#every time i tell someone of the length of our calls they’re shocked | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

likeumeanit9497 · 6 months ago

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wanna see? | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem! reader

summary: during a night of heavy drinking, y/n tells chris that her roommate, who had slept with him weeks prior, had been less than impressed by his skills in the bedroom. chris asks if y/n believes her roommate, and when she says she does, he decides to prove her wrong.

warnings: SMUTTTTT; established friendship; oral (m/f receiving); p in v; DIRTY TALK; unprotected sex; drinking; spanking; ROUGH; 18+

notes: not to gas myself up but...this smut...is insane. i literally wrote all of this in like three hours idk what happened i think my body was taken over by my hormone monster or some shit. but anyways i hope u chris girlies enjoy <333

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“Y/n! Our Uber is two minutes away, are you ready?” My roommate Bree called from the other side of my bedroom door just as I finished applying my lip gloss. “Yep! I’ll be out in a second.” I replied, taking one final look at myself in the full length mirror and adjusting my pleated mini skirt. Satisfied with my appearance, I finally exited my room and found Bree struggling to tie her corset top up herself. “Oh god, let me help.” I sighed, grabbing her shoulders to turn her around so that I could lace her up. “Thanks babe. Oh my god, you look unreal!” She exclaimed, facing me once I was finished, and I smiled sheepishly. “You don’t think it’s too much?” I looked down at my tiny skirt, low cut top, and chunky boots self consciously. “Absolutely fucking not. As a matter of fact I think you should wear that outfit every day for the rest of your life.” She replied before poking my cleavage playfully. I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Oh shut up, let’s go.” I shoved her shoulder jokingly and we both headed for the front door of our apartment.

“So,” I began once we got on the elevator, “Who’s all gonna be there tonight?” Bree’s fingers were flying across the keyboard on her phone, frantically texting someone. “Um…the usual group I think, probably gonna be a few other random people we don’t know yet, but Nick told me they’re keeping it pretty small this year.” She replied as we got into our Uber and I nodded in acknowledgment.

We were heading to the triplets’ house to celebrate their 21st birthday. Bree and I had met Nick Matt and Chris about a year ago, and the five of us had grown extremely close since then. It was a short drive from our place to theirs, but still I pulled out two mini bottles of tequila and handed one to Bree. She raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. “We didn’t have time for a pre game.” I said simply before raising my bottle to cheers her. She laughed before doing the same, and we both took our shot. “Fucking ew,” She said, shuddering, “I hate tequila.” It was my turn to laugh. “The first shot is always the worst, remember?” She nodded hesitantly. “True enough.”

“So…you think things are gonna be weird with you and Chris? This is the first time you’ve seen him since-” Bree cut me off by waving her hand nonchalantly. “Nah, it’ll be fine. For him it meant nothing, and you already know what it was for me.” I bit my lip to stifle a laugh.

A few weeks ago, I was awoken from my sleep at 3 a.m. by Bree barging into my room to tell me that she had just slept with Chris. This news shocked me, since I knew that she had been pining after Matt since we first met them. When I asked her to explain how the fuck that happened, her only explanation was that she was drunk enough to pretend that Chris was Matt. Initially, I had been concerned that their intimacy would make things weird in our group, but both of them seemed to be completely unbothered by it.

“Alright well, let’s just enjoy the night.” I said as our Uber pulled up to the house. “And who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky with the right triplet tonight.” I joked before walking up to the front door, side by side with Bree. She sighed. “Probably not. Pretty sure all hope of that disappeared once I opened my legs for his brother.”

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Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I realized that I was drunk. Bree and I had arrived at the house about an hour ago, and we both immediately took three tequila shots back to back in honour of the triplets’ birthday. Thirty minutes later, we took another trio of shots, and that was more than enough to get me absolutely wasted. I haphazardly reapplied my lipgloss before exiting the washroom and heading back over to the kitchen to grab something else to drink.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Shouted Nick over the loud music before rushing from the cluster of people he was with and grabbing the bottle of tequila from my hand. “Pretty sure you don’t need any more of that right now. How about some water?” He phrased it like a question, but didn’t wait for me to respond before grabbing a solo cup and filling it with water. I made a weak attempt at protesting, but deep down I knew that he was right; I was so far gone and the night was still young. “Thanks Nicky.” I said once he brought me the cup of water, and he rolled his eyes. “Ew. Don’t call me that. Now come over here and hang out with us.” He led me to the kitchen table, where him, Chris, Matt, Nate, and a few of their other friends were chatting.

“Hey Y/n, you want a shot?” Nate asked, a bottle of vodka gleaming in his hand. Just as I was about to respond, Nick cut me off with an aggressive “No!”, causing me to pout. “Oh yeah, you’re wasted kid.” Chris said with a shot glass in his hand. I looked at him for a moment, taking in his disheveled appearance and blood shot eyes. “Yeah well so are you.” I retorted weakly, and he chuckled. “It’s my birthday, so no judgments allowed.” He said before immediately lifting his glass to cheers with the rest of the group.

I stood there sipping my water slowly as they all took their shots, my eyes focused on Chris’ sharp jaw as he grimaced from the taste of the alcohol. I continued to watch his mouth as he spoke to the person to his right, caught in a drunk trance and intrigued by the rosy colour of his lips.

If I was being honest, I had felt a certain attraction towards Chris since I met him. It wasn’t exactly a crush, and I certainly didn’t have any sort of serious feelings for him, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t ever been tempted to go there with him before. There was a time, early on in our friendship, where we almost crossed that line.

I had been helping him hang posters on the wall above his bed, when he suddenly tackled me onto the mattress. It started off playful, but after a few moments of us play fighting, he ended up on top of me and the mood in the room completely changed. The smiles on our faces disappeared, and I felt my heart begin to race as his lips moved closer and closer to mine. Just as our lips brushed, the sound of Matt’s footsteps coming down the basement stairs caused us to jump apart, and we never spoke of that moment again.

Outside of that time, him and I had only ever acted as very good friends. As a matter of fact, out of all of the triplets I definitely got along with Chris the best. We both had similar personalities, and could joke around without worrying about hurting each other’s feelings.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by Nick’s voice to my left. “Y/n, did I tell you how unbelievably hot you look tonight?” I giggled, noticing that his voice was beginning to sound slurred even to me, so he was clearly drunk. “You did, but thank you Nick.” I replied, smoothing down my skirt and batting my eyelashes jokingly in his direction. I thoughtlessly glanced at Chris, and found his glossy eyes trailing slowly down my figure; clearly admiring my outfit.

“Hey Y/n, have you seen Bree?” Asked Nate, and I looked around the room quickly, realizing that I hadn’t seen her since I used the washroom. “I saw her go outside a little while ago, probably went to smoke.” Replied Matt, and I smiled to myself knowing that Bree will love the fact that he has been secretly keeping tabs on her whereabouts. “Speaking of Bree,” Chris started, turning back to look at me, “Did she tell you about what happened two weeks ago?”

The group grew silent for a moment as they waited for me to respond. I took a sip from my water and nodded. “She sure did.” Chris smirked. “I’m surprised she even had to tell you. You must have been out cold if you slept through all that noise she was making.” The entire group groaned, clearly disturbed by Chris’ lack of filter. “Oh my god! Goodbye.” Nick threw his hands in the air before storming off to join Madi on the couch in the living room.

I scoffed, grabbing the bottle of vodka from Nate and taking a swig. “Bullshit.” I replied simply, wincing from the burn as the vodka travelled to my stomach. Chris raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?” Even in my drunken state I was very aware of the amount of eyes on me awaiting a response. “Well, I asked her to rate the sex on a scale from one to ten. She said six.” The group broke into laughter, and Chris’ jaw clenched as he smirked. “Hmm, funny.” He replied.

“You asked for the wrong number,” Said Nate through his laughter, “You should have asked her for the inches.” Chris grabbed the bottle of vodka from me before bringing it to his lips. “Oh I did,” I smiled, leaning towards Chris’ ear before continuing in a whisper so that only he could hear, “I believe her exact words were, ‘nothing special’.” Chris smirked, swiping his tongue across his front teeth. “Oh really? And you believe that?” He responded, and I nodded, crossing my arms across my chest. “I have no reason to not believe her.” We stood there for a moment, both of us just staring at the other tauntingly as the rest of the group just watched in silence, clearly feeling left out of the conversation all of a sudden. Finally, after letting his eyes travel down my body slowly again, Chris spoke.

“You wanna see for yourself?”

It took every fibre of my being to keep my jaw from physically dropping at his words. “Uh, what the fuck are we talking about here?” Nate said, his voice tentative. I kept my gaze on Chris, hoping that my eyes weren’t giving away how shocked I was. I watched him watch me; his bright blue eyes drilling into mine, his lips upturned in a confident smirk. Realizing I had been silent for too long, I blinked repeatedly and cleared my throat to regain my nonchalant composure before shrugging. “Sure.” I heard Matt groan beside me as I grabbed the vodka from Chris, taking a sip as I followed him towards the stairs to his bedroom. “I’m gonna be sick.” Matt’s distant voice shouted as Chris and I descended the stairs and walked into his dark bedroom.

Once Chris shut and locked his bedroom door, I felt a pit in my stomach begin to grow. I suddenly broke into a fit of laughter from the ridiculousness of this situation. “What are you laughing at kid?” Asked Chris, beginning to chuckle himself. I took a moment to catch my breath before responding. “You’re not actually gonna let me see your dick, are you?” I clutched my stomach as I tried to control my laughter, and he shrugged. “I will if you want to see it.” I bit my lip in contemplation, trying desperately to think properly through my drunk fog. Failing miserably, I nod my head.

Chris smirked. “Come here then.” I put the bottle of vodka down on his desk and walked over to where he was standing in the middle of his room. I stopped about a foot away from him, but he gently pulled me closer. Looking at my face, he finally pulled me up against him; rubbing an uncertain thumb against the small of my back. “Wait, I’m not hard right now.” He chuckled, seeming to have his own moment of consciousness. I smiled up at him and tilted my head, placing a hand on his stomach. “Well I need to see it in its full glory. How else am I gonna know if you’re telling the truth?” His thumb stopped its movement on my back, and a glimmer of something flashed in his eyes.

“Okay, then make me feel good baby.”

My stomach did a somersault at his words, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. Leaning forward, I brushed my lips against his before grabbing his bottom lip with my teeth and pulling slightly; watching as it snapped back into place. My right hand slowly traveled down his stomach towards his waistband, where I let it linger for a moment before moving down to his crotch. There, I had to keep myself from audibly gasping; as even through his pants, his fast growing bulge was in fact huge.

Chris smiled lazily as my hand continued to palm his clothed dick. “Impressed yet?” My eyes snapped to his, and I decided to maintain my unimpressed persona. I hummed, my lips touching his but not quite kissing them. “Is this all you got Chris?” I bit his lip once more just before it turned up in a smirk. “Not quite.”

I gasped in shock as Chris spun me around and slammed me against the door, attacking my lips with his own. His kiss was full of a sort of animalistic hunger, and I was consumed by the taste of peppermint and vodka. He pressed me even harder against the wall as he rolled his hips against me, and I fought the urge to whimper at the feeling of his restrained cock against my needy core. He brought both of his hands up and pulled my low-cut top down to free my tits before grabbing one in each hand. Detaching his lips from mine, he took a moment to look at my chest before attaching his mouth to my left nipple; swirling his tongue around its sensitive nerves before moving onto the right.

Pulling away from my tits and once again coming face-to-face with me, he spoke. “Get on your knees.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and began guiding me down to the ground. Now at the same height as his bulging member, I watched as he wasted no time in removing his jeans. Now only concealed by his thin boxers, the true size of his cock was much easier to see. I stared in silence for a moment, taking in the fact that his boxers just barely covered its entire length. “Now do you believe me?” He asked from above me. I struggled to find my words, but I didn’t want to end this crazy game that we were playing, so I shook my head. “I’ve seen bigger.” I replied, looking up at him with doe eyes.

Chris rolled his eyes before pulling his boxers down to his knees. Now fully exposed, his cock smacked my face as it sprung free from its restraint. I couldn’t help but stare at it in awe — it had to be at least eight inches — as the faint light in the room reflected on its beautiful veins. “Open your mouth.” Chris’ commanding voice pulled me from my trance, and I looked up at him in shock. “What?” He tilted his head, “You said you’ve seen bigger, so you should have no problem swallowing this cock. So open your mouth.” His dirty words went right to my heat, and I felt my panties begin to flood with arousal.

Chris used both hands to collect all of my hair and held it out of my face as I wrapped my lips around the first few inches of his cock. Starting slow, I swirled my tongue around his sensitive tip before bobbing my head; taking a bit more of his length with each pump. I released his cock from my mouth for a second to catch my breath, before quickly leaning back in and deep throating his entire length. I heard a hiss escape his lips as my nose brushed against the sprinkle of hair against his lower stomach, and I began moving my head up and down his entire length; making sure to get every inch of him in my mouth.

“F-fuck, Y/n, that’s good. Keep going.” Chris rasped, and he began thrusting his hips at the same pace I was moving at. I moaned around his cock as his grip on my hair tightened; halting my movements entirely as he began face fucking me. Tears welled in my eyes as his cock repeatedly slammed into my throat, and I watched his face as his jaw went slack in both concentration and arousal.

Suddenly, all his movements stopped and he pulled me up to my feet. With his lips on mine and his hands tightly grasping my ass, he walked me backwards towards his bed. Once my heels reached the edge of the bed, Chris reached under my skirt and slid my panties down my legs. Feeling myself lose all sense of control, I didn’t hesitate when he ordered me to lay on my stomach with my ass in the air. I began trying to remove my skirt, but was stopped short by a sharp slap to my ass. “No, leave it on. You have no idea how sexy you look right now.” My back arched subconsciously from his words, and I began to tremble in anticipation.

I felt the bed shift as Chris climbed on, and I shuddered from the heat of his breath against my core as he spoke. “You want to talk shit about how you don’t think I can make girls scream, then you better stay fucking silent.” He gave me barely any time to register his words before his mouth connected to my core. Working his tongue relentlessly against my clit, I buried my face in his duvet to keep from making any noise. Using both hands to massage my ass as he continued to devour my cunt, he very quickly proved to me that he did in fact know how to eat pussy.

His mouth moved from my clit to my opening, and I couldn’t stop the guttural moan from passing my lips as his tongue began to plunge into me. Immediately, he stopped his movements and slapped my ass hard. “What did I say?” He asked, his gravelly voice filled with a sinister edge. “S-sorry.” I replied, pushing my core back in an attempt at reconnecting with his talented mouth. “That’s my good girl.” He replied before finally re-attaching his mouth to my hole. I bit down on my lip — so hard that it began to bleed — in order to keep myself from making another noise as I felt an orgasm approach. Chris continued using his tongue to fuck me as my legs began to shake and my brain grew fuzzy.

Like a tidal wave, my orgasm overtook my body and I began to convulse uncontrollably. I was somehow able to stifle my sounds of pleasure, even when Chris moaned into my pussy as I felt myself squirt all over his face. Without even giving me a moment to recover, Chris straightened his body up onto his knees, grabbed onto my hips, and plunged every substantial inch of his cock into me. At this, I couldn’t help but scream out in shock, and Chris promptly pulled out of me; leaving my dripping core feeling empty. “I told you to shut the fuck up. Do you want me to stop?” He tapped my pussy with his cock as he waited for me to respond. Scared to say anything, I simply shook my head. “Are you ready to admit that Bree was lying?” I turned my head so that I could see him behind me.

“Size doesn’t mean shit if you don’t know how to use it. So go ahead and prove yourself right.” At my words, Chris shook his head as his lips turned up in a smirk. Immediately, his dick slid back into me slowly, and I felt my hole stretch more and more as he bottomed out. He stayed still for a moment, before pulling his hips back so far that his tip was barely resting inside of me; and then slammed all of himself back into my cervix. He continued at this agonizingly slow and deep pace for a while, and used his words to taunt me the entire time.

“You’re such a good girl, taking all my cock like this.”

“I bet you feel so good right now baby.”

“Oh fuck, keep creaming all over this big dick.”

Suddenly, Chris pulled out of me and flipped me onto my back. Wasting no time, he hooked my legs around his neck and pushed his inches back into me. I stared at him, mouth open, as he watched my pussy swallow his cock with each quick thrust. Using one arm to support his weight, he placed his free hand on my stomach and pressed down. “You feel that?” He began, finding the spot where my stomach was bulging, “Feel how deep in your guts my cock can get?” My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I bit on my own arm to stifle the noises that were dying to escape it as I felt my second orgasm approaching.

Chris seemed to notice my impending climax, as he leaned forward to reach even deeper into me. “You want to cum, hmm?” He cooed, bringing a hand to my cheek. With my face contorted in the confusing combination of pleasure and frustration, I nodded my head. He moved my arm away from my mouth and planted a deep kiss there. “You can cum as hard as you want, just as soon as you tell me how good my cock makes you feel.” I whined silently, my overstimulated nerves causing my body to fill with a sudden desperation. “Come on, Y/n,” Chris brought his thumb down between our bodies and began rubbing my clit, “I want you to cum for me.”

I was panting now, feeling as though I might explode from the overwhelming pressure within my body. I was quickly realizing that I was losing this battle, and it was time to throw in the towel.

“Fuck Chris you’re so big.” I nearly screamed out, gripping onto his shoulders in a weak attempt at keeping my composure. “Feels so good, please let me cum.” I begged, and watched his face as his pupils dilated from my words. “That’s my girl. Now let go.” His hips continued pounding into me as I finally gave into my orgasm, and I lost all control of my mind as I spewed a plethora of moan-filled profanities into the room. My walls contracted uncontrollably around his girth as my orgasm tore through my body, and I felt my nails dig into the skin on his shoulders.

“Oh fuck Y/n, gonna cum too. Where do you want me?” His words came out shaky, and I didn’t hesitate before responding, “In me, please baby.” I begged, wanting to feel his warm seed spill into my worn out core. “Shiiit.” He hissed, his body slowing to a near-halt as he rode out his own orgasm. With slow, lazy thrusts, he pushed his cum deep into me as his cock twitched repeatedly.

Eventually, his movements stopped completely, and he slowly pulled out of me and walked towards his bathroom. When he returned, he came back with a towel and used it to help clean me up in silence while I caught my breath.

“I might be drunk,” He started, “But that was hot as fuck.” I laughed, holding my spinning head before sitting up. “We are never to speak of this again.” I said as I got to my feet to retrieve my underwear. “Sure sure…until the next time we do it right?” I rolled my eyes at his response and nudged his shoulder playfully. “Shut up. I need a shot, let’s go.” I headed for the door once he was fully clothed and together we began to climb the stairs. “How likely is it that everyone up here knows what we did?” I whispered to him as we neared the top. “Oh very likely, but who cares? It’s my birthday, so no judgments allowed.” He winked at me as we made it to the kitchen, where everyone’s eyes immediately landed on us.

“Oh god.” I muttered under my breath as I hurried over to Bree, who was smiling knowingly at me as she began pouring out two shots of tequila. “Please tell me one of these are mine.” I whispered to her, and she laughed. “It sure is. You have a good time down there?” She wiggled her eyebrows as she handed me a slice of lime. “If you really meant it when you said his dick was ‘nothing special’, then I’m gonna need the names and numbers of the guys you were ranking him against.” She tilted her head back and exploded into laughter before lifting her shot glass in the air and urging me to do the same. “You got it, babe. Just as soon as I get Matt to fall in love with me.” I laughed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before raising my own glass. “Cheers!”

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#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

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The Brother's Keeper

A Dick Grayson and Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, References to Past Abuse

Author's Note: Another story edited and re-posted! Enjoy! -Thorne

Despite having not lived at the manor for almost a decade, she still knew every hallway and room like the back of her hand, every sound was a familiar net of reassurance she could count on. The hum of the hidden wall closing behind her, the creaking of the third step from the top that they always avoided, the clicking the bats above made. She descended the steps into the cave, balancing the heavy manila files in one hand, the other holding two protein shakes, knowing her father probably hadn’t consumed nutrition in at least a few hours since he called her.

Her eyes fell on him where he sat at the Batcomputer; he’d changed out of his suit and was in a pair of joggers and a long sleeve shirt. She walked over, setting the files down beside the keyboard. “Here’s the files you asked about, dad. I alphabetized them too…and color tabbed ‘em but that’s not important.”

He glanced at her with a warm smile before nodding and turning back to the screen. “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you doing so.”

She leaned an arm on the back of the chair, propping her chin on his shoulder as she stared at the screen. “New antidote for Scarecrow’s toxin?”

“He’s synthesized a new formula, so I need to make a new antidote in case anyone gets gassed,” he replied, tapping at the screen until the numbers were apparently in approval with whatever he was thinking about—who knew.

She hummed, taking note of the lack of noise. “Where’re the chuckle-heads?”

He chuckled and tipped his head towards the locker room. “They put their suits away and went to change.” She nodded again and patted his shoulder before walking off in the direction of the room.

When she got there, she didn’t see them, but she could hear them harking on one another in the locker room, and she moved in that direction. She stepped into the room and took in the image of the four of her brothers standing in front of the mirrors in their underwear, pointing at each other like they were shocked to see the other.

“Do I even want to know?” she asked, unblinkingly.

Their heads shot up and they saw her; Dick greeted, “(Y/N)! What are you doing here? You usually don’t come to the manor.”

(Y/N) shrugged and stepped inside, taking a seat on one of the cool metal benches. “Dad needed some files over a few previous encounters I’ve had with galactic enemies. And me being here brings me back to my original question.” She gestured to them with a wave of a hand, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you guys in your tighty-whities?”

They snorted, and Jason turned around. “We’re comparing scars.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’. “Of course, you are.” She paused for a second and observed them. “Who’s got the gnarliest one?” Immediately, they pointed at Damian who simply motioned to his chest, and she looked at the faded scar that rested over his heart.

A frown instantly drew her lips, and Damian, being ever so vigilant, caught it and shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault, sister. You tried to save me.”

She met his eyes and murmured, “I didn’t try hard enough.” She glanced at Jason, seeing the scars line his chest, her voice just as soft. “For either of you.”

Jason’s lips pulled downwards, and he walked over, sitting on the bench beside her. “The fact that you tried is good enough for us, Queenie.” He reached out, patting her head.

She sighed and shook it off, giving them a smile before she turned to Tim. “Any on you Nerd-bird?”

He grinned and turned around, running his hand along a scar that rested along the left side of his ribs. “When I fought Ra’s, he got me right here.”

(Y/N) looked at it, then leaned back, a curious look in her eye. “Other than dad, aren’t you the only person he’s called ‘detective’?” Tim gave her a firm nod and she pulled a grin, nodding at him. “Look at the Nerd-bird kicking all our asses in the game. I’m proud of you.” He gave her a sheepish smile and she turned to Dick. “We’ve all had brushes with death, but I don’t think you have a lot of noticeable ones. Which is surprising because out of all of us, you’re the most reckless.”

The others laughed while Dick glared at her, then he shrugged and showed his back, and they saw faint white lines that resembled lightning strikes. “When Wally came back out of the speed force, he accidentally shocked me. Of course, it wasn’t enough to damage me severely, but it’s here.”

They looked at him once more, then Tim tipped his head to the side. “What about you, sis? You’ve been doing this longer than we have. Do you have any good ones?” (Y/N) looked at him before pulling off her jacket and pulling off the tank top she had on. She stood up, walking to the mirror and staring into it.

She pointed to one that lined across her left breast. “Even covered by my bra, you can see how badly this one was.” She paused running a hand down it, gaze far. “When Jason died, I got into it with Joker some time after.” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted to Jason’s, who’s were wide with shock. “I beat him worse than dad did, but he left me with this one before I did.”

“I…didn’t know you did that, Queenie.”

“Of course not Jason. I didn’t tell you.” (Y/N) pointed to a patch that rested on her right hip. “Took a bullet for Tim a few years ago.”

“That was when Deadshot was running around, right?”

She nodded, answering his question. “Mhm. They say he never misses. But that day, he did.” Her hand moved and she touched a curved scar that ran down her neck. “After you died, Damian, I found Talia and we had it out.”

“What happened?” he questioned curiously.

(Y/N) met his eyes in the mirror and frowned. “She and I gave each other a fair share of wounds…but I think the ones I gave her hurt more than the ones she gave me.”

“And those were?”

(Y/N) looked back at her reflection and stared at herself. “The infuriated words of a grieving sister.”

Silence enveloped the room and after a few moments, Dick pointed to a particular scar on her back that ran down the length of it. “How in the world did you get that one?”

She looked over her shoulder and reached behind her, fingers brushing over the raised, jagged skin that had sealed unevenly. “On my back?”

Dick snorted and nodded. “The only one on your back sis.”

She went silent for a moment then she admitted, “…Tarantula gave it to me a few years ago.”

No one noticed the way Dick froze for a split second at her admittance, and Jason asked, “Why did you and Tarantula get into it?”

Her eyes met Dick’s for a flash before she looked at Jason. “She killed an informant of mine and I got even with her.”

“Looks like she rocked your shit, Queenie.”

The others laughed, save for her and Dick, then (Y/N) muttered darkly, “I beat Catalina Flores within an inch of her life that night.” Her statement brought their laughter to a grinding halt, and she continued. “Hell, I almost killed her. But I didn’t.”

Damian crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And why not? It would not be the first time you’ve killed someone.”

(Y/N) rolled her shoulders and moved back to her clothes, pulling on the tank top and jacket before turning to him. “Because then she would’ve gotten of scot free, and she wouldn’t have to live knowing what she’s done.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed and he followed Damian, crossing his arms and leaning against the lockers. “Not to be nosey, but the way you’re talking about her almost seems like you’ve got a vendetta against her. And I mean like, me to Bruce vendetta.”

(Y/N) met his gaze before reaching down and tossing his muscle tank to him, then passing the others their shirts. “The informant she killed was a good friend of mine. There was…a lot of fury.” She paused, meeting Dick’s gaze once more. “There still is.”

The others simply stared at her before pulling on their shirts, and she looked at them. “I’m gonna get dad to go out and eat somewhere with me. You guys go on out and start working on him, would you?” The three nodded and started towards the door, (Y/N) following.

She was almost out of the door when Dick’s voice reached her quietly. “…(Y/N)?” She paused, turning around, and looking at Dick, who wore an unreadable expression; he glanced up at her, his eyes searching as he inquired, “Was there another reason that you two fought?”

“Me and Catalina?” He nodded and she shrugged. “There might’ve been. But the immediate fight was about my informant.”

Dick stared at her for a few moments before whispering, “…You didn’t start your informant network until I donned Batman.”

(Y/N) tipped her head back and leaned against the door frame, eyes narrowed as she mentally picked his words apart as only an older sister could. “What are you getting at, kid brother?”

He fell silent all at once, but when he finally found it in himself to bring his eyes to hers, she saw such pain in them. “Did you fight her…because of me?”

“No,” she immediately replied, firmly and confidently.

Dick’s eyes widened momentarily, but he looked down and nodded. “I see.”

She kept staring at him, then cleared her throat and turned, grabbing the doorknob. She pulled the door open and stopped, murmuring, “Dick.” He glanced up at her, but she faced forward and said, “I don’t know what happened to you in Blüdhaven all those years ago, and frankly, it’s none of my business.”

Dick’s heart sunk at her words, but then she looked over her shoulder, a solemn tone matching her stance and gaze as she affirmed, “But I am your sister…and I run the best damn informant network this side of the galaxy.” She paused, her words taking on an underlying tone. “There isn’t anything that happens in Gotham and our sister city that I don’t know about.”

Something passed between their eyes and she declared, “I am the family keeper. And I will always be the safety net that catches everyone when they’re in their darkest hours. When there’s something you can’t handle, I will for you.”

Her words made his eyes shine with unshed tears and she gave him a faint smile and a wink before she stepped out of the locker room, leaving him sitting alone, his thoughts drifting back to the rooftop in Blüdhaven.

***

She walked across the floor of the cave to see her father standing there, Jason and Tim hanging off his arms and Damian around his neck; he wore the expression of a tired dad and she couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Having fun, dad?”

He shifted slowly as to not knock one of her brothers off and glared at her. “This is your fault.”

“Guilty as charged father dearest! But it’s food time! Let’s get street tacos.”

Jason grunted at her and shook his head. “No, let’s get gyros!”

“Gyros are disgusting, Jason.”

His features contorted in something only described as an insulted disbelief and he declared, “Just because you don’t like limes and lemons, does not mean gyros are gross, (Y/N).”

“We’re not getting gyros, Jason,” she shot back.

“What about Chinese food?”

(Y/N) looked at Damian and nodded. “I’m down for tacos or Chinese.”

“Can we stop and get some shawarma?”

“Tim, which part of tacos or Chinese sounded like shawarma to you? It’s one or the other. Take your pick.”

“But last night was pizza night! And if I eat Chinese or tacos, I’m going to eat more carbs than I need!”

“You do need more carbs, twig-boy.”

“That was mean, sis.”

“Truthful. I mean how have you not been snapped in half yet? You look like a toothpick.”

The others laughed at her comments, and Bruce looked at her. “Where’s Dick?”

(Y/N) tipped her head back to the lockers. “Still changing.” She motioned to the stairs. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait on Dickie.” They nodded, and she watched her father trudge past with her three brothers hanging off him.

A smile crossed her lips and a few minutes later, she heard footsteps behind her. “Where’d everybody go?”

She turned around and nodded to the stairs. “Told them to go ahead and get ready.” (Y/N) had barely made it up the first ten steps when she felt Dick stop beside her, and she glanced back at him. “Dick? You good?”

He gazed up at her. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

She gave him a knowing look and said, “I didn’t do anything, Dick.”

“You did.”

“Agree to disagree.” They stared at each other for a second then she tipped her head to the stairs. “Let’s go get some food, kid brother.”

He nodded and started climbing the steps beside her. “I don’t tell you enough, sis…but I love you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and mumbled, “God, you are so sentimental.”

“It’s one of my perks.”

“More like a curse…but yeah…it is.” She paused and he stopped beside her, and she reached over, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love you too, little brother.” His arms wound around her, and they shared a moment before she patted his back. “Alright. Let go. I’m done being overly affectionate.”

He laughed, letting her go and she walked up ahead of him. He kept his eyes trained to her back, and he remembered something she once told him.

The two of them walked silently down the twisting and turning garden path, following the little white concrete plates that made the trail. Dick looked up from his hands, calling out to the older girl in front of him. “(Y/N)?”

She hummed in response but didn’t look at him. “What is it, Dickie?”

“Why won’t you let me walk beside you?”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder. “Because I’m protecting you.”

His head tipped to the side and he stopped walking. “But were at the manor?”

“And something could always happen. I’m in the front, so that if something comes, I can protect you while you run.” She turned around and looked at him. “One day you’ll be old enough to walk beside me instead of behind me.”

Dick’s eyes widened and he jumped excitedly. “When! When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind!”

(Y/N) giggled at her little brother and reached out, holding his shoulders to stop him from jumping up and down. “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore…you can walk beside me.”

“When will that be?”

(Y/N) pulled her hands away and spun back around, continuing her walk. “When it happens…you’ll know.” It was all the answer she gave the young boy, but he continued following her, still behind.

Dick blinked, the memory flashing away as fast as it had come, and he saw her back once more; he called out to her. “When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind?”

(Y/N) halted, mid-step and she glanced over her shoulder, a faint smile playing her lips as she replied, “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore, you can walk beside me.”

“And when will that be?”

She huffed a laugh chuckled at him before she turned back around, though she paused just as she was about to cross the threshold and peered back at him. “Don’t you already know the answer to that?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to that one, sis.”

(Y/N) shrugged and turned back around, declaring, “Then I guess you still need me to protect you.”

Dick watched her disappear into the manor, listening as she got into the argument that her brothers were bickering about with each other, and he smiled faintly. “Yeah…I guess I still do.”

1K notes · View notes

h2bakugou · 3 years ago

Note

hitoshi x reader where denki and reader have been friends their whole lives, and after introducing the two, both hitoshi and y/n start going to denki about their feelings for each other and how much they struggle

denki eventually gets sick of it and starts finding different ways to get them together (eventually ending with them being like "oh i didn't think you liked me" and finally dating

maybe a bonus scene of denki's reaction to seeing them together and being like "hecking finally"

- 🪶

a/n: hii love!! this is a really cute idea omg i love this sm <3 i hope you enjoy it!!

summary: denki's been your childhood friend since, well childhood. when he introduces you to a certain lavendar-haired boy, you find yourself opening up to denki about your crush, and so does someone else.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

word count: 2.1k

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

The electric blonde has been your childhood friend for years. You grew up together, you told each other pretty much everything. There was the occasional talk about crushes, boys, girls, and whatever else you could talk about while growing up.

You'd always been there for each other, and now you were both attending U.A., and being in the same class had been proven to be a bit of a task for Mr. Aizawa.

The day had pretty much just started, and Denki had asked you to come with him on your first break. You were almost always hanging out with him anyway, so you were a bit confused as to why he'd wanted you to come with him.

"Hitoshi!" Denki called out, alerting both you and the lavender-haired boy of your presence.

"Oh, hi Kami-" Hitoshi falls silent as he stares at the person beside Denki. You.

Shinso feels the world stop for a few seconds as he stares at you. He's honestly speechless.

Much like you are. You'd heard about this boy now that you've heard his name, and staring at him, you can feel your heart swell in your chest. He's so handsome.

"I thought I would introduce you two! Maybe we could all go hang out together this weekend since we won't have classes." Denki's sudden plans that would include this cute boy makes your face heat up. You begin to feel self-conscious, flattening your uniform, or tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you glance at Denki.

"We're off for once?" You question.

"Yeah! We could go do laser tag, or watch a movie in my dorm?" Denki offers, grinning. His intentions had been pure, just wanting to introduce two friends.

"Oh, I totally forgot! Hitoshi, this is (Y/n), (Y/n) this is-"

"Hitoshi, Shinso." Hitoshi speaks up, and your heart throbs in your chest at the sound of his voice. It's oddly charming. And so is the soft scent of sage and teakwood that surrounds him. It had to be his cologne, whatever it was though, you enjoyed it.

"It's nice to meet you." You speak up, extending a hand to shake. Shinso glanced own before placing his palm in yours, giving you a gentle handshake. His touch is electrifying and sends sparks coursing through your veins as you pull away.

"Yeah." Shinso looks back at Kaminari, who's beaming at him, a shit-eating grin on his lips. Kaminari was reading Shinso like a book.

"Well, we've got to get back to classes! We'll talk our plans over later!"

And with that, Kaminari is yanking you back down the hall, running to make it back to class on time.

During lunch, your phone pings, signaling you've been added to a group chat. You immediately recognize Kaminari's number, his contact labeled 'kami :D' popping up followed an unknown number.

who's that?

The number asks. You see Kaminari typing a response.

It's (y/n) dummy, add them into your contacts🙄🙄

You realize this number must be Shinso, so you decide to type a reply.

it's shinso right? i'll add u too ^^

You quickly add Shinso's contact into your phone and put a purple heart beside his name. Kaminari glances over at your phone and giggles.

"A heart already? You just met!" Kaminari teases and you're plastering your hand over his mouth to keep him from speaking too loud.

"Shut up! I just think he's sweet! Besides do we need to talk about your contact info for-"

"Okay! Okay!" Kaminari quickly shushes you, not wanting his current crush to find out about whatever their contact info is.

A few days go by, and after your hangout session with Kaminari and Shinso, you find yourself falling for him more and more.

But Shinso is the one that drops the first hint to Kaminari.

"So is (Y/n) seeing anyone?" Shinso asks, helping Kaminari clean his cartilage piercing.

"What like romantically?" Kaminari asks, sitting up with his ear turned to face Shinso while his cold fingers brushed against his ear.

"Yes, you idiot. Do they have like a boyfriend or girlfriend?" Shinso asks. He's nervous.

"Nope! (Y/n) hasn't talked to me about a crush or anything. They're always showing me these fictional people though. Why? You know someone that likes them~" Kaminari wiggles his brows at the purple-haired boy.

"Shut up. 'm just askin'." Shinso is finally done with the cotton swab and tosses it before letting Kaminari go, his fresh piercing all clean.

Suddenly a knock on the door pulls them away from the conversation and Kaminari is on his toes opening it to reveal you in some goofy pajamas.

"I'm ready for pizza and mario-" Your face contorts in horror as you stare at Shinso on his bed, out of uniform in something dark and mysterious, a loose dark plaid button-up and dark jeans.

"Nevermind! Sorry for bugging you!" You yell and run back to your dorm, hiding your face in embarrassment.

"Wait! I wanted pizza!" Kaminari calls out to you in the hallway but you don't turn around.

Shinso's face is red when Kaminari turns back to look at him.

You looked so cute, and so effortlessly- You weren't trying to impress anyone, yet you looked stunning. In nothing but some silly matching pajamas that Denki most likely had a pair to match, you looked so cute.

"You didn't tell me you ate pizza and played Mario Kart..." Shinso says, faking hurt in his sentence.

"Oh shut up! Go to their dorm and see if they wanna come back up, I'll get it set up." Denki sighs.

Shinso's on the move, making his way to your dorm thanks to Kaminari's excellent directions. Knocking on your door, he feels nervous, anxious even. His heart's pounding in his chest and then cool air washes over him as you open your door.

"Kami I'm sorry I-" You freeze as you stared at the boy in front of you.

"Ohmygod." You say quietly, quickly hiding yourself behind your door.

"Hi!!" You speak up, glancing at him from behind your door.

"Why are you hiding behind your door?" Shinso asks, a small smile on his lips.

"Your pj's are cute."

It echoes in your head, over. and over. and over again.

Your pj's are cute.

You slowly reveal yourself and look away.

"So, did Kami send you down here?" You ask quietly.

"He did, he wants you to come back up, and if it's alright with you, I'd like to hang out too, though I don't have any cool pj's to wear."

Shinso's voice calms you down, though your heart still seems to beat faster and faster.

"I actually, um, hang on. You can come in!" You allow him into your dorm, and he doesn't decline.

He glances around, admiring the pictures of you and Kami. He giggles about how silly young Denki looks with his hair all crazy and spiked up.

"You guys have been friends for a while it looks."

"Since kindergarten! He shocked me on accident, and when he apologized, we just sorta clicked. Been besties ever since." You search through your drawers and eventually find a kitty onesie that was a bit too big for you.

"I think this should fit you."

"It's kitty onesie, though you don't have to wear it!"

"Did you say kitty?" Shinso's ears perk up and you nod. He graciously takes it and the two of you leave to return to Denki. Shinso changes in his bathroom.

It smells like you, and Shinso has to stop himself from smelling the hood every five seconds as he leaves. You just smell so sweet, it's kind of alarming how soothing it is.

You all play and it's a great night, until Denki decides to play a scary movie after. You're sandwiched between the boys but begin to doze off about halfway through the movie.

Your head leans on Shinso's shoulder while you doze off, and he notices right away. He glances at Kaminari who only gives him a reassuring wink.

"You're stupid." Shinso whispers.

"They like to cuddle~" Kaminari suggests.

Shinso graciously lays an arm over you, hugging you to his chest as you readjust in your sleep. You're so warm, and Shinso begins to doze off too.

When you wake up in the morning, you've been covered up by a fuzzy blanket, but the warmth radiating under you is the most alarming.

Your sleepy eyes open to see the purple-haired boy you have a crush on, under you. Your eyes widen but you don't move away. Instead, you lay back down, not wanting to wake him.

His arm rests around you, and his breathing is so calming. It lulls you back to sleep.

You don't talk about that night much afterward, until you're knocking on Kami's door at one in the morning after a bad dream.

"Is Shinso single?" You ask quietly.

"Yeah, why ya askin' me though?" Kaminari hugs you, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I'm too nervous to ask him." You giggle.

"So you like him?"

"Yeah. He's really sweet, and super cute too." You admit, pulling away to stare at your best friend.

"I'm totally not his type though."

"I'm going to beat you up." Kaminari jokes. You shake your head and laugh.

"He's gotta be into like super hardcore goth punk rock-"

"You're so oblivious." Kaminari interrupts you. You roll your eyes and get comfortable on the edge of his bed, snuggling with one of his plushies.

"Just go to sleep, you idiot." You throw another plushy at him.

"You're in my dorm! I can and will kick you out." Denki huffs.

"As if. You need my snoring as your white noise." You tease him.

"You're so mean to me." Denki pouts.

By the same time next week, Denki's heard Shinso's confession about his crush on you, and every little detail about what both of you had to say about the other.

And Denki was honestly tired of it, endearingly of course. So he was setting you two up.

"I need you to meet me here at two. Wear something cute." Is what the text had said. You repeated it as you put together a cute outfit.

Shinso had received the same text and was just wearing something casual like he usually did.

However, when you both spotted each other and not Denki, you began to realize what was happening.

"He's not coming, is he?" You spoke softly, staring at the attractive boy in front of you.

"I guess not." Shinso looks over at the cafe you're standing outside. It's a cat cafe.

"Well, if you're not busy, wanna grab a bite to eat?" Shinso offers, nodding toward the cafe.

"I'd really like that, actually. Thank you." You smile. He offers his hand and you take it gracefully, smiling at how warm it is.

Shinso's phone pings halfway through your piece of cake with a message from Kaminari.

nows ur chance dude, ask them out

Shinso swallows his fear and looks up at you. You're so beautiful, even all dressed up, you look adorable.

You're petting an all-white kitty that's laying in your lap.

"Hey, (Y/n)?" Shinso gets your attention.

"Mhm?" You hum, smiling at him.

"Do you wanna, maybe do this again sometime?" He asks, a blush on his cheeks.

"Like, as a date?" You ask, your own face heating up.

"Yeah. As a date, and as a couple." He glances over at a pretty black cat that begins to nudge your arm for a few pets as well.

"I'd like that." You smile, your heart swelling.

"Then it's settled."

Afterward, neither of you can contain your excitement. Walking back to the dorm with your hand in his, Kaminari is elated.

"Finally." He sighs.

"Finally?!" You both say in unison.

"You should've confessed the day you met. I had to listen to you two being sappy about one another for two weeks straight."

Both you and Shinso feel flustered at Kaminari's comment.

"But it's okay. I love you two so I'll tolerate it. But you two better get along or no more pizza and Mario Kart. You'll have to deal with Bakugou, and I don't think you'll enjoy buying a new controller every time you want to play."

Kaminari was genuinely happy to see you both together, and both be happy.

"Thanks, for you know." You nudge him while sitting on his bed, Shinso was gone, using the bathroom.

"What are you talking about. I didn't help. You two just finally confessed. You did that on your own."

"Yeah but, you made me feel confident about it." You smile.

"That's what I'm here for!" Kaminari smiles.

You couldn't ask for a better friend, or a better boyfriend.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

153 notes · View notes

spideyspeaches · 4 years ago

Note

Peter Parker x popular!reader and they just start dating and Peter is really nervous around her and gets flustered whenever she’s close so to calm Peter you tell him it’s okay to touch u and maybe a give him a bj

A/N: sjjfkf thanks for sending so many prompts love you 😘😘 hope you like this eheh I don't like it very much ✌ beta read by @parkerpeter24 :)

Warnings: smut :) (characters are 18)

MINORS DNI

Wc: 1.9k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Girlfriend ↬ p.p

Peter Parker was the kind of guy who would get easily flustered if he was to talk to a girl, or any human as a matter of fact.

So it came off as a big shock to the Avengers when they found out that he, the shy nerdy Peter Parker, had a girlfriend at all.

They were all having a family dinner (something about bonding, Tony had said), when you called him, interrupting him from some Spidey adventure story he was reciting.

"Sorry guys, gotta take this," He said, phone smushed between his cheek and shoulder, fork halfway through his mouth, "uh, hey babe, what happened? Everything okay?"

Bucky and Steve were the first one to break out of their shocked stares as Peter called someone "babe" on the phone.

Surely you don't call your friend babe, right?

"Peter! Thank God you picked up, can you come over right now?" You said on the phone.

"Uh actually, I'm having dinner, is it okay if I come over in an hour or so?" He said, ignoring the shouted whispers about a brewing conspiracy of who could it be on the phone in the background.

"Okay, but don't forget like last time! I'm actually calling you to help me out with our chem lab manual-"

"-didn't we do it during homeroom yesterday?"

"Yeah but I need help with this one experiment, please Petey? I really need your help with this." You whine, hoping that he would catch your drift. But he didn't apparently, because he sighed, looking over his shoulders to see the Avengers with perked up ears, and replied;

"Okay fine. I'll be there in an hour Okay? Bye." He said and hung up, pocketing his phone and making his way to the dining room, only to be assaulted by a hundred and one questions.

"Peter who was that-"

"You've been keeping secrets from your father figure now-"

"Hope you're being safe, if you know what I mean-"

"Kids these days." (That was from Steve)

"Guys stop! One by one please!" Peter shouted, holding his hands to his ears, frowning as he glared at them, "why are you all asking these questions?"

"Because kid, if I'm being honest, we don't believe that you have a girlfriend, so spill the beans." Tony sighed, holding his cheek with his elbow on the table.

"Okay ouch. Why is it so hard to believe have a girlfriend?! I'm hot." Peter pouted, crossing his arms to try and look intimidating.

"Because you're you! You're shy nerdy Peter!" Tony said, gesturing at others to back him up.

"I mean, he's not that bad. Quite a charmer." Natasha smirked, sending him a look, which quite frankly, terrified and impressed Peter at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah totally."

"I believe you kid. Are we gonna meet her soon?" Tony rolled his eyes, smiling when he blushed red.

"If she's okay with it." He said, intertwining his fingers.

"Well I hope she is, cause I want to meet the girl who stole my kid's heart."

"Mr. Staaaark!"

***

Leaving the tower had been a difficult feat, with the constant questions and a snarky comment or two, especially when they found out that you were a cheerleader.

Rapping his knuckles on your apartment door, he smiled as you greeted him with an excited hug. He couldn't help but look at your skirt, the way it enhanced your waistline, and how it fit just right on your thighs, its frills swaying with the sway of your hips-

"Pete? You coming or what?" You laughed, a hand on your room's door as you look over your shoulder with glinting eyes.

"Uh- uh yeah just a minute. Are your parents home?" He asked casually, following you to your room.

"Nah, they're out for tonight." You said, closing the door behind him.

"Oh that's good, which experiment were you- Uh, what are you doing?" He asked, his voice rising an octave as he saw you unbuttoning your shirt, moving your fingers in slow motion as if to tease him.

"I finished my homework yesterday Petey, that's not why I called you." You whispered, straddling his lap as you hold his face, eyes shining with mischief. He instantly felt his dick harden as you rubbed against him, face burning when you traced his cheekbones, kissing his nose and then his lips.

"What, Uh, what did you call me for then?" He stuttered, holding your waist through the skirt's thin material, fingers itching to tear it off you. His heart was racing and he wondered if you could hear it doing so.

"You know why, it's been so long and I miss you baby." You whined, pouting as he unzips your skirt, watching it slide down your thighs in rivulets. You clench your thighs against his waist, intertwining your toes as you felt the space between your legs starting to wet.

"You met me in school yesterday." He mumbled, puffing his cheeks as he strained to keep a straight face, not with you looking so pretty in just your bra and skirt.

You had been overwhelmingly horny the past few hours, craving for your boyfriend's touch, imagining the way he fucked you against your bed frame as it shook with his strength.

"You miss me huh?" He smirked, catching you off guard when he flipped you over, holding you down as he rocked his hips against yours, leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, reaching between your breasts and stopping a moment enough to hear you whine.

"I missed you so much and I want to fuck you now." You said, sucking a breath when he all but tore your bra, arching your back to let his fingers linger on you.

"Missed you too, missed all of you, missed your wet pussy. Wanna show my pretty girl how much I missed her." He growled, sucking on the sensitive skin of your nipple as he massaged your breasts.

"Already wet for me eh?" He whispered, nibbling at your ear as he slid his length into You, "Fuck baby such a tight pussy."

Quickly undressing himself, you openly drooled at how packed your boyfriend was. It was not the first time you would be doing… it together since your six month long relationship, but it was the first time you got to see his dominant side, and it turned you on.

"Mmhmm yeah, only cause your dick is practically blue." You moaned, hissing when he hit a sensitive spot.

"Fuck, oh shit go faster Peter- oh!" You hissed, your skin slapping with his as he thrusts into you with a gusto.

"You like that babygirl?" He asked, eyes scrunching as he threw his head back, feeling your walls clench against his dick as you moved with him.

"Yes! You're so good oh- I'm gonna cum Peter!" You panted, chest heaving as your stamina decreases with every push and pull, your hands fisted on your sheets hard enough for them to pull out of your mattress.

You saw him flush red, confusion showing on your face as you tilted your head, your almost orgasm forgotten as you held his cheek, "what happened?"

"I- you've never um, org-orgasmed before on me." He muttered, his pupils blown wide as he looks at you with the most innocent look ever, and you would have laughed had his dick still not been inside you, midway in the air, his butt held high above.

"Peter… are You, we've literally fucked so many times and you're getting flustered over me orgasming?" You chuckled, wiping away the sweat forming on his forehead.

"Yeah but you've never come on my bare dick before!" He countered, gulping as he saw you smirk.

"Everything has a first time doesn't it?" You say, picking yourself upright so that you were chest to chest now, your nipples hardening against his bare chest as you rubbed against him, "Wanna try something?"

Your hand slides down to his dick as he nodded a yes, slowly pumping his balls as you kiss his lips. You hear him moan tour name, the sounds sending wetness dripping down your thighs again. Ignoring your thighs, you bent down to lick the tip of his dick, slick with pre cum and bright pink.

"Is this okay?" You ask, swirling your tongue teasingly, wetting his already wet dick with your mouth as you sucked at it with a pop.

"This is amazing baby, keep going." He threw his head back, a growl emitting from deep inside his throat, "wow uhhh."

"Wow what Petey?"

"Wow you're- you're amazing. God I've- I understand why people like being on the receiving end of the job right now."

"Job?" You laughed, "hun this isn't a Job."

"You- you know what I mean!" He chuckled, shaking his head as you continued to suck on it.

"No I don't. Please enlighten me." You smiled, peeping from under your lashes as your tongue works through his hard member.

"I know you know." He whimpered, hands creeping up to his balls as he tried to take care of his blues.

"No. Lemme do it." You slapped his hands, snickering when he whined.

"Oh Tony wants to meet you by the way." He said suddenly, making you groan and fall back dramatically.

"You know I don't do family members Petey." You mumbled, pulling him down, his mouth immediately latching onto the underside of your breasts.

"But why? Am I- aren't we serious enough now?" He asked.

Your heart stuttered at the thought of meeting one of the most important people in his life other than May. You and May had already met (post an unfortunate...accident), not to mention he was freaking Iron Man!

"It's not that. It's just, what if he doesn't like me? Or black widow. I'm not your normal nerdy girl with A grades, what if they think I'm not good enough for you? Or that I'm violating you for Spider-Man? What if-"

"- baby I swear they'll love You! And if they don't then it's their loss, because no matter what you are, who you are friends with, how many A's you get or don't, you'll always be my girl." His voice was soft as his hands moved with featherlight movements, rubbing light circles on your waist, instantly relaxing you.

"Are you sure?" You said, biting your lips and fiddling with his hair. He gave another moan as your fingers played with his hair, scratching slightly behind his ear.

"Yes bub, they will love you. You're very important to me, you know that right?" He said.

"Even if I wear short skirts and hang out with jocks?" You giggled, resting your forehead on his toned chest, playing with his skin.

"Especially if you wear those short skirts." He smirked, making you roll your eyes as you slapped his chest slightly. Sighing, you kissed him again, rolling over so you were laid on top of him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you let yourself fall asleep, with his clothes in your room and hand in your hair.

***

Peter woke up the next morning, the incessant ringing of his phone working as an alarm.

Groaning he rolled over, careful as to not wake you up, squinting at the bright screen of his phone. Before he could cut the ringer though, it cut off on its own, only to be taken over by a text.

You didn't come home last night kiddo 😏

Shit.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x avenger!reader #reader insert #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader angst #peter parker x stark reader #spideygirl writes

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wherethingscomebackx · 4 years ago

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Top 25 Larry Fics of 2020

h 2020 was HELLISH. So thank you to all the writers, and I mean ALL of them, who kept us occupied as the world continues to burn.

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

We’re going on our 5th year!! As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2020 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!

25.) a trail of honey through it all by @yvesaintlourent (27k)

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

24.) even the best laid plans by @falsegoodnight (25k)

“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.

“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.

The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”

“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”

“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”

Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

23.) A Distant Hazy Light by @greenfeelings (76k)

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

22.) Ghost Note Symphony by whoknows (96k)

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.

It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.

That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

21.) Until by @allwaswell16 (38k)

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

20.) Strangers in Love by sweetums (42k)

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

Prompt 51: An amnesia fic where louis and harry were enemies to lovers but after an accident, louis only remembers those memories that him and harry hated each other. now harry has to fix it. I think something like this less dark and less angsty compared to other amnesia fics and it could be funny

19.) A Long Way From The Playground by Pink_Sunsets (170k)

One Direction is broken up. They broke up five years ago. That should be the end of the story, right?

Harry is finished with One Direction. He now has a new life, one with two kids and a successful solo career. And he’s happy.

But a call one night from management flips Harry’s whole new life upside down, and he’s forced to face the life he had left behind.

As well as a certain blue eyed man who had left him behind.

18.) my love’s not simple (it’s fragile) by @falsegoodnight (27k)

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asks. “My shift ends at 7 but we can go for dinner at 8.”

Louis is silent for a few seconds and then, “Like… on a date?”

Harry swallows thickly. He hasn’t done this in years, hasn’t ever wanted to. “Yeah.”

He’s worried he’s misread things but then Louis raises his head to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Yeah,” he says easily. “Sure.”

Tension leaves his body swiftly. “Are you sure?” asks Harry. “I know we’re both so busy but I can’t not try with you, Lou.”

“Neither can I,” says Louis. “I think we can figure it out. I care about you a lot Harry. We’ve known each other for a week, but I already like you so much.”

Or Harry's new job is threatened by his impending rut. Desperate for a solution, he allows Niall to introduce him to Louis, an omega whose heat begins the same day. They click.

17.) Cocaine for Breakfast by @harryeatsburger (309k)

“It’s an easy job.” He continues, as if Louis wants to listen. “Like I said, a few trips. Parties, students, nothing dramatic.”

Louis gazes over to Harry. He’s looking thoughtful now, eyes on the green like he’s talking more to himself than Louis.

“Clubbing, drinks. Whatever, the business is just a side thing.”

That’s not how Louis remembers it to be, “You lying?” He honestly can’t tell.

Harry shakes his head slowly, meeting Louis' eyes.

“No,” He answers almost toneless. Harry clears his throat, “I won’t put you in any dangerous situation.” His voice is sincere, Louis can tell he means it, his jade green eyes glinting with truth.

or, - Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can't get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles. -

16.) Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren (4k)

I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

15.) the way the storm blows by @rbbsbb (21k)

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

14.) bruise you like a peach by @falsegoodnight (40k)

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

13.) Watching The World Fall by whoknows (11k)

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

12.) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2 (38k)

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

11.) The Wrath of the Emerald Eyes by @purpledandeli0n (85k)

His chin is grabbed harshly, facing the two deep green eyes that have been getting on his nerves for the past ten minutes. The smirk on the man's face does not vanish. The grip of his hand on Louis' chin does not soften, his thumb at the side of his lower lip.

His smile widens as he answers Louis' question, ''My name is Styles, but you will call me Captain."

•

Pirate AU

10.) Canyon Moon by @eeveelou (40k)

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

An A/B/O Lion King AU

9.) We Both Got Nothing to Hide by lovelarry10 (43k)

“Talk to me, Lou.”

“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”

“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”

Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.

“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”

“Kind of…”

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

8.) sleeping on our problems by @falsegoodnight (67k)

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down.

There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word.

His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.

Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

7.) like it’s a game by @soldouthaz (32k)

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

6.) before we knew by @falsegoodnight (39k)

“C’mon Lou,” says Zayn after a moment, He sounds even more exasperated than before. Louis sort of has a knack for exasperating people, especially people like Zayn who aren’t usually bothered by his brattiness. “Can’t you give this guy a chance? Harry Styles? Aren’t you curious about him at all?”

Despite his best efforts, Louis still flinches at the name. He really shouldn’t be so affected after all these years. He’s seen the name printed down the curve of his waist in obnoxiously and uncommonly large loopy letters every single day since his sixteenth birthday eight years ago. He’s very familiar with the name Harry Styles.

It sounds pretentious and Louis hates it.

He hates everything about his supposed soulmate.

He hates his large handwriting that stands out like a claim on his skin whenever he’s walking around shirtless. He hates his pretentious name. And now he hates his supposed curls and green eyes and dimples.

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

5.) Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

4.) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by @harryrainbows (95k)

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

3.) The Space Between by @lads-laddylads (39k)

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

2.) Nothing But You On My Mind by @absoloutenonsense (83k)

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

1.) Collision by @tequiladimples (224k)

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

#larry #larry stylinson #larry fic rec #harry styles #louis tomlinson #fic rec #one direction #1d #one direction fic rec #larry fan fiction #updated because I'm an idiot and added a zarry fic

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llamabird-writes · 3 years ago

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Inspired by this prompt post from @screnwriter

***

The hero had come to the balcony to be alone, to take a deep breath away from the prying eyes of... well everyone. It had been a month since they revealed their identity to the world and every day since then they wished they could go back in time, or erase everyone's memories or do something to just make the people forget.

The sound of laughter broke the hero from their thoughts. They looked down to see their friends leaving the main ballroom, seemingly to get fresh air as they themself were. They hadn’t told their friends about how they were feeling. Their friends had never understood why they had kept it a secret at all.

‘All the adoring fans.’ ‘People would line the streets to see you.’ ‘You could get anyone in the entire city, hell probably the world.’

They wouldn’t, couldn’t understand. The hero didn’t want just anybody in the world.

They let out a sigh, watching their friends laughing below, wondering how they felt more comfortable up here alone then they ever did when they were in the group.

‘Looking for some company?’

The hero whirled around at the voice. So much for being a hero if they couldn’t even hear someone approaching them from behind. The hero’s eyes landed on the owner of the voice and – they laughed.

‘Of course you’d be here. Not like you to miss out on an elegant event is it.’

The villain smiled. ‘Not when we’re celebrating our favourite hero. Having fun, I see.’ They gestured to the empty balcony, far away from all the guests.

‘I’ve had more fun, I’ll be honest.’ The hero had long ago allowed themselves to ignore how easy it was to tell the villain the truth.

‘You regret telling the world who you are. It's interesting, most people would revel in that glory.’

‘Yeah well, I’m not everyone am I.’ The hero turned to face back out to the grounds below them.

Soft footsteps sounded behind them.

‘If you’re not having fun, dear, why not just leave?’ The villain's voice was a whisper, sounded right next to the hero’s ear. A shiver ran the length of their body, their heart quickening. They willed for their heartbeat to not be too loud.

The villain brushed their hand along the side of the hero’s face, barely touching yet leaving a hot, tingling trail behind. ‘Come on, we can leave together. I won’t tell anyone, promise.’

As the villain said it, they pressed a soft kiss to the hero’s neck. The hero grabbed onto the railing, sure that their legs would give out on them.

‘What dangerous plan are you hatching, hmm. Trying to kidnap me at my own event.’ Their voice was not as steady as they would have liked.

‘It’s not kidnap if you leave by your own free will. Besides, we both know you’re too obsessed with me for me to actually have to kidnap you. You’d come just for the curiosity of it.’

‘I’m not obsessed with you.’ They weren’t, not really, well... dammit, obsessed was the wrong word.

‘Is that so.’ The villain had begun to kiss up the hero’s neck to their jaw. ‘Then why is your heart beating a hundred miles an hour.’

The hero felt the villain’s smirk against their skin as they said it. They scowled, glancing up at the sky to try compose themself.

The hero turned – to push the villain away, to save themself from their treacherous heart – but they hadn’t expected the villain to be so close. Barely an inch from their lips, the lips that had left the hero’s neck prickling, the lips that the hero had dreamed about so often, too often. The hero swallowed, and the villain, picking up on the hero’s sudden nervousness, grinned.

‘Do I make you nervous, dear?’

The hero watched the villain’s mouth as it formed the words. They barely heard the question over their rising pulse. They forced their eyes up.

The villain leaned in then, to whisper in their ear. ‘You should learn how to hide your emotions better.’

The villain pulled away, stepping past the hero to lean on the balcony rails. ‘You never answered my question. Why not leave?’

The hero gave a low laugh. ‘It’d be so easy for you wouldn’t it.’ They moved to stand next to them. ‘Believe it or not being a hero is a lot bigger than what I want. The people need me.’ But even as they said it the words didn’t feel true.

‘If the people are so important,’ the villain said as they turned their body to face to hero, ‘then why aren’t you down there with them? Why aren’t you celebrating with your friends? No, you're up here, talking to the enemy.’

The villains voice had gone soft, quiet, almost caring. They were trying to trick the hero, lure them into a false sense of security. The hero knew this. But the damned words were working. The hero didn’t enjoy their life. They had lost their anonymity, their freedom. The hero felt like a pawn, to be called upon at will. It’s not that the hero didn’t want to save people anymore. Of course they did. They weren’t about to run off and become a villain. Though by the look at the villain standing across from them, it was exactly what they wanted.

‘It’s not the same,’ the hero began, ‘being a hero when you’re known to the world. Everyone expects you to be there all the time, ready to go, when they’re able to reach you, able to find you. I just,’ the hero looked up to meet the villain’s eyes, ‘My motives for doing it... they’re not the motives that a hero should have, not anymore.’

A flutter of laughter rose to the balcony, bringing attention back to the hero’s friends below.

‘Do your friends know how you feel?’

‘God no. They never understood my desire to be unknown. They never understood me. There isn’t really reason for us to be friends.’ The hero went quiet, looking down at the people they should have been having this conversation with. When they looked back to the villain, they had a dangerous smile on their face.

‘Well,’ the villain said, ‘let’s show them that you don’t need them.’

The villain stepped forward, grabbing the hero’s waist and pulled them in, crashing their lips together. The hero froze for a moment, but when the villain moved their lips – impossibly soft, yet impossibly rough – against their own, the hero unfroze, hands raising to the villain's neck, their hair. The hero kissed back forcefully, the desire they felt overwhelming their body and they held onto the villain tighter, pressed closer to their body. The villain’s lips felt so much better than they had in their dreams, and the hero marveled in the way the hands on their body burned with each tight grab. The hero’s grip in the villain’s hair tightened, causing a moan from their lips. The villain bit the hero’s lip in response.

The hero pulled back slightly, licking the blood from their lip. The villain looked disheveled and the thought that it was the hero who had caused it sent a wave of pleasure through them. The villain leaned in to close the gap once more but, for just a split second, the hero glanced down to the grounds below them. To where their friends had been standing. The hero’s eyes met six. They pulled away from the villain and stared down at the shocked expressions on their friend’s faces. Except it wasn’t just shock, but anger, betrayal. Because all they saw was the city’s hero making out with the villain. The hero quickly shut down the part of their brain that tried to question what else it was than that.

The hero turned to the villain, grabbed their hand, ‘We need to leave. Now.’

***

Part two here

#villain x hero #hero x villain #enemies to lovers #my writing #snippet #creative writing #hero and villain #hero #villain #writeblr #writing

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milenadaniels · 3 years ago

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Actually, Truly, 14k - Buck/Eddie, Helena POV, post-s4 (AO3)

Isabel calls to tell them Eddie's been shot on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. When they land, they learn Eddie's already home recovering and has been for two weeks.

----

Or, Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns.

Isabel calls on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. Their son’s been shot, again, in the line of duty. But this time, instead of being thousands of miles away and out of reach, he’s just a short plane ride away.

Isabel insists they come to her house before going to the hospital but she doesn’t blame COVID protocols for keeping them away from the hospital, so they spend the car ride over imagining the worst.

A complication with surgery.

Permanent damage.

A coma.

The news they receive is that Eddie’s fine, and he’s been home and recuperating for two weeks already.

Helena retreats to the living room while Ramon and his mother fight in the kitchen. They’re yelling in Spanish and for once she wishes she’d never learned.

“Escúchame, Ramon,” Isabel tries to interrupt. Listen to me.

The yelling continues because Ramon doesn’t listen. It’s not his strong suit. Nor is it Helena’s.

Helena paces the length of the living room and holds her phone in her hands, thumb over Eddie’s name in FaceTime, not pressing down.

Eddie’s been home for two weeks.

Isabel hadn’t told them for two weeks.

But Eddie hadn’t either.

They hadn’t seen him in person in nearly two years, and he hadn’t called them since their last fight over a month ago.

Still, Eddie was shot in the streets by a sniper and he didn’t call them.

Mom, listen...

The last time they spoke, it was a phone call, not a video chat, maybe because at that point just the sight of each others’ faces was enough to set them all off. In that phone call, Eddie spoke of a friend whose family was somehow worse off than their own, but who, miraculously, were finally making the effort to fix the broken ties between them in therapy.

“Mom, listen… I spent a long time being angry with Shannon instead of trying to reach out to her and now Christopher is never going to have her in his life again. I don’t want that with you,” Eddie said, his voice brusque but calm, measured. “I don’t want to grin and bear it when you call or when we visit. I want to be glad to pick up the phone, I want to be excited to see you all at Christmas, I want you to be part of our lives. But I can’t do that without you meeting me halfway.” He was resolute, but he was pleading too. “I don’t want to spend the next ten years of our lives like this.”

But the idea of therapy was anathema to the Diaz family and it took only Ramon’s dismissive scoff to reinforce her own distaste of the idea. They called Eddie back to say they had no intention of paying a stranger to tell them everything was their fault and he was blameless.

They didn’t get another call after that.

“— my son!” Ramon yells at Isabel in the kitchen.

“Because, mijo, when you come here, you don’t see your son! You don’t see him living here, growing, Christopher thriving! You don’t see how when you come up here you bring sadness and misery when you should bring joy and comfort.” The words are too close to what Eddie said for them not to have spoken about it together. “By the time I knew he was hurt, he was already out of surgery and doing well. If he wasn’t, I would have called immediately.”

“Oh bueno, so you’ll tell me my son is dying but not that he’s okay?”

“Ramon! Escúchame.” It’s not often that Helena gets to bear witness to the steel in Isabel’s voice, the one she passed down to both her kids. It’s in fine form today. “He was doing well, and had all the help he needed. As soon as things stabilized, I called you. Keep acting like a fool and see if I call you at all next time.”

“If you call? Are you —”

Mom, listen…

“Ramon!” Helena snaps, surprising them all.

“Ramon,” she repeats, more calmly this time. “Listen to her.”

The shock on Isabel’s face almost makes her smile, but her heart is too heavy to commit to it.

“Helena, two weeks she —”

“Our son was shot, and he didn’t tell us.” Helena says, her voice trembling. “Our son was shot, he could have died, and the last thing we would have told him is we weren’t willing to fight for him and Christopher. Weren’t willing to — what? — put our egos aside? Our pride? For one fucking minute to listen to him. To listen to what he needed.”

Ramon’s eyes widen and he hangs his head with a sigh.

Helena faces Isabel, her phone tucked in her palm against her stomach.

“What can we do? We’re listening.”

——————-

Ramon walks it off and Helena helps Isabel in the kitchen in exchange for a promise they’ll go over to Eddie’s for supper. She’s been making care packages for Eddie and Christopher since the shooting, and she’s working on a pasta sauce while Helena starts on her famous banana brown sugar bread — Eddie’s favourite.

“How is he, really?” she asks once her dish is tucked into the oven.

“As well as can be expected,” Isabel replies, throwing spices into the pot with an ease Helena never grew into. “He was tired for the first few days, but now it’s like a broken arm. Uncomfortable but not so painful.”

“How long is it supposed to take to heal?”

Isabel casts a suspicious eye her way as if she can anticipate the date of Helena’s return flight adjusting already, but answers, “they say 6 to 8 weeks. It’s for the bone to heal, mostly, in his back. The rest should be sooner.”

Helena broke her wrist years ago, when the kids were nearly teenagers, and it was three months of hell trying to manage a household one handed while Ramon spent most of that time travelling across Texas.

Who’s helping him? Is Carla back in the picture? Is she working overtime? How can he afford that on sick leave? Is Pepa or one of the cousins going over? Is his girlfriend there? Who’s helping with Christopher? How is he managing?

The questions — all genuine and well-meaning, all a shade too accusatory — are on her tongue, pressed to the back of her teeth to keep from escaping. She’s entitled to answers, even if she doesn’t like them. She knows she has the right to at least know how her son is caring for himself and her grandson while he’s injured. If he’d told them when it happened Helena could have been here in a heartbeat to help, but no, Eddie’s just as stubborn as they are, just as prideful. He’d rather suffer alone than accept their help. Fine. But she’s still his mother, and Christopher’s grandmother. She raised them both. She has a right to—

Mom, listen…

Helena takes a deep breath in, anchors herself in the mixed scents of the rich sauce and the sweet bread cooking, and breathes out. Isabel sends her another look but says nothing.

————-

Helena cries when she sees Eddie, and cries a bit harder when she sees the apprehension in his eyes. Her baby boy looks a bit pale, but he’s standing on his own two feet and answering the door himself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, wrapping him gently into her arms, mindful not to press into the sling or his back.

“Hi, mom,” he says quietly, like he’s trying to gentle the stiffness in his voice.

She releases him, but not before pressing three kisses into his temple, always three. One for each of her kids.

Ramon steps into the space she leaves when she continues into the house and from the corner of her eye, she sees him cup the back of Eddie’s head and take a good look at him. For Ramon, it’s the equivalent of collapsing to the floor in tears.

Helena quickly toes off her boots and makes room at the entrance for the others behind her, which also puts her first in line to catch a sight that nearly knocks her down.

“Who is this young man I see?” she cries, throwing her hands wide to gesture at her grandson. “Last I saw you, you were just a little tyke. Now look at you, you must have grown three feet!”

Christopher giggles and Helena smiles in return as she folds him into her arms, but it’s forced. She’s not lying — he’s grown so much more than she expected. She hasn’t seen him in person since Eddie’s graduation and while video chats are priceless, they didn’t capture this growth spurt.

She can’t believe she let this happen. That she went from spending most of everyday with this little boy and now she’s missed out on two years of his life. Can’t believe Eddie kept him fro—

Mom, listen...

Supper goes well enough. Eddie never truly shakes loose the tension in his shoulders; he trades many looks with Isabel, seemingly spooked by his parents’ behaviour. He talks a lot more than he usually does, probably out of nervousness. But overall, they let Christopher take the reigns; they’re all more comfortable with that. It’s been too long since they’ve last spoken and Christopher is full of stories about his school and his friends.

“Buck says we can go to the Griffin soon. It was closed because of COVID. But before, I went with my class and they made a comet right in front of us!”

Buck. It’s the third time his name has been dropped at the table since they sat down.

She first met him, briefly, at Eddie’s graduation, but didn’t really register him as someone in her son’s life until Eddie and his crew stopped off in El Paso for dinner on their way home from fighting Texas wildfires. Buck had been cropping up in Christopher’s and Eddie’s stories for months by then and she was curious to properly meet him in person. He had seemed...young, she remembers.

“The Griffith Observatory,” Eddie corrects fondly. With Christopher, at least, it’s impossible for him not to soften.

Eddie’s only eaten half the pasta on his plate but Isabel seems satisfied. Helena bites down on the impulse to encourage him to eat more. To remind him he needs his strength to heal quickly for his little boy. She does lift the basket of garlic bread in his direction, because she can’t help herself. He eyes the basket warily as though he expects her to do more, but when she doesn’t, he shakes his head with a small smile of thanks.

“Yeah,” Christopher agrees, “it was cool but we didn’t get to stay long enough to see everything. And if we go later, Buck says we can see real meteors in the sky.”

Fourth mention.

“Christopher is on an astronomy kick,” Eddie adds redundantly.

“Wait, I gotta show you —” Christopher is sliding out of his seat before anyone can stop him and racing down the hall to his bedroom.

“Oh, honey —” Helena grips the arms of her chair out of reflex to jump up and help him — he doesn’t have his crutches, he’s only using the wall for support and he’s wearing socks — but Eddie looks over when her chair creaks.

He can’t really expect her to just sit here while Christopher—

Mom, listen…

They can hear Christopher make it to his bedroom without injury, so Helena slowly settles back in her chair and Ramon clears his throat. “He seems...okay. More okay than I would have expected.”

Eddie keeps his eyes on his father for a beat too long, assessing the comment for any hidden messages.

“He’s a resilient kid. Buck stayed here with him while I was in the hospital, so his routine wouldn’t get messed up. I think that helped a lot.”

Fifth ment— wait.

“Buck stayed with him?” The words — the tone — are out of her mouth before Helena can stop them.

On the shortlist of people she expected to hear stayed with her grandson to watch him and care for him, alone, while his father was in the hospital — Isabel, Pepa, Carla, or even Ana — Buck’s isn’t a name she expected to hear. A coworker — an unrelated man with no children of his own, over Christopher’s family? Over Christopher’s own aide? Over a schoolteacher?

Eddie’s jaw squares up and he sits up in his chair. Like light gray rain clouds suddenly turning dark, weighty with an incoming storm, a heavy tension builds in the air between them.

“Look!” Christopher exclaims as he rounds the corner, nearly throwing a thin, blue hardcover book on the table. Eddie catches it before it can slam into Christopher’s leftover pasta and sets it down on the table for him. “It shows all the things we can see in the sky over the whole year!��

Christopher climbs back into his chair and opens the book up to a random page, describing everything he seems to have nearly memorized already. By the time he reaches the upcoming meteor shower, the tension at the table has dissipated enough for Helena to excuse herself to the bathroom and not have it come off like a passive aggressive storm-off.

She washes her hands with soap pumped out of a fish-shaped dispenser that wasn’t here the last time she visited and trains her eyes on the basket of gauze, scissors and tape tucked away on the shelf above the toilet. That wasn’t there last time either.

Her baby boy was shot by a sniper. In LA.

A bullet tore through the body she created and almost took her son from her forever.

Mom, listen...

But only after she’d almost pushed him so far away he might never come back.

The tears well up again and she sniffs through them, blinking up at the ceiling until she’s back under control.

As she pivots to turn the light off, she spies a purple toothbrush resting on the ledge just above the sink. The other two toothbrushes are electric — one adult-, one child-sized — and stand on the counter.

—————-

Helena and Ramon meet the infamous Ana by accident.

When they leave Eddie’s house on Friday, Helena sends a text message to say what she couldn’t manage to say to his face — that they’re here for him, in whatever capacity he needs, that they’ll take their cues from him, even if that means giving him some space.

To that, she receives a, Thank you.

When she asks for the contact information of the therapist he had scoped out for them, she gets a phone call.

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” her son says, “but are you just doing this because I got shot?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” she laughs mirthlessly. “I’m sorry to say it took our baby boy nearly dying to get our heads out of our ass.”

Eddie huffs a laugh on his end. “Well, I’ll take that silver lining.”

After that, Eddie invites them to a restaurant for brunch on Sunday, but when they reach his doorstep, they find it already occupied by a woman who’s just rung the doorbell, holding a casserole dish in her hands.

When the door opens, Eddie takes in the three of them, his eyes wide and apprehensive.

“Ana, I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, his eyes darting over her shoulder to his parents. He’s smiling, though there’s a clear strain in the corners of his eyes and mouth. They’ve been critical about Shannon for so long — and with good reason, nothing will change Helena’s mind on that — no doubt he’s expecting them to hate this new woman on sight.

“You’re Ana!” Helena exclaims with a wide smile, imbuing her voice with as much welcome as she’s capable. “Hi! It’s so good to finally meet you!”

When Eddie releases the breath he was holding, she knows she was on the mark. Ramon follows her lead and invites Ana to brunch with them on the spot and won’t hear her protests about intruding.

Eddie, of course, doesn’t protest at all but invites them in so Ana can store the casserole in the fridge — it takes both Ana and Helena’s organizational skills to find a spot for it among Isabel’s and Eddie’s tupperwares already invading all available space — and he can finish getting ready. He was already dressed in a nice polo and jeans but when he comes back from his bedroom it’s in a smart button-down he must have struggled with out of sheer stubbornness. Both his parents and his girlfriend are in the house and still he didn’t ask for help.

Eddie and Christopher decide to hop into Ana’s car and Helena asks loudly for directions to keep Ramon from insisting they should all ride together.

“So how long have you kids been seeing each other now?” Ramon asks when they’ve been seated at the restaurant.

“Nearly 7 months now, I think, isn’t it?” Ana replies, looking at Eddie with a dazzling smile — she truly is gorgeous. Eddie was still talking to them when he started dating her so they know she’s a schoolteacher turned vice principal but to meet her in person blows all their other expectations out of the water. She’s lively and sweet, patient and understanding, Latina — a big plus in Ramon’s books ironically. Eddie picked well this time.

Eddie hesitates a moment and nods. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

Every now and again, he squirms in his chair, like he can’t quite settle in and Helena wonders when his last painkiller was taken. But when he catches her face, she smoothes her worry out into a cheeky smile that says I like this one. He smiles back and there’s nothing she can pinpoint exactly but something about it makes her uneasy.

Eddie’s too quiet as they wait for their food, his face pinched, and just when Helena’s about to break, Ana does her the favour of asking gently, “Are you feeling okay? Do you need to take anything for your arm?”

But Eddie shrugs off her concern. “No, thank you. Next one isn’t until noon.” He taps his phone twice and she smiles.

“Sorry, I forgot. He’s got them all on timers with a special ringtone. He’s so organized,” she tells Helena and Ramon with a sunny smile, rubbing her hand down his good arm. “I have one multivitamin and I forget to take it half the time.”

“Buck set it up,” Eddie defers, and Helena schools her face not to react; even at brunch Buck is with them in spirit.

Ramon either takes no issue with the mention or doesn’t register it. He takes the opportunity to share how his new pharmacy pre-packages his heart and arthritis medications into AM and PM slots and Ana listens attentively. Eddie’s fingertip taps absently against the phone case until their food arrives.

Christopher ordered a waffle, and with Eddie indisposed, Helena is already moving to help him when Ana beats her to the punch again. Helena tucks a smile away as Ana leans over and starts cutting the waffle up into smaller pieces.

“He can do that,” Eddie says when he notices Christopher sitting back in his chair, realizing only when Ana startles that his tone is sharp. His voice is softer when he follows up with, “Right, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, picking up his own cutlery with enthusiasm despite his hands being nearly too small for them.

Eddie throws an apologetic grin Ana’s way and brunch continues peacefully, though the stiff line of Eddie’s shoulder never does quite soften.

Mom, listen…

————-

Their first therapy session takes place in Isabel’s kitchen at Eddie’s request. Isabel thinks it’s so he has the option of leaving when he needs to (in other words, when he gets fed up and runs) but Helena hasn’t missed how Eddie has been careful to keep them away from his home since the first day they saw him.

They’ve seen Eddie and Chris numerous times in the week and change they’ve been in LA — more than they’ve seen them since they left El Paso — but always outside of the house. Sometimes they pick Chris up from school, sometimes Eddie and Chris come to Isabel’s for supper, sometimes they go out to restaurants or other outings, but they haven’t been invited back to his home again. She wanted to believe it was because he was hiding the news that Ana had moved in but that’s been shot out of the water both by her ringing the doorbell and an errant comment at the end of brunch about how she hadn’t seen him since the welcome home party.

So it’s out of pettiness, then. Stubbornness. Out of pig-headed inability to accept that he needs help and willingness to believe that they’re making an effort to meet him on his own terms.

She tries not to let it rankle her, tries to find some of that resolute commitment to letting things be and not push. But the next thing she knows, she’s yelling about it to a stranger at Isabel’s island counter.

To be fair, the session with Dr. Jamieson wasn’t going great to begin with. It’s awkward as hell, the three of them balancing on stools, squished in next to each other to try to fit into the screen, but also trying to keep the laptop close enough to still hear her and not have to shout. It’s happening while Chris is at school so they don’t have to worry about keeping him distracted but they can’t exactly ask Isabel to go wait in the LA sun for an hour so she doesn’t overhear, so it’s basically a given that she’s the fourth person on this virtual couch from the next room over.

And beyond that, Helena has kept her mouth shut for over a week which is frankly more time than anyone would have bet on, including herself, and given the opportunity to express herself freely...well…

“You want space? We’ve given you nothing but space since we got here. How much more can we give you, Eddie? You’re hundreds of miles away from us already. Forgive us for feeling the need to check in on our only son who almost died last week,” she yells, her hand nearly colliding with her coffee mug as she gestures.

“Last week?” Ramon echoes with a bark of dark laughter.

“Oh, no, that’s right,” Helena picks up. “I’m sorry! Not a week ago! Nearly a month ago! Because apparently we don’t warrant even a text when our only son almost dies, but that’s not enough space?”

Eddie rakes his fingers aggressively through his hair, his lips pursed.

“We have to move to Mexico,” Ramon continues blithely. “Is that enough space? No, better yet! Sweden! Your family still lives out there, no? We can live on their farm. Completely different timezone, we won’t even be reachable.”

“Yeah,” Eddie bites back, a sour grin blooming on his face, “that’s what I want. I ask you to give me some breathing room — to respect me, my life — and you translate that into living in a fucking commune in Sweden. And you wonder why we’re in therapy. I can’t talk to you, you don’t listen!”

Mom, lis—

“Listen to what, Eddie?” Helena yells, getting out of her seat to pace. “Listen to the months of silence you’ve sent our way? Because we either get on board and blindly cheer on every mess you get yourself into or we don’t get to know you anymore? Don’t get to know our grandson?”

“I never kept him from you — you have our number, the phone didn’t ring. That’s not on me.”

“Because you would have picked up?” Ramon exclaims, pushing away from the island to better look back at their son. “Easy to claim when it’s after the fact in front of the doctor.”

“So now I’m a liar! You raised a liar?”

“I think we’ve gotten off-track,” Dr. Jamieson’s tinny voice interjects from the laptop.

In the bottom right hand corner of the screen, only Eddie remains in the frame.

————

Firehouse 118 was a lively crowd at Eddie’s graduation but it’s nothing compared to the party thrown at the Grant-Nash house in honour of a new probationary firefighter.

Dr. Jamieson pointed out the self-fulfilling prophecy that Eddie protecting himself from criticism and pressure by withholding details about his life in LA was leading to his parents’ growing insecurity over not knowing anything about their son and feeling the need to intervene more and more.

The solution? Let them in on his life and trust that they could hold themselves in check.

For that, even Ramon was in agreement that maybe therapy wasn’t a load of shit after all.

So here they find themselves welcomed into this beautiful and loud home nearly three weeks into their stay in LA. They were allowed to pick Eddie and Chris up so they arrive together but Christopher peels off immediately to find kids his own age.

It’s impossible not to feel the warmth of family radiating from every inch of the home so when Eddie’s shoulders seem to loosen a little as they walk in, Helena can’t find it in herself to begrudge him.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a woman around Helena’s age drawls, crowding into Eddie’s space for a delicate hug he doesn’t hesitate to return. “Though I could have done without seeing another one of these for a few hundred more years,” she says, gesturing to the sling. “How much longer?”

“Another month if everything checks out,” Eddie says, releasing a sigh.

“It better,” she warns with a twinkle in her eye that says if she learns he’s been aggravating his injury there will be hell to pay.

The woman, they find out, is Athena Grant-Nash, wife of the 118’s captain and consummate host. While Eddie splits off “for a minute”, she leads them to the main area for drinks and introductions before leaving them to mingle. Captain Nash — Bobby — meets them with appetizers and introduces them to the Lees, the de-facto parental figures of the young man who just joined the team.

From the spot she claims at the edge of the dining room, Helena keeps an eye trained on Eddie outside. She feels an itch under her skin knowing it’s been nearly twenty minutes and Eddie hasn’t checked on Christopher, but she knows she shouldn’t go herself. Eddie can do everything on his own, right? He can look after his own kid at a party.

She can, however, go to the washroom and take a peek at what Christopher’s up to while she’s wandering, and that’s exactly what she intends to do.

But for now, she watches as Eddie criss-crosses through the crowds of the patio, prompting a localized burst of cheers at each stop as he reunites himself with teammates he hasn’t seen since the shooting. She recognizes the woman who was on the trip to Texas but the rest conjure only the vaguest memories of Eddie’s graduation and the occasional picture on Instagram — before he stopped posting that is. Just one more way they’ve been iced out.

But he seems happy, almost carefree in a way she realizes she hasn’t seen with her own eyes in...longer than this trip, actually.

Probably years, if she’s honest.

And it occurs to her, slowly, creepingly, that her son is outside, smiling freely and easily, surrounded by people he’s made his new family, while Helena stands inside watching his life through a glass window in a stranger’s house.

Mom, listen…

She swallows past the lump in her throat and sighs. Ramon’s arm comes around her waist and without looking at him, she knows he’s had a similar revelation.

Their next therapy session is in a few days, and they’re not going to fuck it up again.

There’s a late arrival to the party, one of the only people in Eddie’s life she can recognize — Buck. He’s as tall as she remembered but he looks a shade less young now maybe. He greets everyone with a hug or kiss on the cheek as he moves through the party, and bestows a cheer and an enthusiastic hug on Albert, the guest of honour.

When he moves on to the patio and approaches Eddie’s circle, however, the cheerful, long-awaited reunion of best friends she expects doesn’t happen. They catch each other’s eyes for a few beats and share a welcoming smile, then the conversation resumes as if nothing of consequence has happened. Buck doesn’t even linger long, heading back into the house after a few minutes.

When the cake starts being doled out, Eddie returns to meet them at the table and accepts the plate Helena offers him. Helena is scouting the yard for a chair he can sit on to eat when Buck reappears.

“He couldn’t be pulled away?” Eddie asks in surprise.

“Nope,” Buck replies with a grin before turning to them. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz. Good to see you again!” Before they can return more than a smile, Buck continues, “he’s cheating at Unicorn Temple with Harry. Not even cake can pull him away.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smiles. “My son is not a cheater.” To them, he says, “Buck thinks that whenever he’s losing at a video game, it’s because his opponent is cheating.”

“Not always! Just when they are,” he replies with exaggerated emphasis before scooping a piece of cake onto a plate. “I’m gonna go hide this in the fridge for him for later before it’s all gone.”

Eddie ducks his head and smiles down at his plate, and the questions are building up behind Helena’s teeth again.

Christopher’s been playing video games all this time? Is it an age-appropriate game? Why is Buck checking on your son? Why is Buck saving him cake when nobody asked him to? Why—

But Eddie looks up with an uncertain expression and says, “there’s a table out there if you guys want to join me.”

So Helena stows her questions and says, “that’d be great.”

They eat the overly-sweet cake in peaceful silence until Ramon casts an eye around and says, “you must be glad about the new firefighter. You won’t be the baby on the team anymore.”

Eddie snorts. “I’m 33 and my kid is nearly a teenager — and that’s totally not freaking me out at all,” he adds wryly. “Besides, I was never the baby of the team. Buck is younger than me and forever a kid at heart so I was never in any danger of it.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me that Christopher’s growing up,” Helena only half-jokes. “I can still barely believe he’s old enough to hold his own head up.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and Helena banks it as a win.

“Do any of your coworkers have teenagers?” Ramon asks. “Might have some words of wisdom to share.” Since you won’t ask us, is unspoken and politely ignored by all.

“Athena’s daughter May is just leaving the teen years now, but after her, Christopher’s the oldest. Harry, Athena’s son is 9 and Denny, Hen and Karen’s son just turned 8. It’s great for play dates but not for getting advice on what’s coming up unfortunately.”

“Karen,” Ramon echoes.

Eddie’s fork pauses on its way to scoop some excess icing off his cake and his back straightens.

“Hen’s wife,” he says curtly, daring.

Helena wants to roll her eyes at the posturing. It’s 2021, who cares who anybody loves. She knows Ramon doesn’t, not really, not anymore. It’s a 50-year-long reflex to make a comment, one they’ve been working, if only to have some semblance of a civil conversation with Sophia while she works through a degree in women and gender studies.

But she knows that excuse isn’t going to fly with Eddie.

It hasn’t flown since Eddie was 20 years old and realizing he’d lost a good friend to his father’s caustic words. And Helena can’t ever go back and examine the hurt in Eddie’s expression with fresh eyes. Shemanages to forget about it most of the time until something happens to dig it out of the cold, hard ground and shove it in her arms.

Mom, listen...

But she’s come to LA because she wants to be in her son’s life, in her grandson’s life and she can’t be a coward now.

“They’re a gorgeous couple,” she says, almost too loudly in her enthusiasm. “Are they thinking of having more kids?”

Eddie turns his assessing eyes to her and is mollified by her effort. “Yeah, they’re foster parents now. They’ve fostered three kids so far.”

“That’s great,” she says sincerely. Then, accidentally on purpose and only in part to bring Ramon back to a safe topic, she asks, “Does Ana want a large family?”

Eddie sees through her attempt, but nods. “Yeah, she loves kids.”

Helena doesn’t miss Ramon’s approving nod, or the dark look that passes over Eddie’s eyes when he catches it.

“Was Ana not able to come tonight?” Ramon asks.

“I didn’t ask her,” he answers, his voice a shade too casual. “This is more of a team thing.” As if they hadn’t just been discussing the other families all around them.

“That Ana—” Ramon begins but is interrupted by the arrival of Christopher with a hint of blue icing on his nose and Buck following behind him with two paper plates filled with cake.

Christopher sits backwards on the picnic table bench and uses his arms to lift his legs over while Eddie watches but doesn’t offer to help, and when Christopher is set, Buck places one of the plates in front of him with a plastic fork stuck in the top like a flag.

“Buck was finally able to pull you away, mijo?” Eddie asks as Christopher digs in.

“No, May took her room back so we can’t play on her tv anymore. Harry’s gonna ask his mom if we can play in her room.”

“Yeah...” Buck draws out, sharing a dubious expression with Eddie over Christopher’s head, “I wouldn’t hold out for that, bud.”

“Maybe you can teach the others how to play Scrabble!” Eddie suggests.

Christopher’s nose wrinkles, “Scrabble is boring.”

“Hey!” Buck protests and takes a forkful of Christopher’s cake in retaliation, which prompts Christopher to yell and attack Buck’s cake back, taking much more than a forkful.

The commotion draws attention to their table and Helena’s gearing up to tell Christopher to settle down when she catches Eddie’s eyes on her, waiting.

Helena looks back out to the backyard to say, People are staring.

Eddie looks back impassively as if to say, Let them.

Mom, listen...

Helena swallows her impatience, her anxiety, her embarrassment.

“Hey,” Buck calls, his mouth half full of icing, “did you take your 6?”

Eddie hesitates and that’s enough for Buck to swallow and look put out, already turning and lifting a leg out of the confines of the picnic table.

“Did you turn off your alarm again?”

“I didn’t turn it off the first time, I don’t know what happened.”

“What happened is it woke you up at 6am and you turned it off because sleepy Eddie makes bad life choices.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You don’t have —”

“Right pocket?” Buck interjects, already walking away.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs.

Christopher looks at him and shakes his head with exaggerated disappointment.

“Don’t you start,” Eddie warns, scooping a fingertip of icing and dabbing it on his son’s nose too quickly for him to duck.

Christopher shrieks and reaches for his cake fingers-first.

“Oh no, no,” Eddie laughs, catching Christopher’s fingers with one hand. “Truce, truce.”

Christopher doesn’t look interested in a truce and Eddie’s other arm is in a sling, so Ramon quickly pulls the cake out of Christopher’s reach, and then Buck’s abandoned piece and Helena does the same with Eddie’s.

“Not fair!” Christopher cries, still reaching.

“Your dad’s hurt, mijo, you can’t attack him with icing while he’s healing,” Ramon says reasonably. “Wait till he’s all better.”

“He’s fine!” Christopher declares with the confidence of a trauma surgeon as he tries to climb up on the bench.

Eddie’s not in a position to pull him back down and Helena doesn’t know how far they can take their non-interference but she’s not about to let her grandson hop over a table to fall into three plates of cake. She’s half-decided she’s going to pick up the cake and walk it back inside when Buck returns, depositing a glass of water on the table and a small white pill into Eddie’s palm before swooping in and tickling Christopher’s sides.

He shrieks loudly, gaining looks from all around the backyard, but it gets his butt back down on the bench and Buck sits back down next to him, boxing him in between himself and Eddie.

“What happened to our cake? How’d it get all the way over there?” The plates are very easily within Buck’s reach; it’s a question for Christopher’s benefit.

“Dad got me like you did!” Christopher cries indignantly, pointing to his nose. “I’m getting him back!”

“Oh man,” Buck nods seriously before his finger darts forward, swipes the icing from his nose and brings it to his mouth. “Mmm, this is better than the one I got you with. You sure you don’t just wanna eat it?”

Christopher looks unconvinced.

“How about this?” Buck ducks down to whisper loudly. “You call a truce with your dad, and then I’ll steal all his icing and we’ll eat it.”

The icing on Eddie’s cake is mostly piled in a corner of his paper plate. He’s never been able to stomach the pure sugary sweetness of store bought icing.

“Okay,” Christopher nods back, reaching out again for his plate but without making grabby hands.

Ramon assesses him for a moment before taking the chance to push the plates back within reach.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck calls deliberately. “You should take your medication now.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Eddie replies with a smile that conveys an eyeroll. “I’ll do that now.”

While Eddie pops the pill and takes a very long drink of water, Buck “sneakily” pulls his plate towards them and scoops all the piled icing onto his own plate before pushing the cake back to Eddie’s side of the table.

Christopher laughs and pushes Eddie’s plate an extra few inches away out of spite.

Eddie plays the disappointed victim passably well with a half-hearted gasp and a shake of his head. “You little thieves.”

As promised, Buck doles out some of Eddie’s icing to Christopher who immediately protests at the amount left on Buck’s plate.

“Hey, when you’re a big guy like me, you get more icing. Keep eating your proteins and you’ll get there in no time.”

Christopher accepts that easily enough. “I’m gonna be tall like dad.”

Buck scoffs, “Aim higher, kid. Literally.”

“I am barely two inches shorter than you,” Eddie laments, not for the first time, it sounds like.

“It’s practically three. Are you really going to lie in front of your parents?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, is on Helena’s tongue because it’s been hours since she could speak her mind, but she holds it in.

“How was the trip from Texas?” Buck asks them suddenly, bringing them back into the fold of a scene they'd never left but somehow stopped being a part of. “Flights have new restrictions on them now, don’t they?”

Mom, listen...

When the party is winding down and they walk outside to the driveway, Eddie surprises them by offering them both a hug.

“Thank you for coming,” he says sincerely, though Helena hears the underlying “and behaving” and can’t help but bristle.

“Thank you for inviting us, mijo,” Ramon says; his turn to save Helena from herself.

And when Eddie lets them know he and Chris will be getting their ride back from Buck, Ramon takes Helena’s hand and they smile almost sincerely as they say their goodnights.

—————-

The next week happens to be Isabel’s 80th birthday and Helena and Ramon keep themselves busy by helping to throw a party that will reunite every vaccinated member of the family in the area (they’re not about to take a chance on Isabel’s health).

Things have been getting better with Eddie. They had a second therapy session, again at Isabel’s island counter, where they lasted a good 25 minutes before devolving into yelling. The next day, Eddie asked Ramon for a ride to physical therapy, and easily accepted his father’s offer of lunch after the appointment.

Then, when Helena asked if she could pick up some groceries for him and Christopher, she was refused — in no small part, she thinks, because he still won’t let them in his house — but instead of going off on him, she channeled that anger and resentment into nearly buying out Costco for Isabel’s party. It felt like progress Dr. Jamieson would be proud of.

That’s why, despite the party officially kicking off around 11am, they’re just past supper time and all tables and counters are still nearly buckling under the weight of the food. They’ll have to send everyone home with leftovers if the flow of people stops. Isabel’s front door has been a turnstile since this morning and Helena knows from experience it’ll likely stay that way until the late hours of the night. Most recently, Helena’s daughters made their appearance, and it’s not at all the reason Helena is back in the kitchen.

Despite coming from opposite ends with different travel distances, Adriana and Sophia arrived within a half hour of each other, a move Helena saw through instantly. The idea that her children coordinated to arrive together instead of risking the possibility of facing their parents alone sets a fire raging in her heart, and she realizes suddenly that she isn’t prepared to be hypervigilant of her every word with all three of her kids here now to push her buttons.

So, she retreats to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect one of them to follow her in.

“I heard you guys were doing therapy,” Adriana volleys as she approaches.

Helena cracks open the tray of chocolate chip cookies and starts plating them, her face angled down so any kneejerk expression of distaste isn’t as visible. “Apparently, that’s what the cool kids do nowadays.”

“It is,” Adriana agrees, the bangles on her wrists clinking on the countertop as she reaches for the box of oatmeal cookies to plate. She’s a year into her Master’s in communication. What she intends to do with that is a mystery to them. So much of their kids’ lives are a mystery now. Helena closes the lid of the cookie tray hard and relishes in the snap of the plastic groove into the tongue.

“Paying a stranger to tell us when and how to talk to each other is cool,” she bites. It’s not posed as a question, just a bitter acknowledgement.

Adriana is quiet and Helena starts plating mini quiches onto the cookie platter just to stay occupied while her daughter walks away. Sophia is a yeller, she stands her ground and gives as good as she gets. Adriana, however, is a runner, just like Eddie.

But Adriana doesn’t leave in a huff. She turns to the counter and grabs a second platter, moving the mini quiches onto that one.

“It’s cool that you’re open to trying,” she says. “I think that, in any family where there’s love, there’s going to be hurt. And the longer we stay stuck in that hurt, the harder it becomes to talk about it without causing more. We get stuck in patterns that we can’t break out of, and people on the outside can be the best ones to point out those patterns and help you break out of them to get to what you actually, truly want to say.”

Helena knows what she actually, truly wants to say. That’s not the problem. The problem is that none of her kids want to hear it.

“I see a therapist,” Adriana continues. Helena stills and looks at her daughter, calmly arranging the mini quiches into concentric circles. “Since my last year of undergrad. When things got really hard and I couldn’t understand why. They helped me. A lot. Helped me figure out what was wrong and how to get myself through it.”

“You didn’t tell us,” Helena says, her voice thick.

“I know,” her daughter replies simply. “I didn’t know how. I’m telling you now because what I actually, truly want to say is that I’m proud of you and dad for doing this. And maybe if you don’t hate it...maybe we could try a session later too.”

There’s an offer in her daughter’s words, an open hand reaching out. But in that hand, Helena sees her failures as a parent, the judgement of the world for failing her kids, and she doesn’t want to reach her own hand out.

Mom, listen…

Helena looks at her eldest daughter, almost a stranger to her, with an entire life Helena is only starting to realize she has no part in. It hurts — it always hurts when the kids pull away but to realize she didn’t even know the extent of it...she wants to hurt back.

Mom, listen…

But she’s trying so hard to break those patterns Adriana speaks of. So instead, Helena thinks of the therapist’s advice leading them into a piece of Eddie’s life they wouldn’t have otherwise gotten to see and swallows past the indignation in her throat to reach down and find the words she actually, truly wants to say.

“You say when, and I’ll be there.”

———-

The sun is setting when Helena finally agrees to get off her feet and just enjoy the party outside while the cousins take over the serving and cleaning. There are four generations of Diazes gathered around but for the first time ever, most of the cousins are young adults, not teenagers, and it’s nice to be able to pass on the hosting responsibilities to them for a bit.

The sky is clear, the sunset resplendent from Isabel’s backyard, and the conversation is flowing easily. It’s a beautiful evening, warm with a gentle breeze cool enough to let her lean back against Ramon in his lounge chair, one of his arms wrapped loosely around her hip.

For the first time since getting Isabel’s text, Helena feels something like peace wash over her and she almost feels bad for the thrum of vindication in her stomach when she spots Eddie slumped comfortably in an armchair, his legs propped up on another chair.

He’s at home here.

Yes, he was at ease at his captain’s house but this is family, this is where he can really sink into the love and comfort and rest. With his aunts and uncles, cousins and sisters around to take care of him. And Christopher, who spent the afternoon running around and chomping down on all the sugar he could get his hands on, slumped against him, nearly asleep. This is family.

She knows he could find that peace back in El Paso, they both could. Eddie had friends there, and his parents, who knew his son better than he did for most of his life. And there are fires in El Paso same as there are in LA, but less smog, less general insanity.

But Eddie’s a lot like his parents, too much like them maybe, and once he’s decided on a course of action he can’t be swayed. So Helena has made peace with it. Rather, she’s made peace with pretending to be okay with it while she waits for him to come to the realization that he should move back.

And in the meantime, if they can mend this thorniness between them, then maybe she and Ramon can make more of these impromptu trips. Maybe even convince Eddie to come home for Christmas this year. At the very least, go back to regular video chats.

But all that ruminating feels far away right now. She’s moving gently with the rise and fall of Ramon’s chest, and she’s so close to slipping away to the feeling of contentment when a new arrival makes her open eyes she didn’t realize she’d closed.

“Feliz cumpleanos,” she hears someone say in half-decent Spanish from the front door on the other side of the side yard fence.

She doesn’t recognize the voice as yet another cousin or uncle, but Eddie shakes Christopher’s shoulder gently, and says, “hey, guess who’s here.”

It takes a moment, but the words penetrate Christopher’s sleepiness. His eyes pop open and he shimmies out of Eddie’s lap and into his crutches to power walk over to the gate just in time for it to open, admitting Isabel, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a sheepish looking Buck behind her.

“Buck!” Christopher yells.

Buck’s smile widens and he immediately opens his arms. “Hey, superman!”

Buck crouches down and Christopher throws his arms around his neck, crutches and all. When it’s time to break apart, Christopher’s still hanging on and Helena feels a stab of dark vindication at what’s about to happen, and the look Ramon sends her way tells her she’s not alone. Because Christopher is now officially in the double digits, and while he’s always been an independent kid, becoming 10 years old was a big deal for him and his perceived level of maturity, and apparently the year he decided no one was allowed to carry him anymore.

And now Christopher’s tired and in the grip of a powerful sugar crash. He’s not going to suffer any indignities, and Helena knows she should feel bad about not trying to stop Buck. About just watching this play out to see him be rejected. But she wasn’t expecting to see him here, in this safe haven of Isabel’s backyard, in this space for family and loved ones, and it rankles her. It feels like everywhere she turns in LA, she finds him there. And his being here is just another nail in the coffin of Eddie stubbornly refusing to let his parents back into his home. That he would call his friend to this party just to avoid letting them give him a ride…

So she’s a little bitter, a little resentful of the persistent, low-key rejection. Sue her. Eddie has made it clear he doesn’t want them interfering anyway so this is on him.

“Christopher,” Eddie calls, a warning to not make a scene.

Buck looks over Christopher’s shoulder and smiles. “He’s fine,” he says.

Then he’s heaving Christopher’s body up into his arms and onto his hip and Christopher…

...Christopher slumps down over Buck’s shoulder like a baby koala. No sound of protest leaves his lips. His face, if it shows any displeasure, is hidden behind Buck’s neck.

And when Eddie gets up, it’s not to intercede, it’s only to grab the errant crutches before they hit something, and to pull his own armless chair out for Buck to sit on because apparently Buck is staying, and apparently Christopher is staying with him.

“He’s a bit old to be carried around, no?” Ramon says with a bite, because he can’t help himself.

Eddie, who’s been watching his son fondly, barely bats an eye. “He gets cuddly when he’s tired, and Buck’s nearly the only one left who’s big enough to carry him.”

“Ah, that’s why you spend so much time developing these,” Pepa says with a sly smile as she pinches at Buck’s bicep. The same familiar pinch she gave her own grandkids’ cheeks.

“Gracias a Dios,” Isabel adds meaningfully.

“That was adrenaline,” Eddie dismisses with a teasing grin.

“That was 100 squats and 50 pushups a day,” Buck returns blithely. “...and maybe a little adrenaline.”

“What’s this?” Ramon asks before she can.

Instead of prompting more teasing, the mood falls slightly and everyone looks to each other.

Finally, Eddie sighs. “When I got shot, Buck army crawled under a ladder truck to get me out and lifted me into the truck to get to the hospital.”

It strikes Helena suddenly, shamefully, that in the shock of finding out they’d missed the event itself, the hospital stay, and two entire weeks of healing, that they’d never circled back around for details on what actually went down the day it happened.

She never thought to wonder how he got off that street. How he got to the hospital. Who might have saved his life.

And she wishes she were a better person then. Wishes that learning Buck saved her son’s life overpowered her irritation at having him sitting here in Isabel’s backyard like he belonged here when Helena herself barely felt like she did herself. It does help, though.

“They released the street footage of the shooting,” Pepa continues quietly. “It’s on YouTube. Before I even knew it happened, Marguerita from church just sent me a link saying ‘they said it’s a Diaz, do you know him?’ and I saw.”

The idea of her son’s shooting being passed around like a cat video makes Helena sick, but Pepa lamenting how she hadn’t known when she learned about it in a matter of hours and sat on it for weeks…

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Pepa says decisively. “But they have an angle where you can see our Buck here go and get Eddie, pick him up like he doesn’t weigh a thing and get him into the truck to get to the hospital. Probably why he’s alive today. So gracias a Dios for those squats.”

Eddie and Buck are both looking away, both looking safely at Christopher while the table digests the news.

“If you were looking for a story of something really dumb, I can point you in the direction of another video of Buck,” Eddie says, his tone jovial but his eyes strained.

“You need to let that go,” Buck says in a definite whine.

“Do I?” Eddie asks. “Abuela did you see the video of the firefighter who went up the crane all alone?”

“Dios mío, Buck,” Pepa laments.

“Did you send it to me?” Abuela asks her, pulling out her phone and her glasses to check.

“No, mamá, it was an idiot firefighter but I didn’t realize it was the one we knew.”

“In the middle of an all-out declaration of war on firefighters,” Eddie begins, quietly for Christopher’s sake, but impassioned, sitting up in his chair, “this idiota and his squat count climbed up a crane ladder, completely exposed and defenseless—”

Buck looks pained. “I was wearing a bulletproof vest and a helmet. And that’s the job sometimes—”

“The paramedics’ job, actually, which you aren’t. So, no, that wasn’t the job.” Eddie’s tone edges into something darker without his meaning to. He takes a drink of his lemonade looking for all the world like he wished it was a beer. “And you know that or I wouldn’t have found out about it from Chim a month after the fact.”

Helena clenches her jaw tight and squeezes Ramon’s hand even tighter so neither of them can say, So you have a problem being left in the dark too?

“Buck,” Isabel sighs with disappointment.

Buck winces. “It was before— ” He cuts himself off, his wide eyes darting towards Helena and Ramon of all people.

“Hmm,” Isabel answers noncommittally, as if to end the conversation.

Just then, Sophia brings out a platter of bite-sized desserts, making the rounds of the whole circle for people to pick at before leaving it on the table. The opportunity to move on is there. That doesn’t mean they’re interested in taking it.

“Before what?” Ramon asks, his tone is forcibly casual.

The silence that greets Ramon’s question is heavy. Guilty. When Helena casts her eyes around, she’s greeted by stiff shoulders and a mix of apprehension shared between her son, her mother- and sister-in-law, and Buck.

Mom, listen...

“Before what?” Helena repeats, her voice uncompromising.

———-

The fight they have in Isabel’s guest bedroom is a Hall of Famer. It’s a screaming match, no doubt about it. The doors from the bedroom to the yard are all closed but there’s no question every member of the family — and Buck — can hear every word.

“Do you really hate us that much?” Helena demands. She’s crying but she doesn’t know if it’s heartbreak or fury, she just wishes it’d stop so she could lean into her anger. “Genuinely, honestly, Eddie.”

“I don’t hate you,” he protests, keeping his own voice down, making it seem like they’re irrational for their anger.

“Bullshit,” she spits.

“You must!” Ramon adds. “You hate us so much that you have to hate your sisters too? Your cousins? You would rather leave your only son to a stranger, some gringo coworker, than with family? That’s how much you hate us? Hate our name?”

“Our name?” Eddie shoots back incredulously. “What are you talking about, our name? We’re not royalty, papi, and Chris’ name would never change.”

“You would leave him to your coworker,” Helena stresses, disgust dripping from her tongue.

“To my best friend,” Eddie retorts, “who Christopher adores, if you haven’t noticed. And who adores Christopher right back.”

“That’s not normal, mijo,” Ramon warns.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie seethes. “Please do not star—”

“What kind of single adult man bonds with another man’s child like that?”

“You’re describing a tío, you understand that right? What, you think it’s weird that Pepa loves me like her own? You think Sophia should stay away from Chris too?”

“That’s family,” Helena argues.

“And they’re women!”

“Ramon, shut up,” Helena snaps.

“Buck is our family, and he’s a man, and he’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. If anything happened to me, Christopher would be taken care of like if I was still here.”

“Buck, the one who nearly got him killed in the tsunami? That’s the same guy right?” Ramon throws out, his eyes a little wild as he paces.

“The one who saved his life in that tsunami, despite being injured and then some. And the one who’s saved my life more times than I can count, including from being gunned down on the street. We’d both probably be dead if not f— ”

“Isn’t he the one who’s family is worse off than ours?” Helena recalls. “So he has no family, no support, no girlfriend even! So a worse position than you’re in now. That’s what you want to leave him with.”

“He doesn’t need a girlfriend to raise Christopher right, I don’t! And he has a great sister, he has the 118, he has Carla, and he has our family. You think Abuela and Pepa would shut the door on him? He’d be here every Sunday, with Christopher, just like I am.”

“And what does your girlfriend think of this?” Ramon presses. “The vice principal, she thinks this is normal?”

“Ana doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Eddie says, frowning.

Helena balks. “You think the woman you’ve been seeing seriously for nearly a year has nothing to do with long-term decisions about your son? You think maybe she wouldn’t want the option of taking Christopher in if something happened to you?”

“That’s not happening, he’s going to Buck and that’s final.”

“What’s going on with you and this gringo?” Ramon asks suspiciously. “Are you even going out with Ana or was that another lie?”

“Ramon, don’t go there,” Helena sighs, her heart clenching. That’s all they need in this clusterfuck, that layer of pain.

“No, let’s go there because you know what?” Eddie asks darkly. “There is no one on this planet I trust with my son more than Buck and yeah, if we need to lay it all out there, that includes the two of you. I know you love Christopher, just like I know Shannon loved him, but that’s not always going to be enough. Buck isn’t going to fill my son’s head with ideas about the wrong kind of way to love someone. He’s not going to tell him he’s not good enough for his family to love him or support him. Buck’s going to make sure Christopher grows up to follow his heart and find whatever makes him happiest in the world, no matter what that looks like.”

“How could you think—”

“What if he grows up to be gay?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring his father down. “You’re telling me you’re going to be the one to help him pick out a suit to go to prom with his boyfriend?”

Ramon purses his lips but tries, “it’s a different world now,” as if he hadn’t just tried to make crass insinuations just to hurt his son.

“Okay,” Eddie says, not believing him for a moment, “what if he’s trans? Tells you at 15 that he’s a girl and he wants to transition. You’re going to get him on hormone therapy?”

“Eddie that’s not—”

“What if he’s 20 and he tells you he got a girl pregnant by accident and he doesn’t know her enough to love her, and he’s not ready to be a father let alone a husband?”

Helena tries to speak but her throat is suddenly too tight for words to get out.

“You gonna tell him he’s not a man if he doesn’t marry her anyway?”

Ramon says nothing.

“Christopher is going to Buck, and that’s final.”

——————-

Helena and Ramon don’t show up for the third therapy session.

Their plane tickets were only for three weeks, originally, and as the days run out, they don’t talk about extensions.

———-

Helena is sitting out in Isabel’s backyard, trying to conjure up that feeling of serenity she got to bask in for all of two minutes the night of the birthday party.

It’s not working.

They’re going back to El Paso tomorrow, leaving their relationship with Eddie in worse straits than when they arrived.

There’s always been a tension between them and Eddie, but there’s also always been love and respect, and that love and respect formed a polite barrier around the things they couldn’t talk about. It kept their relationship safe. Kept them from getting too close to real honesty where things hurt in ways that couldn’t be walked back.

It feels now like that barrier has fallen. That Eddie’s finally reached the limit of what he could hold back and now there’s nothing to help them pretend everything is okay. Nothing to help Helena believe this is all something that could blow over.

That’s to say nothing of Christopher, who’s never felt as far away as he does now, even while they linger in the same city, only a couple dozen blocks away.

Helena scrolls listlessly through her phone’s camera roll for the last few weeks. There are pictures of Christopher mostly, but Eddie and the rest of the family are there too. It hurts to notice how Eddie is markedly happier in the shots where he’s looking away from the camera. Away from her.

Mom, listen…

Helena opens up Instagram and lets herself forget for a moment that anything is wrong. On Instagram, there is only joy and fun. And Buck.

Eddie hasn’t posted anything to his account in months but starting from the end and working backwards, Buck features heavily. He’s in at least a third of the pictures, usually with Christopher. One of the posts includes a short video that she watches. It’s of the day they unveiled the adapted skateboard, and it nourishes her soul. There’s no sadness here, or tension, only pure radiating happiness and excitement. It’s magical.

And it’s meaningful.

Mom, listen…

Helena is out of her chair and pocketing Isabel’s car keys before she can talk herself out of it. The drive to Eddie’s house is made with a carefully blank mind. She knows if she lets herself think about what she’s going to say, she’s going to spiral and get to a place where all this fear and sadness turn dark and ugly, and she can’t afford to risk it.

Finally, she’s knocking gently on a front door she’s only seen three times in the weeks she’s been here.

Buck answers the door.

————-

The house is quiet when Helena steps in.

She doesn’t bother taking her shoes off this time, she’s not sure how long she’ll be allowed to stay. But she notices that the space where her shoes would have gone is taken up by a pair of large boots she imagines fit perfectly on Buck’s feet.

Buck disappears into the living room and she follows quietly after him. The lights are off but the muted tv glows brightly enough for her to see Eddie reclined on his back on the couch, sleeping, and Buck sitting down on the edge of the coffee table to shake his arm.

Eddie’s always been a light sleeper, especially after the army and Christopher. He doesn’t wake easily now.

He’s wearing the sling, but it’s the only indication that anything is amiss with him. There’s no sign of pain or worry on his face, no tension in his shoulders. He’s practically melted into the recesses of the couch. He’s a picture of comfort. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s in his home, away from family, from expectations, and judgements. Just him and Christopher. And Buck.

Eddie finally takes a deep breath that shows his body is coming around but his eyes stay closed. Buck is murmuring something but she only catches, “ — mom — here.”

Then, at last, Eddie’s eyelids part, and the deep laxness of his body disappears almost in the blink of an eye.

“What?” he croaks, already trying to sit up.

Buck’s hands are already moving to support his back.

“ — says she wants to apologize.”

Eddie scoffs and sits upright, feet firmly planted on the floor as he blinks himself awake.

“Mom?”

“I’m here,” she says, stepping closer into the light of the tv.

Buck catches Eddie’s eye and they have an entire conversation in five silent seconds that ends with Buck nodding and getting up from the table, watching Helena warily as she approaches further.

“Watch your eyes,” Buck says quietly to Eddie before flipping the wall switch and illuminating the room. He lingers for a moment, clearly undecided about leaving, before saying, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Finally, Helena is alone with her son in his home. The quiet is almost peaceful, she doesn’t want to break it. Eddie does instead.

“Buck said you wanted to apologize, so I’m assuming he misheard,” Eddie says wryly.

There are pillow creases on the side of his face and Helena can’t remember the last time she saw him look so disheveled, so at home. It makes her heart ache for the days when she’d have to force him out of bed at noon on weekends, drive him to wrestling practice early in the morning, watch over him as he slept sometimes, just to make sure he was okay.

“Shockingly, no,” she smiles sadly.

Eddie blinks up at her for a moment before shifting down on the couch, leaving her some room to sit. She takes the invitation, but once she’s sitting down with Eddie’s full attention on her, she realizes not preparing what she wanted to say might have been a mistake. She has no idea where to begin. What scab to pick at that won’t cause more bleeding.

Then she remembers Adriana’s words.

What is it, under all the posturing, all the hurt feelings, all the history and baggage...what is it she actually, truly wants to say?

“I’m sorry I missed therapy.”

Eddie huffs a surprised laugh. “Of all the things…”

“I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “But I am. I…” She forces herself to slow down and consider her words. “I realize that therapy was an olive branch for you. One we took way too late and I’m...I’m just so fucking grateful we were able to take it at all, in the end.”

The tears are coming and there’s nothing she can do to stop them. They gather in the corner of her eyes and she tries to blink them away but has to settle for wiping away the ones that fall anyway.

“You were right,” she says. “You said — and your sister said, and the therapist said — that there’s a lot of hurt, and it’s become too hard to...to connect with each other because of it. And therapy is probably the only bridge through that. So even though I was pissed at you, I should have showed up.”

She hazards a look up at Eddie to find his brown eyes wide and cautiously wondering.

“Therapy is what’s going to help us and the only way to fail at it is to not show up.” It’s what the therapist had said in their first session. It had sounded like an easy thing to do then. “And that’s not okay. I’m not going to do that again.”

Eddie nods and looks away. His fingernails are flicking nervously against each other — a habit he picked up from her. “Is dad on the same page as you?”

Helena takes a deep breath, and blows out, “No, your dad is looking for a match to light the page on fire.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but there’s heavy hurt behind the indifference.

“I hid all of them,” Helena offers, “and left Abuela with the fire extinguisher.”

That gets a small smile.

“I really expected you to be more pissed about it than him,” Eddie says, he reclines against the arm of the sofa but no part of him looks comfortable with this conversation.

“Oh, I am—” The rage swells up in her. The outrage and indignation. But again, Adriana’s voice comes to her. “I...am...really, truly hurt, Eddie. I feel...I feel like you told me I’m not good enough to love Christopher how he needs.”

Eddie’s face collapses with disbelief. “You mean the way you’ve been making me feel since he was born? Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Since the moment Shannon got pregnant, you’ve both been hammering it in on us that we’d never be enough, we’d never be good enough for him. Why do you think I joined the army? Why do you think Shannon ran?”

The accusation makes her breathless, it makes that familiar rage bubble up closer to the surface. “Shannon made her own choices, you’re not going to pin that on us. And so did you.”

“No, I can’t pin that on you. She did choose to leave,” he concedes, his voice hardening. “But you spent five years telling her over and over that nothing she ever did was good enough, and when I got back you did the same to me! ‘Don’t drag him down with you.’ Does that ring any bells?”

“I spent five years helping her, being a second parent to Christopher when she was in over her head. She needed help. She wasn’t cut out—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Eddie agrees. “Neither of us were. We were stupid fucking kids who barely knew each other. She was supposed to get back on a plane to California when the semester was done and instead we got married in the backyard because you told us that’s what we had to do.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. You want to blame me for Christopher being born? For raising him in a family with two parents?”

“You’re not listening,” Eddie spits.

“I’m listening to you say over and over how I ruined your life because I didn’t let Shannon get an abortion. And that’s somehow the reason to keep us out of Christopher’s life now?”

“No, you’re not—” Eddie closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. “I love Christopher with everything I am. If I had the chance to go back and do everything differently, I wouldn’t. I would never. Being his father is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I was a kid in over my head and my parents didn’t know what was best for me. Didn’t know how to help me. And I figured that out on my own, I grew up and became the man I am now on my own.” She wants to argue but he’s on a roll. “And that’s fine, no parent is perfect. I know I’m going to make mistakes and I hope to god Christopher can forgive me, so I need to forgive you yours. But I need you to see me, now. I need you to look at me and realize I’m not that kid you put in a suit in the backyard. I’m not the kid that signed up to get shot at instead of facing his life. I’m not that kid anymore, mom. I’m not.”

“I see that, Eddie.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t constantly be telling me I need to move back to El Paso to take proper care of Christopher. You’d see that our lives are here now. I have a job I love and pays what we need. Christopher loves his school, his friends. He’s a popular, genius kid. He’s happy. I’m happy. And we’re doing good. But you don’t see that. You see that dumbass, scared kid making his next mistakes. And I’m sorry but I’m not going to let you drag me back into that spiral. If you need to be the parent to that kid, I can’t be the kid you’re parenting. I’ve grown up, mom.”

“So,” Helena clears her throat, hoping the waver in it will clear too. “That’s what the guardianship is? We...lost sight of you growing up. We didn’t give you what you needed. So you’re punishing us?”

Eddie sighs as if she didn’t understand.

“No, you know what? No, I’m sorry,” she switches tracks, her voice hard, “how are we supposed to see this new person you’ve become, Eddie? You left El Paso, left us behind, you won’t come home for holidays, you even stopped posting on Instagram, and when we come here to see you’re alive you won’t even let us into your home. So how? How are we supposed to see this magical transformation when you won’t let us in?”

Eddie watches her for a moment, weighing his words. “You show up for therapy.”

And that takes the wind out of her sails.

That’s what she came here for.

To apologize.

Not keep yelling.

Mom, listen…

Helena takes two deep breaths and crooks a smile. “Yeah.”

“You yell a lot.”

Christopher’s voice startles them both, pulling a short grunt of pain from Eddie as his shoulder jerks back. Christopher is leaning against the wall into the living room, wearing the disgruntled pout of someone who was woken up for no good reason.

“Christopher…” Eddie begins, trying to leverage himself off the couch.

Helena pushes him back down, and turns to Christopher, opening her arms.

“I do,” Helena admits softly, as Christopher comes over and leans into her side. “I do yell a lot. I’m...trying to yell less.”

“Dad never yells.”

Eddie smiles tiredly.

“Hmm,” Helena agrees, “I think there’s a lot of things I need to learn from your daddy.”

Christopher nods, his eyes drooping. “He’s the best,” he says, snuggling into her shoulder. She’s getting on a plane tomorrow so she takes the opportunity to relish in this hug, and press a long kiss on his curls.

“Ah, I thought I heard an escape artist on the prowl,” Buck says as he turns the corner.

“We woke him up,” Eddie says redundantly. “We’ll keep it quiet now, buddy.”

“K,” Christopher mumbles.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you back to bed” Buck says quietly as he leans over to carefully scoop him into his arms. Christopher’s arms loop around his neck like he’s done it a million times, and his head falls to Buck’s shoulder.

“Buck’s the best too,” Christopher mumbles.

Buck’s ducks his face away.

“That’s what I hear,” Helena allows in a tone she hopes is gracious.

As they leave, they can hear Christopher say, “they stole your bed.”

Buck responds but it’s too quiet for them to follow the rest of the conversation.

Eddie ducks his head and sighs.

“That’s why you were keeping us away?” Helena asks, her voice more gentle than she thought she could muster at this point. “Because Buck’s crashing on your couch?”

Now that she’s looking, she spots the folded duvet stacked on the chair in the corner, the pillows tucked neatly below. It only makes her more aware that she found Eddie sleeping soundly on the very same couch.

“I didn’t — I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want dad’s look, the same look he has every time Buck comes up. The same look—” Eddie sighs harshly. “I didn’t feel like fielding questions. He was here for Christopher when I was in the hospital and when I came home… He helps. A lot.”

Helena nods pensively, and surprises herself by finding a kernel of gratitude towards Buck burgeoning in her chest.

“So, speaking of fucking up as parents,” she begins with a crooked smile that fades by the end of the phrase. She doesn’t know how to finish that sentence so she starts a new one. “The...hurt that piles up, that makes it hard to talk through...does some of it come from Matty?”

She can see an instinct flare up in her son to shake his head and dismiss the topic, but he doesn’t let it take hold. It’s time to face this.

“It didn’t help,” he admits.

Eddie and Matty met in sixth grade and became best friends almost instantly. They spent weekends in sleepovers, fought off other classmates to be each others’ group project partners, and spent every summer going to the same camps. Matty was an honorary Diaz before they even hit their teens.

Five years later, Matty came out to his family, and then to theirs. His parents took it well, Eddie’s parents didn’t.

The sleepovers stopped, the summer camps stopped, and if Ramon could have sent Eddie to another class he would have.

The day he came out to them was the last day he stepped foot in the Diaz home, a natural consequence of Ramon having run him out with caustic, angry words.

“We…” Helena licks her lips and looks away to gather her thoughts. “There’s a lot of reasons we reacted the way we did. Ignorance, more than anything. It really was a different world back then. But...the world has kept turning, things have kept changing and we can’t pretend to be ignorant anymore.” She looks Eddie in the eye to say, “we were wrong. We were wrong to chase him away. And if the day comes that Christopher is gay or trans or any of the other words we haven’t learned yet, we’re going to love him just as much as we do now.”

Eddie keeps her gaze for a moment before nodding. “I’m glad to hear it.” The way his shoulders gather near his ears says he doesn’t believe her though he’s trying.

Because when Eddie and Matty stood shoulder to shoulder to tell Ramon and Helena the news, Matty wasn’t the only one crushed. And they know, somewhere deep down, that their reaction was as extreme as it was because they were never fully sure if the hurt in Eddie’s eyes was on behalf of his best friend, or if they exploded before more news could be told.

And it still scares Helena to this day, to this very moment sitting on her son’s couch. It’s why they welcomed Shannon at first, the first girl Eddie really brought home, even though they didn’t approve of her overall.

But she knows now that there’s nothing anymore, not her pride, not her ignorance, that will stop her from trying to bridge the gap between them. So she continues deliberately, “and if this new, grown up version of you comes with any of those words, we’re not going to love you any less either.”

His eyes widen and for a moment she’s looking at her 17 year old son in the living room, eyes wide as Matty runs out of the house. She wishes this moment could replace that one, stamp out that mistake forever. But it can’t, so she has to make this one count even more.

“I’ll still be here, and I’m listening. I...I see you,” she says. “You and Christopher. I see you settled in so well here, even now with your injury.”

Eddie remains quiet, but apprehension creeps across his face and his eyes dart behind her where Buck and Christopher disappeared.

“I see the boots at the entrance,” she continues, her voice pitched low, “the extra toothbrush you forgot to hide away. The tupperwares full of food Isabel and Ana didn’t make. But more than anything, I see Buck. Everywhere.” A smile creeps up her lips. “The only place I didn’t see him was at brunch with Ana and call me crazy but I feel like you would have preferred he was there too.”

Eddie’s lip is being chewed to within an inch of its life, and his eyes are trained on the couch cushion.

“Hey,” she taps his knee. “You...grew up to be a good man, and a good father.” The words are so many years too late but she’s grateful to see them land as Eddie’s eyes begin to shimmer. “And you deserve everything you want for Christopher. Happiness, whatever that looks like.”

Eddie swallows thickly and clears his throat. “And dad?”

“Dad...has his head too far up his own ass to see or hear anything,” Helena admits. “But he’s due for a colonoscopy soon so I’ll work on it.”

Eddie chokes on a laugh that catches him off-guard and suddenly they’re both laughing, quietly so they don’t wake Christopher up again.

When they recover, Eddie invites her to the kitchen for a drink, where Buck is packing Christopher’s lunch for school tomorrow.

When she leaves, her stomach is in knots she imagines won’t smooth out for a few weeks yet, but a weight’s been lifted off her chest and her heart is full in a way it hasn’t been in years.

When she lands in El Paso, her phone pings with a message from Eddie: Hope you had a good flight. Free Friday for a call?

———-

When Friday comes, after catching up with Christopher, Eddie tells them he broke it off with Ana.

Helena digs her nails into Ramon’s knee instinctively, but she prepared him well and despite his continued reservations, all he says is, “That’s too bad, mijo.”

———-

Two months of virtual therapy and video chats later, Eddie tells them he’s bisexual. They react the way they should have all those years ago, and Helena tries to be grateful they got to have this moment at all instead of mourn for the years Eddie lost because of them.

There’s no mention of Buck, but Eddie’s eyes flit fondly over the laptop screen every once in a while at Christopher and someone else off-screen.

The call takes place at 8am LA time, and the sling has been gone for nearly three weeks.

———

At Christmas, Eddie and Christopher are waiting for them with smiles on their faces at LAX’s baggage claim. When they get home, Buck is there opening the door and helping them with their luggage.

Isabel isn’t there to mediate but supper that evening goes smoothly. The tension that lurks is anticipatory on all sides, a feeling of this being too good to last. But by dessert, everyone is sitting back in their chairs and smiling. And when Buck rounds the table to start the clean up, he places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his thumb brushing the back of Eddie’s neck, and Helena watches as the last bit of strain melts out of his body.

The basket of gauze is nowhere to be found in the bathroom, nor is the purple toothbrush. Instead, there’s a third electric toothbrush standing in line with the rest.

Helena’s been keeping an eye out for opportunities to follow Adriana’s advice. To find the words she actually, truly means, and say them before she runs out of time. So before turning in, she takes Eddie aside and tells him, “I’m really happy you found your home here in LA. I’m really proud of the family you’ve made.”

And when she closes her arms around him, she can feel him fold into her like he used to as a kid, no polite distance or anxiety. Just comfort.

#buddie #buddie fic #helena diaz #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #my fics #my posts #y'all I struggled so hard to get this up before the premiere #please understand I woke up at 7am on a Sunday to get it done #my soul is weary #i hope you like them #omg I'm so sorry I forgot the readmore originally #it's up now

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hxwks-gf · 4 years ago

Text

*✧･ﾟ:* baby explosion murder

pairing: bakugo x reader

summary: bakugo gets hit with a de-aging quirk and it’s up to you to take care of him until it wears off

a/n: this is part of my fic-swap with @a-monsters-love!! xoxo i luv u bby sm you can read her fic here! (it was amazing)

“Hey, Midoriya!” you cheerfully spoke into your phone. “What’s up?”

“Y/N? Oh, thank God--okay, something’s happened while on patrol, Kacchan got hit with this Quirk and he’s--”

“Wait, what?” you said, immediately on high alert. You got to your feet and made towards your bag and shoes. “Where? What hospital?”

“Well--they didn’t exactly send him to the hospital because he’s not hurt, he’s just…”

Your hand stilled over your bag. “He’s just what?”

“We’re on our way up to you right now. Don’t freak out, okay?”

“Uh,” you said, glancing at the front door. “Alright.”

A few minutes later someone knocked. Unsure of what you were about to see, you peeked through the peephole and saw only Midoriya standing there, looking worried. You unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Where is he--”

“Y/N-chan!”

A small child launched itself into your apartment and latched around your waist much like children do when they’re excited, throwing you completely off guard. The child buried his face into your torso, giggling maniacally.

“ Midoriya, what’s going on? Whose kid is this?” Your mouth fell open in shock. “Did you steal someone’s child?”

“No!” he protested, running his hands through his unruly hair. “Y/N--that’s Kacchan.”

There was a second of silence before you burst into laughter. After it had subsided to amused chuckles, you looked down at the child still wrapped like a vice around your waist. “That’s very funny. Now c’mon, tell me where Katsuki really is.”

Midoriya simply raised an eyebrow and pointed at the child. “He was hit with a de-aging Quirk.”

This time, there was no laughter. You pried the child off of your torso and held him at arm’s length, your eyes going wide when you recognized him from old childhood photos the Mitsuki had shown you. It was definitely him.

Katsuki made grabby motions with his hands, and you instinctively picked him up and set him on your hip. He bared his teeth and giggled again. “Die!”

“Jesus,” you sighed, gently swatting away his hands that were tugging on your hair. “Do we know how long it will last?”

Midoriya shrugged. “I don’t know. We took him to a Quirk specialist and they said it could vary from a few hours to a few days.”

You shifted Katsuki on your hip and studied his little face. “Do you think he’s aware of what’s happened?”

“It’s hard to tell. All he’s really said so far is ‘Die!’ and ‘Y/N-chan!’”

You snorted. “Sounds like Katsuki to me.”

Midoriya rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Do you need any help? I can stay until it wears off, I know how much work children are.”

“No, no,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll be alright. You’ve got to finish your patrol, right? I’ll call you later and tell you if anything’s happened.”

“Alright.” He leaned in and studied Katsuki’s face. “So strange. He looks just like when we were kids together.”

Katsuki growled at him and made biting motions.

“Hey!” you chided. “Don’t be rude, Katsuki. He’s trying to help you.”

Katsuki grumbled and hid his face in your neck in shame. You rolled your eyes and gave Midoriya an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Seems like he hasn’t changed much.”

“It’s alright,” he chuckled, taking a step back. “I’ll leave you to it. Call me if anything happens!”

You closed the door and locked it. Katsuki whined and struggled in your arms until you took him into the kitchen and set him in one of the chairs. He playfully slapped his hands on the table and bounced in his seat, looking at you with those familiar, crimson eyes.

You took the seat next to him, unsure of what to do next. “Are you hungry?” you asked him.

“Guhhh!” was all his reply.

“Food?”

Katsuki stuck his fingers in his mouth and giggled.

You sighed and got up from the table to make him something to eat. Maybe if you made his favorite food, it would make him change back faster...or...something....

As you moved around the kitchen preparing some spicy curry for him, you forgot he was a child and that children love getting into trouble, especially one like Katsuki. A few minutes had gone by and you no longer heard his toddler-babble at the table. You glanced over your shoulder and nearly dropped the bowl of rice in your hands.

“Katsuki, no!” you cried, running over to where he had his pudgy little fingers inches from the hot stove. You whisked him away and returned him to his seat at the table. “Don’t touch that, you’ll hurt yourself.”

He sniffed, burying his face in his arms. You gently pulled his hands away so you could look at him in the eye.

“Stay here,” you told him, tapping the table. “Don’t move.”

He pouted, but remained seated.

Satisfied, you turned your back and finished making his meal. You ladled the spicy curry over the rice and returned to the table, where he was getting antsier and antsier by the second. He whined and grabbed for the bowl.

“Nuh-uh,” you chastised, holding it away as you sat beside him. “It’s hot. We have to let it cool down.”

“Hungry!” he complained, kicking his little feet in his chair.

“Katsuki,” you warned. He huffed and crossed his arms, glaring at you with those eyes. His mop of blonde hair seemed even more wild than it usually was. Maybe that’s how it looked when he was a child. You reached out and pushed a strand out of his eyes. He scrunched his nose and ducked from your hand.

When you were satisfied that the food was cool enough to eat, you pushed the bowl towards him. Katsuki stared at it, and then at you, and then back to the bowl. It was as if he had never seen something like it before in his life.

“Here,” you said, picking up the spoon and scooping it into the bowl. You held your hand underneath it to keep it from dripping everywhere and pushed it towards Katsuki’s mouth. “Say ‘ahhhh’.”

“Ahhhhh,” he repeated, opening his mouth and taking the bite. His little eyes lit up with happiness, immediately chewing and swallowing and opening for another one. You chuckled and fed him more, until he had finished the entire bowl.

“Good job!” you said, folding your hands and smiling at him. “Did you get enough?”

Katsuki responded with a yawn, his tiny hands rubbing his eyes. He looked like he was about to fall asleep in his chair.

“C’mon,” you said, picking him up. His head fell against your shoulder as you carried him to the bedroom, where you gently placed him underneath the blankets. Katsuki was already fast asleep when you patted his head, shaking your head in disbelief. “Demon child.”

You decided you would take a nap too, out on the couch. Somehow watching a child for a few mere hours was exhausting. As you stretched your legs out and yawned, you decided you would call Midoriya when you woke up again.

“Hey, dumbass.”

You blinked your eyes groggily, not sure what time it was or where you were. The apartment was dark and there was drool on your pillow.

“Katsuki?” you groaned, sitting up on the couch. “Are you...are you back to normal?”

“Yeah,” he growled, and you felt the couch dip as he sat down next to you. “Stupid Quirk. I hated every minute of it.”

“Wait, so you were aware of what was going on?” you asked, scooting closer to him. “The whole time?”

“The whole time,” he said. He gave you a sideways glance, a sly grin on his face. “I can’t believe you cooked and fed me curry.”

“I did what I thought you wanted!” you protested, crossing your arms. “I have no idea how to take care of kids.”

Katsuki chuckled. “You seemed to know what you were doing.”

“You were so cute,” you said wistfully, “so tiny.”

“Watch it,” he warned. “I’m not cute. Or tiny.”

You wrinkled your nose. “You’re a little cute. Wait--if you knew what was going on, why did you go to touch the hot stove, dumbass?”

“Because, dumbass,” he said, glaring at you, “I wanted to see what you would do. Turns out you’ve got some pretty fast reflexes. I think our kids will be just fine.”

Your cheeks turned pink. “Our kids?”

Katsuki gave you a pointed look. “Yes, our kids. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

“I’ve thought about it,” you admitted with a hidden smile. You felt giddy as you snuggled into his side, resting your head on his chest. “Our kids.”

“Our kids.”

#BABY BAKUGO BABY BAKUGO BABY BAKUGO #JGHSJDKHGDKFHGKDJG #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugou katsuki x you #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia fanfic #mha #bnha

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

baby sister ~ mark;midsommar

word count: 1929

request?: yes!

“Mark from Midsommar imagine about Christan's sister crushing on Mark and when Mark finds out they start dating. And Christian finds them making out and gets all pissed and tries to fight Mark but reader yells at Christian to stop.”

description: in which he’s very protective over his baby sister, and now his best friend is dating her

pairing: mark x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

There were so many words that could describe my brother. Asshole was definitely the most accurate one. Protective was the second most accurate way to describe him.

I was the family baby, and when mine and Christian’s dad left, Christian took it upon himself to be the man of the house. This included being the one to try and scare away my boyfriends. Well...try and usually succeeded. It was becoming impossible to date unless I did it secretly.

Which was what I was doing with Christian’s best friend, Mark.

From the moment we met, I knew I was head over heels for Mark. Of course, trying to act on that under Christian’s watchful eye was basically impossible. Until Mark initiated a particularly steamy make out session while Christian wasn’t home.

“We can keep this a secret,” he assured me. “I don’t bring girls around anyways, and the guys don’t ask about that shit.”

“Secret romance is incredibly sexy,” I noted. Mark smiled and kissed me again.

Ever since then, we had secretly been in a relationship. No one knew, not even Dani who was my closest friend. I trusted her to keep the secret from anyone else, but Dani told Christian everything. She couldn’t lie to him, he knew her too well to fall for her lies. I knew giving her this secret would be a massive burden on her, and I couldn’t do that to her.

The secret rendezvous were hard sometimes, especially since Christian and Mark were living together. On the occasions where Christian would go over to Dani’s, and Josh would be out wherever for the night, I would go over with Mark for a few hours. But spending the night was a big risk. It was hard to know when Christian would come home, and the last thing either of us needed was for him to catch me in Mark’s bed.

I walked through the front door of the guy’s apartment and immediately called out, “Hey fuckers!”

“Hey baby sis,” came Christian’s voice in response. “You caught me at a sort of bad time, I’m about to go to Dani’s for a while.”

I gave him a worried look. “What? Why? Are you and the guys okay?”

“Oh yeah, nothing bad happened. She’s just having a rough time and I want to be there for her,” he responded. “You’re free to hang here if you want, but Mark will be the only one here. Josh is out of town with his parents for a while.”

I tried not to let the smirk I was feeling inside show. “Oh, well if it’s just Mark I’ll probably leave.”

“I don’t blame you. The guy is kind of boring.”

If I didn’t know that Christian’s way of showing affection was by insulting someone I probably would’ve been offended.

He brushed past me and said goodbye, promising to hang out with me again after he spent some time with Dani. I pretended to be following him out to my car and waited until he was far enough away that he wouldn’t see me turn around and run back into the house.

I knew Mark was home. His car was in the driveway and his bedroom door was closed, something he always did when he was home and wanted some privacy. I ran straight to his room and threw the door open. His eyes widened as I dove onto the bed and immediately cuddled into his side.

“Is Christian gone already?” he asked.

I popped my head up to look at him in shock. “You knew?! And you didn’t tell me?!”

“I didn’t get the chance! He literally just told me when he walked in like an hour ago. I didn’t think he was leaving so soon.”

I rolled my eyes and kissed his cheek before settling my head into his neck. “So, how long is he gone for?”

“All weekend,” he responded. “Won’t be back till after class on Monday he said, and even then he may be gone for a little bit with Dani.”

“So,” I said, “are we having our first sleepover or not?”

Mark chuckled and kissed my forehead. “I would love for you to stay over. But do you want to go home and get your clothes?”

“Why would I want to do that when I have your clothes here?”

Mark gave me an amused look before rolling us over to get on top of me and begin to tickle me.

The first night I got to spend with Mark was fantastic. We spent so many hours just cuddling and talking, and of course countless hours having sex without worrying about anyone catching us. The first morning together, I woke up to find myself alone in bed, but with the smell of breakfast drifting in from the kitchen.

I got up and pulled on one of Mark’s shirts and ventured out into the kitchen, not worried about anyone catching me for once. Mark was stood next to the stove in just a pair of sweatpants, his back turned to me. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his naked torso.

“Good morning,” I said, kissing his cheek. “What are you making?”

“Just some bacon and eggs,” he responded. “I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed.”

“You know I don’t sleep in enough for that to be possible, and I don’t like laying in bed for too long.”

Mark turned his head to meet my lips with his. “How did we end up together? We’re such different people.”

“Opposites attract baby.”

Mark smiled and turned to face me. In one quick motion, he lifted me onto the counter and stood between my legs. I giggled and kissed him deeply, holding his face in my hands as a way to keep him from pulling away.

We were so lost in one another that we didn’t notice the door opening, or the sound of a bag hitting the floor, until the voice that both of us dreaded to hear.

“What the fuck?!”

Mark jumped away from me in time to see Christian charging at him, murder present in his eyes. Mark quickly jumped out of the way and extended an arm to keep Christian at an arm’s length away.

“What the fuck were you doing to my sister?!” Christian snapped.

“Chill dude, we were just kissing!” Mark responded.

“Why was she kissing you?! Why is she here in just one of your shirts?!”

“Calm down, Christian,” I tried, pushing myself off of the counter to cover myself as much as I possibly could. “I stayed over the night.”

“But why?! And why with him?!”

He tried to lunge at Mark again, but this time I took hold of his arm and yanked him back. “Christian, fucking stop!”

“What has he said or done to make you want to kiss him and to stay the night with him?” Christian demanded. “What the fuck has he done to you?”

“Christian, shut the fuck up!” I felt myself shaking in rage and I just wanted to punch my older brother until he was unconscious. I guess we were more similar than I ever cared to admit.

My outburst surprised both my brother and my boyfriend. They both went silent, and for a moment Christian wasn’t even trying to kill Mark anymore.

“You’re so fucking controlling!” I said, airing out all the anger I had built up inside of me for so long. “I get that you want to be dad, I get that you’re trying to be ‘the man’, but holy fuck! I’m a fucking adult! I can date who I want, I can kiss who I want, I can fuck who I want! I don’t need you getting angry and intimidating every guy I date, Christian. I can’t be single forever you know.”

Christian glared at Mark once more before turning to face me. “I know that, (Y/N), but I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”

“Do you know how much more it hurts when guys either ghost me or straight up tell me to my face that they’re too scared of you to date me?” I questioned. “Do you know how many guys told me that I wasn’t worth the hassle you gave them? I was hurt more by your protectiveness than I ever was by any guy.”

I saw a look pass over Christian’s face. I couldn’t tell exactly what it meant, but I knew there was a lot of information running through his head at that moment, a lot of things he had to process.

“And I know you don’t want me dating your best friend,” I continued before he could say anything else. “I know it’s like a violation of friend code or whatever the fuck guys have going on, and it’s weird and awkward. But I really do love Mark, and I know he loves me, too. You know Mark better than any guy I’ve ever tried to date, can you seriously look me in the eyes and tell me he’s not a good fit for me?”

Christian looked over at Mark once more before turning back to me. “He is a fuckface.”

I giggled. “Yeah, I know that. But he’s a good fuckface.”

“One of the better ones,” Christian agreed. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I just...I thought that’s how I was supposed to act, you know?”

“I know, mom never told you any different. I think she just liked you trying to be the man of the house all the time because it meant she didn’t have to take up any extra responsibilities.”

Christian pulled me into a hug, something I don’t think he had ever done before. It was quite a shock to both me and to Mark.

“You can date whoever you want,” he said. “I promise I won’t kill...well I promise I won’t kill any other guy you may date. I have no promises about Mark.”

“I’ll take that,” I told him. “And I’m sorry you had to find out like...this.”

Christian looked between us, trying not to look at the parts that weren’t clothed I could tell. “Yeah...not the best way, but I’ll bleach my eyes when I get back to Dani’s.”

We all laughed as Christian went to get whatever he had come home for and left again, saying goodbye and apologizing once more before closing the door behind him.

“That went well,” I commented. I looked over to see Mark smiling at me. “What?”

“Did you mean what you said? That you love me?”

I felt my face heat up in embarrassment. In the heat of the moment, I let the big L word slip. Mark and I hadn’t said it to one another yet. We had only started dating mere months ago.

“I think so,” I admitted. “I feel things for you that I’ve never felt for anyone before. I...I think I do love you. Is that...is that weird to say?”

Mark wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly. “Not at all. I think I love you, too.”

I smiled up at him and placed a gentle kiss against his lips.

“Don’t forget breakfast,” I whispered in his ear, nibbling on it gently before pulling away.

It took a moment for the lust to wash away after my small act for Mark to realize that breakfast was still on the pan cooking. I giggled as he quickly went to turn the stove off and check to make sure the food was still edible.

#mark #mark imagine #mark x reader #will poulter #will poulter imagine #will poulter x reader #midsommar #midsommar imagine #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic

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spacedikut · 4 years ago

Text

my all ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: “hey could i do a fic request for an x spencer? could u maybe do something with really touchstarved spencer (bc germaphobia) and him being at first too awkward to go n cuddle and then as he gains more confidence he gets much more touchy and huggy and stuff? and reader being shocked by how cuddly he is? plzplzplz? its totally ok if u dont write it but just wanted to send in the request!” 2689 words

a/n: i hope i did this justice! i love spencer reid!!!!!!!!!

masterlist

Spencer first realised how much he loves your touch after a case where he put himself directly in danger.

You ran up, flung your arms around him and pulled him against you so tightly he felt winded.

He was shocked, stunned, and everything in between, but the most important thing is that he hugged back. It felt natural, the right thing to do, and his arms felt so snug and perfect around you his heart stuttered.

You pulled back, noticed his expression, and winced despite his reciprocation, “Sorry. I just. You could’ve died, you moron. You scared me.”

All he did was give you a breathless smile and with a squeeze of his shoulders you let go, allowing him to get checked by a medic.

Spencer struggled to sleep on the jet home, plagued by the thoughts of you - you with your arms around him, how much he enjoyed how it felt.

It felt… wrong to like it as much as he did. Like, in theory, enjoying your physical touch went against his moral code – as a germaphobe, the thought of having to come into contact with anyone in any way makes him want to vomit. But, with you?

You smelt so good, even after running for God knows how long. You were so soft, yet so firm, so warm and welcoming and dear God Spencer has never wanted to touch every inch of someone so bad in his life.

The case was a rough one, so Garcia was waiting for you all with loving eyes and a pitiful smile, arms wide open for whoever may need it. Spencer instantly decides no thanks, but you swoop in and cuddle up to Garcia within seconds of seeing her.

You even place a series of kisses against her cheek, and Spencer is transported back to your hug.

If he was more like Garcia, open to any form of love as long as it’s love, would you have kissed him like that?

His pulse quickens, palms get sweaty and he has to clear his throat to bring himself back to Earth.

He can’t afford to think like that.

But your lips…

No. Paperwork? Let’s do that and not think about a colleague’s lips.

+++

You’re furious.

You told Spencer to wait for backup, to not do anything stupid or irrational and definitely do NOT go in there alone, genius!

And what did he do?

He didn’t wait for backup, did something very stupid and irrational, and definitely went in alone.

And now he’s dealing with a hefty concussion and flurry of other injuries; cuts, scratches, and bruises alike all dotted over him like he’s a connect-the-dots drawing.

The second he wakes up, you’re gonna kill him.

For the time being, you’ll gently thread your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, and watch his chest rise and fall to ensure he’s alive and breathing.

“Mmm,” A groan, “That feels nice.”

His eyes flutter open. You lean towards the table next to him, pick up the bottle of water and the jello cup, and offer him both.

“Thanks,” He says, hoarsely.

You sit back in your chair. Spencer doesn’t take his eyes off you once. Not when he drinks the whole bottle of water, or when he cracks open the jello and inhales it with one slurp.

Your brows furrow.

“You’re banned from work until you’re fully healed.”

“I’m suspended?!” He guffaws.

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m personally telling you you’re not welcome back until you’re okay.”

“I’m okay now.”

“Do a backflip, genius.”

Spencer giggles, “I can’t do that in peak physical condition, Y/N.”

“Sounds like a cop out to me. So, again, you’re banned from work until you’re fully healed.”

He considers fighting back, but then he remembers what you were doing when he woke up, what he felt when he woke up.

He was confused and, you know, in pain, but there was this tender and soft, repetitive touch that immediately eased him. His subconscious knew it was you, in all your glory and sweetness, that had stayed with him for however long, looking after him even when he wasn’t conscious to know it.

So he just keeps staring at you, spoonful of jello in his mouth.

+++

When you get to Spencer’s place, he looks around like it’s his first time seeing it – awe and wonder painted on his face.

Everything he’s doing, everything he’s going through, you’re putting it all down to his concussion.

On the way here, he told you the whole history of car air fresheners after taking a good five seconds to get a good sniff of the cherry blossom scent you have.

“Let’s get you settled in, huh?” You say quietly, guiding Spencer to his bedroom. He walks a little like a mummy, kinda stumpy and heavy, and he flops on the bed.

You give a lopsided grin as you watch him. He’s mumbling incoherently, shuffling up to the top of his bed to fall flat on his back.

He moans.

“Alright, alright,” You placate, “Let me go… gather some things.”

You don’t know Spencer’s place all that well, so it takes you a while to find even the simplest things like a glass, a flannel, a snack. You get lost in snooping around, trying not to profile him, and the one thing you deduct is his apartment is so him. So Spencer, so lovely and comforting and a little odd.

You can’t get enough.

There’s a weak call from his bedroom: “Y/N?”

“Coming!”

He hasn’t moved an inch from where you left him. He looks so pitiful, bruised eyes and a cut right through his lip, and you almost coo at him.

“I’m not a good cook, so I thought we could order some food later.” You hand him the water and gesture for him to drink. “In the meantime, you need to rest. Mind if I borrow a book while I keep you company?”

You turn to leave, but Spencer’s voice makes you pause.

“Could you play with my hair again?”

A part of you wants to say no, like this is some overly intimate thing he’s asking, but then you remind yourself that he’s injured, which has reverted him to acting like a sleepy child.

“Please?” He looks at you with glassy eyes and he looks adorable, “Only for a little while.”

You say nothing, sliding into bed next to him. He scoots over a little to make more room for you, curling into you before your back hits the bed entirely. One hand rests above the covers, naturally placed on his arm, thumb smoothing him back and forth. The other, the one wrapped around his head, cards through his lightly tangled hair, all warm and loving.

He falls asleep instantly and, not long after, you fall asleep, too.

You both dream of eachother and wake up blushing.

+++

Spencer’s back in work within four days. You’re working a new case the second you arrive.

There’s been a shift in your dynamic and everyone’s noticed it. No one questions it, however, because they’re all aware you looked after him while he was away, and they witnessed how worried you were when you found him, but they can’t help but ogle and whisper.

They might be federal agents, but gossip is gossip and they love it.

You’ve noticed it, too, obviously. JJ tried to tease you about it, after Spencer bought you your favourite coffee and morning muffin on the way to the precinct, but you shut her down (and yourself from thinking about it too much) by reminding her you spent several days caring for him. He’s repaying you, even though you’ve told him he doesn’t need to.

Ever heard of transference, JJ?

A shiver runs through you as you look into the interrogation room. It’s not because of the suspect, though, it’s because the AC has been turned up – a tactic Hotch promises will be worth it despite your chattering teeth.

Something’s wrapped around you, suddenly, light but cosy and adds some heat to you that you need.

It’s a cardigan. Grey, much too big for you, the sleeves falling way beyond your arms and length reaching your mid-thigh. There’s a little red heart with eyes stitched on the left breast.

It’s Spencer’s.

“You’re shivering,” Spencer chastises, seemingly appearing from nowhere, “You know, when we shiver, it’s our bodies doing the opposite of sweating – it tightens the skin and shakes the muscles, a process that conserves and generates heat. We shiver to get warm. Do you not have a coat?”

“Alright, dad,” You tease, “It’s in the conference room. I wasn’t prepared for Hotch to make the unsub an icicle.”

Spencer breathes a laugh, moving closer to reach an arm around you. His other hand presses against your bicep, his grip sturdy as he vigorously rubs up and down your arms to generate heat.

Whoa.

It certainly works. You feel hot, suddenly, but not because of the cardigan or whatever the hell he’s doing, because Spencer has voluntarily touched you and is standing so close you feel like you’re on fire from the inside out. You’re sure your heart skips a beat and you stare at him in bewilderment.

He shrugs, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, “My mom used to do that for me when I was young and got cold. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

You give a shy smile, “Yeah, I appreciate it a lot, Spence. Thanks.”

When Hotch leaves the interrogation room, he half-halts when he sees you in Spencer’s cardigan. It’s the perfect Hotch reaction, combined with the rise of an eyebrow as he walks past you to reconvene with the team.

You don’t take it off when you all walk back to the conference room, and Spencer doesn’t ask for it back.

Everyone notices. A lot of eye contact is made with many questions silently asked.

You and Spencer pretend not to notice.

+++

There’s a knock on your door at precisely 10:12pm. You check because your first instinct is if I’m about to get robbed, I’m making sure the timestamps are correct.

It’s not a robber. It’s Spencer – frazzled, wrapped up all nice and warm like a pretty present, Spencer Reid.

His nose is slightly red from the biting cold outside.

Leaning against your doorframe, you say, “Hey there,”

“Hi,” He waves.

You stare for a couple of seconds, then remember the polite thing to do is invite him in: “Come in, come in! Do you want some tea? You look cold.”

“Coffee would be great, thank you.”

You move to your kitchen, not very far from your front door, but Spencer stays put and awkwardly glances around your place. He loves it, he decides. Very you.

You notice he hasn’t moved, “Make yourself comfortable, Spence. My cat is somewhere if you want to say hi.”

He slowly moves to your couch, removing his coat, scarf and satchel as he does it. Two drinks in hand, you join him and fling your fluffy sock-clad feet onto your coffee table.

“So what can I help you with?” You ask.

Spencer takes a sip of his burning drink, “What makes you think I want something?”

“Why else would you be here? You wanna watch Grey’s Anatomy with me?”

Spencer laughs lightly. You’re right. He’s here for a reason that isn’t to watch TV that he loves to correct with you.

He’s quiet, then, and does that thing where his tongue flicks out to lightly wet his lips in nervousness.

“Something’s been going on.” He starts, ambiguously, “And it’s left me asking a lot of questions.”

Your brows furrow. It’s not like Spencer to be cryptic like this.

“Did it mean anything?” He asks, finally, turning to look at you. “Any of it?”

“Did what mean anything?”

“The.. the playing with the hair, the over-all gentleness, the cuddling.”

Your shoulders tighten up and you hope he doesn’t notice.

He does.

“Spence,” You give a fake laugh, “You were hurt and I was comforting you. Looking after you. You know, like a friend does.”

“No one else did as much as you.”

“You wanted comfort, and I’m more than happy to provide that, Spence. Everyone else was busy.”

“You took time off for me.”

You don’t have an answer for that.

You’re trying to keep the conversation light and breezy to not show your true feelings. You’re not ready for that kind of conversation, but he’s right. You used your vacation days to stay with him and care for him.. and you know you didn’t do it platonically.

“You’re my friend, Spence,” You say, voice soft.

“That’s it? That’s all it was?” He doesn’t sound angry, or hurt, maybe peeved. He won’t look you in the eyes, though.

“What else would it be?”

Spencer scoffs.

He moves away from you, hands running through his hair in exasperation when he lets out a breath.

“We cuddled, Y/N. I haven’t done that with anyone in-in years! The last person was my mother when I was ten years old!”

“That’s supposed to mean something?!”

“I-I don’t know,” He sounds exhausted, as if the complications of his emotions are taking way too much energy out of him, “But I really liked it. And I really like you.”

You look at him, then, and he’s staring back. He looks… hopeful.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

You swallow deeply.

“I tried to show you with the uh, the cardigan thing,” He scratches the back of his neck, a laugh to mock himself leaving him, “But I’ve never been good with that stuff.”

He moves closer, shifting to face you, eyes remaining locked with yours.

“Say something.” He whispers.

“I-I-“ You stutter, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I’ve spent the last week thinking about it non-stop.”

“Really?” You laugh in disbelief.

“Yeah!” He gives a small smile, “I-uh.. wrote to my mom about you, too. She told me that if I’m this caught up on you, you must be special. Which you are, by the way.”

“I’m special?” You grin teasingly.

“Very special.”

There’s a moment where you think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he shyly asks, “Do you feel the same?”

You bite your lip. “I do. Really, I do. I’m just.. a little apprehensive, I guess.”

“Of what?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to you.”

God, he’s so infuriatingly sweet. You wish you could kiss him all over.

You might be able to, if all this goes well.

“I don’t want things to be weird if we don’t work out.” You admit, adding a shrug to appear casual. It’s not like you’ve worried about this since you realised you liked him.

Spencer tilts his head at you, “You’re already thinking about a breakup when we haven’t even gone on a first date?”

You giggle, which he returns with a smile, “I mean- I like you, Spence, and have for a while. I’ve thought about all outcomes.”

“All?”

You roll your eyes as he gives you a look, “Yes, all. I’d want us to work out but.. what if we don’t?”

He places a now warmed up hand on yours, “Well, we won’t know unless we try, right?” His hold tightens, “I’m willing to give it my all if you are.”

You look from your hands to his face, and decide yes, if there’s one risk you want to take in your life, it’s a risk that could possibly result in you spending the rest of your life with your favourite person on this planet.

So you nod.

“I’ll give you my all, and then some.”

He grins, “That’s quite the promise.”

You don’t reply, instead swinging your legs over his lap and leaning into his side to cuddle up to him. He reciprocates like it’s second nature, hand slipping from yours to wrap around your waist and tug you closer.

“Wanna watch Star Trek as a mini first date?” You look up at him through your eyelashes.

You really are perfect for me, Spencer thinks.

“Yes. Yes I do.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #thank u to everyone who has sent a request i promise ive seen it #i kinda hate how the confession is written but im tired n feeling d*pressed and anxious #so take it pls

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

Text

Bonus Scene

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader x Iwaizumi

Genre/Warning: NSFW, Yandere, Rape/Non-con, Dub-con, Edging, Overstimulation, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Sex Toys, Mindbreak, Manipulation

Summary: When Oikawa and Iwaizumi find out their team manager is a camgirl on the side, they realize just watching her on a 2D screen isn’t enough

Requested by Anon

Exhausted and in post-coital bliss, it’s all you can do to sit up and flash a peace sign and smile at your webcam before saying goodbye to your viewers. As soon as your camera turns off you slump back down on sweat-soaked sheets and grimace as the tip of the dildo you had just used prods your back. You lie there for a minute, catching your breath before you look at your phone to check the time. With a muffled curse, you spring up, cleaning and putting your toys away and throwing on your Aoba Johsai tracksuit before racing out the door. The team had recently changed the time of weekend practices and unfortunately for you, it meant you barely had time to get ready after your weekly Saturday livestreams. But this was your most profitable session and you didn't want to lose followers or money by changing the time, so you just grit your teeth and dealt with it.

You cheerily greet the team of white and turquoise clad boys as you enter the gym. The first and second years politely acknowledge you, while your fellow third-years more casually welcome you. Iwaizumi nods his head in your direction and Oikawa flashes you a smile before returning their attention to the court. Towels prepared and water bottles filled, you sit on the sidelines watching your team practice. You aren’t particularly good friends with anyone on the team and you’re not incredibly passionate about volleyball, but when the usually reserved Iwaizumi had come up to you in class one day and asked you to be their team manager since he knew you weren’t part of any other clubs, you agreed. It’s not like you didn’t have the time and you were a little flattered that Iwaizumi had even thought of you. Your reminiscing is cut off by a whistle and you stand up to provide towels and water to the sweat-drenched boys.

Practice ends and you all part ways. Oikawa walks home, excited to just shower and laze away the rest of the day. Freshened up and only in a towel slung around his waist, he sits at his desk, grateful for the fact that the house will be empty for at least a few more hours as he browses camgirl sites. Regular porn just comes across as crass to Oikawa. Why would he want to watch some unattractive male pound away into a girl? No, he much prefers watching pretty camgirls and focusing all his attention on their soft feminine curves, imagining it’s him inside them instead of whatever toy they’re thrusting into their wet cunts. He haphazardly clicks through links, but freezes at the current image on his screen. No, there’s no way...he clicks play and he’s stunned as your familiar voice fills his room. Have you always had so much sex appeal? It’s not that he found you unattractive, but he had purposefully not entertained the thought of you as anything other than their team manager for the team’s sake. But now, watching your chest rise up and down as you pant like a bitch in heat, watching the way your thighs clench as you play with your clit, he regrets trying to be a responsible captain.

Out of curiosity, he looks at the timestamp of the video and his cock twitches at the realization that you had filmed this minutes before practice today. He had thought you were limping a bit when he saw you earlier and he now understands why as he watches you desperately pistoning a realistic dildo in and out of your drenched heat. Without even realizing it, his hand begins stroking to the rhythm of your pumps and his eyes fixate on your face as you moan with your eyes rolled back. All he can hear is your sweet voice brokenly crying out above his pounding heartbeat and when you wail and arch your back as you reach your peak, Oikawa hisses as thick white spurts splurt from his throbbing length. He leans back in his chair physically sated, but nervous excited energy still thrums inside him at this new information he’s found out about you. He reaches for his phone and calls the first person he always goes to whenever he wants to talk about something. “Iwa-chan, are you free right now? Want to come over?”

Iwaizumi grumpily sighs as he treks over to Oikawa’s house. He had literally just seen the other boy earlier at practice and if he wanted to hang out, why didn’t he just ask him when he had dropped him off at his house? Already irritated, he can feel his temple pulse in anger when Oikawa opens the door with a cheery “yoohoo!” and drags him to his bedroom. “Oi, Shittykawa, what’s the big deal? Stop pulling me!” Oikawa apologetically releases his grip, but ushers Iwaizumi to sit at his desk. Confused, Iwaizumi allows himself to be seated in front of Oikawa’s computer screen, but screeches at the sight of a nude female masturbating. “What the hell, Tooru? Did you ask me to come over here to watch porn with you? I’m leaving!” Eyes shut, Iwaizumi attempts to get out of the seat when strong hands on his shoulders prevent him from moving. “Iwa-chan, look more closely! Doesn’t she look familiar?” Hesitantly, Iwaizumi opens his eyes and scrutinizes the screen, but his face pales when he sees your familiar face now twisted in ecstasy. “Isn’t she pretty? Who knew our team manager had a hobby like this?”

Iwaizumi hates the way he can feel arousal pooling in his stomach at the sight of you writhing as you hold a vibrator to your engorged clit. “W-we shouldn’t be watching this. It’s none of our business what she does in her free time,” he shakily stutters. But Oikawa smirks as he watches how Iwaizumi can’t tear his eyes from the screen. “Are you sure, Iwa-chan? Because it looks like your body disagrees with you.” Embarrassed, Iwaizumi covers his now fully erect shaft with his hands. Oikawa hums thoughtfully as they continue watching your stream together. “Don’t you want to see the real deal, Iwa-chan? Recordings are fine, but now I want to see our little manager-chan in person.” There’s a pause and Iwaizumi wrestles internally between what’s morally right and what he wants, but after a few minutes he speaks up. “What’s your plan, Shittykawa?” Oikawa smiles.

You’re putting things away after another grueling practice when you hear someone enter the equipment room behind you. Turning around, you see Oikawa and Iwaizumi file into the small room and close the door behind them. Confused, you ask them if they need anything, but your heart drops when Oikawa shows you his phone screen and you see your latest livestream displayed. You’re already prepared to apologize and resign from the team, but Oikawa’s quick to dismiss your worries as he tells you that Iwaizumi and him just wanted to personally tell you they’re big fans of yours. Slightly embarrassed that the captain and vice-captain had found out about your side gig, you’re at least grateful that it’s them and not anyone else on the team. Both players had been nothing but respectful to you the entire time you’d managed the team and if you’re honest, a tiny flame of pride flares inside of you when you realize the two handsome athletes enjoy watching your recordings.

You’re about to thank them for their support when Iwaizumi opens his mouth. “We were wondering if you’d be okay with us watching one of your streams in person,” he nervously asks. You stand shell-shocked at his words. The reason you enjoy being a camgirl so much is the safety and power you feel behind the camera, knowing countless eyes are on you from behind a screen, but never close enough to actually do anything to you. You stare at the two boys waiting for a response from you. Iwaizumi and Oikawa wouldn’t ever hurt you or do anything you didn’t want, right? You imagine green and brown eyes watching you. You imagine staring at them as you make yourself cum over and over again. With eyes hazed over with lust, you agree.

It takes some time to coordinate. You agree a Saturday livestream would work best for all of you, but you need to patiently wait for one of the few weekends where the team doesn’t have practice. (There’s something a little mortifying about the idea of going to practice right after doing what the three of you are about to do.) Finally, one such weekend comes along and you take a deep breath as your doorbell rings before letting the two taller boys into your home. You lead them to your room where they situate themselves behind the camera so they won’t be seen and, shooting a little smile in their direction, you start the stream.

Oikawa can feel himself salivate as you teasingly untie your silky robe and slowly slide it off to reveal a white lacy lingerie set. The duality of how angelic you look in the pure color versus what you’re about to do has his heart racing. Iwaizumi watches enraptured by the way your head leans back and your mouth opens as you knead your breasts in your hands, pinching your nipples every once in a while until he can see the pebbled bumps beneath the lacy fabric. You giggle and tease your viewers for being so impatient as the comments scream for you to take everything off, but you oblige and unhook your bra, tossing it to the side as you continue playing with your now bare chest. Oikawa licks his lips and imagines what it would feel like to suck on one of your already hardened buds as he begins to slowly palm his hardening cock. You lean back and spread your legs and Iwaizumi almost groans at the wet spot already forming and seeping through your panties. You slip a hand underneath the flimsy material and he watches you finger yourself as your eyes roll back. The room begins to fill with squelching sounds as you become more and more aroused and you finally slip off the now soaked fabric and both boys almost lose it when they see your drenched pussy on full display.

You reach over to your nightstand and grab a thick curved metal toy. Oikawa watches you slide the thicker round end inside your dripping heat, while Iwaizumi takes in every line of your face as you gasp at the feeling of cold metal sliding past warm walls. “It’s so cold, but it feels so good inside my pussy. AH-it rubs against my g-spot perfectly.” You’re panting heavily as you talk to your viewers and you begin to gently thrust the toy in and out of you, your eyes rolling everytime steel rubs against the spongy spot inside of you. You can feel yourself rushing towards your end and you pause your movements, pushing the toy firmly inside of you as we reach once more for your nightstand. The ace and setter groan at the sight of the huge vibrator aggressively whirring in your hands. They watch as your body contorts on the bed as you press the vibrations against your aroused nipples and they watch as drool begins to trickle out the sides of your gaping mouth as you trail the vibrator down between the valleys of your breasts, past your belly button, before finally landing on your puffy clit. Iwaizumi grits his teeth at the wail you release and he wishes he could hold your legs down as you twist and turn at the onslaught. They continue watching you move on the bed in front of them, but they stiffen when you look directly at them as you finally fall apart with a scream, squirting your juices everywhere. You keep the vibrator on you at a lower intensity as you pull the metal toy out of you and you moan as you suck it clean in your mouth, never breaking eye contact with the two guests in your room. Only when the first pangs of overstimulation hit you do you remove the vibrator and weakly sign off of your stream.

You lay your spent body down on the bed and are about to say something to your visitors when you yelp as you feel hands roughly grab your thighs and spread them apart. Startled you try to sit up, but are stopped by hands pushing down your shoulders. Panic begins to swell within you as you stare up into chocolate brown eyes smiling down at you. “Thanks for the show, cutie. But it would be rude not to let us enjoy the real thing, right? You can’t just tease your guests like that.” His pout would have been cute in any other situation, but now it only triggers fear inside of you. “Let me go! I let you guys watch as friends. I don’t want this.” You sob as you feel Iwaizumi begin to push his cock inside you, stretching you far beyond what your toy had. “Fuck, she’s so tight even after cumming like a whore. I guess your toys can’t replace a real cock.” He groans as he finally sheaths himself completely inside of you and despite the anxiety eating away at you, your eyes roll back and you moan, already turned on and sensitive from your earlier actions.

You feel Iwaizumi’s calloused hands hold your waist in a bruising grip as he starts a brutal pace and tears fall down your face from the pleasure and Oikawa’s humiliating words. “Do you like Iwa-chan’s cock that much? You’re moaning like a slut. Tell Iwa-chan how good he’s making you feel.” You bite your lips in an attempt to stifle your lewd cries, but Oikawa leans forward and begins to rub your clit and you can’t hold back the slew of pleasured moans that leave your mouth. Iwaizumi is filling you so well and his thrusts are stronger and deeper than anything you try and replicate with your toys. It’s not long before you feel another climax quickly approaching and you tense your body in preparation only for everything to suddenly stop. Frustrated and confused, you blearily look up at the two boys only to see them predatorily leering down at you. Oikawa coos at you as he brushes your hair from your face. “Tell Iwa-chan exactly what you want or you don’t get anything.” You spitefully ignore him and try to roll your hips, but Iwaizumi firmly holds you still and you almost scream at being denied.

Pride and anger at being forced into this hold your tongue still and Iwaizumi tsks in annoyance as he begins to work your body up again. You try your best to push down the desire building inside of you, but you’ve always been so easy to rile up after you’ve already orgasmed and it’s not long before you feel yourself peaking again only for the thrusts to stop when you can almost taste your climax on your tongue. The cycle goes on a few more times until you’re sobbing in frustration and your will finally breaks. You can’t think of anything else other than Iwaizumi’s cock inside of you and cumming. “Iwaizumi, please make me cum. Please make me feel good. I want to cum so badly. Please please please…” You can’t even fully make sense of your slutty begging, but it’s good enough for Iwaizumi and he savagely tears into you again and again until both of you roll over a cliff of pleasure together.

You whimper as Iwaizumi pulls out of you and you sink into his hold as he lies next to you on the rumpled bed sheets and wraps his strong arm around your waist. You’re too tired to push him off and his body heat is comforting to you as you wade through the delirious afterglow. It’s only when you feel another body settling in between your legs that you try and muster the strength to move away, but Iwaizumi tightens his hold on you as he begins to bite and suck on your sensitive neck. Aroused and impatient after holding himself back for so long, Oikawa rams completely inside of you in one swift motion and your mouth opens in a silent scream at the overstimulation. You’re almost thankful for the way Iwaizumi’s arm keeps you grounded as your body tries to thrash around, unable to cope with the stings of pain and pleasure you feel with every movement of Oikawa’s hips. You can feel a rollercoaster inside of you creeping slowly to the top, but with a few more thrusts, Oikawa stills as he releases deep inside of you before you can go over the curve.

You mentally recoil as you hear yourself whine for Oikawa to help you finish, but it’s like your brain has gone on autopilot and you can’t control the lust-filled pleas for more. Iwaizumi and Oikawa share a smile before Iwaizumi moves his hand and begins to tweak and fondle your nipples while Oikawa slides down your body until you feel air blow on your throbbing hole. You should be ashamed about the way you can’t stop begging and moaning as Oikawa devours your sopping wet cunt, but with just a few more licks, sucks, and tugs of your abused nipples, you come undone and you melt into the space between the two bodies now lying on either side of you. Your brain feels like mush and you can feel your eyelids growing heavier as fatigue consumes you. A warning bell deep inside of you faintly rings when you hear Oikawa’s voice say, “I can’t wait until the next time we do this, cutie”. But you’re so tired and you just let yourself pass out in the pair of toned arms embracing you.

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onyxiana-is-obsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Love Us Not Him | Shoto Todoroki x Reader x Momo Yaoyorozu

Warnings: TodoMomo x Reader, angst, long Pronouns used; She/her Length: 8.2k

Summary: You find out Todoroki and Momo are dating and do your best to avoid them. But they just won't leave you alone... and how can you say no to the people you're in love with.

Full Name: (y/f/n) Quirk: (y/q) Age: 17 Hero Name: (h/n)

Shoto Todoroki and Momo Yaoyorozu seemed like they were made for each other. Both were respectful, intelligent, wealthy, reserved, attractive, had powerful quirks, and shared the same personality. All of their classmates were overjoyed when they found out the two had made it official. Well... almost all.

(y/f/n) wasn't happy at all when she found out both of the people she liked were now in a relationship. However, she put on her best act and pretended to be just as happy as her classmates.

What luck, how brutal could the world get? She was already sure that Momo was into guys and that Shoto didn't like her that way, but for them to be with each other? It just seemed like some cruel punishment.

But, it made sense. (f/n) wasn't the richest, she wasn't the smartest, she wasn't the strongest, and she was nothing like Momo and Shoto's friend groups. Shoto often hung out with Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka. Similarly, Momo spent quite a bit of time with them, along with Hagakure, Jirou, and Tsuyu. However, (f/n) spent most of her time with Bakugou and his friends. Kirishima and Kaminari's personality just melded well with hers. They were cheerful and so was she, to an extent.

So most of her time was spent away from Shoto and Momo, while they were constantly around each other. They often paired up together for projects or sparring practice, they even trained together outside of school. (f/n) would often see them and feel that twinge of jealousy but she always hid it, not like she had another choice. If they knew how she'd felt, they'd probably avoid her. They were already happy with each other, so who was she to try to wreck their relationship?

Shoto and Momo were in his dorm room, cuddling on his bed just talking about random things after a long day of training. Somehow, their conversation went from talking about weird quirks to (f/n). She had a rather odd quirk which was (y/q). Something they both actually liked.

"You know..." Momo said, looking up at Shoto. "She's really pretty. Maybe... it's because we can only watch from a distance, but she's always got this glow around her." Shoto nodded. They weren't insecure about their relationship, and they trusted and loved each other fully. So, if one of them found someone attractive, they'd point it out instead of hiding or lying about it.

"That's true," Shoto said, as his arms tightened around Momo. "She's always so... cheerful. We should try to talk to her more often."

"We should. If she'd like to. She's usually with Bakugou and his friends and doesn't really ever seem to hang out with our group." The ravenette answered.

"That's true. Momo?" Shoto started, letting go of her and sitting up, making his girlfriend do the same. He looked down, unsure of how to bring the topic up to her.

"What's wrong, Sho?" She asked, her voice gentle and sweet. Sure, they didn't mind pointing out who was attractive in their relationship, but that didn't mean it would be ok to tell each other they'd fallen for someone else.

"I... like her. A lot." He said, his voice wavering, uncertain and scared. Momo was silent, which prompted him to think she'd gotten upset. His mismatched eyes met hers, which were wide with shock. "Momo?"

"Y-You too?" Now it was his turn to be shocked.

"Wait, what?"

"I like her too!" Momo said, taking his hands. "I-I just didn't know how to bring it up to you." Shoto sighed, feeling a weight lift off his chest as he took Momo's hands and kissed her knuckles.

"You think... she'd want to be a part of our relationship?" He asked, softly.

"Like all of us?" Shoto nodded. "Hmm... I-I don't know. I'm not even sure if she likes us that way." The two laid back down, feeling so much more comfortable with each other now. This time talking about (f/n) for the rest of the night, until they fell asleep.

(f/n) walked into the common room, seeing her friends sitting on the couch, talking. She smiled, skipping over to Kaminari and held out her charger.

"Can I get a charge, Denki?" He nodded, moving aside so she could sit in between him and Kirishima.

"Weren't you in your room before this?" Kirishima asked, earning a nod from his (h/c) haired friend. "Then why didn't you just charge your phone there?"

"Because!" (f/n) giggled as Kaminari laid his head on her lap. "It's so cool that Denki can do it! Don't you think?" Both Kaminari and Kirishima laughed at her words.

"Well thanks, love!" Kaminari winked, making her fan her face.

"Oh, did you see that? Chargebolt just winked at me." Kirishima touched the back of his hand to his head and closed his eyes.

"What a lucky girl! If only I, Eijiro Kirishima, was a beautiful girl like you, (f/n)! He'd wink at me too!"

"I thought you wanted to be a manly man." (f/n) said, through her giggles.

"Well, I can be a manly woman!" Kirishima defended, crossing his arms.

"The manliest of them all." Kaminari commented as the trio got comfortable with each other.

Shoto, and Momo walked into the common room with Midoriya and Uraraka right behind them. The couple's eyes landed on (f/n), who seemed to be having a great time with Kaminari and Kirishima. They frowned a little before heading to the kitchen with their friends. They'd come downstairs to get some food and hadn't expected to run into (f/n).

A few nights ago, Momo and Shoto had admitted to each other that they were romantically attracted to their classmate, (f/n). Since then, Momo and Shoto would get flustered at the mere mention of her name. When they saw her, their hearts would speed up, their hands would get clammy, their minds would become fuzzy, not to mention the furious blushes on their cheeks.

After admitting they liked her and wanted her in their relationship, they came up with different ways they could ask her out. Or at least get to know her more, since they weren't super great friends. The only problem was, they could never find (f/n) alone. She was always around Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Sero, or Ashido.

During their little adventure to the kitchen, (f/n) had joined them, but neither Momo nor Shoto knew. So, Midoriya took his chance since he and Uraraka knew about their little crush on (f/n). Something they found out a couple of days ago when both Momo and Shoto came to them for help.

"Oh by the way," He called, earning everyone's attention. "I don't think I'll be able to train with you guys tomorrow, something came up! However, (l/n), why don't you train with them?" Momo's face erupted in red and Shoto's eyes widened a bit at their shy friend taking control of the situation. (f/n) looked conflicted and tried to reject the idea, since being around them only hurt her more.

"O-Oh, I c-can't, I'm not sure-"

"Come on, (l/n)!" Uraraka smiled. "It'll be fun and they don't train for too long. Just two hours. Plus, training is super important!" Figuring it would be rude to say no now, (f/n) quietly sighed in defeat.

"Sure, what time?"

"7? We usually train later at night," Shoto said, even though they had no plans to train for the next few days. "Is that alright with you?" (f/n) nodded.

"Yeah, sounds good." Before anyone could say anything, Kaminari ran into the kitchen.

"(f/n)! Kirishima's gonna go steal and hide Bakugou's homework. Wanna come watch?" (f/n)'s face lit up and she laughed nodding.

"Absolutely! See you two tomorrow!" She called before running away with Kaminari. As they turned a corner, Kaminari grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"Wh-what?" She asked, looking at him.

"You like them. Both of them, right?" (f/n)'s eyes widened as she tried to shake her head.

"W-we should go to K-Kiri-" Kaminari shook his head.

"I lied. Kirishima went to go find Sero and Ashido. You like Todoroki and Yaoyorozu right?" (f/n) looked away, a small frown forming on her face, before she nodded. "I'm sorry... that it didn't work out."

"H-how did you know?"

"I saw the way you looked at them." He answered. "You get flustered every time one of them talks to you, but when you see them together, you get angry. You get that glint in your eyes." (f/n) sniffled as the emotional barrier she tried to keep closed burst open. Tears slid down her cheeks, slowly at first, but soon became a waterfall.

"Y-You're s-supposed to b-be the du-dumb one." She sobbed out, making him wrap his arms around her, rubbing her back.

"It'll be ok, (f/n)." He whispered, trying to soothe his friend. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her hands clutching his shirt as she tried to stop herself.

"E-easy f-for yo-you to s-say. Ji-Jirou's single." Kaminari didn't say anything, just tightening his arms around her.

After about five minutes, Kaminari took (f/n) back to her dorm room, where he stayed with her, rubbing her back as she cried, until she was much calmer.

"It hurts every time I see them together," (f/n) started, taking the tissue Kaminari held out to her. "I... don't know how, since I don't know them too well, but from what we've seen since the beginning, they've always amazed me. I've always wanted to be near them and before I knew it... I wanted to be with them. You know, just before we found out they were together... I was thinking about confessing to one of them." She laughed bitterly. "I should've known... they're so far outta my league." Kaminari shook his head.

"Don't say that. You're totally outta their league! You're outta everyone's league!" He smiled, making her scoff.

"That's no-"

"Yes, it is. Ask Bakugou, even he'll tell you that's true." Now, it was just funny.

"Now you're reaching."

"Like I said, ask him." (f/n) rolled her eyes, but was ready to prove Kaminari wrong. Besides, she needed a distraction. "You owe me after he agrees with me."

"Let's make a bet then," Kaminari said. "If I'm right, you owe me a favor. If you're right, I'll owe you a favor?" (f/n) nodded.

"Deal." (f/n) took her phone out, going into her contacts and finding Bakugou's number. She sniffled and put the call on speaker, while the two waited.

"What, dumbass?" He asked in his usual grumpy tone.

"Um, hey Bakugou." He could immediately tell she'd been crying. "Kaminari says I'm out of everyone's league."

"Isn't she?" Kaminari asked.

"She's definitely outta your league, Pikachu." He answered, gruffly.

"I told you-"

"No," (f/n) interrupted, sniffling. "He said I was out of your league. So you owe me."

"Bakugou, tell her she's out of everyone's league."

"That's cheating!" (f/n) said.

"No, it's not, because Bakugou would never say it unless it was true. He doesn't listen to me anyway-" They were interrupted by knocking on the door, both looking at each other. Handing Kaminari her phone, (f/n) walked to the door and opened it up. There stood Sero, Kirishima, Ashido, and Bakugou, the blond hanging up on the call and stuffing his phone in his pocket.

"You're crying!" Ashido said, as she hugged (f/n) who hugged her back. The group moved into her room, finding a spot for themselves.

"Who did it?" Bakugou asked.

"No one made me cry," (f/n) sniffled as the tears returned. "It's just..." She looked down, sitting next to Kaminari, who rubbed her back.

"We're not gonna judge." He reassured, handing her another piece of tissue. (f/n) wiped her tears, sniffling and looking up in an attempt to stop them.

"I think I love both Todoroki and Yaoyorozu," Everyone's eyes widened before they looked down, understanding the reason she was crying. "And it hurts every time I see them together. Then Uraraka talked me into going to train with them tomorrow. I felt bad saying no so I just said yes."

"Yeah," Bakugou said, making everyone look at him. "Yeah, you're out of everyone's league." (f/n) smiled a bit as her eyes returned to her lap.

"But-"

"No buts," Bakugou interrupted. "What? Calling me a liar?" (f/n) frantically shook her head but her tears finally stopped.

"Thanks."

~**~

(f/n) frowned as she looked at the clock on her nightstand. 6:40. She had 20 minutes before she had to meet Momo and Shoto for training. She was currently sitting with the Bakusquad, dreading going.

"Why don't you just cancel? If you're getting this worked up, what's the point?" Bakugou asked.

"Well, I already said yes."

"So? Who cares about those two dumbasses." Kirishima smacked his arm.

"She does, come on, Bakugou."

"Well, kick their asses for making you cry! I'd do it but-"

"You're not allowed." (f/n) smiled, making him huff and look away. He pretended to be angry, but he couldn't. She was one of the few people he was ok being around and he was rather protective of her. He was furious at ponytail and icy hot for making his friend cry. He already hated Todoroki, but this just fueled the hatred even more.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, princess." He rolled his eyes, taking out his phone. (f/n) found some workout clothes and went into her bathroom, getting changed into it. She came back out and sighed, looking at her friends.

"Here I go!"

"You better kick their ass, I swear to god, (l/n)!" Bakugou yelled, making (f/n) smile.

"I'll make you proud!"

"Good luck!" The others yelled as she left. She trusted them but after about five minutes, they moved to Kirishima's dorm, which was down the hall.

(f/n) exited the elevator and walked into the common room and sat down on the couch. She checked her phone, noting she only had ten minutes before her training session. She heard voices and looked up to see her two favorite people...

"Oh, you're early. Great!" Momo smiled to which (f/n) nodded and forced a smile on her face.

"I didn't want to be late."

"We're just heading up to Momo's dorm to get changed, we'll be back in a few minutes." Well, they were dating so, of course, his clothes were in her room. (f/n) kept her smile up and nodded.

"Sure thing!" The two walked towards the elevator and (f/n) huffed, taking out her phone as she scrolled through it while waiting. As promised, the duo returned after a few minutes, ready for training.

"Ready?" Shoto asked, making (f/n) nod as she stood up. Together, they walked to the training room, asking (f/n) some questions, which she did her best to answer without being awkward. At one point, she had gotten a text from Kirishima, so while she was texting him, she'd slowed down a bit, letting them walk ahead.

However, her eyes then looked at Momo's back, slowly trailing down her body. (f/n)'s face turned as red as Kirishima's hair and she immediately looked away, mentally cursing at herself. What the hell was she thinking?! Was this really the best time for this?! She had to restrain herself from slapping her own face as the embarrassment started to consume her.

When they were ready, they placed their belongings to the side and walked to the middle.

"We decided not to use our quirks for this one, simple hand to hand," Momo said. "Oh! You're great at it, right? Why don't you teach us some things?" (f/n) blushed at the compliment and looked down in an attempt to hide her red cheeks.

"Sure. I don't mind."

"We'll spar first." Momo stated, fixing her hair.

"Me against both of you?"

"Yeah, you're better at this than us anyway." Shoto added, to which (f/n) nodded again. Ok, this was a good way to release her anger. As long as she didn't hurt them... too much.

"Alright then. I'm ready." (f/n) declared.

Throughout their little session, (f/n) felt herself getting angrier. Every time she'd try to hit them, her stupid emotions got in the way, so she just stuck to defense. She could feel herself getting more and more frustrated.

Why did she have to feel this way? Why did she have to like them both? Why couldn't she like someone who wasn't taken? Why did they have to date each other? Wasn't she good enough? Fine, she wasn't as pretty as Momo. She wasn't as rich as them. She wasn't the smartest. She wasn't the strongest. But she had a good heart! She cared for them! She would never hurt them. She'd always be there to ease their burdens. She'd always love them. So why? Why didn't they want her?

Why couldn't she just be normal?!

"Momo!" Shoto yelled, making (f/n) blink. Wait... what happened? (e/c) scanned her surroundings and widened when she saw Momo laying on the ground in front of her, curling up. The (h/c) haired girl backed up a few steps.

Shoto helped Momo sit up, who groaned due to being disoriented. After a few moments, they both looked at (f/n), who seemed more confused than Momo.

"A-are you ok?" She asked, approaching her slowly and the raven-haired girl nodded.

"Th-that was good." Momo complimented as Shoto helped her stand up. (f/n) watched how concerned her boyfriend was for her... and it hurt. She wanted Shoto to look at her like that. "H-How did you do that?"

"Oh..." (f/n) stuttered, looking away as her cheeks turned red. "I-It's easy. I-I just flipped out over my hip."

"Could you show me how to do that?" Shoto asked with a light smile, almost making (f/n) melt.

"Sure."

"That was pretty helpful," Momo started, placing a hand on (f/n)'s shoulder. The girl tensed and looked away. "We should train again! Right, Sho?" (f/n) looked up at them and saw their hopeful smiles and felt her heart beat faster.

"O-Ok." Almost instantly, (f/n) regretted her words, knowing she'd have to go through that again. "I'm sorry again, I-" Momo shook her head, taking (f/n)'s hands in her own. Why was she so touchy-feely? But they were so warm and soft, all (f/n) wanted to do was hold them. She'd always wonder what their hands felt like. But now that she had gotten the chance to find out, it hurt.

"That was great! I learned so much! A couple of bruises never hurt! Besides, I always have Sho to ease any of my aching muscles." (f/n) nodded.

"Right, good for you."

"(l/n), are you alright?" Shoto asked, noting her discomfort.

"Yeah. Wh-why would you ask that?" (f/n) answered, her hands still being held captive by Momo.

"You've seemed... uncomfortable all throughout our training session. Are we making you upset?"

Yes.

"No, not at all. I'm just... dealing with stuff."

"Are you sure? If we're bothering you, we can stop." Shoto suggested, making (f/n) shake her head.

Stop hurting me.

"No, please. I've just been a bit distracted is all."

"About what?" Momo asked, still not letting go of (f/n)'s hands. What if she told them a bit about her troubles? Maybe they'd drop the subject? (f/n) slowly pulled her hands away from Momo, unable to handle it anymore. Her beautiful (e/c) eyes looked away.

"I... like someone. And they don't like me back. It just hurts to deal with it, you know." Both Momo and Shoto looked at each other, before frowning.

"H-How are you sure this p-person doesn't like you back?" Momo stuttered, trying to mask her disappointment. Ok, so she didn't really think this through. In her class, the only couples were Momo and Shoto, then Uraraka and Midoriya. So, she couldn't say that.

"He likes someone else." (f/n) answered, fidgeting with her fingers. Shoto didn't want to push her too far, but he needed to know.

"Who is he?" In a panic... (f/n) just blurted out a name.

"Kaminari." Regret hit her like a barreling truck, she could feel her the weight of her embarrassment starting to crush her and the tears were almost instantaneous. She blinked repeatedly, looking everywhere but at the two people she was so desperately yearning for.

"I-I'm sorry. P-Please don't cry." Momo whispered, making (f/n) shake her head as she backed up a bit.

"It's fine, really. Why would someone like him even like me? I-I'm not that special." Why would Shoto like her? "B-Besides, he and J-Jirou are practically made for each other." He and Momo were made for each other. "They fit like puzzle pieces." Shoto and Momo did fit like puzzle pieces. "I'm not supposed to feel like this." Momo and Shoto were in love. Who was she to try and mess with that?

"(l/n)." Shoto softly called out, wiping her tears. Momo rubbed her back while Shoto repeatedly wiped the tears that escaped her beautiful (e/c) eyes. They hated that Kaminari would be the reason for her crying like this, shaking and unable to breathe. If only they knew Kaminari had nothing to do with it.

Almost as if she'd been ripped back into reality, she pushed them away and backed up.

"I-I gotta go, see you guys later." Without letting them speak, she practically ran away, leaving them heartbroken.

"I guess... she doesn't like us." Momo whimpered, hugging Shoto's arm.

(f/n) shut her door and locked it, covering her mouth as the tears poured out of her eyes. That was the most embarrassing thing she'd ever dealt with! Why couldn't she have just walked away?! Why was she so fucking stupid?! They were both so cool and collected and she'd become some embarrassing ball of anxiety and there was no saving her now. How could she screw up like that?! That shit took some real skill.

(f/n) walked to her bed, stuffing her face into a pillow and letting out a loud scream. The embarrassment was enough to kill her.

Meanwhile, Momo collapsed on Shoto's bed covering her face as the tears welled up in her eyes. Shoto sat next to her and pulled her into his lap, letting her cling to him. It was hard to keep his emotions down, but he gave it his all. (f/n) had practically rejected them and it hurt. It hurt to know that she was in love with someone else.

"I wish..." Shoto started. "I wish she didn't like Kaminari. I hated seeing her cry." Momo nodded. "We wouldn't... make her cry like that."

"We'd love her, cherish her, keep her smiling at all times," Momo said, sniffling. "She looked so broken... so broken, Sho." His arms tightened around her as he tried to keep his composure.

"She did."

It had been about two hours since the incident and (f/n) still hadn't stopped crying. So she called her best friend. It didn't take long before he was knocking at her door.

Opening the door, (f/n) moved aside and let Kaminari walk in. He was immediately worried.

"I messed up." (f/n) cried as she sat on her bed. "I messed up so bad because I was too scared to leave earlier."

"What happened?" Kaminari grabbed a piece of tissue, holding it out to (f/n), who took it from him. His hands rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her crying.

"I kept getting distracted during training. God, they looked so good when they fought. But I knew they liked each other so I kept getting frustrated. After training, they asked what was wrong and I ended up telling them I was distracted because I liked someone and he didn't like me back." Looking up at the wall, she scoffed. "They asked who, I panicked and said you." Kaminari frowned.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered as she turned and clung to him.

"I made it so much worse! I made it worse..." He didn't say anything and just hugged her tightly. "Wh-what do I do?"

"I don't know."

Kaminari stayed with (f/n), rubbing her arm or running his fingers through her hair until she fell asleep. He racked his mind for some sort of plan to help her fix this, but there wasn't much he could think of. Sure, it was bad that (f/n) lied about who she really liked, but at the end of the day, did it matter? Shoto and Momo were together and just because they thought (f/n) liked Kaminari didn't mean they would break up. Why would they? They were happy together and sure, they probably felt bad that he didn't return her feelings, but... what would change? There was no point in trying to prove (f/n) didn't like him.

Both Momo and Shoto were in a similar situation, dealing with a heartbreak that didn't make much sense. Sure, they admitted to liking (f/n), but... why did they feel like their hearts had been torn out and stomped on? They had a crush on her, right? Crushes don't hurt this bad. This almost felt like... love.

"You don't think..." Momo sniffled, her obsidian eyes meeting Shoto's mismatched ones.

"I-I... no," Shoto said. "It can't be. We barely know her."

"Then why does it hurt so much?" Momo whispered, stuffing her face into Shoto's chest.

"I don't know." They were silent and all that could be heard was their quiet sniffles. They laid there for what felt like hours, but in reality had only been twenty minutes, until Shoto broke the silence. "What if... we make her forget?"

"What do you mean?" Momo asked, looking up at him. Shoto's eyes were still trained on the ceiling above him as the gears in his head turned.

"What if we make her forget about him and fall for us instead? Would that... be so wrong?"

"I don't think so... our intentions are to love her, so no." That seemed to mark a silent plan of theirs. The plan to make (f/n) fall for them and help her forget Kaminari.

(f/n)'s eyes moved back and forth from the board and her notebook as she silently took notes while Midnight droned on and on about Modern Arts. (f/n) would've been able to pay attention, if it wasn't for the stupid mistake she'd made two days ago. She had a tendency to hold onto all the embarrassing moments in her life, they'd plague her at the worst of times. Such as now. Her dumbass just had to go out and blurt that she liked Kaminari, even though she didn't. What would they think now?

For some odd reason, it dawned on her in class, just now. What did it matter? Shoto and Momo were a happy couple that everyone rooted for. So what if they thought she liked Kaminari? Not like it would bother them. She wished she liked Kaminari or literally anyone else. Anyone that was single and not taken like Momo or Shoto. Hell, even that Monoma kid from class 1B would've been a better option.

Great. Now she was getting desperate.

"Hey, (l/n)?" (f/n) looked up at the mention of her name and clutched her pen tightly.

"Ye-yes, Todoroki?"

"I was wondering if you could help me out with something after school today. Will you be free?" No. Deny. Say no. (f/n)! Say no!

"Sure, what do you need help with?"

"You'll see. Thank you. I'll meet you in the common room?" (f/n) could only nod as he left, making her slam her head on the desk. That look in his eyes, that soft, gentle, look in his gorgeous hetero chromatic eyes. How could she say no?

"I hate myself." She muttered as she started packing up her stuff. Now, she had to mentally prepare herself for whatever reason he needed her help. Bakugou was right every time he called her a dumbass. She was truly an idiot.

(f/n) changed out of her school uniform, slipping into something more casual. Fixing her hair and reapplying her body spray, she grabbed her (bag/purse) and stuffed her phone in it as she made her way to the elevator.

This was a bad idea and she was more than positive she was going to regret it. Yet, here she was, helping her crush out with whatever the hell it was he needed. Although it hurt to be around it, it was also somewhat easing. Just being near either Momo or Shoto eased her heart but made it ache at the same time. It was an odd mix and, most of the time, didn't make sense. But it didn't matter. That little bit of ease always helped.

(f/n) walked into the common room, looking around. It was completely empty, so she found a seat on the couch and took her phone out. It had only been a few minutes before she heard footsteps. Her bright (e/c) eyes looked up and widened. Shoto waved at her, he'd just changed into some casual clothing and boy... he looked so good.

"Ready?" He asked, making her nod as she stood up. "Come on." The two left the dorm building, walking down the road as he led her to their destination.

"Wh-where are we going?" She inquired, quietly.

"You'll see. It's... a bit of a surprise."

"But you said you needed my help."

"I do, don't worry, (l/n)." (f/n) only nodded as she quietly followed him. They made small talk, asking each other about classes and whatnot. A pretty weak conversation, nothing special.

The two arrived at a small cafe, one (f/n) didn't recognize. She followed Shoto inside and to a seat, sitting down across from him.

"So... what did you need help with?" (f/n) asked, desperately needing to know what was going on. Shoto never just invited her out like this, in fact, they barely spent time together. She didn't even have his number and she had almost everyone's number in class. Well, to be fair, she actively went out of her way to NOT get his or Momo's number. She didn't need them asking her for favors, just like this, because she wouldn't be able to say no and would feel even more heartbroken. Just like now.

"Do you recognize this place?" Shoto asked, making the (h/c) haired girl shake her head. "That's because it just opened up, about three weeks ago. I've wanted to come here since I heard about its opening, but I've been too busy. It's a quaint little place isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's actually really cute. I'm surprised I didn't hear about it at all. It's not that far away from the school, either." (f/n) smiled, her eyes scanning her surroundings. The cafe was adorable, it was bathed with different decorations all relating to coffee and sweets such as cakes and whatnot. The seats, booths, and tables all matched their desserts they offered. Almost as if it was dessert-themed.

"That's what drew me in. I saw the flyer a couple of months ago and made it a goal to come here at some point." (f/n)'s eyes finally met his, a sense of ease washing over her. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked for you to come with me." The girl nodded, almost jumping out of her seat due to the anticipation. "I need you to help me find the perfect dessert and drink."

"For... Yaoyorozu?" There went that bit of ease she felt. However, to her surprise, Shoto shook his head.

"No. For us. We're here right now, aren't we?"

"Well yeah, but... why?"

"Why not?" Well, she didn't have an argument for that so she shrugged, agreeing to help him. (f/n) moved to sit next to him as they looked over the menu together. At first, she could feel her heart beating out of her chest at how close they were, but after a few moments, they were so engrossed in the topic of cakes, she'd forgotten all about it.

"What about the red velvet cake with the vanilla frosting?" Shoto asked, pointing to the picture of a slice of red velvet cake.

"Well yeah, but that's such a simple choice. However, if I may," (f/n) turned the page and pointed. "Direct you to this beauty over here. This adorable little shortcake. The strawberries look absolutely enticing, do they not?"

"Hmm, you pose a compelling argument. But, what about," Shoto pointed to another cake, on the same page. "This delicious Battenberg cake? I think the vanilla and strawberry checkered design looks adorable."

"There's also the classic chocolate cake with extra fudge." (f/n) pointed out.

"Now looks who's talking simple." He teased, which made her giggle and shake her head. He turned the page, partially admiring her beauty until his eyes landed on another choice. "What about this avocado cake?" (f/n) scrunched up her nose, almost sending Shoto to heaven with such an adorable face.

"That doesn't even sound good."

"Well, let's not judge now. It... could be... great." Shoto muttered, which made (f/n) laugh.

"That's not convincing. Not even a little bit. Nice try, A for effort."

"Why thank you." He smiled and the two paused, gazing into each other's eyes. Were... his eyes always so beautiful? One was a dark grey, the other a bright turquoise blue. They... almost shimmered in the rays of the sun that were invading the small cafe, lighting it up. (f/n) blinked, slowly tearing her gaze away from his and looking back down at the menu, not bothering to move. As far as he knew, she liked Kaminari. What did it matter?

But it did matter. As Shoto gazed into her glimmering (e/c) eyes, he could feel himself get pulled into her. The world slowly started to melt away and all he could see was her. Her (h/l) (h/c) framed her face perfectly, her lashes accentuated her gorgeous (e/c) eyes, those soft and alluring (pink/red) lips. He'd never been this close to her before, and he had to admit, it was almost surreal. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, the same way it did for Momo. Almost as if, there was no difference between his feelings for Momo and his feelings for (f/n). Momo was right. He was in love. But (f/n) wasn't.

He blinked back into reality when she looked away, a sad smile on her face as she pointed at another picture on the menu.

"What about this? The Esterhazy Torte?" Shoto- albeit reluctantly- looked down at the menu, where (f/n) was pointing.

"Looks delicious."

"Ah, who are we kidding," (f/n) giggled. "They all look amazing. Well, except that avocado one."

"I still have hope for it." Shoto declared, however, both of them knew that was a complete lie.

"This is a battle you will lose, Shoto." Almost immediately, both of them froze and (f/n) opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out for a second. "I-I meant... to use your hero name. But... your first name is your hero name. I didn't th-think that through." Her cheeks turned red and Shoto almost melted at the sight.

"It's alright, you can call me Shoto if you want. I don't mind." That wasn't a good idea, that would be passing a boundary (f/n) didn't want to. That meant they were getting closer and there's no way in hell would (f/n) get close to him or Momo. That was just... stupid. She needed to come up with an excuse.

"Maybe." (f/n) said, with a smirk making Shoto raise a brow.

"Maybe?"

"You heard me. It's a special privilege to have me use your first name. Let's see if you can earn it." He smiled at the challenge.

"Oh, I'll give it my all, (h/n)."

~**~

"Hey, (l/n)." (f/n) almost jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder, making her turn around abruptly only to see Momo standing behind her.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering. Could you help me with my hand to hand? I've got a couple of hours before Sho gets back and you helped me so much last time!" Of course, she had that same hopeful look in her eyes that Shoto did, making it impossible to say no. God, they pretty much had her wrapped around their fingers.

"Y-yeah, sure." (f/n) answered, quietly, looking down.

"Great! Should we go to your dorm so you can get changed?" (f/n) only nodded as the two walked toward the elevator in silence.

Now, this wasn't the first time she'd been approached by Momo. She'd already asked (f/n) to study with her about three times now, asked her to go shopping with her a few times, and asked for help with training a couple of times. Shoto had asked her to go to that cafe multiple times, he'd also asked for help with training and studying, as well as "running into her" at the mall a few times. It was odd that they suddenly wanted to be around her and as much as it hurt, (f/n) accepted it. It was the only time she got to spend with the two and it was always alone. Alone meaning it was either Shoto or Momo, not them together, so it hurt less.

(f/n) grabbed her work out outfit and walked into her bathroom, quickly getting changed into it. Once she was ready, she stepped out and gave Momo a small smile.

"Ready." Both girls walked to their usual training area, ready for a little bit of sparring. (f/n) still had the same problem, she found herself unable to hurt them so she usually just deflected their attacks. On rare occasions, she'd be able to attack, but not too much. She'd usually just drop them to the ground until they surrendered, marking the end of the sparring session.

"Thanks for helping me by the way," Momo started as they got to the training area. "I've always admired your combat abilities and I'm so glad I finally had the courage to ask." (f/n)'s face turned red at her words.

"A-admired?" Momo nodded. "That's not... n-no way."

"I have! You're so beautiful and strong, your quirk is amazing and you don't rely on it! You're such a great fighter and I know you'll become a hero in no time! You'll easily become one of the top, if not number 1." (f/n) looked away, covering her cheeks.

"Thanks." She whispered. Beautiful? Momo thought she was beautiful? Shutting her eyes tightly, she took a few deep breaths trying to calm her heart. When she opened her eyes, she let out a shriek. Momo's face was inches away from hers. "Wh-what a-are you do-doing?!"

"You're so pretty, (l/n)." Momo grabbed her hands and pulled the flustered girl towards her, making (f/n)'s entire body rigid. One of Momo's hands landed on (f/n)'s waist, while the other held her wrist. "What's wrong?" She asked innocently. (f/n) opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes were as wide as dinner plates, and her body was frozen as if Shoto had used his ice. She watched in pure fear as Momo's face got closer and closer to hers. She felt Momo let go of her wrist, her hand sliding up her arm, shoulder, and all the way up to her face. Momo gently tilted (f/n)'s face upwards a bit, her thumb caressing her cheek.

They were going to kiss. (f/n) knew it. Her heart was about to explode and panic surged through her. She wanted to kiss Momo, she really did. But that was wrong! Momo wasn't with her, Momo... wasn't hers. She was dating Shoto and this wasn't ok. This was wrong, it was considered cheating. (f/n) wouldn't want Shoto or Momo to cheat on her, so how could she allow this?

In a blind panic, (f/n) ripped her wrist out of Momo's grip, grabbed her wrist, then spun, to flip the ravenette over her hip. Momo grunted as she felt her body get slammed on the ground. After a few seconds, she sat up and saw (f/n) standing at least twenty feet away from her.

"I-I'm sorry!" She yelled. "B-But we should start training. That's all we're doing here." Momo nodded, standing up with a groan, but ready to fight regardless.

Momo laid on her stomach on her bed, while Shoto massaged her aching muscles. Every training session with (f/n) was grueling and always left her with bruises.

"Her skin is soft." Momo said, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Whose?"

"(f/n)'s. Her... her skin is soft. Her eyes look like (another way to describe your eye color [e.g. pools of honey/ glimmering rubies]). She smells like (a scent you like)." Shoto was silent, his hands still massaging Momo's back.

"She's... even more amazing than I thought. I remember when all I could do was watch her from a distance, wondering what she was like. I always thought... she'd be more like Bakugou, they get along so well."

"She's pretty quiet, but she has her moments." Momo smiled, her mind returning to the beautiful girl. "Her blush... it's so cute."

"I wish she was here right now. I just want..." Shoto trailed off, but his girlfriend knew exactly what he was thinking.

"You want to hold her too, right? Just have her laying in between us."

"Exactly." Shoto smiled sadly, as he warmed up his hand to continue massaging his girlfriend's back.

Momo and Shoto had been pinning for (f/n) for about three months now. They didn't hang out all the time, (f/n) was still very reserved, but at this point, Momo and Shoto were positive they were madly in love with her.

It was to the point where it would hurt to see her around Kaminari, who she was so comfortable with. For example, they'd often find (f/n) with her head on his lap or vice versa, they would always be together, they'd always be laughing or something. Aside from that, Kaminari and (f/n) were also on a first-name basis, as opposed to them. They'd told her she could use their first names, but she always denied them, in some way, shape, or form.

It was frustrating. If she liked Kaminari but he liked someone else, why was she always around him? It was clear from the first time they asked her it hurt her so much. So, why would she do that to herself?

Well, Shoto and Momo were determined to find out but separately. One thing they'd noted was that (f/n) was much more comfortable with them if they were alone with her without the other.

So, Shoto was currently waiting on (f/n) to basically ambush her. She'd been quite busy for a few days and he hadn't gotten a chance to talk to her, and the times she wasn't busy she was around Kaminari and Sero.

(f/n) left the elevator on the way to her dorm when she felt someone grab her arm. She turned her head and came face to face with a familiar dual haired male.

"Y-Yes, Todoroki?" She asked, turning to him, trying to pull her arm out of his grasp. Instead, he tightened his grip.

"Why are you always around Kaminari?" He asked and pushed her until she hit the wall. (f/n) was good at hand to hand, but in moments like these, she'd freeze up and forget what to do. So all she did was follow his lead until he'd trapped her against the wall.

"W-what? H-he's my f-friend." Panic set in as he got closer and closer to her, with her unable to escape. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as her eyes met his. She felt the same thing she did when they first went out to that cafe. His mismatched eyes were so beautiful and the longer she stared, the more the world around them disappeared.

Shoto felt the same, as he gazed into her enticing (e/c) eyes. He couldn't help it, and his body moved without his permission. Slowly, his face got closer and closer, with (f/n) closing her eyes and tilting her head up towards him.

Their lips finally met, slowly moving against each other. He could tell that she had no experience, but Shoto didn't mind, he'd teach her. He was gentle, letting his hands slid down from the wall to circle around her waist. She shakily placed her on his arms as the world dissolved away completely. She melted against him, letting him press her against the wall as his lips took hers.

After a few moments, the two pulled away, having forgotten what they were doing and where they were. Shoto leaned in again and (f/n) tilted her head upward for him, their lips moving against each other.

"Shoto?" Both (f/n) and Shoto pulled away from each other abruptly at the voice. They saw Momo standing in the distance, staring at them. (f/n)'s eyes widened, and her body went rigid.

"Oh, hello Momo." Shoto greeted, rather calmly. Momo approached them, no hostility in her movements. At this point, (f/n) was extremely defensive, not feeling safe with either of them.

"What the hell is going on?" (f/n) asked, backing away from the couple.

"We can explain," Momo said, making (f/n) stare at her. "D-do you love Kaminari?"

"What does it matter?" (f/n) asked, unsure of what to do.

"Because," Shoto started. "We're... in love with you."

"What?" She'd gone from defensive to confused within seconds. This couldn't be her reality. It must've been another dream, just a small hallucination to torment her the next day. She was gonna wake up in a little bit and she'd still be in the same situation.

"We know you like Kaminari, maybe you're in love with him. But... we're in love with you. We... want you," Momo started, determination and uncertainty in her eyes. "We wouldn't make you cry like he did, we wouldn't make you look so broken, so hurt, and alone. We'd treat your right. We'd give you all the love and support you'd ever need or want. We'd hold you tightly at night so you wouldn't feel alone, we'd be there to take care of you and love you." (f/n)'s eyes widened, it almost felt surreal. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, the butterflies in her stomach were going crazy, and her mind was in shambles.

"W-wait." (f/n)'s hands went up to her head, her fingers sliding through her hair as she took her words in. They loved her? They were with each other. "Th-this isn't happening." She mumbled, looking everywhere except at the couple.

"We know it's a bit to take in," Shoto said. "But it's true. We'll wait for you, (f/n). We'll wait for you, until you're able to let go of Kaminari." (f/n) shook her head, finally finding the right words to say.

"I don't like Kaminari," Their eyes widened at her words. "I never did. I panicked that day and accidentally told you I liked him..."

"So... you don't love Kaminari?" Momo asked, making (f/n) shake her head.

"I don't."

"Th-then who? You were so upset that day." Shoto stated, making the girl look away, her (e/c) staring at the wall beside them.

"... you two."

"What?" Momo called out, moving closer to (f/n), who stayed still.

"Kaminari never made me cry. It... was always you two. The day you announced that you were officially a couple, I was thinking about confessing to one of you. It broke my heart and you've been breaking my heart ever since."

"We want you," Shoto declared. "We want you to be part of our relationship. We'll make up for all that pain you've gone through because of us. We'll make up for all of it and make you happier than ever... if you'll still have us."

"All 3 of us... that's so... uncommon."

"So what?" Momo smiled weakly. "We love us."

"I've never been in a relationship before, least of all with two other people."

"This is our first relationship too," Shoto said. "We'll learn together. Figure this out as we go."

"What do you say, (f/n)?" Momo asked. (f/n) was silent for a moment, thinking over all of the information provided. They felt the same about her... this was a dream come true. Why would she say no?

"Ok." She answered, making them both smile and breathe in relief. Shoto and Momo approached her, wrapping their arms around her, giving her a warm hug. For once, (f/n) felt happy with both of them with her. She melted against their touch, feeling both of them kiss her cheeks.

"I love you, (f/n)." They said in unison.

"I love you both, too." She answered, quietly before they led her towards her dorm room and went inside. The trio laid down with (f/n) in the middle. Both Momo and Shoto held the girl tightly, almost scared that they'd lose her if they let go. They were finally able to hold her, as they'd wished and hoped for all this time. That feeling of relief and happiness flooded Momo and Shoto and the two could've almost cried.

#mha #mha imagines #mha todoroki #mha momo #bnha #bnha todoroki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki shouto #shouto x reader #shoto torodoki #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #momo yaoyozoru #momo yaoyorozu #momo yaoyorozu x reader #momo x reader #todomomo

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.05

10/28/2020

Preparations

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 6,652

Warnings: angst, slight smut?, language, fluff

A/N: Thank you everyone, for putting up with my emotional ass. After some thought, and when I was feeling better and not so sad (?), I really didn’t wanna make those of you keeping up with the story wait for the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy this one and if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other blogs or sites.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is lively with beautiful Asgardians rushing about their daily lives. In the time since it’s completion, New Asgard and its inhabitants have settled into a routine. New lives on a planet now once again full of growth, community interaction, and celebration when the time is right.

“We’ll give you a proper tour tomorrow.” Brunnhilde says, reaching forward to tap the shoulder of the man driving you both. “Stop here.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming with me?” You ask, startled as she throws open the back door of the sleek black sedan.

“No. I have other things to prepare for the wedding and then I have to check in on my Valkyrie. Your escorts will meet you at the shop.” Brunnhilde assures you.

“But-”

“Bye!” She smiles at you and slams the door in your face.

You sit there, confused and at a loss. Your anxiety begins to mount when the driver, a handsome young Asgardian man with long braided black hair, clears his throat and draws your attention to the front.

“Shall I drive on Your Highness?” He asks, glancing in his rearview mirror at you.

“Um…” You’ll never get used to that stupid your highness stuff. “Yes.”

“Very good, Your Highness.”

“Can’t you just call me, Y/N?” You ask, feeling awkward.

“No.” He says, a smile on his face. “I cannot. I can see why his Majesty has chosen you.”

You’re surprised by this statement, and you’re pretty sure it’s insolent maybe? You don’t know because this is all new to you, but you don’t really care either way.

“Why?”

“You don’t remember me?” He asks, as he drives down the street.

As they pass, the Asgardians stop in their walking or talking or errand running to watch you drive by. Some of them smile with excitement, even moving with the car a few steps before stopping.

They’re all dressed normal. Asgardian garb abandoned to fit in on Earth. Not all of them. Some still wear their own clothes. Some of them wear a mixture of both. It’s a mish-mash of two cultures and you understand the need for a human Queen a little more.

“No.” You shake your head, giving the driver your full attention.

“I didn’t think you would.” He admits, smiling still. “You were very nervous when I first drove you up to the palace. Quite literally shaking in your pretty shoes.”

Was he your driver then too?!

“Alas, I understand his Majesty’s choice because you were the only woman that sat in my car and spoke to me. You may not have been aware enough to remember me, but you were very kind. Very concerned about me despite the stress you were in.” He looks in his rearview mirror again, meeting your eyes. “My wife gave birth, by the way.”

“Oh!” Your mind is struck with an unfocused conversation, hazy but you remember the pregnant wife. “I remember!”

You’re way too excited about remembering and the driver chuckles.

“Was it a boy or a girl?” You ask eagerly.

“A girl.” He smiles. “We’ve named her Luta.”

“Congratulations!” You exclaim gently, so happy for him.

“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll tell my wife you said so.” He promises.

“I’d love to meet her.” You hope, leaning forward to get a better look at the side of his face.

“I’m not sure that will be possible. You’ll be terribly busy, and my wife is also with our little girl.”

“What if I came to pay her a special visit?” You really want to meet her.

“If you could find the time, Your Highness, my wife and I would be happy to receive you.” He smiles.

“I’m sorry if you told me last time we met, but what is your name?”

“Armod, Your Highness.” He tells you, turning down a second and smaller street.

The people are still dense, gathered around stalls and smaller shops as Armod drives a little slower to keep a careful eye on the families attending what must be an early morning market.

You take it in as quickly as you can, devouring the sight of these beautiful people and in return they turn to watch you go by.

They turn to each other, have quick and silent—to you—exchanges before a few of them begin to turn and wave.

Nervous, you wave timidly, smiling because you can’t help it. It isn’t a conscious decision.

The side street is so packed with stalls that it makes it impossible for people to follow the car at the speed it’s going, even reduced.

You’re a little grateful. You don’t want to get mobbed without someone else here to dilute the excitement.

“The people are very excited to see their future Queen.” Armod explains, “Forgive them their exuberance.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

As the crowd thins out, and Armod pulls the car into a gentle stop, he shakes his head, “Trust me, Your Highness, you won’t.”

Your car door opens. Into your view slides a pale white hand, luxurious suit jacket sleeve barely hiding the equally expensive white button-up underneath.

“Your Highness,” greets a familiar voice.

Taking his hand, Loki pulls you from the car, helping you stand and even reaching down to adjust the long train of your right sleeve.

The dress is sparkling blue, a body-hugging gold silk dress underneath the top sheer voile blue layer on top. The right sleeve is long, ends at your wrist, with a train that flows down at an equal length to that of your skirt. The left side is sleeveless.

You’re nervous about the deep V of your bodice, the scrunched-up shoulders of your dress carefully balanced there but too precarious for your liking.

With he sun out, the chill in the air isn’t so bad, but here in the shade of what must be the bridal shop, you shiver.

“You look lovely.” Loki smiles.

“I look stupid.” You counter, feeling very exposed and not at all pretty with how tight the dress feels.

“Allow me to politely disagree.” Loki takes your hand and leads it around his elbow as become aware of the people gathering around to catch a look at you. “I think the crowd would agree with me.”

“Can we go inside, please?” You beg, waving at the small group as other begin to flock from their spots at distant stalls to join the crowd.

“Of course.” Loki taps your hand then escorts you into the shop.

You relax a little once you’re inside and warm.

A middle-aged looking woman moves towards the two of you, her hand subtly stroking a large fold of crimson fabric on the low center shelf before she reaches you and then dips into a low curtsy before rising and grabbing her hands to hold at chest level.

“Good morning, your Highnesses!” She exclaims, gushing to an embarrassing degree.

“Good morning, Gorm. How are you?” Loki asks politely.

He doesn’t seem truly interested in her answer, but he waits kindly while she flusters with the honor of his polite concern.

“I am much better now that you and our King Thor’s lovely intended have arrived. Such an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” She says, addressing you directly.

“Thank you.” You reply, startled by her a bit. “It’s so great to meet you.”

“Tell me, Gorm, have you received His Majesty’s instructions on the dress we’d like?” Loki checks.

“Oh, yes, Your Highness! I’ve been working non-stop on several options since I received them.” She assures him, gesturing back towards a doorway past a long wooden counter with a modern cash register and signature pad for credit cards.

“Excellent.” Loki smiles. “Now, while I hate to do this to you, love—do you think you can handle a few hours alone with Gorm to do your fitting?”

“You’re leaving?” You ask, once again shocked, just like with Brunnhilde.

“I’m afraid I have several other things to do for the wedding and with the Earth and Asgardian ambassadors eager to have the wedding as soon as possible, I have to take every chance I can get to run these errands. Not like I have anything better to do…” Loki’s voice is slightly bitter, but only for a moment before he taps your hand again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back long before you’re finished. Gorm doesn’t leave anything to chance with her gowns and this one is the most important one you will wear in your life. We have to get it right, don’t we Gorm?”

Gorm is already nodding, her blonde graying hair flowing like waves across her shoulders as she does. “Oh, yes, Your Highness. I will make sure that not only will the dress fit His Majesty’s expectations, but you too shall feel beautiful and like the dress was made just for you, Your Highness.”

“There you are.” Loki smiles. “I’ll be back.”

He pulls your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before letting it go and moving towards the door, leaving you and Gorm to stand awkwardly for a few moments after the door shuts behind him.

“Shall we?” She gestures back towards the doorway and since there’s no way to get out of this, you fix her with a nervous smile and nod.

“Yes.” You sigh, and follow her, making sure to hold onto the counter as your round it so that you don’t trip on your train.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stomach absolutely growling, you slip your arms through the sleeves of the dress you’ve pretty much settled on.

The past five hours have had you step in and out of two other dresses three times, and this one a total of eight times. Each time so that Gorm can make alterations to length and cut and detail.

It’s surprising to you that this particular dress should need so much maintenance when it’s the simplest of the bunch.

You’d fallen for it almost at first sight but had tried the other two more frilly dresses to appease Gorm since Thor had requested something feminine to counteract the armor you’d be wearing on the day.

Armor you had no idea would be required in your wedding until Gorm explained the necessity for bodices without much flair.

“Alright, Your Highness,” Gorm smiles at you, holding the dress low and open for you to step through. “Once more, and then I think we are done.”

You let her slip the dress over you, layer after layer of smooth satin with one final crepe layer on top. The dress is eggshell white, soft, and easy on the eye.

Some white fabrics nearly burn your retinas, but this one is pleasant to look at.

It stops just around your shoulders, leaving them exposed. The neckline curves down with your bust just a little making the top look like a heart, the point of which is followed all the way down with a line of stitched white buttons.

They’re purely decorative because behind you is where Gorm stands to zip the dress closed.

She closes a small clasp and then folds out the layers of skirt around you.

It’s not as long as the blue dress you wore here today. Simpler and easier to walk in. The sleeves themselves are long, which you appreciate very much in this weather. Every bit of the dress now settles along your curves just right.

“Oh, this was the right choice, I think.” Gorm smiles wide. “You look beautiful, Your Highness. His Majesty is a very lucky man.”

You smile in return, flattered by her words for a moment because you forget that Thor has been with Jane all morning. As you remember, your smile falters then fades as the worries you had this morning come rushing back.

“You don’t like it?” Gorm asks, reaching down to stroke the long and beautiful skirt.

“Oh, no. I love the dress, Gorm. I’m just…worried about His Majesty liking it.” You smile at her, to reassure her. She’s done such amazing work. You might have her make all of your gowns from now on. Unless…?

“Gorm? Were you the one that made the dress I came in wearing today?” You wonder.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m afraid I did not have that pleasure.”

“How much of an imposition would it be if I made you my sole dressmaker? His Majesty has bought me some gowns to wear when appropriate, but I don’t feel like they’re my style.”

“Oh, Your Highness! It would be an honor to be your personal dressmaker!” She’s so flustered that she excuses herself and vanishes into the front of the shop to get her water.

You turn your gaze onto yourself in the mirror, all three angles looking back at you.

The dress really is unbelievably beautiful. You would never have thought that this dress and its style would have looked good on you, but it fits around your curves so seamlessly. This dress was literally made for you and it’s very noticeable.

As you turn around one final time, a small chuckle from the doorway pulls your eyes away from your reflection.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t put up such a fight over this.” Loki moves towards you, stopping a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You should have seen me wrestle with the other two.” You sigh. “Can we go? I’m so hungry.”

Almost as if on cue, your stomach growls.

“Yes.” Loki nods. “We can go. I’ve got lunch waiting for you back in the palace.”

“Is Thor back?” You hop off the box you’d been standing on, grabbing your skirts and then dropping them to cascade around your legs like a milky waterfall.

Loki’s smile falter. “I’m afraid not. But don’t worry, he’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

You’re so disappointed you wander away from him into the dressing room to change back into your blue dress without giving him any sort of answer.

He’s got you in the car, your forehead resting against the glass of the window, lost in thoughts of Thor and Jane when he speaks to you again.

“Might I ask you a favor, sister?” He probes gently.

Him calling you his sister makes your stomach tumble.

You have a brother! How can you ever explain this happiness?

“Sure.”

“I hope you don’t find me insolent, but-” He hesitates, thinking about the words he’s about to say hard before he meets your eyes and that seems to strengthen his resolve. “Don’t fall in love with Thor. Not yet. Don’t let him pull you in right away.”

“You think he’ll leave me for Jane?” You wait, watching as Loki thinks through your accusation.

“Not exactly, but yes. I suppose that’s a possibility I hope you can avoid.”

For a few minutes while Armod drives you back to the palace, you say nothing. You consider his request and the honest concern that he seems to have for you.

As Armod pulls into the large multi-car garage at the back of the palace, you turn to Loki and stare sadly.

“I can’t make that promise, Loki.” You shrug. “It’s already too late for that.”

“You love him?” Loki realizes.

“No!” You deny, “Not exactly. I don’t love him yet, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very fond of him already. He-he kissed me last night.”

Loki’s brow furrows.

“A lot actually. He begged me to try and love him just as he would try to love me. I promised him I would try.” As if you’ll need to try.

You’re already hopelessly possessive over him. Maybe not him as a person, but rather those kisses he gave you. Those are your kisses now. Those thick arms he held you in, those are your arms—your hugs!

And now he might be in the United States giving those very things that are now yours alone to Jane who wouldn’t even marry him?

“It’s too late.” You reiterate, feeling absolutely lost.

“Come on, Your Highness. Let’s get you a late lunch.”

~~~~~~~~~~

If there isn’t a trail across your floor after all of the pacing you’ve done today, you’d be surprised.

“This won’t make him come back any faster.” Brunnhilde points out.

“Do I really have to model the wedding dress for him?” You ask, twisting your fingers nervously as you move up and down your room.

“I think it would be good for him.” Brunnhilde explains. “And yes. He won’t see your armor until the day of the wedding, but the dress will help make it more real for him. He needs that. So do you.”

“It’s already real for me Brunnhilde.” You lift your thumb nail to your teeth and nip, like a nervous pup, stopping at the heavy doors of the balcony.

They’ve been thrown open and the chilly air filtering in makes you shiver.

“Hilde.” Brunnhilde corrects, then moves to take a long wine-colored woolen shawl and drapes it over your shoulders as you stare out at the bustling city.

You can hear laughter, lots of merrymaking. The Asgardian people know how to enjoy their free time, but you’ve seen how hard they work too. As a whole. Loki assured you on the way home that there are just as many lazy time wasters among them as there are humans.

“Why are you fretting?” She sits at the desk, staring up at you with curious dark eyes.

“Because he’s been with Jane all day.” You lash out.

It’s not a scream, just pure exasperation. And immediately, you feel sorry.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, dropping your hand but pulling the shawl around you tighter.

You notice it finally.

“Oh, thank you.” You really feel bad now.

“You’re acting like you’re already in love with him.” She teases, not caring one bit about your little tantrum.

Through the corners of your eyes you look at her, avoiding her piercing look.

“Y/N…?” She wonders, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

“I don’t love him, alright? I just…” You sigh. “No one’s ever kissed me before.”

Your feel your neck and ears burn, scorching with embarrassment as you admit just how much of a maiden she’d found for him.

“So, you really are a virgin?” She gasps, leaning almost her entire body along the desk to look at your face.

You frown at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No.” She hakes her head. “No, not at all. You’re just so…well, you’re beautiful.”

The laugh that slips through your lips is sudden and honest.

You stare at her, shaking your head because you don’t believe her one bit.

“I’m serious!” Hilde assures you, smiling and amused by your reaction. “It’s a little bit of a shame that you haven’t been fawned on before.”

The sprinkle of sadness in her voice exposes her real meaning and it wipes away all traces of flattery.

“You mean, it’s a shame that I haven’t been with someone who will really love me because they choose to? And not like Thor because he has to?” With a bit more desperation, you look for Armod’s car, needing to see Thor.

Everything that happened last night feels like a dream. Made up in your mind to make it easier to marry Thor. Was it a dream?

You don’t remember him telling you goodnight. You have the vague memory of falling asleep with your head on his shoulder but you’re not sure how real that is with how hazy it feels.

What if his kisses had been a hopeful wish?

You bite your bottom lip, the heat and weight of his lips still fresh in your memory.

It can’t have been a dream. It felt so amazing. You could never have imagined the way it felt for him to invade you the way he did, pulling your body against his.

“He doesn’t come by car, y’know?” Hilde says, sitting back in her seat.

“What?” You turn to her, eager for explanation.

“Thor?” She gestures at the sky outside, drawing your eyes away from the city in the distance and up to the stars. “He flies here on Earth. It’s faster than flying by plane, but not by much. He’ll be going straight to his room as soon as he gets back.”

“Oh.” Your disappointment is suffocating and because you have no reason to keep freezing to death, you close the balcony doors.

With the cold shut out the heat from the hidden vents in your room saturates your shawl and envelopes you in a cocoon of heat.

“He might not want to see me tonight.” You accept, knowing that even if things went as best as they could have, Thor will still be heartbroken.

Having to give up on a relationship he had been so invested in? Even if he’s been unhappy with it lately, it must be difficult.

“No. He might not. But he has no choice. The wedding is in three days, so we have no time to wait for him to be ready to see you. We need approval on the dress.” She explains, leaving no room for argument.

Which is a shame because you would rather not see him all torn up about Jane. Not that you wouldn’t like to give him comfort. But you doubt that seeing you is something Thor would want. Not when it’s your fault that he has to break up with Jane to begin with.

“You know what? I’ll go check to see if he’s back. Gorm already sent us the dress. I’ll have Estrid help you put it on.” Hilde rises, moving out of the room without waiting for you to agree.

Five minutes later, Estrid moves into the room, her arms cradling your beautifully crafted wedding dress.

“Shall I do your hair too, Your Highness?” She asks, and lays the dress on your bed, the color such a beautiful contrast to the deep plum colored sheets.

“My hair?” You look in the mirror and the fancy thing they’d done with it this morning is falling apart. “No. I’m okay, Estrid. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Highness.” She smiles kindly then moves towards you and takes your shawl.

You turn for her and she begins to unzip your blue dress, your mind on Thor and the mood he might be in when you see him again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The hesitation is in more than just your fist, hovering over the dark wooden of Thor’s bedroom door. It’s tall. Taller than it probably needs, sitting within a stone arch decorated with stunning golden engravings.

You’re not sure why Brunnhilde left you to do this alone. Loki is busy with something secret that he doesn’t want to share with you yet.

Not wedding related. He says it’s important and it involves you to some degree, but it’s not necessary for you to know until it’s necessary for you to know. Which is a circle-jerk kind of logic that you’re kind of annoyed by.

He’s nicer than previous opinions of him have made him seem. You suppose that has to do with the growth he’s made since he was last on Earth.

New York hadn’t been a great time for Loki, and he could only go up from there.

Brunnhilde had also neglected to tell you how Thor was feeling. Or looking? Either would have been great before you committed to coming up here on your own.

Thor’s bedroom is at the highest point of the palace. That is, highest save for the last floor which is mostly a defense tower full of weapons and a constant guard to keep Thor and his future wife safe. Which is now gonna be you.

Unless you go into his room and he tells you that he can’t stand being without Jane and rejects you and this pretty dress and you have to go back home to live just as you had before you met him. Only now with his kisses in your mind, his massive body pressed to yours, you won’t be able to get over the future you’d been promised.

How had you gone from refusing to marry him to wanting nothing more than to be his wife and even if all he was able to give you was one of those stupid kisses from last night, you’d be satisfied?

You drop your hand, almost with your mind made up to give up and just go back to your room because you don’t think you have the nerve to go through with seeing him today.

The part of you that disagrees, that remembers last night and wants more lifts your hand and knocks on his door.

In shock, you wait until his voice comes through and finally take a breath.

“Estrid? Is that you?” Thor’s voice sounds tired, not broken, but you can hear the weight in his heart by the sound of him.

You open the door and peek in, just one eye and the room is astoundingly beautiful.

If you weren’t so scared of what you’ll find in Thor, your jaw would drop ant the stunning image. To the left are two doorways, one is open, and you can see a large bathroom within. At the center of the room is what looks like a small kiddie pool, recessed into the floor, but probably deep enough for Thor to stand in?

There’s a part on this floor that’s shaped strangely from the outside and wonder if that’s what it is. The floor is dark stone tile, smooth and probably treated for waterproofing. Along the far wall of the bathroom, you can see a long wooden bench, dark oak like all of the other woods in the room from what you can see.

The toilet must be somewhere to the left where you can’t see from where you stand.

The other door is shut but since there is only an ornate set of drawers to the right of it, you assume that inside must be a large closet.

To the right of the room is a large bed. Large bed. You’ve never seen one so big.

It must be a California King? Which you’d stumbled upon in your search for mattresses when you’d first moved into your home. An accidental find and completely unnecessary.

That is, until now, when the thought of Thor laying in your very normal sized bed flits across your mind and suddenly the large King makes much more sense.

The bed is covered in soft looking gray flannel sheets. The comforter is gorgeous too, luxurious in its cotton ball soft appearance. Black with golden swirls and lines stitched across the top and bottom. The number of pillows is silly. All sizes too. Large ones at the very back and then several smaller ones until the ones at the very front are for mere decoration only.

Despite the more rustic look of the walls in the dark oak and stone base, the bed and furniture is slightly more modern in design. The headrest is cream white, ridged, and padded, as is the foot of the bed, but flatter than the headrest.

Two bedside tables hold various books on one and a lamp on the other. Behind the bed is a wall with a great big tree carved, flowing the length from top to bottom.

You swear you’ve seen that somewhere before.

The entirety of the wall opposite the doors to the room is made up of windows. Each window has been thrown open and the floor to ceiling curtains flow in the cool breeze.

They avoid the small breakfast table, laden with an untouched plate of the chicken you’d had for supper. On the other side is a large heavy looking desk. It’s sturdy. Big like Thor with papers and scrolls and folders. A laptop sits shut at the center and in the chair turned to face the left side of the room sits Thor with his shoulders hunched, elbows on his knees, hands supporting his face as he keeps it covered.

His body tells you everything you need to know about how he’s feeling and though you hate it, after so much worrying about what you’d find in here, you’re grateful to finally set eyes on him.

“It’s not Estrid.” You say gently, afraid to speak any louder and disturb him more than he already is.

His head whips towards you, faster than you expected.

Your hands go numb with nervous energy as he stares at you, his electric blue eyes scanning you very slowly from head to toe, then back up again. He takes his hand as he does so, covering his mouth with it, stroking his beard slowly as if fixing it.

Taking the opportunity, you note the plain jeans he’s wearing, the white t-shirt that stretches across his wide chest and strains to keep him covered. The hem of his sleeves struggle to keep his biceps contained. His golden hair is windswept, short as it is, it sticks in all directions.

He looks so good, so perfect, except for that sadness on his face.

You can’t bear to ask him anything about her.

“Gorm is lovely.” You tell him, forcing a smile and a quick nod.

He meets your eyes with his own, dropping the hand he’d used to shield his mouth and allows both his hands to dangle between his knees.

“She’s the best in the city.” Thor nods, devouring your dress again.

He suddenly rises and you teeter backwards with the sudden rise.

He steps towards you, his feet falling heavy on the floor.

You really like the way he struts towards you. There’s a slight sway to his hips.

Lips feeling dry and cracked, you freeze as he moves past you at the last moment.

The sound of him sitting on his bed pulls you around to look at him and he sighs, reaching his right arm up towards you.

With a swallow, you move towards him. The luscious short train of your skirt follows in your wake, flowing like water.

When you’re within reach, his places his hand on your waist, pulling you closer until you’re standing before him. He takes his other hand and places that on your waist too, making your breath shallow.

He looks up to meet your gaze.

Hands balled into fists; you wait. You’re not sure what he needs. What you need from this moment. You’re only sure that you’re glad you don’t seem to have dreamed up last night.

“You look beautiful.” He says, voice penetrating into your chest to restart your heart at double the speed.

“It’s a little simple.” You observe, remembering the other much frillier options.

“It suits you.” He lets his hand trace down along the side of your hip, stealing your breath before sliding his hand back up to your waist.

He gives you a little shake and you reach out to place your hands on his shoulders to keep from losing your already fragile balance.

“Brunnhilde told me that you were very anxious today.” He sounds worried, his brow puckered, eyes crinkled at the corners from concern.

You shrug for him, intending to play off the exact amount of worrying you’d done today because you don’t want him to know how invested you already are.

“I ended it with Jane.”

“You don’t have to-” You begin, but Thor makes a dismissive noise in his throat and cuts you off.

“I owe you an explanation.” He nods. “When I gave you that ring on your finger, I became your intended. Officially ending things with Jane was only out of respect for who we were when we were together.”

“Thor you really don’t have to tell me about your breakup with Jane. It’s private. It’s before me. Whatever happened between the two of you today is now in the past.” You sigh, trying not to think about what kisses might have been shared.

Maybe more?

You make a mental note to never hold it against him if he ever tells you that he slept with her today.

He was hers long before you agreed to marry him.

“I want to be honest with you.” He sighs. “I want us to be open with each other. I want us to talk about anything that may be troubling us.”

“We will.” You nod, giving his shoulders a small squeeze. “I promise.”

“Then tell me what you were worried about today.”

You already regret your promise.

“I thought about what you must be feeling. Wondered if you might change your mind.” Answering honestly is actually cathartic. Though you usually do it on reflex, choosing to do it feels nice.

Thor only watches you, waiting for you to get it all out, his large hands caressing the sides of your waist and making you tingle.

“Keep going.” He urges you gently.

“I’m embarrassed.” You admit, and Thor’s face relaxes a moment, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips.

He doesn’t prompt you again, just waits.

There’s a peace in this silence of his. An acceptance. A sense of time to just be.

“I was afraid that I’d imagined last night. I don’t remember falling asleep. I just woke up and it was this morning. And last night was so…” You stop, realizing that as much as you’ve thought about last night today, for Thor if there are any kisses that he wants to hold onto today, they’re probably from Jane.

This fact suddenly hardens your heart and resolve. You reach to grab his wrists to pull his hands off of you, but he doesn’t budge. You couldn’t move him if you pushed as hard as you can.

“It doesn’t matter.” You brush it off. “You probably want to just be alone and I was told that you need to approve the dress? So, tell me what you think, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Have I upset you?” He asks, face shifted back into that slight pout he’d been wearing before.

“N-No.” You shake your head.

“Then why do you want to leave so quickly?” He demands, voice rising in pitch at the end.

“I just…after today, I just thought that maybe you’d want some space?”

“Then you aren’t angry with me?” He checks.

“No.”

He leans forward and presses his head against your stomach, eyes shutting as his arms wrap themselves around you and pull you closer.

You don’t quite know what to do with your hands, so you stand there, holding them over his shoulders, fighting the desire to hold him back.

“I’m so tired.” He admits to you, and it settles in your heart.

You drop your arms, resting them against him before you embrace him, hands splayed along his wide back.

He exhales, relaxing against you. “Thank you.”

“For what, Thor?” You whisper, too overcome with all this hugging to speak any louder.

“For hugging me.”

Your heart breaks for him, and you hold him tighter.

“May I be honest with you about something?”

“Yes.” Here it is, the truth about Jane and him today.

“These moments with you have been the most enjoyable and special moments I’ve spent with anyone in a long time.”

Does it really matter if he slept with Jane today? Kissed her? Hugged her?

Was he this sweet with her too?

“I love you in this dress.”

You sigh, the first three words of that declaration sending your heart into a frenzy.

“You do?”

“I do.”

You smile, liking that very much.

Thor’s blue eye shifts with electricity, literally, and he pulls you down onto his lap with a demanding grip on your waist.

Your arm is still around his shoulder, the other moving down to rest over his hand which he brings around to rest on your lower belly.

“Are you happy?” He wonders, catching your fingers within his.

“Relatively.” You nod. “I’m still worried.”

Honestly, right?

“Why?” He laments, caressing your waist.

“I’m liking you more and more too quickly.” You sigh. “I don’t want to disappoint you or the people. I want to do well. Both in our marriage and with the kingdom.”

Thor caresses your side, then slides his hand down further, large hand sliding along the fabric of your dress down over your thigh.

There’s a subtle tickle between your legs. It startles you and you have to physically force yourself to relax.

“You’re already better than anyone else I might have chosen.” Thor whispers, leaning in closer until his lips are pressed to your ear.

You remind yourself that you made him promise not to do anything he doesn’t want to do. No forcing himself to be affectionate if he doesn’t feel it.

“Thor…” You gasp, just a flurry of the air left in your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking…” He admits. “Since I left you last night, about how we might be able to prepare for our wedding night.”

How do you breathe again? Where does the air go?

“Do you trust me, cherub?”

That pet name hits you just as fiercely as it did the first time and all you can do is nod.

Thor suddenly throws you back over his arm onto the bed. Landing with your head on the pillow, you gasp, chest rising and falling dramatically as you struggle to catch your breath again.

He leans down and hovers over you, waiting as you do, staring into your eyes.

“I’ll make certain you know this is not a dream.” He promises, then leans down to press his lips against yours.

You sigh, grateful for his taste as if it were a drug, removing an ache you’ve been feeling all day. Your arms come up on their own, trapping his torso down on yours as his hands trace your sides slowly.

This time you’re the one seeking more, pressing the tip of your tongue against his lips until he opens them and kisses you back.

He inhales your kiss, breathing in until you hear the vibration of a moan rip through him into you and you have never felt your body burn this way before.

You want him to make more sounds like that. Over and over if possible.

He pulls away too quickly, making you lift your head to follow him, but you fall back onto the bed, gasping for breath.

“Do you really trust me?” Thor checks again, his hands moving down along your sides until they stop at your hips, hands flexing and squeezing.

You’re shifting on his sheets, body squirming from energy you don’t recognize.

You know that he probably needs to be close to someone like this after today. After whatever he lost with Jane, even if he won’t let you see just how much it really hurt him, he probably needs this closeness.

“Yes.” You breathe.

With one hand he reaches down, staring into your eyes as he does. He finds the bottom hem of your dress and flips his hand underneath, then takes hold of your ankle.

He turns to face your feet, sliding down to the end of the bed then removes the flats you’d switched into, along with the thick socks you’d found to fight the cold.

It’s so chilly in here you shiver.

“You won’t be cold for long, cherub.” He promises.

After dropping your shoes on the floor, he rises then crawls onto the bed to where your feet are, grabbing hold of your ankles to pull your legs open a little.

“Easy.” He tells you gently. “You’ll still be a maid on our wedding night. This will be just a taste.”

He flips your skirt over his head, disappearing from view.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, curious and just as nervous until you feel the pressure of something wet slide up along your slit and you throw your head back, an uncontrollable moan ripping through your lips.

You hadn’t realized the taste would be for him.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #marvel fanfiction #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fic #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x you #king!thor x you #a wife for thor #a wife for thor pt05

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handy-dandy-monster-candy · 4 years ago

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Wade, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1304 Pairing: Male Gillman/Fishman x GN Reader

For @momolady who inspires me every day.

xxx

You gasped, and the pressure of water filling your lungs burned. Your eyes stung, your mind screamed, and your heart battered against your ribs like a caged animal fighting to escape. You had been swimming one moment and beneath the waves the next, and you’d only been able to hold your breath for so long before your body demanded that you inhale. Your vision blurred and shifted, blue turning into green turning into grey and finally into black. This was how you would die, you realised, and despaired.

An instant later, you spew seawater onto the sand.

Your lungs feel like someone’s taken a cheese grater to their linings, and you’re pretty sure that it’s more than just seawater that comes out of your mouth, but you’re too exhausted and disoriented to look at anything too closely. You roll onto your back and blink up at where the sky should be, only to get an eyeful of a strange, alien face above you. It’s covered in blue-green scales and lacks a discernible nose, with wide fins on either side instead of any hair on the top of the head. Bright pink eyes with an abalone sheen stare unblinkingly at you, almond-shaped and bigger than any you’ve ever seen. As you watch, thin membranes flicker sideways over them and then retract, effectively blinking without closing.

You scream.

He screams.

You both scramble back and away from one another. You just about manage to hear, “Watch out!” before your head hits something solid, making your vision swim and your limbs spasm. When you next come to, you’re on your side again and the creature is crouching in a tide pool nearby, arms around his knees and eyes on your face. “Your parents are looking for you,” he announces without preamble, revealing needle-sharp teeth when he speaks.

“Wh-Who are you?” you ask, shivering in both fear and physical shock.

The creature whistles and clicks, gurgles and growls. “But you can’t pronounce that,” he says, voice gravelly with amusement as he grins.

You scowl at him, sitting up and wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re all scraped up and your swimsuit is torn; your mother will be upset, to be sure. “Well, why don’t you have another name?” you demand, offense taking over your fear. “One people can pronounce!”

His grin widens, eyes thinning into coral-peach slits. “Give me one.”

“Huh?”

“Give me a name,” he challenges, splashing his webbed fingers through the water around him and scooping up a tiny crab by the pincer. “If you give me a name including ‘fin’, I’ll drown you.”

“What kind of deal is that?” you snipe back, anger flaring. “Why would you save me just to drown me?”

“It was a joke. Situational irony. Ever heard of that?”

“I’m twelve,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at the creature. “Just for that, I’m calling you Wade.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“That’s fair.”

As you watch, Wade flings the little crab into his mouth and bites down with a wet crunch that makes you shudder, stomach flopping like a caught fish. “Ew.”

“Don’t like crab?”

“Not when it’s alive.”

“But it’s fresh,” Wade points out, bemused. “Are humans scavengers?”

“What? No! We cook our food.”

“‘Cook’?”

You open and close your mouth, unsure how to proceed. “We… put stuff on it and cook it with heat.”

Wade stirs, straightening up with a smile. “Like fire?”

He must not see fire very often, you figure, so you can’t help but smile back at him. “Like fire. We use gas and set it on fire to cook with, but we don’t usually put food right in the fire unless we’re camping.”

“‘Camping’? How else do you cook?”

This leads to a long and meandering discussion of how humans consume food, and you find that you eventually gain enough confidence around Wade to join him at the edge of the tide pool, dipping your feet into the sun-warmed water and brushing your toes against the webbing between his. You learn that he isn’t but a year or two older than you, “give or take a few lunar cycles”, and that he’s being educated in politics and human customs in the event that their kind are discovered. Naturally, this led to a curiosity of humans, so he spends most of his time off dangerously near the coast.

“You’re lucky I was nearby when the rip took you,” he says with a huff, poking at you with a thick, clawed finger. “You would have gotten waterlogged and washed up bloated on the shore if I hadn’t been.”

“That’s gross!” you whine, swatting his finger away with a pout. “Don’t say that!”

“It’s true! Humans get all pale and squishy when they die underwater. That would have been you, too, if it weren’t for me.” Wade preens, but you roll your eyes, toeing at a little starfish you can see beneath the water.

“Have you seen many dead humans, then?”

“Only when their ships sink in our territories. It’s my job to swim into the smaller spaces and retrieve what artifacts I can.”

“You mean you rob their graves?”

“Call me an archaeologist,” Wade replies with a shrug, waving away your concern. “At the very least, we try not to disturb the bodies, which is more than can be said for humans among themselves, or so I hear.”

You blush, angry and embarrassed. He has a point. “What kind of artifacts do you recover?” you eventually find yourself asking, curious despite your pique.

“Anything written is prized,” says Wade, “but only if they’re waterproof or in watertight containers. We take what won’t be missed and leave things like ship manifests and other logs. Aside from that, metal blades and utensils. They tarnish easily, so we keep them clean by buffing them with sand to maintain their shine. After that, anything mechanical that will work regardless of the circumstances, and then fabrics and anything that can be repurposed underwater.”

“That’s… actually pretty cool,” you admit, enthralled.

“Maybe I’ll show you one of our storehouses one day,” Wade replies, eyes creasing as he grins at your expense. “When you can swim, I mean.”

“I can swim!” you snap, getting miffed all over again before your mind registers the use of the word ‘someday’. “Wait. You mean I’ll see you again?”

“Of course,” Wade sniffs, two tiny nostrils on his face flaring. “I saved your life. You have to be my friend now.”

“Oh, is that how that works?” you grumble, crossing your arms again. “Some friend you are. All you’ve done is make fun of me.”

Wade blinks back at you, startled. “Do humans not make fun of the people they like?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “My mom says that boys shouldn’t do that because they’re just being shit-heads. If you like somebody, you have to be nice to them.”

Wade makes a thoughtful noise, almost a gurgle. “I’ll have to study more human sociology. You can help me.”

“Me?”

“You’re a human. I study humans. I can learn a lot about you.”

“But I only got a 48 in my last social studies test!”

Wade laughs, a cackle that makes him toss his head back and flare the fins on the side of his face. “Then we’ll learn together—you about me, and me about you!”

“Deal,” you tell him, sure that you would only get this opportunity once in your short little lifetime. You hold out your hand and Wade blinks at it, but the sound of someone calling your name in the distance spurs him into reaching out and shaking it. His scales are warm to the touch, smooth and soft against your fingers, and you find yourself grinning back at him. “To friendship.”

“To friendship,” Wade echoes, and laughs again.

#exophilia #exophilia fic #monster romance #monster boyfriend #fishman boyfriend #gillman boyfriend #fishman #gillman #Wade #My work #He's a shit and I love him

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scriptaed · 4 years ago

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bygones of the sun. 08 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 4.6k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

Regardless of the endless praying in the waking hours of midnight and desperate texts to Hani and Junghwa for help, the sun rises nevertheless; rather than replacing, the radiant glow of the sun blinds the darkness of the cold night into nearly nonexistence and the morning comes along with it in an inevitable solar system bound to revolve around its center.

After hours of rolling around in bed—too hot, kick one leg out over your blankets, too cold, bury yourself under the heat you had insulated from tossing and turning—you manage to barely get in a few hours of sleep before waking up only to look into the mirror in dismay over the dark circles drooping under your eyes.

Well, at least that might turn Hoseok off from doing whatever the needy, mischievous, and maybe even horny bad boy deprived of action side of him did to you last night.

A few splashes of fresh, cold water in the sink of your motel room and a messy albeit best bun you could every tie up are all that you figure you would need before marching off into the dining hall just three flights of stairs down; after all, who are you trying to impress? Certainly not Hoseok…

...or at least that’s what you tell yourself; because nevertheless, even after chanting to yourself under your breath that you would do everything and anything to avoid garnering his attention today, and perhaps the rest of eternity, you still take a quick glance in the mirror to assure yourself that your casual black tank top and gray sweatpants are of at least a presentable state. Maybe it’s the lack of sleeping getting to you or maybe it’s the adrenaline mixed with shock from last night’s incident with the boy you’ve been dreaming of since last year that endorses your self confidence that you smile at yourself after a quick scan in the floor length mirror and proceed to skip your way down into the first floor of the niche motel where Jimin had informed you last night that he and the rest of the boys would be getting breakfast.

As you jog down the stairs like a child on the eve of Christmas, you find yourself subconsciously humming to an oh-so-familiar tune; although you can’t quite put a finger on the exact title of the track, the image, the senses, the serenity that comes along with the nostalgic tune floods you into a timeless reverie. An earphone plugged in your right ear while the laughs of others and the tires rolling against the gravel rushes into your left, you can practically feel the cotton of a sweater wrapping you in warmth along with a crisp, spicy masculine scent as you lay your head against the comfortable crook of someone’s shoulder. The squeaking of broken in sneakers against the hardwood floor and the beats of the track echoing in a vast, empty room. You can imagine it all, evidently too real to be conjured up in your head.

“Y/N! Over here!” Taehyung’s voice snaps you out of your daze. Stepping a foot into the relatively small, cozy dining room, the enticing aroma of warm soup mixed with traditional spices and herbs fill your nose and state of mind as it pulls your growling stomach closer than ever. You find Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin already decked out in workout attire as they seated themselves with three other less familiar faces before you quickly skid your way to their table. Taehyung flashes you his signature warm, boxy smile, “morning!”

“Good morning,” you press a smile at the five other greetings which follow shortly after.

“Oh?” Jungkook quirks a brow and you reciprocate his gestures. “You’re pretty dressed up today, Y/N.”

“Dressed up?” you nearly choke, eyes popping at your supposedly exact opposite intentions. “Uh no, no, I just threw on whatever I found first in my luggage. Dressing up is the last thing I wanted.”

“Uhuh,” Taehyung drawls, winking at his partner in crime Jungkook. “So, who’s the lucky boy? Is it someone you met at camp yesterday?”

You sigh, “I don’t have my eye on anyone—”

“—oh my God,” both Taehyung and Jungkook gasps, gaping and turning their head in sync, “is it Hoseok?”

“What?” you nearly yell and it feels like your heart is about to fail you. “No!”

“I know we were the ones who asked you to talk to him and convince him to return to the club, but that’s only because we heard you two were a thing… or that you two went out on some dates. But you said you guys didn’t, so…” Jungkook’s voice trails off as he ponders over the rather imaginative albeit somewhat accurate thoughts of his, whereas Taehyung picks up where he left off, “did you catch feelings? Or did you already have feelings for him? You know, how did you convince him to attend camp anyways?”

You gulp. There’s no way you’re telling them the absurd offer Hoseok had proposed, a kiss in exchange for his presence, not to mention the fact that you actually gave him what he wanted and more. The recalling of the tender scene in the kitchen flushes your cheeks to rosy hues as you mumble, “I just begged him until he was too annoyed to decline.”

The boys glance at each other in wariness before Jimin chuckles to break the silence, “where is Hoseok anyways? I told him to meet us here last night, but he left me on read. Do you know what happened to him, Y/N?”

“Huh? Me? Hoseok?” you say louder than intended.

The grim look on his face after he had unexpectedly pulled you in for a session you could only imagine in your dreams just a year ago, when he answered your last question, when you turned your back and left him in the jacuzzi out of shock flashes before your eyes; regardless of having witnessed the sudden change in Hoseok’s demeanor, even you can’t quite explain the reasoning behind it. You thought you were done worrying for him throughout the entirety of last night, however, now that everything around you seems to always come back to Hoseok, you can’t help but wonder what you can do to help him… despite how much he has changed.

“Oh, there he is,” Jimin calls out and your entire body freezes in place, too scared to turn around and face him after last night. “Hoseok—”

“—Y/N,” you can hear the familiar voice of his as his low uttering resonates in your ear and rumbles throughout your chest.

You take a deep breath and gulp, pretending as if you had heard a apparition and turning to grab a plate and utensil to fetch some steamed vegetables in the hotpot placed in the middle of the wooden table.

“Y/N,” Hoseok mutters sternly. You can see his maroon tee and grey sweatpants in the corner of your eyes while Jimin glances between you and Hoseok as the latter takes a step closer to you. “Y/N, we need to talk. I’m sorry about last night. Please, at least listen to what I have to say—”

“—I see we have hot pot for breakfast today,” you interject, turning to Jimin and stuffing your mouth with boiled food which burns your mouth, but not before blurting, “kind of unusual, but I’m not complaining. Thanks for the meal.”

Hoseok sighs, looking the other way in lack of amusement for a split second before placing his hand on your shoulder, “Y/N—”

“—actually, Y/N, guys,” Jimin cuts in and gently extracts Hoseok’s hand from your shoulder. “Hoseok and I have to discuss our plans for today and the rest of the camp. You guys eat first and we’ll join you afterwards in the practice room.”

With that, Jimin ushers Hoseok out of the dining hall, dragging him forward as your eyes briefly lock with Hoseok’s as he reluctantly looks over his shoulder to glimpse at you for a few times. A part of you pangs with guilt for blatantly ignoring him like that, especially since you could sense the sincerity in his apology, but it was just too soon, too awkward for you; and while you know Hoseok as a person completely unaffected by the public’s eye, you’re less than willing to review last night’s moment of intimacy in front of the other boys.

One of the boys clears his throat to break the silence, and everyone turns to stare at him wide-eyed. Chestnut hair and tan skin, you manage to recall him as one of the main albeit in need of Hoseok’s guidance members, Namjoon. He reaches his hand out to firmly shake yours before gesturing for you to take a seat next to him on the wooden bench, “I don't think I've ever introduced myself yet. I'm Namjoon. I've heard a lot about you… Y/N?”

“Yeah, Y/N. That's the name,” you grin and seat yourself next to Namjoon. “It's nice I'm finally meeting the oh-so-popular dance group of our school.”

The boys chuckle at your remark when the rather fair skinned, blond and petite albeit carrying a mien years more mature than boys his age leans forward next to Namjoon to give you a pressed smile and a small wave, “the name's Yoongi.”

“And I'm Jin,” the boy across from you and next to Taehyung and Jungkook waves both jointy hands at you before digging his chopsticks into the shared pot and chiming, “now let's eat already. I'm starving here!”

The rest of breakfast passes by smoothly as you and the boys laugh over small talk and gather your things to head over to the first practice session of the day. While Taehyung and Jungkook went to find Jimin, you stayed behind with Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi. Although they’re not as energetic and bubbly as the other three, you soon find your new friends to be just as dorky as they goof off and even tease Hoseok as he leads the practice through stretches and choreograph; but even through all the teasing and giggling, Hoseok never seems to lose his cool over something which happened all too much back in his days as the captain, for he simply rolls his eyes and directs his attention elsewhere.

Everything passes by smoothly, or at least you think, because shortly after laughing at Jin’s less than sufficient, duck-with-a-broken-leg looking spin, you become determined to show him how it’s properly done before placing one leg over the other and somehow managing to trip over your own feet in midspin. It all happens too fast for you to register, but what you do recall is your right foot twisting at the weirdest of angles, sending a crack echoing in your vicinity and a spike of pain traveling from your feet up as your body tumbles to the floor. You’re grasping at your ankle and hissing at the wincing pain still numbed by adrenalin when you look up from the ground to suddenly find Hoseok right next to you after having dropped all things and rushed to your side, scanning you up and down in worry while the rest of the boys peer over at you from behind Hoseok in sympathy.

And the next thing you know, you find yourself hoisted into the air as Hoseok carries you in his firm arms out of the dance room. The spur of the moment prohibits you from protesting, for all you can do is lie there and peer up at Hoseok in complete awe. You don’t know if it’s the return of the glimmer in his eyes when times of crisis lures out the former captain in him, but the stern, serious and worried expression of his furrowed brows and pressed lips enables you to put your full trust in him. The Hoseok you’re looking at now is more capable than you’ve ever seen him before; war scars, adversities, sympathy and empathy, he’s gone through it all.

The fact that he doesn’t even notice you ogling your eyes at him, or at least the fact that he chooses not to comment on it, only further supports your observation as he carefully lays you on the floor of the empty hall right outside the practice room where a vending machine remains buzzing throughout the silence.

“So,” Hoseok finally says, your eyes widening and darting up to stare at him as his own line of sight remains on the first aid kit and your swelling ankle. “Mind explaining to me how this happened?”

“I… um…” you mumble; something about his new mien akin to a stern captain tells you to be cautious of how you answer. “I accidentally tripped—”

“—tell me the truth,” Hoseok deadpans, glimpsing up from your injury to lock eyes with you and you swear your heart had never panicked more.

Clearing your throat, you bashfully look down at the ground in shame, “okay, fine. I was playing around with Jin and lost my focus, which caused me to trip midspin.”

A few seconds of silence pass, and it feels like an hour of intense pondering over endless penalties or scolding are running through his unamused eyes before he finally sighs and his body language along with his aura softens, “really? You tripped because of that? How clumsy can you be? I used to encourage everyone to dance if they wanted to, but maybe it’s safer if I don’t do the same with you. You really aren’t cut out to be a dancer.”

“...well, sorry I’m not as good as you,” you mumble and pout when you recall the contradiction between what he’s saying to you now and what he had to said to you a year ago.

Another moment of silence passes, and whether it’s from exhaustion having practiced for an hour and a half or from this entire stressful situation playing out right before you, you can feel beads of sweat trickling down your temple.

“No,” Hoseok finally utters as he wraps a roll of cloth tape bandage over your throbbing ankle. He follows his statement without looking up at you, “I should be the one apologizing. I’m sorry about last night. Whether you liked it or not, I shouldn’t have forced myself on you. I don’t really have the explanation you deserve, so an apology is all I can give right now.”

His words freeze you in place. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him as genuine and serious as he is now, at least not since the tense moment you two had shared in his car after your first date with him. You don’t what to say, because it’s not like you’re mad at him. You’re completely worried over his mental well-being, and the grim look on his face only worries you more.

“It’s okay. I understand and I forgive you,” you meekly say, and you can hear a soft sigh of relief escape his slightly curved lips.

He continues wrapping your leg until your ankle is fixed into the right position and the bandage prohibits you from moving it for as long as it’s on while you intently gaze at him out of your subconscious. Sweat thinning his bangs and dripping from its ends, his chest rises steadily with each intake of breath as his eyes and focus completely fixates on your injury. It takes you a while to notice and admit, but your foot isn’t the only thing swelling, for your heart swelters and grows tender at the sight of him.

Unlike the bad boy demeanor of Hoseok you had come to know, there’s something so attractive about a boy who’s ambitious enough to reach for the skies, tough on the outside but soft to the weak, and stubborn but willing to own up to his mistakes. This isn’t the dance captain you had fallen for in the dance studio last year. This is a mix of all the unknowns and wonders of the universe, the sun and the moon collided into one.

Why does he have such an effect on you?

Why are you so weak to someone as confusing as him?

Why can’t you convince yourself that the only persona of his you’ll ever like is the one you had fallen for back then?

It’s as if the mystical moment when the sun reached its zenith high in the sky and its rays showered upon you and him in the midst of the night fallen dance room refuses to leave the back of your mind?

“You know,” Hoseok lowly states, finally trailing his eyes up to find your own wide ones before cracking a smug grin, “I can take you out to dinner as an apology, if you’d like.”

You scoff, jaw slacking wide open, “uh, no thanks. I wouldn’t have been so careless and gotten myself injured if I knew this was the comforting I was going to receive.”

“The ‘if you’d like’ part isn’t a question. It’s mandatory,” Hoseok chuckles before the stern look on his face returns along with the lopsided, pressed smile. “But as much as it pains me to hear that, I’m glad to hear you won’t be so reckless anymore.”

The deafening silence filled with the buzz of the vending machine behind him pushes you to finally address the thought that had kept you up late into the night. “Hoseok,” you utter, and maybe it’s the tone of pity or concern he spots in your voice, but his head and his eyes remain lowered to the ground. “Is something bothering you? Are you okay? Yesterday… you didn’t seem… right.”

Hoseok then settles into stillness, even his fingers stop in the midst of tying a knot in the bandages; but after a couple of more dreadful seconds, he resumes the work at hand without looking up at you. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he mutters before tying the knot and lightly patting your foot to signal the completion of your treatment. He glances up at you and gives you a small smile, “Be more careful next time, okay? For the sake of my poor heart, please stop being so clumsy.”

You snort and lean back with hands planted flat on the ground behind you, “I only sprained my ankle. You’re acting like I broke my leg or something.”

“You might’ve just sprained your ankle this time, but that’s because you lucked out,” he shakes his head. Then, his eyes flicker to gaze straight into yours, as if speaking from the heart, “injuries can be detrimental to dancers, and I know I said you’re not cut out to be a dancer, but if you really want to dance or even remain in this world with me, then please be more careful. Alright?”

“...okay, but be in the same ‘world with you?’ Please, don’t flatter yourself,” you refute, and he chuckles. “Plus, I’m not a dancer.”

Hoseko sits back with his hands spread out on either side of him, planted on the hardwood floor. He cocks his head to the side along with a brow, “who says?”

“You.”

“I was just messing around with you as always. You know that I don’t mean it.”

“But I bet you really meant it. Most of the newcomers aren’t even half as good as you,” you remark. Seeing how swell the mood had become, you decide to test the waters. “In fact, you’re probably thinking I’m just another one of those silly girls who always watched you in dance practice and is hoping for you to make a return.”

Hoseok raises a brow and chuckles with minimum effort, “I never said that.”

“But dancers are…” you struggle to find the right phrase, “dancers are like… you.”

Silence ensues as he watches you with a void hole in his eyes and an amused smile dancing in the corner of his lips.

“Hm…” he hums and lolls his head back and around the other side of his neck. “How so?”

His question catches you off guard, because while the Hoseok you had gotten to know would have gotten irritated and brushed off your question, this Hoseok seems intrigued by your constant pestering.

What should you do? Should you really tell him how you felt? About how you were one of those silly girls who watched him during dance practice? About how you had fallen head over heels in love with the old him?

This is all or nothing; and while something in your gut tells you not to, the irrational part of you follows the spur of the moment and decides to embark on a final mission to retrieve the sun that had long fallen and given rise to the dark night.

“I don’t know… I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s… it’s something about the way you dance. When you dance,” your brows knit as you struggle with your words, but Hoseok remains still as he patiently waits for you to finish your thought, “it’s like the entire room lights up in your presence. Even at night with the shades closed, you manage to somehow brighten the room, as if… as if you’re the embodiment of the sun itself.”

Hoseok maintains his silence, so you continue to fill up the awkward aftermath of your confession.

“You probably don’t get what I’m saying, but it just amazes me what you can do with your dance,” the more you speak, the more you can envision the enlightening moment you had first taken a peek through the cracks of the dance room’s door, “when people watch you dance it’s like the sun revolves around you and time slows, manipulated even, because you’ve suddenly become the center of the universe.”

Getting ahead of yourself, you decide to shut your mouth where you had stopped and fold your hands uncomfortably in your lap as you sheepishly stare the ground; you can feel the piercing gaze of his boring a hole into the top of your head.

“You’re right, you’re not a dancer; you’re a God damn poet,” Hoseok snorts, averting his eyes as he chortles at your splurge of awe-inspiring words before returning to lock his eyes with yours, a mix of amusement and lack of amusement, maybe even irritation, filling the dark orbs of his irises. “You know, you sound awfully like one of those girls who’d always watch me at practice back in the days… sometimes makes me wonder who you really are what your purpose is. Tell me, why are you trying to get me to dance again?”

With the tick of the clock’s hand, the entire world turns upside down. The soft, empathetic Hoseok had dissipated and the curious yet mysterious bad boy had returned. Even with warm, yellow lights illuminating the hallways, all you can see is pitch black and all you can feel is the wrath of the cold at being caught red handed.

Does he know? Or is he merely speculating? You had completely forgotten his previous more than suspicious speculations regarding your identity, but now all of it has resurfaced once again.

“...what?” you barely manage to utter.

And out of the blue, your world reverts to its normal state like the flick of a lightbulb. The warmth of his pressed smile and the shake of his head brings you back into relief, but your panicking heart never fails to initiate the flight-or-fight response in your veins.

“Nothing,” Hoseok laughs and pats your ankle once again before standing up. “There, all wrapped up and good to go. I’ve got errands to run. I’ll see you later, then.”

The extended conversation proves to be rather taxing when you stumble over your own foot the second you get up. Figuring your wrapped ankle and lightheaded state would only hinder you further, you decide to skip the rest of practice and retreat back to your room.

Complete darkness envelops you into a dazed state of mind as you awaken from what you discover to be a lengthy nap. Your entire room is pitch black, your head throbs along with your ankle, and you can barely weave your way through your room without stubbing a toe on a furniture hidden in the dark. Your eyes peep open, dry and heavy as if weights were suspended on the edges of your lids, and you clear your throat in a futile attempt to rid the sore scratches of its walls. Unfortunately for you, water isn’t one of the many things you had packed on this trip, so you grab your wallet and keys and stumble your way down to the vending machine.

With each step deeper into the dark halls illuminated by the moonlight pouring into the windows which lines the wooden walls, your consciousness becomes clearer and clearer and your senses begin to pick up things that had only been registered as blurs; the patters of your footsteps, the chirps of the crickets high in the mountains, the buzz of the vending machine, and the distant groans echoing from down the hall…

...the groans and hisses of pain which shouldn’t have even resonated in the halls hours past midnight.

Whether it be a member of the club breaking the rules, an employee of the motel, or maybe even an outsider intruding upon private property, your pulse races at the thought of someone within the vicinity of you. Crouching low, you cautiously and ever-so-slowly tiptoe as much as your injured foot could muster towards the dance room where the noises are coming from.

A few squeaks of sneakers inciting friction between itself and the polished, wooden floor are followed by ample panting and heaving before one last loud squeak and a pitiful yelp which tugs at your heartstrings—collapse.

The sympathetic side of you kicks you into action, and just as you’re about to go running into the room at full speed to aid the person in need, the sight which lies ahead keeps you locked behind the doorway—eerily similar to the past you, peering into the dance room and fearing confrontation…

...except this time, there’s nothing so enchanting about what lies before you.

Something in your stomach falls, pain gnawing away at your gut as if to tell you you should have known. Fallen, head low, chest heaving and lips grunting. Pitiful, vulnerable, helpless, turned against the wrath of the entire world. No one can understand him. No one can feel the mental and physical pain he’s experiencing right now.

The moonlight floods through the windows and showers the sun rays which contaminate him of the looming past until all that remains are the shadows of the facade of the old him he had tried to put up for the sake of you throughout camp. Alas, the full moon reaches its zenith tonight and there’s something about its blinding presence which tells you it’ll be a while before you see the sun.

Teeth gritted and jaws clenched, he crawls his body back against the mirror walls and curls into a state of vulnerability you had never seen before in the tough Hoseok you knew and had reluctantly fallen for; but the thing is, this isn’t that Hoseok. The boy brings one of his legs into his chest and his hands grab helplessly at his lower swelling leg, groaning in pain.

The only reason he isn’t dancing anymore is simpler than you would’ve ever thought. It can’t be the complete story, for the only thing you could see outside of his flooded, frantic mind is the sudden revelation that the only reason he isn’t dancing anymore is because he can’t; however, what lies underneath is of utmost complexity akin to the origin of the sun, the moon, and the universe itself.

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