutes, you start to feel better and the adrenaline of being caught fizzles away.

Hitoshi lightly kneads at your shoulder with his hand before drawing it back. “You’re okay.” He reassures you. He slowly gets to his feet. “Where do you keep your pajamas?” You point wordlessly at your dresser, indicating the second drawer. Hitoshi walks over and slowly opens the drawer, pulling out a pair of cozy sweatpants and an oversized band t-shirt.

“You like My Chemical Romance?” He asks, his dimple showing as he grins down at the black skeleton covered t-shirt and walks back to you. “Here, put these on. I’ll turn around.”

You do so. You’re absolutely exhausted and coming down off of the adrenaline of the night. You’ve been through seemingly a thousand trials this evening – setting up the diversion for Mr. King. The party. Spin The Bottle. Shoto kissing Fujita. Honenuki kissing you. Having feelings about all of it.Shoto getting jealous and finger fucking you in the closet. Helping Mina sort through her feelings and her attention issues. T majority of Classes A & B being caught having an illegal party. And then, to top it all off, Hitoshi Shinsou discovering that you’ve been hooking up with UA’s most eligible bachelor. It’s far too much, and you’re starting to shut down.

You pull on your MCR t-shirt and look gratefully at the back of Hitoshi’s head as he stands chivalrously in the corner of the room while you change. He seems to understand that you’re in the middle of an adrenaline crash combined with a freak out. And he’s being…surprisingly cool about it!? He’s extending you the grace and understanding that you’d given Mina earlier that night. You feel a small glow form in your chest as you realize that Hitoshi may be a new friend, but he is a friend nonetheless.

“Hitoshi.” You say once you’ve climbed into your fluffy sweatpants and cast your party outfit to the side. “You can turn around now. I’m sorry I freaked out. Please  - you can’t tell anyone. We cannot get caught.”

Hitoshi turns around slowly, and once he confirms you’re decent he steps across the room and back towards you. He points to the bed and says simply: “Sit.” You do.

He scoops your water bottle off of your nightstand and shakes it once to ensure that it’s full of liquid. He holds it out to you and issues another command: “Drink.” You grab the bottle and untwist the top, tipping it back to take a deep gulp of the cool water inside. You didn’t realize how thirsty you’ve been. You haven’t had something to drink since you were in the kitchen setting up the party with your friends, and that was hours ago. You gratefully suck down a few more gulps.

While you’re drinking, you feel the mattress dip as Hitoshi climbs up next to you. He scoots backwards so that he can lean back against the wall.

“Tell me what’s going on.” He says simply. And you do – you tell him everything. Well, almost everything. You spare the gory, sexy details. Hitoshi Shinsou does not need to know about the way Shoto’s hands feel on your tits, nor does he need to hear about how hot Shoto’s hard cock can be when you’re stroking him through an orgasm. Obviously you leave those juicy pornographic details out of your story.

But you do tell him about how Shoto initially approached you in the library, how he had been distracted and thought the solution was a quick smooch in his dorm room. For his part, Hitoshi is an excellent listener. Your earlier theory is reinforced – the purple haired bastard loves some good drama.

“I’m sorry, back up.” Hitoshi lets out a laugh and holds up his hands to stop you as you narrate the story. “Todoroki just approached you in the library one day and straight up said ‘I think we should kiss’ in that serious fucking tone of his…and you just…agreed?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You say, grinning weakly. “I didn’t see any downsides.”

“And then he told you that he did ‘research?’ That’s too much.” Hitoshi is loving this, and you can’t help but start to laugh too.

“Yeah he watched some romantic comedies to get an idea of what kissing techniques were in style.”

“I should be taking notes. He’s a true master.” Hitoshi says almost seriously. “When I had my first kiss last year I completely panicked and we ended up knocking our teeth together.”

You hold in a peal of laughter. “Oh crap, that’s happened to Shoto and I too a few times. Wait! Who was your first kiss with!?” You whack his leg with your hand a few times excitedly and he bites his lip, debating if he should share. “I’m spilling my guts here about my illicit affair with the Number Two Heroes’ son – the very least you can do is tell me who you kissed for the first time.” You say slyly.

Hitoshi shrugs. “I don’t think this day can get much crazier, so why not?” He takes a deep breath then turns so he can look you directly in the eyes. “It was Sero.”

“Sero!?” You gasp out, hands over your mouth. Talk about hot gossip! “I thought Sero was straight?”

“Well, he could be. We weren’t exactly discussing the finer points of sexual identity when he stuck his tongue down my throat.”

“Fair.” You say, nodding. “How did it happen?”

“I had just transferred into Class A and we were hanging out, playing video games. He asked if I wanted to make out and of course I said yes. Dude’s hot as fuck.”

“I mean…I guess?” You make a face, having never had thought about Hanta Sero in a sexual context. “Hold on…Sero and Neito both have that slim pretty boy look. Oh my God Hitoshi, you have a type!”

Hitoshi furrows his eyebrows. “Oh shit. You’re right. Fuck.” Hitoshi sticks his hands in his messy hair as he processes this revelation.

“You didn’t realize this!?”

“I guess I love twinks! Sue me!” Hitoshi says, but he’s cracking up again. “He sort of leaned forward and I panicked and didn’t know what to do and I kind of jumped on him and our teeth just, like��.clang!”

“Ugh.” You wince at the thought. “I mean, to be fair Hanta has great teeth. I bet that kid didn’t need braces in middle school like the rest of us. But that sounds so awkward.”

“It’s fine, we laughed it out and figured it out after a minute. We ended up making out for like two hours and by the end I had stripped him down to his underwear. It was super hot.”

“And what happened between you two?”

“We hooked up a few times. But eventually when the thrill of hooking up kind of faded we realized we’d rather just stay friends. I didn’t really feel anything for Sero aside from physically attracted to him, you know?” Hitoshi looks at you thoughtfully. “So tell me more about you and Shoto. How’d the first kiss go?”

You tell him. You explain that Shoto thought that one kiss would cure him and that he’d be able to move on from you. In the end, he had become insatiable. You tell him about how you had snuck out of Shoto’s room by climbing down the side of the building, and Hitoshi had looked fairly impressed. You mentioned meeting Endeavor in the common room as well.

“What was he like?” Hitoshi asks, intrigued to hear about Japan’s Number Two Hero.

“Why, are you a fan?”

Hitoshi shakes his head. “He was never a favorite of mine growing up. I liked the underground heroes more than anything. I like a scrappy hero who relies on their wits instead of a flashy quirk.”

“That tracks. Well…Endeavor is kind of the worst.” You say, thinking back to that awkward encounter with Shoto’s dad. “I get the impression that he’s not a very good dad.” You try to keep things vague, it’s really none of Hitoshi’s business and you don’t want to betray Shoto’s trust by giving away the finer details of his upbringing. You don’t have enough evidence to fully say that Shoto has been abused by his father, and you don’t want to go around gossiping about it. Shoto barely understands his family dynamic, the last thing you need is for someone else to get involved and confuse him even more with unsolicited advice.

“That sucks. I didn’t really have a solid father figure growing up either.” Hitoshi says, empathizing. “But that makes sense. Shoto is so damn formal all the time and he has strange reactions sometimes. He seems to have had an extremely sheltered upbringing that lacked socialization with kids his age.”

“Well Endeavor tried to keep Shoto from meeting up with me again later to study. But in the end, Shoto found me and we hooked up again. And we decided we’d keep seeing each other in private. Then the next day…Aizawa announces the school’s stance on dating and relationships.”

“That’s really odd timing.” Hitoshi muses, zoning out a bit. “But I think the whole dating ban was mostly for Class B. They’re horny motherfuckers and it’s causing a ton of drama in their class.”

“That’s what I heard!” You say excitedly. “Okay, it’s good to have a second source confirm that. I was so paranoid that Aizawa somehow knew that I was making out with Shoto when he knocked on the door? He just seems to have a sixth sense about shit like that!?”

“I mean you’re not wrong. Aizawa is perceptive as fuck.” Hitoshi snorts, mocking his mentor. “But Neito told me that Mr. King is fed up with all the hooking up that goes on in Class B. So I wouldn’t be surprised if he went to the Principal himself and had the rule instated.”

“Wow. That’s a god damn relief.”

“Heh. So is that why you’re hiding your thing with Todoroki from everyone? The school’s dumb rule?” Hitoshi points at you with a lazy finger before grabbing one of your plushies. He wraps his arms around a round squishmallow with bright blue eyes and squeezes it to his chest. Cute.

“Well…” It’s more complicated than that, isn’t it? “Yeah. I don’t want us to get in trouble or get told we need to stop.”

“And I’m assuming based on the horrified look you gave me when I saw that text earlier that you haven’t told your friends about this?”

“You’re very perceptive.” You groan. “I’ve been meaning to tell them, but…I don’t know! I want to keep this for myself a little bit longer. Why does anyone else need to know?”

“You were bound to get caught eventually.” Hitoshi says, continuing to squish the plush this way and that. “There is close to zero privacy here, everyone is gossipy and dramatic, and the walls are thin.”

“You’re right. Of course you’re right…I just like having this one private, special thing. And sneaking around has been so goddamn hot…and…and…”

“And you’re not ready to admit to others how much you like Todoroki?” Hitoshi cuts in. You stop dead and look at him, your mouth hanging open in surprise. “I get it. Why do you think it took me so long to admit my feelings for Neito?”

“Excuse me! What do you mean? How long have you had a crush on Monoma!?” You scramble closer to your purple haired classmate, plushies flying off the bed with abandon. Hitoshi winces and scoots out of your reach, holding his plush defensively.

“Since I met him.”

“What!? And you only just kissed him tonight!?”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been real busy training to get into the hero course lately! I didn’t exactly have extra time to dedicate towards dating and courting Neito’s dramatic ass.”

“Okay. You’ve got a point there. But tonight…you were so confident when you kissed him. You didn’t give a crap about what everyone else was thinking!”

Hitoshi shrugs and doesn’t meet your gaze. “I’ve been sorting through how I feel for Neito for so damn long, I came to the conclusion that I’d rather have all of him all the time than just a little in the shadows. When I heard about the Spin The Bottle thing, I made a deal with myself. If I somehow were to get the opportunity to kiss Neito – I would take it without being afraid.”

“Also – screw anyone who judges me for liking him. I want people to know he’s mine. I’m tired of hiding parts of me away because I feel like I’m not good enough. Neito deserves to be loved loudly and in daylight. I don’t give a crap about the school’s rules. What are they gonna do, stop me from talking to Neito between classes? Stop us from training together? Let’s be realistic. They have no power over us.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of it that way.” You say slowly as you realize that he’s right. What would be the consequences of having a relationship with a classmate? It’s not like they would expel the top hero course students. Especially not when villains are running rampant around Japan. At most, you’d get a slap on the wrist in public while continuing your shenanigans in private.

“So I think that the real question here…” Hitoshi says, snapping his fingers to get your attention once more. “Is how do you really feel about Shoto? Do you want a relationship with him? Or is this just a hot secret hookup?”

Huh. How do you feel about Shoto? You certainly feel possessive of him – you’ve established that you don’t want him hooking up with other people. You’re definitely attracted to him (your clit twitches just at the thought of him touching you below the belt). And you like being around him – he’s so easy to talk to, his quiet steady presence brings you a sense of calm that you can never quite tap into with other people. He’s so charming and precious and sheltered - you want to make him smile and help him explore the world around him. You want to continue to watch him bloom in private and in public. And earlier, when he was kissing that other girl…you wished he was kissing you in front of the entirety of Classes A and B. You wanted everyone to know that he belonged with you.

Oh God.

That sounds like you want a relationship doesn’t it?

You suck in a harsh breath and Hitoshi chuckles.

“You want to date him for real, don’t you?”

“Oh my God. I think that I do.” You gasp out, and Hitoshi reaches across you to grab your water bottle once more. He shoves it towards you in a clear command to take a sip. You do, gulping down a fresh stream of water as you process this new revelation.

You want Shoto Todoroki to be your goddamn boyfriend. In the back of your mind, you always knew this to be true.

“Do you know why I like Neito so much?” Hitoshi’s steady voice pulls you from your crazy brain spiral. You look up at him with wild eyes and screw the cap back onto your water bottle as you finish your last gulp. Hitoshi shifts the plush into his lap and stretches his arms high over his head towards the ceiling. What an interesting question – you’re honestly not sure. There are so many likeable things about Neito once you get to know him – he’s smart and crafty and makes lunchtime ten times funnier with that theatrical flair of his.

“Is it because he’s dramatic?” You say bluntly, but you snort at the end so that Shinsou knows you’re joking. He doesn’t immediately answer. He looks at you thoughtfully, his mouth shifting into an easy grin of straight white teeth.

“Nah. But I do appreciate his theatricality. I love seeing him rile people up with his spectacle in battle. He’s gonna be unstoppable when we all go Pro. The public will eat him up.” Hitoshi’s eyes shine warmly and damn is this man whipped for your friend. You make a mental note to text Neito about this later.

You’ve never heard Hitoshi talk so openly, so fondly. You’re a bit uncomfortable exploring this new territory with a classmate with which you previously did not spend a lot of time interacting. But it’s been a weird as hell day, so fuck it! Let’s continue this unexpected deep convo with Hitoshi Shinsou!

“What is it then?” You prompt, interested to see how much Hitoshi is comfortable with revealing to you.

“It’s his confidence. The way he takes what he deserves. He knows he has a quirk that some may see as “impractical,” yet he keeps forging a path for himself in the Hero Course all the while proving people wrong about him. He’s stronger than me that way. He identifies what he wants, and he takes it. He makes things happen by sheer force of will.” Hitoshi sighs. “And I’ve admired these things about him for so long. He’s proven that there’s no such thing as an impractical quirk…it’s all how you apply it.”

“I even like him for his flaws. Yes he’s insecure and that can cause him to be a little mean. But we talk about it, and he’s working on that. He wants to be better. He makes an effort to be better. He’s always leveling himself up. And Y/N - I am so in to him that I want everyone to know about it. I want everyone to see him the way that I see him. That’s why I didn’t hide my enthusiasm him during the game tonight. That’s why I’m talking to you about him right now. I’ve spent all of middle school and most of high school being afraid to be my true self – but when I’m with Neito, I can just be.”

“If Shoto makes you feel that way, then I think you should tell him. You should ask him to take things public with you. Hiding is only going to make things difficult for you two. And, inevitably, you’re going to get caught by someone else who can’t keep a secret. Wouldn’t it be better to do things on your own terms?”

Hitoshi is right.

You know he’s right. But what he’s saying sounds next to impossible. There are so many things you’d need to do to get things out in the open.

Firstly, you’d need to talk to Shoto. Does he even want a relationship? Sure, he wants to hookup with you exclusively and he likes spending time with you. But those two things do not a relationship make. There’s also the fact that neither of you have ever been in a relationship – so how would you even go about it? All you have to work off of are RomCom tropes.

Secondly, you’d need to tell your friends. And oh boy are they gonna be pissed when they find out that you’ve been keeping this massive juicy secret from them! What if they never forgive you? What if they hold a grudge the size of All Might’s biceps over your head for the rest of time!? How would you even approach that conversation. “Hey guys! Guess what? I’ve been hooking up with the hottest guy in school in secret and we are maybe in a relationship so I thought it might be time to tell you!” Hmmm. Yeah that’s sure to go over well!

Thirdly, everyone else will eventually find out. And that’s fine I guess. That’s part of dating…but everyone in the class finding out means that Mr. Aizawa will eventually find out and that is a whole can of worms that you don’t want to open up with the world’s sharpest can opener. Sure, the school can’t technically do anything terrible to you for dating Shoto Todoroki. But they can make your life awkward as all hell.

You think over this list, your brain wandering the pros and cons of asking Shoto to be your boyfriend. In all honesty, you’re probably going to just go for it. And everything here sounds extremely figureoutable, just awkward and uncomfortable.

“Hello? You still with me Y/N?” Histoshi baps you with the plush he’s holding and you come back to Earth.

“Jeez, Hitoshi. I think I want to be in a relationship with Todoroki.” You stumble over the words. Your eyes are wide as saucers as you look up at him. “You can’t tell anyone!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hitoshi says, booping your nose with the plush’s tiny paw.

“I’m fairly certain that Todoroki wants to date you just as badly. When you’re in the same room, he can’t stop staring at you with that dead ass intense gaze of his.” You laugh as Hitoshi does a near-perfect mimic Shoto’s penetrating stare.

“You really think he’s into me that way?” You ask hopefully as you ignore the Hitoshi’s continued poking with the plush.

“Oh yeah. He’s whipped AF.” Hitoshi laughs, finally abandoning the plush and getting to his feet. “Alright, that’s enough drama for today. Get some sleep. Text me if you ever wanna talk through more of this bullshit.”

“Thanks Hitoshi. You’re a good friend. And Neito is lucky to have you as more than a friend.”

This makes Hitoshi’s cheeks glow with a tinge of pink. He can’t suppress the little smile that blooms in response to your offer of friendship. “Thanks, Y/N. Goodnight.”

“Good night.” He leaves – checking that the coast is clear in the hallway before he slips out into the corridor. Your dorm door shuts lightly behind him.

You reach for the phone and type out a reply to Shoto.

Shoto: This sounds awful to say, but getting to sneak away with you to the janitor’s closet almost makes getting caught worth it. 

Y/N: Oh yeah, definitely worth it. Goodnight Sho.

Shoto: Goodnight.

He adds a string of whale emojis and you smile to yourself as you set your alarm and turn out the light. Shoto Todoroki is such boyfriend material.

Maybe that’s what you’ll tell him.

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

After a brief stop to chat with Mineta down the hall, Hitoshi slouches his way back to his own room.

He’s bone tired. Hitoshi is an introvert. Everyone knows this. Hallmarks of his introversion include a notoriously short social battery and an even shorter tolerance for nonsense. Understandably, this whole party business has him at his absolute limit.

He quietly unlocks his dorm door and slips inside, hoping that Mr. King is still patrolling the Class B dorm building. He clicks the lock gratefully and sighs, thrilled to be back in the gentle quiet of his room. He looks around at the space and feels his chest fill with warmth. Sometimes he can’t believe how lucky he is to have his own room in the Hero Course dorms – the four walls surrounding him are completely his own.

He wants to slip under the covers, put in his ear buds and quietly jam until he falls asleep. There are so many things he needs to process and think about – Aizawa is going to absolutely go ballistic tomorrow when he hears about the party. Hitoshi isn’t really sure how they’re going to get away with this, but he’s hopeful that the whole “class unity” suggestion will hold some merit with their cranky, sleep deprived teacher.

But that’s not what his brain wants to focus on right now. No, right now all he wants to think about is Neito Monoma and his perfect hair and lips and body. God, Hitoshi wants to absolutely destroy him.

He thinks back to his long talk with Y/N. Talking to Y/N about Neito, finally getting his feelings out in the open and sharing them with someone else had felt so good, so freeing. And Y/N had really cared. She had seemed to want to hear all about his feelings and thoughts and desires. This is all still so new to him – having friends. Being cared for.

It’s funny…he never planned on making friends in the Hero Course. In fact, he had been hoping to keep his head down and focus on his studies and training. His dream of being a hero finally feels within his grasp. It’s all he’s ever wanted, really.

That is…until he started making friends. It started with Izuku at the Sport’s Festival. Despite being in General Studies, Izuku had treated Hitoshi like an equal. He had even claimed to understand the pain that Hitoshi felt in his heart – pursuing a heroic path despite being told he shouldn’t. He had tried to ignore the way Izuku’s acknowledgement had felt…the way it had warmed him inside and made him feel like he was understood. Like he wasn’t alone.

Then Mr. Aizawa had offered to mentor him. It was strange – now there was a second person seemed to believe in Hitoshi and understand how he felt. As Aizawa began to ready Hitoshi for the hero course and bring him into joint training sessions with Classes A and B, things began to snowball. Denki was suddenly texting him memes, Sero inviting him to game online, and Eijirou offering to spot him in the gym. Neito would seek him out at lunchtime to chat or to study. Suddenly, he was surrounded by an enthusiastic group of friends and mentors who could not be deterred. And shockingly, they genuinely seemed to enjoy his company. No one had ever paid much attention to him before. And now he has friends who enjoy his jokes and actively cheer him on. He never could have imagined how good it would feel to be so…loved.

And now, with this whole party situation, suddenly his circle of friends has expanded yet again to include Y/N, Mina and Toru. A year ago, Hitoshi never would have predicted that he would be having a relationship heart to heart with a girl from the hero course in the early hours of the morning. He’s still wrapping his brain around the fact that he really, genuinely likes being a good friend. And he seems to excel at it?

He marvels at it all, confused at how the universe ended up putting him in such a great spot with so many wonderful things: UA. The Hero Course. A Mentor. A Group of Close Friends. Neito.

He strips down, grabbing a pair of comfy sweatpants off of his bed to change into. Before he drops his shirt into the hamper, he holds it to his nose and inhales deeply.

It smells like Neito - a sweet, sharp scent like cinnamon.

Neito is truly something else. He’s the person Hitoshi feels most comfortable around at UA. And he drives Hitoshi absolutely insane – Hitoshi has been insanely attracted to the goofy, dramatic blonde for quite some time now. Being able to finally kiss him, to claim him in front of everyone with his lips…

Hitoshi feels a wave of heat course through him at the thought of Neito’s smooth lips pressed against his own. He replays their spin-the-bottle-kiss in his head over and over. The way he had leaned forward and slipped his hand under Neito’s chin to bring their lips together. He had felt so smooth and suave like some rom com character. He could hear their classmates wolf whistling and cheering as he kissed Neito again and again and again – but at the same time, it felt like the world had gone quiet. All that had mattered in that moment was Hitoshi and Neito and their boundless enthusiasm for each other’s mouths. When Hitoshi had pulled away, Neito had looked up at him with those big indigo eyes and Hitoshi thought that his heart might explode into a million tiny fireworks. He screenshots the moment in his mind – he never wants to forget how goddamn pretty Neito is when he’s freshly kissed.

God he wishes that Neito were here with him now. Better yet – he wishes Neito were in his bed. There are so many things he wants to do with Neito. To try together. He wants to take Monoma apart with deliberate kisses and licks and bites…he wants to absolutely devour him.

He grabs his phone and before he can lose his nerve he hits Monoma’s contact. The phone rings twice before Neito picks up.

“Hitoshi?” The voice is surprised and sleepy, he was probably just drifting off to bed.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Hitoshi says, feeling dumb. He really should have thought this through.

“What’s up? Did you have another idea for our cover story?” Neito asks, muffling a yawn with his hand.

“No, I…I just wanted to tell you that I had fun tonight.”

“Oh, me too! That was certainly a wild party.” Even through the phone, he can hear Neito’s smile.

“Yeah the party was great. But I had fun spending it with you.” Hitoshi feels the need to convey to Neito just how much he likes him, just how much their kissing really meant. God, is he being cringe right now? He honestly can’t tell. Maybe he’s gotta clarify? “I know you get in your head about things sometimes, so I just wanted to let you know that…the kiss. It meant something. For me.”

“Oh I knew that.” Neito laughs.

“What?”

“You think you’re so smooth and mysterious, don’t you Mr. Cloak and Dagger Melodies?” Neito laughs and there’s a rustling noise as if he’s turning over to the more comfortable side of his pillow. “You don’t just kiss a person like that and have it mean nothing.”

“Are you serious.”

“Listen, Hitoshi. I think we should kiss again. Maybe we should kiss all the time, I don’t know.” His voice drops to a whisper. “If Mr. King wasn’t patrolling the area right now, I’d tell you to come over here and finish what you started.”

Hitoshi’s heart drops into his stomach, and he’s instantly hard. He moves his hand down over his boxers, drawing his hand along the outline of his dick. Fuck.

He needs to gulp and compose himself before he replies. “Is that so? Guess we’ll need a rain check, then.”

“Guess we will.” Neito hums into the phone receiver sounding infuriatingly cocky. He’s a lot braver when he’s hidden behind his cell phone. “I was thinking…”

Jesus.

“Thinking about…?” Hitoshi supplies, loving the sly tone of Neito’s sweet voice.

“I was thinking about how it might feel to have you kiss down my neck.” Neito’s smiling. Hitoshi can hear him goddamn smiling through the phone. He slides his hand down his boxers and fumbles the base of his dick. Is it wrong to jerk off  like this? Neito has got to know what he’s doing right now, right!?

“I could do that.” Hitoshi says too quickly. Fuck it – he’s horny and talking to the object of his horniness. With Neito, there’s never been any reason to hide who he truly is. Might as well be upfront about it. “Fuck, Neito. You’re turning me on.”

Neito laughs, delighted. His cackle crackles through the receiver of Hitoshi’s cell. The purple haired hero in training shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably, desperate to hear more.

“Of course you like dirty talk.” Neito breathes quietly into his phone. “If I were with you right now…what would you want to do to me?”

Hitoshi starts to work at himself, hand jumping up and down his hard cock with a fervor even he’s surprised by.

“I’d take off your shirt. Throw you on my bed. Run my tongue across that infuriatingly chatty mouth of yours.” The words spill out of Hitoshi so quickly that they’re running together. The thrill of speaking to Neito like this – so illicit and dirty – it’s going to make him cum before he can even truly get started.

“Mmm I’d like that.” Neito hums, his voice dripping with honey. “I want to feel your bare chest against me, Hitoshi. I want you to absolutely take me apart.”

Hitoshi can’t respond, his mind is going blank. His cock throbs in one palm as he struggles to keep a grip on his phone with the other. He presses the device into the cool curve of his cheek as he continues to furiously jack himself off. 

Neito seems to realize he has a captive audience, because he just keeps going. “I want to touch you, Hitoshi. I want to feel all of you. I want to copy your quirk and ask you a fucking question.”

Hotoshi nearly stops breathing. Why is that is the single hottest thing anyone has ever said to him?

God. He wants to get off so badly…but at the same time, he wants Neito here with him when he does it.

Reluctantly, he releases his dick and moves so he can flop backwards onto his bed.

“I like you.” He says flatly into the phone. “I really, really like you.”

Neito notices the tonal shift and moves easily with him.

“I like you, too. I have for a while.”

“I know.”

“Then why did it take us this long to do something about it?” Neito asks thoughtfully. Hitoshi can hear him drumming his fingers against his bedside table. He grunts noncommittally into the phone and stares up at his ceiling, his dick still pulsing with need. He ignores it.

“So are we going to do this?” Neito asks, his voice a bit uncertain. “I love our friendship. I want more than friendship, obviously. But we’re so busy with the Hero Course and there’s that stupid school rule about dating and…if it’s all too much right now, we can wait. Stay friends. Sort it all out later on.”

He’s rambling. He does that when he’s nervous. He also does that when he’s confident. Neito is a yapper through and through.

“Neito.” Hitoshi smiles softly as he cuts off the blonde. “I want to explore this. With you. Not in the future - in the present.”

“Alright. Good. Me too.” Neito sighs out a breath of relief. “I just know how much the Hero Course means to both of us. I would never ask you to divide your attention between working to become a hero and…well, romance, I guess.” He lets out a chuckle and Hitoshi’s heart goes all warm and fuzzy inside. Oh, god, he’s got a metaphorical boner now, too. Neito wants to prove he can be a hero just as badly as Hitoshi does. They both have odd quirks – quirks that wouldn’t typically put someone on the Pro Hero track. And yet, here they are. They’ve found a school and peers that accept and support them. And now…they’ve found each other.

 Hitoshi lets out a loud laugh, unable to contain the rare spitfire spark of joy that’s welling up in his chest. He must sound insane. He wonders briefly if he’s woken up his dorm neighbors with the sudden outburst.

“Hitoshiiiii.” Neito squeaks out in surprise at the noise, but Hitoshi can’t stop laughing. He’s just so goddman happy for once. He must look like an absolute maniac – naked and hard and laughing alone in his dark room.

He takes a breath. Screw calm, cool and collected.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, his voice still tinged with mirth. “I’m just…I’m really happy right now, Neito. I never thought I’d be blessed enough to in the UA Hero Course and to find someone who I like so much who likes me back.”

“You idiot.” Neito says, but his voice is laced with affection. “Go the fuck to bed.”

“Alright.” Hitoshi concedes, finally coming down from his giggle fest. “I’ll text you in the morning?”

“You better.” Neito says warmly before clicking off the phone.

Hitoshi sits in the cool darkness of the room for a moment, basking in the glow of liking a boy who likes you back. After a beat, he places his phone on his bedside charger. He then opens his bedside table drawer and pulls out a small tube of lotion. It doesn’t take long for him to cum – he replays his conversation with Neito over and over in his head until he gets off to Neito’s smooth and unexpected dirty talk. Fuck he can’t wait to get the blonde alone.

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

The Next Day

In the morning, the sun rises per usual. It’s warm glow radiates warmth across your face as you drowsily blink awake. The day feels new and golden and you’ve slept about 7 hours so your body is humming peacefully. You stretch out your muscles and sit up, blinking sleepily at the room around you. Everything is neatly in its place, your desk is clean and your floor is tidy.

What a wonderful way to start the - Ughhhh crap!

Suddenly all of the previous day’s events come rushing into your mind like lightening striking a cell phone tower pole. It’s a sharp clang! in your head as you rapid-fire remember the party, Spin The Bottle the kisses, the hookup, the missed texts, Mr. Vlad King, the FaceTime, and The Big Emotional Feelings Talk with Hitoshi.

And on top of all of that…you want a full-blown relationship with Shoto Todoroki.

Fuck what a weekend! You slump back down into your warm bed and are instantly grateful to be hidden away and comfy for a moment. You tuck yourself in beneath the covers and turn your phone over so that it rests face down on the bed beside you. Everything is fine. Nothing truly bad has happened just yet. You probably have a full hour of snuggling into your bed before a teacher summons you to their office for the talking to of the century. You wonder what fresh horrors the day will hold since Mr. Vlad King caught Classes A and B having a little shindig in the common room.

You’re right – an hour later your phone buzzes with an email. Your heart sinks like a stone when you see that it’s a message from Mr. Aizawa to the entire class. He’s come back to campus early, abandoning his mission to come home and punish his class. His message is short and to the point:

Common Room. Noon.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhok!

Within seconds, your phone is going absolutely wild in your hand. Texts and pings come in from all directions.

Class 1A Group Chat:

Kaminari: Oh Shit! DadZawa is gonna ground us for all eternity!

Iida: And rightfully so! We broke many rules last night and deserve just punishment!

Tsu: Calm down Iida.

Sero: Maybe it will all be fine! It’s not like we all got wasted last night. If you really think about it, we basically just had a board game night with Class 1B.

Kaminari: Love the way you casually left out all of the horny kissing

Iida: Please have some decorum in the group chat and refrain from using perverse terms!!

Kaminari: Horny isn’t perverse. I’ll even site my sources, Class Rep.

Denki sends a screenshot from an online dictionary to the group chat. It says:

horn·y

/ˈhôrnē/

adjective

1. of or resembling horn.

"a horny beak"

Kaminari: Also…I know someone who had a horny beak last night…

Kirishima: Jesus Christ.

Tokoyami: …

Tokoyami has left the chat.

Jiro: Omg you guys are so immature I can’t

Iida: Kaminari you are a disgrace to the hero course and I will remove you from this group chat if you continue to behave in this manner. Please go apologize to Tokoyami.

Kaminari: L

Kaminari: Ugh FINE. I’m going I’m going

Midoriya: Hey guys! Just catching up here – are we all talking about Mr. Aizawa’s email? Or are we talking about horny toads for that upcoming biology assignment…? Sorry, I haven’t fully read through the chat yet.

Sero: HORNY. TOADS.

Kaminari: Omg I’m crashing out Izuku HORNY TOADS!?

Bakugo: Learn to read your fuckin’ texts you damn nerd

Kirishima: My man Bakugo has entered the chat!!! Hey best buddy! Hey BakuBro!

Kaminari: Omg that’s a cute nickname can I use it too!?

Bakugo: Die.

Kaminari: Bakubroooooo

Iida: Kaminari.

Kaminari: ALRIGHT IM WALKING TO TOKOYAMIS ROOM RN SHEESH MOM

Iida: I’m not your mother.

Sero: You do got those mommy milkers thoooo

Iida: ?

Kirishima: Excuse me

Midoriya: I’m so confused

Sero: Am I the only one who saw Iida shirtless in the gym last week!? Iida you’re literally so beefy like your chest is INSANE. Pls send your workout routine!

Iida: Thank you Hanta. That is a very kind compliment. I can show you my routine next time we are at the gym.

Midoriya: …what’s a mommy milker tho

Sero: I’ll tell you when you’re older.

Uraraka: Ok. Moving on.

Uraraka: So are we all just wearing pajamas for this meeting or should I put on actual clothes?

Iida: Given the severity of our crimes against UA, I would recommend the latter.

Uraraka: Alright, leggings and a hoodie it is!

Kaminari: I’m with Tokoyami rn – we’re all good!

Tokoyami has been added to the chat.

Kaminari: Sorry for being a dumbass

Uraraka: Welcome back Tokoyami! We missed youuuu

Sero: It was a tough 5 minutes surviving in this chat without our coolest classmate

Tokoyami: 🖤

Midoriya: I JUST GOOGLED MOMMY MILKERS AND ITS NOT WHAT I THOUGHT

Kirishima: WHAT DID YOU THINK IT WOULD BE…!?

Shoto: Why is everyone yelling

A new group chat has emerged on your phone as well. One encompassing Mina, Toru, Neito, Hitoshi and, to your surprise…Mineta.

Mina: Alright fam. Everyone better keep their stories straight.

Toru: Class unity. We LOVE class unity!

Neito: We are now SO unified, it HURTS!!!

Mineta: As long as I get my kiss, I’ll say whatever you need me to say 😉

Hitoshi: No.

Mineta: ??? You weren’t involved with our deal?

Hitoshi: We talked about this last night. If Aizawa asks, you VOLUNTEERED to be the distraction out of the goodness of your heart.

Toru: FOR CLASS UNITY.

Mineta: Ugh.

Hitoshi: Is this really a game you want to play.

Mineta: Typing

Mineta: Typing

Mineta: Typing

Mineta: I volunteered to be the distraction because I love class unity.

Hitoshi: There we go.

Neito: God you’re hot when you’re intimidating people

Mina: PUBLIC CHAT NEITO

Neito: Oh I know 😉

Toru: You guys are so CUUUUUTE

Neito: 💕💕💕

Hitoshi: ty

UM EXCUSE ME!?!

Does that mean what you think it means!?

Did Hitoshi Shinsou get you out of that goddamn kiss pact with Mineta!?

Wow. You scroll back up and heart every message Hitoshi has sent to the group chat.

Becoming BFFs with Neito and Hitoshi was definitely not on this year’s bingo card. What an unexpectedly wonderful surprise. You pull out your phone and type a quick thank you directly to Hitoshi. He gives you a thumbs up emoji and leaves it at that – the guy is the definition simple, but effective.

A moment later, Hitoshi starts another group chat with all of your friends – Mineta is noticeably absent from this one.

Hitoshi: Alright. I had a chat with Mineta last night.

Y/N: ?????

Mina: ???!?!????

Toru: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Neito: Am I the only one capable of text in this group

Neito: How did it go?

Hitoshi: You guys saw in the other group chat – he agreed to say that he volunteered to be bait. He dropped the whole kiss thing. Y/N should be fine now.

Y/N: THANKUTHANKUTHANKU 🙏 🙏 🙏

Toru: Our chivalrous hero!!

Neito: A hero. A hunk. A hero hunk. 🤤

Hitoshi: np

Hitoshi: Just don’t go making a deal like that again, guys. You could literally get expelled.

Mina: 👽👍

Toru: We’ll be good! No kissing in exchange for goods or services!

Hitoshi: Also. I asked him what went down with Mr. King and Hatsume last night.

Y/N: Oh!? 👀

Hitoshi: From what I’ve gathered – Mr. King showed up and fought off Hatsume’s drones for quite some time. It sounds like the booby traps she loaded into those things were quite…effective. She got a few scratches on Mr. King, but nothing terrible. Once he flattened most of them and was able to get Mineta down, Hatsume retreated. Mr. King never saw her, but he’s smart enough to put all of the pieces together and figure out who rigged all of those drones. And once Mr. King saw the safety harness Hatsume had rigged up for Mineta, it became clear pretty quickly that Mineta was in on the whole thing.

Mina: Shit. Well, Hatsume def kept her promise and bought us time.

Toru: I can’t believe she managed to hurt Mr. King – I hope he’s ok!!!

Neito: What happened next? What did Mineta tell Mr. King?

Hitoshi: So apparently...

Hitoshi: Mr. King asks Mineta what he’s doing strapped to the pole surrounded by drones and the little shit says

Hitoshi: It’s for a school project.

Neito: Excuse me. 👁👄👁

Toru: What

Hitoshi: Yeah.

Hitoshi: Mineta told Mr. King that he was trying to train and see how sticky his…balls…could be and if he could use them to hold himself up on the pole for an extended amount of time. He wanted to see how altitude, stress levels, etc. impacted his quirk. He said he had borrowed the drones from a friend in order to film the project, but they had gone haywire and started attacking him an hour into the experiment.

Y/N: You want me to believe that Mineta of all people made up that alibi on the fly!?

Mina: I’m so confused.

Y/N: What did Mr. King say?????

Hitoshi: So Mr. King obviously sees through all of that bullshit and a minute later Mineta is confessing that he’s just the distraction for a big Class A and Class B party in Heights Alliance.

Hitoshi: Mr. King didn’t bother investigating the drones further. He grabbed Mineta and hauled ass to the Class A dorm. Where, of course, he found the party. And shut it down.

Y/N: So Mineta didn’t spill anything major?

Hitoshi: It would seem not.

Mina: I’m almost insulted!

Y/N: Shut up this is a good thing!!

Toru: Ok so now we just need see what Mr. Aizawa says…

Y/N: I think the only thing that could truly get us in trouble is the alcohol. But we made sure to clean the bottle and remove the label and I THINK that someone hid it when the party got busted.

Neito: Can confirm. I saw Todoroki roll it under the couch. It’s probably still there?

Mina: Oh, word? Todoroki doing us a solid!?

Hitoshi: He’s a good egg.

Hitoshi: 🥚

Toru: HAHAHA

Y/N: Do you think we could get in trouble for playing Spin The Bottle?

Neito: Not if Aizawa never finds out about it!

Mina: We’d better get to the common area for this big convo…

Neito: LMK what happens, okay!!?!???

Y/N: Ofc! 🤞

You close out the chat, only for the OG group chat that you have going with Neito, Mina and Toru to light up. Dang everyone is chatty today!

Neito: I just want to let everyone know that Hitoshi Shinsou is a sex god and that I worship at his feet.

Toru: OMG

Mina: Did you go and fuck him after we all FaceTimed!?!?!?

Neito: NO I JUST WANTED EVERYONE TO KNOW HOW HOT HE IS AND THAT AT THE FIRST POSSIBLE CHANCE YEAH 🔥🤤

Neito: ILL FUCK ‘EM RAW

Neito: ITS WHAT HE DESERVES. AS THE HOTTEST MAN ALIVE.

Toru: Jesus

Neito: Yeah and I’ll make him see God, too. 😏

Mina: Neito I am thrilled for you! Hitoshi is hot AF!!!! It looks like he’s a good kisser too!!!

Mina: But you better not spend all of your free time humping Hitoshi. We have more chaos to inflict on the Hero Course together and we demand at least some of your attention as friends.

Toru: Mina we need to handle the fallout from one party before we plan another!!!

Y/N: CLASS. FUCKIN. UNITY!!!!!

Neito: I love you guys 💕

Mina texts you seperatly a minute later.

Mina: After this Aizawa meeting goes down…I’m going to talk to Eijirou.

Y/N: Oh yeah? Do you feel ready for that?

Y/N: Do you think he might need more time and space?

Mina: IDK, I’ll ask him when I see him. And if he’s not ready to talk I’ll leave him alone.

Mina: But I’m going to try to really listen and see what he needs from me rn.

Y/N: Proud of you ❤️

Y/N: lmk how it goes?

Mina: ofc 💕

Lastly, you have a text from Shoto. Your heart does a little dance in your chest when you see his name pop up on your screen. You hastily click open the tiny message window.

Shoto: Are you ready for this meeting with Mr. Aizawa?

Y/N: No. Absolutely not. Not in a thousand years!!!

Y/N: Also heard you hid the alcohol bottle when Mr. King busted up the party?

Shoto: Yes. I slid it under the middle couch while everyone was taking down the decorations.

Y/N: Shoto you are a LIFESAVER.

Shoto: Well I do want to be a hero someday.

Y/N: You’re my hero rn

Shoto: ❤️

Shoto: What are you most worried about regarding Mr. Aizawa?

Y/N: I’m worried he’s going to punish the entire class. Last time he imposed a curfew. This time he’ll probably make our lives even worse and the whole class will blame me, Mina and Toru!

Shoto: And Monoma.

Y/N: SHOTO THAT IS NOT HELPFUL !!!

Shoto: Okay.

Shoto: A more helpful thought – everyone willingly participated in the party last night. They’ll need to accept the consequences that come with that.

Y/N: I know, but…

Shoto: It will all work out, Y/N. Mr. Aizawa likes everyone in our class. He will probably be very annoyed, but remember what you told me last night – we are just kids figuring things out. It’s alright for us to make mistakes every once and a while.

Shoto: No one got hurt or in terrible trouble.

Y/N: I think that one of Hatsume’s drones may have cut Mr. King…

Shoto: Okay no one got seriously hurt, then. I think it will all be fine.

Y/N: I really hope you’re right.

Y/N: Oh, wait I have something to tell you. You’ll really like this.

Y/N: Hitoshi talked to Mineta and got me out of the whole kiss thing.

Shoto: Really?

Y/N: Yeah! I guess Mineta is afraid of him!? It sounds like Hitoshi told him the deal was off!!! I’M A FREE WOMAN! 🙏

Shoto: Oh

Y/N: What???

Shoto: Well. Of course I don’t want you to kiss Mineta.

Shoto: But I liked being able to…

Shoto: This is embarrassing to type

Y/N: YOU GOTTA TELL ME NOW

Shoto: Why are you yelling

Y/N: TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME

Shoto: …

Y/N: Shoto Todoroki – do you WANT me to kiss goddamn MINETA!?

Y/N: You made it VERY clear yesterday that you didn’t want me to while you were FINGERBANGING ME IN A FUCKIN CLOSET!!!

Shoto: Firstly

Shoto: What is fingerbanging?

Y/N: !!!!

Y/N: I think you’re smart enough to figure out what that means.

Shoto: Fair.

Shoto: Secondly. No, I don’t want you to kiss Mineta.

Shoto: But.

Y/N: BUT!?!?!?

Shoto: You’re yelling at me again.

Y/N: Ok. Jeez. Sorry. But!?

Shoto: But…I enjoyed being a little jealous and getting to…

Shoto: Punish you?

Oh. Oh wow. Okay. So Shoto was a hell of a lot kinkier than the two of you had ever thought? He did seem super into it last night.

Y/N: Oh, really?

Shoto: Yes.

Shoto: But when I say punish. You know I mean it in a fun, consensual way?

Y/N: Yes Shoto I understand that you mean it in a fun consensual sexy way and not in a scary controlling way. Dude. At this point, I know you pretty well.

Shoto: Okay I was just making sure.

Y/N: We can def explore that Sho 😏

Shoto: I’d like that.

Y/N: See you in the common room for Aizawa’s scary meeting?

He gives your message a thumbs up react and you will yourself to roll out of bed so you can make yourself look presentable.

You grab a protein bar and scarf it down haphazardly as you pull out a clean pair of black leggings from your closet. You chew the sticky oat bar thoughtfully as you grab a basic tee and a cute hoodie as well. Might as well be comfy as Aizawa verbally tears you apart in front of your peers!

Once you’re dressed you head out to the common room. It’s 11:45am, and Hitoshi Shinsou has been the first one to arrive. He gives you a lazy wave from a couch under the windows, and you pad across the room to join him.

“Thanks for talking to Mineta. And for talking with me last night. It was…really helpful.”

Hitoshi shrugs and turns to stare out the window. “It’s no big deal. I like helping people. Especially…my friends.”

You smile as the two of you sit in silence. Friends. Your tiny group of close friends has certainly expanded a lot lately, hasn’t it?

Members of the class start to trickle in – Midoriya, Iida, Ochaco, Momo, Tsu and Sato make their way in nervously, all grabbing spots on the couches around you. Other students drift in as the clock ticks closer to noon.  Everyone knows how strict Mr. Aizawa can be…and so everyone is punctual.

You bounce your leg nervously as you all wait in silence. The tension in the room is only broken when Kaminari and Jirou enter the room – holding hands.

“OMG OMG OMG!” Ochaco gasps out, looking frantically between the two. “Are you two, like, together!?” She’s hopping up and down, on the verge of crashing out over this.

Kaminari beams. Jirou drops his hand and stomps across the room to sit next to you and Hitoshi on the couch.

“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal!” She says under her breath, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Yes!” Kaminari ignores her and gushes to Ochaco. He grabs her hands in his own and huddles his head towards her conspiratorially. “We’re together! We’re officially a couple!” He drops Ochaco’s stunned hands and points across the room at Jirou and shouts loudly. “That’s my GIRLFRIEND and she’s AMAZING!”

Jirou groans and covers her blushing face with her hands, mortified.

The tone of the room lightens – everyone is thrilled for them. Immediately, most members of the class are buzzing with a mix of questions and congratulations. You’re thrilled for them, of course! But also a little jealous. Now that you know you want Shoto to be your significant other, seeing the happy couple makes you question if you and Shoto could ever be like that. Public. Unafraid. You wonder what Mr. Aizawa will do when he finds out about Kaminari and Jirou (it’s only a matter of time before he finds out – the man knows absolutely everything and Kaminari is not a subtle person the way that Shoto is). Will he punish them? Make them break up? You worry for them, stressed about the whole “no dating, no sex” policy.

Your eyes scan the room quickly for any remnants of the party from the night before. Your class was, of course, meticulous with their Mr. King-supervised-Party-clean up. Aside from Kaminari and Jirou’s newly established relationship, no trace of the party seems to exist. You stare at the couch across the room that you know is concealing the abandoned alcohol bottle Shoto stashed the night before. Should you dash over and try and grab it now? You check your phone. 11:50am. Nah, you’d be cutting it too close. Best not to be seen near the scene of the crime with a mysterious empty bottle.

A moment later, Kirishima shuffles into the room alongside Bakugo. Eijirou’s usual positive vibe is off – his face looks drawn and tired, and he looks kind of pissy. Actually…his expression practically mirror’s Bakugo’s default expression. They both look incredibly unhappy to be present in the common room.

“Hey, Bakubro – where were you last night? You missed my big moment with Jirou!” Kaminari calls out as Bakugo and Kirishima slump onto one of the other couches.

“I was goddamn sleeping, you idiot. Unlike the rest of you losers, I got up to train this morning.” Katsuki practically spits out, his eyebrows drawn angrily. “I didn’t participate in your stupid excuse for a party, so I don’t see why I even need to be here.”

Oh, that’s right…Katsuki was nowhere to be found last night. Your stomach sinks a little bit – Katsuki’s a jerk, but you’d feel bad if he got punished alongside the rest of the class for a party he didn’t even participate in.

“You’re so dedicated to your training, Kacchan.” Midoriya pipes up, looking at Katsuki admiringly. “I hope we didn’t keep you up with all of the noise from the party.”

Katsuki shrugs. “I better not get in trouble because of you idiots.”

The room dips back into a nervous silence. Mina arrives a moment later with Toru and the two of them cram onto the couch with you, Jirou and Hitoshi. Everyone is squished but it’s not horrible. Mina glances over at Eijirou hopefully, but he pointedly ignores her. He scowls down at his phone as he scrolls through Instagram.

After a few more minutes, the rest of the class has drifted into the room and taken seats. Shoto strolls in at 11:58 and seats himself next to Midoriya. He flashes a gentle grin in your direction before turning to quietly chat with Izuku. You glance around to make sure no one else has noticed – but Hitoshi catches your eye and gives you a perceptive look. You roll your eyes at him. Luckily, everyone else seems preoccupied as they wonder allowed what Aizawa’s punishment will be.

The clock strikes noon and nothing happens.

You and your classmates all exchange nervous looks with one another as you wait. When you hear heavy footsteps from up the hall, you start to panic a bit. Ugh, crap, you really hope that you haven’t gotten your class into too much trouble. The anticipation of this whole Aizawa ordeal is just killing you – your stomach is churning and you’re adrenaline is already pumping.

A moment later, Mr. Aizawa appears, sweeping around the corner in his dark uniform, his capture weapon wrapped around his neck. He strides into the room with purpose and stops to stand before his class.

“Class.” He acknowledges you all quietly, eyes darting around the room to quickly count heads.

He looks absolutely exhausted with those tired, red eyes. You remember with a start that he’s been out on a mission and likely hasn’t slept in quite some time. A few days’ worth of stubble dots his pale chin, and his hair is as unkempt as usual. It’s funny – you and your friends have often discussed how Shota Aizawa would be drop dead gorgeous if he just took better care of himself. His raven hair is thick and long and if he just brushed if every once and a while he would be an absolute smoke show. But – he’s an underground hero and a teacher. His appearance obviously isn’t a priority. You’ve often wondered if Mr. Aizawa has someone special in his life. You assume that if this were the case, he’d clean himself up a little more. Most people didn’t go for that scruffy, dirty, exhausted look – right?

“Hello, Mr. Aizawa.” The class intones nervously. He nods absentmindedly in response.

“We have a few important things to discuss today.” He says briskly, rubbing at his temples like he has a deep headache. “Mr. King called me this morning and filled me in on what’s been going on.” He glances around the room, searching everyone’s faces carefully. You sit up straight between Hitoshi and Jirou, trying not to look too guilty. “Luckily for all of you, my mission ended early and I was already back on campus last night when Mr. King called me at 3 am. There would have been hell to pay had I been called away in the middle of a job.”

He pauses as the class takes in that information. Part of you is relieved that your shenanigans didn’t ruin Mr. Aizawa’s mission. Maybe that’s something you should have thought more about during the party planning process…if you had gotten caught you might have jeopardized your teacher’s mission (and jeopardized the lives of any people depending on him during said mission). In retrospect…the party was much more selfish than you had intended.

“So here’s what I know. There was a party in this room last night involving most of Classes A and B. The party was pre-planned because there were decorations and baked goods. Neito Monoma apparently took credit for the whole thing. And Mineta aided him as a distraction on the quad.” He rattles off the list, unblinking. His tone is even, not necessarily accusatory.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, eyes darting around to take in the guilty looks of your fellow classmates. Mineta sits towards the back of the room, looking absolutely terrified. You feel a little pity for him. Sure, he’s shitty most of the time, but he did help pull off the greatest party distraction ever known to Heights Alliance. He probably deserves a little bit of credit for that, right? Then you remember the way he talked you into promising to kiss him in exchange for his help. Eh, fuck the credit. He’s still scummy as hell. You refocus on Aizawa.

“Here are a few things I put together on my own. It looks like some kind of tech was used to distract Vlad. So I’m assuming that Hatsume from the Support Course was involved. The drone he brought back with him seems to be her style. The rest of the tech she was using seemed to have disappeared when Vlad went back to investigate. I’m also fairly certain that the ring leaders of the party were from our class.” His eyes hover on you before slowly moving to rest on Mina and Toru in turn. “I can’t even begin to say how disappointed I am in you all. I explicitly banned any kind of social gathering from happening while I was away, and I instated a curfew after the last ‘party’ incident.”

The entire class sits in an uncomfortable silence, and it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. Mr. Aizawa’s words weigh heavily on you all, and his quiet, matter-of-fact dissatisfaction is almost worse than him yelling. His sunken eyes continue to wander the room, bestowing each student with an individual dose of disappointment. Katsuki is the only one who holds Aizawa’s steely gaze. That’s right, he didn’t participate in the party. There’s no reason for him to shoulder the weight of Aizawa’s displeasure.

“But as disappointed as I am that you all blatantly disobeyed my rules…I’m actually a little impressed by what you managed to accomplish.” Aizawa sighs, slowly unwinding his capture weapon from his shoulders and wrapping it neatly around his elbow. It looks like he’s taking it off for the day.

“Wait. What.” Kaminari blurts out stupidly. “That’s not what I was expecting you to say.”

“Yeah we’re gonna need some further explanation here.” Sero pipes up, sounding equally surprised. Mina glances at you hopefully, her dark eyes wide with astonishment. All around you, your classmates start to babble and mutter to each other – everyone wondering what the hell Mr. Aizawa is talking about.

“Everyone quiet down!” Iida calls out, ever the class rep. “Mr. Aizawa! Please continue!” The engine hero chops the air with his hand and gestures for Mr. Aizawa to keep talking.

Aizawa presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. He takes a deep, steadying breath before his eyelids flutter open around those dry, red eyes. He stares out at you all and seems to be willing himself to stay awake.

“I took some time this morning to review video footage from around campus. Ashido. Hagakure. Y/N. The three of you collaborated with Monoma, Mineta, and Hatsume on the quad and developed a fairly successful plan to delay Vlad King while you threw the party.”

Your stomach drops. You didn’t realize that UA was crawling with surveillance cameras – but in retrospect, it totally makes sense. The UA campus is one of the best-protected institutions in Japan – of course they have a state of the art security system in place. You feel foolish for not thinking there would be some method of surveillance observing your every move.

“Answer this for me…how long did you take to plan this distraction?” Aizawa looks directly at you. No sense in lying now, not when he’s caught you red handed on camera.

“Maybe a week?” You say uncertainly, avoiding his gaze.

“You seemed to have missed a few key factors in your planning process – you neglected to circumvent the security cameras, one of your teammates managed to get caught, and Vlad managed to get ahold of a piece of your equipment as well. Let’s use this as a learning experience.” He pauses; making sure everyone in the class is listening. All mumbling has ceased – all eyes are now concentrated intensely on Aizawa. “When you go on a covert mission, you need to ensure that no team member is left behind. You need to account for every possible scenario – always assume that you are being recorded or filmed somehow, especially these days when cameras are everywhere. And lastly, if you need to leave a mission in a hurry, at least try to destroy any hero support gear rather than leave it behind. You don’t want powerful or proprietary technology to get into enemy hands.”

You all stare at Aizawa in disbelief. Of course this man would find some way to turn this into a lecture. All of a sudden the party was turning into a weird learning experience. You can practically hear Iida’s voice in your mind saying “I’d expect nothing less from a top educational institution like UA!”

Aizawa continues on, leaving his capture weapon wrapped around his arm and tucking his hands deep into his pockets. “This is a great example of how, despite your best attempts at preparation, fieldwork missions rarely go to plan. Remember this phrase we discussed in strategy class – “no plan survives first contact with the enemy.” That means that things will rarely go as we intended, despite our best efforts.” He pauses there, taking in the class’s shocked expressions. You can see the ghost of a smile on his face. No one was really expecting Aizawa to turn this situation into a teachable moment.

“Now, what was another blind spot in your plan?” His gaze lingers again on you, Toru and Mina. Mina slowly raises her manicured pink hand, looking uncertain.

“Yes, Ashido.” Aizawa calls on her as if you’re all just sitting through a normal class lecture.

“We didn’t have a contingency plan. Or a way to shut down the party quickly if Mr. King was on his way to the dorm.” Mina says in a small voice, looking anywhere but Aizawa’s face. “We also didn’t have a reliable stream of communication set up with Mineta and Hatsume. We should have been communicating with both of them throughout the party, but we all got distracted.”

“Right. When planning a mission, you need to think through all possible scenarios. And you need to make sure that every member of your team has support. In this situation, Hatsume and Mineta didn’t have backup, and you didn’t have an exit strategy for the rest of the class. Let’s pretend that Mr. King was a villain and the rest of Classes A and B were civilians that you were protecting. Hatsume and Mineta were holding off the villain the best they could while you tended to the civilians. In this instance, you weren’t able to evacuate the civilians quickly enough and chaos ensued. The villain won.”

“You need to have a plan but also learn to be flexible and think quickly on your feet. I’m disappointed that Vlad caught you all. I’m assuming that Hatsume gave you ample warning to clear out the party? She doesn’t seem like one to leave loose ends.”

“She did.” You say guiltily, hanging your head. “She texted us, but we all managed to get caught up and miss the message.”

“There’s another lesson – stay focused on the mission. You can’t afford to get distracted in the field.” Mr. Aizawa surveys the class with shrewd eyes. “Alright, so we’ve reviewed what you can improve on. Next I want to commend you all for something…”

“Mr. King was deeply impressed with the way that Monoma took responsibility for the party. He was willing to take the fall for the entire operation, and that is no small feat. We all know that Monoma has been…difficult…since the first year Sports Festival. Last time you tried to throw a get together he’s went out of his way to get it shut down. But this time - it seems like Classes A and B were finally able to find some common ground. And that is something Vlad and I have been hoping would happen. Your peers in Class B will be your colleagues in the field someday. You need them. It’s important that you form a rapport with them now while you’re students. We want you to learn from each other, to trust one another.”

Hot damn, Aizawa is the one who’s bringing up CLASS UNITY!!!! You give Hitoshi a sidelong glance, but he ignores you. He keeps his gaze trained on Aizawa.

What your teacher says next is truly shocking.

“I think that perhaps we’ve been training you all so hard that we forgot to give you some time to decompress with your peers. So moving forward…I’m lifting the curfew.”

The entire class cheers at the unexpected news.

“Sensei that’s sick! Thank you!” Kaminari calls out, pumping his fist into the air.

“So manly!” Kirishima calls out, his sour mood lifted.

“Isn’t this amazing, Kacchan? We can all play video games together again!” Izuku says happily, and Katsuki smirks.

“It’ll be good to put you nerds in your place again when we play Mario Kart.”

“That’s the spirit, Bakugo.” Sero laughs, clapping him on the back.

“This is wonderful, ribbit!” Tsu croaks out and Ochaco cheers alongside her.

Aizawa’s eyes flash red as his quirk activates, and everyone goes quiet again to hear what he’ll say next.

“You can choose one night a month to organize a gathering in the common rooms with Class B and any other members of your Year. The school will provide some board games and snacks; Class reps Iida and Yaoyorozu can work on forming a social committee to take the lead with these events.” Mr. Aizawa rattles off the rules (of course there are terms and conditions to this – he’s a real stickler for order!). “Now remember – this is a perk and you’ll all need to show me you’re doing your best in classes and in training for these gatherings to continue. If I catch anyone slipping, I will take away this privilege.”

It’s all too good to be true! Aizawa actually wants you to have parties!?

“It’s important for you to take care of your bodies and your minds as we continue our intense training this year. Your social development is key to that as well. You’ll be encouraged to continue hanging out and forming relationships with students in other classmates. After all, like I said earlier - they’ll be your co-workers, support techs and marketing managers someday when you’re all Pro Heroes. It’s basic networking.”

He pauses, kneading at his temples again with the pads of his fingers. Wow, he must really not be feeling great. “And speaking of networking…this week in class we’ll start to discuss this year’s internship program. It’s an important step in your training and development, so please use the rest of the day to prepare for the big week ahead.”

He stops there, looking around at the class to make sure everyone has absorbed all that he’s shared. He looks dead tired, and you almost wish he were in his yellow sleeping back right now so he could just keel over into a nap. He shifts on his feet unsteadily, like he’s getting ready to leave.

“Whoa, what are internships!?” Kaminari calls out loudly and everyone turns to look at him. “You’re just gonna mic drop and head out without giving us more details?”

“He has a point. This sounds like something we should know more about.” Tsu says thoughtfully, finger to her chin as she stares at Mr. Aizawa with those wide, froggy eyes of hers.

“Sounds exciting!” Toru calls out, shimmying on the couch with enthusiasm. The couch cushion bounces under her, rattling Hitoshi and Jirou alongside you.

“You’ll need to wait until we get back to class tomorrow for more information. I’m too tired to get into this right now.” Aizawa intones as he brings up his hand to shield his eyes from the florescent lights.

“Alright, go and enjoy the rest of the weekend. Get out of my sight.” Mr. Aizawa says, turning away from you all. You can’t help but hear the fondness in his voice as he dismisses the group. “I’m going to sleep for the next twelve hours, so don’t do anything stupid that I’ll need to wake up for.”

“Understood, sir!” Kaminari calls out as Aizawa makes a hasty exit. “Sleep well!”

“Dude, don’t say that to our teacher that’s weird!” Kirishima admonishes.

Aizawa disappears into the hallway and you look around at your classmates in awe. Everyone is absolutely buzzing – high on excitement now that Aizawa has promised a future filled with parties and social breaks. You all can’t believe that you got away with the previous night’s debaucherous shindig.

“Oh my GOD! You’re all idiots!” Bakugo stomps into the hallway and back towards his dorm room. “What a waste of fuckin’ time. I could be halfway done with my English homework by now.”

“Wait for me, Bakugo! I need help with my homework!” Kaminari calls out, scrambling after him.

“Ask pony tail girl for help! I’m not some charity tutor!” You hear Bakugo yell down the hall.

Mina and Toru jump up and down in front of your couch, beaming (well, you assume Toru is beaming. Invisibly.).

“We did it, Y/N! We’re freeeee!” Toru squeals, spinning around in a circle.

Mina bounces up and down on the balls of her feet. “He practically congratulated us for pulling off the party! CLASS UNITY!”

You and Toru chant a rousing chorus of “Class Unity!” as well, and Jirou cackles as Toru does a little pirouette around the couch. Hitoshi’s smiling down at his phone, no doubt giving Neito an update on the whole situation.

“How’s everyone’s favorite Phantom Thief?” You ask the purple haired boy, tilting your head with interest.

“Oh he’s just thrilled that the teachers suddenly think so highly of him for ‘going through a major character growth moment.’ He’s preening.”

“Of course he is.” Mina rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Wow, wow, wow I cannot believe we actually managed to get away with this. I thought we were cooked for sure.”

“I know!” You say, feeling giddy with relief. “What are the odds of this happening!?”

“I told you.” Hitoshi says smugly. “This is something Aizawa and King have wanted since the beginning. He’s taking his wins where he can with our class.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” You say, batting at him with your hands. “And now I guess this means you’ll get more unfettered face sucking time with a certain blonde member of Class B.”

“Shut up.” Hitoshi says, cheeks glowing a tiny bit pink. But he’s smiling.

Mina looks down at you, hands on her hips. She’s got a nervous, frenetic energy about her. “Alright well now that that’s over…I’ve got a few last loose ends to tie up.” You know she’s talking about apologizing to Eijirou. You flash her a thumbs up. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Alright, girl. Let us know if you need anything!” Toru calls out after her as she exits the common room. Clearly she has been filled in on the Kirishima situation via text.

“I can’t believe you guys actually pulled that off.” Jirou says in amazement as she gets to her feet. “That was punk rock as all hell.”

“We just got lucky, honestly.” Toru says humbly. “Mr. Aizawa would have had every right to punish us. But I’m sure glad he didn’t!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Shoto and Izuku exit the common room, chatting.

“Hey, guys? I gotta go, um, take care of something, too. I’ll catch up with y’all later?” You wave to your friends as you follow Shoto and Izuku out into the hall.

“Something’s up with her.” Toru says once you’re out of earshot. “She’s been acting really weird lately.”

“Maybe she has a crush on someone.” Jirou says. “She’s been a little flighty lately, hasn’t she?”

“Since when are you an expert on dating?” Hitoshi quirks an eyebrow at her, making her blush and look away.

“Well I have a boyfriend now, don’t I?” She says defensively, her mouth in a flat line.

“Fair enough.” Hitoshi laughs, but Toru seems flabbergasted.

“What!?” She says, hopping up and down before flopping back n the couch. “You think our Y/N has a crush? On who!? OMG I bet it’s Honenuki!?”

“It’s not Honenuki.” Hitoshi snorts, rolling his eyes. Toru turns slowly to look at Hitoshi.

“You know something about this…don’t you?” She says accusingly.

Hitoshi’s eyes widen a fraction before he masters himself. His expression instantly bounces back to neutral.

“What are you talking about?”

“You just said ‘it’s not Honenuki’ way too confidentially. You know who Y/N has a crush on, don’t you? Jirou, help me out!!” Toru cries out, waving an invisible arm at Jirou to include her in the conversation.

“Yeah. It did sound a little suspicious.” Jirou says, leveling Hitoshi with a distrustful look.

“Guys, chill out.” Hitoshi says, his brain grasping at straws as he tries to come up with a plausible excuse for why you wouldn’t be interested in Honenuki. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Don’t gaslight us!” Toru shrieks, thwacking him lightly with her transparent hands while Jirou laughs.

“Look. All I’m saying is that…Y/N probably isn’t into Honenuki because (a) he can’t really kiss with his current facial set up. And (b) she doesn’t even know him that well. I just can’t see someone like Y/N going for a guy she’s barely talked to.”

“They’ve been texting, though!” Toru says, waving her own phone in Hitoshi’s face. He grimaces and shifts away from her. He doesn’t really love his personal space being invaded so aggressively. But he supposes that’s a part of friendship. “I saw it! They send music back and forth to each other.”

“Also not everyone is as obsessed with kissing as you are.” Jirou grins teasingly. “We all saw you playing tonsil hockey with Monoma last night like some kind of heathen.”

“Then maybe I’m wrong, alright? Jeez, lay off guys. I’m sorry.” Hitoshi grumbles, getting to his feet and ambling away from the girls. Jirou and Toru laugh at his discomfort as he makes his exit from the common area.

“I wonder if it Y/N does have a crush onHonenuki, though. She’s been kinda distant since she started texting him more. And that kiss last night that he gave her…well it was sort of intimate despite the fact that he doesn’t have lips.” Toru wonders aloud, looking to Jirou for additional insight.

“Listen, I’ve barely had a boyfriend for twelve hours. I am not the one to talk to about romance.”

The two laugh and go get to get a snack from the kitchen, where some of your classmates are celebrating Aizawa’s leniency.

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

Meanwhile, you’ve followed Izuku and Shoto back towards the boy’s side of the dorm at a relatively safe distance. When the two say their goodbyes and go to their separate rooms, you dash up to Shoto’s dorm door.

You knock on the door and don’t wait for his reply, bursting into his room jubilantly. He gives you a look of surprise, his bright eyes wide as he opens his mouth to greet you. You fly to him, throwing your arms around his neck and sealing your lips together with a sound smek!

Shoto doesn’t question his good fortune; he just closes his eyes and leans into the kiss as he wraps his arms around your waist. Within minutes he’s rolled out his palette bed and has you straddling him, his hands squeezing your solid hips.

“I can’t believe Aizawa let us get away with the party.” Shoto says between kisses. He lets his hands travel up your body and under your shirt, leaving goose bumps in their wake. His palms settle around your breasts, his fingertips squeezing and massaging.

“Fuck.” You say as he pinches at one of your nipples over the padding of your bra. “I know, I’m like riding a high right now. I can’t believe we didn’t get into trouble.”

Shoto presses your lips together again to shut you up and you all but melt into him. You feel giddy and relieved as you kiss and kiss and kiss, glad that you don’t have detention or another terrible punishment hanging over your head. Wow, you really pulled it off!

“I wasn’t expecting that at all from our teacher.” Shoto says as you pause to take a breath. His mouth quirks up into a gentle smile. “I’m glad you didn’t get the class in trouble. I didn’t really enjoy having a curfew.”

“Hey – you participated in that party just as much as the rest of the class. In fact, you hid the liquor bottle under the couch. You’re an accomplice.” You protest. “If we would have been punished it wouldn’t have been all my fault.”

“You’re right.” Shoto says, sliding his hands under your bra so he can play with your bare breasts. “I’m your party crime accomplice.”

“And don’t you forget it.” You sigh in contentment as he rolls a nipples between his thumb and forefinger. It’s only been a few minutes of sitting on top of Shoto and your panties are thoroughly soaked. You grind against him, trying to line up his hardness with your aching core despite the layers of clothing between you. After a moment of repositioning, you find a great angle and settle in. You roll your hips slowly, feeling the hard line of Shoto’s cock flex against your leggings.

Shoto groans lightly at the contact, pulling his hands back down from your breasts so he can guide your hips. He looks up at you with heavily lidded, lusty eyes as he helps you to grind on his hardness.

You reach down and pull at the hem of his shirt. “This needs to come off right now.”

He grins up at you and holds up his arms so that you can strip him of his expensive name brand t-shirt. You pull it up and over his head, messing up his two toned hair in the process. You toss the shirt over your shoulder and hear it quietly hit the floor behind you.

“God I love to just look at you.” You sigh, taking in Shoto’s perfect muscular form. You smooth your palms over the pale skin of his chest, allowing yourself to appreciate the hard muscle he’s gained over the past year of training with the Hero Course. Shoto glimmers under the contact, clearly appreciating your appreciation. You smile down at him before leaning in for another kiss.

You make out lazily for a while, working each other up with your lips and hands. Finally, Shoto breaks away to gaze up at you with those pretty eyes of his.

“Y/N.” Shoto whispers, his voice husky in your ear as he reaches for your waist. “Y/N, I want to touch you again. Can I?” He sounds almost desperate for it. And who are you to deny Shoto Todoroki the pleasure of touching your pussy?

“Yes. Literally any time.” You say excitedly, letting him reposition you for easier access. He helps you off of him, pulling you down onto the bedroll beside him so that he can wrap his arms around you. And that’s how Shoto ends up behind you, your back flush against his chest as he spoons you.

His fingers slide down your stomach, easily slipping beneath the thick band of your leggings that covers your stomach. He brushes against the waistline of your underwear with his fingertips, playing with it. Ghosting along the thick waistband. Your pussy is sopping wet, dripping with anticipation. He snaps the elastic against the delicate skin of your stomach and you whimper.

“Did you like that?” He whispers, letting his fingers slip a bit lower over the soft fabric of your underwear. Heat pools in between your legs at the tinge of excitement in his voice as he teases you. Suddenly you recall his texts from the night before and you’re struck with an idea. You bite your lip for a moment as you think through what you want to say.

“Shoto, I’ve been such a bad girl. Maybe you should punish me?” You say in a simpering little voice. You’re not sure if this will do it for him, but when he snaps the elastic again you know you’ve gotten his attention.

“What did you do this time, Y/N?” He says, his voice almost harsh in your ear as he drifts his finger lightly over your underwear, your clit throbbing underneath. “Did you make a deal to kiss another one of our classmates in exchange for a favor?”

Okay, Shoto, go off!?

You flex your hips in an attempt to grind into his fingers, but he pulls his hand away.

“Answer the question, Y/N.” He presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the hollow beneath your ear and you flush. He continues to lavish your neck with hot kisses as your tongue works itself around an answer.

“Yeah.” You invent wildly. “I told Mr. Aizawa that I’d kiss him if he let us off without any punishment.”

Shoto’s kisses still. He absolutely knows that you’re making this up for the sake of fantasy, but he’s a bit shocked that this fictional hookup involves your teacher of all people. He quickly gets his head back in the game and resumes kissing his way across the sensitive skin of your neck, bringing his fingers back down to ghost across your clothed pussy. You’ve seen him refocus himself similarly in battle when he’s caught off guard – he’s adaptable.

“…and did he accept the kiss?” He asks slowly, driving you crazy with his barely-there touches.

“Well, we got away with the party, didn’t we?” You bite back, grinning as his fingers flutter over your clit again. You raise your hips to chase his touch, but he pulls his hand away again. He’s really making you earn it.

“You’re right.” Shoto says as he continues to plant hot kisses along your collarbone. “You’ve been so,” kiss. “Terribly.” Another kiss. “bad.” Shoto says, his voice deep and breathless. “Letting your teacher kiss you to avoid detention? Heroes don’t trade sexual favors in order to get what they want.”

“Well maybe this hero does.” You say, straining to get closer to him. You feel like your body is on fire with need, and Shoto is a bucket of satisfying water. You want him to absolutely drench you.

“Not on my watch.” He finally slips his hand underneath your underwear, his pointer finger sweeping across your soft pussy to gather up your arousal.

“Oh, Shoto!” Shoto slides the pads of his fingers down into your folds, wasting no time in finding your swollen clit. He circles it greedily, slipping and sliding in your wetness.

“Fuck.” Shoto curses under his breath and your heart sings at the swear. It’s so rare that he uses foul language, but your pussy always seems to draw that roughness out of him. He closes his eyes as he continues to move his fingers around your wetness, getting a feel for you. He’s concentrating hard, trying to get a handle on the terrain. He’s only done this once the night before and it was so rushed and hot and quick. This time, he wants to spend a little more time getting a lay of the land before he takes you apart. He smooths his fingers around your clit and then slowly down your dripping slit, taking care to ensure that you’re comfortable as he does so. He drops the dirty talk so he can focus on your pleasure.

“How’s this?” He asks curiously, drawing the pads of his fingers across your entrance questioningly. You scoot a back a bit and part your legs to give him better access.

“It’s nice. You can go inside if you want.” You say, your breath catching in your throat as he begins to softly pulse his pointer finger against your hole. The steady rhythm feels good and intoxicating. Your core pulses with need - with each gentle thrum of his finger against your wetness, your body is craves to be filled, to have him move inside.

“That would be alright?” He asks softly, in awe of your body. When you nod enthusiastically, he gently pulses the tip of his pointer finger inside. He takes it slowly, allowing your body to adjust and pull him in a few centimeters at a time. This is much more gentle and deliberate than last night in the janitor’s closet. You let out a soft moan as he manages to slide most of his finger inside of you. He begins to pulse it, trying to gauge what feels good for you.

“I’ve been wondering how this would feel if I used my penis instead of my fingers.” He says thoughtfully, sliding his finger into you more fully and twisting. You gasp at the motion, dripping wet. Once he feels you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself, he layers in a bit more dirty talk. Your body and brain fizzle with appreciation. “Do you think you’d be able to handle it? It is a bit larger than my fingers, after all…”

Your pussy pulses at his words. Oh god. What would it be like to be filled up with Shoto Todoroki’s thick cock? It would probably feel just like heaven, right?

You’ve definitely thought about it. After all, how could a girl jerk off Shoto Todoroki’s hot dick and not fantasize about how it would feel inside of her!?

“Ah.” You sigh out as he continues to pleasure you, bringing his free hand around to slide down your leggings and play with your clit as his other penetrates you deeply. “You’re right. Your cock is just so big. I don’t know if it would fit right away.”

“We can work our way up to it, then.” He says in a strained voice, fingers moving faster in time with his rapidly beating heart.

“How would you want to fuck me, Sho?” You ask, voice strangled as he continues to do wonderful things with his fingertips. “Would you want me on top? Or maybe you’d want to take me from behind?”

This is new territory for you both – unabashed dirty talk. Discussing the possibility of straight up fucking. It’s intoxicating to be speaking so openly about how badly your body wants and needs Shoto.

Shoto lets out a harsh breath as he presses further into you, your bodies intertwined deliciously. “Oh my God Y/N. I don’t know…I’d let you have me any way you’d want. I bet I could make you feel so good. I’d fill you up so well. I don’t think you’d be able to keep quiet. Everyone would know that we’re fucking.”

He’s talking nonsense. You awkwardly bend your arm behind your back to palm at his cock through his pants. He’s hard as all hell. You wonder if he’ll cum in his underwear again.

“You know, I had a sex dream about you recently.” He repositions himself to be a bit more comfortable, dragging his left hand away from your clit so he can use it to better prop himself up. Your brain is fuzzy with horny-ness, but somehow you’re able to process his words. You’re a bit shocked about two things – (a) Shoto has had a sex dream about you and (b) he’s so willing to talk about it.

“You did?” You gasp out as he gains momentum and hits a particularly good spot deep inside of you. His words are driving you just as crazy as his hands at this point.

“Yeah.” He breathes. You buck your hips backwards and grind against his hardness.

“Tell me about it?”

“Alright.” Shoto says, slowly drawing his finger out from inside of you so that he can zigzagging his fingers around your pussy lips. Your core shudders at the loss of him inside of you, but you try to concentrate on what he’s saying instead. He teases you – running his finger slowly around the rim of your hole, dragging it softly up and around your clit.

Finally, he presses back into you and you make a small noise of pleasure as he settles himself inside. “We were at my family’s vacation home. We woke up in bed together in the sun…and we made love.”

“Oh!” Your breath catches in your chest, your heart pounding in time with the drag of Shoto’s finger deep inside of you. “Can you tell me more?”

“Yes.” Shoto says shortly, his breath a bit labored as he tries to concentrate on your pussy while you grind against him. “You felt so good, so soft. You were wearing a t-shirt. No underwear. It was so easy to just lift it up and…and I woke up wishing I was inside of you for real.”

“God that’s so hot, Shoto.” You say as he increases his pace, flexing his finger against your gummy walls. “God I want you inside of me.”

“I am inside of you.” He teases, flexing his finger to remind you.

“You know what I mean.”

You’re so wet you’re certain your pants are soaked through. All of this hooking up with Shoto has you going through detergent and laundry supplies like crazy – it’s becoming an expensive habit. Clearly you just need to start getting naked off the bat to avoid soaking through your panties and jeans in the future…

You grind back into Shoto again, butt cheeks bouncing against his cock. He lets out a whine.

“Y/N…I’m gonna…I can’t help myself…I need to…” He says, sounding completely undone. You love the way he starts babbling when he’s close to cumming.

“It’s alright, Sho. you can cum.” You throw your head back into his chest and grind your ass back against him as he continues to finger you. He lets out a strangled moan as he cums in his underwear for the second time in 24 hours. Man this guy is an absolute freak for your wet pussy.

“Next time I’ll make you cum with my fingers, how ‘bout?” You promise as his breathing evens out.

“I’ll cum however you’ll let me.” Shoto sighs into your ear, continuing to finger fuck your pussy with vigor. There’s something about the desperate way he says that, all strung out and woozy that just about drives you over the edge. You feel the orgasm swell in your core, ballooning out and expanding to encompass your entire body…

“Shoto…Shoto, I’m gonna - !”

Shoto melds against you, pulling you into him with one hand as his other continues to fuck into you enthusiastically with the other. Holy fucking shit the room is spinning and you’re on the precipice of falling into paradise.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Out of nowhere, a rapid staccato of a knock hits Shoto’s dorm door, causing you both still.

Blood is rushing in your ears and you can’t help at the way your hips automatically buck up in an attempt to get Shoto to move again. You’re so fucking close – filled up with golden ichor and a pulsing need to finish around Shoto’s sweet fucking fingers.

Shoto remains frozen, his gaze flickering uncertainly towards the door.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. After all, you’ve had this happen a few times before. Remember that time early on when Mina and Toru were at the door while you got Shoto off? And you just kind of lied and told them you didn’t feel well until they eventually left? Or when Aizawa was behind the door, telling Shoto his father was visiting in the common room?

You’ll just keep quiet and ignore the door - whoever’s trying to see Shoto will eventually give up move on. Soon they’ll realize that Shoto isn’t coming to answer the door and they’ll leave, simple as that.

For some reason, though, this time is different.

The knocker doesn’t wait for Shoto to reply, and they don’t leave either.

The doorknob rattles briefly as the intruder PUSHES THE DOOR WIDE OPEN. The door flies out of the doorjamb, hinges squeaking in the stunned silence of the dorm room.

With a wave of sickening panic – you realize that you both forgot to lock the door!!!!

There’s no time to think or move or pull away from Shoto. Your back is flush against him, your limbs tangled up – and his hand is firmly, immovably down the front of your leggings. His fingers tucked inside your tight heat.

“Todoroki – I found that All Might Silver Age manga we were talking about earlier and I wanted to bring it over. You can borrow it, if you’d like! Of course, you can probably find an illegally uploaded copy online but I really like to support the artists who work so hard to draw everything out! And the only real way to do that is to buy the manga directly from the artist or from an indie manga store and –

Izuku Fucking Midoriya throws open the door wide and stands in the threshold of the dorm room, babbling incessantly about manga. In his hand, he holds a short stack of red white and gold comic books plastered with images of a younger, hotter All Might.

What happens next seems to occur in slow motion – Izuku slowly looks up from his pile of manga and locks eyes with you and Shoto. His facial expression changes from one of cheerful excitement to absolute horror, his jaw dropping and his eyes bulging in complete shock as he takes in the scene.

“Holy Whoa!”

Shoto is shirtless – his expensive branded t-shirt laying abandoned on the floor somewhere by your shoes. His hair is mussed and standing on end, his perfect part is fucked up – red hair blending with white. And somehow in the span of five minutes, he’s already hard again. So incredibly hard in his jeans – you can feel his rigid cock pressed against your butt even through the layers of underwear and pants. He’s laying on his side on the plush bedroll, supporting himself on his left elbow, while his right arm is draped around your waist, his left hand dipped low into your leggings. His fingers are still firmly lodged in your throbbing fucking pussy.

Izuku lets out a low, frantic sound. Something akin to an animal being cornered by a predator. His hands fly up to cover his eyes and the stack of All Might manga hits the ground with a firm “flump!” The individual issues of glossy manga fan out across the ground, pages fluttering as the booklets scatter across Shoto’s usually immaculately clean floor.

Izuku holds his hands flush to his face so he can’t see and he tries to turn to leave the room. He walks squarely into the door with a squeak. He lets his hands fall so he can feel his way out of the room with his eyes still shut.

“I, um, didn’t see anything! Okay! Bye Todoroki! Bye Y/N! I mean! Bye no one! Enjoy the manga!” Midoriya turns on his heel and stiffly closes the door behind him; you can hear him bumping into something in the hallway (he probably forgot to open his eyes). After a moment, his footsteps fade.

You push away from Shoto, both of you lock eyes in the silence. He hastily pulls his fingers out of you with a soft squelch!

Fuck.

Izuku fucking Midoriya caught you getting goddamn fingerbanged by Shoto Todoroki. Who, you think with a pang, is very much publically not your boyfriend.

And now Izuku Midoriya knows.

Within the span of a few hours, the circle of people who know about you and Shoto has increased to 4.

Ughhhhh what the hell are you gonna do!?

You turn to Shoto with wide, terror filled eyes. He looks back up at you with that classic Shoto stare of his from where he’s still laying on his bedroll, stunned.

The two of you sit like that for a few moments, eyes locked in a panicked sort of silence.

“Well…” He says quietly, gulping to clear the nervous lump in his throat. “It was nice of him to leave the manga.”

End of Chapter 9

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

Author's Notes:

wow ok that was wild I'm gonna go sleep for a hundred years now

Okayyyy so this is the largest single chapter I've ever written EVER!! I thought about breaking it up into 3 parts but honestly I also just wanted it out in the world because I'm very excited about how the story is progressing!!! The next update will probably be a quarter of the size of this - I need to set more manageable chapter expectations! But at the same time...writing this doesn't stress me out. It thrills me. So we'll see what the next month of writing brings for Shoto's First Kiss!

I hope y'all enjoyed the different directions the fic is taking! I feel like if it were just Shoto x Reader all the time it would get boring (and be soooo much shorter!). I'm liking the different character interactions and growth and my absolute favorite arc here is the way the Reader's friend group is expanding and growing. Also - can you tell I've been consuming hella MHA SMAUs lately!? I wanted to include a few silly text convos for the fun of it. The horny toad / mommy milkers texts had me rolling. I re-read them during editing and was like...what was I thinking when I wrote this!? It's so silly. And if you've been following me for a bit you know I love silly!

Anyways, I really hope that this chapter was worth the almost 2 month wait. I've been really thoughtful with my approach to writing Shoto's First Kiss, but I've also been trying to blow off steam with shorter one shot fics in between. I hope to publish some fun smutty one shots in the next few weeks involving Best Jeanist/EdgeShot and Izuku/Katsuki :) And maybe eventually I'll get back around to writing some Kirishima nonsense (the original goal of this freakin' blog). Idk, now I'm just rambling!

Thanks for reading and for joining me on this journey. All of your comments, requests, and votes on my stupid polls mean the world to me and bring me a lot of freakin' joy. I love writing and I really feel like I'm growing and developing my style through these fics. Maybe one day I'll write an original novel of my own or something. But at least for now...well, it was nice of him to leave the manga :)

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

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❄️🔥THE ICYTHOTS🔥❄️

Want to join or be removed from the tag list - let me know! Once again, this is an ADULT ONLY blog. The IcyThot club is exclusively dedicated to the Shoto's First Kiss series and will only include A18+. Do not request to be added unless you are over 18. If your blog is ageless/your age isn't listed in the bio you cannot be an IcyThot member! I'm also adding the "sexual content" label/tags.

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[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 16

Max Fewtrell x norris!reader

summary: You and Max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

warnings: again, the internet is cruel. Max gets into his head, mental health issues?? self doubt, crying, mention of cheating

not proofread

series masterlist | previous | next

-

“Alright, I’m leaving then! I’ll see you in a few days” You say, coming trough the door into the living room, where max was sitting on the couch. It had been a few good weeks since the whole incident and you were both cooled down from the drama.

Lando hadn’t really come to his senses, but you unblocked him. Your dad had a talk with him, that resulted in nothing.

“Alright. Be careful and text me” He gets up from his place and hugs you, kissing the top of your head “I will, don’t worry” You kiss him and smile “I gotta go now before I miss my flight or something!”

You look at your phone “And they’re here! Okay, gotta go. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone! I love you” “Won’t do, I love you too” Max watches you leave the apartment with a suitcase, and sighs.

He still hadn’t voiced his concerns about Franco. Not to think wrong, franco was a super nice bloke but he was flirty and you two just got along a little to well for his liking.

But how would you know? You only had eyes for max, franco was not interesting for you. But that is something that Max has to get in his head first..

-

You slid into the backseat. Kika turned around to look at you “Ready?” You smile “A tour through the headquarters of tractors? Sure!” Pierre glared at you through the mirror “Do you want to walk?” He grumbled “Pierre!” Kika slapped his arm “What? She said I’m driving a tractor!”

Kika rolled her eyes smiling and pierre dropped it.

-

norris.yn

liked by franciscagomez, pierregasly, maxfewtrell and 36 others

norris.yn she’s everything and he’s… there

pierregasly why am I always catching strays

franciscagomez 🙂‍↕️😘

alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂

charlesleclerc oh pierre 🤦‍♂️

maxfewtrell always tired 😂

pierregasly of your girlfriend? Always

franciscagomez Pierre.

pierregasly What? She’s always stealing you

norris.yn she deserves more than you

pierregasly see??

maxfewtrell I choose peace and ignore it.

-

You three arrived at the Alpine headquarters and as you neared the entrance you saw a figure enthusiastically talk with Paul, who just looked like he was being tortured.

As you got closer, Paul spotted you three and sighed in relief “Thank god. Now he can talk your ear off. I really like you Franco, but it’s to fucking early” Paul says, yawning.

You chuckle as Franco huffed “Mean” He crossed his arms but smiled at you “You’re alive! You weren’t at the paddock, your brother acts as if you aren’t his sister and you don’t post anymore!” He throws his arms up in the air.

“Have you seen what happened?” You chuckled “Yeah I know” “Don’t you follow her on here new account?” Pierre asked “Uh..new account?” Franco looks puzzled at the frenchman and then at you.

“Yeah, I made one just for friends, no strangers, no privacy invasion, just us” You say smiling. Franco nods, pulls out his phone and hands it to you.

You type in his code, which kika raised an eyebrow at and request your account from his. You hand it back to him and accept the request.

“Ah, yes you have been alive!” He laughs. You nod and laugh. Pierre and Kika start to make their way inside, and you two follow them.

-

norris.yn

liked by pierregasly, kellypiquet, francocolapinto and 46 others

norris.yn @/ jackdoohan, pls get better soon, they’re crazy

jackdoohan I will try my best 😂

norris.yn pls hurry up 😭😂

franciscagomez we’re not that bad 🤔

pierregasly …

paulaaron you love us, really

francocolapinto now why would you post this? my my

norris.yn you’ll live

-

max grimaced at his phone. This is exactly what he feared could happen. But before he could continue his thought train, another notification popped up on his phone.

It was a gossip page that had tagged him. That was never good but he clicked on it, and immediately regretted it.

-

f1gossip

f1gossip Franco Colapinto was spotten near the Alpine Headquarters with Yn Norris. Mclarens number one drivers sister. Has she moved on from her boyfriend Max Fewtrell?

user oh my god. She’s disgusting

user what a bitch

user max isn’t even allowed to be mad, he did the same

user are we gonna ignore that Pierre, Paul and Kika were also with them??

user 🤢

user franco noooo

-

-

You sigh as you put the phone down. Kika tilts her head at you “What did he say?” “He’s being weird” Franco raised an eyebrow “About me? I swear, I know you guys are a thing! I don’t want anything from you” Franco raised his hands in surrender.

You chuckle “I know that. Something tells me tho that this is not based on todays events.” You look at Kika with a knowing look. She presses her lips together.

“Do we have to understand this?” Pierre asked confused “Are you a woman?” She asked him with an raised eyebrow “No?” “Then you won’t get it.”

“I’ll guess it’s an early leave for me” You sigh “Nooo, can’t he be weird alone for a few more days?” Paul pouts “I’d rather resolve this as soon as possible. I know how much Max can get into his own head because of the media. I’ve seen it with him, and i’ve seen it with Lando. I know what It does to people”

“Especially something like this” Pierre says, his voice now serious but calm. Kika nods “Of that is what you think is better for the two of you, that’s okay. We can do this another time. Maybe even bring max that time” Kika says, Pierre nodding along “Definitely”

You smile “Thanks guys. I guess I’ll see what flight will get me back the fastest” You pull out your phone again “Is he in monaco again?” Kika chuckled “Yep. He’s at my apartment” She nods “Obviously.”

-

While you were planning your trip home, Max was laying in your bed. His eyes fixed on the side you claimed as yours the first time he had officially slept over as your boyfriend.

He smiled a bit at the memory, which was quickly soured away by the pictures of you and franco flashing in his mind. He knew you would never do such things, he knew that Kika, Pierre and Paul had been there but in moments like these, his mind wasn’t quiet.

It screamed at him. Screamed he’d get hurt again, or more by the one person that could actually hurt him deeply.

He shakes his head. You wouldn’t.

Are you sure? You’re not even a racing driver.

She loves me for me.

does she now? why would you be enough

Max sat up and got up to go into the bathroom. He looked into the reflection of the big mirror. His eyes were red from crying, but not too bad that he couldn’t pass it off as sleepiness.

He splashed water in his face and sighed. His mind was playing tricks on him that only you could outplay. You were outplaying tricks you didn’t even know about.

He let his head hang and sighed again.

He turned off the light and made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. In moments like these, he would’ve called lando. Something he had also cost her.

She would’ve never argued about Daniel with Lando if it wasn’t for him. It was all his fault.

-

It was later in the day when you had finally arrived back in monaco. You sighed as you pulled out your keys but before you could put the keys in, the door swung open.

Max looked backwards into the apartment, his suitcase in hand. He closed the door and finally turned around to look at you.

you both stare at each other for a moment. You look between his suitcase and him “Uhm..where you leaving?” You ask confused.

“I..uh” Max didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected you back so soon. What in christs name-

“Why are you back already?” “That doesn’t matter right now. Did something happen?” Max’s jaw clenched and he looked away.

A knot forms in your stomach “Please don’t tell me this is about the Franco thing” You say quietly. Max still doesn’t meet your eyes. You abandon your suitcase for a moment and unlock the door.

You point for him to go back inside. Before he could protest, you shake your head “We’re talking about this. Inside. With your suitcase.”

-

You sat down on the couch, turned to Max, while he was faced forward, hands fidgeting.

“Max, please talk to me about this. I already told you, I would never..Franco isn’t..He doesn’t even fit into my life” You say, still looking at him.

“I know” He says quietly “Well apparently you don’t. You wanted to leave why exactly? To tell me what? You didn’t call, you didn’t text” His head turns to the kitchen.

You can see the island from the couch. There is a vase of your favourite flowers and a letter perched up against.

“I knew you would try to stop me” He says quietly. Now he had made you speechless. You look at him in shock.

“You..so” You take a deep breath “So this is it?” You ask, not entirely sure what you’re even saying. Max finally looks at you. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

You clenched your jaw “why?” You whisper, biting back tears. Max weighs his options. You would try to convince him to stay, when he would tell you the truth. But he would only hurt you further.

His mind kept screaming to go, his heart was aching, and crying out your name, longing for your love. He knew you’d be better off without him. He had to go.

“You wouldn’t understand” “Then make me understand. Let me try to fix this! Us!”

“There is no us. Not anymore. There should’ve never been an us”

The words lie heavy in the room. You stare at him. You can only watch as he gets up, takes his suitcase and takes one last look at you.

This is it, she’ll be free of you.

-

Alexandra could barely understand what you were saying over the phone as she rushed out the door, Charles closely behind, having to drive her over to you.

She tried to calm you down, with no success. The only thing she understood was “Franco, Max, broke up” And the last one was what made her stomach turn.

-

She opened your door with her spare key, rushing inside, finding you curled up on the couch.

“Hey, hey.” She took you into her arms. Her arms tighten around you as your sobs got heavier and more pained. Charles looks worried, wording the name ‘Kelly’. Alex nods, hoping Kelly would get more out of you, knowing you two knew each other longer.

Kelly arrived sooner than Alex expected, and Charles left, telling Alex to call if she needed anything.

-

alexandrasaintmleux added to their story

[cap: @/kellypiquet our new master chef 👩‍🍳 🍝❤️

reply’s:

charlesleclerc how is she holding up?

she’s okay for now. Calmed her down but his story doesn’t make sense. It’s quite confusing and just really out of the blue.

charlesleclerc hm..you want me to play detective?

pls do

charlesleclerc no problem mom amor❤️

❤️

user isn’t that yn’s kitchen??

-

so uhm.. yeah. Here’s a good handful of angst and Max’s head full of chaos 😬 Ups

Happy Valentine or whatever

[thoughtfulfiction]

Friend zone? End zone.

Author’s note: Anon requested🧡

July

Packing everything up and moving to France with no idea where you'd live or how you were going to make money, to study under some of the most well known pastry giants in the world was...crazy. But somehow, opening up your own bake shop in Cincinnati felt even more like you were losing the last hold on your sanity. You didn't know anyone here, no friends or family nearby, but Velvet Clementine was your dream. And today, the dream smelled like vanilla, caramelized sugar, and the bright zest of fresh clementines, located in the middle of the Queen City. You had your own staff, granted it was four people but still, you were the owner, the boss, of your very own place.

Cincinnati had been your home for six weeks when the bell chimed, and two men—tall enough to make your display case look like a dollhouse—ducked into the shop. They moved with effortless confidence, their voices a low rumble of laughter as they scanned the display case with the focus of someone choosing their last meal. You watched them pile on various pastries, looking through the rows of mini pain au chocolat, almond croissants and pastel de nata. The mini fruit tarts featuring clementines and red velvet cakes were the items that made you fall in love with baking, hence the name of the place. The shorter man reached for a tart, its glossy colorful slices glistening under the bakery lights, nestled in a bed of creamy white chocolate mousse. You watched as the other one picked up a croissant, giving it a slight squeeze—a soft crackle of delicate layers breaking beneath his fingers. They seemed satisfied with their various selections, happily walking over to the register, the tall one flashing his almost sinfully perfect smile as he paid for everything. You thanked them for coming in and sent them on their way.

"You can't be serious, how did you not say anything?" Your sous chef Quinn let out a breath she had probably been holding since the two guys walked through the door.

"What are you talking about?"

She scoffed, remembering the fact that you’d lived in Europe the last few years so their presence didn’t hold much weight. She tossed a dish towel over her shoulder as she turned to face you, “they’re Bengals, babe. Like, literal football gods. Also, it helps that they’re stupidly attractive."

You hummed, processing everything she just threw at you. "Well, that part I did notice. And they’re freakishly...big. Good thing we made extras of everything, because I think they just wiped out half the front shelf."

Quinn laughed, stepping around you to check for herself. "I have a shelf they can—sorry."

"Okay easy tiger,” you let out a laugh, “they're gone. Are we still on for drinks tonight?"

"Oh absolutely, I definitely need a martini or three after seeing the best receiving duo in the game, in person. My boyfriend is actually going to lose his mind when I tell him."

You shake your head with a smile on your face, walking back to the kitchen to restock, the scent of butter and cocoa bean filling the air as you slip behind the counter to arrange the freshly baked tarts.

Much to your surprise, they were back three days later. The door sounded again, and the tall one walked up to you, his broad shoulders barely fitting in the doorway. "I'm Tee."

"Hi Tee," you smile, surprised. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon. Or your friend over there." Tee turns around to find Ja'Marr loading up on cheesecakes this time, not paying attention to anything else. The sight of him, mouth half-full of a pastry, causes you to chuckle.

"I didn't either but...damn. You the owner?"

You nod, hesitant but flattered.

"Excuse my language, but yo, this shit fire—like man. We had to come get some more. Everything’s made fresh, from... scratch?"

"Yeah, every morning I get here at like 5:30 and we bake everything. From scratch."

Ja'marr appears next to him, holding a mini crème brulee. "You are VERY good at your job. You'll be seeing a lot of us now that we're back for the season. Swear you weren't here when I left Cincy, how long you been here?"

"Stop, it's not that great.” You wave him off as he continues to nod profusely, holding up his latest find with wild eyes as you laugh again. “And I've been here a little over a month, just moved to Cincinnati actually."

"From?" Ja'Marr pipes up, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"France, lived there for a few years to perfect my pastry skills and really focus on my craft."

"That's crazy, I just got back from Paris for Fashion Week. The food was amazing and looks like the classes worked cause you definitely know what you're doing."

"Thank you guys. And spread the word will you? I heard you two are kind of a big deal around here."

"Something like that, we appreciate you for these," Tee flashes a wide grin, holding up the bag as he thanks you one more time, "you'll see us back here soon."

The next day they returned the favor and since you'd been feeding them, they wanted to take you to a special spot downtown to really introduce you to the city. Of course you brought Quinn with you. Her boyfriend didn't believe this was actually happening until he Facetimed her and saw the guys for himself. It was nice to finally feel like you'd met people you got along with without having to try to be anyone but yourself. Over the next few weeks while exploring the Cincinnati food scene, you found out that Tee and Ja'marr were funny, sweet and kind, just two guys enjoying the last few weeks of the offseason before training camp ramped up. Both of them were in the midst of contract negotiations, having to explain to you the ins and outs of NFL life. They appreciated that you didn't care about their status and never asked unless they started the conversation and you loved having people around that made this city feel so much less like a foreign country.

Ja'Marr strolled in one morning with a grin, practically bouncing on his feet as he leaned across the counter. "Hey, so listen...you gotta make those mini cakes for my housewarming on Saturday. I mean, you have to be there, since we’re your best friends now and all. It’s only right."

Quinn, who had been wiping down the counter, stopped mid-motion and squinted at him. "Excuse me? So now I’m invisible? You’re just gonna act like I wasn’t the one keeping her entertained before you waltzed in with your designer sweatpants and phenomenal taste in bakeries? Some people." She shakes her head in mock disbelief.

Ja'Marr smirked, completely unbothered. "Anyway, Imma ignore that. Jealous isn't a good look on you Quinn." He quickly turns his attention back to you, "so...you'll be there Saturday right? I'll text you the address."

"Yes, I'll be there."

"And so will I, since we wanna exclude people from the conversation." Quinn adds in from behind you.

Ja'Marr, clearly pleased with his victory, flashed a grin as he turned to leave. "Speaking in third person? You know what I'll just see y'all Saturday." Before heading out, he shot you one more look over his shoulder. "Don’t forget, mini cakes."

As he walked out, Quinn glanced at you, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Looks like you’ve got some serious new friends now, huh?"

"We," you correct her, "we have some serious friends new friends now."

As a business owner, you prided yourself in being a professional. Even at your friend's party, you wanted to be more than on time and make the cakes look as pretty as possible. Quinn had joined you in the last-minute preparations, both of you arriving an hour before the gathering started to get things in order. The large living room was already buzzing—caterers setting up a lavish buffet, trays full of appetizers being placed on side tables. Some of Ja'Marr’s friends, who you assumed were visiting from Louisiana, lounged in the corner, their laughs echoing over the low hum of video game sound effects.

You and Quinn worked in tandem, setting the delicate mini cakes on a table near the center, the soft scent of the various flavors filled the room as you arranged the treats just so. You hadn’t even noticed Ja'Marr and Tee walking towards you until Ja'Marr's voice cut through the conversation.

"You brought my favorite ones, that’s so sweet. I am gonna tear. These. Up." His grin was wide as he took in the display of your pastries while wiggling his fingers.

"Be classy, please," you teased, glancing at him, "we don’t want your neighbors thinking a wild animal moved in next door."

"Nah, it’s cool," Ja'Marr shrugged nonchalantly, glancing down to check his phone. "I think one of the neighbors just got here."

The door clicked open, and in walked a tall figure. Your breath caught slightly in your chest as your gaze followed the man’s movement. His striking blue eyes swept across the room, a faraway intensity to his expression that made it seem like he was seeing more than just the people around him. There was a quiet confidence to his posture, the kind of calm authority that made him impossible to miss. His light brown hair, a little tousled in that effortless, perfect way, gave him the air of someone who had just stepped out of a high-end catalog.

"Burrow!" Ja'Marr exclaimed, his voice shifting into an easy familiarity. "Damn...I’m really surprised you here. Didn’t think you were leaving the house for a year after your little world tour."

"We went to the same country," Joe replied, his voice steady and slightly dry. "And it was just one." He gave Ja'Marr a side hug, but the moment was strange—a quick pinky shake that made you tilt your head, wondering what it meant. Something about it felt oddly intimate.

Ja’Marr turned his attention to you. "You remember that bakery we been tellin' you about? This is Y/N, the owner. We kinda best friends now so you need to get used to seeing her around. And that's Quinn, they're a package deal."

"Nice to meet you both." Joe’s voice was smooth, but there was a slight tension in the air as he extended his hand.

You reached for it, but Quinn—who had been standing beside you—was frozen. Her eyes were wide, staring at Joe like he was some kind of myth brought to life. The words she'd been about to say caught in her throat, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process the moment. The seconds stretched on, but she didn't seem able to move, her usual confidence wiped away by her starstruck shock.

You nudged her lightly with your elbow, snapping her back to reality. She blinked, her expression changing in an instant. “Sorry,” she said quickly, her voice higher-pitched than usual as she shook Joe’s hand. “It’s just—um—I'm, like, a huge fan. My boyfriend, too. He’s gonna lose his shit when I tell him I met Joe Burrow.”

Joe’s eyebrow raised slightly, a small, amused smile pulling at his lips as he noticed her flustered reaction. He let out a soft chuckle. "Well, nice to meet you, Quinn."

You laughed softly, shaking your head at Quinn, trying to play it off while feeling your own pulse steadily increasing. Quinn, still flushed from her sudden nervousness, was no longer frozen but her eyes were still glued to Joe, unable to hide the awe on her face.

"Okay, now that we've got that out of the way," Ja'Marr said, clearly enjoying the shift in energy. "I know you don't play about your diet but when I tell you these cakes are the best thing I've ever put in my body? I'm being serious."

Before you can roll your eyes or downplay it, the homeowner stops you. "Don't even think about it, I don't wanna hear none of that. We just need to get him to try one."

Joe grabs one with a Biscoff cookie on top and takes a bite, completely unfazed by the fact that everyone is watching. "Wow, this is. This is incredible. I get why they won't shut up about your place. This is really good."

"Thank you," you laugh softly, trying to push down the weird sense of nervousness pooling in your chest. "And thanks for breaking your strict diet to try it, that means a lot."

He nods and more people start to show up so Ja'Marr leaves to greet them and Tee grabs a few tiny cakes for himself, Quinn asking him if he wants a plate. Everyone moved on from the previous conversation but as you made eye contact with Joe, something unexpected happened—a flicker of recognition, of something unspoken, passing between the two of you. His gaze held yours for just a heartbeat longer than usual, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room had melted away. Although you didn’t really want to, you ignored that feeling and focused on enjoying the night.

You and Quinn moved around the party, getting to know different groups of people, mingling with different players on the team, their significant others and she had to explain to you who all these people were. Of course you'd heard the names before, the buzz around the city the closer the players got to training camp and to the season actually starting. But if years in Europe had taught you anything, it was that sports fans are obsessively dedicated and somehow now you had also become an honorary Bengals fan because of Ja'Marr and Tee. And you couldn't wait to cheer them on. But right now? You couldn't wait to be home and in bed.

The exhaustion of the being up since 4:30 in the morning was continuously creeping up on you. The noise and the laughter mixing with the smells of rich food and the clinking of glasses was all becoming a bit too much after a long week of work. Your mind was constantly racing, your body tired and your spirit longed for some peace and quiet.

You slipped outside into the cool evening air, the chill of the night sky a welcome relief from the heat of the crowded room you'd successfully slipped out of. The city buzzed faintly in the distance, but it felt like a different world out here, away from the chatter and the constant movement.

You leaned against the porch railing, closing your eyes for a moment to just breathe.

The door clicked open behind you, and for some reason you knew exactly who it was. His presence was unmistakable.

“Didn’t expect you to be out here,” Joe’s voice was low, a little gruff but soft in the quiet of the night.

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on the quiet of the moment to form any words. You’d seen Joe around the party—he’d been laughing and chatting, looking perfectly at ease, but now he seemed... different. There was something in the way he stood, in the way he gazed at the horizon, that told you his social battery had run out just like yours had.

“You all good?” Joe asked after a beat, his voice a little more concerned than you expected.

You nodded, finally turning to face him. “Yeah. Just needed a minute. It’s...a lot, sometimes, you know? New city, new life, always on the go.”

Joe looked at you for a long moment, as though weighing something in his mind. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I’ve had days where I just need to...step away for a second. Guess we both needed some air, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. Two people who seemed like they could handle anything, both seeking a quiet moment to themselves, at the same time. You glanced at him, noting the way his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his jaw slightly tense. He wasn’t trying to fill the silence with empty words or forced jokes, and for that, you appreciated it.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just standing there in the cool night air, the sounds of the party muffled behind the door. For the first time, you felt the world slow down a little.

Joe shifted, and you glanced over, catching the faintest flicker of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Tee and Ja’Marr won’t shut up about you. Guess it’s my turn to see what all the hype is about."

You smiled back, the moment stretching on, neither of you in a rush to move. "Hope I don’t disappoint."

Ja'Marr had you over a few nights later to go over some film with you to get you ready for "the most important season of your life." Tee walked into the living room holding an iPad full of notes, including the presumed depth chart for week 1. Joe sat on the opposite couch, a water bottle on the table in front of him. They gave you a rundown on what everybody's role is on the team starting with Joe.

"He's QB1, you know. Heart of the team, he's our leader." The more he talked, the more it sounded like he was reciting wedding vows to his quarterback, who looked like he was bored out of his mind. You glanced over at him, but he didn’t react, just sipped his water and let Ja’Marr ramble on. You had barely spoken to him all day—just small glances here and there without taking it any further.

The same thing happened the next day. And the day after that.

Finally, you spoke up. "You're not a man of many words, are you?"

Joe barely looked up as he responded, "Depends on who it is and what they're asking." His tone was casual, but there was a weight to it, like he didn’t give away words freely. Like almost every human interaction he had was a secret interview prying into his personal life.

"Okay, well, you've attended three sessions of my exclusive Bengals 101 class, and you've barely said a word," you pointed out, shifting on the couch to face him. "But yet, every day, you're here."

"I love football," he said simply, taking another sip of water. Then he set the bottle down, finally looking at you. "And I would hate for the newest football fan of the crew to be confused in the middle of the Jungle."

"Is that what they call it? The Jungle?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the fact that he may have just cracked a joke.

Joe gave you a half-smirk and nodded. "It gets pretty wild, Y/N," he said, standing up and patting you lightly on the back as he walked past. "You better be ready."

He always kept interactions short, never going out of his way to talk to you in group settings, refusing to join the group chat that Tee had created with you, Ja'Marr, and Quinn. Instead of treating him like an onion who needed to be peeled, you just went with it and tried to lean in and embrace his dry sense of humor.

One night, you plopped down next to him on the couch. "Hey," you said casually, tilting your head to study him. "I was just wondering—do you ever smile? Like, unprompted? Or do you just reserve happy Joe for the comfort of your gigantic house when you're alone watching SpongeBob reruns?"

Joe turned his head slightly, his lips twitching into a smirk before he quickly looked away, trying to hide it.

Too bad for him—you caught every second of it.

A few hours later, as you cleaned up after another “film session”, you caught Joe watching you from across the room. Not in an obvious way—more like he was trying to figure something out, like you were a broken play he was seeing on his tablet.

He left without saying much, as always. You figured he preferred sticking to his usual routine—keeping his world small, guarded and unbelievably predictable.

So, when you saw him on the other side of Quinn's door after days of radio silence holding several bags of food, you almost dropped the bottle of wine in your hand.

"You know, you probably shouldn't have tipped that delivery guy. He just handed me these bags when I told him I was coming up here. I could've just been some horrible person stealing a perfectly good breakup recovery meal."

"I think because you're...you know—you? He probably would've handed you anything. I’m surprised he didn't ask for a selfie."

“Oh, he did,” Joe deadpanned, shifting the bags in his arms. “I signed the receipt instead. How's Quinn?"

"Honestly? She said she saw it coming, but it still sucks. You can come in."

Before long, everyone had found a spot, the coffee table now covered in takeout containers, the aroma of fried rice and lo-mein filling the air. The soft glow of the TV flickered across the dimly lit living room as Quinn sat curled up in the corner of the couch, picking at her food while Tee animatedly recounted his worst breakup story.

“At least your ex didn’t break up with you via emoji,” Tee said, waving his fork.

Ja’Marr nearly choked on his drink. “You lyin’.”

“Bro, she deadass sent me a salute emoji and just—gone.”

Quinn let out a weak laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, that’s tragic.”

“Exactly. So if I survived that, you’ll survive this.” Tee nudged her with his elbow.

The weight in the room had started to ease, the heaviness of Quinn’s breakup quickly turned into a lighter and softer energy. You sat on the couch sharing a blanket with her, almost having to force yourself into finishing your food because it was unfortunately your first real meal of the day. Joe sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, his knee brushing against yours every time one of you shifted. You told yourself it was nothing.

Every once in a while, your eyes met—quick glances during a particularly funny scene, a knowing look when Ja’Marr started yelling at the TV. He was more relaxed tonight, his usual quiet guardedness giving way to something looser, something easy.

For the first time since moving to Cincinnati, you felt it. That feeling of belonging. Of finding your people.

Quinn let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning her head against your shoulder. “I guess I’ll survive.”

“You definitely will,” you reassured her, placing your hand on hers, giving it a squeeze.

Joe shifted beside you, his voice low. “You picked a hell of a crew to stick with.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze, something unreadable in his expression.

“Could be worse,” you teased, nudging his leg slightly.

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. For a second, it seemed like he might say something else—but instead, he just reached for an egg roll.

After that night, things started to shift more toward football. The usual late-night hangs became less frequent, the group chat more active with reminders about packing lists and schedules. Training camp was looming, and you could feel the weight of it, even though you weren’t the one suiting up.

One night at Ja’Marr’s, Tee stretched out on the couch, scrolling through his phone. "This is our last free weekend before camp. Y’all better soak it in.”

Quinn groaned. “Ugh. That means my social life is about to take a massive hit.”

Ja’Marr snorted. “Don’t act like we don’t have days off. We just gon be tired as hell.”

Joe wasn’t there that night—he’d taken off for a few days on his annual lake trip, something about needing to “reset.” Not that you were keeping tabs on his whereabouts or anything, but the house felt quieter without him.

Then, two nights before camp started, he walked into Ja’Marr’s house like nothing was different.

Except, everything was different.

Tee was mid-sentence when he noticed, his words dying in his throat as he squinted at Joe. “Boy, what the hell?”

Ja’Marr turned, eyes widening. "Nah. No way."

You blinked. “Did you—did you shave your head?”

Joe barely reacted, setting his keys down like this was any other day. “Yeah.”

“And bleach it?” Quinn added in, looking intrigued...and a little scared.

“Yep.”

Tee leaned forward, inspecting him like he was some rare species. “You look like a villain in a Fast & Furious movie.”

Joe smirked, rubbing a hand over his buzzed, bleach-blond head. “Perfect.”

Ja’Marr was still in shock. “Bro, what possessed you?”

Joe shrugged, completely unbothered. “Felt like it.”

You tried to stifle a laugh, shaking your head. Of course. The most dramatic change of the offseason, and he acted like it was nothing.

Quinn tilted her head, appraising him. “You know what? I don’t hate it.”

Ja’Marr ran a hand down his face, groaning. “Man, now we gotta deal with this version of Joe all season.”

Joe just grinned, casually grabbing a side salad off the counter like he hadn’t just broken everyone’s brains. Training camp hadn’t even started yet, and he was already causing chaos.

Quinn, Tee, and Ja’Marr burst out laughing, looking at each other with wide grins. "Hold up—do y'all realize what this means?" Tee pointed between them. "We all got buzzcuts now."

Ja’Marr gasped, nodding. "Oh, it’s a sign. We're about to be in sync this season. Chemistry off the charts."

Quinn snorted. "What, like you're the bald-headed Avengers?"

Tee clapped his hands. "Nah, we’re like…an Olympic relay team. Faster, stronger, better communication."

Joe shook his head, amused. "You guys are ridiculous."

"You say that now, but just wait," Ja’Marr said, stroking his chin like he was cooking up a master plan. "I'm over here manifesting greatness."

Joe just rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food, but then he caught your expression. You were dying to say something. "Go ahead, tell me what you really think. I've heard a few. Cody Rhodes, Eminem..."

"I was gonna say a more attractive version of Jonah Hill in the 21 Jump Street flashback scenes."

Tee and Ja’Marr lost it. Ja’Marr literally had to grab the counter for support, and Tee was staggering away, gasping between wheezes. "Bro, I can see it!"

Joe stared at you, lips pressing together like he was physically restraining himself from laughing. "That’s just hurtful."

"You asked." You bit back a grin.

The chaos continued around you, but somehow, it ended up just the two of you standing there as the others got distracted by something else.

You hesitated. You shouldn’t ask. But you did.

"Why did you do it?" You tried to sound casual. "Your hair looked fine—I mean, more than fine—but… why?"

Joe leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. His lips twitched like he was about to say something stupid. Then—

"I want frosted tips."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"And I’ve never seen anyone actually look good when they just go get them, so I’m doing it the natural way."

You just stared at him. "Joe. This is the most insane way to get blond highlights, and you know it."

"Sorry you feel that way," he said, totally unbothered. "But I don’t do things halfway. Go big or go home."

He said it so casually, but the way he was looking at you? That was dangerous. The kind of look that made the room feel a little too warm, made your stomach do an annoying little flip. His icy blue eyes held yours just a second too long—long enough for you to realize that you should run for your life.

Because if you stayed here any longer, you might have to admit that you were developing a teeny, tiny, completely inconvenient crush on Joe Burrow.

August

Having a crush as an adult kind of feels like you're having a heart attack. You could be completely fine one second and then suddenly your entire being was consumed with thoughts of him so vivid it made your chest hurt.

The first preseason game was finally here, giving you the perfect excuse to focus on literally anything else. Your first tailgate was an experience, that morning of the game was by far the busiest day you'd ever experienced. Pre-orders were being picked up left and right, mini pies and cheesecakes were snatched off the shelves before 11am and the only thing that remained by the time all of you left the shop at 2pm was a lone batch of cupcakes that you ended up giving away for free at the stadium. It was easy promo.

Paycor Stadium felt like magic. A chaotic, slightly unhinged kind of magic. Fans were everywhere—some already drunk, all of them decked out in orange, fully prepared to dedicate their mental health to a 53-man roster for the next several months. You just wanted to see your friends do what they loved—well, at least two of them, since Ja’Marr was in the middle of a holdout. Or, technically, a hold-in, since he was still around the building but not practicing. You were still trying to grasp the nuances of contract negotiations, and honestly, you needed a few more Bengals 101 cramming sessions to feel more confident in your abilities to explain the situation, if anyone were to ask.

Time slowed when Joe stepped onto the field. And the stadium erupted when he threw a touchdown to none other than Tee. You swore you saw a couple of fans crying, which was kind of heartwarming but also a little funny, considering they didn’t know him personally.

Joe hadn’t talked much about his wrist injury or the recovery process after surgery, and you never wanted to pry. You figured he’d open up when he was ready. But as you watched him out there, commanding the field like nothing had ever been wrong, you couldn’t help but wonder if it had been as easy as he made it look.

He commanded the field like he commanded every room he entered. You met up with him, Ja'Marr, Tee, Quinn and a bunch of his friends from Athens along with his family to gather at his house, not only because it was the beginning of the season, but it was also a new beginning for him post surgery. The celebration was on, laughter and quiet music filling every corner of the house. You couldn't really hear it, but it had to be from Joe's never ending playlist filled with Gunna and Kid Cudi songs. People drifted in and out of conversations, drinks in hand, taking in the importance of indulging in the calm before the storm of the regular season.

At some point, you found yourself in the kitchen, away from the noise, refilling your drink. You weren’t alone for long.

Joe lingered in the doorway for a second before stepping into the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside you. His presence was quiet but steady, like he was still deciding if he wanted to speak.

For a moment, the two of you stood next to each other silently. You were perfectly happy listening to the muffled sounds of the party happening in the next room. Then, finally, he exhaled, his voice low enough that it almost got lost in the noise.

“I um—I cried last night.”

You turned to him, startled by the sudden confession. His gaze stayed on the counter, fingers idly tracing the grain of the wood.

“There were nights when I thought I wouldn’t make it back here,” he admitted. “Like, really about thought it. More than I ever have before.” He swallowed hard, jaw tightening for a second before he let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve never been afraid of failure. Not really. But this time… it was different.”

You could only imagine what that felt like—to have the thing you built your whole life around suddenly feel uncertain. To sit in the unknown and not be able to do anything but wait.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted softly, shifting so you were fully facing him. “I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like for you.” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “But I do know I’m glad you’re here. That you made it through. And that I get to see you come out on the other side of it.”

Joe finally looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time that night, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease.

Before you could stop yourself, you sighed, "I think about failure all the time."

His brows furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

You glanced down, running your thumb over the rim of your glass. “Every single day at the bakery feels like a risk. Like one wrong move, one slow month, and it all comes crashing down. I try not to let it eat me alive, but it’s always there in the back of my mind.” You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Every day is either a risk or a victory. Some days, it’s both.”

Joe was quiet for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, almost to himself. “I get that.”

And you knew he did. Probably more than anyone else. Maybe that was the thing about him—he understood the weight of expectations, the pressure of something you love being both the best and hardest thing in your life.

The party carried on around you, but the two of you stayed there, in the quiet.

Joe wasn’t sure when it started, but sometime after the day he met you, he’d found himself wanting to be near you. To talk to you. To hear what you had to say.

Now, standing here, watching the way your eyes softened when you spoke, he realized something that both excited and terrified him.

He liked you. He really liked you.

And when you smiled at him—soft, understanding, like you really saw him—something in his chest tightened. He was absolutely fucked. And he knew it.

The day after his ill-timed epiphany, he had to figure out a way to see you, without making it completely obvious that he wanted to see you. So he did the one thing he could think of.

"THE Joe Burrow, gracing my humble bakery with his presence?" You place a hand over your heart in mock surprise. "Did hell actually freeze over? Or did you finally crack under the pressure of living a sugar-free life?"

The quarterback looks around and shrugs, "told my parents about this place and I wanted to grab them something before they head out. What should I get? What's good here?" He laughs and you glare at him.

"Everything," Quinn interrupts before disappearing in the kitchen to go over their fall menu, "you know this."

"Well…surprise me." Joe says, when it's just you again. "You're the professional here. And I trust your opinion."

You pick out a few things, putting them in a box and handing them over to him after he tapped his phone on the tap to pay. His fingers brushed against yours on the box, just for a second. Just long enough for his slightly calloused touch to settle into your skin. He didn’t pull away immediately. Neither did you. And then, just like that, the moment passed.

Joe thanked you, turning on his heel and walking out without another glance. He told himself not to think about it. About the way your hand felt against his. About how his skin still felt warm where you’d touched him.

He spent a considerably long time staring at his palm in the car before shaking his head, gripping the wheel, and driving himself home.

September

The month came with the promise of real football. Instead, it delivered losses. Three straight. By the end of the month, they were 1-4, and the frustration was suffocating.

Losing wasn’t new to Joe—football was a game of highs and lows. But this? This felt different. This felt like clawing for air and only inhaling more water. He’d been playing pretty well but that hadn’t translated to team success so needless to say, he was frustrated.

And when Joe was frustrated, when the weight of the season pressed down on him, he did what he always did: he shut people out.

His routine became even more rigid. Early mornings. Earlier nights. Film. Practice. Ice baths. Rehab. Study. Sleep. Repeat. No distractions. No detours. Just football.

No one took it personally. Not really. This was how he was wired. How he dealt with things. But that didn’t mean you didn’t notice the way his texts became shorter, the way he started disappearing from the group chat, the way even Ja’Marr and Tee could barely get more than a few words out of him after a loss.

You weren’t even sure if stopping by was the right move. Still, you showed up at his house the day after their first win, peanut butter oat cups in hand and a ton of nerves in your stomach. You just…wanted—no needed to see him. To lay eyes on him and know he was okay.

Joe opened the door a few moments later, looking like a guy carrying a losing record on his shoulders. His hoodie was slightly wrinkled, his hair, which had already grown out tremendously, was still damp from a shower, and there was something unshakably tired about the way he stood.

But when he saw you, his posture relaxed just a little.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

“Hey.” You offered a small smile, holding out the box. “Figured you’d be on lockdown mode, so I won’t keep you. Just wanted to drop these off.”

His lips twitched like he was debating whether or not to smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But I did.”

Joe exhaled, running a hand over his face before glancing down at the box in his hand with a small smile. You were definitely going to consider this a win.

You let the silence settle between you for a moment before finally saying, “I know this is my first season actually paying attention to all this, but…I do know one thing.”

He looked at you then, a softer expression on his face as he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“This season isn’t over,” you said firmly. “Not even close. I know you well enough to know you won't just give up without a fight.”

Joe swallowed hard, slowly nodding his head. He didn’t respond right away, but you didn’t need him to. Instead, you reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder—just for a second, just to ground him.

“I’ll let you do your thing,” you murmured. “I just needed to see you for myself.”

Something flickered in his expression, something almost vulnerable, but before you could place it, he sighed, releasing a significant amount of tension in his muscles.

“Come on,” he said, closing the door behind him. “I’ll walk you out.”

The morning air was cool as the two of you walked in quiet steps toward your car. When you reached the door, you turned to say goodbye, but before you could, Joe pulled you into a hug.

It caught you off guard at first, the warmth of him, the way he held onto you like he needed this moment more than he was willing to say.

And then you felt it.

The steady, rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

You weren’t sure what it meant. If he even realized how much he was giving away just by standing here, holding you like this. And as much as you wanted to say something—to push—you got in your car holding back a smile.

October

The guys were riding on a high after beating the Giants, allowing themselves to celebrate for a total of...four hours.

By the time Joe made his way to Ja’Marr’s place, the energy in the house was still buzzing. Most of the guests had gone home and it was just the core four cleaning up in the kitchen, while others made their way in and out of the house. For once, nobody was sulking over film breakdowns or injury reports. It was rare for Joe to show up to things like this—especially in-season—but a win after weeks of frustration made it easier to step outside his routine, even if only for a little while.

He kept to himself for the most part, sitting back and listening while his receivers talked over each other about plays, what went right and what they could’ve done better. But the conversation took a sharp turn when Quinn, comfortably stretched out on the couch with a glass of wine in hand, looked up and announced, “Oh, by the way, I got her on dating apps.”

Silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

“Wait, what?” Tee sat up so fast he almost knocked over his drink. “Are you serious?”

“Like, for real?” Ja’Marr leaned forward, grinning. “Ain’t no way.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Quinn smirked, pulling out her phone. “Took some convincing, but she finally caved. And now I get to be the supportive best friend who helps her swipe.”

Ja’Marr rubbed his hands together. “Hand it over. We gotta see this. Make sure ain’t no weirdos on there. Last thing I need is for you to end up on some true crime Netflix special.”

Joe stayed quiet, gripping the neck of his water bottle a little too tightly as you handed them Quinn your phone and she pulled up the profile. Tee and Ja’Marr crowded around, making dramatic noises every time they scrolled past a new guy.

“Absolutely not,” Tee muttered, swiping left.

“Oh, hell no.” Ja’Marr swiped even faster. “Why he posing like that?”

“This one’s kinda decent, though,” Quinn argued, nudging the phone toward them. “Look at him.”

Joe didn’t look. He didn’t join in on the commentary, didn’t make a joke, didn’t do anything except sit there, staring at the condensation rolling down his water bottle, wondering why there was a weird feeling sitting heavy in his chest.

It wasn’t like he had a right to feel any type of way about this. And he knew what it meant.

But that didn’t stop him from feeling it anyway no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Between the temperature fluctuations and the sudden boom in business, your head was spinning. The bakery had never been more popular. What had started as a hidden gem over the summer had officially become one of Cincinnati’s go-to spots. Lines stretched out the door on weekends, with customers raving about the new fall menu: cinnamon swirl snickerdoodle blondies, apple cider donuts, maple pecan scones. You barely had time to catch your breath between managing the chaos and perfecting each batch, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Meanwhile, the Bengals’ season remained a rollercoaster. A solid win against the Browns gave everyone a glimmer of hope, but that optimism came crashing down when the Eagles steamrolled them by twenty. After that game, no one heard from Joe. His silent rage wasn’t unusual after a loss, but it was nevertheless, felt from miles away.

The next week, they bounced back in a big way, blowing out the Raiders at home. The scoreboard said it was a dominant win, but Joe was still visibly pissed, seen on the sidelines venting to Zac Taylor about missed offensive opportunities and a shit ton of penalties that should've been avoided. The moment went viral—clips of his animated rant flooded social media, with analysts debating whether his frustration was a sign of his competitive fire or a deeper issue brewing in Cincinnati.

That night, everyone met at Jeff Ruby’s for dinner, but Joe didn’t show. To the surprise of absolutely...nobody.

Toward the end of the night, the restaurant manager approached your table with a takeout bag in hand. “This is Joe’s order,” he explained. “He called it in, but something came up. He asked me to give it to you, is that okay?"

You hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I got it.”

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside his house, takeout bag in hand, knocking on his door. When he opened it, he looked exhausted. Not physically—no visible bruises or signs of injury—but mentally. His eyes were dull, his usual composed demeanor carrying an edge of frustration.

You gave him the bag. “Figured you should still eat.”

Joe took it with a small nod. “Thanks.”

For a second, you considered just leaving, letting him sit with whatever was weighing on him. But instead, you crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe. “You wanna talk about it?”

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his jaw before stepping back to let you in. You followed him to the kitchen, watching as he set the bag down on the counter but didn’t open it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, finally breaking the silence. “I just—” He sighed. “I’m playing well, but I don’t know if we as a collective have what it takes to close out games when it actually matters. We can beat shit teams, but the moment we go up against a real contender, it’s like everything falls apart. And I hate feeling like we’re right there but just not good enough.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of what he was saying. Joe wasn’t the type to be satisfied with mediocrity. He needed to win, and not just in ways that looked good on paper. At this point, to get back on track they needed to look dominant— unstoppable. Not like kids throwing together a project at the last minute because they forgot the due date.

“I get it,” you said softly. “This is your job, your career. You don’t half-ass anything, and you don’t want to settle for middle of the pack.”

Joe’s lips pressed together, his gaze flickering to yours. “Exactly.”

He ran a hand through his hair before exhaling sharply. “I’m sorry for missing dinner. Just…had a lot on my mind.”

You tilted your head, a flash of curiosity taking over. “Anything besides football?”

For a second, he was quiet, debating whether or not to answer. You could see the internal battle written all over his face, his jaw tensing and flexing as he pondered the risks of honesty.

Then, he muttered, “Fuck it.”

Your brows lifted, but before you could ask, he looked at you—really looked at you—and said, “I’ve been...thinking about you.” His voice was low, steady, but you could hear the weight behind it. “More than I want to. More than I should.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs.

You should’ve said something, but for once, you had no idea what to say. Instead, you took a step forward. Joe’s eyes tracked your movement, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance. His hand brushed against your waist, his gaze flickering to your lips, leaning in ever so slightly—

“Yo, have you seen my phone charger?”

Ja’Marr’s voice shattered the moment like glass.

Joe immediately stepped back, cursing again under his breath as Ja’Marr walked into the kitchen, completely oblivious to what he had just interrupted.

Your entire face was on fire and you were sure your heart was seconds away from bursting out of your chest.

Joe looked like he wanted to murder his best friend.

November

Neither of you brought up what almost happened. Maybe because neither of you were sure it should have happened. Or maybe, deep down, you were both afraid of what it would mean if you admitted that it did.

So, instead, things carried on like normal—except they weren’t normal at all.

Joe still came by the bakery, though now he had a habit of showing up under the guise of casual excuses. Like when he walked in one morning, a familiar water bottle in hand, and placed it on the counter in front of you.

“You left this at my house,” he said, completely straight-faced. “Wanted to make sure you’re staying hydrated.”

You blinked at him, then down at the bottle—one of many you’d undoubtedly left behind at places far more inconvenient. “You drove all the way here for…this?”

Joe shrugged. “Seemed important.”

Quinn made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. You didn’t have to turn to know she was giving Joe a look—one that said she saw right through him.

Still, nothing was said.

The two of you danced around the elephant in the room for 17 days. Then came the bye week, and as fate would have it, or your own personal hell, you ended up at Joe’s house, standing side by side in his kitchen as you baked a pumpkin pie together. The whole thing came randomly, he mentioned in passing that it was his favorite and he was spending his entire bye week on the couch so naturally you came up with a solution. Nobody else was free so it just ended up being you and him. Of course.

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon, nutmeg, and warm sugar, the scent pulling you into your natural element. This was your Paycor Stadium, your stage. R&B played in the background, filling the comfortable silence as Joe rolled out the pie dough with slow, concentrated movements. The counter was dusted with flour, the remnants of your work scattered across the surface.

"You’re pressing too hard," you murmured, stepping in behind him. You placed your hands gently over his, guiding his movements. "You want it even, but not overworked."

Joe huffed out a breath, the warmth of his chuckle brushing against your cheek. "So what you’re saying is, I’d be terrible on a baking show?"

You grinned, your fingers brushing against his as you both worked the dough. "I’m saying, there's some room for improvement for sure."

Joe turned his head slightly, just enough for his blue eyes to catch yours, his expression hard to read but there was a certain glimmer in his gaze. You didn’t move away. Neither did he. This was how it had been for months now—a quiet understanding, an unspoken closeness that had slowly built between you. It was in the way he showed up to your bakery with your favorite coffee, the way you memorized his weekly schedule, the way he looked for you after every home game, his gaze scanning the crowd in the player guest section postgame until he found you.

The pie crust was ready now, but neither of you were ready to move to finish it.

Joe’s hands lingered under yours, his thumbs lightly grazing your knuckles. "I like this," he admitted after a moment, his voice low. "Us. Doing this."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Me too."

It wasn’t just about the pie, and you both knew it.

You helped him move the dough into the pan, your fingers brushing again, sending little shivers up your spine. The pumpkin filling sat ready in a glass bowl, waiting to be poured, but Joe seemed far more interested in you. His eyes traced over your features, cataloging every detail as if he was afraid he’d forget them.

"What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

Joe shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

He exhaled slowly, rolling his lips together as if debating what to say. Then, instead of answering, he reached out to touch you, his fingers trailing down to your jawline, resting there a smidge too long. His movements were gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t. You couldn't.

The space between you evaporated, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so delicate, so achingly tender, that it stole the breath from your lungs. It was slow, unhurried, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of you against him. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself sink into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with vanilla extract—it was intoxicating.

Joe deepened the kiss, a quiet desperation laced within it, months of lingering glances and fleeting touches culminating in this moment. You felt his hesitation fade, replaced by something raw and real, something neither of you could ignore any longer.

But then he pulled away.

And you saw it—regret, creeping into his expression before he even said the words.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “This was a mistake.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Are you serious?”

Joe exhaled, looking anywhere but at you. He was still standing somewhat close but his hands weren’t on you anymore, making the temperature in the room instantly feel like it had dropped 20 degrees. Even the expression on his face was a little colder than before. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Your heart was pounding, anger curling hot in your chest. It was the only thing fueling you and keeping you warm. “I think it's a little too late for that. Joe, things have already changed. These past few weeks—hell, these past few months—we’ve been dancing around this. We’re not in fucking high school. Just tell me the truth.”

You took a step closer, forcing him to face you. To look at you. “Do you honestly have no feelings for me?”

Silence.

Then, finally—too quiet— “I don’t.”

You flinched like he’d slapped you.

Joe must have seen it because he let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just—overwhelmed. The team is losing, and I’m playing the best football of my life, and I just—I can’t add another thing to my plate right now.”

You studied him for a long moment, jaw tight, hands clenched at your sides. Then, finally, you nodded.

You stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to say something—but he didn’t. He just stood there, shoulders tense, eyes locked on the floor like he was hoping if he didn’t look at you, this would all just go away.

“You’re such a coward.”

Joe’s head snapped up, but you were already shaking your head, anger and frustration crashing into you all at once.

“You are so stuck in your own head,” you continued, voice sharp, unrelenting. “You keep everyone at arm’s length so you don’t get hurt. So you don’t have to admit that you actually feel things like a normal human being. You’re not some heartless football machine, Joe. You don’t have to live, breathe, and die this sport 24/7 to be fulfilled.”

You took a step forward, forcing him to face you, forcing him to hear you. “And you can stand there and act like this isn’t real, like there’s nothing between us, but I know there is. And you do too. Maybe it’s new, maybe it’s always been there, but I’m not stupid. At least I didn’t think I was.”

Joe’s jaw tightened, but he still said nothing.

And that? That pissed you off even more.

You scoffed, blinking away the sting in your eyes as you turned on your heel, grabbing your things off the counter. “If you want to pretend none of this is real, then fine. I won’t fight you on it.”

Joe didn’t move. He didn’t stop you.

You lingered for half a second, hoping—praying—that he’d snap out of it. That he’d reach for you, say your name, give you anything.

But all he did was stand there, motionless, watching you go.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head one last time before you reached for the door.

“Don’t burn my pie,” you muttered, then stepped outside, slamming the door shut behind you.

December

Joe told himself, over and over, that he’d made the right decision.

That pulling away had been necessary. That it was better this way.

But as the weeks passed, the reality of it settled in like a dull, persistent ache in his chest. The group dynamic wasn’t the same anymore. Quinn was firmly on your side, and Tee and Ja’Marr were caught in the middle, trying their best to act like everything was normal when it clearly wasn’t.

You only hung out with them if Joe wasn’t going to be there, and eventually, he stopped showing up altogether. Left the group chat, too, because what was the point?

So, yeah. He told himself this was what he wanted. That it was for the best.

Then one day, the night before his birthday while the Bengals were in Dallas, his house was broken into.

It was everywhere. The footage of the smashed window. The grainy security cam stills of showing the inside of his house. The headlines dissecting every detail—what was stolen, how much damage was done.

For a second—just a fleeting, stupid second—he thought maybe you’d reach out.

But you didn’t.

And why would you? It wasn’t your place anymore.

You were moving on. Meeting new people.

Like Cory.

Sweet, mature, honest-about-his-feelings Cory.

More than Joe could say for himself.

Joe wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.

At all, really.

But when he overheard Tee and Ja’Marr talking about you, about how you’d been going on several dates with some guy named Cory, he couldn’t help but listen.

“Seems like a good dude,” Tee said, scrolling through his phone. “Takes her out, treats her right.”

“She actually looks happy, too,” Ja’Marr added. “Not whatever the fuck that was with Joe.”

Joe rolled his eyes, slamming his locker shut. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ja’Marr turned to him, unimpressed. “It means you fumbled, bro.”

Tee nodded. “Big time.”

Joe exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He wasn’t in the mood for this. But they weren’t letting it go, so he told them. Everything. The kiss, the fight, the way he let you walk away because he was too caught up in his own head to admit how he really felt.

By the time he finished, Tee and Ja’Marr were looking at him like he was the dumbest man alive.

“You fumbled twice,” Tee corrected.

“She’s moving on,” Ja’Marr added. “And from the sound of it, dude’s actually putting in effort. You had your chance.”

Joe didn’t respond, just sat there, feeling more irritated by the second. He told himself he didn’t care.

The restaurant was dimly lit, the soft hum of jazz playing in the background as you swirled the last bit of your wine in the glass. Across from you, Cory was smiling, eyes warm and excited in a way that made you feel a little guilty. He was sweet, thoughtful, and easy to be around. The kind of man that you bring home to your parents and settle down with. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was easy. There was no tension, no unsaid words, no history thick enough to make the world stand completely still for a minute.

You were on your fifth date now, and even though you liked him, you knew deep down you weren’t feeling it the way you were supposed to.

“I, uh—I actually got something for you,” Cory said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Well, it’s more of a surprise, really.”

You set your glass down, watching as he pulled out a sleek envelope and slid it across the table toward you. “Go on, open it.”

You hesitated before peeling it open, your heart practically stopping when you saw what was inside. Two tickets to the game—Bengals vs. Broncos. A must-win. And VIP passes for the postgame meet-and-greet.

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

“I wasn't snooping in your house or anything but I did see a Bengals cup in your cabinet the other day. But you never really said anything about being a fan?” Cory said, clearly proud of himself. “i don't know, I figured you might like it. And hey, you can finally meet some of the players.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. You swallowed down the instinct to refuse, to make up an excuse, to say absolutely the fuck not. But what reason did you have? To Cory, there was nothing complicated about this—just a thoughtful gift for someone he was getting to know.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “Wow, Cory. This is...really sweet of you.”

“So, you’ll come?” he asked, his grin widening.

You nodded, the weight of your own decision pressing against your chest. “Yeah,” you said, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “I’ll go.”

And just like that, you sealed your fate.

Admittedly, it was their best game of the season. A win in OT, a Tee touchdown to keep their playoff hopes alive, and all the players riding on a high of a multiple game win streak. A month ago, you would've been celebrating right along with them. But tonight you really needed to get through this meet and greet without throwing up. And without blowing your cover. If nothing else, this was Cory's opportunity to have a once in a lifetime experience and the last thing you wanted to do is ruin that.

And then you saw him.

And Joe saw you with...him.

He saw how the guy next to you couldn’t wait to shake his hand—Joe thought it was a joke. Thought maybe this was some kind of sick cosmic punishment for all the terrible decisions he’d made in the last few months.

You looked good, unfairly good in your jacket and Bengals beanie, one that Tee had given you and Joe felt his irritation morph into something else entirely.

You weren’t even looking at him.

Cory, meanwhile, was beaming. “Man, it’s so cool to meet you. You played great tonight.”

Joe barely managed a nod, jaw tight.

Cory didn’t seem to notice the tension thickening the air, but you did.

And when your eyes finally met Joe’s, there was something there—something that made his pulse jump—before you quickly looked away.

Yeah. Joe was pissed.

The moment Cory got distracted meeting some of the other players, shaking hands and taking pictures, Joe saw his chance. He stepped toward you, lowering his voice.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. “Attending a football game, in the city I live in. Apparently that's a crime now.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then be more specific," you bite out.

Joe exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “Him? This?” He gestured vaguely in Cory’s direction. “Really?”

Your expression hardened. “Yes, really. He’s kind, honest, actually says what he feels instead of hiding behind excuses and—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “You know what? No. I don’t owe you an explanation. I don't owe you shit.”

Joe clenched his jaw. “So that’s it? You’re just—what? Moving on like none of it mattered?”

“Oh, now you want to talk about it?” You whisper yell. “You didn't have anything for me when I asked you, remember? All you could do was look at the floor like a freaking idiot. It was crickets and now you have the nerve to ask me what this is? You don’t get to do this, Joe. You don’t get to push me away, call me a mistake, then act like you suddenly care when you see me with someone else.”

He stepped closer, voice low and tense. “You know damn well I care.”

You swallowed, blinking up at him, and for a second—just a second—Joe thought you might let your guard down. That you might admit there was still something there.

But then you shook your head. “If you actually cared, we wouldn’t be having this conversation here. We actually wouldn't be having this conversation at all. I would've been here, with you. Not looking for pieces of you in another guy, a perfectly nice guy who just wanted to meet the freaking Bengals today. So if you don't mind, I'm gonna go meet Tee Higgins and Ja’Marr Chase...for the first time.”

Joe didn’t know what to say to that.

So you left him standing there, walking back toward Cory with a smile, pulling him in for a hug like Joe wasn’t just barely holding himself together.

January

Exactly seven days later, while Cory was over watching the game with you, Joe took a hit and stayed down. This time you were hanging on by a thread, on the inside. On the outside, you shoved some popcorn in your mouth and sipped on ginger ale, hoping the bubbles would bring your heart back to its rightful place instead of where it currently resided...in your stomach. You didn't know if he had a concussion but he definitely looked out of it, missing throws he usually made and the Bengals escaped Pittsburg by the skin of their teeth, securing a two point win on the road, their destiny up to chance. Ja'Marr called you in the locker room after the game to tell you he needed you at the watch party for good luck in praying on the Dolphins and the Broncos downfall. You told him you'd think about it, part of you didn't mind being in the same room as Joe, especially after you caved and watched his postgame press conference to make sure he wasn't lying about being concussed. Maybe the two of you could be cordial with each other and leave the past behind.

You woke up on the couch with NFL Network still on tv. Something about it felt embarrassing, because it felt right. Months ago you were watching an introduction to football PowerPoint and now you'd regularly catch yourself having football withdrawals. Just as you were ready to call it a night, turning off the tv and mentally preparing yourself to head to your room, you heard a knock at the door. Who could possibly be coming over at 2 in the morning?

You stood frozen in the doorway, gripping the edge of the door like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Your stomach dropped—hard and fast—like missing a step in the dark. Joe was standing there, still in the clothes you had seen him wearing during in his postgame press conference. His hair was a mess, the shadows under his eyes deeper than usual. He looked exhausted. But that wasn’t what made your breath hitch. It was him. Here. Now. After all this time.

“Joe.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “What are you doing?”

He exhaled heavily, a far away look in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

You crossed your arms, trying to steel yourself, ignoring the way your pulse was racing. “You don’t know? What do you mean you don't know? You just drove around after you landed and magically ended up here?”

“I don't know, I just—I couldn’t go home. Not without seeing you.” He swallowed hard, eyes flickering over your face like he was searching for something, anything that might give him an answer. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but when I got on the plane, all I could think about was you.”

Your heart clenched painfully. Damn him.

“You scared the hell out of me tonight,” you admitted before you could stop yourself. “Watching you go down like that—” You shook your head, gripping the fabric of your hoodie. “I hated it.”

His eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. “I know. Can we just—can I come in?”

You stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid pressing in around you.

“Joe.” You sighed, your resolve crumbling at the sight of him standing there like that, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him in.

“Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Just for a minute.”

And against your better judgment, you stepped aside.

Joe ran a hand over his face and took a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking on that play, the pocket collapsed so fast I didn't even have time to throw the ball away. And when I hit the ground, all I could think about was you.” He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Not football, not the game, not the playoffs. You. And how I’d fucked everything up so badly that you wouldn’t even reach out. That I wouldn’t get a chance to apologize.”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to keep your expression unreadable.

“I’m so, so sorry. I was a coward,” Joe admitted, his voice breaking. “I am a coward. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be in control—of my game, my career, my emotions. It's kind of my thing. And you…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You fuck all of that up for me. The way I feel about you scares the living shit out of me.”

You blinked, stunned into silence.

“I’m not some heartless football robot,” he continued, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m a man who’s been terrified to feel anything real because it means I can’t control it. And when I’m with you, it’s real. It’s been real for months, and you were right. About everything. I was too much of a fucking idiot to admit it.”

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow. You wanted to believe him—God, you did—but you couldn’t just let him walk back into your life like he hadn’t wrecked you before.

“I need you to give me a chance to fix this,” Joe pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Please.”

You swallowed hard. “Joe…”

“I swear to you,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his hands almost reaching for you before he forced himself to stop. “I promise, I will prove to you that I’m not that coward anymore. Just… just say you’ll let me try.”

You studied him carefully, searching for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. But there was none. Only raw, unfiltered desperation and a kind of vulnerability you had never seen from him before.

Your walls were still up, but something inside you cracked. Just a little.

“You have to earn me this time,” you whispered.

Joe nodded instantly. “I will.”

After a hard conversation with Cory in the morning, you decided to attend the watch party the next day to test the waters. And to see your friends all in one place again. The atmosphere in Joe's house had shifted from tense to comfortable, a soft kind of warmth that had been missing for a while. The room was still, save for the quiet hum of the television, which was showing the Broncos slowly dismantling the Chiefs, much to the frustration of everyone else in the room. Joe had been quiet for the most part, lost in his thoughts, but you could tell he had already come to terms with the inevitable.

You weren’t sure if you should be relieved or sad about the Bengals missing the playoffs, but you did know one thing: it didn’t feel like the end for you and Joe. Not anymore.

The room had cleared out, the others heading to their respective homes after the game, leaving you and Joe alone. The snow outside had started to fall heavier now, creating a peaceful stillness that you couldn’t help but love. Joe seemed to notice the shift in the air as well, his eyes softening as he glanced over at you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His concern was still there like that first night he found you outside the housewarming party, that need to take care of you even now.

You nodded, even though there was a part of you that was more uncertain than you wanted to admit. “Yeah. Just…just thinking.”

He leaned back against the couch, eyes flicking to the window as the snowflakes danced in the cold air. “You want me to drive you home? It’s getting pretty bad out there. Or, you could stay? Only if you want to."

You hesitated for a second, a small part of you wanting to avoid the drive, to stay with him just a little longer. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—like he was sure this time. Like there was no more running. “I think…I think I want to stay,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze.

Joe didn’t need any more convincing. He pulled you in close to him on the couch, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he let out a slow sigh. “I’m really gonna miss football," he murmured. “But I’ve got a lot of work to do with you, so I guess I’ve got some time now. I messed up before. I’m not messing this up again.”

You smiled, the weight of the past few weeks lifting off your shoulders just by being close to him. “I can’t wait to put you to work, 6am at the bakery tomorrow morning. And the next few mornings. For a while.” you teased, your voice barely audible.

Joe’s eyes darkened for a moment, a quiet promise in his gaze. He cupped your face gently, leaning in with a tenderness that took you by surprise. When his lips met yours, it was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. A kiss full of unspoken apologies, solidifying what was to come, and the quiet declaration that he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right between the two of you. Even if some of that ended up with him getting covered in flour for the foreseeable future.

You didn’t pull away. In fact, you melted into the kiss, your heart swelling in your chest as his hands slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place like you were exactly where you belonged.

He pressed one more slow kiss to your lips before his eyes flicked to yours, searching. “So… does this mean our friendship over?” His voice was low, careful, but there was something else there—hope, maybe.

You didn’t even have to think about it. You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head and running your fingers through his hair. “Absolutely. It’s dead and gone.”

Joe exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head before reaching for you, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Good,” he murmured, tugging you closer. “Because I really didn’t want to be your friend anyway. Got much bigger plans in mind.”

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

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

Chapter Forty Three

Every muscle in my body tensed as I stared at her, my breath shallow, my mind racing to process the fact that she was really here. 

Jade took a slow step forward, the clicking of her heels echoing ominously through the empty parking lot. I instinctively pressed my back harder against the cold brick wall, my fingers digging into the ground beneath me as if it could anchor me.

She tilted her head, her expression unreadable, but something flickered behind her dark eyes—something calculated.

“I have to say, Aylah,” she mused, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, “You look great, sitting there on the floor, looking so… helpless.”

I swallowed, forcing down the lump rising in my throat. I refused to let her see me crumble. Not again.

“I don’t have time for this, Jade.” My voice was steadier than I expected, but the way my hands trembled in my lap betrayed me.

She let out a short, amused laugh. “Oh, but I think you do. After all…” she crouched down in front of me, leveling our gazes, her smirk deepening. “It looks like your little prince charming won’t be picking you up anytime soon.”

My stomach twisted. The mention of Jungkook sent a fresh wave of panic surging through me.

She knew.

She knew about the accident.

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my expression unreadable, but Jade was always good at reading people—especially me.

Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Poor thing. I heard it was brutal.” She sighed dramatically, tapping a manicured nail against her chin. “And you haven’t even seen him yet, have you?”

I hated how easily she could get under my skin, how her words wrapped around my thoughts like poison. But I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

I lifted my chin. “What do you want?”

Jade's smirk faltered just slightly, as if she hadn’t expected me to cut straight to the point. But then she leaned in closer, so close I could see the faint smudge of lipstick on the corner of her mouth.

“I just wanted to see you,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost sweet. “It’s been so long.”

I stared at her, refusing to fall for whatever twisted game she was playing.

She sighed, standing back up and dusting off her dress like this was just another casual encounter. “You know,” she mused, taking a few slow steps around me, “I used to think you were pathetic.”

I clenched my fists.

She laughed. “But now? Now I think you’re just plain stupid.”

I shot up from the ground, my pulse spiking. “Jade, I swear to God—”

Jade’s voice sliced through the air, cold and unwavering.

"Stay away from Jungkook. I've had enough of your interference."

The words sent a chill down my spine, but I forced myself to stay still, my jaw tightening as I met her gaze. She stood there, arms crossed, looking at me like I was nothing more than an inconvenience—a bug she was tired of swatting away.

My fists curled at my sides, but I didn’t back down.

"No," I said, my voice steady.

Her lips twitched into an amused smirk, as if she found my defiance entertaining. "No?" she echoed, drawing out the word slowly, like she was testing it on her tongue.

Then, before I could react, she crouched down to my level, her movements slow and deliberate. She reached out, her ice-cold fingers gripping my chin as she tilted my face toward hers.

I swallowed hard. Her nails dug slightly into my skin, a silent reminder that she was in control.

"You’re going to do exactly as I say," she murmured, her voice deceptively sweet. "Or this time, I’ll make sure Jungkook is gone for good."

The air left my lungs. The world around me blurred for a second as her words sank in, as the weight of what she was saying settled in my chest like a stone.

My lips parted, but no words came out at first. When they finally did, my voice was barely a whisper.

"W-what do you mean you’re going to make sure?"

Jade’s smirk only grew, her dark eyes glittering with something cruel.

"Money is power, my love," she said smoothly, her tone dripping with arrogance. "Anything I say goes. And if I have to put Jungkook into another accident to get your cooperation…" She leaned in slightly, her breath brushing against my cheek as she whispered, "Then so be it."

A sharp, suffocating wave of nausea rolled through me.

I felt my stomach drop, my fingers trembling as I tried to process what she was saying.

She had done this.

Jade.

My body felt like it had been dunked into ice water as the horrifying realization took hold.

"You…" My voice cracked, but I pushed through. "I-It was you. You did this to him."

Jade let out a soft, almost delighted chuckle, tilting her head slightly.

"I’ll admit," she said, like we were discussing the weather, "I didn’t expect him to be in as bad of a condition as he is. But if this will push him to regain his senses and leave you, then it had to be done."

Something inside me snapped. Before I knew what I was doing, I shot to my feet, grabbing the collar of her designer coat and yanking her forward. Her expression didn’t even waver, but I caught the briefest flicker of surprise in her eyes.

"He’s fighting for his life right now," I seethed, my voice shaking with barely contained rage. "And it’s all your fault!"

For the first time since she walked up to me, her smirk faltered—just slightly. But she recovered just as fast, her expression settling into one of mild amusement as she clicked her tongue.

"You put him in that accident," I accused, my voice shaking with fury.

Jade sighed dramatically. "You say that like I ran him off the road myself."

I felt my stomach twist. "You as good as admitted it!"

Her smirk widened. "Did I?" she mused. "Or are you just looking for someone to blame?"

I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip that arrogant expression off her face, to make her feel even an ounce of the pain she had caused. But she wasn’t just mocking me—she was baiting me. She wanted me to snap, to lose control.

I forced myself to breathe, to swallow down the lump rising in my throat.

"Why?" I whispered. "Why would you do this?"

Jade clicked her tongue, as if she were disappointed in how slow I was to catch on. 

"Because," she said, voice low and dripping with amusement, "you just don’t seem to understand your place."

I wrenched my face out of her grip, disgust twisting in my gut.

"You’re insane," I hissed.

She just smiled. "You keep saying that."

I took a shaky step back, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You think you can just control everything? That you can do whatever the hell you want, and no one will stop you?"

Jade sighed, as if this entire conversation was exhausting for her. "Sweetheart," she cooed, taking a step closer, "I know I can."

I swallowed hard.

"Like I said, money is power," she continued, her voice smooth as silk. "And I have more than enough of it to ensure things go exactly the way I want."

The weight of her words settled over me like a crushing force.

She wasn’t bluffing. She had already proven how far she was willing to go. She had already hurt Jungkook. And now she was threatening to do it again.

I felt my body tremble, but I lifted my chin, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "You won’t get away with this."

Jade’s smirk widened as she reached out, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off my shoulder.

"I already have," she murmured.

Jade held my gaze for a lingering moment, the air between us thick with tension. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, her sharp heels clicking against the pavement with each step.

I stood frozen, my breath shallow and uneven, my hands clenched so tightly into fists that my nails dug into my palms. My entire body was stiff, locked in place by the sheer weight of everything she had just said.

Jungkook was in the hospital. Because of her. Because of me.

The realization settled in like a heavy weight sinking to the pit of my stomach, making it hard to breathe. If I had just walked away from him, if I had never let him back into my life, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe he would be safe.

Then, halfway across the lot, Jade slowed her steps.

I barely had time to brace myself before she turned back toward me, her expression unreadable—except for the small, knowing smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

My pulse pounded in my ears.

“Breathe a word of this to anyone,” she said, her voice smooth and even, but somehow more chilling than if she had screamed, “and I’ll make sure you’re gone too.”

Jade let the moment hang between us, waiting, as if daring me to test her, to see if she was bluffing. But the look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know. Satisfied that her message had sunk in, she turned back around and walked off, her posture as relaxed as ever. Whilst I was left standing there, the weight of her words pressing down on me so hard I could barely breathe.

I forced my legs to move, stumbling backward until my back hit the rough brick wall of the building. My breath came in sharp, uneven bursts, my mind racing too fast to keep up.

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. But it was.

Jungkook was in the hospital, and she was the reason why. And now, she had made it clear—if I so much as whispered the truth to anyone, she would make sure I suffered the same fate.

My stomach twisted violently, a wave of nausea rising up my throat.

I needed to get away. I needed to think.

Pushing off the wall, I barely made it around the corner of the building before my legs gave out beneath me, and I sank to the ground, pressing my forehead to my knees. My hands curled around the fabric of my shirt, gripping it as if it could somehow hold me together.

Everything felt like it was spiraling out of control.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Jungkook lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

If I didn’t do what she wanted, she would make sure he never woke up. And if I tried to stop her, she would make sure I didn’t make it either. I had never felt so trapped in my life.

Kayla and Damian were still waiting inside when I walked back in, my body tense, my thoughts racing. The moment Kayla spotted me, she straightened from where she had been leaning against the counter, her brows knitting together in concern.

I turned to her, my voice firmer than I intended. “Let’s head home.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what? Shouldn’t we—”

“I want to leave.”

The words came out too quickly, too forcefully. Kayla hesitated, her eyes searching my face for an explanation I couldn’t give.

Damian, who had been silent up until now, studied me for a moment before sighing and placing a hand on my shoulder. “It’s fine,” he said gently. “You should head back and get some rest. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

I nodded, unable to find my voice to respond.

Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked toward the exit, Kayla following closely behind. The silence between us stretched as we made our way across the parking lot toward her car, the cold air biting at my skin.

I could feel her sneaking glances at me, the weight of her unspoken questions pressing down with every step we took. I kept my gaze forward, hoping she would drop it.

She didn’t.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked, her voice careful, like she already knew the answer but needed to hear it from me anyway.

“Yeah, I am. Don’t worry.”

I didn’t even hesitate, the lie rolling off my tongue effortlessly.

Kayla didn’t look convinced.

“Are you—”

“I said I’m fine, drop it.”

The words came out sharper than I meant, my voice cutting through the quiet.

Kayla stopped walking for a brief second before pressing her lips together and nodding slowly. “Okay.”

I exhaled, guilt creeping up my spine, but I couldn’t bring myself to take it back.

Not when my mind was still replaying Jade’s words over and over like a broken record.

Not when I felt like the walls were closing in on me.

Not when I knew that if I told Kayla the truth, she could end up in danger too.

So I forced myself to keep walking, keep moving forward, as if I wasn’t completely unraveling inside.

Jade’s POV

Jade sat stiffly in the back seat of her car, arms crossed tightly over her chest as the dim city lights flickered through the tinted windows. The tension in the air was suffocating, thick like a noose tightening around her throat. 

Her nails dug into the soft leather beneath her, the pressure grounding her as she finally spoke. Her voice was sharp but controlled, masking the fury boiling beneath the surface.

“You weren’t supposed to hurt him that badly.”

The person exhaled a slow chuckle, tilting their head as if they found her reaction amusing. “What, still worried about him?” Their voice was thick with mockery, laced with something darker.

Jade’s jaw tightened. “You nearly killed my leading racer. Why the fuck wouldn’t I be worried?” Her voice wavered slightly, but her glare didn’t. “Do you have any idea what my father would do if he finds out?”

The person hummed, tapping their fingers against their knee in thought before shaking their head with a smirk. “Oh, so that’s what this is about. You’re still his little bitch, huh?”

Jade didn’t hesitate.

The slap rang through the car, the sharp crack cutting through the thick silence like a whip. The person’s head snapped slightly to the side, but they barely flinched, instead letting out a slow, humorless laugh as they dragged their tongue over their teeth.

Jade’s breathing was heavy, her fingers still curled into a tight fist. “Watch your mouth when you talk to me.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then, the amusement in their expression twisted into something else—something darker.

And then they struck back.

The slap came faster than she could react, and this time, it sent her head snapping sharply to the side. The sting was immediate, spreading through her cheek in a hot wave of pain that made her vision blur for a second. She let out a sharp breath, forcing herself to stay composed despite the ringing in her ears.

The person leaned in, their breath hot against her skin as they whispered, their voice laced with venom. “Don’t make me remind you of where you stand.”

Jade swallowed hard, her face still turned away, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

The person pulled back just slightly, their eyes scanning her face with something almost like pity before a cruel smirk curved their lips. “No matter how much power you think you have now, you’re still the same little bitch you were years ago.”

The words cut deeper than the slap ever could.

Jade’s fingers curled into fists in her lap, nails pressing into the soft flesh of her palms as her whole body tensed. She willed herself not to react—not to show weakness.

The person let out another low chuckle before finally reaching for the car door, pushing it open effortlessly. Before stepping out, they glanced back at her one last time, their smirk never fading.

“You’re not your mother, don’t forget that.” they murmured, voice dripping with mockery. 

Then, without waiting for a response, they disappeared into the night, the door slamming shut behind them. Jade sat frozen, her breathing uneven, her hands trembling in her lap. Her frustration boiled over, bubbling up like lava beneath the surface.

With a sharp, furious cry, she slammed her fists down onto the headrest in front of her, the force rattling the entire seat. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back the sting of unwanted tears.

Weakness wasn’t an option.

8 years ago

The impact came fast. A sharp, searing sting spread across her cheek as her head snapped violently to the side, the sound of the slap echoing through the room like a gunshot.

Jade barely had time to react before the venom in her father’s voice followed.

“You little bitch.” His tone was low, controlled, but dripping with fury. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

She lifted her chin, refusing to cower, even as the taste of blood lingered on her tongue. She forced herself to meet his piercing glare, her own eyes blazing with defiance.

“You’re not my dad.”

The words left her mouth before she could stop them.

His jaw tightened, nostrils flaring, before he grabbed her face roughly, his fingers digging into her cheeks with bruising force.

“Thank God for that,” he sneered.

Jade bit down on the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to stay still, refusing to let him see the flicker of pain that shot through her.

“Hurry up and recruit a racer,” he continued, his voice hard as steel. “And so help me God, if I find out you’ve fucked it up again—” his grip tightened for a split second before he suddenly shoved her backward, “—I’ll make sure you regret it.”

She barely had time to brace herself before she hit the floor, her elbows scraping against the cold tiles. Jade didn’t move. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Her father didn’t spare her another glance as he turned on his heel and stormed out, the heavy oak door slamming shut behind him.

For a few long seconds, silence filled the room, thick and suffocating.Then, with a sharp exhale, she kissed her teeth and pushed herself up to her feet, brushing the dust from her pants.

“Stupid piece of shit,” she muttered under her breath, tilting her jaw from side to side to ease the lingering sting. “How dare he fucking touch me.”

Her fingers twitched, itching to grab something—anything—and throw it against the wall. But not yet. Not here. With a deep breath, she straightened her posture, fixing her expression into one of cold indifference before pushing open the door and striding down the hall.

One of the women who worked under her mother was stationed near the office, typing something into a tablet. She barely had time to register Jade’s presence before Jade stopped in front of her, arms crossed.

“Find me the top under-20 F1 racers in the world,” Jade ordered, her voice sharp, leaving no room for argument. “And bring them here.”

The woman hesitated, her fingers tightening around the tablet. “I—uh—” she stuttered before quickly nodding. “Y-Yes, ma’am. Right away.”

Jade didn’t acknowledge her further. She turned on her heel and walked away, each step heavier than the last. By the time she reached her room, her composure cracked.

She slammed the door shut behind her and let loose. Her hands swept across the surface of her vanity, knocking down perfume bottles, makeup, and anything else in her path. Glass shattered against the marble floor, the scent of expensive fragrances filling the air.

She grabbed the stack of books on her bedside table and hurled them across the room, the heavy hardcovers hitting the walls with dull thuds. Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving as frustration burned through her veins.

“FUCK!”

Her voice tore through the silence as she tugged at her hair, nails digging into her scalp.Then, her eyes landed on the picture hanging on the far wall. Her mother’s picture. A smirking woman, beautiful and poised, staring back at her as if she was laughing at her misery.

Jade’s fists clenched as she stalked towards it, each step fueled by the fire in her chest.

“You just had to fuck your designer, didn’t you?” she spat, her voice shaking with fury. “You just had to bring a nobody like him into my fucking life.”

She ripped the portrait from the wall, her breath uneven as she stared at it for a long moment. Then, with one swift motion, she hurled it to the floor, the glass cracking on impact. Silence settled for just a moment as she stared down at the broken frame.

Then, she crouched down, burying her face against her knees, her shoulders trembling.Her fingers curled into the fabric of her pants, nails digging into her skin.

“I’m going to do whatever it takes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight behind it was undeniable.

She lifted her head, her eyes dark and filled with nothing but cold determination.

“I’m going to take this company from him. And I’m going to make it mine.”

With newfound resolve, she pushed herself to her feet and strode towards her desk. Pulling open the drawer, she grabbed the silver lighter tucked inside. She flicked it open, the small flame casting a soft glow against the dimly lit room.

Her gaze flickered back to the shattered portrait on the floor. Without hesitation, she set the corner of it alight. The flames caught instantly, creeping along the edges of the photo, distorting the smirking face of the woman she once called her mother.

Jade watched the fire consume it for a moment before tossing it into the empty fireplace.The flames flickered, eating away at the paper and glass, reducing the image to nothing but ash.

Months later

The rhythmic tapping of Jade’s nails against her phone screen was the only sound filling the dimly lit office. She scrolled absentmindedly, her legs crossed, her free hand resting against the armrest of her leather chair. The scent of fresh espresso lingered in the air, but she barely paid attention to the untouched cup sitting beside her.

A hesitant knock at the door barely made her blink.

“M-Ma’am?”

Jade didn’t look up. Her eyes remained fixed on the screen, her patience already running thin.

“What.” The single word was sharp, edged with irritation.

The woman standing by the door shifted uncomfortably, fingers tightening around the folder she held.

“I-I managed to narrow down the top young racers around the world to two,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “B-Both are from London.”

Jade exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. “And?”

The woman swallowed thickly. “They’ll be arriving shortly. H-Here are their files.”

Without a word, Jade held out her hand, finally tearing her gaze away from her phone. The woman hurriedly placed the folders into her grip before stepping back, as if afraid of being too close for too long.

Jade’s fingers tightened around the files as she finally looked up, her dark eyes pinning the woman in place. “Leave.”

The worker didn’t hesitate. She scrambled toward the door, practically tripping over herself in her rush to get out. The door shut behind her with a quiet click, and Jade let out a slow breath before leaning forward, resting her elbows on the desk as she flipped open the first file.

The name at the top read:

Damian Kallistratos

Age: 14

Nationality: Greek

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Hazel

Background: Middle-class upbringing. Both parents alive. Raised in a stable, supportive household.

Racing History: Entered the circuit at 10 years old. Known for his precision and technical driving skills.

Personality Notes: Competitive. Bright. Optimistic. Highly disciplined.

Jade skimmed over the details with mild disinterest before flicking to the next page. A photograph of a boy stared back at her—hazel eyes filled with excitement, his youthful face carrying a wide, confident smile. He looked... ordinary. Promising, sure. But nothing special.

With a scoff, she tossed the folder onto the desk, not even sparing it a second glance.

She reached for the next file, flipping it open.

Jeon Jungkook

Age: 14

Nationality: Korean

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Brown

Background: Mother deceased. Raised by his father. Middle-class upbringing.

Racing History: Entered kart racing at 10 years old. No formal coaching. Self-taught through street racing. Extremely aggressive driving style. Lacks refinement but makes up for it with raw talent.

Personality Notes: Resilient. Unpredictable. Emotionally closed-off.

Jade’s eyes lingered on the words. Mother deceased.

Her lips parted slightly as she read it again, her gaze darkening. A flicker of something unfamiliar twisted in her chest, but she quickly pushed it down, turning the page to his photograph. The boy in the picture looked... broken.

Unlike Damian’s bright, eager expression, Jungkook’s eyes were void of life. Dark circles shadowed beneath them, his face carrying the kind of emptiness that couldn’t be faked. His lips weren’t set in a smile or even a frown—just a neutral, distant expression, as if he wasn’t really there. As if he was waiting for something—anything—to give him purpose.

Jade studied the image for a long moment before grabbing Damian’s folder again. She stared at the stark contrast between the two boys.

One was light—full of hope and determination.

The other was darkness itself.

Jade’s lips curled slightly as she tossed Damian’s file away, letting it slide off the desk and land somewhere on the floor with a dull thud. Her fingers traced the edge of Jungkook’s folder as she tilted her head, a slow smirk tugging at her lips.

She tilted her head, her smirk deepening as her thumb dragged over the bold letters of his name.

"A boy with nothing left to lose is the most dangerous kind of weapon."

Her father wanted a new racer. And she wanted someone she could mold. Someone she could control. But maybe she didn’t need someone polished. Maybe she needed someone hungry. 

She let out a small, amused breath before whispering to herself, "Let’s see how far your grief can take you."

A sharp knock echoed against the heavy wooden door.

Jade barely lifted her eyes from Jungkook’s file before snapping, “What?”

The door creaked open hesitantly, and the same woman from earlier stepped in, her posture stiff as if she were walking on a tightrope. Beside her stood a young boy, no older than fourteen, dressed in a neatly pressed collared shirt and dark jeans. His black hair was slightly tousled, and his hazel eyes shimmered with something almost… hopeful.

Jade recognized him instantly from the file she had just tossed aside. Damian.

The woman cleared her throat nervously. “M-Ma’am, this is one of the racers. His name is Dam—”

“Leave,” Jade cut in, her voice dripping with disinterest. She leaned back in her chair, one arm draped over the armrest as she finally looked up, her smirk forming lazily. “I’m pretty sure the boy can speak for himself.”

The woman hesitated before nodding quickly and scurrying out, shutting the door behind her. Jade’s gaze locked onto the boy standing before her, eyes raking over him as if she were already evaluating his worth. She tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her sharp eyes.

“So tell me, Damian,” she mused, “why do you race?”

Damian straightened his posture, his smile unwavering despite the intimidating aura she gave off. “I guess you could say I’ve always loved cars,” he answered sincerely. “Ever since I was little, I was fascinated by the way they moved—the speed, the power, the precision. I used to watch races with my parents, and I knew that one day, I wanted to be the one behind the wheel. Racing isn’t just a dream for me… it’s my passion. And being here today, having this opportunity? I’m incredibly grateful for it.”

Jade listened, her smirk never fading. His words were sweet, polished—almost too perfect. She had met plenty of boys like him before. Bright-eyed. Ambitious. Grateful.

Predictable.

“Good to know,” she said smoothly, then leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk as she interlaced her fingers. “Now answer me this.”

Damian blinked in curiosity. “Yeah?”

“What is something that you’re afraid to lose?” Her voice was softer now, but there was something sharp behind it, something calculating. “It could be anything—an object, a pet, a person. Just make sure you answer honestly.”

Damian barely hesitated. His smile widened, warmth radiating from it as he spoke. “That’s easy. I’d say my family. I wouldn’t be here today without their love and support. They mean everything to me.”

Jade stared at him for a moment, then slowly, ever so slowly, her lips curled into a saccharine smile. “That’s very touching, Damian. Thank you for your time.”

Damian gave a small nod. “Thank you for having me.” He turned on his heel and walked toward the door, shutting it politely behind him.

The second he was gone, Jade’s fake smile vanished.

Her fingers drummed against the desk as she muttered under her breath, voice laced with disapproval—

“Pathetic.”

Before Jade could regain her composure, the door creaked open once again. This time, a new figure entered, and there was something instantly different about him.

The boy who walked in was draped in black—his entire outfit, from the hoodie pulled tightly over his head to the black jeans that hung loosely on his frame, screamed detachment. His presence in the room was muted, like a shadow, as though he were a part of the dim light, blending into the space without making a sound. His skin was pale, his face gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and a mind that refused to rest. His gaze met hers as soon as he stepped in, piercing through the air with a quiet intensity that made the temperature in the room feel colder. It was as if his presence, despite being quiet and reserved, had an undeniable weight to it.

Jungkook.

Jade couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between him and Damian, who had just left the room. Where Damian had been vibrant and full of life, with a passionate energy, this boy was a silent storm. Everything about him screamed distance, as if he didn’t need anyone, as if he had already cut himself off from the world long before stepping into her office. Jade leaned back in her chair, her posture casual but her eyes narrowed with curiosity.

"So," she began, her tone calm, a smirk playing at the edge of her lips, "aren’t you going to introduce yourself?"

Jungkook didn’t flinch. His eyes didn’t waver. His gaze remained fixed on her, sharp and unwavering. He simply stood there for a moment, the silence between them thick with an unspoken tension. Then, with an almost imperceptible shrug, he spoke, his voice steady but deep, carrying a weight she couldn’t ignore.

"Didn’t you read my file?"

Jade’s smirk faltered, and she couldn’t help but feel a hint of surprise at his sharpness. 

"Touché," she said, leaning forward slightly as she folded her arms across her chest. "So, Jungkook," she began again, her voice taking on a more measured tone, "tell me a little bit about yourself. Why do you race?"

The question was meant to be a simple one, something to probe his motivations, to gauge his character. But the answer she got in return was far from what she wanted.

He let out a slow, controlled exhale, as if preparing to let go of something heavy. There was a deep pause before he finally spoke, his words deliberate and clipped.

"Because I want to."

Jade’s eyebrow arched, the edge of her smile slipping just a fraction. That was the answer? She leaned back, unimpressed, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t expect to get such an unsatisfying response.

"Is that all?" she asked, her voice sharp, "You don’t want to give me more than that?"

Jungkook didn’t seem to care much for her tone. He exhaled again, his gaze falling away momentarily, as if considering how much of himself he wanted to reveal to her. Finally, his eyes met hers again, and this time there was a slight shift in them—a flicker of something darker, deeper, that made her sit up straighter. He wasn’t going to give her a predictable answer.

"When I race," he began slowly, the words slipping from his lips with an almost painful honesty, "I’m in control. I’m in charge of something powerful. When that engine roars to life, it’s like everything else fades away. Nothing else matters."

Jade couldn’t help but listen more intently now. His voice, calm yet intense, resonated with a weight that made her feel something unfamiliar stirring in her. There was something raw, something broken in the way he spoke.

"I don’t care about the people watching, the sponsors, the fame. None of it matters." He took another deep breath before continuing. "When I’m in that car, nothing else exists but the race. It’s the only place where I feel like I’m actually alive."

He paused, and Jade could sense the darkness in his words, the bitterness lacing them. He wasn’t just talking about racing; he was talking about his life. The power he sought on the track wasn’t just about the car—it was a need to control the chaos inside him. She could see it now. The way he clung to that feeling like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

"In the real world," Jungkook continued, his voice quieter, almost detached, "I don’t have powerl. People don’t care and I don’t matter to them. But on that track, I’m the one who decides. I’m the one who pushes myself beyond everything else. It’s the only place I feel free."

Jade was silent for a long time, her gaze fixed on him as she processed what he had said. It was clear now that he wasn’t here for the typical reasons people raced. It wasn’t the thrill of the sport, the dream of being famous—it was much deeper.

"Interesting," she finally said, her voice colder than before, though the wheels in her mind were already turning. Jungkook wasn’t like the others. He didn’t need approval. He didn’t need to be loved or celebrated. He needed control. And maybe, just maybe, she could use that.

Jade’s eyes narrowed slightly, her interest piqued by the depth of his response. She leaned forward, her smirk widening as she tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving his.

“Now, tell me, Jungkook,” she said, her voice laced with intrigue. “If there’s one thing you’re afraid to lose, what would it be? It could be a person, an object, anything, really. What’s your weakness?”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate, and his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“Nothing.”

Jade blinked, her smirk faltering for just a second, a flash of confusion crossing her face. “Nothing?” she repeated, her voice a little sharper this time. “Are you telling me there’s absolutely nothing you care about? Nothing that holds any meaning for you?”

Jungkook’s gaze was unwavering, his eyes dark and empty, as though he was looking at something far beyond her, something only he could see. He exhaled slowly, almost as if the very thought of caring about anything was a foreign concept to him.

“I have nothing to lose,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s just me...up against the world.”

Jade’s lips curled into a smile that was colder than before, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. His response was not what she had expected—but it was precisely the kind of answer that intrigued her. It wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t vulnerability. It was something far darker, far more dangerous. He had no attachment, no fear of loss. Nothing could be taken from him because he had already detached himself from everything.

“Is that so?” Jade said, her voice dripping with mock admiration. “Well, Jungkook, I have to admit, I didn’t expect that. But you see, not having anything to lose doesn’t make you invincible. It just makes you... easier to control.”

She leaned back in her chair, her fingers drumming slowly on the surface of her desk as she studied him. The more she looked at him, the more she saw the brokenness, the isolation in his eyes. The way he spoke about the world like it had already given up on him—it was like he had already lost everything and, in doing so, had become untouchable. It was dangerous. And yet, it was exactly what she needed.

“You’re a perfect blank slate,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Nothing to tie you down. No one to answer to. Just you, fighting your own battles. It’s... beautiful, in a way.”

Her smile softened, but the calculation behind it was evident. He wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t driven by the typical desires—fame, power, approval. No, Jungkook was different. His fearlessness, his apathy, made him unpredictable. And that made him useful. More useful than she had anticipated.

“You know,” Jade said, her voice lowering, “I think you might just be the perfect racer for my plans. The rest of them—they’re too attached, too predictable. But you... You’re not afraid of losing anything because you’ve already lost everything. And that makes you dangerous.”

Jungkook didn’t respond immediately. He simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. It was clear he wasn’t particularly interested in her manipulation, nor did he seem fazed by her words. But Jade knew better than to think he was completely unaffected. His silence spoke volumes.

Jade leaned back in her chair, the smirk still playing at the corners of her lips, her fingers lightly tapping the surface of her desk in a rhythmic pattern. The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating, as if she were savoring the moment before delivering the inevitable.

"You’ll be our new racer, Jungkook," she said, her voice smooth, deliberate. "But there is a condition."

Jungkook's eyes flickered, the slightest hint of curiosity breaking through his stoic demeanor. His posture didn’t change, but there was a subtle shift in the air between them, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"A condition?" he repeated, his voice low, almost in disbelief. "What condition?"

Jade's smirk deepened, the glint of something darker in her eyes as she regarded him with a mix of calculation and amusement. She could see it—the small crack in his armor. He wasn’t used to someone making demands of him, let alone someone who wasn’t intimidated by his indifference.

"It’s simple, really," Jade said, her tone almost sing-song, like she was explaining something far too easy for him to grasp. "You’re going to race for me, yes, but you’ll also be mine."

Jungkook’s brow furrowed slightly at that. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward just enough to signal that this was a line he was not willing to ignore. His gaze locked onto hers, challenging.

"Mine?" he repeated, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. "What the hell does that mean?"

Jade didn't flinch. Instead, she met his gaze head-on, her expression calm, controlled, but underneath it, there was an intensity that matched the fire in his eyes.

"It means," she said slowly, savoring every word, "that you’ll do as I say. No more free will. No more going rogue. You will race when I tell you to race, and you will keep your mouth shut about anything that happens in this little world we’ve created."

Jungkook was quiet for a moment, processing her words. There was a flash of something in his eyes—an inner battle, perhaps, or a flicker of uncertainty—but it was gone just as quickly. His jaw tightened, and he pushed himself up from the chair, standing tall.

"So, I’m supposed to just let you control me?" he asked, his voice suddenly cold, devoid of the initial curiosity. "What makes you think I’d agree to that?"

Jade’s smile widened. She didn’t answer right away, enjoying the tension between them. The control she had over him, the way he was reacting, it only made her want to push him further. She could see the fire in his eyes—the same fire she had seen in so many others before him. But this one... This one was different. She didn’t just want to control him. She wanted to break him, reshape him, make him her own.

"Because, Jungkook," she said, her voice soft but sharp, "you’re going to need something to keep you going. And I’m offering you that something."

His eyes flickered with a brief flash of suspicion. "And what’s that?"

Jade leaned forward now, her voice a whisper as she closed the distance between them. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t backing down. She could already taste victory.

"Purpose," she whispered, the word lingering in the air between them. "I’m giving you purpose. Something to fight for, something to keep you from falling into that empty, hollow space you’ve built for yourself. You’re not just racing for yourself anymore. You’ll race for me. You’ll race to prove that you’re still alive, still capable of feeling something for the sake of your poor mother."

Jungkook froze, his hand almost instinctively clenching at his side as Jade's words hit him like a sharp jab to the chest. The mention of his mother, his deepest wound, the scar he never let anyone touch, echoed through his mind. He could feel his breath catch in his throat, the memories flashing by faster than he could control.

"My mum?" he repeated softly, his voice low, almost too quiet as if saying the words aloud might make it more real.

Jade’s gaze never wavered from his face. She watched him closely, noting the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes seemed to cloud over with a mixture of grief and anger, and she knew she had hit the mark. She leaned forward slightly, her expression turning more sympathetic, a calculated softness in her eyes.

"I also lost my mother a few years back," she said, her voice smooth, tinged with a quiet understanding that only served to make her words more chilling. "I know exactly what you’re feeling right now, Jungkook. The emptiness, the pain, the hole that seems to swallow you whole. I understand it. And I intend to fill that void."

Jungkook could feel the weight of her words press down on him, but his response was sharp, the edge of his bitterness cutting through the haze of his emotions.

"You don’t know me," he muttered under his breath, trying to push the emotion back down where it belonged. "You think you can fill that hole just by making me race for you?"

Jade’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, studying him as if he were nothing more than a puzzle to solve.

"You’re right," she said, her voice smooth, almost soothing now. "I don’t need you to race for me because of your grief. But don’t fool yourself into thinking it won’t change something inside you. We all have our reasons for doing what we do. And deep down, you’ll know that this... racing for me, for this team, it’ll be your way of making your mother proud. Of proving to the world that her death wasn’t the end of you."

Jungkook looked away, the words hitting too close to home. He hated how easy it was for her to get under his skin, how she seemed to understand him better than he was willing to admit. His fists clenched tighter, but he fought to keep his composure, to keep the storm brewing inside him at bay.

Jade paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him, waiting for the decision that she knew would shape everything. The air between them felt charged, like a thread about to snap, but she kept her composure, her expression still that of controlled satisfaction.

"So, what will it be?" she asked, her voice calm, almost casual, though there was an underlying edge that betrayed her expectations. "Are you going to join me, or are you going to walk away and let your grief swallow you whole?"

Jungkook hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like a boulder. His mind raced, thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess—his mother, his pain, the anger that burned deep within him, and the hollow feeling that never seemed to leave. He had never been one to give in so easily, but something about her offer, about the way she spoke, seemed to hold him captive.

For a moment, there was silence. His heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and defiance. But as he looked at her, he saw something that made him feel alive, something that had been missing for so long—a purpose, a way out.

"I’ll do it," he said, his voice low but steady, locking eyes with her for the first time without flinching. 

Jade’s smirk returned, more triumphant this time, her eyes flashing with a cold, calculated satisfaction. "Good choice," she said, her voice dripping with approval. "We’ll get started right away."

The control, the power, it was hers, just as it had always been. But this time, she would keep him in line in a way he had never been kept. She thought back to her mother—the woman who had moulded her, shaped her into who she was today. Her mother had been the one to teach her the importance of manipulation, of control, of showing no weakness. And now, she would do the same to Jungkook—keep him in check, just as her mother had done to her designer, the so-called CEO who was about to lose everything he thought was his.

[red-writes]

gojo and geto are twin rich boys who live in a massive mansion using up all of daddy’s money. just a few weeks ago their dad hired a new maid to take care of the house. she’s fidgety and nervous working for such a renowned family and is desperate to make a good impression. the twins on the other hand, have just found a new target for their relentless bullying. one night when their father is coming home late, they corner the maid in the middle of her dusting. gojo pressed up behind her, smirking over her shoulder at geto. “why don’t you take a break?” “you’ve been working tirelessly for so long…” “coke take a seat on the couch with us”. not wanting to disrespect her new masters she obliges. only for geto to hold her down while gojo lifts her frilly maid’s skirt and starts caressing her clit, ever so gently and teasingly. she opens her mouth to resist, but geto flips the top of her corset top down, revealing no bra and begins to pinch and pluck at her sensitive nipples. “please..your father….if i don’t finish my work he’s going to punish me” “punish you? how exactly would our dad punish you?” from god knows where, gojo pulls out a glass a dildo, teasing it against her hole. “would he maybe use this?” geto snickers from above her, his hands tightening behind her knees. the maid’s hands have been clasped between geto’sthighs. “who am i kidding..this poor virgin cunt has never been fucked. poor little maid like you doesn’t have time to be opening up her legs to mean boys like us. no..tight little cunt like this has never been opened up.” gojo starts working the glass dildo into her virgin hole, all while tears are streaming down her face. geto has since started using his mouth to torture her nipples while he continues to hold her down. “please…i’m running out of time. your father will be home soon and he’ll have my ass if i don’t finish my work”. “then you’ll just have to cum for us and then we’ll let you get back to work”. her tummy ripples with how her pussy is sucking the foreign object in. gojo leans down to place soft kisses on her clit. so soft it’s driving her mad, her hips rocking up to meet his lips. they hear the jingling of keys and the door beginning to crack open. “cmon slut, you better cum or else my dad will find you with ur stupid little pussy stuffed to the brim when you should’ve been dusting our house”. the maid whimpers and focuses on giving them what they want, focused on watching the way the dildo moved in and out of her, causing a bump in her belly. just as she’s starting to cum, her eyes screwed shut and tits jiggling with the movement of her hips, the feeling of the twins holding her down and having their way with her is gone. “hi dad! you wouldn’t believe what we caught the maid doing..” the blood drains from her face as she looks up at nanami kento, her chest heaving and the dildo slowly pushing out of her hole. he glares at her, furious. she exhales shakily, thinking about how her boss is gonna ruin her after this fiasco. and my god is he strict, i mean, he always makes her bend down to the ground, pussy flashing in the air while he searches her body for stolen silverware. no matter the skimpy outfit he’s made her wear. and the prohibition of any undergarments. he is going to end her.

Oh my gosh. This is so gooooooood

[girlwithadragonheart]

**Spoilers**

Oh I’m crying btw

I’m devastated that Powder is still gone, poor Ekko, poor everybody and my baby 😭 gods I just want to love her like a mother

I just know that as soon as they had a moment alone they did the nasty bru you can’t convince me otherwise.

His possessiveness with Steb??? Oml screaming rn

“These are far from the thoughts of a virgin” or whatever the fuck he said good lord (please rearrange my guts Silco)

The moment when Viktor almost converted her was written so well, having your memories chipped away like that and then waking up having your actual feelings return in full force would be so overwhelming. If I feel too much of just one thing at once I get nauseous but everything??? Nah she’s stronger than me bro

This story is amazing, Nana and I’m so glad you were able to see it through. Your writing is just *chefs kiss* no matter what you’re working on

What Could Have Been

Summary: Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Warnings: Violence, spoilers season 2 ending, suggestive themes, a little bit of feelies for the ending

Word Count: 16, 051

Masterlist: here

Chapter 8 - Unity

War has begun.

As you cut into the fray, the smoke clears with the rush of Zaunites passing through the thick screen. You can see Piltover clearly now from above the plated skies, the chemical filled fissures. Blood and corpses decorate it like the arena you remember growing up in and you see people dressed in navy fight. Elegant Piltovans, marked Zaunites, none of these origins matter anymore when you clash against the wolf's chosen.

Rippers of white and maroon staining the City of Progress with their sins, picking apart sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers and children alike with no discrimination. It's a grueling sight, to look at death right in its ugly maw, to see hell crack open beneath your feet and its demons crawling out. Mannequins crawling and rushing like beasts, Noxians attacking like feral animals.

Yet no matter how strong they are, how much they decimate, Piltover and its army holds strong. And so will you.

You see eyes widen as you rush to attack, soldiers clearly thinking of you as one of their own at first due to your red clothing and weapons, realizing too late that their fate is sealed by your hand. But after a couple of enemies downed, they realize your position and get back to their feet, targeting you as another victim to be claimed.

You won't let them.

Sparks fly as you block, the weight of your metal arm overcoming the strength of muscle no matter if scratches are delivered, no matter how hard they push back. With your new limbs you push back harder. Quickly planting the blades in a Noxian's foot you knee the fool with your mechanic leg, twisting painfully to punch at another before taking back your weapons, slicing the both of them.

From the side you see Silco, red, black and silver flashing as he expertly dodges, daggers whipping in the cracks of the dark armors surrounding him while he delivers blows with a strength unlike anything you've seen from him. He isn't the industrialist anymore, fighting with words and influence, or the young and foolish rebel he once was, no he is a revolutionary, a warrior forged in the fissures by chemicals and blazing determinations. By blisters and bedrock.

You nod at one another, smiles softly ripping through your faces before you get back into the fight.

He'll be alright.

He has to be.

So you fight with that knowledge, heart stabbed at each new corpse dropping from your side, at each Zaunite and Piltovan sacrificed in this senseless war. And no matter how it came to be, you'll end it. Today, here and now.

You get thrown to the ground, punched, kicked, stabbed, sliced, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the mission. You will give Jayce time, you will fight for humanity, and you will win. There is no backing down now, not now, not ever.

"I thought you tin cans were better than this!"

You taunt, blades slashing against armor and tearing through flesh. Your expertise as a pit fighter coming in to let you zero in on the soldiers' weaknesses even through their armors. Every living being has a weak spot, and unluckily for them you know them all, and you play dirty like the Sump rat you are. Just like Keradon taught you all these years ago, carved into your flesh and mind with each scar.

It's painful, your nerves screaming at the metallic limbs swinging and moving with such vigor so early in your journey to recovery, your body groaning with each new cut delivered to you.

But will not falter.

Even when a Noxian pierces you with his spear, you walk the length of the pole, the metal sliding in the piercing wound as you cut their head off, pulling away the last of the weapon from yourself. The bleeding is intense, could be fatal if you don't cauterize.

So you get an idea.

You slide one of your knuckle blades back into its sheathe at your waist, letting the knowledge of your new limbs come back to mind.

And you hold the rev of your wrist to heat the fist up.

The metal glowing orange in no time as cyan blue travels through the intricate plating, your eyes closing before you place your fingers in the wound, front and back. Your teeth grind in pain and the smell of burnt flesh makes your stomach cry out, but when your gaze snaps back open to grasp at a white construct and you squeeze, you're thankful to realize that no more blood escapes you and that the ceramic like body seems to melt and crack against the power of heat.

"Okay. Alright, I see you Powder."

Your groan animates you as you continue marching, rushing to another band construct snapping and attacking your brethren. Blade hooking around their pristine bodies before you punch and melt your way through their chests, fist now white hot and blinding. You don't have the time to respond to the thanks of those you've helped before you're thrown away, a giant armored beast making you clash against stone rubble.

Your blade cuts flesh and your arm melts through metal but the hold he has on your neck is enough to make you fear for a crack and sudden inescapable darkness.

Think. Think. Think.

Your vision blurs as a hit is delivered to your stomach. Legs suddenly feeling heavier as you're hoisted off of the ground.

Your leg.

You twist your ankle and hit the sole of your metallic foot against the building behind you, a rattling shaking through your body before you hit again. Your knee shoots up and collides with the beast's chin, sending it reeling backwards and you down and back to the ground. But you do not take a moment to breathe, no, you rev up your leg once more, struggling as you shoot upwards and bring it into the armored chest with gusto. Blood splatters all over you as you pull your foot out.

But you do not falter.

You are not allowed to.

I won't let myself be beaten.

You run like a fowl rushing instead of learning to walk, the speed granted by the new limb almost impossible to register as your flesh leg follows it. So your left arm holds up its blade, braced against your chest, and you slam against a group of Noxians, unleashing your weapon at the last second, hemoglobin flying like a grotesque tableau while bodies topple down from the mechanic force.

So much for an army of war forged nut jobs.

But they haven't got anything on an oppressed people with centuries of accumulated rage.

You stomp through the corpses for good measure, footprints caving in their chests as you continue forwards. Navy and earthy tones fight side by side in a dance against red and white, and your heart swells at the unity. Hard earned and unexpected in this newer, more dangerous war, one where so much more is at stake than your two nations.

But unity nonetheless.

"Fuck!"

You're held back by constructs, agile, quick, deadly, and much stronger than they look. Humans made into mindless killing machines. Unfortunately for them, no matter how much your bones groan under their claws, you're a killing machine too. And your mind and human desperation makes you much more dangerous and unpredictable.

Knock.

I need to knock.

You rev up your leg once more, the rush pushing some of the gilded ceramic beings enough for your fist to be freed and knock through the air. With the motion comes a blue shield, arcane in nature yet solid, sending some constructs flying back and cutting through the others unlucky enough to find themselves beneath its edge.

A homemade guillotine.

A chuckle escapes you as you knock once more, using your leg's propulsion ability you rush forwards, hot fist slicing through the air like a comet raining down on the arcane angels. They resist but the white hot metal is a weakness against the softness of their bodies, material unable to withstand the heat.

"Out of my way, freaks. Once human or not, I'm not letting that shit stop me. You're not winning today."

You pant, hand seizing the last one's neck, fist melting through the cold webbing.

"Humanity will prevail."

The head rolls on the ground, claws once upon a time tearing at your flesh now inert as you throw the body away.

To your left you see Sevika and a band of navy clad soldiers hold their own while surrounded by Noxians. So you rush.

One.

Two.

Three.

And you shoot up. The world smaller when you're high up in the air only takes your breath away for a second as you remember the last ability given to you by Power's amazing craft. You twist your wrist and bring your arm down, colliding like a meteor on top of the group, soldiers knocked back as you hold yourself up.

"Sev, go!"

"So you can have all the fun?" She smirks and you get into position, your other blade following its brethren in its holster.

"Yeah, and so I can flaunt my new fucking body mods you hyena!"

Enemies rush at you and you wait until the last second to jump up and knock, bodies cut and others thrown back before you let your leg send you flying to them, jumping high up before your arm's jet pulls you down, metal melting through metal as you shoot through Noxians like a knife through butter.

The last thing you see in their eyes is something you never thought you'd see. Reverence.

"Do it then. Take it. Take your life back from me, child." Had said the wolf.

And you fucking did. Who cares about a beast, you're the wolf now.

A whistle rings from behind you. "What did you call that one?" Your head turns at the tease and you smirk.

"I don't know, Sev. But it probably hurts like a bitch and it kills, so that's enough for me."

"Atta girl."

"Oh fuck off." A noise whips through the air and you turn around, pushing Sevika out of the way before you unleash your shield once more, lances clattering against the arcane barrier. "Now get back to fighting because if you die stupidly I'll mock you for the rest of eternity."

Chuckles escape the both of you as you part ways, her flesh finger flipping you a very lovely bird as she punches her way through the fray.

The movement of propulsion gets easier to handle as you fight more and more, the hextech powered limbs never tiring with use. You think back to Jayce and Viktor, of all the years they've put into perfecting that technology, and to Powder who cracked it like it's a child's math problem. All of the blood sweat and tears used to create a better world now ruined and sullied by greed and pride, powered by hatred.

Humanity's greatest sins.

But as you shield yet another group from near death and punch your way through the enemy, you realize one thing.

That as ugly as you can be, you can learn, you can grow. That no matter how unsightly you can be, you are. You think. You exist. And even better yet, you feel. And that all that breeds corruption also brings upon greatness and unity.

Humanity's greatest weakness and strength is itself and its capacity for free will, sentience, science, emotion and creativity.

Humanity is humanity because as beautiful as it can be, as much as it can do great things, it's imperfect, it has flaws.

And no one will take that, not even over my cold dead body.

You swear to yourself while you continue. You re adapt to your body, stance low and animalistic as you take back your marks, fists of flesh and metal knocking against their kin, mechanical claws ripping, heated alloy burning through skin and melting armor. Your body soars high and dips low, it rushes forwards and evades back with unkempt balance but so much power that your steps leave their permanent marks carved into the floors of Piltover.

Your momentum is stopped by chains, arms trapped backwards in a vice while hands pull at your limbs. Digits claw at your flesh, leaving indents in the muscle and skin, blood shining black even on the dark armor as you're dragged to your captor. So once they've got you, you brace yourself, revving your leg against theirs as you flip backwards, your arms using the chain keeping them tied as a noose around the Noxian's neck before you pull down, knocking the back of the armored skull against metallic knee plating. You melt through the binding, hand shoved onto the enemy's face and melting through it, a cry muffled by death all too soon.

You see from afar a familiar frame, lithe, sporting a large backpack and tonfas as he fights a duo of constructs to protect a group of people.

You nearly make your way there on all fours, punching the ground to flip up before your leg's jet makes you spin mid air, knocking the robots with a well placed kick.

"You're from the strike team aren't you?" He nods and you tongue at your cheek. "Thought I recognized you." You rev up your fist, punching through the two evolved before you turn back around.

"How are you faring?"

He points to the wounded he is keeping safe, eyes concerned at their wounds and a deep breath makes your bruised ribs sing in sweet agony.

"I'll protect you while you get your shit done, so do your best." His eyes widen, scales shifting intricately before his face hardens in determination. "Good, wouldn't have accepted no anyways. Do you got a name…" You stare at his beret to determine his rank, finding the pin adorning it. "..lieutenant?"

"Steb." He says roughly, apparently unused to talking. The aquatic vastaya keeping his eyes trained on you intensely while you turn back around to prepare for incoming enemies. You tell him your name, fists bunched as you raise your shield, swinging it at a couple of opponents before you rush their way.

You don't know how much time it takes, sweat already dripping from before now washing away the blood crusting at the cuts covering you. But then a hand clamps on your shoulder and before you can raise your arm to attack you spy teal skin from your side and relax.

The man pulls you away, letting the others return back to the fight before he sits you down, your body heavy with exhaustion but still the war doesn't seem to come to an end. More Noxians. More constructs. More death. All happening before your eyes as Steb cleans and sews up your wounds, dressing them tightly with expert hands as he chews on his lips.

"I forgive you, you know."

His head lifts after knotting the last bandage, surprise coloring his face.

"That bitch Ambessa was poisoning everyone topside, and while I hate Piltover and what they've done to my people, I know that her presence here raised the war banners from the second she set her filthy foot on our land. Her and her army of glorified murderers." You sigh, getting back up through the screams of protest your body delivers you.

"I also know grief is one hell of a fucking thing, and that when in proper conditions anyone can be a monster. Plus, you didn't seem enthralled to be doing what you've done either, so I forgive you Steb. We're all probably gonna die anyways, even if we're not allowing death to be our last word on this earth. So let's let bygones be bygones and focus on fighting for a unified future, yeah?"

Your flesh hand stretches to his in a peaceful gesture, a truce that may be symbolic after what's currently happening, but one that motivates the man before you. His own gloved hand gripping yours with gusto and a solemn nod.

"Don't die on us lieutenant. You're a good guy and we need more people like you to show the new era a peaceful way forward."

You tap his shoulder with a friendly smirk before turning around, throwing a wave over your shoulder before rushing back into the fight.

No rest for the wicked.

Blood flies and sparks light up your way as white hot metal and blue glowing mechanisms pierce through the enemy. Your body covered in wounds every new moment that the gods make. You are made to kneel, kicked, punched and slashed but nothing stops you, rage fueling your steps as you claw your way through Noxian lines.

You twist and turn, body like a feral animal's while others fight as humans as if the beast wasn't them, ruining a land and its people for the sake of greed and unknown machinations.

But you'll show them a monster alright, fight like the wolf they venerate, make them see fear and pain like they never have before. You'll make them regret taking the choice of free will and life away from you by ripping theirs apart. That'll show them what hundreds of years of oppression does to someone, what their plans do to those the use once they unshackle themselves from the Noxian chains of fate.

You're angry, fighting as such. But terror racks through you. Where is Silco? Is he alright? Is he dead? If so, where is his body? What will you do if or once you find it? Will you lose this fight?

Is this war meant to be lost?

No it can't be, it shouldn't be. Right? Nothing is ever foretold, prophecies are placebos, fate is a shackle created for the masses, destiny is a myth.

But you can't help but to worry. Where is the man you love? Will you hear his voice again? Will you laugh with him, taste his lips or hold him ever again? Will you die before him? Will you suffer? Will he? Will all of them?

Will you die before you can know what being "Mrs. Silco" is truly like?

Will more of your people suffer needless deaths? Will Jayce succeed? Will Viktor?

Will Piltover and Zaun crumble to let the world come down next, or will you win against all odds? Because everything seems ugly right now, and no matter how many you kill, more come to replace them. An endless supply of meat and metal puppets for an army straight from hell.

Where is Powder? Is she with Ekko? What are they planning? Are they safe? Did they make it here or were they stopped before being able to do anything? Are the Firelights okay? Will you get the promised air support? Will she be okay? Will he? Will they? Are they?

So many questions. Yet no matter how many what ifs, no matter how much horror and doubt fill your mind, you keep on going.

I have to.

A dagger flies past you and through a construct's head as you finish off a soldier, head tilting up to see familiar feet.

"Fancy seeing you here, dove. I might say, murderous is a look that fits you quite well."

You turn and bring your shield down on the arcane angel's neck, severing it from its body.

"Ah, my savior. Always the charmer, aren't you my love?"

When you get back up arms wrap around you and spin you, lips soon finding yours as you melt into the embrace. Blue and teal soon finding your eyes, terrified, exhilarated and exhausted.

"Gods I've missed you." You chuckle, stealing another kiss from Silco.

"And I, you." You spin the both of you around, heating your fist to melt a blade before Silco slams a knife in the Noxian's neck, still holding you close.

"How have you been?"

"Sticky, exhausted and fucking angry. You?"

"Just about the same, terrified for you as well."

"Then that makes two of us." He sways you from side to side in a tender dance before letting go, holding you at arm's length to look at you. "Don't worry, the vastayan medic patched me up."

Your eyes rake through him, beaten black and blue, bursting with hot blood where his flesh is split.

"I should see him too, then."

"Please do Silco, I don't think I can handle you getting hurt already. So I don't want you bleeding out in my arms at the very least."

"Better there than in one of theirs." He spits out, his forehead gently knocking against yours, lips turning up softly. "How can you still look beautiful even now? You never cease to surprise me, my dove."

His voice is low, whispered against the chaos of the world around you but so much louder than anything else you can hear. His eyes search yours, filled with adoration and devotion, concern and determination. He soothes your aching body and soul, suddenly feeling all too light even through such a pivotal moment of history.

"I think you're one to talk, darling. You are the most beautiful sight in all of Runeterra, always have been in my eyes." You mutter back.

His hair is wild, strands coming undone from his bun, silver and ink whipping in the wind. His scars are healthy, his eye shining bright blue instead of the orange that reminds you so much of your forge, the new tone bringing you clarity.

Blue like the sky when the clouds part and the sun is high.

Blue like the water that cradled your bodies that day.

Blue like what powers your limbs and helps you fight to reclaim what's rightfully yours.

Blue like the bruises blossoming on your bodies.

Blue like the polar opposite of the bloody Noxian red, waving its warring banners at you like a toreador taunts the bull in a corrida.

Blue, changing the violent orange hue once healed from his trauma. From his pain. From his dependence to visions that destroyed him, clinging to ghosts that dragged him to hell with them and corrupted his loving heart.

A calm, peaceful, loving and cooling blue that shows you nothing but endless affection.

White hands grip at Silco and try to pull him back before you throw him behind you, raising your shield. The man sliding before you to slash at the construct after you retreat. Your own form attacking after his with a heavy, jet powered punch.

"Back off from my man you glorified puppet freaks!"

And the attacks continue, the two of you working in tandem, in the perfect cadence you've worked on for months during missions. Heavy punches followed by graceful cuts, your body a jumping pad for his lithe form as he slides from side to side and you throw yourself up and down. Your aggressive style and power matching his swiftness and agility in a terrifying waltz.

"Your man, huh? Laying your claim already?"

He pants as you two twist and turn, switching places back and forth as you two try to cover all of your sides.

"I don't hear you complaining-"

You groan as you get stabbed through the stomach, head tilting in disdain at the soldier before you as you break his arm and slam him to the ground with your hand around his throat and a well timed rev.

"-you were mine the second you confessed, you fossil." You snap the Noxian's neck, getting back up to your feet to see Silco staring at you intently.

"Gods. Possessive? A woman after my own heart."

He throws a dagger behind you, landing right between an unguarded enemy's eyes, his voice once more ringing in your ears. "Good. Because anybody that looks at you, and let alone touches you, will have to face me. I like that we're on the same page."

He kisses you once more, breathless, needy, desperate. His tongue meets yours and teeth clash and lips sting but you don't care when you finally fully taste all that he has to offer. Salt and metal from blood, sweat and tears mix with faint traces of tobacco ingrained in his flesh from years of smoking.

"You plan on fucking me on the battlefield, Silco?" You push back, smirking at the man before his hand finds your chin and brings you into another searing kiss.

"As good as that sounds, no one gets to see what's mine but me. Especially with how much I want to love you with the entirety of my being." His tone soft yet softly veiled in hunger when he pulls away, letting go of you to take back his breath.

You feel a pang of desire course through you at his words, shaking your head to rid yourself of the images he is currently painting in your mind.

Messy, sweaty. Both of you groaning and moaning in pleasure as you become one. The feeling of finally being full in every way possible. Marks covering the both of you as you move, electricity shaking you to your core as you come once more around him. Feeling him spill himself within you yet never once stopping to pull himself away, wishing to remain as one forever. In fear of either of you disappearing as if in a dream. A proof of your love as your mouths meet tearfully, sharing all of what words cannot say with desperation and adoration on your lips.

Not the moment.

You chastise yourself.

"How can you think of that at such a moment?" You laugh incredulously, blinking away the last of your previous thoughts.

"What can I say? It's hard to stay impassive in front of you."

"Flirt."

"Minx."

You sigh as he chuckles, levity appreciated in such a moment, yet quickly replaced by your determination once more. Back sticking to his you look around, constructs climbing from all over to surround you. A lot of them, more than the tiny groups you could handle up until now.

A hiss leaves you as you count.

One, two, three…More than a dozen.

Shit.

You pull Silco in your arms, revving up your leg and jumping as high as you can, using your shield with a well timed propulsion of your arm to slam down on some of the constructs, crushing them.

The man in your arms is rattled but quickly understands, climbing onto your back. He's heavier than he looks, your diet and lifestyle having clearly put some more weight and muscle on him. But through sheer will and the help of your mechanical limbs you manage to hold him up in a piggy back, flying up once more before you use your fist to direct yourself somewhere safer.

But nowhere is. Constructs now flooding the city as you land right in their grip, the machines ripping Silco away from you, the last thing holding the both of you together being your interlaced fingers. Desperately gripping onto one another as you're pulled apart.

Your vision blurs and darkens from the sudden rush of pain and the lack of oxygen, arm and leg kept away from any position letting you take back your advantage.

That's not how I die.

You keep on gritting in your head. Again and again as your hold on Silco weakens. He calls out to you weakly through the pain and dizziness, but you can't hear through the loud pounding of your heart.

That's not how I die.

You pull and pull, clenching your jaw as you try to escape the humanoid monstrosities holding you in their gilded clutch. But your eyes roll back, darkness veiling your eyes and leaving only the soft blue glow of Silco's healed eye in your sight. The light at the end of the tunnel, soft and warm, welcoming you to the afterlife.

That's not-

Explosions resound and the hold on you suddenly disappears, constructs either pierced by bullets or escaping them.

And as your vision returns and warm arms hold you up you see it.

Colored smoke.

Hearing returns to you then, music loudly blasting from all around you while the corrupted angels rush to it, and to you.

"You little shit." You chuckle to yourself, remembering Powder's comment about aerial support.

The girl sure has a sense of timing and drama, just like her father.

Wind flows past you with an electrical hum as hoverboard mounded Firelights appear from all around, helping your troops rid themselves of constructs and Noxians alike.

You gaze at the flashes of green zipping through the air, then further up at the giant balloon flying over Piltover. The aerial support is finally here.

"Your daughter sure knows how to make an entrance, my love." You chuckle, getting back up to your feet and dusting yourself.

"Our daughter, dove." He calls out and you find yourself smiling, heart softly thrumming at the implication of finally having a family together.

You turn around and grasp him tight, a gentle peck delivered to his lips before you pull away, determined and assured, dipping to retrieve Silco's daggers from the ground and handing them back to him.

"Now let's go, our people need us."

"Yes ma'am." He teases back, yet finality punctuates his tone. No matter what levity you bring to the table, war is war, and you have to win this. So with a last kiss you go your separate ways, lips interlocking sweetly and lovingly. "Stay safe."

"You too, my love."

You jump up, using your arm and leg to shoot through the battlefield like a comet, swatting away at the constructs trying to grab onto the hoverboard mounted Firelights. The Zaunites rush forward into battle, protecting their brethren and those who were once their enemies to secure a better future.

It all happens quickly, one moment your people are fighting and the next the sky opens. Dark clouds swirling to let light breach their center in a terrifying halo, unsanctified and unholy. In the center of it, Viktor.

Jayce needs help.

And he needs it now.

So you run, using your revving to climb onto a passing hoverboard, your legs barely escaping the constructs' suddenly much more violent behavior. You slam your shield down on them, using the jet on your arm to swat them away before you cling to the man flying the machine you're on.

"I'm going up, think you can get me close?"

White hair shifts as the boy looks to you, a white hour glass marking around his face.

"Sure thing, Mrs. Silco."

Fuck.

So that's Ekko.

You smirk, looking up ahead at the Hexgates, growing taller and bigger the closer you get.

"Powder's rubbing off on you, Ekko."

"And you're rubbing off on Silco." He snorts and you chuckle back, tapping his shoulder.

"Family dinners are bound to be fun at the very least."

The thought occurs to you as you speak it, Sundays with Powder, Ekko, Isha, Violet, Caitlyn and Silco. An unlikely family composed of many clashing personalities, yet loving all the same, even if not made by blood but forged by trust.

It would be messy and soft, cooking with the girls and the boys, sharing topics that make the lot of you laugh, playing games.

It's a brilliant thought, the one to be part of such a beautiful patchwork of a family.

"Tell me about it. Was already one mess and a half with Vander, Benzo and the boys. Can't imagine the new layout."

You keep on hanging tight to the boy who turns the hoverboard upwards, the two of you now sailing vertically. To your left and right you see constructs climbing, catching up and chasing the two of you. Even with the current speed you're going at, you know that the ceramic beasts will eventually reach you.

"Ekko?!" You call out from behind him.

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna drop for a sec. You take the left, I take the right, catch me so I don't die!"

The boy has no time to react before you eject yourself from your spot, the energy rattling his hoverboard as you soar to your right, using your arm to slam at high speed against the arcane angels, knocking to bring your shield down while you rev up your leg and cut downwards.

Through all of them.

You're free falling, no fail safe but the hope that Ekko will come by soon because the ground seems to be getting closer. And that's when you see it.

Tendrils of light coming from the sky like strings tying to a puppet's limbs. And from the blurry landscape you see you're not too far off.

People, standing still, held by constructs, seem to be kept in place by the treacherous light, as if a pike pierces them. The sight much too angelic and silent, much too deceiving when you know for sure it's the kingdom of the damned painting your world in shades of blood red, mocking white and rotten gold. Summoned from the depths of hell and raining down from the heavens.

"Shit."

You devise a plan, trying to keep yourself high enough. Your shield springs forth, your left ankle landing on it as you rev it up as far as you can, flying up to see a familiar face reaching out for you. You twist your wrist, soaring closer to the boy before raising your arm, seeking for his outstretched hand.

"I got you Mrs. Silco! Sorry for the wait!"

You whip to behind him, one hand holding him as you brace for the sudden change in trajectory, the downward motion quickly switching to its opposite.

"You're good kid, but a few more seconds and I was fucking toast. Either evolved or a splatter on the pavement."

"Nah. I promise I wouldn't let that happen." He looks to the cylinder at his waist, something you haven't paid attention to until now.

It's a machine of some sort, small monkey figurines in a circle inside the glass case, wires and cogs surrounding the center of the creation which holds-

-a very strange, very alive and very scary thing.

Something arcane in nature. Like Hextech but not at the same time.

Like the hexcore.

"What the fuck is that Ekko?!" You try not to panic as the clouds grow darker, the light tendrils brighter and more numerous.

"It can rewind time!"

What?

"Rewind? How long?!"

"Four seconds, plenty of time to restart anything, you can believe me."

Four seconds exactly if you fail to retry, again and again. Hoping that the machine doesn't take too long to recharge between fails. But his tone sounds assured, determined. He's used this contraption more than once, he can calculate the necessary timing and he can definitely know when to or not to use it.

Very well then.

"We'll need it for up here probably! It's ready to withstand this many tries? Because I feel like it ain't gonna be a walk in the park!"

"It's our only chance!"

And it really is.

So you squeeze at the boy's waist, a shaky sigh escaping you as you close your eyes, steeling your resolve. "Count me in. Let's give them hell kid."

He nods and the two of you are nearly blinded as you reach the top of the Hexgates, an army of constructs standing at the top, waiting, still as death.

Fuck it. It's now or never.

You share a glance with Ekko and turn your gaze to the scenery before you, determined as he rushes into the fray. You summon your shield, revving your arm to slam violently against the gilded puppets, sending them flying like glorified flies. Then your head is hit.

What is this? You feel like your body is being pulled backwards, atom by atom.

You share a glance with Ekko and turn your gaze to the scenery before you, determined as he rushes into the fray. You summon your shield, revving your arm to slam violently against the gilded puppets, sending them flying like glorified flies. The hoverboard sliding upwards in a curve, as if surfing through a wave. You jump up, your fist heating up as you use your arm's propulsion to slam into the crowd of puppets like a a hammer from the sky, striking hot iron with strength and precision. Then puppets claw at you, catching your body in their lithe grip.

Didn't this happen before?

The hoverboard sliding upwards in a curve, as if surfing through a wave. You jump up, your fist heating up as you use your arm's propulsion to slam into the crowd of puppets like a a hammer from the sky, striking hot iron with strength and precision. But you rev your leg up and soar, quickly descending back with the power of another comet like punch then soaring back up. Like the cadence of your work in the shop, your arm hot as the crucible which holds the metal you mold, slamming down as if the world is your anvil. A hand grips at your head from behind and your consciousness slowly fading as silence rings loud through your mind.

Your eyes widen in recognition and a smile grows on your face as the world goes white, your last sight being Ekko reaching back and pulling on his contraption, eyes determined.

Let 'er rip kid.

But you rev your leg up and soar, quickly descending back with the power of another comet like punch then soaring back up. Like the cadence of your work in the shop, your arm hot as the crucible which holds the metal you mold, slamming down as if the world is your anvil. Revving yourself as hard as you can, you fly one last time, catching Ekko's hoverboard with one hand, flipping yourself up on it.

"Kid watch out!" You call out for Ekko, shifting your weight to turn the flying machine around, slamming your shield against the enemy.

But the hand slams through it, purple, metallic. Your cheeks are held, eyes rolling back as you reach out for the white haired boy in panic. You don't wanna die, but you're ready for it. What terrifies you is becoming a mindless killing machine for a cause whose only goal is to reduce the world to ashes and blood, ceramic mannequins silently populating its surface while one man plays god.

"All you need is a bit more time." Your lungs clench in your chest as the pressure on your jaw tightens, teeth gritting in pain and chest heaving in exhaustion and fear, tears flowing freely from your eyes like downpour from the sky. "So take it." You choke out before white overtakes your vision.

"Be not afraid, blacksmith." A voice rings, echoing through vast emptiness yet feeling restrained to the confines of your skull. "You will be safe and forever satisfied within the glorious evolution. Nothing will hurt you or your loved ones anymore and you will be given total peace from the shackles of mortal emotions and conflicts. Accept your fate, and all will be much easier for all of us. I wish not to fight against someone as goodhearted as you."

You scoff, the scenery around you changing to that of a starlit sky, painted in hues of indigo and teal, gold bursting from behind a giant terrifying form like a wildfire. It's thin, skeletal almost, face a crude mockery of a human's as a beast rips it apart, skin tinted purple and an indigo and blood red scarf swirls around it in a way you can nearly call divine.

But all it is, is a vision of a demon calling itself an angel to charm mortal hearts. And the white hot pain searing your face at his grip reminds you of that.

"Viktor. I see you've gotten stupid since we've last seen one another. Nothing is ever foretold, prophecies are placebos, fate is a shackle created for the masses, destiny is a myth." You narrow your eyes, stinging with more tears at the sight of a man you respect and appreciate, one of your own and someone who saved Silco stooping so low, being corrupted so far that his philosophy all but changes sides to its direct opposite. "Fuck off."

You spit out, the voice in your mind sighing in disappointment as the last of your consciousness fades and all that is left is…blank.

"I truly wished for this to be peaceful. I am sorry."

"Are you?" Your feelings and memories fade after you utter these words, hatred and panic gone just like the rest that makes you yourself.

You see faces in your mind disappear, the names linked to them disappearing soon after.

Your friends, who are they? Blue and magenta, indigo and white or even dark brown, the colors hold no meaning anymore. Chipping away from your mind like the paint does on houses in Zaun, eaten away by time and humidity. Your head pounds, willing itself to remember and forget all at once, the metal in your body heavier than ever. As if the weight of your sins is finally catching up to you.

The man you love, what is his name? Ink black and silver fade away, teal and blue glowing as they dissipate like paint in water. The smell and taste of tobacco, the velvety voice, they all pull themselves apart like a broken tapestry. The last thing you feel from his presence being warmth, squeezing you, brushing against your forehead or your lips as you try to chase for it, to remember. But it all escapes you like water from a broken cup that you still try to fill, even as it erodes in your hands.

Your body doesn't feel like itself anymore, it holds no weight, no structure, movement is impossible and thinking gets harder.

Who…are you again exactly?

Should you know?

No.

The Herald knows better, follow him.

Obey him.

Obey the Herald.

Obey.

Obey

And it all fades.

_________

When you come to, you're gasping for air on the roof of the Hexgates alongside many others, your eyes feel sewn shut and you think you'd rather it be the case when you finally manage to pry them open. Bright light flooding your vision, suddenly reminding you of the burning feeling of fingers on your jaw, squeezing your face so tight you feel like it might explode. The feeling of your lungs crying out for air, trying to breathe in through the panic.

Then comes your hearing. Screaming and crying rattle through you, shaking you to your very core as you cover your ears, trying to muffle the sounds.

Then the smells.

Everything smells like blood and smoke.

Your stomach churns and you curl your body to your side, trying so very hard to rid yourself of the nausea coming along with the flurry of overwhelming feelings.

Memories flash in your mind, the emptiness now all too full. Sand, blood and cement. Metal tools and metal skies. A man and the bright orange glare of his disfigured left eye. Water and warmth. Red smoke and navy blue uniforms. Green smoke and bright blue blasts. A cyan eye and mechanical limbs.

Then gilded white creations and armors of black and maroon, earthy tones fighting against the dark grey skies. A glowing cerulean eye and multicolored dyes. Green neons and white hair.

Brightness then darkness.

Your lungs gulp down air and release it just as soon as you reminisce of names and faces. Of moments spent together.

Of feelings.

Those come crashing into you, crucifying you, painfully filling the last cracks in your mind as you remember heartache, terror, anger, envy, dejection, determination, love crowning them all.

Silco.

I have to find Silco.

So you crawl, panted groans escaping your lips as your sore body drags across the tower, the edge soon nearing your feet while you get up, swaying from side to side. Vertigo overtakes you, hundreds of bodies litter the streets of Piltover, enemies and allies alike, in a grotesque fresco.

Your stomach nearly gives up at the sight. But you do not as you take one step further, planning to rev yourself up in order to climb down the Hexgates and find Silco.

"Woah, woah, woah Mrs. Silco. Let's not get suicidal over here." A hand grabs your left wrist, pulling you back off from the edge.

You turn around to see Ekko, breathing heavily with his eyes wide in fear, some of his hair is singed and he looks horrible to say the least. Exhausted and in pain, just like you.

"I wasn't about to jump, kiddo." You sigh but bring him forward, embracing the boy tightly, shakily, trying to remain poised even through the overwhelming amount of…everything, you feel. "God it's good to see you. Everything's a mess."

"You can say that again."

The joke comes to mind, but you choose to nuzzle closer. The familiar presence helping you with finding an anchor for yourself amidst the current chaos.

"Since you don't wanna let me get down by my own means, can I hitch a ride?" You pull away, keeping Ekko at arm's length. "I need to see Silco, I need to find him. I need to see if-"

If he's dead.

The thought brings bile to your throat. What will you do if he did die? Carry on? Move on? Both of these options seem more awful the more you think about them. How is his body going to look like? Will he even look like himself, or will he be a mangled mess?

He can't be dead.

No matter if you both, if all of you, were ready for death. You can't fathom a life without him, a life where he isn't by your side to observe the Zaun you fought for, that he fought for, so hard finally come to fruition. The culmination of his life's work slipping from his lithe fingers isn't how he should end.

He has to be alive.

"Hey, hey. Calm down, he'll be okay. You know the man, he can't die. He's the type of Zaunite that Piltover has always described us as. Ingenious, sly, and unkillable. Plus, with you around, I doubt he'd let himself die from anything but old age by your side." The boy reassures, his hands gripping at your arms and caressing them with his thumbs. "Let's go."

You let yourself be pulled to the hoverboard, the vehicle much slower than in your rushed pace during battle. Easier on your stomach and your soul as you get closer to the body covered pavement, eyes wetter by the second and stinging with unshed tears.

Hoping to gods that your friends are still here, that you'll be able to hold them close and live life with them once more.

Hoping to the gods that you won't find his corpse within the sea at your feet.

Ekko let's you step off, asking if you need help to find Silco but you shake your head, you need to be alone for a bit. Screams still filling your head as you wobble your way through the morbid scenery, dust settling from the lack of movement in the city. As if a hurricane passed by.

"Silco?" You call out, walking to nowhere in particular, your raw voice breaking with choked up tears and exhaustion the more you walk forwards.

Where is he?

You scream in your mind, terror once more overcoming all of your senses, your heartbeat deafening you, blood covering your sense of smell and pins and needles rendering each movement impossibly uncomfortable to make.

"Silco?" Rubble falls, you see people helping others up. Navy, earthy tones and red ass working in unison to honor the dead and save the living.

From afar you see a familiar figure, rushing to it before you crash onto its back. Metal arm clashing against metal arm as you give Sevika a once over. Her surprised face melting into fondness before she takes you in her arms.

"Gods, smithy! You're here. Fuck." She sighs. "I was terrified you'd be gone. Saw you fly up with Benzo's kid and then everything just stopped. Thought I'd never see you again."

You grip her tightly, head shaking. You can't believe she's alive, and you're happy of the news. Relief immediately washing you once more as you check off another person in your mental list.

Ekko and Sevika, check.

"Sev. Gods. I'm so glad to see you." Your voice is muffled in her shoulder, trembling just like your body is. "I need to find him. I can't-" You take a gulp of air. "If you're alive, he has to be. He has to."

The woman pulls back and nods, her forehead gently knocking with yours before she pulls away, going to help the survivors with cleaning.

You don't know how long you scream his name, people looking at you with growing pity while tears escape you. Willpower dwindling while the streets are cleared little by little of the cadavers decorating them.

It's long, your body begs for you to rest, to eat, to drink. Anything but to continue searching. Your heart bleeding painfully each time Silco's name brokenly escapes your dry, bitten lips.

"Dove?"

Your head whips and you find the man leaning against rubble, breathing heavily, his hair disheveled and coiling around his shoulders gracefully no matter how messy he looks.

Your body cannot help but rush to him and take him in your arms, his weight and heat familiar and comforting before you crumble. Silco holds you up when your knees buckle, softly sliding down to rest on the road beneath you before you settle yourself on his lap. Clinging to him like a lifeline while broken sobs leave you, rattling your body to its very core.

Nothing leaves you but babbled speech, your nails clawing at Silco while his arms comfortingly rub at your back.

"Shhh. It's okay, I'm here my dove. It's all over. We've won."

It's all over.

Your heart squeezes. The tension imposed on you since long before your birth and your bubbling rebel blood sing in joy. The fight mechanism built into your cells, the one that has been used against you all your life, can finally rest, letting the softer parts of yourself unravel without the fear of vulnerability. The war is over, Piltover and Zaun, no, the whole of Runeterra is free. And although that brings you so much pride and joy, what brings more relief is that the fight is over. The one that you've been forced into like a caged poro since the topside's creation.

We've won.

Your tearful eyes crack open, while the bodies are getting cleared you can still observe traces of blood staining the greys and white of the City of Progress. The blood on its hands now far from metaphorical and hidden but tainting its shirt sleeves, forever ingrained in the fibers. You've lost so many to Piltover's control. Chemicals eating away at everybody through the air and water, mines and factories burning through the populace just to further the gilded city's selfishness for Progress, for itself alone.

But you've also lost so many in this battle. One that reminds you just how little the differences are between the Undercity and its sister. One that reminds you that beneath it all, blood is red, no matter the attire, the origin or appearance. That all of you are Runeterran, sharing the same world while selfishly fighting to remain above water and others drown.

Gods, and even through this. You've made it.

After the centuries of blood, sweat and tears. After the decades of suffering you've had to grit your teeth to survive. After the mistreatment, the failed revolutions, the growing civil unrest, horrible working conditions and restrictions.

All it took was the prospect of losing it all for your world to change. Yet you are not mad, just glad that it's finally over. That the violence is over, towards yourself and others.

So you thank them all, in your heart you thank all of the lifeless brothers in arms you've shared for but a moment in time, a blink in the vastness of existence. Yet who made a difference in this world, one so big that it could change Runeterra as you know. Gold and marble, iron and glass, coming together to create something greater.

Something made with the bond that both cities share.

Your sobs slowly come to a stop as you take shaky breaths.

"Gods, I was terrified."

"I know, dove. The last thing I saw was you, climbing up the Hexgates with Ekko. I was terrified of what would happen to you." His hands cradle your face, taking you in as if every second can be the last.

"I couldn't see you at all. I thought I lost you. I….the Herald made me forget about you. And when I woke up and remembered, I felt sick at the thought that you-"

You choke up, blinking tears away, swallowing the knot in your throat, your own hands reaching up to caress him. Metal thumb catching onto the healing scars on his face, you approach hesitantly, your lips meeting Silco's with fear of him being a mere figment of your mind. A ghost or a machination from the herald.

Yet he is neither of those.

And his mouth molds to yours, kissing away any worries you might have had, your hands sliding to his hair to hang on to the raven black locks. It's desperate, urgent, filled with so much emotion that you feel yourself melting into Silco's body. Your soul merging with his while the sights, smells and sounds around you fade away. This time in a way that brings comfort instead of fear, all that is left for you to feel is him and him alone.

Gone is the war.

He says.

Gone are the days of suffering.

His lips carve into your soul.

Lay your worries to rest, my dove.

His eyes exclaim.

And so you do, throwing yourself into the kiss with abandon, pouring your soul into the way you twist and wrap around Silco's mind, body and soul. Taking over every part of him, savoring him, treating yourself with the taste and feel of him, turning your mind off and breaking away at the tension in your exhausted body. You let his touch chip away at the weariness, picking at it like he always knows how to do, like he is chipping stone in the mines he and the rest of your people would never return to under obligation.

"Are you hurt?" He whispers, panting as his breath licks your lips, his forehead knocking against yours.

"I don't care if I am. But I don't think I'm more hurt than you. We need to get you checked out, my love."

"I will be alright. We need to help the others."

"Not before I know you're fine."

Your eyes rake over him, noticing the crusting blood and the wetter spots, taking notice of bruises and wounds, remembering how when he stands he seems to slouch in pain. So you turn your head, searching for anyone competent to help him. Hopping out of his lap you stand, gaze focused on the throngs of people mourning and moving around you, a familiar teal skinned vastaya soon appearing, also getting up from his position on the ground.

"Steb!"

He turns, eyes wide and scales trembling at the sight of you, his steps quickly bringing him closer before he takes you in his capable hands, checking you for injuries.

"No, no I'm fine. Any bruise or wounds I got are not important at the moment. Please, can you look at him?" You step to the side, Silco struggling to get to his feet before Steb gets down on his knees, nodding at you.

He's quick, checking Silco for concussions, cleaning his wounds and assessing his state. Your lover has to resign himself to take off his top and jacket to allow the medic to bandage him up and your eyes shoot up to the sky, suddenly finding the golden sunset more interesting.

"Oh please, my dove." Silco teases, voice warm and low, a bitter twang of pain eating through it. "You can kiss me like you want to eat me alive but not look at me when I'm undressed although you've already seen it all? You need to check your priorities."

"Steb, if he isn't dying make sure that when you're done he is." The two men chuckle at your words as your face grows hot. "Don't join him, Lieutenant fish sticks. Or I'll show you more creative ways to use those tonfas of yours."

"Hey, don't shoot the medic. He's taking good care of me after all."

"And I'm already regretting it." A smile cracks on your face, your eyes slowly trailing down to where Silco's form is sitting, breath catching in your throat as your eyes feast on the sight of lithe muscle, scarred from years of fighting, of working hard for his people. Your people.

He's right, you've already seen it all.

At this moment you remembered the state he was in when you first found him, the fear you felt at his life slipping away like his blood was slipping through your fingers. You remembered the softness of him as barely there breaths escaped his lungs, sickly pale and cold skin shivering under your warm touch as you pulled away the bullets and stitched the wounds back together, ointment and bandages following soon after. You remembered sharing your blood with him.

And in a way this might be what links you together, your blood flows through him, pumped into his body by his heart. His beautiful, warm, loving heart. A treasure amongst treasures in a world where cruelty fuels so many. A man of devotion and adoration who gives without counting and has been left without anything, his cup empty and stolen from him while he continues to live, no, to exist for love.

And even as his world grew colder and his body grew older, even as poison from the vipers around him seeped through his skin to corrupt him. Leaving him a shell of his former self as his ideals remained but his ethics, his morals were stripped away from him, an angel having his wings ripped away by the cruelty of demons disguised as his peers.

It had been a long time since you saw what lies behind the layers of clothing. The bullet wounds now adding to the scars, new ones soon to follow from the cuts and scratches delivered to him by Noxians and constructs alike during the battle. But Steb is gentle, making sure that Silco is not uncomfortable, gentle hands slower and softer around the bruised ribs painted in blues and purples, his hands soon sliding to your lover's legs to check for any broken bone while you approach.

Your eyes, who were hiding Silco's sight from you just mere moments ago, were now fully trained on him.

Your fingers caress the raised marks on his skin, sliding through the softness of his chest and stomach with practiced yet shy motions. The need to keep him alive above all now out of your hands, you feel like a teenager discovering her first boyfriend's body.

When you first discovered him, his body was thinner, malnourished, dehydrated and muscles slightly atrophied from years of work at a desk. But with the time and care you gave him over nearly two years, he had grown stronger. Gaining in mass, filling his clothes better, the muscles healthy and strong as if back to their prime although they were past it.

"You're about to make an old man blush, darling."

You sigh and look up to his face, it's warm, soft, a flash of something close to fear flashing behind the shades of blue coloring his eyes.

"You're beautiful. Who would I be to deny myself such a sight?" Your metal hand cradles his face and he smiles, leaning towards the touch.

"To be called that by you is an honor. You've made this body, this man, who he is today. You only have yourself to thank for what you see."

"No." You correct gently. "I have to thank the man before me for staying alive, for keeping on fighting even against all the odds. Because who would I have to love if he wasn't there?"

Your forehead knocks against yours gently, one hand holding his, the other on his face for moments, gods know how many, before Steb taps your shoulder.

"Diagnostic, doc?" The man nods, taking a notepad from a pouch on his pack along side a pencil before he begins writing, soon enough handing you a slip of paper.

You huff affectionately, observing the elegant cursive. The man probably learning to write well, even as a medic, to make up for his lack of a voice.

He has a handful of broken ribs, luckily none seem to have perforated anything. His ankle is swollen so quite probably twisted. What I recommend is to keep it off the ground, use crutches to walk, ice it to keep the swelling to a minimum. The ribs are the same, but do try not to dress them too tightly to avoid them healing crooked or to make them point inwards. He will be fine, do you want me to check you too?

You nod, playing it safe and letting the aquatic vastaya check you, replacing the bloody bandages, patching up your newer wounds, looking through your reactions as he touches you. His eyes snap to your side ever so often, to Silco, and from your peripheral you see the man pulling his meanest glare. Slipping back into his industrialist persona while Steb cares for you.

"You know the man is just doing his job, right?"

"I know." Yet his voice is slightly gritted and you smirk, the possessiveness unusual yet welcome. After today you feel that his usual protective nature will only get stronger, with reason, and you fully embrace it.

Enjoy it even.

"Don't shoot the medic, he's taking good care of me after all." You tease, parroting Silco's words from earlier and he chuckles, his head leaning back on the rubble supporting his back.

"Right. Thank you for keeping my woman alive, Lieutenant."

When Steb is done with you, you're not surprised to learn that you have broken ribs as well, that every cauterized wound has to be thoroughly cleaned so avoid any risk of infection due to the unwashed, bloody metal you used to close your own wounds in battle. And when your body is dressed with new bandages, the vastaya takes his leave, holding your hand in a firm handshake before he rushes back to help.

"Heave ho, fossil. We have to help." You groan, putting your shirt and coat back on with difficulty, your sore body screaming at your movements, back arching painfully as you try to avoid touching your ribs.

No noise comes from Silco, so when your head is through the collar, you slide your eyes to the side, noticing your lover eyeing you from your peripheral.

"Come on, don't tell me you're the blushing virgin now?" His gaze snaps to yours before he scoffs at the smirk slicing through your face, an eyebrow raised in defiance.

"Oh trust me, the thoughts I'm having are not a virgin's. But as you said, we have to help, so instead of parading yourself to me, keep on moving. Unless you like being undressed for me out in the open? In which case I'll have a few lessons to teach you for exposing what's mine to the world." His hands reach for his own shirt, the turtleneck ripped and bloody, red darkened where he has been hit, before his leather jacket follows.

His eyes are dark, staring at you as you slowly get back up to your feet, your hand pulling him up when he is properly dressed once more. Gone is the sight of the deceptive strength hidden beneath velvet skin and you have to make peace with that and clear your mind before getting to work.

Thus start days upon days of hard work, tired bodies, survivors dragging themselves to clean the death from the streets, to prepare the city for the flood of civilians slowly trickling in. Nothing is said of politics, Piltovan eyes glossed over with tired resignation, with guilt, with acceptance. Pedantic hatred long forgotten because of the sudden yet long awaited war, the battle much different and much more terrifying than what had been brewing before.

The atmosphere is heavy, not because of two rival cities coming together after years of one oppressing the other, but because of the realization that none of it should have happened in the first place.

That you all could have been spared had greed not overtaken Piltover, forcing it in a cycle of self-centered "progress" used to make itself greater and Zaun smaller, using it as a stepping stool for its own gilded pride, hiding profound rot that grew as topside grew more cruel, more demanding. Master to slave that was her sister.

All could have been avoided had Zaun been treated right.

All the pain you've suffered in the fissures, fighting for scraps in a dog eats dog world that could have easily been bettered with the flick of a wrist, was senseless. Meaningless. Progress bringing nothing but pain when built upon the unstable foundations of self-importance.

And with how each Piltovan grew softer each day that passed, you know that they all realized that. The errors in their ways letting Ambessa thrive upon the tension and plant herself like a nefarious seed, watered and fed by fears, anger, haughtiness. Thriving like vines, seeping through the cracks and breaking through the already cracked walls of the house of cards the topsiders have built.

But as the city returns to a livable state, clean streets welcoming all of those standing in their perimeter, you feel a shift. A good shift. One that have your children mingle with theirs, Isha enjoying the sun as she plays with others, not judgmental of her lack of voice. The poor girl needing the company after Powder's disappearance.

You had spent days, trying to find her at the bottom of the Hexgates, mourning Vander's evolved beastly body with Silco as tears escaped you. The man still losing more of himself, no matter how many times he died, no matter how great he was when he was himself. Isha had wanted to say goodbye to him too, holding your hands while silent tears left her, sobs racking through Silco as he begged his brother for forgiveness like many had begged for their loved ones all around you. Vi and Ekko joining you, the girl clinging to her father while the boy tried and failed to hide just how the sight broke his soul. Sevika shakily breathing as she tried and failed to contain her pain, a drink poured from her flask and onto Vander as a libation, a farewell from a brother in arms that you reciprocated with Silco, trading sips before emptying the alcohol you kept on yourselves for medical emergencies.

The hound of the underground was gone once more, his body desecrated by greed.

Powder's disappearance was counted as a death. The lot of you searching far and wide through Piltover and Zaun only to find no trace of her. Sisters and father mourning the loss of a part of their soul, the grief of a lover holding onto the memory of the girl he has always loved, you and Sevika feeling a churning emptiness within your hearts. Painful longing at the loss of the blue haired teen leaving a Powder shaped hole in your existence, forever thankful for the life she allowed you to have, the fight she gave back to you with her inventions.

Now decorating your body like badges of honor, you'll use them to fight the good fights. You'll keep this part of her alive through you, marching forward with the girl by your side, out of sight yet never out of mind.

And all of you had to pick up the pieces and pick yourselves back up. For him, for her, for Zaun, for all of those whose names and faces you don't know. For all of those you fought alongside you, suffered alongside you, lived alongside you.

Who gave their lives so all of us could live and create a better world.

Ekko and his Firelights decorate the walls of Piltover, painting frescos of the faces of each deceased civilian on the walls of the gilded city. Zaunite or Piltovan, no matter the age. No one is forgotten.

Even less when the streets are filled with candles one night, paper slips piled in wicker baskets before they're burned away. Names written in ink, forever burned into the fabric of the world, engraved in the history of the two cities. That night you write the names of all of those from the Children of Zaun you've lost, counting that solely one quarter of your group remains.

Kenda.

Brell.

Mellias.

Jhess.

Raban.

Rihannon.

Tears stain the paper, ink diffusing on the paper with each new name written. Your wrist hurts as you write, your heart does even more with the last four names you add.

Vander.

Powder.

Jayce.

Viktor.

Jayce wouldn't have held hope for his partner had the man been a bad person. The councilor was known for being many things, but loyal was at the top alongside his intelligence. You believe, with how kind and helpful Viktor had been to you, how selfless his offers had been, how he tried to better Zaun, that whoever tried to destroy your world was not him.

The man of Progress mentionned the hexcore being sentient, calling out to Viktor, saving him. And although you don't know much about it, you can bet that the Herald was more hexcore than man. All parts of Viktor but his ideals discarded, twisted into something nefarious, a conduit to let the chaos of the arcane run amok in Runeterra. And insidious presence using the downtrodden, too goodhearted yet desperate to notice the changes within themselves until it is too late.

You had asked around for informations on who Viktor was, once upon a time. Before his death.

The consensus was that he was a man worth his place at the academy. Not only for how intelligent he was, a genius born in the bedrock of Zaun and rising despite the odds, but that he was also a good man. A man capable of great things.

Now he wouldn't be remembered. His history erased by his end, by this war, by the system. And you couldn't let that happen, not now, not when things were finally looking up for your people. Neither could you let that happen in memory of Jayce, the man that sacrificed himself to let the world live, so that he could remain by the side of the one he loved so dearly.

Like hell you're going to let the blood, sweat and tears of your people and the friends you've lost go to waste.

So here you are now, in the council room alongside Councilor Shoola, Mel Medarda, Caitlyn, Violet, Silco and Sevika, a couple of members from noble Piltovan families joining you. The room filled with many others of both cities, civilians, standing together to hear what the great council will decide on.

A decision that will change history in the greatest of ways.

"I thank all of you, for fighting for our nations. United by our common enemy after being separated by our greed." Mel Medarda begins.

"Zaunites." She breathes shakily. "I am beyond sorry for the treatment you have been dealt since the creation of Piltover. This city, as glorious as it may be, has been built on your backs. Using your efforts, that we have imposed, to create a better life for ourselves. To evolve."

You have half a mind to scoff. The excuses nearly seeming fake, but you look intently at her. Mel Medarda's face is screwed, pain painting her features and guilt filling her green eyes with glossy tears as she trembles.

This is not the Councilor you have lived with, not the one that kept Zaun under a thumb.

This is not a proud woman no, she feels shame. She feels vulnerability. And as she bows before you, so do the other Piltovan nobles and civilians. Some bending ninety degrees, others nearly crawling on the ground. Trembling with grief and feeling the full force of Zaun's pain, of your pain, over the past centuries. The loss caused by war a shock that seemingly woke them all up from their illusion of grandeur.

"We wish to show the extent of our shame, of our accountability in this situation, we give you, Sevika, Silco-" Her gaze turns to you as she utters your name in the list, nodding in respect, in greeting, in solemn apology. "- places on the council, as representatives of Zaun."

Caitlyn walks forward, her eyes trailing over the room, softening as she goes.

"Due to a previous discussion between my brother and dear friend, Jayce Talis, and Silco. We have accepted the terms proposed by Zaun and it shall be granted blanket amnesty, free access to the trade routes and Hexgates as well as…"

Her voice trails, eyes trailing to the three of you Zaunite rebels, head held high, bodies tense at each word uttered as if they are lies.

"..You will be granted sovereignty. Zaun will become a nation of its own, unexploitable by Piltover or any other. A city state authorized everything that us topsiders always have been granted."

Your eyes widen. It can't be. This is truly it.

We've…we've won?

No. This can't be that easy right? Centuries of persecution ended in a couple of months? It seems…nearly wrong.

"Piltover will also provide help for reparations. Money, men and machines will be lent to Zaun to clean the air, the water, to make the infrastructure more comfortable and efficient. We will also open schools, clinics and help develop agriculture within the Herald's old commune due to its soil proper for growing crops. It will also be studied so Zaun can rely on itself and grow local economy."

Continues Councilor Shoola.

"And what's in it for you?" Sevika asks, wary of the influx of good news. As are you, as is Silco, as all of your brethren.

You hear chatter, Zaunites agreeing with the question.

"We want you on the council, this proposal being more of a formal request. To assure that you keep Piltover in check, keep it from repeating the errors of the past. The three of you know Zaun in all of its ways, all of its levels. You have fought for it for years, you've been loyal to your people, to your ideals. And no one else is as qualified for this as possible."

Caitlyn's words spread warmth through your soul. Your work being recognized for what it is, the years Sevika, Silco and yourself have poured into bettering your nation finally being accepted. Seen and understood. Respected.

"We also want you, both for your safety and our own, to dismantle the Chem-Barons. You have dealt with our ways for too long, you don't deserve a price for freedom. You have paid it for far too long and now we will balance the ledgers."

It's a lot to take in.

Nearly too much, if you weren't so elated at all you are hearing.

"This is my last action as Councilor, as I will be stepping down to return to Noxus to take on my mother's mantle as matriarch of the Medarda family. I know that with this, our cities will be held in good hands. I know that we will finally evolve and thrive, make our way towards real progress. Progress made together, not in spite of one another."

The woman, cloaked in red and wearing black armor, gold embedded in her flesh, advances. Walking around the cog shaped table before holding a hand out to each of you.

"So. Will you accept this proposal?"

"We've fought for this, Councilor Medarda. Ate chemicals, lived in soot, dug through metal and rock, even had to kill our own. But we still held our nation dear, dreaming every night of seeing it free from the troubles we've grown up with."

Your voice begins.

"We have scraped the lowest of lows, nearly dying for our cause. Simply for better lives. We've rebelled for years, pushing back even during the worst of times. We've fought tooth and nail, made it by the skin of our teeth each time only to be thrown off the deep end and restart, over and over again."

Sevika stands tall, looking down at Mel Medarda after Silco finishes his words. His drawl elegant, menacing, wary yet full of hope. The one that all of this is more than a mere dream.

"So tell us. Do you think we would not accept the proposal to make our people live better lives if we can help it?"

But instead of the indignant look you expected, the regal woman smiles. Councilor Shoola, Caitlyn, Vi and the other two new Piltovan councilors find themselves in front of you, bowing in front of you before shaking each of your hands. Eyes filled with gentle resignation, guilt, but also pride.

This is it.

You think as you walk around the dark marble, hand caressing the gold plated cracks.

"My dove." Silco pulls your chair for you before taking his place to your left, Sevika to your right on the cog like desk.

A paper is presented to you, signed with Piltover's councilors' signatures. Three spots left to be signed. Your spots.

"Sevika. You should be first." You hand it to the woman, her shoulders lifting high with each baited breath.

"It's crazy. I've dreamed of this but it feels….as wrong as it feels right." Her voice resonates and you nod, understanding her fears.

"You three have earned this, Zaun's earned this. I may not be appointed councilor, but I'll be fighting the good fight with you all." Vi finally utters stepping close to you, a hand on your shoulder. "We've been in the shadows for too long and what happened two months ago….it was wake up call violent enough to rip the status quo apart. This isn't a trap guys, we're free."

Her voice carries so much emotion, eyes glossy, a soft smile illuminating her face as Caitlyn wraps an arm around her waist. The glow in her gaze enough to reassure you.

You did win. Through centuries of blood, sweat and tears. After years of rebellion.

We won.

Sevika doesn't hesitate to sign after those words, scrawled and slanted but intelligible. The page soon handed to you, your hand gripping Silco's tightly as your mechanical limb taking the fountain pen and signing your own name in your messy handwriting. Silco following with his elegant cursive.

"Thank you, Councilors for your understanding and patience. I apologize once more for for our actions and hope you find it in your heart to forgive us someday. Although you do not have to."

"I believe that after what we have seen and lived through as brothers in arm, your actions are already somewhat forgiven. Now it all depends on you. Let's thrive as sister cities and not as master and slave."

Your voice carries in the room, cheers erupting from the crowd as the newly reformed council makes its way to the center of Piltover. Walking next to one another in unity while your people walk behind you, both cities mixing as you walk up the stage that has previously been set for the Remembrance Memorial Day.

Vi rushes Silco, Sevika and you forwards, walking close behind as bodyguard but mostly to act as support. As an anchor in such a tumultuous time, although this time rather than being from of hardships, it is because the war is finally over.

The war to gain back your independence, your humanity, your nation.

You, Shuriman refugees from the fall of the Great Empire.

You, descendants of Osha Va'Zaun.

You, kin of Kha'Zhun.

You, the Nation of Zaun.

Your fellow councilors from Piltover stand behind you, leaving the stage to the three newly appointed Zaunite members of their congregation so you can break the big news to the hundreds of thousands currently awaiting your words.

You trail your eyes to Sevika, who is tense, her shoulders solid and tall but her chest puffed in pride, a small smile curling her lips upward. Silco, to your left and holding your flesh hand comfortingly, holds his head high, gentle eyes trailing over the crowd, yours are burning with unshed tears.

The dream of a lifetime, carved in every single one of your atom, is finally within reach.

Faces shine bright with joy, with relief, the energy is warm, you feel like a sailor that finally escapes the storm tormenting him. Your boat is shoddy, you're exhausted, but as the sun appears, piercing through the thick blanket of dark clouds, you can see the path ahead. The Blue Bird allowing the gale to direct you on the way home.

Home.

You've finally freed your home.

Your lungs grow as you take a deep breath.

"Kha'ma akhas, kha'ma ukhtas! Kha'a akhyraana hura'a naa!"

My brothers, my sisters! We are finally free!

Cheers echo at your voice, loud, permeating the stone and metal surrounding you, shaking Piltover and Zaun to their very core.

"We have fought for so long in the shadows. Suffering from unwelcoming land, from slavery, from torture, from our very own brethren using us. But no more! No more will we be stuck under someone else's thumb, no more will we dance by anyone's drum but ours. We reclaim our land, and we will fix it. And we will grow and thrive! We, leaders of the Zaunite revolution movements of the Lanes and the Children of Zaun, announce Zaun's official independence from Piltover in state and our place within Piltover's council to maintain the peace and a good relationship between our cities!"

The crowd grows loud, and a smile grows on your face. Not only at seeing your people rejoice, but at seeing them being embraced by Piltovans. Wishing them the best luck in the world, handing out smiles and love like in the dreams you've held dear since childhood.

"We will be equals! Partners in progress, in morals, ethics and in trade. None shall be taller or brighter than the other anymore. This new council, the one we now sit within, will change our cities for the better. We will clear Zaun of toxicity, dismantle the Chem-Barons, and fund for research for better infrastructure and agriculture so that our people can be self sufficient and maintain local economy while remaining in good health! "

Sevika's voice growls in pride, a smile stretching her face much brighter than anything you'd expect from her. She looks younger, the child within finally reaching her dream. The sound of cheering getting louder with every word, bodies jumping in elation, eyes glowing in joy.

"We have suffered. But we will not fight, not anymore, not like this. We have won this war because of unity, and in union we shall remain! Zaunites and Piltovans will now be at peace, ripping the status quo apart and rebuilding a bridge to connect our people. A true bridge of Progress. Through our projects, and with the help of our co-councilors we will also create safer working spaces, build schools, clinics, and opportunities for any and all Zaunite to come study to Piltover, without judgment. Outreach programs will be created so that researchers, doctors, surgeons, teachers and more can come to Zaun and help it grow, help it heal. The fissures are the wounds of our people, but with everyone working together, we will make it into a scar. A reminder of an obstacle, of a past, that we have finally cleared from our way!"

A velvet veil covers you as Silco's voice utters his speech. Eyes shaking with emotion, his breathing so heavy that you can see the rise and fall of his shoulders, his body shaking with apprehension.

"We were kept from living." You begin. The electric energy shaking the city enough to let you articulate the words you once upon a time thought you would never be able to say.

"From loving." Your eyes trail to Silco, your hand holding his squeezing to seek out reassurance. "But my brothers, my sisters. Rejoice. Be happy of your hard work, of your spirit, of your will, of your heart and of yourself as a Zaunite. Because of you, all of you who stand with us now. Stand proud, we are free because of you!"

Your fellow councilors finally step to the stage, thanking everyone who fought with valiance, everyone who helped anyone, everyone who is alive now. They thank Silco, Sevika and you, bowing once more in front of the crowd, in front of you. To show humility and that they take responsibility for their past actions. You are given badges, the symbols of Zaun and Piltover intertwined on their gilded surface.

A token for a new future.

That night, and for many nights during many weeks and for many years to come, the streets are loud with fanfares, with people dancing and drinking, children laughing, singing and playing. The frescos catch the light, letting Piltover explode in millions of colors, like a flower garden surrounded by golden gates. But these do not keep you out, no, they protect you. An embrace instead of a shackle. A celebration of unity, never ending, incorruptible.

A new statue is erected, copper figures of Jayce and Viktor in their academy clothes, taken from pictures their mothers have of their sons, are placed on the Bridge of Progress. The taller one holding his great hammer and a glowing crystal in his other hand, the thinner one with his crutch holding him up holding a notebook and sporting a harness with a third arm on his back. The both of them with their eyes shining bright with determination.

"The Men of Progress."

And the notes, blueprints and other papers they have created during their years of partnership, previously censored by the council now harbored two names:

Viktor and Jayce Talis.

As per your request. Your heart still twisting at the thought of the man who helped so many in Zaun being seen as nothing but a monster, his life's work ruined by circumstance and ancient magic, by legacy and origins. But you'll forever remember him as someone good, someone unlucky enough to hold the weight of the world on his shoulders despite his stature, despite his humanity. Or maybe, because of his humanity.

Next to Vander's statue, one of Powder has been made. Standing proud next to her father as her arm holds a flare up high. The two of them inextricably linked as the symbol of Zaun. The father and the daughter, the hound and the shark, the body and the soul. Both of them intertwining in meaning to compose the heart of your nation.

Life had been hectic. Making Zaun into the heaven it deserved to be proved to be as difficult as you'd hoped it to be. Paperwork, council meetings for the sister cities, fundraisers, research, overseeing your people. Your hands were full. But you had Sevika by your side, loyal and steadfast. You had Vi, energetic and true to herself. Caitlyn, knowledgeable and determined. And you had Silco, the queen in your chess board, the leader and guide, the soothing force, your anchor. With them, for them, no matter how hard it could get, you'd move forward and brave storms and fires.

For them, for all of your brethren and for all of those whom you've lost. For now and forever.

You sit atop the Old Hungry like many other nights, watching the festivities in the fissures, noise muffled from your height but some more coming from the top, the fringes happily partying the night away. Rejoicing at the growing betterment of living conditions. Isha sleeps peacefully on your lap, the young girl clinging to you more than ever since Powder's death, finding comfort in using you as a mother figure.

The taste of tobacco of your cigarette soothes you along with the motion of your hand raking through the girl's hair, the time bringing so many positive emotions yet such an abundance of goodness in your life is so surprising, so new, that you can't help but feel overstimulated. Needing some time away from papers, duties and festivities for the time being.

"I knew I'd find you there, my dove. You're quite the sentimental aren't you?"

You chuckle, the voice taking the shape of Silco as he sets himself besides you, your head dropping to his shoulder.

"You're one to talk. You remember that this is a place I'd think of as important to us."

"Touché." Lips touch your temple, and he also touches them to the little girl in your lap, his hand holding Isha's comfortingly as she dreams.

"I still can't believe it. It's like…all of this is a dream that I'll wake up from, alone. Without you, without a free Zaun, back to zero. This all feels like I've gone crazy from overworking, or that I'm still in the Herald's made up fantasy." You shake, a sigh raking through you. "Please tell me you aren't a dream."

A hand grazes your jaw gently, cradling your cheek before soft lips take yours. The kiss is slow, deliberate, but deep with devotion and adoration. When he pulls away and lays his forehead on yours you see the soft glow of the blue in his scarred eye, a reminder of how far you've come.

From sinner to saint.

From dog to man.

From man to angel.

Your angel. Your man. Your saint.

"Do you still think I'm a fantasy?" And you smile.

"I don't think I'll ever stop believing that you are. You're a waking dream."

His nose rubs against yours and you sigh. Your eyes closing as you bury your hands in his hair, free from its usual updo, wild and free, the tendrils of onyx laced with silver thread.

Your silver lining.

One that tarnishes, but never rusts. One that may crumble but never corrupts.

"What are you thinking about, my dove?"

"About how far we've come."

And you know he does too with the ways the shades that compose his gaze shift and shine in the neon lights.

How far we've come indeed.

Two lowly beings, a demon that wished to soar high in the sky and an angel whose wings had been clipped. You had thought once upon a time that your beastly nature would forever taint all that you touch, forcing you to remain alone while you tried to repent for an existence you've never asked for. He had thought that he had to stain his heart black and let his love turn rancid and dead for his dreams of happiness to ever happen.

Two sides of one coin, fighting for the same ideals.

Then you found one another. A chance meeting bringing salt and sugar together, similar in color and shape but different in nature while your purposes remained the same. To move forward, to fight, to live. Surviving was all you knew how to do, absolution was all you sought. And you've found it within one another.

Copper and iron, fusing into a reliable alloy. The sun and moon bringing forth the day and night, both important in their own way for the world to turn.

Impossible to separate.

He holds the key to what you do not possess, and you to what escapes him.

You expected nothing but his heart beating in his chest when you saved him. But you had gained a companion, a friend, then a lover. Someone who helped you in your fight against the world, but also in the one against yourself. One more silent and insidious, one that ravaged you from the inside out. And you know you've done the same, the proof staring back at you in the form of healed scars and the blue of the tides that licked away at the blaze of the hearth his eye held.

A crucible of pain quenched by your presence in his life, your advice, your care.

"We've done it, Silco." Your voice cracks. Not only meaning the liberation of your people, their happiness still thrumming within you even from where you stand now. But also your paths as humans, souls ripped apart by a cruel world now sewn back together into a patchwork. A tapestry more beautiful than you could have ever imagined.

"We have." His lips graze yours again. "And we've done it together. I don't think I'd have been able to change, to be good, to be better, to be important, had it not been for you. You've made me matter."

You shake your head in refusal. "You always mattered, my love. Even if it didn't seem that way. You're a good man that did bad things, a man whose pursuit of great led to ignore to do what is good. But a man nonetheless, and man makes errors. He is led astray, he loses himself. But he always finds his way back home, even if he sometimes needs help. You didn't have to fight alone anymore, and I made sure that you knew as much."

"And you neither. You never have to be alone ever again. You've never had to be since you took me in your arms to bring me into your home. You've guided me like the North star, but I'll always hold you up. A crutch for when life gets exhausting, to soothe your pain, to keep you on your feet and moving forward. You'll never have to make it by the skin of your teeth anymore, my dove."

"None of our people ever will."

"Because of us."

His eyes twinkle with love as they stare into yours, his arms wrapping around you tight .

No matter how hard it'll get. No matter if you have to grind your teeth and clench your jaw. You'll do it, all over again for your people. For him. Through sun and rain, heat and cold, you'll move forward. You will sign as many papers as necessary, make your voice be heard, work yourself to the marrow.

All of that so no one ever has to deal with the pain of their existence being written off as a nuisance.

All of that so that no one ever feels hunger, fear, cold or dejection from merely being born on the wrong side of the fence.

All of that so that people can live and love without being terrified of tomorrow.

All of that for your young self who wished to reach for the stars, for the youth and the elderly, for the mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, for the lovers. For your lover, for Silco.

You'll do anything. Even if it means going through hell again, losing more limbs, you'll climb back up the fissures with bare hands and feet.

Even if it means fighting wars again against mad gods and overzealous warriors. Even if it means suffering heartache and wounds.

If it means that you'll get to see your people thrive, sing, dance, eat and rejoice again. If it means you'll make friends that fix your broken body and soothe your aching soul again. If it means you'll be able to save brilliant young minds with hearts of gold from the brink of madness again, no matter if they disappear. If it means you'll give people the lives they deserve, unshackled and unabashed again. If it means adopting another child for your own again. If it means you'll forever be granted Silco in your life.

You'll do anything, and you'll do it all over again.

But as tears escape your eyes, Silco wipes them away. Washing you of your pain with his tide, licking away at the nostalgia and leaving nothing but promise.

"Yeah. Because of us. All of us."

prev || m.list

Thank you guys for following with this tiny project of mine, a beginning to my writing journey and something very important to me personally. Thank you for all the love you have given it and all the comments and appreciation. I hope you all will appreciate where I go with my writing from now on and don't hesitate to read everything else I have written. Your support meant the world to me through this endeavor and I hope to keep it!

Don't worry, I will not stop writing for Silco just yet as Literary Service is still ongoing, and afterwards I'll be putting up some one shots perhaps!

Taglist: @vicurious28@midromiell@zorosleftmantit101@anthy-j-ander@agathasslutt@onyxistired@ren-ren23@hurts-my-brain@burgerwolf74@pontiusaurus@notyuralycat@isomehowexist@karamelkaczech@theregoeskittykat

Silco Masterlist: here

Arcane Masterlist: here

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[tonycries]

She's My Vitals!

Synopsis. The best part about a séx ban? When they’re broken!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, séx bans, bondagé, PÚSSYDRUNK BOYS, creampíes, CÚMPLAY, spítting, true form! Sukuna, dp, pússy-slappíng, chokíng Nanami, BRÉEDING, markíng, making him whíne, talking to her, jealous Nanami, fínger-súcking, NÉEDY boys, “just the típ”, heinous things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. LAST LEAK DAY HOW ARE WE FEELING BBYGIRLS??

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 1 week…almost

“Oh god…” he’s rasping out, skimming a thick thumb over where your flimsy panties were the most translucent. Just the sticky sheen of saturated slick makes him salivate, neglected cock throbbing with how much he’s missed you. “Y’really got me begging, huh, naughty girl?”

Now, Toji Fushiguro doesn’t ask for attention - either you come to him with that cute pout of yours, begging him to fuck you full of his long, solid inches or you don’t. Toji Fushiguro doesn’t grovel - he’s never just barely lasted only a measly week since being punished with a sex ban. Banging at your door soon after, strong arms just wrangling his pretty girl to the ground right then and there. 

But here he was. 

“S-so eager.” you’re humming, the hardwood floors of your hallway chafes lightly underneath your arched back. Your nails dig into his muscled shoulders, holding back a giggle at the way he’s already so gone. Eyes droopy, abs flexing, panting. “Affected so much by-”

“-just a week?” Two rough hands knead at your ass, dragging your body forwards to grind his angry cock in a sultry push. “A week of hell, you mean.”

There’s a soft smack! gifted right onto your puffed-up clit, and Toji has the audacity to laugh - laugh, all low and humorless when your needy cunt gushes out in another way of your syrupy sweet juices. 

“Though…” he circles his thick, reddish head over your quivering entrance, gliding over the glistening mess you’ve made. Coating around your puffy teasingly with every ribbon of his thick precum, “-seems like I wasn’t the- hah- only one all desperate n’ shit for you.” That sinful scar positioned on his lips grazes jaggedly against yours in a lazy kiss, “Missed me, woman?”

You’re rolling your eyes, “Real rich coming from-” And Toji can’t do anything but watch when your hand dips down between your two pressed-up bodies to wrap around his fat hilt. He throws his head back, swearing when you just slot his leaky tip between your swollen folds. Sensitive and so swelteringly hot. “-the same man that almost broke down my door at two in the m-morning because he missed me too much, Toji.”

Fuck- fuck, Toji doesn’t think he even heard whatever just came out of your mouth. No, he was way too busy trying not to fucking pass out. Humping you pathetically as if in heat now, gulping at the dripping wet squelches from down below. Shit, his favorite song.

“Say it.” You’re feeling two of his thick palms come up to rest atop your head, lacing those thick fingers of his slowly. “Say my name again.”

It was almost endearing how tough he still tried to sound. Acting like his body wasn’t wracking with a jolting shudder every time you’re grinding your hips up in steady gyrations against his rock-hard cock. 

“Say what now?” you purr, silky sweet. Peppering a lingering kiss against his forehead, his scar, only to have him bite down on your lower lip in warning. “Toji? The same Toji that was so mean to me - ignoring me for some stupid mission? The same big, bad Toji Fushiguro who took less than a week to crack-”

“M’sorry!” And usually you’d love to tease Toji more for the way he was cutting you off so much, but he just sounded like he was in utter wreck. Lips wobbling, a baritone ah! ah! ah! leaving with each sopping glissade of your cunt across his twitchy shaft. “There! I said it. Won’t- won’t miss another one of our hngh! d-dates for a job, m’kay? Fuck this sex ban- I’ll even answer your cute calls in the middle of finishing off a target if I have to just please-”

Ah, there it was.

The heady hallway - fuck, you two hadn’t even made it to the bed, yet - rings out with the soft thwack! of Toji’s heavy, cum-filled balls against your ass. Only increasing in volume with each greedier and greedier little half-thrust into your snug cunt. 

“Ngh! Toji- Toji f-fuck.” you’re keening at the feeling of all the air in your lungs being thoroughly pushed out. “Y-you’re lucky you’re so convincing-”

And he feels so hot, dizzy head being flung back at the heavenly suck of your pussy swallowing him up. Being stretched so gapingly open, it’s like his girth is contorting your velvety walls to his very shape. Stretching you out so much, massaging your sweet spots without even trying, reaching for your very womb-

“Ha-ahh- so tight- fuck- no wonder I almost broke yer damn door down.” he’s breathing out. The words finally registering, “Is it me that’s convincing or is it-” His biceps bulge with effort, rippling as the vice-like restraint above you is pushing you down, down, down to his hold. “-is it this?” 

You can’t even form an answer if you wanted to - because Toji was hunching over his hulking body to bully his fat cock into you in thorough, jagged ruts of his hips. Keeping you stuck in his vice-like hold, fully in the face of all his pressurized thrusts.

“What? Cat got yer- ngh tongue?” Toji smiles, smugly. Obscenely. “I missed your p-pretty voice just as much as this cunt, y’know? Why don’t ya use those words f’me, doll?”

Your entire body just jerks upwards when one of his soft palms plant back down on your clit, giving another simpering smack!

“Yes!” you’re spitting, and there’s such a supple satisfaction in Toji’s movements now. “M-missed this- missed you so much…”

“Tha’s fuckin’ right. Never gonna let ya forget it.” He’s grunting throatily at your answer, the soft, rounded pads of his fingers swirl over your stinging clit, eager to give another playful slap. He stills - and you whine, grinding down pleadingly. Exactly how he wanted it. “So why dontcha fuck back into me n’ show me, you lil’ tease?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 17 days

There’s a slow, syrupy puddle growing on your inner thighs - not between them, no, on top of them. Glossing down your skin in a milky ooze, Nanami’s red, achy cock right in the center of it all. Rubbing and grinding rawly between your thighs, he’s rutting forward like he’s out of control-

“M-my love.” Even those words sound so wrecked, Nanami’s soft baritone cracking, a few octaves higher than usual. “Are you- hah- doing okay?”

Your kiss-bitten pout makes his thick length jolt in interest, surging forwards to kiss them. “I am, Ken. Which is why I r-really want you to break the-”

“No!” he’s gasping, and there’s another harsh glissade of his glisteningly wet cock just across your puffed-up folds. Two firm hands hold your squirming hips still while he fucks your thighs even sloppier. Drowsy, almost. “No no no- we can’t. Don’t wanna overwork my gorgeous wife, sh-she’s already had such a long month at work, no?”

You shake your head stubbornly, pulling on the loosened end of his favorite speckled yellow tie to just drag Nanami even closer. “M’not-”

“But- the project-”

“Told you m’not overworked, okay, Ken?” Within only a few moments, you’ve got your trembly legs hooked around muscled hips, feeling his dick reach every single one of your hidden sweet spots and crannies with just the single inch he’s sinking in. Accidentally - but oh, an accident never felt so good. “Besides…e-even with this annoying new project, the month’s been even hah- longer because of this sex ban. I really, really miss you inside me–”

“Oh…better not have told me that.” He breathes into the crook of your neck, hiding away that rosy blush high on his cheeks. And before you can comfort your dear husband - or maybe make him even more flustered - he’s giving one, solid thrust into the depths of your awaiting cunt. Slowly. “After- after so long. Fuuuck- you shouldn’t have told me that.”

Giving a steady roll of his hips until you were just gasping at the sheer thickness. Nanami’s long girth leaving you spotless, swiveling his fat head easily against your g-spot.

“F-fuck-” he’s still muttering to himself, jaw clenched tight with all the strain of not devouring you whole after so long-

“So do it.” 

Your words make him still in his unforgiving pace, cocking a head in confusion. The sight of him - all disheveled and blushing an innocent red, eyes drooped in pussydrunk pleasure, mouth parted sweetly - has you giggling. “Seriously- aww, Ken, you didn’t even realize you were talking out loud?” Your palms smooth their way over his blue button-up, too impatient to have stripped out of it. “Do it. Dontcha think the best ngh! de-stressor during a long work project would be this-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence - and you didn’t have to. Because Nanami is doing exactly that. 

“You’re not good f’me-” he draws a greedy thumb over your clit in tight, methodical circles. Pressing sweet peck after peck on your sagging open lips, “You have- no idea- how I- hah- was holdin’ back all this time.”

Each squelching thrust has the pool of cum and your saturated slick expanding ever-wider. Drenching into the once-fresh sheets, your skin, forming a creamy ring around his heft base. It stands out so starkly against the neat patch of blond and his red, red shaft.

“Seein’ you walking around the office in those godforsaken short skirts.” he growls, sharp gaze honing in on the mess of fabric in tatters on the floor. “Havin’ those interns making eyes at you- Meanwhile I couldn’t even fuck my cute wife.” All those frustrations he’s channeling into his hips, fucking you deeper and deeper into the bed, you swear in the morning you’d be able to see the markings of his tight balls against your ass, his v-line against your thighs. “All because of some shitty project I couldn’t give less of a shit about.”

“S’almost- hah-” you’re hiccuping when his thumb strokes even harder, matching his lewd pace. “-s’almost over anyway. And I al-already filed the-”

“My love…” Nanami gently cuts in, just quelling your worried excuses with another jittering ram of his hips. Pressing expertly into where he already knew would make you squeal. “-this cockblocking project is the last thing I wan’ hear about right now-” He’s sucking gently on your lips in a sloppy kiss - his favorite type - “-I’d much prefer to finally hear you cum-”

And this was so unlike your dear husband. 

He was never this rough when throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, not giving you anything but a second to adjust before bending down, down, down to fold you into the meanest mating press possible. Never this hoarse with his words, wrenching out of his shot throat with each bludgeoning push into your cunt. Just ravaging you from the inside out. 

Soon enough, it gets too much.

And Nanami’s pants turn into heaves, his pressurized cadence turn into nothing more than languid, sloppy ruts back and forth back and forth back and-

“K-Ken-” Your fingers find their way to his tie again - pulling so hard that it makes him lightheaded. So tight it cuts a red indent into his golden skin. “M’so close-”

You’d heard about the type of orgasms so sudden that you don’t even realize you’re having them. Because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re cumming. So hard, so aggressive, even that Nanami has to bite back his own groans. 

Head falling backwards at how almost-difficult it was to drive into your snug cunt now, velvety walls constricting with pleasure. Milking him so fucking good- “Yeah- yeah fuck, choke me. Choke me while you cum, darling.”

In a split-second, the pads of Nanami’s fingers on your clit shove themselves between your lips. The honeyed cum and slick pooled thickly in a candied coat that makes you throb. 

“That s’for not hngh! telling me sooner about the project almost being done. And this-” It’s followed by a gentle peck to your forehead, and an absolutely not gentle twitch of his weepy cock inside you. His fingers tighten inside your mouth, yours tighten around his tie, “-is for all the overtime m’gonna hafta make up for.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 8 days

It’s been too long - way too long. A week- fuck, maybe more? 

Geto doesn’t know, can’t even think right now with the way each and every slow, smooth glissade of your puffed-up pussy down his long shaft have him losing his mind let alone his train of thought. Gritting his teeth, he tugs even tighter around the cool leather restrain pinning him down to the plush bed, “Th-this has already gone on for a week- hngh- don’t you think that’s enough teasing, gorgeous?”

Fuck him and his stubborn streak.

“Over a week of you giving me the cold shoulder, Sugu?” Oh your saccharine sweet hum is enough for the curve of his cock to twitch up. Bumping lewdly against your clit, “I think m’being more than generous.”

Your leader’s dark brows knit even deeper in frustration, the need bleeding into those heaving shudders of his. “Aww, c-come on—” And if you didn’t know any better you’d have said that Geto Suguru was whining - whining. The headboard rattles loudly when he pulls, “Y’know I didn’t mean it- was jus’ a lil’ lesson because y’d-didn’t finish your duties as my second-in-command. I already give you ‘nough pretty privilege, don’t I?”

“Oh yeah?” you’re huffing, leaning forward until he gets the perfect view of your perky tits. Geto can’t help the way his tongue lolls out to suckle gently on your nipples. Handsome cheeks hollowing out with each swirling movement. “And I’m gonna give you a muzzle next if you don’t stop running that mean mouth.”

Shit, Geto blames it on not having you for a while now - fuck this sex ban - because he can already feel his weepy cock gush out in a fresh coat of syrupy precum. Steamy and sticky between your thighs, it was almost fucking embarrassing.

“Yes, ma’am.” he gasps out, sounding as disoriented as you looked right now. There’s a candied string of spit between his glossed-over lips and your tits that snaps around his almost leering smile. “Anything for you.”

If you felt his admission was mocking, then you didn’t say anything. And Geto was so fucking thankful, because just then you’re positioning his achy cock right at your slobbering entrance. Coating down his angry, angry shaft in your sweet juices before sinking down - slowly. So, so torturously slow. 

“Fuck!” Geto’s biting his lip when your silky soft walls give an experimental squeeze, tugging the rest of him even deeper into your tight channel. Throwing his head back, lazily - this was heaven. “I’m so- C-can’t you hurry-”

“Nope.” you grin, popping the “p”. Your gyrating hips falter into stillness, until your filthy cunt’s just barely cockwarming him at this point. Hands ghosting up his flexing abs, the plans of his bulging pecs, up, up, up until they wrap so prettily around Geto’s milky throat. “Why dontcha do it yourself since you want it so bad, hm?”

Ah, he’s in love.

“Anything for you.”

Jaw tensing, his eyes are locked on the way your pussy lips part around him. Straddled and sat so prettily on top of him, he’s planting his feet onto the silken sheets without a second thought. Long fingers intertwining deftly with the chain on those cuffs, leveraging you just right and-

Snap!

Both of you gasp in surprised synchronization when those expensive handcuffs - custom-made, mind you - shred easily. Raising your eyes to look at Geto and- oh, fuck. You were fucked. 

“That wasn’t on the plan but…” his dark eyes glint with such a predatory spark, plump lips curling into an easy smirk. He soothes over the stinging red where he’d been held, greedy gaze locked on you. And only you. “...neither was havin’ my cute lil’ assistant tie me up, hm?” 

In all of two seconds, you’re just being slammed down onto the hard ridges of Geto’s defined hipbones. Bruises sure to blossom up on your skin when his two rough palms grab a ravenous handful of your ass. Reeling your pliant body up, up, up till the very tip of his velvety cock kissed teasingly at your hole, and down. 

“O-oh!” Your hands come down to his sculpted chest, skin heated against his soft puffs of breath. And it’s just about all you can manage to get out, mouth salivating at all of the thick inches of him filling you up, so dreadfully bullying with his thrusts.

“Shit- shit shit shit, fuckin’ missed this. Must’ve had a lotttt of fun hngh! playing around with your leader, huh?” Geto lingers in hot pecks at the corners of your eyes, tasting the salty sting of your tears. “Treatin’ me like I was second-in-command. Did it get you wet, gorgeous?”

He’s leaning back to get a better view of the way your pussy was being split open, glistening and winking up at him. “Yeahhh, it sure did- jus’ look at you. You’ve been hating this petty sex ban as much as I have.”

Just the thought is enough to have whatever blood is left in his body to rush even more feverishly into his painful cock. Bulbous tip blushing a rosy red, his ravaged cock gushes sensitively with hot precum after so long, growing even girthier inside you.

You’re whining at the feeling of your already-contracted walls being stretched even more like elastic around him. “I- I did-” 

He fucks out whatever poor cry is on the tip of your tongue with a harsh thrust, arching into a perfect curve of his body against yours. 

“Awww, I know, pretty girl. I know–” Geto soothes, gliding away your glossy pout with his thumb, before pressing such a tauntingly sweet sweet kiss. “N’ we’ve gotta make up for th-those hah! eight days, right?” At your barely-lucid nod, he only grins wider. Fuck yeah, he missed this. And he’s never letting you out of his sight. “And afterward- we can talk about a little ah- promotion, how about that?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 2 days

“Just the tip.” Choso’s hushing hotly against your ear later into the night, eyes double-checking at his locked door before rutting his hot, hefty erection against the globes of your ass. “Just the- hah- tip, baby please. Feels like m’gonna die if I don’t get just a feel of your cute cunt already.”

It’s only been two days visiting his family, and Choso feels like he’s just about ready to burst. All those soft moments babying his little brother, those stupid lil’ jokes from his uncle about adding another Itadori to the family - they were swirling up inside his hazy mind and flowing straight to his achy cock. Rock-hard and leaking saturated precum all over the back of your soft cotton sleep shorts. 

Choso wanted you - and he wanted you now. 

“Baby…” his drowsy kiss drags along your lips. A calloused hand comes up under your leg to slot his achy cock between them, rubbing and grinding in smooth, slow gyrations. Shuddering, “Don’t care if we’re loud I- hah- r-really just wanna fuck a baby into ya.”

“Shh shhh, go ahead, Cho.” you giggle, whirling over your shoulder to teasingly peck at the tip of his nose. “But jus’ the tip, m’kay?”

Your sweet boyfriend’s nodding before you’re even finishing your sentence, not having the patience to even take your pajamas off. Just hooking a long, pale finger along the side of the fabric, throwing his head back against the pillows to take an even close look at the gloss of slick sticking to your inner thighs. 

“O-oh, baby. My baby–” his deep voice cracks. Biting back guttural groans when the very flushed thick tip of his cock dips so perfectly around the corner of your sopping slit. Frantically, he claps a hand over his loud moans, “Just…just the tip. Right?”

Whether he was asking you or whether he was asking himself you have no idea. Because Choso wasn’t wasting even a millisecond more, he’s rubbing in velvety glides at your swollen folds. So dripping wet that it takes him a few whimpering grinds to bully his fat head at your hole without sliding right across. Slowly. 

“Shit- missed this. J-juuust-” he’s heavily panting, kissing down your spine with each inch after fucking inch massaging inside your gummy walls. Throbbing heavily because shit, it might not have been long - but it’s felt like forever. “-the- the-”

Choso’s blabbering words only slur out even more through the gaps in his fingers, honeyed tone becoming more simpering. And you could count the hitches in his breath, the shake in his thighs when he’s disappearing between your legs. After not having you for a whole two days, he was pussydrunken already.

“Something wrong, baby?” you purr, tugging on his long strands of hair, now damp with sweat. “You look tense.”

“Tense?” Choso gasps, voice pitched up higher than usual with disbelief. “Wh-what are you ah- shit, don’ squeeze me like that- what are you t-talking about, m’not tense.” 

But your smug smirk only tugs wider at the jittery way his free hand locks onto the small of your waist. Pushing and pulling in a sultry pace, massaging your snug channel with the upwards curving divot on the very tip of his cock. Feeling just the very peak of that prominent vein he has down his creamy middle. 

“Are you sure?” you hum, hearing him outwardly gulp. And you know that you should go a little easy on him - your poor boyfriend did just spend the entire weekend being cockblocked by his family, after all. You know you should be mindful of the soft creaking of the bed, the ever-growing groans wrenching from Choso. “I would much rather you just-” Your nails leave ravaged red trails down his milky thighs “-breed me the way you’ve been wanting to these past two days, Cho.”

Oh, Choso could cry, he could moan, he could cum. 

And - tears pricking at his dewy, dark eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment - that’s exactly what he does. You’re letting out a mewl at the feeling of Choso’s sweltering hot tip just gliding across the spongy bottom of your cervix. Glossing over your insides with a thick coat of his cum, dredge after dredge of creamy white that fill you up so much. Seeping down through the corners of your sloppy hole and forming a milky ring around the tufts of black at his hilt. “Fuck- fuck m’blamin’ being cockblocked from this heavenly pussy f’this.”

“Fuck! Wasn’t even that long, Cho. I can ah- feel you all the way-” Your fingers slide up to about halfway at your stomach, pressing down on that familiar nudging divot, “-here.”

That’s all it takes for his weepy cock to just gush more spurts of seed again. Again and again and again- Immediately, his large hand covers your mouth, fully muffling those pretty moans. 

“F-fuck, pretty- m’y dad is j-just hah- the door over.” he’s almost bawling out, hips uncontrolled with the way he’s rutting up in deep, thorough pushed of his slender hips. “So loud.” But Choso makes no move to quieten either of you. Crashing his lips into yours to let your sweetened moans vibrate away into his mouth, heavy balls smacking against your skin in a heady thwack! thwack! thwack! “So messy.” 

You feel so sluggish being stuffed to the very brim like this, limbs aching with how close Choso was pinning you back against his muscled chest. There’s only so much that your cunt can take before it’s spreading out into a messy puddle below you two, adding to the gripping squelches. Shit, you two were definitely facing hell tomorrow - namely, a too-smug Sukuna. 

“Baby…” Choso drags out, in a way you already knew didn’t bode well. Two of his fingers swipe at the mess beading out, “Since m’being so loud…why don’t I busy my mouth with something else?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 5 hours (but he won’t admit it)

That pretty pout of yours was too irresistible, the way you’d kissed him goodbye too sultry - Sukuna knew your game. 

And here - teeth gritted, thighs bouncing in frustration under the table, anger flaring when his court meeting drags onto around the fifth consecutive hour - he also knew he was playing right into it.

Yeah, fuck that.

Which is why there isn’t even a shred of regret in his smirk when he finally reaches his breaking point - a click of his fingers and he’s no longer in the royal meeting room. Instead, nestling up to your side at his chambers, smothered amongst all the expensive silken sheets. 

Not even the tiniest speck of embarrassment in his next words to you, “On all fours, brat.”

“Kuna- you’re back- fuuuck-” your honeyed moans sound out over the way he had one large hand smushing you deeper and deeper into the cushiony pillows. “-you’re back e-early?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t have anything to hngh! do with it, woman.” he spits, and the mattress dips when he’s hiking up a powerful thigh. Using the leverage to pressurize each jarring, determined little half-thrust inside your gaping hole. “Teasing n’ toying with your king. You’re hah- r-real brave for a lil’ human y’know that?”

You’re whining, “A-all it took was f-five hours of a sex ban-”

Another one of his big, beefy arms swipe down your arched spine, dipping down to spread open your puffed-up folds even more. “Silence.”

So what if the king of curses couldn’t last five hours without your pretty pussy? Was that a crime? 

The vice-like grip on your head was forcing your bleary gaze down to where he was feeding your cunt with each of his massive inches. Two absolutely engorged cocks with twin reddish tips, glossing all over your poor entrance with matching gushes of hot precum. Just barely even halfway in - but you could already feel him bulging at your very stomach. “Heh…wouldya look at that. Didn’t even prep her as much as u-usual and she’s already this ready to take me. Are ya always such a slut?”

You can’t stop yourself from bowing even deeper into his hold, the upwards curve of your spine pushing you even closer to his stacked bases. 

“Answer me.” His deep baritone snaps you out of your little haze, and two hands prop you even closer. You could feel every heated gust of his words against the shell of your ear, “Speak, if you don’ wanna displease your king, little human.” 

And oh Sukuna can’t deny that stirring pride in his chest when your jumbled-out words spill out, body trembly, needy - but still so eager to please him. 

“I- I just-” Your breath hitches wetly in your chest when one of his four hulking arms dip downwards, toying with your swollen clit between two thick fingers. It takes a branding smack! to the fat of your ass to remember what you were trying to say again. “-just knew I was gonna miss you at the meeting today, Kuna.”

And if the way he jolted inside you wasn’t an answer - the raw divots of his cocks jostling inside you to crash into your g-spot - Sukuna gasps - gasps. Voice so simperingly silken when he asks, “You missed me?”

You’re nodding - but that isn’t enough for him, fuck it might never be. 

In retaliation, your pussy is being gifted with another few of his long thrusts. Two hands tightening roughly around your waist to keep his pretty girl from escaping.

“Like I said- u-use your hngh- words, doll.” Followed by such a mean bump of both rounded curves of his fat cockheads against your g-spot, making you cry out in your sweetened voice that he loved so much. “Clearly you’ve still got the voice, heh-”

The royal bed is creaking so loudly that Sukuna has half the mind to wonder whether the fools in the meeting room not too far away could hear. Ah, fuck them. Right now he couldn’t care less about anything other than you.

“I did miss you.” you’re mewling, big fat tears pricking at your eyes each time he’s drilling in. “Missed you so much, Kuna.”

There’s a sudden, sloppy squelch! And before you know it, he’s buried all the way in until the sensitive skin of your ass rubbed rawly against those rough patches of pink at his toned pelvis, Sukuna’s heavy balls kissing snugly against your thighs. 

“Ahh–” he’s heaving out, while you can do nothing but scramble towards the headboard, the sheets, anything. Peaking in the thumb rolling over your clit to take a good, long look at how your stuttering pussy was so obscenely stretched and molded around his cocks, all the way down to those ringed tattoos on his thick bases. Gapingly full. Doubly sucking him up. “Fuck the sex ban- beats that stupid fuckin’ meeting tha’s for sure.”

And you didn’t know whether it was possible to forget how big Sukuna truly was in just five hours. Because his every throb only seems to drive him even deeper against your cervix, thickening so maddeningly to stretch out your insides. 

“Yeah yeah- atta girl. Take it all- fuck, take it all f’me.” He croons through your high, squelching movements only speeding up. There’s an element of such raw, primal need in what he does, like he’s just dragging out every dredge of pleasure out of you. You’re just gulping when a hand makes its way into your black-tinged vision, wrapping snugly around your throat to pull you backwards against his every ram. “Now, let’s see if this pretty pussy can squirt before they come around tryna find me for the meeting.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 15 minutes

“Sweetheart-” Gojo whines, rosy lips downturning into the most perfect pout you’d ever seen. “Sweetheart please- I know I was-”

“Stupid? Impulsive?” you’re rolling your eyes, despite the vice-like hold he had on you. Sitting you down so prettily on his lap, manspread as far as his office chair would allow him. “An absolute idiot?”

Fuck, at that last insult, Gojo’s cock only hardens impossibly inside your gummy walls. Marking out each and every divot and vein down his furious shaft, he throws his head back with a groan at the taut feeling of your clingy walls being stretched all around him. 

“Seriously?” you’re gasping, to which he only curls his lips up into the most unabashed grin. 

Not even a moment later, he’s bouncing his thighs, jostling you precariously on top of his frame. It makes your hips just squeeze downwards in smooth, swiveling gyrations that massage his throbbing cockhead. “Aw come on- I take back what I said about No Nut November can we just-”

“Yeah? After what-” Your eyes dart over your shoulder towards the clock at the very end of the room, “-fifteen minutes? You dragged me all the way out of a meeting after only that? Come on, Toru, you’ve gotta make to at least twenty-”

“Please.” 

You’re pausing in surprise, and that’s the last thing that Gojo wanted right about now. So with a huffed-out groan, he’s back to placing two greedy palms that smooth over the curve of your hips, up and down up and down. Soothing you over for when he just rams you down recklessly on his achy cock. 

He bites up the column of your neck, all the way up to that sweet spot at your earlobe. “Already said the magic word, didn’t I?” Before using all of his inhuman core strength to bounce you all the way down in another thorough thrust. “What? Wan’ me to say pretty please, my girl?”

The strongest was just begging at your feet, because laced with his tease was a very real, nervous tremor. Voice lilting up higher than normal, drunken eyes darting between your own and the very obvious little grind of his pulsing length.

Buried so brandingly inside you, like he wanted to make you memorize him from the inside out. Body bowed into yours like it hurt to be apart more than just a few millimeters, he was stuck against your side. Only pushing deeper and deeper and-

“I’ll- I’ll make it to twenty minutes next time-” he giggles deliriously, already tinged with such smugness. “Maybe even thirty- please- please just’, fuck- need your cute cunt.”

And you were a strong sorcerer in your own right - but seated like this, Gojo definitely had the advantage. He was still so much taller, so much broader, muscles rippling through the thin fabric of his black t-shirt. Biceps bulging out with each stuttering slam into your hips, it’s like he wanted to be as sloppy as possible. 

To have your cunt drooling down every inch of his angry, red cock glistening a sweet sweet coat of juices with every single squelch. It drips down from where your skirt was bunched up, down onto the wooden floors. Shit, you definitely weren’t going back to the meeting like this. 

“So wet, huh?” He smiles, a snowy brow rising at the sight. And Gojo’s tall frame sags even deeper down his steadfast chair to get an even better long, swallowing deeply. “Damn- you’re makin’ me so thirsty, sweetheart.”

You smack his chest, “S-so filthy, Toru.” But you can’t hide the slight moan in your scolding, the way your clit grows even more heated - and he notices, of course. 

“I got you- I got you, girl.” He rolls an eager thumb right over where you wanted him the most, bringing a kiss over towards the underside of your jaw, your cheeks, your mouth. “N’ of course m’ filthy- what’d you expect?” Gojo’s free hand occupies itself with guiding your cunt down at a maddening pace. Squelching so loud that times like this he was thankful for six eyes, for all the amplified sounds of your huffs and cunt clamping down around his girthy cock. His next words are whispered against your tongue, “M’the fucker that couldn’t last fifteen minutes without your pretty pussy, of course.”

He’s not even waiting to ask at this point - he’s already lost, he’s already broken the sex ban but fuck, did defeat feel so sweet. 

There’s a stuttering squelch, your slick glossing down his entire wrist when Gojo’s fingers sped up on your poor clit. Circling and tugging teasingly, his fingers were so deftly making you writhe. 

It simply makes your toes curl, white-hot pleasure sparking behind your eyes with each unwavering clash into your g–spot. And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d be almost embarrassed at how it only takes a few clamoring rummages at your insides, a few steadfast thrusts right into the bullseye of your sweet spots, before you’re cumming and cumming so hard it makes you gasp.

“Fuck-” Your nails dig ferociously into Gojo’s strong wrist, stationed on one side of your waist, fucking downwards to meet his sloppy staccato. “Fuck fuck fuck- m’cumming- m’cumming, Toru–”

“Heh, easy girl.” he jests, dragging his plump lips down the sensitive side of your neck. “Made fun of me f’being so needy but look at you.” Running his pretty mouth a mile a minute, you could tell he’s nearing the end of his sanity, as well. Each sensitive twitch of his long shaft massaging deeper and deeper into your g-spot. “Cum f’me then- fuck- cumming- cum.”

Your velvety walls are just milking each of his gummy thrusts, gripping onto you through each and every wave of pleasure. Bolts of electricity zap through your veins, and Gojo’s flinging his eyes shut, mouth parting to groan out your name with each spurt of his thick, potent cum. Over and over-

“Fuck- fuck, yeah tha’s right.” he slurs, a hand just slamming down on his nearby desk. Like he wanted to break. To ruin. Whispering against your ear, “Now how about we go a few more times to see if I can make twenty minutes without this pretty pussy next time?”

“Thirty.”

“Deal.”

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[boyapologist]

I love flying with bad instructors while someone's having instruction because I can hear their tips and as soon as they're gone I can look the poor guy in the eye and say "holy shit ignore everything they just said????"

[skrunksthatwunk]

playing dmc1 with my earbuds in (but on low volume bc they're being weird) while my roommate and her shitty bf argue. i feel like i'm recreating the very specific experience of some child of divorce out there

[mywritersmind]

HIDE YOUR NAME NOT YOUR TEAM - LN4

summary : In which a pretty red head catches Lando’s eye one night in mexico, a rude remark and laughable flirting stays on both of their minds. The last thing Lando expects is to see her again in the paddock, while he’s determined to figure her out, she’s determined to hide her name and why she constantly is spotted in orange.

listen up : panic attack, sexual comments, comedy!! lando norris x bosses!daughter.

word count : 5404

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I don’t usually go to these things. But Alexandra convinced me when she said I could borrow her dyson.

“I take it back.” I say as I get my drink, we’re sat at the bar, Charles already gone to find some drivers, “Let’s go back to the hotel! Girls night!” I beg her but she just shakes her head.

“You look too hot for that.” I sigh, I do look hot tonight. I’m in a black mini dress, sheer tights, and knee high boots that are the same shade of burgundy red as my hair.

Just as she says that, Rebecca, Carlos’ girlfriend, comes up to us, “Y/n! You never come out with us!” She hugs me and I smile. I never do but I do like hanging with my girls.

“I had to drag her here!” Alex sips her drink as Rebecca laughs. We’re in Mexico for the grand prix, something I also rarely find myself at.

“Don’t make that face! You deserve a day off.” I sigh, knowing they’re right.

“Alright.” I down the rest of my drink, coughing and turning to the bartender, “Three shots please! Surprise us!”

The girls squeal and as soon as I sit back down, I know it’s gonna be a good night.

I’m multiple drinks in, dancing with my friends, when Carlos and Charles sweep my friends away like it’s nothing.

I scoff, going to walk off the dance floor before a man stops me, “Wanna dance?” I almost laugh when I see who it is. I can tell he sees me thinking about it, “I promise I don’t bite.”

⋆༺

LANDO NORRIS

I noticed her when she was dancing with some guy who was out of his mind wasted. I saw her hair first, a dark cherry red with messy waves.

I don’t know if she’s here with friends but I do know that I want to know more.

She’s staring at me like i’ve just asked her to do a backflip, “Uh… no.” She shakes her head and walks straight past me.

What the fuck?

I haven’t had a girl reject me in a long time, but it’s not unheard of. Still, something about her is telling me to not give up.

“Wait! I’ll buy you a drink!” I hurry after her, she’s flipping her hair over her shoulder and eyeing me, “Please?”

“Please?” She laughs, “You can’t find any other girl besides me?” She hops up onto a bar stool and I lean against the counter, staying close.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m Lando.”

“Yeah, I know.” This surprises me.

“Oh! Well then you know I'm not a creep, so you’ll let me buy you a drink?” She crosses her arms, she seems to be assessing me.

“Fine.” I get her a dirty martini and water for myself. “Thank you.”

“I’ll always be down to buy a pretty girl a drink.” I smile as she sips her drink, “I never caught your name-”

“Mhm…” She looks around the club, obviously not interested in what I have to say.

“Okay, Red.” She doesn’t even flinch at the nickname, “Why are you in Mexico?”

She hums, “Family.” she lets out a long breath.

I frown at her lack of interest, “That’s fun. I’m racing here this weekend.” She doesn’t respond, “Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise I'm not like whatever shit magazine you read.”

She looks at me after that and I immediately know I fucked up. Except instead of throwing her drink on me, she just laughs, “God, you’re an asshole.” And with that, she walks away.

⋆༺

YOU

Lando Norris hitting on me was not something I expected from that night.

But it immediately became worse once I remembered why I was in Mexico.

“Sweetheart!” My dad hugs me tight. Zak Brown is a lot of things but a shit dad isn’t one of them. He’s in all orange, contrasting my white dress. I smile as he pulls back, “I’m so happy you’re here!”

I have gone to four grand prix’s in my life. It seems a bit odd for someone who’s father is there almost every weekend, but we had a deal. I was a sort of trouble child, more in my teens when I wanted more freedom. I took some years off of school but I realized what I was wasting and got right back into college.

My dad said I couldn’t come to a grand prix until I finished school. I was annoyed at first, who wouldn’t want to spend their weekends partying with rich people and flying on private jets? But I sort of fell in love with my studies in fashion and had no time anyway.

But I recently graduated and am back in my papaya fathers reach.

“How are you doing? Excited to be back?” I nod as I walk up the paddock with him.

“Very! I’ve missed everything, especially my friends.” He smiles and I’m happy I can make him do that in public.

“I’m so proud. Oh!” I see my nightmare in neon and freeze, “Come meet one of our drivers, he’s a bit like you, I think.” My dad looks back at my frozen position and frowns.

“I forgot I have to grab food with Lily! New friend duties, right! Remember how happy you are that i’m making friends!? Bye!” I turn around and run.

I end up meeting up with Lily because as soon as I heard myself say it, I suddenly really wanted to see her. Lily isn’t new to the paddock, but I’ve only met her a couple times. We follow each other on instagram and have DM’d multiple times.

After our taco and gossip session, practice started and I know I should be watching, but I want to explore more. So instead, I walk around the Paddock alone.

I seriously missed this environment. One of my favorite memories from when I was a kid was my dad walking me around the paddock. I love the hustle and bustle of the paparazzi, fans, and drivers.

I also love the quiet in the paddock while the cars are on track. I make it back inside, finally finding a bathroom and after fixing my hair and makeup, I wander more halls.

I don’t want to admit I'm lost, but I definitely am. I’m about to call Lily and Rebecca but realize I am a strong independent woman! That and I'm a tad embarrassed.

I turn yet another corner and see the worst person for this situation. I realize he hasn’t seen me yet but when I go to turn he eyes me, “Red?” He looks genuinely shocked and I'm even more shocked that he remembers me!

I laugh awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He’s in his race suit, sweaty, and way too good looking with it unzipped. He runs his hand through his curls, has he always been this attractive?

Sorry! Dickhead. I don’t like this man. He’s an asshole.

“What the fuck?” Is all he can say.

“Hey!” I smile, “Thanks for buying me that drink the other night…” When I left him at the bar, I did not think about the whole MY FATHER IS HIS BOSS thing.

“What are you doing here?” I hide my paddock pass behind my back, “Seriously. You’re not some stalker are you?”

I roll my eyes, “No but I am lost.” I can’t ask him to point me to the Mclaren garage because then he’ll ask why so I go for the next best thing, “I’m looking for the ferrari garage!” I need to text Alex right now.

“I’m still confused- you said you were in town for family.” Fuck my life.

“Yeah! Well… Alex is like family to me! And she invited me. Alex as in-“

“Charles’ girlfriend. Yeah I know.” He moves his water bottle from one hand to the other, stepping closer. “But, why would I help you if you think I'm an asshole?”

Okay. Good point.

“Because you think I'm pretty?” I smile and I can tell he’s biting back a laugh. “And because you were being pretty cocky!”

He nods, “Fair enough. Come with me.” I didn’t expect him to give in so easily.

“Hey, why were you in here anyways?” He shrugs and keeps walking for a bit before answering.

“Needed a breather.”

I nod, walking with him in silence, he opens the door for me and the sun hits up straight on. “So… how's the whole driving thing going?”

He glances at me, “It's alright. Quali tomorrow.”

“Good luck. Although I kinda hope you don’t get first.” He raises a brow. “I’m a big Piastri fan.”

He looks genuinely hurt, “I didn’t even think you watched.”

I frown, “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, I'm here.”

“Yeah but you… nevermind.”

I stop, turning to him, “You have to tell me now!”

He grins, looking away and continuing to walk, “You just didn’t have a reaction when I hit on you.” I scoff, “I know, I know! Dickish.”

I can’t help but laugh, “Honestly… fair enough. If I looked like you with the whole famous rich thing. I’d be pulling left and right.”

He eyes me, “So you think i’m attractive.” My face drops and I look ahead, “Hey it’s okay we already know I think you’re hot!” God if my dad ever heard this…

“Just shut up.” He does.

Until he doesn’t, “You really a big Oscar fan?”

I’m happy that I got under his skin with that one, “What if I said I liked Verstappen more?”

“I’d leave your lost ass right here.” Lando says it so serious that all I can do is laugh. He looks proud after I look at him again. “Seriously though.”

“Ferrari girl through and through.” He rolls those gorgeous green eyes of his, “McLaren might be second best though. Plus that Colapinto kid…”

He rolls his eyes, “You can’t like Franco more than me.”

“What, you jealous?” He points to turn and when we do, I see the garages in view.

“Gonna give me your name yet? Or am I sticking to Red?”

I pull his same move and avoid the question, “Thanks for showing me back.”

“Is it bad I like it when you’re mean to me?” I groan and walk away, “Bye, Red!”

“Later, Norris.”

⋆༺

“He doesn’t know who you are!?” Lily and Alexandra scream at the same time, we’re sitting in my hotel room when I called an emergency girls meeting. Except Rebecca is with Carlos to celebrate a little after his pole.

I cover my face with my hands, “But why does it matter!?”

“He’s obviously is hot for you.” Alex shrugs as Lily laughs, rolling onto her back.

“Babe, No wonder he’s so interested in you! I mean- besides the fact that you’re hilarious and drop dead gorgeous- he definitely is intrigued.”

I shake my head, “More like plotting to get me back for calling him an asshole.”

“Wait! You called him an asshole!?” Lily laughs even harder, “I love you!”

“Genuine question though… why don’t you go for it?” I stare at Alex as if she has two heads.

“Go for it!? Lando Norris?” She nods, “No way! Besides the fact that my dad is his boss, he’s way too cocky, and he doesn’t even know my name, I still wouldn’t go for him.”

“That’s kinda part of the appeal.” Alex shrugs, “What!? He knows nothing about you but thinks your hot! Seems like enough to me.”

We end up crying laughing, the conversation straying from Lando and to all the on track drama.

⋆༺

I’ve been avoiding the McLaren garage like the plague. I was there this morning but stayed on Oscar’s side. After meeting him, falling in love with him (platonically of course), and seeing that Lando was completely locked into Qualifying, I took my first breath of calmness.

The boys went out and I popped over to talk to Pato. Quali was over way quicker than I expected, After Oscar’s P17 a weird energy was in the garage and as soon as I saw Lando’s car, I was out of there.

What game am I even playing? Maybe it’s a little hot that he doesn’t know who I am… I don’t know why. Plenty of people have bugged me because of who my dad is, but Lando doesn’t need extra grand prix tickets or me to spot him money.

I find myself in a large room, it’s filled with chairs and a couch facing them. I grin immediately, how the hell is this just open?

I obviously am going to take my chance and pretend to be a talented man! The couch is not as comfortable as I expected and I almost fucking jump off of it when someone walks in.

He's breathing heavily and I recognize something’s wrong immediately. He’s pulling off the velcro of his race suit, unzipping it and pacing. “Lando.”

His head shoots up immediately, just staring at me, “Fuck Red, why are you everywhere?” His breath is labored and shaky.

I stand slowly as he slides down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning his head back. I’m confused because he seemed fine twenty minutes ago. P3 was not bad especially for where they are right now.

I start to say something but he just shakes his head, “I can’t.” He points to his throat and I realize he can’t breathe.

“I like your hair.” I say quickly, he looks so shocked when he looks up at me, “You look really good with it.” He keeps breathing heavily.

“Huh?”

“Although, you should ditch that fuck ass hat.” He tries to laugh but he’s still struggling. I slowly sit in front of him, “Seriously, who told you to wear that?”

“I- I have to.”

I roll my eyes but my hands are shaking. I’m not a stranger to a panic attack and seeing it happen to someone in front of me is a little scary, “Free will? I mean we all know you have it with the amount of times you whip out your middle finger.”

He laughs again, breathy, but his breathing seems to be getting slower.

“You definitely have free will.” he chokes out, “Saw you- today. Flirting with Lewis.” He got me there.

“Okay! Have you seen him? Who wouldn’t!?”

He shakes his head, “He’s way older.”

“Some people might find that hot.” He side eyes me, “Don’t worry I'm still into guys my own age.”

He’s smiling, nodding. We stay silent for a moment, his head resting against his knees as he catches his breath. He finally slides his legs out in front of him and I scoot next to him.

I tap my neck to ask for permission and he understands immediately, nodding. My hand slips to his neck, feeling his pulse.

“I used to have panic attacks a lot last year.” I explain as I feel his heart underneath my touch. He doesn’t say anything, just looking into my eyes. I swallow, “Your heart is going crazy.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, “Yeah I don’t think that’s because of the panic attack.”

I give him a look, “Seriously? Even in distress you’re a flirt.”

He licks his lips, “You’re good at calming people.”

“All I did was talk, not that hard.” My hand is still on his neck. “Are you okay?”

He swallows, looking away just as I drop my hand back to my side, “Mhm. Thank you.” His hand goes to mine as if it’s nothing. I’m shaking. He rests his head against the wall, closing his eyes, and squeezing my hand. “I think I owe you another drink, Red.”

⋆༺

It’s not until after more press and the conference is over, when Lando finds me again.

“Let me buy you dinner.” I raise a brow, “Come on, as a thank you.”

“You already said thank you.” I sip my water as he frowns. He’s out of his race suit and into jeans and a McLaren shirt.

“Just let me take you out.”

“Are you feeling okay?” I reach up and press the back of my hand to his forehead, “Oh no! Seems like you have a case of aiming high.” He mocks me as I cross my arms.

“Red, If you’re that high, I'll take my McLaren rocket ship and meet you.” I laugh at his words.

“A bit late on the whole rocket ship thing.” He sighs.

“We’ll have fun. Please. Why not?” He goes through five emotions in two seconds.

“You’re sinister, evil, and orange.” My eyes stray who who’s also orange and walking quickly up to us, “Shit.” I don’t mean to say it out loud.

Lando turns around quickly, then back to me, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of Zak. I’ll introduce you-”

“No! I’m not! I gotta go!”

“Wha- Red!” I walk away so fast that I don’t see the man rounding the corner.

“Y/n?” Oscar looks at me confused, “Alright?”

“Hi!” I quickly move past him but he follows.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lando is trying to introduce me to Zak Brown.” I say simply as we turn another corner and Oscar frowns.

“Zak Brown as in your dad Zak Brown?” I look at him, nodding. Then he laughs, “He doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope. Sort of a long story but I'm in too deep now.” I cross my arms and he starts laughing harder.

“I’m completely here for this- Just one question though… how the fuck does he not know who you are? You’ve been in the garage.”

“He’s blind and I'm a mastermind?” I shrug and of course, Lando finds us.

“Red! No!” He groans when he sees Oscar, “Osc, Don’t convert her into a you fan i’m trying so hard to get her to like me!” Oscar laughs harder, covering his mouth and looking at me.

“I don’t need to be converted! I’m already an Oscar fan!” Lando frowns as I shake my head.

“Don’t worry mate, everyone’s an Oscar fan.” He pats Lando on the shoulder before leaving. “See ya…” I can tell he’s about to say my name but he stops himself.

Lando narrows his eyes at me, “He knows your name?” I bite my lip and walk away. “Hey wait! Any thoughts about tonight?”

I glance back at him, “Don’t you have a race to be preparing for?”

He smirks, catching up to me, “Wanna know my pre race ritual?” I push him away from me, “I’ll give you a hint.” He winks and my stomach does a weird flip.

“You’re never gonna stop, are you?” I place my hands on my hips, looking up at the man.

“Tell me to, and I will.” I stay quiet, his eyes meeting mine and the corner of his lip quirking up. Someone calls his name but his eyes stay on me, smiling. He leans down and taps his knuckles against his hand, “Bye, Red.”

⋆༺

Although Lando has been running around my head, I still have other duties besides being flirted with. I’m at dinner with my dad, it’s been a while since it’s been just the two of us. And I will say, I missed it.

He’s busy and obviously distracted but i’m grateful for any time I get with him. We’re in the Paddock but everybody is gone except for a few engineers and workers.

“Tell me about your weekend! I haven’t seen you much in the garage.” He takes a bite out of his salad, looking down at his texts.

“I’ve been around.” I shrug, drinking my lemonade, “It’s good to be back. But I have been sneaking off with my friends a bit…”

He smiles, “I’m glad. Even if you aren’t cheering us on.” I laugh, “You will be watching from the garage tomorrow, though.”

I nod, “Yes yes, I know.”

We get into a conversation about the issues with my apartment and how he thinks I should move back home. I get the feeling that he’s worried about tomorrow and suddenly wonder if he’s like this every weekend.

My dad gets a call which ends our dinner early, “I gotta grab my bag then I'll head to the hotel.” I kiss him on the cheek and make my way to the garage.

There’s a few people hanging back, some looking at screens and someone laying on the floor, looking at Lando’s back wing.

I grab my purse, rummaging around in it to make sure my phone is there. “You sure you’re not stalking me, Red?” That damn voice makes me jump.

He's sitting on the floor next to his own car, his arms and black shirt dirty. Was he… fixing his car?

I raise a brow, “What are you doing?” He takes the rag next to him and wipes off his hands, standing up.

“What are you doing?”

I cross my arms, “Stealing information for ferrari.” He smirks, shaking his head and walking past me to grab his water.

“Instead of having dinner with me? You need to sort your priorities out.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder, “Do you work on your own car often?”

“I can’t do much but I do like to see how it looks.” He shrugs, leaning against the wall and glancing at the people working, “You seriously not gonna tell me who you know at McLaren? You obviously have an in.”

He waves to the people who are packing up and walking out. We are now alone.

I hum, knowing there’s no chance I'm about to tell him who my ‘in’ is. He laughs a bit, “Alright, stay mysterious. Wanna sit in it?” I almost think I didn’t hear him correctly.

“What?” He nods, standing and walking over to his car, “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve already driven one or something.”

I smile, shaking my head and walking towards him, “No. I used to kart but I’m actually shit at it.” He laughs, beckoning me closer. “Won’t you get in trouble for this?”

He brings his finger to his lips, shushing me as I stand in front of him, “Okay put your foot here,” he points, “And hold onto this.” He points again and I do as I'm told.

I hate to admit it, but I am quite clumsy. When I slip a bit, his hands go to catch me instantly. Thank you driver reaction practice.

He lifts me down into the seat, his hands regretfully leaving me. I look up at him, “For once, you look tall.” His smile drops, leaning over me.

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffs and starts pointing at things. I try to listen but his hand is right in front of my face and I’m genuinely surprised how much I don’t know.

“You’re so far down.” I hum, holding my hands out as if I'm driving, “My back already hurts.” He smiles and kneels next to me.

“You look good in here. Seems like a complete hazard though, even if the car isn’t on.” I tilt my head up to look at him. A curl is falling perfectly in his face. “I didn’t wear the hat as much today, what’d you think?”

I smile at the fact that he listened to my bullshit, “How are you, by the way?”

He nods, avoiding my eyes and messing around with something on the car, “Fine.”

“So the whole panic attack thing was just for fun?” He eyes me, biting his lip.

“Thank you again, It was kinda embarrassing but you made me feel better.” I chew the inside of my cheek, smiling softly at his expression. He looks tired, but a big step up from earlier.

I’ve seen Lando a million times. He’s on posters, all over my feed, in my dads photo dumps, billboards, ads… But none of that can compare to the real thing.

He shoots up so fast that I’m about to laugh and ask what he’s doing, but he starts talking to someone. “Lando!” It’s my dad. Alarm bells ring in my ears as my hand goes over my mouth. Okay. He can’t see me, I know that at least. “I thought you’d already left!”

Lando laughs awkwardly, I think he’s standing in front of the car now. “Uh! Wanted to make sure everything’s good with the car. Guess I lost track of time.”

I hear my dad laugh, rummaging around, “Get some sleep, kid.” I think we’re in the clear until I hear sneakers squeaking, “You haven’t seen a girl come in here, have you?”

My heart rate skyrockets as Lando clears his throat, “Nope. But I've been pretty distracted with the car.”

“Alright well… I have someone to introduce you to tomorrow! Get some rest and drink water!” The door shuts and I hear Lando sigh heavily.

I stand up and messily get out of the car, “I thought for sure I was dead!” Lando says, running a hand through his hair and shivering, “Sorry about that.”

“No worries! I don’t want to get you in trouble though so I should go…” He nods, looking a bit disappointed.

“Want me to walk you out?” I can’t help but smile softly at the soft way he says it.

“I know my way, Thanks though.” I grab my bag, thanking god my dad didn’t see it before, “Rest up.” I mock my dad as Lando chuckles.

“With you on my mind, that’ll be difficult.” I pretend like my cheeks aren’t on fire and open the door.

“Dream about me, then.”

⋆༺

The party environment of the Mexican Grand Prix is all I needed today. I’m in a white dress with marigolds embroidered at the bottom, a flower in my hand from one of the people who are painted.

I laugh with Rebecca and Alex as we walk through the paddock, their boyfriends already getting ready for the drivers parade.

I haven’t told them about last night. I mean, what is there to tell? I swipe my lipgloss on, checking my makeup in the reflection of Rebecca’s glasses.

“Is Carlos nervous for today?” I ask her as she smiles at his name.

“I think so, but I’m really hopeful for a good result.” we continue walking, “Hopefully I don’t jinx it.”

“Hey, Y/n.” Alex nudges me, “Someone just arrived.” She winks as we all turn to look at the Paddock entrance behind us.

Lando Norris.

He’s wearing a Quadrant crewneck and a big smile. He signs something for a tiny fan and hurry’s past the photographers.

He almost walks past us, but he does a double take. He looks happy, I’m glad. “Rebecca, Alex.” He doesn’t stop walking as he politely greets them. His eyes meet mine and his expression changes, “Hey, Red.”

I smile softly before he turns and practically runs away, “Yup! He’s in love.”

I swat Rebecca’s arm as she laughs, “Goodbye!”

“No!” Alex laughs, “Come get coffee!”

I shake my head, “I told Pato I would grab breakfast with him, I’ll see you later!”

I smile at the two of them as they wave and we split up, me going to McLaren and them to Ferrari.

⋆༺

Breakfast is good, we watch the drivers go around and laugh at George who is shivering like a leaf. I say goodbye to him as soon as the drivers parade ends.

I need to see my dad before the craziness begins. “Dad!” I smile as he sits on the pit wall.

“Sweetie!” He smiles and waves me over, letting me sit with him.

“Ready for today?” I ask as he looks over data.

He nods, “Definitely!” He crosses his fingers and I smile, looking over the data with him. He knows I have no clue what we’re looking at so he explains it to me.

I lean in to look at the tiny words when my dad gets distracted, “Oh!” I hear him say but i’m trying to decipher this code still, “I have someone for you to meet!” I’ve met a million different people this week so I smile and stick out my hand like usual, “Lando! This is my daughter Y/n.”

I stare at him. His smile drops for a second, then a look of panic washes over him before he takes a breath and shakes my hand.

“Nice to meet you.” I almost whisper it. He’s looking at me and I feel like I'm about to get swallowed whole.

His face contorts again, he looks like he’s finally cracked me, “Pleasure” My dad looks away and Lando takes that second to narrow his eyes, a smirk still on his face.

I drop his hand as my dad looks at us again, “I think Y/n has been avoiding the garage! I would have introduced you days ago!”

Lando’s jaw ticks, “Not a McLaren girl?”

I can’t help but smile, “Ferrari through and through.”

My dad shakes his head, “Don’t mind her odd preferences…” he’s about to say something else but gets pulled away by someone in orange.

Lando just looks at me, my cheeks hot as he examines me. I expect him to be mad, but he just smiles, “Y/n, huh?” I nod shyly, “It’s pretty. It fits you.”

“Okay! Lan you gotta go!” My dad claps a hand on his shoulder, dragging him away.

“Good luck!” I say quickly as he shoots me a devious look. I take a breath I didn’t know I was holding in, and watch him leave.

⋆༺

The race has me on the edge of my seat for all 71 laps. I accidentally gasp way too loud at Lando being pushed off track and maybe start clapping when it’s announced that Max got two penalties.

The whole time I have a feeling that Lando will be on that podium, but definitely not in third.

My manifestation comes true when Charles goes off track and Lando zooms by.

Ten laps to go and I don’t think I've taken a deep breath in twenty. But the moment Lando passes the finish line, the garage claps and I sigh in relief.

I hug my dad but I watch the podium ceremony from the side, smiling as the boys get sprayed with champagne while laughing.

I see Rebecca with tears in her eyes and when I look back to the podium, I see Lando looking at me. He's grinning, holding his bottle of champagne and pouring it into his mouth before winking at me.

If he’s still acting like this after he found out my dad is his boss, then I am unexplainably screwed. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

After the podium, I walk back to the garage, but Lando catches me first, pulling me into a hidden area. He’s soaked in champagne and grinning like an idiot, “Have fun out there?” I ask, crossing my arms.

He nods, “Think i’m cool yet?”

“A bit… maybe when I watch you win.” His smile grows, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Go out with me.” I laugh at his words, “For real this time! Y/n.” He says my name like a prayer and I never want it to stop.

“I guess I sort of owe you.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Y/n Brown. What a name… I knew you had an in!”

I shake my head, “I’m sorry. But it was fun messing with you.”

He sighs in defeat, “I feel much better that I know who you are. Although I almost passed out when the words ‘daughter’ left Zak’s mouth!” I laugh with him, champagne dripping down his curls still.

“You did really well today.”

He bites his lip, “Think of how much better I'll do knowing you’re screaming my name in the garage.” I swat his arm but he swerves and plants a kiss on my cheek.

My jaw drops as he pulls back, “I’ll pick you up tonight!” he starts walking away, backwards, “I’ll text you!”

“You don’t even have my number!” I yell after him but he just winks and blows me a kiss. Just as I turn back around and roll my eyes, I see my dad in front of me, arms crossed as my eyes go wide.

He sighs, looking like he already has a headache, “What the hell did I miss?”

[ghouldump]

hi your fics are so amazing!!

if you’re open to requests, i was wondering if you could write a lestat x louis x reader fic that takes place during their huge fight in the townhouse? i can imagine the reader being a mother figure to claudia and trying to protect her during it and getting hurt in the process of trying to break up louis and lestat. i’d love to see how the reader deals with the aftermath of her and louis’ injuries as well as claudia taking care of the two of them.

sorry if its confusing😭 i thought of this while rewatching s1

For The Love Of A Daughter | Lestat x Reader x Louis

ෆ out of fear, lestat does the unimaginable and has to try his hardest to win his family's trust back, but it may be too late

the comparison of s1 vs s2 of this scene had me on the edge of my seat 🥺 ⚠️ THIS IS S1 E5 ‼️

How did your once beautiful family go to ruins? When Claudia was created? When she rebelled? Or when she left? Your daughter, you would go to hell and back for her, yet, you couldn't convince her to stay.

Lestat was cruelly strict with her, invading her privacy by reading her diaries, not considering the fact that she was trapped in the early stages of puberty for an eternity. She couldn't help that she was a young girl stuck in this body, and he never let her forget or made it easier on her.

Louis, he'd always been passive, about your companionship, as well as his role as a parent. He wanted to keep the peace and harmony. If that meant allowing Lestat to discipline her, then he’d turn his head to not have to watch out of guilt.

Then you, Lestat often complained that you spoiled her too much. You never raised a finger to her, nor your voice. You hadn't been brought up that way, and so you did the same with her. You still remember the night she left. Packing only a few things, while you and Louis tried convincing her to stay. Standing her ground, she gave you both a hug, letting the wind carry her away.

Seven years flew by, silence made its way into the house that no longer felt like a home. Louis nose-deep in book after book, Lestat leaving going god knows where, while you remained secluded, drawing, reading, and sometimes staring at the wall.

Tonight was a rarity, Lestat wasn't running off, and Louis sat on the sofa, reading, while you sat in a chair, your head lying on your arm, taking in the soft jazz music.

Hearing the door open, Claudia entered, setting her suitcase on the floor. Rushing over, you wrapped your arms around her, rocking back and forth. Pulling away, your heart broke as Louis hugged her tightly. He too had been taking it so hard, since she had been gone. Abruptly, the music stopped, Lestat glaring at her.

“The prodigal daughter”

“I've come to apologize, I put all of you in a bad spot, I wasn't right in my head. I am now,” she said. You couldn't put your finger on it, but there was something different about her, a certain brokenness, she was trying to shut away.

“Apology not accepted,” Lestat said.

“How was college? Magna cum? Summa cum? Phi Beta Kappa?” he continued.

“I've read a lot of books. Started with Persia and Babylon, the old gods who longed for blood. A lot of it was popcorn, but a few old tomes. A Romanian tract on vampirs. A strange old Hungarian text, ‘Masticatione Mortuorum,’ the chewing dead. I plan to leave for that part of the world as soon as I can,” she told him. You and Louis shared a look, sensing that this wasn't headed in a positive direction.

“So, quick stop home to do laundry before you fuck off for good,” Lestat spat.

“A quick stop to pick up my mama and Louis,” she told him. Your hand went to your stomach, trying to control the unsettling nervousness building up. Lestat glanced at the two of you, before glaring at her in disgust.

“Oh, Perused a few folklore anthologies, and now you're going to cross the ocean and take on a society of monsters,” he said, slowly making his way towards her.

“If what I've read is lies, then tell me what's true,” she told him, but he only continued to stare at her as if she was beneath him.

“Seven years and what’s changed, other than you need a housekeeper?” she sneered. He slowly approached her, and as you were about to step forward to intervene, Louis grabbed your hand, discreetly shaking his head.

“The vampires out there…are vicious. Oh, but you've learned that already. Who did you meet out there in the American hinterland? Read her,” Lestat looked at the two of you, walking away. Staring at her, you quickly wiped the tear from your eye, you couldn't imagine what she had been through all on her own.

“That’s it, keep 'em scared. That's his way,” she said to you both.

“The vampires in Europe are much, much worse”

“But I think he's scared,” she spoke over him.

“I never asked, how did Charlie taste? Like the love you'll never really know,” he said, trying to get under her skin.

“And when he's scared, he ridicules”

“She was a destitute little girl, destined to live an inconsequential little life,” he said, approaching the both of you.

“And we took it from her, we cursed her,” Louis said, making the smug expression drop from his face. Looking at you, his frown deepened, seeing you gaze at her, the bloody tears moments from seeping out.

“Come with me!” she called out, both of you staring at her.

“Come with me, mama, Louis”

“Louis, Y/n,” Lestat said, becoming angry as neither of you looked at him.

“I thought I could live without either of you, but I was wrong,” Claudia said, her eyes pleading for you to come along.

“Y/n, Louis”

“Louis, Y/n,” Lestat continued, raising his voice.

“His love is a small box he keeps you both in, don't stay in it,” she said, as you glanced at him.

“A thousand nights of sulking, and the first sight of her, you are just gonna up and leave me?!” Lestat yelled.

“Please, come with me! Let’s be vampires worth of your love!” Claudia screamed before Lestat surged, choking her.

“Get off of her,” you said, going to shove him off of her. However, he was much stronger, gaining the upper hand, his fingers wrapping around your throat, he looked unrecognizable.

“You, always choosing her,” he spat, before Louis charged over, tackling him.

As they fought, Claudia screamed, panicking, as you tried to keep up with them. Throwing Louis in the living room. Lestat straddled him, punching him in the face.

“Lestat, stop it,” you cried out, jumping on his back, but he easily slung you across the room, as you smashed into the wall, you could feel your arm already broken.

“Claudia, stay down here,” you told her, rushing to the bedroom.

“Stop fighting,” you screamed, as they continued tackling each other.

“Let him go,” you hear Claudia crying.

“It’s alright, you stay where you're at,” Louis told her, as if he wasn't completely bruised up.

“You're going to choose her too? Leave me for her when she left you both, I’ve been here,” he told you, as you slowly backed away, unsure of what he'd do next.

“Lestat st-

“Do not tell me what to do,” he told you, wrapping his hand around your throat, and pulling you close. His nails were in your skin, with your airway completely blocked.

Dragging both of you downstairs, and outside, you could hear Claudia running.

“I fought myself a million times, fought my nature, controlled my temper. I never once harmed either of you,” he said.

“Let him go,” you cried, hoarsely, trying to claw at his hand, while reaching for Louis.

“Silence,” he told you.

“Uncle Les”

“It's Uncle Les, now suddenly?”

“Let them go, they didn't do nothin’, let them go, it's me you want,” you could hear her steps approaching.

“Listen to me, and listen very carefully my infant death, it was never you. No matter how much your mama made you think otherwise,” he spat, crushing your throat, and dragging you both out into the road.

“I chose you, and you, given you the dark gift and you've betrayed me,” he said, biting into your neck, draining almost every ounce of blood from your body, before throwing you, watching as you flew into the backyard, colliding with bricks, you could feel your rib cage shatter.

However, as you stood up, you quickly fell to your knees in pain and fear for Louis’s life, watching as they flew into the sky to the point where they were no longer seen.

“Mama, are you alright?” Claudia ran to you, reaching for her hand, your other hand on your throat. You couldn't speak, Lestat’s nails had managed to pierce through. Claudia gasped, as you coughed, blood spilling out.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“I’m okay, we just need to get Louis,” she said, helping you stand, however, just as you stood, Louis fell from the sky, hitting the ground. Limping over, you were afraid to touch him, the slightest touch looked as if it would break him even more.

Crying, you looked up, staring into Lestat’s eyes as he flew over you all, not saying a word. You couldn't say it, but from your expression, there was no way you could easily forgive him after this.

Healing was a struggle, not just from the physical damage, but any previous trust was gone. While you managed to bounce back within a few months, Louis had a long way to go. Lestat skipped town and hadn't bothered to show his face.

You avoided thinking about him, altogether. Dedicating yourself to Claudia and Louis, from coffin-bound to limping, every day was progress. Louis was slowly getting better and you both worked on strengthing your bond with Claudia. Then the calls started coming.

All of this time, you managed to push through the soreness and pain, but the moment he called you hid away, licking your eternal wounds. He was a completely different person that night, the things he said, the things he'd done. After Louis fully healed, you were no longer opposed to the idea of leaving for Europe with Claudia.

Hearing the doorbell ringing, you turned your head, watching as Claudia went outside. You could hear his voice, he had gifts, and he wanted to talk, to apologize. Louis went upstairs, throwing his coffin out of the window, you couldn't help but snicker.

“There’s your answer”

“And where is Y/n? I know she would enjoy these paints, they are rare. I paid quite a price because I knew she would make the most beautiful-

“My mama ain't got nothin’ to say to you, like you said, she betrayed you, choosing me,” she told him, shutting the door, and locking it.

Coming back to the living room, she glanced your way before to Louis, who came from upstairs. As Louis sat next to you, you pulled him close.

“You okay?” you asked him.

“Getting there,” he mumbled, smiling as you kissed his cheek.

Lestat didn't show his face anymore, but the gifts never stopped. Each time more spontaneous than the next, and while you knew, Louis was becoming weaker, you wished you could say the same for yourself.

“Emily Dickinson is not a vampire,” Louis said, as you laughed.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Because she is dead,” you pointed out.

“How do you know?”

“She got a grave,” Louis said.

“And a tombstone,” you added.

“So do you,” She told Louis, all of you laughing, afterward.

As you crossed the streets, the driver honked their horn, as they slowly came to a stop in front of you. Opening the door, Lestat climbed out, smiling at you all. Rolling your eyes, you simply looked the other way.

“25 horsepower Rolls-Royce six-cylinder engine and a front end they call a coffin nose, is that rich? This one’s yours, mine’s back at home in blue,” he said, showing off the new car, and tossing the keys to Louis.

“I know how much you despise driving, so I got you other things, the finest fabrics, books, art supplies, and music, waiting for you at home, I'm back in town permanently,” he continued, looking your way, but you just stared off to the side, as if you didn't see him.

“Were you gone?” Claudia asked him.

“Across the river, in Algiers,” he said, you could still feel his eyes on the two of you.

“You know who lives in Algiers” Claudia said to you, as you clenched your jaw.

“I don't know what possessed me that night,” he said.

“Three years ago, that night, three years ago, he means,” Claudia corrected him.

“I was someone I don't want to be anymore. I've changed. Let me prove it to you. I’m nothing without you. I’m nothing without any of you”

“If you want me to go away, just say so. I’ll obey you. I’ll leave your lives forever. This silence is cruel, all I ask is that Y/n looks at me. You haven't spared me a glance since I've been here. Neither of you were ever cruel, don't let our situation change you,” he said.

“Just look at him,” Louis pleaded.

Turning to face him, he cleared his throat, straightening his posture. You didn't say anything, emotionlessly staring at him.

“You look stunning as always, ma chérie,” he complimented, his heart breaking as you looked away again.

Taking the keys, Claudia threw them, before scratching the car, reaching for your hand, walking away.

Six years, came and went, and more gifts flooded the house. It was unspoken between you and Louis that you both missed him. Although it looked different, Louis wanted him to come running back, each extravagant, but sentimental gift was tugging more and more at Louis’s heart. You preferred the distance, reminiscing on the past, before that night. You didn't think you could have that back, now, you secretly enjoyed every time he saw you, or wrote to you, begging that you would acknowledge him.

Unexpectedly, it happened, the record came in the mail and was immediately played. The song meant to win you both back while pissing you off, a song sung by his affair partner. Louis was seething, grabbing the record, and ran out of the house.

“You're not going with him?” Claudia asked.

“They will be back,” you mumbled, knowing his plan worked, he got through to Louis and would be coming back.

“Rule number four-

“Kill Antoinette”

“Antoinette is my own private-

“Affair,” Claudia said.

“Said child, interfering in the romantic lives of her parents,” Lestat said, wanting one of you to stop her. She had been sharp with him since the moment he stepped into the house.

“She will be 33 soon, far from a child,” you reminded him, rolling your eyes.

“It’s a lick and a promise in vampire years,” he shrugged.

“Maybe, but I am not your child anymore, that's rule number five,” Claudia said, catching his attention.

His eyes shifted from her to you, your interlocked hands. She had you, wrapped around her fingers, taken from him. Louis was more willing to work on the broken relationship, but you had shut him out, choosing your child.

“I’ll be your companion, your sister,” she told him, as he scoffed.

“It's not as simple as choosing a new family configuration, now I'm your cousin, now I'm your aunt, I am your maker,” he told her rudely.

“I’m going to bed,” you said, standing abruptly, he looked into your cold eyes, searching for any emotion.

“Will you not lay down your rules, as well?” he asked, sarcastically.

“Good night,” was all you said, turning away, going upstairs.

“She needs time,” you could hear Louis say.

Did you need more time? You didn't go through nearly as much as Louis and he managed to forgive him, why couldn't you? You were never maternal until Claudia came along, perhaps it came with being a mother. The way that he treated her, turned you against him. As much as you loved him, thinking back to the times you were spoiled, lavished as if you were royalty, you couldn't bring yourself to open up.

Hunting became insufferable. Louis began drinking human blood, it was supposed to bring everyone closer, hunting as a family, but you kept your distance. He knew he'd wounded you, his choice of words hurting you just as bad, and he'd have to be more persistent to win you back.

“I wished you’d look at me, the simplest glance would help me a great deal,” he said, following you, sighing in relief as you faced him.

“Happy?”

“You have my heart at your will, your precious words command me, and I would do anything you ask of me,” he said, trying to fight the tears, as you slowly approached him.

“Take up your heart, I wouldn't want you to feel betrayed when I don't choose you,” you said, turning around, leaving him to stand there and try to gather his emotions.

“Could you at least try to compromise?” Louis asked you, as you looked through the different fabrics in the store.

“I am-

“No, you're not, you put your coffin in Claudia’s room, and the other night, whatever you said, he cried himself to sleep”

“Aw, poor baby,” you said, placing the fabrics into Louis’ arms.

“You agreed that we would work things out, everybody is compromising trying to work through our problems, we need you too,” he said, pouting, as you approached the cash register.

“Fine, I hate when you give me that look,” you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“Thank you, I love you,” you grinned.

“I love you,” you laughed, pecking his lips.

Later that night, after putting away your things, and changing into your nightgown, you were about to into Claudia’s room, when you stopped. Huffing, you went to your shared bedroom, opening the door.

“Did she say anything? I left a note, but she never responds,” Lestat grumbled.

“I talked with her, but it is up to her to make a decision,” Louis said.

“I hope you don't expect us to squeeze that coffin,” you said, making both of them face you.

“We could always sleep in the bed,” Louis offered, both of them approaching you.

‘Thank you’ he said, as you faced Lestat.

“Will you keep that stupid look on your face, or will you speak?” you asked.

“I didn't know it was okay for me to do so,” he chuckled.

“Y/n is willing to compromise, she hasn't said it verbally, but she does still love you,” Louis spoke, as you stared at the two of them.

“Ma chérie, if I could take back what I've said, what I’ve done-

“But you can't”

“I can't, and I will have to live with the burden of knowing I hurt you and Louis both, your role in Claudia’s life was never a problem, I am sorry, my love,” he said, walking to you, falling to his knees in front of you. His head laid against your stomach, and he continued to apologize profusely.

“To have you look at me, after months of refusal, even if it is a look of anger, is to see heaven,” he said, looking up at you. Reaching for his hand, you helped him stand, pecking his lips. Holding your hand out for Louis, as soon as he was close enough, your lips were on his soft skin.

Pushing Lestat onto the bed, you straddled his lap, rolling your hips, as Louis stood behind you, kissing your neck. Leaning down, you wrapped your hands around his neck.

“I’ll forgive you, but if you ever do anything remotely similar, I’ll make sure you burn in the sun, and I’ll wear you as makeup,” you said, making him smirk.

“Anything you say, although the thought of me being on your face, arouses me greatly,” he said, watching as you pulled Louis onto the bed, moving over to him.

Your nearly decade-long monogamy had now come to an end, sharing the night with Louis and Lestat. You had forgotten how spontaneous he was, managing to pleasure both of you.

‘Have you taken him back, like Louis?’ Claudia asked.

‘For now’ you thought, as Lestat kissed along your shoulder blade.

‘Do you think Louis will help?’

‘He will’

‘Do you think it will work?’

‘I don't know, my child, but we will try’

‘We can do it, mama, he wants to keep you and Louis for himself, he hates me and would probably kill me if it meant having you both alone’

‘I know’

Now lying in bed, Lestat in between you and Louis, both of you in his arms.

“I hope you will allow me to continue to prove myself to you, and I am lost without either of you, I feel empty without you both here with me, I love you,” he spoke, you couldn't deny the way your heart fluttered.

“Then it is official, we will kill Lestat’

‘And if our plan doesn't work?’

‘Then we escape to Europe, we find other vampires, and we rebuild our lives there, does that sound okay?”

‘It sounds perfect’

‘Great, good night mama’

‘Good night, my child’

Looking up at Lestat’s face, he lay peacefully, his eyes shut, face relaxed. He was incredibly handsome, you didn't dare tell Claudia but coming to this room, you were just as weak as Louis. Would you be able to kill this beautiful man, the love of your life? Or run away and live an eternity with your daughter? You couldn't decide anymore, only time would tell.

brotha eughhh, this was so mid

[merthosus]

The Deli

Summary: You saw Five and Lila cheating and end up in a random train station. As a Diner caught your eye you couldn't believe what or rather who was waiting for you inside. Summary: You saw Five and Lila cheating and end up in a random train station. As a Diner caught your eye you couldn't believe what or rather who was waiting for you inside.

Here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

"You have no idea what most of the Fives in here would do for you"

I stumble out of the train, almost tripping over the edge. This can't be, he would never. I hate him, I never thought that I could do this but I do. My heart was shattered, it felt like it was being torn out of my torso and ripped in thousand parts. How could he do this to me? How could he do this to Diego? I have no idea where I am, or rather when I am. But I didn't care I just walked along the train station. My heels clicked with every step they took. The sound echoed with every thud on the white tiles.

I caught them. Five was missing and in my head there where millions of horrible ideas what could be happened to him. I can't believe I worried. We gone through so much shit and he shattered everything just like it was nothing. I traveled so far with these damn trains, no idea how I could possible come home again, just to caught them kissing each other. These assholes! Slowly the sadness turned into anger and every step I take gets louder.

In the distance I see red light reflecting on the floor. I swear to god if this is a trainstation-stripclub I trow myself on the rails. Seeing so much today what I couldn't believe makes me getting the wildest ideas, expecting anything but normal. I step closer and what I see is a Diner. Without hesitation I enter. I would kill for a chocolate croissant and a nice cup of coffee right now. But as soon as I entered everything went silent. Even a fly could be heard.

As shocked as they were as shocked I was. "This can't be", I mumble to myself. Every pair of eyes, which stared me down, were his. The Five which was now coming out of the back, let his tablet fall onto the ground. The sudden loud noise made the other ones fall out of their trance. "Y/n?", a few said, but others were just looking. "She's mine!", one of the Five's screams. Others were already talking him down. Another was punching a different Five and two got them apart. Without hesitation one five stood up and walked towards me. "I am sorry it's been a long time since they seen you", he says confusing me even more. "i...I what the hell is going on?", I ask, not believing what I saw standing infont of me.

"You just kissed Lila and now you are talking with me as nothing has happened? And what is this here? A stupid joke?", I ask him outraged. "Oh no darling I am not the five you know. I am coming out of a different timeline, but wouldn't you like to sit as I explain?", he asks politely. Like it was the most normal thing I go to sit with him at one of the diner tables, ignoring the fact that at least twenty versions of my boyfriend were looking down at me. As we sit down the Five on the counter rushed to our table.

"The black coffee, cappuccino and the chocolate croissant will be on your table soon", he stumbles, while looking at me. "How...?", I begin to ask but he was faster gone than I could blink. I feel more comfortable now as I saw how the attention was no longer drawn to me. "Explain, now", I demand as I was staring the Five before me down. "Feisty, as I remembered you", he says. I can't help myself but smile a little bit. "Why are there so many of you? And why was the one so obsessed", I ask. He crocked his neck. "We are all different Fives, out of different timelines. Most of them lost their Y/n, that's why things got out of hand", he explained. "So your five cheated on you? That's new, none of us did that, guess a new timeline has formed. Why would he do that...?", he asks himself.

I was shocked, overdosed with unimaginable information. "So what happened to your Y/n?", I ask him, just releasing I went to far. "She died in a fight, Hazel shot her", he says. "Five over there, who said you were his. She killed herself", he explains some more. I can't believe what he was just saying. "I would never do such a thing", I say. "No. Yourself in this timeline wouldn't but the on in his did. It's the same with us, we are all the same but different at the same time. I would never cheat on you and that's the point", he looks down on the floor. "I will find him don‘t worry, he will pay for what he did", he says while my eyes get big. "No... no he's still my Five I...", I try to bring the words out of me.

"Darling...", he leans over the table looking me staring into the eyes. "You have no idea what most of the Fives in here would do for you. Every single one of us is better as this little small cocked asshole", he says. I get nervous and have trouble looking him into the eyes. "He doesn't have a small...", I try to say. "I know I know...", he interrupts me.

Let me know what you think in the comments!

[httpsserene]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩 | 𝐦𝐯. 𝟏

summary: an unplanned hard launch reveals more than a relationship. it exposes the biggest simp of the century.

content warning: requested by @animeandf1lover. fluff. crack adjacent (in the beginning). profanity. bestfriend!logan sargeant. boyfriend!max verstappen. humor. max yap-stappen. jimmy and sassy verstappen. my personal hc of max using cat emojis unironically. no part two requests, please!

pairing: max verstappen x hijabi fem!poc!reader (fc: shahdbatal)

genre: smau.

from, serene: other titles i thought of; simp, i love my gf, down bad, lord of the simps, or president of the simp club. haven't written for max alone in a while, i missed him !!! pls ignore the typos on the interview clips otherwise i will cry. enjoy, lovely’s xxx

⌕ join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

instagram • jimmyandsassy 🔒 • monte carlo ⚑

liked by yninsta, maxverstappen1, logansargeant, and 123 others

jimmyandsassy love life

view comments

maxverstappen1: how are you going to caption this "love life" when there's not a single photo of me in it 😕

➥ maxverstappen1: you called me the love of your life this morning on ft 😔 ➥ maxverstappen1: omg are you breaking up with me and taking the cats with you 😭😭😭 ➥ yninsta: max the cats chose the caption not me!!! ➥ yninsta: you're still the loml baby, i'm not going anywhere 😚💙 ➥ danielricciardo: u guys are perfectly made for each other :)

maxverstappen1: my babies 😻 why did you put mommy on the last slide? she's too pretty to be there!

➥ jimmyandsassy: m prettier than mommy - sassy ➥ maxverstappen1: hey! you get your looks from your mother be nice 😠 ➥ charlesleclerc: max mate 😟 with every comment you make on this account i hope you know i think less of you with each one 🙏🏻 ➥ alexandrasaintmleux: he's only saying this because i told him it would be cute to make a priv acct with leo that's like this! ➥ yninsta: you should! the kitties love it :) ➥ charlesleclerc: you're all mentally disturbed. electric chair⚡️🪑

logansargeant: i have post notifications on and i have no clue how max gets here faster than me.

➥ logansargeant: jimmy? sassy? do you tell him when you're about to post 🧐 ➥ maxverstappen1: logan the cats can't speak english or use a phone be serious. ➥ logansargeant: THEY DON'T HAVE OPPOSABLE THUMBS EITHER BUT THEY STILL POST AND REPLY TO COMMENTS ➥ jimmyandsassy: don't yell at daddy! 's mean - jimmy ➥ maxverstappen1: yeah logan don't yell at daddy 😌 ➥ logansargeant: can't believe there was a time i thought you were a respectable man smh

roscoelovecoco: cool cats 🐈

➥ jimmyandsassy: big dawg 🐶

landonorris: they're so pretty i just wanna pet them

➥ landonorris: i wished cats liked me,,, ➥ jimmyandsassy: nobody likes you! hope this helps - sassy ➥ landonorris: STOP HIDING BEHIND YOUR CATS AND COME FIGHT ME SIS 🤬🤺

alexalbon: please don't kill me :)

➥ jimmyandsassy: why would we kill you? we like alex - jimmy ➥ oscarpiastri: oh they're so going to claw your eyes out mate 😂 ➥ georgerussell63: it's been nice knowing you alex 🙂 ➥ charlesleclerc: fly high alexander 🕊️🙏🏻 ➥ schecoperez: gone too soon 🙂‍↔️ ➥ jensonbutton: if she kills you, logan will have a car to race this weekend. she's so going to get rid of you 😈 ➥ yninsta: what. logan has his own williams? are u guys okay???

twitter • yn's spam twt

igstory • yninsta uploaded to close friends story!

[caption1; guess i'm bringing jimmy with me][caption2; target confirmed. bravo six going dark.]

logansargeant: please don't make my team principal disappear ⤷yninsta: i will make him suffer inshallah 🙏🏽 ⤷logansargeant: think about jimmy and sassy! they'll miss you 😢 ⤷yninsta: ,,,i will subject him to a painful lecture about his mishandling of the race weekend ⤷yninsta: instead of death 🙃

alexalbon: are we chill? ⤷yninsta: i have no quarrel with you 👍🏽 ⤷alexalbon: oh thank god. i was going crazy in my room hiding from you 😮‍💨

maxverstappen1: come to me when you're done with james 😽 ⤷maxverstappen1: you're surrounded by the wrong shade of blue :( ⤷maxverstappen1: how's logan doing? ⤷yninsta: he's okay considering they gave his car away. ⤷maxverstappen1: bring him with you, i will tell him exactly what i think about wiliams treating him that way

f1 twitter

FIA press conference: pre-race australia • max, charles, logan, zhou, yuki

post-race interview clips • max verstappen

twitter • the internet reacts

instagram • logansargeant • melbourne ⚑

liked by oscarpiastri, yninsta, redbullracing and 546,789 others

logansargeant me and you, and you and me, just us, and your boyfriend max.

tagged: yninsta, maxverstappen1, betterhelp

view comments

maxverstappen1: you have me saved as “yn’s boyfriend - INGORE 🛑❌🙈”

➥ maxverstappen1: that’s not very nice ☹️ ➥ yninsta: logan! change it before you make him sad ➥ logansargeant: fine 🙄 ➥ logansargeant: i’m going to mute him instead.

➥ yninsta: logan and max get along great guys i promise!

➥ yninsta: max asked him if he was okay with asking me out before our first date and logan said “mate you don’t have to ask, i know you’ll treat her right” 😇 ➥ logansargeant: that is NOT public info‼️ delete pls ➥ maxverstappen1: you didn’t have to say any of this schatje 😅 ➥ user1: max asked logan for permission to date her? what in the wattpad fanfic is happening rn ➥ georgerussell63: this is great blackmail- i mean info 😉

oscarpiastri: acting like you hate max but you called me screaming in joy about playing padel with him 💀

➥ logansargeant: oscar please. my reputation is at stake here 😀 ➥ oscarpiastri: hey instagram comments- i misspoke. logan sargeant HATES max verstappen! that’s all, thanks. ➥ user2: dis guy 🤦🏻‍♀️ ➥ user3: osc sarcasm check: ✅

user4: if max verstappen offered to fly me out to hang out with his gf i would not leave his messages on read ijs 🤷🏼

alexalbon: DAMN he even said please 😶

➥ yninsta: not too much now alex 🤫 ➥ alexalbon: 🤐😳 ➥ user5: alex were u silent or sileNCED ➥ user6: i could feel the threat through the screen

jensonbutton: but did you take him up on his offer? that’s what we need to know!

➥ maxverstappen1: he did. left me on read for 6 minutes before he broke 😹 ➥ logansargeant: it was on his private jet, paid for, and i got to see my best friend- ofc i said yes! i’m not stupid.

user7: tagging betterhelp on the sc of max’s desperate ass texts is NASTY work logan 💀💀💀

➥ user8: nothing wrong with sending the homies links to therapy sites ➥ user9: there’s definitely something wrong with how down bad max is for his girl. i know that much 🥴 ➥ user10: are u srs? bc that’s a man who doesn’t play about his woman! i can tell 😵‍💫🫦

instagram • maxverstappen1

liked by yninsta, redbullracing, danielricciardo and 2,126,989 others

maxverstappen1 championships are worth winning because i take the trophies back to her.

tagged: yninsta

view comments

yninsta: championships are worth winning because YOU drove like crazy for them.

➥ maxverstappen1: two things can be true at the same time 💙 ➥ maxverstappen1: i don’t know if they would matter as much if i didn’t have anyone to praise me for it. ➥ yninsta: i’ll convince you that they are more than that one day 💙🔒 (good thing i’m never leaving you x)

yninsta: حب حياتي (the love of my life)

➥ maxverstappen1: no you are mine ☺️🤭

user11: no the fuck he didn’t.

➥ user12: GIRL HE FUCKING DID

user13: nahhhh he got it. he got it all.

➥ user13: championships, monaco living, the finest woman, expensive cats and cars—LIKE LEAVE SOMETHING FOR THE COMMON FOLK MAX ➥ maxverstappen1: my bad 🙂‍↕️ ➥ user14: he don’t even mean ts ➥ user15: oh i’m bout to crash out 🤪🤬👹

charlesleclerc: okay. that’s a good caption 🙂

➥ maxverstappen1: take a deep breath charlie, no need to be angy about it :) ➥ charlesleclerc: i knew you’d ruin it. i’ll be seeing you max 🤫 ➥ user16: yo what tf 🤣 ➥ user17: did charles leclerc just ominously imply his plot for max’s demise?! ➥ user18: bro what 😒 @/user17 ➥ user19: what are you gonna say next? “they’re going to participate in a duel of arms 🤓” ➥ user16: “a battle of fisticuffs, more likely it seems 🤓🤓🤓”

user20: oh my days— she’s beautiful 😦

➥ maxverstappen1: she’s the prettiest woman i’ve ever set my eyes on 😊 ➥ user21: don’t worry max, we believe you! ➥ user22: you truly are blessed to be dating her.

danielricciardo: boys what are you’re wagers? max yaps more/less about his gf to us now that they’re public?

➥ landonorris: more +£500 ➥ lewishamilton: more +£1000 ➥ logansargeant: more +(i’ll match lewis in american) ➥ schecoperez: have faith in max! ➥ schecoperez: +5 grand take it or leave it.

user23: she’s majestic! in that first photo, she’s giving padme from star wars 🤩 beautiful!!!!

➥ yninsta: tysm ☺️ this might be the best compliment i’ve ever received !!!

instagram • ynspamacct

liked by maxverstappen, lilymhe, charlesleclerc and 893,430 others

ynspamacct i won't unprivate my main, but here's the bf max content i know you all want :)

tagged: maxverstappen1

view comments

user24: max said: princess treatment only 👏🏻

➥ maxverstappen1: ***queen treatment 👸🏽 ➥ user25: oh. the simp allegations are true. ➥ maxverstappen1: you doubted how much i love my gf? crazy. ➥ user25: i won't do it again, i promise.

logansargeant: why do you wear heels if you know they’re going to make your feet hurt?

➥ maxverstappen1: bc she’s knows i’m going to hold them for her and carry her home 😌 ➥ ynspamacct: bc i feel tall 🥺 and max doesn’t mind carrying me home !!! ➥ ynspamacct: oops ☺️ we must’ve replied at the same time hahaaa user26: i’m going to slam my head into the nearest wall, viciously. ➥ ynspamacct: don’t do that! life is worth living i promise 😰

user26: first photo made my tummy flip for some reason 🫦🥴🤤

➥ ynspamacct: you should see a doctor! that doesn’t sound healthy :) ➥ user27: u better stop thirsting over her man like that 😳

lilymhe: boundaries 🧘🏻‍♀️💆🏻‍♀️

ynspamacct: exactly 😌

user27: breakfast in bed…what did he want from you 🤔

➥ ynspamacct: …nothing? or, just quality time i guess! he’s sweet like that 🥰 user27: ,,,i didn’t know that was an option. ➥ ynspamacct: being treated like a queen comes with accepting that’s how you deserve to be treated, and that it’s the *only* way you’re going to be treated 😚 ➥ user28: SPEAK ON IT MY GOOD SIS 😫

user29: this relationship is dear to me 😪

user30: m-men aren’t shit? who knew that was possible.

➥ user31: i thought all we had was tom holland 💀 ➥ maxverstappen1: i’m honored to be added to the roster ➥ user32: i cannot take this man seriously now. ➥ user33: why bc he loves his gf and you can’t even seem to find the way to a shower or a therapy session 😀 ➥ user34: WOAH VIOLATION

yninsta: max, maxie-max, maxie !!!

➥ maxverstappen1: i love you most, schatje 💛🔒 ➥ yninsta: aw you beat me to it 😞 ➥ yninsta: i love you foreverrrr #1 💙🔒 ➥ user35: oh i’m gonna cry :)

© httpsserene 2024 - most photos from pinterest and edited by me. fc is shahdbatal.

[rafesslxt]

Showerhead 2 | mattheo riddle

pt. 2 — you can find pt. 1 here

summary: after you and mattheo had some fun in the shower, you two can‘t stop thinking about each other and that night. But who gives in first to sin again after a little jealousy?

words: 5,1k

warnings: heavy dirty talk again, cursing, making out, dry humping, teasing, controlling, praising, bj, unprotected p in v, shower, swallowing, legilimency (mind reading),

note: you don‘t have to read part 1 for this part but have fun if you want to

— in the great hall —

After that night in the shower 2 weeks ago, I couldn‘t stop thinking about it. I dreamed about it in my sleep, daydreamed about it in class and lunch while Hermione talked about some book we needed to read to understand everything in potions.

I hated it but everytime we crossed paths, he winked at me and I couldn't help myself but start blushing. As soon as I saw his face, I saw it between my legs.

"Y/n? Are you even listening?" Hermione says and shakes me a litte at my shoulder. "What? Yeah yeah of course, I'm gonna read it." They all look at each other before their eyes are on me again. "We were actually talking about how Cormac seems to have quite interest in you." Harry then continues.

I start laughing loud, looking at them as If each of them has 3 heads." What the hell are you talking about?" "Told ya she's not listening.." Ron says, raising his eyebrows as he bites into his toast.

"I thought he‘s interested in Hermione?" I ask as my laughter calms down a bit. "Harry heard him talking about how he would - well.. do certain things to you." My amused face turns into a disgusting one as I hear what Ron says.

"Yeah and guess who‘s got an invention to Slughorn‘s dinner?" Hermione says with raised eyebrows.

Ron looks at her shoked. "What?? That prick got one and I didn‘t?"

"Oh god no.." a few days ago Harry, Hermione and myself got an invention to tonights Slughorn‘s dinner for his favorite students. ".. but wait, how do you know who‘s coming?" I ask her. "I just asked him after the last lesson of potions. It‘s Neville, Ginny, Blaise Zabini, Mattheo Riddle, Corma –" "Mattheo Riddle?" I ask her shocked, looking at her with wide eyes.

I would see him again? Like.. this close and with people around us? My mind is racing as Hermione answers. "Yeah well, you know he‘s really smart and good in potions." "And he has an interest in special students and Mattheo is.. well – special." Harry comments.

Ron snorts and talks with a full mouth. "Mh yeaw hiff fatha was "speschal".

Hermione rolls his eyes at his full mouth and looks at me again. "Why are you so suprised by his name?" she asks me a little suspicious. " oh uh- just suprised, i always thought Mattheo is uh - not interested in things like that."

"Why would chou think about wat Mattheo is-" "Ron just eat and shut up!" I snap at him making the other two widen their eyes a bit.

I collect my things and stand up from the table. "I‘m gonna go to.. god i don‘t know I‘m gonna go." I say, walking off before they can answer. Because it‘s the weekend I luckily don‘t have classes today. I don‘t think I could concentrate in one of them after the information I just got. God why him? Why me? Maybe I can say I feel sick.. no he would know. I can‘t back down.

I walk down a hall, not thinking where I am going and suddenly crash into something hard but not as hard as a wall. My book and writing stuff falls to the ground and I look up, staring right into the face of Mattheo.

My brain went blank in this monent. "What princess? Aren‘t you happy to see me?" he grins down at me before he gets down and picks up my stuff. "Hm I remember a similar moment, same position." He smiles even more when he sees my red cheeks and not talking mouth. As he gives me my stuff he presses his mouth to my ear and whispers "I‘m looking forward to tonight" And with that, he‘s gone.

I‘m so fucked.

— at the evening —

" Do you know what you‘re wearing?" I ask Hermione while I put on some makeup. I hear her sigh and she goes "yeah I have this one dress I really like. What about you?" I shake my head as I search for my lipliner. " Not really, but I have enough dresses so I‘ll find something." Hermione laughs at my comment as she pulls out her dress and changes into it.

After I‘m done with my makeup and hair, I walk over to my closet, looking for a nice dress.

"What about this one? It would fit perfectly for the occasion." She says as she pulls out a dress of mine. It is long and black, with cute little arms on it. "It‘s pretty but I want something.. else." As i go trough my clothes I think about Mattheo again and what would impress him. God I need to stop it.

"Well what are you looking for?" "Hmm something likeee.. this." It‘s perfect. It‘s short but not too short, i know it sits beautifully on me and.. it‘s green.

(imagine something like this but in some green tone and longer so it‘s more school approved)

Hermione raises her eyebrows and looks at me. "Are you sure? Isn‘t it a little too.. party?" I love her for how she always chose her words wisely and with a knowledge for not hurting and judging people. I know what she meant but she would never think about judging me. Even when I put my clothes on she wouldn‘t pick, she makes me feel great in them.

"Yeah, I‘m sure." I smile, putting it on. When I look into the mirror I smile even more, thinking about how Mattheo will react seeing me in it.

As the time comes we take our purses and walk outside our dorms, meeting Harry and Ron in the common room. "You both look great." Harry tells us like the gentlemen he is but Ron just scans me like a little hater and looks at me. "Isn‘t that a little too flashy?" "Ron!" Hermione hits him on the shoulder.

"Don‘t be mad at what you can‘t have Ronald." I say grinning and winking at him before I link my arm into Harry‘s with Hermione doing the same on his right side.

We walked through Hogwarts, towards the dinner and the closer we got the more my heart started beating as If I‘m running a marathon.

I open the door in front of us after taking one last deep breath and walk inside with my two friends.

Everyone was already there, seated perfectly. "Oh hello you three! I‘m so glad you made it. Please choose a seat and get comfortable." Professor Slughorn greets us. I always liked him, even tho many say he‘s a little weird sometimes but I think thats exactly what I do like about him.

As I walk towards an empty seat, I scan the table, looking at Mattheo when I found him but his eyes were already on my dress.

Quickly I look away, seeing that Cormacs eyes were on me too which made me gag a little.

But god Mattheo looks so good. He wears a simple white shirt with a black tie and black slacks. Damn what I would give to ride his thigh in these – "Y/n you‘re staring." Hermione whispers into my ear, making me realise i stared right at Mattheo, but to my suprise he‘s still looking, not breaking eye contact for a second.

I gulp and look away, feeling my cheeks getting warm. God I hate it so much what kind of affect he has on me. I can‘t be the only one..

Wait. I‘m a woman. I can definitely tease him and make him feel the same.

The dinner goes on, nothing special besides Ginny who came in crying. Definitely have to ask her with Hermione about that later in detail.

As desert comes I look around the table, meeting Cormacs eyes. He licks of some ice cream from his fingers and wiggles his eybrows at me. Oh god I think I‘m gonna throw up.

As soon as I can I look away to Mattheo who was giving Cormac one of his death stares. Interesting.

I don‘t really know why i think it‘s a good idea but i do think it is. So I lean back a little, presenting the low cut at the front of my chest. I see Mattheo‘s eyes flicker to my chest and so do Cormac‘s but Mattheo‘s eyes switch back really fast to Cormac and give him a second glare. Really interesting.

I smile triumphal and lean a bit forwards again, pressing my boobs together this time. Instantly I get a headache but a really intense one. I hiss in pain which makes Harry look at me worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I just got an really bad headache.“ i whisper back, wondering what it caused.

Soon the dinner was over and everyone thanked Slughorn for the invitation. "I‘ll stay and try to figure out what that missing memory of Slughorn‘s is." Harry whispers to us before staying behind.

My headache got a bit better but It still didn‘t go away. As we walked trough the door I said to Hermione and Ginny "You guys go to the common room, I‘ll follow. I just wanna get some advil from Miss Pomfrey.“ They nod and tell me that they will go into Ginny‘s room to talk more privately.

It‘s already late and a bit after curfew but Professor Slughorn told us he made sure we would get in no trouble If someone sees us.

I rub my head slighty, trying to ease the pain on my way but nothing helped.

Then, out if nowhere a hand slaps over my mouth and a arm wraps around me, pressing me against a body. I scream into the hand, trying to get myself free until I see who the hand and arm belongs to.

"You didn‘t think I would let you go off that easily in that little dress of yours huh?“ Mattheo breathes against my face as it was only a few inches away from mine.

He slowly takes his hand away from my mouth, letting me speak. "What do you mean?" I ask and try the innocent act but he doesn‘t buy it.

"Oh princess, princess, princess. You can‘t fool me. I know that you wore this excuse of an dress for me. Fuck and also in my house color's? That‘s no fucking coincidence."

I gulp at his words and the fact that he knows who I wore it for. There‘s not even a single chance for me to lie. "And what If I did wore it for someone else?" Only one way and that‘s to push his last buttons. Oh how I wanted to push that buttons until –

"Someone else, yeah? Then who was it for?" "Cormac." As soon as his name left my mouth I regretted it. I see his jaw clenching and his grin fading. "Cormac yeah? So you didn‘t thought about me the whole dinner?" I slowly shake my head no, not daring to move now.

"So you‘re wet for him right now? Not me?" "What? I‘m not–" but as soon as I move my legs I feel it too. Shit. When I only look up at him his grin comes back.

"Yeah that‘s what I thought.. so why don‘t we skip this bullshit and you come with me?" Before I can even answer him, he takes my hand and pulls me trough the corridors, towards the Slytherin common room. " Mattheo I can't-" "Shut up." he hisses and whispers something under his breath so the doors to his common room would open.

"Can't fucking believe you pulled such a show in front of that stupid dick." he growled quietly before we reach his dorm. I start smiling as I see he's getting mad at the fact that Cormac saw me in that dress. "T'fuck you smiling about huh?"

As we enter his room I notice that there is only one bed which makes me wonder. "Don't you have a roommate?" "No, I have my own room." I scoff at his answer and look around his room. It has a big bed beside the window of the room and a little nightstand beside it. On the other side of the room is a big couch and a armchair.

But before I could think about it any further, he pulls me into his lap, face towards his, after he sat down on the armchair. "You know, you could have just told me If you missed me princess. Didn't need to dress all up for me." He puts his hands on my hips, grabbing them tightly.

I roll my eyes at him and act as If I didn't already enjoy his touch. "Didn't miss you." I say, looking away from him. He chuckles and pulls my face back to his with his fingers on my chin. "Are you sure?" I only nod and look into his brown eyes. They look so dark without any light in the room, that they send even more shivers down my spine than usual.

"Is your head better? Still in any pain?" he asks me grinning. "Yeah they-" wait. I never told him about my headache. Or could he hear when I told Hermione and Ginny? Or when Harry asked me at dinner?

His hands slowly wander down to my tights were my dress slowly rose up and placed them there, squeezing my flesh lightly. I felt his breath on my neck, giving me goosebumps. "It's gotten better, right?" he asks again. His lips ghosted over my skin, making me bite my lip.

"How do you know?" I ask him in a whisper. "I know everything that goes through your pretty little mind baby."

I tried to figure out what he meant by that but I couldn't concentrate with his hands on my skin and his lips almost against my neck. I need him so much.

"What baby, can't concentrate? Too much for you already?" he coos and finally kisses my neck, nibbling on the skin between his lips.

I can't believe how easy he gets under my skin with his kisses and whispers, not even doing anything. " I know you dreamed about me these last two weeks, thought about me at every chance you got. In class, in the shower, wishing it was me who touched you." he groaned against my throat.

My eyebrows squeeze together at his words. " How would you know that?" "Did you never wonder why your head always hurted at the same times?" I gasp and pull my neck away from him. " Are you reading my mind?" my eyes go wide as he just smiles at me sheepishly. Oh my god, no. This can't be. He's not allowed to know all these private thoughts.

"You don't know how hard it was for me to stay away and wait until you would come back to me but you little minx didn't and after tonight.. I couldn't just let you slip away from me again."

"Y-you can't do that Mattheo. That's not allowed. These are my thoughts." "I know baby but I couldn't help myself after that night in the shower. You were like a dream coming true so submissive and responsive to me. Fuck I'm already getting hard just thinking about it. But you understand I didn't have a chance, right? I couldn't risk you thinking about someone else then me."

He slowly pulled my dress up, exposing my tights and underwear. "God are you for real? Did you plan this?" he groans as he sees my matching set, a dark green lingerie set.

He pulls me closer to him, looking deep into my eyes.

"Ride my thigh." he commands and puts his hands back on my hips. "What?" I ask, looking at him dumbfounded. " It's my thigh or nothing. I'm not helping you getting off this time." I look at him with my mouth hanging open in shock. How could he be so cruel?

"C'mon, ride it baby I know you thought about it at dinner." My cheeks got red as he mentioned that. He dips his head towards my neck again and starts covering it in wet kisses. "Don't test my patience, love." he whispers and tightens his grip on my hips, moving them slowly. I gasp at the sudden friction.

"Feels good, right?" I only nod, closing my eyes as I start to move my hips in circles against his thigh. I feel so dirty doing this but at the same time it feels so good to finally get the friction I needed the last weeks again.

I feel my clit rubbing against my underwear, making me whimper and move my hips faster. "Fuck, look at you. I thought you were desperate back in the shower but now you're just getting yourself off on my thigh like a dirty little whore." I moaned at his words combined with his kisses on my skin. His lips went lower, first towards my collarbones, then further down to my chest.

I feel one hand of him wander to my underwear and pushing it to the side so my bare pussy rubbed against the material of his pants. I whine at the feeling, my hands grabbing his broad shoulders. " Oh my god. I'm so close Mattheo." He laughs wickedly against my chest, pushing down my dress so it hangs at the middle of my body. His mouth wanders to my bra, unclasping it with one hand behind my back.

"You're so beautiful baby, never ever am I waiting two weeks again for that." he growls and starts massaging my boobs and playing with my sensitive nipples.

I arch my back, shivers run down my spine at his touch. The grinding get's more and more intense. "Feel this?" he asks as he takes my hand and puts it on his bulge. "It's just for you." I bite my lip and look down at my hand. It looks so painful that I start massaging it through his pants. He bucks his hips up into my touch, his breathing getting heavier.

While still riding his thigh, I open his pants and push them down together with his boxershorts. His already fully hard cock slaps against his stomach before I take him into my hand. I spread the pre-cum over his tip with my thumb and start moving my hand up and down. "Shit princess.." he hisses, thrusting his hips up into my hand.

"I'm so close Mattheo.." I whine as I almost start rutting my hips against him. "Come on my leg baby, do it." he groans, lips apart.

I let go of his cock for a moment to dig my nails into his shoulders for support as I press my throbbing clit harder against him. He takes his cock into his hand and jerks himself off as he watches me panting and moaning.

With a deep twisting feeling in my stomach I come all over his thigh, riding out my orgasm.

"So good for me, look at how much you came." he says and I look down at his pants, a big wet spot on them now. My legs still shake from my high and I look up at him again.

Mattheo's POV:

Fuck. I don't know what it is but I have a feeling that this girl is going to be the death of me. With hooded eyes she looks up at me and almost get's me to cum in my own hand just from her eyes looking into mine. She had such a chokehold on me, but I will never admit that to her.

I smile down at her before I speak "already fucked out again and I didn't even touched you." The same thing I told her two weeks ago after I've eaten her pussy and she came after 3 minutes.

"Fuck off." she mumbles and falls slightly against my chest. "As much as I enjoy this closeness baby.." I start, nodding towards my rock hard cock, laying against my stomach.

I push a strand of hair behind her ear and whisper into it. " Suck on it." Her eyes go wide and she looks down on me with those innocent eyes again. " Don't tell me you never sucked cock with those pretty lips." I say, looking at her plump lips, almost begging to be fucked.

She rolls her eyes at me again, making me want to choke her until she stops. " I have." Her answer makes my clench my jaw, wishing she would've just said she didn't.

I pushed her down in front of my legs. I grab a pillow from the couch beside us and put it under her knees, making her grin. " Don't tell me you suddenly care for me Matty?" Now I am the one who rolls his eyes.

I grab her pretty hair into a ponytail and push her towards my cock. She takes it into her hand and starts to lick off the pre-cum from my tip. A moment later she starts sucking on my tip, making me smile. I have a feeling this is going to be good.

I hiss as her wet lips and warm mouth take more of my cock into her mouth. I close my eyes and let my head hang backwards. " Come on y/n, show me what you got."

Suddenly she takes me all the way down her throat, my eyes almost bulging out of my head and my mouth falling open. "Oh fuck, yeah!" I groan, gritting my teeth together. I swear I could feel her smile around me.

She bobs her head up and down in a fast pace, making me moan and groan like a little bitch. Fuck, what is it with this girl?

I feel my tip hitting the back of her throat. " Oh Shit." I lift my head up to look down at her. Her eyes are teary and her hands support herself on my tights. I start grinning, wishing I could take a picture of her pretty mouth around me.

Her throat clenches around me so delicious I almost came. "Hmm baby, you know how to suck cock. Gonna give you that." I pant.

One of her hands go down to my balls, massaging them. " Oh - " I throw my head back again, feeling something in my lower stomach. My hips buck up and I hear her gag, only getting me closer to my high. "M' gonna cum down your throat and you'll swallow it, yeah?" I ask her, breathing heavy. It doesn't take me long to cum and fill her mouth. "Fuckkk.." I groan, pushing her down even harder so her nose touches my stomach.

"Swallow it. All of it." I slowly let go of her, but seeing her cough a little only fuels my desire. She opens her mouth after she swallows and shows me that she swallowed every single drop.

"That's a good girl. Now come on.. let's take a shower." I say grinning at her and helping her back up. "Mattheo I don't know If I can walk so far." she sighs as she stands on her still shaky legs.

I kiss the top of her head, something I never do but just feels right with her. " You don't have to. I have my own shower." I pick her up bridal style and carry her towards my bathroom."

Y/n's POV:

As he picks me up to carry me, I feel a few butterfly's in my stomach but I try to suppress them.

He let's me down when we stand under his shower. His clothes hit the floor. "Hot or cold?" he ask, putting his hand on the tap. "Hot." I say and watch his back. Last time I didn't noticed but he has big scars all over his back, some even on his chest. He must see my face cause he asks me "What's wrong?" I shake my head and try to smile.

"Nothing." I see it in his eyes that he doesn't buy my lie but doesn't push me either. As the warm water hits my skin, I sigh in relief. I let my hair get wet and wash off the makeup I had on. While I did so, Mattheo stands right behind me, his hands on my hips, scanning my face.

I open my eyes and see him looking. " What?" I ask grinning. " You're beautiful." I roll my eyes and look away again, trying to hide my blush. "You don't have to try to get into my pants. You already are." He turns me around and holds my face. " Hey.. I really mean it. And not just your body. Your face is prettier than the ones of angels." My eyes widen at his words, not expecting that kind of words from him.

He clears his throat and looks away for a moment himself. That's when I grab his face in both my hands and crash my lips into his. The kiss is hungry, more passionate and different than the last times. More tender.

One of his hands slide up and down my back, while the other lays on my hip. "You make me crazy, princess." he admits, mumbling against my lips. I smile into the kiss. "Don't go soft Mattheo." I say, teasing him.

He starts kissing my neck, but less soft and more aggressively now. "Remember who's in charge here baby. I would choose your words wisely." He lifts me up so I wrap my legs around his waist. "This time I wanna see your face when I fuck you."

He takes his cock into his hand and positions it at my entrance, teasing me with it. „Mattheo come on, fuck me.." i huff out frustrated. "Beg for it, wanna hear you beg again like the last time I fucked you." I roll my eyes at his ego, but still do as he tells me to. "Please, I'm already begging you to fuck me."

Ge grins down at me and slowly pushes inside me, holding eye contact the whole time. His lips part and his eyes get lazy. "Fuck, you feel just as good as the first time I fucked you stupid."

I want to bite back but only bite my lip as he starts thrusting in a fast and hard pace. "What was that? I'm going soft princess?" His grip on my hips gets tighter and he starts kissing my neck up and down. " N-no you're not.." I whimper, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back against the wall.

What was is that he had me under his control so much? Not even a single brain cell told me to not do as he says. I can't with this boy..

His lips work their way up to my ear and he whispers "I'm a man baby, a boy wouldn't fuck you like I do. " Goosebumps erupt over my body and again he's right. " Stop messing around in my head." I growl lightly, supressing a moan in my throat. "You're all mine. I don't give a shit about how you see that, cause I know your body screams for mine every night. And it will never get someone else's. Do you understand?"

He stops kissing my neck and looks at me while thrusting his hips against mine. A shiver run down my spine as I looked into his eyes, but this time not a good one. It was ice cold. I never saw him looking tat serious and cold. Possesive. "Do. You. Under. Stand." he asks me again, deep and hard thrust for every word.

"God yes, Mattheo. I understand!" I cry out as his fingers find their way towards my clit, rubbing it in circles. My nails leave marks all over his back, drawing a little blood.

He starts hissing but laughing at the same time at the pain. He's gonna be the death of me. "No, you're gonna be mine, princess. Do that again with your nails, turns me on." As I don't, he mumbles a quite "okay" and presses me harder against the shower wall, fucking me even deeper and more brutal. My nails find their way back inside his skin and I'm sure If we had been o the bed It would be broken by now.

"When are you gonna learn to not be a little brat, huh?" he asks, a smirk on his face. "I own you now, baby." I let out half a snort half a chuckle. " Do I own you then too?" I ask sarcastically. " You own every inch of me."

My face falls a little at his answer, not expecting it. Did he mean that?But as soon as my thoughts started, I forgot them as he starts to rub my clit even harder, but in a steady rhythm.

"Oh yeah look at that in pleasure twisting face, that's fucking it." he groans, his thrust becoming more erratic. One hand leaves my hip and wraps itself around my throat, squeezing it with the perfect amount of pressure. A broken scream leaves my lips with my eyes rolling back.

"Yeah scream so loud Cormac hears who‘s name you‘re moaning tonight." I press my lips together but he squeezes my throat tighter. My walls clench around him, making him lose his control, eyes rolling back a bit with a smile to it. "I love that pussy so much fuck.I bet he can't fuck you like I can, huh?"

This time my answer comes in a instant. " No- no he can't. I'm so close Mattheo, please." I moan as I feel this deep twisting feeling in my stomach. His lips meet mine, to my surprise. Unlike how he fucks, he kisses me soft and passionate. "Come around me baby.Please fucking come around me." he groans almost desperate.

And just like that I let go and let the feeling of my orgasm overflow me. "Hm shit.. can I come inside you baby?" Mattheo pants against my lips while he looks down between us. I just nod quickly, feeling him coming inside me a few seconds later. "Shit.." a whimper leaves his lips as he fills me up.

My stomach twists again at the sound so I look at him and scan his face for a moment. I think that's the hottest sound my ears ever came across. He looks fucked out too, his eyes heavy.

He slowly pulls out but still holds me. "You make me so addicted." he confesses to me, looking between my eyes and lips. I had to. " So you're going soft now again?" I tease him, out of breath.

He chuckles lowly which ends with me bent over every single surface in his room.

I don't know how long I can survive in that.

—

I just know ya‘ll hate and love me for posting this.. after weeks :) <3

There‘s gonna be a part 3, the final then. Hehe.

Taglist: @idk-simra @kindnessspreads @purplegardenwhispers @glittervame @oxi8 @lovelyygirl8 @yakosobaboba | thank you for supporting guys 🫶🏻

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xoxo sarah <3

[nymphoatic]

just read your little logan smut with flower mutant!reader. ugh!! it was literally so sweet !! all the little nicknames for her “his flustered girl?” “the sweetest thing.” UGH i’m clawing my hair out it’s so good.

it made me think like what happens if he were to like overstimulate her or something. or maybe she’s had a bad day, or logan had been out on a mission and she misses him. and so when he gets back and pounds her into the mattress, bc duh obviously he missed his girl, little vines of some climbing flower wrap around his arms where he holds her, and eventually up his biceps, around his waist where they can sprawl over his abs, all of her favorite places of logan. and obviously she doesn’t realize it bc she’s too lost in how logan makes her feel and how much she missed him.

oh and maybe when she realizes, they start to retract because she’s so embarrassed !! and logan’s all like “hey, now don’t pull away from me, pretty girl,” and just kisses every inch of her and holds her close. please i’m obsessed. logan and his pretty flower girl are all i need !!!

a/n: YALLLL she's back. i literally had a whole other fic i was writing but this ask shot me and i just had to so thank u anon :) i will post the other fic soon but for now! be kind to me work has been busy i love uuuu enjoy!

Logan Howlett x f!reader | 18+ i'll bop you between ya eyes | flower!mutant :)

you all but jump into Logan's arms. 19 hours away; of silence. it was necessary for his stupid mission but agony for his darling love back at their cabin in the woods. he couldn't even make it inside, you ran out so he wouldn't have to find you in the house. "hey, sweet-pea." he gruffs, your eyes just beaming. he sure doesn't miss the dandelions that you leave behind with each step.

"about time! you said you'd be home by ten! god i was worried sick, i-i didn't know if i should cook dinner or not so there's nothing to eat." you babble, worried and running up the wall with meaningless stress. he just watches with a keen eye.

his hand ushers to your head, petting so sweetly to calm you down. "hey. hey. 'm alright, dolly. don't even care about dinner." and then the softest kiss to your forehead. "just happy you're here." like you'd be gone when he came back.

you're relaxed in his palm, eyes glued up to him. it's like he never left you. "bought some whiskey for you though." oh he's dating an angel, he knows it. and your proud smile just sends him in a frenzy of wanting to sip and stay with you in the living room or carry you over his shoulder to your bed. he wants the latter so badly.

he chuckles lowly and wraps his big burly arms wrap around your waist, his nose nudging under your ear. "too kind to me, baby." he murmurs. your all too familiar scent envelopes him and the switch is flipped. he has you to himself again. and Logan is just sooo greedy for his girl.

greedy and impatient. he all but shoves his large backpack into the corner of your shared room before you're thrown on the gentle plushness of the comforter. and you even made the bed for him, his sweetest girl. he's panting, eyes blown while your sweater rises up on your skin. the most he can do while he's crawling towards you is press the softest pecks on your knees and the front of your calves.

"missed you so bad." you're heart flips in its place, the sight of big bad Wolverine slinking slowly up your legs worshipping every inch he saw just too much.

"it was only a day." you chuckle, a hazy grin on your lips. your hands trail down to his hair, running through it with a smile. its fuel to the fire.

there's a small nip onto your thigh from the comment. "you say that like i don't need you every fucking minute of the it." he's quick to peel off pesky clothing in the way of the grand prize. both your tops and your own shorts were laid lazily on the floor. Logan nearly ripped it all off, his teeth baring a few times with how wanton he seemed. it's just you in your cute cotton panties and he aches all over for you. "can i? christ- lemme have you dolly, please?" you gulp, cheeks red and knees weak.

"please. yes please, need you so bad" oh how you're eyes go wide when you're desperate. Logan's hand gliding up and up your abdomen, a soft gleam shown with how smooth you've stayed. fingers run over the breasts he's worshipped so many times. after all that's been done, you've stayed his sweetest girl. so sweet you'd let him fuck you silly so quickly!

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

"i know sweetie, so deep, ain't i? jus' feel good, petal" he cooed so sweetly with your legs on his shoulders, pressed so lean against the silk pillowcases (bought by you but loved the most by Logan).

"oh fuck! 's so good, god-!" your eyes were screwed shut. you couldn't keep up, it always happens. senses get clogged up with how his dick stretches you so nice. all you hear is the quickness of skin on skin, his movement so unforgiving. you see Logan with a slacked jaw from how sloppy he's gotten you even within the few moments he's had you back in his arms.

but what you feel? you feel heaven and light all at once. you feel loved and loving, your skin melting into his. wanting him closer. to stay. on Logan's end, he's relishing in your sweet noises. just working along to keep your legs shaking, keep those warm tears falling down your cheeks, keep those vines growing your skin onto his hands rested on your waist. Logan does a double take.

the vines. oh shit. gardening again! just like those weeks ago with the wisteria. he remembers how red you were when your eyes laid upon those flowers. poor thing, your first thought was you hurt him. sure, like your mind would ever let yourself harm him. he prays it's a normal occurrence now, maybe he's a good man after all if you're so willing. a beautiful creation he has laid out so beautifully and for him?

yeah, you're growing more for him. "thas' it dolly, just feel good. you like my cock so bad? hm?" in your head, he's just talking about how you've gone limb from how the head of his cock rams deep into what feels like your gut. makes you so dumb you nod eagerly. he grins. the vines grow and grow to where they keep his hands attached to curve of your lower back. he can't loose you in all this now, can he?

Logan's just happy you've had your eyes welted shut focused on the bliss he's giving you, moaning like it's second nature. you were a vision beyond anything he'd seen with your charming trailing plants making him keep fucking into you. even the most darling buds pop next to the leaves.

"some pretty flowers for me too, huh?" Logan curses himself for saying that when your eyes meekly open, the words unfamiliar from his lips when it came to being fucked into a mattress. and then they're quarters from there. wide and beady while watching the fruits of your labor spinning and twisting up your lovers arms while he fucks you so good.

"oh...L-Lo, ah! i'm sorry i'll stop- fuck!" you really wanted to be sorry and pitying, to cry more than you were but from sheer humiliation. not from blinding pleasure. but maybe the vines had the good idea. they're not constricting yet not too different from your clawing hands onto his back.

he simply shakes his head. "nah. nah, keep em. lemme see it all, petal, please." embarrassment subsides. it's your Logan! there's no need for it. your shoulders relax with your head lulling back into the pillow, too cock drunk to think of ever letting this stop. more vines blossom onto his broad shoulders now. he'd be covered by the end of the night at this rate. "good girl, there we go..." the vines were kind enough to let his arm bend down to your cheeks pressing haste kisses on your flushed skin, peppering and spoiling you for you compliance. always so eager to please. his filthy girl.

he's insatiable, eager for more. his hips buck into you with more intent. to push you over, to have you more intimately. or to put it plainly, to feel you cum hard on his cock. and with how you clench around him with your little noises of "ah! ah! ah!" his lips capture yours in a sloppy kiss. all teeth while he drinks in every muffled moan. you just taste like fucking candy everywhere he puts his mouth, you're magic incarnate. in all his blistering years barely alive he's never known a feeling like having you below him so desperate to have his cock.

he doesn't know it but his stroke are getting messy. he's getting close and you're right behind him, your back arching into the sheets. he has to move his hands. his knuckles feel raw where those three shiny blades seep out. Logan's all too familiar with it. though he didn't think moving your flora would be so easy when detaching his hands to avoid an accidental injury to his lady.

fingers wrap around the bed frame with another large palm cradling your head to face him. you face the foliage you've made on his shoulders, and now, his chest. what a sight. seeing the ivy leaves decorate him and his specially carved abs.

oh you were a weak woman. "fuck, 'm gonna cum! more, please gimme more-" you cry out, now pulling him in by those strong stems able to carry while buildings. no longer auto pilot. you're all too aware. he groans, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head.

"doin' that on purpose now, bub" oh you were. you simply wanted his fat cock deeper for when he unloads inside your poor pussy. you smile with mischief. his brows furrow. his pace picks up once more, groans turning to growls while the bed shakes with the direction force from his hands. beastly man he was . "cum with me, baby. cum on this cock and i'll fill ya up. i'll get y'so full, whatever you want"

and that's was all you needed for you're poor hole to clench violently while you drip down his thighs with a broken cry out. the vines tighten then expand, crawling out onto the bed with a poof. even cuter, the flowers bloom. he relishes in seeing his girls pretty pussy make a mess on him he just needs to return the favor. feeling the subtle clenching from your orgasm, he's cumming with one last mean buck of the hips.

"fucking christ-!" his claws unsheathe into the wall, his other set of knuckles driving into the mattress next to you while he grinds slowly to dump every drop into you. his veins on his forehead nearly pop, his eyes only watching your glossy pupils zeroed on abs. so shameless you were. he pants out with his entire body breathing with him.

he settles slowly, his claws reeling back from exhaustion. your plants remain however. yet he's only settled on you. his hands begin their soothing, his thumbs caressing your cheeks while you catch your breathe. "easy now. you okay? did i hurt you at all?" your head shakes in his grasp, eyes lazily opening to meet his eyes. your poor guy, he thinks anytime those knives come out around you he'll dice you on accident.

"spooked me." you mumble, but half heartedly. the smile on your lips shows it's a joke. Logan only huffs.

"it's only hot when you loose control." you gasp, a hand playfully patting his arm clad with your leaves. he chuckles while pressing a kiss to your forehead.

his sweetest flower, back in his arms again.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

dt: @nervous-person @clownprinzzzz

ask for a dt ! ! ! !

[wonderjanga]

Respect

Captain Marvel is a marvelous hero. He was one of the first. He was a a brilliant man who helped all over the country, not just his hometown of Fawcett. And although this went for about every other hero that churned out of Fawcett as well, This man helped with construction, the wars, the people. He was revered. He was respected. He was powerful. But most importantly, he was kind. That was what won over a majority of the American peoples soon after his debut. That was what made him the hero of that time. That’s why when he and the other Fawcett heroes suddenly disappeared, the people were distraught. There was memorial after memorial for them all. Most were for the Captain though.

So yes, it’s been established already that he’s had a big impact on America, but one could argue it’s way deeper than that. He was, and still is the blueprint for how a hero should act or look like. When the hero Superman first made his debut, people, especially older people liked the similarities they shared. When Flash debuted he was also well liked among older people for his similar costume to the Captain. When Americans found out Wonder Woman was related to the Greek Gods, she was liked too because the Cheese got his powers from the Gods.

Old Man: “You’re the daughter of Zues?”

Old Lady: “Wasn’t Captain Marvel the son of Zeus?”

Old Man: “No, no, he just got his powers from him. At least I think so. It was in the newspaper some many years ago.”

Wondy: “Who’s this… Captain Marvel?”

Old Lady: “One of the best men to come from this country.”

Old Man: “That doesn’t explain anything, Gertie. He was a wonderful hero from when we were children. He disappeared in about ‘62 last I recall.”

Wondy: “A hero that drew power from Zeus… How could he have disappeared?”

Old Lady: “No one knows.” *shrugs* “One day, he and the other Fawcett heroes up and disappeared along with the city itself.”

His impact wasn’t just on heroing of course. This extended to multiple other things. Middle schoolers have a history unit dedicated to the Fawcett heroes. He was honest to God, the beauty standard for men during a resurgence in the 90s. There are posters and photos in a multitude of places from the Whitehouse to a random Ihop in Los Angeles. There are schools named after him and other Fawcett heroes.

Couple: *looking around the lobby of an ihop and spots a photo on a bulletin board* “Is that Captain Marvel…?”

Hostess: “Yes! He came here in 1959. He apparently got some breakfast with some of his hero buddies and took the photo with the owner. Your table will be this way.”

Couple: “Gosh, I used to think he was so cool as a kid.” *follow after the hostess*

When the time bubble finally popped, the entire country was blindsided by the fact that their hero was back in the flesh. He looked exactly the same, acted exactly the same, and still had that exact warm smile.

Marvel: “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr. Superman Sir.” *puts hand out for a handshake*

Supes: *inner fangirlling because oh my Rao, this guy is practically his idol and he just called Clark both Mister and Sir* “It’s wonderful to meet you too.” *shakes his hand*

The hero worship wasn’t exclusive to just heroes who were kids. No, no, kids, teens, adults, elderly, most heroes think he’s absolutely amazing. Even Batman! They look up to this guy just as much as the regular elderly civilian who was alive before Marvel had been caught in Suspendium.

The most interesting part about all of this in some people’s opinions are that it was like the Cheese had never even left. He still unknowingly evokes respect whenever he walks into a room. He could still make kids smile with a glance. His power had certainly never waned either during the time he was gone. He was still just a marvelous hero.

.

.

.

Meanwhile during all of this, Billy is internally confused at everything in the modern world and is just trying to handle it the way he normally would. It seems to be working.