#even though i know i have like a 1% chance at beating him just because he has big dumb moments & my galaxy brain activates at the same time

[intromortal]

OLDER!ENHYPEN OT6 HEADCANONS PART 2.

part 1

⚠︎ nsfw, mdni. daddy/sir/master kink, age gaps (every party in this is an ADULT, no minors involved) intoxicated sex for hee's, semi public sex for hee's and won's, pregnancy sex and stepcest for jay's, jake is a little shit, corruption kink for hoon's, public sex for sunoo's, jungwon as an entire warning for sunoo's, teacher/student dynamics for jungwon's.

i strongly advise you read part 1 before this as i'm not sure the dynamics are clear enough without previous context !

a!n i missed older enha sm i just had to give this a pt 2 <3 gen so sorry for not having posted anything in like. forever but life has been beating my ass and while brain is braining, fingertips are not writing ughhh. hopefully i get out of this slump :] as always feedback is much appreciated! enjoy <3

HEESEUNG | ‘s chest was caging you, pressing your front against the cold bathroom wall of the definitely too pricey bar your date for the night had insisted on bringing you to, and you’d be laughing at how fate works in such unexpected ways if it weren’t for how sloppily heeseung’s mouth was running down your neck. warm tongue tracing every little sensitive spot and teeth grazing your skin.

“that little boy out there? he will never make you cum as good as i do,” he whispered as he slightly pulled back, breath hot from the alcohol raising goosebumps all over your body. you were very, very annoyed with him though, after the months of radio silence on his part that followed that one night in your room. and you made it clear with how you pressed your ass against his crotch, the gasp leaving his lips making yours turn upwards in return. had you known all it took to break lee heeseung was showing up to the bar he and his coworkers frequented with another man’s arm secured around your waist, you would’ve done that ages ago.

“well, he definitely made me cum way more in the last m—” you don’t even get the chance to finish your sentence, one of his rough hands flying up to your neck to squeeze it just enough to make the words die in your throat. his other hand grabbed his cock and teased the tip of it against your folds, the fabric of your panties so drenched with your juices they stuck perfectly to your fluttering pussy, and he could feel it all.

“oh yeah? how many? so smug and for what? he must have not done a good job then because here you are, dripping for me and i haven’t even done anything.” he let his cock rest underneath your heat, slowly moving his hips to tease you as he bunched your skirt up to get a clear view. all the patience and control he thought he had was already wavering, but it flew out of the window right then. like all the months of self-restraint, the guilt he felt towards your dad, even when he was fucking his fist alone at night on facebook family pics his best friend would post every so often, bringing his deepest desires out on the surface all over again. it all meant nothing when he finally pushed your panties out of the way, unashamed of the amount of precum mixing with your juices, as he bit down on your ear before letting his tip slide into your heat. “but i have all the time i want to match whatever number it is, angel.”

JAY | who had to watch you walk around with your boyfriend, his stupid face always so bright ever since you gave him the news that you’re pregnant. stupid fucking idiot who thinks he’s the dad. but of course, jay knew better. there was no way that child growing in your belly wasn't his, not after making sure to cum inside you time and time again whenever he had the chance, until his body physically couldn’t cum anymore. he hated your boyfriend and he hated to know you let his dirty hands on your body. he hated that he couldn't claim you publicly, letting everyone know you’re his. so all he had, to keep whatever little shred of sanity left in him, was knowing that your child is a product of your love.

and when his head nuzzled in your hair as he breathed in the sweet scent of your shampoo while pumping his cock carefully in and out of your wet cunt, he asked time and time again if you knew it’s his offspring you're carrying, if you were doing all this on purpose to make him hurt.

“but of course you know—how could you not,” he said in open mouthed kisses against your neck, his hands sliding away from your thighs to swipe soothing figures with his thumb into the skin of your swollen belly. how could it be so wrong? even if he’s your step dad, even if he recently married your mother? his love for you couldn’t be wrong, because then why did it feel so right? something so beautiful and pure just has to be right, he thought to himself. his hands wandered to your tits full of milk, playing gently with your hypersensitive nipples, careful not to hurt you. “shhhh little girl, it’s okay, i’ve got you,” he murmured along the skin of your shoulder as he kept rubbing his fingers all over your tits, the little droplets of milk only helping his digits to move smoothly. you sounded so pretty mewling like that for him, looked so pretty squirming in his strong hold, your back arched as you started to fuck yourself back on jay’s cock. “what a good little girl… helping daddy out,” he moaned in your ear before bringing one of his fingers to his mouth and licking it clean, loudly groaning at the taste of your milk. “so fucking sweet baby, fuck… you always make daddy so proud.”

JAKE | truly didn't mean for this to happen, but it was happening anyway so you two should just make the best of it, at least that’s what you hoped he thought. you though? fuck, you felt so embarrassed. leaving your cheating boyfriend for his dad was one thing. but knowing he was listening in to you two fucking? that’s next level. jake didn’t seem particularly fazed by it, actually maybe a little… excited about it?

you’d swear he’s been pounding you into the matress even rougher than he was before, since he heard the front door slam, signifying his son was back home when he shouldn't have been. you were always so careful with making sure you only went over when your ex boyfriend wasn't there, or maybe jake had done that on purpose? lied to you… but he would never, would he? he’d always been so sweet and caring, truly the best man you’ve ever had. and honestly even if he did plan for this, you were not coherent enough to realize, at least not while he held your head down on the mattress with his huge veiny hand, the other roughly holding onto your hip as he unapologetically pounded into you, making the headboard of the bed slam repeatedly into the wall. the exact wall against where you knew your ex boyfriend’s desk is placed. jake was usually so soft, always putting your pleasure above his, what had gotten into him?

you could barely think as you moved your head to the side to be able to breathe, the relief short lived because soon after he grabbed your hair in a makeshift ponytail and yanked you up against his chest, his hips never faltering as your face started to feel even hotter. you couldn't tell if it was the humiliation or the pleasure, or maybe both.

“stop fucking holding back,” his tone was almost mean, so uncharacteristically him, and it brought tears to your eyes, but also made your messy cunt leak even more. you didn't want to be heard, but jake was making it one hell of a challenge to keep quiet, especially when he let go of your hip and brought his hand to rub harsh circles on your clit.

“please sir… slower,” you bit down your moans, pleading through gritted teeth. and jake was not happy about it. the sting on your clit was sudden, your body jerking in his hold as you slowly realized he’d just slapped your clit.

“no,” his voice left no room for backtalk, as he hit your bundle of nerves one second time. “you will let him hear how much better i fuck you.”

SUNGHOON | was the first man you allowed to touch you. he was obsessed with you from the moment you shyly walked up to him to introduce yourself when you first met him, pretty large eyes looking up at him with a glint he couldn't quite decipher at first. he slowly learned it was submission. from day one, you’d been nothing but obedient, always looking for praise, always trying your best to make him a proud instructor. and you just always looked up to him with such innocence… it felt wrong, how hard it made his cock.

so when he finally had you for the first time, he had to try his best not to cum right then and there, when you told him you’d never been with anyone like this. you couldn't even look at him as you confessed it, poor little thing. no one had ever pushed past your folds inside your tight fluttering hole, you’d never had anything push between your lips, never had anyone taste you. he was obsessed with that thought. he’d get to be your first everything, and that made his cock twitch in his pants.

“it’s okay baby… i will make it feel so good…” he said as he captured your lips in a kiss once again, so soft and careful as if he might break you. the kiss was deliberately slow and sensual, he wanted to just bask in the moment, afraid it might end too soon, his hands roaming around your body and pulling you flush against him, his length rubbing against your body. you gasped at the contact, breaking away suddenly, surprised at how he chased your lips again right away.

“wan’... wanna make you feel good…”

he could tell you were holding something back, too shy to initiate it, so he helped you out. “who is it pretty girl mh? who do you want to satisfy?” he watched you carefully, cradling your head with his hand, and nearly groaning when your nuzzled into his palm right away, just like a little kitty.

“wanna make daddy feel good… don’t know how to,” you stuttered out, hiding your face in his hand, too embarrassed to keep eye contact. he doesn't know where he found the self control to not turn you against the lockers in the changing room and take you right then and there, but somehow, he did. instead dropping to his knees in front of you and sniffing your cunt right through your workout leggings, mouth salivating instantly. he mouthed at your core, basking in your cute whimpers, before he finally slid the thick fabric down along with your panties, enough to reveal your puffy little pussy. he grabbed your thighs, bringing you over his mouth completely, admiring her from so close. “another time sweet girl… let daddy take care of this needy little thing first.”

SUNOO | loved showing you off to everyone. to his employees, to his friends, to his collaborators and most of all, to his competition. especially when said competition has… history with you.

he always made you wear nothing under your skirt, granting him easier access during the night. at that point, you had started to get used to all the weird looks and whispers you got when, like clockwork, his hand slid between your thighs under the table to toy with your pussy. not like they ever said anything anyway, sunoo was just too powerful and important for them to. regardless of how fucking weird he is.

this time though, it’s different. the guest for the night was none other than yang jungwon, one of sunoo’s top competitors, and well… probably your most infamous old fling. and sunoo was fucking loving it. for the special occasion, he’d encouraged you time and time again during the night to sneak your hand in his pants. and so you do; what sunoo wanted, sunoo got. that was the rule.

the air was charged with tension despite the almost laid-back look of it all: sunoo laying back against his chair like absolutely nothing was going on, and jungwon seemingly uncaring for what was actually going on, if not a little humored by it. and they were just making casual conversation at that. “heeseung… haven’t heard that name in a long time,” jungwon pondered, reaching for his wine glass.

“yeah… last time i met him he— fuck yeah puppy, just like that.”

your hand froze on sunoo’s cock, noting the twitch in his length. he always loved putting you in embarrassing situations, got off on it. your eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights as you looked at jungwon, your foot nervously tapping on the floor when he stopped mid sip. he looked between the two of you, eyebrow quirking slightly before downing the rest of the wine in one swing. “puppy, huh?”

you wanted to hide somewhere, anywhere. let the ground engulf you and never let you escape. but sunoo pinched your thigh, and you knew it meant he wanted you to keep milking his cock with your fist, so you did.

“a very obedient one,” sunoo snickered, and you hated how it made you clamp your thighs together in search of some friction.

“she knows how to use her hands, but her head is even better,” jungwon commented, clearly amused by the situation.

“agree, had to train her to take it though.” they were talking about you, in front of you, completely ignoring the fact that you were there to hear it. and for some sick reason it turned you on. you glanced back at sunoo with a questioning look on your features, and he pet your head a few times, the usual glint in his eyes telling you to keep going, or he’d have to teach you a lesson when you two eventually left the restaurant. and one thing about sunoo, you never wanted to push him to do that.

JUNGWON | prided himself in being a calm and collected man, always level headed. that completely flies out of the window when it comes to you. but could you blame him? when he sees how all your coursemates tried to get paired up with you, found any excuse to talk to you? he knew they just wanted to get in your pants, he saw it in how they watched you, how their eyes roamed all over your body whrn you were not looking their way. he saw it in their eyes too, and he fucking hated it.

he knew it was not your fault, but he couldn't take it out on them. after all, what you two have was a secret. so instead, he took it out on you. called for you to stay back so you two could talk after class was over and everyone was already leaving, you happily walking towards him without a know in the world of the storm raging inside him. you caught up soon though, when you noticed how hard his jaw was clenched and how his knuckles were turning white from the strong grip he had on the crumpled papers.

he hastily took off his tie, securing it around your wrists so your arms were bound together behind your back. you were so confused as he made you get on his desk, looking back at him to ask what's happened but he didn't even let you get a word out before he pushed you on your knees. your upper body bent forward to rest on the desk because your arms were tied together, unable to support yourself up. your ass was facing him as he stood behind you, pushing your skirt up to reveal your bare cunt. no panties.

this would usually excite him, but in his jealous haze, it only enraged him further. “and you wanna act like you don’t know what the fuck you did?” he spit out, yanking you closer to the edge of his desk. “slutting yourself out like this? when you know how everyone is trying to get a look under your skirt?”

“won, what are you—”

“won?” he landed a harsh slap on your ass, your body jerking forward at the sting.

“sir! sorry sir—”

“yeah you’ll be sorry alright.” he took a seat on his chair, bringing your ass to hover close to his face before diving in and licking a stripe from your clit to your hole, groaning in satisfaction at the taste. “no cumming today, little brat.”

[kalims]

⊹ giving them flowers

premise. no plot we are just giving them flowers cause guys deserve some too <3

content. fluff, mini scenarios, azul turns into a silly nerd (affectionate)

featuring. jamil, sebek, riddle, azul.

note. actually accidentally posted this yesterday and got a heart attack (also an actual consistent posting schedule...?)

jamil gives you a look.

he spares a long stare at the bouquet you clutch between your hands, wearing an awfully cheeky grin that's chipping off the scold in his throat. "how many times have I told you this?" he deadpans.

but from the obvious fact that you're holding it. it's not like jamil can do anything about it.

"you don't buy flowers for yourself," he says firmly. I'm supposed to be the one getting them for you. he would like to add.

"they're a waste of madol?" you tilt your head.

he answers immediately. "no, just—" jamil's eye twitches like he's trying his hardest to keep something. "don't,"

perhaps he's being a little too blunt but it makes him upset. is he really messing up in gift giving to the extent where you have to buy something for.. yourself? and jamil is pretty sure gifts are called as such for a reason.

and that they're from, or gifted to another person.

you chuckle in your fist, but he continues to ramble; "also it's hard to care for flowers when you don't know much, i don't want you to—"

"jamil hon, my baby, the apple of my eye, the love of my life, they're for you,"

you say simply, and watch in amusement when his moments stutter before they stop to a complete freeze.

a furious wave of heat crawls up on his back but he's praying frantically. now is not the time. he seethes.

... he just tripped over his words.

jamil reluctantly accepts the flowers after you've finished laughing your ass off, and the only thing in his mind is the love.

okay maybe he should pick up a book about caring for flowers. do they even survive in the harsh conditions of scarabia?

whatever he'll make it work.

you should've expected this.

despite your arm honestly starting to tremble under the stress of holding it out for about 2 minutes straight now, you still attempt a smile—although strained. wouldn't want sebek to find it an unfriendly gesture.

even though he probably already thinks that anyways.

you don't want to color sebek in a way that shows that his only personality is being suspicious to everyone, and of course. the dearest young master he adores. (seriously though it's a little concerning, and you're kinda jealous.)

sebek stares at the bouquet in your hand with scrutinizing eyes, as if to say non-verbally: 'what is this'.

you sigh when he just stares at it like it's a bomb. "it's flowers." you deadpan.

sebek pursues his lips, looks away before looking back. "I can see that!" he says like he wasn't wearing a face that made you think you had to explain. but he just crosses his arms and falls silent with a huff. "for the young master, yes?'

he pauses. "I can atleast acknowledge your gesture, human!"

was that supposed to be good? you weren't given the chance to explain because he continues again; "though I will have to make sure that these aren't anything the young master is allergic to." he nods to himself, as though proud for being so thoughtful.

your eye twitches. you're a little surprised that he didn't even imply that it could be possibly a bomb inside to try and assassinate them.. but you notice a slight tense-ness to his demeanor.

you know cause he's huffed about 5 times in the past 1 minute, he's looked away and he's very clearly sneaking peaks at your hand.

—then he huffs to himself! then it repeats.

"I will take them to the young master at once!" he announces with his loud volume, stepping forward to grab it from you but you ultimately beat him. you're just praying he doesn't find you 10x more suspicious the moment you had wrenched it back to yourself with surprising strength you didn't know you had.

even he looked surprised!

"no, sebek.." you heave. "they're not for malleus, they're for you."

he didn't have the heart to correct the way you addressed the young master before he dutifully exploded.

he's shaking away from you with a wobbling, agape mouth. he could only open and close them dumbly, not beir capable to let a word out.

you suppose he was too speechless because he didn't even say anything when you happily pushed the bouquet to his chest like nothing happened.

for someone who's most diligent in studying, you'd think riddle would be able to catch on easily on the gist of your actions.

but he just blinks when you hold out your hand. pretty gray eyes trained on the bouquet of red roses in your grasp, then onto your face with inquisitive question apparent with the raise of his brow.

"we have plenty of roses in our gardens." he says, as though like giving him... these is the most bizarre phenomenon in his life.

it seems like he feels the need to add. "we grow them."

you smile, the sweet thing awfully tight on your face. "they're for you," you explain. a little perturbed that you need to in the first place, but it's riddle so you sorta understand?

riddle squints. "why?"

you blank. "like... like a gift, for you? you know. cause I want to."

then as if the slowness of the processing going on in his brain gradually speeds up. it's obvious he's probably realized the implications of your little gift from the jolt, then widened eyes who stare in disbelief.

riddle gulps. "for, me?" he asks stupidly.

your raised brows say yes.

it's almost hilarious when he accepts them gratefully and stares at them like you just sprouted a literal white rose from the ground, wrapped it in some fancy plastic, and then handed it to him with a smile.

silence ensues again. riddle notices, screeches in his head to do something about it except he can't, cause his mind seems to be broken right now and he can't exert any words but a stammer.

and he'd really like to relearn how to speak because you're fidgeting on the spot, clearly nervous by his silence.

"sorry," you chuckle. "um.. it's just red roses, not white, or blue, or pink—"

"no!" he blurts out far too quickly. hands stretched out in the air a little as though reaching out to stop you but then stiffly staying by his side. riddle clears his throat. "I mean... this is... very important to me."

you look like you don't really believe him cause he was going off about roses in his dorm before.

he flushes, away from your gaze. "because its from you."

you can barely see azul.

or gauge out his reaction if it's supposed to be good or bad, because you can barely even see his eyes from all the sudden sheen of white over it. did all the smoke in the room just gravitate over his glasses conveniently or something?

you can spot the joints in his fingers twitching but oddly enough he remains stiff in front of you. uncharacteristically silent, which wouldn't really lead to good things.

"hello?" with your free hand, devoid of any flowers with the power of freezing a person. you wave it in front of his face which seems to have done a pretty good job with snapping him out of whatever trance he's in.

the glasses slip down the bridge of his nose but he fixes them at record speed. admittedly with clammy fingers.

azul coughs. "thank you very much." he clutches them tighter, pursuing his lips.

"I know octavinelle is not the best place for warmer places," he starts and a flash of confusion on your face is something he misses. "but I will manage it and find an accommodation for these, around 34 or 35 degrees."

your brows furrow. what.

"hmm yes... a nice vase, I'll use the most pure water there is." he rants. "then I'll fill it up with two thirds of its container and make sure it lives healthy."

that's... concerning.

"I'll have jade clean it regularly." he says and you're honestly more scared for the flowers. "I cannot trust floyd either so I'll trim it by two centimeters at the right angle occasionally when it dries."

he says all that, with a pink face.

you awkwardly stand there taking in azuls apparent plans on how to ensure the lifespan of your 'thoughtful' gift will be extended as far as he can help in to commerce your honor.

[letoasai]

Will work for food ~ part 2

Part 1 - Master list

Tim was anxious which wasn’t an emotion he often put into use. Even on a bad day he was calculating, overly prepared, and usually ran on caffeine. He was a young genius and a hell of a detective, but nerves probably didn’t care about his resume or personality quirks. 

He rubbed his thumb against the folded piece of paper kept hidden in his pocket. He’d examined it in the batcave but it held no clues of note. It was just a normal sheet of paper, and the ink could have been a pen from any local corner store. No DNA. No fingerprints. All the same, he kept it out of sight in public. 

Tim had been antsy about summoning Phantom, mostly because he felt like he was disrespectfully late. When he’d first laid eyes on the living form of the Ghost King, he’d felt a familiar ache. Neglect. He didn’t know if the king had neglected himself, or if the blame lay at someone else's feet, but he just couldn’t stand it. 

He’d offered food and company in an instant, the words popping out of his mouth before he could think them through. Despite that, he didn’t regret the offer. He could have done without the teasing from his siblings and teammates, but he didn’t regret the offer once. 

His only remorse was with the clean up efforts. The Infinite creature, Vortex, had left quite the destruction in his wake. Even with many extended members of the League assisting with clean up, it took ages. Search and rescues were active and humanitarian groups had arrived to offer aid but some things couldn’t be done in a weekend. 

The bats returning to Gotham didn’t offer much in the way of a break either. A Scarecrow outbreak with his fear toxin. Three different gangs in the middle of a turf war. A weapons smuggling ring being uncovered… It was one thing after another for a minute. 

When all was said and done it had been nearly two months before Tim had the opportunity to keep his promise. He was in his civvies, standing at the mouth of an alleyway across from a little italian place that looked cheap but was actually the best tasting, most authentic italian place in all of Gotham. Little hole in the wall places often were the best. 

The problem now was his ability to overthink things. Would he summon the king in a glow of green that would light up the street like a beacon? Would he arrive in his ghostly form, crown hovering above his hooded head? 

Phantom looked human enough but was he? Did he come from Earth originally? There were plenty of aliens that looked human. It would be rude to assume… 

What name did he use? Did he need to go full title? Why didn’t he ask more questions when he had the chance?

“King Phantom.” Tim muttered, deciding to just go for it. He still clutched the paper sigil out of sight. “Uh, Ghost King Phantom. King of the Infinite Realm. Um… Or was it High King…” 

“Just Phantom is fine.” 

Tim tensed, all of his hair standing on end at the voice directly behind him in the alley. He hadn’t made a sound but he needed to actively work to exhale and turn around to face his guest. There had been zero indication of his arrival, and he was thankfully, in his living form. 

He was in jeans and an over sized hoodie. Tim could just barely make out a faded NASA written in the front. That was a point in the direction of him possibly being a human from Earth. He wore shoes this time, beat up looking kicks that had seen better days. His hood was also drawn over his head, likely to hide his bony appearance. Tim did spy the tail of his braid over his shoulder though, his hair black to further prove he was in his living form. 

“You…scared the hell out of me.” Tim said, smiling after another hard exhale. “I am sorry it took so long, your Highness.” 

“Phantom.” He corrected, looking around the street and taking it all in. Tim could clock him making note of the turns down the street and the buildings with fire escapes even with his hood up. People just had certain body language when casing an area. “I figured it would be a while, if you summoned me at all. I was not going to hold you to a whim, Red Robin.” 

“I said i would…” Tim muttered. “Uh, it’s Tim, out of uniform. If you don’t mind.” 

“Tim.” He repeated. That softness to his voice remained, and honestly, Tim liked the cadence of it. He liked it as much as he was sure he never wanted to hear Phantom raise his voice. “I understand.” He hesitated only a beat. “You can call me Danny. Phantom is probably a silly thing to call someone in a city like this.” 

“Not if it’s your name.” 

“Danny is okay.” He said, and for whatever reason, Tim noticed now how he kept his hands in his pockets, likely to hide them too. Frail, skeletal looking hands would just frighten some people. “Food? For a favor?” 

“No favor involved. I invited you out.” Tim said. “I mean, maybe we can chat about stuff but you aren’t obligated to answer or anything.” 

Phantom…Danny nodded, shuffling for a moment and looking around again. The height of the buildings seemed to be a mild interest of his. “Where are we eating?” 

“Well, if you like Italian, we’re walking across the street.” He thought pasta and breads would be both filling and flavorful. It would also be something easily packed up for Danny to take with him. 

“I’ll eat anything.” Danny informed him. “I have no preferences after all this time.” He hesitated. “Or maybe i need to rediscover them, but anything will be fine.” 

“Let’s… let’s go then.” Tim said, walking with Danny at his side. He’d made a reservation which wasn’t strictly necessary at such a small place but it gave him the option of reserving a corner table to offer them a little more privacy. 

They walked in, the hostess greeting them with a smile before leading them to their table and leaving them with bread, water, and menus. There were a few other full tables but it wasn’t packed the way it would be in the evening. 

Danny kept his hood up, but it was Gotham and no one questioned the decision. They just left him in peace to not start a conflict with someone who wasn’t causing any trouble. He also kept his hands out of sight until the hostess had left. He sipped the water once and broke off only a little piece of the bread. He buttered it and ate on it while flipping open the menu. 

Tim didn’t know if he was reading the English or Italian parts of the menu but it didn’t matter. Being fluent in reading an Earth language was another check mark for this being his place of origin. 

“Can i…” Tim hummed, keeping in mind that he was speaking with royalty and act a little less like Bruce interrogating a suspect. “Can i ask a couple questions?” 

Danny looked up at him, Tim only barely able to make out some of his features passed the unnatural shadows his hood provided. “Sure.” 

Tim smiled, not even bothering with the menu since he knew what he was getting. “You’re the King of a realm, but was Earth your place of origin?” 

“Yes, but not this Earth.” 

Dimensions! Tim filed that away for later. “You can travel to any of them?” 

“Within reason. Yes. I’m old, but not that old yet. Only eight or nine decades.” He tore another small piece of bread to eat. Tim assumed he was pacing himself. “They call me a baby Ancient still.” 

“That’s cool…” Tim muttered. “Are there many other Earths?” 

“The answer to that would never satisfy you.” Danny said softly. “Trust me. I am the Ancient of Space and i’m hardly satisfied with it.” 

There was a new fact for Tim to latch on. “What’s the-” He stopped when the waitress appeared. Both of them ordered, and Tim was certain he’d end up ordering more halfway through the meal so Danny could take more home with him.  

When the menus were taken and the waitress left again, Tim continued. “What’s the difference between being an Ancient of Space and being the Ghost King.” 

“When i died, or half died, it was my fate to one day become the Ancient of Space. I am that regardless. I won the title of Ghost King.” 

Tim dragged a hand down his face. “That’s…. Endlessly fascinating. I have so many questions.” He didn’t even know how to touch ‘half died’ yet. 

Danny hummed once and fiddled with the end of his braid. “Do i get to ask questions too?” 

“Of course.” 

Danny leaned forward, sipping at his water again. “This Earth has super heroes. That’s interesting. Mine didn’t. How long have you been a hero?” 

Tim nodded, figuring that would be the direction the questions would have wandered towards. They were far enough away from everyone in the restaurant that he didn’t worry about being heard. The music playing in the background also helped a great deal. 

“Hero might be a debate depending on who you ask. In Gotham we’re considered vigilanties. I first suited up at thirteen but it was really more like fourteen after a great deal of training.” 

Danny was quiet for a moment. “And how old are you now? I have trouble telling ages these days…” 

“Eighteen.” Tim said. 

“Young.” Danny muttered. “I was young too. Fourteen when i became the bridge. Sixteen before i really understood what it meant.” 

“The bridge?” 

“Balance. The living and the dead.” 

Tim huffed softly. “You wear a lot of hats, don’t you?”  

Danny made a quiet noise, and it took Tim a beat longer than normal to realize he was laughing. “I do, i wish i didn’t most of the time. It’s fine though.” 

“Just fine?” Tim asked after a beat. He knew a little about expectations and high standards that could weigh you down–both his own standards and other peoples. 

Danny nodded, one of his hands resting on the other. “I’ve seen things. Good things. Bad things. Things that will never happen. Things that have. It’s better i have certain powers because i have no desire to use them.” 

Aah. Tim understood that. “People who want too much power are dangerous.” 

“Exactly.” 

“The power of ruling an entire realm…” 

“Exactly.” 

Tim heaved a sigh. “Damn.” Maybe he should ask something less intense. “Did you enjoy the food we gave you last time? It was just some fast food but there was some worry it wasn’t good enough.” 

“It was great.” Danny said and he sounded sincere. “Nostalgic. It took me a few days to eat all of it. I know the Infinite Realm’s reputation, and it is a warranted reputation, but i’m… hard to offend. Little things are just little things.” 

“I’ll put them at ease then.” 

Danny was quiet for a moment, the silence not an oppressive one. “What is the difference between a hero and a vigilante?” 

“How people perceive us, i guess. Superman will always be seen as a hero. Wholesome and valiant and all that. Things in Gotham are altogether… shadier. Being a vigilante isn’t exactly legal and while we have our boundaries, we break the law all the time.” Tim said. They covered their own tracks well but it was fortunate that no one looked too closely at their activities. 

It didn’t bother Tim when he knew his reasons were still good. 

Danny made a thoughtful kind of noise. “I’m willing to bet Superman’s business isn’t purely legal either. This seems like a nice Earth though, despite whatever troubles you have.” 

“Some hero work is sanctioned by the government so it’s a fine line. Any of it could be argued.” Tim explained, and that was something Danny seemed to find fascinating. 

They paused their conversation again when the waitress appeared with their food, and Tim put in a second order for them to take when they left. The eyes Tim could feel on him told him that Danny already knew what they were for. 

He could hear Danny softly inhale and exhale as he looked at the plate in front of him that came accompanied with salad. He likely wouldn’t be able to eat even a fraction of it but the way he looked at it…. made Tim realize that he could see Danny’s face more clearly. The shadows that obscured his face from his hood had receded. He was still gaunt, but he eyed the food with so much joy. 

The first bite of –non fast food– food nearly seemed to overwhelm him in a good way. 

“You know,” Tim swung hard to change subjects. “We can do a bit of a food tour every time i summon you for lunch. Pizza. Chinese. Barbeque. There’s a great taco truck. We could get something homemade.” 

“You cook?” 

“Haa. No.” Tim said seriously. “But Al… my grandpa is an amazing cook and he seemed to think trading food for world saving services was very sensible but he was appalled that we offered you cheap fries and burgers. He’d honestly love to cook for you.” 

Danny smiled, this shy little look that shouldn’t have fit someone with the title of Ghost King but it sure fit Danny. “That could be nice. Decent home cooked meals are kind of mythological to me.” 

Tim nodded once, and knew better than to ask directly. “I didn’t have a very cuddly upbringing either. There was a lot of take-out involved.” 

“Your food ever come back to life and try to eat you instead?” Danny asked and Tim just stared. 

“I can’t…tell if that’s a real question or if you’re messing with me.” 

Danny smiled and was that a hint of fangs? “Dead serious.” 

Time groaned. “No, no you are a king. You are not making puns.” 

“Thinking i’m too mature for puns is a grave mistake.” Danny said without hesitation. 

“Noo.” Tim groaned, lips upturned into a smile. His brothers could never know about this. Dick would start a pun off and Jason’s morbid sense of humor about his own death…. Ugh, it would be bad. 

It did bring up the interesting question of Danny’s age. He said he’d been alive for decades but how did he mature. Was he still a teenager? Did he age slowly? Asking not only sounded like a bad idea, but Raven and Zatanna had both made sure he knew it was a question to not ask. 

They chatted, they ate, or well, Tim ate. Danny ate a bite every few minutes and looked thrilled about it but he was slowing down. Tim was looking forward to Danny being able to eat more with every visit. 

He flagged down the waitress, gesturing for a box and got a thumbs up in return. 

“You can take it with you.” Tim said when Danny was giving him a look. “It might be a couple days before i can call you again and this way you’ll have enough to eat every day.” 

“I can’t deny that.” Danny said. “You don’t have to keep summoning me.”

“I promised you lunches.” Tim said firmly. “And you said it yourself, you should eat more and spend more time in a living realm. You may as well take advantage of being summoned for food.” 

“Hm…” Danny played with the end of his braid again. “You do make a compelling argument. It’s nice to talk to someone without it being preceded by a brawl.” 

Tim stared, “What?” 

Danny just looked amused. “I’ll explain to you etiquette in the Infinite Realm sometime.” 

“Yeah?” 

The waitress returned with boxes for Danny to pack up his meal and the empty dishes were whisked away to make more room on the table while they waited for their to-go orders. 

They were almost startled when a second waitress reappeared with a few little dishes before they could begin speaking again. Everything was set in the middle of the table, presumably for them to share. There was a piece of white peach tart, a bowl of strawberry gelato, and a slice of frozen chocolate chip meringata. 

“Um…” Tim blinked. “We didn’t-”

The waitress chuckled. “It was ordered for you by another patron. Please enjoy.” She set down another set of utensils for them and walked away. 

Danny made a small sound in his throat. “Well i was full but how could i say no to a couple more bites…” 

“Wait.” Tim said, gaze subtly shifting around the room. Maybe he was trained to be paranoid, but it usually served him well. What he found almost instantly had his eye twitching. 

Not even halfway across the room sat a poorly disgusted Dick wearing large sunglasses, a fedora, and the world's least convincing mustache. When he saw Tim looking and grinned and raised his own wine glass. 

“I gotta kill my brother…” 

Danny sputtered out a laugh, so genuinely amused that Tim could definitely see his fangs as he laughed.

“That would make him my problem.” Danny pointed out, reaching for a spoon to try the gelato first. 

“I’m not seeing your point.” Tim said, delighted by Danny’s teasing. It was a rookie mistake to think one of his siblings wouldn’t find out about this. An absolute blunder that he hadn’t noticed Dick walking in after them at all. He’d never live it down. 

“Guess i’ll have to be more careful next time.” He added. 

Danny hummed again and seemed to have a fondness for the cold dessert. “I could always invite you to my realm sometime.” 

“Cool.” Tim said instantly. Ha, let them try to follow him then…

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: You're back home right when Azriel was starting to lose all hope, but is the person standing in front of him the same who disappeared all those years ago?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

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(for some reason I couldn't tag some of you. check your settings because you might have tags disabled)

[obaex]

four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 1)

summary: rafe knows he's screwed up, but when he offers you a way to make amends, you can't resist. the catch? he'll have to do the impossible.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: rafe is slightly toxic in this ngl! i am in love with this. hockey romance is very near and dear to me (this is v loosely based on a real life experience). *mwah*

You saw your phone light up out of the corner of your eye and lowered your mascara wand as you leaned over to glance at the screen and let out a shaky sigh.

A part of you knew the right thing to do by now was to block his number. You hadn't responded to a single message he'd sent for over two weeks. And the messages had been relentless.

I'm thinking about you in the afternoons.

Hi beautiful in the mornings.

I'm sorry.

You're still my girl.

And on and on, escalating to paragraphs at night, as he typed out things he'd never once said out loud to you before; about how he felt the first time he met you, the things his teammates said, about how Wheezie was asking about you and Sarah spent an hour on the phone lecturing him, about how he'd do anything to get you back.

Reading his messages was like drinking a honied poison that went down sweet, warming every inch of you, only to make you sick in the end. But you couldn't stop. You couldn't block him. And even though you'd made him think you were ignoring him, you craved every message, every word he said something you had ached to hear when he had the chance.

Now it was two hours before the biggest game of the season, arguably one of the biggest of his career. He should be focusing on his pregame routine, on his way to the rink, if he wasn't there already and instead here he was texting you. You were the one on his mind and you drank that poison down, allowing yourself to feel special, even if the text had made no sense to you.

How many?

How many what?

His last message before that was from a couple of hours ago, before his pregame nap, the one you often took together as he had reminded you, in excruciating detail.

Your fingers twitched with the urge to reply. You knew he was baiting you into responding, but you swallowed down the urge and took a deep breath to still your beating heart and went back to applying your makeup, dragging up the same memory you did every time you were tempted by him.

It was just after 2AM, and you were sitting in your car that you had driven to his apartment, unable to sleep, desperate to talk to him. He lounged in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead at the windshield, tracking the rain that was falling steadily.

"Can you please talk to me?" you whispered, trying so hard not to come across as needy or desperate.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, shrugging, avoiding your eye contact.

"I don't know, just tell me what's going on with you? You barely talk to me anymore, you won't even look at me. Did I do something?"

He shrugged again and you felt physically sick. Maybe it was because you couldn't remember the last thing you'd eaten, the last time you'd slept more than a few fitful hours, all consumed with the feeling that your five-year relationship was running off the rails. Rumors were flying that there was another girl... or girls... And when you had asked him about it, he brushed it off, not strongly enough to give you even an ounce of comfort. You were falling apart. And he was letting it happen. He was forcing you to end this, too cowardly to do it himself.

"Do you even want to be with me anymore?" you whispered, barely audible over the pounding rain, like maybe if he didn't hear you, he couldn't answer.

He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed loudly, frustrated, like you were just so annoying to him, and you wished you could suck your words back into your mouth.

"I have practice in like four hours, I can't be doing this with you right now" he said, aptly avoiding the conversation again.

Your chin was wobbling and you bit back everything you wanted to say, not wanting to be needy, or nagging, hoping if you were on your very best behavior he would have a change of heart, change his mind.

You pursed your lips and nodded, averting your gaze to look out at the rain and gathering the strength you needed to say the words that felt like nails in your mouth.

"I can't do this anymore" you whimpered, as tears fell that matched the droplets on your windshield. "I can't keep giving 100% and getting nothing in return. I'm sitting here spilling my heart out to you and you won't even look at me. After everything we've been through... You won't even deny that you hooked up with her."

Silence.

You could see him grimace, the tic in his jaw as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. You wanted to grab the front of his sweatshirt, shake him and scream 'SAY SOMETHING!'. But you didn't. And his silence persisted a moment longer.

"So that's it then?" he said finally, like you had any other choice.

You wiped futilely at the tears that were now pouring down your face, even as you tried to hold them back, sniffling with a shaky breath to avoid outright sobbing in front of him.

He opened the car door, got out, slamming it forcefully behind him without so much as a glance your way and you broke down. You didn't make it one block before you had to pull over. You couldn't see, you couldn't breath, and you couldn't hold your hands steady on the wheel you were shaking so badly. You threw your car in park, lay your head on the steering wheel and cried.

Two days passed before the first text came in.

"I'm sorry" is all it said.

You could see the bubbles at the bottom of the screen, indicating that he was still typing before more messages appeared.

At this point you were grasping your phone with both hands, like a lifeline, eyes glued to the screen, heart hammering so hard in your chest you felt nauseous and your hands were shaking. There was a chance, a glimmer, a hope and you were clinging to it.

Your fingers hovered over your phone, ready to forgive him, to forget, to run right back to the way things had been, to have him looking for you at the end of every game, for stolen kisses in the parking lot at the arena, to whispered I love yous as you fell asleep in his arms. And then more messages came flooding in.

More messages were coming now but you couldn't read any further. Your heart was battering around your ribcage like a pinball machine with the whiplash of information: your boyfriend of five years had been actively texting another girl... because she was easygoing, and fun to talk to and didn't stress him out… like you did.

Your tears were back like no time had passed from the night you broke up, heavy sobs coming from your mouth at how stupid you felt, at all the rumors being true. And did you really believe that nothing more had happened between them? He was Rafe fucking Cameron of the Carolina Eagles.

Your eyes skimmed over the second half of his message, about how you were it for him, about how much he loved you, how he wanted to marry you and for you to have his babies?? The ache of wanting that so desperately to be true and knowing it couldn't be was too much for you as you turned and cried into your pillow.

You recalled all of those messages now as a new one came in. You shoved your finger into the bruise on your heart, forcing yourself to feel that pain again, to imagine him laying in bed, in the bed you had slept in with him, while he texted another girl, maybe even texted both of you at the same time, and you refocused on your makeup.

You had faithfully followed the Eagles for five years, his teammates were some of your best friends, like brothers to you. Despite everything that had happened with Rafe, you weren't going to miss their game tonight. Rafe's best friend and linemate Nick had texted you earlier in the week to let you know he had a ticket for you.

Fine. It was hard to say no to that. Everyone you knew would be there anyway and you didn't need Rafe thinking he had power over you if you weren't there. So, you were going. And you decided if you were going to go you were going to look stunning, and as you put the finishing touches on your makeup, there was no doubt in your mind that you were.

You had spent more time on your hair and makeup than potentially every other game that season combined. You may have gotten a little comfy towards the end, wearing Rafe's team-issued sweatshirt with his name and number on it and a pair of leggings. He claimed that he loved you in that, but that wouldn't cut it tonight. You wore skintight jeans that accentuated every perfect curve of your body, heeled booties and a tight-fitting long sleeve shirt. Your hair was immaculate and your makeup was admittedly a little extra for an AHL game, but effortless nonetheless as it amplified your natural beauty. The pain in your heart had been ebbing its way into anger: you were going to make him regret every single thing he'd done, the thought nagging at you as your phone lit up again.

You huffed. You had been strong for weeks, and now he was throwing that at you?

Your perfectly manicured fingers hovered over your phone as you nibbled your glossed bottom lip, and finally relented.

What the hell? you thought, confused.

Feeling pretty good about your level of engagement, you sent another question mark before his response came in.

You scoffed before laughing out loud. He was truly unbelievable. You weren't on some sort of barter system here. This wasn't a deal you had ever discussed nor agreed to. This isn't how the world worked, this isn't how relationships worked. It was stupid. So so stupid. And Rafe wasn't the team's lead goal scorer anyway. Sure he was good for a flashy goal every few games, maybe two, but this was the semi-finals of the league championship, everything was on the line here, it was not the time to be playing games...

...But damn if you didn't love the semblance of power he'd given you over the situation, and you desperately wanted to fuck with him.

Four goals in one game. Essentially impossible. A joke. Sidney Crosby, arguably the best player in the NHL at the moment hadn't even achieved that. But not a second passed before his reply came through, simple, straightforward, no arguing or complaining:

"Done"

And then:

"I love you!"

"I'll be looking for you 😍"

You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on your bed, annoyed at yourself for even answering him.

And yet you couldn't fight the smallest bit of excitement you felt.

It was impossible. It was never going to happen, but Rafe Cameron was going to try to win you back.

(part two)

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444

[solaireverie]

f1 | i'd be the man

summary: [ drabbles ] you're the formula one driver and he's your wag. (aka the toto wolff-ification of the fast car boys)

warnings: mentions of racism and sexism

author's note: i had so much fun coming up with non-f1 jobs 😂 i'm convinced that most of the boys would still be obsessed with f1. considering doing this for other drivers, drop some suggestions? 👀

→ CHARLES LECLERC

Charles is a fashion designer who works for one of your sponsors. You find his designs slightly... peculiar and aren't afraid to tell him. Determined to prove you wrong about his vision, Charles volunteers to be your primary point of contact for your partnership with the fashion house.

Your meetings are contentious in the beginning, neither of you understanding the other. You leave each consultation with a throbbing migraine and a barely suppressed urge to throw something at Charles. If only he weren't so damned stubborn. (At the same time, you know that his passion for his craft is half of why you even deign to meet with him.)

A grudging respect forms between you after months of friction and endless banter about what exactly you want your sponsorship to look like. If hard-pressed, you might even call it a friendship.

Charles has been a Formula 1 fan since childhood and is secretly a fan of yours. You find out after you meet him for a design meeting after a rough race and he suddenly goes on a rant about how the driver who took you out was being ridiculous and how you deserved better. You're completely charmed and interrupt him by asking him out on a date.

He's the absolute best boyfriend that you could ever ask for, following you to all the European races and supporting you from Monaco when he can't make it. Charles delights in being able to provide a bit of stability for you in your hectic life. He puts up photos of your race wins in his studio and proudly tells all of his clients about his girlfriend and her achievements.

(You still won't listen to his fashion advice, though.)

→ MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max runs the cat shelter that you adopt your cat from. You notice how cute he is the first time you meet him but you're too shy to make a move — besides, Max cherishes his quiet life and you don't know how open he would be to associating with a public figure like a Formula 1 driver. Still, he's funny and kind and you somehow keep talking.

It starts out innocuously, just pictures and updates about your new cat (because Max cares about all of the cats that he's ever taken care of, even the ones that have been adopted into good homes) and occasional behind-the-scenes updates when you find out that Max likes Formula 1.

Without realizing it, Max becomes one of your closest friends. He catsits for you when you're out of the country for races, picks you up from the airport after international races, and cheerfully beats you at sim racing whenever you have the opportunity to game together.

Max realizes that you're basically dating around a year into your friendship. You sleep at his place, in his bed, more often than not. Sassy likes you more than she likes him. You have his coffee order memorized and he knows your parents. (Your mother adores him and constantly encourages you to make a move.)

He's patient, however, and waits for you to realize your own feelings as well. Dating comes as naturally for you as your friendship did. Although Max doesn't always enjoy the media scrutiny that comes with dating a Formula 1 driver, he takes full advantage of the attention to defend you at any given chance.

In fact, you've been asked multiple times by your team principal to get your boyfriend to calm down before he offends another driver, but you wouldn't change Max for the world.

→ LANDO NORRIS

Lando is a Twitch streamer with a decent following who specializes in gaming, especially e-motorsports. He gets the chance to visit your team's garage when he wins a e-sport tournament. He's an unabashed simp fan and immediately makes a fool of himself when he meets you, but you find it adorable.

(Lando swears up and down to anyone who'll listen that he didn't mean to blush and accidentally propose on the spot.)

You cheekily tell him to take you out on a date first and he surprisingly gets his act together and actually follows through. Lando is incredibly kind and clumsily charming despite his awkward exterior. You can tell that he genuinely likes spending time with you and wants to hear what you have to say.

Lando switches to Youtube and vlogging when your relationship stabilizes so he can spend more time with you. His fans — and yours — love catching glimpses of his elusive Formula 1 driver girlfriend in his videos. It's a running joke among his fans that Lando is your sugar baby, which Lando finds extremely funny and shamelessly accepts.

Eventually, both of you realize that you've found the love of your life and you start thinking about marriage. You propose to each other at the same time, on the vacation that you each planned for the other, while your mutual friends who knew about both sides die of laughter from the sidelines.

Lando insists on taking your name as well and declares that he's now officially your trophy husband.

("Get it? You get trophies from your job, which brought us together, so technically I'm a trophy now too?" "Yes, Lando, I understand double entendres perfectly well." "Ooooh French, fancy!")

→ LEWIS HAMILTON

You meet Lewis in your childhood. He karts at the same track as you and you bond over the shared experience of being "other" from the other drivers. No one ever bets on either of you to be fast, to win, so you bet on each other. Lewis supports you with his entire being, even when he chooses to leave racing to chase other dreams. You dreamed of reaching Formula 1 together but Lewis, in this world, is happy cheering from the paddock.

Everyone around you is convinced that you're dating Lewis, who has become a highly successful model and philanthropist. Who else would would take time out of their insanely busy life to follow you around the world? The closeness between you doesn't help either — Lewis acts like your partner more often than not.

Despite appearances, however, Lewis is just your best friend, and it stays that way until a PR disaster with your respective relationships calls for extensive damage control. The best distraction that your media teams can come up with is that you fake-date each other: what better to appease the masses with than the ever-beloved tale of childhood friends to lovers?

The fake relationship changes something in your previously stable friendship. Suddenly, you can't stop seeing Lewis in a different light and you find yourself wishing that the romance was real. You're terrified of losing one of the most important people in your life, so you keep quiet about your true feelings for months as things calm down.

Eventually, your manager gives the all-clear to end the ruse and you end up scrambling for a reason to maintain it. By that time, Lewis has caught on to you. He stops by one night with a bottle of wine and your favorite movie. As the credits play, he leans over and kisses you softly — the first time he's kissed you out of the eye of the public.

You're lost for words and he quietly assures you that no matter what happens if you pursue a real relationship, he'll always be your Lewis.

Ten years later, happily married with a couple of championships under your belt, you couldn't be happier that you had chosen to say "hi" to the boy at the karting track.

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist | taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii

[delulujuls]

loverboy | ln4

hi, i finally wrote second part for tinder buddies! im not sure if i like it though, i've got an idea but i dont know how it went.

anyway please enjoy and lets cross our fingers for japan win for this loverboy!

i will let myself tag everyone who wanted to be tagged in part 2: @mickslover @formula-1-04 @petitefaeries @bayleewatts67 @xjval @kapsylia @teamnovalak @slutforln4 @shimmermotorsport @myownwritings @maydiamondsinthenightsky @mikadojohnny

summary: when it turned out that Lando is more of a loverboy than a fuckboy and there is no point in trusting appearances because they tend to be misleading

warnings: none

pairing: fem!journalist!reader x lando norris

Y/N looked as if she had seen a ghost. She clenched her phone in her hand and glanced at the spot where Lando had been just a moment ago. Yes, that Lando, with whom she had a brief interview a few seconds ago, Lando Norris, who drives for McLaren, her Tinder buddy with whom she's been exchanging explicit messages for over a month now, and who knows more about her body seen through the camera than any guy she's had the chance to flirt with in person.

The girl only snapped out of it when the camera operator she had been filming with nudged her shoulder.

"The team bosses' interview is about to start, I saved us seats."

She quickly nodded and tucked the microphone into her bag, throwing it over her shoulder. She glanced at the McLaren garage one last time before heading to the conference. After all, she was here because she had duties.

As she took her place among the crowd of other journalists, instead of focusing on coming up with questions, she picked up her phone again. It immediately unlocked to her conversation with Lando, and she hastily replied to his latest, unambiguous proposition.

"I'm a bit busy at the moment. If you want, we can meet later in the evening."

Lando was scrolling through Instagram when a new message popped up in his notifications. He smiled and swiped it open, reading and replying quickly.

"i'd be honored. give me the address of the hotel you're at. and be ready by 9."

The girl smiled and sent him the address along with a note that she couldn't wait, wishing him good luck in qualifying.

Lando felt his cheeks hurting from smiling. However, he locked his phone and set it aside. He knew that if he didn't restrain himself, he would bombard the girl with messages. He was so excited about the whole situation, the overflow of emotions building up in him could easily secure him pole position that day, which he sincerely hoped for. He wanted to present himself in the best possible way, knowing that on that day, one special pair of eyes would be watching him.

Y/N was also excited, but as time passed, she began to feel stressed. Not because she was going on a date with Lando Norris, but because she was about to confront someone whom she may have known inside out but in reality had no idea who he truly was. She was slightly apprehensive about whether Lando would turn out to be as he portrayed himself on his Tinder profile. There, she dealt with a confident guy who knew how to flirt, who knew how to make a girl's heart beat faster. With a guy who focused only on fun and ultimately only on it. Someone who knew what he wanted and sooner or later would get it, one way or another. Now, knowing her conversation partner's identity, Y/N was certain that their online acquaintance might only exist in that dimension. And just as she had realized before, somewhere in the back of her mind lived a lonely spark, nourished by the hope that something more serious might come out of this online acquaintance. Lando was out of her reach, that was more than certain. However, she didn't plan to dwell on negative thoughts because she had a chance for a pleasant evening ahead of her. She had no intention of ruining it.

Qualifying didn't come as a surprise to anyone, as Max was to start the race from pole position the next day, with Charles in second place. But to everyone's positive surprise, Lando closed the top three, giving McLaren the opportunity to start from third position. Y/N planned to text him and congratulate him on his excellent performance, but she decided to wait until evening with her congratulations. She didn't want to come off as pushy or, worse, as a psycho.

Lando, indeed, was pleased with himself, but not as much as if he had managed to secure pole position. Y/N could notice this on one of the monitors, where post-qualifying interviews with drivers conducted by David Coulthard were taking place.

"Great performance, Lando, you were on Ferrari's heels today!"

"We did well today, not just me, but Oscar and the whole team as well. I hoped for more, but you know, the appetite comes with eating," he replied, but despite the smile on his flushed face, he actually seemed not very pleased with the result. Y/N was packing her things when she observed post-qualifying talks out of the corner of her eye. "I wanted to perform particularly well today, but unfortunately it didn't work out. I hope tomorrow will be better."

The girl sighed and glanced at the contents of her bag, looking at her phone lying at the bottom. She took it out and unlocked it, entering their conversation. She wanted to send him a selfie, smiling and holding up four fingers with a note congratulating him on the result, but she thought it might be a bit silly. So, she quickly wrote an alternative.

"Speaking of appetite, I hope you're looking forward to dinner more positively than to your third starting place. In my opinion, you did great today x"

When Lando finally had the chance to reach for his phone and saw the message from the girl, he sincerely hoped to see her face again. He hovwever, was pleased with her congratulations.

"i can't wait for tonight. and I hope tomorrow we'll have better reasons to celebrate"

Y/N smiled to herself, throwing her bag over her shoulder and heading with the cameraman to the media zone to have the opportunity to talk to some of the drivers or team principals. She replied quickly.

"We?"

"tomorrow I'd also like to invite you to dinner. because i'm afraid tonight may not be enough for us"

The girl felt herself blushing, so she quickly put her phone in her pocket. She didn't manage to run into Lando in the media zone again, but she had the opportunity to gather some more good material. As the drivers began to return to their garages and the paddock slowly began to empty, Y/N and the cameraman also decided to return to the hotel. The girl was absolutely not in the mood to deal with the footage recorded that day, so she was immensely grateful when her coworker offered to spend the rest of the day on preliminary editing and assured her that she didn't have to worry about anything. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, as in her current pre-date euphoria, she wouldn't be able to create anything suitable for publication. When the girl returned to her hotel room, she decided to take a long bath. Sitting in the tub, her phone lying nearby vibrated again.

"actually, would you mind if i pick you up at 8?"

Y/N smiled when she read his message. She glanced at her watch. She still had 3 hours before leaving, so she should manage without any trouble.

"Why, have you already missed me?"

Lando snorted to himself as he read her message. He would be lying if he said he hadn't. He wanted to see her again as soon as possible.

"if i'm being honest, i would like to be sitting with you at dinner already"

Y/N also smiled. It was cute and completely unlike the image Lando had built and which she had in her head.

"I guess I shouldn't torture you that much. I'll try to be ready by 7."

Lando smiled and squeezed his phone in his hand. Now he couldn't wait for the meeting even more.

"see you then, darling"

The girl blushed when he affectionately called her that. She set aside her phone and immersed herself in the hot water, but even that couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

At the agreed time, both of them were ready. When the girl stepped out of the hotel, she didn't even need to look around, as she easily noticed Lando leaning against his impressive car. He held a bouquet of white flowers in his hand and smiled as soon as he saw her. He walked a little towards her, but he had no idea how to greet her. Offer her his hand? Hug her? What would be most appropriate? He didn't want to make a fool of himself.

"Hi, good to see you," he said, unable to take his eyes off her. He bit his lip, but still couldn't stop smiling. "You look stunning."

"You too, but I'm sure you already know that," she replied, looking into his eyes. They were sparkling, brightening up his already joyful face. Even though he was wearing a dark shirt and dark jeans, his hair was slightly disheveled, and she could already smell his cologne almost on the stairs, Lando at that moment looked adorable, like an elated child.

"Maybe so, but it's always nice to hear it from someone like you," he replied, extending the flowers towards her. "Here, these are for you. And I hope I didn't make a mistake and accidentally buy you flowers you hate."

The girl chuckled softly and shook her head, taking the flowers from him and smelling them.

"No, absolutely not. I love white flowers, and these are beautiful. Thank you."

"Phew, thank god," he theatrically let out a sigh of relief "Glad I started off on the right foot."

"I rather doubt you don't know how to behave around girls," she retorted, following him as he opened the car door for her.

"Well, I'm afraid you might be surprised," he replied, helping her into the car and closing the door behind her.

Lando chose a very pleasant restaurant, located not far from the hotel where the girl was staying. The place was cozy and seemed expensive, but it manifested in a modest way, without any tackiness or artificial wealth. He reserved a table in the corner of the room, so they could expect a bit of privacy. Before taking his seat at the table, he pulled out the chair for the girl. She tried her best to remain composed, but the smile never left her face. This meeting and this whole situation was more than crazy.

"I hope I picked a good place," he said, sitting across from her. "I've never been to these restaurants before, so today's choice was largely based on Google reviews."

He admitted, glancing at her uncertainly. But seeing her smile, he smiled too.

"It's very nice here. Your choice didn't disappoint."

"Second victory in twenty minutes, going better than I expected," he joked, eliciting a quiet laugh from the girl. He then thought it was a good sign that she laughed at his jokes. It meant that this whole situation had potential.

Lando was genuinely stressed about this meeting. He knew well how people perceived him and what kind of guy girls thought he was, but the truth was entirely different. His hands were sweating with nerves in the car, and he prayed that the steering wheel wouldn't slip from his hands and cause some idiotic accident. Upon returning to the hotel, he spent over two hours searching for the right place to take the girl for dinner and did about twenty quizzes on what flowers he should buy her for their first date. Since he met her at the paddock, they had the opportunity to talk, and he managed to connect all the facts. He felt like either his heart would jump out of his chest or his cheeks would fall off from smiling. In reality, Lando was absolutely not who he portrayed himself to be and how he was perceived. And Y/N was slowly starting to realize that.

When the couple placed their orders and the waiter brought the vase for flowers that Lando had requested earlier, there was a moment of silence. Both were equally embarrassed, not knowing if it was because of each other or the whole situation.

"So," Lando started, rubbing his hands on his pants, "oh god, I don't even know where to begin. Should we pretend we don't know each other and this is our first meeting? Or perhaps the opposite?"

"I honestly have no idea, but I'm glad we both don't know how to behave," Y/N laughed. "But we can start over. Like it's our first date."

She smiled warmly at him. He reciprocated the smile and reached out his hand towards her.

"Lando, nice to meet you."

"Y/N, and it's also a pleasure for me, Lando."

She shook his hand. From that moment on, everything started to go smoothly. The conversation flowed smoothly, and there wasn't a single moment when there wasn't something to talk about. Lando turned out to be the complete opposite of the person she met on Tinder. He was also different from the Lando she sometimes observed in the media. He turned out to be a funny and very intelligent guy with interesting hobbies, not just those revolving around Formula 1. His big heart and incredible modesty also made it impossible not to feel sympathy towards him. Lando, on the other hand, wasn't really up for this meeting, he honestly had no idea what to expect. As it turned out, he met not only an attractive but also hardworking girl, for whom motorsport was not just a job but also a hobby. It also turned out that they had a lot in common, so after a while, the remnants of stress and uncertainty disappeared, and they began to feel in each other's company as if they had known each other for ages.

Their conversation was only interrupted by the waiter, who apologized and said that the restaurant was closing in fifteen minutes. Y/N and Lando both looked at their watches at the same time and were shocked to find that it was just before midnight, and the past five hours had flown by like fifteen minutes.

"Sure, of course, we'll ask for the check," Lando replied to the waiter, who went to tally their dinner. As soon as the girl reached for her purse, Lando looked at her meaningfully. "I hope you don't think I brought you here for you to have to pay."

"We can split the bill," she replied, looking at him and clutching her wallet. "People usually do that on first dates, right?"

"It would be a pleasure if you honored me to be a gentleman and let me pay."

Y/N laughed and shook her head.

"As you wish, Mr. Gentleman."

When he paid for their dinner, they left the restaurant together. Lando once again opened the car door for her, and their eyes met when their faces were inches apart as she passed him to take the passenger seat. When they were back at her hotel, the girl reluctantly glanced towards the entrance. She would have loved to spend time with him until the early morning.

She sighed and smiled sadly, looking at him.

"I know, me too," he replied, easily reading her thoughts. "But we'll probably bump into each other in the paddock in the morning. Purely by chance, of course, not like I'll intentionally run into you, absolutely not."

Y/N chuckled at his words.

"It was very nice spending the evening with you, Lando."

"The pleasure was all mine," he replied, smiling at her.

They sat in silence for a moment, exchanging silent glances.

"Would it be inappropriate if I kissed you now? Since we agreed that today we're starting with a clean slate?"

He asked, his gaze moving from her eyes to her lips.

"People don't usually kiss on first dates, but I feel like I've seen these lips somewhere before, and they've told me a lot of different, indecent things, so I think we can make an exception."

She replied, biting her lip. She surprised herself with her boldness, not to mention Lando, who just saw the same girl who he sometimes saw on the screen of his phone in the evenings. As soon as he got her consent, he touched her cheek without hesitation and pulled her into a long, passionate kiss.

Y/N returned the kiss, smiling into his lips.

"Have a good race tomorrow, and after tomorrow's dinner, I'll invite you for dessert."

She whispered, still centimeters away from him, when they separated after a moment. Lando unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, circling around it, opening her door, and offering her his hand.

"I think I can fit in dessert tonight too," he replied, biting his lip and looking into her eyes. She returned the smile and handed him her hand without hesitation. It seemed that the evening was not ending for these two, on the contrary, it was just about to begin.

[rsatoru]

bbzzzz bzzzzzztttt...

your phone has been buzzing over the coffee table for two minutes. two minutes and 14 seconds.

sigh

you rise from the table—the very table overflowing with godforsaken paperwork the godforsaken higher-ups have assigned you to finish. you’re trying to focus and get everything finished as soon as possible, but the obnoxiously person trying to call you on the phone wouldn’t let you right now.

͏͏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀toruru !! ^_^ (ate ur cookies) (do not answer.)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ringing . . . ✆ ⠀⠀⠀ 1:27 pm⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀answer ၊ decline

of course, it’s no other than your idiot of a boyfriend

clicking the answer button, cause who are you to resist him anyways? . . . “satoru.” you say unimpressed. “baby!! :D” the cheerful voice on the other side exclaims.

“aren’t you supposed to be on a mission right now?”

“uhuh,” satoru scoffs, “’m on the same mission you forced me to go because you hate me so much!”

“satoru, sigh it’s your job, your responsibility. you can’t just ditch an order from principle yaga because you wanna stay at home cuddling me.” you respond

“can’t a man just have some quality time with his dearest girlfriend in peace?” satoru whines over the phone

“toru, baby,”

“fine.. :(” oh, you were so sure you could almost hear his smile turn into a frown. that being said, “why’d you call?” asking, looking back over at your unfinished paperwork, oh the higher ups might just beat your ass.

dating satoru means also having to deal with his long phone calls. you’re aware you could easily just hang up on him, but unfortunately for you, sometimes you don’t even realize you got too caught up in the moment. you love him too much, too much you can effortlessly handle his obnoxiously long phone calls—and he doesn’t even talk about anything important or necessary! and you think, maybe, you’re just as down bad as he is for you.

“oh yeah! heh, sorry babe, your voice made my mind go blank.” — “you’ll never guess what kind of technique these so called first grade cursed spirits have!” and he asks you to turn your camera on—in which you did-

revealing a bunch of cats spawning and jumping everywhere “look at the kind of domain expansion this guy has!” satoru was in an innate domain with cats just swarming the area. satoru called you to show he was in an innate domain with cats just swarming the area. because he knew.

“oh my gosh.” you say in shock. staring at whatever is happening in your screen. “toru toru! bring me one! maybe that one or or-” the cats were so cute. you absolutely loved cats. you adored them, each and every one you’ve ever seen. whether they were strays on the street or pampered pets, they were all just so adorable.

because he knew you absolutely loved cats.

these cats though, were aggressive. aggressively cute though—trying so hard to scratch your boyfriend which was impossible, all attacks were effortlessly blocked by his infinity.

“uhhh, uhhh.. no can do sweets. just look at these sly pussies trying to scratch my glorious face! i can’t let them do that to your even-more-glorious face. they’re dangerous! can’t let them hurt my baby.” he responses.

“uhm, no. you’re just rambling satoru. they’d love me.” you retort. satoru was more of a dog person—he doesn’t know such shit about cats. he doesn’t like them. but you teach him anyways; how to properly hold them, what kind food you shouldn’t feed them, etc etc,

and he actually listens.

“no baby! anyways, you know that guy over there? yeah, him. he can create pizza with cursed energy and throw it at me! it’s surprisingly strong to be fair.. but y’know they stand no chance against me.” there goes his ego as always.

“anyways—what kind of pizza do you want? tell me which toppings and i gotchu baby.”

“so you’re telling me, you’d rather get me pizza, imbued with cursed energy, which you say is pretty strong, but not cats?” you hiss, raising a brow over the phone.

“uhhhh... yeah? ( ' ⩊ '𖦹)”

this is so dumb tbh but i jst had pizza for dinner i couldn’t not think about my glorious king

[mrsparrasblog]

You're losing me pt.2

pt. 1 pt.3

TW: mention of rape, unprotected sex, drinking, blood, violence, angst

The liquor on his tongue didn’t even burn anymore; too much was already in his system, trying to wash down the events of this day. You were the love of his life, the woman he wanted to marry, even though he didn’t know how it would be legal for you to marry all of them. And now, he lost you. The worst part? He can't even remember how it happened. He felt so disgusted in himself in so many ways—disgusted for breaking your heart. God, your look, how you tried to keep your tears in check, broke him. And then his whole body felt disgusted; it felt like a layer of dirt he couldn’t wash away. He scrubbed and scrubbed, but it didn’t go away; the shame still lingered. It felt like someone had taken something from him, but it was his own fault. He must have said yes and bought those drinks. It was his own fault, he told himself over and over again. Normally, he would talk about this kind of stuff with you; you always knew what to say. But you hated him.

"‚‘nother on’," he said to the barkeeper. This was probably his sixth. Johnny knew how he could handle alcohol; he was never that pissed before to not remember a thing. And there she was, the medic, sitting down next to him.

"Hey, Johnny," she smiled brightly, like she didn’t have any worry in her life.

"I ken a dinnae whit yesterday happened bit tis ne'er aff tae happen again."

"Come on, you enjoyed it yesterday."

"I dinnae remember yesterday."

"What a shame."

He stood up, throwing some pounds on the table, wanting to leave, but she stopped him. "Come on, Johnny. I'll help you forget, make you feel at peace again."

"No."

"Then please, let me invite you for a drink as an apology," she smiled sweetly, pushing the drink towards me. Wait, how had she a drink prepared if she sat only for a minute next to me?

"No."

"Please, a drink won't kill you."

"I said no."

"Just one sip, Johnny, and I'll make you feel good how she never could."

"How come ye're sae persistent fur me tae dram this drink?"

"You're silly, Johnny. I'm just being nice," she looked panicked - weird.

While many people thought of him as someone who is just a silly guy who isn’t able to think properly, you told him all over again that he was so smart, smarter than all of them, if someone would just give him the chance to show. And right now, his brain implanted a sick thought on him. "Dinnae tell me ye put something in mah drink."

Her eyes widened. "Of course not," she mumbled.

"Don't lie to me," his hand immediately went to her throat , choking the truth out of her.

"Knockout drugs," she whispered. She was fighting for air as I let her go; the men in the pub already stood up trying to save the poor woman from getting abused by a man.

"You raped me." His shock hit deep; he always thought something like that wouldn’t happen to him. He was strong and able to protect himself. He was the guy who killed people, the youngest man in the SAS, the guy who beat up an officer because he touched a civi. But now, he was the victim.

"Have fun proving it. No one will believe that a tiny girl like me raped the big bad soldier," she laughed, and screamed for help. "Help, this man doesn’t take no for an answer," He was kicked out of the pub; his face was bloody from all the beating.

All he wanted was to reach you, ask your advice, be in the comfort of your arms, telling him all over again how he is a good man, how he is worth everything and not a dirty soldier. But you didn’t pick up; he came to the realization quickly; that no one would believe him.

**Soap:** Please tell me we used a condom.

**Medic:** ;)

Fuck.

————————————————————————————————-

4 am and you still couldn’t sleep; your head was full of thoughts. Why were you not good enough? Why did he do it? So, you made a thing your friends would kill you for. Calling John, you weren’t sure if he would pick up, but he did.

"What's wrong, love?" Source of habit, he thought.

"Why did you do this, John?" you sobbed.

"I didn't mean for it to happen; it was an accident."

"Then why didn't you say sorry?"

"Love."

"Don't fucking call me love. You cheated on me, and you didn't say sorry. You didn't run after me, you didn't apologize," your sobs broke his heart.

"I'm sorry; it was an accident."

"An accident is making a typo, not sticking your dick in a whore."

"I—"

"I hate you, John. I hate you so much," and you hung up. This wasn’t what you expected. Why doesn’t he feel guilty? Why are you not good enough? Why didn’t Simon say something? Why didn’t Kyle come here? Of course, you broke up, but why don’t they care?

If you only knew how Kyle was, blood-covered in the hospital, too many rookies in his way. How Simon was trying desperately to find Soap to see he didn't drink himself to death, and then he would come to you, he told him self all over again. And how the captain didn't leave his office, not even for food.

And how Soap went into John's office, trying to explain to him the truth, only to see a disarranged office, hands covered in blood after he tried to pick up the liquor he smashed at his wall. He never saw his captain so vulnerable, and if Soap didn’t know better, he would have sworn he saw tears.

"Captain, I—"

"You did already enough, MacTavish. Let me have at least one day to mourn over the loss of the love of my fucking life."

"Captain—"

"LEAVE," and he did, he crawled into his bed, knowing he lost everything in a day, the love of his life, his best friend Kyle, his captain, his pride, and safety, and not even Ghost was there.

[dark-arts-stuff]

Soo, I just watched the last episodes of season 1 Hazbin Hotel, scrolling through fanart and theories for the next season when I noticed a image that was taken in a scene of Alastor's tower.

It's a picture of Alastor on the table with Vox ripped out of it. And that, of course, got my brain rolling and it needs to spill out.

So we all know Vox and Alastor are bitter rivals. Radio V.S. Video. A clearer vision of their dynamic together is introduced in Hazbin Hotel's episode 2 of season 1 "Radio Killed the Video Star" where Vox, hearing that Alastor has returned from his 7 year absence, goes visually upset and makes a direct message on his platform telling sinners what a coward and forgettable person Alastor is, saying video (Vox) is much better than radio (Alastor)

But Alastor comes in using his own way of methods, radio of course, and starts basically beefing with Vox and wins the debate at the end of the song, "Stayed Gone."

It's clear these two hate each other and bicker to each other whenever the chance is given.

If that's so...why was there a picture of Alastor and Vox before Alastor ripped out Vox in it?

Well, it's kinda clear. These two were probably business partners in the past before something made them rivals.

It could be that these two couldn't get along because of their dispute between modern technology and radio. Or maybe how Alastor almost beat Vox one time that Valentino mentions.

Also, even though these two are rivals, Vox is obviously obsessed with Alastor. Wanting to see his down fall, wanting to overtop him, and getting very happy when Alastor retreats with his fight with Adam.

Yet, know we know these two use to be business partners and maybe, even to a degree, friends. Yet something tore them apart and now one of them is at the other's throat. Is it deeper than we think or is it really just because Alastor said no to being on Vox'a team?

Also I know people ship Alastor and Vox together (StaticRadio) so I'll also put in my input to how this plays out. If you don't care, you can skip this part.

I don't think they were exes. Why? Yes, Alastor is ace in the show, stated by Rosie. So I think it's not "lovers turned into bitter rivals" but more a one sided love by Vox that got his heart broken by Alastor whether intended or not. That would explain why Vox is obsessed with Alastor in someway, dealing with heartbreak is hard.

If they were friends, maybe Vox did love Alastor, but Alastor did not reputate those feelings back. When Alastor rejected Vox's offer for his friend to join the team, maybe Vox felt like Alastor rejected him. Is that why he's so bitter?

We'll have to see in Season 2.

[lightseoul]

you and me, both

synopsis. mina and kirishima invite you to a night out. ‘it won’t be like last time!’ they said. you begrudgingly go. (part 1)

cw. gn!reader, gradstudent!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~23 yrs old), mina ashido x kirishima eijirou, fluff

word count. 1.9k words

You check your watch for the umpteenth time, which now reads 6:29 PM. It hasn’t even been a minute since you last checked it, yet it feels like you’ve been waiting here for hours.

The ramen shop you’re waiting in front of and agreed to hang out at is slowly getting packed with people, tired businessmen and students alike eager to eat the day’s worries away and head home full and satisfied.

Rocking yourself on your feet, you chance another peek at your watch. You stare at it as the minute hand finally strikes the number 12. With a heavy sigh, you look up to find Bakugou walking towards you, hands in his pockets, just in time.

Of all things, the last thing you need him to be is punctual.

You stare at each other in awkward silence before warily exchanging hello’s.

Before Bakugou could even bring up the elephant in the room, you quickly explain, “I think everyone else is just running late.”

He nods silently, and in three strides, arrives at the spot to your left, all the while sparing a respectable distance between the two of you.

Clearing your throat, you look around at everything else but him. The ramen shop you chose as a group called Kikanbo is known for its signature ‘devil’ ramen—devil because of its (allegedly, hot and numbing) spiciness.

You were initially against it, not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of Mina and Kirishima’s Pro Hero friends, but ultimately decided to go with the flow. The last thing you needed was for them to tease you about being self-conscious around Bakugou. Which you aren’t.

Suddenly, it dawns on you how suspiciously couple-looking you’re coming off right now. Giving Bakugou a quick once-over, he’s dressed in black joggers and a grey crewneck sweater, insulated by a thick, long coat. You internally sigh in relief at the sight of his baseball cap, which should shield his identity from prying eyes.

Though, you doubt his bulging muscles and piercing crimson eyes do much in terms of keeping a low profile.

While looking him up and down, he catches your eye. Embarrassed, you blurt out: “I’m gonna call Mina.”

Desperate to get away from his immediate radius, you don’t even wait for his acknowledgment before stepping away into a quiet corner. The phone rings three times before you’re greeted with a chirpy (too chirpy, if you were to be honest right now), sing-song voice.

“Hi, Y/N! What’s up?”

Twelve years of friendship and you still can’t believe this girl, “Mina? Where the fuck are you?! And everyone else?”

She has the nerve to guffaw, “Like I said, it won’t be like last time anymore! Tonight, it’s only gonna be you and—drum roll, please,” in the background, you hear someone—Kirishima, probably—imitating a drum, “Bakugou!”

Fuck. You can’t help but whimper, “You have to be kidding me.”

“Sorry, Y/N. We figured this is the only way we can get you guys to spend time together outside of just texting. By the way, you guys sure are going at a snail’s pace, huh?”

You can feel the blood rush to your face, “What? How’d you even—”

“Bye, bestie!” she cuts you off, “Have fun!”

“Be safe, bro!” Kirishima adds before she hangs up, leaving you slack-jawed and your heart going at 150 beats per minute.

When you turn back, you see Bakugou leaning with his back against the wall, a smirk decorating his features. What’s he all fucking smug about?

You reluctantly walk towards him, waving your phone for emphasis, “Did you know about this?”

“No,” the smirk has now been replaced with a subdued scowl, “but I put two and two together on the way here.”

And just like that, he drops the conversation. He simply makes his way to the entrance and you follow suit, forced to deal with all the implications by yourself.

Just like the dinner from two weeks ago, it turns out that hanging out with Bakugou isn’t so bad after all.

After ruefully accepting the fact that you both got absolutely betrayed and stood up by your best friends, you entered the ramen shop and got seated on the stools facing the chefs. You ended up going for the regular level spices, or futsu futsu, while Bakugou went all in and ordered the devil ramen or oni mashi.

He barked a laugh at how your eyes bugged out the moment you saw how red his broth is. Instead of challenging you to a spice-off, though, he simply offered you the first sip (which stunned you—you didn’t expect him to make such a courteous gesture). Grateful, you took his offer.

You shouldn’t have, though.

You ended up choking so hard, alarming everyone in the restaurant, and Bakugou had to keep in his snort (that was surely gonna be loud and attract even more attention) in favor of getting you some milk to wash it off.

Once you recovered, you went on to eat your dinner, talking about the kinds of things you’ve conversed about over daily texts. Real-life conversation with Bakugou, to your pleasant surprise, is easy and free-flowing.

Contrary to how he’s depicted in media and your first impression of him from that run-in in the middle of your commute home from university, Bakugou is thoughtful and considerate. Sometimes brash, yes, but never mean.

He also seems to be genuinely interested in what you have to say, mindful of shifting the conversation from revolving around his hero work to asking about how’s post-grad these days, or if there’s anything eventful that happened in Manual’s agency earlier, seeing as how’s today’s a Saturday, the day on which you work part-time as admin staff.

You couldn’t school the surprised expression on your face fast enough at his remembering, and a small, somewhat self-satisfied smile took over his lips at your reaction. You probably, maybe, could’ve died a happy person then and there, but you kept yourself in check.

Soon after the bowls were clean of delicious ramen and bills were paid, you then headed out and decided to walk in the cool night breeze, with Bakugou taking the lead.

Which is how you wound up here, in a somewhat populated park that you’ve never heard of, sitting on the bench overlooking the view and in comfortable silence.

“So,” you start, admiring the scenery (first; second, avoiding eye contact), “do you usually go here?”

He grunts in response, “Yeah. Though I usually stroll around alone, instead of…” he gestures awkwardly toward your direction.

You struggle to contain your chuckle. How can he be so domineering in the field yet so bunglesome when talking to you? It’s endearing, to say the least.

“But you have brought some over here, have you?” you look around again, inspecting the greenery, the stone infrastructure, the lights. “This place is so beautiful.”

“I have,” he starts, “I think I’ve jogged with Dunce-face and Bug Eyes here once.”

You snort at the nicknames he calls his friends, “Dunce-face? Are you referring to Kaminari when he—”

He smirks, “Yep.”

You can’t help but laugh out loud, and he joins in with a snicker.

“But wait,” you look at him, “I meant have you brought over a girl over here before?”

You mentally slap yourself for uttering the question before thinking it through, undertones and all. Bakugou’s eyes widen a bit, but his face remains controlled. If he’s masking his knee-jerk reaction, you’re thankful for it.

“I mean,” you peer amongst the people who are enjoying the night air with you, “Most of the people here are in pairs—couples, because of how romantic the place is at night, with all the light fixtures and all.” You shrug, “I’m sure any girl would appreciate being brought here.”

You sure as hell are hoping you’re coming off more as the ‘helpful-friend-giving-some-well-meaning-advice’ than the ‘jealous-bitch-who’s-crazy-over-past-girls’.

He huffs, and you’re starting to think you’ve overstepped his boundaries when he cuts off your train of thought. Hell—railroads you and leaves your mind embarrassingly blank.

“Actually, this is the first time I’ve ever been on a date. At least,” he snorts, “the one-on-one kind.”

Suddenly, a million questions start racing through your mind.

He’s considering this a date? Did he consider the fiasco from last time a double date? This is his first? What?! How?! Why did he bring you here, anyway? Does he think of you in that way…? How can he be so bashful yet so straightforward at the same time? How the fuck is he so cute?

All these very important (some outright silly) questions, but the one you pipe up with is: “But back then—you agreed when I said you had a lot of experience—how?”

“I grunted, dumbass. There’s a difference. I wasn’t about to tell ya how inexperienced I was in this sort of thing when you were hyping me up like no other.”

“Huh.”

He side-eyes you, “From the looks of it, I’d say you’re the one who’s had far more experience.”

You’re too embarrassed to admit the truth, and too dizzy from the implications of his statements, but you figured you owed him at least your honesty. Looking down at your clasped hands, you mumble under your breath, “This is actually my first time, too.”

Silence falls upon the two of you, and unlike earlier, it’s filled with budding anticipation rather than comfort. You finally will yourself to look up, only to see him red. Red all over—neck, ears, and face.

Redder than when he slurped down that monstrous broth from earlier.

Then it hits you.

What Mina said was…real.

She sure as hell omits some truths, concerningly more often than not, but she never lies to you.

You can’t help but let out a soft laugh, and he turns away at the sound, perhaps in embarrassment.

You smile, “For the record, I’m glad you’re my first.”

At that, he abruptly stands up, and for a second you’re thinking you ruined the moment by saying that, but you don’t get to wish for the ground to swallow you up whole because Bakugou looks back at you with a fierce determination in his eyes that makes your mind go hazy.

“Come on,” he holds out his hand, “I wanna make sure this is the best fucking first date you’re ever gonna have.”

Bonus:

(as he’s walking you home from the park)

“Wait, so am I the first person you’ve been texting, too?”

“Yes. Now quit yapping about this ‘first’ shit or I’ll make you.”

You laugh good-naturedly, “But you’re so good at it! The pacing, the withholding of information to keep them wanting more—I was convinced you’ve done this with a million other people.”

He sighs in what you think is fake exasperation, as his cheeks are tinted with a faint red, “For the billionth time, you’re my first. And,” he looks away, “I had Shitty-hair help me out a bit.”

Normally, you’d extinguish any and all species of butterflies in your stomach brought to existence by a boy because you can’t afford to get distracted right now.

But, today isn’t normal.

You, instead, let the grin that’s been fighting to take over your face the entire evening finally win over. You can’t help it—hearing that from anyone—especially Bakugou, makes you happy.

You continue walking in comfortable silence until he’s the one to break it.

“So,” he starts and you don’t even have to look at him to know there’s a smirk adorning his goddamn handsome face, “all sorts of company, huh?”

“Shut up.”

tagging. @wolfunderthethree @bakugo-dee @poemzcheng @fallingmoon02 @eksd @niiine @gold24fish @animehoe666 @distinguishedlight

[laaailuh]

-TROPHY WIFE PT.2🏀

╰┈➤PART 1

-pairing: basketball player!e42 miles x fem!black!reader

-genre: fluff

-summary: What it’s like to date Visions Academy’s most prominent basketball player.

a/n: I am obsessed with making these.

MILES MORALES who always needs you by his side to help him choose out of his D1 offers.

“What about this one? Their program seems pretty nice.” “Yeah but baby, it's in Texas.” “So?” “Im not tryin’ to be 1000 miles away from you so another nigga can think he has a chance, fuck no.”

MILES MORALES who continuously reminds the cheerleaders that flirt with him that he's taken whatsoever and not interested.

“That crossover trick you did was so good.” “You should totally teach us some time.” “Nah. My girl can teach you how to get your ass beat though? She crazy.”

MILES MORALES who will give you private basketball lessons. Even though you weren't the best at playing, you still wanted to learn it because it was something that he loved deeply.

MILES MORALES who needs reassurance/ comfort when he gets injured during his basketball season.

“I cant rest Ma, scouts dont look for the player who sits out the most.” “You’re injured though, you need to lay off your ankle.” “Nah I have to-” “Basketball will still be there for you when you heal, so please just rest baby.”

MILES MORALES who tries not to let a fight escalate on the court if another player trash talks or purposely trips him. He wanted to show you that he was bigger than that. 

MILES MORALES who will try and convince you to get him the new 2k game that comes out every year.

“Please mami, they added more moves and everything.” “Miles, you play the actual game in real life, you don't need it.” “But I wanna create a sexy ass basketball player.”

MILES MORALES who will leave his jerseys at your house intentionally because he knows you like to wear it to bed or to his games.

MILES MORALES who lifts his shirt up to dry his face when he's sweating. This makes you go absolutely feral and he knows it too.

MILES MORALES who will take you out to eat after school before one of his games, he wants you to have enough energy to cheer for him.

MILES MORALES who loves when you get your nails done with his jersey number on it.

“You like my new set?” “Mhmmm….I love them baby.” “Now we have to do that tik tok trend where I show my nails on your pants.” “You stay wanting to do that huh?”

[laurfilijames]

Breathe

Part 7

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 6.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Trauma/PTSD/nightmares/insomnia. Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: Unanswered questions amp up every emotion that time does nothing to lessen, and so much uncertainty raises the concern if everything will turn out okay or if moving on is the only answer.

A/N: Less hurt than the last chapter, I promise! Thank you to everyone who was so enthusiastic and responsive to it and made all that angst worth writing!

Photo by @avatarskingdom and edited by me. Please do not use without permission or credit. Headers by the wonderful @spaghettificationandpretzels!

Chapter Playlist

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

---

You felt numb as much as you felt angry, scared and heartbroken.

It was all still so surreal, having to remind yourself constantly that Will broke up with you and was gone, the persistent sick feeling in your stomach growing with every thought of his life being at risk and that even though he was no longer yours, you might never see him again.

You did everything you could to understand his side of things, but with that your frustration increased wildly, the fact that he hadn't even given you the chance to be there for him stinging almost as much as him abandoning what you knew, or thought, you had.

Did he really believe you wouldn’t support him, that you didn’t care enough about him to give him space and time while he dealt with all the things he needed to, that your love for him simply wasn’t enough for him to want to hold onto while he was deployed, that everything you thought you had been building was broken and false?

The toaster popped, shooting your slice of bread out, making you jump after forgetting you were even waiting for it.

You ate because you had to, but food tasted bleak and flavourless, and everything that landed in your stomach felt like it sat there and made your nausea even worse.

You had made a whole lasagna earlier just because, giving you something to do for the better part of an hour, but the thought of eating it was so unappealing and you had the idea that maybe you would drop it off for Benny. Taking a bite out of the plain piece of toast, you thought how awful it might feel to go over to the Miller’s house right now, and decided against it, opting to freeze the lasagna for another time instead.

Another bite and the toast was in the trash, and you stood in the middle of your kitchen unmoving, not sure what to do with yourself next.

You hadn’t slept, and whether it was fatigue or just your grief pummeling you, you broke down and sobbed, your body shaking as the memory of Will holding you in his arms in this very spot flooded you, dancing one night while in the middle of cleaning up dinner, pausing almost anything in favour of stealing a piece of each other.

Work was a welcomed distraction, forcing you to go through the motions and function like everything was normal, able to allow you to bury your emotions for the course of a shift and nearly forget about what had happened, only to have it all come back the moment you got in your car and started your drive home, knowing you had nothing to look forward to.

You hadn’t been back to the gym since the day you saw both brothers there all beat up from their brawl with each other, your body too exhausted and weak to even consider working out, but as you sat at your kitchen table with nothing else to do, you went and changed into your gym clothes and drove over.

It was busy enough, observing the evening crowd enough to keep you entertained as you walked on the Stair Master, each step automatic and absent-minded.

Through a few people and machines you spotted Benny, resting on a bench between sets of chest presses, his smile and slightly awkward wave making you feel equally so, and as he stood and started weaving his way over to you, you felt bad that he probably felt obligated to talk to you.

You stopped the machine and stepped down, grabbing your things in the assumption you would probably feel like leaving after this conversation, your water bottle shaking in your hand that trembled with nerves and adrenaline.

“Hey,” Benny said, somewhat hesitantly.

“Hey, Benny,” you answered, smoothing your hand over your sweaty hair.

“How’re you doing?”

You sighed, looking down at the floor as you shook your head. “Do you want the fake answer or the honest one?”

Benny huffed a laugh in understanding. “You look like shit.”

You laughed out of disbelief, bringing yourself to look at him as he scratched his head and tried to recover.

“I mean- fuck.”

“No, I look like shit. Feel like it too,” you confirmed, reassuring his observations.

“Are you looking after yourself?” he asked, his face full of concern.

You shrugged, “As much as I can, I guess.”

He nodded, sympathetic to your feelings. “Are you eating? Sleeping?”

“Here and there. Not much of both if I’m honest.”

“Yeah, I get it. Just do your best even though it’s hard.”

You hummed. “Does it get any easier?”

He tilted his head a bit. “Does what get easier?”

“The worry, the waiting…”

“Oh, uh…” he pulled his ball cap up off his head, smoothed his hair back and placed it back on again, this time backwards. “Yeah, I guess we all just get used to it in a way. But I’d be lying if I said that everyday you’re half expecting to get that phone call…”

He saw the tears in your eyes well to the surface, and unlike most times, Benny felt a bit speechless.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” you admitted, your words not even directed at Benny, but rather said aloud simply because you couldn’t keep them in.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” you went on, wiping your eyes and shaking your head like it would suddenly shake away your feelings. “I’m gonna get going, see you later.”

“Yeah, of course,” Benny responded, his voice soft. “Hey,” he called after you, making you pause and turn half-way to face him.

“Just don’t give up on him yet.”

You gave a weak smile. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

You made it to your car before you really fell apart, the tears coming down your face so hot and fast you could barely see to unlock the door, and when you flopped down into the seat, you rested your head against the steering wheel and wept.

The most overwhelming sense of panic came over you, taking control over everything and trapping you in it, your mind racing with every horrible thought imaginable, and before you could realize, your breathing had turned short and gasping, your mouth desperately trying to suck in air between sobs.

Your hands wrapped around yourself, squeezing you tighter than the grip of the anxiety attack was, feeling your whole body shaking and trembling and all you wanted to do was scream.

That was when Will’s soothing voice popped in your head, urging you to focus on your breaths and count each one, the sound of the numbers in his even tone allowing you to stop the panic, and you began counting out loud until your breathing eventually leveled out.

How could the same person who was the reason you were feeling this way manage to help calm you, you thought, exhaling slowly as everything around you started to come into focus again.

You ran your hands over your face, your body still shaking with each inhalation though they had become more regular, knowing that as much as you were hurt and betrayed, you still loved Will more than you could imagine loving anything.

Benny’s phone rang not thirty seconds after he’d just hung up, Will’s number lighting up his screen suspiciously close to him ending his conversation with Tom.

He pressed the green button to answer it, and before he could even get out a ‘hey’, Will’s voice stopped him.

“Are you checking up on me?”

“Uhh-”

“I heard Redfly talking to you, idiot.”

Benny scratched his head, trying to gauge which way this was about to go.

“If you’re wondering how I am, just ask me, Ben.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes that’s easier said than done,” he quipped, recalling how many forced conversations they’d had lately where Will gave short, vague answers to everything.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Benny sighed, lifting his arm up in exasperation before letting it fall and hit his side, “I dunno, man, I just thought I’d get a truthful answer out of Redfly over you. He’s with you every day and can tell how you are.”

He heard Will sigh, and Benny took the pause as a chance to give his brother the opportunity to tell him for himself.

“So, how are you, then?”

Will sighed heavily again. “I don’t fucking know anymore. Okay, I guess?” he said, his uncertainty clear.

“Tom said things are going well with the op, and despite it all you seem like you’ve got your head in the game.”

“Yeah, that’s all fine,” Will explained, like his role as a Captain on this tour was the least of his worries. “It’s everything else…”

“Yeah…” Benny agreed, holding space for Will to continue.

“How’s she doing? Have you seen her?”

“Saw her at the gym yesterday,” Benny said carefully, trying to decide if it would be better or worse to tell him she wasn’t doing well, but ultimately knowing if he wanted Will to be honest, he would have to be too. “She’s not doing good, man.”

Will was silent, making Benny pull the phone away from his ear to check if the call had dropped or not.

“I can’t believe I did this to her,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, well,” Benny said flatly, “What’s done is done, now you just have to focus on finishing this job and getting back home so you can fix it.”

“Do you think there will be anything left to fix?”

Benny blew the air out of his mouth slowly. “That’s up to you two. If you both want it to work out…”

“That’s what I’m worried about. By the time I get back she’ll have moved on and learned to hate me.”

“You don’t know that,” Benny countered. Able to tell the expression that would be on Will’s face right now, he continued. “She still loves you man.”

“I wish she didn’t. She deserves better, not this shit…”

Benny’s heart ached for his brother, hating that he was going through this on top of being back in action, praying his stress didn’t get the better of him or be the cause of any fatal mistakes.

“Listen, man, I gotta go,” Will spoke, his voice weak and quiet.

“Yeah, okay. Be careful out there.”

“Always.”

The beep of the call ending sounded in Benny’s ear before there was even the chance to consider saying anything else, and he hoped Will would hang onto the thought that maybe it wasn’t all lost yet.

Days turned into weeks, but the amount of time that was passing didn’t help to make things feel any better, making you wonder every day if it would ever stop hurting.

Anger grew as you wracked your brain combing through every detail of every conversation and act that could've led to this, wondering where it was that you went wrong, but you still couldn’t pinpoint the moment Will gave up on loving you or what it was that made him peel away. It almost hurt just as much as him being gone did, unable to know what the cause was so you could try to rectify it and simply get closure as to why it ended, your heart like an open wound that would never heal.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time before exiting your room, on your way to meet two of your girlfriends for a quiet drink, your attempts to refuse unaccepted.

You couldn’t deny that it would possibly help get your mind off of Will, but you knew it was futile as everything you did and everywhere you went, he was there.

“That guy can’t stop looking over here at you,” Grace said through a grin as she nudged you with her elbow, and you twisted in your chair slightly to follow her gaze.

You took a sip of your wine as you assessed the man with dark brown hair and brown eyes staring directly at you, his smile bright and clean, his lips plump and inviting.

You said nothing as you turned back to your friends, raising your eyebrows as if that was a response that would appease anyone.

“Come on, he’s gorgeous!” Nicole urged, tilting her head indignantly.

“I never said he wasn’t!” you defended, but in your head all you could think was how he wasn’t Will.

“You need a rebound fuck,” Grace suggested, and the thought made your stomach flip.

“I’m not ready for any of that yet,” you admitted, hoping they would understand how raw everything still felt.

“We know,” Nicole sympathized, giving your hand a squeeze as she placed hers overtop, and you knew they would support you in anything whether it was continuing to miss Will with every part of your being or hooking up with the next man who walked by.

“Oh shit, he’s coming over,” Grace blurted, adjusting in her seat as a wide smile appeared on her face.

Your heart plummeted in your gut, and you sighed, praying this wouldn’t be as horribly awkward as you were expecting it to be, trying to find the energy to be kind and cordial despite not wanting to.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” a deep, smooth voice purred behind you, and you felt the demand of his presence as he stood beside your chair.

His eyes were even more alluring up close, and his crooked smirk was equally charming as it was sexy, the dark scruff around his mouth complimenting his olive complexion.

You swallowed, feeling unable to find words, and with a low chuckle, it prompted him to continue.

“I couldn’t help but want to come over to say hi and introduce myself.” He spoke with such confidence, his voice so seductive. “I’m Cam.”

He held out his hand for you to shake, and you did, feeling your hand tremble slightly before he took it in a firm grip and moved it up and down once on your behalf.

You introduced yourself as well as Nicole and Grace who you wanted to kick under the table for how they were gawking at him, but not as much as you wanted to crawl under it to hide away as he pulled out a chair from the empty table beside yours and took a seat.

“Can I get you ladies another round?”

“Oh, yes please!” the girls chimed, seeming completely enthusiastic about him joining you.

You assessed his hand for any ring as he waved the waitress over, requesting for the same drinks to be brought to the table, feeling relieved there was no band wrapped around his ring finger, but something about him still felt off to you.

He’s not Will, your mind reminded you, and you took a long drink of your wine to try to swallow the sour feeling stirring in your gut.

It was comfortable enough talking to him, even catching yourself laughing at some of the things he said and genuinely having a good time, but every time you felt yourself liking something about him, there was one thing you found you didn’t.

He’s not Will.

You found yourself lost in his chocolate eyes as he spoke to you, imagining instead they were clear blue and held a brightness that reflected the love you had learned to see shine through them, only to be reminded that that wasn’t something that existed for you anymore, and you blinked back to the reality you faced.

“Would it be too forward of me if I asked for your number?” Cam asked, his eyebrows raising on his forehead in a hopeful, but confident expression.

“Hm, yeah, sure,” you replied, picking his phone up from the table that he slid over to you and typed your number into a text message along with your name, sending it to yourself.

“I’ll call you,” he said, standing from his seat where he continued to smile at you.

Your eyes followed him as he walked over to the bar to pay his tab, feeling something stir in you as he looked back over his shoulder at you one last time before he sauntered out of the bar, everything about him charming and gorgeous.

But he wasn’t Will.

“Are you going to go out with him?” Nicole asked excitedly, the looks on both your friend’s faces confusing you like you missed something they hadn’t.

“Umm,” you pondered, trying to wrap your head around the situation, the three glasses of wine making your head feel fuzzy. “I- I don’t know.”

You felt like crying, feeling a sense of guilt and anxiety bubble up in you, like you were betraying Will and being unfaithful despite the reminder that he wasn’t yours slapping you in the face and twisting your heart in your chest.

A few days had passed since your night out with the girls, and as expected, a text from Cam had come through asking to take you for dinner, the invitation sitting ignored and unresponded to in your messages.

Every time you opened your phone to reply, you would see Will’s name a few spots down from Cam’s, the contrast between them and what was past and what was present making you wish more than ever that you could go back in time and try to mend whatever it was that took Will away from you.

You didn't recall ever being so irritable, your temper short and your patience gone, a toss up whether you would scream or cry at the drop of a hat becoming the daily gamble.

The gym didn’t even seem to allay these frustrations, and as you tried to adjust the height of the rack bracket and it got stuck, you felt that blanket of red creeping up through you.

Cursing under your breath, you wiggled the pin again and again, tugging and jostling it to try to get it to move, the clanking of the metal against metal drawing attention over to you by prying, judging eyes.

“Need help?”

You sighed with relief, hearing the familiar voice that belonged to Benny, closing your eyes and counting your breaths as he stepped in and adjusted it for you.

“Thank you,” you muttered, avoiding meeting his eyes as shame washed over you.

“You alright?”

You forced the air out of your lungs again, still not meeting his piercing gaze.

“I'm just so angry and there's nothing I can do about it,” you admitted, your tone defeated.

“I understand that,” Benny drawled, leaning against the squat rack.

You felt him studying you, almost as if he was debating saying something.

“He asks about you every time I talk to him…”

It felt like the wind was knocked right out of you, and somehow you managed to speak.

“He does?”

Your bewilderment seemed to confuse Benny, his face screwed up as he looked at you like it was the most obvious and normal thing.

“Yeah?”

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a growl that did nothing to signify your frustration at the situation.

“I still don’t know what I did wrong. He stopped staying the night and became more and more distant each time I saw him…” You paused briefly, trying to put your thoughts in order. “Then he just stopped altogether and the next time we spoke he ended it, and now you’re saying he asks about me?”

“He didn’t tell you about his nightmare?” Benny asked, his shock blatant.

You shook your head, your brows knitted tightly together. “No?”

Benny sighed and rolled his eyes, shifting on his feet as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Jesus Christ…okay,” he groaned, exasperated by his brother’s ability to consistently make things worse.

You stood there unmoving as Benny explained what had happened, going over all the details Will had told him of his nightmare and his reactions to it, and you felt cold despite having worked up a sweat from what you had done in your routine already.

“I told him he wouldn't actually hurt you but he was so messed up from it. I think it was days before he managed to sleep after that,” Benny said, his tone sad. “I've only seen him that distraught after a nightmare a couple times before.”

“Why wouldn’t he have said anything to me?” you asked, your voice a whisper.

Benny shrugged, “I think he was scared. And then knowing he was leaving on top of it…it was just too much for him.”

You nodded, rubbing your hands on your arms for some sort of comfort, feeling like your heart was breaking all over again, but this time for Will rather than because of him.

“I’m not making excuses for him,” Benny went on, leaning with his arms up on the barbell that hung across the rack. “I don’t agree with what he did, I just know how messy things can get in that head of his, and as his brother I kinda always have to have his back, but it doesn't mean I’m on his side.”

You nodded, at a loss for words as your mind tried to process everything.

It was a helpless feeling, having some sort of understanding now but unable to do anything about it, wondering if you should send Will a message or have Benny pass one along, but all you wanted to tell him was you loved him and that was probably something he didn’t need right now.

“Thanks for telling me,” you said softly, all of your anger replaced with sadness and worry, your heart aching in your chest.

Time continued to pass but did nothing to heal, each day marking another one gone without a word between you and Will, leaving you more unclear than ever at what to do, feeling that if he wanted anything to do with you, he would’ve reached out by now.

Not wanting to put Benny in the middle of it, you never once asked him to interfere or treated him as a messenger, only asking how his brother was doing when he hadn’t told you on his own and thankful that he usually would provide an update anyway knowing you were wondering.

The last time you saw the younger Miller you had dropped off a week’s worth of food, having prepped a variety of high fat and carb meals, helping to get him ready for his upcoming fights in a new weight class.

Cooking for Benny was just the type of distraction you needed, feeling useful and productive and able to put this latent energy into something good for someone else, offering to make his meals for him each week so he didn’t have to worry about his nutrition while focusing on his training.

He had told you as he helped unload all the food from your car that Will was due to return home soon, a matter of days or weeks but there was no exact date yet, and every time you went to the gym or to the grocery store, you braced yourself for a run-in with the man you couldn’t stop thinking about.

You finished washing your face and brushing your teeth, checking your phone one last time before leaving it on your dresser for the night, never getting used to the disappointment you felt at not seeing a sweet message from Will like you used to whenever he wasn’t with you, and still holding hope that whenever it did buzz with a text, it would be Benny saying Will was back.

Your anxiousness was getting the better of you, feeling like it was worsening each day to the point you were struggling to sleep even more than what had now become your normal, never resting for more than a couple of hours at a time if you were lucky.

So many things passed through your mind in those hours spent awake, some of which consisted of that outstanding offer for a date with Cam, not declining it yet despite knowing it was something you didn’t want anything to do with. Nicole and Grace would still bring it up whenever you talked but didn’t put any pressure on you, both of them knowing deep down you were happiest with Will, and you weren’t about to jeopardize any remaining chance with him until you knew for sure that there was an absolute finality to your relationship.

Not feeling tired but knowing you needed to try to sleep, you crawled into bed, nestling yourself under the covers on the side that Will used to occupy, closing your eyes in hopes your mind would drum up the memory of his arms wrapped around you.

You knew you shouldn't do it, knowing it wasn't helping you move on and that some might deem it unhealthy, but every time you laid in bed you imagined him with you and it was becoming the only thing that would get you to sleep.

It had been your haven; the warmth of his body and your limbs tired and wonderfully achy from sex providing all the comfort you needed to drift off, both of you usually able to sleep soundly with the exception of Will having the occasional nightmare until his mind plagued him with the one that he couldn’t get past.

How could it be so wrong to go back to a time when a version of you didn't haunt his dreams, when you had brought each other nothing but love and understanding and a sense of safety and security? You kept replaying what Benny had told you about his nightmare over and over, the sense of guilt you had over it working to torture you just as much as the dream tormented Will.

You sighed, squeezing your eyelids tight, doing everything in your power to recall the feel of his lips on your neck, his breath ghosting over your skin as he wished you goodnight, his beard scratching against you in the most addicting way as he tucked his face as close to yours as he could.

Tears started to spring from your eyes the harder you shut them, thinking how you would give it all up in a heartbeat so Will could be happy and live a life with all of his worries put at ease even if it meant you couldn’t be a part of it.

Will picked at the frayed laces on his boot as he listened to the dial tone, one leg bent to rest on his knee while waiting for Benny to pick up, excited to share the news that he was flying home tomorrow and to get an update on Benny’s training, knowing he had been working hard to put on the last few pounds needed to put him in the Light Heavyweight class.

“Sup, bro?” he finally answered, out of breath.

“Hey, Ben. You running?”

“Just in the middle of some light spars. Got my first fight tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, buddy!” he hollered, his excitement palpable through the phone.

“That’s awesome, Benny,” Will praised, proud of his brother for reaching his goal.

“How’re you doing?” Benny panted.

“I’m okay,” he paused, planting his foot down so both were on the ground and scratching his head. “Coming in tomorrow.”

“Fuck, seriously?”

“Yeah…”

“Shit. The fight is in Fort Myers, I can’t pick you up, man.”

Will tried his best to disguise his disappointment, his leg bouncing as he tried to level his voice.

“It’s fine, I’ll take a cab or get Redfly to drop me off,” he suggested, knowing he wouldn’t even ask his friend since Tom would be so eager to be reunited with his girls.

Benny sighed, “You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal. I’m just sorry I’ll miss that fight.”

“There will be more, don’t worry,” he assured. “Safe flight home, eh?”

“Thanks Benny. Good luck tomorrow. Knock ‘em dead.”

Benny chuckled, “Yeah, I will. See you soon, bro.”

Will ended the call and sat for a minute, the bit of excitement he felt about coming home diminished, feeling a sense of dejection that he officially had no one there for him.

He considered all of his options, the thought of reaching out to you even crossing his mind, but knew that he couldn’t and he would just have to settle for whatever warm welcome the cab driver wouldn’t provide him.

He blew air out of his mouth slowly, starting to feel like he couldn't capture a proper breath, closing his eyes as the sense of self-inflicted and well-deserved dread he was now accustomed to consumed him.

One, two, three…he counted, the numbers switching from the sound of his own voice to yours, repeating them with each breath in and out until he secured a consistent pattern.

Tomorrow.

You knew what it meant without any other context, the single word appearing on your screen from Benny making your heart jump into your throat, and you grabbed the edge of the countertop behind you with shaky hands as you leaned against it.

He had promised to tell you when he knew for sure and here it was, the day you had hoped for for so long, but one you were also terrified for.

Will was coming home.

As a slew of emotions ran through you, it dawned on you that his arrival happened to be on the same day as Benny’s fight, and you wondered if that meant anyone would be there to welcome him home.

You picked up your phone to reply to Benny, thinking of asking him who was planning to pick Will up from base, but as soon as you started typing the message, you hit the arrow to delete it, putting your phone back down on the counter.

It wasn’t your business, you told yourself, fighting every urge to make it yours, the thought of Wil returning home from the hells he faced with no one there for him breaking your heart.

You figured you were the last person he would want to see anyway, and knowing you had the potential to send him even more over the edge made you feel sick, thinking of how much had changed from when you were the one who used to bring him peace.

The flight was long, and it felt like every muscle in Will’s body ached as he walked off the plane and waited to board the bus that would bring them to the base station, feeling so close but still so far from being home.

There was continuous chatter around him, the excitement of all the soldiers about reuniting with their loved ones making Will feel happy and sad at the same time, and he did his best to seem enthused when asked if he was looking forward to going home.

He checked his phone more times than he needed to, having sent Benny a text that he had landed to which he responded with a thumbs up emoji, part of him hoping that there would be something from you, only to remember he didn’t deserve any grace for his actions.

He was getting everything he deserved, he thought as he pressed his head back against the headrest after sitting down, sighing out slowly while closing his eyes, finding it amusing that being alone was something he was both looking forward to and completely dreading.

It wasn’t long before the bus arrived at base, and Will remained in his seat until everyone else had gotten off, not wanting his fellow troops who were so eager to hold their loved ones to be held up by him who was only going to wait for a fucking cab.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way through people hugging, a weak smile forming on his lips in seeing one of his friends holding his newborn baby, and not far off did he watch Tom embrace both of his daughter’s in his arms, picking them up and swinging them around until they were screaming with delight.

After making his way to the doors, he pulled out his phone and looked up the number for a taxi, rubbing his other hand over his tired eyes roughly, praying it wouldn’t take long for one to show up.

The area he stood in was quiet with everyone else still lingering behind, but he glanced up when he noticed a couple walking past hand-in-hand, pausing to steal a kiss.

Will was about to hit the number to dial for Taxi Tampa when he looked up again, his eyes landing on a familiar face and one he couldn’t forget even if he tried.

You had just walked in and were stopped in your tracks as you noticed him at the same time, your face a mix of so many emotions that Will could hardly pick one out.

You gave a small shrug and shook your head, silently explaining that you didn’t really know what you were doing there, and Will all but choked as he tried to take a breath, his shock in seeing you completely overwhelming.

He dropped his bag and let his phone fall on top of it, stepping toward you in purposeful strides, his eyes welling up just the same as yours were.

“I wasn’t sure if I should even come but…I had to show up for you,” you shook out, Will’s hands reaching to cup your face, his thumbs smoothing your cheeks as tears started to fall down them.

He nodded in response, unable to say anything, his own tears breaking their threshold as you grabbed onto his forearms, rubbing them through his shirt as he continued to hold onto you.

He pulled you into a hug, relieved when you embraced him just as hard, feeling himself relax into you, his face nuzzling your head.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, alternating his remorse with ‘thank you’ between pressing kisses onto your forehead and hair, your sobs making your body lurch against his.

Your hands pawed at his back, clawing at his fatigues like you were trying to hold onto him for good, and Will prayed with everything he had that you never would let go.

He wasn’t sure how long you stayed like that for, but he eventually felt himself calm down, relishing in holding you and being in your presence again, knowing he would do everything in his power to make every bit of hurt up to you.

Will inhaled deeply, letting it go slowly out of his mouth, feeling like he could finally breathe properly again after all this time.

It was surreal to be in his arms, his warm embrace something you missed more than you imagined you could have, the feel of his body on yours and his scent surrounding you so familiar.

His heartbeat thrummed in your ear as you continued to rest your face on his chest, hearing his breathing having evened out and realizing yours had done the same.

You reluctantly pulled away to look at him, still keeping your arms locked around his middle. “Should we get you home?”

Will’s mouth turned up on one side, his crooked smirk making you melt.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his hand falling to land on your lower back as you both turned to where his bag was left on the floor.

You expected a moment like this to feel awkward, but it was anything but, like you were learning each other all over again, standing in Will’s room with your arms around each other’s waist, your faces so close and your lips inches from touching.

Finally, Will leaned into you, softly pressing his lips on yours, making you hold your breath as you let your eyes close and kissed him back, a broken moan transferring into his mouth as you forced yourself to try to take in air again.

His hand ran across your back, pulling you close to him as he took a step into you, your shirt slipping up so his palm splayed out on your skin, that sensation alone making you shiver in addition to how good it felt to have his lips on yours again.

Kisses grew more intense as each second ticked by, only pausing when he lifted your shirt over your head, and despite feeling so desperate, you both continued to keep every touch slow and careful.

His fingers pinched the clasp of your bra together to release it, moving the straps down your shoulders until it fell from your body, returning his hands to your arms where he trailed his fingertips up them to your neck and then down to your bare chest.

You found the buttons on his shirt, blindly unfastening each one until you were able to peel it open, feeling his smooth chest and the defined muscles of his torso, his warmth radiating out onto you.

Will reached up to take hold of your face, angling your head to press his tongue deeper in your mouth, stealing every bit of air from you in the process.

Breathe, your mind begged, but kissing him was better than breathing.

The rough material of his fatigues brushed against your nipples, making your breath hitch in your throat even more, your body moving to rub against him again to replicate the feeling.

You were rid of your pants and underwear next, leaving you naked while Will remained in his uniform, but the intoxicating feel of your skin on his bare chest let him know that he needed to have as much skin-on-skin contact as possible, and he tore the garment off his upper body quickly before moving to his pants.

Once you were bared to each other, you returned to your slow caresses, touching and exploring with light fingers and hands, your pleasure brought on purely by love.

You stopped kissing him for a moment, teasing your lips on his until you managed to whisper, your voice thick with lust.

“I need you, Will. I need you inside me.”

His nose nudged your cheek as he agreed with the nod of his head, his hands clasping your face again like he feared if he went too long without kissing you, you would vanish.

He took your hand and led you to the bed, sitting down on it and shifted back slightly where you followed, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, looking into his vibrantly blue eyes as he gazed at you lovingly.

His hands slid all along your back, bringing you closer to his body before they landed on your legs, guiding you to put them straight so they were behind him and you were seated flush against his lap.

You breathed out slowly as your forehead rested against his, feeling his cock settle at your folds, and when you moved your hips ever so slightly, you gasped at the sensation.

Will kissed along your jawline, his hands massaging your hips, ready to assist as you lifted yourself enough to reach between your bodies and take hold of his cock, guiding him to your entrance where you slowly sank onto his length.

Short, shuddered breaths were exchanged between you before you found each other’s lips again, and you gradually began to move together, finding a tempo that sang to you and helped display the love that had been missing.

Will held onto every part of you that he could, grasping at you as you rocked and rode him, his hips jutting up into yours in slow, meticulous thrusts to give you everything you needed, feeling your desperation grow while his did too.

Your clit rubbed against the coarse hairs above his cock, grinding until you were at the edge, the way your wet walls clenched around and encased him driving him to the brink what felt like faster than ever.

Even though you were both quick to arrive at your climaxes, nothing about it was rushed, savouring each movement to get there and not taking a single second for granted, every emotion felt transferred through your bodies.

Will kissed you hard, groaning into your mouth as he came undone, coating your walls and filling you completely with his hot cum that started to leak out of you as you continued to move on his shaft, your orgasm lagging just seconds behind.

Your fingers clawed at the back of his neck, scratching and digging into his flesh as your body took every bit of pleasure from him, the seal of your mouths breaking as you both panted for air, his head falling into the hollow of your neck while yours rested on the side of his, his hair soft on your cheek.

His mouth smeared wet across your collarbone as he moved his face, pressing sloppy, lazy kisses onto your skin as he continued to hold you close, feeling his chest and back expand and contract with each heavy breath while you kept your arms secured around him.

Will brought you with him as he laid down on his sheets, your bodies still connected, his fingertips tracing your hairline before he leaned toward you and kissed your lips again.

After a few more minutes of kissing, you tucked your face into his neck, your legs entwining with his, Will rolling over onto his back where he held your hand and brought it to rest on his chest.

A silent agreement seemed to settle between you to leave the talking until tomorrow, right now needing to simply be with each other, and like nothing had ever gone wrong, Will closed his eyes and fell asleep, his mind and body finding a peace he didn’t think he would ever have again.

---

Part 8

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls

@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90

@paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi @charethcutestory02

@christinhunnam @hp-hogwartsexpress

[jamsterrr]

N. RIKI . . . MY BIGGEST HEADACHE ⭑.ᐟ

ni-ki. manager. headache proned. annoyance. teasing. “ just because you’re the assiastant doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do “. dickhead.

description. you grew up with your older brother heeseung playing basketball, so you knew much more than the next girl. but being the captain’s assistant isn’t easy when your your brothers annoying friend is apart of the team. when you get stuck riding with him on the way home. how will you do?

words : 2.8k

ni-ki x female!reader

contains. ‼️ ; sap , slight making out , tongue kissing ( ?? ) , cursing. ( let me know if i missed anything ! )

WARNING. : everything is fictional! and this is not how any of the enhypen members are at all! this is purely for fun and entertainment <3

part 1: my biggest headache | part 2: mbh: bet chapter

link to my masterlist . . . !

don’t take this serious. this is just a fanfic. tbh.. idk what this is.. i’m not even going to lie.. this kind of sucks.. and I feel like i should’ve named it something different but idk. it seemed to fit??! sorry if it’s so sappy, I was trying to at least get something out to you guys! 🥺 sorry it took me so long to put something out. i was sick for like the whole first week of august and i have a lot of stuff going on. but i have so many good drabbles! stay tuned <3 ( heeseung , jake , sunghoon drabbles soon ehehe )

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

You were fairly a good student. You didn't do much outside of school but volunteer stuff, and that's probably how you ended up here in the first place. At the gym at 6:00 on a Friday, watching the team you helped coach, score each time from the other team. You had been ripping and running all day. You were tired, hungry, dehydrated and felt like you smelt like the bottom of Shrek's ass.

Your eyes were bouncing all over the court, landing on your brother Lee Heeseung, captain of the basketball team. Since you could remember, he was always teaching you something about basketball. At a young age you came to love it. It was something you both held dear to your hearts and something you bonded over. You would've joined if your school had a girls basketball team, but no one was interested. Accompanying your brother on the courts were his closest and best friends, some you came to adore and know.

Others... not so much.

They were Jake Sim. His longest friend. Park Sunghoon. Typically, the quietest one. Park Jongseong. But people called him Jay. And Nishimura Riki. But he went by the name Ni-ki. He was by far the most annoying. Maybe it's because he was the closest to your age. Or maybe it was the way that he didn't listen to anything you said, no matter what it was. You could hand him a water bottle in the hot sun, and he wouldn't take it.

That happened. Literally last weekend.

Each time it was the same thing. He wouldn’t comply with you, he’s always knock you down during practice, though you weren’t scared to try and do it back, though his height advantage beat you sometimes.

You tried to keep your cool. For your sake.

Regardless, you always tried to be nice to him, over and over. Chance after chance. But your patience was running thin. During the remainder of the first half of the game, you continued to watch, seeing the score for your team go up. The crowd cheering with each dribble of the ball down the court, Jake shooting and scoring a point. Soon the buzzer buzzed, and the first half of the game was over. You finally took the chance to sit down, taking a small seat until Heeseung came over and you smiled, a wave of happiness coming over you as you seen your brother.

"Hey." He spoke to you out of breath, his heart lips showing his full smile as you handed him a cold washcloth. "Hey." You replied back, watching him. The male mumbled a small thank you and you waited for him to finish before continuing to speak. "You did amazing out there. It was like watching Lebron James" you joked, and he rolled his eyes, nudging your shoulder. "Lying is bad, you'll get lie bumps." he said, sticking out his tongue at you.

You grinned and replied back. "Must be why your taste buds are visible. The two of you laughed before spotting Jake, his hands resting above his head. "Hey, Y/n" he spoke, your name rolling off his tongue, followed by his Australian accent. "Mind rounding up a couple water bottles for us Seven?" he asked, and you nodded. Knowing Jungwon and Nicholas were going to be put in the next game. "Of course, I'll be right back." You said, excusing yourself from the conversation you were having before making your way to concessions.

The line was full, and you had approximately 18 minutes to make it back with water bottles for the seven. While standing in line you couldn't help but notice Ni-ki walking from out the double doors, you crossed your fingers hoping he wouldn't bother you. To your luck, he didn't.

That was a first.

Waiting what felt like hours but had only been a couple of seconds, you felt a slightly taller presence behind you, their hands wrapped around your body as you slightly tensed. "Guess who~?" they sung out and you laughed. It was your best friend, Sunoo. The two of you met in Middle school when he was in 8th grade, two grades higher than you back when you met. The two of you instantly clicked.

"I didn't expect you to be here, I thought you went on that date?" you asked, and he moved his hands, pouting his perfect lips. "They cancelled, but hey, it's their loss." he spoke, and you nodded, agreeing with him.

"What are you in the concession line for?" The male asked, the two of you in your own little world, ignoring the hustle of the outside world, anyone but you two. "I'm getting water for everyone on the team, though I'm annoyed none of them brought their own water bottles." You groaned, leaning your head back slightly. "Or maybe they did and just want to make your life harder." Sunoo grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes as it was finally your turn to place your order. "Yes, May I please have 8 water bottles?" you say as the small child that was helping rounded up your total. Sunoo leaned over and whispered to you. "I thought you only needed Seven?" "Well, I want one too" you frowned.

After a small call over from the child, another lady helped them calculate the total, the little kid speaking. "That will be $16 ma'am, cash or card?" he asked, "Cash" you responded, feeling around in your pocket, patting your jacket *and* pants pocket, but not being able to find it nowhere. You leaned over to Sunoo, whispering slightly. "Do you by chance have $17 dollars? I'll pay you back, I promise you" said as he shook his head. "No, I only have 5, the ticket lady took my money" he frowned.

You couldn't even deal with the mountain of embarrassment that came over your body at the moment, your cheeks flushing red. Hell, your whole face. Until you saw a hand reaching across, and a $20 bill being handed to the small boy that started to count the change. You and Sunoo both looked over to see Ni-ki, his hair slightly sticking to his face, his side profile causing you to stare with a slight smirk on his face. You were slightly mesmerized by the males looks. He definitely wasn't the worst looking person you'd ever seen. If only his attitude towards you wasn't such a dickhead thing. Who knows, maybe the two of you would actually be friends. Sunoo and you collected the water while Ni-ki collected his change.

--

The three of you stepped out of line. "Uh, thanks..." you said, holding the cold-water bottles, before feeling Ni-ki take one from your hands. "Well, you were looking a little embarrassed in the line..." he said, sucking in air through his teeth. "I wouldn't have wanted to be you" he laughed, turning around. "I'll take my $17 in any form of payment" he said before turning around and walking back through the black double doors. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watch Sunoo roll his eyes. "Gosh, I don't know how you have the strength to deal with him. He's so sarcastic."

"To be fair, so are you" you laughed, and Sunoo rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah, but I'm better" he joked, and you shook your head. "Okay, let's get these to the boys" you said, leading Sunoo to the boys, making their way over to you, thanking you for the water and smiling. "About time." Heeseung joked as you rolled your eyes and sat down.

Oh, weren't you ready to go home.

--

Once the second quarter of the game started you were back in your mode, making sure to keep look for any fouls. The people that were playing the game now was Nicholas, Jungwon, Jake, Sunghoon and Ni-ki. The quote-on-quote best players on the team.

Your eyes kept flickering towards Ni-ki. Trying hard to look away but the male was so captivating even though he boiled your blood with the things he said. As the crowd cheered, your eyes jumped to the score board. 42 ( — ) 24. Heeseung was on the 3-point line, dribbling the ball as he tossed the ball to Ni-ki who threw it back to Heeseung after distracting a couple of the opposing teammates that were near him at the time. Your brother shot the basketball, from the line. It goes in with a... *SWISH*.

The people on the crowd stood up, stomping and shouting, the cheerleaders performing and waiving their pompoms. The band performing. Total chaos in the school's gymnasium. A big smile on your face as you watched your brother get showered in the love he deserved.

You ran towards him, wrapping your arms around him, giving him a big hug. Feeling a sense of pride for your brother, for him to be doing something he truly enjoyed and getting credit for it along with the rest of the team. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of happiness. All those long weekends of practice and after school practice came in handy. The score flashing 45 ( — ) 24.

--

“Hey, can you get a ride from Ni-ki? I’m not going straight home and everyone else already left. I already asked him, and he said yes.” Heeseung spoke as you frowned. “I really don’t want to; you know me and him don’t get alone. I can’t promise you I’ll be nice.” You crossed your arms as you put your book-bag strap over your shoulder, after uncrossing your arms.

“Oh, come on, try and be nice? I will be home later but I’m sure you’re ready to just go home. It’s only like a 15-minute drive, you will be okay.” Heeseung spoke, leaning and pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Don’t wait up for me.” He spoke. “WASNT. planning on it” you said slightly annoyed, but you couldn’t even be mad at him. You sighed, searching the halls, calling out the male's name gently, getting louder with each call.

“Ni-ki!” You shouted, groaning as you looked around, screaming and raising your hand to hit the male once he popped out from the corner, grabbing your hand as he laughed. His hand holding your wrist, gripping it tightly. “God-! You scared the shit out of me!” You whine and gently took your wrist from his hand. The male let it go and laughed a little. “Yeah, sorry about that... not” he laughed, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re annoying. Take me home.” The attitude evident in your voice as he rolled his eyes at it, standing there for a second, his gaze burning a whole into you.

You took a deep breath before looking at the male and hummed. “Please...” you said, biting your tongue. You didn’t want to stall anymore, you just wanted to go home and that was it. Needing a hot shower, something to eat and relax yourself on your bed since it was the afternoon. “Yes, I can.” He finally spoke, him glancing at you before he started walking to the back of the school, the parking lot where every student with a car parked. It was quiet except for the two of your footsteps, the sound of the door opening as he held it out for you, a soft “thank you” escapes your lips as the two of you made it quietly to the male's car.

Not knowing whether it would be rude of not to sit in the back seat, you got into the passenger side of the male's car, placing your book bag on the floorboard in-front of you, buckling up your seatbelt.

Ni-ki did the same and started the car, turning on the radio as he drove off. The first bit of the car ride was a little awkward. You didn’t move much, causing you to get a slight stiff in your neck since you were looking out your window. Something came over you that made you ask the question.

“Why are you always such an asshole to me?” You didn’t know why you had the urge to say it right now out of all times, I mean you could have just easily did it at school when you didn’t have to see him that much, but you asked him in his car. “An asshole to you?” He answered your question with a question. Leaning back in his seat as he turned his head to look at you, his eyes roaming your body.

“Yeah, an asshole to me.” You replied firmly. “I’m not an asshole to you.” He answered, causing you to scoff. “Ni-ki, don’t play stupid with me. You know what I’m talking about. Ever since I started being the assistant you have gave me nothing but trouble. I want to know why, what have I done to you?” You asked, now starting to wonder what truly could be behind the male's mind. Ni-ki started driving, the car ride being silent. Filled with the awkward silence and the soft tunes of the radio. The time flew by. To you it seemed like it’s been at least an hour. But the 15 minutes was coming to a stop.

“I don’t know, I just think you’re fun to mess with.” He spoke, but you weren’t buying it. “Can I ask you a question?” Ni-ki asked, pulling up in front of your house, parking in the driveway, in the spot Heeseung normally parked in, but since he wasn’t home. Ni-ki used it. “What’s that?” You ask, slightly curious at the question you were about it to be asked.

“Do you and Sunoo date?” He asked, not looking at you, his eyes staring straight forward as he bit his bottom lip gently, putting the car into park.

Nothing could have prepared you for that question. You widened your eyes slightly at it. “What- no- Sunoo is my best friend. Why would you even ask that? What business is it to you?” You asked, - shocked - your lips slightly agape. “Good.” Is all he said.

“Good??!” You repeated and he finally looked at you, his eyes flickering around your face, clearly noticing your slightly distraught but concerned look.

What happened to the Ni-ki I know? The one that makes me want to ring my brain out. Why was he acting like this?

The male licked his lips and gently placed his hand on your cheek, biting his bottom lip as you felt your heart began to race. “Wh-what are you doing?” You question before feeling his soft and plush lips against yours. Your eyes closing as you let yourself melt into the kiss. it was like something snapped inside of you. After all these times, the feelings you couldn’t deny rushed into your body, butterflies fluttering with each sound both of your lips made smacking together.

Your body was turned, facing his as you ran your hands through his hair, his hands placed on your hips, slightly rubbing the skin there. His tongue poked at your bottom lip as you opened your mouth, allowing the males tongue to explore the inside of your mouth.

The two of you pulled away the only thing connecting you two was a single strand of spit that was soon gone, heavy pants playing loudly over the man that was speaking on the radio. “What was that..?” You questioned, licking your lips as your eye fluttered to look at him.

A soft smirk appeared on his lips. “Me saying that I’ll pick you up tomorrow, that we should actually get to know each other better.” Ni-ki smiled and placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing the skin of your cheek.

“Can I see about that..?” You slightly blushed and he nodded. Taking his hand, you gently intertwined your fingers and placed a soft kiss on the back of his hand, getting out of the car and grabbing your backpack. “See you..” you said before he waved and returned it with a smile. “See you.” Once you were clear out of the way of the car, Ni-ki pulled off and made his way out of the neighborhood, you stood still for a second, sighing as you watched his car disappear. You touched your lips which were now a little swollen and a bit tingling from the kiss that still lingered on your mind.

Gosh, what did you do.

After you finally showered, feeling the freshest that you could, you sat down in your bed, hearing a bunch of iPhone dings coming from your notifications. It was a group chat filled with the basketball team, excluding your brother. A new one.

Y/N kisses Ni-ki. [ the bet. ]

Ni-ki: [ *sent 2 attatchments, picture & video* ]

Jake: I knew it was going to happen.

Nicho: Ha! Called it. Pay up.

Jungwon: SOOOO not fair. I thought it’d be at least 2 months.

Sunghoon: damn, I owe Sunoo $70

Jay: 💀

You widen your eyes. Was that what that was? Were you just a bet. To see how long it would be until you kissed someone apart of the basketball team. Your best friend even participating in it. You felt disgusting. Your head pounding after you left the group chat, tears welding into your eyes. Your head pounding.

“Fucking Nishimura. My biggest headache.”

[jaymadii]

FAMILY MAN [O!Bakugo Katsuki x A!Male Reader] PT.1

Bakugo's hero agency was thriving - doing statistically the best in Japan out of all the agencies at the moment (shove it Deku). He quickly gathered traction up the hero ranking, he made it. This was his dream. The problem though, Bakugo’s area of expertise was fighting, specifically, hand to hand. Quirks that messed with the mind or reality always threw him for a loop. So when he comes across a man with glowing blue fingers, the hero had barely landed his first attack before everything around him vanished into black smoke. And he’s down.

The next thing he knows, he’s in a hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines and a shit ton of people in white coats. He doesn’t even have time to process his surroundings before he’s being swarmed with people shining penlights in his eyes.

“Get the FUCK OFF ME.” He yelled, shoving a younger looking man out his damn personal space. He was hooked up to all kinds of wires and lines, yanking at them to get them off and out of his body. The sound of the doctors protesting was drowned out by him screaming over them to get away. He gripped the wrists of one of the doctors trying to stop his from pulling the IV out, pushing him away harshly. She fumbled a few steps away, holding her wrist with a pained whimper. “I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME.” There’s a magical freak out there terrorizing people and robbing banks and they want him to stay in this room? Fat fucking chance. A door swung open.

“Bakugo Katsuki.”

The room went silent. The doctors or PAs or whoever the hell all these people are suddenly shut their mouths. That voice. Your voice boomed his name.

The scent of an agitated alpha filled the room. And despite the sour note from the anger, he could recognize the smell almost instantaneously. Suddenly he could hear his own heart beating in his ears.

At the hospital door, stood you. You looked frantic and worried and pissed all at the same time, your clothes were disheveled like you had been running. Your left hand held a death grip on the doorframe while you’re right was on the knob from where you swung the door open. In the nasty florescent lighting of this place, a solid golden ring gleamed on your left hand. So many thoughts started buzzing at once. A wedding ring. You were married - mated. You were in this hospital. You just yelled at him. You looked almost exactly the same as the last day he saw you.

He didn’t know what feelings he was feeling right now.

It’s been years since Bakugo had last seen you, eleven. It made sense that you’d move on, mate with another omega, he made that decision for the both of you. He told you to go to America, to leave him alone. And from what he remembers of that conversation he wasn’t very nice about it.

You started to approach Bakugo slowly, like you’re unsure of what he’ll do. It’s now that he realizes that he’s halfway off this hospital bed from his attempted escape. Your scent starts to even out, the sourness from your anger fades with every step you take closer to him. He wants to speak, to say something to you. To fuck off, or ask why you’re even here, or what you want. But he doesn’t. He lets you come closer, because even after all these years your scent is still the only one that gives him any remote sense of peace. He’s always hated hospitals.

When you do finally reach him, your touch is soft. It’s like you’re scared, you put his face in your hands and your eyes surveyed his features. You seem satisfied with whatever you’re looking for because the hands on his face begin to thread through his hair and now you’re hugging him. You’re hugging him. You’re hugging him. Any anger still left in his body directed towards the staff or you suddenly lifts like a weight off his shoulders. You hold him close like he’s gonna float away with the wind if you don’t.

“You’re okay.” You whispered into his hairline, tucking your nose in on the top of his head. “I was so worried, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster. I dropped off Hinata and Ren with your parents.” It sounded like you were talking underwater. All he felt was his scent begin to mingle with yours as you scented him. It felt so nice, to have this feeling again, to have you want to be near him. He wanted to reciprocate the affection.

But he didn’t.

Whatever the hell was happening right now, wasn’t right. Bakugo tucked his arms between the two of you and shoved you away. Confusion flooded your face as you took a step back, your hands still holding on to his shoulders.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

—————

A/N: Hey I’m still alive and well okay

[morganski-19]

part 1, part 2, part 3

Wayne stays at the hospital longer than he should. Rubbing his fingers along Eddie’s pick necklace like a rosary. Hoping that if he just prays hard enough, if his voice can be heard, Eddie will wake up. 

The prognosis isn’t great. Each day that passes marks another day where his chances of waking up get lower. Even though many people have woken up from medically induced comas much later than this. According to the doctors. According to the pamphlets given to him at the start of all of this shit. But those are just words. Words he doesn’t believe fully. 

Six days with no changes. No improvement. Just a tube to make sure he’s breathing regularly and an IV to make sure he doesn’t die of dehydration or starvation. The doctors say that his brain still shows activity, and his heart hasn’t missed a beat since he was last revived. Eddie’s alive, but just how much?

How much longer will Wayne sit in this agony waiting for him to wake up? Or how long until the string of hope just ends six feet under? 

Religion was something that Wayne dealt with sporadically. He was raised Catholic, sort of still is a practicing Catholic. Goes to church when he isn’t too tired, still prays, and goes to confession sometimes. Just didn’t always make sense. But now, it’s all he’s got. 

Eddie’s in God’s hands now. Whether that’s the God in the Bible, or some other deity of the many other religions in the world, Wayne doesn’t care anymore. As long as he’s heard, and this being knows his boy is good. That he was taken far too soon. 

Eddie liked to say there was nothing much for him past high school. That he was going to run out of town as soon as he could and fight to make something of himself. Be a struggling musician, find odd jobs. Anything to keep him out of the monotony of a corporate job. Get him away from the conservative views and stuffiness of this town. Somehow get big enough to prove them all that he wasn’t a failure. Or never come back to prove them all right. 

It would be a sad day when Eddie finally left for good. The trailer would seem empty without the life that Eddie brought. The peace and quiet that Wayne always asked for not bringing any peace because it was too damn quiet. He knew this now because it’s what’s keeping him here each day. 

The beeping of the heart monitor was like the heart beating in his chest. Some noise came from Eddie to prove that he was alive. Almost like he was acting himself again. The motel room he was staying in was too quiet. No music down the hall, no clanking around the kitchen, no yelling at the TV or a book. Just the occasional noise if there were neighbors and people driving to the hospital. It was all the wrong noise, though. 

“Excuse me,” a nurse says as she enters the room. “Visiting hours are over, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Wayne nods, getting up from his chair. Back screaming as it pops itself back into place. It’s his day off, or night off tonight, so he can actually sleep. If it ever comes to him. Might be one of those nights where the ceiling and him have a staring contest. He’s been close, but never quite won one of those yet. 

The Chief’s car sits outside of the motel as Wayne pulls up. It’s only been a day since they spoke last, there can’t be that many updates. Wayne can’t think of any other reason he’s here. 

Wayne invites him into the motel room, the urge to offer him a drink screaming at him, but he has none to give. Hospitality doesn’t come with the room fees. 

“I’m guessing there’s something new, that’s why you're here.”

“Not necessarily. I’m still trying, but until the one guy I normally negotiate with comes out of hiding, that’s when the real talking happens.”

Wayne sits down on one of the chairs, too tired to keep standing. “Why’re you here then?”

“To check on you. I know the hospital life well. It’s no picnic, especially if you’re doing it alone.” He pulls another one of the chairs over to sit down. 

There’s no lie in that. “I’m about as good as anyone could think.”

The Chief pulls two beers out from under his coat, handing one to Wayne. He takes it faster than any beer he has in his life. Pulling out his pocket knife to take off the cap. 

“How long till that friend of yours comes out of hiding?”

Hopper shrugs. “Don’t know. Sent him a few threatening letters, and he still owes me one, so we’ll see. If things were better here, I’d go hunt the man down myself.”

Wayne nods. The company’s nice, he can’t lie. Sitting in solidarity with someone who knows what you’ve been through. Making sure nothing’s going worse than it already is. Like a sponsor through the hospital proceedings. 

When the sun finally finishes setting, the chief excuses himself. Not before handing Wayne a slip of paper with his number on it, just in case anything happens. 

The more days go by, the more Wayne is reminded that he’s not alone in this. Not fighting this battle alone. People believe him, more than just kids. People with influence. It shows in how people keep coming in and out of the hospital room. Saying how they know he’s innocent. That he’s guilty of some things, but not this. 

It makes him think back to that afternoon, snapping at the Harrington kid. It’s so easy to be angry at people who are better off, in so many ways, that vision gets blinded. Seeing someone who went through something similar to Eddie get out, and be conscious while his boy is still asleep. Probably will never have to worry about hospital bills and medical debt. It makes him angry. 

Even if the kid doesn’t deserve it. Wayne has no clue who this kid is and how he knows Eddie. Why he claims to have been there in the week Eddie was missing. What it all means. It doesn’t make any sense. None at all. 

But then the next morning when he’s getting coffee, there’s the kid again coming in beside Dustin. Talking to someone at the front desk before heading down the hall. Right to the elevator, and up to the floor Eddie’s on. 

Wayne heads back to the room, ready to kick him out again or apologize. He’s not sure yet. But, the room is empty. Steve is instead down the hall, talking to Susan Mayfield. Looking serious as hell, and halfway ready to cry. 

Another kid comes out of the room, one who’s stopped by a few times to check on Eddie. Lucas, Wayne thinks is his name. Remembers it only because Eddie had ranted a few times about some kid named Lucas trying to be on both the basketball team and part of the Dragons club. 

The kid says something to Steve before he’s being wrapped in a hug and starts crying. Steve just holding him as this kid breaks down. Presumably about the person behind those doors. Wayne assumes it’s probably Susan’s kid. Remembers hearing that she was in bad shape. Hopefully, that didn’t get any worse. 

Wayne returns to his room, not wanting to intrude. A nurse comes in a while later and asks him to step out for a bit. 

“What for?”

“Eddie’s breathing has improved over the last twenty-four hours. The doctor came in to check on him early this morning, and said that if by noon it was the same, the breathing tube could come out.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Wayne’s hesitant to believe anything these days. 

The nurse nods. “As long as his oxygen levels stay, well level, then yes. It means that his body is well on the way to recovery.”

Wayne nods, taking his coffee to the waiting room. There, he just waits.

Next part

Note: The next part of this will get a bit interesting. I've been having ideas for a while now of making this duel POV between Wayne and someone else, maybe Steve. Mainly because I keep thinking of conversations that would happen, but Wayne would be nowhere to witness it. But I think what this fic needs is a POV not directly in the main relationship that will be happening, to keep it an outsider POV fic. So I'm thinking that the second POV would be from either Robin or Dustin. I'm currently deciding between the two so let me know what you think. I'm also going to start posting this to ao3, and will provide the link to that once I think of a title. I will continue to post the smaller parts here on tumblr, and you will not be missing out on any of the story if you only follow it on here. For now all of the parts will also have the tag #morgan's wayne POV. If that changes, as it probably will since this is no longer just a wayne POV fic, I will let you know. Also, Max is alive, they just got a heavy diagnosis that you will learn of later.

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