#but again. I was only on it for 6 days and it did that to me. 3 fucking weeks. I might ruin my whole life.

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight

a.n; I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA OKAY? I HAVE HAD IT IN MY DRAFTS FOR LIKE A YEAR ALREADY AND I NEED YA'LL TO RANT WITH ME ABOUT THISSSS<3 it's mostly enemies to lovers💕

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

"For the love of–... I'M COMING!"

It's Sunday morning. You have been expecting this day to wake up maybe mid-morning, with the gentle warm breeze coming from your open window; have an exquisite brunch that you have been planning and craving since Friday; maybe watch an episode or two of your favorite show before preparing a full spa day, with a long and refreshing bath included. That's how you have planned your Sunday to go.

But no… Apparently, someone's intention was to ruin the whole day for you while their knocks on your door were persistent and annoying at 6 freaking a.m.

You don't think about what you're wearing before stumbling towards the door, with the loud BANGS still sounding. You think of your poor neighbors next door and their newborn baby.

"This little shit," you protest, completely annoyed with this person knocking on your door like someone has died. "Someone better be dead or else…" You open the door in one strong pull and huff utterly annoyed when you encounter the person behind.

Vermillion eyes collide with yours, the intense hate and annoyance so palpable in the air it almost cuts you both.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

He tchs, rolling his eyes at you. The bile travels up through your esophagus, and you want to spit at him.

"Save the greetings, if you know what a decent greeting means… Well, considering how well you just did it, I doubt you fuckin’ know…"

The muscle at your temple twitches so hard, you believe he is actually able to see it. That would explain his upcoming smirk.

"The fuck do you want?" You repeat, not even caring or taking the time to follow this banter with him. You would normally do it, come back at him with a snarky response that would probably hurt his ego and he would answer back making you even angrier, and yada yada, nothing new to this ‘hate x hate’ relationship you had with this man in front of you. But today is not a day you planned on dealing with Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki.

He looks down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting a bit with the buttons on his all-black suit jacket you just now noticed he is wearing. Interesting; he never uses formal suits like this one if it isn't for a Hero Gala, and that was only once a year. Or that one time you remember he had to apologize to citizens through a TV interview with Deku because of a villain attack in Hokkaido they couldn't quite contain on time and caused a lot of material damage. You shake your head coming back to the present. Pro Hero Dynamight, a.k.a. Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki is standing right at your door, looking a bit nervous while playing with the buttons of his jacket, furrowing his eyebrows like he is angry even at the air he breathes.

You could have expected anything from this unpredictable man who infuriated you almost twenty-four hours a day, the seven days of the whole week. However, you were not expecting at all the words that come from his mouth after he looks up again and his eyes lock with yours.

"Fucking marry me."

Your eyes open wide. And the only thing you think of doing is punching him. And you do.

Your hands close in tight fists, and before saying anything, you punch his shoulder as strongly as you can with one. You know for sure your small and useless fist won't do any damage to this hulk of a man, but the meaning behind it it's what matters.

He simply looks at you in disbelief. "Ouch?" He smirks. He fucking smirks at you, and this time you punch his stomach, which does make him grunt and hover a bit in pain.

You attempt to close the door right at his face, but he suddenly pushes it with his hand and makes you waver a bit back, holding yourself on the door handle. He stands straight again, retrieving his hand from the door when he realizes he used more force than intended to prevent you from closing the door.

"I- umm- Shit, sorry, I didn't-..." 

You raise a hand to stop him from talking.

"Just fucking tell me what you want, so I can go back to bed and not see your ugly face for the rest of my day."

You watch in satisfaction how his face contours into full rage. And this time you smirk. 

"I fucking hate you…" He spits, and you bat your lashes at him while smiling.

"Ah, the feeling is mutual, baby."

Bakugou takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and holding himself on the door frame with strength. You're sure his hand shape will print on it, and you get more annoyed –if that's possible, but you have already learned that when Bakugou was involved, the anger was immeasurable– thinking that you will have to hire someone to fix that.

"I fucking hate you," he repeats through his teeth with his eyes still closed, but then he opens them, and his entire face changes into something you never expected to see. He looks at you, begging, "But I need you to marry me."

You look… perplexed. Again, never in your life have you ever come across the thought that those words would ever come from the man in front of you, much less towards you.

You open your mouth to say something, but the neighbor from the apartment in front of yours opens his door, standing there with his arms crossed and looking menacingly.

"Everything okay, Y/N?" His deep baritone voice asks. Bakugou turns his head and when he sees him, stands straight, head held high and you can imagine the type of defying expression on his face.

You roll your eyes. Men.

"Yes, Arisu, everything is fine. He's… a… friend," the word stung your tongue because you couldn't consider Bakugou that, even though you shared the same group of friends. But it wouldn't have been good having these two fight over something you still didn't understand what was happening; the thought of who of these two hulk men would win still was entertaining to think about. Your money was on Arisu, of course.

"Alrigh’," Arisu says, looking at Bakugou up and down before retrieving himself back into his apartment.

"The fuck this fucking extra-..." You stop Bakugou from turning and going towards Arisu by holding his arm and pulling him towards you.

"Stop it. Come inside," you demand, pulling him as he watches your hand around his bicep, "before any of my neighbors file a complaint against me thanks to your fucking loud mouth."

Bakugou grunts at your words as he lets you pull him inside. When you close the door and turn to him, you realize how big he looks in your small apartment, where there is barely space between the living room and the kitchen and two doors, one leads to your bedroom and the other to the bathroom. You want to laugh at how uncomfortable he looks.

You take a deep breath, scratching your forehead to regain a bit of patience –which was non-existent whenever Bakugou was around.

"Okay, now, explain to me what the hell is wrong with you."

"Nothing is wrong with me. More like what's wrong with you and this small thing you call apartment… When did you-..."

"Bakugou! I didn't invite you in for you to start insulting my living space!" You say more exasperated by every second he is in there. "Tell me what the hell happened to you! Why did you come here, almost tearing down the door of my place at 6 in the fucking morning, annoying even my neighbors, and then you fucking propose out of nowhere!"

His lips are held in a tight line as he watches you almost yell at him, hands opening and closing anxiously. There is silence for a couple of minutes before he says, "My father died."

You gasp, taking a step back. Wow. That's something you were not expecting at all. You get now why the black suit. And now that you look at him better, his eyes look glassy and reddish –probably thanks to how much he's holding himself back from showing any other emotion that isn't anger. And that's… sad.

Your arms immediately hug yourself, one hand settling over your chest. "I- I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," he turns a bit to the left, facing the kitchen to avoid looking at you. "Fucker was a right pain in the ass."

You choke on the laugh that almost escapes you at his words, and after you clear your throat you murmur, "Sorry." He looks at you a bit amused, the right corner of his mouth lifted a bit at your reaction.

You sigh again after a few seconds of silence, "Bakugou, what does that have to do with you asking me to-...”

"My great-grandparents are-were the funders and CEOs of TCA Technologies Corp.," your eyes open wide at the name of the prestigious company that had been ground-breaking in the creation and use of robots, before being the number one seller of technology materials to support heroes. They were high class in society, civilians and heroes. "Yeah, that's the face every extra makes," he smirks when you stick your tongue out at him.

He then looks at you up and down and immediately looks away, clearing his throat in a clear gesture of shyness. You frown confused.

"Fucking go put some clothes on."

That's when you remember you had no pants, no bra, and an old shirt that barely covered your panties. Fuck. You almost run towards your room to get changed. All of this had to be a dream… or a nightmare.

Your Sunday was entirely ruined. You know that for sure.

After you change to decent, more covered clothing, leggings and a big shirt that almost reached your knees –it is Sunday, dammit, and the hell you are gonna dress up for Bakugou Katsuki– you walk again towards the living room where you left said asshole waiting for you there. He is now sitting on your couch, his suit jacket lying over the back of it. His elbows are resting over his knees, his hands holding his head. You have never encountered a tired Bakugou, yet here he is. Looking beaten and down.

He looks up at you when he hears you approach him; his eyes are more reddish than before, kind of like when you want to cry but don't let yourself do it. That made you feel bad for thinking about him as an asshole.

"What took you so long, short-legs? Whatever you wear, you'll still stink and look ugly on it."

Nope. He is and will always be a stupid asshole.

You roll your eyes grunting as you let yourself fall on the couch, as far away from him as you can on that three-people couch, crossing your legs under you.

"Spit it out, asshole. What's all this about?"

He sighs, "My father inherited it all after my grandfather died. His whole life had been that stupid company, his and my mother's. I don't give a fuck about it, but the old hack insists that I- ow!"

You pinch him on the shoulder this time, knowing very well that if you had punched him he wouldn't have felt anything. But pinching… he did feel that.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

"Don't call your mom like that, idiot!"

"Fucking piss off, you know shit! The old hack is an old hack, she deserves the title."

You shake your head in disagreement but decide to leave that topic there considering how affected he looks by it.

"The old hack said," he simply repeats that to spite you, and you really want to punch him, "that I need to step up and be fucking CEO of that bullshit, or…"

He looks at you, and you gulp, kind of understanding where this is going.

"Or get married." You finish the sentence, crossing your arms over your chest, "But why? Those two options are completely different from one another."

"The sky will fucking fall the day I understand any-fucking-thing that comes out of her mouth. She's nuts!" He protests, arms exaggerating his words as he opens them wide, evidently showing how much stress he has, before laying back on the couch, head resting over the back of it where his jacket is. He sighs long and deeply before talking again, "My great-grandmother had a strong Quirk, but she decided to stay at home instead of being a Hero. Those were other times, ya'know?"

"I know History of Heroes, Bakugou. I'm not stupid."

He looks at you again, this time genuinely surprised, "I, umm, thought you-..."

"Have you ever thought that despite not having a Quirk, I know about heroes?"

He tchs, "No wonder why you and shitty Deku are such shitty nerds."

You roll your eyes for the eleventh time that morning, "Get to the point, shitty asshole."

Bakugou scoffs, clearly holding back a retort to answer back, then he continues, "I'm the first in generations with a strong, hero-level Quirk. Most of my family had decided to live as civilians, building this stupid company from generation to generation."

"Oh, and you are the first actual Hero in the family. You are the first one to choose differently…"

He nods in response, "It almost gave my grandfather a heart attack. Ever since my Quirk woke up, I knew what I wanted," he looks back at you, and for the first time, you admit to yourself that you're curious of knowing what he wants, what goes through his head, so you nod allowing him to continue, "I want to be a Number One Hero. I want to kick villains' asses as much and as hard as I can for as long as my stupid aging bones allow me to."

The intensity in his eyes and conviction in every word he spoke made you feel his passion. And that was… new.

"But to be that, I can't afford to waste time in falling in love and all that bullshit…"

"Then say no to your mom and the company," you offer as a solution. He snorts letting his head fall back against the couch.

"You know shit…" He shakes his head, "There's a requirement in every hero company, it says that a familiar, or a spouse if the hero is married, has to validate your mental sanity alongside a doctor to keep working as a Hero."

"I… didn't know that."

"Of course not, short-legs. You're not a hero, why would you know?"

"So, if I… If we get married-..." he nods in confirmation even before you say the words. But he says them.

"The old hag won't have to validate my status as Hero anymore, and she won't have anything to hold me back from sending her and the company to hell."

You looked serious at him, "Bakugou, you and I don't like each other. You hate me and I hate you. And you want to put your Hero status in my hands by marrying me?" You say in disbelief, almost anxious about the whole meaning of this. You stand up and walk from one side to the other as you keep talking, "Why? Because your inner kid is in rebellious tantrum mode and does not want to take the responsibility to-..."

"Shut the fuck up! You. Know. Shit!" He also stood up, shortening the distance between you two in the small living room.

"Then tell me! Explain it to me! Cause to me you only sound like a spoiled brat who doesn't want his veggies for lunch."

He looks you right in the eye, hands almost trembling in fists beside his body, and then he drops the bomb.

"My mother killed my grandfather."

You recoil a step back, "What?"

He sighs, hands and fingers running through his hair, clearly uncomfortable, "I-... There is no proof, no solid proof about it. I just- I know it was her." Again, the conviction in his eyes made you believe him. "My mother wanted the money, the luxury life being with my dad could bring her. But my dad had a brother, an older brother."

"Had?"

Bakugou simply shakes his head, "The idiot got himself in between a shooting from two villain groups. He was shot only once, and it killed him. A fucking looser…" 

You try, you really tried not to smile but failed miserably. "You are the idiot," you say fighting back the chuckle.

He smiles back, "No, I got shot several times, I even got thrown at and through walls, and I'm very much fucking alive. I'm no weak ass looser as him."

You can't stop laughing, Bakugou definitely is an idiot.

He waits until you're done laughing before continuing, "Even then, my grandfather didn't think my dad was capable of handling the company and all it meant, so he was thinking about giving it to one of his nephews. That's when, I fuckin’ know, my mother took matters into her own hands. I'm an only child. If I say no…"

"The company has to go to another familiar..." Everything washes clear now in your head, “And your mom won't allow that to happen. So she’ll lie and say you aren’t sane enough to keep working as a hero,” Bakugou keeps nodding, confirming everything you’re saying.

“That way, I’m obligated to work at the company.”

Your hand travels from your forehead and brushes your hair back. “She wouldn’t that… She’s your mom, Bakugou...”

“Haven’t you heard a fucking thing I said? She fucking killed my grandfather so the company was legally inherited by my father! Therefore, she could hold all the rights, all the stupid money! My father was a fucking dimwit who believed every-fucking-thing my mother said. She controlled him as she pleased.”

You gasp as another realization hits you, “That’s why you are an asshole to her…”

“She can fool anyone, but not me.” He declares, standing tall and proud. “I have never played her game, and I fuckin’ never will.”

You hug yourself once more, taking some minutes to assimilate all the confessions he just dropped on you. Everything feels like a script of a freaking movie or something. And there are too many questions you want to ask. But there’s only one thing you mostly don’t understand and you need the answer to.

So you look back at him, head tilting up a bit due to the height difference between you, and ask, “Why me?”

Bakugou does not hesitate in his answer. 

“You’re strong, despite not having a Quirk. And smart. You don’t let anyone dictate what you can or cannot do,” he takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, “You have never backed down from a discussion, with me or anyone else. You don’t let anybody step on you, holding tight to your convictions and beliefs.”

You visibly gulp, feeling a little warmth in your cheeks that makes you want to look elsewhere, but you don't. You hold the connection between your eyes like dear life. And he smiles, the left corner of his mouth raising a bit.

“You have a fuckin’ strong character, you won't even shy down from me,” you suddenly feel the back of his index finger caress the right side of your jaw, where lays an old scar he perfectly recognized.

It was the scar he accidentally left when you were younger, stupider. He had picked a fight with another newbie hero –another asshole in your opinion– who kept talking shit about his other newbie hero friends. Bakugou had snapped when the guy mocked the word “whore” towards you. You have tried to separate them, earning yourself a punch on the right side of your face by this same man that has touched the reminder of that old memory.

“But above all that…” It’s his turn to gulp, eyes going up and down through your face. Is he… Is he looking at your lips? “You are kind. You care about everyone. You always try to solve everything for everyone –that’s fuckin’ annoying actually.”

You open your mouth to swear at him, stupid asshole; but he doesn’t give you time to say anything. “What I’m trying to fuckin’ say is–” he takes a deep breath, “You are… good. A good person. And you… You understand m- us.”

Was he going to say ‘me’? By ‘us’, you know he means heroes.

Your parents had been heroes before they died. Unfortunately, you were born Quirkless, so the dream of following your parents' path was decided the same day you were welcomed into this world. You have already made peace with this idea, it didn’t hurt like it used to when you were young. Despite not having a Quirk, you specialized in Quirk and training analysis, which granted you a job that most Hero Agencies wanted you for. Hence also how now your group of friends involved all heroes.

However, one thing is working with them, working with Bakugou Katsuki, a.k.a. Pro Hero Dynamight, who was the biggest pain in your ass you have ever had since the day you met him. Another completely different is actually marrying the pain in your ass.

You sigh, “I don’t–...”

“What? You want me to fuckin’ beg? ‘Cause I fuckin’ will…” Bakugou takes a step back and literally kneels before you. You protest, grabbing his forearm and pulling him back up, but he doesn’t let you move him even a millimeter. “What do you want? Whatever you want is yours. We can even sign a dam contract if you so want, I don’t fuckin’ care what it is. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“This is not a fucking joke, Bakugou. You are asking me to marry you. What if I have a boyfriend? You didn’t even fucking ask!”

His eyes open wide, surprised. “Do you?”

You roll your eyes, releasing an exasperated sigh. “No! I don’t!”

“Then, what are you bitching about?”

You groan. “I’m bitching about the fact that I don’t know why would you put a whole big deal on me when we hate each other!”

“I trust you.”

It’s a short answer, his expression is even so neutral and sure that leaves you perplexed. Surprised at how easily he said those words.

“We don’t like each other…”

“I don’t need to like you to trust you, idiot.” It feels like he’s mocking you, but one look into his eyes and what he is saying actually feels right. He is completely sure of what he is saying. “I would even fuckin’ trust you with my life.”

He already does. Every day, at work.

Still, you can’t pass the opportunity to piss him off. “Wow. That’s deep, buddy.”

“Fuck you.”

Mission accomplished.

You laugh gently, looking at him still kneeling on the floor of your living room. The sight in itself is a miracle. A sight you won't get to see ever again from this man. But it’s not the image of his kneeling position that makes you take the decision.

It’s his eyes.

They are screaming, desperately begging for you to help him. And, damn it, he is right; you always are at the disposal of everyone when they need your help. Fuck! It is actually very annoying –but you will never admit that out loud, especially not to him.

You close your eyes, head tilting back, and take a long, deep breath.

You are so going to regret this.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Bakugou Katsuki immediately stands up and practically throws himself at you, his whole hulk of a body surrounding you in what you have never thought would ever happen between you two: a hug.

Are you though?

[homosexualmorelikehomiesexual]

i was homeschooled by a neo nazi. the sheer amount of damage it did to my psyche as a queer child in that environment is something im still grappling with to this day. and thats to say nothing about having my education, health, and emotional wellbeing neglected. i had to fucking laugh in 2020 when people were crying about not leaving the house for a single month, when i had been kept housebound since i was 6 years old. i cant describe the indignity of watching people finally recognize what id been saying for years, which is that remote learning was not only useless as an education method but fundamentally damaging to the students mental health, and then not ONCE think to check up on kids who'd already been homeschooled. not once.

because nobody gives a flying shit about the actual voices of homeschooled kids, least of all the parents that subject them to it. and thats not to say those parents dont care, or arent attached - quite the opposite. remember, we're talking about the kind of abuse that seeks to keep the victims closer, not further away. its just that the pressure to cover for that abuse is placed directly on these childrens shoulders. i know, because i lived it. we are expected to present ourselves to the public as prodigies, partly to sell people on the idea of homeschooling but mainly to ward off social services. and if we fail to do that, which we largely do, we are kept out of the public eye our entire childhoods.

and thats assuming it ends with the onset of adulthood. if we're lucky enough to have parents willing to let us go at all, that isolation and lack of worldly experience leaves us with no resources, no networks, no support systems, no basic survival skills. do you know the difference between debit and credit? what health insurance is, who pays for it, how to find a provider? who taught you to drive? do you know what the dmv is? what social security is, or where to find your birth certificate? do you know how to use a crosswalk? if you arent homeschooled, you do not realize how much knowledge you have that you take for granted. the level of dependance it creates on the abuser is terrifying. im 21, i didnt move out till 6 months ago. most people assume i took an extended gap year. the truth is i was psychotic from isolation trauma, rapidly developing stockholm syndrome, and had no resources to leave after i turned 18 even though i desparately wanted to. if i hadnt been lucky enough to have other family members to rescue me, i would probably not be alive today.

and despite how damning the evidence is that this is a terrible byproduct of multiple systems that long since shouldve been fixed, despite all the hubub about protecting children in this stupid, stupid fucking country, there is ZERO public interest in acknowledgeing our existence outside of using us as a talking point to snub rural america. a talking point, and nothing more. nobody actually cares to change those red states, they just want someone to blame. so when we do speak up, we get tuned out. because it turns out nobody actually wants to hear about the medical neglect, or the cults, or the grooming, or the domestic violence, let alone do anything about it. (besides vaguely gesturing to things like...calling CPS on our own parents, once again placing the pressure on the victims to rescue ourselves, when weve often been taught to fear those institutions since the onset of our abuse.)

if you think im exaggerating, go read through r/homeschoolrecovery. thats just the kids whove managed to get internet, most of whom profess terror at facing further abuse if their parents find out. look at your phone. look at your computer. every single device you own has the ability to set parental controls. i dont know the exact numbers of the silent majority of homeschooled children without access to the internet, but considering the main demographic who chooses homeschooling is white supremacist christian fundie cults, who really fucking love having numbers of white babies that exceed the double digits, id be confident in wagering its a lot. so you wanna know why over half the states in the country are red? fucking start there.

because theres a *reason* isolation is a cult tactic. its why im such an advocate for libraries, unpaywalled and un age restricted internet, and actually putting money into rural infrastructure - ESPECIALLY internet networks and public transit. because while the american public education system remains the stinking garbage fire it is, people are gonna keep choosing to take matters into their own hands. and under this presidency, it is going to get worse. there is no point bashing the parents for it, because it just convinces them further that the left has an agenda to systemically brainwash their kids or whatever. so please, for the love of god, make sure that even in the worst case scenarios where they have complete control over their children, those kids arent completely cut off from the world.

Anyway enough lame gifted kid discourse we are in our 20s. Let's talk about how homeschooling in america should be fucking illegal it's insane lol

[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.9

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: prepare urself. next chapter may or may not be crazy. once again (the usual) spam of thank yous. all of your kind words both in replies and reblogs makes my heart sing. to those who said they want to be part of the taglist-- i reopened it! i might have missed those who recently asked to be on it so pls reply to this chapter so i can get you :( so sorry for my lack of meticulousness.

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Saturday

You had to call out the following Thursday and Friday. 

The cold you manifested was wreaking havoc on your body, the constant shivering now straining your muscles and bones. You couldn’t even find comfort in your bed, as you’d sneeze and cough, or dash to the bathroom during the waves of nausea. You were grateful to not have gotten frostbite, but damn this cold bites! 

It was nice to have some space away from work, and Nanami. You deduced that this cold was inevitable, as the stress that loomed over since your confession (and second rejection). But this wasn’t fun either, as you could barely make yourself a cup of coffee while also having to answer Haibara every few minutes, who wanted to make sure you were doing well. It was bittersweet to say the least. 

As you cuddle your heating pad meant for your tummy, you begin to scroll carelessly on your phone. Although it was your day off, and you were sick, you often liked to check your work emails. You like to be extra prepared for Monday, as those were the days when you have bigger workloads to tackle. As you scrolled, you stumbled upon an email directly from Takada shacho. Before you could open it however, there was a gentle knocking at your door. 

“Coming…” you say weakly, quickly finding a mask on your bedside table. Comforting the straps around your ears, you make a slow walk towards your door. You get on your tiptoes to look through the peephole, only to back away in shock and slight embarrassment. “N-Nanami kacho? What are you… doing here?” You proceed to cough. 

“I came to check on you,” Nanami hums from behind the door. “I know you’ve been sick due to my shortcomings. I wanted to see how you were faring.” 

“A-ah, I see,” you stammer nervously. You were hoping not to see him until Monday, but luck still remains anywhere but your side. “You could have just called me as well…” 

“I felt… that it would be best to come in person,” Nanami begins shyly. The sound of plastic shuffling joins. “I, um, also brought some things to treat you. If it’s okay with you, may I please come in?” 

You go a bit pale, “um… I don’t really want to get you sick. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come in and–” 

“I don’t care. I’d like to see you, and make sure you are well.” Nanami interrupts you with a stern tone. His words sounded non-negotiable, and you didn’t want to [fuck around and] find out if you refused his entry. Reluctantly, you unlocked your door and slowly opened it, revealing the tall man before you. 

His hair was once again messy, lazily pulled back with his fingers. He was covered in snow,  of course, but had gloves on to protect himself from potential frostbite. You look down at his two large bags he got from 7-Eleven. You move out of his way and let him place the bags down. He closes the door behind him, and begins to untie his scarf from around his neck. As he did, you offered your hands out to take it from him. 

“Let me,” you offer in a hoarse voice. 

Nanami looks down at you, “you’re sick. Thank you, but I can hang it myself. Please feel free to go back to bed.” 

“A-ah, but you’re my guest,” you insisted through weak coughs. “My mom would reprimand me if she saw the way I was hosting you right now. I haven’t even boiled tea…” 

Nanami, now just in a sweatshirt and his joggers, quickly puts on his slippers and offers his hand to you. You look up at him confused. “Come and sit down,” he coos, taking your hand and guiding you towards your living room. He gently allows you to take a seat on the couch, which is quite the relief considering you were exasperating just from answering the door. 

Through small coughs, you watch as Nanami brings his bags to the kitchen, and begins to unpack them. He silently takes out a few vegetables and cartons of broth. A pool of pill bottles also leave the bag, along with other cold suppressants. “Can I,” you start hesitantly, your index fingers looping around one another, “can I offer you a cup of coffee?” 

“No,” Nanami shot you down quickly, “I’d rather you rest than concern yourself with me. Though, the offer in your condition is very touching.” 

Your cold now felt like a fever, as your cheeks went completely hot. You looked crazy, your hair and makeup undone. Your pajamas were ornate with little ducks, and you don’t even have tea prepared. And here was this effortless, handsome man in your house, with a pot in his hands and his eyes navigating your tiny kitchen. It was an honor to see him outside of his work clothes, as it still made your heart run. 

“Are there any vegetables you don’t like?” Nanami asks gently. 

You sit up promptly, staring distantly towards the pot that was now full of water and preparing to boil. “I’m not a big fan of daikon in my soup,” you reply awkwardly. “A bit too strong for me.” 

Nanami looks over at you and gives you a small smile, “I would have never expected that you didn’t like daikon, Y/N.” 

“In soup, I’m not a fan,” you quickly mend the confusion, “soups are meant to be calming, not crazy.” 

“Daikon makes soup crazy?” Nanami continues, amused by your detest. 

“It’s a bit much,” You exclaim weakly. “Just me personally, I can’t deal with all that sass.” 

“Sass?” Nanami finally lets out a chuckle, “what a way to describe a vegetable you don’t like.” As he cleans the vegetables he provided, he couldn’t help but continue to smile. “So this is what you’re like outside of work,” he whispers to himself. But your ears catch his words quickly. 

You feel your cheeks burn from shyness. But as you stared at the back of Nanami’s head, you remembered all the tears you’ve shed these last 2 weeks. Your heart still hurts, even while sharing a warm conversation like this. He was still the man who you confessed to, and broke your heart twice. You look distant towards your window, seeing the snow slowly fall over the city. 

“You don’t have to cook for me, Nanami kacho,” you say quietly, “you have done enough, so thank you. I can do the rest from here.” 

Nanami purposely ignores you as he begins to chop a carrot. “What do I have to do in order to stop you from calling me kacho?” Your neck snaps back to look at him, noticing Nanami’s seriousness from his side profile. 

You drop your hands to grip the end of the couch, squeezing it to calm you down. “You’ve made it very clear what kind of relationship we have. It’s inappropriate otherwise, so from your perspective, I should proceed with calling you kacho.”

“Y/N, please.” 

“Please what?” A bit of attitude left the tip of your tongue. You jump in fear. Just because you were hurt doesn’t change the fact that Nanami is still your boss. The man that signs off your hours. ”Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to use that kind of tone. I just… think it’s best that we revert back to honorifics.” 

“I disagree,” Nanami hums from the kitchen. He begins to look through your spice pantry (which you were surprised he knew where to find it) and pulls out your pepper. “How spicy would you like your soup?” 

“You told me that you are my boss, and I am your assistant,” you repeated his words from the night before. “You want comradery but don’t see me as anything beyond your colleague.” You tighten your grip on your couch. “And...not so spicy, for the soup.” 

You were sick. Having to bring this conversation up once more was making you even sicker. 

“Y/N, I misspoke,” Nanami says firmly, closing the pot with a lid to allow the soup to simmer. He grabs a glass from your cupboard and goes over to pour water from the pitcher. Pouring the water generously, he makes his way over to you with a few of the pills he purchased. “Here, I have a few supplements you can take now. The painkillers will be for after you eat.” 

“I know how to take care of myself,” you murmur. Nanami takes a seat next to you, pouring the pills into one hand while carefully handing you the water in the other. Lowering your mask, you swallow the pills like morsels, and follow it with sips of water. “Feel free to go after this. Thank you for setting up the soup, I can take it from here.”

Nanami eyes your face, making you blush even more. You were thankful that you were sick, as the hue on your cheeks can be explained by your current health. Putting the cup down, you quickly busy yourself once more by taking the decorative blanket on the couch and covering yourself with it. As you did, a finger appears before your face. You halt, watching as Nanami begins to drag some sort of salve on your lips. His middle finger gently drags the petroleum-like substance against your bottom lip, before swiping the rest against your top lip. 

You could explode right then and there. Your nausea wave was a bit more intense, but more so from the intensity of Nanami’s gaze, and his touch against your chapped lips. Your heart was beating hard, and you couldn’t move. Like yesterday, you were frozen. His touch, despite his muscular stature, was gentle, soft. It felt like butter. 

“S-sorry,” Nanami immediately pulled his hand away. He quickly looks away from you, hints of pink at the edge of his cheekbones. “I overstepped. I’m very, very sorry Y/N.” 

“It’s fine,” you quickly spew, “just… wash your hands before you touch anything else or yourself. I would hate for you to get sick because of me.” 

“A-ah, right,” he concurs, quickly jogging to the kitchen to wash his hands. Drying his hands with a towel, he once again joins you on the couch. “I will admit, I didn’t just come here to care for you. I wanted us to… discuss more about our conversation the other night.” 

Here he goes. Opening a wound that is long but healed. “What else is there to talk about?” You say, coughing a bit to clear your throat. You felt light headed from how congested you are, especially since talking so much. And now, Nanami was forcing you to engage in a conversation that led to your feelings being hurt more. “We both expressed our feelings to one another, and came to the conclusion that our relationship should strictly stay as a coworker dynamic.” 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” Nanami begins quietly. His eyes keep at your coffee table, with fingers weaving together slowly. He looks pensive, like he’s looking for the right words to say. But even within those thoughts, he was uneasy. “Hold on.” In a moment, he pulls off his sweatshirt, revealing himself in a black, skin tight shirt. This would be the first time you truly saw his physique, seeing as the shirt hugs into the dents and divots of his pecs and abs. The short sleeves give temptation to his muscular arms. His torso was enough to make any woman submissive. 

You look away, but still hold your ground, “if that is the case, then I’d like to apologize again for my feelings towards you. I’m working on letting them go so they no longer pose as a nuisance or discomfort for you. And if need be, I understand if you’d rather distant our work relationship, or transfer me back to Sales.” 

This is when Nanami faces you again, “Y/N, look at me.” 

His tone wasn’t aggressive nor strict, but you felt submissive to his request. You slowly turn, your eyes finding their way to his own. Hazel eyes bore into yours, and you noticed his bottom lip snug between his teeth. 

“That night when you confessed to me, I didn’t quite understand what it all meant for me,” Nanami begins quietly. He tightens his hold on his hands. “I’ve never really known what to do when people confess to me. But I was so used to not reciprocating those feelings that rejecting them was as easy as breathing.”

“You’re a little too good at it,” you let out, your heart jolting from the memory of the rejection. 

“And for that I apologize,” Nanami quickly spews, “not only for hurting your feelings, but for lying to you.” 

“Lying to me?” You felt your forehead going hot. “About what?” 

“About my feelings towards you,” Nanami’s tone hinted at a dash of embarrassment, “Admittedly, not even I knew I was lying to you until I finally gave it some thought.” 

You could only stare at him, trying to find some sense in his face. But as you stared at him, you noticed a break of conviction in his hazel eyes. His usual professional demeanor was absent, leaving you with a Nanami you’ve never met before. His confidence wavers, and before you was a red-faced, shy man. 

“Kento,” you begin, causing him to jump from his first name leaving your tongue. “I’d feel worse if you’re feigning liking me for the sake of making up with me. I told you, it is my fault for liking you.” 

“If you’re taking fault for that,” Nanami begins, his eyes diverting away from you, “then it is also your fault for making me like you back.” 

Huh? You felt hot, cold, and dizzy. His words were nauseating, and you were confident you were green in the face. Your hands and arms shake with nerves, goosebumps ornate all over your body. Before you could even utter another word, you feel yourself going faint. 

“Y/N?” Your name sounded distant. Before you knew it, your eyes flutter shut, pitch black surrounding you. 

Taglist:

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection Part 6

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha is confronted by someone from your past and faces a new troubling situation that requires her to find you.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Warnings: angst, violence, hurt/comfort, toxic relationship/emotional manipulation (not from Natasha)

Words: 4905

Natasha carefully rewraps the bandage around her bruised knuckles, her gaze drifting toward the night sky outside your apartment window. 

The faint glow of distant city lights only emphasizes the darkness around her, leaving her alone in the dim room.

She flexes her hand experimentally, wincing at the ache, but the pain is almost welcomed—a distraction from the raw, defeated feeling inside her. 

Her phone beeps in her pocket, and for a fleeting second, a hope flares within her. 

Hope that it was you. 

But when she pulls out her phone, the screen immediately dashes away that spark. 

Her heart sinks slightly, but she still answers the call as she makes her way to the kitchen. 

“Did you find anything?” Her voice still carries a thread of hope she can’t entirely hide. 

There’s a pause before Tony’s voice comes through, his tone uncharacteristically serious. 

“Sorry, Nat, the kid and I searched everywhere. There’s nothing left. The place has been stripped clean—completely abandoned. Same as last night.” 

Natasha closes her eyes, inhaling deeply as she absorbs his words. 

After being forced out, she had to regroup and call for backup. But by the time they returned to the site, it was as if the place had never been occupied. 

No trace of guards, no equipment, and worst of all—no sign of you. 

“How are you holding up?” Tony asks, his tone softer, catching the weight in her silence.

Natasha clenches her fists, testing the tightness of her grip. Her knuckles ache, a dull, persistent pain, but it barely scratches the surface of what she feels inside. 

“I’m fine,” she replies, her voice steady but carrying a tired edge. “Just some bruises.” 

Natasha sighs, her frustration and concern bleeding into her tone as she continues. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” 

Natasha glances toward the front door, where Widow sits, her little black form almost statue-like, staring intently at the door as if willing it to open. 

Her tail swishes softly, but her gaze remains fixed, waiting. 

“I’m going to stay here for now,” Natasha declares, her resolve solidifying. She reaches for a small bowl and fills it with water, setting it on the kitchen counter. 

There’s a pause on the other end, then Tony’s voice, understanding and resigned. 

“Alright. Take care of yourself, Romanoff. Call us if you need anything.” 

“I will,” she murmurs, ending the call as she heads toward the cat by the door. 

“Widow,” she calls softly with a gentleness reserved for only a few. 

The cat’s ear twitches in acknowledgment, but she doesn’t turn, her entire focus still on the door. 

Natasha watches her for a moment, a pang of sympathy tightening her chest. 

She crouches down, setting the bowl beside her as she tries again to coax her. 

“If you’re not going to eat, at least drink something,” she urges, hoping the cat will respond.

But Widow doesn’t move, her tiny body tense, her gaze unwavering as she guards the USB drive tucked protectively beneath her paw. 

Natasha reaches a tentative hand toward her, but Widow’s yellow eyes narrow, and a low, warning warning sound escapes from her. 

Sighing, Natasha withdraws her hand, understanding that the cat won’t easily surrender what you entrusted her. 

She glances at the USB, reflecting on the mysterious mission you had given to the little animal, who seemed so intent on completing it. 

The cat’s dedication and loyalty is admirable, but Natasha knows that this kind of behavior will only become more harmful to her the longer she waits. 

Still, she hesitates, feeling the weight of what she needs to say. 

Widow had held her stance for a full day now, refusing anything Natasha had offered. 

And as much as Natasha respects her determination, she can’t let the little cat continue like this, clinging to a promise that may never be fulfilled. 

Steeling herself, she leans closer, her voice soft but steady with reluctant honesty. 

“She’s not coming, Widow,” Natasha murmurs, her tone carrying the painful truth.

The reaction is immediate. 

Widow’s body stiffens and tenses, her eyes flashing with defiance as she finally meets Natasha’s gaze. 

A small, angry growl escapes her as she clutches the USB tighter, then pointedly turns her back to Natasha, ignoring her completely. 

Natasha sighs softly, feeling the sting of the cat’s rejection. 

She leaves the bowl close by, in case Widow changes her mind, then moves wearily to the couch. 

Lying down, she keeps her eyes on the cat, watching as the minutes drag into hours, the room settling into a quiet stillness. 

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes her, and she drifts into a dreamless sleep. 

It’s a soft nudge on her hand that wakes her. 

Natasha blinks, momentarily disoriented, and glances down to find Widow on the couch beside her. 

The cat's head is lowered as she lets out a sad, mournful meow. 

With a gentle motion, she pushes the USB toward Natasha, nudging it forward with a paw, her posture dejected. 

Ignoring the device, Natasha opens her arms in a silent invitation. 

Widow hesitates, then pads into her embrace, curling up tightly against Natasha’s chest. 

Natasha pulls her close, one hand resting gently on the small, trembling body, the other stroking her soft fur in an effort to soothe her. 

Widow had offered her comfort in countless moments since she had met the small animal, so Natasha’s grip tightens protectively, offering what little comfort she can in return. 

She can feel the cat’s sorrow in the small, heartbreaking whimpers that escape her.

The sad sounds eventually fade as Widow drifts into an uneasy sleep, her small body occasionally twitching, as if the dreams that find her are anything but restful. 

A pang of sympathy tightens in her chest, understanding the feeling the cat must be going through.

After a moment, Natasha’s gaze on the sleeping cat is pulled away when her phone on the table lights up, vibrating softly with an incoming call. 

Her heart skips a beat when she sees your name flash across the screen. 

Moving carefully to avoid disturbing the little creature, Natasha grabs and answers the phone, pressing it to her ear with barely contained urgency.

“Hey, where are you? Are you okay?” she blurts out, her voice low but charged with concern.

Silence greets her, stretching unbearably long, and Natasha’s unease grows. She’s just about to call your name when a low, mocking chuckle crackles through the line.

“You know, she had you saved under an hourglass icon,” an unfamiliar voice drawls. 

Natasha’s brows knit in confusion, a cold sensation settling over her as she realized this wasn’t you. 

“Who is this?” she demands, her tone sharp and dangerous. “Why do you have her phone?”

The voice lets out a thoughtful hum as if savoring her reaction. 

“Let’s talk,” the voice taunts. “One on one. Come to the address I sent you—if you really want to know.”

The line goes dead, leaving Natasha staring at the phone, a notification already lighting up the screen with a set of coordinates. 

She exhales, steeling herself as her gaze drifts back to Widow, still curled beside her, her tiny body twitching restlessly in her sleep.

Determined, Natasha slips from the couch, pulling on her jacket as she glances back one last time. 

The sight of Widow sleeping restlessly stirs her resolve. 

This stumbling in the dark can’t go on—not for her and certainly not for the cat. 

She leaves quietly, heading to confront whoever this mysterious stranger is.

The coordinates bring her to the entrance of an unmarked underground bar. 

A brawny guard stands watch by the door, his gaze impassive but sharp. He sizes her up briefly, then steps aside without a word, opening the door and allowing her in. 

The door closes behind her with a definitive slam, trapping her in the dim, smoky atmosphere of the room.

The bar is quiet, empty save for a single figure sitting casually at the counter, her back turned to her. 

Natasha’s gaze sharpens, taking in the woman’s straight posture and the aura of confidence that radiates from her. 

Jet-black hair cascades down her back, and a strange glint of metal catches Natasha’s attention—the unmistakable shimmer of a gold mask covering her upper face.

Natasha moves forward, her steps soundless as she approaches the counter. She sits two stools away, close enough to talk but keeping a cautious distance. 

The woman remains silent, seemingly content with the space between them, focusing on the glass before her. 

Another shot glass slides across the counter toward Natasha. 

She catches it mid-slide but doesn’t raise it to her lips, choosing instead to study the stranger beside her. 

The woman’s casual, almost indifferent demeanor betrays an underlying edge, a danger that Natasha can feel. 

The woman lifts her own glass, taking a slow sip, before finally breaking the silence without so much a glance in Natasha’s direction.  

“What’s wrong?” she murmurs, a smirk lacing her words. “Afraid I poisoned it?”

Natasha furrows her brows, coolly setting the glass back on the counter as her response.

The woman glances at her before shrugging and pouring herself another glass. ​​The lightness in the air feels false, loaded with an unspoken tension. 

Finally, Natasha breaks the silence.

“You already know who I am,” she says evenly. “So who are you?”

The woman turns, the gold mask covering her upper face catches the dim light, casting her in a half-shadow that only sharpens the piercing gray eyes staring back at her. 

A smirk plays at her lips, and she leans in, resting her elbow on the counter with a relaxed yet predatory air. 

“Straight to business. I respect that,” she says, chuckling softly as she swirls the liquid in her glass. 

“My friends call me Whitney,” she continues, pausing to take a slow, deliberate sip before setting it down on the counter with a soft clink.

“My enemies? They know me as Madame Masque.” 

Her voice drops as she tilts her head, gray eyes narrowing. 

“So…which do you believe you are, Miss Black Widow?”

Natasha catches the faint edge in her words when she says her title, half-mocking with a hint of hostility that’s barely disguised. 

It’s clear this woman has her own thoughts about who Natasha is. 

“Seems you’ve already made that decision yourself,” Natasha says pointedly.

Whitney lets out a short chuckle as her fingers tap against the counter as if contemplating whether her statement is true or not.

Natasha’s gaze flicks down to the counter at her action before drifting to where a familiar device rests.

Your phone. 

Whitney’s eyes follow Natasha’s line of sight, her hand reaching over to take the phone. She handles it with a casual, almost mocking nonchalance that makes Natasha’s blood simmer as she’s reminded of how she doesn’t know your whereabouts. 

As if reading Natasha’s thoughts, Whitney’s lips curve into a taunting smile. 

“Don’t worry, she’s safe,” she says smoothly, raising the phone and pointing it toward Natasha. Her eyes glint with dark amusement. “But tell me, how much do you really know about her to care?” 

Natasha’s eyes narrow, her jaw clenching slightly as she meets Whitney’s gaze, holding back the irritation clawing at her composure. 

“I know enough.” 

Whitney’s laugh is soft, laced with an air of superiority. 

“Enough?” she echoes, as if savoring the word, rolling it around in her mouth with condescension. 

She brings the phone up to her lips, brushing them lightly on the edge as if placing a delicate kiss.

“That’s nothing compared to who I am to her,” she purrs, her gaze locked onto Natasha’s, a challenge in her expression. 

Natasha frowns slightly at the implication, piecing together the hints of what sort of relationship you and this woman may have shared. Though, she doesn’t let the idea shake her composure.

“Funny,” Natasha counters, her tone ice-cold. “You say you’re so important, yet she’s never mentioned you. Not even once.”

The barb hits its mark. 

Whitney’s smirk falters, just for a split second, before her expression hardens, her grip tightening on the phone. 

Her gaze sharpens with a flash of anger, but she recovers, her voice dropping to a dangerous, low murmur.

“Careful,” she warns, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “People have disappeared for less.”

Natasha meets her gaze head-on, the threat passing over her like a breeze. 

The silence stretches between them, tense and unyielding. 

Then, as if suddenly bored of the exchange, Whitney tosses the phone across the counter. 

Natasha catches it effortlessly, not breaking eye contact.

“However,” Whitney says, standing up smoothly and tossing her hair back over her shoulder, “That is not the purpose of this meeting.” 

Her posture shifts, deliberate and commanding, as she steps closer. 

Whitney’s presence fills the space between them, a wall of cold authority. Her gaze bears down on Natasha, sharp and assessing.

“This is your only warning—a courtesy if you will,” she continues, her tone chilling in its calculated calm. “In recognition of the…friendship you shared with her during her time away from my side.” 

Her words are laced with a venomous undertone, and her eyes narrow, each syllable cutting with a precision that makes her intentions painfully clear.  

“Stay away from my business,” Whitney demands, her voice dropping into a steely edge. “And stay away from her.”

The threat hangs heavy in the air, but Natasha remains calm, her expression steadfast. Underneath, though, a flicker irritation stirs in her chest.

It’s not the words themselves that bother her—it’s the way Whitney carries herself, the way she exudes control, as if she owns you. That smug arrogance, that predatory assumption of power over someone else’s life, is something Natasha knows all too well.

She’s spent her entire early life under the thumb of people like Whitney, people who believed they had the right to decide her fate.

Natasha recognizes the pattern instantly, and the familiarity sets her teeth on edge.

“She can make her own choices,” Natasha counters, her tone calm but firm, a subtle steel threading through her words.

Whitney’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. There’s something predatory in the way her gaze lingers like she’s savoring an unseen advantage. 

She arches a brow, her response almost mocking.

“Yes,” she says smoothly, “and tell me, whose bed did she choose to sleep in tonight?”

Even though Natasha sees through the obvious attempt to provoke her, her fingers still tighten instinctively around the sleek metal of the phone, the only outward sign of her restraint. Her jaw sets, the tension visible in the small but deliberate motion. 

Whitney catches the reaction, and the satisfaction in her expression is unmistakable. Her smirk widens as though confirming a victory. 

Without waiting for a response, she pivots on her heel and strides confidently toward the door, her heels clicking in the silence. 

At the threshold, she pauses, glancing back over her shoulder. Her voice drops to a whisper, low and laced with a chilling sweetness.

“You should forget about her,” Whitney murmurs, her eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. “Or else…she’ll hurt you even more than she already has.”

The words twist in the air, lingering like smoke long after Whitney disappears into the night.

Natasha remains seated in the dimly lit bar, the emptiness pressing in around her. 

As much as she tries to brush it off, Whitney’s parting shot reverberates in her mind, a shadow that clings to her thoughts, refusing to disappear.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

It’s early morning by the time Natasha finally makes it back to your apartment. She slips in through the front door, her steps weary, her mind weighed down by the revelations of the night. 

As she enters, her boot bumps into the bowl she’d left for Widow, the water still untouched and the food uneaten. 

Natasha’s frown deepens as her concern shifts to the little cat. 

The absence of any sound or movement from Widow sends a flicker of unease through her. 

Moving quickly to the couch where she left her, Natasha feels her stomach twist as she sees Widow, lying in the same spot, seemingly untouched by the passing hours. 

But as Natasha leans in closer, worry edges into panic. She notices how shallow the little cat’s breathing has become, her tiny body rising and falling with only the faintest of movements. 

Natasha kneels beside the couch, reaching a hand to gently stroke Widow’s back, calling her name softly. 

“Widow?” Her voice is tentative, hoping for any sign of life, any flicker of response.

But there’s nothing. 

Widow doesn’t stir or twitch, only the faintest breaths giving away the fact that she’s even alive. 

Panic surges in Natasha’s chest, and without hesitation, she carefully lifts Widow into her arms. 

The cat remains limp, her tiny body almost weightless, as Natasha cradles her close, rushing toward the door and heading straight for the nearest emergency vet clinic. 

In the waiting area, Natasha’s leg bounces with anxious energy, her fingers wringing together as she stares at the clinic doors. 

Every time a nurse or doctor passes by, she looks up, her heart in her throat, hoping for news about Widow’s condition. 

The minutes crawl by, and then hours, the feeling of helplessness pressing down on her with each passing second. 

Finally, a voice calls out. “Ms. Romanoff?” 

Natasha stands instantly, her gaze meeting the veterinarian’s. 

The vet’s eyes widen for a moment, recognizing her.

“Oh, wow, it really is you,” the vet mutters, then clears her throat, refocusing and offering a small, sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry—I meant to say, your cat is stable now.” 

“She’s not actually my…” Natasha begins to clarify, but then thinks better of it, shaking her head. “What was wrong with her?”

The vet gives her a curious look but remains professional as she continues. 

“We gave her some fluids for the dehydration. Other than that, there doesn’t appear to be anything physically wrong. Her lack of movement was likely due to severe exhaustion and lack of energy.” She pauses and studies Natasha for a moment. “Has she shown any changes in eating habits recently? A loss of appetite?”

Natasha nods, the previous day playing back in her mind. 

“She wouldn’t eat or drink anything yesterday,” she admits, her voice tinged with guilt.

The vet shakes her head. 

“That’s not good for cats, especially one her size. Going without food or water for even a day can lead to complications—some of them severe—if it continues. Has there been anything recently that might have caused her stress? Emotional factors can have a significant impact on animals.” 

Natasha exhales deeply, her chest tightening.

“I might have an idea,” she says, her voice quieter.

The vet nods, offering a small, reassuring smile. 

“That’s good. Addressing the source of her stress is key. Cats are incredibly resilient, but the sooner she feels safe and secure again, the faster she’ll recover. She’s stable now, but we’ll keep monitoring her for the next few hours. After that, she’ll be ready to go home.”

“Okay,” Natasha murmurs, her voice tight with relief.

Sitting back down, Natasha releases a deep breath, a mixture of relief and lingering worry filling her chest. 

The most likely reason for Widow’s condition would be your sudden absence and the overwhelming sense of abandonment the little cat must be feeling. 

If Natasha wants to truly help her, she knows she’ll have to find you—and fast.

But that’s already a difficult task. She doesn’t even know where to start, especially now that she can no longer reach you.

She pulls out your phone, the screen lighting up with a photo of you and Widow, a rare moment captured in happier times. 

A soft, sad smile tugs at her lips as she studies the image, but it quickly fades as determination takes over.

Natasha swipes through the phone, scrolling through messages, contacts, and any notes that might give her a lead. 

As her focus sharpens, a small notification banner suddenly drops from the top of the screen—a reminder. 

Natasha’s brow furrows as she reads it, her instincts and training automatically kicking in. Her eyes narrow as she considers the information. 

It’s a long shot, but it’s her only lead.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha remains hidden in the shadows, her eyes fixed on the building across the street. The crisp night air chills her skin, but she doesn’t waver. 

Hours of waiting finally pay off as she spots a figure emerging from a rooftop window, their movements precise and practiced.

Natasha’s breath catches as she recognizes the silhouette.

You move with fluid grace, scaling down the side of the building as if you’ve done this a hundred times before. Blending seamlessly into the night, you pause briefly on the ground, scanning your surroundings. 

Natasha watches and follows intently, her heartbeat quickening. She takes a steadying breath and steps out of the shadows.

“Hey, can we talk?” she calls, her voice low but firm.

You whip around, your body immediately tensing as your eyes meet hers. 

Surprise flickers across your face for a split second, but it’s quickly replaced by a guarded, hardened expression. 

Without a word, you turn on your heel and dart into a nearby alley. 

“Damn it,” Natasha mutters, breaking into a sprint after you. Her boots hit the pavement in a steady rhythm, her heart pounding as she pushes herself to keep up. 

She can’t lose you—not again.

“Wait!” she yells, her voice echoing through the narrow streets. 

But you don’t stop. 

You dart through the labyrinth of the city’s back alleys, vaulting over debris, slipping into tight corners, and using every trick in your arsenal to stay ahead. 

Natasha grits her teeth, frustration mounting as the gap between you grows.

Just when it seems like you might disappear into the night again, Natasha yells, desperation seeping into her voice. 

“It’s Widow! She’s sick!” 

The words stop you dead in your tracks. You skid to a halt, spinning around to face her. Disbelief and fury war on your face as you close the distance in a blur of motion. 

Before Natasha can react, you slam into her, knocking her off her feet. The impact sends her sprawling onto the pavement, the air forced from her lungs. 

You’re on top of her in an instant, pinning her down with your weight. Your knees trap her legs, and your hands grip her wrists, holding her firmly against the cold ground. 

“What did you do to her?” you demand, your voice low and intense. Your face hovers inches above hers, anger radiating from you. Your eyes bore into hers, alight with fury and something deeper—fear. 

Natasha’s breath catches as she processes the sudden shift, but her calm never wavers. 

“I didn’t—”

“I can’t believe you’d do something like this!” you snap, cutting her off. “Hurting her just to get to me!” Your voice rises with each word, the accusation stinging like venom, your emotions boiling over into your words. 

Natasha struggles against your hold, her frustration mounting. 

“Listen to me!” she bites back, her tone firm despite the compromising position. “I didn’t hurt her! She’s sick because she won’t eat or drink anything since you disappeared!”

Your grip falters slightly, confusion flickering across your face. Natasha seizes the moment, her voice softening but retaining its urgency.

“She thinks you abandoned her,” Natasha says before continuing, her tone quieter but no less resolute. “She misses you.”

Your fingers loosen their hold on her wrists, the anger in your eyes giving way to guilt and vulnerability.

Slowly, you push yourself back, but instead of moving off her entirely, you remain seated atop her, your posture easing into something less confrontational as the tension between you softens.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. The bitterness in your voice is evident as a hollow chuckle escapes your lips. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I forgot…you’re not the kind of person who would do something like that.”

Natasha props herself up on her elbows, her sharp gaze still studying you, though the edge in her eyes has softened.

“But Whitney is,” she says evenly, her words carrying a pointed weight. 

Your eyes snap to hers, widening slightly.

“How do you know about her?” you ask, your tone shifting to one of shock and apprehension. 

Natasha sighs at the memory of her encounter with Whitney, slightly regretting bringing the woman into the conversation.

She hesitates, but before she can answer, her gaze flickers to where you’re still straddling her, pinning her in place.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, a spark of mischief breaking through the lingering tension. 

“You know,” she drawls, her voice teasing as she tries to lighten the mood, “if you’re planning to keep me in this position much longer, at least buy me dinner first.” 

The unexpected quip catches you off guard. For a moment, her words hang in the air before a soft laugh escapes you, easing the remaining tension.

Natasha feels her heart quicken at the sound and the shift in your expression, relieved to see the shadow of a smile on your face, even if it might be fleeting.

But then your smirk returns, playful and familiar, as you lean down slightly, closing the space between you, your face hovering just above hers.

“Does this affect you that much, Miss Black Widow?” you ask, your voice lowering as you draw out her title, teasing her the way you often do. 

Natasha’s breath catches, her heart practically pounding now.

Unconsciously, she leans closer, her lips parting slightly. Her gaze flickers to your mouth, lingering for just a fraction of a second too long as she remembers the last time those lips had touched hers.

Something in her gaze must have surprised you as your eyes widen slightly, as if just noticing the intensity of how she looks at you and seeing the possible depth and truth of her feelings for you.

The realization shakes you, bringing you out of the moment. Blinking, you pull back quickly, the teasing edge in your expression vanishing as the weight of the realization sinks in.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your voice quieter now, though even you aren’t sure what you’re apologizing for—crossing a line, or simply acknowledging what you cannot reciprocate right now.

You lean back and plant your hands on the ground behind you to give her space.

Natasha blinks, as though snapping out of her own thoughts, and shifts slightly, reclaiming her composure as she remembers the boundaries you’ve placed between yourself and her.

Her expression flickers briefly, something unreadable passing over her face, before she clears her throat.

She sits up smoothly, brushing off her arms and legs as if the act might rid her of any lingering emotions.

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, her voice steady, though there’s a faint undercurrent of something unsaid, something painful.

You shift back further, leaning on your hands for support, as you exhale deeply, rubbing the back of your neck.

“How do you know about Whitney?” you ask again, this time quieter, more cautious.

“We talked,” Natasha says, her tone neutral but pointed. “She made it pretty clear how much she doesn’t like me meddling in her business…or with you.”

A shadow crosses your expression, and you let out a low sigh, your gaze flickering between her and the ground. 

“She shouldn’t have done that,” you mutter.

Natasha tilts her head, studying you carefully as she wonders about your relationship with the woman. She pushes herself to her feet and steps closer, her gaze locking with yours as she reaches her hand out to you. 

“Come back with me, please,” she says after a moment. “Widow needs you.”

You hesitate, the conflicting emotions playing out on your face, but Natasha holds your gaze, steady and unwavering.

Finally, your hand raises tentatively toward hers. 

But before you can close the gap, a sharp kick slams into Natasha’s side, sending her stumbling back. She rolls to her feet smoothly, her sharp gaze snapping at her attacker.

“I thought I told you to keep your hands to yourself,” a voice warns coolly.

Natasha straightens, brushing herself off as she locks eyes with Whitney.

The woman strides forward with predatory grace, pulling you to your feet. 

You avoid Natasha’s gaze as Whitney wraps her arms around you from behind, her chin resting possessively on your shoulder.

“She’s mine,” Whitney finishes, her tone dangerously low, laced with a chilling confidence.

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, her green eyes narrowing. 

“For someone so confident in that fact, you seem awfully insecure whenever I’m near,” she says, her words meant to provoke the woman.

Whitney’s expression hardens, her gray eyes flashing with anger. She makes a move toward Natasha, but you turn in her arms, placing a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her. 

Your other hand gently tilts her face toward yours, redirecting her attention.

“You promised you wouldn’t,” you whisper, your tone calm but firm. You lean in, pressing your forehead lightly against hers, as if grounding her.

Natasha’s chest tightens at the sight, an unfamiliar sting of pain settling in her heart. Her hands clench at her sides as she watches the exchange, feeling both helpless and infuriated.

Whitney holds your gaze for a long moment. Finally, she sighs, her lips curving into a slight smirk as her eyes flick toward Natasha. She seems to notice Natasha’s clenched fists, her smirk deepening.

“See?” Whitney says lightly, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “I told you she’d only hurt you.”

Your eyes flash with a pained expression at her words. Still, you refuse to meet Natasha’s gaze.

With that, Whitney pulls you closer, turning to lead you away, leaving Natasha standing in the shadows.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

a/n: I know, updates on both series in the same week surprises me too, it probably won’t happen too often but we’ll see. Again, thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it or if the tag did not work for you, please let me know.

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[threeacttragedy]

Great blog but if all was not good with L and A why was he holding her in the water in Italy. Seemed off

Appreciate the question because it's one that's been on a lot of people's minds for months!

The relationship between Luke and Antonia will always be a mystery. We will never be privy to everything that happened between them. We will never know whether they were serious, casual, phony, simply part of the same friend group, whatever label you want to put on them.

Eventually I will write out my thoughts on Antonia -- because, trust me, I have some (and, no, they're not mean-spirited) -- but to make a long story short, some things to note that also "seem off" are:

Italy was roughly four months ago. We have not seen Luke and Antonia together since. The only interaction appears to be two likes per month from Luke on Antonia's grid.

Even if we're going to consider the Spanish resort pictures, we have to take into consideration that Antonia was removed from Luke's narrative. Luke seemingly filled that grid post with images that were Polin and/or Lukola coded (the two fingers -- that man will never be able to put up two fingers again without evoking a carriage scene; the chaise-style bench; the cake and its accompanying emojis). He also immediately came to the rescue by clarifying the cake picture (effectively squashing any accusations that he had removed Nicola from the cake). Regardless of whether Antonia was there, Luke removed her from his narrative. It was Antonia that tried to slip it back in with her October 25 post. The interesting thing there is that no one would understand her reference to being in Spain except...Lukolas. The general public wouldn't give that picture a second thought.

To my knowledge, Luke didn't like posts from third parties that included Antonia in them over the summer. For example, when Rory posted to his grid on July 6, 2024, he included pictures of Luke and Antonia (separate images). Luke did not like this post. Sienna posted the same day, with a picture that included Antonia. Luke didn't like that one either. I am not saying Luke has to like every post (in fact, I've blogged on this already), but it is something to consider.

After Papsmear, there was really no reason for Luke not to step up and "claim" (gross word, by the way) Antonia. The damage had been done. He could have protected her in some way from the fandom, but he chose to remain quiet. Wait, not quiet, he chose to post his I-Won't-Let-Cressida-Ruin-Our-Evening story.

To be honest, the entire Luke and Antonia situation has had me going back and forth for months. My advice to people is to look at things collectively. Do not look at a single event and decide, oh, yeah, that's the absolute final answer. Instead, use that single event (assuming you find it intriguing enough) as the starting point for your opinion on the matter. Remember to go backwards, forwards, and sideways in your analysis, and be willing to adjust your theory as you collect information.

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (6) - Call Your Mom

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

Word count: 7.5k

-Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason-

People around you were already dressed in warm clothing, wearing jackets and coats and warming up with coffee or tea or another hot beverage. Anyone who could spare the time seemed to stick around inside coffee shops or bars or any place that could offer any semblance of heat and cover from the morning cold. Compared to them you were fairly lightly dressed wearing only a thin long-sleeved shirt and jeans, you've kind of gotten used to the cold so this didn't bother you.

You still didn't order anything, instead you were just watching people going up to the baristas to take their orders and sitting down or just leaving for work or school or wherever. All the while, you were stuck here, with your suitcase next to you, and luckily it was for a rather pleasant reason. And the said pleasant reason just caught your eye as she walked right through the door.

Jenna came in with a man accompanying her. You did remember seeing him once when she needed to do an interview for her most recent movie, but since it was a busy day shooting you never got the chance meet him, but you definitely recognized him and you knew he was Enrique, her stylist. Almost instinctually you stood up which got her attention, because yeah, you stood out in the crowd for more than one reason. Your heart soared as Jenna, with a bright smile on her face pretty much ran up to you much to the amusement of her stylist.

She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tightly. You could feel the slight shivering of her body and it wasn’t caused by the cold as she was properly dressed. In fact the soft material of her long and warm  coat kind of tickled you. No, you knew what the reason for hers shivering was and you felt it too “Hey,” she whispered softly in your ear, as if she just needed an excuse to have her lips close to your skin.

“We'll see each other again, you know,” you assured her, knowing that was the thing making her feel uncertain and worried about the future. You haven't really been a part of this industry for long and she was much more aware of how things worked, how easy it was to never see someone again. On the other hand, you had a living example of a man that kept in touch with plenty of his co-stars so if Hugh could do it so could you. And you would absolutely do it for Jenna.

“I know,” she said, but you could feel her relaxing as the man she came with approached with a fond smile on his face. How much did he know?

The fond smile turned into a teasing grin. “Well I'll be damned, I knew you were eager to see her, but I didn't know you were this eager! If I knew, I wouldn't have kept you at that shop earlier,” Enrique laughed, and you had to grin when you saw Jenna blushing. Jenna blushing was perhaps one of your favorite sights to see.

“Don't tell her that!” Jenna complained as she separated from you and turned to look at her stylist, which also helped her hide the blush from you, but you just patted her on the back.

“Come on, it's adorable,” you said with a bit of a teasing grin on your face. Did you feel slightly bad for teasing her with Enrique? Maybe, but she was just too adorable when she got embarrassed.  You turned to Enrique and offered him your hand. “I don't think we're properly met, nice to meet you I am Y/N,” you said and were honestly surprised when he, instead of shaking your hand, pulled you in for a quick hug.

“Jenna’s been telling me a lot about you, so let's skip the formalities,” accepting this meeting was probably the best decision you could have made because you were hearing so much about what Jenna's been doing behind your back that even missing the plane would be worth it.

You turned to Jenna with the most obvious shit-eating grin on your face. “Is that so?” you nudged her lightly as she suddenly found her feet to be very interesting.

“Let's just order something already,” she mumbled and sat down before you could pull her chair out. Well, you figured that was what you got for teasing her as much as you did.

The three of you made your orders, classics really, tea and coffee, you and Jenna ordered tea and Enrique ordered coffee, an espresso to be precise.

“So, should I get to know you or just let the two of you hang out while I play the third wheel?” Enrique asked and now it was your turn to be embarrassed because this time he was teasing both of you. The truth was this meeting was entirely so you could meet Enrique, and say goodbye to Jenna, but she told you Enrique was curious and this was a good opportunity in her mind. So, you both knew you’d mostly be talking to Enrique this morning.

You ignored the embarrassment and looked him in the eye. “Ask away,” you grinned a bit, hiding the slight nervousness about what he could ask you. There weren’t many things he couldn’t hear from Jenna, and some of those really weren’t something you wanted to talk about.

Jenna groaned and lowered her head on top of the table and hid it behind her hands, but Enrique had his goal and he would accomplish it.

He was having too much fun with this though, and the growing grin on his face was enough of a proof of that. “So, Jenna told me a lot about you, like a lot a lot, but she hasn't told me anything about your previous role.”

You actually felt relief that he asked about that and not something else.

“Enrique, come on!” Jenna clearly didn't want to put you on the spot but you really had nothing to be put on the spot for. You could easily tell them about Logan.

“It’s okay, Jen,” you smiled at her and she seemed relieved, but also curious now. Why didn’t she just ask? “I was in Logan with Hugh Jackman, I played Laura, the X-23,” you just shrugged, kind of enjoying the shocked looks on their faces.

“Wait you were in the Logan?” Enrique asked and then turned to Jenna who was slightly confused, she recognized Hugh’s name, of course, but she wasn’t familiar with Logan. “The big superhero movie, the end of the X-Men, and Hugh Jackman's last time playing Wolverine. It was a big hit back in 2017, hell, for some it’s the best superhero movie ever made,” Enrique explained for you and you saw Jenna remembering the movie you both just told her about.

And that's when it clicked for her. “I remember hearing about it, and my brothers were crazy about it,” she turned to you kind of annoyed “You told me you didn't have a lot of speaking lines.”

You raised your hands in defense. “I didn't! I spent over an hour and a half not saying a single line and even when I start speaking it wasn’t often,” you laughed and it really was like that. Laura was silent for almost the entirety of the movie, to the point of her finally talking being one of the movie’s funniest scenes. You weren't sure anymore but you were fairly certain you didn't speak for the first ninety seven minutes of the movie and then you went into a Spanish rant. Those were good times, and a very fun day on the set.

“Unbelievable,” Jenna shook her head but you could see the smile on her face giving away that she wasn't as annoyed as she was pretending to be.

“Damn that explains the action scenes you told me about,” Enrique told Jenna and then pointed at you “She was doing crazy things in that movie,” he then turned back to you “Was that a stunt double or did you actually do it?”

“No stunt double, I did it all, from jumping on top of the car to jumping over Hugh to fight scenes,” of course all of it was made possible with the ropes and the equipment and all the other things that make superhuman stuff look like the way it does. You remembered just how fun it was to do those stunts, you were a kid, excited to have Wolverine claws and act with Hugh and Patrick. Acting in Logan actually got you into martial arts because you had to take some classes and then you just continued.

Sometimes, you thought that was both a blessing and a curse.

Not that you blamed being on Logan for what happened and what's happening to you because you were absolutely certain that one way or another you would find yourself in martial arts. It would only be a matter of time.

“Guess I know what movie to watch when I get home,” Jenna still seemed annoyed that you didn't tell her any of this before and you just laughed.

~X~

About two hours later the three of you came to the airport and this was it, this was the moment you would go your separate ways. Her and Enrique were going back to California and you were going back to Denver. Jenna didn't want it to happen, she honestly just wanted to spend more time with you, to actually watch Logan with you and not just on her own or with someone from her family. She wanted to see your first movie with you. You were checking your ID and well you looked cute as you lightly chewed on your bottom lip. Were you as nervous as she was about separating? She hoped you were, she wanted to believe that, while she couldn't be sure if you liked her back, you weren't immune to her.

So, and ignoring Enrique’s teasing grin and everything he would be saying to her when they get on the plane, she stepped in front of you and put her hand on you own pushing it down so you would look away from your ID and look at her. “So, I've been thinking. I don't really want to watch Logan alone,” she should have been more direct about it.

You nodded, completely misunderstanding. “Oh, yeah, that's fine. I know superhero movies aren't your thing,” you missed the point you oblivious adorable dumbass.

“That's not what she wants, Y/N,” Enrique laughed and she couldn’t help it, she turned around and stuck her tongue out at him, which just made him laugh harder.

Jenna rolled her eyes at the antics of her stylist and dear friend. “What I meant is, how about you come by my place when you get the time? You know, meet my family and we can watch it together, because I really want to see you,” in more ways than one, she wanted to see you in that movie and she wanted to see you in person, and she wanted so much more from all of this between the two of you.

Jenna wanted you to meet her family, she wanted them to love you as much as she did, and she wanted to watch you get close to them. And maybe if you didn't have any other plans maybe you would come and visit during the holidays, depending on how your own family would react to that.

In her overthinking mind she already pictured meeting your own parents, wondering if you looked more like your mother or your father, or if you were just a combination of the two, and hopefully making a good impression on them. Maybe your parents could come with you one day and meet her parents and siblings and things would go from there.

It was way too fast, way too naïve, she knew that, but there was just something in your eyes that told her she wasn't rushing. That it could very well be the future between you, because that's how softly you were looking at her.

She watched as you swallowed hard and cleared your throat as if fighting something, some emotion that she couldn't exactly put her finger on and then you nodded. “Yeah,” your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat once more. “Yeah, I'd love that,” you said and she didn't understand why you got nervous, but she could tell it wasn't because of meeting her family or spending time with her. It was something else, something you weren't ready to share with her yet, and just perhaps it was related to where you were about to go all those weeks ago.

She’d keep those thoughts to herself for now. “I need to catch a plane, we’ll talk over the phone, OK?” she reached up, cupped your cheek and brushed her thumb across it. “Y/N,” she whispered your name as softly as she possibly could and rose up to her toes as you leaned down. Yet, at the last moment, she just changed her mind and instead of kissing you on the lips she just kissed your cheek. “Have a safe flight, and text me when you get home,” it was actually incredibly endearing how you just froze at the kiss even after she kissed you on the lips in that unscripted scene.

“Of course,” you stammered, and Jenna reluctantly pulled away from you while doing everything in her power to ignore how Enrique was looking at her

“Bye,” she waved back at you and left because missing a plane wouldn't be the best decision she could make right now. Even if she wished she could stay with you or just take you along.

~X~

Hugh was going to have a blast with this. You actually went and did the same thing he did! You fell in love with your co-star on your first role as an adult! Well that was one way to restart the career.

The apartment building you lived in was, for the lack of better term, pretty old but with sturdy and thick walls. Unlike those damn walls that allowed Mikey to figure out your and Jenna’s late-night hang-outs. But it was fairly close to the industrial areas so it was cheap as fuck and probably didn’t have the cleanest air, but you were honestly fine with that. It's been your home since you were about sixteen and a half years old.

You could move out, but given that you were restarting your career and that the gym you were working for wasn't that far away from here you just felt no need to do so. Besides it was a safe neighborhood, and as much as there were some other issues with it you never had to worry about Barbara getting mugged or anything close to that happening, when she visited you.

In fact, the only person threatening the security of your apartment was probably already inside it.

You climbed up the stairs because there was no elevator in the building and just as you suspected the doors were unlocked. “Best friend turned burglar says what?” you yelled from the doors. Cheers for thick walls, you could yell all you wanted.

“What?” Barbara predictably responded and peeked into the hall from the living room with a frying pan in her hand.

“What were you about to do with that?” you asked, more amused than anything and placed the suitcase down by the doors.

“Well, I didn't know if it was you or someone I didn't want to see, which is, you know, anyone but you,” she pouted and rubbed the bottom of the pan. “This baby was going to protect me,” you approached her and swiftly stole the pan right off her hands.

“This baby?” you asked with a smirk that you knew annoyed the hell out of Barbara.

“Not fair, I wasn't ready,” she huffed and tilted her chin up feigning the anger.

The poorly concealed grin gave her away.

“Ha! Like you ever are,” you took the pan back to the kitchen and went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. “You know you could have just locked the doors,” you told her.

“Yeah, but then you would have to unlock your own door and that just doesn't feel welcoming after coming back home after two months,” her logic was flawed but she believed it wholeheartedly.

“That is exactly the scenario someone wants when they know their apartment should be empty!” you pulled out your phone from your pocket and quickly sent a message to Jenna saying you were back home and safe and sound and then for good measure you just snapped a picture of Barbara and sent it to Jenna.

“And this is the nuisance I found at home. Can you believe my luck? I wouldn't be surprised if she actually spent the two months at my apartment because that's just the way she is,” you were recording a voice message for Jenna just so Barbara would know for sure you were saying that about her.

“Lies! All lies! Y/N loves having me around,” Barbara denied and you kind of forgot to stop recording.

“You do know having someone around also means being there with them, and not in another state while you crash as their apartment, right?” you asked, dryly and if you weren’t used to Barbara being like this your eye would have probably started twitching by now.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say babe,” she laughed, and you just sighed and shook your head at that and run your fingers through your hair. It never crossed your mind just how much of the conversation Jenna would actually get. You intended just the first bit to be sent, but you unknowingly ended the message right after Barbara called you ‘babe’.

“I'm so lucky to have you as a best friend,” you didn't even bother going to the kitchen and instead just walked around the apartment, noting all the chores that would need to get done. There really was no point in going to the kitchen, as there was probably nothing there. Knowing Barbara, even if she did bring something along, she ate it out of nervousness, so the kitchen was barren and free from any source of nourishment.

“You absolutely are,” Barbara wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for an one-armed hug. “I missed you, bestie!”

“It's good to see you too, Barb,” you eventually relented and admitted that you did miss her too. It has been two months and over the years you got annoyingly used to having Barbara in your life. “So, want to grab an early lunch, I'm starving,” you suggested without really having any specific food you were craving at the moment.

“Skipped breakfast?” she half asked half stated and you just shrugged. You had a piece of toast or something this morning. And you had a cup of tea. Could that be considered a breakfast? Well, you figured it depended on who you asked.

“Please tell me you ate well while you were filming,” Barbara had this stern look on her face and you actually smiled at that.

“I did actually. Well Jenna got me into a habit of having a breakfast with her, so I couldn't exactly skip it,” you were smiling because the memories of those days were pleasant but also because you knew knowing that would make Barbara happy.

She knew you sometimes struggled to take care of yourself. You’d just forget a meal or push yourself too hard. The loss of your parents did that to you. “I’m really going to thank that girl for doing something I couldn't,” Barbara said and pulled you into a hug, a proper one this time. “Keep doing that, alright, Y/N? Or I'll have to just steal your phone and call your girl and make her scold you.”

“You are never unlocking my phone,” you laughed at the empty threat, but the idea of getting Jenna involved in your issues truly bothered you.

“Yeah, sure, you know you have the most cliche password imaginable,” she poked you on the shoulder as the two of you have slowly made your way back out of the apartment, this time locking it.

“So, what is it?” you challenged her.

“It's my birthday!” she said with so much confidence you just burst out laughing, as she stood there, all proud and with her hands on her hips.

“I don't even know when your birthday is off the top of my head!” You were lying, you both knew it, but she asked for it! Your password actually wasn't her birthday, but you admired the guts to say it so confidently.

Barbara laughed and began going down the stairs. “Yes, you do know it, and I know you do. And if I tell you what your password is you're just going to change it, so no you're not getting that out of me,” all the while she kept being a few steps ahead of you and almost bouncing her feet excited to have you back once more.

You faked a sigh and looked up toward the ceiling. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Hopefully take me out for a nice meal and pay for it,” she supplied and you figured that would work, and you knew just the place you could take her to.

~X~

Perhaps the most important person in your life, even more important than Barbara, was Hugh. And he made sure to reciprocate that almost family-like relationship. It came easy to both of you, he adopted his children, and you were an orphan for a few years now so the idea of a family bond that wasn't defined by blood wasn't strange to either of you. You've never called him ‘dad’ and he never called you his child but that was the kind of bond you had. You kept turning to him ever since you met him on Logan, and having him in your life was something you were incredibly thankful for.

And getting back into the industry and realizing how hectic and busy everything was just made Hugh’s dedication to keeping in touch with you and always checking up on you stand out even more.

Even though it happened almost four years ago the memory of your panic attacks and everything you did back then was still fresh in your mind.

~X~

‘Worthless piece of shit! You couldn’t do anything!’ those were the only thoughts going through your mind as you pounded the punching back again and again not even caring enough to put on gloves or anything that would protect your knuckles. You just kept punching and punching until your hands hurt and then some more.

The heavy chains you locked the door with when you entered the gym dropped onto the floor and the doors opened behind you but you just kept punching letting all the frustration out.

“Y/N! Hey, wait! Stop, just stop it!” Hugh grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you back and you didn’t know what stopped you from twisting around and slamming your fist into him.

“Hugh, let me go!” you yelled, demanding, close to breaking as your voice cracked and you still tried to reach for the bag and keep hitting it as if that would change anything about what happened.

“This won't help anyone,” he lowered his tone almost to a whisper, but you heard the pain in his voice loud and clear. “Listen to me, Y/N, this won't help anyone. Not your parents and especially not you,” he managed to pull you back just enough to get between you and the bag and just hugged you. And you finally unclenched your fists, the stinging sensation being almost too much as your hands trembled and drops of blood ran down your fingers. You absolutely messed up your knuckles but that was the least of the pain you felt.

“I can't change anything!” you gasped, burying your face in his chest and clutching at the collar of his shirt. “I'm not- I can't!” you were spiraling out of control, you couldn’t focus, you couldn’t breathe. You felt like you were choking, like you were being pulled under the water and just couldn't come up for air. The chains that kept the doors of the gym locked felt light compared to all the chains holding you down at the moment

“Let it out, I’m right here,” he whispered, patting you on the back. “We'll figure out a way, don't lose hope yet,” he tried to be strong for you, but you just broke right then and there and you wailed sobbing and crying on the verge of a panic attack that only his presence seemed to postpone. You lost count of just how many times Hugh pulled you back right from the brink of despair, but not even he could have prevented everything.

Or maybe he could have, if you approached him and told him what you intended to do.

~X~

The only reason you could help Jenna back when she had her own panic attack was because of how many times you went through them yourself. Sometimes on your own, sometimes with Hugh there to help you, sometimes with Barbara there to watch helplessly because how could she not be helpless? She was the same age as you and just lacked the experience to be able to do anything about it.

A knock on your door brought you out of your thoughts and you hoped to your feet, happy to see Hugh again after probably close to four months. Sure, you kept in touch, you texted and you talked over the phone, but it's still been a long time since you've seen each other face to face.

You opened the door and immediately got swept into a warm, strong hug, one you happily returned. “Looking good kid! I'm proud of you!” Hugh patted you on the shoulders and actually ruffled your hair. You would normally get annoyed by that, but you were just happy to see him and grinned, inviting him in and leading him to the living room where you already had some snacks and drinks ready.

“Right back at you! It's good to see you again, Hugh, though you really shouldn't have knocked. From the looks of it no one that comes in here knocks,” you laughed, although you were seriously considering not even locking the doors when you leave the place. After all, there was basically nothing worth taking, the only things worth anything really were your laptop and phone, and you often carried them with you. But other than those two things you just had a full equipped kitchen, a simple bedroom and living area and not a single piece of furniture in here cost a lot or was worth the trouble of taking it all the way down the stairs.

Funny how money not helping when it mattered made it seem worthless now that you once more had plenty of it.

“Talk! I want to hear everything about filming Scream,” Hugh looked ecstatic over the news that you were once again back in the industry, and you knew why. Well, there were plenty of reasons, first of all he thought you were one hell of a talented actress, seeing as he had the chance to work with you when you were just a kid, but perhaps more importantly he believed that going back to acting would pull you away from underground fights.

Maybe it would. After all Jenna did stop you.

Maybe you could hope that was your ticket out of that world.

“You are going to laugh about this, but I kind of did the same thing you did. I fell in love on the set,” you admitted though you felt extreme embarrassment over saying it out loud.

Like you predicted, Hugh laughed like a lunatic, and you were actually happy to hear him laughing like that. It's been way too long since you managed to pull that kind of laugh out of him. “Jenna, right? That's what you said her name is?” and of course he knew exactly who you were talking about and you just nodded.

“She's just incredible,” you paused, searching for the right words, as if any word could properly describe her. “She’s perfect. I have no words- she is-“ you were just saying things hoping your words would eventually form a proper sentence. “You know, you have to meet her! She's the kindest, most wonderful, and honest, and genuine person I have met in a long, long time,” in the end you managed to put what you thought and felt into words.

Hugh had this gentle smile on his face as he looked at you. “You got it that bad, huh? I'm happy for you, Y/N.”

“Say, you mentioned the movie you wanted to tell me about,” you knew you were changing the subject, too embarrassed to talk about Jenna. You honestly weren’t exactly eager to get that talk from Hugh even though you probably needed one right about now.

Hugh’s smile morphed into a grin that told you he knew exactly what you were doing but he went along with it. “Alright hear me out, you and I in a movie, playing father and daughter. How about that?”

You actually laughed at that. “Isn't that the same thing we did like seven years ago?” that was exactly the relationship you had in Logan and well if you could act with Hugh once again you would absolutely take the chance, but it was funny that you would be cast in a father daughter relationship again. That is if you accept it and then try to get the role and then you get cast in the role.

“I know, but I think you’ll like this one,” he set the script on the table and pushed it toward you so that's how it happened you accepted the script and set it aside to read tonight. The rest of the day you and Hugh spent on catching up on everything that happened over the past few months.

~X~

The late November rain didn’t surprise you much, even if Denver was really sunny. You were just about to fall asleep on your sofa, honestly feeling kind of numb. What day was it anyway? It’s been a few days since Barbara left to see her parents for Thanksgiving, so you’ve been on your own since whenever that happen. Your phone buzzed a few times in your pocket. You were tempted to ignore it, but it might be for the role you auditioned for, the one Hugh mentioned. Work would probably get your mind off things, but it wasn’t work.

It was better. Much better than work.

You smiled when you saw it was a message from Jenna, on Instagram. You opened it and saw it was a couple of photos, one of just Jenna, giving you a thumbs up while holding a piece of icy wind cake and text on the photo saying ‘You’ve got competition.’ You chuckled, figuring her mom made the cake, the second photo was of her family all posing for a family photo and having a Thanksgiving dinner. Damn, so it actually was Thanksgiving tonight.

21:54 Jenna Ortega: Happy Thanksgiving, Y/N! Thanks for the recipe by the way, my family loves it. ❤️❤️

You smiled, she looked really happy in the photos. And her family was huge, she told you, of course, but hearing and seeing a photo were two entirely different things. You still focused on her, on that brilliant, happy smile.

21:56 Y/N L/N: Thanks, Jen, happy Thanksgiving to you too. Save me a piece of cake?

You set the phone aside and figured you could at least drink something, only to remember your fridge was mostly empty at the moment. You really needed to go and get groceries. At least there was some strawberry juice in the fridge and some improvised pasta. Damn, you actually had to make an improvised pasta dish, of all the known recipes you ended up making some improvised abomination. Oh well, at least it was tasty.

22:03 Jenna Ortega: Come and get it Chef. Any chance you could give me a tiny sneak peak into your own dinner?

Well, now that was a tough task to complete. Still, it actually brought a smile to your face. It was almost funny how something as simple as texting Jenna made you feel so much better.

22:05 Y/N L/N: Sure

You snapped a photo of a glass of strawberry juice and sent it to her.

22:06 Jenna Ortega: Come on! Don’t tease me 🥺

You actually laughed at that, you could imagine to look of disappointment on her face.

22:06 Y/N L/N: I’m not, I didn’t make anything, I kinda forgot about Thanksgiving.

You noticed Jenna saw the message and set the phone aside when she didn’t respond. She hadn’t seen her family in roughly two months, hell, she had her eighteenth birthday away from them, so you figured she wanted to spend time with them.

But just as you got up to read the script Hugh left you once more, your phone began ringing and you raised an eyebrow seeing it was Jenna. You picked up and sat back down on the sofa. “L/N Delivery, how may I help you?” you said as professionally as you could with a grin on your face and heard Jenna inhaling sharply before laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said through laughter.

“Yeah, and you love it,” you said confidently making Jenna pause.

For a moment you feared you overstepped some boundary. “I do, don’t I?” she said a bit out of breath and just for a moment she even sounded playful, and you nearly choked on the sip of strawberry juice you just took. “Anyway, how come you forgot?” she quickly changed the subject.

“I lost track of dates, and no one reminded me,” you told a half-truth, you knew it was this week, but you did lose track of the days and dates. “How are you? Are you having fun with your family?”

You could almost hear her nodding and smiled, the chatter of the people in the background wasn’t nearly as loud as you expected, so she probably stepped aside. “It feels so good to be with my family again, I missed them all,” you guessed she glanced back at her family. “I had to do the dished today, and let me tell you, there was a lot,” she wasn’t even complaining, she actually sounded happy.

“Reeree, come on! Talk on your phone later!” you heard a female voice shouting and guessed Jenna was the one being called.

“It’s important!” Jenna yelled back and you felt the warmth engulfing you at that.

“Hey, we can talk later, go have fun,” you told her softly, knowing by now that she just called you to check up on you.

Jenna paused and you waited patiently as she made the decision. “When are you going to come here?” she asked.

“In a week,” you told her, while you and Jenna knew you’d visit her and meet her family, which was, to be honest, a bit frightening, you didn’t know when you would be able to come until a few hours ago, you just didn’t get the chance to tell Jenna about it. It was still only Thursday, so you didn’t think you needed to rush to tell her.

“Okay, I’ll see you then. Are you sure you don’t want to keep talking with me?” she still offered.

“I want you to have a good time and make up for being away from your family,” you assured her. You would never, in your most fever-induced dreams, tell her you didn’t want to talk to her, but you knew how much she missed her family, and you didn’t want to take away from her time with them tonight.

“Okay, sleep well,” she told you slowly, as if giving you one last chance to ask her to keep talking to you, but you remained committed to the decision that you made.

As much as you wished to keep talking to her, you knew you had to let her be with her family. “You too,” you were worried about her insomnia, and you could only hope she could fall asleep and not have troubles with it while she was back home.

Somewhat shaken out of your stupor by Jenna’s call and texts you opened the fridge again. Still, just as you were about to figure out how to celebrate Thanksgiving given the lack of food and drink in your fridge, your door slammed open and the first thing that hit you was the smell of homemade food. “Barbara if that's you I swear I'm going to kick your ass!” you yelled because there was no way a burglar just broke into your house that loudly and was smelling like food.

“Jokes on you my ass was already kicked by the bus I had to sit in! They didn't have the heating on my! My ass is ice!” yup, definitely Barbara. “Turn the heating on, Y/N, or I'll freeze to death and you'll be to blame,” she was actually shivering so off you went to turn the heating on and then you just stared at her, blinking, not sure if you should believe your eyes and ears and nose or just the logic that she should be with her family right now.

“Don't look at me like that I got tired of talking sports with my family. What? Did I say talking? I meant listening about it!” she pointed a finger at you, but then changed her mind and hugged herself to warm up. “And your sorry ass didn't even turn the heating on until I came here, so you should thank me for not freezing yourself. So, win-win for both of us!” she just sat down and dropped the bag filled with food next to her. And this was your life right now.

And you wouldn't trade it for anything, except maybe adding Jenna and Hugh to this as well.

But you figured this was pretty much perfect as it was.

“You're the best, Barb,” you whispered, desperately hoping she didn't hear you.

“I heard that! Say it again so I can record it and keep it to cheer me up I will play it on repeat, I will put it as my ringtone, I will keep it as the soundtrack of my life 24/7, now repeat what you said so I can forever remind you of it,” sometimes you wondered which one of you was an actress because damn did Barbara have a knack for being dramatic.

“I will never say it again,” you denied her the opportunity to have that kind of proof against you. Your pride would not survive it.

“Oh, come on, you know you think that! I know you do think I'm the best,” she kept pushing but you remained firm in your conviction not to ever again repeat those words to her, or well not forever, more like until she put her phone down.

With a pout she did put her phone down and you glanced at it seeing the recording was still on and you just winked at her. You were not about to say it.

“Spoil sport,” she turned the recording off and tossed the phone aside and you glanced at it seeing that the app was definitely closed so you walked up to her because you could never be too careful with her, leaned in from behind and whispering in her ear

“You're the best, Barb,” and instead of being thankful as every friend should be she just went and glared at you because you denied her of the right to record those words.

~X~

Several nights later you woke up in cold sweat as you usually did near the start of December. You set up, breathing heavily and barely holding back a scream of frustration as that same nightmare that plagued you over and over again every time the anniversary of their deaths came close plagued you once more tonight.

You looked outside the window. It was dark, completely dark outside and you knew you wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, and not even knowing what time it was you just slipped out of the bed, put on your coat and boots and just ran down the stairs into the street. It was empty, without even the drunks going back to their homes from another night of drinking, so it must have been really late, or really early but from the looks of it the Sun wasn't going to come up anytime soon.

You just began running, you ran like you were being chased by the nightmare that woke you up. You ran through the snow, the chances of slipping and falling not even crossing your mind for one moment. You were running toward the gym, knowing you could unlock and use it even this late at night. So, you rushed down the streets until you finally reached the doors and looked under the rug for the key. As usual it was there so with shaky fingers you unlocked it and step stepped inside hoping you could work out and exhaust yourself, thus working through all the emotions and tension within you. As if you were drawn to it, you went for the punching bag and you touched it like it was your oldest friend, as if the mere touch against the cold punching bag would start calming you down. For a moment it did, it did calm you down long enough to put the gloves on and then you began punching the bag as strong and fast as you could.

‘Do it, unplug them’ the decision that you made still haunted you. Those four simple words still ruined you almost four years after you spoke them to the doctor. And it wasn’t just those words, it was the fact that every single time you thought back to those words you were left wondering if you made that decision too early. You wondered if you could have pushed yourself just for a bit longer.

You weren't sure for how long you kept hitting the bag, you just knew the intensity and the speed of your punches kept decreasing gradually, until you just felt your like your hands were made of iron and you dropped them to your sides unable to keep going.

And then you just sat down, leaning your back against the wall and looking at the bag. It just wasn't enough, you got exhausted, sure, but it wasn't enough. It couldn't put your mind off it. It just wasn't good enough to be a stress relief.

You stayed like that for some time, just rewinding those events in your head until the doors opened and you saw Davis, the owner of the gym and the man who sent you the message about the event as he called it, walking in.

“Morning kid, figured you would pop up sooner or later,” he said dismissively while picking up the gloves you tossed at your side.

The laugh you let out was hollow. “Am I that predictable? I could have quit since I didn't show up last time,” you mattered but you both knew the truth and more importantly you knew he would say it.

“Why should I bother? I know how you are, I know you can't quit it. You skipped one fight, sure, but from the looks of it you'll be back for the next one, won't you, Y/N?” you hated that he was right. You hated that you thought you had the chance to quit, that you could find another solution only to run back right into this one.

“Yeah, when's the next one?” you asked, hating yourself even more for continuing this cycle.

There was a satisfied smirk on his face, and normally you would be annoyed with that, but the realization that you didn’t have the strength to quit underground fighting shattered your will to complain. “Tonight, actually. Same old place,” it was settles. There was no need to pick you up from somewhere there wasn’t a need to do anything but tell you when to show up and unlike last time there wasn't anyone there to stop you.

Jenna wasn't here to stop you.

So, tonight you will go and fight your stress and regrets away.

And if the guilt eats you up from the inside, then so be it.

How come you never thought of Jenna’s dad being a cop? Or how Jenna and her family finding out would affect your friendship?

In the desire to escape from the past you damn near ruined your future.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

[t3ag3rs]

g e n s o. - 1 6

(A/N: sorry about the long haitus, i was grounded for awhile 😓)

you glance at bakugou quickly as you take your seat.

you cant help but let a small smile etch across your face. you grab your phone out your backpack and open messages, 

"katsukiiii"

you glance up to see him furrow his brows and open up his phone.

"yeah?”

"so to be clear we're keeping this a secret right?" "since we have exactly started dating yet and all.."

"yep. i dont want all these extras bothering us anyways"

"hey dont be rude theyre our friends kats😋"

"says who?"

"nvm then. ig theyre js my friends.." "but im your friend right??" "you have no other choice sooo 🤗"

"ur annoying as shit."

"dw ik u love it😙"

you smile at your phone and glance at bakugou only to find him staring at you. you give him a quick grin before pretending not to notice him so no one would notice the interaction between the two of you.

"admiring my beauty i see"

"stfu" "was not."

"awwww... r u flustereddd?"

you chuckle to yourself before hearing the bell ring, and put your phone away to prepare for the start of class.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you sigh packing up your notes back in your bag slowly. you wait for the class to empty out for lunch before walking up to bakugou with a smile, "ready?"

he nods, "yeah lets go" he walks beside you as you both walk to the training room for lunch again.

"so..." you start, feeling the quiet to be awkward. you glance at him, "uh.. you feel any better now compared to yesterday..?"

he nods, "yeah im not staying up all night anymore thinking of a certain pestering face" he quips playfully. 

you make a sound of fake hurt, "rude..! i am a very entertaining and comforting thought to many!" you say with a slight giggle.

"damn right you are.." he says with a tiny smirk. your lips curve into a genuine smile and you knock your shoulder against his.

"okay softie.." you tease softly. he chuckles before opening the door for you, "oh how chivalrous of you" you grin as you step in.

he rolls his eyes, "here step back out and ill let you open the door for me if thats what you want" he smirks.

"no thanks kats" you say with a wink. you turn and head to the locker room, "give me 5- imma change" he makes a sound of agreement and sets his stuff down.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you step back into the room and walk up to bakugou. "you stretched already?" you ask as you start to do so yourself. 

he nods, "yeah i did.. imma go to the bench press, call me if you need anything aight?" he says walking off with a water bottle and towel.

he nod before quickly glancing at his body, "gyatttt damn..." you mutter lowly.

"i heard that you damn perv!" he yells, flipping you off over his shoulder. you let out a loud bark of laughter that was soon followed by his.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you grunt as you work on your last set of rdls. you breathe in deeply looking at your feet to distract yourself from the feeling of your tensing muscles. "cmon genso- you got a good 5 more left in you." you hear bakugou say from behind you.

"h-huh?" you gasp from between breaths, "im literally- struggling..!" you grunt.

"nahnah.. cmon" he places his hand on the flat of your back and stomach, "3 more.."

you feel your face flush as you feel his touch on you. you quickly finish the set and drop the weights before stumbling to regain your balance.

"woah there genso..." he says steadying you, "why are you so dizzy? have you eaten anything today?" he asks slightly concerned.

"nah i just need my water.. had a protien shake this morning so im fine.." you manage to gasp out, "dont get too hungry anyways.." you say gulping down your water.

"woahwoahwoah.. you havent ate anything all day?" he repeats, "genso you gotta eat- especially if your working out. here- i have an extra snack bar.." he says grabbing one from his backpack. "your not leaving till you eat it."

"b-but.. what are you gonna eat..?" you say not accepting the bar. 

"i have lunch, ill give you some too.. i made some spicy curry.." he says sitting down and taking out his utensils. "what are you doing just standing there? sit down" he states, patting the space beside him.

you nod slightly sitting down quietly.

"i dont have an extra utensil, so you can eat first" he say pushing the container in front of you. you glance down at it before looking at him and hugging him, "thanks kats.. it means a lot to see you care so much about me.."

he freezes shocked but returns the hug awkwardly at first, but melts into it soon after. "course dumbass.. you need anything im here for you.." he mumbles into your neck softly.

you smile before pulling away and taking a bite of his food. your eyes widen in shock, "kats this is so good..!" you say smiling. you take another scoop and hold it up to his lips, "here have some!" you say excitedly.

he widens his eyes, "b-but- you just-" he stammers.

you wave your hand dismissively, "who cares- ahhhhh" you mimic, opening your mouth. he opens it slightly and you put the spoon in his mouth softly.

"my god- i dont know what i did to get so lucky and get someone who can cook and workout well too..!" you say between bites. "eat some more or else i will" you warn.

"um first of all- hell no. second of all- slow down woman!" he chuckles grabbing the spoon from you. "gonna choke yourself at that rate.." he scoops some curry and brings it to your lips, "open wide.." he mutters quietly.

you widen your eyes but open your mouth nonetheless.

you smile as u chew and swallow, "sooooo.... whats up with u and izu?" you ask as casually as possible. you glance up to see his mouth form a frown, "oh cmon katsss..."

"he just pisses me off. we knew him since forever- he told us he couldnt get a quirk and then out of nowhere he manifests this strong ass quirk!" he runs his hand throigh his hair frustratingly, "i didnt have to worry about the damn nerd before but now- i cant let him beat me, he cant look stronger than me." He stresses looking at his palms.

you sigh pursing your lips, "oh kats... thats what this is all about..?" you rub ur thumb over the back of his hand softly, "i dont care if you were the 197th hero ranked out of 50- i would still be here for you. i dont like you because of how youre  better then everyone else and never lose... i like you because your the most attractive, smart, strong, determined, and hard working guy i met. and thats all that matters okay?"

he glances up at you with widened eyes. he opens his mouth to talk but instead shuts it and scoops you into a tight hug.

"Oh-" you freeze slightly before relaxing into the warmth of his body against yours. "i know dont wanna say thank you, but ill say your welcome nonetheless" you giggle playfully.

Bakugou tightened his grip on you and said a silent prayer,

Please god let me keep this one..

previous parts: pt. 0 0 / pt. 0 1 / pt. 02 / pt. 03 / pt. 04 / pt. 05 / pt. 06 / pt. 07 / pt. 08 / pt. 09 / pt. 10 / pt. 11 / pt. 12 / pt. 13 / pt. 14 / pt. 15 next part: your all caught up for now!

☆taglist! @katszumi @coolgirl458 @niktwazny303 @twinnintwink @froggybich @friedmagazineprincess @itztaki @aikojwhpa

[geekgirles]

I've seen people say things about Amalia not being queen material because she was always far from her kingdom, and I can't help but think they're taking everything at face value. Like they assume that just because the plot takes place while Amalia is usually away on an adventure, that's all there is to it and her circumstances, when in reality nothing is further from the truth.

First of all, back in season 1 the show didn't exactly shy away from confirming Amalia essentially spent her early life confined in the Sadida Kingdom and most likely never stepped foot outside of it until she decided to run away. Hence why she failed to understand the chamberlain wouldn't be able to pay for her expenses when she was in Bonta.

And why did she run away in the first place? That's right. Because her family insisted she remained cooped up in the palace ever since the queen's death. And considering Queen Sheran Sharm died when Amalia was little, that all means she had spent 13 years "trapped" in her kingdom as early as season 1.

Now, I don't think we have an exact date for the Brotherhood's adventures, how long they lasted. But I'm gonna go with my gut and say each journey they took place in the span of several months to a year, tops.

That would mean the first time Amalia left home she wasn't away for that long, anyway.

Not to mention, after dealing with Nox and before Eva herself ran away to get Pinpin back in season 2, it was established the Brotherhood of the Tofu spent several weeks, maybe a month or two, in the Sadida Kingdom. With Yugo and Adamaï helping Amalia with her duties because she was swamped with them, to the point she somewhat reverted back to her brattier days (which is not excusable, but it does show that, at 13-14 at the least, Amalia was already in charge of many administrative duties and responsibilities and under a lot of stress).

In fact, the only reason she didn't stay in her kingdom for the entirety of the season, besides her wanderlust, is the fact that trouble kept popping up. Originally, they only left to get Eva back after she ran away in search of Pinpin, and once they returned from that, the only reason they left the kingdom again was because of Qilby's appearance and his lies deceiving them into helping retrieve his Dofus by painting it as a humanitarian mission for the sake of the Eliatropes.

And before you point out Amalia was supposed to stay in her kingdom that time around but chose to run away again, let's not forget how, technically speaking, she didn't sneak away at all, shall we?

In season 2, the roles had been reversed. Amalia thought she was sneaking away again, but not only was Eva in the know and totally in favour of it (as opposed to her reluctance from season 1), but so was King Sheran Sharm. Remember? He went as far as to have Renate and Canar prepare plenty of provisions for her. Meaning, that time around, Amalia had her father's approval, which implies she didn't actually do anything wrong.

And again, their adventures kept them away from several months up to a year, but not much longer. In fact, the only time it was confirmed they spent a year away was during the post-season 2 manga, and that was an accident because they didn't account for time flowing differently in Emrub.

Now, let's add the time of the OVAs. The special episodes are stated to take place 6 years after season 2, with Flopin and Élely being little kids but not babies or toddlers anymore; Yugo stuck in his childish body despite being, what, 19(?); and Amalia being old enough to marry—given she is 22 in seasons 3 and 4, that would make her roughly 20-21 years old.

Six years had gone by between the second season and the OVAs, and if we add the year away from the manga, that means that Amalia dutifully spent 5 years in her kingdom, carrying out her royal duties and most likely only leaving for a few days at a time at most in order to visit her friends for important occasions like their birthdays. Though this is speculation on my part based on the events of the manga. Days she got to spend away because she probably had her father's permission to, as he wholeheartedly approved of her friendship with the Brotherhood of the Tofu. Meaning, once again, that Amalia wasn't doing anything wrong.

Then the OVAs came, and she had to leave for Frigost, and this time indefinitely since she was to marry Count Harebourg, therefore becoming his Countess and needing to remain by his side in his realm. And, again, because that was a marriage of convenience for the sake of her kingdom, she wasn't just allowed to leave but expected to. But even when it was revealed Count Harebourg planned to either exploit Yugo and the Eliatrope Dofus or the Sadida forests to benefit Frigost and the wedding didn't come to pass, it wasn't like Amalia stayed around to sightsee either.

As soon as they freed Joris, Atcham, and Kerubim and got some exposition on Tristepin from Rubi, realising she had the means to save her kingdom by having Pinpin help, the group split up in two and they turned back around towards the Sadida Kingdom. And all that in just a few days, a week or two at most.

Then comes season 3, taking place a year, year and a half, after the OVAs, with Amalia now 22 and confining herself to the palace more than ever because she's watching as her father withers away each passing day and she's trying to avoid Armand and Aurora since all they seem to care about is getting her hitched and out of their hair.

To be honest, I'm not sure how long they're supposed to have spent in Oropo's dimension and Inglorium, since it feels like only a few days, but then Armand reveals in season 4 that he had only been king for a few weeks and the timeline gets kinda wacky. Because... Amalia just returned the day prior? And she spent the whole time by their father's grave?? What, did he leave her be to the point of risking malnourishment and dehydration for several days??? It just doesn't make sense.

Anyway, confusing timeline aside, what does this tell us? Simple, it tells us that Amalia was only away from home for about 2-3 years, which isn't all that different from when our parents send us to study abroad in real life. Which, at the same time, means that out of 22 years of her life, she remained 19 in her kingdom, performing her duties. And that's even without taking into account the fact that 90% of season 4 took place in the Sadida Kingdom, or the four months between Yugo and Amalia's wedding and the events of The Great Wave, where Amalia (and Yugo) stayed in her kingdom, ruling it.

Unlike Armand, Amalia might have been more interested in adventure than power and politics, and she might not have had the same kind of training as he did as heir apparent, but she is in now way, shape, or form incompetent or unprepared when it comes to ruling her people. Now try to tell me she was always away or that she is irresponsible. I dare you.

[beef-brisket]

((Maybe part of his punishment, sometimes Adam zones out, and his mind plays through everything that's happened to him and all the sins he's committed. But it only happens when he's alone. So Lucifer has no idea.

Just that extra angst.))

Lucifer watched as Adam went back to eating, but he could still see the cogs turning in his head.

Lucifer: ...Adam? It'll be okay. Don't overthink it.

Adam glances at Lucifer and stares at his face. He's smiling softly and looks concerned. Soon, Adam goes back to eating.

Adam: It has to be perfect for her. And you. I'll get up early and start on everything. I didn't clean today so it'll take bit longer tomorrow.

Lucifer: I'll help!

Adam: No! No- I can't do it. You relax, okay? Don't worry about it.

Adam smiles at Lucifer. But he can tell it's strained and desperate, almost begging for Lucifer to drop it.

Lucifer: ...alright. But if you need anything-

Adam: I'll ask.

Adam pats Lucifer's hand and goes back to eating.

Once they finished eating, Adam started on the dishes, while Lucifer called Charlie.

Charlie: Hey, dad!

Lucifer: Hey, hun! I was wondering- if you wanted to join Adam and I for dinner tomorrow! If you're free. Or want to- you don't have to, but I'd like it if you came over! And Adam would, to!

Charlie: Oh, sure! I'd love to. Hey, um... is Adam okay? Vaggie told me she went over there- which couldn't have been good. I was going to come over and see him yesterday- but Vaggie was really upset.

Lucifer: Yeah, I heard about that when I got home. We'll have a talk about that another time, okay? But- he's... fine. We went seed shopping so that took his mind off it, a little bit.

Charlie: A little bit? Did it affect him that much?

Lucifer: Yeah. He was pretty upset when I got home. But! That's a talk for another day. Tomorrow is just a small, family dinner-

Charlie: Adam's not family, dad...

Lucifer gripped his phone. He didn't want to get angry at his daughter, but that comment hit a nerve. He glanced over to Adam, who had just finished the dishes and is now scrubbing the bench.

Lucifer: I... yeah, y-youre right. Sorry, Charlie.

Charlie: It's okay, dad. I know this whole curse thing has really affected you. I know you wouldn't even tolerate him here if it wasn't because of that. But I'll have dinner with you two. What time?

Is that true? Would Lucifer want him here if he didn't have the punishment? He physically couldn't be away from him for too long. Would the real him want Adam? No, Lucifer wants Adam. He wants him here. He's had sex with him- Lucifer doesn't just have sex with anyone.

Charlie: Dad?

Lucifer: Hm? Oh! Sorry, Charlie- I was just... uh... how about 6pm?

Charlie: Sounds good, dad. I'll see you tomorrow.

Lucifer stared at his phone after they hung up. He thought Charlie liked Adam. They had a private session and everything! She supported him coming here, even defended him against the other residents.

Was she lying?

Was she faking?

Should they even do dinner tomorrow?

Should Lucifer take Adam back to his mansion and cut himself off, again-?

Adam: Lu? Is Charlie coming tomorrow?

Lucifer jumped, suddenly hearing Adam's voice. He quickly looked over to him. He looked worried, and maybe hopeful.

Lucifer: Y-Yeah- sorry! She'll be over at 6, Adam.

Lucifer notices when Adam looks disappointed, like he was hoping she wasn't going to come. Now, he just looked scared.

I'm coming up with some aus for you, but I need some meeting shenanigans.

I would love to know what bullshit Adam and Lucifer got up to during meetings.

Slowly healing their relationship, one meeting at a time 👀

Well I think the very first one they wouldn't even be alone together because of what happened. I think Adam would just silently glare at him.

Over time when Adam was feeling more confident to face the devil he'd go alone but by hologram, Sera's idea.

Making snide remarks, snappy comments, and being sassy.

And Lucifer would come back with his own and they would end up in banter for a while other than why they are really there.

As more time passes it's less hateful and more playful, maybe even takes on a flirty edge.

And I always see Lucifer being the one to make the first move after what happened in Eden. Adam has so many insecurities he wouldn't think that Lucifer would want him as more than maybe a friend.

Hit me with them bud 👀

[bobohu4eva]

Ecstasy

Part 6 - Cry for Love

Genre: Soloist!Baekhyun x Reader, angst, fluff, smut 18+ audiences only MDNI

WC: 5.7k

Tag List: @nana-banana @xzyxbbh @greasywall @endzii23 @scopoliax @silent-potato23-blog @baekyeonoreo

Warnings for this chapter: smut (non explicit), alcohol consumption, drug use

Masterlist

Addiction (noun): Disorder characterized by compulsive engagement in rewarding stimuli despite adverse consequences

“You’re a dumbass, you know that right?” 

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned it. I know I fucked up. I don’t even know what to say to her anymore.”

Chanyeol let out a long sigh, trying to muster up some sympathy for his friend's predicament, but finding it quite difficult. He’d seen it coming, more or less. Something terrible was bound to happen with how reckless Baekhyun was being. He took a sip of his beer before setting it back down on the bar, doing his best to at least look sorry for his friend when he glanced back at him. 

“You’ve tried calling her right?”

“No, well not since that day at least. I don’t know if I should. Her friend told me not to, and I get it. But I really do want to see her again, and apologize.” 

The whole time Baekhyun stared, seemingly into nothingness. He hated how much he missed her, even after only a few days. 

“You should at least call to apologize, you owe her that much.”

“What if she doesn’t want to hear from me at all? I don’t want to make things even worse.” 

“Just call. The worst she can do is not pick up.” 

“And if she does? What would I even say?”

“The truth.” 

“No fucking way.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“You don’t say.” 

Baekhyun chugged down his drink, getting the bartender's attention and ordering another round. He was already drunk, but it still wasn’t enough to erase what he felt. 

“Why did you freak out so bad? I mean she told you she didn’t mean it. I know acid is one hell of a drug but jesus. You were way too goddamn harsh.” 

“I almost said it back.” He responded, staring blankly at the counter before him. 

Chanyeol's eyes went wide. 

“I was so upset that that even crossed my mind. And if I had said it, who fucking knows what would’ve happened.”

“Well, do you?” 

Baekhyun just glared at him, refusing to say anything. 

“You clearly care about her a lot, I don’t know why you can’t just admit that. I think she could be really good for you, if you just got over your own bullshit.”

Baekhyun leaned forward until his forehead was on the bar, both hands on the back of his neck. He couldn’t remember ever resenting himself so deeply, and that was saying something. 

Chanyeol was right, and they both knew it. 

The guilt made it hard to do anything more than drink himself into numbness. He'd probably ruined any chance he had at something real with her, even if that in itself also made him uncomfortable. As much as he wanted to try and fix things, he knew deep down that he'd probably just end up hurting her again anyway. In the end though, the side of him that still wanted her was much stronger, and far less rational.

Every time he thought about that day, and how she must've felt after he kicked her out of his apartment, his chest would get tight, the dread quickly becoming more than he could handle. He’d had an awful time himself, the trip turning downright terrifying, and he’d been inside his own apartment the whole time. Outside, alone, she must’ve felt she was in a living nightmare. He was disgusted with himself, with how cruel he’d become, and all because of a few words that she didn’t even mean. 

Eventually he decided that it would be worse not to say anything. Even if she didn’t want to hear from him, he had to at least try to tell her how sorry he was, otherwise the guilt would keep chipping away at his sanity until it consumed him whole. 

It took a while for him to get to the point where he actually had the strength to pick up the phone and pull up her contact. Even then, he just sat in his apartment, staring at his phone, debating with himself. He wasn’t sure what made him more nervous, the idea of talking to her after he’d fucked up so badly, or the very real possibility that she would simply decline the call all together. Losing her completely was more terrifying than he was willing to admit to himself. 

Finally, he called. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest as he listened to it ring, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself with little success. When she picked up, his heart nearly stopped. He tried to say something, but his voice failed him.

“Baekhyun?” 

“Hi.” He eventually managed to get out, painfully aware of how stupid he sounded. He took another deep breath, finally gathering himself a bit before continuing. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

She didn’t say anything. She could hear the lack of consistency in his voice. 

“I don’t know what to say, I’m just so fucking sorry. I know I fucked up.” 

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you kick me out?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He heard her sigh in disappointment. It was a lie of course, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth. 

“Look, I appreciate the apology, but I really don’t want to do this over the phone. If you have anything you need to say to me, I’d rather hear it in person.” 

She hung up before he could respond, and he wasted no time getting into his car to drive to her place. 

Her pain had been unbearable. Even after several days sober his harshness stayed with her, bringing with it a constant dull ache in her chest. She barely ate or slept, but knowing that he at least seemed to feel bad about what he’d done gave her a bit of relief.

Despite Suhyun’s insistence that she cut him off completely, she’d still been waiting, hoping to hear something. She wanted an apology, an explanation, something that would help her feel a bit better, and she wanted him to look her in the eyes as he said it.

The knock on her door, not even 30 minutes after hanging up the phone, came as a shock. 

On the other side, Baekhyun worried he might actually pass out. He assumed that she would tell him how awful he was and then send him right back home, and he thought he was mentally prepared for that, but once he was actually there he realized how wrong he’d been. The ground seemed to sway beneath him, his stomach twisting, threatening to expel the lunch he'd just had. 

The door swung open and they met eyes, Baekhyun bracing himself for the worst.

She let him in, and his expression was something she’d never seen before. His eyes were glassy, the anxiety behind them clear as day. She could see the nervous tension in the way he fidgeted, hands clammy, heart racing. 

His eyes squeezed shut, and he mustered up all the courage he could, though still feeling utterly pitiful.

“I know you probably hate me and never want to see me again, but I need you to know how awful I feel about what I did. I can’t even put into words how sorry I am.” He eventually said, barely keeping it together. 

To his shock, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. 

Tears soon dampened her forehead, feeling the quiet tremors of his chest as he fell apart. He held her close, cradling her against his chest, the closeness allowing his body to fully relax for the first time in nearly a week. Somehow though, he felt even guiltier than if she’d told him off, at least he would've deserved that.

 As hurt as she might’ve been, she’d still missed him. That day, before everything went downhill, he'd shown her a kind of happiness she hadn’t even known was possible. And even before that, when she was with him, the good moments were so powerful that they easily overshadowed all the bad. Nobody else had ever made her feel that before. 

She didn’t want whatever they had to end, even though she knew logically that it would be idiotic to forgive him after he’d been so cruel. She cared about him too much, she was too attached, she still wanted him despite it all, and that was probably the worst part. Despite how terrible he'd made her feel that day, the potential for good was still there. The good times she'd had with him were some of the best of her life, and giving that up wasn't easy. For her, it was impossible. The highs were so high, that the lows were somehow still worth dealing with. 

It didn’t make sense, he'd been absolutely certain that she'd be furious. 

“How do you not hate me right now? Are you really not mad at me?” 

She looked up at him, one hand coming to cup his damp cheek, tears of her own coming to mirror his. It was strange to see him of all people cry, but oddly comforting, too. It told her just how much he regretted what he’d done, that he cared, that he hated how badly he’d hurt her. He’d never shown that sort of vulnerability before, the cool facade he usually put on, now completely shattered. It gave her the reassurance she'd been craving so badly. Maybe forgiving him wouldn't be so dumb after all, since he'd hopefully never hurt her like that again. 

“I don’t hate you. I’m just glad you’re sorry, I was so worried that you were still mad at me, since I didn’t hear from you. I thought I ruined everything.” 

He quickly shook his head. “Of course I’m not mad at you, if anyone ruined anything it was me. I never had a right to be angry with you in the first place, I was being completely awful and irrational.” 

She couldn’t help the small smile that crept its way onto her lips, finally assured that he didn’t harbor any resentment towards her for what she’d said, that he felt genuine remorse. 

“I was afraid to call after that day because I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to hear from me, or if it would be best to just leave you alone. Your friend told me not to contact you, and I can see where she’s coming from.”

“When did you talk to my friend?”

“I called you later that day. Once I snapped out of my own bullshit I realized how unsafe it was for you to be outside alone like that and I wanted to make sure you were okay, and apologize. She answered and told me not to contact you anymore, that I’ve fucked up your life enough already, and she’s probably right about that.” 

“She never even mentioned that you called.” She pouted, making a mental note to call Suhyun out next time they met up. 

“I’m glad she was there. I was so scared something happened to you, at least when she picked up I knew you were safe.” 

“You know, I might not hate you, but I am still mad at you. I wish you could at least tell me why you reacted like that.” 

As forgiving as she was, the awfulness of that day was impossible to forget. The drug caused her fear and confusion to materialize in everything she saw, victimizing her until the high eventually faded, and the horror of it stuck with her. That was something she couldn't let go so easily.

He ran one hand through his hair, and when he didn’t answer right away she pulled him along with her to sit down on the couch. 

“I wish I could explain it to you, something in me just.. snapped. There’s a reason I don’t do relationships, that kind of stuff, it fucks with my head.” 

She swallowed, painfully reminded of that hard truth. “Why?” 

He shook his head, if he tried to explain everything they’d probably be there all day, and she’d never be able to see him the same way again. He wouldn’t be able to get it all out without more tears, either. That was a can of worms he just couldn’t get into.

“You should’ve taken it as a compliment you know, you fucked me so good I thought I was in love with you.” 

He forced a smile, but even that caused something unpleasant to twist up inside him. 

“If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, just tell me and I’ll do it.” 

She shrugged. It was clear that he'd never be able to give her what she really wanted anyway. 

Still, at least he cared for her. He wouldn't have gotten so emotional if she didn't mean something to him. 

“Are you busy today?” He asked. 

“Not really, no.” 

“I could order us something to eat, or we could go somewhere, whatever you want. I just- I missed you.” 

‘I missed you.’

Even if it would be short lived, she wanted to enjoy the new sensitivity he was finally showing her, so she agreed. 

They stayed at her place, ordering in and opening up a bottle of wine. It wasn’t long at all until they both settled comfortably into the couch, still more relieved than anything. She’d missed him just as much. 

She’d grown used to the confident, wild, sexy side of him, but now, something about him felt fundamentally different. Maybe it was the fact that she’d seen him cry, but whatever it was, it felt warmer, softer, a side of him she knew very few people got to see. 

They spent hours on her couch together in comfortable silence, the show on the TV long forgotten as they kissed and held each other. She’d laid herself atop his chest, one hand landing on her waist, and the other at the nape of her neck, keeping her lips glued to his own. 

His touch was gentle, enjoying the warmth and softness of her skin after having missed her so much. The path his hands took across her back, shoulders, and neck full of adoration. He never ventured any further, because it didn't feel appropriate, he didn't want her to think that he'd only come back for sex. Just getting to kiss and touch her again already felt like a small miracle. 

However that didn't stop his body from reacting to her, now that she lay flush to his chest between his parted legs. As she deepened the kisses her body sunk into him even further, and she felt the line of hardness beneath his sweats. When she rocked her pelvis into him, he let out a groan, hands holding firmly onto her hips.

“Fuck, don't do that.” 

Their eyes met, and she pouted at him, “Why not?”

“I don't think this is a good idea, I came over here to apologize, not try to get you to sleep with me again.” 

As he spoke her lips attached themselves to his neck, leaving a path of soft kisses from his jaw down to the collar of his shirt. “And if I want to anyway?” 

She pulled his shirt down a bit and sucked on the skin of his collarbone, eliciting another moan. 

“You're sure about this?” 

“You said you wanted to make it up to me, right?” 

Part of her was skeptical, too, but as always, her desire for him overpowered any trace of caution. His touch, his voice, it all drew her in beyond the bounds of reason. She just wanted to feel close to him. Laying there together innocently had been nice, but she inevitably slipped into more troublesome desires. 

Baekhyun didn't respond, instead, his hands finally slid beneath the threshold of her clothes. The warmth of her skin beneath his hands caused him to sigh. He, too, had missed this.  

The sex felt like an apology. Where he’d been hungry, even desperate, in the past, he now took his time. It wasn’t one night stand sex, or even meaningless fling sex. It was the kind of sex that happens when two people know and care about each other. She let him set the pace, and he decided to be slow and intentional, he set that tone. The praises that passed his lips lost their teasing edge, his gratitude stronger than his usual desire to frustrate her.  More than anything he wanted to savor this, to show her his devotion the only way he knew how. 

Several orgasms later, they both collapsed into a pile of tangled, sweaty limbs on her couch. Baekhyun still refused to let go, keeping her in his arms for as long as she would allow, which turned out to be a good long while, much to his delight. 

Baekhyun hadn’t intended to spend the entire day with her in such a way, he was just so relieved that she didn’t hate him. Somehow his head ended up on her lap, and when she began to play with his hair, a satisfied sigh left him. He'd always loved the feeling, and how easily it would relax him. 

Several sleepless nights had left him exhausted, and as her hands stayed in his hair, he drifted off to sleep, resting more peacefully than he had in a long time. 

His sleeping face brought a smile to her own. She didn’t move, letting him use her as a pillow and nap through the afternoon. Every once in a while she would notice a change in his expression, brows knit in what seemed like distress, and she wondered what he could be dreaming about. So much of his mind was still a mystery to her, one that she desperately wanted to solve. 

When he eventually woke back up it was already dark outside, and he figured it was time to head home. He didn't want to leave, and even thought about asking her to let him spend the night, but after everything it just didn't feel right. He didn't want to overstay his welcome. 

“Has anyone talked to you about the anniversary party yet?” He asked as he got his things together. 

She shook her head. 

“It’s a fairly big thing the company does every year, it’s mostly for artists and higher ups, and I know I’m going, so I was wondering if you wanted to come as my date?” 

‘Date’

That one word was so unexpected coming from him, she found herself momentarily frozen. 

“Uh.. sure, yeah. When is it?”

He told her the details, and she still couldn't shake the implications of that one word. She didn't want to get her hopes up, but she wondered if maybe he was finally ready to at least hint at something more serious between them. 

The day of he picked her up as usual, noticing the fitted suit he wore as she got into his car. She knew it was a rather formal affair, but he looked so handsome, she still became a little nervous. 

“You look beautiful,” He murmured, looking her up and down before leaning in for a quick kiss. 

The event was held in the largest ballroom of a luxury hotel full of opulent decorations, and even had a gorgeous outdoor area lit up for the approaching holidays. She'd worn one of her favorite dresses, but even so, she felt a little silly walking in together, arm in arm with him. The guest list was full of a-list celebrities, both from their company, as well as some others, along with various executives. She felt all the familiar uncertainties from the first night she'd met him rush back. 

He must've sensed how tense she became, squeezing her hand and giving her a reassuring smile. The softness of it had her leaning further into him. 

She looked up at him, his profile outlined by the lights of the party, and she remembered just who she was there with. And not only that, but he'd said it himself, she was his date. 

It emboldened her, knowing that no matter Baekhyun's history or reputation, she was the one on his arm, and the one he’d be going home with after. 

They headed towards the bar for a drink, and she still remained quiet, too deep in thought to get anything out.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” He told her, “let's just try to have a good time, yeah?” 

He pulled out a chair for her and they took a seat, each ordering their first round of the night. Baekhyun did his best to lighten the mood, complimenting her, joking around and flirting all in an attempt to see her smile. And it worked for the most part, though the constant interruptions always pulled her right back into her insecurities.

Every few minutes someone would come up to him, and he would talk to them as if she wasn't even there. By the third time, she started to wonder why she'd been invited at all. 

She'd been zoning out, staring at the array of bottles behind the bar when she heard her name. When she looked up, she saw a familiar face. 

Joohyun. The same woman he'd ditched her for at Chanyeol’s birthday. 

Baekhyun had introduced her, and Joohyun raised an eyebrow at the sight of them. 

“You're here together?” Joohyun asked, a glimpse of something sinister in her eyes. Her face, beautiful as she was, did little to hide the ugliness apparent underneath. 

She started to nod but Baekhyun spoke up first. “We're just friends.” 

Joohyun smirked, letting her hand rest on his shoulder. “Well, it's always good to see you.” 

She turned to walk away, and as Baekhyun looked back at his date, it became apparent how pissed she was. 

She chugged down the rest of her drink, slamming the glass down on the bar and getting up. Baekhyun rolled his eyes, following her. 

“Really _____?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I can see you're mad, don't you think you're being a little dramatic?” 

“I thought I was your date! We sure as hell aren't just friends, and for you to say that to her of all people? After what happened on Chanyeol’s birthday? Really?” 

“What else would we be if not friends, hm? As far as I'm concerned we are just friends.” 

“I know you care about me as more than a friend” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, a bitter look overtaking his face. “Do I?” 

She scoffed, “You're unbelievable.” 

With that she turned, walking away but he took hold of her wrist, pulling her back towards him. “Where do you think you're going?” 

“Home. I don't want to be here anymore.” 

“No the fuck you're not.” 

“Baekhyun, let go of me.”

He didn’t. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“No. I’m sick of you being hot and cold with me. You don’t get to treat me like that.” 

His grip on her gave way, but she didn’t leave yet. His lips pressed together as his eyes squeezed shut, a heavy sigh leaving him. 

“Okay. I get it. But please, stay. You don't have to talk to me. Just let me take you home later.” 

“Take me home with you? Seriously?” 

“It doesn’t have to be with me. I can just drop you off.” 

She glared at him, almost scoffing again, but decided to just turn and walk away. When he took hold of her arm again, she glared. “If I’m staying, you could at least let me get another drink.” 

He watched her sit down by herself, ordering something that looked strong. 

As she sipped on her drink, she scanned the room, hoping she'd at least recognize someone. She'd almost given up, accepting that she'd probably end up drinking alone until Baekhyun was ready to go, but then she felt a tap on her shoulder. 

Chanyoel’s smile was a welcome sight, as he sat himself down next to her at the bar. 

“Hi! How are you? Are you here with Baekhyun?” He asked. 

“Hi, yeah. Unfortunately.” 

“Why's that unfortunate?” 

She shook her head, “You were right about him, I fear.” 

Chanyeol hummed in acknowledgment, it wasn't hard for him to imagine what could be going on. 

“He's being an ass?” 

“Yeah. I just don't get it. One day he's being really sweet, and then he turns around and acts like that was all bullshit. I'm tired of it. I wanted to go home, but for some reason he wants me to stay.” 

“So? You can still leave. Who cares what he wants.” 

She took a long sip of her drink. 

“I don't want to make him mad.” 

Chanyeol looked a bit confused, but still nodded. “Well, I'm here if you want company. It's a great party, it would be a shame to spend the whole night sulking at the bar.” 

“Thank you.” 

Soon his drink arrived, and he clinked the glass against hers. 

Baekhyun was nowhere to be seen as the two made light conversation, and she was grateful to take her mind off him for a bit. 

Chanyeol, now a bit tipsy, and knowing well that she wasn't pleased with his friend, seized the opportunity. He wasn't usually much of a flirt, but with her it came easily. 

His compliments cheered her up enough that eventually even his dumb jokes brought a smile to her face. When both drinks were gone and he asked her to dance, she gladly accepted. 

They stood, but he pulled her aside before they could make it to the dance floor. Now that they had a bit more privacy, he pulled something out of his pocket. 

Pills. The same ones from the night of his birthday. 

“Do you want one?” He asked, popping one for himself. She considered it for a moment, and with the night being fairly young, and Baekhyun still lingering in the back of her mind, she decided to go for it. His being a jerk didn't mean she couldn't still enjoy herself. 

Dancing with Chanyeol was nice. He was respectful, his hands never venturing further than her hips or waist. He was taller, and overall larger than Baekhyun, which was probably the biggest difference she felt between the two men. She liked that about him, that he made her feel distinctly different than Baekhyun did. Baekhyun was all bold words and risky touches, while Chanyeol was quieter, more cautious. Baekhyun's hands were slender, softer, when they held onto her, delicate in their teasing touches. Chanyeol’s were calloused, stronger, anchoring her without demanding anything more. 

The change of pace was well appreciated, even more so as the drug further loosened her up. She knew that Chanyeol was interested in her, sexually, romantically, or otherwise, but she didn't care. She knew he wouldn't cross any lines, especially not with Baekhyun nearby. 

Eventually the drug in tandem with the crowd of bodies on the dance floor forced the two to catch a breather, ending up outside on a large balcony overlooking the city. It was quieter there, with only a few other people tolerating the cool breeze.

As she looked out at the city, and then back at Chanyeol, she had to fight back a grin. Here she was, on a beautiful, opulent hotel balcony overlooking one of the coolest cities in the world, with a devastatingly handsome rockstar at her side. Baekhyun was the last thing on her mind at that point, she was fully enraptured by the party, the drug, and the man now stepping closer to her. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, though he could see it on her face, how happy she was. She didn’t say anything, her smile speaking for itself. 

“This is nice.” She said, “Really, really nice.” 

Chanyeol nodded in agreement, and when their eyes met this time, neither could seem to look away. They both moved closer, the distance growing smaller and smaller, and out of instinct more than anything else, she threw her arms around his neck. 

With the Seoul skyline as their backdrop, their lips met. Chanyeol took half a step back at first, surprised by her boldness, though he quickly leaned back into her. The kiss was sweet, just testing the waters, enjoying the new sensation amidst the rush of the high. 

When Baekhyun shoved his friend away from her, she initially gasped. But once the surprise wore off, the abundance of happy chemicals in her brain kept her from feeling even the slightest bit upset. 

Baekhyun wanted a reaction. He wanted her to yell, so he could yell back, so he could tell her and Chanyeol off for being such terrible friends. When she instead started to giggle, his blood began to boil. 

“Are you two fucking serious?” 

Chanyeol stayed silent, wide eyed as he watched everything unfold before him. He was relieved that his friend's attention was more focused on her. 

“Are you serious? You said so yourself, we're just friends. I can kiss whoever I want.” 

The lightness in her tone, her unbothered smile, it taunted him, mocked him.

His eyes turned to Chanyeol. “Did you give her drugs?” 

His mouth opened to respond, but the words seemed to get stuck somewhere along the way. 

“Don't worry.” She said, “It's not LSD. I’m not about to say more stupid shit I don't mean.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes dug into his friends, and Chanyeol knew that he was holding back. He knew his friend well enough to know when a line had been crossed. 

“We're leaving.” He ordered, taking tight hold of her hand and pulling her towards the doors. 

She gave Chanyeol a half-assed goodbye, frowning, but didn't resist as Baekhyun pulled them both back to his car. 

“You're being an asshole again.” She commented, her tone still far too nonchalant for Baekhyun’s taste. 

While she'd been off with Chanyeol, Baekhyun found a friend who offered him a generous hit of coke. The drug only amplified his shaky, delirious rage, his grip on the steering wheel tightening at her words.

“I'm being an asshole? Really?” 

“Yea, I was having fun. We aren't together, you've made that abundantly clear, so I don't see what the problem is.” 

“Don't play fucking innocent we both know you only did that to piss me off.” 

“And why does it piss you off? Hmm?” She really hadn't done it with any malicious intent. She’d just wanted to have a good time and one thing led to another, but in her drug induced cloud of smug confidence and brutal honesty she continued on taunting him. “Because I know you care about me. You wouldn't have shown up at my apartment in tears the other day if you didn't care about me.” 

At the next red light he looked over at her, the tension in his jaw and forehead clearly evident in his expression. “You will never be anything more to me than a friend and a good fuck. However you think I might feel won’t change that.” 

His words stung, but she wouldn’t let him know that. “Then you don’t get to freak out when I kiss another guy.” 

Baekhyun didn’t respond, but she could see the anger, he looked like he wanted to punch something. 

“This is fucked.” He eventually muttered. 

“You don’t say.” 

“No, you don’t get it. This is bad.” 

She just rolled her eyes, and tried to concentrate on the city passing by on the other side of the window. 

She assumed he would be taking her back home to her apartment, and yet as he kept driving, it became clear that he was doing nothing of the sort. 

“Baekhyun, where are we going? You said you would drop me off.” 

“‘You’re staying with me tonight.” 

“No the fuck I’m not?! I want to sleep in my own bed, far away from you. Turn around.” 

“No.” 

She stared at him, bewildered, but he refused to even look her way. His eyes remained fixed to the road, which was quickly approaching his building. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Still, he didn’t react, not until the pair were pulling into his building’s parking garage. He parked, turned off the engine, and locked the doors. 

“I need you to stay with me tonight.” His hands remained on the wheel as he said it, anchoring himself. He stared straight ahead at the concrete wall. 

“What?”

“Please, just spend the night. You can go straight to sleep. I won't bother you. But just, stay with me. Please.” 

He finally looked at her. Maybe it was the drug, but the way he looked at her made something shift. He wasn’t angry, he was scared. 

“Why should I?” 

“Maybe you’re right. I know I can’t give you what you want, but I do care.”

“That’s not fair.” 

He shook his head, wearing a pained expression as he got out of the car, opening her door and taking her hand to follow him. She did, though she still wasn’t sure why. 

“Baekhyun, why the hell can’t I just get an uber home? It's not like we're gonna fuck so I don’t see the point in coming up.” 

His hand was suddenly yanking on hers, pulling her close in an instant. He held her face in his hands, barely giving her time to take a breath before his lips were crashing into hers. 

It was messy, needy and desperate. Baekhyun quickly pushed his tongue past her lips, tasting the lingering liquor from earlier in the night, combined with the flavor he was already addicted to. Her. 

“Stop talking.” He whispered into the space between their lips when he’d finally had his fill. She pouted a little, but didn’t challenge him. 

The rest of the night was silent. They went up to his apartment together, and went to bed, without sharing another word. She was getting tired anyway, and the drug made it difficult to care all that much about whatever chaos seemed to be going on in Baekhyun’s head. 

When they laid down together, he pulled her in close, so close it was almost suffocating. His face pressed into the crown of her head, inhaling the clean scent of her shampoo, feeling something inside him twist into an uncomfortable knot. Still, he didn’t let go. If anything, he held on tighter. 

His own words from earlier in the night repeated over and over in his head, until he passed out with her still wrapped firmly around him. 

This is fucked. This is bad.  

Really, really bad. 

[yunwangja]

faultline | 2nd shift

masterlist

“you’re late.”

you say as suga bursts into the convenience store, still panting a little like he ran the whole way. he’s got his big bag on his back - probably the same one he brought on his trip just yesterday - and his hair’s a bit messy, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it on the way.

“i’m not late, you’re just early,” he jokes with a grin, slipping behind the counter. he disappears into the staff room, and you catch glimpses of him rushing back and forth, each time with something different in his hands. finally, he returns fully changed into his uniform, though his collar is a little crooked from his hurry.

“your shift is usually at 9 p.m. it’s 9:09. you left the store unattended for nine minutes,” you tease, pointing at the clock on the wall with a smug look. the previous part-timer had already left without a second thought, familiar enough with your visits to entrust you with “keeping an eye on things” until suga arrived.

“they don’t care about that,” he shrugs, rifling through the notes his coworker left for him. “i do good work when i’m here anyway.”

he gives you a light smirk as he starts his usual routine, checking over the counter before walking down each aisle to tidy up. he pauses at the frozen foods section, inspecting a bag of something you can’t see from where you’re sitting.

“since when have you been here?” he asks, not looking up.

you stretch your arms over the small table where you’re sitting, leaning back with a shrug. “don’t know. 6, 7? i just came over after i got out of campus.”

he glances over his shoulder at you, a little smirk creeping onto his face as he puts the bag back in place. “aww, you missed me?”

you roll your eyes, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. “don’t flatter yourself, i just had nothing better to do.”

he laughs at your response and continues to go through the rest of the store. knowing that tsumu teased you about this pisses you off even more.

a customer walks in just then, the chime ringing through the store. suga heads back to the counter to help them, and while he works, you ask him bits and pieces about his trip. he’s telling you a story about something funny his friends did when he suddenly remembers.

“oh! the photos!” he exclaims once the customer leaves, practically jogging back to the staff room. he comes out holding his camera, his expression eager as he flips through the images, already smiling.

“here, look at this,” he says, turning the camera to show you the pictures he’d taken. “the place was amazing.”

you lean in, and you’d hate to deny it - but the photos are actually stunning. mountain views, lush forests, and early morning skies. you stick out your bottom lip and raising your eyebrows in approval.

“yeah, it is. that’s cool,” you say casually, nodding. you watch as he flips through more, showing pictures of his friends, then some of himself with a grin so big it makes you chuckle a little. it’s clear he enjoyed himself.

“looks like you had fun,” you say, tilting your head as you study the camera screen.

“a lot,” he answers, and his grin gets wider. “i kinda wish i didn’t have to come back.”

“then you shouldn’t have,” you reply with a short laugh, a teasing smile pulling at your lips.

he laughs as well, just as another customer enters, the bell chiming again. he leaves the camera with you and heads back to the counter, glancing over his shoulder as he jokes, “if only i were rich, yn.”

you smile at his comment, watching him for a second before turning back to his camera. you continue flipping through the photos while he handles the customer. eventually, you get through all the shots from his trip and find yourself in his other albums.

the first few shots are of familiar faces: shoyo and tobio during what looks like a hangout session. then, you see photos taken here, in the convenience store. you realize it’s from a day when he had his camera for fun and had snapped some shots of you.

but what surprises you is the number of pictures he took, especially the candid ones. there are moments of you looking away, half-laughing or adjusting your jacket.

your curiosity piqued, you scroll further back. it was photos at a park. you explore more, and it was at a museum. you dig more, and it was pictures of the moon, perfectly framed against the night sky. and then, it was you again.

you were standing under a streetlight, head tilted back as you look at the stars. the memory hits you - he must’ve taken these quietly, when you didn’t notice. there’s one of you laughing, another rolling your eyes, and a few where you’re just gazing up, caught in your own world.

you keep scrolling, and you look through more, and you see kiyoko and bokuto.

you go through more, and it’s shoyo. next, it was you again. when you guys were near your campus. you saw your friends, but almost always, there’s you again, woven in-between these other familiar faces.

“suga,” you call, an amused smirk creeping onto your lips. “you take a lot of pictures of me.”

he’s finishing up with the customer, a faint laugh escaping him as he glances over.

“my friends say that, too,” he says with a sigh, shaking his head a little. “but i can’t help it.” he glances at you, “you’re a good subject.”

“why, do you like me or something?” you tease, eyebrows raised as you look up from the camera with a smirk.

suga doesn’t respond, and when you notice, you look back at him, making sure he heard you. his friendly smile froze and his eyes widened a little.

woah. that was not the reaction you wanted.

you stare at each other for a good few seconds, and you wait for him to laugh. or maybe, he says you’re being weird and you can be the one to laugh it off.

but instead, he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t joke. after a long pause, he shrugs and looks away, “well… yeah.”

he looks back up at you, answering with a quiet honesty.

“does that make it less creepy?”

notes

dundundun !!!! lol well we're just in the beginning >:)

daichi was seeing someone !! a foreigner OOOOH (that was why he called suga)

he's also suga's most trusted friend in regards to his struggles at home. idr if ive mentioned this in the intros but his friends are well-aware of his situation (even yn) but he just doesnt talk a lot about it

kiyoko does watch movies but not an enthusiast, u get it? so yeah she's always just stays quiet esp if its the topic

bo loves criossants i dont knowww my mind just said so

kags loves to piss tsumu off. idk it's a hobby of his

also shoyo has a habit of just like doomscrolling through twitter and replying to almost every tweet he sees

there were people recruiting members to the dance club and akaashi's classmates were like "omg you should join everybody would be all over you"

he says he has bad footwork, but if u actually see him dance he's not that bad

and yes suga's shift is from 9pm-5am. yn only stays til like 1 or 2am tho

you will be updated of tsumu's date in the next shift so stay tuned

taglist: @lvtilzs @uraviriot @adorawritesalot @nachotrash @staygoldsquatchling02 @gigiiiiislife @rowensboat

[pinkfey]

remember how in dao there were always like multiple flirty options u could just spring on ur love interest and it wasn't something that was brushed past it would stop a conversation dead in its tracks to have a cute secondary flirty offshoot with small variations dependent on the flirty option u initially chose with a unique course correction to get back on topic after...... yeah.

[best-bro-ben]

Uh

What do you do when you find out some of your friends are actually not very nice

And your brother and cousin are leaving with the rest of their friends so you have to go with them

Even though you still don't know if your parents are going with you

But you..

You still want to know why they did it and why they didn't say sooner

Um

I want to know for a friend

Not one of the people I'm talking about though

[forcedhesitation]

I MISSED THIS ENTIRELY MY FIRST TIME AROUND....THIS IS SO DAMN PRECIOUS?!!

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Every time Prapai gives Sky medicine, he's narcoleptic inside 5 minutes.

[shigussy]

i keep getting tiktoks of these younger gen z kids referencing a time they did something relating to fandom in public and now they're embarrassed by it and everytime i see one i sit there thinking over all of middle and high school and having genuinely 0 moments that i feel embarrassed by, like i definitely did a lot of shit these kids would be embarrassed by but i think these are all just really fucking funny

also photographic evidence of the kinda kid i was. these are from 2014/15 when i was in 8th grade

-desolation row one shot(still on wattpad gerard way/reader smut)

-twerk it on (mcr crack fanfic no longer on wattpad but i have another fic in my library called twerking in taco bell which definitely ALSO used for my reading log)

-frank iero must die(a serial killer/assassin frerard fic, still on wattpad)

-hair (really vague maybe a phanfic? nowhere in my wattpad library rip)

my binder i used in 7th grade i had a blue one that looked pretty similar to this for 8th grade but idk where it went, also the parts i scribbled out are my full legal name i had written on it. i wrote it normally and then the big spot is where i wrote my name REALLY BIG in elysian code from the vladimir tod books. also the lines are from when i used an exacto knife to cut up some papers and forgot that my binder was underneath

in conclusion yall can now see why im so shameless about talking about shigaraki the way i do