#but as the years pass he starts to get a little softer about it. sharing stories about Adventure and Discovery

[fauvester]

hc that cardassians do have tails but that they're docked or removed at birth (like circumcision tbh) and the practice sort of fell by the wayside post-Dominion. garashir adoptees with the eldest sans tail and the baby sporting a long luxurious 5th appendage

[iamgonnagetyouback]

lorenzo berkshire x oblivous bsf!reader who doesn't realize enzo's feelings for her

You and Lorenzo Berkshire had been inseparable since before either of you could remember. You shared everything: birthday parties, first days of school, scraped knees, and secret hideouts. Growing up in each other’s orbits meant that your lives were entwined so tightly that the idea of "you" and "Lorenzo" felt like one singular entity. There was no "you" without him.

Your earliest memories were filled with laughter—his soft giggles as you raced through the fields behind your house, his shy grin when you baked cookies together for the first time (though he burnt them terribly). As kids, you held hands without a second thought, sneaking into each other's homes when it rained, building forts out of blankets and pillows while you dreamed about the day you'd finally go to Hogwarts. The night before your first train ride, Lorenzo had shyly handed you a daisy he'd picked from his backyard.

"To remember me by," he mumbled, cheeks pink.

"As if I could forget," you'd teased, but the flower stayed pressed between the pages of your favourite book.

Then, Hogwarts happened, and you made new friends, got sorted into different houses (he ended up in Slytherin, you in Hufflepuff), but you still found each other between classes. The teasing continued, the inside jokes and pranks. You became his safe space when the weight of his duties pressed on him too hard, and he was your companion in every late-night gossip session.

There were still times when you thought there was something different. Like the time during a lazy summer day at the lake when he draped his jacket over your shoulders, even though the sun was shining brightly, or the way he hesitated just a moment too long before pulling his hand back after helping you up from a fall. You never thought too deeply about it, brushing it off as part of your long-standing friendship.

Year five arrived, and the two of you were as close as ever. Still, there were moments that felt... different, though you couldn't quite place why. He'd brush your shoulder when he passed you in the hall, or his gaze lingered just a little too long during meals. You laughed it off—because what could possibly change between you and Lorenzo? Best friends forever, right?

One night, in the Common Room, you were discussing upcoming exams when he turned to you, his voice lower than usual.

"Do you think..." he hesitated. "Do you think people can just stay the same forever? Like... always be what they are?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I mean... I guess? If they want to be. Why?"

Lorenzo only gave you a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "No reason," he murmured before changing the subject.

In year six, things shifted subtly again. He started walking closer to you, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as you strolled through the halls. There were times when his laughter seemed softer, more reserved when he was alone with you. You didn’t notice, not in the way he hoped. It wasn’t obvious enough to break the oblivion that surrounded you, and maybe that was for the best.

It wasn’t until the holiday party that year that everything came crashing down.

Aurora, your best friend from Ravenclaw, had nowhere to go for the holidays. You couldn't leave her alone, so you invited her along to Blaise's annual party, excited to introduce her to the Slytherins you’d grown close with. Lorenzo had helped organize everything, naturally, and you spent the first half of the evening by his side, laughing with him as usual.

You introduced Aurora to everyone—Pansy, Draco, Astoria, Daphne, Theodore—and lastly, Lorenzo.

“This is Aurora,” you said, motioning to your friend with a grin. “She’s an absolute sweetheart. I think you two will get along well.”

Lorenzo’s eyes flicked from you to Aurora, offering her one of his rare, warm smiles. “Nice to meet you.”

You missed the way Aurora’s cheeks flushed instantly at the sound of his voice. But Pansy didn't.

The evening wore on, the room buzzing with laughter and chatter, and eventually, the group began to scatter into smaller conversations. Aurora pulled you aside near the punch table, her face unusually tense.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, concerned by the sudden shift in her mood.

She hesitated, glancing nervously at where Lorenzo stood talking to Blaise. “I… I think I like Enzo.”

Her words hit you like a blow to the chest. You stared at her, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling suffocating. "What?"

“I think I like him," she repeated, biting her lip. "I don’t know how it happened, but… there’s something about him. The way he talks, how kind he is. He’s just so—”

You didn’t hear the rest of her sentence. Everything blurred, and for a reason you couldn’t quite grasp, it hurt. A lot. You wanted to tell her she was mistaken, that it didn’t make sense, that Lorenzo wasn’t supposed to be liked like that—at least not by someone else.

But what could you say? She was your best friend too, and she deserved happiness. So, you forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I didn’t know. I mean, he is… he’s great, isn’t he?”

Aurora nodded, her expression soft. “Yeah. I hope it’s okay that I told you.”

“Of course it is.”

But it wasn’t. Not really.

The next morning found you sprawled across your bed in the Hufflepuff dormitory, staring blankly at the ceiling. The sun had already risen, casting beams of light through the window, but you hadn’t moved much since getting back from the party. The thoughts from the night before still circled in your mind, refusing to let go.

Your dormmate, clearly concerned by your uncharacteristic silence, glanced over at you as she packed her books. “You good?” she asked, hesitating by the door.

You gave her a half-hearted wave, plastering a smile on your face. “Yeah, fine. Just tired.”

She eyed you for a second longer before shrugging. “Alright, well, don’t forget about class later.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a long sigh. Alone again.

Your mind wandered back to the party. Aurora. Lorenzo. You couldn’t shake the way her eyes had lit up when she talked about him. How she had looked at him like he was the most fascinating person in the room. But why did it bother you so much? It didn’t make any sense.

Would they even look good together?

You sat up a bit, propping yourself on your elbows as you thought about it. Aurora was so petite compared to Lorenzo. The height difference wasn’t even cute—he’d have to bend down just to talk to her, and that would be awkward, right? And they were complete opposites. Lorenzo was calm, reserved, always thinking before he spoke. Aurora was bubbly, spontaneous, the type of person who filled every room with laughter. Opposites attract, sure… but them?

You groaned and flopped back onto your bed, hands covering your face. "What would their ship name even be?" you muttered to yourself. "Aurozo? Lorora? No, that sounds terrible."

But then your mind wandered further, picking at the insecurities you hadn’t let rise to the surface last night. Aurora was amazing, after all. She was sweet and smart, always knowing the right thing to say. She was pretty—okay, not just pretty, she was beautiful—and witty, always ready with a clever comeback. And then there was her personality, so warm and inviting that even the most standoffish people were drawn to her. She was perfect, really.

Too perfect.

You sat up and slapped your forehead, hard enough that the sound echoed in the empty room. “Talking to yourself now? Really?” you whisper-yelled, feeling the embarrassment creep up your neck. “That’s a new low.”

You lay back down, arms draped over your eyes as you tried to push the thoughts away. But no matter how hard you tried to brush them off, the uncomfortable tightness in your chest refused to leave.

It didn’t make sense.

Why did it bother you this much?

After classes that day, you were packing up your books when you spotted Aurora walking towards you, her usual bright smile lighting up her face. There was something different about her today though—something nervous and a bit fidgety. She stopped just in front of your desk, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers.

"Hey," she said softly, biting her lip as if she was about to ask something big.

You tilted your head, sensing her hesitance. "Hey, everything okay?"

She took a deep breath, then let it out in a rush. "Can you… set me up with Enzo?"

Her words felt like a punch in the gut, but you masked it with a cheerful smile. After all, what kind of friend would you be if you didn't help her? She liked him—really liked him. And wasn’t it your job to make sure your friends were happy?

“Of course,” you heard yourself say, even though the knot in your stomach tightened. “I’ll help. Enzo’s great, and I’m sure you two would… get along.”

Aurora’s face lit up instantly, and she clasped your hands in excitement. “Thank you! I just… I didn’t want to approach him out of nowhere. I figured since you guys are best friends, maybe you could, you know, talk me up?”

You nodded. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll drop your name.”

For the next week, you became Aurora’s biggest advocate when it came to Enzo. You wove her into nearly every conversation the two of you had, even when he clearly tried to steer things elsewhere.

“Did you know Aurora’s favorite flowers are tulips?” you blurted one afternoon while the two of you were studying in the library. Lorenzo looked up from his notes, blinking in confusion.

“Oh. No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, she’s got great taste. She’s really into plants in general, actually. She’s been thinking about starting a garden.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, clearly not following your sudden shift in topic, but he nodded politely. “That’s nice.”

You grinned, determined to keep the conversation going. “She’s super thoughtful too. Last year, she handmade Christmas gifts for all her friends. You should’ve seen the scarf she made me. Perfect colors.”

“Mhm.” Lorenzo hummed, leaning closer to his parchment, probably thinking you’d drop it.

But you didn’t.

The next day, when you met up with him for lunch, you brought her up again, like clockwork. “Aurora’s so smart. She absolutely aced her Potions essay the other day. I bet she could help you if you’re stuck on anything.”

“I’m actually doing okay in Potions,” he replied, glancing at you with a flicker of confusion. “But thanks.”

“You should ask her about it sometime though,” you continued, smiling brightly. “She’s great at explaining things. I mean, I’ve learned so much just from talking with her.”

Lorenzo hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as though searching for something. “You’ve been talking about Aurora a lot lately.”

You shrugged, brushing it off. “She’s amazing! You two would really get along if you gave it a chance.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod and looked down at his plate, clearly wanting to change the topic. But the next time he showed even the smallest interest in anything you said about Aurora, you latched onto it.

During a conversation later that week, Lorenzo mentioned that tulips were actually nice flowers. That tiny comment was all it took for you to believe he was finally taking an interest in her.

“See? I told you! You and Aurora have so much in common. She’d totally love to talk flowers with you.”

His eyes flickered with something, a mix of frustration and confusion, but he didn’t argue. He nodded instead, a sigh escaping his lips. “Yeah… maybe.”

You beamed, completely oblivious to his hesitation. “I knew it! You’re going to be great together.”

For some reason, the idea of them getting closer felt like an itch you couldn’t scratch, but you kept pushing through it. This was what you wanted, right? To see your best friends happy. So why did you feel like you were slowly unravelling the more you pushed them together?

You sat in the courtyard, absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of your robe. The cool autumn breeze swept through the trees, but you hardly noticed. Your mind was still preoccupied with everything Aurora had said, her excitement about Enzo, and how you’d promised to help set them up. But why did it feel so… wrong?

Aurora had stopped by just minutes ago, her face bright as she asked, "How's it going with Enzo?" You had forced a smile, nodding, “It’s going great,” before watching her bounce away, completely unaware of the growing knot in your stomach.

Moments later, Pansy dropped down next to you with a dramatic sigh, her usual smirk plastered across her face. "Why the long face, sunshine?" she asked, bumping your shoulder lightly.

You mumbled, "It's nothing," but Pansy wasn’t one to be easily fooled.

She leaned closer, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Nothing? Or Miss Perfect just dropped by to say something stupid?” The nickname made you cringe, a flash of guilt creeping up. Aurora was your friend, and yet… every time Pansy called her that, it sparked an irritation you couldn’t quite explain.

“She was just asking about Enzo,” you muttered, hoping Pansy would let it drop.

“Oh?” Pansy raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What about him?”

You sighed, lowering your gaze to the ground as you mumbled, “She wants me to set her up with him.”

There was a brief pause, and then suddenly Pansy burst out laughing. Like full-on, holding-her-stomach, can’t-breathe laughing.

You blinked at her, bewildered. “What’s so funny?”

Pansy wiped a tear from her eye and shook her head, still chuckling. “That’s so dumb. Aurora and Enzo? Together? Yeah, no. That’s never going to work.”

“Why not?” you asked, though the question felt hollow. Part of you had already started wondering the same thing.

Pansy smirked, tilting her head at you as if you were missing something incredibly obvious. “Even in an alternate universe where that might happen, it wouldn’t matter. Because Enzo likes you.”

Your brain screeched to a halt. You blinked, once, twice, before squeaking out, “Enzo what now?”

Pansy gave you a look that was part amused, part exasperated. “You heard me. Enzo likes you.”

You stared at her, not quite believing your ears. “What do you mean Enzo likes me?”

With a dramatic sigh, Pansy leaned back, crossing her arms. “You know, like when someone admires the other person and is practically whipped for them? That kind of like.”

“I know what like means, Pans,” you muttered, feeling your heart race. “But Enzo doesn’t like me.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “And the sky isn’t blue.”

You shook your head, still in denial. This had to be a joke, right? Lorenzo liking you? He couldn’t. He never showed any signs. Or… had he? You suddenly thought back to the subtle moments—his lingering looks, the way he always seemed to be there when you needed him, the small touches, the quiet smiles. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?

Suddenly, excitement bubbled up inside you. “Wait, are you serious?” you asked, your voice rising with hope. “Enzo really likes me?”

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, obviously.”

You stood up, pacing as your mind raced. “But I can’t! What about Aurora?”

Pansy let out a loud groan, sitting up straighter. “What about Ravenclaw?” she asked, rolling her eyes again.

You stopped in your tracks, spinning to face her. “She likes him, Pans. I can’t just—”

“Oh, please,” Pansy cut you off, waving her hand dismissively. “I just saw her flirting with some Hufflepuff a few minutes ago.”

You froze. “What?”

Pansy smirked, clearly enjoying your confusion. “Yeah. So maybe she doesn’t like him as much as you thought.”

Your heart was pounding as you made your way to the common room later that afternoon, determined to confront Enzo. You found him sitting with Theo, the two of them quietly talking. When you approached, both looked up, and Lorenzo’s eyes immediately softened at the sight of you.

Without hesitation, you blurted, “You like me?”

Lorenzo’s eyes widened in surprise, then a slow smile spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair. “Took you long enough to notice.”

Theo snickered beside him, giving you a knowing look. “That was so obvious,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

You stood there, frozen, as your brain tried to catch up with what was happening. Lorenzo—your best friend, the person who had been with you through everything—liked you. He had liked you this whole time, and you hadn’t even noticed.

Lorenzo stood up, walking over to you. “I didn’t want to push you,” he said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring. “I didn’t want to make things weird between us. But yeah, I like you. A lot more than just friends.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself grinning despite the whirlwind of emotions spinning inside you. “I… I didn’t know.”

He smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I figured,” he teased lightly, “but I was okay waiting until you did.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head in disbelief. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

Lorenzo chuckled, his eyes filled with warmth as he looked at you. “Not an idiot. Just a little oblivious.”

Before you could say anything else, Theo groaned loudly from his seat. “Finally. Do you know how long I’ve had to hear him talk about you? It’s exhausting.”

You both laughed, and as you looked up at Lorenzo, everything just… clicked. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t noticed before, but now, standing in front of him, everything made sense.

ughh it took me so long to write but i did it!! my first enzo fic! hope you guys like it

[positivelyholland]

Can we get a Styles-Swift reader! imagine in honor of Liam Payne?

Steady Hands in the Storm

Pairing: Harry Styles x daughter!reader

Genre: slight angst into fluff

Warnings: kinda a heavy one but it has a happy ending

A/N YALL IM BACK Word Count: 7,243

The house was unusually quiet. The kind of silence that feels heavy, pressing down on every surface. You sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly stirring a spoon through your cup of tea. It had gone cold a while ago, but you hadn’t noticed. Not really. All your focus was on your father, who was sitting across from you.

He was hunched over, elbows on the table, his head in his hands. His curls looked messier than usual, like he hadn’t bothered to tame them today. You’d noticed the little things over the past few days—the way he moved slower, the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. Even the way his voice sounded softer, like the energy had drained out of him.

You knew why, of course. The news had hit everyone hard. Liam Payne, your dad’s former bandmate, had passed away unexpectedly. And even though it had been years since One Direction had been a band, those boys were still family to him. Losing Liam felt like losing a part of himself.

“Dad,” you said softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness.

He didn’t look up, but you saw his shoulders tense slightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

You sighed, setting your spoon down with a soft clink. You knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t trying to shut you out. He just didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words.

So, you decided to try a different approach.

“Do you remember that time Liam came over for Christmas when I was, like, six?” you said, leaning back in your chair. “He spent the whole day teaching me how to do a handstand in the living room. Mum was furious because we kept knocking over the decorations.”

That got a small huff of a laugh out of your dad, though he still didn’t lift his head.

“I thought she was going to banish him from the house forever,” you added with a grin.

“He kept apologizing every five minutes,” your dad muttered, finally looking up. His green eyes were red-rimmed, and you could tell he hadn’t slept much. “But then he’d just… try again. Said you were getting better every time.”

You smiled softly, nodding. “I did get better. All because of him.”

The room fell quiet again, but it didn’t feel as heavy this time. You could see your dad’s shoulders relax a little, his hands falling to rest on the table.

“He was so good with you,” Harry said after a moment. “Always patient. Always kind.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. “He loved you, Dad. All of you. I think you meant as much to him as he did to you.”

Your dad swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

“It just… it doesn’t feel real,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and… and he’ll call or text, and it’ll all have been some kind of awful dream.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “I know. But he wouldn’t want you to carry this alone. You’ve always told me that grief is lighter when you share it.”

He gave you a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was a start.

“Why are you so wise for a teenager?” he asked, his voice tinged with warmth.

You shrugged, trying to keep the mood light. “I get it from Mum. Obviously.”

That earned you a soft chuckle, and for a moment, it felt like the cloud hanging over the room lifted just a little.

Over the next few days, you made it your mission to help your dad through his grief, even if he didn’t realize it. It was little things at first—making sure he ate, suggesting you watch one of Liam’s favorite movies together, or putting on some music to fill the silence.

But as time went on, you noticed that your dad seemed to be retreating into himself more. He’d spend hours in his studio, not working on anything, just sitting there with his guitar in his lap. You’d find him staring out the window, lost in thought, or holding his phone like he was waiting for a call that would never come.

It broke your heart to see him like this, so you decided to take a more direct approach.

One evening, you found him in the living room, staring at an old photo album. You sat down next to him without a word, leaning against his shoulder as you looked at the pictures. Most of them were from his One Direction days—grainy selfies, group shots from concerts, and candids of the boys goofing around backstage.

“Did you ever think those days would end?” you asked softly.

He shook his head. “Not really. We were so young, so caught up in it all. It felt like it would last forever.”

“But you’re still close,” you pointed out. “You and Louis talk all the time. And Niall sends those ridiculous videos that make you laugh so hard you cry.”

He smiled faintly at that. “Yeah. And Zayn… well, we’ve reconnected a bit over the years. It’s not the same as it was, but there’s still love there.”

You nodded, flipping the page to a picture of Liam holding a microphone, his face lit up with a big, toothy grin. “He’d be proud of you, you know. For everything you’ve done. For the way you’ve been there for everyone else, even when it’s hard for you.”

Your dad’s eyes filled with tears, and he quickly wiped them away, his hand trembling slightly.

“I just… I feel like I should’ve done more,” he admitted. “Checked in more often, made more of an effort to keep in touch. Maybe if I had, things would’ve been different.”

You shook your head firmly. “No, Dad. You can’t think like that. You loved him, and he knew that. Sometimes, life just… happens. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reassurance. “How’d you get so good at this?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“Years of listening to your music,” you teased, earning a watery laugh from him.

A few weeks later, your dad had a concert scheduled—a big one, with thousands of fans waiting to see him. You weren’t sure if he was ready to perform, but he insisted that the show must go on.

That night, as you stood backstage, you could feel the nervous energy radiating off him. He kept pacing, running his hands through his hair and mumbling to himself.

“Dad,” you said, stepping in front of him to stop his pacing. “You’ve got this.”

He looked down at you, his green eyes wide and uncertain. “What if I break down in the middle of it? What if I can’t do it?”

“You will,” you said confidently. “Because you’re doing this for him. And because he’d want you to.”

He took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

As the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into cheers, your dad turned to you one last time. “Stay close, yeah?”

“Always,” you promised.

The concert started off strong, with your dad pouring his heart into every song. The crowd loved him, cheering and singing along to every word. But it wasn’t until halfway through the set that he finally addressed the elephant in the room.

“This next one…” he began, his voice shaking slightly. “This next one is for someone very special to me. Someone who’s no longer with us, but who will always be a part of my heart.”

The stadium fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“I miss you, mate,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “This one’s for you.”

He started to play, his voice raw with emotion as he sang a song he’d written just for Liam. The lyrics were beautiful, filled with love and pain and memories of the friendship they’d shared. By the time he finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house—including yours.

When he walked off stage, you were there waiting for him, your arms open wide. He pulled you into a tight hug, holding on like you were his lifeline.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. “For everything.”

You smiled against his shoulder, tears streaming down your face. “Always, Dad. Always.”

In that moment, you knew that while the pain of losing Liam would never fully go away, your dad would be okay. Because he wasn’t alone. He had you, and he had the love and memories of a bond that could never be broken.

And that was enough.

The End.

[umemiyan]

𝘼 𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙇𝙀 𝘽𝙄𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙍𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍.

𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗜 𝗕𝗔𝗞𝗨𝗚𝗢 𝗫 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / stepcest / unprotected piv / creampie / i guess dubcon if you squint / 1.4k words

SIGHHHHHHHHH i would say this came out of nowhere but that's a lie it's literally been on my mind for days so i guess my brain had to finally expunge it somehow. it started out as just some personal notes for myself and then. this happened

Fighting and sparring—whether playful in nature or not—had always been a common occurrence between you and your step-brother. However, over the years, your victories had begun to dwindle more and more no matter how much force you met him with. It was the nature of a boy becoming a man—one with thickly muscled arms and a chiseled back on display through a black wife-beater, fighting technique refined to near perfection. He had always been a force to be reckoned with, but never more so than now.

You do your best to keep up when things become hands-on, because there's always been an incalculable amount of determination and willpower between the two of you, but such things can only get you so far when physique ultimately gives him the upper hand. And, well, maybe your resolve is a little more shakeable than usual given the strange energy that has settled between you both recently. What was once just a spark has spread into what you might call a blazing fire. Or an explosion.

Your back hits the floor as Katsuki brings you down, pinning your arms with his strength. It's a stereotypical position that makes you seethe, but it also causes you to maybe realize just why you had picked this little fight in the first place, why you had asked him to help make you stronger.

The mood intensifies and his aggression softens, your eyes locking for several moments while your lungs heave for oxygen. That's when there's a click, and sex effortlessly settles in the air.

Slowly, he rolls his hips down into yours and holds back a groan, but there's a soft exhale from both of you. Your eyes roll back, and he's painfully hard and aching to do it again. Something is communicated in these moments, shared between the two of you once your eyes meet again. It's one of the most intense things you've ever felt.

Then, without a single word, he releases you as if coming to a realization. Katsuki sits up, wipes his face with the back of his hand, and stands to walk off without a word, shutting his bedroom door behind him as though nothing had ever happened at all. He leaves you alone to simmer in the atmosphere that still lingers all around you.

But little do you know, he also carries it with him back into his room.

Days pass with little interaction between you, no acknowledgement of what happened at all, because how do you address such a thing? Especially when it left your thighs slick in bed that night while you evaluated everything you had ever repressed.

Then one evening he says he'll fight you again, show you everything that went wrong last time. his expression is rather neutral but his intentions are communicated with a heavy and determined gaze, and there's an immediate unspoken understanding between you both. He's been meticulous in thinking about this. You nod in agreement.

He takes you through the motions again of your spar, down to the same moves that his memory can recall, but much slower this time. More measured. More even. Somewhat softer on his behalf, and patient.

Then he has you on the floor again, pinning you beneath the weight of his pelvis. But this time, after your eyes lock, he dives forward to kiss you.

It's filled with tongue and a certain type of hunger, one that you know has been forged from premeditation and much self-debate, but he’s come to the conclusion that this is something he wants. And he knows you want it too from the way you invade his mouth just as much as he does yours, back arching to bring you in closer.

God, yeah, this was the right decision.

When you both pull back for breath, both minds know exactly what’s needed. He doesn't ask permission because he knows he has it by the way you look at him and beg with those eyes that he knows so well.

Katsuki pushes your legs together, puts both of them over one of his shoulders, and slides your shorts down your waist until your cunt glistens in the open, even with your thighs pushed together. He pulls back enough to look down at the slit with a quiet groan before bringing the clothing completely off and tossing it onto the floor so that he can slot between your legs and place one over each shoulder this time, spreading you a little better for him.

The soft but quick sound of a zipper reveals his already hard and angry cock, dripping and pulsing in his hand as you watch in amazement at what this has done to him. Katsuki doesn't bother undressing himself, just makes enough room for the fat length to come out and skim your outer lips, kissing them in a way that marks the most intimate encounter the two of you have ever had with each other.

That is until, after lining himself up and trapping your gaze again, silently making confirmation through the mental link, he slowly pushes forward and feels you from the inside for the first time.

With the lack of prep, the stretch of him burns, but you're inclined to believe that it would even if he had prodded at and opened you up beforehand. He's thick and heavy and something of a brute like the rest of him is, but he's mercifully holding himself in place for several moments to let your body conform. Or maybe he's simply shell-shocked by the tight way in which you envelop him, your pretty brow furrowed over it.

"Kat—"

He knows. He smothers your breathless voice with another kiss, body folding you with ease, hips rocking back and forth to try and set a pace. It's almost like he's soothing you—not through words, but with action, with presence. He knows better than anyone how tough you are and how you don't need him to baby you through a smidge of discomfort, especially when you've been the one to wear him down to this point in the first place. And he's not good at that sort of thing anyways.

No more words are shared. All that fills the air are the sounds of your kiss, your breath, the wet 'schlick' that happens when two bodies meet in pleasure. The fact that you're on the living room floor doesn't mean much, because this feels like a sacred place—a space that only exists to you both right now.

He works you open with every stroke, knowing you more intimately than he ever should, and your belly feels full in a way that you know won't soon be forgotten. You don't want it to be. You won't let it be. Your animal brain wants to commit every ridge and vein of him to memory.

Every minute that ticks by with his hips slapping against yours and your fingertips pressing into his hair and skin takes a toll on him. The look on Katsuki’s face and sweat on his brow paint the image of a man who's desperate to give in to his body's innate desire, to release and fill and consummate a bodily union. You don't want the pleasure to end, but scanning him with your eyes, you figure you might as well allow him to let go.

"Kat, you can—" You can see that he wants to cum—needs to cum, but he reads your mind before you can even finish speaking.

"We're not done until you cum on my cock."

It's not aggressive or demanding in his usual tone, but more so determined and absolute, a declaration of his willpower and a moral for him to adopt. you swallow and clench, his gaze burning through you. Then your legs are being dropped from his shoulders and he's reaching to press a thumb to your clit, your thighs automatically wrapping around his waist.

When you do cum, it's nothing short of euphoric, heaven-sent, better than you could've imagined an orgasm to be, because he's stroking your nub and fucking the plush of your insides until you're slicking him with a barely noticeable little splash.

He gives you ample time to milk his cock before taking the notion to finally spill inside you, letting the last flutters of your walls pull the warm seed from him with each pulse. He melts into it with a soft grunt and a sigh, pressing his forehead to yours in a subconscious yet still very purposeful merge.

He'd die before becoming weak enough to finish before giving the one he loves an orgasm—that person being you.

Somehow, you understand. It's instinctive, unspoken—a mingling of souls that you wouldn't expect anyone else to understand should they come to know of how it happened. But that doesn't matter, because this moment—this understanding—belongs only to the two of you.

[cheynovak]

Taking it slow

Summary: Follows up fanfiction 'Spikes and the beach city reunion' Y/N and Priestly decided to take it slow on whatever it was they just found with each other. Y/N sees it as a good thing, not knowing it's because Priestly is unsure of the age difference.

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. Likes/Share/Comments are appreciated

Priestly and Y/N spent nearly every evening together after that first kiss. It started with simple hangouts—late-night drives along the coast, sharing fries at the Beach City Grill, or getting lost in old record stores. They’d talk about everything: the wild, rebellious dreams they’d both used to have and how they’d grown since then.

Though neither of them used the word “dating,” it felt like it. Priestly would reach for her hand across the table, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her palm. Y/N would lean into him, feeling a warmth she hadn’t realized she’d missed since her teenage years.

They didn’t need to label it; it was theirs, and that was enough.

But Priestly had asked one thing—to keep things under the radar. At first, Y/N understood, even agreed. It was new, and they wanted to protect this fragile, precious thing they were building.

But as the weeks passed, she began to suspect there was more to his hesitation. She caught Priestly glancing around sometimes, like he was worried someone might be watching.

Little did she know that each time Tish would catch sight of them, she’d smirk, rolling her eyes, mocking Priestly with her devilish little laugh.

One evening during closing, Tish decided to confront Priestly while Y/N wasn’t around.

She leaned against the counter, watching him with a sly smile, eyes glinting with malice. “So, Boaz...” she sneered, crossing her arms, “how’s your little sugar baby doing? Isn’t it a little… inappropriate? Old man like you, running around with a kid?" Dirty old man "

But when he didn't answered her she added. "Chasing after young women… pathetic don't you think?”

Priestly felt a flicker of irritation but kept his voice even. “Not that it's any of your business Platicia. But we’re just taking things slow." He pushed the broom in her hands and left for the back. But not before turning around.

"And Y/N’s not a kid—she’s a grown woman. A beautiful woman who sees more than just the outside. I wish I had that gift, I wouldn't be drawn in by your poison.”

“Oh please,” Tish scoffed, flipping her hair back with a smirk. “You’re just embarrassed to admit it. You know everyone’s going to look at you and think you’re just another washed-up guy trying to relive his youth through some young girl."

"Whatever, Tish, it’s… over. Grow up and let me go.”

--

Next morning Y/N walked into the Beach City Grill with a spring in her step, she wanted to surprise Priestly since he seemed a bit down yesterday and this morning. Maybe sneak in a kiss before his shift got too busy. But when she leaned in, he turned away, his body stiff, his focus somewhere else.

“Uh, the usual?” he asked, not meeting her eyes.

Y/N felt her stomach sink. “Uh… yeah,” she replied, trying to keep her voice casual, but confusion seeped in. She watched him for a moment, waiting for the easy smile he usually had for her, the little spark in his eye when he saw her.

But today… there was none of that. Instead, he busied himself behind the counter, his attention fixed on everything except her.

Piper, working the front with him, glanced between them, noticing the strange tension. “You can take a seat, Y/N. I’ll bring the order when it’s ready,” she offered, her voice softer, like she sensed something was off.

“Oh… okay.” Y/N forced a small smile, nodding as she walked over to a booth in the corner. She tried to shake off the weird feeling that settled over her, tried to remind herself that maybe he was just having an off day.

Everyone had those, right?

But as she sat there, watching Priestly avoid her gaze, that sense of unease only grew. Every now and then, he’d glance her way, but his eyes would quickly dart away, his jaw tight. She could feel the space between them widening, and her mind spun, wondering if she’d done something wrong or if he was upset about something else.

When Piper finally brought her food over, she slid into the booth across from Y/N, a sympathetic look in her eyes. “Hey, everything okay with you two?” she asked gently, her voice low.

Y/N forced a small smile, but it faltered as she glanced over at Priestly, who was busying himself by cleaning the counter for the third time. “I… I’m not sure,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “He’s acting really strange. He won't even look at me.”

Piper nodded thoughtfully, glancing back at Priestly as well. “He’s been off all day, honestly. Maybe he’s just… I don’t know, going through something? Give him a bit of space. I’m sure he’ll talk to you when he’s ready.”

Y/N nodded, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Piper’s words gave her a bit of comfort, but it didn’t completely erase the ache building in her chest. She wanted to believe that Priestly was just having a rough day, but there was a tiny voice in her mind whispering doubts she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Y/N approached the counter, the uncomfortable feeling from earlier still lingering as she reached for her money. Priestly rang up her order without looking at her, his fingers drumming a quiet rhythm on the register as she handed over a few bills.

“So… tonight’s still happening, right?” she asked, keeping her voice casual but feeling a flutter of nerves. They’d planned a movie night at her place, and Y/N had been secretly hoping that he might finally stay the night.

Priestly glanced up, a quick flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, but he nodded, answering a little too quickly. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“Okay…” She gave him a small smile, though her heart still felt heavy as she turned to leave.

Later that night, when Priestly finally arrived at her place, it was like a switch had flipped. Whatever strange wall had been between them seemed to have melted away, and he was laughing, teasing her, the easygoing Priestly she’d fallen for all over again.

They settled in for the movie, curled up close on her couch, and for the first time that day, Y/N felt like she could finally relax.

As the movie played, she let her fingers trail down his arm, then his thigh, the warmth of him beneath her hand sparking something thrilling inside her.

She leaned over, pressing her lips to his neck, tasting the faint salt of his skin. His breath hitched, but just as she leaned in to kiss him again, she felt him tense.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice uncertain. “Do you… do you ever think of me as… you know, an old, dirty man?”

She pulled back, blinking in shock. “What? Why would you even say that?”

Priestly looked down, his fingers fidgeting as he hesitated. “Tish… she kind of planted the idea in my head. Said I was some washed-up guy chasing after a young girl. Said I was—”

“Stop.” She cut him off, her voice firm.

Without hesitation, she shifted, swinging a leg over his lap and straddling him, taking his face gently in her hands so he had no choice but to look her in the eyes. “Priestly, you are nothing like that,” she said, her gaze intense, leaving no room for doubt. “You’re kind, and thoughtful, and so damn good to me. I don’t care what anyone else says.”

He swallowed, searching her face, vulnerability flashing in his eyes. “I just… I don’t want you to regret being with me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

Y/N leaned in, her lips hovering just inches from his as she whispered, “You are helping me grow, see how a real relationship works." His eyes grew wide with that word: relationship.

"I don’t want anyone else, Priestly. I want you,” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, then to his lips, soft and lingering, before pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. “Every part of you.”

He let out a slow breath, his shoulders finally relaxing as his hands settled on her waist, pulling her closer. A faint smile curved his lips as he rested his forehead against hers. “You’re sure?” he asked, still needing just a little more reassurance.

She nodded, running her fingers through his hair, tracing the line of his jaw. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With that, Priestly closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was tender and full of all the things they’d both been holding back.

As Y/N’s fingers tangled in Priestly's hair, her lips parted as she gasped softly, feeling the heat building between them. Every kiss, every brush of his hands against her skin only made her want more. She could feel the intensity in his gaze, how he looked at her, checking in with her every step of the way, his thumb brushing along her cheek in a tender gesture that sent her heart racing.

Their eyes met, and she gave him a slight nod, her silent way of telling him she didn’t want him to stop. With a gentle but steady touch, he guided her back onto the couch, his hands sliding to her waist, his thumbs grazing her hips, making her shiver. She felt the warmth of his breath against her neck as he leaned down, his lips trailing along her collarbone, leaving a path of warmth in their wake.

Y/N’s hands found their way under his shirt, fingers gliding over the warm skin of his back, feeling the strength there as he hovered over her.

She let out a soft moan as his lips moved down over her shoulder to het stomach, and she tilted her head back, eyes half-lidded as she gave herself over to the moment, to him. The world outside faded, leaving just the two of them, wrapped up in each other’s warmth and intensity.

Priestly’s hands moved gently, fingers tracing along her sides as he slowly slid her clothes off, revealing her delicate black lace lingerie. He paused, eyes full of warmth and admiration as he took her in, his gaze lingering just long enough to make her feel both seen and desired.

He let his fingers brush over her bare skin, each touch making her breath hitch as he leaned down, taking his time. She arched toward him, pressing herself closer, seeking the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence.

The sight of this sexy man between her thighs made her moan even more. he looked up once more. "Absolutely sure you want me? Because once I have you I won'..."

"Please!" she urged him on. He smiled and dipped his head lower.

**The Next Morning**

Priestly slowly woke up, his senses overwhelmed by the warmth of the morning light and the softness of her body pressed against him.

He felt Y/N’s bare skin against his, her soft breath a sweet whisper in the quiet of the room. He had so many doubts and fear last night, but it didn’t matter now. All that mattered was the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath his hand, the delicate scent of her hair that lingered on his pillow.

His face was nestled against the nape of her neck, and it felt like the most natural place to be. His lips, still half-dazed from sleep, traced a gentle path down her neck and across her shoulder.

He felt her stir, a soft hum vibrating through her, making his heart race. She was waking up, but she didn’t seem to mind his attention. She shifted, her body turning toward him with a sleepy smile, meeting his gaze with those tired, yet sparkling eyes.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Priestly whispered, his voice rough with the remnants of sleep. She smiled softly, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was tender and slow.

“How do you feel?” he asked shyly, the words leaving him almost as a breathless question. He needed to know if last night had been as perfect for her as it had been for him.

“Like I'm on cloud nine,” she smiled, her eyes glowing as she kissed him again, this time with a little more urgency. Priestly looked at her, still unsure. His insecurities creeping in despite the warmth of her embrace. “Really?”

She raised an eyebrow, pushing herself up on her elbows, Priestly turned on his back. She crawled over him to look him in the eyes. “Really.” She paused, searching his expression for any trace of doubt.

“Did I... you know... was it OK?” Priestly still wasn't sure. Being with Tish had made him so unsure about himsel.

Y/N’s lips curled into a gentle smile. “OK?” She giggled softly, lifting her head slightly to get a better look at him. “Priestly… it was perfect.”

His brow furrowed, and he searched her face for any hint of hesitation. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

In response, she shifted, straddling him, her body now pressed flush against his, and for a moment, everything else faded. She could feel the tension in him, the way his breath hitched when their bodies aligned. Her eyes darkened with a hunger he couldn’t ignore, and the intimate silence spoke louder than words ever could.

“Babe…” she sighed softly, her lips trailing down his chest before she looked up again, meeting his eyes with a playful glint.

“I can’t get enough of you.” She kissed him deep, slow, with all the passion that was building between them. Her body moved against him, and he groaned softly, unable to resist her pull.

Priestly's heart pounded as his hands found their place against her skin, feeling the heat between them grow. His doubts melted away in the heat of her kiss, in the soft caress of her hands against him.

She was everything he had dreamed of in a woman, and now, she was here, with him.

"You're everything to me, Y/N," he whispered against her lips, as if the words were a confession, a promise. She smiled against his kiss, her lips never leaving his. "And you're exactly what I need."

--

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[popponn]

a room of two, in three parts. [itoshi sae x f!reader]

notes: a bday bby chose roommate!sae as bday fic so i gave her one. i too wrote this one sitting at 2 am. it was fun. little warning: a little suggestive at the end, but it's more of a wiener joke from a grade schooler more than anything as this is a romcom. there are obliviousness, pinning, allusion to your life being not the healthiest, and such as too, btw.

i.

Becoming a roommate with Itoshi Sae was honestly a freak accident more than anything.

It was like as if some gods decided they were bored and decided, “Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if we stick some failgirl with the shining beacon, the prodigal mid-fielder of Japan?” And then they pulled up everything they got so it became an unavoidable hot mess. Unavoidable enough that Sae’s money couldn’t save him before pressing the two of you with various ridiculous out-of-this-world circumstances as the final nail in the coffin.

Looking back, it was honestly a premise for an absurd comedy that should have ended up with Sae murdering you in cold blood, in the most hilarious way possible. And then, he would cover up everything with his money.

Yet, lo and behold, Itoshi Sae—stable career, not a really good reputation due to his wording to the press sometimes, your roommate for three years and counting—was laying on your lap whilst scrolling through his phone.

And like a confused poor soul you were, you merely let him as how it had always been. Your focus was away from the TV you were supposed to be watching, but like some trained pet, your hand never failed to comb Sae’s hair gently every few minutes or so. It honestly never really hit you how domestic you were with him sometimes.

“Sae,” you said as you still could feel your brain slowly blanking out.

“What?” Sae asked without putting down his phone.

(He spared you a glance, but upon finding a dumb, flat look on your face, Sae decided to just wait for what sort of shit you would soon do. Judging by the unfocused gaze you still let linger on the screen, Sae knew this had something to do with him.)

“Uh,” you answered dumbly.

“What are we?” you wanted to ask. “Are you like this with everyone?” you wanted to ask too, but it was a very dumb question that would earn you a dirty look. “Are you secretly a cat boy?” you wanted to ask, though probably risking getting a silent treatment for a week was dumb.

“What’s for dinner?” was definitely not what you want to ask.

So, in the end, you said, “Isn’t it about time for dinner?”

You looked down and found Sae taking a moment to stop scrolling without putting down his phone. Clearly just finishing checking the clock displayed on the upper corner of his screen, Sae answered, “Five minutes.”

Most the times, you would reply with a whine saying you were hungry. Then, with a mean glare that never truly meant anything, Sae would follow.

This time, you merely hummed, “Sure.”

(Sae sent you a sharp look. You did not notice as you returned your attention back to your TV.)

ii.

Despite the cocky rich guy aura Itoshi Sae exudes, honestly he wasn’t a terrible roommate. Even you dare say that during the first weeks of sharing a roof with him, he would rather pretend you did not exist whenever he was home. He was not a messy guy and just a bit occasionally unreasonable.

Who were you kidding—he was unreasonable most of the time. Pretty hard headed, pretty prideful sometimes, and would not hesitate to scar you for life with his words. It was just after he started getting softer on you that discussion was possible in the first place.

(That discussion too was followed up with several unnecessary shopping sprees prompted by Sae. According to him, it was so his money would not rot off. Sae never told you it started up as a way to say ‘thanks for taking care of the chore and my stuff when I was gone that one time’ and somehow became a routine that sat snuggly in his schedule during off seasons.)

But, even as years and seasons passed, one rule persisted.

Never disturb Itoshi Sae’s nap time.

Sadly, that rule wasn’t exactly registered in your brain—as it just pulled a 21 hours work for a deadline.

That was why, the moment you entered the bedroom, you didn’t bother to check whose bedroom you entered as you threw your body to the bed. Not knowing, your action just jolted Sae awake.

“What the fuck?” Sae muttered, sounding more than a little pissed. He glared at you sharply with voice still heavy and hoarse. “The hell you are doing here?” he continued at you, who were burying your face on his pillows.

“Wha…?” you groggily turned your head towards him with much efforts. You couldn’t really muster the strength to do much, as you used what was left to plop on your stomach and stayed in a very awkward position with half of your feet out of the bed. But, it was Sae’s voice, so you tried.

When you saw him glaring at you, you tried not to groan and cry. Though, you supposed Sae caught that desire from your expression alone, as he said, “…did you just finished the deadline?”

“Uhum,” you answered, your cheek pressing itself to Sae’s pillow. Slowly, you could recognize his smell around you. It was comforting—perhaps after years of sharing a home, you had came to associate him with it. “Gim’me five minutes… just let me gather my shit together and I will be gone… soon,” you continued, drowsy. A part of you hoped Sae would be merciful enough to agree and kick you off his bed later, because you had no energy to get your phone and set a timer or to walk to your room.

(Sae watched as you slowly drift to your dreamland. Was it some years ago or someone else, he would have kicked you as hard as he could. Yet, it was you and a part of him wanted to flick you in the forehead or pulled your cheek or simply put the tips of his fingers on your heavy eyes.)

A few seconds passed and Sae finally let out a grumpy sigh. “Just sleep,” he said as you closed your eyes. You felt the bed shift as he threw his body back to bed. You chuckled silently and dreamt of him petting you in the head.

You woke up four hours later to a note saying Sae was off on an afternoon jog.

iii.

“Honestly,” you groaned, leaning against the shopping cart with an exaggerated pout that definitely annoyed Sae. “Why should I also eat healthily? You are the high profile athlete here. I’m just some lowly roommate.”

“Because we share a fridge, stupid,” Sae said while choosing between Lettuce A and Lettuce D. Lettuce C and B laid inside the cart, fresh and green, along with the things Sae had bought. You couldn’t understand what were the differences between them—but, hey, he was the more observant one between the two of you.

“Why don’t you buy another fridge then?” you asked, unironically starting to miss the days of instant food after living with him as afterwards it was filled with whatever his strict diet allow. When Sae didn’t even bother to grace you with even a disgusted look, you continued, “Or at least let me have some fries—”

Before you could finish, Sae threw both lettuces in his hands violently towards the cart. You winced for the lettuces’ sakes as you found him send you a look that was somehow angry and flat at the same time, “I’m not gonna let you eat fries and brag while I watch.”

“Even if I buy it with my own money?” you piped up with a small voice. Sae’s face somehow got even flatter and you gave up, “…fine.”

Sae hummed as he slightly pulled the cart towards his direction, indicating for you to push it and follow him. As the two of you walked, you could hear him continuing the previous unserious conversation, “You seriously need to learn to stop complaining about this.”

“This?” you prompted.

“Eating actual foods,” Sae answered. “Your life schedule would make some coaches cry by how messy it is. At least learn to eat properly.”

“Rude!” you protested. “I know my life is not as get together as yours, but it’s honest work, you know!”

“Work harder then,” Sae bluntly chided as he gave you a glance, his steps slowing down as the two of you reached the cashier.

You didn’t bother to check why he was stopping. Knowing him, he would buy you some low sugar candies as peace offerings for the previous argument. It was a habit that the both of you carried to give each other peace offerings after whatever disagreement, despite understanding on both side of how most of them were mere debates that exist to fill in the silence. You wouldn’t complain though—getting something or doing something for each other without a word was a nice thing in life anyway.

With that in mind, you let your mind wander to what sort of small thing you could do to Sae as your ‘peace offering’, not paying any attention to what he bought.

When Sae stepped beside you, you asked, “What did you get?”

Sae hummed, “Something to shut you up.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, “Huh?”

“Well,” Sae added an afterthought. “If I don’t read things wrong, that is.”

You didn’t really got it, nonetheless you still chuckled and gave him a light shove, “Sure, sure. As if the esteemed Itoshi Sae could be wrong.”

“Don’t start,” Sae responded dryly.

You merely smiled in silence and went back to your thoughts, waiting for the line.

(What Sae bought were 3 different flavors of condoms, but this is a story for another time. Though, of course, it ends well, as it had always been between Sae and you.)

[so-long-soldier-writes]

New Year's Kiss

kai parker x reader

summary: it's tradition for new year's to start with a kiss... just like it's tradition to kiss under a mistletoe. and unfortunately, as traditional as mystic falls is, there's no way out but through

tags: holidays / holiday party, kissing, crushes, mutual pining, kai vs his feelings, soft!kai

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this is a stupid, cheesy, short piece i wanted to write up for the new year. my brain's tired and i highly doubt i'll make it to midnight 💤 (i didn't sleep last night) cheers! 🥂

The minute you walk into the Salvatores’ kitchen, Caroline makes a friendly joke. “Are you gonna share a New Years’ kiss with your mistletoe buddy, Y/N?” 

You feel your face get hot immediately. “I’m not planning on kissing anyone to be honest with you.”

“Aw, but it’s tradition!” Damon enters, holding two bottles of bourbon. “Even if your partner sucks.”

You and Caroline both give him a side-eye. “Be nice,” the blonde says. “But he is partially right, Y/N, it’s tradition. And good luck for the new year.”

“I thought that part only applied to couples.”

“You never know.”

Her vague response has you raising an eyebrow, but she gives no further explanation. Her attention is then taken away by more arriving guests. 

“Be honest,” Damon whispers to you, “was he at least a good kisser?”

“I’m not telling you that!”

“Fine, keep your secrets! I’ll find out, eventually, either way.”

“Just…” your eyes land on Caroline’s unattended cookies, “go away!”

“Ooookay! See you later, Y/N.”

Truth is, Kai was a great kisser. One of the most skilled you’ve ever had. But that was a one time thing, and an accident, might you add. He just happened to be standing under the stupid mistletoe, and you just happen to also walk under it to pass by him. But of course you lingered a little too long to give him a smile, and Elena shouted across the room to point out the green, hanging plant above your heads. 

And the girls of Mystic Falls, deep rooted in tradition, practically begged you to kiss. Kai’s face was red with blush, but you bet it was more embarrassment than anything. You were wracked with nerves and probably shaking. Still, you think you both pulled it off well. His lips were much softer than you had expected, as were his hands as they cupped your face. He was uncharacteristically gentle, and smiled at you afterwards. You had your hands on his chest and hoped you were at least half as good. 

Neither of you spoke after, but he did wink at you on his way out the door that night. Or maybe it was a blink… you’re not sure. 

Regardless, you don’t mean to repeat the incident. Especially not during another one of Caroline’s holiday parties. 

Because while you loved kissing Kai, it totally ruined everything. You’ve had a crush on him for weeks but have been too shy to say anything. And everyone knows carefully-watched holiday kisses are never a good start to anything more. 

You sigh, then stuff a third cookie in your mouth. 

“I’d be careful if I were you,” comes Kai’s voice out of nowhere.

You startle, jumping, and hitting your knee on the cabinet door below you. “Shit, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” He nods to the cookies. “Caroline left those out in the open? Bold move.”

“I have to run when I see her coming back.”

“Oh you definitely will. Especially when she sees how many are missing.” He pops one in his own mouth. “Y’know… I don’t even know how I get invited to these types of things.”

“Caroline’s all about bringing people together for the holidays.”

“I see. Well, see you around, Y/N.” This time, he winks and you’re sure it’s a wink. Your knees almost buckle. 

“You too.”

For the majority of the night, you manage to avoid Kai. The two of you seem to make laps around the snack table; he stands by it for a good ten minutes, then migrates, and you go stand by it for a while. The whole night, you will yourself to talk to him, but can’t find the confidence. Instead, you lurk from afar, feeling your heart speed up when he smiles, feeling a twinge of sadness when he’s alone. 

At eleven thirty, the energy in the mansion seems to rise by ten percent. Sounds and streamers fill the air on top of the already loud voices. Whoever isn’t still talking is dancing in the living room. To the left, Bonnie’s pushing the couch off the edge of the carpet for more room. Elena, meanwhile, has the remote and turns up the tv a few dials. Everyone’s engaged, even Stefan, who was falling asleep a couple minutes ago, but then was forced to his feet by Caroline. 

Celebration carries onto the ball dropping before you know it. The ten second countdown has begun and the shouts to find partners grow aggressive. You try to shrink into the corner, waving at Caroline to turn her gaze from you. 

7…

6…

5…

A tap on your shoulder surprises you. When you move to face the mysterious person, your throat goes dry at the sight of Kai. 

“Hey, mistletoe.”

“Hi.”

“So, um, doesn’t seem like we’re gonna be able to get out of this tradition, either,” he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “and you’re the closest to my proximity.” That was a lie. The last time you pointed him out, he was all the way across the room. “So would you…”

2…

1…

“Yes.”

He kisses you the instant the television crowd erupts in chants. He’s confident this time; less hesitant, more eager. You can’t help but kiss him back with the same passion. 

A whistle carries from somewhere in the room, but you both ignore it. Kai joins his other hand with his first, now holding your cheeks with both. You can feel the smile tugging on his lips, lingering, before he finally breaks it off. 

“I’ve waited all week to do that,” he admits.

His words take a minute to sink in. “What?!”

He stares back as if trying to read you. You look down, unable to hold his intense eye contact. Kai only seems to take that as an invitation to hook a finger on your chin and lift your head back up. 

“I-” his eyes take your breath away and you find yourself incapable of speaking.

“Do you not want it?”

“No, no, I do. I liked kissing you,” you force yourself to confess.

He cocks his head. “So what’s wrong?”

“I’m, uh… did- did you like it?”

He seems a little taken off guard by the question being flipped. He licks his lips. “Yes.”

You look out into the living room and see everyone celebrating. For once, no one’s watching you. “I like you, Kai. Like, I don’t just like kissing you, I like you.”

“Like a crush?” His eyes are amused, yet genuine. 

It feels safe enough to continue, “yes.”

He’s quiet for a while. His hand drops your chin to grab a strawberry, and you watch him eat the entire thing before he finally responds. “I have these feelings that I don’t understand. Whenever I see you, or hear your laugh, or even if someone mentions you, I get this weird feeling in my body, like a fluttering. Is that a crush?”

You giggle gently and his eyes snap up to you. “Yes, that sounds like it. At least, that’s what I get when I think of you.”

“So… if two people both have a crush on each other, does that mean they can kiss for real? And not have it be an excuse brought on by two dumb holiday traditions?”

Your heart is racing so fast, it might jump out of your chest. “If they want to, yes.”

“Good. Because I do. I want to kiss you again. Do you?”

“Mhm. But um…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well sometimes, people with crushes on each other start to date. That means they can kiss whenever they want, and also spend more time together… if you- they want that, too.”

Kai smiles. For a moment, you can’t tell if his questions about feelings were real, or if he were just testing out the waters to get you to admit your own, but you quickly realize you don’t care. Not when he’s looking at you like that. 

“I do… want that. I would like to date you, Y/N.”

“I would, too.”

“Really?”

“You have no idea how much.”

“Mhhmm, try to show me,” he says, leaning in to close the gap between your lips. 

You laugh, accepting the challenge, and deepen his kiss with your hands gently on his face. A kiss of your own volition, without any pressure. A kiss to start a new relationship in a fresh, new year. 

[starryeyedjanai]

it takes two, not three (but i’m here anyway) — part 2

stomarol 5+1 | E | 880 words | Read Chapter 2 on AO3 Previous Part

It’s at the drive-in that things start to get a little weird.

Steve has never really thought about Tommy and Carol in any way other than friendly, even with some of the things they all talk about in front of each other.

Even in high school, when Tommy was describing Carol’s tits after he touched them for the first time, it wasn't something Steve really felt was sexual, just a weird thing guys talked about sometimes. He didn't look at Carol after that and suddenly think about how pillowy soft they might feel or whatever flowery thing Tommy said about them—it was never like that for him.

But being confronted with the fact that the two of them are sexual beings who have sex with each other, probably often, who are currently hard up for it because of their strict parents, he feels like it’s some kind of revelation.

At the drive in, Tommy climbs into the backseat after a half hour of passing the popcorn and candy back and forth, saying he wants to cuddle and if Steve isn't up for it, Carol’s more than willing.

Steve doesn't say anything, doesn't even think anything of it until he hears the wet sounds of them kissing in the backseat. They’re hooking up in the backseat of his car and Steve isn't sure whether he’s supposed to pretend he can’t hear them or see them in the rear-view mirror.

They’ve kissed in front of him before. They’ve been friends for years, of course he’s seen them kiss. This doesn't feel like any of those times.

They’re making out from what he can see in the rear-view mirror and Steve rolls his eyes at first because it’s just like the other day when he drove them to the Skull Rock again.

They had begged and he’d given in again because he’s weak.

He stayed in the car, telling them that they could go make out in the heat of the midday sun because he wasn't leaving the comfort of the AC this time, but they stayed. Steve brought a book along to read because he wasn't entirely sure they wouldn't try to bully him out of his car anyway, so he read it with the soft sounds of them making out in the back.

He couldn't block them out, could hear them the entire time, just soft kisses and softer whispers to each other. It was kind of sweet, getting a glimpse into this part of their life, the part they don't share with him, the only part they don't share with him.

It’s not sweet now.

Because Steve can hear the rustling of clothes and Carol is moaning far too much for just making out, so Steve glances another look at them in the mirror, moving in his seat to see them more fully and—

Tommy’s got his hand between Carol’s legs, and suddenly the air in the car feels a lot thicker, and suddenly it’s a lot harder for Steve to breathe.

He doesn't really know what to do, if he should say something or not, if he should stop them.

He tears his eyes away, but he can still hear them, still hear their labored breaths, the sounds of their mouths sliding together.

He’s getting hard and this is so uncomfortable. He’s being confronted with the fact that his two best friends, arguably his only real friends, are sexual beings. He’s seeing them in a way he never really has before.

It’s a weird thing, the difference between knowing your friends objectively have sex and knowing.

He thinks it’s shock that keeps him from saying anything, but he doesn't glance back in the mirror again. He just keeps his eyes on the screen in front of him, not really taking in anything that’s happening in the movie.

All he can think about is them, like all his brain capacity for anything else is closed off because he can hear them.

All he can hear is Carol, moaning like she’s got her mouth pressed right up against his ear. All he can hear is the wet sounds of Tommy’s fingers in her. All he can hear is Tommy’s voice, whispering, “You gonna come?”

They don't talk about it, not when Steve drives them each home with the car still smelling like sex—like Carol’s pussy—and they don't talk about it the next day either, when he drives them to the pool to hang out.

It’s almost like it never happened, like maybe Steve imagined it if not for the vivid memory of it shoved right to the forefront of his brain in a way that won't let him forget. He can't forget the way Carol sounded as Tommy fingered her in the backseat of his car. Can’t forget the way the air in the car got muggy and damp from the heavy breathing, can’t forget the way Carol sounded when she came.

So they don't talk about it, and Steve thinks it’s a fluke, a one time thing. It only happened because they haven't had time alone together and they got caught up in the moment or something.

It’s fine, it’s not going to happen again.

Or—he tries to tell himself that until it does happen again.

Part 3

[sweet-honey-tears]

Remembering

Katsuki Bakugo x Self-Conscious!GenderNeutral Reader x Eijiro Kirishima

Mostly just Kat x Reader with a hint of Kiri. Still getting use to this kinda of writing, tips are always welcomed🤍🤍

Spelling is bleh and I’ll probably delete later idk- still not to comfy with this kinda writing.lol.

WARNING:Mention of self harm(scratching), tell me if I missed any!

Kat remembered the first day he met you like it was yesterday. ShittyHair had introduced him to you, if only by accident. The sounds of you two dumbasses' laughter filled the common area as you both walked in dripping water. The storm, which he warned ShittyHair about, had snuck up on both of you.

Bakugou remembered scoffing, all before his eyes landed on you. ShittyHair, being well ShittyHair, gave you his sweatshirt to try and protect you from the storm. It hung on your smaller limbs, dripping water onto the floor under you, a small puddle forming.

“Who’s extra?” The look had him, fuck his heart broke a little. You stopped laughing and instead shifted on your sopping shoes. When you side-eyed Kiri for help, fuck he hated it. Why hell did he feel like this for some dumbass extra!?

Kiri, being ever the savior of moments like these, threw his arm around you, yanking you to his side.

“Bakubro! This is y/n!” Bakugou remembered hearing the name before. Mina kept droning on about some extra she met at a concert. Their quirk could manipulate moods through their singing. Then Denki, Kiri, and Sero met you at the park. Mina pointed you out, and Denki, being the dumbass he was, scared the shit out of you by yelling your name. Sero had told him the story to Denki’s embarrassment.

Bakugou to his credit, didn’t scoff or glare at you. “Fuck’in mermaid” he grumbled, before to his shock, his hand moved out, waiting. He remembered the look in your eyes, how they sparkled a bit at the offer. Your cold, clammy hand shaking his own warm, rougher one. Fuck, they were so cold. “You dumbasss go change, your dripping water everywhere.”

Then there was that moment Kiri told him more about you. It was 8 months after he first met you. You were passed out on the floor, Mina laying across you and Sero and Denki asleep on the other couch. It was quiet, just Kiri and him watching some shitty horror movie. A predictable scream rattled from the film and then Kiri spoke.

“I don’t want to sound unmanly-but I... Bakugou need you to not tell anyone this.” The look in Kiri's eye was haunted. Weight, so much weight. The weight landed on his own heart too after that. You were self-conscious. It’s why Kiri and you clicked, bonding over the feeling of being less than. You told Kiri about how you were scared of weight, gaining any. You were petrified of failure, of falling behind and being left alone by friends again. How you clawed at yourself when you were younger because you hated your body, your quirk. You had a drawback, a major one. You would feel emotionally drained or shitty about yourself if you overused it in the slightest. Bakugou gazed down at your sleeping form. You were softer than the rest of them, sure, but you weren’t training to be a hero. You were going into psychology. Your classes were about the psyche, the brain, trauma, and whatever the fuck else.

“Fucking dumbass” he whispered.

“Bakugou-” Kiri’a voice was sharp, a warning sort of tone. There was a pause of silence.

“I like the shitty mermaid.” He growled into his palm. He had started to already regret the words when Kiri blurted out.

“I do too”

It was a year and a half after graduation. You had pretty much been living at his and Kiri’s shared apartment.

It had been midnight, way past his usual bedtime. But you were up, you had called him and he had fucking answered. It was one of those rare nights you weren’t sleeping there, and you hadn't gone out with one of them. Instead, you were dragged to some stupid club with one of your coworkers. In a flurry of tears, you spoke to him, about something he couldn’t understand. And then the words ‘fatass’ and ‘I’m an idiot’ left your lips and it clicked. Kiri told him about these calls. Days or nights you drowned in your thoughts, but they usually happened because of your quirk. What the fuck happened? Why would you use it at a club?

Bakugo had been reminded of the fact you usually reached out to Kirishima. He was softer and able to talk you down better than himself. Kiri was also more likely to be awake too. But Kirishima was on a mission.

Bakugou didn’t enjoy speeding, but fuck he could care less at the moment. Fuck the law.

The moment Bakugou reached the club he saw you. You looked like a wounded animal as you moved to him. Head hung low and your fingers clenched at your sides. You had been protecting yourself, trying to comfort yourself. The Bouncer gave Bakugou the most pitiful look he had ever seen from someone in that profession give. Fuck.

The ride to his and Kiri's apartment was mostly quiet, with you sniffling apologies every so often. When you both entered, it only took 5 minutes for him to get you to start talking. You were crying, sniffling, and pacing around. You blubbered about how you were stupid, ugly, and useless. Sentences weaved together till he gathered this: They made you use your quirk. They forced you to sing them into some frenzy bullshit at the club before pushing you out. Calling you a name he couldn’t and didn’t want to remember.

Bakugou can’t remember much after that, but you were shaking in his arms, allowing them to cage you in.

“You’re a fucking dumbass, ya know that?” he gruffed. He felt your hiccup, the tug of your hands on his sleeping shirt. “You can’t see shit, even after all these years. You’re fucking beautiful” his arms had pulled you incredibly close. “Ya’ant stupid,” he had mused, his rough fingers moving in circles on your back. “You’re fucking brilliant. And beautiful.” He stopped, cotton filling his mouth. “And I fucking like you- you Shitty mermaid.”

About a year after that-

Kiri had been there to help you move in with them.

[crybaby-bkg]

sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: bit of PDA, beginnings of a panic attack, unresolved sexual tension, brief violence in the end. Word Count: 6.8k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

“So, let me get this straight,” Vanity says around the food in her mouth before swallowing loudly, making you chuckle. “Number four hero, Dynamight, not only moved you into his apartment, asked you out to become your boyfriend, but he’s also making it public by taking you to the annual hero gala?” 

The silence stretches on in the quietness of the warehouse, both of you looking at each other over the bowl of noodles you share. You pretend to be thinking, scratching your head a little before humming. 

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” You shrug faux nonchalantly, before a huge grin breaks your face. “This whole thing is…wild to me.” You whisper though, voice suddenly small as everything starts to sink in. Just about a year ago, you had made it your mission to take Dynamight down for some sexist comment he made. And now you’re comfy cozy with each other, sharing kisses and falling asleep together on the couch. 

“Yeah, I would’ve never imagined this for you, but, I’m happy. You look happy.” Vanity tells you with a small smile, her eye casted low before she looks up to take all of you in. There seems to be some kind of glow on your skin, the air around you lighter and softer, something she doesn’t think she’s ever seen before. 

“I’m jealous,” Vanity states plainly, before she swallows thickly again, looking around the room. You reach out to grab her hand, feel how it shakes in your grip before you squeeze her, a concerned look passing over your face. 

“Really? What for?” You ask her, head tilted to the side. She places her chopsticks down, gathers both of your hands, and it breaks your heart the way her chin wobbles ever so slightly. 

“Of the fact that you can trust men again.” She whispers, voice shaking with every syllable. 

“It’s not all men,” you interject but she shakes her head quickly at you, her hair falling in front of her eyepatch. 

“Yeah, I know, but its one. And its one that has so much status and power in the world, and yet he’s actually not a piece of shit.” You both laugh softly at that, you giving her an unsure face that says, ‘really?’  before you two laugh again. The room falls silent, sounds of distant bustling sliding up from the downstairs area of other vigilantes moving about. 

“I’m jealous that you can work through your issues, that you can progress in a relationship, and that I just can’t seem to get it right.” Vanity says after a while, squeezing your hand tight in hers as her eye starts to water. You want to hold her close, like how she’s always held you whenever you struggled, but she keeps you at arms length for the time being. 

“I want to build that trust again, but one of them took my fuckin’ eye, ‘Dusa.” Vanity snarls out, her mouth trembling, her teeth grit, her cheeks muddled with quick dropping tears. You feel your own jaw clench, get a flash of that scared and broken and bloody girl on your doorstep, crying for help, calling you her savior. It makes your chest tighten, as you shrug away a tear quickly when it falls.

“How can I work through my own shit when all of my resentment is built up, ready to explode straight from my fuckin’ empty socket?” She asks you, head bowing when a sob tremors through her body. You hang your head with her, tears steadily leaking into your lap, into the bowl shared between you. Ever since you met Vanity, she had never shown any interest in men, but that didn’t surprise you, given her past. But you would’ve never guessed that you finally finding a man that’s actually trustworthy and a better person than you believed them to be, would rake up these kind of feelings. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumble out, feeling her pain course throughout your own body. You understand her, her troubles, her past, her trauma. You were captured, yes, but she was maimed. Mutilated beyond repair. What could you do in a moment like this? How could you even have a moment like this, knowing what she’s been through? How selfish could you be to share the happiness you’re experiencing, the growth, knowing that she is still trapped in this warehouse to escape the demons that lurk outside, ready to pluck out the other eye? 

“Please don’t apologize.” She tells you through a hiccup, using your hand that she’s still holding to wipe away her tears. “You shouldn’t not share your joy with me because of my own issues. It just makes me wish I was as strong as you to work through them.” She finally looks up to give you a lopsided smile, squeezing your hand in hers. Your lip wobbles as you shake your head at her. 

“I’m not strong though,” you whisper, clenching your eyes shut tight before you force them back open. “I kept my gun on me the first two months of staying there. I had a panic attack every time I had to leave my room because I thought he would attack me. 

“I still fight with myself every time I want to further the relationship because I’m scared; I think I’m undeserving; because I think he might take advantage of me, even though my mind knows he won’t.” Your voice is shaky, tears escaping, as you hold onto Vanity so tight, afraid that if you let go, she might somehow float away. 

“But my body is weak.” You admit, and she nods in understanding at that. “It remembers the pain that I’ve gone through, even though I’ve tried time and time to forget it.” You whisper. You think back to recently when Katsuki hugged you from behind and kissed your neck, and how it made you panic and push him away, the confused and hurt look on his face. You hadn’t meant to respond back like that, but your body holds onto all of the times your captor had done you the same way before he would drain you of your quirk. 

“I’m not strong, but I am working through it day by day, and he helps me in any way that he can.” You murmur, head bowed as you bite at your lip until you taste copper. You think back on how Bakugou bounced back from the confusion, how he apologized, how he comforted you when you became frustrated with yourself, how he now makes a little noise before coming up behind you as to not startle you. You’ve started to accept back hugs a little easier, now. 

“You just have to work through it.” You promise Vanity, giving her a pointed look before you pull her into you. She falls into your embrace, squeezing you tight as she inhales deeply. Her exhale is shaky, but her words are firm. 

“I will.” She nods once, her hair tickling your chin. You two stay there for a while, ignoring the passersby in the hallway who duck away to give you two privacy. After a few moments, does an idea strike you, and you whisper into her hair, 

“When you think you’re starting to get a little better, I know a certain redhead hero I could introduce you to.” You singsong, laughing loudly when Vanity pulls away quickly, holding you by your shoulders as she gives you a serious look. 

“If it’s the hunky unbreakable one, I wouldn’t be entirely opposed.” She tells you with a nod, making you laugh even harder. She joins you, both of you holding onto each other before falling over onto the floor together, just barely avoiding the noodles. 

You two lay there for a while, giggling, making your little inside jokes none are privy to, and you like it that way. You love the new life you’re starting for yourself, but you miss this more than anything. You just want Vanity to be there with you, to become better, to heal. It’s the only thing you’ll ever wish for in life. 

…

The night of the gala comes up quicker than you had anticipated it. You had been working as a hero for about ten weeks now, still never giving the press your hero name since Katsuki and Deku had convinced you to wait to drop it at the gala. 

It would be a big sort of thing, that you’re not only coming out officially as a hero, but as Dynamight’s girlfriend. You weren’t too big of a fan of the girlfriend thing being such a big deal since you were your own person first, but you could understand why it would be big news. Dynamight hasn’t been seen publicly with a partner in six years, so everyone would expectedly make a big hoopla about it. 

So, with all this pressure falling onto your shoulders, nervous isn’t even the fucking word for how you’re feeling. You had taken the day off from hero training, driven by Katsuki to some hotel just a few blocks away from where the gala would be taking place. He had told you that you would be getting ready there, because they had an official hair and makeup artist to help you, specifically. 

What you would be wearing was previously designed by Eddie a few weeks ago. Bakugou had already picked out his outfit; a silk ash gray button up paired with black slacks. But you wanted something a little flashier than that, just barely. Something to push you a little out of your comfort zone (just barely!) because you wanted your official first outing to be memorable. But—

“My chest is out.” You whisper as you sit in the makeup chair, hair already dolled up, as they bring your dress out to showcase it on a rolling coat rack. Your stomach sinks and cramps, your hands suddenly getting clammy, and you fight the urge to wipe the quickly beading sweat from your upper lip. 

“Why is my chest out? This wasn’t the original design I agreed to. Where’s Eddie?” Your voice is going a mile a minute, shaking as you take in the dress that was almost—so close—to being perfect. You look over to Bakugou who’s buttoning up his shirt, eyebrows pinched in confusion. 

“He dropped the dress off and left right back out. This isn’t what you wanted?” He asks, head cocked in confusion as he rushes over to stand beside you. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the pretty sight but—but this isn’t what you wanted. 

“No,” you snap at him, quickly standing from the makeup artist’s chair, flittering around the room in search of your phone. “No, I wanted this design but higher up on the neck. My chest is supposed to be covered.” You whisper frantically, feeling your skin get hot at the thought of what could happen—the media sees your tattoo, puts the pieces together, condemns you before your hero career can even take off from the ground. You’d be exposed to everyone, and all of those who were connected to you would go down with you. 

How would the media react knowing that Dynamight is dating a former vigilante? One who so many people had deemed as a nuisance, as a villain, as someone who should slink back into the shadows of where they came from? You would ruin him and Yuu and Deku alike, knowing that they put their careers on the line for you, under the condition that you never reveal your past. 

What the fuck are you gonna do? Will Katsuki kick you out if you fuck up his career? Will you become homeless, loveless? What the fuck? 

“Don’t worry, I got you.” Katsuki says, suddenly standing in front of you. He holds your upper arms gently, his head ducked down so that you’ll finally look up at him. When you do, your eyes are frantic, full of tears, as the endless amount of possibilities of how you could screw up everyone around you comes crashing down onto you, the weight of your shoulders sagging. 

You don’t get to utter a word before Katsuki flitters off, pulling the makeup artist with him into a conjoined room. He’s already on the phone by the time he closes the door, voice hushed as you go back to stand in front of the almost perfect dress. 

Eddie, you think to yourself as you wrap your arms around your body tightly, what happened? What happened to the perfection you promised you would make me? How could you get so close and yet fall so far?

The dress is damn near everything you asked for. It’s a midnight black with blue tints when the lights hit it, covered from head to toe in sparking gems. There’s a slit up to your knee on either side, the back curving down just beneath your shoulder blades. The chest is supposed to be a halter top, similar to your hero outfit but instead, it dips down low so your cleavage can be exposed. How could something so close to perfection, wind up so short? 

Everything else is right—the earrings, the necklace, the rings, the shawl, the shoes. You were so confident about tonight, so sure that you would finally feel comfortable in wearing what you wanted to wear without gross men leering at you and trying to touch you in public. But now, you’re not even sure if you can still attend. Disappointment gnaws at your flesh, as you sink back into the makeup chair, letting a few tears fall freely. No need to worry about fucking up your makeup since you’ll probably have to return home earlier than expected. 

You’re about to stand to go to the bathroom, when the conjoining door suddenly opens. Bakugou emerges with the makeup artist, and you can see him tucking some papers into a nearby drawer before the makeup artist returns to her station. She starts picking around a few things, mumbling to herself all the while. You glance at her before looking back to Katsuki, hopping out of the chair as you walk over to him briskly. 

“What did you do?” You whisper-shout to him, afraid of what answer you may receive. But he only twists his mouth a few times, looking down his nose at you before folding his arms over his chest. 

“Made the makeup artist sign a NDA.” He answers after a few beats, gaze falling away from you before he looks up through his lashes. Your eyebrows downturn in confusion though, glancing back at the artist who now stands ready with a smile on her face. 

“For what?” You ask, turning back to him. Katsuki places a gentle hand on your shoulder, covered by the baby blue robe the hotel had gifted you when you arrived. He watches your face as he slowly starts to pull the robe down your shoulder, your eyes widening in confusion, face burning at the thought of what he might be trying to do in front of the few people still in the room. 

“So she can cover your chest and not spill what she saw to the media.” Katsuki whispers, eyes falling to your chest when the edge of crimson ink comes into sight. Your throat tightens at that, in surprise, mouth falling open although no words come tumbling out.  

“Your identity is safe, okay? We’ll talk to Eddie about his fuck up tomorrow.” Katsuki promises you, pulling the shoulder of your robe back up. You blink up at him, unsure of what to say about what he’s done for you. 

He…helped you, when he saw the panicked look on your face. Didn’t respond back in anger when you snapped at him, but instead found a solution that would calm your nerves. What could you say to him for something so small and yet so life changing?

“Thank you so much.” You whisper to him, pulling him down by the front of his shirt for a kiss, something soft and sweet and airy. You rest against his mouth, eyebrows scrunching up lightly, a confession dying to fall from your lips,

“I…” love you, you finish in your head, but your words die out when Bakugou’s assistant barges into the room. 

“Twenty-five more minutes until we have to leave, guys!” He calls out, smiling at the two of you when you both take a step away from each other, shy. When he ducks back out, you and Bakugou share a look, one that says a thousand words, even though he can’t seem to form his lips around the right thing. When he seems to have swallowed down everything wrong, he opens his mouth, but the makeup artist is beside you, whisking you away. 

“We’re gonna cover that tattoo, alright? It shouldn’t budge at all tonight.” She tells you with a grin, steering you back to the makeup chair to touch up what you messed up on your face first. She’s gentle in her ministrations, despite the many times she has to tell you to look up or down because you keep looking at Katsuki. He’s leaning against the wall, watching you get everything done since he finished getting dressed already himself. 

“Could you remove this for me?” The makeup artist asks, her voice quiet as she stands in front of you. You look back over to her, confused, before you realize what she’s referring to. 

“Uh, yeah,” you whisper, glancing back over to Katsuki, who’s suddenly so very interested in his phone, despite how his cheeks are a muddled red. It’s not like he hasn’t seen them before, you think to yourself. 

But you shrug off your robe until it fall in your lap, your strapless bra being pushed down a little so the artist can have full access to your chest. She works quietly as she blends the makeup into your skin, the products cold and the brushes soft. She powders you down after what feels like hours of repetitive movements, fine tuning everything until she steps back with a smile on her face. 

“Here,” she says as she hands you a mirror. The sight almost unnerves you, as you think back on—reminded so cruelly of—the person you used to be when your chest was still empty. On one hand; your identity is still hidden, you keep everyone around you safe, your chest a blank canvas, a sight you haven’t seen in so long. But, on the other hand; you feel naked, stripped of who you are, of what you became, of what made you you. You know its for the greater good, but at what cost? 

“It looks great. Thank you.” You say robotically, nodding your head to the artist. She smiles at you before bowing her head, going to pack up her stuff as Bakugou’s assistant peeks back in. 

“Ten more minutes!” He announces. That makes you spring into action though, waving goodbye to the artists’ that leave you to get changed, as you take your dress down from its hanger. It’s only you and Bakugou left in the hotel room, and the air becomes charged when the door closes for the final time. 

“Need a hand?” He asks you, already plucking the dress from your hands as you fully undo your robe. You stand in front of him in only your undergarments, suddenly feeling just a bit too vulnerable in front of the handsome hero. 

“Of course I do.” You tell him, gesturing for him to unzip the dress. He only smiles though, lending his bulky shoulders when you need some stability to step into the pretty dress, hiking it up your hips for you. When the thin spaghetti straps sit on your skin, does he stand back, but not too far, never. He’s chest to chest with you, and he smells better than you could have ever imagined; something soft like fresh sheets and folded laundry with a hint of icy mint. Your lids lower as you take him in, as he does the same to you. 

“You want me to zip you up?” Katsuki asks softly, hands finding your hips. You nod to him once, gasping when he turns your body for you, his hips slotted against your backside. You say nothing to the poking at your lower back, looking over your shoulder at him as he ever so slowly zips your dress up, hands palming your hip all the while, his fingers gentle where they creep up your spine. 

Without a word, Katsuki leans down to press the softest kiss to your neck, your jaw tilting to allow him more access. He presses you back against him, the feeling of his hardness making you gasp, knees suddenly getting weaker than you think they’ve ever been. 

He holds you close to him, your breathing getting heavy when his hands start to inch around to the front of the dress, sliding down to hook inside the slit. His palm glides over the inside of your thighs, the other reaching around to cup you gently through the fabric, petting you with thick fingertips. 

“When we get home.” You tell him in a sigh, taking everything in you to pull away from him. When you turn around, Katsuki is grinning, wiping a hand down his face as the other rests on his hip. You try to ignore the obvious bulge in his pants, face burning, as you turn to pick up your shoes. 

“Help me with these, and don’t make it horny.” You tell him, trying to hold as much authority in your voice that you can, but its shaky at best. Bakugou outright laughs at that, shameless, and kneels down in front of you to buckle up your low heels. He can’t help but press a feather soft kiss to the outside of your knee when he finishes. 

After that, everything goes smoothly. You’re rushed out to the car by his assistant, driven over to the museum where the gala is being hosted, and presented onto the red carpet. It’s all nerve wrecking, the way everyone turns to you all because of who you’re with. But you don’t let it deter you, holding your head as high as you can, smiling softly at the cameras and the people who call for your attention. 

Bakugou holds you close to him the whole time, ignoring those who try to wave you off to get a picture of him alone. When they start to pester too much, he only snarls at them before directing you a little further down to get away from those shit heads. His hand is planted firmly around your hip, and it becomes an anchor when the bright flashes of light start to become too much. 

When the pictures are over with, do you move into the pit of people doing interviews just off the red carpet. They keep trying to overlook you for Bakugou, but he has none of it, keeping you plastered to his side with a warm hand firmly holding onto your own. Finally, does an interviewer turn his attention to you, microphone shoved into your face as you duck back a little with a frown. 

“May I say what a beautiful dress you’re wearing tonight!” The interviewer says, grinning at you. You nod your head back, barely able to get your thanks out before he’s cutting you off with a question. 

“And who might you be, accompanying the awesome Dynamight tonight?” He asks before his eyes widen in recognition, his grin somehow getting even bigger. “Are you the unnamed hero that’s been on the field lately?” 

Bakugou squeezes your hand tight in his, and you glance up to him. He sends you a wink of recognition, making you think back on the conversation you had with him and Mrs. Kubo before, on how to do this media shit. It was a little daunting, knowing that if you said the wrong thing during your first official impression, that the rest of your career could go to shit before you’re even named. So you look back to the interviewer with a sure smile, nodding once more. 

“Yes, I am.” You say simply, not giving out any unasked for information. That garners the attention of other interviewers almost instantaneously, people suddenly flocking over in your direction with their mics pointed to your face. But you keep your eyes on the original interviewer with a calm gaze. 

“And what is your name? The media has been dying to know!” He exclaims. 

“I go by Firebird.” You state, smile brightening as more shouts for your attention start to trickle in. Bakugou shoulders some people away when they get too close, and you squeeze his hand in thanks. It’s overwhelming, a little, with so many people looking at you, trying to talk to you, get to know every single thing about you, all the while being so goddamn close. Bakugou must be able to sense it though, as he squeezes your hand once more before he starts pulling you away from everybody. 

“Oi, leave my girlfriend the fuck alone now. Answered enough of ya shitty questions.” He announces, and that only makes the crowd go crazier. Questions of what your quirk is starts trickling in, how long have you two been together, is marriage in the near future. You can’t help the deep breath that you suck in, reaching over to pinch at his flank when he carves a path for the both of you to get through the hoard of interviewers and paparazzi. 

You two keep walking until you finally enter where the actual gala is being held, the spacious room filled with paintings surprisingly a lot quieter than it was outside. You walk a few feet in, slowing down as you both look around for some familiar faces. 

“You just had to announce that I was taken, you shit head.” You mumble lowly, only for the two of you to hear. Katsuki grins at that, pulling you away into a secluded corner, as he wraps you in his arms tightly until your back arches under his hold. 

“Didn’t want those damn vultures or any other idiot to think that they ever had a chance with ya.” He mutters against your lips, kissing you and kissing you, your lipstick be damned. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling away only when you hear voices getting closer. 

“Are you kidding me?!” Kirishima calls out, exasperated, garnering the looks from other heroes in the room. “I had to find out from the paps that you’re officially dating?” 

Bakugou fixes him with a confused look, standing tall as he keeps you pressed against him. You laugh at Kiri’s antics though, the way he pulls at his hair, Bakugou’s other friends coming up to join the confusion party. 

“Thought you knew we were together.” Bakugou grunts out with a roll of his eyes. 

“I had a feeling, but you never told me personally! Bro, I’m feeling really betrayed right now. By you too!” Kirishima points an accusatory finger at you next, and you faux gasp with a hand to your chest. 

“I figured he would tell you!” You say, nodding over to Bakugou who frowns at you both. When everyone looks to him for an explanation, his face burns, and he turns away from his friends with a huff. 

“Gonna go find our damn seats.” He mutters, shrugging off the congratulatory pats he receives from everybody he passes. You all find the table you’re supposed to sitting at, chatting and waiting until the gala’s main portion begins. 

As the night goes on, you find yourself more bored than you had anticipated. It felt like a mixture of a fashion show, a charity, and an award ceremony, a place for high status people to come together and mingle without the presence of fans needing their attention. You didn’t feel as though you belonged much, but you stayed near familiar faces, and found yourself enjoying their company. 

“Is that makeup on your chest, to cover…?” Deku asks during one of the dull moments, leaning over beside you in his chair to whisper to you. You stiffen in your seat before you remember just how much he’s helped you, how he’s looked out for you since you were introduced to the idea of becoming a hero. So you nod, once, glancing down to your chest accentuated by the sparkly material of the dress. 

“Yeah. The power of makeup is fuckin’ crazy.” You whisper back, to which Deku nods. He falls quiet before he leans in again. 

“Are you thinking about getting it removed, perhaps? Or covered?” The question makes your head feel stuffy suddenly, body quickly becoming warm as you think about the severity, the weight of what he implies. 

Do you want to always hide behind makeup? Or would you rather just erase a piece of yourself forever? Don’t you want to tear away your flesh from its bone, just so the space can be pure again? Don’t you want to be pure again? Don’t you want to kill the Red Medusa, leave her bloody and broken, just like those men had promised to do to you? Just like those men would have done to you if they were only a bit faster?

“Dynamight is our hero of the year with the most captures and saves this year!” The announcer says proudly on the mic, the bright light shining on them on the stage now moving over to Bakugou who sits beside you. The crowd cheers, the cameras flash, and you know you’re supposed to do something beside him but—but you feel numb. You’re thrown off by the question Deku dropped into your lap, the severity of your identity finally falling into place. 

You’d never truly fit in their world. You’d never truly be a hero if you always kept a piece of your former self on you at all times. You could either stay the survivor that protected everyone who needed saving, or you become the hero that left everything that ever made you and rise from the ashes as someone new. You’re not sure if that sounds as appealing anymore. 

The announcer gets on the mic once more to announce a brief intermission before they start serving some food and a few more annual statistics. Without a word, do you stand from your chair, squeezing Katsuki’s shoulder when he looks to you in confusion before heading off into the crowd. You can hear him angrily asking Deku a question, but you don’t stick around to hear it. 

You weave your way through the crowd until you find yourself in an almost empty room, filled with statues and artwork alike. You forgot that this was held at a gallery, and it almost feels mocking when the first statue that you see is of the most famous, never forgotten hero. 

“What am I to you?” You ask the statue quietly as you wrap your arms around yourself. The marble looks heavy, as does the world that All Might holds on his shoulders. He grins though, muscles and veins bulging, but the statue is sturdy, never buckles under any weight. 

How could you be a hero with a past like yours? With a past that you’re still willing to fall back to if everything somehow comes crashing down? With a past that you’re forever tied to, and yet forced to pretend you’re ashamed of, forced to forget it all? How could you ever be a hero—ever believe that you could be a hero, when your heart only knows of the people you should be helping, rules be damned? 

“You’re a traitor, for one.” A voice calls out from behind the statue. You wipe your eyes quickly, unaware of the tears that had gathered there, cursing when you realize that you messed up your makeup. You blink away your spotty vision, eyebrows screwing down when you’re faced with someone you haven’t seen in so long. 

“The hell are you doing here?” You whisper, hurrying over to the vigilante that would sometimes stay with you and Vanity when she needed help. There were only a couple that would regularly stay, about four or five, and she was one of them. The last time you had seen her was a simple glimpse in the hallway the day you told Vanity that you were considering becoming a hero. She hadn’t said anything to you that day, but she was always quiet. 

Her name was Mercy, and she never shared much about herself, besides the fact that she wanted to be apart of your cause and kick some misogynistic ass with you. You didn’t understand why she was here, especially if she knew you would be here under a new name. 

“Did you sneak in here, or something? You could get caught.” You whisper-shout to her, grabbing onto her wrist to pull her away from the prying eyes that glance over at the two of you. 

But she snatches away from you, makes you straighten your back in surprise, a sinking feeling settling deep into your gut. She doesn’t look happy to see you, and she always has a smile whenever you run into each other. Something’s not right—it wasn’t right that day she saw you in the warehouse, your appearances there getting slimmer and slimmer as the days go on, and its still not right now, either. 

“Really?” She asks loud and dramatically, grin suddenly flipping onto her face like a switch, startles you. “I thought all of us vigilantes were now accepted in the hero world.” She shouts, arms spreading out around her form, and that for sure gathers everyones attention in the room. You freeze, your body suddenly feeling icy cold like you’ve been dipped into a half frozen lake. Your hands lock into fists at your sides, your chest trembling with every heavy breath as you try not to watch the heroes and paparazzi alike start to filter in the room. 

“What are you doing, Mercy?” You whisper to her, eyes stuck on the almost manic look in her eye, but you can see something deeper, hiding in the depths that she never wanted to reveal to you all. She shrugs, walking around the statue, hands behind her back as she tilts her head to rest on her shoulders as the people watch on in confusion. 

“Oh, nothing.” She singsongs, resting against the statue when she circles around to you again, only closer this time until she stands a few feet in front of you. “Just letting everyone know that their favorite new hero isn’t a hero at all. That she’s a fucking traitor who left all of us for fucking dead so that she can sit at the big boys’ table.”

Her smile falls with every word, her lips peeling back in a snarl, her jaws snapping, spit flying from her mouth. But you don’t move, body frozen in shock as everything unfolds in front of all the people who were finally starting to respect you, the people who were finally starting to learn who you were. 

You can feel the tears pinpricking at your eyes in anger, in frustration, in hopelessness. If you physically stopped her, then that would only make everything worse, would make her words bring suspicion to the forefront. It would ruin Katsuki’s reputation and everyone around you who talked with you because they must’ve known, must’ve been hiding the secret that someone who doesn’t belong has been hiding amongst them all. But you can’t let her keep going—not only for your sake, but for the people you were starting to care about, too. 

“Mercy, shut the fuck up.” You snap at her, voice low, gaze captured by Bakugou and his friends who suddenly run into the room. But they all still, confused on what’s going down, unknowingly entering the best part of the show for the night. 

“Why shut up?” She asks, stepping closer to you until her shoes—dirty and torn and falling apart—touch yours—clean and new and sparkly, redeemed. “Don’t you want everyone to know who you are?” She smiles so wide that you can see the creases of her smile lines pinching, her eyes being swallowed by the apples of her cheeks. Her own tears start welling up as she pulls you into a hug, one that you don’t return, arms hanging limply at your sides. 

“Oh, what is it—Firebird?” She whispers only for you to hear before she pulls back, holding you by the upper arms, shouting for all to hear, “Last time I checked, you were running rampant in the streets as the Red Medusa.” 

The room instantly falls into murmurs, shocked gasps, and worried chatters. The camera lights are still flashing, people are starting to record, some heroes walk out in anger. You can see them turning to Bakugou with confused and hurt faces, questions being thrown at him and his friends alike for sitting and congregating with you. But you only have eyes for Mercy, whose tears now run steadily down her grinning cheeks, her arms thrown out as your fists ball up beside you. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask her once more, bottom lip wobbling in anger, in hopelessness, in betrayal. “Who put you up to this?” 

“Nobody.” She shrugs. “But I thought the people should know what kind of past you keep trying to hide. That you’re a fucking fake, and that you never cared about anyone but yourself. You’re only chasing dick hoping it’ll make you a different person, but it won’t, sweetheart.” Mercy laughs humorlessly at that, and the words make you cringe, make you entire body tremor in anger. 

She knows how much you hate being called sweetheart due to past trauma, and yet here she is, poking the bear, picking and picking until you snap. But you don’t—stand there with your teeth clenched, heavy breaths making your entire body rattle, eyes pinpricking with tears. When she doesn’t get the response she wants, she steps to you closely, poking a finger in your chest. 

“I’m just doing what you’re too fucking stupid and weak to do yourself!” She screams at you, her voice hoarse, the veins in her neck throbbing. You hadn’t seen it before, but she reaches back to pick up a glass of water that she had sat on the statue beforehand, throws the contents of it at you. 

You gasp and shield you face, but most of it misses you and it instead lands below your neck. Before you can stop her, Mercy scratches you across the chest, digging up the makeup as she slides sharp nails across your skin. Not only to make you bleed, but enough to reveal the crimson hidden underneath. 

The room falls silent as you stand there, pretty dress soaked and your vulnerabilities open like a gaping wound. Your stomach heaves at the realization, bile creeping up your throat as you finally take a look around the room. It feels like everything is spinning, as you take in the faces who look to your chest with disgust, with anger, with fury covering their faces. At the paps who smile and take picture after picture. At the statues who stare down their noses in disdain at you. At Katsuki who stands frozen in shock, mouth slightly hung open. At Mercy who smiles wobbly at you as she holds her arms open for another hug, looking for it to be receptive this time. 

Without thinking, you reel your arm back and punch her square in the nose. She doesn’t expect it for some reason, and stumbles back into the statue, making it wobble in place. The room goes into an uproar at that, and when everyone dives in to save it from falling over, do you make your grand escape. 

“You can’t keep running from the truth, Medusa! Your past will never let you! I’ll never let you!” Mercy’s voice is the only one you can pick out from the chaos, and it echoes as you run through the corridors of the museum. 

You can hear Bakugou calling your name, but you ignore him, running and running until you finally meet the cold outside air. The interviewers and paparazzi are still out there, and they look to you in confusion before they focus on your chest. The frenzy starts again, everyone gasping when Bakugou comes busting out through the doors. 

But you take off again, the tears burning your eyes as everything sets in. Your legs carry you quicker and quicker as you lose Bakugou in the streets who keeps calling after you, twisting and turning, until you find the path to make it back to the warehouse—to home. 

This was never meant for you. You don’t know why you even tried to become something that you were never meant to be in the first place. You should’ve stayed hidden in the shadows, where you belong. Nobody like you should ever think that they’re more than their past, that they can change and control their own future. It’s all just bullshit. Always has been, and it always will be. 

chapter thirteen

please do not repost or rec on tik tok!

tag list: @endlessfreaky @iamaconfusedpan @blueshome

[eflen-n-reegee]

Quiet Time (An “Inside Out 2” Regression Fic)

After the events of Inside Out 2, Sadness needs a regression day. Suggested by Anon. No major spoilers, but under the cut until Inside Out 2 has been out longer.

~~~~~~~~

Sadness knew, from the moment she woke up, that this was a regression day.

She wasn’t surprised; after the stress of the new emotions joining Headquarters and all the drama Riley had gone through, they were ALL due to regress. She was simply the first to slip.

Sadness stretched and got out of her bed, shuffling slowly across the floor. The other emotions were already at the console, running Riley through her morning routine.

“Hey Sadness!” Joy called, then blinked. “You doing okay?”

Sadness pinched her thumb and forefinger together.

“Oh, you’re small, huh? Fear, can you hang out with Sadness today?”

“Sure,” he said, walking towards the regressed emotion. He jumped with surprise when Anxiety ran between them.

“Uh, I’m sorry, what exactly is going on? Is she okay? Are you sick?” she asked, turning suddenly to Sadness. “Can we GET sick?”

Disgust frowned slightly. “You guys don’t know about regression? Riley’s been doing it for two years.”

Ennui shrugged. “We never heard about the emotions doing it.”

“WE get to do it too?!” Envy exclaimed excitedly. “That’s AWESOME!”

Anxiety and Envy began to bombard Sadness with questions - “How does it work?” “How do you know?” “Do you change?” - but Anger stepped in front of them.

“Cool it!” he ordered sternly. “WE can tell you about it, but SHE needs some space.”

Anxiety cringed. “Oh, sorry, Sadness! Our bad.”

Sadness smiled slightly, then took Fear’s hand, gently pulling him towards their living quarters.

“Okay!” she heard Joy saying. “Who’s got questions?”

~

In their shared bedroom, Sadness flopped down on the floor and looked to Fear expectantly.

He crouched down, meeting her eyes. “Twenty question time, right? Are you hungry?”

Sadness thought for a moment, contemplating how she felt, then shook her head.

“Are you thirsty?”

Now she nodded.

“Will you be okay by yourself while I make you a bottle?”

Another nod. Sadness flopped onto her back, staring straight up.

Since Riley had started regressing, they’d added some more childish touches to their living areas. One of them was an art piece Disgust designed, a giant mobile made of glass and beads and little metal trinkets. It hung from the ceiling, casting shadows and light spots, spinning slowly. Sadness watched in silent fascination, picking out shapes and then losing them again.

“Sadness?”

She looked up, smiling slightly as Fear handed her a bottle filled with strawberry milk. She drank it gratefully, humming slightly to herself. When she finished, she handed it back.

“Good job. Now, is there anything else you need?”

Sadness thought for a moment, then shook her head.

“Alright, then let’s figure out wants. What sounds like fun? A movie?”

Sadness shook her head again.

“Want to line up the toys?”

A third ‘no’.

“How about a puzzle?”

Now she nodded, making grabby hands.

Fear smiled, going to the toy shelf and pulling out two puzzles. “We have dolphins with a hundred pieces, and jungle animals with five hundred. Which do you-” When he turned, she was already pointing to the jungle puzzle. “Alrighty!”

Fear sat down on the floor beside Sadness, passing her the box. She smiled as she dumped the pieces out, carefully beginning to turn them face up.

“Do you want help?”

Sadness nodded without looking up, and Fear started flipping pieces as well.

~

Four hours and another bottle later, the puzzle was finished.

“You did that fast,” Fear chuckled. “Still feeling okay?”

Sadness nodded and pointed to the door.

“You want to go see how everyone’s doing?”

She nodded, and Fear helped her to her feet.

Everyone turned and smiled when they entered the console room, but Anxiety came running over.

“Hi, Sadness,” she said, her voice much softer than it usually was. “Sorry if I kinda crowded you earlier. You okay?”

Sadness nodded, giving her a small smile.

“Do you wanna sit on the couch? Joy said you like to watch sometimes when you’re regressed.”

Another nod, a brighter smile. Anxiety ran to the couch and gently shoved Ennui over. She groaned loudly but obediently made room for Sadness.

“All good?” Joy asked, grinning at the regressed emotion.

Sadness nodded, and Fear ruffled her hair. “She put together one of the biggest puzzles we have.”

“Cool,” Ennui mumbled, giving Sadness a tiny smile.

“Very cool,” Joy agreed, beaming. “Well, let me catch you both up to speed, Riley got her history test back - aced it, by the way - and-”

Sadness felt her eyes drooping as Joy chattered. She snuggled deeper into the couch, folding her arms around herself.

Suddenly she felt something heavy on top of her, and her eyes flew open. One of their softest blankets was wrapped around her, and Embarrassment was looking at her nervously. Sadness smiled at him and he hurried away, blushing furiously.

Sadness heaved a soft sigh, her eyes shutting once again. She was warm and safe and surrounded by friends. Life was good.

[lordgrimwing]

Identity #02

[for Maedhros and Maglor week, hosted by @maedhrosmaglorweek]

Maedhros grabbed Maglor’s hand and pulled him up onto the weather-worn boulder. His brother scrambled for purchase on the mossy rock, and he kept his hold on his hand until he was securely settled next to him.

“Wow,” Maglor murmured, wide-eyed.

From atop their perch where the land began to rise steeply up the mountainside again, they could see over the tops of the tops of the trees and all the way across the glen they lived in with their parents and three younger brothers. Chickens, little more than specks from this distance, wandered across the cleared land, occasionally congregating in groups. The goats and sheep occasionally peaked out of the bordering thickets where they were grazing today. Further down the gently sloping glen, almost disappearing behind the trees, horses stood quietly in their large pasture, heads down and tails swishing away flies.

“I can see everything from here!”

Maedhros grinned at him. “Not quite everything.” He turned and pointed up the mountain to a distant stony promontory jutting into the sky. “Pa took me up there once. We really could see everything on this side of the mountain, even the town.”

“Wow,” Maglor repeated. He pushed loose hair out of his eyes. “Do you think he’ll take me up there if I ask?”

Since growing old enough to express an opinion on things, the second-born always wanted to do whatever Maedhros did. That became harder as the years passed and the family grew. Nerdenl began insisting that ‘Laurë’ come with her to learn about herbs, plants, and healing, and spend more time minding the younger children. 

One tear-filled afternoon a few months ago, Maglor confessed that he wasn’t a daughter or sister as everyone said. He begged them not to make him be a girl again. He was Maedhros’ brother, Nerdanel and Fëanor’s son, and he couldn’t pretend to be anything else anymore. The next day, Nerdanel told her two oldest that they were equally responsible for looking after their siblings. A few mornings later, when the sun just started to glimmer around the mountains and through the trees, they held a naming ceremony like they did for babies except this time Fëanor gave Maglor his new name and welcomed him as a son. Maedhros’ eyes were too wet to be sure, but he thought they all cried that morning.

He looked out over the valley again, away from the bright sky that was making his eyes burn. “Probably not ‘til you’re bigger,” He said, blinking away the afterimage of the promontory. “It was a tough climb.”

Maedhros knew he was tall for his age. He towered over all his cousins and could already see over his father’s head when he stood straight. It would probably be several years before Maglor could reach the handholds and ledges they used to scale the rocks. There was no way Pa would take him up there until he was absolutely sure he would succeed. It was a long way back down.

Maglor sighed, disappointed. “I can’t wait until I grow. Maybe I’ll be as tall as you one day!”

Maedhors snorted at the thought. “Maybe as tall as my shoulder.”

The younger boy contemplated this for a minute. “You’re right,” He said. “I don’t want to be as tall as you. I’d hit my head on everything.”

“That was one time!”

Maglor giggled. “Ma said Pa’ll have to make the doors bigger so you can fit inside by next summer if you keep growing.”

They sobered and silence fell around them.

“Thanks for bringing me up here,” Maglor whispered at length, eyes glued to the vastness before them.

Maedhros shrugged. “I think it’ll be fun to have someone to share it with.”

“Thank you, Mae,” He whispered again, even softer.

Maedhros cleared his throat. “We should probably get back before anyone notices we’re gone.” He slid easily down the boulder, dropping the last few inches into the dirt. He turned and reached up for his brother. “Slide down, Maglor. I’ll catch you.”

They walked down to the glen together.

[sushisocks]

I would love to hear your angsty macsummers headcanons 👀

YEEEAHHHHHH let's get INTO IIITTTT!!! I wanna say these sort of -- build up a little, maybe :3c I hope you like them!!!

Lenny isn't really one to talk about his feelings - he might have the words, but he still doesn't really know how to, when it comes to the more negative and deep-seated stuff. King of intellectualizing his emotions fr.

The only person who ever really gets him is Sean, who wears his heart on his sleeve.

It's not even that Sean tries very hard to understand Lenny; but he has the ability to get straight to the point where Lenny flounders or gets avoidant.

Similarly, when Sean starts blustering and distancing himself from the truly vulnerable parts of himself, Lenny can see right through it.

What really first drew Lenny to Sean was his openness about his father; the common ground of having lost theirs in such violent ways. It's the first time Lenny tells anyone what he did in retaliation, and how he did it - Sean responds in neither horror nor pity, but with a sense of vicarious satisfaction and maybe just a little jealousy. They share a drink in quiet celebration of the karmic retribution delivered by Lenny's hands, and it's the least complicated anything has been for him in a long time.

Sean's story feels heavy with unfinished business, in comparison; turns sweet liquor sour to hear of a man shot in his bed. Lenny indulges him, lets him talk about his father at length, and feels his own sting of jealousy at how close it seems they were - reminded of his own father's words in the letter he still has from him. He's not sure he ever fully understood the 'more tutor than father' line before meeting Sean.

Nightmares; when Sean isn't blacked out to the world from either drink or exhaustion, he has them. Usually he dreams of waking up to his father's dead body, though that has certainly morphed over the years through the death and injury he's witnessed since. It's not uncommon for him to dream about Lenny being dead, now, and waking up panting and panicked just to see Lenny next to him - Sean usually curls right up against him before trying to get some more sleep.

Conversely, Lenny only has nightmares after experiencing something really bad - Sean usually is woken up by Lenny though, and is there to comfort him after.

When Sean returns from the bounty hunters, he spends the first night drinking, partying, and partially avoiding Lenny. He's overly successful as Lenny is gone for the next couple days with Micah, and then gets taken out to drink with Arthur.

By the time Lenny DOES approach Sean and asks to talk, Sean is on the verge of exploding. He doesn't WANT to talk about it, he wants to move on with his life, but he has been anticipating Lenny's question and barely needs to be prodded before he's spilling his guts out.

He tells Lenny about the haze of pain and confusion, about how he had no idea how much time passed prior to getting out - it could've been days or months as far as he was aware. Sean isn't really sure what all they did for the duration he was there - he just knows he was in pain for the most of it, when he wasn't unconscious, and that the burning and pulling was among the easier things to bear.

Lenny asks Sean if he's thinking of leaving, after all that. Sean says no, and Lenny has no idea why he's vaguely disappointed. They both know something is left unsaid there, but neither can bring themselves to push it or bring it up again.

Lenny does still notice how unsteady Sean is on his feet in the time after, at Horseshoe; he does his best to make sure Sean has somewhere to sit down nearby, if he needs it. He also notices how Sean's struggling to eat, and speaks to Pearson about cutting everything in the stew into smaller pieces for a while - he also makes sure there's softer snacks for Sean in the meantime.

When Sean dies, Lenny shuts down in what ways he can. He has never figured out how to handle grief without vengeance, without anger, and when there is no revenge left to take, he has no idea how to handle it. So he just gets quiet.

He was the same when Jenny died, but with Sean it's worse - Lenny becomes a lot more withdrawn, to the point that people notice.

Several of his friends in the gang try to check up on him, but Lenny brushes them off - doesn't want to talk about it. He keeps up with the day-to-day because he doesn't know what else to do, a sort of distant dissociation carrying him through it.

When he has a moment of quiet, he doesn't even know how to identify what he's feeling, he just feels-- empty.

Where before he was foolhardy now he's reckless - borderline careless - with himself. It's not that he wants to die but the rush of adrenaline is one of the purest feelings he has left, not waterlogged by the reminder of his person not being there anymore.

It doesn't help, in the long run - remembering just hits harder once the thrill fades.

[lilspacewolfie]

What are you working on these days? Want to share a tiny piece of a WIP?

Sup nonny! Still working on my Devil!Terzo fic *melts into the floor* but things are going well with that! I gave myself a few days off because of headaches... I realized I haven't shared much about my take on my Lucifer/Terzo as a character online. I mostly talk about him privately, but why not share a little of my take on the Devil's charm? This WIP snippet is from chapter 8 of YWNWA, the Walpurgis Night chapter! It was such fun to write but still needs some work, so everything is subject to change/edits!

Later, maybe, when he gets some liquid courage in him. But even that isn’t enough to completely outweigh the anxiety that’s quietly suffocating him. 

Eyes are falling on them, Siblings beaming and excitable at the mere sight of their Papa being in open touching distance. Something else creeps into Copia’s head and lingers on the fringes, cold and poisons—a snake ready to strike. He’s quicker to strangle it. He shouldn’t feel the slightest bit jealous of their happiness. It’s simply the allure Terzo exudes. He makes people happy, and Copia adores the joy he brings to them and the world at large. He is beloved and worshipped. Copia has no right to feel like this, and he’s reminded of his own ugly, crippling unworthiness. 

When he slows his pace and his arm starts to slip, Terzo tightens his hold just a fraction. 

“Easy,” Terzo soothes in a tone one would reserve a nervous animal. “Walk with me.” 

It’s confident and encouraging and Copia can't help but melt because—as much as he tries not to read too much into others' tones when he can for the sake of his sanity—there’s an awareness beneath it all.

“Keep me company for the celebrations, hm?” Terzo then says. “Join me for a dance later if you are willing. You have more than earned a break to let loose. What better night than tonight, no?”

Copia swallows, ears burning. 

“I am sure you have many from this legion of devout followers that you would rather dance with, Papa,” He counters a bit too bitterly. Besides, he doesn’t know how to dance. 

“Nonsense,” Terzo chides fondly. “I would like nothing more than to be your guiding hand for the evening.”

When he glances at Terzo, he’s drawing his gaze from Imperator and focusing solely on Copia with softer eyes. Copia knows what he’s doing and he’s certain, then, that Terzo is aware of what’s transpired between him and Imperator. He must know. Why else would he be doing all this? Why else would he be touching him, save for putting some sort of claim on him that will for sure rile Imperator up? It’s certainly doing something to the Sibling’s they pass. He can't imagine how much it must infuriate Imperator.

Frankly, when Copia gives himself more than a second to be hastily absorbed by his anxious thoughts, he doesn’t care. The annoyance he’s felt towards Imperator—the culmination of all the years worth of fleeting irritations brought on by the week's rough start—simmers in his belly. 

He’s allowed to be angry and upset. He’s allowed to do what he wants. He’s allowed this. It’s none of her business, anyway. 

Copia finds Terzo is still looking at him, searching his face like he’s reading the silent battle Copia is warring. He’s ever-patient, offering another gentle squeeze on his arm.  

“Would you do me the honour of being my company for this night, topolino?” He asks again, quieter.

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2024: Day 24 - Bar

In another time and another place, another woman so similar to the Warrior of Light, but so very different, is sizing up a newcomer at her favourite watering hole.

Storm had seen her fair share of folks make their way through Hhusatawhi in her tenure as sheriff. The railway’s construction had brought a lot of would-be tourists her way, and while most of ‘em had come and gone without issue, there were some that thought to take whatever they felt like on their way out. Or get a little too drunk on the local moonshine and start a fight. Or get to thinking one of the locals would appreciate getting stolen away in the night.

This one was different. She held herself with an unusual grace, kept a wary eye on the people around her, and carried a gun large enough to make damn near anyone think twice about crossing her. She was also taller than some of the larger ‘tenders, overshadowing even the gruff Xbra’al who was at this very minute pouring her some of his top shelf swill. And she can hold her liquor, too. Storm couldn’t deny she was intrigued. Professionally, of course. Besides, she’d just been relieved by the deputy. She could afford a moment to chin-wag with a tourist.

Her heavy boots gave her away, but Storm wasn’t interested in stealth. Experience (and a chipped horn) had taught her not to sneak up on an armed woman. Thunder had been apologetic for weeks. Mom took one look at my horn and laughed her ass off. “Pour me a shot of that, before you go straining your back putting it back up there,” Storm said as she slid into a stool near the newcomer.

Dim though the bar was, she was still able to get a better look at the mysterious visitor than she had at the doorway. Marble-pale skin, eyes of jade, hair purpler than even Storm could claim, and a nose that was damn-near vertical. But it was the lips that caught Storm’s eye. The way they twisted into a slight, almost imperceptible smile when Storm took a seat near her. The way they glistened from the glass of alcohol that had recently passed between them. The way they-

Storm definitely didn’t flinch when the dusty tumbler was slammed onto the swill-soaked wood in front of her. “Try not to make a fool of yourself this time,” muttered the bartender as he took Storm’s hard-earned coin from her. Storm scowled at his back as he turned to put back the bottle.

“Go jump on a rusty nail, Stannik,” she muttered under her breath. Not quietly enough, apparently, because the newcomer chuckled softly and raised her glass in Storm’s direction. Storm hastily raised hers in response, hoping the darkness of the bar hid her blush. Not now, dammit! You’re here to scout her out, not invite her to bed! She should have called in Thunder. She would have, if her fool sister hadn’t vanished into the desert a few days back. She’d be back when it suited her, but it didn’t stop her family from worrying about her all the same.

“Stannik,” murmured the enigmatic woman. Her voice was softer than Storm expected, with a strange accent too. A mixture of Yok Tural and something else buried beneath. It was, as far as Storm was concerned, deeply unfair that she could get any more attractive. “That’s a Bozjan name, is it not?”

That caught mean ol’ Stannik’s ears. “You know of my homeland?” he asked? Storm had never heard him so gentle. The newcomer nodded.

“We get a lot of travellers in Tuliyollal,” she replied. “Had a pair roll through their lately with our new Dawnservant. One of them swore she’d had a hand in liberating it.” The newcomer smiled again, taking a swig of her drink. “Though to hear her companion tell it, they were simply the tip of the spear.”

Storm couldn’t believe it. Was Stannik, the brick wall of Hhusatawhi… crying? “Shit,” he managed between tears as he roughly wiped them away with a furry arm. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in years. Tell you what, you get another shot of that on the house.” He turned to face Storm, eyes full of murder. “Not a word of this to anyone else, sheriff.” There were few people in town Storm could honestly say scared her, but Stannik was one of ‘em. Though that was only because he’d been around long enough to see her and her sister before they’d even grown their scales and tails. More than once he’d spoiled her chances by spilling some childhood secret of hers to a pretty lady.

Storm nodded mutely, which was just barely good enough for Stannik. He turned back to his bottles. Storm gave the old man a fond smile behind his back. He’d been the first to endorse her as sheriff, and the first to offer his assistance with the abductions of last summer. Rumour had it he’d even given her parents a stay under his own roof until they found their feet, though neither he nor the senior Eagles would admit to it. Still, he was a good sort. A solid sort.

The scraping of glass across wood caught Storm’s attention. The newcomer had slipped into the seat next to her with a sly smile. Bold, this one. Watch yourself. “Sheriff, huh?” the woman said with a smile. “Guess I’d better watch myself around you.” Her smile was disarming, and infectious too.

“Ha. Just don’t go causing trouble ‘round these parts and you’ll have no trouble from me.” Storm raised her glass again. “Name’s Storm. Pleasure to meet ya.”

The woman raised her glass in turn, clinking it dully against the other. “Gem,” she replied. “Singing Gem.”

Storm had no idea what she was in for, as she had what turned into a very pleasant conversation with Singing Gem. If she had, she’d have turned tail and run right there and then. Or clapped the lawless Gem in irons. But she didn’t have the slightest clue. She didn’t even feel the jaws of fate snap tight around the pair, sealing their futures in blood.

But that is another place, and another time, and this glimpse into her grim fate is just that; a glance. And besides, Storm Eagle is no stranger to rewriting her own fate...

[belong2human-kind]

| FIC SHARING |

Description: platonic, soft, angst, adult Sabine Wren, adult Ezra Bridger, jedi and mandalorian duo;

Sabine's fear

Context: after years apart, Bridger is finally back and reunited with his found family he missed so deeply. But wrong to think this means easy times are coming; unfortunately Thrawn could not be captured yet. The biggest threat to the rise of a new empire is walking around, freely, spreading ideas and inspiring the corrupted minds left behind by Vader and Palpatine's fall. Sometimes, there are things that only a jedi can do. Sabine is fully aware of this, but it doesn't make easier for her to deal with her biggest fears from the past striking back at her. Especially when they involve how sensitive she is about her best friend.

[ ... ]

During the meet up, her body was there, but her mind was somewhere else, away from all of that, almost like Sabine already knew what future held for her. She was physically exhausted of all of those meetings, tired of her new chaotic life, distressed by the fact that she spent years missing her best friend's presence, and once he was finally back, she couldn't enjoy time with him because the threat of a war was knocking on the door. Again. She survived so many wars until now, she had fought and lost so much. How much more would she need to give? Could she ever really be at peace?

Her thoughts snapped back at reality once Hera's voice trembled.

—Ezra. This one is on you.

Hera's voice sounded conflict, and it was visible: her body posture tense, tired as well, intimidated by her own words, scared of all the possible outcomes. She, like Sabine, had also spent years without the boy who had grown on her as much as her own son. Sending him on a solo mission was still scary for her, but she had no other choice. None of them had.

Ezra kept a calm smile in his face, nodding to Hera, although he could feel how tense she was. And once realization hit Sabine, her eyes wided and her mouth dropped, speechless. Ezra felt her disturbance growing, but before he could look at her, Sabine made her voice loud, shouting in protest.

—He's not going. I'm going.

—Sabine... —Hera started, as people started dissipating. —This mission is assigned to him, dear.

She said in a soft manner, calling Sabine a sweet nickname. She developed that habit since Kanan's passing, being softer on Sabine during their grieving times together. Ezra held a concerned look in his face, now directly staring silent at his friend. She was in pain, as much as she fought to no let anyone else there see it.

—Hera, don't start now, nuh-uh. Not happening. You know I won't turn this one down and obey you. Sorry.

Sabine said a little bit harshly, putting her helmet on, as she would always do in her personal attempt to hide, run away and protect her body to avoid dealing with conflictuous feelings, immediately directing herself to the flying station where Ezra was supposed to go, avoiding any contact. She was determined; she wouldn't let him go, not this time.

Both him and Hera left out a big sigh, and she was already getting mentally prepared to have a talk with Sabine, when Ezra called her out.

—Hey, don't worry. I'll go talk to her. I think she needs to hear from me now.

With a nod, she accepted.

—Thank you honey. Good luck on this. And on your mission too. Remember to be safe back there and-

Ezra walked towards Hera giving her a playful squeeze, like a grown-up son comforting his mom.

—I will come back Hera. Thanks for trusting me. —He spoke with confidence and caring.

—You know I always will. We all do, Ezra. She trusts you too, she is just-

—I know she does. I have never slightly doubted. —He interrupts. —I'll go now. May the force be with you.

Hera gave him a faded smile, muttering him a low "Be safe" and "may the force be with you too" as he left. Not too steps away, he found Sabine, breathing heavily while picking up her purse to get on the ship.

— Are we stealing each other's missions now? —He started, leaning towards the ship and staring at her. —Great, cause the one you were assigned was so much more cooler anyways.

She did not answer him back, trying her hardest to ignore. But one thing this blue haired man was especially good at was getting the mandalorian warrior's attention.

—Hey Bine, if were switching missions, can I have your guns? It's not like you don't already have my old saber, I think it would be fair, you know, if you-

—Ezra. Stop.

She demanded in a serious tone, taking her helmet off. His smile got smaller as he saw how trembling her skin was, although she looked mad, he could see that she was hurt. Her mind probably wasn't being kind on her.

—You're shaking. —He said calmly.

—You're a good observer. Now, anything else?

Silence filled the spaces between them, and with a deep sigh, he chose the words on his mind carefully.

—Sabine.... you know I have to go.

—Fine. Yeah.

More silence. Ezra stepped closer, his concerned face only growing more as her reaction was even colder and distant. She was trying so hard to not make it obvious. And yet it still was.

—Fine?

—Yes. You go, I go. Simple. You're not going alone.

—Bine...

—We're losing time. Let's go.

She tried to walk away towards the ship, but Ezra gently held her arm, making her slightly more irritated.

—Ezra, let go. We'll be late.

—Sabine, I need to go.

—No. Shut up. You stop right there. —She used her pointer finger to make sure he would back off, but it didn't work. Ezra placed his hand on her shoulder, as she spoke, trying to call her out as she continued speaking. —I'm not letting you go alone, why is it so complicated to get that?

She sounded so frustrated and distressed, holding back so badly from breaking down.

—Bine, I know how scared you are about—

—Oh no, you do not know, you have no idea how-

Her words came out so harshly that Ezra's mouth collapsed together, shutting immediately and having him step back worried. She notice immediately and tears began to form in her eyes, and she looked down desperately.

—Ezra, no, I'm- I didn't mean that. I'm so sorry. —Her tune went low again while mumbling.

—Don't worry. I know. —He reaffirmed calmly, almost whispering as he got close to her again. —And you're not really wrong Sabine, I do not know how bad I affected you when I decided to leave that day. I can have an idea, like I had back then, but... in the end of the day, I can only know how I felt doing that. I see your hurting, I sense it. But you're the one feeling.

A tear fell down her cheek as she tried to look away, trying to stop more of them from coming. Ezra chuckled seeing her failing.

—I'm going to punch you. —She said joking and feeling his hand at her cheek.

—Well if makes you feel better, I guess I can handle that. —He chuckled as he dried her tear.

—I... I don't want you to go. —She whispered.

—I know. —He murmured as low as her.

—I don't want to lose you again.

They stood in silence for instances before Ezra stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her in a cozy hug that she gladly accepted.

—You know that you never will really lose me, right Sabine?

She kept in silence as her body betrayed her with more tears, ones she was not proud of, but she let them be.

—Time and space can make our ways separate, but... something I learned from Kanan was that people we love are never really gone, you know? You will always have me, even if not physically, you will always be part of my story as I am part of yours. I'll always carry a bit of you in me and the same goes for you. I will never be really gone. I promise, okay?

His words were comforting, he had always been pretty good on that. But she didn't want that. She wanted assurance. She wanted certainty.

—Can you promise me now that you will come back?

—You know I cannot.

She broke the hug, her face holding up a mixture of despair, confusion and anger.

—What?

—I can never guarantee you when I will be back Sabine. It's not possible to predict that. I take my promises pretty seriously, you know that. I won't make you a promise I may not be able to honor.

—You know what? I hate you and Ahsoka's jedi stuff. It gets to my core in a way I don't think you can understand. —She rushed out frustrated, making Ezra laugh and she punch his shoulder. —Ezra!

—I'm so sorry, I can't handle, it's too funny.

—How can you laugh? How can you be so calm and unbothered about this?

He smiled patiently at his best friend, looking up for some seconds, almost getting lost in a thought.

—I'm not sure? —He said with a warming giggle. —I guess this can be Kanan's influence on me. It's not like I'm not scared of losing you, I am. I missed you badly those years, it was... pretty rough on not knowing whether you were safe or not, not knowing if the crew survived, and if in the end I'd get to reunite and see you again, be with all of you, you know? But I had to do. I had to do what I did, or else you and everyone I love, our crew, my people, my planet... nothing would survive. I had to risk and have faith on you. Faith that you'd be okay, taking care of everyone and yourself. I couldn't guarantee that I was coming back, just like I can't guarantee now or ever, and if it was only on me, I'd always come back, I actually wouldn't leave your side. I can guarantee, though, that you'll never lose me. I hope you can understand that someday.

She held back tears, holding him in a hug again.

—Would it kill you reassuring me that you'll be save and back? Ugh, I'm about to kill you myself. —She joked.

Ezra held his friend as soft and tight as he could, in hope he could comfort not only her mind and body, but her aching soul.

—I will always try to come back to you, Sabine. And you will never lose me. I promise. —He said laying a kiss on top of her head.

—You idiot.

[ . ]

Hey guys!! How are you my sweeties?? I hope you can enjoy this small fic idea I had for those two☺

I love them so much😭😭

Because of the new Ahsoka series episodes, I decided to keep this one in a totally platonic zone, but to my fellow shipper friends, don't worry: I also had ideas of these two dorks being hopelessly in love! And also for my Lotie Au!!

I'm sorry for all the non-shippers if still looks romantic though, but I cannot put myself to write Ezra referring to her as a sibling 😭 although, I did try my best to make this fic enjoyable to all the fans! Both the shippers (like myself) and the non-shippers that support them as just friends. I love this pairing since episode one, so please, be gentle with my kids 🥺🥹

They went through so much, and independently of how they call their relationship status, one thing is obvious: Sabine Wren loves Ezra Bridger, Ezra Bridger loves Sabine Wren. Although some may seem different forms of love, if their conection is more Agape or more Eros, we can all agree that they love each other, huh??

I hope you can enjoy 🌻 Stay safe and well, and May the force be with you, always ☺