#but there are to many memories crowding his head

[supernovafics]

you and steve like each other but neither of you want to fully admit it

wc: 1k

a tiny bit angsty but overall very soft and sweet<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

it was a teasing look mixed with barely any space. it was also the mix of way too many drinks and one joint passed around your group of friends that made you and steve practically inseparable. 

in normal circumstances, you two were already pretty much attached at the hip— always finding each other in crowded rooms or having your own whispered conversations when you were in big groups. but whenever you two were drunk or high, or in this case both, your closeness seemed to only increase tenfold. 

you weren’t sure whose decision it was to move to the kitchen while your friends talked and laughed in the living room. maybe you wanted to drag steve along as you went to grab a soda from his fridge, or perhaps it had been the other way around. you honestly couldn’t remember, and whatever you planned to get became long forgotten by the time you two had walked the ten feet from the living room.

now you sat atop the counter, hands settled in your lap as you fought the urge to run your fingers through steve’s hair that was surprisingly pretty messy for once. and that made you remember that the messiness had actually been your doing because you ruffled it at some point during the night— when he playfully made fun of you for being such a lightweight and the only thing you felt as if you could do in retaliation to his words was mess up his perfectly styled hair.

you let out an abrupt laugh at the memory. 

steve looked at you curiously. “what’s so funny?”

“your hair.”

he quickly pushed a hand through it, trying to tame the mess of brown. “that’s all your fault, y’know.”

“i know. sorry,” you told him. “i think it’s pretty cute, though.”

“you’re pretty cute.” 

you let out another soft laugh. “always the charmer, harrington.” 

“and you love it.”

you nodded instead of protesting his words like you would’ve done if he had said them to you when you were sober. “yeah… i do.” 

he moved closer to you then, stepping between your parted legs, and it was hard to not let yourself lean into him just a little bit. one of his hands settled on the side of your thigh and then moved up and found your hip. 

you didn’t know if it was you or him who leaned in further, but suddenly your noses were brushing and your lips became only breaths apart. it hadn’t even happened yet, but you were already imagining what his lips would feel like on yours; the softness of his mouth, and you had a feeling that he’d taste like the tequila you two had been drinking all night. 

but then he was slowly pulling back a bit. 

maybe logical thinking was hitting him in this moment, and the smallest part of you that was barely sober was glad because you knew just how much things would change if you two did kiss right then. 

you figured steve was going to step away from you then. and in response, you would jump off the counter and slip your hand in his and then you two would head back into the living room; putting an end to your random trip to the kitchen. 

instead, though, he leaned in closer, mouth fanning right against your ear as he softly asked, “can i kiss you?”

that was not at all what you expected him to say. 

so, logical thinking was actually not hitting him in this moment, you figured; and you could say the same. kind of.

you had to bite your lip to hold back your smile. “nope.”

steve pouted at you. “please?”

seeing the look on his face made it too hard not to smile that time. 

you almost just simply shook your head and told him no again, but instead, you turned your head and tapped your cheek. steve got what you meant immediately and leaned in to kiss your warming cheek. 

the action was pretty innocent and very childish, but it still made butterflies swarm in your stomach. 

“was that good enough for you?” you asked softly, leaning back a bit so that you could really look at him, placing your hands on the cool countertop. 

the hand that he had on your hip lightly squeezed. “for now.”

quickly, your mind changed and you were reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him toward you and hugging him; you couldn’t let yourself kiss him, even though you really wanted to, so this was the next best thing. steve returned the embrace immediately, arms circling your waist and holding you tight. 

this was enough, you decided. it would have to be enough. 

steve hummed softly against your neck and you let out a giggle because of how much the action tickled. 

when your laughter subsided, you two simply stayed as you were; quietly holding one another and pretending that it was only you and him in his house right then. 

eddie’s voice from the couch suddenly broke the prevailing silence. “just kiss already! jesus christ!”

that was when you finally pulled away from each other— arms dropping and steve moving back a bit to give you some space; space that you really didn’t want. 

you both flipped eddie off with a laugh and then focused back on each other. you finally hopped off the counter and steve followed you as you headed back into the living room with everyone else.

you knew that aside from drunken moments like those, you and steve would never get that close to kissing one another, or even consider doing it; neither of you would ever have the courage to push your friendship into that entirely different place. 

maybe it was because deep down you both were scared of change, or maybe it was because you both wanted to protect the friendship you had. either way, you and steve were fine with toeing this blurry line instead of admitting the truth. it was easier that way, and a part of you loved it, actually. at least, that was what you kept telling yourself.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 15

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: unrequited love, angst, heartache...

A/N: A lot is said in this one lol not between bucky and her yet but you'll see lol. Also the flashbacks kinda tie into the chapters! The mike flashback will finish in the next chapter when her and bucky finally hash it out lmao

The city buzzed around you, but it all felt distant—like you were moving through a world that didn’t quite belong to you. Your feet carried you aimlessly, dodging crowds and cars, your mind swirling with everything you’d just said to Bucky. Everything he’d done. Everything you’d felt for so long but couldn’t say out loud until tonight.

Eventually, you found yourself in a quieter part of the city. The hum of traffic and voices softened, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the occasional bark of a distant dog. You spotted a park bench under a flickering streetlight and sank onto it, your body heavy, your heart even heavier.

You sat there for a while, trying to steady your breathing, focusing on the cool air filling your lungs. In and out. In and out. But no matter how hard you tried, the tears wouldn’t stop. You wiped at them furiously, frustrated at how raw and exposed you felt.

You just don’t understand. Your brain can’t even begin to piece together how Bucky could do this. How have you been hurting him? You’ve been nothing but a great friend—loving him from the sidelines for so long. And now, when you finally have a chance at something outside of him, he crushes it.

A dark thought creeps in, twisting the knife further. Maybe, deep down, Bucky never truly was your friend. Maybe he secretly resents you because you could never do to him what he’s done to you. Maybe he hates you for making him feel something he can’t figure out how to handle.

But then another realization crashes over you, colder than the first. Have you been doing this to Steve the whole time? All these years, if what Bucky said is true—if Steve really is in love with you—oh god. Have you been breaking his heart, too?

The thought hits you like a freight train, leaving you breathless. Steve. You’ve been so consumed by your feelings for Bucky, by the endless cycle of longing and heartbreak, that you never stopped to consider the weight of your own actions. If what Bucky said was true, if Steve really had been in love with you all these years…

Your chest tightens as you think back to every lingering glance, every reassuring touch, every moment when Steve was there, steady and unwavering. He had always been your rock, the one person who could ground you when everything else fell apart. How many times had you leaned on him, venting about Bucky, crying on his shoulder, seeking comfort without a second thought?

And all the while, he was—what? Silently pining for you? Loving you in a way you never noticed because you were too busy looking at someone else?

The guilt settles in your stomach like a lead weight. What have I done to him?

You run a hand through your hair, your fingers trembling. Have I been doing to Steve exactly what Bucky’s doing to me? Leading him on, even if unintentionally? Letting him love you while you poured all your love into someone else?

It’s too much. Your thoughts spiral, memories flashing like scenes from a movie. Steve’s quiet smiles, the way he always showed up when you needed him, the way he seemed to know you better than anyone else. How could you have been so blind?

But then your mind snaps back to Bucky. Bucky. The thought of him twists the knife in your chest all over again. His words, his actions—they’re like a tangled web, one you can’t seem to escape. You replay the fight in your head, the way his blue eyes burned with frustration, with something deeper and more vulnerable hidden beneath the surface.

He said you hurt him. That you hurt Steve. That you think you’re the only one who’s been in pain. How could he say that to you?

But the worst part is, he wasn’t entirely wrong. You’ve been so consumed by your own heartbreak, by the years of loving Bucky in silence, that maybe you didn’t see the ways you’ve hurt the people around you. Maybe you were so focused on surviving your own pain that you ignored theirs.

Your tears blur your vision as you stare at the empty park in front of you. What if Bucky’s right? What if you’ve been selfish this whole time? What if, despite everything, you’ve been blind to the way your actions ripple through the lives of the people you care about most?

You lean forward, elbows on your knees, and bury your face in your hands. The city feels impossibly big around you, like it could swallow you whole. The weight of your thoughts presses down on you, suffocating in its intensity.

But there’s one thought that refuses to let go: Why does it feel like everything you touch falls apart?

You’ve spent so many years loving Bucky, holding onto a hope that maybe, someday, he’d see you the way you see him. And now? Now you’re not even sure what any of it means anymore. The fight, the hurt, the years of unspoken feelings—they’re all crashing down around you, and you don’t know how to make sense of it.

And Steve. Sweet, dependable Steve. You think about the way he looked at you earlier, his eyes filled with something you now recognize as quiet resignation. How long has he been carrying that? How long has he been holding onto a love he knew you couldn’t return?

A fresh wave of tears threatens to spill over, but you blink them back, your hands clenching into fists. You’ve been selfish. Blind. And now it’s all unraveling.

The night stretches on, cold and unyielding, as you sit there, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of your relationships. You feel like a puzzle with missing pieces, and you’re not sure how to put yourself back together. Or if you even can.

You didn’t even flinch when someone sat beside you. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Because of course, it was Steve.

It was always Steve.

He didn’t say anything, just sat there, his broad frame a steady, comforting presence. You could feel his eyes on you, filled with quiet concern, but he didn’t push you to speak. He just waited.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally wiped at your cheeks one last time, sniffling softly as you turned to face him. The weight of everything Bucky had said still lingered, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Is it true?”

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly. “What?”

You held his gaze, searching his face for any sign of denial. But he only looked confused until you asked again, this time without words. Just a look, one that carried all the weight of Bucky’s earlier confession.

Steve’s face softened, his shoulders sagging slightly as he let out a quiet sigh. He didn’t look away, didn’t try to deflect or change the subject. He just nodded, his voice low and steady.

“Yes.”

The world seemed to tilt for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You blinked at him, trying to process what that single word meant, what it changed.

“How long?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve gave you a sad, almost apologetic smile. “Since high school,” he admitted. “Maybe even longer.”

Your heart ached, the weight of his words settling over you. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Steve looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting slightly. “Because I saw how you looked at him. And as much as it hurt, I wasn’t going to stand in the way of that.” He paused, his voice softening further. “You’ve always been happiest when you’re with him.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. All the moments you’d shared with Steve over the years—the lingering glances, the quiet support, the unwavering presence—it all made sense now. “Steve…”

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. “I’m not telling you this to make things harder. I just… I wanted you to know the truth. You deserve that much.”

The tears threatened to fall again, but you swallowed them back. “You’re such a good friend, Steve,” you whispered.

He nodded, his smile bittersweet. “Yeah. I’ll always be that, no matter what.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of the conversation settling between you. But despite the heaviness, there was a sense of clarity—a new understanding of the bond you shared.

Steve sat quietly beside you, the weight of your conversation pressing heavily between you. The hum of the city seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets. After a long stretch of silence, he took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I ask you something?”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his cautious gaze. “Yeah, of course” you said softly.

Steve hesitated, his jaw tightening as if he was bracing himself. “Do you think… you could ever love me? More than a friend, I mean?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded. You froze, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. It wasn’t unexpected, not after everything Bucky had said and the way Steve had just confessed his feelings. But hearing it out loud was different. It made it real.

For a moment, you didn’t answer, your mind racing. You thought back to all the times Steve had been there for you, all the quiet moments you’d shared, the safety and comfort he provided. You thought about how easy it would be to fall for him—to love someone as steady and kind as Steve.

And maybe… maybe you could have. Before the last couple of weeks, before everything with Bucky had come to a head. There was a time when things weren’t so complicated, and you might have let yourself feel more for Steve. But now?

Now your heart was a tangled mess of longing and pain, and you couldn’t see past Bucky.

You exhaled shakily, your voice breaking. “I don’t think I can,” you admitted, tears pricking at your eyes. “Not now. Maybe… maybe once, I could have. But everything’s different now.”

Steve’s face didn’t change much, but the way his shoulders sagged slightly told you he’d braced himself for this. “I see,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with sadness.

Your chest tightened painfully. “I’m sorry, Steve. You have no idea how much I wish I could. It would make everything so much easier.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you buried your face in your hands. “You deserve so much better than this, better than me,” you choked out. “You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart.”

Steve reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near your shoulder. “Hey, don’t—”

But you pulled away, shaking your head. “Please don’t, Steve. I can’t let you do that,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t let you be the one to pick me up when I’m falling apart. Not like this.”

His hand dropped, and he swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “Okay,” he said, his voice low. “I get it.”

You both sat in silence again, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you. Steve was always the one who stayed, the one who tried to make everything okay. But now, you’d drawn a line, and it felt like a small piece of your heart broke just from doing it.

“I’ll still be here,” he said finally, his voice soft but firm. “Whenever you’re ready, however you need me. That doesn’t change.”

You nodded, the tears still falling. “Thank you,” you whispered. “For everything. You’ve always been too good to me, i've never deserved this, i never deserved you”

Steve gave you a small, bittersweet smile, “You deserve the world” and you could see the depth of his love in his eyes. Even now, even when it hurt, he was still there. And that was what made it all so much harder.

Steve sat beside you, silent, the weight of your shared history and unspoken feelings hanging heavily in the cool night air. You’d both said so much, yet there was still an ache between you, a lingering sense that this moment wasn’t finished.

After a few moments, Steve reached into his jacket pocket, his hand hesitating before he pulled out a small, familiar object. The soft glow of the nearby street lights reflected off the delicate gold of the locket, the one you’d seen weeks ago at the farmers market, the one that reminded you so much of the one your mother gave you, and hers before that, the one you carelessly lost at that stupid party. He turned it over in his fingers for a moment, his expression unreadable, before holding it out to you.

Your breath hitched as you recognized it immediately. “Steve…”

He gave you a small, almost shy smile. “I’ve been holding onto this for a while,” he said softly. “I wasn’t sure when the right time would be, or if there even would be a right time.”

You stared at the locket, your heart twisting painfully. “You bought it?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He nodded. “I saw how much it reminded you of what you loss, when i brought it home to exam in i opened it up” he paused opening it up and your heart stopped, your grandma's note “The lady said her daughter found it at some party and thought she could make some money at the market”

Steve’s words lingered in the cool night air as he handed the locket to you, his fingers brushing yours for just a second. The warmth of his touch, so brief yet grounding, contrasted sharply with the whirlwind of emotions surging through you.

You took the locket gingerly, your eyes wide, the gold chain glinting in the soft glow of the streetlights. Your fingers traced the familiar curves and edges as though to confirm it was real. You opened it carefully, your breath catching when you saw the tiny, worn note tucked inside—the same one your grandmother had written years ago. You traced the intricate design, your mind flashing back to the day you’d first seen it, the quiet hope you’d felt, and the weight of everything that had happened since.

Tears blurred your vision. “Steve… I can’t believe this.” Your voice wavered, thick with emotion. “You didnt even know if was the one i lost, i didnt even, why would you—”

He shrugged, his smile soft, tinged with the kind of quiet understanding that only Steve could give. “I saw the way you looked at it and even i knew it was the one you lost, i just figured it could help give you a little piece of what the original one meant to you. I got lucky, when i opened it and saw that" He's gestured to your great grandma's note, "I thought, maybe—just maybe—it was meant to find its way back to you.”

You shook your head, overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do this,” you whispered, clutching the locket tightly. “I was so careless, and I thought I lost this forever.”

Steve leaned back slightly, his hands now resting on his knees as he looked at you with a mixture of tenderness and resolve. “You didn’t lose it forever,” he said gently. “It found its way back. Just like it was suppose to. I just… I wanted to make sure it did.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of everything��your fight with Bucky, your complicated feelings for Steve, the memories of your mother—all pressing down on you at once. “Steve…” you started, but your words faltered as you searched for the right thing to say, the gratitude and guilt tangling inside you.

He seemed to sense your struggle, his eyes softening even further. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted you to have it back.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that allowed you to think, to breathe, to feel. You closed the locket carefully, holding it against your chest. The cool metal pressed against your skin, a small but powerful reminder of everything you’d lost and found.

Steve’s voice broke the silence, low and full of emotion. “I know it’s not my place to fix things or to make things easier for you. But… I wanted you to know that I see you. I always have.”

“Steve,” you said again, your voice a broken whisper. “You’re… you’re too good.”

He shook his head, his eyes glistening. “No. I’m just someone who loves you, in whatever way you’ll let me.”

That broke you. A sob escaped your lips, and you covered your mouth, trying to hold yourself together. But the tears kept coming, and Steve just watched, his own eyes brimming with unshed emotion.

After a moment, you managed to look up at him, your voice barely audible. “I wish I could love you the way you deserve.”

Steve smiled gently, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I know,” he said quietly. “And it’s okay.”

You held the locket to your chest, as if it could somehow steady the storm inside you. “You’ve always been there for me,” you whispered. “Always. And I’ve never deserved it.”

Steve reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “You don’t have to deserve love,” he said softly. “You just have to let yourself feel it.”

You both sat there for a while longer, the world around you blurring into the background. Finally, Steve stood, offering you a hand to help you up.

“Come on,” he said, his voice steady. “Let’s get you home.”

You nodded, slipping the locket around your neck, feeling its weight settle against your heart. It was a piece of him, a piece of everything you shared, and it would stay with you, no matter where life took you next.

As you walked beside him, the silence between you was full of understanding. It wasn’t the ending either of you had imagined, but it was a moment of truth, a quiet acknowledgment of what had always been there and what might never be.

Summer

The sun was high, casting its golden rays over the park as laughter echoed through the wide-open fields. It was one of those rare Saturdays where everyone’s schedules aligned, and the entire group had decided to spend the day outside.

Sam had commandeered the grill, expertly flipping burgers with a pair of tongs in one hand and a beer in the other. “I’m telling you, my secret seasoning is gonna blow your minds,” he bragged, tossing a wink over his shoulder.

Natasha smirked from her spot on a picnic blanket, her sunglasses perched on her nose. “Your secret seasoning better be more than just salt and pepper, Wilson,” she shot back, taking a sip from her drink.

Wanda giggled, her legs stretched out in front of her as she picked at a bag of chips. “Sam’s been talking about his ‘grilling skills’ all week. It better be good, or we’re ordering pizza.”

“You wound me,” Sam said dramatically, clutching his chest.

Steve stood nearby, setting up a game of cornhole with Bucky. “Alright, who’s teaming up?” Steve asked, holding up the bean bags. His eyes flicked to you for a second longer than necessary before he quickly looked away.

“I’m with Nat,” Wanda chimed in, grinning as she elbowed Natasha. “We’re unbeatable.”

Natasha nodded confidently. “Damn right we are.”

Steve turned to you and Bucky. “Guess it’s us versus you two.”

You raised an eyebrow at Bucky, who was leaning lazily against a tree, sipping from his bottle of beer. “Think you can keep up, Barnes?”

He smirked, pushing off the tree to stand beside you. “I think the real question is, can you?”

The game started off competitive, with Sam and Steve shouting exaggerated encouragement from the sidelines. “Aim for the hole, Buck!” Steve yelled, laughing when Bucky glared at him after missing.

“Oh, brilliant advice, Captain Obvious,” Bucky muttered, his cheeks tinged pink. He turned to you, leaning in. “You got this, right? Show ‘em how it’s done.”

You laughed, tossing your bean bag and landing a perfect shot. “Boom,” you said, giving Bucky a playful nudge. “That’s how it’s done.”

Bucky grinned, holding up his hand for a high five. “We make a good team,” he said, his voice softer, his blue eyes twinkling.

Natasha, ever observant, raised an eyebrow behind her sunglasses but said nothing, nudging Wanda when Bucky wasn’t looking.

By the time lunch rolled around, everyone was sprawled out on the blankets, full of Sam’s surprisingly good burgers and Wanda’s homemade cookies. Steve sat cross-legged next to you, while Bucky leaned back on his elbows on your other side.

Natasha watched the scene unfold, a small smile playing on her lips. She caught Steve stealing a glance at you when you weren’t looking, and her smile faltered slightly, her fingers toying with the edge of her cup. Wanda noticed and gave her a reassuring nudge, mouthing, You okay?

Natasha nodded, brushing it off. She wasn’t about to ruin the moment.

“Alright,” Sam said, clapping his hands together. “Who’s up for some frisbee?”

Steve stood immediately. “I’m in.”

“Same,” you said, hopping up and pulling Bucky along with you. “Come on, let’s see if you’ve still got it.”

Bucky groaned but let you drag him to his feet. “I’ll show you sweetheart.’”

Natasha and Wanda stayed behind on the blanket, content to watch as you all ran around like kids. Wanda sighed happily. “This is nice,” she said, leaning back on her hands. “Feels like we haven’t done this in forever.”

Natasha nodded, her eyes following Steve as he ran after the frisbee. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice a little distant. “It’s perfect.”

Wanda glanced at her, her brow furrowing slightly. “You’re still not gonna tell him?”

Natasha shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s not the right time.”

Wanda sighed but didn’t push. Instead, she watched as Steve tossed the frisbee to you, his face lighting up when you caught it with ease, your laughter ringing out. Bucky cheered you on, his arm slinging around your shoulders for a brief moment, and Wanda couldn’t help but notice the way Steve’s smile faltered, just for a second.

Despite the complicated dynamics, the love and friendship within the group were undeniable. It was in the way Sam teased everyone mercilessly but was the first to help when needed. In the way Natasha always had a sarcastic quip but fiercely defended her friends. In the way Wanda’s quiet warmth balanced out everyone’s chaos. And in the way Steve and Bucky—despite everything—always had each other’s backs. And in the way you were the glue always keeping everything and everyone together.

The afternoon faded into a golden sunset, and as you all sat together, sharing stories and laughs, it felt like nothing could break the bond you all shared.

For now, at least.

The alley was dimly lit, the only light coming from a flickering streetlamp. Bucky stormed out of the bar, his jaw clenched, his fists tight at his sides. The cool night air did little to calm the fire raging inside him. He barely made it a block before he heard the familiar sound of heels clicking rapidly behind him.

“Bucky Barnes, stop right there!” Natasha’s voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of the city.

He barely had time to turn before she grabbed his arm and shoved him against the rough brick wall of the alley, her hands pressing firmly against his chest.

“What the hell, Nat?!” Bucky snapped, but she wasn’t having it.

“No, you don’t get to talk right now!” she shot back, her green eyes blazing. “I am so sick of this, Bucky! So sick of you and her dancing around each other like you’ve got all the time in the world!”

Bucky’s mouth opened, but Natasha cut him off with a furious glare.

“You love her,” she said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’ve always loved her. And she’s loved you since before any of us even knew what love was! But you’re both so goddamn stubborn, so scared, that you’re wasting your lives.”

“Natasha, you don’t—” Bucky tried, but she jabbed a finger into his chest, stopping him cold.

“Shut up, Bucky! Just shut up and listen for once!” She stepped back, running a hand through her hair. “We’re all in our mid-twenties now. We’re not kids anymore. You and her? You were supposed to set the tone for love. You were supposed to show the rest of us that it’s worth it, that it’s real. But instead, you’re both stuck in this endless loop of fear and self-sabotage.”

Bucky’s throat tightened, his eyes flickering with guilt. “Nat, it’s not that simple…”

“Bullshit!” she shouted, her voice echoing in the narrow alley. “It is that simple! You’re scared. You’ve always been scared. But guess what? So is she! And you know what else? You’re not just hurting yourselves—you’re hurting everyone around you.”

She took a shaky breath, her voice lowering but no less intense. “Steve’s been in love with her for years, and it’s killing him. And me?” She laughed bitterly. “I’ve been in love with Steve since high school, Bucky. But do you think he’ll even look at me the way he looks at her? No. Because he’s stuck, just like you.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock, but Natasha wasn’t done.

“I’ve been waiting, Bucky. Waiting for Steve to see me, to love me the way he loves her. But he can’t, because you and her keep dragging this out, making it impossible for any of us to move on! And god if i told her..”

Her voice cracked, and for the first time, her anger gave way to raw vulnerability. “I can’t do it anymore, Bucky. I can’t keep watching the two people I love most in the world destroy themselves and everyone else around them.”

Bucky looked down, his heart pounding. The weight of Natasha’s words hit him like a freight train. “Natasha, I…”

She stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “You need to tell her, Bucky. Tell her you love her. Stop running, stop hiding, and stop making excuses. She deserves to be happy. You deserve to be happy. And if you can’t do it for yourselves, then do it for the rest of us, do it for me Bucky” she pleaded

Bucky swallowed hard, his hands clenching at his sides. “What if… what if I’m too late?”

Natasha sighed, her anger softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. But you won’t be too late, Bucky. She’s been waiting for you her whole life.”

She pulled back, her eyes searching his. “But this? This has to end, tonight. Go to her. Fix this. And maybe, just maybe, the rest of us can start to heal too.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his chest tight. “I’ll try.”

“You’ll do more than try,” Natasha said firmly, stepping back and crossing her arms. “Now go. Before I change my mind and punch you again.”

Bucky gave her a small, appreciative nod before he opened his mouth “Does anyone else know?” He asked, referring to her confession about Steve.

Natasha smiled sadly and said “Wanda”

College

It was one of those golden autumn afternoons, the kind where the campus was bathed in soft, honeyed light, and the air carried the faintest chill. You sat cross-legged on the quad, a pile of books spread out in front of you. The vibrant reds and oranges of the trees framed you like a painting, the wind occasionally tugging at your hair and making it dance in the sunlight.

Steve watched from a distance, leaning against a tree with a sketchbook balanced on his lap. His pencil hovered over the page, but he hadn’t drawn a single line in minutes. Instead, his eyes were fixed on you.

You were laughing, your head thrown back as Bucky said something undoubtedly ridiculous. Steve couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. He could see the way your eyes lit up, how you leaned in closer to Bucky as if the rest of the world had melted away. The way Bucky looked at you—grinning, but with an ease that Steve envied—made Steve’s chest tighten.

“You’re staring again,” Natasha’s voice broke through his thoughts, jolting him back to reality. She plopped down beside him, her sharp gaze cutting right through his defenses. “Not a good look, Rogers.”

Steve sighed, lowering his pencil. “I’m just—”

“Sketching,” she interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “Sure.”

He didn’t argue. There was no point. Natasha had known for a long time—probably since the day the three of you met her. She was good at reading people, and Steve was an open book when it came to you.

“She doesn’t see it, you know,” Natasha said after a beat, her tone softer now.

Steve glanced at her, his jaw tightening. “Doesn’t see what?”

Natasha gave him a look, one that said she wasn’t going to let him play dumb. “You. The way you look at her like she’s the only thing that matters.”

Steve let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter, does it? She only has eyes for Bucky.”

Natasha sighed, leaning back on her hands. “And Bucky… Bucky’s too blind to realize what he’s got right in front of him.”

Steve’s eyes flicked back to you. You had your hand on Bucky’s arm now, laughing at whatever joke he’d just made. Bucky, for his part, seemed blissfully unaware of the way your touch lingered just a second too long, the way your eyes softened when they met his.

Steve felt a pang of something between longing and resignation. “I just want her to be happy.”

“And what about your happiness?” Natasha asked, her voice low.

Steve didn’t answer. Instead, he flipped the page of his sketchbook, finally putting pencil to paper. He didn’t need to look up to draw you; your image was already burned into his memory. Every line of your face, every curve of your smile, every glint in your eyes.

“Maybe some people aren’t meant to have that kind of happiness,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Natasha.

Natasha sighed, her expression softening. She reached out, giving his arm a light squeeze. “You’re a good guy, Steve. But you deserve more than being someone’s second choice.”

Steve didn’t respond, his focus locked on the sketch forming beneath his hand. But deep down, he knew she was right. He deserved more. He just wasn’t sure he could ever want anyone else the way he wanted you.

Natasha’s gaze lingered on Steve for a moment longer, her hand still resting on his arm. Her heart ached, not just for him, but for herself. She’d seen the way Steve looked at you for years, and every time, it chipped away at the small sliver of hope she held onto. Steve was kind, strong, and everything she wanted, but his heart belonged to you. It always had.

“Steve,” she said softly, almost hesitant. When he didn’t respond, she pulled her hand back, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned against the tree beside him. “You deserve someone who sees you.”

Steve’s pencil paused, his hand hovering over the sketch. He glanced at her, and for a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them. But then his gaze shifted back to you, and Natasha felt her chest tighten.

The sound of your laugh carried across the quad again, pulling both their attention back to you. You looked so radiant, so alive, and so hopelessly, irretrievably in love with Bucky.

And Steve? Steve would keep loving you silently, from the sidelines, even if it tore him apart.

Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing a small smile. She’d keep loving Steve the same way, even if he never looked at her the way he looked at you.

[diamonddaze01]

Hey girlyyyy~ I want to tell you that I love you and your work mwah! 💋

Can we have jeonghan hurt + fluff prompt 47. Be it like a mafia one where he has to make a choice between you or his girl best friend (who he loves dearly)

I'll like seriously cry if U do

the choices we live with

pairing: jeonghan x f!reader | wc: 1.0k prompt: "You have to make a choice" au: mafia au | warnings: blood, injury a/n: hello anon! thank you for the kind words! i did take this in a bit of a diff direction because this is the idea i had but i hope you love it nonetheless <333

Jeonghan stumbled into your apartment just after midnight, the door creaking open with its familiar groan. The sound jolted you upright on the couch, where you’d dozed off hours ago, waiting. You knew it was him before you even turned around—the shuffle of his uneven footsteps, the faint metallic scent of blood carried in the cold night air.

“Jeonghan?” Your voice cracked, half dread, half relief.

He leaned against the doorframe, a crooked smirk on his bloodied face, but even that couldn’t mask how pale he looked. His once-pristine suit was torn, dark crimson staining the fabric. His hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat and streaked with more red.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” His words were light, but his voice was hoarse.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered, rushing to his side. You grabbed his arm and looped it over your shoulder, guiding his staggering form inside. He didn’t resist, but his weight against you was heavy, his body trembling slightly.

“You’re going to ruin my couch,” you muttered as you eased him down.

“Not the first time,” he rasped, trying to laugh, but it dissolved into a pained grunt.

You shot him a sharp glare, the concern in your eyes warring with anger. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

He saluted weakly, his bloodied fingers smearing against his temple. You hated how calm he looked, as if this was just another night in a long line of disasters.

Your hands shook as you rummaged through the first aid kit in the bathroom, muttering curses under your breath. Bandages, antiseptic, gauze—it was all second nature now, like muscle memory. You had patched him up so many times before. Too many.

Returning to the living room, you knelt in front of him. He tilted his head lazily, watching you with a soft, unreadable gaze.

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, dabbing at the deep gash above his eyebrow. “You’re bleeding everywhere.”

He winced but didn’t pull away. “Careful. I’d hate to lose this face.”

“Maybe if you stopped throwing yourself into fights, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

The words came out harsher than you intended, but you didn’t apologize. The anger bubbling in your chest felt safer than the fear threatening to swallow you whole.

“This is the twelfth time this year, Jeonghan.”

“Is it?” He quirked a brow, wincing as you pressed a clean cloth to the wound. “I stopped counting at six.”

Your hand froze, the cloth hovering just above his skin. “This isn’t a joke.”

“I know it’s not.” His voice softened, the smirk slipping from his face.

“Then why do you keep doing this?” You leaned back on your heels, throwing the bloodied cloth onto the coffee table. “Why do you keep risking your life like this?”

He sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “You know why.”

You did. That was the worst part. Jeonghan wasn’t just some low-level enforcer or a man who stumbled into the wrong crowd. He was Seungcheol’s second in command, the calm and calculating right hand to the man who ruled the underground with an iron fist. Jeonghan had earned his place by being as ruthless as he was loyal, and Seungcheol trusted him to handle the dirtiest, bloodiest parts of the job.

But where did that leave you?

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I didn’t sign up to be the one waiting at home while you play the martyr for Seungcheol.”

“Sweetheart, it’s not—”

“Don’t,” you snapped. “Don’t tell me it’s not like that. I know what you do for him. I know what it costs you.”

His silence was deafening.

“You have to make a choice.” The words came out steadier than you expected, but they landed heavy between you.

“What?”

“I can’t do this anymore.” You stood abruptly, the sudden motion making his head lift. “It’s me or him, Jeonghan. Your loyalty to Seungcheol or your loyalty to me. I won’t keep doing this. I won’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Blood smeared across his fingertips as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple.” You crossed your arms over your chest, desperate to hold yourself together. “You just don’t want to make the choice.”

His jaw clenched, the tension in his body palpable. You wondered, for a brief moment, if he would fight you on this. If he’d lash out or argue or do something, anything, to prove he cared enough to stay.

But instead, he exhaled slowly and leaned back against the couch. His lips curled into a faint, bitter smile.

“Alright, sweetheart. Calm down,” he murmured, reaching out to tug gently at your wrist. His touch was warm, grounding, even as it made your heart ache. “You’ve had a long night. Let’s talk about this in the morning.”

“Jeonghan—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his voice softer now. “Come to bed. Just for tonight.”

Against your better judgment, you let him guide you to the bedroom. He slid into bed beside you, his arm draping over your waist as if nothing had changed. The scent of blood and smoke lingered faintly on him, but you ignored it, too tired to fight anymore.

For the first time in hours, you let yourself close your eyes, lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his breathing.

When you woke, the bed was cold.

The space beside you was empty, the sheets neatly pulled back as if he had never been there at all.

Panic settled into your chest as you sat up, your eyes darting around the room. You called his name once, then again, but the apartment was silent.

Then you saw it—a note, folded neatly on the nightstand.

Your name was written on the front in his familiar handwriting, and as you picked it up, the faint scent of his cologne wafted toward you.

Your hands trembled as you unfolded the paper, your heart sinking before you even read the words.

I’m sorry.

Two words. That was all he left you.

No explanations. No promises. Just an apology that felt like a dagger to your chest.

The tears came quickly, hot and unrelenting, as you clutched the note to your chest. You’d given him a choice, and this was his answer.

He had chosen.

And it wasn’t you.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[oatmealwrites]

A Night to... Forget? Ch.1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! Reader

(For reference I aged up Keigo (Hawks to 25 ish just for the ages of you and Aizawa to make sense)

I will also use the pro hero last names for the first chapter with their pro name next to them in case you don't recognize

Word Count: 5.5k

SYNOPSIS: You never really felt like you had a quirk. Sure you technically did, but tons of people have been born with eidetic memories in the past, even before quirks became mainstream. You gave up the dream of being a pro-hero like your friends and instead found comfort in support through law. After a particularly draining case you assisted on, you find yourself dragged out to a bar with your best friend Keigo (hawks). The whole night was a bad idea, taking Keigo up on his drinking game was worse, especially when Aizawa was there. It’s the man you can’t help yourself pining over, and it’s the one night you can’t remember.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the final tap of the judge’s wooden gavel, you rise to your feet and let out a sigh of any remaining energy you had left. The court marshals walked over to the defendant and swiftly cuffed the villain despite his loud and physical efforts to resist; your eyes following the marshals slowly escorting the man out of the room and noting the way his protests deafened once the doors swung closed.

“Nice work out there Y/N.”

You look over past the mid-height railing that separates the spectators from the court floor and lock eyes with detective Tsukauchi. A small smile on his face as he stands perfectly upright and attent.

“Thanks detective -”

“How many times do I have to say you can just call me Tsukauchi?”

You bite your tongue and shake your head lightly, now shuffling files into your soft leather briefcase and packing up.

“Right Tsukauchi. Thanks for your support, I didn’t realize you were going to be coming to the sentencing today.”

The detective adjusts his collar and scans the crowd of heroes, attorneys, policemen, and spectators slowly shuffling for the exits, obviously searching for someone, “It's always nice to see the next generation of people fighting for justice in action.”

You pause and raise an eyebrow; understanding there’s another reason for his attendance. “Toshinori (All Might) is probably in the lobby by now.” You continue sliding the court files into your bag, one by one, only focused on getting out of the courthouse and into bed.

Tsukauchi looks back at you, a slightly shocked expression on his face before he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck and smiles, “Right, thanks. I’ll see you around the station when you pick up files for your next case.”

You give a slight wave off to him and turn to sling the straps of your briefcase over your head and across your chest, ready to finally go home and sleep. Turning your head, your eyes follow the prosecutor you extern for walking back from his short talk with the judge who was now packing up as well.

“Nice job kid!” He gives you a slight pack on the back and pulls his cellphone from his pocket, scrolling through his contacts briefly,  “I’m gonna have the secretary forward the followup paperwork over to you to file. Think you can get it done by Monday? We have a few more cases already pending and this one needs to close ASAP.”

You grip the straps of your briefcase and do your best not let your exhaustion show. This prosecutor is a big deal in your externship and unfortunately that also means most of your free time gets sacrificed. Instead of letting out the sigh that was sitting in your lungs, you swallow thickly and nod once, “Of course. I’ll start on it right away. Do you want me to begin memorizing the next case’s notes as well?”

The prosecutor snaps his fingers while looking up from his phone and slings his own briefcase over his shoulder, “Are you sure your quirk is eidetic and not mindreading?”

He laughs at his own joke before walking out of the court floor, past the spectator stands, and into the lobby, not bothering to even say goodbye.

You stand there for a moment, reviewing the plans you made this weekend that would now need to be rearranged. Meeting classmates in the library for group study (which was really group reading 200+ pages of law textbooks) should be uninterrupted at the usual meeting time of 9am.

Your report to UA might need a slight tweak, but nothing more than a few hours. Before every case you worked on, you always met with the pro-hero who had captured the villain who you would be assisting in prosecuting. Every detail memorized and ready for paperwork and eventually the courtroom floor.

The main issue would be Keigo. With a slight sigh you push your hair out of your face and pull up his contact, ready to flake on him and his movie night for the third week in a row. Stepping out of the court room floor you make your way out to the lobby and shift in between the groups of people to a small open area near the front windows.

You click the ‘dial’ button and raise the phone to your ear, looking out the window and the setting sun bringing a warm glow to the city. You hear a soft ring once, and then twice before you notice a cellphone from across the lobby ringing at the same interval. Before your eyes can even fully adjust to the sunset’s glare, you spot your best friend from across the room holding up his phone with a coy smile and heading to you.

You end the call and shuffle forward while sliding your cellphone into your blazer pocket, “What are you doing here?”

Keigo’s usual hero uniform was replaced with a gray t-shirt and black denim jeans; either on the way home or just coming from it. He casually glides a hand through his hair, pushing it back and letting a few stray strands fall back over his forehead again.

“Came to pick you up obviously.”

You raise an eyebrow and adjust the straps on your shoulder, “Huh? For what?”

Keigo side steps to allow other people to pass by and smoothly guides you out of the way with a slight pressure on your upper arm, “There’s a group going out to a bar to celebrate. A handful of pro heroes from UA and such are going, plus I’m sure some of your law school buddies will be around.”

You tilt your head, “Celebrate what?”

The lobby now getting busier and busier with spectators, police officers, and more leaving, Keigo gently grabs your elbow and pulls you near the vending machines by the exit doors.

“Celebrate the fact it’s Friday…?” He scratches the back of his head and laughs, “Ok well it’s more like everyone has been super busy catching villains and uhh..-”

“Prosecuting”

“Prosecuting,” he snaps his fingers, “so it was like a group decision to take some time off and relax.”

You squint at him, “Uh huh? I have a lot of work to do and so do you as well anyways,” You turn to the exit and Keigo quickly pivots to block your path.

“I knew you were gonna say that,” he pokes your shoulder lightly, “and I knew you were probably gonna flake on movie night again this week.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and purse your lips slightly at being read so easily. It’s not like you were trying to avoid him, you just had way too much on your plate at the moment. Your silence is answer enough for him and he smiles in victory

“Ok then it’s settled. Come have a few drinks and the weekend is all yours to do your boring school stuff.”

You shove his shoulder lightly, knowing you could never convince him otherwise, “Ok fine. And I want it known that I don’t enjoy doing homework or externship duties over hanging out.”

You both push off the wall and maneuver the crowd to the large wooden double doors of the exit and descend the stone stairs to the small courtyard. The sun quickly setting causes nearby business signs to flicker on a warm glow of colors up and down the street.

You continue walking down the courtyard and head towards the nearby parking lot and main road; a metro station sign illuminating a portion of the sidewalk.

“Who’d you even get to agree to this anyways?”

Keigo hums and looks down at you from the corner of his eyes.

“You said there was a group,” you run a hand through your hair, now wondering if your appearance is even nice enough to warrant going out. The slight breeze brings small goosebumps to your legs; the pencil skirt and opaque black tights not providing much warmth.

“Oh.. you know them all so don’t worry,” he stops at the escalator entrance to the metro station, “Seriously just relax ok? You look great and you’ll have a great time.”

His touch is gentle on the small of your back as he lets you step onto the moving stair in front of him. You rock back and forth in your kitten heels, balancing on the ridges of the escalator and looking up at Keigo.

“Am I gonna be the only one dressed like this?”

He pulls a pack of gum from his pocket and offers you a piece, throwing up an eyebrow in the process, “Hm? You’re dressed fine. You know, you worry too much.”

You throw the minty gum into your mouth and step off the escalator to scan your transit card at the metro entrance gate, “Couldn’t you just like, fly me home so I could at least drop my briefcase off?”

Keigo follows you past the scanners and towards the platform, he puts his hand out to hold your bag without even saying a word. You scoff and roll your eyes, but sling the straps off anyways and place the weight in his hand. He flings it over his shoulder and stands at the edge of the platform, watching the tv sign estimate of the next train’s arrival, “That would take too long. Everyone is probably already there.”

You suck the inside of your cheek between your molars and sway on your heels again absentmindedly, only stopping when Keigo’s hand places a weight on your shoulder. Before you can even speak a yellow glow lights up the end of the platform walls and a strong gust blows back your hair and blazer fabric.

His hand only leaves your shoulder once the automatic doors slide open and the glow of the train car’s fluorescent lights pour onto the platform. Keigo steps on the train and maneuvers through a few people to secure a seat for himself and one for you across from him.

*******

The sun has completely set at this point with only the street lights, car headlights, and neon business signs glowing warmly onto the street. The bar in question is nice and secluded, but not in a questionable part of town, just a bit more residential. It’s only a few metro stops away from your friend’s apartment, and you’ve been here with Keigo more times than you can count.

Your heels click softly on the ground as you walk next to him, only stopping at the door to pry your bag open to look for your ID while Keigo holds it open. The bouncer recognizes him right away, giving a soft ‘Hawks’ upon seeing him despite the fact that nearly every time he visits you’re with him as well.

He opens the door for you and the warm air of the bar comfortably surrounds you; the music and chatter a distinct change from the quiet streets outside. It’s crowded, but not uncomfortably. Groups of people surround the billiards table, nearly every bar stool is taken, and the booths by the dance floor seemed mostly filled. It made sense given it’s Friday night.

As you work through a few bodies to approach the bar you give a slight elbow to Keigo, “It’s so dumb, why does he insist on checking my ID every time? It’s not like he hasn’t seen us both here before a million times.”

He laughs and guides you through a few bodies before pulling out two empty bar stools for you both to sit at, “It would be hard for anyone to forget this face.”

You roll your eyes and spin in the chair to face the bartender, your left hand now cradling your head while Keigo sits closely on your right side, “shut up…”

He laughs and shakes your shoulder, “Oh come on. Here, let me get us some shots,” he pauses and examines you for a moment, “wait, have you eaten yet?”

You shrug and look at bottles behind the bartender, trying to determine what shot you wanted, “Umm a few hours ago. Why don’t we just get food after? It always tastes better anyways.”

He snaps his fingers and hums, “Ohh ok ok. Sounds good, just don’t go getting shitfaced beforehand.”

You scoff and wave your hand at him, “Yea, yea… tequila?”

He smiles and leans on the counter, getting the bartender's attention while you survey the bar. Most are local residents and college kids but you spot a few groups of police officers and heroes in the back booths. Shifting in your seat to get a better view, you can make out the faces of Kayama (midnight), Tsukauchi, and Toshinori. With one more tilt of your head you then spot Yamada (present mic)  and Aizawa..

You spin in your barseat abruptly and nearly bump the lime in Keigo’s hands onto the counter. He pulls his hands back and furrows his eyebrows, “Hey watch out I almost-”

His gaze follows yours and you frantically look anywhere else and claw at him to not be so obvious.

“Ohhh I see,” The biggest shit-eaitng grin spreading across his face.

You sink your face into your palms, not bothering to worry if it smudges your makeup, “Shut up.”

Keigo keeps looking at Aizawa for an extra moment before spinning back towards you and kicking you gently under the bar counter.

 “To be fair, I didn’t even think he was gonna show,” he slides a shot glass over to you with his left hand, the limes sitting in his right.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was gonna be here?”

You take the shot glass and stare down at the liquid before Keigo slides a lime in your right hand.

“Ok so bad news, no salt.”

You glare at him, obviously there was worse news than that right now.

“He hates me.”

Keigo rolls his eyes, getting impatient and wanting to drink already, “He does not. He’s like that with everyone,” he lifts his shot glass up right below his lips, gently guiding your hand holding yours to mirror the position. “Now let’s drink already.”

You give him one last glance before downing the liquid with an intense grimace, the fire burning down your throat. You place the shot glass back on the counter and sink your teeth into the lime, letting the sour juice mask the intensity of the alcohol.

Keigo exhales roughly and sticks out his tongue slightly with a contorted face, “oh my g-,” he coughs before he can get words entirely out. The disruption causes a few heads to turn, but people return back to their conversations a moment later.

You peel the lime from your lips and shake your head lightly, “Ok, maybe a different brand next time.”

You wince and pop the lime into the empty shot glass then slide it back towards the bartender and before you can turn to Keigo, his hand is wiping a napkin on your chin.

“Jeez you made a mess-”

You scowl and take the paper from his hands to wipe your face but raise an eyebrow at his sudden shiver. His shoulders roll forward uncomfortably and he arches his spine like cold water got dumped on his back. Before you can ask if he’s alright, he sits back up and shakes his head, “Ugh, sorry. I just had, like a weird feeling or something.”

Laughter pours out from somewhere behind you, the patrons and heroes in the booths now blocked by the other customers in the bar. He shrugs and shakes his head, “Ok, another?”

“Honestly, yea.. I’m gonna need it if he’s here.”

Keigo rolls his eyes and holds up two fingers to the bartender, though he motions towards a different bottle on the rack this time, “Come on Y/N. He’s just got a stick up his ass, though maybe you could remov-”

“Augh, no. I don’t even have his phone number let alone a chance of anything besides being barely colleagues. He’s even left the room the moment I entered, and I was only at UA to help him prosecute one of the villains he caught. He even mumbled about being ‘unable to work with me’.”

“That didn’t happen.”

“I literally couldn’t forget it even if I tried.”

Keigo sniffs the new shot glass and makes a face in between ‘not good, but not bad’ and slides one over to you, “Your quirk is remember what you saw not what he said.”

You hunch over the shot and take a fresh lime from his hand, “It’s the same vibe though.”

Keigo throws the shot back with less of a dramatic reaction than before and digs his canines into the lime, “And yet you still have a thing for him? Kinda weird if you ask me.”

You follow suit in taking the shot and draining the juice from lime onto your tongue before frustratingly shaking your head, “I don’t!”

He raises an eyebrow with a deadpan.

“Ok, I don’t know why. I just do.”

Keigo stands up from the barstool and takes your briefcase, ready to join the rest of the group, “You just need to go on a date and stop hanging out with so many pencil pushers; it’s messing you up.”

With a hop off the stool, you straighten your skirt and follow him into the crowd of people, only weaving through a few groups before you approach the booth with everyone sitting and now looking up at you and Keigo expectedly.

“Hey! You guys made it!” Yamada booms from his position in the booth against the wall.

Keigo smiles and examines the seating arrangement. On the left booth, in the order from the wall to the dancefloor is Kayama, Toshinori, and Tsukauchi. On the right, from the wall out is Yamada and Aizawa.

You look at Keigo in a ‘don't’ you dare’ while he smirks back at you and slides next to Toshinori, leaving you sitting across from him and next to Aizawa. The wooden back of the booth creates an awkward angle and you arch forward to keep an upright position.

Kayama takes a sip from her drink and leans on the table, “We were just talking about the upcoming recess. Us teachers will have a week off with no school, not that it would apply to you guys though.”

There’s a pitcher on the table of a generic looking pale beer; Keigo makes a face asking permission and Tsukauchi gives a nod of approval. He pours you each a pint and you raise an eyebrow.

“Woa, letting loose tonight?”

Keigo smiles at Yamada and clinks his glass to yours, “Just celebrating the company.”

Aizawa shifts slightly beside you and takes a sip from his own drink, avoiding any comment in the conversation. His eyes linger in a scowl on Keigo for a moment before turning his attention to Yamada.

You stare at Keigo and silently curse him with your eyes for the seating arrangement while he leans back into the seat with the rim of his glass resting on his lower lips, enjoying the show in front of him.

“Why don’t we play a game everyone?”

The group turns to your friend waiting for him to elaborate.

“Just a simple drinking game, maybe… King’s Cup?

Tsukauchi rolls his eyes slightly. “That’s a bit childish no?”

Kayama smiles wide, “Oh it’ll be fun! Does anyone have any cards?”

Yamada smirks and slides a pack onto the table without missing a beat and the table erupts into excitement.

You find yourself a bit nervous at the proposal and tug at the collar of your button up shirt in slight heat. His stupid drinking games never end well.

While Yamada begins to shuffle the cards, you shimmy off your blazer, not wanting to spill anything on the overpriced fabric you expect to last you the end of law school.

“I can put it with mine, if you want.”

The voice is deep and curt and enough to make you finally look at the man sitting next to you. Aizawa’s hair tucked back into a half-bun with a few strands framing his face along with his signature 5 o’clock shadow indicating he’s been too tired to shave. He sits casually in a black long sleeve and matching black jeans, extending his hand to take your blazer.

“Oh, sure.. Thanks”

Without speaking, he takes the jacket and nudges Yamada’s arm to place it on the little ledge between the booth and the wall. Aizawa turns back to you once again before sipping on his drink and watching the ministrations ahead of him.

“Alright everyone, basic rules but we can remind each other as we go. Do the task associated with the card and have fun,” Keigo pauses and looks at the group, “Though what should we order to be the ‘king’s cup’.”

Toshinori raises an eyebrow at him meekly and holds his soda with both hands, “King’s cup?”

You sip your beer and lean into the booth, silently wishing a bank would be robbed and the entire table would be called into action.

“Whoever draws the fourth and final king from the deck has to drink it. The beverage can be whatever we want,” Keigo smirks at you, “ though preferably strong.”

You scoff and tilt your head further into the glass. Aizawa shifts in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back into the booth with you; his eyes on Keigo.

Toshinori scratches the back of his head, “Oh I see, I don’t drink though so maybe-”

“You can still drink your soda and play! If you choose the last king, you can decide who drinks it!” Yamada’s voice is as loud as the speaker's blaring music.

The group nods in agreement and you take bigger gulps of your drink, ignoring the way the two previous shots of tequila begin warming your skin further. Within 5 minutes the cards are arranged in a circle around a highball glass of long island iced tea.

“Alright everyone,” Kayama claps her hands, “Let’s start!”

******

It was a bad idea. Such a bad idea.

You’ve maybe been playing for 30 minutes and the entire table is to a point of tipsy that everything someone does is hilarious and no one can finish a sentence without a few slip ups. Toshinori is the only voice of reason, though his deflated self isn’t very convincing when he reminds people to hydrate.

The first round went fine with Yamada losing and downing the king’s cup as if it were water, and the table wasted no effort in upping the ante.  The pitchers of beer long empty; now shot glasses and cocktails littered the table with the King’s Cup being a strange concoction of several flavors of vodka, soda water, and orange juice.

“Allllright..” Yamada places his hand on the circle of cards and pulls one out before holding it close to his chest.

Tsuakauchi, who’s a dull red in the cheeks from the alcohol, has relaxed a bit and leans on the table, “Sooo..?”

“4 ….. FLOOR”

Immediately everyone shimmies in their seat to try and touch the floor without being the last one. You pivot from side to side trying to bend over in the booth without lifting your pencil skirt too high. By the time you find a way to lean over, everyone’s hand is already on the floor.

“Ha! Drink up Y/N.”

You scowl at Kayama while squirming into an upright position, both of your faces humming with warmth and flushing from the alcohol. Aizawa waits to grab a card, watching you sip your drink as punishment; coughing slightly, he peels his attention to the table and draws.

“3.. Me.”

His eyebrow twitches as the table howls with laughter at his bad luck. He rolls his eyes and takes a long sip from the jack and coke in his hands, though he watches you in his peripherals.

The table turns its attention to you. You watch Aizawa swallow his beverage and you gulp subconsciously at the sight, too tipsy to realize just how obvious your gaze is. Keigo nudges your shin from under the table and you break your gaze to focus back on the table; the red on your cheeks now from slight embarrassment.

Taking a card, you flip it over and toss it face up, “6 - chicks.”

Kayama smiles and lifts her drink to clink with yours “Yay! I was getting thirsty here ya know.”

Your body hums from the rush and you can feel any decision making skills you have left begin to evaporate out of you. Keigo smiles and leans forward on the table, mirroring your position of resting both elbows on the table, waiting for the next turn.

He flips a card over to reveal the first king, “Ha! Alright I get to make a new rule,” he taps his chin and smirks deviously at you.

“Whenever someone has to drink, the group gets to decide from which cup,” he pauses and looks at Toshinori, “ah but yours will always be nonalcoholic.”

Toshinori gives a thumbs up and the game continuess in a few more circles until your drink is nearly empty and you’ve had a sip from everyone else’s glass at this point. Yamada’s order was a fruity cocktail, Aizawa’s a strong jack and coke, Keigo and Tsukauchi sip on the highest % beer the bar has, and Kayama sips on a long island.

You reach forward to take a card and hold it to your chest to avoid anyone else seeing it first; deciding if it’s a 4 you would have a head start to the ground.

“Heyy you cheater!”

Keigo points at you from the table and swat his hand away while leaning back to avoid him.

“4!”

Instantly you rush to the ground and laugh when you’re the first one to touch, watching Aizawa’s hand reach the bottom last. You discard the card on the table and notice the way he sips his drink, facing the inner corner of the booth and away from you.

Keigo grumbles, though he didn’t even lose, before reaching out and flipping a card over, “Eight - mate.”

Your eyes widen and do their best to look anywhere but your friend, even taking the initiative to lean over and ask Toshinori about how Midoriya’s training was going.

“Y/N~ let’s drink together yea?”

You deflate in your seat and swirl your nearly empty drink in your hands, watching the way Keigo raises his glass to his lips and points at you to do the same. Aizawa doesn’t say anything, and he’s the only one quiet as the rest of the group ‘ooohhhhs’.

Without missing a beat Toshinori reaches forward and flips over a card, revealing the final King. The group’s excitement falters for a moment, everyone hunching over the table looking at the card and then him and then back at him again.

“You can’t drink it so-”

“You’ll decide who does.”

Yamada finishes Tsukauchi’s sentence and the group looks at Toshinori expectedly; the condensation of the strong cocktail punishment dripping down the glass and onto the table.

Toshinori looks around awkwardly and smiles gently at you, “Well since your drink is nearly empty… maybe you’d like this one?”

It feels like ice down your back and the current buzz of the alcohol already in your system makes you sway side to side in your seat lightly. You blink a few times while the group claps their hands in laughter, all grateful not to be the one to down the beverage.

Your hand grabs the glass and you raise the rim to your lips, taking a small sip before peeling back with a grimace. Everyone but Aizawa continues laughing while you kick Keigo from under the table, “You dick, this is barely anything besides vodka on ice with a splash of orange juice!”

“Drink up!”

Before you can raise the glass again a hand gently grabs your wrist and keeps it still; Aizawa looks focused at you.

“This is a bad idea,,” the table boos slightly but he doesn’t release his grasp, “how many have you had?”

You blink at him, your face flustered from the heat of the bar, the alcohol coursing through your system, and the feeling of him just inches away from your face.

“During the game..?”

“I saw you when you came in initially, you two went up to the bar first.”

When you can’t count the number, Aizawa turns to Keigo and furrows his brows at the man, “How many has she had?”

Keigo sits up before slumping back down on accident and drunkenly blinks at the drink in your hand, “she’s got one drink.”

Aizawa groans and watches you and Keigo become absorbed in conversation.

“No, I've definitely had more than one.”

“Well there’s only one in your hand so..”

“No Keigo,” Aizawa shifts at the sound of his name leaving your lips so casually, “Like before-before.”

“Ohhhh,” he sits upright and remains steady this time, “we each had… two.”

Aizawa releases your hand finally and rubs his temples, doing the math, “So those including the drinks during this game would be… six already,” he points to the glass, “that itself would be another three shots of vodka.”

Keigo huffs and waves Aizawa off, “it’s finee”

Yamada sits forward, “Well don’t you have to drink it with her? You did make yourselves drinking mates.”

The table erupts with laughter and you feel your abs hurting from the acknowledgement; Aizawa remains steady next to you silently, as if he was stone sober despite the tinge of red on his face.

Keigo leans forward and finishes his beer before grabbing the King’s Cup and pouring half of it into his empty glass and handing you the initial cup.

“Well then,” he lifts his glass and leans on the table; you mirror his action, “Cheers.”

********

You wish you could kill the sun.

The blinds of your apartment window open just enough to let sunlight pouring into your room and blinding your eyes despite them being shut. With a long groan you thrash in your bed, pulling a pillow to your face, then the comforter before giving up and rolling onto your stomach.

There’s a pounding in your head and a constant feeling of bile in your throat that stirs nausea in your stomach. It’s when you finally find a comfortable position again that your phone alarm rings loudly and vibrates on the nightstand next to you.

Can’t the world just fuck off.

It’s impossible to ignore and on the third repeat of the alarm pattern you finally sit up and cancel the notification. You would lay back down if the wave of nausea didn’t immediately bring a familiar acid taste to your mouth and you sprint out of bed into the ensuite bathroom.

You cough and hover over the toilet, letting any residual undigested alcohol out, slightly feeling better when you stand up to flush. After rinsing your mouth with water you sigh at the slight relief of pain in your gut but wince at the ongoing hum inside your skull.

Stepping out of the bathroom’s second door and into the living room you weakly stumble across the cold wooden floors, only now noticing your pajamas of a t-shirt on backwards and university branded sweatpants.

A low hum reverberates and you nearly jump out of your skin before leaving over the back of the couch and staring at a very tired and very hungover Keigo.

“Ugh.. morning”

His voice is so hoarse and dry that he winces as he speaks and resolves to turning over and trying to go back to bed.

You blink wearily and pad over to the open kitchen to prepare two glasses of water and a bottle of painkillers. Before you hand Keigo his glass you chuck half of your own and lean against the armrest.

He graciously takes the water and you slip your phone out of your pocket while he drinks.

“Oh fuck I have to be in the campus library soon.”

Keigo hums, letting water drip down his chin without caring and taking large gulps of air when he finally finishes. He takes his head in his hands and rubs his eyes so roughly you’re sure he’s seeing stars, “What.. what even happened last night?”

You raise your glass to your lips and pause, “I can’t remember,”

Keigo nods once before his eyes shoot up and meet yours in worry.

“Oh shit… I can’t remember”

The sentence is spoken like a question as your heart rate spikes and you begin to panic. The only other times your quirk hasn't worked is when you’re extremely shitfaced or when Aizawa happened to look at you while using his erasure.

“Oh fuck. What did we do last night?”

Keigo looks up at you and shrugs, unable to form any words, just as surprised as you are. You set your glass on the coffee table and open your phone, “Maybe I took a video or photos? Something to jog my memor-”

You pause and swipe away a text notification before double taking at the sender.

From: Aizawa Shouta

        How are you feeling?

Keigo leans up with a grimace and looks at your phone screen, not understanding until he looks between the device and your face three times back and forth.

“Hey I thought you said you didn’t have his number…?”

You can’t even lift your eyes from the message, “I…didn’t…”

What the FUCK happened last night

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World

Chapter 6 (Welcome to Atlanta)

A/n: Just a filler chapter to be honest. Real action picks up the next chapter 😏

Warnings: None that I can tell

Likes and reposts are welcome also my ask is open just not doing any requests right now.

No matter how many times I replayed the moment in my mind, disbelief still lingered in my heart. Joe, in a roundabout way, had just extended a rather unexpected invitation—was he really asking me out on a date, regardless of whether I made the World Series? As the season drew to a close, I found myself wishing it would come to an end even faster.

As I stood at the podium during the pregame press conference, anticipation buzzed in the air around me. One of the interviewers leaned forward, a bright spotlight illuminating his eager expression. “So, how are you feeling before your first home game?” he inquired, his voice brimming with excitement.

With a mix of nerves and determination, I replied, “I’m feeling great. I won’t lie; the butterflies are definitely there, but I’m ready for this moment.” My tone was confident, masking the slight tremor in my hands.

The next reporter chimed in, “Your last game—you were 3 for 4. What was going through your mind each time you stepped up to the plate?” 

I chuckled, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. “Honestly, I wasn't thinking much at all,” I said with a playful grin. “I was just hoping I could hit a ball that would bring in a run,” I added, my nod punctuating the laughter that filled the room.

Then, another reporter posed a question that made my heart swell, “It’s well-known that you, Joe Burrow, and Ja'marr Chase attended college together. What was that experience like, and how does it feel to see them thriving now?”

A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I reminisced. “Oh, it was such a blast! They graduated just a year ahead of me, but even back then, I knew they were destined for greatness. And now? It’s incredible to see them shining in their careers. I’m genuinely proud of both of them,” I said, my voice tinged with warmth and admiration.

Curiosity sparkled in the reporter’s eyes as he asked, “What was their reaction when they found out you were participating in the combine?”

I scratched the back of my neck, a sheepish smile forming. “I didn’t actually tell them,” I admitted, as chuckles rippled through the crowd. “But somehow, they found out anyway, and… let's just say I ended up buying the first round of drinks,” I said, laughing softly at the memory of our celebration.

The energy at Truist Park in Atlanta was electric, the cheers of the crowd echoing like thunder as we celebrated a stunning opening-day victory of 13-3 against the Diamondbacks. From the moment the first pitch sliced through the air, I felt an exhilarating sense of anticipation—Atlanta was truly buzzing, and it certainly did not disappoint.

Now, as I stepped into my new apartment, a place I could finally call home, a wave of contentment washed over me. I tossed my bag haphazardly in the corner by the door, the familiar clank of my keys hitting the table breaking the silence of the empty space.

With a soft thud, I collapsed onto the couch, letting out a deep sigh as I closed my eyes, attempting to untangle the chaos swirling in my mind after such a whirlwind of a day. But as I relaxed, thoughts of the whole Joe situation crept back in. Was he truly serious, or was this all just friendly banter? Was I overthinking every little interaction, or was there something more brewing beneath the surface? So many questions swirled around in my head, their answers just out of reach. For now, it seemed I would have to be patient and wait for clarity.

2 months later... 

All-star week had arrived, but unfortunately, I wasn’t among the chosen players to participate in the coveted All-Star game. Still, I felt a wave of relief wash over me at the prospect of some much-needed rest before rejoining my team on the road. 

This week also marked the halfway point of the season, a crucial juncture that implied if aspirations of snagging a wild card spot were to be realized, it was time to buckle down and hit the grind hard. Our record stood at a promising 32-17, leading us into the National League Divisional Championship Game, but the landscape of the season could shift in a matter of days.

With this little break that we humorously referred to as my "bye week," I had invited Mia down to catch up. The moment she arrived, she sauntered in with a bottle of wine, her spirited energy lighting up my living room. “So what's going on?” she asked, handing me a glass and settling herself onto the couch beside me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Girl, everything! But anyway, I have a date,” I teased, dragging out the last word to build suspense.

“Okay, with who?” she said, perking up at the mention of a potential romantic interest. “Is it one of your teammates?” 

I shook my head, a smile creeping across my face. “Nope.”

She leaned in closer, her expression shifting to one of mischief. “Some rich ass celebrity?” 

I shook my head again, amusement dancing in my eyes. 

“Then who? Because I'm lost,” she replied dramatically, acting exasperated.

“Number 9,” I replied with a grin.

Her eyes widened in realization as the nickname registered. Number 9 was our inside joke for Joe, the charming player whose effortless grin had captured my attention on more than one occasion. Mia’s gaze bore into me as she processed my words. Finally, her excitement erupted.

“Final-fucking-ly!” she exclaimed, bouncing off the couch like a kid on Christmas morning. “How the hell did that happen so fast?” she asked, still trying to catch her breath from her outburst.

I laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and I began to recount the story of our unexpected connection and the playful bet that had sparked this new chapter.

“So either way, it's a win-win situation,” she mused, a thoughtful look crossing her face once I finished explaining.

“Yeah, in a sense, but I’m just not sure if it’s a friendly outing or an actual date,” I admitted, genuinely perplexed about Joe’s intentions.

“Let me tell you, he didn’t mean it in any friendly way. That boy has liked you since the day you walked into LSU; everyone saw it,” she declared, her tone passionate. “Every time you turned around, Joe and you seemed glued at the hip for a while; people thought you were already dating!” She took a sip of her wine, emphasizing her point.

The number of times we had brushed off those rumors had become a running joke. Yet here I was, finally starting to understand how people viewed our dynamic.

“Yeah, I guess it was just a matter of time,” I said, finishing off my glass and enjoying its rich flavor.

“Took long enough! Ja'marr owes me 50 bucks,” she said triumphantly, standing up and gathering the glasses to take them into the kitchen.

I chuckled softly to myself, recalling how my friends and I had joked about Joe and my chemistry. I knew I shouldn’t have introduced them; it had all spiraled a little too quickly, and yet, there was a thrill in the air that suggested maybe it was all meant to be.

I had just wrapped up an intense batting practice session, the scent of sweat and freshly cut grass lingering in the air, when my phone began to ring, cutting through the post-practice haze.

Incoming FaceTime call from Joe Burrr 🧡

A grin spread across my face as I pressed accept, and a moment later, Joe’s familiar face materialized on the screen, lighting up my day. 

“Heyyy Joee,” I drawled, stretching out his name playfully, letting my excitement show.

He tilted his head back, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Please don't ever do that again, but hi.”

I pulled a chair towards me, the cold metal scraping against the ground, and settled in comfortably. “What’s up?” I asked, curiosity bubbling within me.

He shook his head, a hint of exasperation in his eyes. “Nothing much, just bored, so I thought I’d give you a ring. Are you at practice?” His gaze drifted to the vibrant backdrop of the field behind me.

“Yeah, I just finished batting practice. About to jump into some field drills soon, but I’ve got a minute,” I reassured him, feeling the warmth of our friendship.

“You sure? I don’t want to mess up your flow,” he replied, a note of hesitation in his voice.

I shook my head, a slight smile playing on my lips. “Joe, I will always have time to talk to you.”

A small smile crept onto his lips in reply. “Okay, okay, but I do have a reason for calling. When is your last game for the season?” he asked, genuine curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

Confusion washed over my face momentarily. “I think it’s October 2nd. Why do you ask?”

“Well, that’s the same day we’ll be in Atlanta,” he said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

“You all facing the Falcons the same day?” I replied, piecing together the connection.

He nodded, an enigmatic smile gracing his features. “Yep. And I would love to see you there,” he said earnestly.

I made an exaggerated expression, anticipation mixing with disbelief. “How the hell am I going to be there and still play my game, Joe?” The prospect seemed absurd.

He chuckled, his laughter contagious, and then rolled his eyes. “Ri. It’s a night game."

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt like the biggest fool on Earth. Of course, it’s a night game, Sierra; otherwise, he wouldn’t have called to invite you! 

“I knew that,” I stammered, hoping to salvage my dignity.

Joe studied me for a moment, then burst into soft laughter, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Yeah, alright.’

“I’ll be there without a doubt,” I assured him, my heart swelling with excitement.

“Good. And don’t show up in any Falcons gear either,” he said, his tone turning serious as he shot me a pointed look.

My competitive spirit ignited, and I decided to push his buttons just a bit. “And if I do?” I challenged, a teasing glint in my eyes.

“Sierra, don’t play with me,” Joe replied, his voice dropping to a serious tone that sent a flutter through my stomach.

“I’m just kidding, Joe. Even though I still haven’t forgotten your little stunt, I’ll proudly wear your jersey,” I replied, a smile breaking across my face.

He fixed me with a pointed look again, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “You better.”

Next Chapter...Not Like us

[more-than-a-princess]

Maybe it was the looming shadow of her title. Maybe it was the way she smiled, determined to never allow her cheerful nature to waver and let anyone see the fluctuating amounts of confidence beneath it. But nevertheless Sonia sighed, her cheeks a faint shade of pink as they stepped into the elevator. "I am only human, Wylan," She reminded him as the doors shut before them. "I have worries of rejection just like anyone else, and you had every right to do so. There is so much more that comes with me besides my feelings, it's enough to put anyone off."

She ignored the fact that he had fled back then, there was no use in bringing up the past now and she doubted she even understood everything that had gone on in his mind at the time. What she did understand was his perchance for explanations, for storytelling, in grand gestures that made her laugh. The mature choice was not just realizing those feelings, it was coming back to face them, and her, head on.

"Abducting me from a national tour of America to take me to Las Vegas, a place decidedly not on the itinerary for a litany of reasons, could be interpreted as both reckless fun and terribly romantic," She chided him with a grin as they ducked out of the hotel and onto the street. That was the beauty of busy, bustling city: unless someone made a scene, everyone was far too involved in their daily lives to pay Wylan and Sonia much thought. Just two decidedly non-Parisians in love, like so many tourists who traipsed over the city streets. Who teased and flirted and hugged and kissed, something so unlike both Tokyo and Novoselic. The former was simply averse to physical displays of affection in general while the latter was a problem of being recognized wherever she went. The Princess's personal life had been a hot topic of conversation since she was a teenager, but only given the Royal Family's blessing for intricate media breakdowns after she'd graduated from university. It was rare, a moment in her life where she was just a person in a crowd, held close against the person she loved. Laughing, kissing, pointing out that it wasn't that much further. Paris was a walking city, after all: best seen on foot rather than the Metro.

It was a shopping city too, and she had indeed brought him to the cathedral of capitalism. One of a few in the city alone, much less the various boutiques that lined its most popular avenues. "Doesn't that mall have a roller coaster in it?" She asked eagerly: stained glass domes and gilded gold details aside, Sonia was far more impressed by the fact a mall could fit an entire amusement park in it. There was a real gluttony and overabundance about America she found fascinating, if not a bit disgusting at times.

They'd arrived on the correct floor for men's shoes at least, but Sonia raised her eyebrows at the brand. Likely some American thing she'd never heard of. "I don't know about that one," She admitted, "But if you are in need of new trainers, I imagine there will be a selection of Adidas and Nike here." And of the far more luxe variety: Dior, Gucci, and Celine, to name a few. Sonia tried to picture Wylan decked out in the premium European designers and found it a difficult image to conjure: she doubted he'd want anything too flashy or fussy. She guessed he was used to blending in wherever he went, and yet if he chose to stay by her side, he'd have no choice but to stand out. She hoped he was ready for it, even if it was a conversation she wasn't ready to bring up yet.

"Speaking of America, though," She began, holding up a pair of white Adidas trainers with green stripes down the sides. "I feel like I did not get to see enough of the decadence of Las Vegas, or at least the American homage to various cultures around the world in the middle of a desert."

She grinned, recalling the likes of the Venetian, Luxor, the Paris hotel. "I would like to go back and see it again sometime, if you will go with me. I cannot imagine a better tour guide for making happier memories there."

On her? Never. The thought instead strikes Wylan's mind that Sonia would be able to pick up any weapon she saw; any knife, gun, or even the leg of the stool she was sitting on and strike him. Once or twice or however many times it took. It wouldn't have been right for him to stop her, not after everything he'd done or played with. She's reminding him of that now, recounting the circumstances of those things that 'could have been dates'.

"You held back so much because you were scared of me, geez. I thought I was the one who was supposed to be ... I dunno. I'd say pathetic but more wary? Or something? It's not wrong to look back at some of that and consider it flirting or dating, is it? I dunno. I dunno. Shit. We're categorizing dates and what isn't a date of all things. If you put like.."

Wylan lifts his hands up, in time with the descent of the elevator as they made their way from the upscale hotel.

"Uhh... Venn diagram! That's what it's called. You could put like everything we did into a date circle, or not date circle, and ... the overlap is kinda? I think some of it could be dates! The grey part is how we felt and I honestly. I think it's pretty mature of me now to look back and say I had those feelings. Ahem. Otherwise..."

A gesture of dismissal.

"Would I have chased you across Europe? Would I have abducted you from America? Would I have camped on a ski resort with you? Snuck into abandoned hospitals? I mean. I've done a lot of shenanigans with people but the things with you... all of them were..." Wylan turns his gaze to Sonia, more fond than ever after all of the reminiscing. The smile is gentle.

"...pretty cool I guess." And with that he brings her in with that arm around her waist (when'd he sneak that there?) and plants his lips firmly to her cheek, and the two make their way with... hmm... Wylan wagers there were two cars following them and that the guy with the coffee and the earpiece was total coincidence that he turned his head to the right soon as they left the hotel?

Right. That's fine. This is fun. And maybe with Sonia the shopping in the Galeries Lafayette would be fun, too? Stepping into the building, it's interior somehow even more extravagant than it's front, he's confident of this. But not sure just how that fun would come about. "Hot damn. If there was ever a cathedral to capitalism... it's not Mall of America. It's this." Maybe he's a little too distracted to consider her question properly.

Maybe he just can't decide.

"They don't sell Sketchers here, do they? I could use some more comfy sneakers."

[ethan-acfan]

Imagine desmond manages to survive the end and has to go back into normal society.

Now, this is remembering the fact that Desmond has lived through so many lives that he can barely remember his own. Along with the fact that he is now part Isu due to his arm absorbing power from the eye.

I feel like due to him being part Isu now, no one would trust him. They would be able to sense something is wrong, that he's not fully human. But they are also weirdly drawn to him and feel compelled to do as he asks.

And when they look in his eyes, they see the lives of dozens of people. Millions of memories cramped inside his head to the point he could barely think. If you look into his eyes for too long, you can almost hear the crowd of voices.

He also has many weird habits. He is very picky about keeping knives sharp and always holds himself as if he's prepared for a fight at all times. Sometimes, he starts talking with an unfamiliar accent or will switch languages entirely, and they are almost never the same.

Or when he gets mad, the area around him reeks of ozone from his arm. One time, a guy was harassing a girl on the street, and his arm crackled and caught his hoodie on fire. He didn't notice until the guy ran away screaming "fire!" And when he realized, he just sighed, pulled off his hoodie, and stopped out the fire like it was a normal Tuesday.

Other times, he will randomly look over his shoulder as if someone called his name even though no one was there. He then just sighs, mutters something in a different language, and goes back to his conversation.

One time, you asked him to grab you something from across the bar and immediately disappeared into the crowd. You were completely unable to see him despite him being perfectly in view just seconds ago. You don't find him again until he taps your shoulder and silently hands you what you asked for. You have no clue how he managed to come up behind you like that. Especially because you were behind the bar, and you kept one eye on the only entrance the entire time.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 3: Bubble Tea

“Hey.” Kyle murmurs, hand lightly grazing over your shoulders to rest on the back of your neck. His palm feels warm on your skin and you unconsciously lean back into it.

“Hm?” You look up from where you were hunched over your phone - definitely not shopping for a new purse on company time.

“Gonna go pick up lunch f’the shop. Want t’ come with? I don’t think I can carry it all myself.” He asks. His eyes are always so soft when he looks at you. Relaxed and bright with that constant slight quirk in the corners of his lips.

“Oh! Yeah, sounds good.” You grin, standing quickly and grabbing your wallet out of your purse to shove into your back pocket. Might as well get something for yourself if you’re going out. “Where are we heading?”

“That poke place a couple blocks up.” Kyle nods in the intended direction.

You follow him out of the shop. The weather has begun to warm more. Still cool enough for long sleeves but the sun feels nice on your face as you trot up the street, speed walking to keep up with Kyle and his accursed long legs.

“Switch with me.” Kyle murmurs, hand flattening on your lower back as he steps to the road side of the sidewalk.

You snort, cheeks warming when his hand remains a few beats longer than necessary. “How chivalrous.”

He chuckles. “My grandad always said t’never let a lady walk by the street. Guess it stuck with me.”

As much as you want to tease him about playing into gender roles, you can’t lie and say you don’t like it. That it doesn’t make your heart patter and your stomach flutter. Growing up fat, you never really got the chance to be treated delicately. Femininely. Always expected to be tougher, louder, more masculine. It feels good. Healing, in a way, as stupid as it is.

God, your inner monologue is embarrassing.

The shop is smaller than you expected. Tucked away like many buildings in this downtown with a short, blue awning shading the teal colored door. It’s surprisingly crowded too, people packed in like sardines and filing in and out quickly. The inside is nicely decorated - a few tables off to the side that no one seems to stay at. They more so seem to act as a waiting spot until people get their food and head out. The menu board is shaped like a bright blue, wall-length fish.

“Ladies first.” Kyle grins, opening the door for you. You roll your eyes at him, earning a pinch to your side in return. It’s almost strange how easy things are with him - with all of them. You don’t think you’ve ever been this comfortable around a group of men before. That would probably make you sad if you thought about it for long enough.

Kyle passes you a little clipboard with a stack of papers to customize your poke bowl and a small pen. He begins filling out three for the others, seemingly from memory. You wonder how often they come down here - if it’s their favorite local spot or just convenient. You look over his shoulder, snooping for the others preferences. Apparent Simon likes a lot of spice. Johnny, not so much.

Your eyes widen as you reach the bottom of your menu. “They have boba!”

“You want some?” Kyle grins.

You nod excitedly. Like a kid discovering a new candy. It’s been so long since you got your hands on some bubble tea - if you’d known they had it sooner you would’ve been in here nearly everyday. Then again, maybe it’s good that you didn’t know.

Kyle holds out his hand. You look between it and his face dumbly for a few moments, clutching your order in your hands before putting the pieces together.

“I can get my own!” You insist. “I don’t-“

“Price’s treat, love.” He snags the paper from your hands. “He always pays when we come here.”

“Oh. Okay.” You chew your lip. “I can at least pay for my drink, since it’s extra-“

He just waves you off and marches up to the register. You don’t miss the fact that he pulls out a very shiny credit card. So it’s not Price’s treat. It’s a company treat, eh?

Not that you’re going to complain. Free poke and boba is a dream come true.

Kyle takes your little plastic number, ducking to snag a now freed up table to wait at. They’re tall, causing you to scramble unceremoniously to get up in the heightened chair. You think you see him laughing out of the corner of your eye, but as soon as you face him he’s just sitting with that usual, casual smile of his.

One of the workers brings over your drinks in a little carrier, saying the food will take a minute longer. You’ve never been patient, greedily grabbing your tea and aggressively stabbing through the cover.

“When do you think John’s gonna let you do your first real tattoo?” You ask, kicking your feet under the tall chair.

Kyle shrugs. “He said soon. I think he’s waitin’ for me to’ be less nervous about it. Plus I need to find someone to do it on-“

“You can do it on me.” You blurt without thinking.

He eyes you. “Really?”

You nod excitedly. “I really like your work - at least what I’ve seen of it. It doesn’t have to be anything big. I’m perfectly happy with one your black-only flashes. That way you can start small.”

“I don’t know…”

“Plus, John says I sit real good. I’m not gonna wriggle and fuck you up.” You chew your straw absentmindedly.

“And what do you get out of this?” Kyle cocks and eyebrow, that slight, constant smirk only growing across his face.

You tap your chin. “Bragging rights when you get famous someday. I got the first official Garrick tattoo ever!”

A surprised laugh forces it’s way out of him, sending him into a coughing fit around the drink he was sipping. “Don’t think I’m gonna be that good, love.”

You reach out, resting your hand over his as a strange wave of seriousness overtakes you. “I don’t think John would take you on as an apprentice if he didn’t think so. Plus, you should hear how much he brags about you. It’s almost insufferable.”

There’s something in his eyes as he gives you another once over. It’s slower this time, dragging up your arm and across your features and back down your other arm, coming to an end where your hand lays over his. Kyle turns his hand upward, brushing his two middle fingers over your pulse point. It steals your breath, strangely enough. He hold your hand so gently, barely cupping it in his.

You wish you could tell what he’s thinking. For all Kyle’s honest and kind nature, he’s hard to read. That perma-smirk hides a lot more than you think you or anyone else realizes.

“Alright. I’ll talk t’John about it.” He murmurs, withdrawing his hand.

“Yah. You better.” You grin, leaning back in your seat just as the food comes out.

[anantaru]

— cute things they do unintentionally

including wriothesley, zhongli, neuvillette, diluc x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, established relationship, neck kisses, lots of physical affection

— wriothesley + always walks closest to the street

in the early stages of your relationship, wriothesley has shown the first, out of the many following, indications of his overall protective nature towards you— and do not misunderstand him, because obviously he wasn't making it somewhat overbearing.

he knows you are capable of doing things on your own, but he wants to be the one who does them for you instead. it fills him with joy, and the duke finds himself squeezing his eyes shut, indulging in the memories and thoughts and hope that they would never cease to invade his newfound paradise.

so to speak, it's sort of a way to show you his love in a contrasting kind of sense other than telling you his affection through words or physical touch— with his heart-melting gestures and tender warmth, wriothesley will stop to walk for a split second before softly pulling you farthest from the street as he walks closest.

it was silly— and romantic, and there's a drop of silence before you hear him hum in merriment, his eyes sparkling like the stars.

full of feeling, your cheeks were poignant of a flaming prickle, your whole body burned like fire at his touch as you eagerly listen to what story your boyfriend was telling you about, his smile bringing you the most lustrous light when you entangle your fingers into his arm to press his frame against you.

and suddenly, your lips are tingling with the desire to kiss him, his lips as pink as pink delights. what's the sweetest part about it all was that wriothesley wasn't doing any of this intentionally— in fact, it had always come down to the way he has been all of his life, protective and sheltering, benevolent to the people closest to his heart.

— zhongli + kisses your forehead whenever you meet

"hello, my love," zhongli's face lights up the moment he sees you, and it's a lot more personal by how particularly he smiled at you— because before catching your frame in midst the busy streets of liyue, his facial features were stern and a little frozen, although when he finally finds you, he smiles and it takes away his cold instantly, a slow upturn of his mouth revealing small dimples around his sides.

"i missed you," he admits, and zhongli moves closer before capturing your cheeks in his warm palms, planting a subtle kiss on your forehead as he presses you against his chest firmly— his golden eyes bright enough to make even broken glass glow and shimmer like a treasure on its own again.

you mumble out through a chain of muffled words at the slightly tight embrace of your boyfriend, "i missed you too," and listlessly wrap your arms around his waist, "in fact, i missed you more," you tease as he presses dozen of little kisses on your head.

as much as zhongli would love to hug you for what he sought out to be eternity, he knows he cannot remain like this forever, at least not while being crowded by the people of liyue— although pondering about it more deeply, he figured that theoretically speaking, he could be able to hug you from day to night without letting you go, but people might start looking at you both so that'll be a negative and turn things uncomfortable.

"you know it's impossible for you to miss me more?" he slowly pulls you off his chest before pinching your cheek, "i long for you day and night," as his grin shines in tandem with the dancing joy of his eyes, unable to tear their focus away from you.

— neuvillette + can't stop worshipping you

after a long, arduous day consisting of responsibilities, you plopped onto the giant, comfortable bed you shared with neuvillette before you felt the mattress slightly dip under the added weight of his body as he climbs over to lean one arm around your frame.

as he does this, his face instantly burns into the nook of your neck before he begins to caress it— obviously in those moments he was content with you, starting with a handful of soft, warm kisses until he could feel you smile, or notice your body heat raise.

it's pretty clear his senses were sharp, you cannot hide anything from your boyfriend, even if you tried.

you yawn out, opening your arms for his body to properly nestle in before wrapping your limbs around his frame to keep him close, "what did i do to deserve this?" you whisper sarcastically, squeezing him a little tighter into you, "is something the matter?"

neuvillette hums deeply before smothering one hand from your chest to your hips, his lips stretching into a lazy smile, creating a swirling haven on his handsome face, "nothing at all, everything is fine," he assures you with another kiss, his hot breath fanning over the dampened skin on your neck.

basking into the comfortable engage of your arms around his frame, he continues, "i have simply missed what's mine, that is all,"

"and you deserve this," you hear him mumble, "each and every day to be admired and loved,"

he places a kiss on your shoulder, the softness of his lips compelling, "i want to give you this," as he slowly continues to slide his lips over your collarbone, full of passionate crescendos.

your skin trembles and goosebumps arise on your neck as you unwind to his skilled. tender interludes, precisely in neuvillette taking care of you, shooting you a gentle smile before he searches for your lips next.

— diluc + likes to hold your hand all the time

it doesn't matter where the both of you were or what activity you participated in, because for neither diluc nor you this was something out of the ordinary anymore and began to become a necessity— like breathing, he required your touch, and his heart fluttered every time he felt your energy invade his.

your laugh was his favorite sound and your voice was the last tune he needed to hear before he'd close his eyes, always awaiting the flicker of longing in your caress.

but before you have found each other in this relationship, the master of the dawn winery has never considered himself to be an overly touchy individual, in fact, he was everything else but pleased whenever someone would become way too comfortable with him and overstep any boundaries.

what's funny about love is that how fast it can change things in someone— beyond looks, touches or shared smiles, there were feelings that only you two were able to understand.

diluc hadn't realized how easy and effortless it can be the moment you meet your soulmate, it's transparent and pure and you cannot get enough of them, it's useless to even try and you want to feel them again and again, until their warmth swathes through your skin and intertwines like dancers in a ballet.

in the beginning, it had started with quick and easy placements of his palm on your back or around your shoulders, but after a while, diluc wanted to turn it a little more intimate— he didn't say anything or mention it to you, but one day at a silent night in mondstadt, when he looked at you, really looked at you, he held your hand, his thumb tracing your knuckles in a silent confession of love and affirmation.

to diluc ragnvindr, the act of falling in love was the acknowledgement that he was in the presence of someone so special that it aches his heart, a journey with unexpected twists and turns— for the first time and in that moment, he knew that you were deserving of love to the fullest, without holding back.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[heich0e]

yuuji calls sukuna a lot.

it's almost like second nature to him now, muscle memory even, so many years since getting his first cellphone; any time he finds himself idle, maybe on his walk home after his part-time job, or on a break between his college classes, he picks up his phone and dials his older brother without thinking. they never talk about anything of importance—maybe just what yuuji did that day, or some gossip he overheard, or what the two of them should have that night for dinner—but he still makes the call.

sukuna always acts annoyed when he answers, greeting him with a characteristically terse 'yeah, what?' that yuuji never pays any mind to. but he still answers the call—at least most of the time—and that simple truth speaks volumes in and of itself.

sukuna's phone rings at a few minutes past 1am, and his little brother's name lights up the caller ID.

"yeah, what?" sukuna snaps groggily, holding his phone up to his ear. he'd passed out on the couch soon after he got home from work, a half-drunk and now room temperature can of beer left abandoned on the table in front of his spread knees. yuuji's babbling starts as soon as the call connects and his brother greets him, and it takes sukuna a moment to make sense of him.

"—'n now i can't finder!"

"the hell are you talking about, dumbass?" the elder of the two grumbles, scrubbing a hand across his face. his brother's voice is panicked and hard to understand.

"we got spliddup at the bar, 'n now i dunno where she is anymore—"

"don't know where who is? fuck, are you hammered?" sukuna complains, sitting himself upright on the sofa as he wipes sleep from the corner of his eyes, suddenly a bit more awake than he was when the phone first rang.

yuuji says your name with a croaking, worried voice, and sukuna sighs exasperatedly. he stares down pensively at the can of beer he forgot to drink on the coffee table, then his eyes flicker to a framed photo hanging on the wall across the room—the glass smudged, frame slightly crooked, and photograph sun-bleached from the years it's spent hanging there.

"just..." he grunts as he pushes himself up to his feet, "fuckin' send me the address and stay where you are, idiot."

it's not hard to find his little brother once he arrives to the address yuuji sent him—especially since the youngest itadori brother is waiting (as promised) right by the entrance of the familiar bar near the university campus where both you and yuuji attend classes. it's still busy for so late in the night, but the clubs are closed now and little bars like this are the only places still open. sukuna's not even sure what the difference is anyway, because the lights here are still dim and the music is loud and there are still people dancing off to one side of the establishment, so the distinction between the two seems tenuous if not entirely negligible. but as someone who's spent his fair share of nights in bars just like (and including) this one, he's usually not really one to complain.

but tonight's different.

yuuji is teetering a bit when his brother arrives—an unusual sight, considering he's usually pretty good at holding his liquor.

"shit, how much did you drink?" are the first words out of sukuna's mouth when he approaches.

the youngest itadori's cheeks are flushed as pink as his hair, and he grimaces in the wake of the eldest's question—he's always been a terrible liar, especially when it comes to his brother, so he doesn't even bother trying to deny it. sukuna doesn't wait for a response in any case, turning his head towards the thick of the crowd and letting his eyes scan through it.

he doesn't see you.

"where'd you see her last?" he asks, leaning towards his brother to be heard over the music.

"by the bar!" yuuji replies, raising his own voice to overcome the bass. "she said she was getting one last drink, but she never came back to the table."

yuuji's lip wobbles a bit as he concludes his sentence, but he sucks it quickly into his mouth and catches it between his teeth.

"and you looked for her?" sukuna asks again.

"all over," yuuji nods, letting his lip slip out from between the bite of his incisors to reply. "fushiguro's doing another lap. nobara's checking the bathrooms."

sukuna ruffles a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing it's probably a mess from his rudely-interrupted slumber. "maybe she just left or somethin'."

"she wouldn't do that, you know that," yuuji says firmly. there's an insistence burning behind his eyes as he looks to his older brother, and it's the most sober he's seemed all night.

sukuna rolls his eyes, even though he knows yuuji's right—you'd never leave on your own, much less without so much as a goodbye. the two of you have been joined at the hip for long enough he's almost surprised that yuuji wasn't able to find you with some weird telepathic form of echolocation. he swings an arm up over his little brother's shoulders pushing him down a little just to tease him, before using his grip to tug him towards the crowd.

"you track down that little sea urchin friend of yours and i'll take a look around. meet me back here in ten minutes or text me if you find that little pest, alright?"

the bar is harder to navigate the further in sukuna travels from the entrance, the bodies pressing closer together with every step he takes away from fresh night air. he's pissed off, but that's not out of character for him. he's more pissed off than he usually is, considering not even an hour before he'd been peacefully sleeping at home, and now he's glaring at some drunk college kid who just almost spilled their beer on him.

"move," he hisses through his teeth at the wide-eyed kid whose life he can practically see flashing through his eyes as he shoulders past him. sukuna would be lying if he said the look didn't improve his mood at least marginally.

as sukuna weaves through the bodies in the bar, his eyes don't stop looking for you. it's almost startling how quickly he can rule people out—how definitively he can say that someone is or isn't you with just a passing glance. he starts to doubt himself as he reaches the far corner of the bar and begins to round back towards the entrance, an annoying, grating irritation in the back of his mind. worry, maybe, if he were the type.

then he sees you.

just the faintest glimpse of your profile, caught behind the shoulder of the man who has you backed into a corner by a pillar, hidden mostly away from the crowd—at least as hidden as anyone can be in a place like this.

sukuna feels his lip curling into a furious sneer as he takes a step towards you—people move out of his path wordlessly as he trudges over to that dark corner where you're tucked away.

it's only when he gets a bit closer that he's able to read the lines of your body properly. you're teetering, just like yuuji had been—the two of you had probably enabled each other in your intoxication that night like the stupid kids sukuna knows you both to be. but you're also distinctly uncomfortable, pressed up against the wall as if to put as much distance between you and the man hovering over you as you possibly can. your eyes glance off to the side, like you're searching uselessly for an escape.

instead, they meet his.

"sukuna," you gasp out in surprise, and the man you're speaking to glances over his shoulder in confusion. he seems annoyed, and a bit nervous, when he spots the man (taller, and broader than he is) standing behind him with a scowl.

sukuna hears the relief in your voice when you say his name. reads it behind your glassy eyes.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, reaching out towards him clumsily.

the man in front of you puts a hand on your waist—possibly to steady you, more likely to stop you—and it makes sukuna see red.

"hands off," sukuna snaps, wrapping a hand around your upper arm and tugging you into his side away from the creep.

"who's this? you said you don't have a boyfriend," the kid asks you, jutting a thumb towards sukuna accusatorially.

you mumble something quietly in reply about him being yuuji's brother, tucking yourself a bit closer to sukuna as you say it.

"your brother?" he asks as his eyes squint in confusion, having clearly only caught part of your explanation. "you're ditching me for your brother?"

sukuna's anger flares again at the entitlement this little brat has the nerve to display so flagrantly. the older man's hand slips down to your waist on instinct, and then lower still to the curve of your ass, making a show of how his big hand grips into the flesh beneath it. you squeak quietly at the contact, turning and hiding your burning face against sukuna's chest. he keeps his hand right where it is.

the stranger's eyes widen at the inappropriate display before him and sukuna leans in close with a vicious, almost manic grin.

"we're very close."

[supercutszns]

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.

[7s3ven]

ONE CUP OF COFFEE. theodore nott

( master list )

IN WHICH… Theodore Nott can’t stand the idea of actually falling in love but he finds himself questioning his choices after a series of rather comforting conversation with a Hufflepuff.

“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?”

Warnings: Smoking, mentioning of throwing up, mentioning of weed, swearing here and there, mentioning of hooking (pretty tame for a Theodore Nott fic tbh)

—

“One coffee. Black. No milk or sugar. Make it hotter than usual.” Theodore Nott wasted no time in repeating his order to the worker behind the counter. A new coffee shop had opened inside of Hogsmeade and in the Slytherin’s opinion, their drinks were better than any muggle one.

He tossed a few golden coins onto the table before walking away and taking a seat in a deserted corner. He liked to be away from people because despite being part of a popular Slytherin group and partying often, he wasn’t a social person.

The quiet lulling of muggle songs played around in the cafe, bouncing off the walls. Theodore pulled his turtle neck up higher, covering his bare skin from the cold air. It nipped at his slim fingers and he wished he had taken a pair of Draco’s Dior gloves now.

The rusted bell attached to the door dully rang as someone else entered. The cafe wasn’t too crowded. There were a few other students scattered here and there but not many people were willing to freeze just to grab a coffee.

Melted snow dripped off Theodore’s boots as his observant eyes followed the actions of the newcomer. He couldn’t tell what house she was in because she was wearing all white, but she definitely wasn’t a Slytherin. The girls clad in green and silver had a certain aura; an unfriendly, poisonous, and addictive one.

This girl radiated off sunshine and daffodils and basking in the warmth of a crackling fire. Theodore guessed she was in Hufflepuff because she had a certain charm to her bright smile.

“One cinnamon chai latte.” She ordered, kindly handing the cashier a few coins. She was practically the opposite of Theodore.

“Name?” The cashier asked, much comfortable in her presence as opposed to the Slytherin who sat a few feet away.

“Y/N.”

Her name jogged Theodore’s memory. She was the girl Lorenzo had been paired with in herbology. It was quite a long and dragged out assignment so whenever Lorenzo wasn’t hanging out with his friends, he was with her.

Theodore subconsciously sat up straighter and leaned forward to get a better look at Y/N. Lorenzo described her as a pretty and bright girl with a warm perspective on life. Instead of saying “what’s the worst that could happen?” She always said “what’s the best that could happen?”

Theodore was somewhat impressed by how positive a person could be.

He didn’t notice he had been staring until Y/N turned her head, innocent E/C eyes burning holes into his. Theodore almost jumped. He quickly adverted his gaze, clenching his jaw.

Out of the corner of his vision, he could see Y/N sit at the table beside him. She sat with her legs oddly crossed and her body was turned so she could look at him.

“Theodore Nott, right? Enzo’s friend?” Her voice was gentle, like a meadow full of daisies and glittering ponds of water.

Theodore thickly swallowed before he nodded. “Yeah. Lo’s talked about you. You were his partner for potions.” The brunette had never heard anybody call Lorenzo by Y/N’s nickname, but maybe that was because he didn’t allow anybody to call him that. Unless it was Y/N, of course.

The poor boy was smitten with her during fifth year but he shyly backed off when he realised he had too much competition. To this day, Draco was still trying to convince him to man up.

“He talked about me?”

“Only once or twice.” Theodore lied through his teeth. He may be a tease, but he refused to out his friend.

“The assignment we did was so annoying. I’m glad I had him as my partner. If it was anybody else, I would’ve gone mad.” Y/N signed and a small laugh slipped past her pink-tinted lips.

“You practically saved his herbology grades. Lo is smart but his plant knowledge is in the negatives.” Theodore huffed in amusement, his mouth curving into a sly smirk.

“He’s good with everything else, though.” Y/N uttered. Out of the whole Slytherin group, Lorenzo, Draco, and Pansy had the highest grades. Blaise couldn’t care less; he still scored pretty high but grades weren’t his whole life. And Matteo and Theodore, the players they were, didn’t even bother studying for exams.

“Black coffee.” The barista suddenly called out, making Theodore realise he had never given the worker his name.

“That must be your’s.” Y/N said, nodding over at the steaming drink. She smiled, which almost set Theodore’s heart alight. It was already drowning in gasoline and her damn grin may as well be the flaming match. “Theo?” She waved a hand in front of his face as he spaced out.

“Huh?” Finally, his blank eyes shifted to stare at her.

“Your coffee.” Y/N reminded him.

“Oh. Right. I’ll see you later.” Theodore was quick to stand up and grab his drink, the paper cup burning the palm of his hand.

“See you later, Theo!” Y/N called out, not seeming to notice his uneasy mood.

Theodore sped walked out of the coffee shop, holding a hand to his chest. His stomach sank as dread overwhelmed him.

Him and Matteo were like two peas on a pod. They shared the same habits too, like drinking their sorrows away and smoking until their lungs burned. And let’s not forget their infamous reputations as playboys. Theodore Nott didn’t do relationships so he refused to let a soft Hufflepuff change his mind.

Despite shoving down whatever warm feeling he felt when he was next to Y/N, Theodore couldn’t help but crane his head in search for a certain flash of H/C hair.

“Black coffee. Extra hot.” He muttered absentmindedly to the same cashier who had served him a week before.

“Name?” She asked, bored eyes gazing up at him.

“Theo.” He quickly replied, turning his head again when he thought he saw Y/N. He felt disappointed when it wasn’t her. The worker seemed to notice.

“Are you looking for that Hufflepuff you were talking to last time?” She questioned, arching a thin brown eyebrow. Theodore glanced down at her name tag that read Eulia.

“No.” He quickly denied her inquiry, wrapping his long Slytherin scarf tighter around his bare neck.

“She comes in every week around this time. She’ll be here soon.” Eulia said, glancing over Theodore’s shoulder to take in the growing line. She cleared her throat, reminding Theodore of where he was.

As usual, he threw some coins onto the countertop and walked away to the same table he sat at before. His head perked up when he heard the sound of familiar laughter.

Y/N walked in, waving good-bye to her Ravenclaw friend. “The usual, Y/N?” Eulia asked, already typing her order into the monitor.

Y/N practically bounced over to Theodore, taking a seat in front of him. “Hey, long time no see. I thought I’d see you at school but I guess not.”

“I was busy.” Theodore lied. In truth, he had been hauled up in his dorm and listening to Draco rant about Pansy.

“Doing what?” Y/N innocently tilted her head to the side, genuinely curious.

Theodore, as blunt and brainless as ever, blurted out the first thing he could think of. “Weed, drugs, and smoking.” He wanted to bash his head into the table. What kind of response was that?

Yes, he used to do all those things but he had toned it down. The only addiction he had was smoking now.

“I don’t know why I said that. It was the first thing that popped up in the mind.” He admitted, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Y/N laughed, “By the way, your cigarettes are about to fall.” She pointed to the packet that was lazily shoved into Theodore’s pocket. He quickly caught it.

“I don’t do weed or drugs anymore.” He uttered, “Just so you know.”

From the coffee machines, Eulia rolled her eyes. “Coffee for Theo. Cinnamon chai latte for Y/N.” She called out, placing the drinks down.

Theodore quickly stood up. “I’ll get them.” He offered, not waiting for a response.

“Smooth.” Eulia said as he grabbed the drinks.

“Cut me some slack. I’m used to hooking up with toxic girls, not chatting over coffee with a sweet Hufflepuff.” Theodore lightly scoffed.

“So, Theo, what do you want to do when you graduate?” Y/N asked as soon as he sat back down again.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” In all his years of Hogwarts, he had never thought about it. “What about you?”

“I want to open a bakery.” Y/N said like she had been waiting the question to come up.

Theodore raised his eyebrows. “You like baking?”

“Yup! I’ll bake you something next week. Do you like chocolate?”

“Who doesn’t?” Theodore only knew one person who didn’t like chocolate, and that was Pansy. But to be fair, she had gotten food poisoning from spiked chocolate in third year.

It was safe to say that she spent most of that day hunched over the toilet while Matteo held back her hair and Lorenzo gently got her to drink water, which she threw up too but it’s the thought that counts.

“Great! I have to go now. I’m meeting up with another friend. See you at school, Theo!” Y/N effortlessly chugged her scorching hot drink. She slammed the cup against the table, grinning.

“What the…” Theodore was still trying to process what had just happened as he watched Y/N run out of the cafe and into the arms of her friend

The next week, Y/N arrived earlier than Theodore. He had been held up by Blaise, who was curious as to why he was visiting the same coffee shop three times in a row.

Theodore entered the store after managing to shake Blaise off. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering despite the atmosphere being warm.

Eulia, who seemed to be on duty every day, had already made his drink and placed it in front of Y/N. She was too busy doodling on his cup with a permanent marker to notice his sudden appearance.

“Cute outfit.” He said as he sat down, the legs of his chair scraping against the tilted floor. Y/N’s face visibly lit up at his small compliment. Theodore observed her pink sweater with little bows sewn on it and her short white skirt with fleece leggings lining her legs.

“As promised, your cookie.” Y/N slid the box over to Theodore, smiling. “I would recommend heating it up. A warm cookie is better than a cold and hard one.”

“Do you bake often?” Theodore asked, taking the box and letting it rest on his lap.

“I try to bake as much as I can. I like helping the house elves too.” Y/N began to fondly talk about her love for baking and as much as Theodore tried to focus on her words, his gaze wandered to a suspicious group huddled in the opposite corner.

Once Theodore looked past their dark sunglasses and large coats, he recognised them as his friends. He saw Draco shove past Pansy and he surely pointed at Y/N then at Theodore before slapped his hands together.

Theodore stared at him, puzzled. And it showed as he furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. Y/N didn’t seem to notice his wavering attention, much to his relief.

“Do you want to bake together sometime, Theo?” Y/N asked, bringing him back to their conversation. He felt a little guilty because he hadn’t heard another word of what she had said.

“Sure. Though, I don’t think I’d be much help. Matt and I tried making edibles once and we messed that shit up.”

From behind Draco, Matteo glared at Theodore. It was your fault, he mouthed. He wasn’t lying, Theodore had gotten just about every ingredient in the recipe wrong.

“Edibles?” Y/N tilted her head to the side.

“Weed brownies.” Theodore elaborated, “But that was last year. I don’t do that anymore, remember? I only party and smoke.”

“I know. You told me.” Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Y/N’s gaze flickered to his packed of cigarettes that always looked like it was about to fall out.

“Would you like to come to a party with me?” Theodore asked, leaning forward. There was one in the Slytherin common room next week. Normally, people from other houses weren’t invited but if you had the right connections, you’d be let in.

“Parties aren’t my thing. I… don’t like the vibe. You know?”

“That’s fine. You ever tried smoking?”

“No. Cedric offered to teach me but I declined.” Y/N frowned at the lost opportunity.

“I’ll teach you.” Theodore said a little too quickly. He cleared his throat. “I mean, you keeping me company wouldn’t be so bad.” He grabbed his packet, sliding it across the table. “These are my good ones. Keep ‘em and whenever you’re having a bad day or just wanna have a smoke, find me. I’ll light one for you.”

From across the room, Matteo lightly gasped. Theodore never ever shared his good cigarettes with anyone, not even him.

“Really?” Y/N picked up the worn-out box, staring at it.

“Yeah. I gotta get going. My friends are probably wondering where I am.” Theodore, once again, lied through his teeth. He knew his friends had questions and he didn’t want to keep them waiting. He stood up, feeling Pansy’s gaze burn a hole through him.

“Enjoy the cookie!” Y/N exclaimed, grinning and waving him off.

Theodore smiled. “I’m sure I will, love.” He walked out of the cafe, his friends following close behind and bombarding him just like he had predicted.

“You clearly have some sort of feelings towards her.” Panay said as she poked the brunette beside him. All throughout breakfast, Panay had been trying to get Theodore to admit his growing affection for Y/N. He denied it every time.

“I don’t.” He said for the third time, leaning down to stuff some bacon into his mouth. As he quickly chewed, his gaze flickered to Y/N.

“You’re looking at her again!” Pansy exclaimed, huffing. “It’s so obvious you like her!”

“Where’s Lo and Draco?” Theodore changed the subject, realising the two boys were missing.

“You can’t change the topic. You like her and you know it.” Unfortunately for Theodore, Pansy was persistent. Maybe a little too much.

“Theo likes who?” Lorenzo tilted his head to the side in curiosity. The whole group, even Blaise who laughed at awkward situations, froze.

Nobody responded for a moment before Blaise put down his fork. “Y/N. He likes Y/N L/N.” Theodore glared at the boy, wondering why on hell he’d even tell Lorenzo the truth.

“… Oh.” Lorenzo didn’t say much as he sat down, glancing over at Y/N. “You’re not going to break her heart, right?”

“I don’t like her. End of conversation.” Theodore groaned, taking a huge gulp from his goblet.

“I don’t believe you.” Lorenzo uttered, pointing his fork at Theodore’s eyes, “Your eyes say it all. You keep looking at her every minute and when you do, your eyes soften.”

Pansy snickered, nudging Theodore. “Told you.”

“If you don’t like her, then you wouldn’t mind if someone else asked her out, would you?” Matteo piped up.

“You aren’t her type.” Theodore immediately replied, scoffing.

“We’re practically the same, Theo. If I’m not her type then you aren’t. She’s pretty and all but I don’t date. That guy, on the other hand, seems like he does.” Matteo pointed over to a Ravenclaw boy approaching Y/N. The whole Slytherin group watched as he nervously asked her something and when she slowly nodded, his face lit up.

Theodore clenched his hands into fists. “Did he just ask her out?” He seethed, clenching his jaw.

“You don’t like her, remember? You shouldn’t care.” As usual, Matteo had that same infuriating smirk on his face. “Anyway, what are we doing for the party tonight?”

Theodore had forgotten all about it. He faintly remembered Y/N saying parties weren’t her thing. Did she like guys who didn’t party? That Ravenclaw boy looked like he didn’t. Is that why she said yes?

“I’m not doing. Not really my thing.” He uttered, shrugging. His friends looked at him in disbelief.

“Not your thing?” Matteo stammered, “Mate, the only thing you do is party! What’s gotten into you?!”

“He’s trying to turn into Y/N’s ideal type.” Pansy snickered, “He knows he isn’t the blueprint and he can’t see her with anyone else so he’s improving himself.”

“Respect, bro. But what about Izzi?” Matteo motioned to the Slytherin girl down a few rows who was Theodore’s favourite hookup.

“I don’t care about her.”

“What about the drinks?”

“I need to cut my alcohol intake.”

“Smoking? You can’t give up smoking! You’re addicted!”

“Y/N has my cigs. When she wants to learn, I’ll teach her.”

“And if she never wants to learn?”

“Then I won’t pester her. Not smoking for a while might do me some good.” Theodore on the brink of giving up smoking for some girl was a huge deal.

Matteo leaned over to Draco, “Is he sick?”

Pansy lightly snorted and she teasingly grinned, “If you mean lovesick, then yeah.”

To be honest, Theodore didn’t even know what he was doing. His head tried to convince him to return to the common room and drink like he usually did, but his heart said no.

That’s how he ended up in the courtyard, enjoying the fresh breeze.

“Theo?” An all too familiar voice called out. He practically spun around, facing Y/N. “I thought you’d be at your party.” She stared at him, confused.

“I’m taking a break from all that.” He said. Y/N silently sat beside him on the stone bench.

“I still have your cigarettes if you want them.” Y/N said, handing the packet over. “I thought about it and I don’t think I want to smoke just yet.”

“Thanks, love.” Theodore took the box, shoving it into his pocket without hesitation. Normally, he’d take one out and light it up but tonight was different.

“So, that Ravenclaw boy.” Theodore drawled. “He asked you out, huh?”

“Hm? Oh, Rowan? Yeah. I only said yes to be nice though because he helped me with some work last year.”

“You’re too kind, love. You need to know your boundaries.”

Y/N’s cheeks heated up at the sound of his endearing nickname. “I can’t say no now. It’ll just be one date then I’ll say it didn’t work out.”

“What if he wants a second date? What will you do?” Theodore moved closer to Y/N so he could feel the warmth radiating off her body. His heart jumped at their close proximity.

“Then I’ll tell him I don’t want one.” Y/N whispered, staring up at Theodore with those gentle eyes he liked so much.

“I liked your cookie, by the way.” Theodore slowly smiled, “It was good.”

“I’ll bake you a few more next time.” Y/N beamed. “I’m trying a new recipe for a brownie so I’ll give you one too!” Theodore smiled as she jumped into another rant about baking. This time, he could actually listen without being pestered by his friends.

Theodore, as usual, walked into the cafe around the same time he usually did. Eulia spotted him and subtly waved. “Has Y/N come in yet?” He asked.

Eulia hesitated before she pointed over at Y/N and Rowan. Theodore visibly deflated. He knew Y/N was only being nice to the Ravenclaw but he still felt a twinge of sadness.

“I’m sorry, Theo. If it makes you feel better, she hasn’t looked like she’s enjoyed the date. She looks much happier talking to you.” Eulia handed him his coffee.

“Right.” He sat down at a nearby table, glancing over at Y/N every so often. The slight pang in his heart reminded him of why he never dated in the first place. He quietly cleared his throat, deciding that whatever butterflies he felt for Y/N had to be drowned.

He stood up and Y/N immediately caught his gaze. She smiled and waved when Rowan wasn’t looking, but Theodore ignored her. Slowly, she lowered her hand.

As Rowan ranted on about how Ravenclaw was the best house, Y/N couldn’t help but think of what she had done to possibly anger Theodore. So much that he ignored her when he usually enjoyed her small smiles and secretive waves. She blocked out Rowan’s voice, frowning. He couldn’t grab her attention like Theodore could.

If only she knew that Theodore was simply trying not to fall in love.

Theodore avoided her for the rest of the week. Whenever she tried to approach him, he’d walk away. Even his friends were puzzled. After another failed attempt of trying to talk to Theodore, Pansy placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll talk to him.” She said.

“I don’t know what I did wrong. He’s been acting so moody all of a sudden.” Y/N sighed and pouted.

“Maybe he’s on his period.” Matteo snickered at his own joke but immediately stopped when nobody else laughed with him. “I mean, Theo hasn’t had a good drink, fuck, or smoke since Monday. And all he did on that day was smoke for five minutes before he got caught.”

“I thought he liked doing all those things. Why’d he stop if it’s just going to make him grumpy?” Y/N murmured, playing with the hem of her blouse. Matteo and Pansy exchanged a glance, knowing they shouldn’t expose Theodore so early.

“He’s just being unreasonable. Don’t worry, we’ll get through to him.” Matteo grinned, his eyes flickered to the box in Y/N’s hands. “More cookies for him?”

She nodded. “Could you give this to him? It might make him feel better.” Matteo lowly hummed, taking the box. He and Pansy walked off after Theodore, muttering to each other about what could possibly be wrong with their friend.

“Theo.” Matteo called out as they entered the Slytherin Chamber. They found him sprawled out on the couch, a burning cigarette in his mouth. “Y/N made you cookies.”

Theodore looked at the box in Matteo’s outstretched arms. “I don’t want ‘em.” He said with a lazy flick of his hands.

“But you said you love her cookies. Jeez, dude, what’s gotten into you?” Matteo scoffed as he grabbed one, shoving it into his mouth. “If a girl made me cookies like these, I’d fall in love.”

“That’s the problem!” Theodore exclaimed loudly. “I’m Theodore Nott, Hogwarts resident fuck boy. I don’t do relationships! But Y/N- Y/N is making me feel things I shouldn’t!” He groaned, pulling at the ends of his hair.

“That’s the problem?” Pansy huffed, taking a seat beside him. “Theo, look at yourself. You haven’t partied in ages, you haven’t drank, you haven’t had sex with any other girl since last month. And you haven’t been smoking up until now! If you’re willing to stop all that shit for Y/N then you obviously like her!”

“What if I’m just concealing it, huh? What if I haven’t changed and if I date Y/N, then I hurt her? I don’t care about any other girl’s feelings but Y/N, fuck. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Figure your feelings out then decide what you want to do. Easy peasy.” Matteo shrugged, eating another cookie. Theodore clicked his tongue, snatching the box out of his hands.

“It better be easy or I’m going to smoke all your favourite cigs, Matt.”

Matteo was lying. It was not easy to figure out how he felt towards Y/N. Every time he got close to her, he changed his mind last minute and rushed off. It earned him some weird looks but he couldn’t care less.

“Have you even slept lately?” Matteo questioned, slamming a cup of coffee in front of Theodore. He groaned.

“Do I look like I’ve slept?” He muttered, glowing at Matteo.

“Like a baby.” His friend teased, cruelly laughing. Lorenzo glanced over Theodore’s shoulder, clearing his throat.

“Y/N’s coming this way.” He whispered, kicking Theodore.

“What?” He looked around, panicked. Y/N was indeed walking towards him. He grabbed his coffee, splashing it onto Matteo’s wrinkled blouse.

“Yo! What the fuck, dude? That’s hot!” Matteo seethed, resisting the urge to peel his wet shirt off. Some girls hoped he would.

“Sorry, Matt. It was an accident. I’ll help you clean up.” Theodore tried to play his stunt off as an accident while practically dragging Matteo out of the hall.

“Okay, seriously, what was that all about?”

“I needed an excuse to get away.”

“So you spilled hot coffee on me?!”

“I would’ve let you do the same.” Theodore glared at his friend as he sat down and slumped. “She’s everywhere. How is she so social? I can’t get away from her.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Have you been running away from Y/N this whole time?” Matteo questioned, arching an eyebrow. “It’s hilarious to imagine you running away from a girl.”

“Shut up. I’m processing things.” Theodore sighed.

“Just talk to her, Theo.” Matteo lightly nudged his leg, “What else can you lose? You’ve already lost your dignity.”

It had been a few weeks since Theodore had returned to the coffee shop. But finally, he strutted through the doorway with his usual uncaring demeanour.

Someone else entered as Theodore stood in the middle of the room, taking in everything he had missed about this cafe.

“Theo?” Y/N asked, peering over his shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” He stiffened and slowly turned around. “Are you having a coffee?”

“I’ve already had one, actually. I was just seeing if this place had changed.” Theodore wanted to walk away but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Y/N’s eyes.

“Well, there’s no harm in having another one, right? It’s on me.” Y/N smiled at Eulia, “One cinnamon chai latte and…” She thought for a moment, glancing over at Theodore, “You’ve already had a coffee so one cream latte as well!”

Y/N paid and brushed past Theodore.

“Kiss her.” Eulia hissed, harshly poking Theodore’s shoulder.

“I’m not kissing her.” Theodore replied back in a hushed whisper.

“Theo, you coming?” Y/N called out, looking over her shoulder.

There was barely anybody in the cafe and even if there was, Eulia would’ve ignored their drinks to make Y/N and Theodore’s.

Theodore reached out to grab his but Y/N was quicker. She grasped both drinks, smiling at him. “We don’t have to be back at school for a while so let’s sit here.”

Theodore nervously followed behind Y/N to their usual table. He sat down, rigid and stiff. He saw his cup and glared at Eulia, who laughed. She had written a message on the cardboard, kiss her, and Theodore was quick to cover it.

He looked out the window, almost jumping with joy when he saw Matteo. “Oh! Matt! I need to talk to him! Sorry, Y/N. I’ll see you later!” He ran out of the cafe, crashing into his friend.

“Matteo! Quick! Do something!” Theodore shook his friend, urging him to create a distraction.

“Is this about Y/N?” He asked.

“She’s in the coffee shop- don’t look!” Theodore shoved his friend.

“And you need me to something stupid?”

Theodore eagerly nodded but was unprepared when Matteo pushed him forward and down a snowy hill. “Theo! Sorry! My hand slipped! I’m coming!” Matteo yelled out in a fake worried voice as Theodore rolled and got a mouthful of snow.

Y/N watched their strange interaction as she sipped on her drink. “… He didn’t call me love like he usually does.”

Y/N hummed to herself as she slipped on a pair of mittens and took out a tray of cookies. She placed the hot metal tray on the counter, the smell of baked goods wafting through the air.

She poured herself a cup of light coffee and sat down, swinging her legs. She lifted her head when she heard the sound of quiet swearing and smelled the scent of cigarettes and cologne.

“Theo?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. It was silent for a moment before the boy sheepishly pushed the kitchen doors open.

“I was looking for a snack for Pansy. She’s not feeling well.” He looked around, staring at everything but Y/N.

“I would offer her a cookie but she doesn’t really like chocolate, does she?” Y/N circled her finger around the rim of her cup, “Would you like some coffee? I made it myself.”

Theodore found himself sitting across from her against his will. He watched as she poured him a cup, softly smiling.

“Thanks.” He stammered, grabbing the white mug and gulping it down.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Careful! Isn’t it hot?”

Theodore slammed the cup down, ignoring the burning sensation on his tongue. “No.” He wheezed, his vocal cords threatening to give up on him, “I’m fine. Tastes great.”

“You’ve spilled some.” Y/N said. She leaned forward, pointing at his collar. His top two buttons were undone and hot coffee trickled down his skin. “That must hurt. Here, let me help.”

Y/N dabbed a tissue against Theodore’s collar and he flinched as her fingers came in contact with his exposed skin. She noticed, peeking up at him through her lashes.

“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?” She asked, taking a small step back.

“What?” Theodore choked. He didn’t hate her, quite the opposite to be honest.

“You keep running away from me. And you left me in the cafe the other day. And you didn’t wave back. Do you hate me?”

Theodore hated how he could see her E/C eyes glass over. He fiddled with his mug, tapping his nails against the porcelain.

“I… have to go. Pansy needs me.” He stood up, leaving without another word. He was doing what he did best; running away from his problems.

With Theodore out of the picture, Y/N felt lonely. She dug around in her pocket, confused when she fished out a cigarette. “Oh… it must’ve fallen out.” She murmured.

She was on her way to the cafe, but not to meet up with Theodore. The day after he had walked out on her, again, a Gryffindor had approached her and asked her out. She said yes in hopes this date would be better than her date with Rowan.

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t. In fact, she felt like it was worse. Y/N stared at her cup as the boy beside her talked on and on about his love for quidditch.

“What’s your hobby?” He suddenly asked.

“Baking.” Y/N answered absentmindedly.

“Oh, that’s kind of boring. Quidditch is better, don’t you think?”

Y/N resisted the urge to sigh. Theodore never insulted her love for baking.

“Do you do anything else?” The boy questioned.

“I study.”

“Jeez, you really are boring. You wanna come to a party with me? I know a guy who’ll hook us up with some coke.”

“No thanks.” Y/N rested her cheek in the palm of her hand, watching the clock closely so she could dart away as soon as the date was over.

Someone suddenly pulled up a chair in front of Y/N. “Coke is boring.” Theodore uttered, “Baking is better.”

Y/N tried to conceal her smile since she was still upset with him, but when he winked at her, she couldn’t help it.

“What are you doing here, Nott?” The Gryffindor sneered.

“I’m here to thank you for keeping my girl company.” Theodore grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He grabbed Y/N by the wrist, tugging her out of the cafe.

“Why do you choose the shittiest guys to go out with?” Theodore asked.

Y/N lightly huffed. “It’s not like I mean to. At least they don’t walk away from me when I’m trying to talk, though.”

“You still upset with me, love?”

“You hurt my feelings, Nott.” Y/N pulled out the lone cigarette, shoving it into Theodore’s hand, before hurrying off.

He quickly placed it between his lips and lit it. “Let me explain, love!” He exclaimed, chasing after her. He breathed out a mouthful of smoke.

“Okay. Then explain.” Y/N folded her arms over her chest.

“What? Here? Now?” When Theodore saw the unamused look on Y/N’s face, he sighed. “Fine, but this is going to sound stupid.” He took another hit from his cigarette, needing all the courage he could get.

He took a deep breath. “I think you’re wonderful person and I didn’t want to risk hurting you so I tried to distance myself but that backfired and I was trying to process my feelings because I’m Theodore Nott. I don’t do relationships. But you made me want to give it a go so I got scared and that made me do stupid shit like spilling coffee on Matt or running away or allowing Matt to push me down a hill.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “What are you trying to say?”

“I like you, Y/N! I like the way you smile and the way your eyes light up and I like how you look and me and how fond you are of baking! I like how you take the time to make me cookies because it makes me feel special! You treat me so differently from other girls and that’s how I know you aren’t just around for a hook up! I like your perfume and your hair and your outfits and the way you skip when you’re happy and how you read classic Muggle books because you want a cute teen romance!”

“You noticed all of that… about me?”

“How could I not? You have such a charming aura and I can’t stand it because no matter how much I try to deny it, I like you.”

“You really like me?” Y/N knew about Theodore’s reputation and she’d be lying if she didn’t feel the same way. But what if he was just toying with her?

“I do.”

“Okay then. Hug me!” Y/N exclaimed, confident he was joking. Theodore shrugged before embracing her tightly. “Uh… hold my hand!” He intertwined their fingers without hesitation. “Kiss me!” Y/N was sure he wouldn’t do it but when he leaned down and pecked her lips, she froze.

“Are you done? There’s a lot more things I’d do for you, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you like me? Like, really? Because what if we get married and you decide you don’t like me but we already have two kids and a cat together? Who will keep the cat? Or will we have shared custody over it?” Y/N spoke so fast Theodore could hardly understand her.

“What about the children?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“What about the cat, Theo?”

“I really do like you, Y/N. Believe it or not. I’m willing to give dating a try… if it makes I can date you.”

“Please don’t break my heart, Theo.”

“I won’t.”

“Can we finally drink coffee together without you running off?” Y/N questioned, which earned her a small chuckle from Theodore.

“I won’t run away this time, love. I promise.”

[hiraethwrote]

i prefer it, actually

summary: after being called in the middle of the night, megumi comes over to take care of you while you're drunk

[ loner!megumi x popular!reader ]

cw: college au, f!reader, sorority!reader, pure fluff, intoxicated reader, party but mostly going on in the background, throwing up, aged up characters

word count: 2.2k

“Hello?” Megumi answered the phone in a confused haze, the blaring ringtone waking him up from his deep sleep.

“Megumi? I think you should come down here.” The voice that greeted him wasn’t one he recognised, and his confusion only strengthened when he checked the caller ID to see a picture of you.

“Who is this?” He asked, slowly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up in his bed.

In the background, he heard muffled music interrupted by a loud gag. “It’s Kasumi.”

Kasumi? There was something scarily familiar about that name, and after a few silent moments of thought he connected the dots, remembering she was a part of your sorority.

And as the pieces fell together, the concern started to fill his body, serving almost as an alarm clock as his sleepiness become nothing but a distant memory in a matter of seconds. “Is she okay?”

“Well…” Kasumi trailed off on the other end of the phone before another horrible gag interrupted the line. “She’s just really drunk.”

His shoulders dared relax just an tad. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he sighed before another sickening sound he only assumed was you hunched over a toilet bowl. Some of his worry had settled when he knew you weren’t in any immediate danger at least, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep again until he was certain you were safely in bed.

As he promised, fifteen minutes later he walked through the door of your sorority, the party still in full swing as he bullied himself through the thick crowd to get to the stairs.

God, he couldn’t stand this. Too many people shoved into a house where the mere concept of personal space was long abandoned. Obnoxious music that was so loud you were unable to hear your own thoughts — and not to mention how incredibly annoying people got when drinking.

Therefore he could not for the life of him fathom why you loved it so much. Only a handful of times had he accompanied you to parties like this, and you always managed to have a good time. That might be the only thing he has ever found himself liking with these things; seeing how much you enjoyed yourself.

So for the most part, he just decided to stay in when you wanted to go out so he wouldn’t ruin your evening by moping around, constantly checking the time to see when it was acceptable for him to go to bed. He didn’t want to be that boyfriend who stopped you from doing the things you liked just because he didn’t want to.

When he reached your room, his head cleared up as the people and music from downstairs was shut out, transforming into muffled background noise through the floor. He placed three knocks on your bathroom door before it creaked open, spotting the blue haired girl he assumed had to be Kasumi. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning against the doorframe as she opened the door further.

“Thank god you’re here. She’s been begging for you for like two hours,” she groaned, not hesitating to walk out of the bathroom so she could return to the festivities. "I think she's pretty much finished in there, just tired now."

He cleared his throat. “Thanks for taking care of her,” he said awkwardly as she was about to exit your room.

“Of course,” she smiled sweetly. “She would have done the same for me,” and she was gone.

He turned back around, pushing the door fully open to reveal you just in the position he had excepted. Your hair was tied back in a ponytail, makeup slightly smudged from throwing up for who knew how long, a constant little shiver running through your body.

“How you hanging in there?” He asked, a small amused smirk creeping up on his face.

Lifting your head from where it was resting on your arm, you turned to look at him, face lighting up the second your eyes landed on him. “Megumi, you’re here!” You nearly cheered, both hands immediately extending towards him, needy for him to come join you on the floor.

He does as you wished, his hands instinctively stroking away the stray hairs that hung in front of your face, behind your ears. “Feeling okay?”

“Better now that you’re here!” You slurred, flashing your teeth at him in a huge grin. The annoyance and frustration caused by the party below was quickly forgotten at the sight of you beaming at him. Even though you looked tired, appearance tainted by the evening, it did nothing to smother beauty. “I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.” You were clearly still intoxicated, eyelids droopy as you mumbled sentences he could barely make out.

“A little blue birdie told me you needed me, so,” he shrugged, as if it was nothing to think about.

“Awe, baby,” you squealed as you fell forward, head landing on his chest. “You’re too good for me,” you sighed, melting into his body, the heat radiating off of him soothing the shiver present in your own body.

A gentle hand finds your upper arm to give it a light squeeze. “Do you think you can get up?” He felt the movement of your head agree to his request. He stands up first, grabbing ahold of your clammy hands and pulling you to your feet, instantly lacing his arm around your waist when you nearly fell over the second you were stood up. “Easy there,” he chuckled quietly.

“I’m fine!” You rushed in a high pitched tone, grabbing onto him for support, feeling the room spin a lot more now than when you were leaned over the toilet. When you weren’t nuzzled up against his warm chest anymore, the tremble quickly found its way back to your muscles. “‘m cold.”

“You’re cold?” He asked for confirmation. You only nodded, bottom lip sticking out in a dramatic pout. “Okay,” he whispered to himself before letting go of you by the sink before walking into your room to get you something.

“No, not that one!” You whined when he came back with one of your hoodies in his hands, earning you a confused frown from your boyfriend. “Want yours.”

He just rolled his eyes, acting as if he genuinely thought you were being a nuisance — but in reality, his heart did a little skip at the fact that you so persistently wanted to wear something of his instead.

At the foot of your bed he spotted a familiar hoodie, where you’d thrown it after waking up. Whenever the two of you didn’t spend the night together, you made sure to have a piece of his clothing nearby so he didn’t feel so terribly far away.

Could you be considered a clingy girlfriend? Probably — but you preferred the term devoted.

“Thank youuuuu,” you cooed as he simply tilted his head to signal for you to raise your arms. You happily obliged and he pulled it over your head, a satisfied hum slipping out as you hugged your arms around yourself to take in the familiar scent of your boyfriend.

Without saying anything, he grabbed your toothbrush with one hand, and your face with the other to hold it still, fingers softly digging into your plush cheeks. He finds it surprisingly unproblematic to help you brush your teeth, suspecting your drunken state might actually have served as help, paralysing your usual restlessness.

He gently grabbed your hand and guided you back to your room again, but was abruptly halted when you decided to stop dead in your tracks. With pinched eyebrows, he turned to you.

“Babe, I can’t go to bed with my makeup on.” You let go of his hand to retreat them into the sleeves of the sweater, hoping the warmth it usually provided would find you soon.

“Okay?” He asked, nervously moving his hand to his neck, rubbing it slightly as he waited for you to give him the right instructions.

“There’s makeup wipes under the sink,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered under his breath and went to get the wipes. When he returned, he nearly stumbled over your limp body. During his short trip to the bathroom, you had suddenly decided to just lay down on your back in the middle of the floor. With another sigh, he positioned himself on his knees by your head before carefully lifting it into his lap.

He started with your eyes, lightly rubbing the wet wipe across your eyelids. It didn’t take long before he managed to draw a drunken giggle from your lips. “What?”

“You’re so gentle,” you opened your eyes to stare up at him, thinking he was upside down but you couldn’t be too sure as the room was still spinning. The frown — you once had thought was a chronic condition — was very much present.

“I don’t wanna pop your eyes out.”

You only laughed. “You’re not gonna pop my eyes out. C’mon, you can put a little more pressure.” He let out a long and stressed exhale before going back to work, grimacing in fear as he did as you’d told him.

Eventually, the makeup came off, but you continued to lay completely still. You kept your head in his lap, eyes closed and a small smile ever present on your face.

“Did you have fun tonight?” His voice was soft, barely audible — especially with the banging from the bass downstairs seeping through the floor.

“Meh,” you said simply as you shrugged.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you breathed as you open your eyes to meet his gaze again. “You weren’t there.” He snorted, slightly rolling his eyes at your statement, believing you were only lying to make him feel better about coming all the way down to your sorority in the middle of the night.

“Yeah, right. How much did you have to drink?”

“No, Megs, I’m serious,” you giggled as your hands acted on their own, raising to cup his cheeks. “There’s only so much fun I can have when you’re not here.”

He felt his cheeks heat against your hands — you didn’t seem to notice however. He always thought it strange, that even after the two of you became official, it didn’t take a lot of effort from you to bring that redness to his face, a colour that had only grown familiar to his features after getting to know you.

“Sure, so fun having me sulk at your heels all evening.” There’s nothing but sarcasm in his tone as he continued to try and hide his flushed cheeks.

“I don’t mind,” you said softly as you gaze directly into his eyes, his blush only amplifying. “I prefer it, actually.”

His soft eyes roamed your face, lips slightly parted in awe. He still didn’t understand how you, who was so sociable, always the life of the party, beyond stunning, had decided he was the one you wanted to be with. And time and time again you confirmed it to him that it was for real.

Without much more thought, he simply leaned forward to press a tender kiss on your lips, your lips curling up in a giddy smirk. You were unable to contain yourself, breaking the kiss by hiding your face behind your hands, strangling the sweet giggles spilling out of you.

“You still make me nervous,” you said in between the cute sounds that was like music to his ears.

“I make you nervous?” He scoffed. “Alright, you’re clearly still drunk. Time for bed.” He gently tapped your shoulder, trying to get you to lift from his lap.

“You can never take a compliment,” you grumbled, wearing the frown that was more often seen painted on his eyebrows. He didn’t entertain your complaints, merely helping you up before leading you to your bed.

When he was about to turn around, your hand grabbed a hold of his wrist, surprised by the strength in your clutch. “No, you gotta stay here tonight!”

“I’m not leaving,” he laughed. “I’m just going to get you some water,” he said as he grabbed your hand to force you to let go.

“Oh.”

He can’t help but shake his head a little. You were probably the only drunk person he liked — of course, he was biased. During the parties, you were so outgoing, in a way he always admired. And then, when it was time to turn in for the night, you became so incredibly cute.

After having fetched the glass, he returned to see you wrapped up in the covers, having pulled the hood over your head and nuzzled further into the clothing.

A content huff left his nose as he put the glass down on your nightstand before stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers, then he carefully climbed over you. He knew he’d only receive grumpy grunts of annoyance if he tried to shove you to sleep closest to the wall.

The second he closed his eyes, he felt you snake your arm tightly around his torso and burying your face against his back, wanting to consume as much of his body heat as possible. Two light taps on your hand caused you to loosen your grip before he wiggled to turn around so you were now burying your head in his chest instead.

A deep, much needed, breath filled your lungs before you simply melted into him as his arms wrapped around you, humming in satisfaction as his hands slowly began to rub your scalp.

tags (taglist is open) @sad-darksoul, @nyahctrl, @ssetsuka

a/n the layout for these drabbles and short entries will be a little different, but yeah hope you like it. oh, and if you wanna be in the taglist, just lemme know <3 - btw, all warnings will be in the masterpost at all times

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated plagiarism not authorized

[yzzart]

DARLING, AND I WILL BRING YOU HOME ── KENJI SATO

── summary: While Ken and Emi trained, played together, you were in the stands, cheering them on; unearthing a memory from Kenji's mind.

── content warnings: F!reader, fiance!kenji, scenes of Ken and Emi playing together, mention of Emiko and Professor Sato, a little angst but with comfort in the end!

── word count: 899!

"Lets go, girl!"

Kenji's voice exclaims, in a high and benevolent tone, highlighting a magnanimous animation and excitement for the peaceful environment, so serene and enchanting; hearing the return of his voice through the stillness of the place. — A lovely place, capable of leaving anyone speechless. — A space to call his own.

Fixing and comfortably positioning the cap, Sato takes two steps back and raises his hand for the second time. — Waiting for the attention and focus he were looking for.

“You can do it, you know that, don’t you?” — He questioned with support, helping the big baby lizard; who, in response, grunted gently, without lacking her tenderness, and shook her small, and immense, arms. — "Of course you know!" — Exprimiu, orgulhoso.

“Go, Emi!” — Claps, associates of euphoria, entering into a condition of encouragement, from you; earning affectionate glances and admiring expressions from Sato and the baby. — “Make me proud!” — You got into the rhythm, feeling the wave of encouragement, content in the crowd. — Like you did every time you watched Kenji's games.

Sitting in the stands, made, technologically, by Mina, which easily reproduced a real and authentic Baseball field, containing all the tiny and relevant details. — Including the fact that that field was always chosen by Kenji. — You watch them play.

Moments, scenes, like these had already become routine between you; bringing cycles of leisure, distraction and a way to teach practical notions to Emi. — Which was, faithfully, important and approved by Professor Sato. — In addition to directing, training and, again, further preparing Kenji's passes for the championship; you advised him, agreeing that it could help him.

"Did you hear her?" — He tilted his head toward you, earning an excited squeal and a blink, with precision, from Emi. — "Pay attention to the ball, like last time." — Kenji swung the small ball, attracting her concentration, and smiled when he realized he was reaching it. — "There you go!" — With a strong throw, intending a stable impulse, Kenji threw the ball towards the adorable creature.

With the basic reflexes, which, by the way, were being amplified, upon seeing the small object heading towards her, Emi, holding the huge bat, easily bounced the ball and shot so far that it disappeared into the programmed sky. — Being worthy of an incredible play.

"That's right, baby!" — You shouted, standing up, quickly, with enthusiasm, burning with exaltation and vibration, raising your arms up. — The baby lizard, finding your voice, directed her head towards you; smiling, dazzled by her celebration and, even though she didn't understand so many things, she happily got excited.

It was not possible, much less plausible, to counter the emotions, and old sensations, that came from Kenji's chest; conceiving an ardor of passion, bonds of fascination upon hearing their cries of celebration. — In addition to your claps, the way you had gotten up and approached the field, wanting, in some way, to capture every little point of the play. — He remembered, with such grace and delicacy, the moments when his mother watched him play.

Not missing any matches, even training, she was present; shouting, clamoring, cheering for little Kenji. — Recording all the games, leaving them as souvenirs and secretly sending them to his father; Ken wasn't aware of that, he wasn't that. — Emiko was always there for him and with him.

And watching, witnessing you accompanying him, lifting him, supporting him and guiding him for so long — now, caring, by his side, for a young Kaiju — guides Kenji towards a light, deeply, pure and loyal to all the love he could feel in his heart. life. — The same light that guided his father to his mother.

"Now, run the bases, girl!" — He warned, smiling and ecstatic about the result, and signaling Mina to follow Emi, who quickly flew towards her. — "I'm proud!" — He exclaimed and was responded to with a loud and cheerful, and slightly breathless, scream.

Moving away from where he was, leaving Emi running across the field, Kenji took steps towards you, never stopping to smile, even more so, hearing the baby's amused grunts and seeing the adorable and charming expression on your face. — Also, influenced by the fact that you are wearing one of his caps. — Contemplating you once again.

"She's getting better and better." — You said, biting the lower part of your cheek, bowing your head, looking at the young man and raising one of your hands to his t-shirt, repairing a small and insignificant dent.

"That's good, however…" — He looked up, acting as if he were thinking about something convenient, promising. — "…i feel like our girl could surpass me at any moment." — He joked, in a mix of drama and suffering.

Taking you by surprise, even though you were so used to his comments, you couldn't contain a beautiful and melodic laugh, shaking your head, refusing to believe his words; but, feeling your heart warm when you heard the magnanimous and dazzled way in which Kenji recognized Emi. — Letting that phrase repeat itself in your mind.

Kenji was right, you hadn't, and wouldn't dare, disagree about what he had said; no one could.

"Our girl…" — You murmured, conveying tenderness and softness in the small words. — Resting your head on Kenji's chest, being able to hear his heartbeat, and feeling one of his strong and safe arms around your waist, bringing caresses to the area, you and Sato saw Emi running through the large and beautiful field.

[bluerosefox]

Gray and Graysons

One of the Bats has a secret. Something they never told to the others.

They were so very young but they have memories of a sibling, so small and tiny. They remember the burst of warmth they had in their heart when they held the tiny baby for just a moment.

But they weren’t allowed to keep them, their family couldn’t raise them. Money was tight, just enough for three but not for four, despite their shows always bringing in a crowd it was getting harder and harder for the world to be wowed by them in the new age and their sibling was too small and tiny and needed to be cared in a single place than for them to be on the road. Their lifestyle was not good for his tiny sibling apparently.

They had to watch as their parents gave his sibling away to people in suits, them promising to give his baby brother to a loving family when they find a ‘home’ for him. He watched his parents try to be strong only for his mother to break down once the car left down the road, his father holding her and apologizing, the rest of the circus troupe all silently coming over to give the heartbroken family condolences.

Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson had tears running down his face when he last saw his baby brother.

A brother he got to name before he had to be given away.

Daniel ‘Danny’ Grayson.

-x-x-

Dick never told the others. If anyone dug deep into his past they might find his brother’s birth records maybe, if someone got around to digitizing the paperwork for him but given the fact he was placed in the US childcare systems just a few days after his birth and the fact that Dick was still pretty young they most likely believed he didn’t remember his baby brother now. Not after so many years.

But they were wrong, Dick remembers. And he kept the secret close to his heart and memories.

And the only physical evidence he had was a single picture of him holding his brother, a smile on his tiny face towards their father who had taken the photo of them together. When he had lost his parents, lost most of the things that connected him to them, to his past in the circus that had been his whole life, had been taken from him in Gotham’s ruthless childcare system, he held on tight to the picture in secret. Hid it away from anyone trying to rip it from him, hid it from Bruce when the man took him in days later, hid it from Alfred despite how gentle the butler was towards him. He couldn’t, wouldn’t risk losing his photo at the time, he hadn’t trusted anyone and by the time he did he didn’t have the heart to reveal it.

So yes, the existence of his baby brother Danny was his most guarded and best kept secret.

So that’s why Dick, as Nightwing, nearly died from a heart attack when leaving a Justice League meeting he spotted a familiar face among one of the new engineers working in the Watchtower.

It was like seeing a young version of himself. Only, Dick could see that the young man was more than a copy of him, so much more than a clone. He held many traces of John Grayson but also had a bit more of Mary Grayson than Dick did. Small details that Dick foggely remembers taking note when he had held his baby brother.

“Hey, hurry up with that report Gray!” Shouted the head engineer from down the hall, his hand beckoning the young adult to come over.

“Coming! And boss, I told you Danny is fine!” Danny shouted back before hurriedly leaving a stunned Nightwing.

[nottsangel]

our girl — j.m & r.c.

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader x rafe cameron

warnings: smut 18+, violence, polyamorous relationship, threesome, vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving), possessiveness, degradation, praise, fingering, hair pulling, creampie, squirting, spitting, kelce and topper walking in lol

word count: 2.6k

summary: your boyfriends show their possessive side when they see someone flirting with you at a party.

a/n: based on a lucid dream i had. i died while writing this

nav. // m.list // taglist

“You want another drink?” Sarah asked, downing what was left of her drink in one gulp. “No thanks, I’m gonna look for Rafe and JJ actually, haven’t seen them yet” you replied, your surroundings slightly spinning as you were already feeling pretty intoxicated. You smiled briefly at Sarah before walking away from the pool and heading inside Rafe’s house, the music of the party increasing.

It’s been a few months since you started dating your boyfriends— yes, boyfriends, because both of them were too obsessed with you so they decided to share you, treating you like their princess. It was intense sometimes, especially at the beginning when they had to get used to one another. Besides, a lot of people had various opinions on your relationship, but you still felt thankful and privileged to have boyfriends who were so sweet and caring. Especially considering that many girls would die to be in your position. Tonight is another one of Rafe’s parties, inviting all his kook friends as well as some pogues since JJ insisted on his friends being invited too.

You walked inside the crowded house full of intoxicated people and kissing couples, trying to find them. You glanced around, seeing many familiar faces but not your boyfriends. Just as you turned to go into another room, your arm was suddenly grabbed firmly. “Hey, beautiful.” you felt relieved, thinking it must’ve been Rafe or JJ when you realised you didn’t recognise the voice. You turned around in confusion and saw a blonde frat-looking guy check you out with a smirk on his face and a red cup in his hand. His blue eyes were fully fixed on you with a cocky smile on his face.

“Do I know you?” you asked, brows knitted together in confusion as you tried your best to refresh your memory, afraid that your intoxicated state made you forget who he was. “I’m Ryan. I used to hang out with Rafe, you know, back when he used to fuck a different girl every week” he said with a chuckle as you arched an eyebrow, unsure why he would bring that up. His smile vanished at the sight of your serious expression, before continuing, “Anyway… you want a drink, sweetheart?” he asked, motioning towards the drinks table. You gazed at him, wondering if he was aware of the dangerous game he was playing.

“No, thank you. I have to g-“ you started but he quickly cut you off, “Oh, come on! You think I’m scared of your boyfriends? One drink won’t hurt, loosen up a bit” he argued before he dragged you to the drinks table. You attempted to break free from his hold, but you were too intoxicated to react quickly and he was way stronger than you, clearly taking advantage of the situation.

“Here you go.” he said, handing you a new drink as you looked at it nervously. When he noticed your anxious expression he slid a hand around your waist as he came closer to you. “Hey, hey, don’t worry. Just wanna get to know my friend’s girlfriend, that’s all. I respect Rafe, you know.” he explained, easily convincing you in your drunken state as you took the cup from him with a relieved smile.

“So, tell me about-“ he started before being interrupted in an instant when his name was called, “Ryan!” You peeked around Ryan’s towering frame and saw Rafe and JJ making their way to you. Ryan instantly took his hand off your waist and went from having a relaxed stance to one that was stiff and nervous. Rafe had a menacing smile on his face as he eyed Ryan and JJ walked next to him, toying with the toothpick in his mouth.

“I see you’ve met our girlfriend.” Rafe said, standing just inches away from you two. “Such a pretty little thing, hm?” JJ added with a cheeky grin, clearly not taking the poor guy seriously. “Yeah man, we just talked about… stuff. She-she’s nice” he stammered, evidently nervous. Rafe nodded with a downward smile on his face and his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I see, I see…”. “Look man, nothing happened, okay? We just talked, that’s it.” Ryan spoke up, trying his hardest to explain himself while JJ and Rafe exchanged glances, before giving each other a nod. “Fucking dumbass.” JJ sneered under his breath as he walked over to you, an arm sliding around your waist as he placed a kiss on top of your head.

“I understand man, no worries.” Rafe reassured before placing his arm over Ryan’s shoulder, “Let’s catch up outside, hmm? We haven’t spoken in so long, lots to talk about.” Rafe said as he led Ryan outside, making you turn to face JJ with a worried expression on your face. “What’s he going to do with him, J?” you asked, your brows knitted in concern. “Sssh, don’t worry about it, baby. He’s just gonna ask him to leave, that’s all.” he reassured, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and moving his head closer before pressing his lips on yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth as you were heavily making out against the table, causing you to forget about everything else. You were so caught up in the moment that it took you a while to eventually pull away from JJ as he gazed down at you with a loving smile on his face.

When you glanced over JJ’s shoulder, you gasped as your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. Rafe leaned over Ryan, who was on the ground, repeatedly punching him until blood was everywhere. “JJ!” you yelled in horror while pointing at the scene. “Oh, fuck” JJ muttered, not necessarily because of Rafe beating him up, but because of you witnessing it. He quickly spun you around so your back was facing the scene before cupping your face in his hands and desperately kissing you again in an attempt to distract you. You instinctively wrapped your arms around JJ’s neck, your intoxicated state causing you to forget about the situation again and only feeling hungry for JJ as you pressed him closer to you. His hands already found your ass as he squeezed it, not giving a fuck about anyone watching.

“My room. Now” Rafe ordered as he suddenly walked past you both, causing you to pull away from JJ as you watched Rafe climb the stairs. JJ grabbed your hand as he smirked at you, “You heard him, princess. Let’s go.” he said, pulling you along and leading you upstairs.

“Am I… Am I in trouble? you asked with a soft voice, following JJ in the hallway as you passed several kissing couples. JJ chuckled as he held the door handle to Rafe’s room. “I think we both know the answer to that.” he replied, making you gulp for a moment as he opened the door.

Rafe stood in the centre of the room, his arms folded with an angry expression on his face. Rafe's intimidating frame was accentuated by the lack of light in the room, as only a few red LED lights provided illumination. Even though JJ shut the door behind him, there was still a faint sound of shouting and music coming from downstairs through the walls. “Rafe, listen, I-“ Rafe interrupted you as soon as you attempted to explain, “We do the talking here, alright?” Rafe growled as JJ joined him, standing next to him as both of them eyed you while you walked to the bed, sitting down to relieve your sore feet from the heels you were wearing.

“You didn’t have to beat him up Rafe, I swear he didn’t do anything! He just offered me a drink and-“ you stopped when you heard both of them chuckle, looking at each other before gazing down at you. “I think our girl is a little confused, whatcha think J?” Rafe smirked while approaching you. “Nah, you’re right man. I think she forgot who she belongs to.” JJ agreed, nodding as he watched Rafe walk towards you.

Rafe bent down to get at eye level with you, then aggressively gripped your face, forcing you to look at him. “Two boyfriends is not enough for you? Hmm? God, you’re such a dirty little slut.” You were too afraid to speak as you gazed up at him. “Open that pretty mouth of yours” Rafe ordered and you obliged, opening your mouth widely before Rafe spit in it, “Swallow.” You swallowed while keeping your eyes on him, faces mere inches away from each other. A satisfied smile swept across Rafe’s face as he released his grip on your face, “Good girl.”

Rafe then moved aside, allowing JJ to approach you. JJ wasted no time and pushed you onto the bed, caging you in before planting sloppy kissing all over your neck and undressing you simultaneously, causing you to moan. “Tsk, what a dumb girl we have, Rafe.” he growled, sliding the straps of your dress down your arms before fully taking it off, leaving you in just your underwear. “But so fucking beautiful.” JJ took in your beauty with hungry eyes while biting his lip. He then discarded you of your underwear as well, tossing them across the room. “Make Rafe feel good, baby.”

JJ pushed himself off you while Rafe completely undressed himself, his fully erect cock leaking precum causing anticipation to rage through your body. He looked so beautiful— the red light accentuating the muscles on his body as he gazed down at you with dark eyes. He got on the bed, sitting against the bedframe before he grabbed your hair and pulled you towards him. “Be a good girl and suck.”

You drew your head nearer, licking up the precum and swirling your tongue around the tip, earning a groan from him. He impatiently pushed your head down, forcing you down his cock. His hand grabbed your hair in a ponytail, preventing it from falling in your face as he bobbed your head up and down. “Fuck, just like that.” Rafe groaned as JJ slapped you on the ass, causing you to jolt forward.

“Our pretty girl.” JJ praised while he teased your entrance with his fingers, gathering the wetness and drawing circles on your clit. You moaned around Rafe’s cock, only egging him on as he bucked his hips upwards, causing you to gag. JJ then inserted two fingers into you with ease, as far as they could go. “So fucking wet for us.” JJ curled his fingers up inside you, pushing against your g-spot, causing your eyes to flutter shut as you let out a loud moan around Rafe’s cock once again. Rafe now grabbed your head with both hands, fully face-fucking you, using you as his personal toy, while JJ’s fingers increased their speed, causing your orgasm to approach.

“Cum around my fingers, sweet girl. Make a fucking mess.” JJ’s words pushed you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you as you felt wetness all over. “Holy fuck, she squirted everywhere” JJ exclaimed, a chuckle leaving his mouth before he licked his fingers clean. “Dirty girl” Rafe groaned, his voice low and raspy as he continued to fuck your face.

You then heard the buckle of a belt behind you, and not much later you felt JJ’s cock teasing your folds, before fully pushing himself in. “Still so tight, fuck.” He groaned before setting a steady rhythm that made you grip the sheets. The sensation was almost becoming too much— the way JJ’s cock hit your g-spot repeatedly and Rafe fucking into your mouth, saliva running down your face.

Just as you were about to come, the door suddenly swung open, the music and yelling from downstairs filling the room. JJ's thrusts came to a half when all of you looked to your side as your eyes began to widen. “Hey, Rafe, you got some- No fucking way.” “Goddamn.” Both Kelce and Topper stood in the doorway, a smirk on both their faces as they eyed every inch of your body. “Well, this is awkward.” JJ uttered as his lips tightened into a thin line. An irritated sigh left Rafe’s mouth as he rolled his eyes, “Get the fuck out before I fucking kill both of you!” He shouted, Kelce and Topper snickering when they left the room and shut the door behind them.

“Now, where were we?” JJ asked before abruptly slamming into you again, causing you to fall forward on Rafe’s chest. “Hey, hey,” Rafe took hold of your head, pulling it up with both hands as he raised his eyebrows at you, “Did I say you could stop sucking? Don’t think so.” He pushed you back on his cock with his hand behind your head, guiding you. You could feel JJ’s thrusts getting sloppy and lose rhythm, knowing he was close. “Fuck, gonna cum so deep inside this pretty pussy.” he growled before painting your walls with his warm cum, his hands firmly gripping your hips. You could feel his sperm dripping onto the bed as soon as he pulled out.

Rafe shoved you off him, causing you to look at him with a questioning expression, given that he hasn’t cum yet. “ Wanna cum inside that tight pussy of yours, filling you with both our cum.” he said as he stood up and flipped you over, causing a small squeal to leave your mouth as you were lying on your back. He grabbed your legs and spread them wider before spitting on your cunt and pushing into you in one quick thrust, making you scream out his name loudly. He immediately set a relentless pace, gripping your waist as he pounded into you while grunting, your tits bouncing to his rhythm.

“Doing so well for us, princess” JJ praised as he sat next to you, grabbing your face and kissing you passionately with his other hand massaging your boobs. You moaned into JJ’s mouth as Rafe placed your legs over his shoulders, reaching even deeper parts inside of you. “You wanna cum?” Rafe asked as you nodded, your eyes closed as your vision became blurry, “Then fucking beg for it.” “P-please, let me cum. I need to!” JJ chuckled as his hand slowly travelled to your core, drawing fast circles on your clit. “You hear that, Rafe? Our poor girl needs to cum.” Rafe groaned as he increased his speed and placed quick kisses on your legs. “Then let’s help her.”

JJ’s fingers quickened their speed as he marked your neck in hickeys, causing you to grip his arm hard, your nails leaving crescent shapes in his skin and Rafe was close to coming too, his cock hitting all the right spots inside of you. “Gonna cum for us, sweet girl?” JJ whispered into your ear and you could only nod, unable to speak. “Gonna fill you up so fucking good, like the dirty whore you are.” Rafe groaned before his orgasm struck, filling you to the brim with his warmth. You came not long after that, walls fluttering around Rafe’s cock as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the grip on JJ’s arm tightening. “Just like that, princess. Good girl” JJ praised as you came down from your high, chest heaving up and down as you tried to catch your breath.

Rafe pulled out slowly and bent down to place soft kisses on your cunt before getting dressed immediately, causing you to look at him with a confused expression. “Be right back. J, take good care of our girl.” He instructed before exiting the room. “Yes, sir!” JJ replied jokingly before shifting his attention back to you. “W-where is he going?” you stuttered, still feeling disoriented due to your orgasm. “Probably killing Kelce and Topper for walking in and seeing you. You know how he gets.” JJ shrugged as he picked you up bridal style before you could say anything else, taking you to the bathroom, “Don’t worry about it. Come on, lemme take care of our pretty girl.”

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated !!

nav. // m.list

tags (join here): @vxntxque @goingbackt0505 @heroftbiggestfan @locker42 @venuslore @voidcameron @lucyvg02 @yesv01 @oncasette @drxwstxrkxy @softsatnin @findapenny @skyesthebomb @harlowsgirl @maybanksstar @poppet05 @katiemay2 @jjsunrolledblunt @demiioxox @maybankslover @iruzias @iluvweasleys @ae1szn @pedrosprincess @sweetestdesire @loki-lovebot @kliness @liltimmytimtim @cavillslvt @miapanticc @rafecameronsprincess @rafesdirtyslut @peterficrecs @annaaaa14237 @harryspunchingbag @iameatingmyhair @rensolosprincess @apcllpsie @surprisinglysarah @sw34terw34ther @fredweasleyslut @yell0wclouds @crybabytecrs @btoliana @f4ll-for-you @pqndxra @httpsannoyinglolx @lcvelylies @marzipaanz @imjustcaitlin @outerbankspov @vqztsw @hagwshsjw @valel07 @gigito092507 @ry1ssa @dandyfordaffodils @drewfgs @thegirlnextdoorssister @aestheticgrungecrybaby @wh0r3-for-klaus @angzls @sarnghoe @ihearttits @immaslt4uuuu @ihrtrafeandethan @loverofdrewstarkey @darleneslane @Smutslut @iluvjj @julesmendoza890 @lorealainnehaille @thelomlisrafecameron @camelliaflow3r @thatmarvelgirly @rafesthroatbaby @aris-void @urmanlubbudoo @slut4drudy @u1t1m4t3-b1ur @drewstarkeysbae @rafescokenostril @r1vrsefx @jjmaybankisbae @shergoretzxx @mysticallystilinski @witchhkitty222 @golden-hoax @yangofyang @thejuleshypotisis