#but i think so much can be said through food because eating is a universal necessity

[sjsmith56]

You Know You Love Me

Summary: Bucky drives another member of the Avengers crazy with his teasing of her, and the non-stop women that he dates.

Length: 3.4 K

Characters: Bucky, unnamed and undescribed fem!reader

Warnings: Cursing, Bucky being insufferable, condescension, interference in reader’s dating life

Author notes: Avenger AU; Thanos never happened in this universe.

There were times when Bucky Barnes could be really irritating. Actually, it was most of the time. Living in the tower with him was like having the most irritating big brother / roommate / overbearing neighbour ever, trying to run your life. The worst moments were when he would say something just to get a rise out of me. He’d say it, then smirk, then the smile would get broader as he watched my reaction, then he would practically laugh when I’d call him on his bullshit. Those perfect teeth would be fully exposed, and I swear there would be a lens flare sparkle effect on them as his eyes crinkled in amusement. It was maddening.

He always had an opinion on everything, from TV shows, movies, favourite foods and especially with what I wore, and shared it whether I wanted to hear it or not.

“Sweetheart, you should wear that blue dress more often on your dates,” he would say, or something similar to it. “It will make your eyes pop.”

“You telling me what to wear, Barnes?” I would answer. “You practically live in your dark jeans and Henleys.”

“That’s because they’re comfortable,” he would reply, with a grin. “After what I went through in my life, I’m entitled to a little comfort in my old age, aren’t I?”

“Eat shit,” would be my response, except I never said it aloud as he was still a man of the 40s and would act all concerned at the language people used, which was rich coming from him, as he swore more than I did.

To be honest, I couldn’t really call him out on his life because he was tortured for most of it, and technically he was a centenarian. But to watch him just grin, with that look he often had after saying something outrageous to me, knowing I was holding my tongue, brought out the worst in me. Of course, the other Avengers would say he obviously liked me because he was normally Mr. Silent and Grumpy with all of them.

“Take the smile,” said Sam. “It’s proof the man has a heart.”

“But it bugs me,” I explained. “Drives me up the wall.”

“That’s why he does it,” smiled the winged man. “He obviously likes you and thinks you can handle it.”

That was the real problem for me; I couldn’t handle his attention, seemingly focused just on me. None of the others got as much scrutiny as I did. It didn’t help that the man was insanely gorgeous, with that thick dark hair, intense blue eyes, a jawline and cheekbones that rivalled those of any Hollywood heartthrob, topped off by an incredible smile. Physically, he was the type of man that women drooled over; tall, broad shouldered, sculpted waist, an ass that filled out his jeans so well, and thighs that gave me all sorts of thoughts. Which was another reason why I did my best to ignore or insult him. You would think I would know that my tactics weren’t working but the alternative to his attention was not getting it and that was unthinkable.

He had lots of female company, based on the number of times he came out of his room in the morning with a different woman for the walk of shame to the elevator. He’d stroke their hair, say how much fun he had, kiss them softly on their lips, then send them on their way, never to be seen again. It hurt, and I didn’t think I could compete against that. Not that I ever really tried.

Don’t get me wrong. I was happy with myself. After falling into that trap of denying myself anything that might stick to my figure, I realized I was playing a sucker’s game. I liked food, I liked enjoying myself, and so what if I wasn’t a perfect size 2. I was perfect the way I was, loved my curves and loved showing them off. Dates weren’t a problem, although second dates weren’t automatic, and third dates were rare. I often wondered why that was.

Somehow, Bucky would always be around when my date was picking me up for the first time. He would lean against a wall, his arms folded, gazing intently at the man who showed up. Occasionally he would speak to them with something along the lines of bringing me home before curfew. They would look at him, then me, to determine if he was kidding. It didn’t help when he said it was part of my “parole conditions.” Even if Bucky started grinning and say he was joking, more often than not those would be the dates that didn’t progress beyond the first one. If I did get asked out again, he would be waiting even nearer to us, almost like a lurking parent.

“Did you remember to take your infectious disease medication?” he would sometimes ask.

“Bucky, you know damn well I’m as healthy as a super soldier.”

“Yeah, now you are,” he’d say, with a straight face. “Gotta stay vigilant. Remember Typhoid Mary appeared healthy.”

The last time it happened, and Bucky said something really outrageous, the guy decided not to follow up with any more dates, so I confronted Bucky the next morning.

“Why are you always interfering in my love life?” I was almost apoplectic in my anger. “You told him I had to be home to tuck the kids in.”

“You can do better than him, sweetheart,” he answered. “If he really liked you, he would have asked to meet the kids. He wasn’t right for you. None of them are.”

I was done with his interference.

“How would you know? When was the last time you had a steady girlfriend?”

“Haven’t found the right one, yet,” he said. “But I get lots of action during the search, so I’m not too concerned.”

“Yeah? Sometimes I wonder if you have your lady friends over here just to make me jealous.” A flicker of something appeared in his eyes and quickly disappeared. I obviously hit a target. “You see me giving your dates the third degree?”

“They know our dates are casual,” he said, with an edge to his voice. “I don’t lead them on.” The grin appeared again. “They just want a taste and I’m happy to oblige.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!” I was in serious danger of losing it. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to start dragging guys to my bedroom. See how you like it then.”

With what I hoped was dramatic effect I whirled around and stomped away, not looking back. He just made me so angry. What he didn’t know was that I went straight to my room, turned on the TV really loud, then buried my face in my pillow and cried. Cried for letting him bother me; cried for being jealous of the women he brought back; cried for obviously not being someone he saw as worthy of dating. I hated to admit it, but I was in love with him, but I also knew I was nothing like the women he brought back for the night. They were beautiful; tall, graceful, perfect hair and teeth. Even though I liked myself I still felt like I was a 6 compared to their 9s. I didn’t think he would ever think of me as anything other than someone to tease.

It didn’t help that before I came to the tower, I was in a disastrous relationship with a SHIELD agent who was just as handsome as Bucky. He broke my heart when I learned he was cheating on me, and I didn’t want to be put into that position again. I put up all my emotional guards and just did my job. Except Bucky kept chipping away at me. I was tired of it. Did I already say he drove me crazy? This boomeranging between loving him and hating him wore me out.

For a week after that last confrontation, I wouldn’t talk to him. I wouldn’t even stay in the same room with him as I was so mad at myself for loving him. He didn’t bring any women back to his quarters during that week, so I guessed that my words had an effect.

That lasted until I went out to a nightclub with a bunch of college friends that I hadn’t seen in a while. I was dressed to the nines that night, in a slinky dress, cut low in the front and back, showing a lot of leg. I did my hair, wore makeup, nice jewelry … the works. We walked into the place like we owned it, and heads turned as we made our entrance. Drinking and dancing like it was the first day of the rest of our lives, we drew lots of male attention (and some female, as a couple of my girlfriends were lesbians). It was fun and liberating at the same time.

I was on the dance floor, grinding my ass against a guy as we danced when I saw them; Bucky and Sam, sitting at the bar. I couldn’t believe they would follow me. Women were hitting on both and every time I looked Bucky would lean over, whisper something in their ear, then pull back with that sexy smile he had. I was sure he was doing it deliberately. When we finally made eye contact, he lifted his glass to me. What an asshole.

“Who’s an asshole?” asked the guy I was dancing with, raising his voice so I could hear him over the music.

I must have said it out loud.

“Just a guy from work who showed up here,” I yelled back. “He’s always on my case. We had words and I told him off. Now he’s here and I just find his presence annoying.”

“You want me to tell him to leave?” he asked. “I don’t mind.”

Before I could answer he left me on the dance floor and made his way to Bucky. I watched him point back to me then say something. That smirk came out, then Bucky looked at me and shook his head. Working my way off the dance floor I confronted him, swaying lightly as I was definitely under the influence.

“Why are you here?”

“Baby, I just told him to leave,” said my dance partner. “Come on, he’s just being a dick.”

“Seriously, Bucky, why did you follow me?”

He looked at Sam, then at the guy I had danced with, then back at me, sizing me up in a way that made me a little uncomfortable. “I didn’t know you were here. We often hang out here, don’t we Sam? Good booze, nice staff, and great music.”

Sam said nothing, just arched his eyebrows a little. The guy I danced with was getting impatient.

“Bullshit, you hate this music,” I said. “You always go to that jazz place on the east side.”

That smirk twitched at the side of Bucky’s mouth. “How would you know? You been watching me?”

“No,” I answered defensively. “People post pics on Instagram. You’re a celebrity.”

The guy looked at Bucky again then at Sam and his brain suddenly put two and two together.

Bucky scoffed. “Thought I would find out what the appeal with this place is,” he answered, then he looked at the guy who was definitely figuring out he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Gotta say, I’m not that impressed.”

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I retorted, trying to appear put together, then losing my balance. He caught me before I tripped over the heels I was wearing. “Thank you. Now, I’m going back to dancing with my friend here. You can just … just … buzz off.”

I waved my hand at him dismissively, then turned back to the dance floor, grabbing hold of the guy’s arm. As I headed back into the throng of dancers with him, I lost my balance again and almost fell, but felt a strong pair of arms catch me up in their arms. It was Bucky.

“Put me down,” I said.

“No, you’re going home,” he answered. “You’ve had enough.”

“She asked you to put her down.” Bucky glared at him.

“You're not my dad,” I slurred. “Or my boyfriend. You don’t get to tell me when I’ve had enough.”

“That’s true,” he answered, still holding me in the middle of that dance floor as the other dancers ignored us. All I could see was that cute cleft in his chin. God, I wanted to lick it. “But I am your friend, and I think you should call it a night.”

It was like the other guy didn’t even exist. Bucky thought he was my friend? Never before had he said that and for some reason, it made me cry. Every time I tried to stop, I couldn’t and I buried my face in his chest, soaking his shirt with my tears. Calmly, he carried me off the dance floor to where Sam was, holding my purse and jacket. I still don’t know what happened to the guy I was dancing with, but he didn’t follow us.

“I’ll get the car,” said Sam. “She’s going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“She’ll be alright,” replied Bucky, then he looked at me in a way he never had before. “You really need to know your limit.”

“Are you mad at me?” My voice sounded pathetic, even to me.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not mad.” He was still holding me in his arms. “I’m actually sorry.”

We were waiting at the door now, where it was quieter and the pounding in my head that I knew came from how much I drank began bothering me. He stood me upright for a moment, helping me on with my jacket.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked as he buttoned it up.

He breathed out noticeably. “I went about things the wrong way. I might be over a hundred years old but when it comes to women I like, I forget how to act around them.”

I swayed a little, and he put his arm around me, supporting me.

“Who do you like?”

Sam’s car appeared and Bucky helped me into the back seat, buckling me up. Not that it helped as I wanted to lie down and close my eyes. Sam shrugged as Bucky got into the back seat and put his arm around my shoulders so that I leaned against him. He was so warm, and his arm felt so nice and comforting.

“You smell good,” I murmured. That was the last thing I remembered until we got to the tower.

When we got there, I know that he picked me up like I weighed nothing and held me in the elevator until we reached the residential section. He carried me to my room then I could hear Natasha’s voice. For some reason that made me cry again, but she was so nice, telling me to let it out. I ended up in a T-shirt and shorts, tucked into the bed.

“There’s a glass of water and some pain killers on the nightstand,” she said softly. “Next time you wake up, take them, okay?”

She left me there although I could hear her and Bucky talking in Russian, but not understanding it, I didn’t know what they were saying. I just wanted to sleep, and I did, like the proverbial dead. When I did finally open my eyes, the light hurt, even though the curtains were drawn. I took the painkillers and drank the glass of water, then promptly ran to the bathroom, and brought it all up. As I sat on the floor, holding my head in my hands while I leaned against the bathtub, I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Go away,” I muttered. “Let me die in peace.”

“Were you sick?” It was Bucky.

“No.”

“Sweetheart, I could hear you. Clint could hear you and he wears hearing aids.”

I closed my eyes, then fought the urge to cry. He must have heard that because he spoke again, in a softer tone.

“Please, let me come in.”

“Fine.”

The door opened and he stepped inside. He turned the cold water tap on then filled the glass with water. Lowering himself to the floor, he sat next to me, holding out two new painkillers.

“I’m guessing you didn’t keep the last ones down,” he said. “You really tied one on last night.”

“Yeah, well, I was trying to forget,” I answered, taking the pills and holding them in my hand.

I took the water in my other hand and sipped it. When my stomach felt better, I swallowed the pills and washed them down with more water. Without thinking, I sighed, and put the glass down on the floor, reaching for some toilet paper so I could blow my nose. Bucky said nothing.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I’m trying to forget?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” he answered, just a little too quickly. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk to you. I kind of got carried away.”

I huffed a little. “Why do you act like you do?”

“No excuse for that,” he answered. “None that are valid, other than making up for lost time. Even that is suspect.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, then scratching his stubble with his fingers, he turned those blue eyes on me.

“I’ve been trying to make you jealous,” he said. “Juvenile I know. I can turn on the charm for most women, but for the one who I really want, I can’t seem to say the right thing. It makes you respond in kind and instead of us getting closer, it just pushes us further apart.”

“You want me? I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? You’re beautiful, smart, and you have a razor-sharp wit that I love. The worst of it is that other guys see it too, so I got a little prehistoric and bared my teeth at them, figuratively speaking. I’m sorry about that. You deserve better.”

“It hurt when you would bring all those women back here,” I said, frowning. “Then you pulled that double standard shit on me, by chasing away my dates.”

“I know. Guilty as charged. No excuses.” He breathed out. “You know how my senses are amplified?” I nodded. “None of them smelled as good as you. That probably sounds weird, but their scents were all chemical and fake compared to you.”

It was weird. “What did I smell like?”

“Home.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

Before I could say anything else, he kissed me, even though my mouth must have tasted of barf. He didn’t care, and it was the best kiss I ever had, making me feel weak and dizzy and aroused all at the same time. Then he pulled me onto his lap and kissed me some more, while putting one hand around to the nape of my neck while the other one wrapped around my body. Just as I was really getting into it, he stopped, then cupped my jaw in his one hand.

“You need to have a shower and brush your teeth.”

“You kissed me,” I countered. “I figured it didn’t matter.”

“It matters. I just wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

“Know what?”

“That you know you love me.” That smirk came out, along with the lens flare on those perfect teeth. Just as I was about to argue the point, he kissed me again. “I love you, too and I’ll tell you that in public and private as many times as I can until you believe it.”

He lifted me off of his lap and deposited me on the bathroom floor. Then he stood up and went to the door, looking back at me.

“You’re so cute when you don’t know what to say. I’ll be out here waiting for you.”

He thought I was cute. At my age I would take it. He was right about several things. I did know that I loved him. Now that I knew for sure that he loved me too, it was going to be interesting finding out where that love would take us.

One Shots Masterlist

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[rillabrooke]

to continue what i just rambled in the tags of some poor person's post - i think food as isaac's love language is even more important because he was raised with an unreliable food source. i wrote a whole scene into salamangka about how the way he views food is unhealthy, so imagine if his view changes so much that he shows his love through food.

i mean, salamangka is literally a restaurant. this found family he develops all works in and around food. the first thing they do when he finds himself in salamangka's basement is feed him.

[capquinn]

Just thinking about how Quinn said he was on a health kick two summers ago and didn’t drink at all then admitted he was the snappiest guy to be around so imagine how moody bf!quinn must be right now with that split lip, stitches tugging every time he so much as opens his mouth — it's not pretty.

He’d be so quiet, and not in the reserved, introspective way you’re used to, but in a brooding, simmering frustration kind of way that seems to pull the air out of the room. Like he’s retreating into himself because everything hurts. The stitches pulling with every word he says, and bruising that makes even the smallest movement a sore reminder. He's frustrated and just done with the week.

It’s the little things that pile up, the ones that are so routine, so instinctive, that they feel impossible to escape. First world problems, sure, but they grind him down all the same. Like how brushing his teeth feels like a battle — every bristle scraping against raw skin, the sharp sting of mint hitting the split in his lip. Or how he can’t kiss you without the stitches tugging, the area far too tender for any sort of outside contact, forcing him to pull back with a wince.

Smiling is a chore, laughing is unthinkable, and the absence of both casts a shadow over the entire week. He’s stuck in this cycle of discomfort, where even the smallest attempt at normalcy — something as simple as grinning at one of your dumb jokes — turns into a reminder of just how far from normal he feels. It’s maddening, this constant push and pull of wanting to feel like himself but being held back by the pain that seems to weave its way into everything.

Clipped answers become his norm: “yeah,” “no,” and “I don’t mind.” Even a simple, “what do you want for dinner?” gets met with a grumbled, “doesn’t matter,” because he knows whatever it is, it’s going to hurt to eat and he won't be able to finish it anyway. And the thought of wasting more food makes him even angrier at the whole situation.

“This sucks,” he mutters under his breath one night, poking at the soup you made him, the corner of his mouth twitching every time the spoon scrapes the bowl. Not that it actually sucked — it was good soup, great even, but everything else sucked, and the soup was just collateral damage in his war against the universe.

You bite back a smile, brushing your hand over his arm. “Want me to make something else?”

“No,” he mutters, leaning back against the dining chair. His hand drags through his hair in frustration before he props his elbow on the table, cupping his chin in his palm like he's truly defeated. His shoulders sagging as though the weight of the week is pressing down harder than ever. “It’s fine.”

Except it’s not fine. He’s not fine. He hasn’t been since that high stick knocked the wind out of him and it’s bleeding into everything.

Thinking of leaving the apartment? Forget it. Unless it’s absolutely necessary — practice, the gym, or a doctor’s appointment — he’s planted firmly on the couch, arms crossed, brows furrowed like he’s in a standoff with the world. If you try suggesting a walk, maybe some fresh air to help him reset, he just shakes his head, muttering, “don’t feel like it,” voice flat, eyes trained on the TV, and the conversation dies there.

Even in the middle of the night, he's moody. He shifts endlessly in bed, trying to find a position that doesn’t make his mouth throb. He rolls onto his back, then onto his side, then back again, each movement accompanied by a quiet sigh of frustration. When he tries to rest his cheek against your shoulder, seeking comfort in the usual closeness, it only makes the pain worse. He pulls back with a wince, muttering under his breath, his brows furrowing deeper as he resettles with a sharp exhale.

“Are you okay?” you murmur softly in the dark, your voice thick with sleep. “Anything I can do?”

“No,” he mutters, and there’s enough of an edge to it that you can tell he’s at the end of his patience. And then he sighs heavily. “Just… go back to sleep.” His voice softens, but only slightly, the strain still unmistakable. It’s clear he’s trying to hold back the weight of his frustration from spilling over entirely.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you shift closer, your hand brushing over his chest as you nestle into his side, your warmth folding into him like second nature. Half-asleep and instinctive, you press a kiss to his shoulder, the faintest, softest reassurance, as if to say I'm here, and you feel him exhale steadily, the tension in his body easing just just that little bit under your touch. His hand moves to rest on your back, his fingers tracing a slow, absentminded path across the fabric of your shirt, and i’s the kind of gesture he doesn’t even about, but it grounds him all the same, letting him focus on something other than the ache in his mouth or the restless churn of his thoughts.

The worst part? The guilt. It gnaws at him in the quiet moments, filling the spaces where his usual softness should be. Every sharp answer, every impatient huff, every time he brushes you off — it all piles up in the back of his mind, heavy and relentless. He doesn’t mean to take it out on you. You know that, and he knows you know that, but it doesn’t stop the weight of it from pressing down on him, tightening his chest with a frustration that feels as much internal as it does external.

There are times when he hears the bite in his own words before you do, the way they come out too quick, too rough, and the regret is immediate.

“Sorry,” he mumbles after one particularly clipped response earlier in the day, when your only reply is raised eyebrows, the universal look of really? His lips barely move when he says it, like even the act of apologising feels like its own brand of punishment — sharp, stinging, and a little too close to the guilt already swirling in his chest.

Sometimes, there’s no apology at all — just a quiet brush of his fingers over yours, or the weight of his palm resting on your leg when you sit beside him on the couch. His thumb moves in small, absent minded circles on your knee, a silent gesture of contrition and love. It’s not grand, it’s not elaborate, but it’s everything — his way of saying I’m sorry, I love you when the words won’t come, when he feels like his brooding might swallow him whole.

And yet, even in the middle of all of his frustration and discomfort, even when he feels like he’s at his worst, there’s still a part of him that tries. He catches himself before he can say something too sharp, lets his hand linger a little longer when he reaches for yours, or pulls you into his side on the couch even when it’s the last thing he feels like doing. It’s quiet, subtle effort, but it’s there — a reminder that no matter how bad the week has been, no matter how much he’s hurting or how heavy the guilt feels, his love for you is always louder than the noise in his head. It’s in the way his fingers thread through your hair later that evening, gentle and steady, as you rest your head in his lap. He leans down, presses the faintest kiss to your temple, even if it's a struggle, and whispers, “thanks for putting up with me.”

And of course you’re putting up with him. Because no matter how snappy or brooding or quiet he gets, he deserves all the love and patience he can’t quite muster for himself right now. He deserves the steady reassurance of your presence, the way you smooth your hand over his arm, or nuzzle closer into his side, silently reminding him that he’s allowed to have bad days, bad weeks even, and it doesn’t change a thing. But really, it's not about putting up with him; it’s about being there for him — fully, unconditionally, because if the roles were reversed, you know he’d do the same for you without question.

[thebirdandthebee]

Morning Snack | Aemond Targaryen

This is my first time writing in the House of the Dragon universe, so please be kind! Don't expect perfect historical accuracy - but I just love this character so much.

featuring | Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen x Reader

length | 1k words (a shorty!)

synopsis | You're worried about your shape, and your husband's lack of worry about his.

warnings | 18+ MDNI! Fluff + implied smut

One thing that drove you mad about your husband was just how often he could eat. That is, eat and maintain his lithe figure. Sure, he was in the training yard every day, keeping his shape inadvertently, as it was clear he never once had to think about the harsh pull of a corset, but you were certain he could eat more in one day than some homes ate in a week.

It wasn’t uncommon to see the Prince walking the halls of the Red Keep with an apple in his hand, or reaching for a sweet in his pocket.

Aside from snacks, he would quietly and cleanly go through two, three, sometimes four plates of food at supper - the cook prepping and preparing extra venison just for the second son.

When the two of you would take dinner in your bedchambers, there was often a small, second table brought in to hold plates as they normally would not fit on your given space.

Only once and a while, as you ran into your husband throughout the grounds, would you catch just a crumb or two on his black doublet - a sure sign he’d been ordering shortbread to his meeting room during the day.

Besides the fact that you hadn’t seen his measurements change in the 16 months you’d been betrothed and married, there were no obvious signs of his intake.

Today, as your ladies in waiting braced a foot up on the bedpost to pull your laces tighter and tighter, the sight of Aemond’s keen eye scanning a selection of cheeses from your tea table nearly sent you into a frenzy.

“Thank you,” you grimaced before dismissing your ladies maids for the morning - now that you’d been picked, prodded and parsed away into a cascade of deep emerald velvet.

“Thought I’d join you for tea, my love,” Aemond said quietly, just barely breaking eye contact with the spread of fruit, cured meat and treats alongside the soft cheeses on the hutch near your common area.

“Oh really? Because you missed my company?” You supplied, striding across the room, sure you could feel your ribs straining beneath the whelped whale bone stitched into your garments.

“I always enjoy your company, sweet wife,” Aemond assured, raising his look to meet yours, but hand still hovering over a particularly ripe looking apricot.

“Are you sure you aren’t just here for the tea? I can excuse myself so you can be alone with your meal,” you tossed him a look that he nearly missed because he was sure he saw his favorite jam preserves tucked into the display that he hadn’t seen available for a few weeks.

“Mm?” He asked, turning his head to look up at you one more time.

“You make me mad, do you know that?” You asked, coming to stand in front of him with a small furrow between your brows.

“Mad?” Aemond asked, tossing a small berry into his mouth.

“You are here for the food!” You all but snarled, causing his brow to lift just slightly in surprise. 

“Is something the matter?” He asked, turning his shoulders squarely to face you.

“You get to eat and eat and eat all day long,” you huffed, turning and crossing the room once again to pour a glass of incensed water into your empty cup. “How can you eat so much and yet your body never changes? Not even a bit?” You asked. 

Aemond was at a loss for words. He was certain he didn’t eat that much.

“If I have one more sweet than veg at dinner, I can feel on my thighs for the next six weeks!” You knew you were bordering on hysteria at this point. “I watched you eat six tarts last night.” You pointed an accusatory finger at your husband. “Six!”

“They were very good tarts, plums are finally back in season,” Aemond countered, not sure why his little wife was throwing a fit over his tea.

You crossed the rooms again, cradling his sharp jaw in your hands, arms accounting for the height difference between you two.

“I am deeply in love with you, and I deeply resent how you can maintain your figure and eat until your heart’s content,” you said sternly. Aemond noted the slight sweetness of honeysuckle on your breath. “I am… envious,” you admitted softly.

“I assure you,” Aemond began, “your body leaves me wanting for nothing,” he informed. “I’m quite attached to all parts of it and hope none of them disappear,” he said, unruffled by your outburst.

“Well they will,” you huffed, dropping your arms and placing your hands on your waist. “I need to shed these hips and thighs, so I’m telling cook no more sweets at dinner or tea,” you said pointedly, turning away from your husband and crossing the room again to grab your cloak.

“No sweets?” Aemond’s face reflected an expression of disgust. “That simply won’t work for me,” he replied. 

“No sweets,” you reiterated. Aemond set down the halved peach he’d absentmindedly picked up as you were speaking and strode across the room, placing his hands on your waist over your clock.

“My love, I need my sweets the same way I need you,” he murmured in your ear, causing you to puff out a sarcastic laugh.

“Oh really? You can’t live without them?” You asked, spinning in his hold.

Aemond took a deep breath, drawing his arms tightening around you as he spoke with clear authority.

“Your hips and thighs happen to be my favorite bits,” he began, “and if you take them from me the same way you plan to take my sweets, I will take it as a personal affront.”

“Aemond, the other ladies of court - ”

“Frankly, I don’t care about the other ladies of court and neither should you,” he interrupted. “You are a Princess and if anything, they should strive to be more like their rulers.” He held a finger to your lips. “Now that I’ve finished my snack, let me move on to my next favorite thing to eat."

-

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Please let me know if you'd be interested in reading any more Aemond content :)

[0cta9on]

Unlikely Duet - 8

Length: 18k+ words

Genre: Fluff

NewJeans Minji x Male Reader (OC)

(Author's Note: First of all, thanks to @msafterhours for beta reading! This chapter wouldn't have been as good without your input :] TW: Violence and mention of blood. Hope y'all enjoy this chapter, it was a blast to write :> )

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Yuno’s POV

It’s weird. It’s a Monday, universally agreed to be the most hated day of the week, and yet, here I am, waking up with a smile on my face like it’s the most regular thing in the world. I had no weird dreams this time around, but that didn’t stop Minji from being the first person I thought about the second I opened my eyes. Whatever I said before about love being stupid, scratch that. I feel invincible.

After quickly getting ready, I head downstairs to see my dad cooking breakfast, an image I’m slowly getting used to. It feels comforting knowing someone cares enough about me to go through all the trouble of cooking a meal.

“Good morning, dad.”

“Good morning, Yuno. You seem happy this morning,” he smirks at me.

My face already aches, not used to smiling this much. “Yeah, just… excited for school, I guess,” I shrug.

“Mhm, sure,” he chuckles, sliding a plate of food towards me. “Eat up.” Right before I dig into my breakfast, I send a text to the group chat, asking Winter and Yujin if they want to meet up at the convenience store and walk to school together.

Winter: sure thing :)

Yujin: yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

Actual food for breakfast, actual friends to walk to school with, and an actual crush I get to see at school? It’s only morning and already this day feels perfect.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

My heart thumps with anxiety while my parents sit across from me at the dining table, completely oblivious to the dread I feel in every fiber of my being. In order for me to survive at the banquet tomorrow, I need them to agree to let me bring a plus one. Specifically, I need them to let me bring Yuno, the one person they specifically told me to stay away from.

I inhale deeply, firming up my resolve as best as I can. “Um, Mother? Father?”

They both look up at me. “Yes, dear?” Mother answers.

“About the banquet tomorrow-” “Ah right, Ms. Park told me that Sunghoon is excited to see you again after so long. Isn’t that nice?”

I bite my tongue to keep myself from visibly cringing. “Right, um, I actually wanted to ask you if I could bring a friend to the banquet.”

They exchange looks at each other before turning back to me. “I don’t see why not. Who did you want to invite?”

“Um… Yuno.”

“Absolutely not!” Mother answers a bit too quickly. “We told you already that we don’t want you associating with that boy! Why don’t you bring any of your other friends, like Danielle, or even Hanni would be more acceptable than him.”

“Because, uh…” I need to think of a lie, something, anything that can convince them. “...Because he has an interest in the business,” I blurt out. Not my best work, but it’s better than nothing. Both of them furrow their brows, unconvinced, yet neither of them say a word, simply waiting for my explanation. 

“I, uh, told him about the family business and he got so, um, inspired by your story that he wants to, uh, pursue a business degree in college.”

 Their glares feel like spotlights, scrutinizing my every little move. Mother’s expression remains the same — bewildered and a little irked — but I can see the gears slowly turning in Father’s pensive gaze.

“I thought the banquet would be a good opportunity for him to make connections in the industry, y’know, just like how you want me to,” I continue. “You two always emphasize the importance of making strong connections in case I need help in the future, so why can’t I be the connection that helps Yuno?”

“Honey, we are not charity workers-”

“Wait,” Father says, turning towards her. “I think we should let him come.”

Both mine and my mother’s eyes grow wide in surprise.

“Really?” We say in unison.

“I’ve always had a firm belief in education, both in and out of the classroom. This banquet could be an opportunity for him to better himself. He clearly has no plans for the future otherwise.”

Mother opens her mouth to argue, but instead sighs and nods. “Fine, we will permit Yuno to come to the banquet.” 

I almost can’t believe the words coming out of their mouths. My plan is actually going to work. I’m so happy I could cry.

“But,” she adds, “If he causes any trouble, we forbid you from seeing him outside of school, okay?”

“Y-yes, of course, I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble! Thank yo-”

“And I don’t want you sneaking off and being alone with that boy. We’ll have Sunghoon stick with the two of you the entire time.”

My ears start to ring like a massive bomb just dropped nearby.

“...W-what!?”

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

The morning sun warms my skin as I wait for my friends by the convenience store. Birds fly above, singing their spring song like gentle plucks of a violin, sonorous yet fragile. A clear sky hangs overhead, unblemished by smog or storm clouds. It almost feels like mother nature herself wants me to have a good day.

“Good morning, Yuno!”

“YUNOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Winter and Yujin appear in the distance, walking towards me.

“Hey,” I greet them with a wave. They both stop in their tracks, eyeing me with surprise. “...What?”

“You’re smiling,” Winter states as if it’s the most insane thing she’s ever seen.

I turn my head away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Y-yeah, so what?”

“Aw, Winter, you ruined it,” Yujin teases. “He looked so happy.”

I sigh. “...Let’s just go.”

Both of them chuckle, taking their spot on either side of me like it’s where they belong. For so long, I walked the same route to school alone every morning, yet today, it feels a little different. The colors on the buildings and the street signs seem so much more vivid, the air smells like fresh grass and blooming flowers, puddles and windows glisten like diamonds as they reflect the sun’s morning light. A part of me thinks that I’m dreaming again — when did the world look this beautiful? But the way Yujin nudges my side to show me a drawing he’s working on or the way Winter clutches onto my shoulder after almost tripping on nothing lets me know that all of this is real. The world that I used to hate waking up to is now a world that I can look at with a smile. 

A real, genuine smile.

______________________________________________________________

As the three of us walk through the hallways of Evergreen, I feel the familiar stares of the other students, eyeing me like some kind of untamed beast that could jump out at them at any moment. Even with everything else changing around me, I can always count on high schoolers to be ever stagnant and predictable in their behaviors. Although, something in their eyes feels a little peculiar. Instead of just fear, there’s something else hiding behind it. Intrigue? Admiration? Maybe these rose-tinted lenses are starting to make me see things.

“P-people sure d-do stare a lot, h-huh?” Winter asks, her voice shrinking to a mere whisper.

“Yeah, I guess they do.” I glance back at them, both their gazes glued to the ground, clearly not used to the unwanted attention. “Sorry, I should’ve warned you guys.”

“It’s okay, Yuno, it’s not your fault,” Yujin reassures me.

“Y-yeah, I’m sure w-we’ll get used to it,” Winter adds with a small grin. Man, what did I do to deserve these two?

The five minute warning bell rings, sending the students still left in the hallways in a hurry. I say my goodbyes to Winter and Yujin as we part ways, enduring the usual stares and hushed voices as I make my way to my seay in the back. Still, something feels odd about the way they’re looking at me today. I try to meet their eyes to get a better look, but everyone keeps looking away, pretending like they weren’t whispering about me to their friends. If this keeps going on for the rest of the day, I’m gonna be pissed.

“Yuno Lin to the principal’s office, Yuno Lin to the principal’s office. Now,” the PA system announces, giving me a wave of deja vu. I have a couple guesses for what this could be about…

______________________________________________________________

Instead of coming out the gate swinging, Mr. Geier just sits at his desk, his hands clasped in deep thought. Normally, I would be pretty indifferent to whatever he has to say, but after everything Minji said to me, I suddenly feel guilty sitting in front of him. It probably isn’t easy dealing with my shit on a weekly basis.

“So…” he starts, finally looking up at me after a few minutes of silence. “I’m sure you know why you’re in here, Yuno.”

“Yup…”

He sighs. “The McGraw’s donate a lot of money to this school. They didn’t exactly take well to receiving a call that their son was found unconscious in the bathroom with a broken nose.”

Ah shit. This is it. The consequences of my actions have finally caught up to me. Fate, you cruel bastard, making me wake up in a good mood for the first time in years, only to send me to jail before the day even starts. Goodbye dad, Yujin, Winter, and Minji. Minji…

“But…”

But…!

“...They’ve decided not to press charges.”

“What!?” I exclaim, relieved and deeply confused. 

 “We received a tip from one of the boys on the football team that Tyler had been bullying a group of freshman boys for months. They still wanted to press charges anyways, but I may have… insinuated that if they did, I would ensure Tyler could only set foot into a community college at best.”

My eyes widen, slowly connecting the dots. “Did you…?”

“No, it was not for you,” he states matter-of-factly. “It was for the sake of all the freshmen that suffered because of him.”

“R-right.” I sink back into my chair, feeling sheepish. “So… what happens now? Detention? Suspension?”

“No, I have something else in mind for you.”

Just then, the door to Mr. Geier’s office swings open, sending in a wave of lavender and rainbows into his office as the girl of my dreams walks through.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Geier?” Minji says before turning to me, a quizzical look in her eyes.

“Perfect timing, Minji,” he says, “This is Yuno Lin. Yuno, this is Minji Kim, the student council president.”

Minji shoots me a confused look, but I’m too distracted by her beauty to pay full attention. Her hair is in a ponytail today with two strands of hair framing her perfect face. The sound of my thumping heart gets louder in my ears, drowning out whatever Geier is saying. Hopefully it’s not anything important. What could be more important than Minji? God, she’s so pretty, I-

“Yuno, are you paying attention?” Mr. Geier snaps at me.

“S-sorry, what?” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Minji stifling a giggle, making my cheeks burn red.

“As I was saying, your punishment will be to help Minji with prom preparations. Whatever she asks you to do, you do it. If you cause any trouble for her, she’ll report it to me and you will face the consequences, understand?”

You mean I get to spend more time with Minji? As a punishment? “Yup, I understand,” I say, trying not to look too eager.

“Good.” He turns towards Minji. “Just make him lift the heavy stuff or something. He can be a handful, but he, uh… He means well.” How sweet, Geier. I’m blushing.

“That shouldn’t be much of a problem,” she says, smirking. “We’ve actually met bef-”

“U-uh, it’s nice to meet you for the first time ever, Ms. President!” I exclaim, shoving my hand towards her before she can utter another word. If Geier finds out that his “punishment” is more like a “blessing” for me, he’ll probably give me some other grunt work to deal with.

Minji awkwardly shakes my hand, giving me a curious expression. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you too, Yuno.” The feeling of her soft hand against mine beats out any kind of embarrassment I should be feeling right now.

“Alright, you can head back to class now, Minji,” Mr. Geier dismisses her. She gives me a small yet bewildered grin before exiting his office, leaving me alone with the principal yet again. My gaze lingers towards the door even after it closes, wishing she’ll pop back in for a few more seconds.

“So,” he begins, taking me out of my daydreams. “You got lucky. Extremely lucky. However, that doesn’t mean you can keep doing this and expecting to get out scot free just because I stick my neck out for you. There are rules here, and I understand that you may not agree with those rules, but they are there regardless, which means you must follow them just like everybody else. No more playing vigilante just because you can, you understand?”

“Yeah, I understand. I’m sorry.”

“I- you what?” He asks, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Uh, I said I understand and I’m sorry,” I reiterate sheepishly.

“Oh. Okay. Well. Good. As long as you understand.” It’s almost offensive just how shocked he is, as if I didn’t know my own actions were wrong. I might be stubborn, but I’m not stupid.

“I’m going back to class,” I state, getting up from my chair. Right before I exit his office, I turn to Geier one last time. “Uh, my dad is doing better now.”

He looks up at me, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. “Really? That’s great to hear, Yuno.” 

I give him a nod before shutting the door behind me. I’m not sure what exactly compelled me to tell him that, just a hunch that told me it was the right thing to do at the moment. Geier did ask about him last time, so it only makes sense. I guess.

As I turn the corner, I catch Minji leaning against the wall right outside of Geier’s office. Was she waiting for me?

“Oh. Hey,” I greet her with a small wave. “Hey!” She says, flashing me a smile that could bring about world peace. “What did Mr. Geier talk to you about? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“It was about the, uh… thing that happened with Tyler.”

“Ah, right. So his idea of a punishment for you is to be around me? Ouch,” she jokes. We walk through the halls together despite not sharing the same first period (or any period for that matter). A weird energy hangs in the space between us, like a balloon threatening to pop if either of us get too close. My mind tiptoes on the fence between pushing my luck or staying in a comfortable space. In the end, I throw caution to the wind and close the gap just a little.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think it’s a punishment at all,” I say, thinking out loud.

“That’s very kind of you, Yuno,” she chimes, a hint of pink gracing her cheeks. Simply being around her is making my heart pound like crazy. Can she hear it? God, I hope not. How am I supposed to control myself when she’s this cute? I just want to-

“Oh!” Minji suddenly stops and points at my face. Shit, was I thinking out loud again? Is she secretly psychic and can hear all my thoughts this whole time?

“W-what?” I ask, flustered.

“You’re smiling.”

I awkwardly clear my throat, wiping the smile off my face. “Y-yeah, so what? Am I not allowed to smile?”

She giggles at me. “No, you’re allowed to smile. In fact, I think you should smile more often, I rarely ever get to see you smile.”

“W-whatever,” I mutter, trying to hide the growing blush on my face. “About the banquet tomorrow, is there a dress code or something? I, uh, don’t own a suit,” I ask, changing the subject.

Minji’s expression suddenly darkens as a dejected sigh floats from her lips. “Oh right, the banquet…” she groans.

“S-sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, it’s fine,” she assures me. “My parents just told me this morning that if I’m gonna bring you along, the guy I’m trying to avoid has to stick around us the whole time, rendering my whole plan basically useless.”

“This guy you’re trying to avoid, is he, um….” I gulp nervously. “...your ex?”

“Ew! Oh my god, no!” Minji exclaims. “He’s the son of my parents’ business partners. He used to be a complete menace towards me when we were kids until he moved away during middle school. Oh my god, the thought of us ever dating is just…” Her entire body shivers in disgust.

I try my best to appear neutral, but inside, fireworks are going off in my head. It’s like Christmas came early this year. I have to physically fight off another smile from growing on my face.

“So, what are we gonna do now? Maybe…” I search my mind for another possible solution for her problem, but only one comes up, and frankly, it’s the best possible case for her and the worst possible case for me. I sigh in disappointment. “...maybe I just shouldn’t go.”

Her gaze shoots up at me. “What?”

“If I don’t go, then you won’t be forced to be around him the entire time,” I explain.

“But I-”

“I’ll probably stick out like a sore thumb anyways, being in a room full of a bunch of rich business people. Your parents already don’t like me, what would they all think of me being around you? Maybe it’s best if I don’t go-”

“Stop!” She suddenly exclaims, a fire burning in her irises. “I invited you because I want you to go, okay? Screw my original plan, screw everyone who judges you, and especially screw Sunghoon! You’re my friend and I want you to be there, don’t worry about all that superficial nonsense.” Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, carrying the determination of her words. No wonder people voted for her as student council president, a speech like that could move anyone to action.

After a short pause, I concede. “...Okay, I’ll go.”

A smile replaces the serious expression she had, sending my heart into another frenzy. “Thank you, Yuno. All you have to do is enjoy yourself, don’t worry about scaring him off or anything dumb like that.”

Enjoy myself. At a banquet. That I certainly don’t belong in. Sure, I can do that.

“I should probably head back to the student council room, I still have a lot of work to do,” she says. “I, um… I’m glad we had this talk. I’ll see ya later.” And just like that, Minji disappears down the halls, leaving me standing here like a fool in love. The warmth in my chest feels like it’s gonna get hotter and hotter until I explode. I desperately hope she needs my help with prom preparations later.

______________________________________________________________

The presence of a substitute would normally mean all chaos ensues, but the odd tension hanging in the air during English practically suffocates any chances of socialization. I didn’t exactly mind nor care, but the silence only made the nervous glances towards me even more obvious. Furthermore, thanks to Tyler’s “disappearance”, his friends on the other side of the room don’t even try to hide their accusatory pointing and disdainful glares. Their sentiments aren’t exactly wrong, but it’s still annoying being on the receiving end of them. Surely, they know better than to start any dumb shit right now. 

And yet, I’m unsurprisingly proven wrong as one of them, a tall boy with blonde hair (is his name Connor? Colton? I have no clue), stomps towards me with fury in his eyes.

“Hey,” he growls at me, “You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to Tyler, would you?”

A sigh escapes me. Welp, that’s what I get for getting my hopes up. “Is he not here today? I had no idea,” I mutter, not giving him so much as a glance.

He slams his fist into my desk, causing everyone to look back at the commotion with fearful glances, including Winter. I shake my head reassuringly at her, but unfortunately, Tyler’s friend notices this and scoffs to himself.

“Behind the gym during lunch. Don’t be late.” He glances in Winter’s direction with a smirk on his face. “Or else.”

My fingernails dig into my palms as I ball my fist up in anger, my heart pumping with anger. For the first time since he came over, I glare at him, watching his cocky facade crack in front of my eyes as he scurries back to his little group with his tail in between his legs.

Dammit. God fucking dammit. Is it so hard for me to have one good day without having to deal with anyone’s shit? I notice Winter still staring at me with a worried look, so I conjure up my best convincing smile. She nods and turns back to her book, but I’m not sure if it ends up working.

It’s clear that he wants a fight. Of course he wants a goddamn fight.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno: I won’t be at lunch. I have something I need to deal with.

I send the text to the group chat as I pace around, waiting for Tyler’s goons to show up. The area behind the school’s gym is basically a cesspool for rule breaking; half the concrete is covered in cigarette butts, glass shards, and other mysterious stains from other’s unseemly activities that I’d rather stay unaware of. It’s a wonder how none of the teachers look back here with how often students frequent this place.

Finally, the boy from English class (Kayden? Kenneth? It starts with a K sound, I know that much) appears, alongside a dozen other boys that I’ve seen hanging around Tyler. A few of them are unarmed, but most are carrying broken mop handles. One guy has a pocket knife, so that’s something at least.

“Hey fuckface!” The blonde boy yells. “You think you can mess with Tyler just because you think you’re all high and mighty? Well, newsflash pal, you’re not!”

“Yeah!” His entourage cheers him on.

This is comical. These guys attend a high school in the suburbs, and yet they’re parading around like a bunch of wannabe gangsters. Did they rehearse their lines or something? Why does he talk like a movie bully from the 1950s? It’s taking every fiber of my being not to burst out laughing right now.

“You made a big mistake pal, and we’re gonna make you regret-”

“Fuck, alright!” I groan in annoyance. “Are we doing this or not?”

I stretch my arms, loosening myself up as they timidly inch closer with their little sticks pointed towards me. This could be over in the blink of an eye if I want it to, but I promised Minji I would stop fighting, so I won’t. Not exactly sure what that means, but I’m not exactly known for planning these things out.

I’m not a fighting expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve been in enough to recognize certain patterns. Shaky eyes. Quivering breath. Their knuckles burning white as they clench their fists too hard to compensate for the fact that they have no idea what they’re doing. With each step they take, it only becomes more apparent how downright terrified they are. I almost feel bad for them. 

It’s not like I wanted this either, but I brought this upon myself of my own volition. These guys could have said no and went about their day, living their regular high school lives, but instead, they’re rallying behind some guy they’re probably not close with just for a measly ounce of street cred they get for “showing their loyalty,” effectively reducing themselves to lap dogs that get the “privilege” of calling themselves popular. I’m not doing this for street cred or privilege or any of that bullshit that they care too much about. I’m doing this because the asshole that they’re rallying behind threatened my friend.

Inevitably, one of them gets brave enough to make the first move. He swings his stick, hollering at the top of his lungs, and misses wildly as I dodge to the side. The next guy gets lucky, breaking his stick against my arm as I block the side of my head. My arm stings like hell, but I can’t focus on that for too long before the rest of them start getting confident and lunging at me. 

Even in the midst of the frenzy, as I dodge a swing aimed towards my head or suffer a kick to the stomach, all I can think about is Minji. I made a promise to her, one I have no intention of breaking. Rather than a fight between me and the dozens of Tyler’s lackeys, it feels more like a fight between me and my instincts, actively trying to suppress the years of bad habits just for Minji. A part of me feels stupid for doing it - it’s not like she’ll ever see this anyways - yet I continue to subdue my instincts, even if it means sustaining a couple brutal blows to the body.

One of the bigger guys in the group tackles me to the ground, taking the wind out of me as my back collides with the hard concrete. My ears start to ring as he lands two solid punches to my cheek. I flail my hands wildly to the side, desperate for something to grab, before landing on a pile of broken glass. Ignoring the blood rushing to my palms, I chuck the shards at his face. He yelps in pain, allowing me to push him off and get back to my feet. Before I can even blink, my head begins to spin as another punch sends me careening towards the brick wall. Warm blood leaks through my lips, staining my shirt. Two more guys stand over me before hoisting me up by my arms.

I’m fucking exhausted. My vision is blurry and the ringing in my ears grows louder by the second. Each inhale burns just a bit hotter than the last. I’m covered in blood again, but this time, it’s all my own. Every cell in my body screams at me for getting into this situation in the first place, berating me for my own stubbornness. Yet the blonde boy, Kyle or whatever the fuck his name is, stands in front of me unscathed, not even a drop of sweat on his brow. The rest of his buddies are on the ground, breathless and covered in injuries they got from tripping over each other. I cough out a weak chuckle, sending a jolt of pain through my chest.

“W-what the fuck are you laughing at?!” Even his threats are starting to get shaky.

“Just funny… You called me out here… Yet… You didn’t do shit…” I mutter. “Fucking… coward…”

The fury ignites in his eyes, the same one present when he first called me out in English. He grabs a broken mop handle off the ground and swings it overhead, aiming for my face. This is it. Started this day off with a smile, and look where I’m at now. In the back of my mind, I always knew I would go out like this. It’s a shame this had to happen after I finally found something to look forward to. With a shallow breath, my eyes flutter shut as I unwillingly accept my fate.

Suddenly, a loud siren blares through the air. The stick that was sailing towards my head mere seconds ago now clatters to the ground. Mr. Geier pops up from behind the building with a megaphone in his hand, alongside two teachers, Winter, Yujin, Danielle, and Minji.

“What the hell are you doing!? Put him down NOW!” Geier yells through the megaphone. I collapse to my knees as the two idiots drop me to the ground. A mix of emotions swirl through my head, but the sense of relief shines clearest through the storm. The fact that I’m alive almost makes everything feel more painful. 

As the teachers reprimand the other guys, Minji and the others rush over to me, their overlapping voices of worry combined with the ringing in my ears making it impossible to make out anything. I want to tell them that it’s fine, I made it out alive. In a shit ton of pain, but alive nonetheless. No words come out. My vision is starting to blur again. Minji’s face is the last thing I see before everything turns to black.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

I lean back in my chair, stretching my arms as I let out a long, exhausted sigh. It feels like no matter how much progress I make with prom, there’s still a whole mountain of things I still need to do.

Danielle walks through the door of the student council room, carrying a pile of papers with her. I nearly burst into tears just looking at the size of the stack.

“Relax,” she says reassuringly, reading my expression. “These are all taken care of.”

I slide farther into my chair, releasing a deep breath. “Oh thank god, I don’t think I can handle doing anymore paperwork.”

She grins, taking a seat next to me. “The principal approved the caterers and our ‘Red Carpet’ theme, I informed the club leaders to start working on their floats for the prom parade, and Woohyuk and Julie from the art club agreed to paint a mural in the gym. All we have left to do is pick a venue, find a DJ, and prepare decorations.”

“You say that like it’s an easy thing to do.” I sigh, resting my head on the table while Danielle merely shrugs her shoulders. A couple minutes of silence pass, both of us exhausted and overwhelmed by the ever growing pile of work. “Are Woohyuk and Julie dating?” I ask, making small talk.

“I think so. They seem to have gotten a lot closer after the school festival, and they wouldn’t stop shooting each other heart eyes when I asked them to paint the mural. It was sickening,” she jokes.

Dating in high school always felt like an enigma to me. Statistically speaking, only 20% of couples last until college, and only 10% ever get married. High schoolers are the most emotional, stubborn, immature, and hormonal people on the planet (according to my parents), why would you want to date someone like that? But it’s not like I don’t want to date… I just never had the chance to. I would be lying if I said I don’t look at couples walking arm-in-arm through the halls with some kind of envy. Wouldn’t it be nice to go through the struggles of your teen years with someone that understands you because they’re going through the exact same thing? I say that, and then I look out the potential dating pool at Evergreen, only to be reminded of why I haven’t dated anyone. I mean, there is one guy I wouldn’t mind dating…

“Why do you ask?” Danielle says, interrupting my train of thought.

“U-uh nothing, just curious.” My cheeks suddenly flare up with heat as she leans forward, scrutinizing my expression.

“Are you thinking about that boy again?

My eyes go wide as I shake my head profusely. “W-what, no! Why would I be thinking about Yuno?”

“Because I didn’t even mention a name, yet your mind automatically went to Yuno.” She raises her eyebrows in an ‘I told you so’ expression, causing me to shrink in my chair. “Are you really gonna fall for someone like that just because he saves your purse from a thief?”

“I told you I—Huh? How do you know about that?”

Danielle takes her phone out and pulls up a video from a local news account titled, “Heroic Man Stops Mall Purse Thief.” My eyes grow even wider as the video plays, showing Yuno tackling the thief who stole my purse and the… awkward hug I gave him afterwards. Apparently, someone had recorded the entire altercation and uploaded it to social media. It now has…

“Five million views?!” I exclaim. That explains all the weird looks I’ve been getting today. I faceplant into the table, my face burning with a fire of a thousand suns. So that means the entire school saw me… hugging Yuno… I mean, why do I feel so embarrassed in the first place? Hugging is a perfectly normal way to show gratitude towards someone. He got my purse back, so a hug seems pretty normal, right? It’s not like people are gonna assume we’re dating. Not that I have any problem with dating him, it’s just…

I let out a sigh. “Danielle…” I groan, my voice muffled by the table.

“Hm?” I feel her gently pat my shoulder in support. I lift my head, turning towards her.

“What do I do?”

She tilts her head at me, confused. “Do you want them to take the video down?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s… I don’t know. I’m so lost. There’s a lot going on with prom and my parents, it feels like I’m being tossed back and forth in a tornado with nothing around to hold onto for support. There’s things that I want to do that seem so… impossible given the circumstances. I wish I could freeze time just so I could have a moment to myself to think.” I slump back onto the table in defeat while Danielle continues to rub my shoulder.

Compared to the rest of the girls, Danielle is the most logical one. Hanni does everything she can to cheer me up, Haerin lends an ear and a shoulder to cry on no matter what, Hyein is always there to show me the brighter side of things, and Danielle is prepared with an easy 3-step solution to virtually any of my problems. If I’m drowning in a sea of doubt and anxiety, I know she’ll be there with a spare life vest and an intricately made wooden raft to hoist me out of the water. But not even she has the answers to everything.

Suddenly, the door to the student council room swings open.

“We need help,” a familiar voice shoots through the door. “Quickly.”

Yuno’s friends stand in the doorway panting, worry painted on their faces. Winter looks like she’s on the verge of tears while Yujin’s normally cheery disposition is hauntingly absent.

“What’s wrong?” Danielle asks.

“I-I’m not sure, b-but I think h-he’s in a fight right n-now, behind the g-gym,” Winter answers, her voice breaking.

A fight? N-no… What if he gets hurt?

I hurriedly jump to my feet, my mind racing. “Danielle, Yujin, go get Principal Geier. Winter, come with me,” I command, panic evident in my voice. The four of us promptly leave the student council room, with Danielle and Yujin diverging to the principal’s office while Winter and I walk briskly towards the gym.

“Tell me everything. What do you mean Yuno might be in a fight?” I ask her.

“D-during English, Cameron w-went up to Yuno and he looked r-really angry. I-I couldn’t hear everything th-they were saying, but it s-sounded like he told him to m-meet behind the gym during l-lunch,” she explains. I pick up the pace, adrenaline pumping through my body. With each passing step, all I can think about is one thing.

Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.

______________________________________________________________

As we turn the corner to the back of the gym, my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach while my breath gets completely sucked from my lungs. Two boys hold up Yuno’s limp body as a third prepares to swing a stick straight towards his head. I wanna scream, I wanna run to him and make sure he’s okay, but my entire body stays frozen in place. Why does it have to be Yuno? Why couldn’t it be anyone else? I was just talking to him a few hours ago, he was fine. He was smiling. I wish I could see that smile on his face again. Please.

“M-Minji,” Danielle softly calls out my name, wiping the tears off my face with concern in her eyes. I didn’t even realize I was crying. She holds me as I uncontrollably sob into her shoulder, my heart aching with an indescribable pain. It feels like I’m being torn apart from the inside. I need him to be okay. Please.

“C’mon, let’s go,” she says, patting my arm. I look up from her shoulder, wiping away my tears, to see Yuno collapse to the floor. Mr. Geier and the other two teachers with us yell at the rest of the boys to line up against the wall using harsh language I’ve never heard him say before. The four of us get down by his side, desperate to make sure he’s okay.

“H-he’s fine, right? He’ll be okay, right? D-Dani?” Yujin asks, his voice quivering as he looks up at her for reassurance.

“Just, um, give him some room to breathe for now.”

“Y-Y-Y-Yuno…” Winter’s entire body shakes as she weeps into her hands. I should comfort her. I’m the student council president, it’s my responsibility to make sure everyone’s okay. But my own tears won’t stop flowing as I gently cup his cheek, swollen and red with cuts. You were awake earlier. Your eyes were open and you were smiling. Please wake up. Please smile again, Yuno. Please.

“Guys, we have to take him to the nurse, now!” Mr. Geier exclaims, grabbing Yuno by the arms. “Help me get his legs up!”

The three of them lift up his legs while I’m still too busy crying to help. My body is moving, following close behind them, but my mind is too muddled to properly process anything. The next few minutes are nothing but a blur of hallways and odd stares from students exiting the lunch room. I don’t care. I don’t care about what other students think of Yuno. I don’t care about what my parents think of him. I don’t care about what people at the banquet will think of him. All I care about is him and making sure that he’s okay.

Once we arrive at the nurse’s office, they gently lay his body on one of the cots. I sit down next to him, just staring at his face. His chest slowly rises and falls with breath. That’s good. He’s breathing. He’s alive. 

Mr. Geier says something to us that I can’t quite make out. All of their voices fade into the background of my mind like nothing was ever said in the first place. Mr. Geier leaves, with Winter and Yujin following soon after. Danielle sits down next to me and says something, but I’m too distracted to listen right now. She ends up leaving soon too. All I can do is sit here and wait for him to wake up. Please wake up soon. Please.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

My eyes blink open to a blotchy field of grays and blacks. I try to sit up, but a stabbing pain shoots through my entire body. Every breath feels like hell to get through. Memories of what happened moments before I passed out come back to me. I almost got my skull busted open, and then there was this loud siren. I thought I saw Minji before I passed out, but I’m not too sure. Fuck, my body hurts like hell. Where am I anyways?

As my vision begins to focus, I see the familiar fluorescent lights of the school glaring back at me. I finally sit up, doing my best to ignore the pain in my back, and look around - the nurse’s office. The school’s nurse, a skinny woman with giant glasses and violently pink scrubs, sits at her desk and types away at her computer, oblivious to my consciousness. I consider saying something to let her know I’m awake, but my throat is too dry to produce any noise.

I turn to my left and my heart stops in my chest. Minji is lying on the cot next to me, sleeping peacefully. I start to wonder if this is all just another weird dream, but as I reach out and gently brush the hair from her face, the soft skin of her cheek feels too real. Even when she’s sleeping, she’s so beautiful. But… Why is she here?

“Oh good, you’re awake,” the nurse says, rising from her desk. I quickly retract my hand from Minji’s face. “Principal Geier explained everything that happened. How are you feeling?”

I stretch my limbs, testing how much I can withstand the pain before it becomes unbearable. “Could be better, but I’m alive and breathing at least,” I say. “Uh, what is she doing here? Did she get hurt?” My voice raises slightly as I gesture to Minji’s sleeping form. If those fuckers did anything to her, I’m gonna-

“I think she’s fine. She came in with you and wouldn’t move or speak, even after Principal Geier told the rest of the kids to get back to class. She just sat there, watching over you until she fell asleep,” the nurse explains.

I sign in relief, thankful that she’s not hurt, but the nurse’s explanation only produces more questions. Why didn’t she leave? I’m sure she’s busy with a million other things, watching over me will only set her back even more. It’s not like this is the first time this kind of thing has happened to me. Something similar happened right before I met Minji. I’ll feel like shit for a few days, but I’m relatively fine. 

So why did she stay?

The nurse pats my shoulder, handing me an ice bag. “I have to go, some kid threw up in the library, just put this wherever you feel like it. Will you and your girlfriend be fine here alone?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “She’s not m- Uh, sure, we’ll be fine.”

She exits the room, leaving me alone with Minji. The silence gives me a moment to get my thoughts straight as the ice bag partially soothes my headache. Her face is so still and peaceful, I slow down my breaths despite the pain just so I don’t wake her up. The last time I saw her face like this was when we slept in the same bed after she almost got attacked in front of the convenience store. My heart still burns with anger at the thought of Minji nearly getting hurt. I want to protect her. Even if she doesn’t feel the same, I want to be there for her in any way I can. In the short time I’ve known Minji, it feels like I’m becoming a better person, or maybe I’m just becoming more and more foolish. I don’t know. Feelings are confusing.

Minji’s eyes suddenly flutter open, and as soon as they meet mine, she jumps up, wrapping her arms around me in a tight embrace. “Y-you’re awake! Oh my god, you’re awake!” She sobs into my shoulders. I completely freeze in her arms, the surprise overtaking the pain.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, Minji. Are you okay?” I ask, awkwardly patting her back. She separates from me, tears overflowing from her eyes. With each drop that falls, I feel my heart crack into a billion pieces, this pain worse than anything I’ve ever felt before. Hesitantly, I wipe away her tears with my uninjured hand, making sure my movements are gentle.

“H-hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong?” She takes a moment to calm down, sinking her cheek into my palm as she controls her breathing. I don’t dare move my hand, even after most of the tears stop flowing.

“I-I was… so worried… that y-you wouldn’t… wake up…” She stutters in between sniffles. “I-I thought you w-were… th-thought you were… dea-”

“I’m okay, Minji,” I interrupt her, afraid she’ll start bawling again if she finishes her sentence. “U-um, please stop crying. I’m okay.”

She takes one more deep breath before sitting back down, regretfully moving my hand from her cheek. We sit in silence for a while, unsure of what to say. She cried after getting attacked by the convenience store, but this time seems different. This time, she wasn’t crying for her, she was crying for me.

“Wait here,” Minji mutters before getting up and walking over to the sink in the corner of the room. I watch silently as she pulls out a few things from the cupboard and fiddles with the sink for a moment before walking back over to me. She gently places a bowl of water and a hand towel next to me before taking out a juice box and poking a straw through the top.

“Here.” She brings the straw to my lips, making me flinch slightly.

“Oh. Thanks.” I take it from her, drinking it as she dips the towel into the water and gently tends to my cut up hand. My body recoils from her touch more than the pain itself. It still feels foreign to me, being cared for like this. Never in a million years did I imagine someone like Minji Kim to pop into my life. She’s way too good for me. What good would I be as her boyfriend? What good am I as her friend for that matter? I don’t want to be a nuisance in her life. I want- No, I need to be better. For her.

She finishes wrapping the gauze around my hand. “Is that okay? Not too tight?” She asks, her voice slightly hoarse from crying.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks.” I look at her, meeting her eyes. “You didn’t have to do this. You should’ve just left-”

“Why did you get into another fight? I thought you said you wouldn’t fight anymore.” Her tone turns stern, softly reprimanding my decisions.

“I didn’t fight,” I assure her. “If I didn’t show up, they were gonna go after Winter, but I promise, I didn’t try to hit them or anything.”

“So you just let them beat you up!?” Minji shoots me a look of disbelief, tears welling up in her eyes.

“N-no! I-I dodged and stuff, they just got a few lucky hits in!” I hastily try to explain myself, hoping she doesn’t cry again. In hindsight, it sounds even more stupid when I say it out loud. I went to the back of the gym, fully expecting there to be a crowd of people wanting to kick my ass, and the only plan I had was to… not fight? Even if I did make it out fine, did I just expect Minji not to say anything about the sudden abundance of injuries all over my body? God, I’m such a dumbass.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone!? A-a teacher!? Principal Geier!? Me!?” The look of outrage alone is enough to make me feel like a child getting scolded by their parents. My gaze falls to the ground, hiding my embarrassed blush.

“I, uh… I didn’t think of that…” I shamefully admit. She sits next to me, sighing into her hands. Seconds stretch into entire years as tense silence overtakes the room. Even my own breathing feels comparable to a car engine with how quiet everything is.

My entire body freezes as I feel Minji rest her head on my shoulder. Her silky black hair tickles my neck while the scent of her lavender perfume wafts through my nose, giving me visions of running through a clear field full of nothing but lavender stems. “Do you know why I’m mad at you?” She asks, her voice surprisingly mild.

“Uh, because I’m… stupid?”

She chuckles lightly at my half-joke. “You’re not stupid. What you did was stupid, but no, that’s not why I’m mad.”

“Because, uh… I didn’t talk to you first?”

“Bingo.” She lifts her head up to look at me. Her face is close, I can feel the warmth emanating from her soft cheeks. “I know you wanted to protect Winter, but you ended up getting hurt in the process. If you had just gone to a teacher, those boys would’ve been reprimanded without you having to get hurt.”

“They would not have been reprimanded-”

“Okay, fine, they probably wouldn’t have been seriously reprimanded without any solid evidence,” she concedes. “But that doesn’t mean you should go through these kinds of things alone. Your friends were worried sick about you. And I…” Her voice cracks like delicate porcelain. “...I was worried sick about you.”

I gulp, finally feeling the weight of my actions. For years, everything I’ve done has only affected me. I never had to second guess anything. But things are different now. I have people around me that care about my well-being, which means all of my actions have some kind of effect on them. This whole thing sprouted from me wanting to protect a friend, but in the end, they got hurt because of me.

“I’m sorry, Minji. For being stupid and not talking to you and letting myself get hurt.”

She nods, offering an appreciative grin. “Next time something like this happens, just text me first so I can at least try to talk you out of it, okay?”

How could I ever say no to a face like that? “Okay.”

Minji’s smile widens, and like a mirror, I can feel my own lips curling to reflect her joy. She’s so… amazing, unreal even—like someone plucked a princess straight from a fairy tale and placed her right in front of me. Kind, caring, courteous, beautiful, strong, intelligent, absolutely perfect in every way possible that it almost feels unfair. I might be fated for nothing more than an early grave, but for once, I want to defy fate and entertain the possibility that something good could happen to me. Maybe Minji is the good thing that happened to me, and maybe, just maybe, there is a future where me and her… y’know.

A whole minute passes before I realize that neither of us have stopped staring at each other. Something in my head clicks. I find myself leaning in, inch by inch, closer to Minji’s lips, just like I’ve done many times in my dreams - But this time, it’s real. Her breath dances against my skin, making my cells tingle in anticipation. Something in her expression shifts. Her eyes widen slightly, flickering downwards every so often, but she doesn’t pull away, even after my intentions become crystal clear. She opens her mouth as if to say something, a protest maybe, but no sound comes out except for her shivering breath. My heart pounds in my ears like a warning alarm telling me to stop. “This is a bad idea, Yuno! What are you doing!?” Yet I continue onward until the tension is palpable. So close, I can almost taste it-

The door to the nurse’s office swings open. “Oh good, you’re both awake!”

Minji and I jump to opposite sides of the cot, my face burning hotter than the sun. The nurses waltzes in with another kid sporting a gross vomit stain on his shirt, tossing any kind of sentiment I had mere moments ago out the window. My heart chugs with the force of a speeding bullet train; it’s a miracle I haven’t succumbed to a heart attack by now.

“U-um, I should, um…” Minji stutters frantically, her eyes darting everywhere but in my direction. If it’s any consolation, I feel too overwhelmed to look at anywhere except the floor. She hurries out of the nurse’s office without uttering another word.

“What’s up with her?” The nurse asks. I’m too busy freaking out to even register her question properly.

WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST TRY TO DO!?

___________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

Oh my god. Oh… my god. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. My god. OH. MY. GOD. OMGOMGOMGOMGOGMOMGOMGOMGOMGM-

“Minj? Are you alright?”

I jump in my seat, my gaze flying wildly around me. “H-huh?”

Hanni and Haerin exchange odd glances as they take their seats on either side of me. “Girl, what’s wrong with you?” Hanni asks, her eyebrow raised in concern.

“I-I’m fine, just working on prom stuff like usual.” That’s only somewhat of a lie: after getting permission to excuse myself from the rest of the day’s classes, I came into the student council room with the intent to work on prom stuff to get my mind off of… that. However, I ended up spending the last hours of the school day staring at my blank computer screen while my mind spirals out of control. “Where’s Danielle and Hyein?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Home stuff,” Hanni answers, sliding an iced coffee towards me. “Are you sure you’re fine? You look… shaky.”

“It’s probably just stress, you know how I’ve been lately,” I awkwardly chuckle. Caffeine is probably the last thing that I need right now, yet I take a sip to keep up appearances. Haerin’s cold, analyzing glare seems to notice this.

“Mmm…” She grumbles to herself, her gaze never leaving mine as she takes a notebook from her backpack and starts to scribble in it. Haerin always had a knack for knowing things before they happen, but not even she could’ve possibly known about the nurse’s office… right?

“Ugh, all this talk about prom is making me sick,” Hanni groans. “Spending over $1000 on hair, makeup, a dress, and a limo, all for what? Three hours of some sweaty boy’s hands on my waist? I think I’ll pass.”

“You can think that, but some people wait their entire lives for this one magical night, I just want to make sure everyone has fun,” I reason.

“Pfft, you just want to slow dance with your little boyfriend, Yuno.”

The shock from her words makes me choke on my drink, devolving into a mad coughing fit. “W-what?! N-no I don’t! He’s not my- shut up!” Hanni throws her head back in laughter, clearly amused by my near death experience at her hands.

With how insanely stressful prom preparations have been, the thought of procuring a date to the event never crossed my mind. At this point in the year, most people have found potential dates to take or a close group of friends to go with, with Danielle, Hanni, and I falling into the latter. All this time, I never even thought what prom would be like for myself. I’ve seen it all the time in movies and TV shows: the main character boy asks the hot cheerleader girl to prom, they slow dance together to a popular song fitting of the time, they kiss, credits roll. A simple, predictable formula riddled with a mess of cliches, but one that many dream about for their own special night. But what did I want out of prom? Would he even- Nevermind, I can’t even think clearly about that right now.

Haerin tosses her notebook over to me. “I drew this,” she states.

I peer down at her drawing, growing more confused with each second. It seems to depict some kind of misshapen blob and a… girl? I think? They’re sitting on some kind of bench really close together. Haerin never showed any interest in the arts before this, so why would she be into drawing all of a sudden?

“Um, it’s nice? I think? What is it supposed to be?” I ask.

“It’s you kissing a shadow monster.”

My arm lurches wildly to the side, inadvertently tossing her notebook across the room. Does she know? How does she know!? She wasn’t there, right? Right!?

“That wasn’t very nice, Minj,” Hanni chides, picking the notebook off the ground. “I think it’s very unique and has a lot of character. She even got your ponytail right. Good job, Kitty Kang.” She pats Haerin’s head, bringing a pleased smile out of her, yet her eyes stay glued to me like a predator stalking its prey. I’m starting to wonder if she ever even blinks.

“Sorry, Haerin, I just feel out of it today. It’s a, uh… lovely drawing,” I sigh, resting my head onto my palm.

“Yah, you’re bumming me out, Minj. Let’s do something fun instead of all this prom garbage. Karaoke?” Hanni suggests. They both look at me expectantly, which only makes my answer even more painful.

“I would love to, especially today out of all days, but I have to prepare for a banquet tomorrow.”

“A banquet? You never told us about that. Ooh, can we come?” Hanni pleads, flashing her big eyes and pouty lips.

“I, um… It’s for my family’s business. They said I couldn’t invite anyone, sorry.” Oh god. Lying to my parents is one thing, but lying to my best friends? The people I trust more than anybody in the entire world? My own words leave a bitter taste in my mouth, more bitter than the strongest black coffee. But what am I supposed to tell them? That I invited Yu- him instead of my own closest friends? Even if his presence serves some kind of purpose, I still can’t imagine how they would react if I told them I basically chose a boy over them. No matter how I try to justify it, it still feels wrong.

“Aww,” Hanni pouts. While she’s distracted, I notice Haerin picking up her notebook and pointing at the “shadow monster” in her drawing with a scrutinizing squint. I try to ignore her, keeping a straight face, but it’s becoming more clear that she knows something’s up.

“I’ll make it up to you guys some other time,” I say, gathering my things. “Next time we go to karaoke, I’ll pay for everything, snacks, drinks, whatever, alright?”

“Woo! I won’t say no to that!” Hanni cheers, skipping out of the student council room. I get up to follow her, but a tug on my sleeve stops me. Haerin stares at me blankly, unblinking, for what feels like forever. It’s normally hard to read her, but especially now when my mind has been in a constant whirlwind for the last couple hours, all I can come to are a few thousand anxiety-ridden conclusions. She suddenly moves her hand upwards with the focused intensity of a cat, waving it around before finally landing her index finger on the middle of my forehead.

“U-um, Haerin, what are you-”

“You’re overthinking things. Go with your gut,” she states before putting her notebook back into her bag like nothing ever happened.

“What are you talking about-”

“If you’re not gonna admit it to us, at least admit it to yourself. It’s not healthy to keep things bottled up, you’re barely floating as it is.” Haerin goes up to the door, stopping to look back at me. “Are you coming with us or not?”

“O-oh, right, yeah.” I can barely process her words as I follow the two of them off campus. What does she mean by “overthinking”? I’m not overthinking, I’m thinking a perfectly healthy amount. I just have a lot on my plate, so there’s a lot I need to think about. That’s not overthinking, that’s just… thinking a lot. I need to be thinking a lot, or else I run the risk of letting a ton of people down. My parents, the entire student body, my friends. Once I get a quiet moment to myself, I’ll be fine. Right? Right?

______________________________________________________________

I kick off my shoes by the front door, ready to land face first into my bed and turn off my brain for a couple hours. Unfortunately, fate has other plans for me.

“Minji! Welcome home, dear!” My mom announces from the living room, her tone a bit too cheerful to not raise any immediate red flags. “How was school?”

I fight back an exhausted sigh. “It was fine, Mother. I’m just gonna go up to my room and-”

“Oh, well don’t go upstairs yet! The Parks are here, come say hello!”

The Parks are what!? My eyes shoot up, scanning the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Park sit on the sofa, offering me kind smiles. But if they’re here, does that mean-

“Minji! Long time no see!” My worst nightmare rounds the corner with my father in tow, laughing like they’re old buddies or something. My skin crawls as he walks towards me with his arm spread out like he’s about to hug me. I wanna run and hide, but I’m too terrified to move. In the end, all I can do is try not to vomit on his shoulder as he wraps me up in an awkward hug.

Is this real? Surely this isn’t real, right? Maybe this is all just some sick nightmare and I’m still sleeping in the nurse’s office. Please let this be just a nightmare.

“Cat got your tongue or something?” He jokes, finally releasing me from his grasp.

“Sunghoon, it’s uh… good to see you.”

Father walks up and clasps his hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Sunghoon was just telling me that he’s considering transferring over Evergreen for the rest of the school year. Isn’t that great, Minji?”

“He WHAT!?”

Everyone turns to look at me, shock and concern written all over their faces. “I-I mean what a great surprise! That’s just… so, so, sooo great to hear,” I say through bared teeth. “I have an, uh, important test tomorrow that I need to study for, so I’m just gonna go up to my room and-”

“Why don’t you bring Sunghoon with you, dear?” Mother suggests, oblivious to the fact that she’s slowly destroying my life. “It’ll give you two time to catch up without us adults getting in the way.”

I muster up the most convincing smile I can and say, “S-sure. That would be great. Just… great.”

I stomp up the stairs to my room with Sunghoon in tow, immediately collapsing onto my bed without giving him a second thought.

“Your room is nice,” he says, shutting the door behind him and effectively taking away my only way of escape. Maybe there’s some soft bushes I can land on if I jump out the window. If not, at least death seems more favorable than being stuck in here with the worst human being alive.

“Mhm,” I mutter, half-listening to whatever he has to say.

Sunghoon paces around my room, looking around at my posters and my desk before picking up Mr. Bear from my bed. “I see you’re still into teddy bears,” he chuckles to himself.

“Put that down!” I grab Mr. Bear from his grasp and glare coldly at him, causing him to back off with his hands up.

“Alright, it’s clear that there’s still some bitterness so I might as well just go ahead and address the elephant in the room: I’m sorry for the way I treated you when we were kids. I was an immature little brat and I should’ve treated you better. Will you forgive me?”

That was… surprisingly mature. Did the original Sunghoon die in an accident and got replaced by a nicer clone? Does he have an illegitimate twin brother that replaced him and took his name after Mr. and Mrs. Park realized how much of a gremlin their son is? Any of those explanations seem more plausible than Sunghoon actually maturing.

“Uh… sure, I guess,” I say, still weirded about this sudden revelation. He grins at me, sitting next to me on the bed. “Um, I’m sorry for yelling. It’s been a, uh… long day.”

“No worries, I deserved it.” Jeez, this new understanding side of Sunghoon is so off putting. If he acted like old self, at least that would be predictable. This feels like walking through uncharted territory without so much as a map or even a flashlight.

“Your mother told me that you’re inviting a friend to the banquet tomorrow,” he continues. “Some guy named Yuno. What’s he like?

“He’s…” Oh god, I can’t even think properly about him right now after what happened in the nurse’s office. I still haven’t been able to process my own feelings about it. What was he thinking? What was I thinking? I can’t even remember where my mind was during that whole thing, yet I can remember everything else so vividly; his warm breath dancing against my skin, his kind eyes peering into mine with so much care behind them, his soft lips inching closer and closer-

“Minji? Are you alright?” Sunghoon nudges my shoulder, taking me out of my impromptu trip down memory lane. I sink my face into Mr. Bear’s head, hiding the growing blush on my cheeks.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Like I said, long day,” I reason. “Um… He’s nice. A little shy, but he means well.”

“Are you sure you two are friends?” He chuckles at me. “It doesn’t seem like you know him very well.”

“We, uh, haven’t been friends very long,” I explain. As weird as it is, Yuno and I have only known each other a couple of days, yet it feels like so much longer than that. Now that I think about it, we’ve run into each other everyday since we met, even on the weekend. For the past three years of attending the same high school, he’s been nothing but a body walking through the hall or the utterance of a name whenever he stirred up trouble, but now, we’re so intertwined in each other’s lives like he’s been there from the start. Without him, I probably would’ve gotten attacked by that drunk man and I never would’ve gotten over my fear of spiders. His presence has become so integral to my life, I can’t imagine him not being there in some way.

“Do you like him?” Sunghoon asks suddenly, glancing at me.

I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to think or feel about him. He is a part of my life, but I just… I don’t know. “As a friend, yeah,” I utter, unsure of the words coming out of my own mouth.

He nods, grinning to himself. “Good.”

“What do you mean ‘good’?” My eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Oh, nothing, just, uh… thinking out loud.” He gets up from my bed and walks towards the door. “I’ll let you study for your test now, I’d hate to interfere with your academics. See ya tomorrow, Minji.”

“Yeah, see ya…” He shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Instead of getting up and doing something productive to distract myself, all I can do is lie there and stare at the ceiling, wondering when everything became so complicated.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

“Yuno, are you okay? You’re blanking out again,” Winter says.

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little headache.”

Honestly, I would prefer it if it was just a little headache rather than the fucking tornado that’s been running rampant through my mind. During the entire walk from the school to the convenience store, all I could do was stare at the ground and let my legs blindly follow behind Winter and Yujin. Hell, I barely even noticed we came to the convenience store until just now.

“Shouldn’t you go to the doctor? You don’t look very good,” Yujin says.

“I’ve been through worse.” Both of them still stare at me, unconvinced of my wellbeing. “I’ll feel better after I sleep it off, alright? You guys don’t have to worry about me.”

“How can we not worry about you, you got hurt b-because of me…” Winter’s voice falters as tears begin to well within her eyes.

“Ah jeez. Look, I…” My mind wanders back to what Minji said to me in the nurse’s office before I did… that: But that doesn’t mean you should go through these kinds of things alone. Your friends were worried sick about you.

“I’m sorry. To both of you. I should’ve let you two know what was going on instead of running in alone and letting myself get hurt. It won’t happen again, okay? I’m done fighting,” I say. Both of them look up at me in surprise.

“So no more Super Yuno?” Yujin asks.

“Uh yeah. No more, uh, ‘Super Yuno’.” If there’s a silver lining in any of this, it’s definitely getting rid of that ridiculous nickname.

“Hmm…” Yujin’s gaze falls to the ground in contemplation. “When superheroes in comic books get hurt, they usually have some kind of healing factor or revival ability that helps them get back up no matter how much damage they take. But you…” He looks up at me, his own eyes glossy with sorrow. “...You’re real. You don’t have any superpowers to help you. It was really scary seeing you not wake up, Yuno. I-I don’t… I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.”

“Me neither,” Winter adds.

The three of us sit in silence with nothing but the crickets and the gentle howl of the passing breeze to let us know the world is still moving. The weight of their words sink deeper into me, making me feel even more guilty for my lack of consideration. Things are different now. I can’t act like I’m still living the same life I was a couple days ago, and frankly, I don’t want to go back to that life of solitude and pain. I need to change for the better. For me. For my dad. For my friends. For Min… For her.

I clap Yujin on the back, ruffling his hair. “You guys won’t have to see me get hurt anymore, alright? I really am done fighting.”

Winter smiles at me, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m glad.”

“Me too,” Yujin chuckles.

My lips form into a grin, a feeling I’m starting to get used to. “But if anyone messes with either of you, I don’t mind coming out of retirement for a little bit.”

The sounds of their laughter float with the wind, carried wherever fate takes them. I always viewed fate as cruel and unyielding, rendering our sense of choice to nothing but dust. But every once in a while, it’ll surprise me with something new, not necessarily good or bad, just different. This, however, is good. Unequivocally good. It can be convoluted and annoying at times, but still good.

“How’s the student council president?” Winter asks, making my shoulders tense up suddenly.

“Oh yeah, she looked really worried about you. Danielle told me that she’s never seen her act like that before,” Yujin says.

My gaze drifts to the side, unable to meet their eyes. “U-uh, she’s fine. We talked. We’re, uh, cool.” I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling right now after I did all that. What am I supposed to say to her? Do I just pretend like nothing happened? That I didn’t just try to kiss her? OUT OF NOWHERE? I clutch my head as I devolve into another tumultuous storm of uncertainty and anxiety. I need to get this feeling out of me. I need to… I…

“I almost kissed her,” I blurt out. Winter and Yujin’s jaws drop in utter shock at my confession. My entire face burns with shame, but my soul feels lighter now that I finally acknowledged it.

“Uh, what do you mean almost?” Winter asks after several seconds of stunned silence.

“I-I, uh… Fuck…” I inhale deeply, steadying my breath. “We were just talking and then suddenly her face was really close and I kinda just… leaned in… uh…” The more I blabber, the warmer my entire body feels, yet going back and reliving that moment so clearly feels oddly nice in a way. Instead of it being a dream, it was real. I almost got to see what happens at the end of that dream instead of waking up in my bed.

Both of them lean in with amused smirks, completely intrigued by my stupid little accident. “Do you like her?” Winter asks.

“Y-yeah, I do. A lot.”

“Aw, look at him, he’s blushing,” Yujin teases.

I turn my head, hiding my face into my hands. “Sh-shut up…”

“I think it’s very cute that you have a crush on her. Minji seems like a really nice girl,” Winter says, amused. “Are you gonna ask her out to prom?”

“I, uh… I don’t know.”

“Why not? I think you should go for it if you really like her.”

“I don’t know how she feels about me. I mean, I know she thinks of us as friends, but more than that…” I sigh, my shoulders slumping towards the ground. “Minji has a lot going for her, and I’m just me.”

“How did she react when you almost kissed her?” Yujin asks.

“She, uh… She ran out of the room in a panic.”

Both of them turn to each other in contemplation. “Well, that could mean anything,” Winter says. “Regardless of what you think she feels, you should ask her out or else you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life. I didn’t think Karina would ever like me, but look where we’re at now.”

“Yeah, Yuno!” Yujin adds. “We’ll even help you with your promposal! I can make posters and-”

“N-no!” I interject. “No posters. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. I already know what people think of me, so to put that kind of attention on her would be cruel.”

Amused smirks grow on their faces as they exchange knowing glances at each other. “That was really sweet, Yuno,” Winter says, gushing.

On second thought, maybe it’s better if I didn’t tell them all of this; God knows I won’t hear the end of it for the next week. But as I look at the sincerity in their smiles, a warm feeling stirs within me. Maybe it’s better I did.

______________________________________________________________

My hand rests on the doorknob of my home, frozen by the impending dread of having to come clean and explain the sudden influx of cuts and bruises marking my body. If he’s going to be in my life again, he’ll have to deal with the fact that I made and will continue to make really shitty mistakes. I just hope I’m able to learn from them every once in a while.

With a deep breath, I enter my home to find him sitting alone at the dining table, his leg bouncing restlessly as he stares blankly at nothing. All the lights in the house are off, save for the single one floating right above him, creating an ominous tension that blasts me from the doorway.

“Uh, hey, Dad.”

“Yuno!” I expected anger, disappointment, maybe even disgust, but instead I’m met with relief as he walks over to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Your principal called me earlier, I was worried sick about you. Are you okay?

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I thought I would get tired of reiterating for the umpteenth time that I’m fine, but having people around me that care enough to worry gives me this tingling feeling in my chest. It feels… nice, actually.

“Are you getting bullied at school?” He asks worriedly.

“No, it’s nothing like that. It was just a stupid fight.” Some could argue that I’m the bully at the school, and maybe they’re right, but at least I pick on people that deserve it instead of defenseless underclassmen.

“Do you need me to take you to the hospital or something?”

“I’m fine, I’ve been through worse. Just need a little rest,” I say. He begins to speak, but stops and sighs instead.

“Alright. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?” I nod. “I trust you know how to take care of yourself by now, but I’m always gonna be here if you need me.” He walks over to the kitchen and pours himself a cup of water, but instead stares pensively at it, watching his reflection in the cup.

“Actually, I could use a ride after school tomorrow,” I say. “I was, uh, invited to a banquet.”

He looks up from the cup, his brow raised in curiosity. “Really? What for?”

“Minji - the girl you met at the mall - she invited me,” I explain.

My dad smirks, finally showing a positive emotion for the first time since I got home. “Sure thing, I can drive you.” 

“Thanks, dad.” I grin at him before heading upstairs to my room. 

The easy parts are over. I apologized to Winter and Yujin, and accidentally let my feelings for Minji slip out. I talked to my dad and he seemed to take things better than I thought he would. Now there’s just one person left I have to talk to, arguably the most important I need to talk to: Minji.

I stare at my phone, my eyes rereading our previous texts over and over again. Should I call her? What would I even say? Even texting her seems like an impossible feat at this point. After she freaked out and ran out of the nurse’s office, I’ve been struggling to think of how I should address the incident. Hell, I’ve been struggling on how I should feel about it myself. I did, technically, want it to happen, but couldn’t I have chosen a more opportune moment to do it? Y’know, like after knowing for sure what she feels about me? God, I’m a fucking idiot.

To add salt to the wound, I end up going for the coward’s way out, typing up a message that avoids the issue entirely because acting like everything is fine is surely the best course of action.

Yuno: Hi. What should I wear to the banquet? And what’s the address?

Feelings are so exhausting.

______________________________________________________________

Compared to how “eventful” yesterday was, Tuesday went by in the blink of an eye. The weird stares were still there, even more so thanks to my injuries, and Tyler’s group of friends in English class seemed to be down a couple of guys. Not my problem, less trouble for me and it’s not like I even hit any of them. Minji never responded to the text I sent last night. To make matters worse, every time I saw her in the hallway, she avoided eye contact completely and ran the opposite direction. If she told me that what I did was disgusting and to never talk to her again, I would at least understand, but to avoid me completely when I’m literally going to a banquet with her feels like cruel and unusual punishment.

I sigh, banging my head into my locker. Not the greatest decision given my condition, but I don’t give a shit anymore. I just want the girl I like to talk to me.

“Is she still avoiding you?” Winter asks from next to me.

“Yeah,” I utter sadly. “Maybe I messed up. Maybe she doesn’t want to be friends anymore.”

Yujin pats my shoulder in support. “Don’t worry about it, Yuno, you’ll get a chance to talk to her eventually. Didn’t you say you were going to that banquet with her tonight? You can talk to her then!”

“She hasn’t even given me the address, how am I supposed to get there?” I reason. “Maybe this is her way of telling me not to come.”

Winter and Yujin exchange worried glances while I lean against my locker, thinking about everything and nothing. Is this what it feels like to have something good ripped away from you all of a sudden? It sucks. It fucking sucks. Part of me wishes I never met Minji in the first place just so I never have to feel like this.

Just then, Minji’s tall friend walks past, offering a polite wave. What’s her name again? It starts with an H… Not Hanni… Harry… Halsey… Hyemi…

“Hyein!” I call out, rushing over to her.

“Hello, Minji’s friend!” She says. “What’s up?”

“Have you talked to Minji at all today?”

“Of course I have!” She smiles like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Why?”

“Has she, um, said anything about me?” I may sound feeble and desperate, but that’s because I am. If Minji hates my guts, then I need to know, or else I’m gonna be walking around like a hopeless idiot.

“Hmm… No, I don’t think she’s said anything about you.”

“Oh…” I hang my head, completely dejected. Not only did I get any new information, but now her friends are gonna think I’m a weirdo. “Well, next time you see her, can you ask her to check her texts? She hasn’t given me a response yet.”

“Why can’t you tell her yourself? Did something happen between you two?” Hyein squints at me.

“N-no! I mean…” You tried to kiss her, you dumbass. “...maybe. I don’t know. Can you tell her that I want to talk? Please.”

“Hmm…” She studies my expression with an intense glare. “Okay, but I can’t promise anything. Whatever you did must’ve upset her a lot if she’s not talking to you all of a sudden.” I sigh, feeling my heart being ripped out of my chest. “Yeah, I figured. Thanks.” With my gaze fixed on the ground, I trudge back to my locker where Winter and Yujin are waiting. I wanna bash my head into the metal door so I can stop feeling like this, but I can’t even muster up the energy to do that. If only I didn’t catch a stupid crush on her.

A stupid, hopeless, foolish crush.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

Schoolwork. Study. Test. Prom. Schoolwork. Study. Test. Prom. Schoolwork. Study. Test. Prom. I feel like a robot running through a constant cycle to maintain peak productivity. I’ve accomplished so much in the day that I don’t even have time to think about anything else. With prom slowly approaching, my continuous cycle of work will eventually pay off and everyone will finally be happy.

The door to the student council room clicks open, but I don’t even flinch. Eyes are glued to the screen, typing up emails and researching venues until calluses form on my fingers.

“Uh, Minji?” I hear Danielle’s voice ask. “What are you doing in here with the lights off?”

Oh right. The lights are off. I didn’t even notice. The bluelight from my laptop has burned itself into my retinas. Even when I blink, all I see is the screen.

“Just working,” I mutter.

“Hey, girl,” Hanni says, concern laced in her tone. “We got you an iced coffee if you want it.”

“Thanks.” I take a sip, the caffeine having an immediate effect on me like adding coal to the furnace of a speeding steam train. Email sent. New tab opened up. Check notification. Look at potential venues. Don’t think. Just work.

A hand slams my laptop shut. “Hey! What are you-” I look up for the first time to see all of my friends looking down at me with worry all over their faces.

“I told you keeping things bottled up isn’t healthy,” Haerin states, her hand holding my laptop closed.

“W-what are you talking about?” I ask, annoyed. “Can’t you see I’m trying to work!?”

“Minj, look at yourself! This isn’t just stress anymore, you look like a zombie!” Hanni exclaims.

I scoff, rubbing my hands over my face. “I’m fine, I’m just working on prom like usual. Haerin, give me back my-” I reach for my laptop, but Haerin snatches it away. “Haerin, what are you doing!? I’m in the middle of something important!”

“Minji, what is going on with you?” Danielle asks in a calm yet concerned tone. “You’ve been acting weird ever since yesterday.”

I feel like my head is about to explode. What are they not understanding!? Of course I’m going to be mad, they just took away my laptop! If anything, they’re acting weird! “I told you guys, I’m fine-”

“Is this about what happened between you and Yuno?” Hyein asks from the corner of the room. My gaze shoots towards her. Her hands are trembling by her sides like leaves in a heavy storm, barely holding onto the branch they’re a part of. Tears threaten to burst from her eyes. She’s scared, terrified. Of me.

My legs give out from underneath me as my vision becomes blurry with tears. A blanket of warmth covers me as the girls hold me in their gentle embrace. I don’t deserve them. I’ve been lying and keeping secrets from them, and now I yelled at them. All for what? A boy? Have I lost sight of what really matters in my life just because I think I have feelings for someone?

It takes a while for me to come down from the overwhelming wave of emotions. By the time my tears stop, I find myself surrounded by my friends’ caring gazes. The four people I trust most in the world, but also the ones I need to apologize to.

“I-I’m sorry guys,” I begin. “I know I said I’ve been stressed, but that doesn’t excuse my outburst. You guys don’t deserve to be yelled at like that.”

Hanni tenderly brushes my hair with her fingers, letting me rest my head on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Minj, we know you didn’t mean it. We’re just really worried about you.”

“Yeah,” Danielle adds. “It’s clear that this isn’t just about prom anymore.”

“What did Yuno do to you?” Hyein asks.

“He didn’t, um…” I take a deep breath, steadying my heartbeat. “When he got into that fight yesterday, it really scared me. Seeing him pass out like that, I thought he was d… gone. It felt like I couldn’t breathe properly until I knew he was alright. All I could think about was ‘Why did this have to happen to him? It’s so unfair. He doesn’t deserve this at all’. When Yuno finally woke up, it was like… everything felt right again. I was so relieved. And then I looked into his eyes and thought ‘I never want to see you get hurt again’. And I…” My cheeks start to burn as my voice falters. The girls begin to stare at me with intrigue, waiting for me to finish my sentence.

“I-I… I almost kissed him.”

The room fills with collective gasps as each of them freeze in shock. I bury my face into Hanni’s shoulder, each passing second of silence making me feel even more embarrassed.

“W-what do you mean almost?” Danielle asks, the most disturbed out of the four of them.

“The nurse came in before we could, uh… finish,” I say, my voice muffled by Hanni’s shirt.

“OH. MY. GOD.” Hanni squeals. “Girl, tell us everything! Who initiated? What did he say to you? Did he go right or left-” Haerin clasps her hand over Hanni’s mouth, shaking her head disapprovingly. Thank god, I don’t know how much longer I could’ve taken her questions. 

“Is that why you were avoiding him all day?” Hyein asks. I sigh, nodding sadly.

“Every time I saw him, I panicked and ran away like an idiot,” I admit. “I don’t know what to think or how to feel.”

“Do you like him?”

I stare at the ground in contemplation, thinking about the past few days with Yuno. Despite what others think of him, he’s proven himself to be kind hearted and loyal, oftentimes putting his friends above his own well being. He’s saved me countless times, never once asking for any sort of recompense, and he’s shown that he’s willing to change for the better, even if it might go against his own ideas of justice. Yuno is a good guy, a great friend, and…

“Yeah,” I nod. “I think I do like him.”

“You think?” Danielle asks, unconvinced.

“I don’t know, I’ve never had a crush on anybody before.”

“Minj, that is so cute!” Hanni chimes. “You should ask him to prom!”

“Shouldn’t he ask me…?”

Haerin shakes her head. “It’s 2024, subjecting yourself to outdated ideals will only leave you disappointed. Get with the times, grandma.”

I side-eye her, grimacing at her insult. “Whatever. I don’t even know if he feels the same and I’d rather not do something drastic to ruin our friendship.”

“But you’ll never know if you don’t try,’ Hanni says. “You’re gonna regret it if you don’t tell him how you feel.”

“I know, but I can’t just rush into something like this without thinking first,” I argue. “Besides, I’m busy with a thousand things right now, I don’t even think I have time for a relationship.”

Danielle takes my hand in hers, looking me in the eye. “You should do what makes you happy, Minji. I mean, look what happened when you bottled up everything inside and put other people’s feelings above your own. Forget everyone else right now and focus on your own happiness for once.”

“But-”

“No buts,” she snaps. “I can get the other student council members to pick up the slack on prom preparations, so go out, have fun, and date a stupid boy. And if he hurts you, then you have the four of us to fall back on.” The others nod in agreement, smiling brightly at me.

“Thanks, guys.” I quickly clap my hands over my eyes in an attempt to stop another onslaught of tears. “God, I feel like I’m gonna cry again.”

“Aww, you big softie,” Hanni says. “Come here.”

The four of them pull me into a warm group hug that melts all my worries away. Honest to God, I don’t know what I would do without them. These girls are like my own little life raft, keeping me afloat even when I fall overboard. 

I take out my phone and send a text that I should have sent ages ago.

Yuno: Hi. What should I wear to the banquet? And what’s the address?

Minji: hey :) just wear something nice! the address is 0507 Ador Ln. don’t be late, there’s something i want to talk to you about.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, checking if my outfit is okay for the millionth time. “just wear something nice!” she says, yet the only nice clothes I have are some light blue jeans and the bear sweater that I bought on a whim. I’m not sure if “nice” is how I would describe this outfit, but I don’t exactly have any other alternatives.

I would be lying if I said her text didn’t make my heart feel so much lighter. It doesn’t matter how stupid I look as long as I finally get to clear things up with her. Not being able to talk to her at all for the past day has been complete hell, I wouldn’t wish the feeling on my worst enemy. Yet, a part of me feels downright terrified. What is she gonna say to me? Will we still be friends after this? I’ll have to hold onto this dreadful suspense until I see her, and probably even longer depending on how the banquet goes. Hopefully we can get over this quickly so I can finally breathe normally.

My dad knocks on the bathroom, peeking his head through the open door. “You ready to go?” He asks.

“Yeah, uh…” I pause, awkwardly looking at the ground. “Do I look okay?”

He chuckles at me, patting my shoulder. “You look great. I’m sure she’ll like it.”

I take one last look at myself in the mirror before heading out to the car, my heartbeat ringing in my ears as we head to the banquet.

Naturally, the banquet takes place on the far side of the town where all the rich people live. Grandiose buildings line the streets as opposed to the regular suburban houses I’m used to, larger and shinier than anything I’ve ever seen, their opulence almost blinding under the streetlights. Even my dad looked impressed, staring at all the different houses that we could never dream of affording. All of this only serves as a reminder that I don’t belong in this world and never will. To Minji, this is just another Tuesday for her. I sigh, the pit in my stomach growing deeper and deeper.

The banquet hall sits atop a hill overlooking the town as if it's looking down on everyone else with disgust. As we drive up to the building, the frequency of luxury cars increases, making our car look like garbage on wheels in comparison. The closer we get, the more I’m starting to regret my decision to come along. A few guests are talking outside, dressed in their finest tailored suits and elegant gowns. I look down at the bear on my sweater with shame. I didn’t want to stand out, yet I’m basically wearing a giant sign that says “look at me, I’m an idiot.”

Near the entrance, I spot Minji wearing a stunning black dress that compliments her natural beauty. Simple yet sophisticated… And I’m wearing this god damn bear sweater. Maybe it’s not too late to turn around and go back home. I’ll tell her my body started hurting all of a sudden and I can’t move and-

“Hey,” my dad says, patting my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Go have fun.”

I nod, taking one more deep breath before stepping out of the car. “A-alright. Uh, thanks for giving me a ride.”

He smiles at me. “Of course. Text me when you want to leave and I’ll come right away. Bye, Yuno.” I watch as the car disappears down the hill, leaving me completely stranded with no way of escaping. All I can do is face this head on, like I’ve always done.

With each step I take towards Minji, my heart beat rings louder and louder in my ears. The gnawing insecurity in the pit of my stomach makes it hard to breathe, yet I continue forward towards the impossibly beautiful girl that I’ve fallen completely in love with. Her black hair flows like waves curling from a waterfall, light and airy, as she exudes an air of elegance and grace. If I survived a beating from a group of guys, then I can survive this one night. For her.

“Min-”

“Hey Minji!” A loud voice calls out from behind me. The source of the voice, a tall guy wearing a sophisticated suit, walks over to her and pulls her into a hug. My blood immediately begins to boil with rage. Who the fuck is this guy!?

“You look great! How are you doing?” I hear him ask her.

“U-uh, thanks, I’m fine, um…” Minji spots me, her face lighting up instantly. “Yuno!” I do my best to hide the growing smirk as he looks back at me with bewilderment.

“H-hey. Hi,” I say to her.

“I’m glad you could make it,” she replies, smiling at me. God, I missed that smile. I missed hearing her voice. It’s only been a day, but it feels nice to finally talk to her again.

“Um, hello? Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend, Minji?” The tall guy says. He must be the one Minji was warning me about, I can already tell he gives off a pompous energy.

“Ah right. Yuno, this is Sunghoon, Sunghoon, this is my friend from school, Yuno,” Minji says.

“What’s up, man?” Sunghoon reaches his hand out towards me, which I nearly shake before realizing I still have the gauze wrapped around my hand. “Oh damn, what happened to your hand? Are you some kind of fighter or something?” He jokes. Minji gives me an apologetic look while I simply shake my head.

“Cooking accident. I’m fine,” I say, lowering my hand.

“That sucks, man, uh…” He looks down at my sweater, his lips widening into an amused smirk. “Cool sweater, man, where’d you get it? Balenciaga? Armani? Target?” he chides, laughing at his own shitty joke. I shoot a glare at him which makes him shut up pretty quickly.

“I’m just joking man, jeez,” he says. “I’m gonna head inside, Minji. I’ll get us a good table.” Sunghoon winks at her before walking off towards the building, leaving me and Minji alone finally.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry about him, Yuno,” Minji apologizes.

“It’s fine.” I gaze into her eyes for the first time since arriving, my heart skipping a beat as I got lost in the deep browns of her irises. The stars reflect off of them, containing the beauty of an entire galaxy right in front of me. “U-um, is this sweater okay? I, uh, didn’t really have any nice clothes to wear,” I blabber awkwardly.

“It’s, uh… It’s cute,” she says, her face lighting up as she looks at the bear. “Aw, he’s wearing little overalls. It’s like he’s a little farmer bear.”

I turn my head, quietly giggling to myself. How can someone look so ethereal, yet act so adorable? “Oh right, you said you wanted to talk to me about something,” I say, fixing my expression.

“Oh, um… Uh…” Her gaze nervously shifts side to side as she messes with her fingers. “Can we, uh, talk about that later? My parents are probably waiting for me inside.”

I sigh, disappointed but also understanding. “Okay, that’s fine.”

She offers an apologetic look before leading the way into the building. As we walk through the doors, my jaw hits the floor from utter shock and awe. The banquet hall is a giant room adorned with pillars of flowers and a giant golden chandelier hanging overhead, illuminating the room with a brilliant light. Fancy-looking tables are spread out throughout the room, seating even fancier-looking people, laughing and sipping from skinny glasses of champagne as they talk. The looks I get from school are a little annoying, but bearable enough - They’re all just kids trying not to get into any trouble that I’m usually a part of - but being in this room, looked down upon by these people is a different beast entirely. Instead of being viewed as some scary monster that could act up at any moment, it feels like they’re scorning at me like a rat that wandered into the wrong place. It’s like Minji’s mom times a thousand in here.

“Are you okay, Yuno?” Minji asks, lightly grabbing onto my sleeve with a worried look.

“I-I’m fine,” I assure her. Before she can say anything else, an older man walks up to her, smiling.

“Minji! How are you doing, dear?” He says.

“Hello, Mr. Park! I’m doing well, how are you?” She replies, seamlessly slipping into a more professional tone.

“I’m doing great, of course. It’s great to be doing business with your parents.” He looks towards me, his face subtly shifting into that of disdain. “Who’s your friend here, Minji?”

“This is Yuno, he’s my friend from school.”

“H-hello, sir.” I reach out to shake his hand only to be met with a confused expression as he stares down at my gauze-covered hand. Sheepishly, I retract it, my gaze falling to the ground in embarrassment.

“Right… Well, my wife is probably wondering where I am and I wouldn’t want to keep her waiting,” Mr. Park says, not even glancing at me. “Good bye, Minji.”

I sigh dejectedly as he walks off, both grateful that he’s gone and annoyed at myself for not making a better first impression. “That was… awful,” I mutter.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Minji soothes. “On the bright side, you’ll never have to talk to him again after tonight.”

“I don’t know, Minji, maybe me being here is a mistak-”

“Oh!” She takes an empty glass from one of the tables and hands it to me. “Here, hold this.”

I take it from her, giving her a quizzical look. “What do you want me to do with this?”

“Just hold up this glass with your right hand and people won’t shake your hand anymore. Problem solved, right?”

She’s trying so hard for me. What a saint. I truly don’t deserve her. “Yeah, okay,” I nod, mustering up a smile. “Thanks.”

“No proble-”

“Ay, that’s where you guys are!” Sunghoon pops out of nowhere, wrapping his arm around Minji. It’s taking every fiber of my being not to knock his lights out right now. “I was wondering where you two were.”

Minji pushes his arm off of her, side-eyeing him with contempt. “We were just talking,” she states.

“Well, I’m sure there’s a lot of people that would love to get to know Yuno. Isn’t that right, man?” Sunghoon firmly grasps my shoulder, pushing me towards a larger crowd of people culminating in the middle of the room. I could kill him if I want to (and I do want to), but with Minji here, I’m left at the mercy at whatever the hell this rich fuck plans to do. Whatever. I can survive talking to old people for a little bit.

The next hour crawls along as I’m swept through countless bouts of small talk with increasingly important people, constantly bombarded with questions that I don’t have the answer to.

“What are your plans after high school?”

“What university are you thinking of attending?”

“Have you started on your college admission papers?”

Minji and Sunghoon handled everything with ease, accustomed to the talk like they’re fluent in a second language, whereas I was barely floating by. Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt. Minji tried her best to help me out, but with an abundance of other people talking to her, her plate was already full as it was.

Finally, after another uncomfortable conversation with a woman that didn’t even try to hide her disapproval, I found myself on the outer rim of the conversation. Minji and Sunghoon were in the middle, keeping everyone distracted, giving me a chance to escape. I spot a door at the edge of the room leading towards the outside. I take one last look at Minji, feeling guilty for leaving her like this, before scurrying out the door.

Fresh air fills my lungs, a luxury I didn’t know I had until now. I scramble over towards the railing, letting myself breath for the first time in what feels like years. Getting another beating would be more favorable compared to the hell that I just went through inside. I don’t know how Minji does that on a regular basis, I could barely get a coherent word out the entire time.

I lean against the railing, watching the full moon float slowly above the town as I ponder whether or not me being here is a good idea. Maybe I should’ve just given Minji a lame excuse and stayed home. Like a dazzling star in the sky, it feels like all I can do is watch her from afar while I’m trapped by the gravity of my own miserable little planet, destined to fade into mediocrity as she illuminates the night sky with her light. A part of me wishes I never offered to walk her home in the rain just so I would never have to feel this pain. But I did and now I’m paying the price for it.

Isn’t it so tragic? To fall for someone that’s so close yet so far?

“There you are.”

The clacking of high heels against the concrete gets louder with each step as Minji walks up next to me. “I was worried you got lost or something. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answer, not quite meeting her gaze. Minji slumps against the railing next to me, watching the moon.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I invited you here for a selfish reason, and after that backfired, I thought I could salvage it, but all I did was make you uncomfortable.”

“Hey, it’s fi-”

“And I’m sorry for ignoring you all day,” she says, her gaze falling to the ground. “I should’ve just talked to you instead of running away like an idiot.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that she finally acknowledged it. “It’s fine. I’m sorry too, for, um… y’know.” Heat rises to my cheeks as I’m reminded of why we’re in this awkward spot in the first place. If I just kept my urges in check, neither of us would’ve felt like this.

“U-um, it’s okay, that’s partially my fault too anyways,” she says, chuckling nervously. Minji looks up at the moon and inhales deeply. “It’s really pretty tonight.” Something in my head shifts as she utters those words, and I’m suddenly hit with a wave of deja vu as Minji shifts from “The daughter of the founder of a highly esteemed multimillion dollar company” to “The girl who’s afraid of spiders and likes teddy bears and dreams of becoming a singer one day against her parents’ wishes”. The girl that I fell in love with.

I nod in agreement, but all my focus is on Minji, more beautiful than any celestial body could hope to be. The wind makes her long, black hair float and ebb like a stream of the finest silk, while the Milky Way traps itself in her irises, containing the beauty of an entire galaxy in just her eyes alone. She shivers as another gust of wind floats past, and I contemplate whether or not I should give her my sweater. I’m wearing a tank top underneath, so it’s not like I would be flashing her all of a sudden…

Without anymore hesitation, I take the sweater off my back and hand it to her. “U-uh, here. Y-you seem cold,” I stutter awkwardly.

“O-oh!” Her cheeks turn a bright pink as she eyes my upper body, her gaze flying back and forth. “Thanks, that’s very, um, sweet of you,” she says, wrapping the sweater over her shoulders.

“Y-yeah, no problem…”

We stand there in complete silence, simply watching the moon as the crickets and the wind play their abstract melodies. The breeze may be cold, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth I feel in my heart for Minji. I want to tell her how I feel. I wanna scream it from the top of this hill for everyone to hear. But I can’t. What good would it do, knowing that it won’t work out? I know life has been nothing but cruel to me, but having the person who fills me with nothing but joy be this close to me yet still so far away is this cruelest act it’s committed. I’m cursed to live a life of mediocrity while Minji undoubtedly skyrockets to a space among the stars, a place that I can never hope to reach.

Minji glances at me, scanning the bruises on my arm. Without a single utterance, she gently traces her finger over them, leaving a line of electricity in its wake. “How are you feeling?” She asks softly.

“I’m fine. Like I said, I’ve been through worse,” I say.

She sighs, moving closer to inspect the injuries. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I turn to her, her face much closer than before. “Y’know, I think you’re the first person to ever say that to me.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrug. “People don’t really talk to me in general. They’ll look at the cuts and the bruises and think that I probably deserve them. And maybe they’re right.”

“Hey,” she lightly chides. “Don’t say that, they’re not right at all.”

“I’m always sticking my neck into situations that I don’t belong in, it’s only natural for me to get hit every once in a while.”

“Still, that doesn’t mean you deserve to get hurt.” The worry in her tone begins to grow with each word.

“I’ve hurt countless people in the past, Minji. There’s literal blood on my hands. To say I don’t deserve some kind of divine punishment would be wrong.”

“O-okay, but-”

“And maybe this is it. This is my punishment.” I look in her eyes, tears slowly welling up within them. “My mother’s dead. My father became an alcoholic. I’m left to survive alone while people look at me like a monster. I constantly get into fights because I’m hard-wired to have this fucked up sense of justice that I have to act on for some reason. A-and…” And you. The greatest punishment of all is meeting you. Because I know that I’m not good enough for you and I never will be. No matter how much I like you, you’re always going to be light years away. 

“...My life has been nothing but a punishment, one after another. I deserve to-” “STOP!” Minji shouts, pushing me back a bit. “Just… stop, Yuno. You don’t deserve any of that. When I look at you, all I see is someone that’s been treated unfairly their whole life. You deserve to be happy. I-I mean, look at where you are now! You have friends that care about you, your dad is doing so much better now, and I…” She looks at me with steely determination. Her chest rises and falls with breath, as if she’s made up her mind about something.

And then she kisses me.

Her arms clumsily wrap around my head, pulling me into her lips. It’s rough and messy, yet so sweet and soft. The heat in my chest expands, hitting every cell in my body. I melt into her, placing my hands gently above her waist. All of my feelings for her are contained in my lips, transferring over in a silent exchange. Her lips are everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more.

Minji pulls away slightly to catch her breath, warm puffs of her dancing against my cheeks. We look into each other’s eyes, not a word spoken but so many things said before going back in for another, this kiss more gentle than the first. She softly cups my cheek, caressing me with her fingers. I pull her in, wanting to be as close to her as physically possible. I want nothing more than to be here in this perfect moment with her forever.

A glass shatters against the concrete, ripping us out of our blissful space. We scramble to get off of each other as Sunghoon stands there, his jaw dropped in shock.

“W-what… What the hell are you two doing?!”

[short-honey-badger]

Trouble Sleeping

This is pure filthy smut, that's literally it. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! Smut SMut Smut! ABO universe as well. It's been a looong time since I've written for it. Pre time skip Law btw!

Pairings: Alpha! Trafalger D. Water Law x Omega! Reader

Summary: You notice that your captain hasn't slept in the past couple of days, so you offer to help him relax.

Part 2 ->

Masterlist.

It’s been what? Two? Three days since the last time Law had gotten a decent night’s rest? If it wasn’t the nightmares keeping him up every time he closed his eyes, then it was his incessant need to plan. To go over the research the alpha had begun to gather about Punk Hazard and Ceasar’s operation. It was all to get closer to Doflamingo of course, but Trafalgar would give anything not to have to deal with the disgusting scientist. 

And to get some rest, but the pirate doubted that would come anytime soon. 

Law wipes his eyes, pushing away from his desk and closing the thick folder of compiled notes. He needed a break, maybe even something to eat, too. The alpha’s stomach grumbled at the thought of food and he stood from his desk, grabbing his hat and fixing it properly on his head.

As he walked through the walls of familiar walls of the Polar Tang, Law thought about the newest member of his crew. While he wasn’t in the habit of picking up strays, you had piqued his interest when you wouldn’t stop bugging him and his crew about learning medicine. To quench his curiosity, Law had allowed you to come on board, and you have been a dutiful student ever since. And despite what Penguin and Shachi liked to think, it was not because you were a pretty omega in need asking for his help. Trafalgar liked to think he was better than his alpha instincts. 

Ah. Speaking of the omega, Law could smell your honeysuckle scent just around the corner. You must been in the galley. 

Law spots you at one of the tables in the corner, nose stuck in a medical text and a half-empty plate of whatever the cooks had made tonight. On a whim, he decides to grab a cup of coffee and his own serving and joins you at your table. You jump when he sets his plate down, but your expression brightens the moment you notice that it is your captain sitting across from you.

“Evening, Cap’n,” you greet, and Law finds his shoulders relaxing when he catches your scent again. It is warm and welcoming, soothing his frayed nerves with ease. 

“_-ya,” Law rumbles back in greeting and meets your eyes, smirking when he notices you watching him. He isn’t surprised when you speak up, but he doesn’t expect you to sound so concerned. 

“Have ya been gettin’ enough sleep Cap’n? Not ta speak out of turn, but you don’t look so good. A-and I’ve seen you roamin’ the halls more than usual,” you’re blushing when you finish, but Law finds your rambling endearing and doesn’t bother lying to you like he might others.

“Not really, little medic, but you shouldn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” He assures you and then sips his coffee. He glances over to see that the omega doesn’t look very satisfied with his answer, and his instincts make themselves known when he catches a whiff of hot displeasure in your scent. 

Before Trafalgar can do much and possibly make a fool of himself, you speak up again. 

“Well, is there anything that I can do to help?” the omega asks, and Law pauses, arm stalling midair, fork halfway to his mouth. Despite the innocent way you ask the question, his mind goes straight to the gutter, and the pirate captain sees you on your knees in his bed, face down and ass up, presenting beautifully for him. Law can hear the way your cute accent whispers his name, pretty eyes glistening with tears as you beg him for his cock. 

“Cap’n? You okay, there?” A cool hand on his forehead and your soft voice bring the alpha out of his daydream, and he flushes even more at having been caught zoning out like that. 

“Ah, sorry about that, _-ya. Just tired, like I said,” Law murmurs and sets his fork down to hide his face behind his cup of coffee. You assure him that he is fine and tentatively go back to your book when it seems like Law isn’t going to answer your question. 

In reality, the alpha is pondering your question. It was a fact that omegas were able to put alphas in a calming state. Usually, Law wouldn’t mention it, but you had asked if you could do anything for him, and your omega pheromones would most likely do the trick and put him to sleep. 

“You know what,” Law begins and you jerk your head up to look at him, surprised that he’d spoken up, “I think you can help me out, little medic. If you’re done here?”

Your eyebrows jump up, and then the little omega is nodding, a happy smile painting your lips. Law watches you stand and close your book, tucking it under your arm and then tossing your cleaned plate in the sink at the back of the room. He follows your path, and then Law is leading you out of the kitchen and back to his office. 

The alpha keeps going, opening up the door in his office that connects to his bedroom. You tentatively follow after him, and Law’s alpha rumbles in satisfaction at having such a pretty omega in his room. His scent, clean and fresh with a hint of steel, coats everything, and Law quietly hopes that it sticks with you after you leave his room. 

Trafalgar doesn’t think twice about tossing his hat to the side and shrugging off his shirt. His jeans are replaced by a pair of soft sweats, and when he looks at you, your face is bright red, eyes wide in shock. Your scent sweetens with a hint of arousal and Law smirks, it’s a surprise, but not unwelcome.

“You’ve learned a lot while you’ve been here, _-ya. So you know that omegas can manipulate their scents to calm down the other sex in tense situations. It works better when they have been near one another for long periods of time. I’d like for you to do that for me if you’re comfortable with that.” 

Law watches the omega as you think, but it doesn’t take you long to come to a decision. You set your book aside and give him a shy, unsure smile. 

“Got another pair of sweatpants? Jeans aren’t very comfortable to lay down in.”

The alpha chuckles and then sets about finding another pair of sweats. A dark, possessive part of him is delighted at the sight of you standing in his room with a pair of too-big sweatpants, and Law has to fight down the almost overwhelming need to pull you into his bed to scent you. Instead, like the gentleman he is trying to be, Law pulls back the covers of his bed and stands back, offering for you to crawl in first. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” the alpha drawls, and watches with lidded eyes as you slip into his his bed. He follows after and cuts the lights with a flick of his fingers and the use of his devil fruit. Law hears you suck in a sharp breath when he settles in beside you, laying on his side and tossing an arm over your hip. He emits his own calming pheromones and blinks at the back of your head when you take deep, shuddering breaths of his scent. 

The alpha hadn’t expected you to do that, but the sight of you breathing in his scent made his hold on you tighten, and Law pulled you back into his chest, leaning down to bury his face in your hair. He hums when you lift your leg, and he slips his thigh in between your legs, bringing the two of you impossibly closer. 

After that, it is easy for the two of you to relax, honeysuckle and steel mixing to create a unique scent that represents the alpha and omega. Being surrounded by the combined scent leaves Law feeling drowsy, eyes fluttering shut as he shoves his face closer to the scent gland on your neck, desperate for more of that sweet honeysuckle. You squirm for half a second and then settle again, content to help out your captain where you can.

Neither of you expects to fall asleep, but when Law wakes, he feels far more refreshed than he has in a long time. He cracks open his eyes and takes in the new position the two of you shifted to in sleep. Trafalgar lays on his back and the little omega has sprawled over his chest, your face pressed into the hollow of his throat, and arms wrapped around his neck. His arms are wrapped securely around your waist, and Law smiles when you mutter softly and shift in your sleep.

Law contemplates going back to sleep, but then you shift again, and all thoughts of sleep fly out of his mind when your hip brushes against his cock. He fights back a groan, tattooed hands flexing and digging into your soft skin. Fuck. He wants you. He wants your attention, and your pretty eyes and plush mouth on him all the time. The alpha wants to bite you, sink his teeth into your nape, and claim you as his. 

He rolls, trapping you under him, and you wake with a gasp, eyes flying open to stare at your captain who looms above you. He looks frightening in the low light of his room, but the way his scent is wrapped around you is nothing but comforting. You aren’t scared of this dangerous alpha. 

“_-ya,” Law growls your name, dipping down to press his brow against your own, eyes catching yours and glowing with hot arousal, “You did so well for me. Helping me get some rest. Let me reward such a good omega.” 

The way your scent turns hot and sticky with arousal is enough of an answer for Law. He turns his head, keeping himself held up with one arm as the other grips your jaw. Trafalgar’s lips meet your own in a steamy kiss. He smooths his thumb up, catching your bottom lip and tugging it down, pulling your mouth open enough to slip his tongue inside. 

You whine under him, hands digging into his hair to the point of pain, but it only makes the alpha groan into the kiss. Law’s dick throbs in his pants, so he moves, grinding up into the welcoming heat between his legs. The friction is delicious, but it isn’t enough. 

Law lifts himself up, breaking the kiss and leaving you winded. Your pupils are blown, and your mouth is bright red from the way his facial hair has rubbed against your skin. He shimmies down, hands finding the waistband of the sweats you wear and hooking his fingers under them. He makes sure to catch the other elastic band he feels and tugs the pants and your underwear down in one fell swoop. 

“Fuck, you smell so good, Baby,” Law rumbles and shoves his face in the slope of your right, lips mouthing at the minor scent glands there. You cry out and grp his hair even harder, eyes blown wide as you watch him breathe you in, “Like honey and warm desserts.” 

“Y-you smell good too, Cap’n,” You whisper, voice shaking as you try and deal with the pleasure that Law smothers you with, “Clean and fresh. I like it.” 

A low growl erupts in the room and Law rewards your compliment by flattening his tongue and licking a stripe along your entire cunt. The alpha groans at the taste, your slick is just as sweet as you smell, and Trafalgar regrets never asking you to his room sooner. He grabs your hips, lifting them so that he can point his tongue and shove it deep into your leaking hole. 

You wail, curses falling from your lips as you buck your hips against his face, seeking that burning pleasure that only Law can give you. The alpha drinks from you, lewd slurping sounds filling the room until you are bowing forward and pulling him off your cunt. 

Law’s face is soaked in your juices, and he bares his teeth at you for pushing him away. He would know if he’d made you come, and he looks at you to demand an answer. 

“I want you to fuck me, Cap’n,” You say and it stalls Law in his tracks. Your eyes shine with want and you grip his shoulders, nails digging in, “I- I want to come on your cock, not your tongue.” 

The pirate can’t get his pants off fast enough. His lanky legs end up getting tangled in his sweats, but you patiently extract the fabric and toss them to the floor. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, and slick leaks out of you to stain Law’s sheets. The alpha’s dick is the perfect specimen, thick at the base, knot looking inflated already. His length tapers up slightly, only to end in a silky head that leaks with precum. 

“Get on your knees, Baby. Present for me, yeah?” Law orders and you scramble to obey, brain mush with alpha pheromones that leave you feeling fuzzy. 

His omega rolls to their knees, thighs parted in a wonderful display of trust. You bite the pillow under you, whining when your senses are overwhelmed with the scent of your Captain. Tears leak from your eyes and a low cry escapes you when Law drapes himself over your back, cock slotting between your legs and dragging over your pussy. 

Law ruts against you, coating his dick in your slick until his member is nice and soaked. He leans back enough to grab the base, angling it up to run the head of his cock through your folds. You sob at the feeling, back arching and hips shaking in search of him. 

“Please, Law. I’m wet enough, just put it in,” You whine and the alpha growls at the way you beg him. His tip catches your entrance on his neck stroke, and Law doesn’t stop gravity as he sinks into your warm heat. 

You feel amazing around him, walls fluttering and gripping his cock so tightly that Law hisses as he sicks another inch down. His mouth drops, and he sucks in greedy mouthfuls of your scent, leaning down to nip at the gland on your neck where the sweet smell is the most potent. 

“You’re mine after this, got it, omega? No one else can have you this way. No one else can feel your tight cunt other than me,” Law snarls and you nod frantically, face still pressed into the pillows. 

The alpha doesn’t wait any longer, sinking the rest of the way inside and snarling at the way his knot catches on your walls. It's overwhelming, and Law presses his forehead harshly against your shoulder blades to prevent himself from biting you. Now wasn’t the time to try and forge a mating bond. Not when Doflamingo still threatened everything that Law cared for. 

Trafalgar fucks you like a man possessed, hands harsh and fingertips digging in hard enough to leave bruises. He snaps his hips, dragging his cock along your walls as you clench and flutter around him. He changes angles, slowing down only to roughly slam into you, and you shout when his dick catches against that spongy spot inside of you. 

Law grins, teeth bared in a feral grin as he focuses on that spot and pounds into your cunt. Your hands grip the sheets hard enough the tear them, tears leaking down your face as Law abuses that spot inside of you. It’s not long before the alpha has you shouting your name, jaw dropping open in a silent scream as you come around his cock. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Law chants when your cunt constricts around him. He wants to come inside of you, pump you so full of his seed that it would be dripping out for the next week. But knotting you means pups, and those aren’t something that anyone needs right now. 

So, despite his instincts screaming at him to mark you on the inside, Law pulls out when he feels that tension snap, pumping his dick and instead painting your backside and cunt with his spend. He milks his cock, shaking and whining as he gently massages his knot. Your hips have fallen without Law to hold you up, but that doesn’t stop him from draping himself back over the omega, hand finding your hip and rubbing his cum into your skin. He needed to make sure that you were properly covered after all. 

Below him, you settle into the comfy bed and close your eyes. You are content to let your alpha take care of you, and so easily fall back to sleep. 

Your captain snickers softly when he notices that his omega has already dropped back off to sleep, and rolls the two of you to the side, snuggling close and closing his eyes. He’d take you to the shower later, but for now, Law was just happy that you were here to help him go back to sleep too. 

[aliorsboxostuff]

A/N Honestly this is really self-indulgent ‘cuz my instincts went “This mf forgets to eat I just know it.” and turned it into a really fluffy fic lmao. I wrote this with a male Spiderman in mind, but gender-neutral readers are also welcome of course! Hope you all enjoyed it!

Lunch

Tags: Miguel O’hara x m!Reader, Possible gn!Reader, Peter B. Parker, Mayday Parker, mention of Gwen, Fluff, Just taking care our resident dilf, He/him prns, Spiderman!Reader, caring!reader, Emotionally constipated Miguel? Emotionally constipated Miguel., Peter being the best wingman, Mayday being her cute self, Self-indulgent

Miguel O’hara doesn't take breaks. Miguel O’hara only leaves his lair if he’s needed on a mission to set another anomaly straight. So what do you do? Exactly, force him into taking a break… Sorta.

Miguel O’hara doesn't take breaks. Miguel O’hara only leaves his lair if he’s needed on a mission to set another anomaly straight. Only when his body is finally demanding food does he leave the monitors in the care of Jessica or Lyla while he goes through the cafeteria for a satisfying meal or his favorite Empanadas. So far, if there wasn't a catastrophic event—Which is pointless because he would've seen it before anyone else—Or a Spider-person that needs his immediate help, he keeps himself perched on his platform, monitoring the vast universes, unblinking, the video of him and his daughter playing just on his peripherals. 

“Miguel! How long have you been up there?” Until you.

Another Spiderman that joined the spider society just a couple of months ago has managed to worm his way into Miguel’s thorn bushes. He doesn't even know how, or when, did you start to become a constant in his nonstop monitoring but you did, annoyingly so. Your voice echoes the large room, steps follow suit as you stand at the base of his lair.

You huff, before pulling your mask off and arching a brow while your question is left unanswered. You’ve only done this a handful of times. The day you learned that Miguel O’hara, the guy that doesn't leave his damn perch unless you can hear his stomach rumble a mile away or his body forces him to take a nap, you’ve dedicated a bit of your time to make sure he takes a time off from those screens. Spiderman or not, he still needs rest. 

“Seriously man,” You sigh, considering swinging yourself up to that damn platform. “Have you eaten anything for the last 7 hours?”

Another silence. “You missed lunch, y'know, if it weren't for Lyla I would have thought you died.”

Of course, nothing. You blink, annoyed, before deciding to just turn around and head to the cafeteria yourself. If he won't get food for himself then you will.

At this point, seeing you exit Miguel’s office has been a normal recurrence for the other Spider-people. So when you walk down the corridor, others wave and said their hi’s while you reply back. As much as you miss your universe, hanging out with others of your kind is refreshing. You reach the end of the walkway where it drops before you shoot out webs and swing to where the cafeteria is, cutting your journey short. Who knows how long Miguel has neglected his stomach?

You picked up today's dinner menu, thanking the server, before snagging an Empanada and then swiftly swinging back to Miguel's office. You make your way inside, making sure to not trip on the scattered tech and cables, and to no one’s surprise; he’s still staring at those screens. 

“Here,” You sat the plate and box down on one of the many boxes and tables around his office. “Eat it, or not. I’m sure your stomach will appreciate it if you do,”

You shrugged before swiftly walking back to exit his lair once more, rolling your eyes when he doesn't respond again. Typical.

—

“I really don't get his problem, I mean, I'm just looking out for him, isn't that what teammates do?”

“No ones ever really brought him food, man,”

“Yeah well he’ll get his own food when he starves, and I don't think the others would like that,” You snicker before landing beside Peter. He was heading to Miguels to report a new potential member so you tagged along, besides you missed holding Mayday. 

“I think he appreciates it though,” Peter presses the button and the door opens, the three of you walking inside. You cross your arm, watching as Mayday starts to scale his dad, her giggles contagious.

“Weird way of showing it,” You huff, eyeing the girl as she starts pulling at Peter's strands before you reach for her, cradling her against your chest and tickling her little body. “No ‘Thank you’? Or y’know, a small ‘thanks’ maybe?” 

She coos, turning her head as if she understands your rambling. You hold her under her arms, then nuzzle her fluffy hair which makes her giggle.  You stare down her eyes, wrinkling your nose. “He’s a little crap isn't he, May?” She cackles in delight which makes you grin.

“Hey, no swearing around the kid,” Peter grumbles and when Mayday makes grabby hands towards her father, you hand her back.

“Says the dad that takes his daughter on missions?” You smirk, lightly punching Pete’s shoulder, making both of you laugh, and Mayday follows suit with her giggles. Finally reaching Miguel’s lair, the man is always on his platform, before Peter calls for him to report. As you watch the platform dramatically descend, this time with Miguel holding a screen tablet and facing you and Peter.

At least he’s not facing those screens this time, you thought. You cross your arms, eye scanning around the room when you spot a clean cafeteria plate on the same table you left it on a couple of hours before. 

“Hey uh…” Peter hums when you start to reach for the plate. “You go on ahead, I’ll be right back,” 

You quickly picked up the utensil and went ahead outside, already swinging your way toward the cafeteria. You peek inside the box and to your delight, the empanada you brought for him is already gone. You smile, humming in relief as you make your way to drop off the plate. You gave it to the staff and threw the box into the trash before you made your way back to the lair again.

A smile creeps its way to your lips and it won't leave, the feeling of a small blooming rose inside your heart as you realize Miguel does eat the food you leave for him. 

As you made your way through the doors, you heard the deep baritone of Miguel's voice conversing with Peter. 

“I don't understand him.” That made your step falter. You swiftly pressed back to the hallway leading to Miguel's lair, making sure to hear their voices clearly, though deep down you knew you shouldn't do this. 

“What don't you understand, man? He just cares about you,” Peter's voice is accompanied by Mayday's giggling. “He brings you food and makes sure you take breaks, I mean, I think that’s a pretty good thing,”

“I know It’s a good thing, Peter. But why? What does he want?”

“Not everything needs to have an ulterior motive, Miguel,” Peter chuckles, you can hear Mayday's laughs too. “Maybe he just wants to. Who knows,”

Then there was silence. You blink, processing the conversation, a million other thoughts fly by you, the biggest was your worry about burdening him. Maybe Miguel doesn't want you to do this, why else would he think you wanted something from him? Maybe you should back down, leave him alone like how everyone else treats him, maybe-

“It is… Nice of him, though,” A sudden rush of heat flows into your cheeks.

“I should thank him, one of these days,” Miguel continued. At this point, Peter should have sensed you but has said nothing. Until Mayday turns the corner and then came crawling into your view, you decided to make your appearance. 

You scoop up the little girl, cuddling her close to your chest. “Hey, kiddo! You shouldn't be back here!”

She cackles, little hands reaching for your strands which makes you laugh. You pull your head up to see Miguel and Peter standing at the end of the hallway, Peter with an oddly smug look while Miguel suddenly turns towards his monitors. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothin’, just done reporting,” Peter shrugs nonchalantly, walking towards you before taking Mayday, “I should head back though, this little spider needs her nap, don't you?” 

Mayday giggles in her father's arm, Peter already waving as he exits the office. “Later, you two!”

“See ya’ Pete!” You wave back, catching May’ little hands waving too before the door closes. 

Now it's just you and Miguel. It's rare seeing him off of the platform, away from that far-away bubble. You’ve only seen him on duty with other Spideys, that's the only time he’s away from the glowing screens. He’s still focused on the screen tablet when you jogged closer. Now that you’re meters away from him, You notice how broad his shoulders actually are, and the slight curls on the back of his head. You clear your throat, looking at anything other than Miguel.

“So… The new recruit Peter gave you? We taking them in?”

“Huh? Yeah, yes.” Miguel shifts slightly, you rub your hands together.

“Alright, cool,” You cringe, the air suffocating with tension and unspoken words. You look around, before deflating, your hand scratching the back of your neck. “Well… I’m gonna go then-”

“Wait.” You stop yourself from turning. “You don't have to keep doing that,”

“Doing what?” You raise a brow, with your mask off and Miguel in front of you, he can clearly see your slightly smug face.

“That. Bringing me food. I don't need it,” Miguel finally pries his eyes away from the tablet, now meeting yours. 

You chuckle. “Last time I checked, you're still human Miguel,”

“I can do that myself,” He steps towards you, which makes you pull up your hands defensively. 

“Alright, sure boss, but you only eat when your body forces you. That can't be healthy,” You huff, crossing your arms and meeting his deep reds. He backs down, looking towards the far wall. 

Great, an argument instead of him just agreeing with me, You sighs, looking down at the concrete floor. What were you thinking? Miguel can take care of himself, of course, he’s a fucking old man and you probably disrupted his old man metabolism or some shit like that.

“I- Thanks.” Your perk up, quickly meeting his still-averting eyes. “That's what I wanted to say. Thanks,”

You smirk. ”Yeah, of course, Miguel,” 

“Maybe… You can let Lyla take over, or someone, and uh…” Shit, maybe this is too bold…

Fuck it. “Join me for lunch, sometime?”

It was a mistake. The deafening silence was clearly a loud rejection from Miguel and you wanted to quickly blurt out something, anything to salvage what you had before, but he beat you to it.

“Sure, sometime,” You whip your head around, almost smacking with how close Miguel and you were standing. His eyes widened slightly, a ghost of a smirk across his lips and it made you gulp.

“Y-yeah, sometimes, yeah,” His brow quirks a bit when you start stumbling your way through his lair. “I should uh- I think Gwen called me so uh-” 

The last thing he saw from you was your stuttering word and your body turning the corner of his office, then a loud ‘Fuck yeah!’ before you disappeared. Truly a wonder how you, out of anyone, managed to pique Miguel’s interest. 

Reblogs are appreciated <3

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 16 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Every sleepover with Jessica leaves Jake wanting more of her. More time making love, more time reading, more time cooking for her. But when a brilliant scheme is dropped on her lap, Jessica is about to have a little less time to spend with her boyfriend.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral, angst, mention cheating, 18+

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake was absolutely certain he'd never been happier than he was at this moment. Jessica was sitting on the kitchen stool next to him, moaning softly in her dishevelled clothing as she ate the chicken pot pie he made for her. His fingers were loosely tangled with hers, and she kept leaning closer to kiss him after she took a few bites. 

He knew she'd been having a bit of a rough week, so it was important to him that she was relaxed now, especially since he'd been part of the reason the past few days had been tiresome. He hadn't meant to jump her like a horny teenager as soon as she got to his place, but it seemed like neither of them could do much to stop themselves. When he told her he could barely go a day without seeing her, he wasn't joking. At this point, Jessica was a necessity.

"Why don't you take a long shower when you're done eating while I clean up?" he whispered as she took her last bite. 

She nodded and climbed from her own stool onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him before sliding to the floor. "I'll be back."

Her hair was a mess, and she still looked freshly fucked as Jake watched her walk away to his bedroom. When he heard her turn on his shower, he stood and started to clean up the kitchen. There was a lot of food leftover, but he also bought a lot of groceries in case she wanted something else. Part of him was planning on coaxing her to spend some time cooking with him, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself.

But they had time. Jake could take his time this weekend, just like he was going to take his time telling Jessica that he loved her. He didn't want to spook her again with this information, but telling her that a day apart was almost too much for him to handle was the beginning of his admission. It was the honest truth. Even now, just knowing she was in his bathroom had him heading in that direction.

He tapped on the door and poked his head into the steam filled room. "Mind if I join you?"

Jessica spun away from the spray of the shower and slid open the glass door, reaching out toward him with her wet fingers. Jake wrenched his shirt over his head and practically tore his sweatpants off to get to her as quickly as he could. 

"Why would I mind this?" she asked, raking her fingers through his chest hair as her temple came to rest on his shoulder. When he touched her arm, he could feel goosebumps even though the hot steam was dense; her reaction to him was always welcome, too. "Honestly, this is the best I have felt all week. Brian's taking a leave of absence, and I get to spend time with you."

Jake froze with his hands halfway up her back. "Brian is taking a leave of absence?" 

"Mmhmm."

"Is that... a good thing?"

Jessica kind of shrugged and then nodded. "I think so. I got an email from the dean asking me to cover one of his classes on Wednesday afternoons."

He considered her words. "Baby, that's amazing. They trust you to take on more work."

"Yeah," she said, crinkling up her nose, "but I still don't have tenure. And with Brian out, I can't even schedule a tenure review with him now that alumni weekend is over."

"Why didn't you tell me all of this as soon as you got here?"

She looked up at his face like he was one of her students who was failing a class. "Because, Jake, I got distracted by you. Obviously. Now why don't you tell me about your week?"

And once again, she amazed him by actually showing interest in what he had to say. Not only that, she called him smart when he talked about his jet's fuel ignition system. And after they got out of the shower, she asked him to read a journal to her. As Jessica was falling asleep, curled up with him on the couch, Jake took her glasses off so they wouldn't get smashed against her face. 

"I love this, Reedy," he whispered, kissing her forehead and making her smile. 

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

"Please tell me you know how to crack an egg," Jake groaned, standing behind Jessica in his kitchen the following day. He had his arms wrapped around her as they made waffle batter together, flour all over the counter and both of them.

She glanced up at him over her shoulder. "Do I look like I went to culinary school to you?"

"Baby," he laughed, reaching for the broken mess of egg shell next to the bowl and swiping it into the sink. "This isn't fine dining. It's a waffle."

"It's fine dining when you make it," she replied, and she was rewarded with Jake's lips on her neck. He hadn't shaved his face, and the scratch along her skin was completely addicting. His fingers dipped inside the neck of his shirt that she was wearing, and he kissed his way to her bare shoulder. "Can we go back to bed?" she whispered, rubbing herself back against him.

All she got was a smack on her butt and Jake's lips back up next to her ear. "No. I'm determined to teach you how to cook something." Jessica whined as he handed her an egg and cracked it with her, dumping it in the bowl of flour before tossing the shell. "See? Easy. Now do one yourself."

She picked up another egg, carefully cracked it, and then half the shell ended up in the bowl. "Oops."

"No, you did great," Jake told her as he fished the shell out of the batter. "I love crunchy waffles."

She groaned and tossed her head back as he laughed. "You're one of those people who is good at everything. You're really annoying, and nobody likes you."

"I know," he agreed, even though she was turning back to smile up at him. "I'm the worst. Now pick up the spoon and mix everything together."

She did as she was told, but frowned at the bowl. "Is it supposed to look so soupy?"

"Add more flour," he whispered as he kissed her ear. A chill went down her spine as his lips remained where they were, and Jake took her hand in his to scoop some more flour. "That's good. Keep mixing."

After another minute, she was shaking her head. "How is this supposed to turn into a waffle?"

"Magic."

And it kind of was magical, the way he made it look so easy. The batter was soon sizzling in the waffle iron, and Jake had her pinned against the counter with his hands up underneath her shirt. He was rubbing soft circles along her waist with his thumbs, and Jessica was enjoying the sight of him in nothing but his tented underwear. 

"Five minutes until the waffle is done," Jake crooned as one hand slipped down the front of her lacy, pink underwear. "Think that's enough time?"

"For what?" she gasped when his thumb found her clit. 

"Get my girl off," he muttered, kneeling in front of her and kissing her through the lace before pulling her underwear down to her mid thighs. 

The thing was, Jessica was certain he could do it in five minutes or less, because he'd done it before. Just not with his mouth. But as soon as his lips met her clit and she could feel his stubble all over her pussy, she was leaning back against the counter and whining for him. 

"Spread 'em wider, Baby," he whispered, kissing her thigh as she eased her legs a little further apart. "That's it. So pretty," he moaned before she felt his tongue glide from her opening up to her clit where he latched on and started sucking. The elastic of her underwear was digging into her thighs a little bit as he eased two thick fingers inside her.

The waffle smelled delicious, and Jake's mouth felt like heaven on her clit. But it was his fingers, thrusting so rapidly and so deep that had her practically shrieking. The muscles in his shoulder and bicep were taut as he finger fucked her sweet spot, but his face was calm and adoring as he looked up at her. As if he wasn't about to get her off in four minutes. As if he wasn't doing the Lord's work in his own kitchen with the waffle iron and with her pussy.

Jessica was pressed up on her tiptoes, shaking on the spot, subconsciously trying to get away from him while also pressing herself against his face. "Oh my god," she cried out, gripping the edge of the countertop, her hips rolling against his face of their own accord. She had lost control of herself as she came, gushing against his lips as her hips jerked. 

She watched him lick his lips as he stroked her clit with his thumb through her orgasm, bringing her to the brink of overstimulation before the timer on the iron went off. Jake hopped to his feet with ease, pressing a wet kiss to her lips before opening up the appliance and said, "Oh good. The waffle is done just like you are."

With a halfhearted glare, she pulled her underwear back up and watched him slice some strawberries for the topping. Two minutes later, she was sitting on the couch while he fed her bites of waffle, berries, and powdered sugar. "This is so good," she gasped. The waffle was crisp and golden brown on the outside, but it melted on her tongue. 

"You made it," he reminded her. "All I really did was cut up some fruit. Later, we can make dinner together, and I'll pack up little containers for you to take for your lunches."

Jessica threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking the plate out of his hand. "Thank you."

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

After spending Sunday playing dress up with Jake, Jessica finally headed home. But not until after she got to see him in his white uniform. And not until after he used his credit card to buy her three hundred dollars of new lingerie. "Next weekend should be even more fun," he crooned as he purchased all of it. 

Now it was late, and she was unloading her lunch containers into her refrigerator after texting him that she got home safely. His response came in the form of one sentence that made her belly swoop. 

Just remember, I can barely go a day without seeing you.

Had they progressed to mid week sleepovers? She thought maybe they had. And when she drove to work on Monday morning, she was contemplating asking him if he wanted to come over that night. She wasn't even thinking about work or Brian or any of it, because she was in such a pleasant haze from the weekend. 

When she plopped down at her desk with her lukewarm coffee, she put her container of homemade lasagna that she had helped cook in her mini fridge. She turned on her computer and mused that there probably wouldn't be a department meeting with no Brian Conley at work, and she smiled. She was still smiling as she finished her coffee and ate a granola bar while she looked through the offerings on a boutique website, searching for the perfect birthday gift for Jake. 

"Oh!" she gasped when she found what she was looking for. She wiled away her time before she had to give a lecture by picking out a pretty green frame to go with the art print. She could already picture it hanging on the wall outside his bedroom door. Just when she was entering her shipping information and credit card number, a loud knock interrupted her thoughts. 

"Come in," she said, her heart starting to race as she purchased the gift, but she calmed down right away when she saw who it was. "Advanced Calculus. How was your weekend?"

But the other woman was looking up and down the hallway suspiciously before she pulled the door closed and rushed toward Jessica's desk. "We don't have time to chat," she said in a loud, harsh whisper as she planted her palms on the desk.

"We don't?" Jessica asked softly, meeting her wide eyed gaze.

"No, we do not. Listen carefully, because we need to act quickly."

"Is something wrong?" Jessica asked, but her friend just shook her head and hit the desk with her palm a few times. 

"No! Now listen! Bradley had to drop me off a little early this morning, so I was in the math supply closet minding my own business when I saw Dr. Rosenthal walk by. And I said good morning. And then he said, 'It's always a good morning when you can calculate the area inside the donut you just ate,' just like he always does. Hmmm.... now I understand why Bradley likes it when I hang out with a very harmless old man at work...."

Jessica was gesturing for her to get to the point.

"Oh, yes, right! So, good old Walter Rosenthal stood there and looked at me like he had some hot gossip to share, which is wild, because I think he's at least seventy five, and he never talks about anyone. But I could tell. So, we stood there in the supply closet doorway, and he just unloaded about Brian."

"What did he say?" Jessica gasped. 

"That Brian is taking a leave of absence! Apparently his wife walked in on him and a TA. But since she's not his TA, the university doesn't even care." Jessica was about to tell her that she already knew all of this information, but she kept her mouth shut as she continued. "But the real kick in the ass is that Brian is suddenly taking time off to work on his marriage! His wife is making him!"

"Really?" Jessica asked, leaning closer. 

"Yes! And I didn't even get to the good part yet!" She was hitting the desk again as she jumped around. "You can thank me later for solving all your problems."

"I can?" Jessica asked, wishing she'd get on with it.

"Mmhmm. You see, Dr. Rosenthal just so happens to hold not just one, but two PhDs."

"He does?"

"He does! Mathematics and physics. Physics, Jessica! And he's going to be filling in as the interim head for the science department while Brian is off. And Dr. Rosenthal told me that he will be off for the rest of the month!"

"The rest of the month...." Jessica's gaze shifted away from her face when she realized it was only the second day of the month. Then she gasped. "The rest of the month!"

"Yes! And how long does it take to complete a tenure review?"

Jessica's heart was pounding so hard, she thought she was going to be sick, whether from nerves or excitement, she wasn't exactly sure. "Three to four weeks."

"Three to four weeks!" She was back to pounding on Jessica's desk as she whispered as loudly as anyone possibly could. "You need to get Rosenthal to review your tenure. And you need to get him to start it today."

"I can't ask him to do that," Jessica whispered as her heart sank. "It's so much work, and he's just an interim department head. And since he has tenure, they probably aren't even offering to pay him more for taking over."

"You can ask him, and you will! This is your chance. Anyone with half a brain can see how hard you work around here and how much your students appreciate you."

Jessica chewed on her lip and looked down at her lap. This was the kind of opening she'd spent the past year blindly hoping for. "I suppose he's got all the right credentials: he has a PhD in a scientific field, he's tenured, and he has more than ten years of teaching experience."

"Let's go," her friend said, still pounding on the desk. "Right now. Come on."

With a nod, Jessica was on her feet and reaching for her discarded suit coat. There really was no time to waste if she wanted this to get anywhere. But her hands were shaking on her way to the elevator, and she had a hard time pushing the button. "I'm nervous," she muttered, feeling like an idiot as she buttoned her jacket and ran her hands over the fabric. 

"There's no reason to be. I promise," her friend replied. "Rosenthal is very reasonable. I'll introduce you, and then you can chat and see what he has to say. The worst he can tell you is no."

Jessica had already subconsciously gotten her hopes up that this whole thing might work out, and when she reached his office over in the math building, she was starting to feel faint. He had to say yes. He absolutely had to. If he did, she would take back every mean thing she ever said about all of the old guys at this college. 

"Come in," called out a voice, and Jessica hadn't even realized that her friend already knocked on the door. Dr. Rosenthal looked a little stern at first in his reading glasses, but as soon as he saw who it was, he said, "It's a little early for lunch and curriculum talk, isn't it?"

"Dr. Rosenthal, have you met Dr. Reed? From the Physics department?"

He immediately stood and stuck out his hand, and Jessica felt a little bad shaking it with her clammy one. "Good morning, Dr. Rosenthal. It's nice to meet you."

"Yes, yes. But it's always a good morning when you can calculate the area inside the donut you just ate."

Jessica smiled, because apparently that was his go-to line. "A calculus joke? I like that. A good use of integration. But I prefer the physics version that claims a donut is fundamentally the same as a coffee mug."

"You know the topologist joke!"

"I'm pretty sure they don't let you have your physics PhD unless you do," she said with a tiny smile.

"Well, what can I do for the two of you?" he asked, glancing at his watch. "I need to meet with Dean Walters in thirty minutes, so I don't have very much time."

"I just informed Dr. Reed that you'll be taking over things in the science department for a few weeks while Dr. Conley is... unavailable."

Jessica had to swallow three times until her mouth felt wet enough to form actual words again. "And as a result, I hate to take up any more of your time, but my tenure review with Dr. Conley has been continually delayed. I was actually planning on talking to him about it again this morning, but that's when I heard he isn't even on campus right now." She was shaking slightly again; she never was any good at telling a lie, even a little white one.

"I'm not surprised," Rosenthal replied before pursing his lips in disgust. "Seems like he was busy doing other things, I suppose. Getting his work done was perhaps the last thing on his mind." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You still need to be reviewed again?"

Jessica shook her head. "I need to be reviewed for the first time, actually."

His brow furrowed. "How long have you been at the school?"

"Almost two years."

His eyebrows shot up. "Two years? And Dr. Conley never gave you a tenure review?" She started to shake her head, embarrassed all over again that she had managed to derail her own career by sleeping with him. Luckily Rosenthal saved her from having to speak just then. "Of course. Of course. It should have already been taken care of," he mumbled, shuffling papers around on his desk. "Just let me find my calendar."

The two women watched as he pulled out an enormous, old fashioned schedule keeper and a pen. Jessica's heart was beating so erratically now, she was afraid of what she would say if she opened her mouth. "I'm really rather booked up now, as I'm sure you can understand," he murmured. "But perhaps we can sit down together on Wednesday at lunchtime? I'll need a copy of your schedule to start with, and a copy of your students and their grades."

"I can have that to you this morning," she blurted out.

He smiled as he wrote in his calendar. "Ah, yes. I always did appreciate a professor who keeps up with their grades. The only other thing we will need is another tenured staff member with a PhD who won't mind writing a secondary report and signing off on my findings."

"I'll do it."

Jessica turned to look at her friend as tears welled in her eyes. It was one thing to ask Dr. Rosenthal to give up hours and days of his spare time to sit in on her lectures and critique everything and write a massive report, but this was something else entirely. It would eat up all of her spare time.

"No, I can't ask you to do that, Advanced Calculus," Jessica whispered as her vision blurred behind her glasses. 

"Okay, well you didn't ask. I offered," she replied with a completely neutral expression. 

Rosenthal looked between the two of them before saying, "That's settled then. Just get your schedule and your grade book to me later today, and expect to see me sitting in on your classes."

"Thank you," Jessica practically gasped, reaching to shake his hand again before she turned toward the other woman who was holding the door open for her. Once they were alone in the quiet hallway, her lips started shaking with unshed tears. "You didn't have to do that."

She just shrugged. "I'll have to be one hundred percent honest in what I write about, but I don't think that will be an issue. And... I don't think you fully appreciate how much I hate Brian Conley. Or how much I like you and want you to succeed." Jessica hiccupped as she tried not to cry while her friend started to walk away. "I have a Calculus lecture calling my name, but I'll talk to you later."

Jessica walked through the long corridor to the elevator and cried the entire way back to her office, but she felt better than she had in a very long time.

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

Jake was eating lunch while Bradshaw talked his ear off about getting his Bronco detailed. If he wasn't actively putting food into his mouth, he would have fallen asleep. "That's fascinating," he murmured. 

"Right? I have one of the only 1973 models in pristine condition in the state. The whole state."

Jake tuned him out when his phone vibrated in his pocket, and relief washed over him when he saw it was a text from Jessica. Finally, something interesting. 

Any chance you want to meet me at Chippy's for a drink later? And many have a sleepover at my place?

He almost dropped his phone as he texted back as quickly as he could. A Sam Adams after work with his hot girlfriend? Absolutely. A sleepover during the week? Color him committed.

When he showed up at Chippy's at 6:30 just like she had suggested, the place was packed, but there was no sign of her. So he made his way up to the bar where Chippy just blinked at him as he wiped up a nonexistent spill with his towel. 

"Hi," Jake greeted. 

"She's not here," he replied. 

Jake nodded slowly. "She's meeting me soon. Can I get two pints, please?"

Chippy tossed the towel aside and grabbed two glasses, setting them down a little hard in front of Jake once they were full. Then he slid a dish of peanuts next to them while Jake took out his wallet. 

"Perfect," he drawled, handing Chippy a ten with a smile. "You have a nice night." He grabbed an empty hightop with two stools and settled in, nursing his beer and cracking a few peanuts open.

He smiled as he thought about the first time Jessica invited him to her little dive bar paradise. She'd been so excited to talk to him about her lecture and her journals. He'd probably fallen a little bit in love with her that night, if he was being honest. The longer he sat alone and waited, he was reminded of the night she thought he stood her up. If that five mile run had taken him any longer, he doubted he would be here today. 

It was like he could sense her before he saw her, and Jake was out of his seat as Jessica wove around the tables gracefully in her high heels to get to him. "Jake!" she gasped, pushing her glasses up her nose with the backs of her fingers before flinging her arms around his neck. 

"Hey, Smart Girl," he whispered, kissing her while Chippy kept a close eye on things. "Did you have a good day?"

She squealed before chasing his lips for another kiss. Just when things were on the verge of becoming a little too hot for their current setting, she released him with a big smile. "You'll never believe what happened!"

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

I love Sugar. She's bestie material. She's everything. Let's make this happen! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 17

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[fatesundress]

⭑ observations ii. tom riddle x reader

part i here.

summary. two weeks after your last encounter with tom shatters all of your previous observations, tensions are high, and eventually, something's gotta give. (it's tom. he’s giving head)

tags. smut (so. so much. minors BE GONE TO WHENCE YOU CAME!), fem anatomy + reader is referred to as a woman by someone, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, again implied tall!tom or short!reader (take it however you prefer), jealous tom does not understand friendship but then again neither does reader apparently, a little wine is had, the room of requirement is used shamelessly as a plot device, did i mention smut, i’ve lost my mind etc etc.

note. this is a part two, so go ahead and read the first part and come back if you'd like :) obligatory preface: it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also woahh was not expecting the love on my last post so thank you! i'm still trying to figure this whole acc out so support, questions, (requests? never done those before) anything is appreciated ♡

word count. 6.3k

The next two weeks are agony. You don’t, in fact, stop meeting with Godefrey to study, because you do, in fact, still need a good mark in Ancient Runes and for all his faults he can reach the tallest shelves and he’s a faster writer than you. Also, Tom Riddle is fantastic with his hands but this does not make him God.

You find pureblood politics a bit archaic. You find muggle courting a bit stifling. This leaves very little space for what took place between you and Tom in the middle of a corridor two weeks ago (you can’t stop wincing at how insane that sounds) and very little patience for his utterly original and not-at-all entitled request that you halt your studies with Godefrey. Godefrey doesn’t stick his hands up your skirts while the two of you are studying, doesn’t silence your gasps with a shush and a finger to your mouth, doesn’t — wouldn’t (you’re so imaginative when you want to be) — tell you to keep reading as his thumb draws circles between your legs, tell you to repeat the words that get caught in your throat, tell you how much he likes it when your eyes go dumb and glassy and all you can say is his name. So, really, Tom should have nothing to worry about.

“I swear,” Selwyn says, picking at a plate you don’t think she’s actually eaten anything off with how distracted she is, “he’s looked over here at least three times.”

You don’t dare glance at who you know she’s talking about. “You’re obsessed.”

Pot. Kettle. Whatever.

“Are you sure you didn’t do something to upset him in Potions? Didn’t botch something that might mar his perfect record?”

You flick her forehead and she scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Selwyn. I handle myself just as well in Potions as he does — he wouldn’t —” Wouldn’t have complimented your rapport if that weren’t true, wouldn’t have said you communicate efficiently, make a good pair, probably wouldn’t have — fingered you in the hallway? — yes, that too. Slipped your mind. So easy to forget.

You take a long exhale, and smile impassively at her. “I didn’t botch anything, trust me.”

She finally takes a bite of food. “Maybe I did something…”

And then she’s lost in thought again, eating now, at least, and you shake your head softly as you watch what are likely a million different theories flitting through her head.

“Morning,” Tom says to you when you enter Potions after breakfast, a delicate smile tugging at his lips.

You have, of course, trained for this. 

It’s your fifth — sixth? — time sharing a table with him since that night and it is somehow easier by nature and harder by anticipation (of what, you have no idea) every time. The first was terrible. Unsalvageable and without a silver lining. It had taken almost an hour that morning to charm the violent hues of red and purple spanning the column of your throat, and ultimately, the marks were so persistent you’d forgone the glamours and decided to just wear a turtleneck. You’d been fortunate it was completely inconspicuous to wear such a thing in December, but that was about all there’d been to be grateful for. You hadn’t been able to look at Tom all class and his hand had brushed yours once to take a phial from you and you’d flinched so sharply it would have shattered on the floor if he hadn’t caught it. And he’d smiled, like he’s smiling now, a soft, “Careful,” that honestly, for a short moment, made you want him dead.

Now you could speak just fine, look him in the eyes in practised intervals, and almost, impressively, make articulate conversation with him again. Make stupid comments about Slughorn and Lestrange and bear the weight of his grin knowing it was there for you.

His, he’d called you. A very funny thing.

“Morning,” you answer on a smiling sigh, sleepy but jovial all the same. 

You deserve applause for this.

“Tired?”

“Mhm — Essays for Ancient Runes are due Friday and it’s been keeping us up all night.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve yet to ascertain. Your research has been put temporarily on hold, scattered and splintered by the revelation that your first observation was, admittedly, a little bit off, and you have no means of figuring out a look like that when you can’t even begin to figure out anything else.

“Has it?” he asks, a tinge less friendly.

“Well,” you say, grinding the lacewing flies, “that’s commonplace, isn’t it? You take all sorts of advanced classes, I’m sure you understand the work it takes.”

“...Hm.”

That’s it. That’s all you get from him.

And if Selwyn’s concern over you botching your work in Potions wasn’t already, obviously dispelled, the glee on Slughorn’s face as he assesses your and Tom’s cauldron should do it.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” He claps a hand over Tom’s back, regarding you both with pride so thick it clouds his eyes, like he's drifted into a revery of the future (you and Tom, you expect, are his most prized graduates, making history under his name, proving his immense wisdom) before he appears to return to Earth. “Ten points between the two of you, hm? Very, very good — though, of course, no surprises there!”

He chuckles to himself as he evaluates the other students, and you catch a horrified wheeze of Godefrey’s name (bless his heart) as one of the cauldrons in the back begins to sputter and froth.

You look to Tom with some droll little comment at making it to the end of term with top marks, but his gaze is burning into Godefrey’s table in such a way you wouldn’t be surprised if it was what was causing his cauldron to boil.

Well. Perhaps not, then.

You and Godefrey hand in your essay that Friday with more relief than apprehension — you both decide it’s quite good — and you laugh loudly and breathlessly as he picks you up and thanks you a thousand times, spinning you until you’re dizzy. You refrain from making any promises to attend his Quidditch games, but he vows to let you have the snitch he catches.

And Slughorn, you come to find, was not exaggerating his elation at your skill. After trotting after you on your walk back from Ancient Runes to invite you to the last Slug Club dinner of the year, your spirits are high with the blissful satisfaction of a job well done and a night to celebrate it with.

You can breathe, finally, when it’s the last week of school before Christmas break and Selwyn’s zipping the back of a last-minute dress you purchased in Hogsmeade.

“Gorgeous,” Selwyn says with a grin. “Wish this school would have a bloody ball so I could really dress you up.”

“Buy a doll, Selwyn; you can dress them however you like.”

“You are such a —”

You burst into laugher, swatting her wand away as she pokes your side with it. 

“Just — go then, before I hex you.”

“All right, all right!” you concede, arms raised in surrender. “Don’t ruin all your hard work now.”

“Oh,” she calls on your way out the door. You turn and there’s a mischievous look in her eyes as she tucks her wand back in her pocket. “And do tell me before I leave tomorrow if Riddle stares at you all night.”

You groan as if it’s a truly abominable thing to imagine. Riddle, staring with those dark eyes of his? You, the centre of his attention? Ghastly. You daresay you’d never recover from the horror of it.

“Don’t leave before I tell you how remarkably uneventful a night it was,” you say with a sidelong glare, and leave before she can edge in the final word.

You have no idea what a Slug Club supper typically consists of, but you imagine for Christmas he’s gone a little further with his festivities. His office is glittering in hues of green and red and fleecy, snow-dappled gold. The lights overheard (some similar charm to the one in the Great Hall but a tad less complex, you think) drip and then vanish into the air like squeezed berries, and the berries — served with pastries and ice cream — taste like they must be enchanted with something.

Selwyn was right that the standard dress isn’t quite formal enough for a ball, but it’s… formal. The boys are in clean-cut dress robes and the girls are in fine gowns of different lengths. By the overwhelming number of them you recall being archetypes of Slytherin pureblood fanaticism, it makes sense how expensive they all look. You yourself brush up nicely, if not a bit more frugally, but you haven’t been to an event like this at the school yet, and that’s exciting on its own.

It’s another degree of training (is there going to be a marathon? Are you at war?), a step up from your preparations before Potions every other day, to be ready when Tom Riddle enters the room a respectable five minutes late with a gleam about him more captivating than any of the lights.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn exclaims, and ushers him into a seat you remark before Tom is even in it is discomfitingly near to yours. “We’re all here at last… Supper, then? Hope you aren’t too full already, I’ve got the House Elves running laps!”

You’re spared Tom’s closeness by a Ravenclaw couple sat in the chairs between you, their hands clasped under the table while they sip wine from their goblets, and you only realise the length of your observation when Tom glances at you from the spot over, and you startle yourself into reaching for your own goblet and pretending to enjoy Slughorn’s bitter wine.

You eat. You listen to cluttered, unending tales of Slughorn’s time at school and how he earned his post. You drink, and then you regret not drinking before eating because there’s only a very light, very nice buzz that warms you when you finish your cup, and the Ravenclaw couple is — oh, wait, it isn’t just them — they’re standing up to dance as a gramophone sparks to life and a low, dulcet instrumental begins to play. There are now two notably empty seats separating you from Tom.

What had you said this night would be? Blissful satisfaction? 

You couldn’t blame Selwyn for suggesting you’d blundered Potions — you didn’t feel exceptionally smart right now.

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,” Tom says, pulling the chair beside you.

Where is the bottle of wine? No. Nevermind. You behave regrettably enough sober.

You manage a simple, “And yet.”

“...And yet.” His lips quirk before he takes a drink from his goblet. 

You lament for a second that you’ve only actually kissed those lips once. They spent a great deal longer on your neck.

“Will you be here over break?” he asks, and it isn’t an unreasonable thing to ask, you suppose.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to know whether to expect you or not.”

Expect you… No, yes — revert to observation two: unusual is not an apt enough word for him.

It takes you a moment to conjure a response befitting polite dinner conversation. That is, after all, still what this is.

“I suppose you can. I’ll be busy, of course.”

Well, you didn’t say you conjured something good. It’s a big fat lie. Placating, vague, empty. And you suspect Tom knows that.

“Pity.”

Yes, he knows. He’s all quiet amusement again.

You stare off, satisfied to be left alone —

"And what is it that'll be taking so much of your time?"

“Well, I'm —” And now you have to build the lie — “I’ve told Godefrey I’ll attend to his Quidditch practise. Since the pitch isn’t in use.”

God, it’s so stupid it’s almost impressive — you don’t even know if Godefrey will be here over break, and you could have chosen any number of excuses that would pique Tom’s interest less than it’s apparently consistently piqued by the mention of your study partner. 

There’s that strange, indecipherable look again. Riddle is a perfect surname for him, you decide then, and you almost laugh at yourself for it, but that would probably not go over well should he ask what’s so funny.

“Have you, now? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s hardly charity.”

“Hm, it’s kind of you to think so.”

You huff, tipping your goblet back to swallow the last meagre dregs of your wine.

“You look lovely.”

It’s just a little bit — just a tiny, straggling little bit of elderflower that captures your throat — and you cough into your goblet. “Thank — thank you.”

And, well, he looks lovely too. Obviously. Sickeningly so. You know little about his personal life but you’re positive he’s at least a half-blood, if not muggle-born, and it makes you wonder the influence of his renownedly plain black suit in a crowd of neat, long robes.

He manages with little effort to look better than all of them at their best.

His eyes drift over you appreciatively, quick enough not to be rude but — enough. (Enough that you daresay you might never recover from the horror of it.) You adjust under his gaze even when it’s situated on your face, far too heavy a thing for you to carry. “Does Godefrey call you lovely?”

What?

You blink at him, your mouth is probably open and you probably look stupid but he’s so… irritating. Yes, of course Godefrey calls you lovely. Godefrey tells you you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met (after his mother), and he drowns you with sherbet lemons at no cost, and he writes at the speed of light to match the quickness with which you recite your textbook, and none of it means anything. Tom is just —

“Unbelievable…”

He quirks a brow. “What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable, Riddle. Is it impossible for you to comprehend that I might have friends? That Godefrey is my friend?”

“Well, memory serves me right that you seemed a bit confused on the conventions of friendship last you mentioned it. Do forgive my uncertainty.”

He — that was —

“Well, that’s because we are not friends.”

“No.” He leans in. “We are not.”

You push your chair from the table with all the grace you can manage for such an abrupt thing: a tight, impersonal smile on your face as you walk away and approach Slughorn, only realising when you get there that your empty goblet is clutched in your hand like you’re trying to strangle it.

Whatever he sees on your face, he isn’t drunk enough not to frown at. “Ah, our newest gem — hardly seen you all night! Not leaving already, are we?”

You glance at the clock. It isn’t as though you’re being impolite by abandoning his party in the middle of the event. It’s quite late, the servers are stuck to the walls with little to do, and most of the room has divided into waltzing pairs.

“I’m taking my friend to the train station tomorrow, sir. Unfortunately I need to be up quite early.”

Yes, yes, it’s all so tragic. You’re depressed to go.

“Such a shame,” Slughorn frets, wobbling a tad and balancing himself on the wall. “You’ll be all right getting back? Not at all dizzy, are you?” His laugh is cleaved by a loud hiccough, and then he laughs even more. “My, well, I myself will need to be carried!”

“...I’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all — there’s — hm… ah, Tom!”

No, no — is it bad you almost reach over and slap your palm over your professor’s mouth? Is it at all impressive that you don’t? You should look on the bright side in moments like these. You should admire your restraint.

But of course, Slughorn’s eyes don’t fall upon Tom for nothing. He's halfway across the room already, and Slughorn must have spotted him approaching to achieve this brilliant solution. “Tom can escort you back, no?”

Tom (unforgivably) is beside you now, a very mean, very pretty smile on his face.

“Not too much to ask, I should think? You know the castle best. Head Boy — sometimes I still can’t believe it!”

You look up at Tom and your jaw is clenched where you’ve since put down your goblet. There is too much tension in you to know what to do with, and he looks positively thrilled.

“It’s hardly charity, sir.” He holds out his arm.

You wonder what spell would catch him most off-guard if you were to blast him in the face right now.

Slughorn claps his hands together. “Ha! Yes, well… perfect, then! Off now, the two of you, off now. Do have a good — ” He hiccoughs again — “rest!”

You don’t even bother the diplomacy of smiling at Slughorn as your arm loops through Tom’s and you’re exiting the party. 

Neither of you say a word on the journey, and that’s very well.

If you could just get back to bed without speaking to him you may still consider it a good night. You may be able to push his strangeness and his entitlement and the annoying way his hair falls to another day, when he pesters you about Godefrey’s nonexistent Quidditch practise, which — come to think of it — you do think he told you he'd be headed home for the holidays. You really fumbled that one.

And then Tom’s thumb is brushing the bare skin of your arm and your walk stutters a bit. But he doesn’t mention it, and so neither do you.

And then he’s drawing down your elbow to your forearm so softly it almost feels like he isn’t touching you at all. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you.

And then your arm, without really meaning for it to, is slipping from his and his hand is holding yours instead, feather-light as his fingers clasp yours and your breath is not the same as it was when you left.

He doesn’t mention it. He just keeps going.

His fingers work back up your arm and you shiver as they drag across your shoulder, gaze searing your neck as the soft digits find their way to your jaw, and you get the sense he’s remembering just how much he liked the taste of it, and you’re… you’re allowing it all again. You’re leaning in, you’re seeking him out, you want him flush against you and even that might not be satisfactory.

You are, in the end, a half-decent observer and a terrible liar.

You’re grabbing his hand with a small amount of direction and a great deal of meaning. You suppose it's because, historically, you’ve proven to have trouble with words in moments like these, and you don’t really know where you’re taking him but god, you know where you want him. Somewhere soft, this time, thick enough that you can fist your hands around it and melt. Somewhere he can hover over you, maybe hold you down a little, just until — maybe, miraculously — you might make him break a little too. Clamber over his lap. Make him yours.

“Tom,” you mouth, some question in the way your eyebrows knit.

The moment you say his name — the instant — he’s pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours. And, ah, right, that’s what his lips feel like. You’d almost forgotten. 

This kiss is not chaste, hardly tender. It resists in that it asks you to push, to plead, to take this for yourself to prove how badly you want it, and he smiles into it when you do. And then, sated by your efforts, he lets you have him. You’re gripping the collar of his suit in your hands as his wander appreciatively over the back of your dress, pulling you into him as the kiss deepens. He’s savouring you like you’re something religious that’s been offered to him, and there’s the taste of wine on his tongue and you’re still here, aware enough that the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

“I've been thinking," he says between kisses, “about the way you felt when I touched you. I've been thinking about how long it might take before you need it again." 

You gasp at the sensation, and god, god, you've been wondering too, haven't you?

You’re pulling him impossibly closer and something hard is pressing into your hip and you clutch tighter onto his shirt as you moan into his mouth. You need it off, you think, and — has your dress been clinging to you like this all night? You need that off too. You need skin on skin. You careen him backwards without aim, your mind a muddled mess of all the many things your body is screaming it needs, like this is fucking imperative; to give it up would be catastrophic.

You suppose, based on what you’ve read, that that’s how the Room of Requirement works, but it’s still funny to think it would apply to this.

It hurts to remove yourself from him to watch in dumb awe as the door forms in the stone (to see the dark, languid shape of his eyes bearing down on you, the wet, stained pink of his lips), and Tom seems to recover from the revelation much faster than you.

His mouth is on yours once more, a hungry kiss; his free hand at your waist, guiding you through the door and shutting it carelessly behind him. 

He’s like fire against you, radiating as he presses down on you, his hand tangled in your hair and his hips flush against yours. You shiver as his mouth starts to move down (a cheap trick — he hasn’t forgotten how much you liked it the last time) from your jaw to your throat, as his lips trail down your chest and you're shivering into the warmth of him.

You’ve heard it said before, in some romantic sense, that it’s sometimes hard to tell where you end and someone else begins. 

This is not like that.

You've never been more aware of anything than the point where you and him meet.

You’re tugging at him blindly again, trusting in the nature of the Room like this isn't the first time you've been in it, and then you're stumbling down onto a bed you're quite sure wasn't there a moment ago (people say magic is a neutral force but evidently this is not the fucking case), fingers carding through Tom's hair as his body pins you into the mattress.

His mouth is molten hot as you squirm and pant beneath him, your breath coming faster than it ever has. Everything feels sharper and deeper and more intense under his touch, every sensation heightened until it's almost impossible to tell pleasure from pain, his tongue from his teeth.

How did it take you this long to do this again? To need him like this?

And his — you should really have the mind to see the mistake in all of this but perhaps that's for later — his fingers are pulling your sleeves down, propping your back to arch as he reaches under you to unzip your dress, apparently too impatient to sit you up and take it off properly so he just bunches it around your waist instead. There’s a moment where he stops to look at you, your chest exposed to him in the dim sconce-light, and then his mouth returns to circle your breast and you're biting down on a pillow to hold back the whimpering gasp that seeks to escape you. He hums around your flesh, and then he’s at your sternum, kissing a stripe to your belly button before pushing past the dress he's left ringed around your abdomen.

You shimmy under the weight of him to prop your head up — to see past the mass of silk that obscures his face from you as moves lower and lower, hands spanning your hips to keep you still.

His face hovers above your thighs, and he doesn’t move.

“Did you enjoy my fingers?" he asks. 

At that you freeze, thighs pressing together to bury the hand that's rising between them. 

Tom smiles. “Hm, you did." 

And then he spreads your legs apart, one hand pushing your underwear aside and regarding you with delicate, shameless appetite — something that might even be adoration: like this is all he ever wanted you to want.

“Do you think you'd enjoy my mouth, too?"

Words are gone. There's nothing left in you.

His head moves happily between your knees, holding them apart, pressing kisses to the base of your thighs. Your hands flail from the sheets, desperate to grip something else and you hold back a sound that feels like irritation and need at the same time. You need him closer, higher than this. He knows. You can feel his smile biting into your skin.

And then you manage a nod though you're not even sure he's looking at your face anymore (and what a picture to imagine he is) and you worry momentarily it won’t be enough for him — that he’ll ask you to be nice and say it out loud for him — but he hums with something merciful, and — his chin dips. You catch the smallest glimpse of his tongue before it’s on you, wet and slow and unrelenting and you say his name, but it’s a mewl; you choke on it. It sounds like a cry.

Pitiful, needy, undone. Just how he wants you.

You think all efforts to remain even remotely composed are thrown to the wind as soon as his tongue is lapping at you, fast and then slow, everything you want and not even remotely close. He sinks all his weight down as if he can predict the moment you'll writhe before you do — and you do. And with his grip he tells you to endure it. You only need him to say it with his hands and his mouth but he breathes back, licking his lips and he actually says it. “Be good.”

That makes your breath hitch and your cheeks swell impossibly hotter, and reality is a small glint in your peripheral where everything else is burning red. “Y-you’re—”

His mouth returns to you, tongue catching your clit in a drawn-out, agonising motion, and you gasp and lurch forward to inch through the sensation, craving more, more, more. Reason is lost on you, a throbbing familiarity forcing you to grind your teeth down on the pillow to stop yourself from telling him to — you don’t even know. Finish you. Abandon all reluctance. Just let you come as hard as you know he wants you to.

But he pauses, observant as he starts to work his fingers against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push one inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat, pillow be damned.

You do your best to breathe through it, and you know he knows how to make you unfold like this, so the meticulous lightness of his ministrations tells you he’s trying to keep it from you now. You’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping onto his hand regardless; his lips puffy, his gaze unnervingly, dizzyingly carving you in two.

“Just,” you rasp, clutching desperately at his wrist. “Tom, please.” 

Your begging must be music to his ears. (It’s a rare, unplanned fifth observation: that you think he’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name like that.)

He adds a finger. It’s encircling you, first, and no amount of restraint can stop the harsh gasp that leaves you, but then it’s his tongue and two fingers and he’s pushing into you how you wanted, and he makes a pleased sound against you, gripping you tighter with his free hand, still not allowing you movement and fuck, are you trying. What you're feeling now — the need, the want, everything —  is more than rational thought. Your mind goes blank, and all that matters is this, him, right here and now; nothing else exists, not even for a second. You moan, a low, throaty noise that's a little too loud, a little too intense; you can't recall if anything has ever come from you quite like it and Tom devours you at the sound.

More, you agree; it's almost an obsession in you now; more, more, please, anything and everything.

It’s the precision of his touch — not some bored, hurried transgression — that brings your hands helplessly to his hair.

“Tom,” you whine, holding him tight, and the purr of his mouth finding you again is something destructive.

As soon as you feel another swell of something deep down, your mouth is dropping open.

His tongue is sliding through you, fingers curling, and then your clit is in his mouth, and he’s watching you between your thighs as your eyes clench shut, and you’re coming.

Your voice breaks somewhere in the catastrophe of it. Your body spasms, electric down to every atom, and he pins you down through it. He doesn’t grant you the reprieve of escaping the frenzied, glorious torture of it. His mouth still lingers. His tongue moves thankful and unrelenting. 

He takes all of you, and you think this is destruction — creation — both. How terrifyingly similar they suddenly feel.

His lips are swollen and slick when he finally detaches them from you and you want to kiss him, but he’s leaning back to admire his work. You swallow, unable to blame him for it because you look down at yourself and — this is something else. You’re dripping down his chin. You're shaking. Your legs are still clenching around his torso. They’re holding him so tight you can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt.

But he just rolls off of you. Adjusts his trousers and your abdomen flutters and you think, don’t.

You don’t even realise you’re reaching for him until your hand is around his wrist and you’re still fucking sighing through the come-down, panting into the hot air.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers damp on your chin as he holds you. You make a note that that’s the second time he’s done that. That you thought it was strangely intimate the first time and nothing’s changed other than how much more you like it.

And it doesn’t really feel like you can help it but crawl with gooey, trembling legs onto his lap. Doesn’t feel like you can help it when you lean in and capture his lips with yours, moan unabashedly into his mouth at the stiffness that presses against your core when you do, steal his tongue and the taste of you on it.

When he pulls away he’s looking at you like he doesn’t think you can actually do this. Like you’d just crumble the moment you tried.

A low, determined protest rises in your throat and you’re kissing him again. You’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, you’re trembling to reach for his trousers. 

When you can finally shrug his shirt off, press yourself against him, feel that skin on skin you wanted so badly, you find it somehow even more suffocating than its absence. You’re left wanting a more you aren’t able to even conceptualise, but you’re grinding involuntarily against him and his teeth are scraping your neck and he's hissing at the sensation, and — yes, there’s more.

Your breath is staggered when your hips stutter into a roll and you — fuck. You’re tugging desperately to remove his belt and he smiles against your throat as he takes your hands and guides them to him. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and you’re spreading your legs to usher him where you want, clawing at his chest without even meaning to.

Tom’s taking off his belt, and he’s pulling down his trousers just enough to bare himself to you, and maybe he’s right that you can’t manage it yourself but he stops his assistance like the intrigue of finding out is too good to resist. There's something both intimate and imperious, in a way, about the way he's looking at you now; it's a kind of focus and intensity and withheld hunger just for you; and you're more than happy to give yourself over to it, to let his hands and his eyes and his mouth claim you for his own. To claim him for yours, at last.

You do. You struggle for it. He’s very patient. 

But then it’s there — more — as you finally sink down on him and bite his shoulder and he shudders a low, pained exhale, his hands clutching your waist.

There’s a silent, suspended moment where neither of you move. The room feels entirely still. 

Your lips quiver over his pulse, and your stomach flips at the intensity of it, the undeniable rate of his desire beneath you. You smile against him now, like he always does to you, conscious enough to mumble into his neck, “Mine.”

Tom stutters inside you, fingers gripping you impossible tighter as you dare to think he even gasps. You dare to think he likes it.

And then one of his hands grabs your jaw and his kiss is searing. He thrusts upward and you cry into his mouth, searching to match his pace in a way that you appreciate, for once, he seems unlearned in. 

It’s all a bit messy, a bit new, palms in fists, in skin, in hair, digging for every part they haven’t already taken from. The sound in the back of Tom’s throat is divine, the feeling of him inside you as he slips his hand back between your legs — like he needs everything, like he knows you do too — it’s ineffable. It coils somewhere deep, touches something you didn’t know existed. Your hips are rotating, thighs still soft and slack from coming apart on his tongue, but you’re determined. It feels like finding even ground. It feels like something you deserve: to make him feel how you did.

Your head rolls back, eyes pinching shut in bliss, but Tom is there at your jaw again, forcing your blurry gaze back to him.

His hips are inching even further, the intensity of his pace as he adjusts to you making you dizzy. You think, realistically, there’s sound coming out of you, but you aren’t entirely sure when it’s so close to him, when your mouth is between his fingers and your ears are ringing and he’s looking at you like you’re made for him. 

“Mine.” And it isn’t a dismissal of your own claim but a confirmation that one will not be without the other. His voice is raw and breathy and something about the way he says it makes you contract inadvertently around him, hands swatting his chest like they don’t know what else to do. There’s just too much.

You recognize you’re trying to say something. Some plea, a moan, his name (is there anything else left?), but you’re just babbling into his mouth and he holds you there. He doesn’t kiss you. It’s your failing words against his lips. He swallows whatever syllables try to shape them.

It’s there again when you need it most; the heavy, swirling feeling inside you as he snaps his hips, his fingers returning to your waist with punishing firmness. His breathing accelerates, low in his throat, and you push harder against him. Your vision is gone again, head held in his hands to keep from rolling back so that, you suspect, he can watch defeat split you down the middle again — not over your shoulder, not with his head between your legs — with his eyes on yours, with every broken moan you let out so close to his face he can feel the breath of each one.

You’re grappling desperately at skin that doesn’t feel like enough, even though he’s rocking inside you, and you see the insanity of it, you see that it isn’t logical. Too much and not enough at once — you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t work, but it just is.

“Please,” you manage in a voice you don’t recognize. “Please, Tom, pleasepleaseplease —”

Had you said before it was foolish to call him forgiving? You take it back. He’s very eager to oblige you.

He finds some place inside of you and you don’t know quite what it is that he changes but it's new, uncharted, and you break there. You dissolve. You’re liquid in his hands as you sob, stuttering around him, trembling like you didn’t know was possible, and you swear — you swear you’re going to take him there with you. It isn’t that you could stop yourself if you tried but your body is gripping around him, fingers carving halved spheres into his skin, and you’re pushing down on him through the ecstasy — you’re forcing your eyes open so he can see you break, watch them flutter back all soft and pretty.

And you're sated by your ruin when it ruins him too.

The sound he makes is ragged. Undone. He can only bury it halfway with a kiss you think is actually more of a bite, twitching inside you as he fucks you through it.

You’re both lost in each other for a moment that feels detached from time, feeling his hips stutter to a halt, feeling your body soften. And he’s pulling out of you like it hurts, mouth falling open as he does. You wince at the loss, the sweet soreness between your legs, and you’re held only by the weight of him. You think — and you actually sway like the mere idea is too strong — that if it weren’t for his hands, you’d fall flat off the bed.

But he sort of lifts you off him, lays you down and watches you for a long time as if to decide something important before he's laying down beside you. You watch him too. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, and when there’s not a single curl left clinging to the sweat on your skin, he continues anyway. You let him trace your lips, your jaw, your nose, and somehow, a bit terrifyingly, your final observation: nothing about it feels unusual at all.

You did say he was yours.

[banquetwriter]

saw you asked for viktor x reader requestssss, may i ask for some fluffy modern au ones? love your blog!!

AN: tysm !! and yes i love for modern au!viktor bc maybe he has a chance to be happy :((

warnings: i mention the pandemic a lil and some sad stuff about his disability but over all fluff :), ooc viktor bc im not used to writing him rip

i feel like in any universe viktor has nightmares, in a modern world he would wake with a jolt of fear, drenched in sweat. eyes dark and sunken in. his leg is killing him and he sighs peering at the time. 2:34 am. ahh of course he cannot possibly get a full nights sleep.

he doesn’t want to wake you of course. you need your sleep, more than him but he just can’t handle it. the pain sometimes it’s just too much. he rubs his forehead reaching for his phone and dialing your number. to his delight and concern you awnser almost immediately. “viktor?” your worried voice says through the phone.

“are you ok? did something happen.” you ask, your voice isn’t tired- like it should be. “no- just another bad dream i’m afraid. why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked with a small amused smirk.

silence met him on the other end “darling you need to sleep-“ he tries to reason before you cut him off complaining about how he never sleeps.

definitely still a work-a-holic… can’t for a moment pull himself away from work. in a modern world he is definitely still a scientist… maybe working in the medical field? possibly! the tech world seems most likely….

he’d always have accesses to the newest gadgets and do-dads. stuff that blows your mind but for him? another tuesday. and for being as technologically advanced as he is he doesn’t care much for tv show or modern movies…

he’d like the classics of course but he strikes me more as a classic ligature guy… maybe just some self projecting but some gothic lit perhaps?

he also eats extremely healthy. and when he does eat it’s not to enjoy the food it’s purely to keep him going… and your snacking habits and fast food would amuse him slightly.

of course he’d get invited to speak at many tech (or medically i’m telling you i can see him in the prosthetic industry) events. jayce forcing him to get all black suit and tie fancy. which he would hate.

what he wouldn’t hate would be seeing you all done up pretty/handsome, wondering how he managed to trick you into falling in love with him.

viktor sat in front of his full length mirror (a space specifically for him to be able to down while getting ready) adjusting his tie before using his crutch to stand up. the only thought running through his mind was how much he didn’t wanna go

then he saw you rush out of the bathroom “ugh we are gonna be late” you said worried putting in your earrings or adjusting your own tie. but viktor didn’t here your complaint. he saw his beautiful partner. his love struck eyes followed as you rush to his mirror. he slipped a hand around your waist.

you turn to him finally done adjusting your outfit he just smiles back. “you clean up nice.” you whisper before planting a small kiss on his cheek. if you wear lipstick he admires the mark before regrettably rubbing the mark off.

and even if you don’t wear it he can feel the spot burn all night long as he watches jayce mingle through the crowd.

since his right leg is the leg he needs his crutch for i think it’s safe to assume he can’t drive. he most likely could when he was younger when he used the cane not the crutch but even then after a few years he most likely wouldn’t be able to

and even if it sounds a little uncharacteristic i think he would have a personal driver. he is definitely making bank in the tech (or medically yk yk) field, especially being an inventor.

so he wouldn’t have one to be an ass but simply because he cannot walk places and the modern world relies on cars… if you can drive he much prefers you to do it however.

during the pandemic since he is most likely immune compromised i don’t see a world where he goes out much before let alone after a global pandemic. which makes his anxiety worse.

it’s better for his pain to be able to run his business from home or a quarantined lab but his mental health suffers. when the band are lifted and your allowed to go out more he has a panic attacks a lot.

during zoom calls sometimes you’d be just out of frame holding his hand as you read or something. it took a while and a lot of convincing but he eventually started to go to therapy

ik big deal for mr i don’t deserve anything good in my life…

as his health declines and he is forced to stay home rather than choosing to stay home he becomes close to bed ridden. you quit your job to help care for him more full time. he hates it.

he hates the pitty looks from jayce and all the people that worked for hextech. he doesn’t have to worry about money of course… but he wishes the world would allow him more time.

i don’t know how modern the medicine is in piltover but i’m assuming it’s decently close to ours ??? and if so he would decline at about the same rate. if our modern world has better medicine than of course he takes advantage of it to a point

until having to pop 5 pills every three hours takes a toll and he slowly stops taking them.. but he always has you to remind him why he takes them. so after increasing his therapy sessions he starts to take them again.

i’d imagine he likes to spend every domestic moment he can. massaging your legs as they lay across his lap as you ramble on about whatever tv show your watching. chuckling at your reactions as he reads

being able to brush his teeth with you in the shower… just the pure domestic bliss he basks in. having a lonely childhood he is has never been more happy to experience a life with people he loves !!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sick

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of the Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get sick

It starts off easy enough.

You have a little headache but you get those a lot because Morsa says you don't drink enough water.

At dinner, your tummy feels a little icky and your Momma lets you only eat half your food after you burst into tears when she tries to make you eat more.

By the next day, everything is even worse.

Your head pounds. Your tummy rolls. Your body is sweaty and gross.

You groan as your bedroom door opens. Your bottom lip wobbles as you look at Momma before tears leak down your cheeks.

"Oh, princesse," She says, voice dripping in worry," What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

You tug fruitlessly at your pyjama top. "Off!" You demand through your tears. "Off!"

Momma approaches and the first thing she does is lay the back of her hand against your forehead. She breathes out a loud breath before she helps you take off your top.

You feel a little better but still quite hot and you whine when you're pulled into her arms.

She walks you to the Big Bed where Morsa is standing getting dressed.

She frowns when she sees the pair of you. "Hey," She says," I thought you were going to start breakfast."

"The princesse is sick," Momma replies," Here, take her. I'll call Emma and tell her that we're not coming in and grab some medicine."

Magda takes you instantly, tucking your head into her neck, before asking," We're not going in?"

"Princesse has a great immune system," Pernille says, already leaving to grab her phone," If she's sick, it's bad. We can't take her into training today."

"I think Sam said she had the flu a few days ago. Were we meant to take the princesse for a shot?"

"Probably," Pernille replies," But what's done is done. Get back into bed, all nice and cosy with her and pray she doesn't throw up on you."

●～●～●～●～

Momma comes back quickly but you don't really notice because your head feels bad and your nose is stuffy. Morsa is dragging her cool nails over your bare back and that kind of makes you feel better but not by much.

An in-ear thermometer checks how hot you are but you still don't pay attention to anything but how icky you're feeling.

"Not warm enough to go to hospital," Momma says over your head," But bad enough we need to keep an eye on her."

Morsa nods. "And medicine?"

"Right here. Want to give it to her?"

A syringe is placed in your mouth and Morsa shoots a few shots of medicine down your throat. Usually, you'd fight her on it but your limbs feel all weak and your head feels too heavy on her chest so you just go limp.

It doesn't help the icky feelings inside of you but you can't be bothered to see if moving will help either.

You retch though and Magda looks at Pernille with alarm. Pernille, well-practised in dealing with a sick version of you, pulls out a large cardboard sick bowl that Magda recognises she brought home with her months ago when she got a concussion.

It's rested underneath your chin as you retch again but, ultimately it's unneeded because you just breathe out a shaky, rattling breath and rest your head back on Magda's chest.

Magda looks at Pernille sceptically. "Do we really need that?"

Pernille gives her an unimpressed look. "Yes, we need it. Unless you want throw up on you like when she was a baby, then yes."

Magda wrinkles her nose. She loves you dearly but that period of time where you spat up part of everything you ate wasn't fun and she would hate to relive it.

●～●～●～●～

Eventually, the three of you migrate from the Big Bed to the sofa and Momma takes over for Morsa, who heads to the kitchen to make some plain toast.

It's all you can stomach but even nibbling a little bit of the crust is enough to make you retch. This time though, something comes up and the sick bowl is pressed under your chin to catch everything.

The moment it's over, you burst into tears. You had been so good all day and now you're sobbing and heaving every few breaths.

"I know, I know," Momma bounces you as Morsa disposes of the evidence," It's okay. It's better that it came out. You're such a strong girl, princesse. So strong and so brave and I wish I could make it better for you."

You doze off into a restless sleep soon after that, your body limp and sweaty.

Pernille passes you off to Magda. "I'm going to shower," She says," I'll try to be quick but I need to wash my hair. Keep her temperature down, no new medicine for another half an hour or so. If she wakes up, give her fluids and if she starts crying, she needs kisses."

Magda nods dutifully, slightly in awe of the way this comes to Pernille like second nature despite the fact that you rarely get ill.

You're settled for the most part and content to sleep but when you're reaching the twentieth minute or so of Pernille being gone you whine as you stir.

"Cold," You grunt," Wan' blanket."

"No, princesse," Magda says as she wipes a cold compress against your forehead," You're body's tricking you. You're very warm." So warm that you still haven't put on a t-shirt because your skin makes it so you're too sweaty and overheated within an instant.

"Cold," You insist," Blanket."

"No, princesse," Magda says again," You're warm."

You're slightly delirious and still very sleepy so you just kind of nod and let your eyes slip closed again, your forehead knocking against Magda's collarbone as you slip off to sleep again.

"Mmm," You hum in your sleep before your body is racked with coughs.

Pernille returns with hair that's still slightly damp. "I've run the bath. We'll get her into it to see if it helps her fever."

You're whiny and crying when you get in and don't stop until you puke up more of your food - although at this point it's mainly stomach acid - and all it does is cause a fresh wave of tears from everyone in the house.

"It'll be over quickly," Pernille promises Magda as she decides that it's better if they order dinner and curl up in bed for the rest of the day," Much quicker than when Sam was sick. Her immune system just got a little blindsided by this one."

"Can her immune system catch up with this sickness soon?" Magda says as you gag weakly," Because I think I'm a few more minutes away from joining her in tears."

"It'll be soon," Pernille promises," We just have to get through these first few hours."

As the pair of them curl into bed together, your fever rages on and you remain shirtless, whining and crying while being fed crackers and forced to drink your water

●～●～●～●～

Your fever continues to rage on for hours but finally breaks and thus Pernille and Magda's torment at four in the morning. Your breathing is back to normal but you're completely wiped out.

Magda feels the same, her eyes drooping as Pernille checks your temperature one last time, thankful that it's gone down to normal levels.

They're as exhausted as you so neither make a move to put you in your big girl bed.

Magda's hand reaches out from the cocoon of blankets to smack at Pernille.

"Text Emma," She says through a sleep-hazed mood," Tell her that y/n's still sick. And...And that we won't be coming in."

"Good...Good call," Pernille replies, blinking blearily," Let's hope that y/n sleeps till past noon. Then, at least, one of us will get some decent rest."

[cameronspecial]

OMG I HAVE THIS REQUEST FOR RAFE AND I WOULD LOVE TO READ IT AHHH SO ITS BASED OFF THIS https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6FWFacvwzk/?igsh=MTBhNGhjbzA2M2w1Mg== and like maybe you can do it like there coming home from the beach cause it started raining like HEAVY and yk that happens in the video and Rafe grabs her and like protects right when they fall making sure your ok and everything THANKSSSS ID LOVE TO READ ITTT 💗💗🫶🏼🫶🏼

Until My Dying Breath

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Motorcycle Accident

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.4K

Masterlist

Although it is October and the weather is a little cold, Y/N still loves going to the beach. The cool breezes mean that it is rarely populated, making it the perfect place to have a picnic if the weather is good. The sand disperses with each of her steps and she comes to a stop once she finds the perfect spot for their picnic. She drops the cooler backpack onto the blanket Rafe set down and sheds the special motorcycle jacket he ordered for her to keep her safe while they ride. It matches the one he bought himself. He places their helmets beside the bad, his mouth forming a line as he spots the gray clouds rolling in. She doesn’t seem to notice, which he hopes will continue. The weather network said it was likely to rain and he kept it a secret because he was optimistic the experts were incorrect. He knows how much she looks forward to their beach trips. 

The universe seems to have a different idea. The drops first came sporadically. “It’s not that bad. If we keep the food in the cooler and only take out what we eat, we can still have our picnic,” he suggests, kneeling down to take out some food. The clouds seem to want to kick him in the ass because, at that moment, the rain begins its heavy fall. The couple gather their items and run to his bike. He can see her disappointment while they do so. 

“Should we really be on the road while it’s raining this much?” she meekly asks. With his helmet already on his head, he looks up at the sky and calculates in his head the risks. If it were only him and this was before they started dating, Rafe absolutely would’ve still ridden; however, the addition of his precision cargo makes him remove the idea from his mind. “No, you’re right. That would be dangerous,” he concludes. His head swings from side to side in search of somewhere to lay low while they wait out the rain. He spots the awning of a closed coffee shop on the street. His fingers lace with hers and he drags her under it with him. “What should we do while we wait?” she questions. He grins at her from under his helmet, quickly removing it to bring his mouth near hers. “I can think of a few things.” 

———

As soon as the rain dwindled, the pair hopped on his bike and began to make their way home. Yet, it seems Mother Nature isn’t done with her storm because, during their ride, the heavy rain starts again. Rafe is about to pull to the side of the road when the tires lose traction, causing the vehicle to slip to its side. At that moment, the first time Rafe met Y/N’s parents flashes before his eyes. 

———

“I see you have a motorcycle,” Mr. Y/L/N noticed while they both stood at the open front door. They were waiting for Mrs. Y/L/N and Y/N to return from upstairs; Y/N was getting something from her mother. Rafe nodded, “Yes, Sir.” He wasn’t normally polite to adults, but he loved Y/N and he would do anything to make her parents like him. Mr. Y/L/N rubbed his chin with a small bob of his head. “And I’m guessing since you brought Y/N/N here that she tends to ride with you.” 

“Yes, she does, Sir.”

“Those things are pretty dangerous. If something happens, will you protect my daughter?” 

“Until my dying breath, Sir.”

———

Now, brought back to reality, Rafe searches for Y/N through the rain. Her skidding across the road matches his momentum and the only thing he can think of is how to protect her. She is just out of reach, so he extends his hand out, wraps it around her upper arm and pulls her into his chest. The slippery road eases this process. Her back is flushed against his front and he wedges his head under her helmet so it doesn’t scrap against the road. He tries his best to lessen her contact points against the floor, not stopping the movement of their fall. In his mind, he’d rather keep going with him protecting her body than possibly hurting her by halting. In an instant, the sound of leather and helmet grinding against the cement ends and is replaced by the patter of the water. He pants and moans. The lack of adrenaline makes him aware of the growing ache on his left side. He ignores it and immediately pulls his attention to Y/N. 

“I’m okay. Are you okay? Don’t move, Sunshine. Okay, wait until the ambulance gets here. Don’t move.” 

He is thankful they were thrown onto the side of the road, so they aren’t at risk of cars running them over. He goes against his own advice and reaches into his pocket for his phone. He gives his information to dispatch, leaving his phone on the side. He feels her trying to look back towards him and doesn’t let her. “Are you hurt, Rafe? I want to see you,” she worries. The worry in his voice kills him, except he knows it is important to stay still with their helmets on until medical professionals can assess their condition. He does the only thing he can think of to provide her more comfort. He pulls her as close to him as humanly possible. “I’m not hurt. It’s okay. Just stay still and keep your helmet on. Let the paramedics check us for brain or spinal injuries first. They’re on their way, Sunshine. I promise,” he reassures. He tries to hide his pain from his voice, especially when he hears her sniffles through her helmet. “I’m scared, Rafe. I’m scared,” she cries, her breath catching on her words. 

A hand claws at his heart and tears it to shreds. He shouldn’t do it, but her doesn’t care. He rests his helmet on hers. “I know, Sunshine. I’m here. Everything is going to be okay. It’s going to be okay,” he mumbles to her. She can barely hear him through the rain and still, she can understand him. 

Minutes later, they can both hear the approaching sirens. Flashes of blue and red pierce through the gray scenery. “EMS, we are here to help,” the approaching figure informs. The female kneels behind Rafe and he can feel her trying to pry him away from Y/N to take a look at him. “No. No. Look at her first. Check her first,” he insists. The female shakes her head, “My colleague is just behind me and she is going to check on her. I promise. But right now, you seem to be the one, who took the brunt of the accident.” This has Y/N whipping around to face him. “Is he hurt? How serious is it?” she anguishes. The EMS person is by her side already and turns her back onto her side. “I’m sorry, Mrs. But I need you to stay still while I check on you. I promise that my colleague is the best at her job and she will do everything in her power to help him out,” the blonde consoles. 

The blonde and brunette assess the couple and once they are satisfied that they aren’t in critical condition, they get them on gurneys to be further evaluated at the hospital. Before they are loaded into the vehicle, Rafe stops the paramedic. “I need to see. Please, just to make sure she is okay. She was so scared,” he pleads. The paramedic nods and wheels him over to her. Her eyes fall on him and she spies the manner in which his left side is bandaged. His clothes on that side are cut open to reveal the material wrapped around his limbs that is tinted pink. Panic sparkles in her eyes. “You’re hurt. Why didn’t you tell me?” He reaches for her and places his hand into hers. “Because it would’ve worried you. I’m alive though and the paramedics are sure it isn’t serious. What did they say about you? Is everything good? Do you want me to ride with you to the hospital?” Y/N has to giggle at the way he always shows concern for her, even when he is the one with cuts all over his left side. “I’m okay. They are taking me to the hospital to double-check. But as of right now, I’m not presenting any serious symptoms,” she informs him and thinks over the events that transpired. “You protected me from most of the impact. Why?” He looks at her in shock, “Because, Sunshine, I would give my last breath if I knew you would be safe. That’s how much I love you.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[redroomreflections]

Meet The Family

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Black Reader)

The Loud House Universe

Summary: Natasha meets R's family for the first time

W/c: 7k

"Babe, I have no idea what you are so nervous about." You shook your head. You grabbed onto your luggage as you deboarded the plane. "They're going to love you."

"I don't doubt that," Natasha said as she slipped the sunglasses onto her face. It's not like it's her first time flying economy before. She insisted that the two of you act as normal as a couple. That's what she craved. Normalcy. Someone not into the lights and cameras and the novelty of her being a hero. That is why she was excited to do the typical thing of meeting your family.

"Sure doesn’t seem like it,” you teased, nudging her lightly with your elbow as the two of you made your way through the terminal. Natasha’s calm exterior might fool anyone else, but you caught the subtle way she fiddled with the strap of her carry-on, her usual poise betraying just a hint of unease.

“I’m just... being cautious,” Natasha replied with a smirk, though you could hear the sincerity in her tone. “Your family is important to you. That means they’re important to me.”

Her words warmed your heart even as you rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s sweet, but they’re just regular people, babe. You're not meeting the president. Just eat good food, laugh at my mom's jokes, and pretend we haven't had premarital sex. Which is interesting of a hill to die on for my mom, but..."

Natasha let out a laugh. "I think I can handle that."

"And don't feel intimidated if they ask you many questions about your job," you continued. "I already warned them about keeping the interrogation to a minimum, but my family is the worst when it comes to asking about every little detail."

Natasha stopped, turning towards you with a serious expression. "I am more than prepared for an interrogation. That's my job description."

The two of you continued walking to baggage claim, keeping up with the traffic flow as you talked.

“Okay,” she said suddenly, tilting her head toward you. “Anything I should know before we get there? Any family secrets or rules I should avoid breaking?”

You snorted. “Well, for starters, don’t say you don’t eat pork. My mom might take that as a personal attack on her cooking.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Good to know. What else?”

“Let’s see,” you mused, counting off on your fingers. “Peyton’s going to act like she runs the world because she’s the oldest, Quincy will probably crack a million dad jokes, and Brandon’s baby's mother… well, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t say much. She’s not big on conversation.”

"She's 17, right?" Natasha asked, her eyes widening as you walked through the airport.

"They both are," You nodded. "Everything I've told you about my family before, believe it."

"That's a lot of people," Natasha smiled softly. She'd always been more comfortable being around small groups. The bigger the group, the more uncomfortable she was.

"Yeah," You grinned. "My parents were great at making babies. There's four of us."

"Hmm," Natasha nodded. "Let me guess that's your brother over there with the sign." She gestured with a raise of her chin to the teenaged boy with a toddler in one arm and a sign that read "Welcome back from the Convent."

You burst out laughing as soon as you spotted the sign. "Of course he did," you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief. Natasha chuckled beside you, the corner of her mouth quirking up in amusement.

"That's Brandon for you," you confirmed as you adjusted your bag and walked toward him. "Always a comedian."

Brandon caught sight of you as you approached and broke into a grin. "Hey, sis!" he called out, holding the baby with one arm while waving enthusiastically with the other. The baby, a chubby-cheeked little girl with curly hair, looked unimpressed but content in his hold.

"Really, Brandon?" you said, gesturing to the sign as Natasha raised an eyebrow. "A convent? That’s what you went with?"

"What? It’s funny," he replied, shrugging with a smirk. "Gotta keep you humble."

You rolled your eyes, stepping forward to hug him while Natasha stood back, observing the interaction with quiet interest. "And what about me screams ‘convent,’ exactly?"

"Law school, late nights studying, no time for fun—sounds like a convent to me," Brandon teased before shifting his attention to Natasha. "So, this must be the famous Natasha. Welcome to the family."

"Oh, we're not..." Natasha's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she looked at you. "We're not married or anything."

"Yet," He finished with a smile, reaching out to shake her hand. "The way she talks about you, I'd have thought you had already put a ring on it."

"Brandon, stop," You groaned, your cheeks reddening. Natasha looked at you curiously, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"What? It's true. I mean, the whole family's heard all about your girl—"

"Give me my niece. She's getting fussy," You interrupted before he could embarrass you. You and Natasha had been dating for almost a year and a half. She knows practically everything there is to know. But hearing your family's opinion of her made you nervous.

"Fine," Brandon sighed. "You'll have to catch up on all the drama once we're in the car anyway. It's crazy at home."

"Oh? Why's that?" You asked, reaching out to take the toddler in your arms.

"I'll take the bags," He offered to Natasha. He didn't find offense when she declined. He simply kept the conversation going.

"Mom's pissed about Tori," He said, referring to his current girlfriend. "Her parents still won't let her move back home. Also, Peyton and Ross are having some issues. You didn't hear it from me, though. Oh- I parked over here."

He led the three of you to the car, where he opened the trunk and tossed all of your bags in there.

"Hey, that's Gucci," You warned him. "That bag has my laptop."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be careful." He waved you off. "Can you buckle her in?" He asked.

Buckling Willow into her car seat was a feat. It was a new experience that you were excited to have, but she was a wiggler. You were glad to be an aunt and help her dad. You knew Natasha was watching the interaction with interest. Once everyone was seated, Brandon backed the car onto the road and out of the airport parking lot. You were terrified of his driving.

"Mom, let you drive the car," You thought aloud. "That's a first. Peyton and I had to beg her to let us drive practically."

"Well, I'm the baby. I get special privileges," He bragged. "Miss Natasha, you're quiet back there."

"She's fine," You defended her.

"I'm just listening," She replied.

Brandon glanced at Natasha through the rearview mirror as he navigated the freeway. His curiosity was written on his face, and you braced yourself for whatever line of questioning he was about to launch into.

“So,” he started one hand on the wheel and the other drumming lightly on the console. “What’s it like being an Avenger? Do y’all just fight aliens and save the world all day, or is it mostly paperwork?”

Natasha chuckled softly, the sound surprising you a little. She leaned forward just enough to meet Brandon’s gaze in the mirror. “A lot less glamorous than you’d think. Fighting aliens happens occasionally, but it’s mostly meetings, training, and arguing over whose turn it is to clean the kitchen.”

"Wait, you mean to tell me y'all don't have maids or a team to do that stuff?"

"Not for personal stuff, no," Natasha explained.

"And I'm gonna assume there are no benefits, insurance, or anything like that."

"It's government-funded," Natasha said. "So there's plenty of benefits and health insurance."

"Do you get to fly around in a spaceship, or is that reserved for Captain America and Iron Man?"

"There's a jet," Natasha replied.

"Brandon, can we not?" You asked.

"Oh, come on," he protested. "You didn't warn her about the third degree? Besides, it's not like you've seen any action."

"Not directly," You corrected. "But I've watched the news."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to pry. I just want to make sure you're safe. The rest of the fam is going to want to know."

"That's understandable," Natasha said.

"So, what are the chances I'll get a ride in one of those Avengers planes?" He joked.

"Brandon!" You groaned.

"What? Can't blame a guy for dreaming," he laughed. "Okay, I have a real question—do you guys like to hang out? Play cards? Do movie nights? Or is it all business?”

“Depends on the day,” Natasha answered, her voice relaxed. “We’ve had our share of poker nights, but Thor’s terrible at bluffing, and Clint’s too good. Movie nights are better unless someone picks Star Wars. That always ends in arguments about the ‘proper’ order to watch them in.”

“Man, I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall for some of that,” Brandon said, shaking his head. “You ever bring her to the tower?” he asked, jerking his thumb in your direction.

“A few times,” Natasha said, glancing at you with a small smile. “We mostly hang out at her apartment with Karen. She keeps saying she doesn’t want to ‘cramp my style.’”

“Excuse me for wanting to keep a low profile,” you said, feigning indignation. “Unlike you, Brandon, I’m not trying to be best friends with everyone.”

Brandon shot you a look of mock outrage, pressing one hand against his chest.

"You wound me, sister. Truly."

"I'll do worse than that if you don't focus on the road," You warned him.

"Fine, fine." He raised his hands in surrender.

It would be long if the rest of the day would be like Brandon's questioning.

**********

As Brandon hoisted Willow out of her car seat, she babbled happily, grabbing his hair as he balanced her on his hip. “Alright, ladies, this is where I leave you to fend for yourselves,” he said with a teasing grin, holding open the front door with his foot.

“We can manage,” you shot back with a smirk, lugging your bags from the trunk.

“You sure? I can carry the fancy bag,” Brandon said, eyeing your Gucci luggage again.

“Get inside, Brandon,” you said firmly, laughing despite yourself.

Brandon shrugged and disappeared into the house with Willow, leaving you and Natasha standing by the car.

You turned to Natasha, who was sliding her sunglasses off and tucking them into the neckline of her sweater. “Hey,” you said softly, touching her arm. “You good? I know my family can be  a lot.”

"Baby, I'm fine," Natasha said. "Trust me. This is what I do."

"I can't pretend I don't love it when you call me baby." You sighed.

"Well, then maybe I should use it more often," She said. "Also, relax. It's Thanksgiving."

"You're right," You said. "But still, if it gets overwhelming, just let me know."

Natasha nodded, and the two of you headed into the house. As soon as the door opened, the sounds and smells of Thanksgiving Day swarmed around you. Loud, chattering voices, the clatter of dishes, and the mouthwatering scent of roasting turkey filled the house, and you took a moment to close your eyes and soak it in.

"Is that my daughter, I hear?" Your mother's voice rang out from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mama, it's me." You called back. You kicked your shoes off and placed them neatly inside the coat closet. Natasha followed suit.

"Are you the famous girlfriend we've heard so much about?" Your mom asked.

"Yes, ma'am. My name is Natasha."

"Come here, girl, and hug me," your mom ordered, appearing from the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dish towel. "My name's Vivian. It's nice to meet you finally."

Natasha initially hugged Vivian, a bit hesitant, but the older woman’s firm and affectionate embrace quickly put her at ease. “It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am,” Natasha said, stepping back with a warm smile. “You have an incredible daughter. I’ve been hearing nothing but great things about you.”

Vivian chuckled, her sharp eyes twinkling as she gave Natasha a once-over. “Well, flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased. “But please, don’t call me ma’am. It makes me feel old. Vivian or Mama Viv will do just fine.”

“Mama Viv, then,” Natasha said with a slight nod, her voice smooth and respectful.

“Good. Now tell me, Natasha,” Vivian said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, “what exactly are your intentions with my baby?”

Your eyes widened as you fumbled for words. “Mama!”

Natasha didn’t miss a beat, though. She clasped her hands together, her expression sincere. “To love her, respect her, and make her proud, ma’am—uh, Mama Viv. And to eat as much of your cooking as you’ll let me,” she added with a playful smirk.

Vivian broke into a laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, she’s good,” she said, glancing at you. “I see why you like her. Alright, Natasha, you’re off to a good start. Come help me in the kitchen, and we’ll see if you can hold your own in there.”

Natasha glanced at you for confirmation, and you gave her a subtle nod. She followed Vivian into the kitchen without hesitation. You followed behind, though, at a slower pace. The next few moments were crucial for first impressions.

"I'll warn you, I'm not a great cook," She said.

"That's alright," Vivian said. "I'll put you to work peeling potatoes or something. Wanna see if you'll pull your weight around here."

You smiled, hearing them chat back and forth. It was a good sign. You were sure your mom would find something Natasha could do.

"You made it," Quincy's voice boomed from behind you. He didn't give you time to react before he pulled you into a bear hug. "And you brought Natasha."

"Of course," You laughed.

"Good." He nodded. "I was worried you were going to bail on us. You never come home anymore."

"Don't start, Quincy," You rolled your eyes. "I was home last Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, after not coming home for a whole year," He said. "Introduce me to your girlfriend." He grinned. He was starstruck.

"She's helping Mom cook," You informed him. You both walked into the kitchen and saw Natasha shaking hands with your sister, Peyton. Brandon was at the counter feeding a few strawberries to Willow as his girlfriend Tori sat beside him on her phone. She seemed completely unaware of the world around her.

"So, you're an Avenger," Peyton said, her tone a little skeptical. "I must admit we didn't believe y/n when she said she was dating you."

"Oh really," Natasha said, quirking an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Well, it's not every day a girl claims she's dating the Black Widow," Peyton pointed out.

"Yeah, but y/n isn't exactly the type to make shit up," Quincy interrupted.

"Language, boy," Vivian warned from her place at the stove.

Natasha chuckled, her eyes flickering to Peyton and then to Vivian, who had her back turned to the stove. "Don’t worry, I’ve heard worse," she said, giving Quincy a playful wink.

"See?" Quincy smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Told ya."

Vivian turned from the stove, placing a wooden spoon on the counter. "Alright, enough with the show, everyone. Peyton, get the table set. Quincy, stop trying to embarrass your sister. And you," she pointed at Natasha, "come help me with this cornbread."

Natasha nodded and stepped over to Vivian, who seemed confident in her kitchen. "What can I do?" Natasha asked, her hands instinctively moving to help without waiting for an answer.

"First things first," Vivian said, pushing a bowl of ingredients toward her, "you’re going to stir this batter, but carefully. I like a nice smooth texture for the cornbread."

Natasha rolled up her sleeves, already comfortable in the space. "I’ve got it. I’ll make it the best cornbread you’ve ever had."

Vivian, clearly pleased, gave her a once-over before speaking again. "You’re making good impressions so far, Natasha. Y/n deserves someone who knows their way around the kitchen." She eyed Natasha for a moment, her smile warm. "You do all your cooking, or is someone else handling that?"

"I do a bit of both," Natasha replied, gently mixing the batter. "But I’m always down for new recipes, especially if they come from someone who knows what they’re doing. I'm not a great cook but a fast learner."

"Well, we'll see how you do here," Vivian said.

"I guess I'll start on the pies," You rolled up your sleeves to wash your hands. A perk of flying in on Thanksgiving day was being late to the party. It was a last-minute decision to come home.

"You better be making a chocolate one," Peyton warned.

"Peyton, hush." Vivian shushed her.

"I can't wait to try it," Brandon said, his attention still on his daughter.

"I think the last thing that kid needs is sugar," Peyton teased, poking the little girl's belly. She squealed, kicking her chubby little legs.

"The sugar is the best part," Brandon retorted, kissing his daughter.

"She's getting big," You observed. "Is she talking yet?"

"No," Brandon said. "Not yet. She'll get there eventually. I can't believe she's a year old. Feels like just yesterday she was born."

"Yeah," You nodded. "Hi, Tori." You said to Brandon's girlfriend.

"Hi," She had the decency to look up from her phone.

You sat at the kitchen table, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you glanced at Tori. Finding someone like her who kept to themselves was rare, but you knew it was essential to show interest. "So, Tori, how's school and everything? I mean, besides, you know, trying to avoid getting caught in the middle of this chaotic family," you teased lightly, gesturing around the room.

Tori blinked, clearly surprised by the question, but then she seemed to soften, a hint of relief in her eyes. "Well, school is fine. I've been attending every day. I want to be a nurse," she said, her voice quieter than usual but more animated than you'd seen before. "I’ve always liked the idea of helping people, you know? I’ve been thinking about moving to Louisiana after high school to study. My aunt lives there, and she’s been telling me to come stay with her while I figure things out."

"That’s awesome," you said, genuinely interested. "Is it something you’ve wanted to do for a while?"

"Yeah," she nodded, looking down at her hands briefly. "I’ve always kind of gravitated toward taking care of people. And... I don’t know. Louisiana feels like a place where I could start fresh, away from all the stuff back here." She paused, her eyes flicking briefly to Brandon, who was still sitting with Willow. "I just... I think I could do more there. Maybe even learn some things to help me get my life on track."

You nodded thoughtfully, respecting her quiet resolve. "I think you’ll do great."

Brandon, listening in from across the room, chimed in with a knowing smile. "Yeah, we're still figuring it all out. Tori's been thinking about it, but we're also trying to figure out how to ensure Willow stays close to family." His expression softened as he glanced at his daughter. "I’m not sure how I feel about taking her away from everyone... but Tori’s excited, and it’s a big opportunity for her."

Tori shot Brandon a small, appreciative smile, though she didn’t say anything.

You could tell there was a lot of unspoken tension around it. You nodded in understanding. "It's a big decision. But I know Willow’s lucky to have you both looking out for her."

"That's so sweet," Tori said.

"I only have to put the collard greens on," Vivian began. "Natasha, do you eat pork?"

"Yes," Natasha answered.

"Good," Vivian nodded.

"What else can I do, Mama Viv?" Natasha asked.

"You're gonna make the biscuits," Vivian ordered.

"Yes, ma'am." Natasha nodded.

Things were going well. Your mom putting Natasha to work meant she was interested in her, which was a plus in your book.

As Natasha busied herself with biscuit-making under Vivian’s watchful eye, Peyton followed you into one of the bedrooms upstairs. You knew by her closeness she was about to say something. Peyton rarely held back when it came to her opinions.

“So,” she began, her tone casual but pointed, “is this thing with Natasha serious? Or is she just another quest, like Melinda?”

You paused, barely glancing at her, placing your bags in the closet. Peyton had always had a knack for finding the most loaded questions to ask, and this was no exception. You took a breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

“First of all,” you said calmly, “Natasha is not a ‘thing.’ She’s my girlfriend, Peyton. And yeah, we’re serious. Also, Melinda wasn't a quest. We were in a relationship for two years."

Peyton shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m just saying. You’ve always had a type, you know? Strong, intense, probably a little emotionally unavailable,” she added with a smirk. “And we all know how that turned out last time.”

You shot her a warning look. “Wow, Peyton. Thank you so much for your insight into my love life. Maybe next time, you can try delivering it without the shade.”

“What? I’m just asking the questions everyone else is thinking,” she said, raising her hands defensively. “I mean, you’ve got a history. Don’t you think it’s fair to wonder how long this one will last?”

"Are you going to start? Dinner is less than three hours away," You sighed. "I came to be with family. You didn't even hug me when I came in the door."

"Because you've been here ten minutes," Peyton argued. "Look, I'm not trying to start anything, y/n. I'm just curious. It's not like we see or talk to you very much."

"Well, I've been busy," You retorted.

"You could've called more," Peyton insisted. "The girls miss you."

"I'm sorry," You shook your head. "Law school has been intense."

Peyton’s eyes flicked to the Gucci bag you’d set neatly by the door, her expression shifting into something slightly amused but undeniably pointed. “That’s a nice bag you’ve got there,” she remarked, her tone light but laced with something else. “Designer, right?”

You bristled, sensing where this was going. “Yeah, it’s a gift,” you replied curtly, refusing to elaborate. You’d learned that giving Peyton more information was like throwing fuel on a fire.

“Must be nice,” she said, her voice slightly more severe. “Meanwhile, Mom’s been stressing over the laundromat. She doesn’t say it outright, but I know things have been tight lately.”

You froze, your jaw tightening. “Peyton—”

“She’s paying your tuition,” Peyton continued, folding her arms. “So, I just think, you know, maybe she deserves to know if you’re spending money on fancy bags.”

“It’s a gift,” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “And last I checked, my education was something Mom was proud to support, not some burden she needed you to fight about.”

Peyton shrugged, unfazed by your defensiveness. “I’m not saying it’s a burden. I’m just saying she’s doing a lot. And maybe you could... I don’t know; check in a little more. Be more aware of what’s going on back home.”

“Wow, Peyton. Thanks for the lecture,” you shot back. “I had no idea you were Mom’s financial advisor now.”

“I’m just saying,” Peyton countered. “You’re out there living your life, and we’re holding things down. It wouldn’t hurt to pick up the phone or swing by more often. The girls miss you, Mom misses you, and whether you want to hear it or not, things aren’t easy around here.”

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. “Look, I get it, okay? I know I’ve been caught up with school and everything else. But you don’t need to guilt-trip me about it. I’m doing the best I can.”

Peyton’s face softened, if only slightly. “I’m not trying to guilt-trip you, y/n. I just... I worry about Mama, and I worry about you too. You’ve got this shiny new life now, and it’s great, but don’t forget where you came from. That’s all I’m saying.”

You shook your head, annoyance and regret swirling in your gut. Part of you wanted to defend yourself, but another part felt like it was too little, too late. Instead, you breathed and tried to let the frustration melt away. Paying your tuition was something your mother did for each of her children. Quincy had gone to get his mechanical engineering degree and became a product engineer. You're still determining exactly what he does, but he earns an excellent salary. Peyton had gone to college and ultimately dropped out after becoming pregnant with the twins in her junior year. Now it was your turn.

You felt that despite how much your mom wanted you to attend law school, the money was tighter than she'd initially let on. It wasn't that she was stingy. Your mom was the most generous person you knew. But she had her pride. You knew you had to pay her back one day.

"Okay, okay," You said, rubbing your temples. "I've been working a lot. I can take out loans if I have to. Just let me talk to Mom. See what she says."

Peyton didn't look entirely convinced. "If you say so."

"Look, it's been a long trip, and I wanted to see everyone and have a good time," You explained. "Are you going to treat me like this the whole time?"

"No," Peyton rolled her eyes. "We can pretend we're normal and get along for one day."

"Good," You said. "Now, can we please just go hang out with everyone? I didn't come from New York to spend the holiday with you lecturing me."

"I love you, little sister," Peyton said as you began to walk past her. "I apologize for coming across that way."

"I know, Peyton," You sighed.

The two of you walked back downstairs, and you returned to the kitchen to see Natasha holding Willow in her arms. You paused in the doorway, your steps slowing as your gaze landed on Natasha. She held Willow close, her movements careful yet natural, like she’d been doing this forever. Willow babbled happily, one tiny hand clutching at Natasha’s necklace and the other reaching up to pat her cheek. Natasha smiled, a soft, genuine curve of her lips that you didn’t get to see often.

It was... endearing. Unexpected but endearing.

Natasha had always struck you as someone who thrived in control, her precision and composure unshakeable. But here she was, rocking a squirmy, giggling baby in her arms with a quiet patience that made your chest ache the best way.

She caught you watching, her green eyes meeting yours over Willow’s head. “Hey,” she said softly, a trace of shyness in her voice. “She’s a natural charmer, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice catching just a bit. “She likes you.”

Natasha chuckled, shifting Willow so the baby rested more securely against her shoulder. “I like her too,” she admitted. “But, full disclosure, I have no idea what I’m doing. I think she’s just being nice to me.”

You smiled, stepping closer. “You’re doing fine,” you said, your tone warm. “Better than fine. She doesn’t let just anyone hold her without pitching a fit.”

Willow reached for Natasha’s face again, her little fingers brushing against her cheek. Natasha didn’t flinch, just gently caught the baby’s hand and kissed her tiny palm. The sight was almost too much—tenderness wrapped up in someone so unrelentingly strong.

“Do you want her ?” Natasha asked, her voice light but filled with a bit of hesitation like maybe she didn’t want to let go just yet.

You shook your head, leaning against the counter. “Nah, you’re doing great. Besides, I think she’s already picked a favorite.”

Natasha gave a soft laugh, the sound low and genuine. “Guess I’ll have to live up to it, then.”

Vivian came in a moment later. "Everything's all ready," She said.

"Mom, did you make mac and cheese?" Peyton asked.

"Yes," Vivian nodded. "Your daughter requested it."

"Thanks, Mama," Peyton said.

Vivian glanced at you and Peyton, her eyes narrowing. "Y'all weren't fighting, were you?"

"No, ma'am," You and Peyton said in unison.

"Don't lie," Vivian scolded.

"We're fine," You insisted.

"We can save the arguing after Thanksgiving dinner," Peyton added.

"Alright," Vivian shrugged. "I'm not going to pretend to understand you two."

Natasha glanced between you and your sister, but you did not indicate that you were bothered by what had happened.

"Twins are back," Ross called from the front door as he entered the house with Deyjah and Diamond. All you heard was the pitter-patter of little feet as they kicked off their shoes and ran toward the kitchen.

"There's the troublemakers," You joked, ruffling their heads.

"You're back," Diamond exclaimed, pulling you into a hug.

"I am," You laughed, squeezing her back.

"Did you bring presents?" Deyjah asked, looking up at you expectantly.

"I didn't," You said. "It's not Christmas just yet. Girls, there's someone I want you to meet. This is my girlfriend, Natasha."

Diamond and Deyjah eyed Natasha curiously, their matching gazes assessing her with an unnerving and impressive sharpness.

"Why's your hair red?" Deyjah asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Well, I was born with red hair," Natasha explained. "Just like how y/n was born with dark hair."

"I was born first," Diamond announced proudly, puffing out her chest. "But I don't remember."

"Duh, 'cause you were a baby," Deyjah scoffed.

"Girls," Vivian scolded, "don't be rude. Why don't you go wash up for dinner?"

They did as they were told, rushing off to the bathroom.

"They're pretty cute," Natasha began. "How do you tell them apart?" She directed her question to Peyton.

"There are a few subtle differences," Peyton began. "Diamond has slightly better speech than Deyjah. Deyjah always has some sort of bracelet or necklace on. Though if you look closely, Diamond has a tiny mole on the left side of her neck."

Natasha nodded, seeming satisfied. "So, how old are they?"

"Six," Peyton answered.

"Six," Natasha echoed.

"Yep, six going on sixteen," Peyton joked. "They keep me busy most days."

"I can imagine," Natasha chuckled. "They're smart kids."

"Oh yeah," Peyton grinned. "They're smart."

You couldn't help but smile at Natasha's interest in the twins. She seemed genuinely curious and focused solely on Peyton as she talked about the girls. Seeing someone other than your mom and Brandon engaging with her was refreshing.

"This is my husband, Ross," Peyton introduced.

"Pleasure to meet you," Ross shook Natasha's hand. "Big fan."

"He's a fan," Peyton explained. "He loves all that superhero stuff. I'm not really into it, though."

"I can imagine," Natasha smiled. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Ross."

"Yeah, likewise," he replied, clearly starstruck. "How was the flight?"

"It was alright," You answered. "It's good to be back home."

Indeed it was.

******

The dining room was packed, every seat around the table taken, and a few extra chairs were squeezed in to accommodate the crowd. The smell of collard greens, roasted turkey, and freshly baked cornbread filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of gospel music playing from a speaker in the corner. Laughter and chatter echoed through the room as plates and glasses were passed around.

You sat beside Natasha, her hand resting lightly on your knee beneath the table. She looked calm, but you could tell she was soaking everything in—the voices, the warmth, the energy. She wasn’t used to this world, but she fit into it better than you’d expected.

“Alright, y’all, quiet down!” Vivian’s voice rose above the din, commanding attention. The table settled almost instantly, everyone turning toward her.

She stood at the head of the table, a serene yet authoritative presence. “Before we dig in, we’re going to give thanks,” she said, glancing around the room. “Natasha, since this is your first time joining us, I want you to know how happy we are to have you here. Family is everything to us; today, you’re family too.”

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, and she gave a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Mama Viv. That means a lot.”

"Now, in our household, we start with a prayer before Thanksgiving dinner," Vivian said. "I understand that you may not want to participate."

"No, ma'am," Natasha said.

"Well, okay then," Vivian said. "Now, let's bow our heads."

"Bow our heads, everybody," Vivian instructed, and the room obeyed. You noticed that even Natasha bowed her head a little, though her eyes remained open. "Dear Lord, thank you for bringing our family together today."

Natasha observed the room as the prayer went on. This was like a culture study for her. Experiencing a different family dynamic was intriguing.

"I want to thank you for the food and the company. And I pray that our family continues to stay safe and healthy. Amen."

Everyone lifted their heads and said, "Amen."

"Thank you, Mama," Peyton spoke up.

"Thank you, Mom," Brandon agreed.

"Yeah, thank you, Mama," Your brother, Quincy, said.

"Thanks, Mom," You nodded. The food began to be passed around, with everyone choosing which dishes they wanted and didn't want.

"I don't think we've ever had a guest that didn't participate in the prayer," Peyton commented. "Natasha, you were born in Russia, right?"

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly my thing," Natasha said. "I was born in Russia."

"It's not mine either," you said, hoping to diffuse the tension. "I think we all have ways of being thankful, and it's not anyone else's place to judge."

Peyton gave a slight shrug. "I was just curious. No harm meant."

"I get it," Natasha replied.

"You're welcome here, whether or not you believe in God," Vivian assured. "We're all a little different. It's what makes us interesting."

Natasha flashed Vivian a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Mama Viv. I appreciate that."

As everyone dug into their plates, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Silverware scraping against plates filled the air, with only snippets of conversation breaking through the hum of family conversation. Your mom, ever the host, ensured no one went without refills, while your siblings kept things lively with playful banter. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha enjoying the food. Some of the menu options were things she hadn't tasted before. It was endearing and a little heartwarming to see her want things.

"So, Natasha," Brandon leaned forward. "I gotta ask—who is the coolest person you've met?"

"Um..." Natasha's expression shifted into something thoughtful. "Well, I've met many interesting people in my life. I wouldn't say anyone was cooler than the other. Maybe the president?"

Brandon frowned. "I was hoping for someone a little more exciting."

"That is exciting," Quincy said.

"What?" Brandon protested.

"She's Black Widow, and you're asking her about who she's met," Quincy replied. "I want to know her stats. I mean, she's a spy. You must do some pretty cool stunts. What's your training regimen like?"

"Oh, come on," You lowered your fork. "Can we just not talk about work right now?"

"It's okay," Natasha smiled, patting your hand.

"I can answer a few questions," She said.

"Oh yeah," Brandon smirked. "How many push-ups can you do?"

"A lot," Natasha shrugged.

"Do you do chin-ups?" Quincy asked.

"Yes," Natasha said.

"I'd like to challenge you to a push-up contest," Quincy wiped his mouth. "You seem tough, but I bet I could take you."

"I could do the same," Brandon said. "We could all have a contest."

"I'm not going to do a push-up contest," Peyton shook her head. "It's Thanksgiving."

"Fine," Quincy shrugged. "Brandon and I can do it."

"I don't think you guys understand what you're challenging her to," You said. You knew firsthand how athletic Natasha was. Her stamina was out of this world both on and off the field.

"She's an Avenger," You said.

"So," Brandon shrugged.

"She's a trained assassin," You explained.

"I'm sure we could hold our own," Quincy countered.

"No, you can't," You shook your head.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Brandon put his hands up. "It sounds like you don't want us to take your girlfriend. Afraid she might fall in love with one of us?"

"I'm right here," Tori pinched Brandon. "Behave."

"Sorry, babe," Brandon muttered.

"No, I'm not worried," You rolled your eyes.

Natasha smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement as she leaned forward slightly. "Yeah, I think you guys should sit this one out," she said, her voice laced with humor but just enough seriousness to get her point across. "No offense, but I’ve been around some pretty intimidating people. I’m not exactly shaking in my boots here."

Quincy feigned a wounded expression. "Ouch. So, we’re not intimidating enough for you?"

"Not in the slightest," Natasha quipped, her smirk widening.

Brandon chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, fair enough. Guess we’ll stick to arm-wrestling each other and leave the assassin stuff to the pros."

Tori gave Brandon a side-eye but couldn’t help smiling. "Maybe you should worry about behaving before trying to impress Natasha."

You shook your head, unable to keep from laughing. "See? Even Tori knows you two would be hopeless."

Natasha reassured your thigh under the table, leaning in close enough that only you could hear. "I like your family," she murmured softly and sincerely.

You smiled at her, warmth blooming in your chest.

"We like you too," Vivian nodded. “It may be time for these boys to get put in their place.”

"I would like to see it," Peyton muttered.

"After dinner, then," Natasha smiled. "I have one condition if I win."

"What's that?" Quincy asked.

"You guys teach me how to play spades," Natasha suggested.

"Deal," Quincy nodded.

"And if you win, we can take some photos together," Brandon said.

"Fair enough," Natasha said.

"This will be interesting," Vivian commented.

"I know, right," Tori chuckled.

It was settled. Natasha would be challenging your brothers to a push-up contest. She was used to men challenging her to do things. It was in their nature almost.

After the meal, you helped clean up while your siblings gathered in the living room. They were ready for Natasha to kick their asses, and you could barely contain your excitement.

"Willow, you're about to watch your Daddy get beat," You whispered to the toddler.

"Don't count on it," Brandon said. "She won't be so confident when we're finished."

"We'll see," You said, setting the child on the couch.

Ross volunteered to be the referee, clearly enjoying the chaos. "Alright, everyone ready?" he asked, standing over the contestants with exaggerated authority.

Brandon and Quincy dropped to the floor with exaggerated confidence, flexing their arms dramatically to show off. Natasha joined them, calm and focused, her form perfect even before they started.

"Okay," Ross said, his voice booming for no reason. "On my count—one, two, three, go!"

The room filled with exaggerated grunts as your brothers enthusiastically attacked their push-ups, counting out each one loudly. "One, two, three—"

Natasha, meanwhile, moved effortlessly, her breathing even and controlled. You noticed she wasn’t counting out loud, focusing entirely on her form. By the fifteenth push-up, Brandon’s face turned red, and Quincy was already starting to slow down.

“That’s it?” Natasha teased, casually switching to one-handed push-ups without missing a beat.

The room erupted into gasps and laughter. Ross's jaw dropped. "Wait, wait, what?!"

"One hand?" Quincy groaned, struggling to keep his pace. "She’s showing off now."

"Is she even human?" Brandon muttered between labored breaths.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning against the back of the couch. “Don’t worry, Willow,” you told the toddler watching from her perch. “Your daddy’s about to learn a hard lesson.”

Despite their efforts, Natasha’s movements remained smooth and effortless. Not once did her arms so much as tremble. When Brandon and Quincy finally collapsed in a heap, Natasha was still going strong, with a slight smirk as she pushed through another set.

“Thirty-five… thirty-six…” Ross counted, shaking his head in disbelief.

When she finally stopped, Natasha rose gracefully and brushed herself off as if the entire thing had been a warm-up. "Good effort, boys," she said with a smirk, extending her hand to help Brandon.

"You didn’t even break a sweat!" Quincy protested, sprawled on the floor.

"Maybe next time," Natasha quipped, her tone light but undeniably victorious.

Brandon groaned dramatically, glancing at Willow, who was giggling. "Willow, Daddy did his best," he muttered, defeated.

“She’s my new favorite,” Ross declared, earning laughter from everyone in the room.

You walked over to Natasha, shaking your head with an affectionate smile. “Show-off,” you teased.

She leaned in close enough that only you could hear. “You love it.”

She wasn’t wrong.

**********

Later that night, everyone is tucked into their rooms as you help your mom with the dishes. Natasha had taken an early shower to decompress from such a busy day. She wasn't used to big family affairs like this and needed a moment alone. This gave you time to talk with your mom.

As she washed the dishes, you dried them.

"So, what do you think?" You asked as you placed another place in the cabinet. "Do you like her?"

"She's lovely," Vivian nodded. "You seem happy."

"I am," You confirmed.

"Good," Vivian continued washing the dishes.

"She seems to be fitting in well," You said.

"She is," Vivian said. "She's a sweet girl."

"She is," You agreed.

"Are you sleeping with her?"

"Whoa, Mom," You sputtered. She gave you a knowing look, and you sighed. "Why are you asking?"

"I'm your mother," Vivian said. "It's a valid question. Is she a good partner?"

"Yes, she is," You said.

"She doesn't treat you right; I will come and cut her," Vivian threatened.

"She does treat me right," You insisted.

"Then there shouldn't be a problem with my question," Vivian said.

"She does," You repeated.

"Well, I'm glad," Vivian said.

You nodded, continuing the routine of putting the dishes away.

"So, what's next for you two?"

"Next?" You asked, unsure of what she meant.

"Where do you see the relationship going?" Vivian asked.

"Um," You hadn't thought about it much. "I don't know. We're taking it slow. Just enjoying each other's company."

"But do you think it will be a long-term relationship?" Vivian asked.

"I hope so," You said. "I like her and hope the feeling is mutual."

"Well, if you like her and she likes you, I'm sure it will work out," Vivian said. There was a moment of silence. "I see the way she looks at you. The same way your daddy looked at me."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Vivian smiled. "He always had that twinkle in his eye when he talked about me."

You smiled, finishing the last of the dishes.

"I'm happy for you, baby," Vivian said. "You deserve someone who makes you feel special. Someone who puts a smile on your face."

"I'm glad you approve," You nodded. "She's a good person. I know people have their reservations about her past and..."

"People have their reasons for being judgmental," Vivian said. "You know as well as I do that a lot of the time, people are just scared and misguided."

"Yeah," You nodded.

"Besides, your daddy taught me something important."

"What's that?"

"It doesn't matter where a person came from, just who they are," Vivian answered.

"He taught me the same," You replied.

"I know," Vivian kissed your forehead.

You hugged her, feeling a wave of emotions wash over you.

"Mom," You began.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I miss him," You said.

"So do I," Vivian pulled away. "But, we have to carry on without him."

"You know, Peyton told me how things are going at the laundromat," You began. "If my tuition is too much."

"Baby, you're not giving up school because of me," Vivian said. "The laundromat is fine. We just had a bad few months, is all."

"I'm sure we can figure out a way to increase revenue," You suggested.

"Maybe, but not now," Vivian said. "It'll work itself out. I have a little savings if it comes down to it."

"Well, maybe I can talk to the admissions office," You said. "See about a payment plan or loans."

"We'll figure it out," Vivian reassured. "Don't you worry about it?"

"I'm not worried," You insisted.

"You're a horrible liar," Vivian chuckled. "Now, go check on your girlfriend. It's getting late."

You smiled. "Thanks, mom."

"Anytime," Vivian winked.

******

When you returned to your room, Natasha was out of the shower and curled under the covers. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was deep and even, suggesting she was already asleep.

You smiled, careful not to wake her, as you changed into a pair of pajamas and brushed your teeth. As you crawled into bed beside her, she stirred slightly, cracking one eye open.

"Sorry," you whispered, draping an arm across her waist. "Go back to sleep."

"Everything okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's fine," you reassured, resting your head on her shoulder.

"Okay," She closed her eyes.

You pressed a kiss to her jaw, snuggling closer. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," She replied. "Thanks for bringing me here."

"Of course," You whispered.

You lay in the darkness for a while, listening to her breathing and enjoying the warmth of her body. Gradually, your eyelids grew heavy, and you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of her arms.

[lsunstreakerl]

plz ignore if it's spoilers :)) but I am very curious about Daniel's POV in all of this and especially his relationship with Max. Is there a bit of 'what if?' that he feels? Like, if he didn't break Max's trust by leaving, he might be in the position that Charles is in now? Or disappointment that their dynamic was strictly dom/sub in scene and he never got the opportunity to 'be nice' to Max and have that different level of closeness with him. To paraphrase Taylor Swift said....will he always wonder? He clearly respects Charles and his relationship with Max (and is very happy to be Josh Allen's WAG apparently lmaoo) but, I am thinking that there is a subset of his feelings towards max that aren't just platonic/sexual...is that something Daniel has assessed if it is there?

And, we know Charles is a possessive little freak. Does he feel at all resentful or jealous that Danny got to experience these things with Max first? That Max was able to open up to Daniel sexually like this but kept it reserved with Charles. Or is the knowledge that at the end of the day Max chose him and is his forever person enough?

For the record, you have awakened a monster with these questions, because I have been waiting for someone to ask about Daniel. Heartbreak highway ahead.

I was planning on going a little bit more in depth in chapter six, but these aren't technically spoilers for the fic. if you're interested in reading it organically through chapter six and the eventual updates to the maxiel prequel, don't keep reading. :)

Daniel and Max are soooooo complicated in the Search History universe. (spoilers for 09000767)

- it's blatantly clear to the RedBull garage that Max was not raised right, or with much love in the home, and the way he throws himself into events and parties and PR events, the way he'll do anything if he thinks it'll get him even a scrap of affection, is something the whole garage, especially Daniel, can see. Max is also a minor when Daniel meets him, so he's not thinking of him in an intimate way at all- he thinks Max has a bit of a puppy love/hero worship thing going on.

- Daniel even jokes with Christian in 09000767 that he's "too responsible about his victory sex to be a father". He views a lot of both his and the garages earlier interactions with Max as raising him, or in the fic they describe it as teaching him how to be a person.

- unfortunately, when all your development happens in a sport like F1, shit gets complicated fast, so Max ends up with some heavy dependencies on bad habits when he's 18/19. (he drinks, he does drugs, he does both at once) Daniel only picks up on this when Max starts really spiraling.

- Daniel steps in to pull Max out of his spiral, and the whole thing is a moral grey area, because what Max needs at that point is professional help, but Daniel doesn't want to tell the team because Max will get kicked out, and Daniel (rightfully) assumes that would be the worst possible thing for Max at the time.

- Max, at this point, has really only been around Jos. He doesn't handle softness or tenderness, and he'll butt heads with anyone and everyone, so Daniel is kind of backed into a corner- to take care of Max, he needs Max to listen to him, to make Max listen to him, he needs to be firm. He doesn't necessarily want to treat Max that way, but he's picking up on the way that Max isn't really capable of looking out for himself, and that he needs someone to step in and tell him what to do.

- Daniel ends up taking Max back to a small place he has in Australia, which is where the dom/sub thing starts, and it's a very slippery slope for the two of them. Daniel starts kind of micro-managing for the two of them, because he notices Max does well with that, and it's clearly making some kind of progress. He tells Max when they eat, when they sleep, when they workout. He's washing Max's hair, portioning his food, and he's constantly watching him.

- Max gets his wires crossed (Daniel is taking care of him and telling him what to do) and starts unintentionally slipping into subspace. Neither of them realize that's what's happening for a while.

- for my 09000767 readers, the first time Daniel gets Max off he's not even really touching him in a sexual way, he's massaging his muscles after a run, and Max is young and on a hair trigger so Daniel kind of just. lets him. He notices what's happening and doesn't explicitly stop it, because he's mentally decided: "If Max needs his positive verbal enforcement to also come with the positive chemical reinforcement an orgasm gives, Daniel can do that."

- Daniel has mentally told himself that if Max makes it a sex thing for himself that's okay, but Daniel's not actually going to fuck him, which leads to a lot of situations where Daniel is talking Max through it, telling him what to do or what not to do, and Daniel doesn't really think about it a whole lot, beyond the fact that it's helping and it's progress and it means Max has a chance of being okay.

- Daniel doesn't really recognize it as a dom/sub thing until Max starts really dropping with him, and even then he's not super informed, he's just like "this seems more intense than it's supposed to be". When he looks it up and starts learning, he realizes they've been doing it all wrong, so he puts a lot of effort into learning how to do it right.

- one of the things Daniel tells Max to do in 09000767 is come up with less destructive coping mechanisms, and Max ends up saying one of them is subbing for Daniel, so they end up still doing it, even when Max is pulled out of his nosedive and ends up doing better.

- throughout this entire thing, Daniel is aware that what he has with Max is not healthy, and it's foundations are inherently wrong. He's always telling himself he won't go further, and every time he still does, and he also is well aware that Max has never actually had a relationship before.

- Daniel recognizes that Max would let him do anything to him, and he fundamentally feels wrong about the whole thing, especially because when Daniel is actually with someone, he wants to be nice to them, doesn't always want to have to be firm, and he feels like he needs to be that way with Max.

- Daniel is also aware of Charles, and pretty much everyone except Max has always been able to tell that the two of them are special, that they really mean something to each other. He kind of has a feeling the whole time that Max is going to end up with Charles, it's inevitable.

- Daniel gears his time with Max more towards learning healthier things, but he's never really tender with him the way he wants to be, because he and Max are never going to get to be that way, and who is Daniel to get in the middle of that?

- Max is convinced that he loves Daniel, and that's just another reason Daniel knows their relationship is wrong, because Max doesn't know what love is yet, and Daniel knows it. So he breaks Max's heart, and he leaves Redbull. Leaves Max.

- when Daniel goes to Renault, he leaves Max behind, because it's a lesson Max needs to learn. (and also, because Redbull needs a primary driver, and Redbull loved them both, and you can't have that in a team. The team cannot love both and succeed at the same time, something has to give, and Daniel has only ever wanted the best for Max. Daniel knows how to learn a team, how to adjust, but Max will never be able to thrive anywhere but Redbull.)

(Max's first real heartbreak is Daniel's final act of love. He will never see that.)

(Charles can.)

- Charles enters the grid and can immediately tell Max and Daniel have something going on, because he's never seen Max like that with anyone, but he doesn't particularly care at the time, too busy with racing and trying to impress Ferrari, and as long as Daniels not trying to claim he's Max's rival they have no problems.

- obviously, the entire grid can feel the tension when Daniel leaves Redbull, and no one really talks about it, buts it's an unspoken thing. Max closes off a bit to the other drivers, although he goes home with people at parties a lot, though it starts to really taper down right before covid hits anyways.

- when Charles and Max first get together, Max assumes that they're strictly hookups for several months, doesn't realize until they're out to dinner and he asks why Charles is bothering, he could've just invited him to his hotel room.

- Charles then assumes Max's last partner treated him like absolute shit, and he's furious about it, before Max catches on, and Max is mature enough (mostly) to look back at his situation and recognize it for how complicated it actually was, and they have a whole conversation about it.

- Charles realizes midway through the conversation that Daniel really did love Max, and he realizes at the same time that Max will never see that, will only ever see Daniel leaving him.

- Charles has some moments in Search History where he realizes Daniel still loves Max, might always love him just a little bit, and he can't find it in him to be upset or angry about it, because what Daniel did for Max to help take care of him Charles can never repay him for.

- in 1+1+1, if Daniel wasn't also dom'ing Charles, it might've been a problem, but instead it's a genuine three way thing for that weekend, and it also gives Charles a slight peek behind the curtain, at the way Daniel wanted to love Max, the way he can't.

- "It is very easy, being sweet to him." "Yeah. It is." This right here is the entire summarization of Daniel and Charles' relationship. Charles stating it like a fact, like the sky is blue, because it's something he gets to do, as easy as breathing. Daniel stating it like a jail sentence, because it's something he never got to do, and never will, it's a reminder of something he'll always wonder if he could've handled better, something he'll never get to have.

If you read all that and you're thinking "fuck you Sunny, that was way angstier than it needed to be", here is your consolation prize:

- Daniel does eventually end up with someone in a healthy relationship, where he gets to treasure them the way he wants, and he gets loved endlessly in return. (no spoilers.)

Anyways, that was definitely more than you were asking for, but I've been sitting on it for weeks <3

[arcane-ish]

@alisha-on-arcane

So on rewatching I've convinced myself that the flashback is very, very rose-tinted. That we're seeing Vander's heavily processed memory of their lives together (though the vanco love shack looks pretty cosy) minus the fights and the hardship and the dirt.

The main thing I got from the flashback is that Vander is secretly the world biggest Silco simp and to him, through his mind's eye Silco was just the cutest most stylish little twink, complete with fuzzy water colors.

Now there are parts that are certainly real (the shack and the letter). But Vander's memories. Eh..

The problem is that there's always the character level and the meta level.

1.) Who is the flashback for?

IMO the flashback, particularly the music sequence to me is complicated that to me it doesn't feel like it is primarily about Vander.

In the end, this show is not about Vander and it's not about Silco. It's about Jinx and Vi (+ a little bit of Cait). And to me that Memories sequence felt even though within the story it is triggered by Vander, structurally, within the episode, I think it's much more about showing us young!Vi and young!Powder being happy. Because the whole vibe of the arc to me is about Jinx getting better and almost getting a better life unless if it brutally ripped away from her again.

Vi and Jinx reuniting for the sake of Vander, getting their family hugs in plus the memories montage about how happy they once were is supposed to make us feel wistful about Vi and Jinx so we can then be crushed by the Isha ending and Jinx going back to having her hallucinations.

Like how the montage imo shifts from a Vander POV (Vander thinking of Silco, Vander thinking about boxing with Vi at various ages) to the point of view of the children.

This is Felicia greeting her children, not Vander. This is Felicia giving Vi her glove, from Vi's POV, not Vanders.

This is Vi smelling the food and turning around and seeing her mom cooking for Powder, this is Vi remembering her mother cutting her hair.

To me those moments just don't feel like moments where Vander would have been around (ie the moment where the POV camera moves to look into the soup the mirror images contain Felicia, Vi and Powder but no Vander, so another vote for Vander was not part of this moment).

I don't think that there's any in-universe reason to why the memories switch in perspective. Like Vi and Vander's minds are connected. Or being around Vander makes Vi think a lot about her own mom. So I think the sequence is just "vibes" based. It shifts from Vander's POV to Vi's POV simply because somebody (probably Christian Linke....) wanted to have those scenes in there, whether they make sense of not and structurally/dramatically this montage is there as a calm before the storm before Isha eats it.

(also note that the sequence starts on Vander, his memories, then switches to Vi's POV and then the sequence exits on Vi, Jinx and Isha, with no Vander in sight:

, so yes, my read that it starts on a Vander flashback but it morphs into a Vi respectively Vi/Jinx centered one for artistic reasons)

2.) artist fuckups + fanwank or intentional varity or fuckup followed by intentional variety?

I have to find it but I recently came across another person complaining about the flashback and noting that in Silco's version of the The Drowning his hair is shorter and styled different and they also claimed that Amanda Overton said that the original flashback was a fuckup and Vander and Silco were not supposed to look that young.

So, here's my thinking. If Vander's POV is rose tinted glasses. Who says that Silco's version of events is the real one? Maybe the truth was somewhere in the middle?

And there is some basis for a "memory is relative" approach. Jinx has always had a warped perception of the world. But now we at least have Vi's flashes of Caitlyn. Or Viktor's version of Skye not having glasses and fewer freckles. Or Cait's warped view of the world or how she pictures Jinx right after her mom's death.

Now IF we take this line that ALL flashbacks are colored by the perception of the characters and we can't take any of them 100% per face value, that brings up a ton of interesting things to think about. (maybe Silco is the cutest twink in Vander's memories because that's Vander saw him, maybe Silco is much grimier and the world much darker because there's some self hate there, maybe Vander is scary and bearded on the bridge because that's how Vi sees him in this situation).

But even though this is a fun fanwank and you can get some mileage out of it, I always run into "okay, but how much are we just covering up production fuckups and the creators just being messy and not as careful.

To me the idea that Vander is still "lying" in his memories is a super interesting character idea to me. But the problem is that I have no faith that this will ever be anything but a theory. Because I don't think that with just 3 episodes left and so much shit left to cover we will get another dark version of those memories to reveal that there's a contradiction. Like it could easily fit in just maybe before the final Warwick transformation. But I just don't think it will happen.

But yes, as just a fun character theory, I can get into Vander being strapped down being tortured by Singed and just retreating deeper and deeper into happy memories of his cute boyfriend even if those memories aren't real, they need to be made even lighter and prettier because they have to balance out so much torture. Vander doesn't want to think about the dark things they did together because he's trying to preserve his sanity in the face of a ton of torture and chemicals.

sure if you like they can both have been in love with Felicia, though I think the jackets make a much stronger zaundads case, and 'three close friends' is a thing),

At this point my read is still 100% Zaundads were an item and they were friends with Felicia and Connol and they care about them as fellow friends. I can maybe get into the "but Vi looks like Vander and Jinx has Silco's hair" (but let's remember, Silco could just have styled her hair after she started living with it rather than that being a physical property), but just on what is being said, the looks being exchanged, my read is that they are just concerned friends. (especially with my read that at least part of the Memories montage is Vi gazing onto Felicia and not Vander gazing onto Felicia)

But yes, I can see why the normies might read it differently.

I don't need Vander to have been in love with Felicia for him to freak out after her death. Right now my pitch is, Vander was really into project ankle biter and lived a bit vicariously through Felicia and Connol's family.

And if Silco maybe does something reckless that gets Felicia killed this is more deeply symbolic about how he just doesn't respect Project Anklebiter at all the way Vander wants him to. (with my personal presumption that they maybe were on rocky terms about Project Anklebiter before)

(that said, if all that Silco did was throw a molotov cocktail that is still weak sauce if they are really not going to add anything to that. Like I was at least counting on Silco I dunno, wanting to fuck up the air vents or something like that. Especially since in Vi's version of the Day of Ash Vander still seems moderately into it at the beginning rather Vander never wanted Day of Ash because he wanted to stop way before Vi was born and Silco kept provoking more and more fights. And if Vander didn't lead the charge on the Bridge how the fuck did he ever get any reputation as a revolutionary if all he did was found a moderately successful bar. It feels like there should be more to the story, I'm just doubtful it will ever come)

ETA: I should probably note that project ankle biter doesn't just have to be read in a mpreg "Vander wants to breed his boyfriend" kind of way as much as a joke about it. It can also be seen metaphorically about what status children should have within their community. Especially if you consider that Silco's arc ended up being all about valueing Jinx's life and freedom over Zaun and this arc just ended with Jinx becoming a symbol for resistance and almost instantly her pseudo daughter gets killed. [and of course there's Ekko as the middle ground, who has child aged people fighting, but not doing full on revolution, so maybe there is a middle ground between kids should be tools or soldiers or ignored and kids need to be kept protected and in the dark]

[aireia]

Oh universe! — What happens when you fall in love with the vice president of the student council?

tw/cw: gn! reader, fluff + crack(?). gojo's an idiot. not proofread + rushed. author is stupidly sick, fic makes zero sense.

note: don't expect too much from this fic D: —masterlist

The universe has a love-hate relationship with Satoru. No, screw that, it’s against Satoru Gojo. It’s against his relationship between him and the person standing beside him in the student council room, because he can no longer count how many times he’s tried to confess to you, and gotten interrupted by another student pulling you or him away. 

Now, he knows both of you are busy as leaders in the student council, and he’s fairly popular too, but that doesn’t have any business to meddle with his love life! Especially because he’s also lost track of how much money he’s spent on these failed confessions – excluding the tubs of ice cream he buys after each one to comfort himself. (Suguru and Shoko have to take some away from him to prevent him from eating that much sugar.)

“How many is that?” Suguru asked his brunette friend as they both stared out the window at the scene of you being dragged away by students while Satoru sighed in defeat. “I dunno, sixth? Maybe seventh? We just need to make sure he doesn’t eat enough desserts to get himself sick. Y/n told me something about a meeting they would be having tomorrow about our graduation trip.” “Just bribe him with the fact that they’re going to be there. He’ll be sure to return back to whatever he’s on before all the confessions.”

-

“Really?!” Satoru’s eyes lit up right before he managed to grab the 2nd tub of strawberry ice cream. “...Are you really the president of the student council? How do you not know about this?” “I was only focusing on y/n when they said the news.” 

That caused both his friends’ faces to contort into disgust. Maybe they shouldn’t have told him and let him miss the meeting instead, but you’d probably be kind enough to find him before the meeting and drag him there.

-

“A trip to the mountains…” you mumbled to yourself as you scanned through the papers that were handed out during the meeting. You had been assigned to take care of accommodations. Satoru, on the other hand, was devastated . He had been assigned to take care of the food. No doubt all of you would be getting kikufuku for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for three days straight.

That would’ve been the case, if he didn’t drag you to multiple cafes to plan the trip. Granted, he did treat you to a lot of your favourite snacks and drinks, so going out with him wasn’t that bad. 

The both of you sat in silence most of the time, surprisingly. Sometimes the snowy haired male would sneak in some small talk, but the only time you spoke half the time would be for each other’s opinions. Satoru tried to get you to agree to the worst diets you’ve seen in your entire life. You rejected. 

You tried to propose a few spots to stay in. and Satoru agreed to most of them, though you scrapped your own ideas just moments after he agreed. 

-

You breathed out through your mouth, watching as puffs of smoke escaped your lips. You were standing on the balcony of your room. Staring at the city you call home from the mountains. 

“There you are.” Someone draped a blanket over your trembling body. It’s Satoru, you noted. You could recognise his voice even in a room full of people. “You made a good choice choosing this place. The view is pretty.” Satoru sang words of praise to you, joining you on the balcony. 

“Thank you,” you responded, not bothering to look at him. A long period of silence ensued between the both of you, and Satoru found it to be torture. You’re alone, right? That means he can confess. But how? He looks at your lips. They’re trembling from the cold. 

“Your lips look cold. Do you think I could warm them up for you?” his words spilled out before he processed it. You looked at him weirdly before laughing.

“Is that… How you confess to people?” you continued to laugh, and it reminded him of the first breeze of spring. Playful, calm, refreshing from the cold from winter. Once he realised what he had said, he choked on air and stuttered out, “It’s not! I swear it’s just–” Satoru tried to find the words to explain himself, his head now working overtime to search for the vocabulary that left his mind when these types of situations happened. 

You grinned and cupped his cheeks before pulling him down to gently kiss him, only pulling away once the both of you had relaxed. You couldn’t help but smile at the dust of pink on his face. You were sure there were some on your cheeks too.

“Yea, it is warmer now.”

Maybe the universe isn’t all that against him after all.

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.